". . . [M]en suffered from the absence of communication resulting from existence separated from a king. They had to put to death not the slave, but the king, to assure the return to communion for the entire people. Among men, it must have therefore seemed that one couldn't choose one more worthy of the knife than a king. But if it was a question of military leaders, the sacrifice ceased to be possible (a war commander was going too far). For them, one substituted carnival kings (disguised prisoners, pamperèd before death)." - George Bataille, 'Inner Experience'
Asgore was panicking—dread infected every tendril of his being, right down to his SOUL. With a trembling paw, he attempted to water his flowers; the steel watering can spritz out water unevenly onto petals and stems. This was not having the calming effect he desired and needed, Asgore thought heavily. His kingdom lay in ruins. Alphys had run off from her lab in Hotland to warn him of the human's mass genocide. Where she was is anybody's guess. Dead, he suspected, but he tried to hope that she did indeed evacuate what was left of his Underground subjects.
He was not holding out high hopes for Sans, however. He knew better than to underestimate the shorter of the skeleton brothers, but at this rate, he suspected that Sans's death was imminent. Surely, his lanky brother was most certainly . . .
And lo and behold, the skeleton brothers appeared in the blink of an eye right before him—he yelped, startled, dropping the watering can onto a patch of neglected buttercups. Speak of the damn Devils!
"heya." "GREETINGS, OUR KING!" The brothers spoke at once, bowing courteously.
Flabbergasted, Asgore spluttered, paws running nervously through his furry forehead, completely at a loss for words. "I— wh— how . . . When, w-wait— WHAT? YOU'RE ALIVE?" the king bellowed, eyes wide with surprise.
Both brothers nodded.
"SO WHAT ON EARTH," the king yelled out uncharacteristically, exasperated and pulling at his floppy ears, "ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?"
"WELL, OUR DEAR KING," began the taller of the two, "I SAY I SPEAK FOR MY BROTHER HERE WHEN I SAY," — with a sprint, Papyrus closed in on Asgore, looking on the verge of tears— "BOY, AM I EVER HAPPY TO SEE YOU ALIVE AND WELL, YOU BIG LUG!" the younger of the brothers exclaimed and proceeded to hug the breath right out of him, standing still as a tree.
Sighing, Asgore patted Papyrus's back for good measure; the lad must have been going through so much, losing Undyne—his closest friend. At least Papyrus still has his brother looking after him. Thank god for us all—there is hope yet. "Good to see you as well, Papyrus."
Sans looked on in delight, chuckling at the scene Papyrus was making. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Truth was, Sans had no idea what to expect. Surely, the human had time to assault their king and be over and done with their reign of terror. Strangely enough, they had not. This unnerved Sans greatly, but . . . seeing Papyrus and Asgore alive and well, he let them have this moment. Ah, who was he kidding? Sans is letting himself have this moment. Papyrus was beginning to bawl hysterically at the King's shoulder. Oh boy. But wait—
Interesting. There their king stood, comforting Papyrus like a father, saying all sorts of platitudes that mean little: "It's alright," "There, there," "It's all going to be okay," "You're safe now." At least somebody is still here to say such meaningless things; sweet nothings, are they not? But Papyrus absorbed each word, his sobbing coming down to sniffles and chuckling at their good fortune. Calmer, Papyrus patted Asgore's back in return, saying, "MY APOLOGIES, MY KING! IT REALLY IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AFTER ALL THIS TIME!"
"Likewise, Papyrus," smiled King Asgore, holding him at shoulder's length to look at him. "It pleases me to see some of my toughest subjects make it through this alive."
"THE— THE TOUGHEST? BUT— WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, MY KING, UNDYNE WAS THE TOUGHEST OF US ALL!"
"That she was indeed, Papyrus. But you are here now to take on her mantle, aren't you? That being said . . ." The king rummaged through hidden pockets covered by his golden greaves, taking out a winged key the shape of the royal emblem. "Here you are!"
Papyrus took the key reverently, eyeing it with glee. "TO WHERE DOES THIS KEY LEAD, KING ASGORE?"
