"Okay Paps, okay. I won't fight her."

The skeleton felt a tear within himself

…and he looked away.

Chapter 26

Asgore

The witch shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was elegant, sculpted in a beautiful fashion. Too bad it felt like sitting on the stiffest boulder on the plant. As Wicca shuffled around, she was trying to keep her breathing maintained at a nice, reasonable pace. The last time she had been in "Her Lovely Highness's" Palace, she left in a mess of blood.

Wicca looked around the palace. At least this one wasn't as gloomy as the last, although, strangely, this one seemed to be in disrepair. The décor was covered in a thin layer of dust, the paint was faded and threatening to peel. The girl shuddered, this palace felt like a ghost of itself.

A noise beyond a closed door stopped the witch from fantasizing about all the different ways to break her chair. (smash it against the table, smash it against the wall, smash it against Undyne, smash it against Sans somehow, lifting the chair up and climbing a nearby sculpture and then jumping onto the chandelier and finally body smashing it to the floor. Her fantasies involved a of smashing).

The door opened and the "Loyal Servant", or Undyne, entered the room followed by a monster in white fur. He was enormous, bigger than the previous "King" Wicca had known and packing a lot of muscle. Wicca sat up straighter in her seat and smoothed down her dress. After all, this King was easy on the eyes and seemed to not be totally fucking insane. She wasn't exactly sure how a witch-to-goat-monster-relationship would work, but she was more than willing to find out. At least, until he opened his mouth.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't skewer you where you sit for being a human."

Oh god.

That.

Wicca groaned and let her head fall back.

"Of course, that again." She muttered to herself.

"Excuse me." The King growled.

Wicca wasn't certain if goats could raise their hackles (or if they even had hackles) but the King was managing to do a pretty convincing job of it.

"I said," The girl raised her head, "That this is stupid."

The King didn't slam his fist into the table like Wicca expected. Instead, he sat back, arms crossed, and studied her. Wicca frowned in response but refused to fill the tense silence. If he was going to try to get her to talk, he would be disappointed.

Finally, the king spoke, his voice lower and inquisitive, "You randomly appeared in my kingdom, frightened loyal subjects in Snowden, got a job at Grillby's, and talk smack to the king of this land. Who are you."

Wicca raised an eyebrow. Strange. She examined the King more closely. His long, honey-gold hair flowed into his beard, creating the image of a mane. His face was schooled into an expression of discipline. She was a trespasser, and he wanted to know what she was. She knew enough to know that being human seemed to be a one-way ticket to death, yet that didn't entirely seem like the only question he had asked. In fact, what he didn't ask was far more interesting.

No talk of Gaster, no talk of his pack of amalgamations, no talk of disappearing "Loyal Subjects". Did he not know about the precarious position of his kingdom, or did he not think that she would have encountered anything strange? Was he expecting her to spill her tale of tragically falling into a world filled with monsters?

But the King's question had given her an idea, courtesy of Papyrus. For some reason, it was a big no-no for the subjects of the Underground to know their royal family's names. It was probably the dumbest rule Wicca had ever heard of (maybe, she still couldn't remember everything from before she fell in this lovely pit of monsters).

"That's a simple question." Wicca smiled, which quickly grew into a crooked grin, "I'm Wicca, and besides the king of this lovely land, who are you?"

He ignored her sarcasm, betraying nothing in his ascetic appearance, "My name is not of importance."

Wicca gave a fake frown of disappointment, "Every name carries some semblance of importance My Lord."

The King let out an amused breath of air.

"Besides, I already know your name."

The King's knuckles tensed, but he did not move. Wicca's smile widened at the response, she had found his weak spot, now if she could just push it.

"You know, Your Supremeness, I thought that it was nice that you sent your guard dog after me." The girl gestured to the stack of armor standing at attention by the door. The King's gaze flickered briefly to his loyal servant before resting steadily back on Wicca.

"In fact," The girl continued, "I think we got along fairly well."

The King gave Wicca a pointed look.

"Okay, well after all the spear throwing and threats," She waved a hand in front of her face, "But, I got to know your little 'Loyal Subject' pretty well." The girl smiled and called over to the servant without turning, "Isn't that right, Undyne?"

The monster in the armor looked up in confusion at someone other than her king calling for her.

The King's hard eyes pierced into Wicca's. She could practically feel his anger vibrate in the air around them. The girl suppressed a giggle.

"One more time, and answer promptly," the King shifted in his seat, revealing a blade strapped to his belt, bejeweled in gold stones.

"Who are you?"

Wicca smiled darkly, "Now, My Grace, I would love to see what you could do with that sword of yours, but if I was scared of pointy sticks I would have died a month ago." The girl put her hands on the table and leaned forward.

The King mirrored Wicca, leaning in enough for her to feel his breath, "I'm waiting."

"Like I said, Your Majesty, I'm Wicca."

The King stared, waiting for her to finish.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry if I haven't been direct enough for you to understand, but I'll simplify it for My Wise Majesty."

Wicca ducked her head and bit her lip, then looked up through her lashes at the King.

"I'm a witch,."

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear and her voice whispered across his skin as she sighed his name.

"Asgore."