Summary: Geno does not approve.
(Warning: This story contains mild swearing, death, blood/dust, bad parenting, and etc.)
Geno foresaw this day years ago. The day his marrow would run cold deep within his bones, and the world around him would grow dim while his HP plummeted to zero.
He had expected - i.e., silently hoped - his personal harbinger of death, his beloved husband, Reaper, would be the one to tear his fragile broken soul from the mortal plane.
Not the death god's pompous, no good, bastard of a king.
Though, it could hardly be said to be unexpected.
Chief, Reapertale's Asgore, made it no mystery that he loathed both the God of Death and his ghoul-esque lover. He took great lengths to silently (and quite blatantly) convey as much via many means: his many, many hateful actions, snide comments at "required" social gatherings (parties and meetings other gods/goddesses were allowed to skip, but Reaper was forced to attend), the multiple assassination attempts (on both Geno's and Reaper's life), and the bloody glitch dared not forget about how the other forbid him and his lover from having offspring.
Something the duo so desperately desired for years prior to their union (back when gods and mortals were still allowed to procreate together), only to have a spite-driven decree snatch the opportunity away.
Geno scolded at the memory from his place on the stony dirt path leading up to his home's demolished doorsteps. Red-stained teeth pulled into a snarl as he sensed the heavenly - more like hellishly - presence directly behind him. Looming menacingly.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the power to do a single thing about it.
His magic was nearly fully depleted, hanging on due to the determination he injected into himself years ago. Deep red blood pooled beneath his crumpled body. The life substance seeped out the numerous cracks along his spine and gashes across his arms, legs, and chest.
Taking his strength with it.
Nevertheless, the glitch painstakingly forced his skull up and swept his hazy eyelights over the soul-crushing scene.
The mansion he and Reaper had spent years in together (laughing, crying, simply enjoying one another's company) now sat in shambles. Mere ruins that portrayed nothing of their former glory, of all the pleasant memories it previously housed within.
In fact, the building had been almost completely leveled during the powerful Asgore's attempt to finally be rid of the skeleton couple once and for all.
A goal that was evident enough based on one little detail.
At the start of the carnage laid the dusty, black cloak that belonged to Geno's mate.
White-hot rage bubbled in his soul, threatening to spill over into an uncontrollable flame. All the while, pale red tears slowly gathered in the corners of his eye sockets then freely streamed down his muddy, fractured cheeks.
All the happiness he worked so hard to achieve, gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Like it was never there to begin with.
Geno grunted and used his least injured arm to hoist his upper half off the ground. Stinging aches assaulted his protesting bones, but he persisted. His right eyelight lit aflame, red/blue magic unhealthily pale and weak.
Turning his skull, he glared at his foe over his shoulder.
"Y-you'll," His wheezing, raspy voice cut off, and a wet chest-rattling cough promptly replaced. Pain flared to life in his rib cage/spine with the jostling motion, and a new wave of blood spilled from his jaws, splatting onto the ground beside him- joining the sickly crimson already below him.
Biting back a whine, he grit his teeth and stubbornly continued, "You'll r-regret th- this."
The towering goat monster let out a boisterous, full-belly laugh; Even going as far as to plant his trident in the earth and lean forward slightly while placing a hand on his stomach as if hearing the greatest joke in eons.
A choppy growl crawled up the glitch-laden skeleton's invisible throat, bringing with it an uncomfortable burning sensation. However, instead of his sockets squeezing shut in response, they narrowed to further the ferocity of Geno's steely glower.
Not that it had much effect against the humored king.
Once the laughter settled, Chief straightened himself, gazing down at Geno like he was no more than the dirt beneath his fancy gold-lined shoes, and stated in an overly smug tone, "No. No, I don't think I will."
With a victorious smirk, his fuzzy white paw raised the mighty golden trident and angled the three deathly sharp prongs at the helpless skeleton before sending it barreling downward.
Right towards the dim, fragmented red/blue soul floating just a mere few inches in front of the other's injured form.
The magical organ took a direct hit, and a piercing "plink" sounded throughout the impromptu battleground.
Then Geno's soul crumbled.
And no amount of determination could save him or it.
His bones slowly began to dust not long after- starting at his feet then climbing higher as the ashy powder quickly vanished along the soft breeze.
Using his last breath, he hissed a venom-laced "F-f-fuck you!"
Thereafter, his remaining body (skull, arms, and rib cage) disintegrated into a puff of dust- which blew away as swiftly as the rest, leaving only a tattered, grey-speckled red scarf and white, red-stained lab coat in its place.
Asgore scoffed.
The sacred weapon outstretched to where the unsightly mortal once laid vanished, neatly hidden in his inventory where no nosy lesser gods/goddesses or passersby would be able to view its dirtied state.
And he planned for it to remain there.
At least, until he got his servants to make sure every speck of dust was purged and his trusty trident was tainted no more.
For a second, Asgore entertained the thought to leave (escape the crime scene) to have his weapon cleaned at once, but his attention moved to the ugly red cloth marring the brown earth.
He sneered, thinking, Of course. Its clothing.
Dark yellow eyes drifted to the ratty black cloak lying a short distance away.
And that other one's too.
As much as the chief god preferred not to dirty his paws with those creatures' disgusting garments, he'd be a fool to leave any damning evidence behind. Especially if he wanted to avoid getting on the wrong side of the God of Magic (Gaster) and his remaining "son."
However, before he had a chance to gather the skeleton couple's abandoned clothes, a brambly thicket shot up from the ground. The lush green/brown shrubs and small trees twisted and weaved together, growing at an abnormally fast rate until they sufficiently blocked his path. Large, brown thorns on their exterior threatened to drawn blood at even the slightest of touches- should anyone be foolish enough to approach them.
Asgore wisely retreated several steps, shamelessly gawking the plants in surprise. For many reasons, but chiefly one. That magic... Magic of this nature, this caliber, hadn't been witnessed by anyone since the disappearance of a single goddess.
A special goddess.
There was no mistaking her magic for anyone else's.
He turned at the feeling of her divine presence against his back. Consequently, to face the ire of Reaper's most faithful, secret friend: Toriel, the Goddess of Life.
Also known as his ex-wife.
Though, in this instance, she hardly resembled the gentle, nurturing soul he remembered. Despite wearing the same long, flowing green gold-accented dress she had been in the day she vanished.
Her mouth was drawn into a grim line, eyes hardened, raised hands coated in defensive green magic, and white fur bristled.
The King of Gods flinched back upon noticing the burning fury in her moss green eyes.
Toriel lifted her head high, gazing down at him in disdain. Her velvety, kind voice sounded cold and calculated as her booming growl echoed across the eerie forest ruins, "You better give me a good explanation, Asgore. Quick, lest I lose my patience and drag you before the Divine Council like the coward you are."
"Tori, please understand. I- I," He sputtered.
Her eyes narrowed, and she snapped, "Silence! No excuses, or I shall banish you to the mortal plane so you may repent for the loss and betrayal you have brought to the pantheon on this day."