Undertale: Emergence

by A Lost Cookie

It took more than four-hundred resets, each lasting almost a week, for Frisk to achieve her Happiest Ending. Now, the Monsters have left the Underground, and she is their ambassador to humanity. How will that role change as time goes on? How will Frisk, and those she cares for, change through time? And how will everyone react as Frisk's past reaches out to drag her back?

10. Chapter 9: Departure

A/N Preface) What have we gotten ourselves into?

So, Cookie here. Hope this one makes up for the long-arse delay. My muse took a hit during a sparring match and is only just recovering. Fortunately, we're getting into the bit where the storylines for Frisk and Asriel converge, so for a while at least, we'll be co-writing the chapters. Which means I don't have to worry as much about screwing up alone! Yay! But, yes, myself and Whisper are now co-writing each chapter, which means a longer delay between scheduled posts, but significantly more length on average than I or he were managing on our own to compensate. Hopefully, this will mean we can pump out some quality for you guys! As ever, let us know if you've questions, comments or concerns. And without further ado, let us read~

---

"Is that all you've got?!" Chara demanded, that scarlet-edged knife sweeping down towards her. Eyes narrowed, Frisk batted the knife away, the flash of motion in the corner of her eye the only hint she got before his second knife swept up, the edge rasping softly against her shirt as she lunged backwards. Gritting her teeth, she planted a foot and pivoted, stabbing at him with the blunted point of her spear, watching as he ducked underneath the point, dashing in underneath her guard. She didn't have time to gulp, didn't have much time at all to react on a conscious level. Instead, she jumped, curving her body over Chara's and planting the butt of the spear against the ground as a vault, giving herself enough time to regain her feet, facing Chara. Sweat ran along her cheek, though the mid-morning air was rather cool.

But he hadn't spent her time in the air simply blinking in surprise. She grunted as his booted foot found her ribs... And he wasn't holding back. She felt bones pop and crackle in her chest, at least one rib breaking under the force of the strike. The air rushed from her lungs, the kinetic energy transferred into her sending her several feet to the side, landing in a tumble.

But she didn't cry out; even as he followed after her, she got her feet under her, diving to one side as his knife sank into the ground right where her heart would have been. Reclaiming her feet, she threw out one hand, several more spears forming in the air around her before streaking towards her opponent.

Chara just straightened, adjusting his grip on his two knives; they were purpose-made, the kind of things a rogue might use in an MMO... Though not nearly so showy and hard to use. His hands flashed, right, then left, then left again, cutting the spears out of the air and dispersing them into mist. "Is this all the Ambassador of the Monsters can do?" He demanded as he approached, knives flashing and chopping the next four spears she summoned from the air. She felt weariness tugging at her, dimming her vision... But he was still coming. "The 'Savior' of the monsters?"

She took several steps back, her grip tightening on the spear she held, an edge of panic buzzing at the corners of her mind... Panic that grew with every step he took, with his every word. "Is this all that Frisk can manage? Some paltry tricks, a few spears? What was all that training with Sans for? What was all the training with Toriel, with Undyne, with Papyrus for?" He snorted, looking around at their battlefield; torn apart by their clash, and yet, so much of it had been caused by him, not her. And he barely seemed out of breath, while she was...

Gritting her teeth, she fought against the panic, butterscotch hues wide despite her efforts. They flicked about, seeking out something to give her an edge. They returned to Chara as he spoke again, like a mouse's eyes turned towards its feline tormentor. "This is pitiful. How you ever defeated Papyrus, I'll never know, let alone Undyne, or Mettaton." he shook his head, cinnamon hues locking on her as he lunged, his knives flashing.

She was on the defensive, spear twirling and spinning as she fought to protect herself, to deflect the blows aimed at vitals even as scarlet seams opened on her arms, her hands, her shoulders. Panic grew greater and greater, her Determination cracking. She threw up her left hand, her off hand, and green energy poured from her palm, creating a solid barrier that took blow after blow from Chara's knives.

It was as silver cracks began to form in it that Chara spoke again. "A little girl so close to tears as you doesn't deserve to stand at my brother's side."

Asriel. Asriel. Her mind blanked for just a heartbeat, emptying of everything but a face. A face she'd imagined for so long now. Removing the roundness of childhood, in part, and adding leaner lines. But eyes that were immediately familiar, a quiet little smile like he'd worn when he thought she wasn't looking, horns parting his hair.

What's wrong, Frisk? The Asriel in her mind asked, his voice the same one she was used to, though she tried to deepen it. Is this really everything you've got?

"No," Frisk growled, the panic fading, her Determination firming up in her mind. Solidifying into an almost physical force that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. It was what made her Frisk; the Determination to continue on, the Determination to stick to the course she'd decided on.

There was a snapping sensation, like a strap suddenly coming undone, and scarlet filled her sight. Ittook her a few moments to realize that it wasn't in her mind; the green barrier she'd had up had changed; even now, the green was being invaded by veins of red, spreading farther and farther along the barrier and turning it red. It took only a second or two for the barrier to become one solid semi-sphere of red energy. Chara's blades smashed into it, but no cracks appeared despite the force of his blow.

"Patience is all fine and good," Undyne had once told her, "But it's not you. Well... not alone, anyway. You're Determined, Frisk; that's just who and what you are." She hadn't felt it at the time; in fact, she hadn't felt as solid and confident as she had in the Underground since...

Chara was in her sight, having ducked around the barrier while her attention was elsewhere, his knives flashing at her stomach. Butterscotch hues narrowed, and the barrier in front of her dispersed, reforming mere inches from her stomach. Steel rang out as the knives impacted with enough force to knock her staggering back, but her mind was sharp, focused like it hadn't been for nearly a year now.

She struck, noting only in passing that the spear she held had gained its own scarlet hues; sparks flew as Chara deflected it, but it was hardly the only thing Frisk was sending his way. With a snap and rumble, a bone leaped from the ground, ivory as though bleached by the sun, punching up into the air.

Chara jumped back, avoiding the blunt end of the bone with inches to spare, knives flashing through the air in glittering arcs as he chopped spear after spear into a fine mist. The bones that followed were given a similar treatment, but unlike the spears they didn't simply disperse upon being struck, shards shattering from along them with every strike that carved furrows through Chara's skin.

He didn't look panicked at the abrupt turn-about; he looked grimly satisfied, a fact that actually threw her. Her attacks halted, and after a second, another voice called out from nearby.

"Alright, that's enough, kiddo," Sans called, stepping onto the torn and tormented turf that the two had traversed. He wore his usual grin, hands in his pockets. "Looks like you figured it out, huh?"

Frisk blinked, turning confused butterscotch eyes on him. "Figured it out?" She asked, frowning. "What did I figure out?"

Sans was silent, and after a few moments, Chara sighed. "Why you're losing your spark," he said at length, sheathing his knives in the twin scabbards on his hip; he was bare from the waist up, dressed in jeans and a pair of hand-made leather boots. He, like Frisk, was toned and covered in a layer of sweat, but unlike Frisk he hardly seemed out of breath. Some of that was likely his new status as half-Monster... or some such, but the rest was a mystery to her. As were his words.

"Losing my spark?" She asked, blinking again. She was dressed in a sports bra and shorts, courtesy of Undyne; she'd insisted, and Frisk had come to agree, that training in much more was simply an uncomfortable, hot affair. "What do you mean?"

"Jeez, you just don't stop surprising me, kiddo," Sans said, eyes closing for a moment. "Sometimes you say things that make you sound older than me, and that's sayin' somethin', and then there're times like these... What'd you score on your final Math test?"

Confused by the sudden question, Frisk thought for a second, casting her mind back. "It was a B. Why?"

"English?" Sans asked, ignoring her question.

"B."

"Alright. How about PE? How'd you score on that obstacle course?"

Frisk was silent for several moments before answering. "Average."

Sans nodded. "The sprint?"

"Average."

"The Long-distance run?"

"Average."

"You see what I mean?"

Frisk was silent, but she did see. She was sharp, at least in most of the things that School taught her, but her biggest trait had always been her athleticism. The year before, she'd scored EE, or ExceededExpectations, in every PE test, which compared her against the rest of her class. Even if everyone else were catching up physically, she should still have been Above Average, if only because she could outrun and outlast just about every person in her class. But she'd only done as well as most of the others.

"So, what does this have to do with my spark?" She asked, finally releasing her hold on her magic, letting the spear fade away into a fine mist and folding her arms.

"You were always Determined to do something before, right?" Sans asked, shrugging a bit. "Determined to get everyone out of the Underground. Then Determined to actually get everyone out of the underground. Then Determined to give them a place here in the Human world. But even before the last Amendment was passed granting Monsters the same rights as Humans, you were slowing down. Your grades have dropped by almost ten points on average, you know."

"And? Maybe I'm just not as smart as-"

"That ain't it, sweety, and you know it," Sans interrupted, sighing. "Alright, I'll be blunt. Ever since Asriel disappeared, you've been... Winding down. Like all of a sudden, since he's not around, it's not worth it to give your all."

Frisk was silent for several minutes, then let out a long sigh. "What if he's dead, Sans?" She asked, her arms tightening around her middle. "He hasn't so much as sent a letter since he left. It's like he's disappeared from the Earth entirely. He wouldn't just leave without a word for that long... Would he?"

Chara had been quiet to this point, but finally, he spoke up. "If he'd died, I'd know. He's still alive, Frisk."

"Then where is he?!" She demanded, turning on him. He took a step back, blinking slowly, but he remained silent. "Exactly!" She said, stamping a foot. "He's missing, dead for all we know, and- And there's nothing I can do! I can't just find him, there's too much ground, it's been too long! And even if I could follow his trail, I couldn't follow it faster than he made it! I'd always be behind, and-"

Chara cut her off by raising a hand, and after a moment of silence, he spoke. "You always say that we're all your family now," he started off, his tone tentative; sometimes he acted just like the prince he technically was. Others... He seemed even less certain than Asriel. "But didn't you say you had family, off of this mountain?"

Frisk blinked and tilted her head ever so slightly, staring at him quietly, her expression one of confusion and pain. "What about them?" She demanded, her arms tightening around her midsection.

"Why don't you go find-"

"Why should I go find them after- They never came to find me, did they?! My name has to have been a big one when we all first emerged. They had to have known I was alive, that I was here, so why didn't they come to find me?" Her voice almost cracked on her last word, and she bit down the rest of her sentence for several seconds before speaking again. "They don't care about me, or they would have come to find me already. Why should I go find them?"

"Because they're your folks, kiddo," Sans said with a wry smile, drawing her butterscotch gaze back to him. "Because if you don't, you'll always regret having the chance but never taking it. And because if you don't, you'll always feel bound to 'em, instead of being able to settle things once and for all."

Frisk glanced between the two of them, then let out an explosive sigh, head falling forward so her chin rested against her breastbone, hair concealing her face. "You two have been talking about this for a while, haven't you?" She asked, something like amusement in her tone.

"I wouldn't say 'a while,'" Chara started, only to be cut off by the skeleton.

"'Bout two weeks, actually. Long enough to think we're right, not so long that it became a plot." He chuckled, glancing around. "At least, not our plot."

Chara raised an eyebrow at the Skeleton, then shrugged and turned to Frisk, smiling a tiny smile. "We thought... You know, having something to concentrate on would give you a little energy. We thought it'd give you something to actually devote yourself to, instead of just living."

