Chapter Two: Heartache

Once the duo had proceeded into the next chamber, blissfully unaware of their shadow, Toriel gestured at a plaque on the wall with a large paw. "When Monsterkind was first sealed in the Underground, many of us found the available diversions to be...limited."

She then gestured to their right, to a series of six buttons inlaid into the floor in an irregular pattern. "Many took to designing puzzles in an effort to stave off boredom, or to engage the mind." She glanced back at Johan before continuing, "Ordinarily, I would solve this puzzle myself, but you are an adult, are you not? I would not condescend to you and presume you incapable. Feel free to try your hand at this one, if you wish."

Johan gave a nod, tapping the butt of his walking stick on the ground absently as he examined the buttons. After rubbing his chin for a moment and coming up with precisely diddly squat, he walked over to the plaque and read what was written on it.

Only the fearless may proceed.

Brave ones, foolish ones.

Both walk not the middle road.

Johan turned his gaze back to the six buttons, his eyes lighting up in realization almost immediately. The pinkish stone beneath the middle two buttons was several shades lighter than the floor beneath the outer four. Quickly, Johan walked over those four buttons in succession, a loud clunk and the sound of stone shifting aside telling him that he'd gotten the (admittedly simple) puzzle correct.

"Very good, my child," Toriel said with a slight smile. "Shall we proceed?" At Johan's nod, monster led human into the next room. As they walked, though, a thought occurred to Johan.

"Um, Miss Toriel—"

"Please, there is no need to be so formal. Toriel is enough," the goat woman interjected gently.

Johan coughed into his fist. Right. He'd been doing that thing he did when he was uncomfortable. "Sorry about that. In that case, just call me Johan. Er, if you don't mind, that is."

Toriel smiled pleasantly. "Of course, my ch—Johan. Now, what was it that was on your mind?"

"Right, right. So…" He paused, fingers drumming on his walking stick as he searched for words. "When you said that 'ordinarily, you'd solve that puzzle yourself', what did you mean? Have...other humans fallen down here before?"

Toriel paused for a moment, then continued walking. "Very astute of you. Yes, before you, se—six humans found their way into the Underground, over the centuries."

Johan didn't miss how Toriel had stumbled over the number of humans, but he refrained from speaking on the matter. It had been brief, there and gone in the literal blink of an eye, but he'd seen the way her face had twisted. A rictus of grief was unmistakable to him, even on inhuman features.

After a moment's pause, Johan asked, "What happened after they came here?" He had a sinking feeling that he didn't want to know the answer, but his curiosity won out in the end.

At that, Toriel stopped walking entirely, her paws clenched into fists at her sides. She replied, but too quietly for Johan to make out her words. Before he could ask her to speak up, though, the goat woman took a deep, shaky breath and repeated herself.

"They died."

Johan felt his spine become ice as he inhaled sharply. That...the way she'd reacted and spoken implied that she didn't mean that they'd died of old age.

Slowly, taking great care to let none of the anger and fear in his gut seep into his voice, he asked, "Did they die...or were they killed?"

This time, it was Toriel's turn to inhale sharply. For an agonizingly long time, she was silent. Finally, though, she replied, her voice raspy with emotion. "You are far too observant for your own good, Johan." With that, she began walking again, her form a veritable tapestry of tension.

Johan swallowed thickly, and followed behind, remaining carefully silent. She hadn't said yes, but what she had said was answer enough.

The air was choked with silence as Toriel briskly led Johan through several more rooms. The towering goat woman did not prompt him to solve any more puzzles, instead solving them herself and proceeding onwards wordlessly. She paused for a moment when they reached a bridge covered with metal spikes, but soon enough took his hand again and led him through a particular path, within which the spikes sank harmlessly into the bridge when stepped on.

The next room was an extremely long hallway with a single pillar at the very end of it. When they reached that end, Toriel stopped in place.

"Johan." Her voice was firm, not quite hostile but neither was it as warm as they had been before the topic of previous humans had come up.

