"Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on Earth." -Fyodor Dostoevsky
The sunlight was bright and the cathedral all white and Asgore smiled at his bride in quiet delight
The priest harangued, the wedding bells rang, all the townspeople happily sang,
He'd finally asked
Married at last
Hail the Kingdom's new age!
(Hail the King's lovely new sage!)
Cake was sliced and dishes were diced and colorful drinks were carefully iced
A server hobbled towards the newlywed pair, a porcelain plate held above his hair
"Pardon me, your Majesties, but if you're free, would you care for a cup of tea?"
Asgore held his queen and took in the scene, this wasn't a beverage he'd previously seen
"Well, golly, sure! But from what was this procured? I've never had a drink with this pinkish allure"
"Carnation tea, from the flower, it's sweetness is perfect for this celebratory hour!"
Asgore raised the cup to his lips, sitting back and enjoying a sip
It was rich and deep, incredibly sweet, reminding him of when Toriel he'd first meet
Of the crown on her head, of the fact they were wed, of the kingdom they together now lead
Asgore's SOUL stuttered and smiled
He could definitely enjoy this for a while
»»—- —-««
The marsh was dark, twittering with larks, and the regiment sat on rotting bark
It smelled like war, of demoralized corps, of monsters dusting on moss floors
The grief of being commander-in-chief weighed on him like a tremendous massif
But he had to stay strong
The humans were wrong
Monsters would win, no matter how long
It would be before monsterkind would sing their victory song
A young bunny squire snarled at the mire and poked the fire with noticeable ire,
"Your Majesty, do we have a chance? To win back our home by mace and lance?"
The atmosphere hushed. Mutters were crushed as to his feet the King rushed
"My sons, listen well. Do not let think we will fail. Watch and see, monsterkind will prevail!"
The soldiers were quiet, then burst into cheers! Amazing how quickly words could quell fear
Someone raised a hand in the commotion, waving the King over with violent motions
"What can I help you with, young one? I assure you, this war will soon be won"
"Oh, my Lord, this is not about me. I wanted to thank you, your Majesty, with some lemongrass tea"
The king smiled and nodded and picked up a cup, expressing his thanks before drinking it up
It was strong and brash, through his taste buds it slashed, reminding him of battlefield ash
Of his friends he cherished, lives that had perished, of humans bloodthirsty and garish
A feeling rose within him, violent and grim, a vow to avenge those lost in the din
Asgore's SOUL hardened and smiled
This kind of dark energy he would need for future trials
»»—- —-««
Asgore was wrong. The humans had won. And monsterkind was banished away from the sun
Shamefaced and cheated, his kingdom retreated, their hopes and dreams broken, shattered, defeated
His people were dying
These times were too trying
The King had no choice but to keep lying
So there was a meeting today, where the King would smile and be gay and tell monsters not to give way
He had a speech ready, written already. It was confusing and messy, and his thoughts were unsteady
His eyes wandered across the room, heavy with gloom, staring at the cavern's dark womb
They settled on distant view of the city, which was purple and blue and really quite pretty
He sighed. So many had died, yet his people were still determined to make the best of their lives
Where was his will to fight? To do what's right? To guide his people to the light?
"Gorey, my dear, is there something you fear? That look on your face is really quite queer"
Asgore startled then groaned then shook his head. He couldn't tell Toriel about his mounting dread
"Well my love, if you're free, I wanted you to try some lavender tea"
A porcelain cup was placed in his hand, the liquid a shade of violet bombastic and grand
He held the handle with an ungodly grip, nearly singed his bottom lip, and took a quiet, uneasy sip
The taste was quaint, like a memory faint, the dying wisdom of a kindly saint
He thought of his crown, the kingdom he'd lead now reduced to a town, the orphans deformed with permanent frowns
They needed him. They needed light in a time so dim
Asgore's SOUL sighed then smiled
He would guide his people through exile
»»—- —-««
The house was messy and quiet and warm, a far cry from its orderly form
Plushies were scattered around, crayons by the fireplace browned, and from the childrens' room came a soft whistling sound
Both of them were fast asleep, burrowed under linen heaps and sunken into slumber deep
Asgore closed their bedroom door and winced when the hinges rustily roared, ducking his head back in to make sure the two still snored
Still out, that was good. If either awoke, they would have understood, but the small joys of childhood he wouldn't disturb if he could
The King tip-toed down the hall, thinking to make a drink before before to bed he crawled
But what would it be tonight? Mint tea? No, too much of a bite. Maybe lemon or berry? No, those were just a bit too light
The water boiled and bubbles roiled and the King's mind over the subject broiled
He wanted something soft and gentle, something elemental, cheerful and fragmental
A jasmine blossom! Oh, that would be awesome!
