Hey Everyone!

Interference in bold, puns and memories in italics, magic is underlined.

-text- indicates either texts, or mental "talking".

All Undertale stuff owned by Toby Fox, else me or a reference.

Inside the shop, two mismatched figures behind the counter giggle at something on their screen. You hear a tinny rendition of your concert with Shyren. Your friend gives you a grin.

Asgore

The whole fiasco started when he told his manager the child would need to fly back to Ebott with him. Apparently, that might have been seen as kidnapping. The child pointed out she wanted to go with the Maeiz-king, so it wasn't kidnapping. The manager pointed out adults might not see things that way, and her parents really should give permission. The child nodded, but said this might be hard, as her parents had died back in her home country, and it was her uncle who brought her over. The manager agreed that her uncle should sign. She agreed with him, but said she'd rather not bother him, since he hadn't been doing very well the last time she'd seen him. The manager asked when this was. She told him sometime in the early 1990s. He laughed, and said she had a good imagination for someone her age. She smiled, and said yes, she did, but how could he tell?

This had gone on for quite a while, long enough that Asgore had needed to brew a fresh pot of tea. In the end, the manager had surrendered, and said fine, the child could come, but since the king wasn't scheduled to leave until the end of the week, she might as well tell him the name of her uncle. She had. The man had died of cancer in Ebott General Hospital two years after he'd filed the missing persons report for his young niece, Fatima. The child matched the photograph exactly, save for her green-grey eyes, which had once been dark brown. She explained that the lady in the cloak had said her SOUL had been mixed up with magic for too long for it to go back to normal, and her eyes had changed because of that. The manager had given up.

The next problem had come from the child's passport...or rather, the lack thereof. Asgore had solved this easily enough, since, as the child had never gained full citizenship to her adopted country, and as her birth country was no longer an extant nation, she could legally be inducted into any country of her choosing. He had asked her if she would be willing to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Monsters. She had agreed. As she was far from the first human to gain such citizenship - Frisk, upon her adoption by Toriel, had been the first - there was little the authorities could do to stop him. He had granted her a temporary passport until such time as a new one could be issued. Problem solved.

Then had come the issue of transportation. His plane, it seemed, had gone too long without maintenance - how this had happened was beyond him. It had collapsed, quite spectacularly, the day before he and the child were due to fly out. His guards had leapt into an investigation, but in the meantime, he and the child were without a way home. Asgore himself could not fit on most human aircraft, as his height and general pointiness made their narrow interiors...troublesome. It seemed they would have to wait until a new plane could be acquired. He apologized to the child profusely, but they only smiled and said it was fine.

They had gone to the airport in any case, he to arrange for a new flight home, the child because a) they refused to leave his side, and b) they had never seen an airport before. This had led to a crowd, as the video of the king's child companion had taken the internet by storm. The crowd had drawn the interest of three travelers who were enjoying a short stop to refuel there before continuing on to their final destination: Ebott International Airport. Of course, they would make their way to the front of the crowd the moment Asgore had dropped his briefcase, upending the papers within across the tile floor. The child had bent down to help him, and so it wasn't until a familiar, dramatic sigh buzzed out above him that he had become aware of their presence.

"Honestly, your Majesty, you really should be more carefull. After all, the King of all Monsters should be more dignified."

He looked sheepishly up at Mettaton, wearing his old box form to escape the public eye...or perhaps to draw it. Asgore had never understood these things - he would much rather be gardening, or drinking tea with his son.

"Howdy, Mettaton, Napstablook, Shyren. Fancy meeting you here."

The robot sighed, "Good morning, Asgore. I take it this beauty is the child starring in your latest internet film."

He frowned, "You make it sound as if it were intentional, Mettaton."

The performers defensive attitude dropped away. He rubbed one arm reflexively, screen shifting to a look of remorse, "I am sure that is not what I meant. These past few days have been quite the run around, I have to say," the two stood in awkward silence for several moments, "Blooky, darling, would you check on the plane for me? I know this crowd is a bit much. Shyren - oh, thank you darling, I was just about to ask. Asgore, I know this is hardly the place, but I've run into a bit of a conundrum. This child here had an urgent need to get back to Ebott, but their passport seems to have been a trifle out of date. Your office was willing to forward us the application for citizenship...I assure you, everything is perfectly legal. Would you be a dear and sign this for me?"