"And besides, a change of scenery would do everyone some good," Sans said with a shrug, chuckling. "Ya have the money they paid you as ambassador, y'know. You could be anywhere in less than a day."

"No," Frisk murmured softly, pausing briefly before speaking in a louder voice. "No, I think I'll get home the same way I got here. I'll walk." She smiled a little, finally raising her head to face the two of them. "I'll take my phone with me, put some batteries in one of my boxes so I don't have to worry about running out of power on it. Put everything I'll need in one, actually; a couple weeks' food, some clean clothes, batteries... And I can call you guys any time I need to talk, or you can call to talk to me."

Sans grinned, pulling his hand from his pocket and tossing something underhand to Frisk. "Already done, sweety. We spoke with Alphys and the others already."

Frisk blinked, her hand snapping out almost automatically, plucking her cell phone out of the air, the same phone Alphys had upgraded years ago in the underground. The same phone that she'd upgraded dozens of times since. "I- You really have been plotting this for a while, haven't you?"

"Kind've," Sans said with a shrug. "But we're not runnin' you off, Frisk. I don't want you to think that... It's just that, somethin' tells me that if you don't get goin' soon, you'll come to regret it."

Frisk blinked, her gaze sharpening as she stared at the skeleton. "Just instinct? Or...?"

Sans shook his head. "Nah, just instinct. I'm as clueless these days as you are, kid. 'Sides, if it were anything else, you'd have known the same time I did."

Frisk nodded, smiling and sighing. "I guess you're right..." She looked around, then folded her arms. "So... It might take a while. A few months, maybe. You- You guys'll come visit while I'm gone, right?"

"Of course," Chara said with a small grin, stepping up and slapping her shoulder. "Mom'd have my head if I didn't go, too; I'll just leave a couple days later... Alphys is getting my phone ready, but unlike yours, she has to upgrade mine from scratch. Apparently, it's harder than she expected."

Frisk nodded, her hand clenching tightly around the phone in her hand. "Promise? I'll go slow if you want, so you can-"

"Nah, don't wait up for me," Chara laughed, shaking his head. "Just get goin', Frisk."

Frisk smiled, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Chara, hugging him tight. "Take care, Chara," she said softly. "The path is dangerous, especially for you." Then she took a step back, only to step forward and wrap her arms around Sans. "Take care of mom and Asgore for me, okay?" She asked, kissing his bony cheek. "I'll give you a call when I make it to the city, okay?" Turning, she took a long, deep breath, then set off at a sprint. It felt… Abrupt, hurried. But then, that's how a lot of her life had felt since the Monsters escaped. But this also felt right; she needed to put her past to bed.

Besides, it was just a little hike.

---

She stood in the shadows, an arm wrapped carefully around her side, her teeth gritted against the pain of the barely-closed wound. She felt... Well, a lot of things, the most obvious being pain. Her whole body hurt, like she'd fallen down a rather steep cliff and hit a number of rocks along the way, and glancing along her body, she figured she probably had. Bruises marred what flesh was exposed by her torn sleeves and wasn't otherwise claimed by cuts, scrapes and gashes.

Memories flickered to the front of her mind as she stood in a shadowed alcove, hidden from those who filled the hall, drawing her from a simple observer into the body of the woman in this hall. She stood there, and she watched; that was what she had to do, after all, was watch. Nobody in the vast hall knew she was there; she'd slipped in through a crack barely perceptible to those who could feel them, one that may as well not exist for any others. Few, very few, could have sensed the crack, and she had taken hours to slip inside. Hours of the focus within the hall being focused on the pair of thrones, the single massive individual sitting on the largest, the smallest covered in a plain white sheet.

It had been a week since she'd been here last; a week since the ambush, the betrayal. A week during which she'd limped along, barely managing to summon up the energy required to keep her body from failing completely, saving up scraps every day to cobble together into her trip into this place.

She felt heavier than she was used to, and yet it was simultaneously a familiar weight, a kind of dream-familiarity. Her hand rose from her side, brushing across the thin plate that made up her breastplate. Curiosity begot knowledge, as oft it did within the world of the dreaming, and she could imagine herself; a silver breastplate emblazoned with a scarlet Delta Rune, wrapping around the vitals in her chest cavity but leaving her stomach bare. More steel, riveted over supple leather, wrapping her thighs, hips, and shins in protective plates. Her shoulders boasted slim, shaped pauldrons, and her upper and forearms were wrapped in metal as well, as though she were some kind of warrior queen. And a sword hung at her left hip, an old sword that felt heavy with history, history that teased at the edge of her knowledge but did not come to her sleeping mind. All of this covered by a heavy, violet cloak, the Delta Rune emblazoned in Scarlet on the back, a cloak unique to one person in her own time.

Then a hush fell in the chamber, and her eyes rose. The lord of this hall was facing off with his killer, just as they had a week previous... And yet, she knew well that this was not the same place. That had been the whole point of her exercise, of the immense amount of energy she'd expended that could have healed her entirely. This wasn't the world in which she had regretted the minimal coverage of her armor, of her trust in those she felt were friends. No... This was the world in which it was the King who had lived.

Someone rushed in, scampering closer to the King; she didn't recognize him, but then, that was just one of the subtle differences she was seeing. She couldn't see what he held out to the king, but she saw his reaction. She knew what was coming next, knew it instinctively. 'No,' she thought, fear jolting in her chest. 'This must not go as it wishes... Not this darkling history.' She stepped forward, her steps silent as she moved forward. Those within the hall stepped back from their lord's outrage, and yet some few did see her. Gasps were drawn from startled throats, and her way was cleared up to the line of knights. That was enough.

Gritting her teeth, she dashed forward, towards the line of knights whose job was to keep these nobles from the acts of their king on his throne and its surroundings. A startled shout echoed, a confused gasp of "Assassin!" echoing. She might have snorted, had her teeth not been creaking with the force of her jaws and her breathing been ripped from her body even as her side tore open once again. She leaped, clearing the circle of knights as easily as the hurdles of her childhood. Throwing out one hand, she clenched her fist, scarlet-edged bones ripping up out of the ground between the king and his prisoner. Blood poured from her side, splattering wetly against the ground, but she ignored it, ignored the pain.

"Hold your wrath," she gasped, even as the world began to swim. "Y-you, of all... Of all people, are no slave... To the will of an outsider... C-Cinnabun..."

The world faded to black with an abruptness that might have scared her if she were able to think on it. She felt herself falling forward, her hood falling away to reveal auburn hair, a simple golden circlet her only concession to her... Former station.

---

She came awake only very slowly, and only after several false starts, quickly cut off by the pain in her side and her generally blood-deprived state. When she finally did come awake, it was dark. She was dressed only in her underwear and the miles of gauze that seemed to be wrapped around her middle, and though she contemplated sitting up to survey her surroundings, she didn't so much as shift. She felt both drained and energized, physically worn-out as her body struggled to repair damage that had been fatal but full of magical potential from a long rest. She hadn't been so full of magic since...

She shied away from the memory, instead grasping at the magic within and focusing it, encouraging the healing that her body was already doing. Healing magic, basic but rather powerful and efficient for that simplicity. She'd been taught well. Eyes closed as she concentrated, feeling her magical stores dropping, pulled away and used to accelerate her body's natural repair processes.

When she finally stopped, it felt akin to a polar shift; physically, it was as though she'd been on bedrest for a week, the pain a distant throb in her side, the bruises that colored her body gone. Magically, she had dropped to dangerously low levels; if she had to fight, she'd be very limited in what she could do.

Only now that she'd patched herself up did she sit up, albeit slowly, and look around. She was in the castle's keep, in one of the many beds of the infirmary. Most of the other beds were empty; there weren't many injured in this world's little upheaval, it seemed. Only one other bed was filled, a clean white sheet pulled up over a slender figure's head.

She turned her gaze away, having no desire to see herself dead.

It was only when she turned her gaze away that she realized that she was not, in fact, the only living person in the Infirmary. In fact, she wasn't even the only one with a heart-shaped ruby pendant hanging from a chain about her throat; there were two being worn in this room, both glowing a soft crimson, the connection evidently strong enough to link even to other stones from a separate timeline.

"Asriel," she said, words spoken softly on an exhale.

Shadowed eyes hidden in his black clawed hands as they were, Asriel didn't notice the glimpses of movement right in front of him until Frisk's whisper thin voice reached his ears. The monarch, his crown laid aside on an end table beside him, snapped his head up towards the sound and focused his eyes, eyes that glowed like unearthly shadows until silver began to creep back into their coloration, on the woman he loved.

Or, rather, her doppelganger.

"...Frisk?" His voice was weak, as though strained, and the gaunt curves of his wizened face were only accentuated by the dim red-orange glow of the wall sconces around them. "Good...you're actually awake.."

Frisk smiled, a breath escaping her lungs in a sudden burst of emotion. A knot of pain that had been pressing on her heart for nearly a week finally eased, though it by no means vanished. She knew this was not her Cinnabun. But it was Asriel, none-the-less, Asriel in almost every decision he'd made. That was more than she could have hoped to have in her own timeline.

"Thank goodness… I had thought you lost…" she paused, then laughed faintly at herself. "And then, at the moment of my arrival, I go and nearly die anyway… A fitting way to 'return from the dead,' I suppose… Are you well, Cinnabun?"

Asriel's smile, as faint as it was, slowly grew once he realized he was actually staring at a living version of Frisk. 'Version' was, of course, the operative word, considering that the cloth covered shape lying not five feet away from this new Frisk had once looked, talked, walked, and...fought very much the same. Still, this was better than a corpse.

"I'm….I've been better, but seeing you, like this, is...a relief.", he admitted quietly. The monarch rose from his chair and leaned over her sitting form, a gentle hand finding hers as though the movement had been long practiced. He looked...pale, which, considering his white coloration, was a terribly silly thing to say, but he nonetheless seemed, in some way, ill at ease.

"I'd..thought you lost much as you say you worried for me, Frisk… All I knew was what my eyes had told me, what my heart felt, and the final bell the doctors tolled...I watched you die, and yet here you sit.." To say his eyes, now silvery moons as they naturally were, had become sunken and even further shadowed was an understatement, it was as though her return was as much a relief to him as yet another dagger between his ribs.

Frisk nodded, her hand turning to lace her fingers between his, as much a natural reaction as anything thought out. "I-" she broke off midway through the syllable, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "We were standing upon a cliff, gazing at the view. A sunset. I know not who struck the blow, but… I felt your- his-" she broke off again, taking a breath. "I felt my Asriel's hand turn to dust. I barely had the time to turn before a sword had found my stomach. My vision turned red, and from that moment until I lay crumpled at the base of the cliff, all I knew was pain."

She opened her eyes, turning those butterscotch hues up towards Asriel. "But I cannot believe that it was destined. There is… Something wrong about it all. That is what I thought while I healed myself of my broken bones, replaced lost blood, and staunched the bleeding from the stab. So…" She smiled a little. "I searched. I touched what even my teacher never could, and explored realities. And I found this, the first of thousands of histories in which you survived the months surrounding this time. Be it betrayal or simple assassination, one or both of us dies in the three months before or after this moment."