Johan swallowed again. "Y-yes?"

"I need you to stay here, in this room, for a time." As she spoke, Toriel did not turn to look at him even once. "I will return to guide you the rest of the way to my house, when I have completed my business."

Finally, she turned to regard him, her expression far too calm. "Do you understand?"

It was abundantly clear to Johan that "No" was not an acceptable answer.

The brunet's mouth twisted downward as he stiffly replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

With that single word, Toriel left the room, purpose in her stride. As the sound of paws against stone faded slowly, Johan exhaled sharply and staggered over to the pillar. He pressed his back up against the marbled stone and took a long series of deep breaths. Finally, when his heart was no longer racing at speeds that would have qualified it for Formula 500, he let his back slide down the pillar and flopped onto the stone floor.

There was nothing to do by that point but wait, and by god was he tired. Johan pulled his hood down over his eyes and let his head hang against his chest, crossing his arms and pulling his knees in for warmth.

As he drifted off, one singular thought hung in his mind like an occupied noose.

'I hope I didn't fuck things up.'

Johan wasn't awake to notice the translucent figure that flickered into being beside him, regarded him for a long while, then sat down in a pose mirroring his own before fading from view once more.

Some time later, a quiet shuffling noise stirred Johan from his sleep. He let out a yawn, cracking his eyelids open – then he froze. Sitting right in front of him was a massive frog. The squat, bulbous amphibian was easily the size of a ten-year old, its giant head taking up fully half of its body mass. What little of its belly was visible had a strange black pattern on it that vaguely reminded him of a stylized face.

And it was at that moment that the frog and the face pattern on its stomach blinked in unison, causing Johan's brain to short circuit. As he stared at the giant frog, mouth slightly agape and body totally still, it tilted its head to one side, blinked slowly, and let out a rumbling "ribbit" before taking a tentative step towards him.

The yelp he let out at that was quickly interrupted by a hiss of pain as he jerked backwards and smacked the back of his head on the pillar behind him.

The frog creature let out a startled croak of its own, hopping backwards and letting out a belching noise as roughly a dozen fly-shaped pellets exited its maw and buzzed around aimlessly. Whether by serendipity or by design, though, none of the Popflies actually managed to impact Johan, curled up as he was while he nursed his head.

Johan's lack of hostile reaction seemed to have calmed the frog, going by the fact that it hadn't expelled any more bug bullets from its mouth. Rubbing the sore back of his head, Johan looked over at the amphibian. "Uh, sorry about that. Wasn't expecting company when I woke up, so…" He trailed off with a shrug and a wince.

The frog wobbled its head from side to side, doing its eerie four-eyed blink once again, before letting out another croak.

Johan paused, then made a face. "...You can't even understand me, can you?"

As the frog wobbled its head in a gesture of helpless confusion, Johan exhaled tiredly, but ended up coughing as he felt it. Something strange touched his consciousness, something he couldn't begin to define. As he looked at the frog – no, the Froggit, foreign impressions and ideas made themselves manifest at the forefront of his mind.

From nothing, he knew things. He knew the monster was a species called "Froggit". He knew that it was incapable of human speech but smart enough to not only understand body language and intent, but communicate complete thoughts through their croaking.

He even knew how to interpret that croaking!

Johan had no way of seeing it, but as this knowledge flowed into him, his left eye's blue iris flashed a vibrant wine-red for a brief instant.

While the influx of information was both shocking and more than a little disturbing, Johan decided to table those thoughts for the moment, instead focusing on the Froggit. He continued to speak to the amphibian monster for a time, keeping his voice calm and friendly.

After a while, the Froggit seemed to gather its courage and hopped back over to sit by Johan, nudging its head against his hand with a croak that very roughly equated to "You're alright, dude".

As man and monster bonded, neither were in a position to see the spectral form of Chara phase out of the opposite end of the pillar, rubbing at their head with a dazed expression on their face before becoming totally transparent once more.