"Sharp as ever, aren't you? The key opens the armory of this castle. You are to enter and get into your proper gear. Have you been inducted into the Royal Guard properly, Papyrus?"
"I— YES! MY BROTHER INDUCTED ME SHORTLY BEFORE COMING TO SEE YOU! HE DID AN EXCELLENT JOB IF MAY SAY SO MYSELF."
Sans chuckled in good humor. "i'm glad that I met my brother's high standards."
The king nodded solemnly, uttering with sincerity and a smile: "That you did, Sans. That you did." And with a swirl of purple robes went toward Sans, patting him on the shoulder with something akin to pride. "I should have known you'd outlive us all."
Papyrus said, sounding rather pleased with himself, "WHY, HE HAS LEARNED FROM THE BEST, MY KING! OF COURSE HE HAS!"
"He has, hasn't he?" chuckled King Asgore. "Well, what are you waiting for? The armory awaits you, Commander Papyrus! Go on—I'm sure Undyne told you where's it at, yes? We'll be right here until you come back."
"OH—! RIGHT! BROTHER," said Papyrus before making to walk away. "I SHALL SEE YOU SHORTLY. I DEMAND YOU DISCUSS OUR BRILLIANT PLAN WITH THE KING! REMEMBER: THERE IS NO TIME TO WASTE!" he yelled out as he ran out of the throne room.
This is it: time to discuss the plan. It's now or never. And besides, who knows where we will end up once the child is slaughtered again? Only time will tell. Let us hope Asgore decides not to fumble this one chance they have. We have no time to waste.
With Papyrus finally gone, the silence was deafening, save for the distant echo of song birds. It was palpably awkward. "asgore," nodded Sans to the king at last, niceties aside. "Sans," the king nodded back curtly. "Report. I demand to know what in the nine hells has been going on. For example, how—?"
"—is my little brother still alive?" The king shuffled his feet upon yellow petals; at least he had the kindness to look sheepish at asking such a personal question.
Asgore felt downright awful for having gotten things so wrong; to have had so little faith in Papyrus. Truly, he had not expected the young lad to survive the genocide. Sans cleared his throat—to catch his attention. But of course. Looking at Sans straight in the eyes, Asgore swore he could see the light of his pinprick pupils dance. Why, he couldn't say.
Finally, Sans responded: "it's complicated."
"It's complicated," Asgore whispered back solemnly. "Right."
"right," said Sans curtly. If he had meant to disrespect Asgore, it was not clear. Asgore, no stranger to this attitude, made to stand beside Sans, right in the middle of the room. "Your younger brother mentioned a plan—"
"Yes," Sans confirmed shortly, "we have a plan, and you're just gonna have to go along with it if you wish to live another day. you're going to have to trust in the plan. is that clear?
An instance of profound silence passed by. Then, Asgore answered: "Crystal clear."
"RIGHT THEN!" cried out the enthusiastic voice of the younger of the two, clad in Royal Guard regalia, save for a helmet. "KING ASGORE, YOU'RE BAIT!"
"W-wait! N-now, you just wait a mome—" Asgore spluttered again but was interrupted by Sans. "no time. pap says you're bait, so you're bait. we are going to get the human back to snowdin to have the advantage over them. I'm not going to sugarcoat it, asgore—our plan might fail. should our plan work, the human will be taken with pap and i back to snowdin: pap will distract them, i will trap them and then take us back to town. you will be safe, and the human will be dead long before you can say 'golly'," finished Sans with a faint but dazzling glint of blue sky and summer sun in his eyes that lasted for an agonizingly slow second. "still with me?"
Asgore snapped back to full attention. "Yes— Still with you, Sans," he rasped, his throat surprisingly dry probably from the anxiety building up in his gut, willing himself not to sick up from the pressure. If he were frank with himself, Asgore couldn't help feeling some apprehension about the plan. The human senselessly killed the majority of his subjects (even sweet Toriel—beautiful wife and mother she was, he thought sadly), and now was putting all his trust—his hope—on two eccentric skeleton siblings on saving not just his sorry hide, but the Underground as well! It's rather reasonable that he'd still be apprehensive about all this. But he can't be fearing the worst. Clearing all dryness in his throat away, he thought to speak. "Continue," he demanded.