She breathed a soft sigh, her hand tightening in his own. "This was the first history in which I saw at least one of us surviving this time frame. The first hope I'd seen… And I could not ignore your pain."

Asriel blinked, his gaze singularly focused on Frisk as she recounted her memories and he nodded along. It was wrong, all of it, but he knew that it was not his history she spoke, but her own. It was a history far removed from the time they both now resided in, one where she had felt the same pain he had and ever so much more. At that very thought his hand tightened around hers, only enough for her to feel it, and his jaw set against the rage in his heart.

"That you came this far for me, my dear, says all anyone ever need know about us, yet….I wish to know only one thing.." Asriel took a deep breath, as though the act would keep his emotions at bay, and his silver eyes did, indeed, remain pure, no matter how much he wanted to feel that change. "For all that has happened to you...all of this pain, this...suffering, why…" He trailed off, his eyes locked on hers as though mesmerized, but his question was painfully clear; why had she stopped him? Why, of all the times to return, had she stopped him from obliterating the one being that deserved it more than any other? That, no matter how hard he tried, was something Asriel could not answer, though he nonetheless had a sickening inkling of the thoughts that ran through her head.

She sighed, eyes closing again. "You'll think me mad, Cinnabun," she said softly, her tone composed despite the knowing pain it held. "But I stopped you because of what I saw through those times. Those histories I looked through, those deaths I witnessed… To say that I saw the strings would be a lie, but I cannot deny that all those who did the killing did what they felt was best. And all of them were guided by one who did not reside within their own place. By a person or thing outside of the lives we and all others live."

She opened her eyes once more, gazing across at the other occupied bed. "In my place, Chara and her descendants were ever loyal. Many had died at our sides, many had proven the solitary support we could rely upon through all turmoil, when even our most loyal of knights fell... So much of this place is the same as my own, and of it all, everything I've seen shows that to be true… Until this moment. Why, I ponder, would a person with no animosity abruptly turn to murder?" She turned her gaze to Asriel. "To say I see strings would be untrue, but I see signs. Thousands of deaths, both myself and you, Asriel. Thousands of men and women, sometimes the same, sometimes different… but all acting out of character in their killing.

"I do not feel, my love, that he was truly the one to strike. He, like all the others I saw, was no more an active participant of your Frisk's death than the weapon he used."

Within Asriel boiled the rage of a monarch defied and wronged, the innocent fear of the child he once had been, and the justified hatred of a husband whose life had been all but ripped apart in a single instant. His expression, though, was that of one whose patience was infinite and one who could for nothing and no one more than the one that then sat before him. The duality, his mind and body split between two very different sets of feelings as Frisk explained her actions, tore at him from the inside out, yet all he could do was sit on the bed beside her and drape an arm across her lap.

'You are so fragile…', he thought to himself, the silver in his eyes slowly becoming marred by flecks of gold, 'So sweet, kind, and cunning….yet still so fragile even now. How cruel.'

Asriel sighed as she finished. "How cruel is fate...that we should be forced into this hand, if indeed your thought is correct.", his tone somber yet as dire as their situation warranted, Asriel's eyes turned back to Frisk's, "I have little doubt, unfortunately, that you are. Puzzles have always been your forte, darling." He smiled, his memories dancing back to half remembered times in their youths before his countenance shifted at the sound of feet behind him.

"M-my lord…?", a hesitant voice asked, "The...the prisoner ha-"

"Escaped." The declaration came so forcefully from Asriel's mouth that one would have thought it shouted, yet his voice was no louder than a whisper. The man that had brought the news, a Human guard by the looks of it, quickly nodded, bowed his head, and turned to leave. Asriel, however, was not about to abandon Frisk, not when he'd only just gotten her back.

"This we must deal with, but deal with it we will when you have finished your rest. I can only pray you are correct, dear one, no matter how poor a light this puts her in." His eyes shifted back to Frisk, the silver slowly becoming pure once more, and his smile slowly faded. "Tell me more of your time, Frisk, and of this Chara you said was a...she?"

Frisk's gaze turned towards the guard, a wry little smile touching her lips at his reaction to Asriel's forceful tone of voice. "Thank you for advising us," she said, her own tone softer, but bearing the steel core of a leader. "We will see to it. Please, if you would leave us for a time?" She waited, watching the guard leave before turning her gaze back to Asriel. "I've oft said you should not be so curt with the guards when you are stressed, Cinnabun."

She paused for a moment, gazing into his eyes for several seconds. "So strange," she murmured with a small smile. "That I can read your hues as easily now as though you were shouting your emotions, and yet so few of the others can glean anything from them…" She shook her head, then turned her thoughts farther into the past… Much farther. "Chara… She was much as your own was. Once a scared child, but when given the proper guidance, she became quite the courageous, and powerful, individual. But where your Chara remained human, my own became… Not fully, perhaps, but partially a Monster. She stopped visually aging at twenty-seven, much to her husband's eventual shock." She nodded a little, her hand rising to touch the emerald at her breast. "This was a gift to us," she said, before holding up the plain golden circlet that wrapped about her left ring finger. "A gift on our wedding day, to be precise. She had spent months working on the pair, tying them together that we would always be, in some way, together."

Her expression grew grim. "When the wars began again, she and Undyne were amongst our best and most loyal. Both had had children by then, you understand; Chara in the natural fashion, and Undyne after some tinkering on Alphys' part. They never explained that, mind, don't ask me how. They had descendants, and they felt they fought for the right cause. They were oft on our front lines, to our foes' great displeasure. They were both killed in a sneak attack, one which my Asriel and I only survived by a stroke of luck, arriving ten minutes later than we were meant to. We ran off the killers, but it was too late… both were dust. From then on, both their descendants served us with great honor and distinction."

She turned her gaze away from the past, back to his eyes. "Do you perhaps see why I stayed your hand? A descendant of Chara, as that man must have been, would not have stained the memory of their ancestor in such a cowardly fashion."

The patience with which Frisk handled the humble guardsman, not to mention the ease with which she read into Asriel's eyes every time their gazes met, struck the monarch like a bolt up his spine, a chilling reminder of how cross and vengeful he'd become. Yet, even with the chilling reminder drawing his head closer to her shoulder, the peace she managed to instill in him by simply being nearby was not enough to prevent the rage that seemed to boil out of nowhere from erupting.

"Then Ulric was merely weak.", Asriel snapped as Frisk sought to defend the man he'd seen murder her...other self, "He was weak, a pathetic child just as he'd always seemed, and you died because of his failure." Every word was said quietly yet with unmistakable venom, though it little helped that Asriel's entire body had tensed up and his eyes had once again begun to glow as though lit by red tinged shadows rather than light.

The monarch stood, letting go of Frisk's hand half out of fear of hurting her as his grip threatened to clench even more tightly. "Perhaps he deserves not death at my hands, perhaps that is too good for a failure of his magnitude.", Asriel snarled as he turned to the door, a servant outside quickly hurrying past before the king's eyes could fall across them, "Questions. Questions for him, answers for us. Simple. Then we might throw him to the crows and ravens he seems to so adore."

Frisk breathed a soft sigh, watching him as he stood, turning away from her. She didn't take more than a moment to move; she'd done more healing in this moment than she had in the last week. She was in much better condition that some might think, given the severity of her wounds when she had passed out. She slid to her feet, standing upon the bed simply to get the height she needed, hopping just a little before wrapping her arms around his neck, her relatively slight weight nothing near close enough to choke the massive Pwqa. "At ease, Asriel," she murmured, eyes closing as she pressed her face into the side of his neck.

She remained still for several seconds, hanging from him like a cape despite the sharp twinges of pain shooting through her side. Then she let go, bouncing back onto the bed before taking a step back. "Before you condemn him," she murmured, her tone hesitant; clearly, she didn't enjoy saying this. But despite that hesitance, she continued; a queen could not hold her tongue when the words might change all. "Think, I beg you, on the changes you have undergone since leaving the underground. I've no proof of it, but I've little doubt that our killers were the only ones to be changed out of their natural, ordained progression by the one holding the strings."

For all of his rage, no matter how justifiable it might have been, Frisk's touch was enough to drive the shadows from Asriel's eyes almost immediately, his shoulders slumping as though the normal, calmer, Asriel wasn't strong enough to bear some unseen burden. The monarch sat down heavily beside Frisk as she dropped back to the bed, his eyes silvery once more with only the barest flecks of crimson remaining in their coloration.

"I...I know you are correct..my love…", he grimaced, placing a hand against his temple, "I have not felt so alien in my own body since...not since I was young...not since I f-fought you.." No matter his age and wisdom, no matter the immense power he clearly wielded, Asriel was nothing when faced with the truth that Frisk laid before him. She'd always seen more clearly than he had, and he had been changed as much as she seemed to fear, he knew that was true. He remembered his past, and...yet...he remembered so many pasts that not all of them could've been his, right..? "I think….I think I will follow your lead for...now…", he hissed as the pain worsened and then, mercifully, began to lessen, "You see more than I do...my love, and clarity is...necessary in these..trying times.."

Asriel smiled at her, as weak as the gesture was, and dropped his hand from his head to once again lay it across hers. As lucky as Frisk though herself to find an Asriel untouched by such terrible events, even this comparatively unscathed one had not escaped their joint nightmare entirely. His hand, the one he laid across his own lap, was missing three of its fingers completely, a detail made all curiouser by how fragile he'd always seemed in the past.

Frisk wasn't going to ask; she wanted to know, but… She had no desire to press her Cinnabun into reliving that memory. She pushed her curiosity, and horror, aside and simply grasped his hand, squeezing gently. "I would hardly say I see things more clearly," she said with a shake of her head. "Often, I only see things because I have the opportunity to. Like here, now, I can tell you of these manipulations only because I have seen so very, very many. Thousands of iterations, all ending with your death at the least, and often both our deaths." She smiled a little. "I'll grant you this, you never simply stand by. Finding you alive without stumbling into the midst of that fight has proven… Near impossible."

She paused, eyes closing. "I do not think we can halt this… Being, whoever they might be. We've the power, to be certain, but… Tell me, love, did our many years of relative peace, without either of us being significantly harmed, make you forget?" She paused, giving him a few moments to ponder her words and their meaning. "I forgot, for quite a while… but what was my greatest asset within the Underground? It was not my speed, nor my strength. I was not significantly more intelligent, either. It was my ability to Reset, even if I were to die… And yet, in near every place I've looked, we two both perish, and there is never a reset. I would not have left you willingly, and I would not have let you leave me by another's choice. Which means that whoever, whatever, ultimately kills us… It has greater Determination even than I."

She shook her head. "I do not believe we can defeat this foe. You and I, we are old, strong beyond words. We wear our crowns because we've the strength to bear their weight… But still we fall, time and again. Sometimes in open combat, sometimes in a sneak attack, and sometimes in our own bed. We, old and powerful though we are… We cannot best this foe."

Even with the lessening of the pain, Asriel's grimace worsened as she spoke. She had a point, of course, Frisk always had a point, but that didn't mean Asriel was willing, or even able, to accept that she was right. Not about this. He'd been weak before, been fragile, but he was not so now. He'd not been able to protect his love, that was a pain that would forever weigh upon him, but he'd been given a second chance, hadn't he? No, he was not losing her again, and no power, be it god or man, was going to rip them apart while he still drew breath.

Though that was a silent promise much easier made, than fulfilled.