He looked at the papers before him. On the front page, a picture caught his attention. The child in it seemed very familiar...where had he...oh. Oh. He looked up at the robot, then down to the child at his side. Another one? Would...perhaps...he felt an urgent need to contact his former wife. If any monster on the face of the planet would know how to deal with this situation, it would be her...she had solved far more challenging problems than the reappearance of six dead children...although...would she think he was making it up, as an attempt to get back on her good side?

Mettaton, unaware of his inner debate, pulled out his phone, "You know, this is beginning to resemble one of those superhero team up movies from a while back. Everyone from the Breaking of the Barrier coming together for one more adventure - this time with added cuteness! More romance! And...hmm. Needs work."

Asgore hesitated, "If you do not mind my asking, what makes you say that?"

"Darling, darling, haven't you heard? Two of them are with Toriel now, and I heard something about one of the Captain's men coming across another...or maybe another two?...darling...Asgore!...child, go get...nothing, officer, just a...Asgore, breathe, please, darling. Good. Just breathe. In...out...that's better. Focus on me, darling...that's it. Feeling better?"

He blinked. Mettaton was in front of him, his screen pulsing rhythmically in an oddly soothing pattern. The walls seemed...closer than they had been, and...curving?

"Hey King, you are back again? You looked as near to death as I once did."

He blinked again. A small child had come out from behind the robot. Weather beaten overalls hung above scuffed cowboy boots, a yellow striped t-shirt fraying around the straps. An oversized hat topped a smoothed-back braid of dark hair and dark tanned skin almost the same shade as the boots. Beneath the rim were a somber pair of gold eyes flecked with silver and grey.

"King? Gods, not again. Look, King, do not panic, do not let guilt fill your heart. Fatima and I both came to you, remember? We hold for you no blame. We will tell the Queen-mother we hold for you no blame. We will tell her it was we who asked, and you who cried. Do not panic, please, King."

Small arms wrapped around his arms, one set on either side. He looked between them, the two children whose deaths lay on his head alone. He wanted to apologize, to hug the small children who had sacrificed themselves for his people - one out of kindness, one out of a sense of wrong.

The child with the yellow eyes had snuck their way through all the Underground, scarcely speaking to a single monster the entire way. They had found him in his garden, watering the plants, and had demanded he take their SOUL. He had felt such sadness...why would a child so young seek out death? They had laughed, laughter morphing into coughs, red blood spilling on the golden petals. They told him they did not seek out death, for it already lived inside, eating at their body until nothing would remain. They had heard the stories of the monsters captured below, of the wrongful war that had doomed them to life without sun. The day the doctors had told them of their death, they had packed a bag, written a note, and set out for the mountain shimmering in the summer heat. If they were going to die...let their death help to repay the debt these gentle SOULs were owed by mankind. He had cried over their coffin every night, for theirs was the first SOUL whose owner he himself had seen.

Tired eyes gazed down on rumpled heads, tears wetting down his fur, mixing with his beard, falling onto his cloak.

"My children...I...I am sorry."

Green and grey eyes looked up into his own, "You were trying your best, Maeiz-King. So stop crying. You have cried too much for us. We just want you to forgive yourself as we have forgiven you."

That started the tears again, of course. He never really was good at stopping once he got going. Behind the children, Mettaton's screen lit up with text.

Fatima told us about your plane. Since ours is more than big enough, and more than empty enough, we convinced that manager of yours to let you join us on our flight home. We'll be taking off in about an hour - your bags are already here.

He smiled weakly back at the robot, his vision quickly obscured by a pair of helpful hands clutching a square of white.

"Here, Maeiz-King."

"Thank you, my child," he sniffed, taking the fabric with his just-freed hand. He wiped away the tears, which were soon replaced by more, "Oh, dear. I...I'm making rather a mess of things, aren't I?"

"That is alright, King. The world takes neatness far too seriously. A little mess is a good thing, if you do not ignore the fact that it is there. If there is mess, then it should be acknowledged, so that when it must be cleaned, it is not forgotten."

He smiled at the SOUL of Justice, "I think, child, that I must agree with you. It is better that things are not forgotten. Things that are forgotten...do not always deserve the dark. Sometimes, they are in need of protection. Sometimes, they are in need of repair. And sometimes...sometimes they are in need of a hug," he scooped the two children into his large, fluffy arms, hugging them close, "just like you."