When Toriel returned to the room she had left Johan—no, the human—in, she froze in shock at what she saw. Somehow, in her haste, she had missed one. A single solitary Froggit had ventured much deeper into the Ruins than she had anticipated, and was simply sitting beside Jo – the human, without so much as an iota of nervousness!

She had managed to convince all of the other monsters living in the Ruins to hide away in the various crannies and nooks present in such an ancient structure. She had even sent dear Napstablook home, as much as seeing the self-effacing ghost berate himself for "bothering her" caused her heart to ache. Even though the human had shown no ability to utilize magic, one could never take anything for granted with their kind.

Toriel suppressed a shudder, remembering the buried yet all-too-palpable sensation of frigid malice that had radiated from the human's core as he had asked whether those that had come before him had been murdered.

She could never fault him for being angry at the prospect, in truth; she was the furthest thing possible from being happy about it herself! But the pressure his raw emotions exerted, the physical and metaphysical weight of his icy anger, had reminded her. Reminded her of just why the humans had been the victors of the war. Reminded her of how pitifully easy it was for a single Determined human to single-handedly slay even trained monsters with nothing more than Intent.

Reminded her of just how deadly human SOULS were.

Looking upon how the human was talking quietly with the Froggit, though... seeing the calm, gentle expression on his face…

'Perhaps,' Toriel admitted to herself, 'I was too hasty in judging him.'

The war had been over for centuries, but it was clearer than ever that even those ancient scars would be with her as long as she lived, for better and for worse.

Toriel let out a huff and entered the room proper, prompting both the Froggit and the huma—no, Johan—to look up at her.

"I apologise for taking so long with my errand, Johan," Toriel declared as she approached, folding her arms in front of her. Her voice was noticeably less cold than it had been when she'd left him, and she had a sheepish expression on her face.

Johan's train of thought paused for a moment. 'Sheepish...sheep...goat. Heh.' He quickly snapped back to attention, though; there'd be time for godawful jokes later, hopefully.

In the few seconds that it had taken him to refocus, Toriel had reached him and the Froggit, giving it a polite nod that it returned with its own wobbly gesture.

Johan cleared his throat and levered himself to his feet, replying, "It's, uh, no trouble...Toriel?" He said her name as though it were a question; specifically the question "Are we cool now?"

Toriel's calm nod lifted far more weight off of his shoulders than Johan expected it would.

After that, Johan bid the Froggit farewell, and Toriel continued to lead him through the Ruins. They were eerily devoid of life, though piles of reddish-brown leaves here and there both added spots of vibrance and crinkled pleasantly underfoot.

A few puzzles and perhaps half an hour of walking later, and the duo stood before a stone house carved from a wall. Despite the material, and the cool, almost foreboding violet coloration, the house seemed...cozy. The inside reinforced that impression hard, being warmer both in coloration and temperature.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Toriel said, leading Johan into the sitting room. "I am afraid I have not had the chance to bake anything yet, but I have some leftovers that I can reheat for you, if you like."

As Johan sank into a deceptively comfortable wooden chair, his stomach growled, and he flushed. "Ah, that would be amazing, actually."

Toriel gave a small smile, then bustled into the kitchen. The sounds of clattering plates and the woosh of flame drifted out into the sitting room, and after about fifteen minutes, she reemerged, carrying a plate with slices of what looked to be some sort of savory meat and cheese pie on it.

Johan thanked her profusely for the food, and practically swallowed the first slice whole, only slowing down to savor the food on the second slice. In between bites, he asked, "What kind of pie is this? It's fantastic."

Toriel gave a light laugh. "I am pleased you are enjoying it, Johan. Not everyone favors my snail pies."

He paused mid-chew, processing the words, then gave a shrug and finished chewing. "I've never had snails before, I'll admit, but something tells me that human snail dishes probably don't stack up to this. Again, my compliments"

The goat gourmet gave a light smile as she took a seat across from Johan at the table. "You flatter me."