"Frisk…", he sighed, his eyes drooping as he leaned back against her, "Perhaps we should rest..my queen..." The monarch's eyes remained closed for a moment longer before opening and focusing on Frisk, upside down. He looked tired, drained, beaten. "Logic, reason, dictates that we should...compare notes.. It says that we should compare our memories, our worlds, our lives...perhaps find information or details within. Logic, just as Mother always taught, says that...but I am so...so tired.."

Beyond even what Asriel meant, his words rang true. The logic he used was sound, at least to begin with, but he was not just tired from the exertion of his rage or from the sorrow of losing his beloved. Asriel felt weaker. Physically? He seemed incredibly strong, if bent with age. Magically? As Frisk could likely tell, he was more than just drained, he was empty. Whether it was the fight he clearly survived, or his display of unearthly powers in the throne room, Asriel felt, to another's touch, so drained that he felt hollow. It was little wonder his eyes kept changing, he had almost no control left to exert over them.

"Then rest," Frisk said with a smile, pressing her shoulder against him. "Rest, and recover. I'll not be going anywhere whilst you slumber, of that I can assure you. I will have a couple of hunters track your prisoner, so that we do not lose her entirely whilst we are recovering, and we can see to her later. Recover yourself, Cinnabun, the kingdom will stand when you awaken…"

---

Frisk woke to the crack of thunder, the lightning strike seemingly right outside the little tent she'd set up. The girl sat bolt upright, butterscotch eyes huge with surprise and adrenaline, a choked cry escaping her before she could silence it. Clutching at her breast, where until recently that golden necklace had rested, she shimmied out of her sleeping bag and pushed aside the flap, peeking out into the night beyond. A storm was gathering; she sighed, closing the flap and zipping it shut, then shuffling back and curling back up inside the bag. As her eyes closed, she felt the distinct feeling that she didn't want to fall asleep, right before the darkness reclaimed her…

---

Though the rest of her body was cold, her arm and right side were warm, as though someone had splashed her with bathwater. It was a familiar feeling to her; much like the spirit whispering in her ear, she had never been a particularly peaceful individual. It had only grown worse in her time in the underground; reset after reset, she emptied the underground of life; it hadn't taken much urging from the spirit to turn her lethal. And then she and her partner had hit upon a glorious idea; what if, rather than killing everything, they had spared everyone? Rather than killing Asgore in the throne room, they tried to convince him they were helpless? Perfect prey for such a coward… Would they be able to escape the underground?

It had taken a few resets to get it right; irritation had, more than once, ended the life of one of the 'boss' monsters; Undyne had been the first, and the very next reset had seen the oaf Papyrus touch on her nerves one time too many. 'Date'? Why would she bother dating such a simpleton? The hardest, of course, had been Toriel. Such a coward; she had had an idea of what her child had planned for the Underground, and hadn't done a damned thing. She'd wanted him dead… It took them six resets before it stopped being instinct to cut her down.

By the time they finally fought Asriel, it had been rather easy to avoid cutting him down right then. His fight, compared to Undyne's alone, had been child's play. And then… Then they'd returned to the surface. Years, it felt, had been spent in the underground. Years before they had come across the idea, and so very long before they'd finally succeeded.

Now they stood over the corpse, warm blood dripping from the point of their dagger, coating their arm, soaking into their clothes.

"We're finally back," Chara murmured, manifesting before her eyes. She'd learned already that he wasn't real, that nobody else could see him. But it was reassuring, seeing his thin frame seeming to stand on the other side of the inert form before her. "It took so long… All of those fools underground, all of these fools up here… But we're finally here. And it's only one so far, but we have the entire planet!"

"We do," she agreed, her lips curling in a fierce, inhuman grin. "And I know just where to go next…"

"After we've finished here?" Chara asked, turning to look towards the nearby window. "I don't want to leave until we're finished here. Until everyone here has paid for what they've done."

"After," Frisk agreed, stepping over the body and striding over to the window to join Chara. "After we're finished here… I think I'll go home~ After all… I've so very much to thank my parents for~"

He looked over at her, his smile joining her own. "I see~" He almost purred as he perused her memories. "My, my, you've a sordid past, haven't you, Frisk? Heh… No better than mine I suppose. Yes… We'll kill everyone who wronged me here, then we'll take you home~"

---

Frisk let out a cry as she sat upright again, her body coated in a cold sweat. Outside of her tent, birds twittered away, happily ignorant of the human's adrenaline, of her fear and foreboding. She could feel the details of her latest dreams slipping, fading away, but she couldn't grasp at them… But several things caught in her mind. One of her dream selves had found a way not just to see the events of another timeline, but to cross into them, without resetting. How much power that must have taken, she couldn't imagine, but the idea was more than interesting.

Another detail was that there was something out there, something that her subconscious apparently thought was guiding her motions. She wasn't of the paranoid persuasion, though she did have a healthy bit of caution… but if her subconscious was willing to throw such a vivid dream at her, she had to at least contemplate the idea that it could be something she was actually noticing. After all, she had very little control over her personal powers, the ability to Reset and Save, and even then, Sans had said that most of her control over the two abilities was subconscious, instinctual. What if there were more powers, powers like the ability to cross time lines, that she only had a vague awareness of?

There were other little things that stood out, like how she and Asriel had been together in the dream, but she shoved that aside, saved it for later. She'd confront those demons when and if Asriel ever returned… If her face ever cooled off.

But then there was the second dream… It had felt so distinctly wrong, and yet it had been every bit as vivid as the first. The Frisk in the dream… As the Dream Chara had touched her memories, Frisk had relived them, bit by bit. They were so very similar to her own, real memories… And yet, the dream's Frisk had been bathed in bitterness, chewing over those old memories until they had become… Toxic, a poison that had hurt her far more than the things that had been done to her ever could. The Underground had become the place where she could take out her hatred and rage. And the people there had suffered.

Could she have really been that person? Could she have been so cruel, so uncaring at the loss of life? Could she have slaughtered someone and actually liked it?

No. But that Frisk could. That Frisk was able to do it, she knew, again and again without remorse.

Frisk grimaced as she opened her phone's storage, a window of light opening in front of her. Rolling up her sleeping bag, she pushed it into the window, watching as it vanished. "I'm not that person," she told herself firmly, before setting about disassembling the tent. "I'm not, and I never will be," she paused, then sighed and turned her gaze skyward. "Right?"

It took her very little time, indeed, to get camp broken down and stored away on her phone, much in the same ways that she had stored away her sleeping bag. Her eyes turned skyward, up into the cool sky. "Is it worth it?" She asked the sky, as though beseeching the gods for an answer to some life-defining question. "They never gave me anything when I was with them. Why should I be bothered now, when I have a family, a real family?" She paused, then sighed and smiled a little to herself. "But Sans and Chara both told me to do this. Ignoring them both would be stupid, huh?"

She slid through the foliage that surrounded her little camping clearing, walking only a few dozen feet before emerging onto the road once again. "Here we go," she said at length, her hand dropping to tap the phone in her pocket. "Only way to go is forward, I guess. The past isn't coming back without a reset… And I'm never Resetting it all again. One True Reset was enough." She paused for a second longer, then set off along the road once again, the burgeoning City of Monsters at her back.

---

Chara hummed as he strode through the ruins within the forests of the mountain, scarlet eyes flicking to and fro. It was so odd, he thought, exploring these remnants of life on the mountain. The remains of villages that must have once held Monsters, the remains of villages that boasted humans… And the oddest to his sight, the villages that must have been built to accommodate both humans and Monsters.

That, more than anything, had interested him in these ruins since he had been reunited with his parents. He was dressed in something rather similar to his old sweater, though larger and better fitted. The light green fabric clung more closely to his musculature, more easily visible despite the covering, and the yellow stripes that circled him remained, as iconic to him as Frisk's blue and violet was to her. However, this new clothing boasted a Delta Rune, emblazoned in white on a black shield right over his heart, a small scarlet heart inverted between the wings, a single black crack running through it from bottom to top. It had been his own design, a parallel to Frisk's personal take on the design, but it symbolized his status quite well; A prince, once fallen but redeemed.

Of course he wore his usual jeans and the well-worn boots that Toriel had made for him so very long ago, as well, and as he always did when not going to school, he carried those two daggers on his hips; straight, flaring slightly near the base before meeting the guard, a keen edge sported by both the front and back-facing blades. Each pommel boasted the unaltered Delta Rune, carved in three dimensions within clear crystal; no matter what he did, these weapons would belong to the Royal Family.

His hair was still a mess, though he had actually showered twice that day; once upon waking, and again after a solo training run had left him soaked in sweat. A quick lunch, and then he'd been off, eager to explore the latest ruins, which looked to him to have once been a small fort, a checkpoint with a garrison more than anything. The outer walls were almost entirely reclaimed by nature, the gate buried under several feet of dirt save for in one spot, a hole that Chara had nearly broken his ankle in when he'd found the place days earlier. Within, only the keep remained, and that only barely; broken walls, no ceiling to speak of, and only a slope of earth that covered what once was a staircase up to the main entrance.

He'd wound up climbing the inside; he wanted to see what he could see from above, and the ruined walls of the keep just beat out the surrounding trees for height. It was there, sitting three or four stories above the ground and snacking on a bar of chocolate that his eyes were drawn skyward by- By a black comet.

What.

He watched as it descended, breaking off a small piece of the bar and chewing it as the comet fell, closer and closer- and hit with a rather loud detonation, quieter than one would expect from such an impact, but still quite loud enough to carry all the way back to Toriel and Asgore's humble home. Blinking slowly, Chara grasped the bar between his teeth, then stood with barely a wobble and took off.

He wasn't a ninja, he couldn't run through trees, but he could descend through the canopy without halting his forward movement; he leaped from the wall into the surrounding trees, briefly grasping and swinging from various limbs until his boots found the ground. Then he ventured onward, ducking and weaving between trees with less grace than Frisk… but not by much. Duck, weave, jump, land, weave, and on and on… Until he slid to a stop at the edge of a small clearing that boasted little of note.

Little, that was, save a crater in the ground and a bleeding tall Pwqa. Biting through the bar of chocolate, he let the bar fall into his hand, his lips curling into a genuine smile. "Leave it to you to go and grow up without me," he called out, knowing that profile even through its changes, its odd clothing. "It's been…. Too long, Asriel."

Asriel stared down at the picture in his hand. It was old, as old as his memories and yet older still, and it was missing one thing that stood out in his mind. It was missing him. He thought these people were his family, his friends, or, at least, that's what his fractured memories told him was true. Why, then, was he absent? He recognized them, he knew their names, but he felt nothing for them. All he felt was a kind of exhausted...apathy. Why should he care for them? They didn't even include him in a photo of their entire family, or….or his memories were wrong. In that case, what care should he have had for strangers? "That's right, cinnamon roll, just forget about them for the moment. You have other business, they come later."

The voice hissed in his head like a rasp across stone, but he knew that it had a point. His mentor, his master, had sent him here for a reason, more than likely yet one more insufferable test. Whatever he had to do, it involved these people and the forest he stood in, and he was sure the voice in his head would tell him everything he had to know. It'd never led him astray, after all.

The former prince's head whipped around at the sound of a voice, the eyes that focused on Chara now silver rather than the bright blue and green of his youth. His eyes had always changed color without him knowing, but never before had they been quite so...empty.

