...

"Oh yes, I've done it again."

Innumerable strands of dazzling prisms bathed Asgore in a vivid manifold of colors as he stood in the snowy lawn of his front yard, admiring his handywork.

Few people celebrated the holidays - and especially Christmas - with as much enthusiasm as the Dreemurrs. Literally every square inch of their yard was blanketed in all manner of festive ornamentation. The frosted windows and shingled rooftops of their two-story cabin, built of lacquered logs and stony veneer, were bundled in icy white snowflakes. The dormant oak in the center of their grassy lawn was wrapped in starry rainbows. Even his personal garden was carefully and beautifully adorned with silver tinsel and yuletide trinkets. A gawking assortment of finely trimmed goldenrods (the staple ingredient of Asgores homemade tea), lilacs, chrysanthemums, various roses, even a star jasmine that was in full bloom despite the bitter winter chill, all this and at least half a dozen others, all bound, laced, and donned with the gayest of apparel. The Dreemurrs were nothing if not thorough, and they celebrated their holidays like the Temmies down in Temmieville. 'Twas the season to be jolly, after all.

Nearly ten years had passed since the day of monsterkinds exodus from the Underground, and political relations between humans and monsters were at an all-time high. The years of diplomacy on behalf of Asgores ceaseless efforts had not only placed monsters in favorable standing with the humans, but their mutual sharing of history and culture, of magic lost to the humans long ago and cutting-edge technology that not even Alphys could hope to replicate, had laid solid the foundation of a fruitful, promising future for both races. Humans and monsters, standing side by side, with little remaining of the racial tension and animosity that once existed between them in ages past. By all accounts it was a miracle, and Asgore, though still troubled by the horrors of his sordid past, held his head high now, knowing that his efforts were the cornerstone that fulfilled the hopes and dreams of his people.

"Golly! You really outdid yourself, Dad!"

A voice from behind, oh so familiar, but one that he had not heard in some time. With notable excitement and an expression of glee, Asgore swiveled about on his fuzzy heels to greet his unexpected guest, his age not slowing him down in the least.

Now it really was the season to be jolly, for there stood the precious cinnamon roll himself, Prince Dorkus of Goofsalot.

"Asriel, you're home!"

Asgore had barely a seconds leeway to get the last word out before his son cannonballed into him, happy to see his dad after a long and grueling college semester, who returned the gesture with a fatherly hug of his own. The once little Prince had now come full circle into adulthood, fast approaching his nineteenth birthday. His horns had grown full and pristine, softly bending in opposite directions, and that bushy tuft of fur between them had now taken on a distinct sunflower tint, though he lacked any sort of notable facial hair to complement it. His snowy hide had its winter thickness to fight the seasonal chill, and he even began spotting the odd patch of dandelion across his fur like his dad, looking like buttercups in a field of snow. The subtle hints of being the kings son were beginning to take shape, and though he looked much cleaner and nowhere near as buff or burly, Asriel was still his fathers spitting image.

It was a dream neither he nor his parents thought would ever come to pass, to see their son grow up, to live the life once so cruelly stolen from him. The grand crusade to SAVE Prince Asriel from his horrid destiny took Frisk into the deepest reaches of the Abyss and through the flowing rivers of Time itself. Pitting her against impossible odds and insurmountable challenges at every turn, Frisk braved countless deaths and no end of struggle and heartache, all in the search for a solution to this hopeless riddle, the means to bring the doomed Prince home.

And after an untold number of RESET's, the terrifying answer she long sought finally emerged.

Frisk, in a supreme display of unwavering courage and DETERMINATION, willingly laid down her own life and gave up her very SOUL to the hollow Prince. This one selfless gesture, though it cost Frisk everything, granted Asriel the power he needed to sustain himself and maintain his form, without fear of reverting back into a homicidal flower, or something even worse. One life was traded for another, and though the price of this victory came high, Frisk had at long last accomplished that which she set out to do; she had given the young Asriel Dreemurr the second chance he so deserved. Asriel had been reborn into the world.