Johan scoffed as he polished off the second slice of snail pie—which had no right to be as tasty as it was—before denying, "I'm not one for flattery; I do my best to tell it like it is. If I say I like something, it's because I mean it." More quietly, but still audibly, he muttered, "Better a bitter truth than a saccharine lie."

Toriel's smile turned sad at that last, and she exhaled. "I owe you an apology, Johan." The man in question arched an eyebrow, setting his remaining slice of pie to one side. He had a feeling that this conversation was going to be a long one. He tented his hands and leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced knuckles.

"I treated you unfairly," Toriel continued, "when all you wanted to know was the truth." She folded her paws in her lap as she seemed to search for words. "I do not know how much knowledge about magic and the SOUL you have—"

"None," Johan interjected, then winced as he realised that he'd interrupted her. Thankfully, the most he received was a brief, unamused glance for his rudeness.

"As I was going to say," Toriel continued, "human SOULS, and by extension human emotions...are much more weighty and powerful than those of monsters." She transfixed Johan with a serious stare. "Under the right circumstances, a human mage can kill a monster merely by hating them enough. Merely by being Intent on harm."

Johan boggled at the concept, gaping like a fish. Half a dozen thoughts flew through his head at this, but nothing came out of his mouth.

"When you felt anger at the deaths of the humans that came before you," Toriel continued, a sad expression on her face, "it was as though I was carrying an ice block on my back: frigidly burning and heavy."

"But, but, I!" Johan babbled, before finally bursting out, "I'm not even a mage!"

"No," Toriel confirmed, "but you have the potential to be such, and the right SOUL color to use Intent, should you be so inclined."

"I…" Curiosity warred with overwhelmedness . "I think there's a lot of things I need to learn about. But first…" Johan swallowed thickly. "I'd like to ask again, even though I think I know the answer already."

Toriel stiffened, as though bracing herself, and then closed her eyes. "I will tell you, Johan. I cannot ask you to not feel rage at what I am about to tell you, for I feel much the same."

She took a deep breath.

"The six humans who fell down into the Underground before you did not die naturally. They were killed." Toriel paused, face twisting with agony. "No, he killed them. Asgore killed them, and took their SOULS." A choked sob left her mouth as she gripped the edge of the table. "They were only children…!"

Johan's entire body seemed to freeze up as he processed the words. Ice filled his veins as his vision blurred for a brief moment. Frigid rage crystallized in his gut at what had been revealed to him, even as he strained for control, for a center. The fact that his very emotions could cause harm to Toriel was likely the only reason he was able to force himself to breathe.

Finally, he managed to utter a single word.

"Why?"

No answer could excuse an act as abominable as the murder of a child, let alone six, at least in Johan's eyes, but he had to ask the question nonetheless.

It took a long time for Toriel to compose herself enough to answer, and the remaining slice of snail pie went untouched as they spoke long into the night.

Chara sat on the front steps of their mother's house, vaguely registering that they should be feeling more shock at this revelation. Asgore, the biggest softy they had ever met, had changed that much? Just how long had it been since their and Asriel's plan had failed? What could have happened in the time they had lain dead and dreaming to so change their parents?

No, Chara realized, they knew exactly what had brought this change on. Whatever their flaws may have been, the Dreemurrs had held so very much love for Chara, and for Asriel. And Chara knew all too well how love could be inverted into hatred, given the proper stimulus.

When they had poisoned themselves.

When they had failed to protect Asriel on the surface.

They had brought about this change in Asgore, by providing the stimulus of grief twice over through their failures.

It was at that moment that Chara realized they were crying. Spectral tears flowed freely down their face and evaporated into nothingness as they left Chara's skin.

And yet…

And yet.

Why did Chara feel nothing of the guilt, of the pain they knew they deserved? They were crying, weren't they?

Then why…?

Why were Chara's tears devoid of sorrow, of anger, of everything?

Chara did not understand. They could not understand.