"Chara." He spoke the name that came to mind almost mechanically, his eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight as he examined the boy a few feet away. He'd changed from what Asriel remembered, as muddied as those memories were, but he was still very much the same, crimson-eyed, little boy he knew he'd once called a friend.

So much for 'friends for life', huh?

"Where are the others, Chara?", the lordly Pwqa demanded, his spine straightening as he turned to face Chara, "My business is not with you. Not yet." As frosty a reception as it was, Asriel was very clearly different in more ways than just the physical. No one normal could have survived that fall, and even the cuts that still showed across his face and hands were rapidly beginning to knit themselves back together. The effect was reminiscent of Toriel's immense healing powers, yet there was very little magic in the air to be sensed and Asriel had never been all that talented at healing; he was proficient, of course, but his mind had always wandered too much for him to be all that adept at magic of...really any kind.

As far as seeming alien, his apparent regenerative talents aside, Asriel was doing a fairly decent job, considering his last appearance to his old friends and family had been as a meek child. Now he stood just over six-foot-six and looked as solidly filled out for his apparent age as Undyne, minus the ripped guardswoman's musculature. The most striking change besides the physical, however, must have been his robes. Once, long ago, he'd worn a simple shirt and leggings not too dissimilar from Chara's own, now, so many years later, Asriel was clad in black and muted violet robes that almost appeared armored after a fashion. From the wide collar to the wrap of the robe and its sash, and even the emblazoned family crest over his chest, a crest now sporting white cracks through the thin plate it had been woven onto, he looked more like a sorcerer ready for war than a prince ready for a reunion.

"Perhaps it would be to our advantage to shake his confidence, he always was a nuisance when he was brave, wasn't he?" The voice hissed again, bringing an infinitesimal wince to Asriel's eyes. It had a point though, and Asriel sighed with a growl deep in his throat. "Do not try to lie to me again, Brandt. I remember your tricks all too well."

"Tricks?" Chara asked, an eyebrow rising, his expression cooling. "You mean the many times we actually played together as brothers? Or do you mean the time you and I concocted a plan to get the Monsters out of the underground- a plan I died for?" He glared at the Pwqa now, heat bringing a blush to his cheeks. "Who do you think you are? You know how much everyone panicked when you disappeared? Frisk was hours behind you, and she wanted to go out into the wilderness without so much as a change of clothes to find you. Mom and Dad searched for days, and even Sans threw his lazy butt into gear to try and find you."

He stopped, but only for a second. "And let's not talk about the last few years. The years you've been gone learning how to glare at your brother like he was some maggot, the years that your family has spent worrying, day in and day out, whether you're even still alive. Years watching as Mom and Dad adjusted to losing their son a second time, and watching Frisk curl inward like a wounded puppy who'd lost their litter mate!" He was shouting now, but he didn't seem to notice. "You disappeared, and even my coming back wasn't enough to get the shadows off their hearts- and the first thing you have to say to me after I ate buttercups by the fistful and died so you could get a soul and travel through the barrier is 'Where are the others'?! I got used to everyone else not knowing what I did for everyone, but you, of all people, acting as though I tried to kill you?! Like I'm your enemy?! Who the hell do you think you are, Asriel Dreemurr?!"

How curious. For all that had changed, for all the ways in which Chara seemed to have matured, he was still nothing more than a child whining for attention and recognition. Recognition for what? Genocide?

Asriel smiled an all too wicked smile as Chara's shouts finished echoing off into the forest, his heart beating far more softly than he was sure his once-brother's was. "I know exactly who I am, Chara Brandt.", the Pwqa answer slowly, "I am the prince of the Dreemurr family, I am the heir to my father's throne, and I am all too merciful for not having struck you down on sight." The venom that dripped from each and every word was woven beneath layers of tone and poise, but it was there all the same. It was like acid slowly creeping across the clearing between the two brothers.

"You ate the flowers so that we might travel above and reclaim this land. You ate those flowers and died, you left me alone, even though I did not wish for it. I TOLD you not to, and yet you did it anyway.", the prince snapped, taking a single step away from his crater, "I never wanted you to die, Chara, I never wanted for my father to kill a single soul more than he already had, I never wanted to see you BUTCHER everyone I'd ever known and loved."

Asriel let his words sink in for the briefest moment, his head tilting to one side as his smile became just slightly more twisted. "Or did you think that I hadn't seen? That I hadn't been privy, in my weakened state, to the horrors you wrought? Did you think I would die so easily to a simple KNIFE?!"

As though his words alone had power, the around them began to bend and flex, leaves falling as though shaken by a mighty wind, and the air itself began to warm until the temperate forest felt almost tropical. Asriel's own emotions were getting the better of him, and nowhere was that more clear than in his once silver eyes, now beginning to burn an unholy red-ringed black.

"Do you remember how mother died, Chara? Before Frisk changed everything? Do you remember how she bent over your tiny body as you drove a knife into her heart repeatedly?" The glow within Asriel's eyes burned brighter with every word, and each word took on a darker tone as he slowly stalked towards Chara. "Do you remember Papyrus? How he believed in you so fully, even as you severed his head from his body? Or maybe Undyne as she clung to her duties, defying you tens of thousands of times before her soul finally gave out? Do you remember ANY of this? Or are you just as hollow, callous, and wretched a demon as I came to believe you to be?!"

Asriel finally stopped, staring down at the boy he'd once considered to be his closest friend, his brother in all things until death did them part and then far beyond, and he watched Chara's face. He wanted to see those crimson eyes break, he wanted to see the heat in those spotted cheeks flare, and he wanted to feel the pain radiate off of the boy.

Asriel, however, was impatient.

"ANSWER ME, CHARA!", he snarled, his eyes flaring with black flames and crimson embers as he barred fang like teeth more suited to the demon he described than a Pwqa prince, and all around them the world responded in kind as the ground began to burn under Asriel's feet and a crack as loud as a gunshot heralded a tree across the clearing splitting down the middle due to the stress of wind alone.

Chara glared at him, and for just a moment one might be able to see the demon he might have become, had he ever actually defeated Sans. Had he ever claimed Frisk's soul. Then it was gone, and someone else stood there in his place; not a prince, perhaps, but a warrior. Nothing about him changed, nothing tangible at the least, but suddenly he was not the demon that he had once been. "Father never planned to kill Humans until after your death, Asriel, and you damned well know it. The only humans who would have died were the people who drove me away, the people who saw me as a demon before I'd raised a finger against them."

Then he snorted, glancing around them. "Look at you, Asriel. You want to claim you're better than me? Then let me tell you this." His eyes never flinched, staying locked on the Pwqa's gaze. "I killed them all. It sickened me at first, but it grew easier the more of them I killed. By Undyne, I was cold. A monster, not a Monster. And then I met Sans. And I never beat him. I tried and I tried until Frisk's Determination overwhelmed mine, and then she reset everything. Erased all my work. And do you know why I did so many things? Because the very first time I awoke, you tried to kill me. Before I'd so much as swung that stick she fell with. 'It's Kill or Be Killed,' Right, Asriel? I was just doing as you said. I died so that we could set the monsters free; I never wished the others any ill will. And the moment I come back to myself, a damned flower tries to kill me."

"You were the trigger. You started the genocide, Asriel. I committed it, but you triggered it. And then you were brought back. You were given a second chance; she worked herself to the bone for years to bring you back. So many times that you forgot. And you ran away. Without so much as a word to her. She wilted. She barely beat me yesterday- no, she didn't beat me yesterday. She can't even defeat me, the girl whose Determination let her stand up to you tearing apart her very soul. Because of you. Because you left. Because you might be dead."

He spread his arms, as if encompassing everything around them. "I came back, and I tried to kill her. I did, twice. And she still defeated me- and refused to kill me. You know what she told me?" His voice went abruptly quiet, but his gaze never wavered. "'I forgive you. For everything.' That's the girl you walked away from without so much as a goodbye. She shamed me, Asriel Dreemurr. She could forgive me, even when she'd seen my memories of my time controlling her. Even when she'd seen the desolation I'd spread through the underground, she forgave me and tried to help me. The first person to reach out to me, the first person to accept me, was a human, instead of my family."

He let his arms drop. "So I tried to be worthy of being forgiven. I explained why I got so sick to mom and dad. While you were gone, I tried to make up for my mistakes, to be worthy of that girl's forgiveness, to earn the second chance she'd given me. While you were away doing gods-know-what with your second chance, I was working against the mountain of my crimes. I'm a prince now; officially adopted by Mom and Dad, sort of like adopting an heir. And I got to watch, for years, as the two people I'd wanted more than anything to be free of the Underground grieved for a son they'd lost twice."

He snorted, shaking his head, not giving the Pwqa a chance to respond. "You ran away from your home, where you were welcome. From friends, from family. You squandered your second chance and made them all worry and grieve, all over again, and then you come back and call me the monster, the demon? Get real, Asriel; Neither of us deserves the second chance that girl gave us. I should be dead. You should still be a soulless flower. At least I'm trying to earn what she gave me, what Mom and Dad have given me. And you know what? When they find out you're alive? I'll be right back to being the outsider. Because you're the Son. Because you're Asriel. Because you get to be high and mighty and oh-so-very powerful, even when you started out as a little crybaby who couldn't even live amongst humans for a few years until enough died naturally that you could break the seal without hurting anyone! You come back as though you own the world, as though you shouldn't even feel a little remorse for hurting everyone so much, while I fucking drown in it!"

He didn't actually realize he'd drawn his weapons; they were simply in his hands, his posture open but hinting towards defensive. "You don't deserve the forgiveness they'll all heap on you, Asriel. You don't deserve to be her Cinnamon Bun when you left her, and everyone else, for dead.

For all of the malice he'd summoned up in bare seconds' time, for all of the bluster and fury, Asriel could not maintain it against Chara's tirade. Was he right? Of course he was. Was he equally wrong? Likely so, in his own way. That didn't really matter in the end, now did it?

Asriel put a hand to his head, covering his eyes as though to keep a headache at bay as the world around them began to settle back into its natural order. What Chara didn't see, through his own seething rage and Asriel's furry hand, were the silver tears welling behind eyes that refused to let them fall. He refused to let that weakness back out, he'd already spent far too long trying to repair the damage it had done what felt like an eternity ago.

It was as Chara settled back into his fighting posture and Asriel righted himself, standing straight and tall, that he spoke, his hand never moving from over his eyes. Even without the eye contact, his words were no less genuine, and without even a hint of his former venom.

"I loved you as more than a brother, Chara. My parents aside, you were everything to me, you were so dear to me that I might have very well ravaged this world until the rivers ran bloody red had I the power." Asriel's tone softened, his eyes falling and slowly closing within his hand's shadow. "I would have done anything, if only to bring you back.."

Finally he let his hand fall back to his side, his red eyes focusing on Chara's equally crimson ones. "I may have triggered the events of the genocide, and you may have carried them out, but I did all that I did out of a desire to bring you back. All I wanted was to see you again, and it drove me to lengths that tore at my sanity in ways you cannot even imagine." Asriel sighed, his expression becoming as serious as his tone. "You broke the trust I had placed in you, as a friend and as a brother. You betrayed that bond so you could carry out your cockeyed scheme instead of waiting until we were both old enough to rule side by side...until we were old enough to actually save our people.. If it hadn't been for Frisk happening to fall into the caverns, our people, OUR FAMILY, would still be tormented by the ghosts and echoes our deaths left behind."