Tired, calloused hands prepared the drink, puffy eyes quickly blinked him back from the brink of sleep
At last, finished. He took a sip and hummed as his exhaustion diminished
Fresh, clean, honest, sincere - how could a cup of tea have a taste so wonderfully queer?
Happy thoughts of the day through his mind played
The way Asriel had snorted when the human had reported that Mom's sock drawer remained woefully unsorted
And of how the two sat in the garden trying to knit, then eventually quit because the fiber threads became so full of grit
So precious, so pure. They were the greatest blessing of his life, to be sure.
Asgore's SOUL softened and smiled
Those two little darlings had him completely beguiled
»»—- —-««
New Home was quiet, morose, and black. Sorrow seeped from stone cracks and weighed on every back
White flowers were tossed from a basket, proceeding the path of a dust jar and casket
They were small. So terribly small. This was the sort of thing that shouldn't happen at all
The crowd raised up a hymn, one slow and grim, and in every monster's eyes a fountain of tears brimmed
Except one. One who's eyes burned with the fury of the sun
The King stood on the balcony and stared down at the scene. A feeling built in him, dark, hard, and obscene
"Asgore, look at me dear. My love, please, look at me here!"
He did not. His mind was caught in knots of the revenge he sought
Toriel tried again with her voice lower. Asgore turned to her but didn't stifle his glower
"You could not have stopped this unexpected blow. Please, whatever you are thinking, do not stoop that low"
The King snorted and turned back to the funeral procession. The hatred in his heart burned and freshened
"Asgore. They are gone. We have to bear on"
"Woman, where is your grief? For the sake of peace will you your son bequeath?"
Toriel stared aghast, then quietly laughed
"I see what the pain has done to you. Please, don't push me away too"
Asgore turned, cape swishing on the floor, and made his way to the balcony door
Toriel shouted and then came after, but he made it to the house much faster
His eyes searched for something to shatter, to bruise his knuckles, make him madder, and settled on a tea set sitting on a platter
He lunged for it but felt a tug on his nape, the feel of someone pulling on his cape
"Gorey-"
"Let me go, Toriel, just let me grieve! The things I am feeling you cannot perceive!"
"I will, just in a bit, really. But first, try some tea of lily"
The Queen brought a teacup over to him, holding up with a visage grim. The King stared at it with eyes dark and dim
"Toriel, can't you see? This is not the time for tea"
"Do not be a fool. A broken king cannot rule. Heal yourself, sit on that stool, and think of something other than plans so cruel"
With a huff, he took the cup, and downed the stuff with a mumble gruff
It was refreshing and bracing, forward-facing, bringing back thoughts he'd been outpacing
Of a boy who's laughter he would never hear again, of a prince who never was to reign
Of a Kingdom with no hopes or dreams, gradually unraveling at the seams
Asgore's SOUL darkened and smiled
A plan was compiled, thoughts of peace reviled
»»—- —-««
The house was still. Echoes of memories were shrill. Through the hallways blew a chill.
Everything was orderly, deep-cleaned quarterly, but it somehow all felt like forgery
Wisps of laughter sparkled in the hall, pictures of his wife no longer hung on the walls
Asgore blinked quickly, he should have known. This is what happened when you lived alone.
The King snorted and shook the gloom away. It was Gyftmas day, no time to be grey,
For he had an important part to play!
Pulling on the Santa costume, he quietly fumed when he saw how his midsection bloomed
That was new. Hoho! It made the image look a little more true.
Decked out in holiday charm, the King slung the gift sack under his arm
He was about to leave when his eyes conceived a platter of tea sitting next to a sieve
Where had it come from? Who put it there? Maybe one of the house servants had answered his prayer?
He walked over to get a closer look, smiling when he saw a note from the cook
"This Golden Flower tea is for you, your Majesty. It will put you at ease and fill you with glee "
The King smiled and on a chair settled, watching the water push up the petals
Golden Flowers were unmatched in color and smell, the way they shone was really quite swell
How hadn't he before thought of this? He wondered as he brought the cup to his lips
It tasted like…
water
and
tears
and
all the things
he knew he feared
he crumpled on the floor
let out a roar
thought of the things from which he'd been torn
Three people he would never speak to again, to circumstances and sorrow slain
Two children lying dead under his throne, their cheeks pressed to the floor's cold stone
One crying for forgiveness as he turned to dust, wailing as he disappeared in a gust
The other silent, pale and cold. A human child who would never grow old
A war he declared that would never be won, a hope for the sun that never would come
Asgore's SOUL trembled and cracked.
This world had nothing left but the feeling of lack.
ClosingNotes from the Author: Wow. That took quite a while to put together. Shout out to all the poets on this site and others who work so hard on perfecting their (really tough) craft. This is the first serious poem I've ever really written, so any and all advice and feedback means a lot. Thank you. Hope you enjoyed.