And then, in a strange twist of fate that to this day nobody was able to fully understand, her life was given back to her through an unlikely intervention by the spirit of Chara, long thought dead, whose SOUL had survived in the shelter of her heart locket, keeping Asriels own SOUL alive and intact, unbeknownst to him at the time. After a brief and tearful reunion, the two friends reconciled and Chara, with one final, charitable act of kindness and love, freely offered up her own SOUL in Frisks stead, giving up whatever chance she may have had at coming back to life, so that Frisk might keep hers and share in the bright future that she helped to create.

Not long after this, Monsterkind reemerged from their subterranean prison after untold centuries of forced exile, rediscovering such sensational concepts as sunlight, fresh air and open skies. Asriel was once more reunited with his parents, a most joyous affair, and Toriel and Asgore, having grown so fond of this sweet little girl who had done so much for them, took Frisk under their wing and adopted her as one of their own. The king and queen had become her mother and father, the prince her loving brother. At last, Frisk had discovered the familial bond she so desperately longed for, and she and Asriel became inseparable as the years went by, the very best of friends, just like Chara.

In a way, Chara was given a second chance too. She existed now as a part of Asriel, her SOUL forever joined with his, a guiding influence that shared in each and every one of his experiences. Every kiss he received from his mother, Chara felt too. Every slice of pie that Asriel got to enjoy, Chara tasted all the same, snails be damned. Asriel was living for two people now, for himself and for his late sister, and though it was not a perfect outcome by any means, they were together again, now and always. Their Hopes and Dreams had become a reality, because of her...because of them.

Now Asriel was in pursuit of another dream, to graduate College, to become an Astrologist, student to the twinkling skies above. It had been a fantasy of his ever since he could remember, the long days he spent with Chara in the starlit caverns of Waterfall, whispering into the echo flowers, gazing at the sparkling crystals embedded in the rough-hewn walls to fritter away the hours. Unfortunately, having seen the real thing with his own eyes, that jet canvas sprinkled with shiny diamonds, spanning the endless ether, the radiant sky gems of Waterfall could never even hope to match it. Yet he cherished those memories all the same. It was treasured time spent with Chara, after all.

Yes, he had a dream to pursue, with his parents and his two beloved siblings at his side, one forever with him in spirit, the other with him in the flesh. And though he was older now, he remained as big of a dork as he ever was, kind, caring, and silly at heart, relishing any chance he had to flaunt it.

And now was a good opportunity to do just that.

"We weren't expecting you until next week."

"I know, but I already turned in my term projects so the semester wrapped up early for me. Now I have more time to spend at home, until the next semester kicks off at least."

"Well, wonderful! Frisk has missed you so much since you left. She's gonna be so happy to see you."

"Then let's not keep her waiting!"

Asgore nodded, and slowly Goatdad and Goatson tiptoe'd across the icy green gnoll, hunched over like bandits, to the vine-tangled porch overlooking their festive yard. It looked for all the world like a scene straight out of Home Alone, with Harry and Marve beginning their raid on the McCallister residence.

"Hold on, let me check first."

Asgore took point, peeking his head through the front door, which was not an easy task with those enormous horns of his getting in the way, like elephant tusks rooted in a bed of daisies. Toriel was nowhere to be seen, which was a little strange. Now was usually the time when the Legendary Piemistress would be prepping meals for the week ahead, when one could expect to take in the aromas of buttery crust baking in the oven, of earthy spice, fresh cinnamon and foul snails, with hints of fragrant citrus underneath. But Toriel was a housewife through and through, and between laundry, cleaning, and cooking on top of her responsibilities as an educator, her day was never done when caring for a family of four, even if one had now migrated for newer pastures.

Frisk, on the other hand, was in plain sight. She had her back to the door (painfully close to the window overlooking the front yard and the porch), hard at work decorating the Christmas tree dominating the corner of the living room. Completely oblivious to the world around her.

"Shhh, okay, now's your chance."

Asgore gave the all clear sign and Asriel tentatively stepped inside, tracking evident three-toed pawprints in Toriels new pearl carpet as he forgot to wipe his feet before coming inside. Doubtless he would later receive ten shades of holy hell from his mother on the importance of having clean paws in the Dreemurr household. None of that mattered to him though, his only concern at that moment was the little twerp who still had her back to him, her attention completely commandeered by the oversized Christmas tree she was whimsically garnishing with shiny ornaments.

Oh, perfect.