"good," said Sans with a humorless wink, then continued with uncharacteristic gravity in his words, "because it is imperative that you listen, and listen good. once the human enters—any moment now—pap and i are going to hide right behind you. you're big enough to provide cover for the both of us."
Sans stepped right up to Asgore, eyes locked on to each other, his multi-hued gaze intensifying for another instant. "asgore, no matter what happens, no matter how creeped out you get by the kid, do not, i repeat, DO NOT back away. you are to stay utterly still. do not move an inch," continued Sans—Asgore, wanting to divert his gaze from Sans, felt nonplussed by the severity the older brother displayed, even if it is perfectly warranted — "not. one. single. inch. we'll take care of the rest," Sans said, turning away at last—Asgore sighing with relief — "won't we, royal guard papyrus?"
"THAT WE WILL DO, SANS! WE ARE GOING TO—!"
"not a word more, papyrus," — in a blink, Sans quickly put his hand on Papyrus's mouth — "they could be listening in right now as we speak. we've said too much. now," said Sans, turning back to Asgore after grabbing his brother by the hand to pull him along, "we're moving ahead with the plan. the element of surprise is on our side, asgore. we are counting on you to stay still."
The brothers gathered behind him, concealing them completely from frontal view. "Right," said Asgore, summoning all his bravery and standing stiffly.
God, I've gone mad. This plan is folly is what it is! Here I am, king of a broken kingdom, listening to these two. But they are our only hope for survival. Asgore then thought, when has Sans ever actually let him down?
Never, his mind supplied helpfully; his ill expression turned to one of uttermost confidence at the reminder. Everything will be fine—trust them!
Suddenly, the great doors burst open.
The temperature seemed to drop; a chill crawling down his spine as his heart beat furiously against his chest, feeling it plummeting—down, down, down . . .
Feeling faint, Asgore righted himself in a second, defiantly meeting the sight before him with a pleasing countenance. Time to put on a friendly face. It's just a child—focus!
The child . . . Is that a human? Looking into the glassy eyes, the . . . thing didn't seem all that human. Were his subjects correct in assuming this was a human, not a monster? Surely we still have unidentified species to find? No, impossible! thought Asgore furiously—he knows all his subjects!
And this was not one of them.
"Hello! Lovely day we are having, aren't we?" said Asgore with as bright and welcoming a smile as possible. He forced himself to look at the human before him, the bloodlust clear in their petrifying gaze.
"Strange . . " Asgore mused out loud. "You remind me . . of somebody I used to know. A long time ago," he added in a melancholy tone, "back when my son still lived. You remind me a lot of his dear friend . . . Somebody we accepted into our family."
The child stared back through his fringe, face blank of emotions. Nothing gave them away.
They inched closer.
Asgore willed himself not to move. He dared not move.
"Well then," he intoned amiably, attempting to break the ice, "would you like to have a cup of tea? I'll say, you look like you could use one—"
(That's it, Frisk—closer!)
"—or two."
Feeling a pull stirring within his SOUL, Asgore thought in despair, what a way to meet his end. He wished for it not to hurt, as his eyes darted towards the razor-sharp old-looking knife.
"now!" a voice cut through the deathly silence, and then: chaos.
Asgore dared not look, shutting his eyes tightly, the ensuing battle—or japes—happening like a racket around him. Unless his sanity left him, Asgore swore he heard the lad cry out, "HUMAN! TASTE MY DELICIOUS CONFECTIONS!" feeling the splatter and taste of overly-sweet marinara? on his lips and some cold sauce on parts of his furred face. Then, screams of frustration—that poor child, he snickered like a kid internally. My cloak's surely ruined by now. Suddenly, a shriek rang out like some sort of dying banshee, only to be stilled by a silence that seemed to buzz in their heads—save the birds; they sang on, blissfully ignorant. Don't tell me—!
Asgore, deciding that perhaps now it was safe to look, willed himself further still for his gut not to spill out any of his breakfast or lunch. The scene that greeted him was nothing too grisly, but still unnerving. It never truly gets easier.
