She leaned in close,
her lips brushing against his ear
and her voice whispered across his skin
she sighed his name
"Asgore."
Chapter 27
A Witch's Magic
Wicca couldn't hold back a muffled giggle at the King's expression as she sat back into her chair. His eyes were strained, his jaw clenched, his fists curled. The wooden table dented under his angry weight.
"I can prove it too." Wicca smiled at the King's confused expression, "I can prove that I'm a witch."
The King sat back into his chair and tried to regain his control, Wicca smirked at his struggle.
"I think you're missing something." The witch held up a short-sword (which wasn't very small) and drove it into the table. Wicca watched Asgore in bemusement as he grabbed at the empty sheath strapped to his side. She had learned the trick during her time in Absolute Hell (not to be confused with this world, known only as Hell). She had managed to master it fairly well, although she had never taken anything as heavy or in such an interesting spot before.
In a flash his loyal servant was there, electric spear in hand and ready to kill. The King held up an open-faced palm, prompting Undyne to stop herself from plunging her weapon into Wicca.
The girl hadn't moved a muscle, waiting for the scene to play out. She knew that she wasn't in any real danger, and in perfect Wicca fashion, she decided to test her theory in an extreme way. The King had wanted to kill her before she stepped foot within the palace, but he didn't. He could have sent Undyne after her instead of taking her back to the palace, but again, he didn't. The King wanted something from her more than he wanted to kill her, fine by her.
"Although, My Asgore," the King tensed at his name, "That isn't really magic," Wicca stood up from the chair (and gave it a slight kick for being so uncomfortable). She raised herself to her full height of five feet and three inches and blew a kiss at the King as she walked away from him, "This is."
The witch twirled out of the room and slammed the door behind her.