Slowly he crept across the living room - step by step - until he was only inches away from Frisk, a bright blue ribbon clipped on the back of her bobbed, auburn hair, contrasting the bubble-gum pink of her hoodie.

"Dad, is that you?"

She could feel a towering presence standing over her, but did not turn her head to see who it was. Asgore had been outside for hours fiddling with the lights, and so Frisk must have assumed that he had finally finished and came inside to get warm. Not that he needed to with all that thick fuzz covering his massive frame, like a bisons mane.

"Could you give me a hand with this please?"

Asriel had to put a hand to his mouth to stifle a burst of laughter. Her attention was completely focused on the tree, struggling to crown its top with the final ornament, the silent snow angel, coming just inches short even on her socked tiptoes. The world could have ended three feet in any direction and Frisk wouldn't have paid it any heed.

But then...

"Howdy, Frisk!"

A gasp of surprise and an angel hitting the carpet was followed by a very slow and tense about-face from Frisk. Was it really...

It was.

"A-Azzy! You're home!"

Frisks jubilation was something physically tangible, an audible crackle in the temperate living room air, and she was unable to contain her excitement. Most people would probably be alarmed at the sight of a furred, seven foot goat monster with horns, fangs and claws bearing down on them. Not Frisk, though. She was overwhelmed with glee, seeing her brother again after months of separation. The rushing tears that managed to escape from her sandbagged eyes were mute evidence of this.

Not wasting any time, Asriel knelt down on one knee to match gaze with Frisk, like a knight in service to his lord. Then he held his sleeved arms out and fanned his clawed fingers inwards, making his intentions clear. Frisk didn't respond to this immediately, perhaps still trying to overcome the initial shock of seeing Goatbro home so early, and needed a little nudging to get her in motion.

"Well, cmon! Don't I even get a hug from my little sister!?"

Now given the proper motivation, Frisk finally threw herself against the waiting prince (almost knocking him over as she did), little limbs reaching around Asriels nape as far as they would go, tears rapidly racing down his back. Those lithe arms of his quickly closed in around her like fluffy steel bands, snuggly securing their prize. She could feel her feet leave the ground as Asriel slowly rose to his own. Then the arms holding her oh so close were pulled taut as she was subjected to the most aggressive, enthusiastic bearhug she had ever experienced, like being squeezed by a giant stuffed animal.

"I thought it smelled like dork in here! I missed you so much, Azzy!"

Her voice had gone slightly raspy from the strain on her back and lungs, a clear indication of the sheer magnitude of power behind Goatbros crushing embrace. Asriel, being the tenacious cuddlebug that he was, was well known for handing out hugs with such force behind them that they could pulverize stone into coarse powder - a trait he no doubt inherited from his father, being largely unaware of his own strength - but this was something else. The pressure became so intense that Frisk felt sure her spine was going to crack, and even drawing breath became a challenge. But not once did Frisk give protest or resist. She just took it. Because she could. Because she wanted it.

"I missed you too, Frisk!"

For at least two minutes they stayed like this, Frisk held firm in the unyielding arms of the Legendary Hugmaster, like a python constricting its quarry. Then her world began to spin as he swung her around and around in the open den, both of them giggling away as he did. The proud father that he was, Asgore just stood and watched as this tearful reunion played out, Asriel pirouetting on his padded tootsies, cheek against cheek, until disorientation got the better of them.

Finally he set her down, picking up the undamaged angel in the process.

"Let me get this for you."

With surprising ease, his arms cleared the tree, setting the angel upon its pointed top, its gilded wings protruding back like that of a butterfly.

"Heh, thanks Azzy. It stinks being so short compared to the rest of you."

Asriel was the one who was envious though.

"You don't have to duck your head every time you walk through a doorway. Just ask Dad about that."

"Yes, well, it's better than having to take a file to my horns."

A chorus of hearty giggles followed, severed by a soft yet thunderous voice from above.

"What's all the commotion down here!?"

The missing link. Toriels voice from upstairs, peeking over the railing. The spectacles resting precariously over her wrinkly muzzle only served to amplify the unbridled rapture her rosy irises exhibited.

"Asriel, is that you?! Goodness, what a pleasant surprise!"

And Goatmom nearly tripped over herself as she charged down the stairs to embrace her son, his jade sweater clashing with the orchid one she was wearing. Her other arm shot out like a primed pinball plunger, grabbing frisk by the collar of her taffy hoodie and pulling her into another smothering embrace. Again though, she gave no protest.