Blood. Noodles. Wait, those are not—
With a lurch, Asgore collapsed and threw up the contents of his stomach, completely ruining his regal cloak and whatever modicum of dignity he had left.
"well asgore," he heard Sans say as he continued to vomit on his beautiful flower garden, "we did it." He could feel the skeleton's stare, most likely amused by his undignified form. Unbelievable, thought Asgore, sick as could be. This monster has completely ruined their way of life, yet I still can't bear it! Shall I lower my head in shame for my reaction? For empathizing with the enemy? Whatever that monster was, Asgore then studied Sans from the ground, who looked on stoically at the half-dead child. The way Sans is handling it, not a single shred of innocence was left to mourn over. Sans is right. He always is—isn't he?
Sighing at his current predicament, Sans moved his eyes away, sparing Asgore further humiliation. "thank you for cooperation. we will be taking the human back to snowdin now."
Papyrus seemed just as unaffected. He approached Asgore, patting him on the back one last time. "THERE, THERE, YOU BIG FLUFFY PUSHOVER. IT IS OVER NOW! YOU HAVE DONE US A GREAT SERVICE—THERE IS MUCH TO BE PROUD OF, MY KING!" Papyrus then gestured gallantly towards a cage of bones to the left of the entrance.
His eyes watering from the force of his sickness, Asgore looked.
He quickly covered his mouth, tasting the sick coming up, eyes widening at the sight before him. In the name of all that is good in the world—!
The child was gored up from a cage made of sharp-hewed bones that protruded from their torso, skull, and other parts of their little body, their face covered in spaghetti and marinara sauce—a rasping, rattling breath could be heard from the back of their throat. The noodle-like substances were indeed the human's innards and guts that spilled out from the protrusions created in their belly by every stab wound. Sans didn't seem all that bothered by the lack of grace in his attack—it was dirty, careless. The way Asgore imagined trapping the human greatly differed from Sans; a warded conjured cell would have sufficed. Instead, Asgore was treated to the violent image of a human child bearing scary resemblance to Asriel's adopted brother, bound to the cage.
He could not lie to himself. This is not—and will never be!—okay. Asgore, unable to take it any longer, looked away from the grisly scene.
"J-just," choked Asgore, trying to collect himself as best he could, only to feel sicker than ever before, his hand falling from his mouth and now grasping at grass knots, "just go." He gasped, feeling his throat burning with acid and constricting, feeling more sickness coming up. "P-please. You have done your job—please, leave."
Asgore struggled to his feet and strode out. Out of view, he bounded desperately back to his house to sick up some more, clean up, and have a good, long bath. He had a feeling he would not sleep soundly tonight.
Unknown to him, before Asgore left his throne room, the skeleton brothers complied. They had gone, along with the dying child. Sweet mercy. Asgore closed his eyes in relief, sighing as bubbles covered his muzzle.
They arrived in the middle of a flurry of snow, right by the bridge leading to Waterfall.
"WELL, SANS, WE DID IT!" Papyrus cried out triumphantly, jumping around in his excitement. "WE FINALLY DID IT!"
"that we did, pap, that we did," Sans grinned at Papyrus, dragging the body behind him. He stilled and looked up at the darkening sky. All this trouble for a human child. Time to end this, thought Sans resolutely. "so."
"SO!" Papyrus stopped his victory dance, turning back to the eldest. "WHO WILL DO THE HONORS, BROTHER?"
Sans, grateful for the accepting attitude of their time loop, said as they took a walk towards Snowdin, "you do the honors, pap."
Papyrus looked down at the human, bloodied and bound, as they walked, Sans dragging them by their mangled foot. "GREAT! WELL," said Papyrus as they stopped in the center of town, "NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT!"
"agreed," Sans nodded proudly, grinning with satisfaction.
Papyrus conjured one of the Blasters he kept in a box in the living room. Why he does that when he could just conjure one of thin air is anybody's guess. "READY, SANS!"
"well, what'd ya waiting for, papyrus?" Sans said smoothly. "go for it—you deserve it. and pap?"
"YES, OH DEAR BROTHER OF MINE?"