Asriel watched his brother, his red eyes cold and merciless and alien all the same, and he couldn't help but feel as though he was coming to know exactly how Chara had felt on the surface so many years earlier. He sighed, "You think of me as the monster? Perhaps I am, perhaps you are too, perhaps you're right and we should both be dead. That doesn't matter anymore, thanks to Her. Now, I will ask one last time; where are the others? I do not want to hurt you Chara, not yet, but I will if I have to."

Chara snorted, not yet relaxing. "You don't? Could have fooled me for all the fancy effects you were tossing around." He took a step forward, staring hard at Asriel. "Funnily enough, you agreed to the plan, remember? Oh, you had second thoughts when I was dying, but it was a little too late by then, wasn't it?" He raised his right-hand dagger, tapping the tip against his breast, over the Delta Rune on his chest. "This means more than you know. You, Mom, Dad, you were all that mattered to me. It might have been stupid in hindsight, but I saw my death as the perfect way to solve everything. After all, with seven souls, you might even be able to bring a human back from the dead. I gave up everything for the three of you, Asriel. My own, worthless life, and everything connected to it."

He spun abruptly, those daggers becoming blurs of silver as the streaked through the air, sinking halfway to the hilts in one of the surrounding trees. Then he crouched, heaving a sigh that held far more weight than simple weariness. "It wasn't your fault we failed, I see that now that I've actually thought about it for a few years. It wasn't your fault that everyone stayed trapped until Frisk showed up. Fate, I suppose, played a large part; had we not done what we did, then Frisk's arrival would have been like mine: noteable, but nothing world-changing. Those ghosts and echoes were what primed things so we could all be where we are today." He stood, turning again to face Asriel. Tears now marked his cheeks, but though they continued to fall, he didn't sob, his tone didn't waver.

"Asriel… I was wrong to say you don't deserve anything. Forgiveness. We don't get to decide if we deserve the things we get. And… It's too late to change anything. Even if we want to, it's too late to change the past. It's too late for me to take back all the horrible things I did, and it's too late for you to take back following along with my plan and running away. We- I wronged you. I did something horrible. I thought it would save everyone, but it was still horrible." he paused, then held up his chocolate, breaking off the several pieces that boasted grass from being dropped and tossing it aside before offering the rest of the bar to the pwqa. "I'm sorry, Asriel. I-I'm-" he broke off, his throat closing, his grip tightening on the bar. "I'm not worthy of being your brother."

That was exactly what Asriel wanted to hear. Rather, it was what the voice wanted to hear, it wanted to hear the proud butcher of the Underground sniveling and tripping over his own two feet for forgiveness, and it'd gotten exactly what it wanted. Asriel, on the other hand, was horrified, as much at what had come out of his mouth as he was at what he'd reduced Chara to, and it showed on his face no matter the voice's intentions. This was not the reunion he'd wanted, not like this..

Asriel took three quick steps forward and wrapped his arms around his long lost brother, pulling the boy against his robed chest if only to feel the beat of his heart again. The once princeling had become incredibly strong in his transformation and a fraction of that strength could be felt as he squeezed Chara, holding him as though letting go would mean losing him again. In that moment the voice had no power, the picture had been forgotten, and even Asriel's mentor could no longer get through to him. He was with his brother, he was home, and that was all that mattered.

The Pwqa dropped to his knees, pulling Chara with him, and buried his snout against his brother's shoulder as silent tears began to fall from wide, unblinking, silver eyes. How had he felt such rage against Chara of all people? How had hatred ever even entered into his mind? How could he have changed so much that he was so unrecognizable even to himself? All of these questions his mind burned to answer, but only one thing escaped his tightening throat, "I...am so sorry… Chara, please, I never meant...I never meant for this to happen, to say those things, I-I am so sorry…"

Over and over he repeated that simple phrase, all but begging on his knees as one clawed hand tightened around the back of Chara's head and the other held firm across his back. No matter how hard it had tried to drive a wedge between them, Asriel was still managing to do the one thing the voice in his head hadn't wanted him to do. He knew that much, despite understanding so little, despite his seeming inability to speak of it, and he refused to cooperate so long as he had an ounce of strength to rebel with.

Chara clung to him, but still he didn't sob. He wasn't one for shouting his tears, as it were; when he cried, it was silent, accompanied perhaps by hitching gasps. And though it took time, he was eventually able to speak again. "W- We'll never get anywhere if we just keep apologizing," he said, his tone light despite the tears in his voice. "If you'll forgive me, Asriel, I'll forgive you; We're both making mistakes…" He buried his face in the Pwqa's neck, taking a deep breath. Only after several moments of simply clinging to something solid did he draw back. "I missed you, Asriel… I missed you more than words could ever describe."

He wiped at his eyes, smiling a little. "Almost everyone's still at home; Dad's underground, doing something in the Castle… And Frisk left yesterday."

As Chara pulled back, so did Asriel, staring at his brother with as much focus as he could muster through the tears that clouded his eyes and the burning pain in his gut that seemed to gnaw at his very essence. Almost nothing could cut through that anxious, guilty, pain, not even the happiness of seeing Chara smile and holding his brother close again, but hearing that Frisk had left? That didn't just cut through the pain, that made Asriel's entire body go numb from head to toe.

The prince's hands slid to Chara's shoulders and tightened, his eyes becoming little more than black pinpricks in oceans of silver. "Where did she go?", he demanded, more fear than anger evident in his tone, "Chara, I have to find her, something has happened to me and I cannot let it…we cannot let it happen to her!"

Chara blinked slowly, his mouth opening to respond when he was cut off by another voice. "She went to find her parents." Chara blinked, eyes turning to face Sans, who stood several feet away, a droplet of sweat on his forehead but otherwise appearing perfectly unaffected by whatever he'd been doing to get there so quickly.

"I heard most've your last arguments. The kid was right; she was wilting. Without a big foe to face, someone to help, or important job to do, without a purpose, she was getting more and more like me; she was starting to stop caring. And, well, one lazy bag of bones is bad enough, y'know? She never talked about her parents often, and when she did it was always brief, negative. So, we suggested she go find 'em, close that chapter of her life once and for all. We're waitin' on Alphys to finish on Chara's phone before he goes after her; she's already about a day, maybe a little more ahead of us."

Asriel's head didn't so much snap up at the sound of a voice he knew all too well as his skin, and the fur atop it, went deathly cold. 'Sans.' The name flashed across his mind and his eyes immediately darkened, their color unchanging except for the shadows of absolute, unending, agony that seemed to cast across their surfaces. As quickly as his expression had changed once, though, so it changed again, and he looked up to face Sans with cold silver eyes and an all too defiant stare.

"Then we have to follow her. If you two aren't ready, I can go, I've already seen what it's like and survived, I can do it again if I have to." His tone was finally hopeful again, if only because he had a sense of direction that wasn't directing him to murder his family, and he rose to his feet with Chara somewhere between a crutch and an anchor in the storm that raged in his mind. "If you have anything to say about me, my absence, or what you just heard, save it for when we have her back.", he told the skeleton sternly, "I have my brother, now all that matters is making sure Frisk doesn't go through the same nightmares I did."

Sans shook his head, then spread his arms. "Not my place to comment on it, kid. I told Frisk that it wasn't my place to judge her, way back in the Underground. Nah, I'm just an observer… Impartial, y'could say. My suggestion, though, is to check in with Alphys first. Kid needs what'll be in that phone. Worst-case, you gotta wait a few hours. Frisk's tough- and that's without the strength she'll get when she knows you're alive. The kid'll make it a few more hours, and I doubt she'll be pushin' herself. She'll be keepin' a pretty slow pace, so you'll catch up to her pretty quickly if the two of you push yourselves. Hell… Might even catch her before she makes it to Chara's village."

Chara went pale, but shook his head. "Not likely… This late in the day, if she was keeping any real pace at all, she'd be getting there now."

Sans paused, then nodded. "Fair enough, kid. You know this place better 'n me; you actually walked it. But my point remains; rushing won't do you much good right now, Asriel, and it could hurt Chara. Give it a couple hours, let Alphys finish the phone for him. Then I'll take you as far as I've been, and you can take off."

Asriel grit his teeth. It ground against every bone and fiber of tissue in his body to wait, but he knew that having Chara along….might end up being necessary. If he went off the deep end again, at least he'd be in trusted company instead of alone or with someone like Sans. Maybe, just maybe, he could even find a way to tell Chara what simply wouldn't come out in words, the half-truth and piecemeal answers he'd put together about his own damaged mind.

The Pwqa sighed and looked to Chara before nodding, "Fine. We wait till dusk, that should give her enough time." Never before had Asriel possessed such an authoritative tone, he'd always been a soft, meek, person that would've bent over backwards for anyone, not the leader he was trying to be now. "Do you feel like walking back to town?", he asked his brother, his hand clenching and unclenching almost unconsciously so long as he felt Sans' hollow eyes staring the both of them down. He'd never disliked the skeleton, but, unlike Papyrus, Asriel had never quite found it possible to fully trust Sans. Perhaps it was how he always knew more than he let on, or maybe it was his propensity to keep secrets, but, either way, he couldn't wait for the old bag of bones to leave him and Chara be.

Sans chuckled, shrugging. "That'll work, kid. Y'might even be able to leave earlier, if everything sorts out right. Readin' this stuff's hard work, 'specially without the Lab. I'll see if I can't sneak somethin' in for you two, as well. Wouldn't want you goin' off without havin' any backup, huh?" He chuckled, glancing at Chara. "Careful, kid." Then he took a step back, as if to circle around the tree to his left, and simply… Vanished.

Chara blinked, and if he'd been a cat, his ears would have flickered curiously. "That was… Weird. Sans isn't usually that short. Erm, with us, I mean; he's always been altitude-challenged." Shaking his head, he took a breath, glancing up at Asriel. "You think you can walk? And when did you gain eighty pounds, huh? I'm fourteen! And you aren't much older! I declare this entirely unfair, and formally lodge my protest." He paused, then slowly shifted out from under Asriel's arm, reclaiming his weapons with sharp tugs and tucking them into their scabbards. "I walked the whole way here, Asriel. I can walk back if you can."

The very instant Sans left them behind, using one of his vaunted 'shortcuts', a weight seemed to lift from Asriel's shoulders and the prince let out a long held sigh. No matter their situation, and no matter the trepidation he held towards actually finding Frisk after so long away, Chara's humor and smile find it an easy task to brighten the Pwqa's mood. "I'll have you know," he snorted as Chara retrieved his knives, "that I put on only seventy-three pounds, and I'm much taller than you." It was as indignant a tone as he could muster without fear of slipping back into his earlier mood, but it was far, far, too much and Asriel's poker face broke not but seconds later.

"By the ancestors, Chara..", he sighed, smiling, as his breath returned and he draped an arm over his brother's shoulders, "I missed you so much, you and your easy way with the world." Without even giving a true answer to the question, Asriel simply started walking, always keeping Chara close at hand. He actually had no idea what his physical limits were, the place he'd been training in was, needless to say, more than a little strange. "Let's get back to town. I...I don't look forward to the sudden reunions, but.." He let out a short sigh, the sound cut off by another, tiny, wince. "I...suppose it'll be better than staying away even longer. I don't think I could do that anymore if I wanted to."