"Hi, Mom! I missed you too!"

Toriel tightened her grip, her sable claws ensnaring themselves in the fabric of their clothes. She felt a strange twinge of nostalgia in that moment as she began to reminisce over the memories of when her children were actually 'children'. Though Toriel still used similar monikers to refer to them by, now they were anything but. Frisk had grown considerably since her younger years, and though her family still dwarfed her by a rulers width at 5'5, she had nevertheless developed into quite the wonderful lady from an anatomical perspective, albeit a bit on the prudish side, always favoring modesty, especially in public. She preferred jeans and long pants as opposed to frilly dresses and skirts (but was not against it for special occasions), and aside from small things like hair ornaments and simple jewelry (particularly her heart locket, a precious gift from her brother), didn't really partake in girly habits like makeup or nail polish. Not necessarily a tomboy, but a very down to earth person.

Though Asriel and Frisk would always be children in their eyes, it was only now that both Toriel and Asgore saw and appreciated their kids for what they were. The two little dorks had at long last matured into fine young adults, by all outward appearances at least.

Toriel finally pulled away from her son, her long muzzle leaving a clear impression in Asriels sweater. She flashed him an awkward look, and Asriel immediately knew why.

"And Chara? How is she doing? Could we talk to her?"

With a reassuring nod, Asriel slowly put a large clawed hand to his chest, the fur slightly damp and disheveled from condensation. Faint rays of scarlet emanated between his stubby digits, like carnelian ribbons dancing in the wind.

Her.

"She's great, she misses everyone. She's not quite ready yet, we just talked a few days ago, but maybe tomorrow night?"

The first time Chara had come out of dormancy to talk to her family, an ability that neither she nor Asriel knew they even had until months after they left the Underground, was a rather emotional moment for everyone, and unfortunately one that was short-lived given the limitations of such a taxing effort, for Asriel to use his physical body as a medium for Chara to communicate from beyond the grave. There was a time when they could only perform this dangerous feat every so often - once a month, give or take - and only for a few minutes each time without severe risk to Asriel, being that his SOUL was severed from its body during these brief windows. Even with Chara's SOUL helping to support it during the cutoff, a recovery period was needed in between each attempt for his weakened spirit to heal before they could attempt another linkup.

Now, while still dangerous, they've learned to control this ability to the point where they could invoke it more frequently, and for much longer periods of time. Over the years, once a month gradually became once a week; now it was once every other day. And while what before seemed like an infrequent and short phonecall from a distant relative, now was a real chance for the entire family to talk and catch up, and even - in a vicarious sense - spend time together, whether it was bouncing ideas back and forth over a homework assignment, sharing a messy batch of chocolate pudding on a cold autumn night, or simply watching a brilliant mountain sunset from a nearby bench overlooking the buttercups of Ebott Village.

It certainly wasn't the ideal scenario, for the family to only have these sparse, fleeting intervals of opportunity to 'visit' with dear Chara, but it was far better than nothing. And it gave both Toriel and Asgore some much needed closure to know that, at least in spirit and in memory, their beloved daughter lived on.

The Royal Family was whole again.

"Wonderful! Everyone is here then!"

And like the head of any household, Toriel took charge of the moment.

"Oh my, this won't do at all. Asgore, please prepare some tea. I'll bake a couple of pies."

"Yes, dear."

For one brief moment, the last rays of blazing gold blanketed Ebott Village in dazzling sunfire as dusk finally fell upon the world. The next major storm was not to hit for a few days, so while the air outside was glacial, the snow cover was light and the night sky was pristine, untouched by even the faintest trace of cloud cover. Starlight was unified with the brilliance of a full moon and the frosted terra firma, bathing the village in an ethereal sheet of blooming silver, giving the night its own wisp of life as the sun began racing beneath the world, so its ascension could mark the birth of a new day to come.

All was as it should be. The lights were hung, the chimney was clean, the halls were decked, the tree was decorated, and Prince Asriel was home for the holidays. A grueling sixteen week freshman semester had finally concluded, and now he was enjoying some well earned rest and relaxation. Home at last, with those he loved most.

Christmas was here, and the whole family was together again.