"i think undyne would have been very proud of you."
Papyrus swelled up with pride, and let his Blaster incinerate the child until nothing was left but ashes.
"ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT!"
"Right," Papyrus heard the king breathe out in a raspy voice in front of them.
"OH WOWIE! WE'RE BACK IN THE THRONE ROOM!" He gasped. "IT'S OUR NEW SAVE POINT! MAKES SENSE, DOESN'T IT, SANS?"
"guess it does, pap. this is, after all, where the human was before getting beaten to a pulp. wouldn't make sense to start in snowdin all mangled up. good catch, pap," winked Sans.
Papyrus beamed, grinning widely and eyes glimmering. "SO WHAT NOW? GO THROUGH THE SAME PLAN AGAIN," said Papyrus, eyes twinkling with adoration and triumph, "OH BROTHER OF MINE?"
"not so sure anymore. i would prefer having the king out of harm's way." His eyes closed, sighing. "we are out of time. let's try taking the human straight back to snowdin this time around," said Sans, grinning like the devil, "unwounded."
"WORRY NOT, BROTHER! I KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO!"
The doors burst open like last time, followed by that same chilling sensation. Papyrus felt the king stagger backwards, only to recover his posture immediately.
"Hello! Lovely day we are having, aren't we?" rumbled Asgore amiably, genuine warmth in his welcome.
I can't understand how that pushover can let himself be so vulnerable, Papyrus thought as he held onto the plate of spaghetti at the ready. Then again, who am I to think that?
Wasn't I the same way once upon a time?
Sans, to his right, glared at Papyrus as if Sans was telling him to do it . . . now? Oh! Now!
Papyrus stepped stealthily to his left as Asgore uttered, "Strange . . ." then aimed and launched the spaghetti at the human. The marinara splattered onto their widened eyes. The child screamed, the acid of the tomato sauce seeping into their eyesight.
Perfect! A direct hit for the Great Papyrus!
Just as the human frantically tried to rub off the sauce from their eyes, Sans rushed from the right and lunged straight at the human. Papyrus followed on the left and yanked at the human's left arm, as Sans grabbed hold of the right. "READY!" yelled out Papyrus. Sans quickly nodded in response, as all three disappeared out of the king's sight.
The last thing Papyrus saw was King Asgore—a sigh of relief with grateful, yet disbelieving, eyes rolling up, his heavy-set fluffy body in kingly regalia, robes swirling among the buttercups, toppling to the ground—mid-fainting.
A harsh blizzard greeted Papyrus as they appeared back at Snowdin. We must be at the bridge again, concluded Papyrus as his boots clinked on frozen wood. He could hear Sans's slippers slip and shuffle on the icy surface, nearly falling face-forward as he still clung on to the human.
Reacting fast, Papyrus conjured a bone cage to bind the human in place before they regained their eyesight. The frigid, piercing winds whirling around them muffled the human's dying cries. Papyrus met his elder brother's eyes; Sans looked particularly pleased, given the circumstances, pupils dancing in revelry.
This win calls for a celebration! It's as good as it gets—I know we both feel it in our bones; I'm sure of it!
With silent communication, they both let go of the human's tomato-covered arms.
"YOU DO IT THIS TIME," cried out Papyrus to Sans amid the concluding fray, wanting so badly to move on to the next.
"right," Sans replied in short as he conjured a Blaster, aiming at the child's head. The incandescent, blistering heat scorched away flesh and bone, the smoking stench of burning bone and flesh blending in the wind.
"One hundred and nine!" crowed the brothers as they embraced each other tightly, jumping up and down and whooping like idiots drunk on victory. With a final victory yell, Papyrus said as soberly as he could manage: "SANS! A QUESTION!"
"an answer," chuckled Sans amid the gust of snow. "what is it pap?"
"WILL WE SPAWN BACK IN SNOWDIN NOW?"
Sans hummed in contemplation, arms still wrapped around Papyrus. "we just might, pap. we just might."
"SANS?"
"what?"
"WILL IT GET EASIER?"
A moment's silence passed, then Sans uttered: "undoubtedly."
Author's Note: The end nears.
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