"We wouldn't let ya," he assured the Pwqa, smiling a little as they walked. He fell silent after that for several moments, quite unlike Frisk in that while he had a 'laid-back' disposition, he was very much a realist. Frisk might have chatted about how happy everyone would be, how surprised. He didn't, because he knew it was true. When he finally laughed again, it was wry. "I was just thinking," he said, glancing up at the Pwqa, "this is going to be as hard for you as my 'coming back from the dead' was for me. We just keep walking into bad situations, don't we?"

The trip was going to be a pretty decent one; ten, fifteen minutes if they made good time, and almost half an hour if they took their time. "Asriel," he said after several more moments of silence. "You should probably think about this while you have the chance. You're about to show up after years, completely changed. You're about to give Mom and Dad another huge shock, only to leave a few hours later. They deserve to at least know why you're running off so suddenly."

Chara usually had a point, whatever he was talking about, but this time he was far more right than he knew. First off, they really, really, REALLY did just keep walking from one bad situation to another. Secondly, and far more importantly though, Asriel had, quite literally, zero idea how he was going to explain this one. Burning your entire body, scaring your family half to death, nearly dying, traipsing off in the middle of the night without explanation, and then staying away from home and everyone you used to know and love for several years, before just randomly showing up and nearly murdering your beloved sibling was a little more serious than getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Just a tiny little bit worse.

Asriel nodded as they walked, his expression having turned more somber. "It won't be easy, I know, but...I'll just tell mom and dad the truth. Alphys knows, Undyne probably does too...Sans knows more than he lets on, as usual, and I'm sure Paps will either hug me right back to the grave or savage me with spaghetti." The very thought brought a smile to the dour looking Pwqa's face. "However it goes down, it'll be fine in the end, I know that much." Asriel looked down at Chara as they walked, his smile growing ever so slightly. "Besides, I'll have you by my side, right? Surely nothing will go wrong."

Chara had made small talk for most of the walk back, unwilling to touch on how the pwqa had jinxed them. He knew he had; he, among everyone, was well-versed in jinxes. It had taken almost twenty minutes to get to town, and even then, it took a surprisingly long time for anyone to take notice of the pair. The first, in fact, was Dogamy and Dogaressa, the pair out on one of their mutual walks. They saw them as the two were making their way through one of the parks in the burgeoning city. And of course, it didn't take terribly long before word was spread that Chara was being accompanied by someone who looked suspiciously like someone from the Royal Family.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that the pair made it to Asgore and Toriel's house without being ambushed by too many people. But of course, there would be the real problem; Asgore stood outside, humming a soft little tune as he tended to the plants beneath the house's windows in the little side garden. His reaction, upon spotting the pair, was as predictable as it was severe; happiness at spotting Chara, and curiosity as to his new friend. Then came realization, and shock. "Tori!" he called out, his voice strained. "Come out here!"

Asriel's first reaction to seeing the home he'd left behind was one of sadness mixed with a longing like he hadn't known since...well, since his battle against Frisk in the Underground. His second reaction, upon seeing his father stand bolt upright and hearing him call for his dear, sweet, mother was to groan and smack a hand over his eyes. "This suddenly got slightly more complicated, didn't it?", he asked of no one in particular.

Toriel, having been reading while yet further refining her baking skills despite being an unbeaten master, looked up with a start and quickly set her book down, hurrying out to find out what could have possibly set her husband off this time. He was always overreacting, to every little thing, but she didn't even have an inkling of what she would see when she padded outside. It was, of course, the sight of Asriel and Chara walking calmly up to the old home's stone path as though all was perfectly fine in the world and HER SON HADN'T BEEN GONE AND POSSIBLY DEAD FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS.

Had he even an inkling of the abrupt thought, Chara might have brought up that he'd actually been dead for better than ten years, if for no other reason than to ease the tension, but he wasn't a mind reader, as much as he might have hoped. And unlike Frisk, he didn't have the knack for reading people's emotions, for realizing what was coming emotions-wise. So as Toriel padded out of the door, he raised a hand and smiled a little. "So… Look who I found out in the forest? He was staring pretty hard at a flower… I guess he wanted to get back to his roots?"

Toriel huffed a sound that might have been a laugh, had it not been so breathless. "Asriel?" She asked, those eyes of hers wide, taking in all the details of his form, from his height to his new clothing. "I-is that you, Asriel?" Tears were already forming in her eyes.

With guilt, fear, relief, and the desire to run and hug his parents until they couldn't breathe all mixing in his chest, Asriel didn't much air with which to speak. So, instead of waiting for words that would never come, the Pwqa let his hand drift across Chara's shoulder as he broke into a sprint headlong into his aging father. The fun part came two seconds after, when he picked the much larger Pwqa up roughly two inches off the ground and still had the strength to squeeze. After a brief moment of embracing, some would say crushing, his father, Asriel sat him down and rushed over to his mother, grabbing her much the same. He didn't pick her up, but she was the one that he allowed tears to flow to, even if they were completely silent as they spotted her gown. There were no real words to describe the moment, so why bother trying to speak?

It was through tear stained and blurred eyes that Toriel watched her son, a precious gem she'd thought lost to the wilds, sprint at her husband and then at her. It felt like a thousand lifetimes worth of pain, fear, and anxiety had all come crashing back down on her conscious mind, and been lifted away all at the same time. Chara had been brought back, and now Asriel had been returned to them? Toriel didn't even have the mental capacity to speak, let alone marvel at what her son had become, and so she collapsed to one knee as he embraced her. She held onto him and didn't let go, crushing her son in the same relentless hug that seemed to say letting go meant saying goodbye. She was not, ever, going to say goodbye to him again, not if she had any choice in the matter.

Chara stood back, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants, just in front of his knives' scabbards. He stayed silent; no matter how long they'd been together, Asriel was still their son in a far more tangible way than he ever would be. So rather than rushing forward to join the trio as Asgore followed Asriel to Toriel, wrapping the two of them in his massive embrace, Chara took a little half-step back, leaning lightly against the fencing that surrounded this little garden. There he remained, a little smile on his face, his eyes and expression otherwise unreadable.

The tears fell from all three royals for a solid minute before Toriel finally pulled away enough to look down at her son, never once letting her hands drop from the embrace. Asriel tried so very hard to hide his eyes, to remain buried in the comfort his mother's presence provided, but, when he felt Asgore's powerful arms wrap around him in a bone crushing hug and Toriel shift to look down at him, he could only look up in kind. In a strange, almost alien, way, Asriel was a child again in that moment. Despite his morose appearance and the changes that had come over him, the spark that had always made him who he was had never left him. Seeing that in her son's silver eyes, Toriel could only beam through a small river of tears. Asgore? Well, Asriel's father barely even looked at him, choosing instead to hold onto his not-quite-so-little boy like a child clings to a teddy bear in a storm.

The Dreemurrs shared a conversation both silent and vocal, as stained with quiet sobbing and apologies as it was, for the next few minutes. It was a surprisingly peaceful reunion all things considered, right up until the sound of footsteps in the far distance reached Toriel's ears and she shared a silent look with her husband. The two elders nodded, affirming that this needed to remain private for at least a little while, and rose with their son, all three of them wiping tears from their eyes. Asriel, however, wasn't quite as eager to go inside, the prince looking back as his mother ushered him onward just so he could get a glimpse of Chara and reach out for him. He didn't need to say anything, he just hoped his expression said how much he wanted his brother at his side from that day forward.

As the family retreated into the privacy of their home, Chara smiled back to Asriel, reaching up to tap the Delta Rune on his breast, and through it his heart. As if to say, 'We're family. We'll always be together.' But he didn't follow along; he felt too much the outsider, even if he was officially Asriel's brother. Their argument in the woods whispered in his ear, reminding him that it had been he who had torn the family apart in the first place.

He wasn't looking forward to battling those particular demons.

It was several seconds after they'd gone inside before the footsteps reached his own ears, and more seconds still before their creator came into sight; it was with a jolt of surprise that Chara recognized the yellow-scaled Salamander, the royal scientist Alphys, dressed in her usual lab coat. "A-ah, Chara!" She exclaimed, smiling. "I w-was l-l-looking for you! Undyne said y-you'd come back w-with someone… I guess they- they've left?" She looked around curiously, ignorant of whatever emotions the young- or old- human was feeling, before waddling up to him and presenting him a compact little smart phone. "Here! It's your phone. It's got all its features! Undernet and Internet connections, Dimensional Storage, quantum encryptions, a 3240p high-definition camera, and an uplink to a few weather satellites."

Chara blinked, then took the unassuming rectangle of plastic and metal, raising an eyebrow at her. "All that… in this?"

"Yeah! It's r-really neat, I think. T-the only thing Frisk's has that y-yours doesn't is a c-connection to the Diplomatic Servers. Otherwise, you're a-all set!"

Chara smiled, nodding a little as he tucked the device into his pocket. "Thanks, Alphys," he said, slowly pushing off of the fence. "I'll probably leave in a few hours. There are… Family matters to take care of. But we'll be off after Frisk soon enough."

He chatted for several minutes more with the Salamander, carefully avoiding her catnip, the anime genre in general and Mew Mew Kissy Cutie in particular. Then the two bid each-other farewell, and Chara took a long, deep breath. "Clothes," he said softly. "Clothes are the only thing she can't give me herself…" he glanced at the house, then sighed. "Here we go…" He stepped away from the fence, almost hesitantly at first before his confidence returned. By the time he pulled the door open and slipped inside, it was as though he'd never felt hesitation to go inside at all.

Almost the instant Chara's feet crossed over the threshold of the stately house his ears were met with a loud, ringing, yelp, and then another, deeper, one a moment later. It was an easy bet what that was, and even a cursory glance into the living room would just go to show that Toriel had most certainly not changed. Both Asriel and Asgore were sat on the couch with their hands wrapped around their snouts, the sound of Toriel gently berating Asriel for his disappearing stunt intermixed with an equally gentle tirade at her husband over how he wasn't chastising his son. While some might have seen that as unnecessary or harsh, the smile on Asriel's face, partially covered by his hands as it was, said that getting whacked on the nose with a soup spoon was as much a 'welcome home' as their tear filled embrace had been.

Chara laughed, actually laughed, as he spotted the sight, mirth bubbling up from somewhere inside. Some form of relief, some tension broken that he hadn't even noticed. Or had, and refused to acknowledge. He strode forward, leaning against the doorway of the familiar home, one he had shared with Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk since he'd come back. He listened for several moments; his laughter hadn't been enough to dissuade Toriel from her stern speech, and had likely only reinforced in her mind that they needed a talking to. After a few moments, he took a step back, then turned and slid down the entry hall to the stairs, taking them two at a time as he climbed to the second floor.

His room had started life as a guest room, but over the years since his return, it had taken on a number of personalizations. For one, the dresser boasted a large box positively filled with bars of chocolate, to the point of overflowing. Next to it, a half-empty glass of chocolate milk waited to be taken downstairs; he hadn't finished it before heading out to do his morning exercises, and as usual his plan of returning within a few minutes of finishing had gone straight out the window.

A poster covered the wall over the dresser, an aerial view of the burgeoning city of the Monsters, and next to it was a poster of a heavy metal band, one of his personal favorites. A wooden sword rested against the side of the dresser, too small for him now but still an artifact of his life as a pure human, before he'd eaten fistfuls of buttercups. It was battered and scarred from training, and yet clearly taken very good care of, a fresh layer of clear lacquer ensuring it wouldn't degrade any more than it had since he'd finished with it. Lying at the base of the dresser were a pair of wooden daggers, themselves very beaten and battered with use, but visibly less taken care of; they were only tools, practice weapons that he'd used before he'd gotten his current weapons.

Finally, his bed, the only other piece of furniture in the room. It was neatly made, the creases almost razor-sharp, which meant only one thing; Toriel had been in his room, had her usual meltdown at the state of it, and cleaned everything whilst he'd been gone. It wasn't as though he were a slob… But what, he'd always wondered, was the point of making the bed if you were just going to lay back down in it at the end of the day?

As the minutes passed by and Chara gathered what he would need for the journey ahead, Toriel finally finished her tirade and all but collapsed on her boys with an all too exhausted sigh, the thought of Asriel leaving again not even once entering her mind. It was an extraordinarily pleasant thing to simply sit and enjoy the company of his parents for the first time in what felt like several eternities, but Asriel, all the same, knew that he couldn't rest just yet. He had to keep fighting on for Frisk, he had to make everything right before he could allow himself to actually relax.

'This isn't going to be easy…', he thought to himself. Oh how painfully correct he was.

Things were rather peaceful for several minutes before Asriel extricated himself from between his parents and stood up; the next thing Chara, and likely all of the neighbors, knew was the sound of a very, very, angry Pwqa making her feelings known.

"ASRIEL DREEMURR YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" Toriel's voice didn't even break or crack, but its strength seemed to shake the very stones and timbers of the house. It was suddenly little wonder where Asriel had gotten his fire from, it certainly hadn't been his gentle old father.

The outburst wasn't followed by any further shouting, but the sound of Asgore trying to calm his wife down and Asriel trying very hard to explain, in an expedited manner, his reasons for leaving again were nonetheless matched by flares of magic that made the house creak and groan. It wouldn't be long before it wasn't just the neighbors looking on in wonder, but the guard and their illustrious captain themselves. Toriel was a menace when she was angry and she wasn't about to lose either of her sons again, not after seeing them both healthy, happy, and side by side for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

"But we have to go," Chara said from the stairs, sliding down them slowly. The abrupt silence his comment summoned up would have been stunning under most circumstances. He paused at the door, gazing into the living room with an expression similar to the one he'd once born as he discussed his plan to save the monsters. Calm, accepting, but with a very, very healthy dosage of what had made him Unique. What had ensured he and Frisk had become connected, despite the many years separating their personal times. As he gazed at his family, his eyes were filled with the thing his very visage boasted in amounts bested only by one other. Determination wrapped about Chara like a mantle, a cloak. "Frisk needs to know that Asriel is alive. Mom, Frisk needs Asriel now as much as you do. If… If she were to be badly hurt, even killed… Her Determination might not be strong enough to pull her through."

He motioned towards the kitchen, where a cork-board boasted Frisk's latest school reports. "You know how she's been lately. Asriel wants to find her and help her. Can we really, in good conscience, stop him?"

Toriel's expression when Chara came down the stairs was tantamount to some kind of fire breathing demon that had just been moderately scorned, and the slight singing across Asgore's arms and the couch cushions only attested further to her fury. The moment he opened his mouth her gaze flew to his, her normally beautiful violet eyes tinged with a red glow that defied her often unassailably gentle demeanor. Despite all of the emotion that had welled up in response to the idea of them leaving, however, it took only the mention of Frisk being hurt, let alone dying for good, to all but break the mother Pwqa's spirit. Instantly her eyes shifted fully back to violet, her shoulder slumped, and she leaned heavily against the slightly singed Asgore.

Both Asriel and Asgore took time to embrace her and simply hold on, giving Toriel the chance to run her hands through her firstborn's silken fur one last time. For all she knew this really would be the last time she ever saw her children, any of them, again, or it might be the last time she would have to say goodbye. Either way, as Asriel turned to join Chara in the hallway, Toriel stepped forward and scooped both boys up in her arms, squeezing them tightly enough that Asriel actually squeaked a little as the air rushed out of his lungs.

"Both of you had better come back, with Frisk between you.", she told them, her voice soft, "I will not lose any of you, let alone all of you, again; there is nothing more precious to me in this world, or any other, than my children.." It took all of her strength to simply not cry over them again, but Toriel managed to hold on and steal a kiss off of both Asriel's and Chara's cheeks before she finally let go and stood up, Asgore wrapping an arm around her back. The old king, at least, seemed to understand, but his expression said that he felt much the same as Toriel did, even if he had already accepted how right Chara was.

Once released, Asriel then turned, putting a hand gently, almost hesitantly, on Chara's shoulder. His expression was soft and somber, if now a little more hopeful and relaxed, but he still wasn't quite sure if he'd earned enough credit back with Chara to even touch the boy, let alone hold his hand like he had in their youth. "So...are you ready? I can't imagine this is going to get any easier the longer we wait, and I thought I heard Alphys' voice earlier, yeah?"

Chara nodded, patting his pocket. "Sharp ears, bro," he said softly, though his eyes never left Toriel's. "I promise," he said again, every bit of his formidable Determination on display with every word, "That when we return, it will be together, all three of us. And we will return. After all, Asriel has to earn the crown, and I have to deserve everyone's forgiveness. Can't do that if I'm gone again, right?" He smiled, then stepped forward and hugged the two adult Pwqa again, as tight as his slight form could. "We'll be back, mom, dad. And we'll bring Frisk with us."

Then, with a soft intake of breath, he turned and strode purposefully out of the house, his hands clenched into fists. He didn't look back; he didn't want them to see his sadness. That he was the reason that Asriel was leaving so soon after his return was a fact that burned in his gut. But he had a destination, he had a purpose. "I've got everything I'll need for a month," he said once they were a little ways from the house, speaking to his brother. "For two of us, I'd say-" he paused, eying Asriel's form. "I'd say a week and a half. Y'tall jerk. Now, how about you explain to me why it's so critical that we run off after Frisk?"

Asriel followed almost perfectly in Chara's footsteps, embracing his parents one more time before quickly turning heel and following his brother out of the house. The sooner they were gone, they easier it would be to leave, and the sooner they would get back. Using that logic as incentive, Asriel caught up to Chara and walked side by side with him, taking a measure of comfort in the other boy's presence that he hadn't taken in far too long.

"Tall?", he snorted, half laughing, "Look who's talking, short stuff." The Pwqa grinned down at his brother. "You've grown quite a bit, last I remember was mom saying you were 'Cute as a button.'" He could barely hide the mirth in his voice, most of which stemmed from simply being able to talk to Chara again, let alone joke with him, but the seriousness returned all too quickly when the subject was changed. It wasn't something he enjoyed talking about, it wasn't even something he was sure he could talk about, but he was more than willing to try for Frisk's sake.

"I...I'll be honest, it's..hard to say anything. It's kinda like something keep me from talking about…" He trailed off, searching for a term to replace the words he couldn't speak, and his search was ended with a groan. "This is going to be way harder than I expected..", he sighed, "I guess I'll start at the beginning then, right after I left town…"

Elsewhere, blood dripped from cold fingertips…

---

A/N Afterword, Cookie: *insert malevolent cackling here.*

Whisperfen: You're horrible.

Cookie: Yes. Yes I am. AND HELLO EVERYONE HOW WAS THAT LITTLE TRIP?!

Whisperfen: Thanks, Cookie, now I have a headache. Also, yes, hi. We're alive, believe it or not, and I hope all of you are still alive too. No thanks to us.

Cookie: We haven't exactly been kind to you guys thus far, have we? I mean, sure, we've got cutes and cuddlies and such, but way more of this has been kind've… Roller-coaster-y, hasn't it?

Whisperfen: Personally, I'd say that's most of the point of this insane story. Still, hopefully you don't hate us too much for that little cliffhanger, I'll let you guess which of us wrote which part.

Cookie: I'm innocent, I swear! Insofar as I have not actually killed anyone yet. I totally wrote that, though. Totally. I'm taking all credit for that.

Whisperfen: You horrible bastard. I WROTE IT, I DID THE HORRIBLE THING. Really, though, I hope you enjoyed all the same. We'll be co-writing from this point forward until, and if, things change. Hopefully we'll be able to get something approximating this length out each time, even if it's not quite as insanely long.

Cookie: Seriously, we pounded this thing out in something akin to, what, ten hours? When we finally had the time to get together and write?

Whisperfen: Try more like not quite eight. We're a machine when we write together.

Cookie: So, does that mean we can now start doing daily updates?!

Whisperfen: Remember Chara versus Sans, Cookie? Remember that? Or maybe Undyne the Undying? That will be you and me if you try.

Cookie: Aww…. Well, I tried, guys! You saw it! THE PROOF IS IN THE… Erm. Afterword. That's rather less delicious-sounding than pudding.

Whisperfen: Afterword-pudding. Pudding after words. Fuck it, I'm gonna go have pudding.

Cookie: I'm gonna see if Toriel has any Pie left in the fridge. We've all heard about the Annoying Dog and who and what he is; I'll become the Annoying Cookie. Just a random cookie mon- Nope, copyrighted. Damn.

Whisperfen: I...yeah I have no idea where this, that, or the other things are going. Thanks again for reading, folks, I know we both hope you don't hate us too much and can continue to enjoy the adventure of our mad little trio!

Cookie: For those of you coming back the moment you got the email announcing our update, I am sincerely sorry for the long delay- it's entirely on my head how long this has taken. It's through the cooperation of FennyWhisper here that I've actually gotten something out of considerable length and reasonable quality. And most of the quality was him; I just sort've threw up words. Hopefully, you guys can forgive me that, and continue to read. I'm not sure what our update schedule will be moving forward; both myself and Fen are busy a significant percentage of the week, and our schedules don't always leave a lot of room for cooperative writing.

Whisperfen: He's just a flatterer, I actually only wrote a small bit of it. That said, we'll certainly try our best to get good stuff out to you on a semi-regular basis, just pardon us if there are slight delays here or there. Shouldn't be any more long delays, just long updates.

Cookie: If all goes well, anyway. We'll do our best to keep you all up-to-date with our work, and if all goes well, we might settle back into a weekly update scheme, just with more content. I'm personally leaning towards an update every other week, of about this length, but there's no telling what we'll actually settle on until we've given it a try for a couple update cycles.

Whisperfen: Whatever we settle on, though, you can be assured we'll keep the story rolling one way or another. This is all fairly near and dear to both our withered, blackened, old hearts, so it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

Cookie: Except forward; that's the only direction we CAN go! Stagnation won't happen. And who're you calling old?

Whisperfen: You, you old cookie.

Cookie: I'M NOT STALE!

Whisperfen: That's all folks! Stay tuned till next time, I've gotta go get this stale old cookie refreshed in the oven. Mmmm, chocolate chips~

Cookie: NO! Not the oven again D: Take care, everyone, and we'll see you in the next chapter~ And as always, everyone, Stay Determined! Bye for now!