New Beginnings
watch?v=RvCnt7kSy4I (Undertale - Determination [Soft Piano Arrangement])
Darkness settled placid, a billowy mantle sprinkled with a handful of diamond dust, burdening the shoulders of trees and hills. Glittering specks that twisted along the milky embrace of the Galaxy, shimmering free from those thin cobalt cotton tatters, rapidly escaping Orion's Belt. Not a light on Earth to disturb them, only one breath of wind that smelled of elms. To this mute spectacle the night was anything but silent, in the occasional serenade of crickets and rustling leaves to the gibbous Moon.
Thus resonated with renewed appeal to the two archaic figures of Asgore and Toriel, in civilian clothes sitting on the grass in front of the house, the yet most archaic vision of an obscured green valley, blending on the horizon with the shining sea. Ever recurring, ever dreamlike.
"Now that there is nothing but the infinite to cloak our heads, it feels weird," Asgore confided whispering to Toriel.
He took her by surprise, intent as she was, snatching an amused beam from her puzzled face.
So he breathed gratefully, still finding hard to believe that his aching legs could relax so freely on the fresh grass. They protested with a snap nevertheless, and with a groan from him.
"It really seems we had gone back hundreds of years." Toriel indulged in a contented sigh, laying her weary head on the knees close to her chest. "Stars remained the same as we left them. Ebott's vault, a bright parenthesis to remind us of them, every time."
He grunted in agreement, and delighted in silence, eavesdropping the lightness of sounds as well as worries.
No movement at all in the house this time, no lights to faze the sleep of their children, packed onto the few bunk beds at their disposal.
A vague taste of everyday life touched their lips, almost making them smile. A feeling that they were determined to try many more times again.
Indeed, that whole sequence of events called for it.
For this and countless other reasons, umpteen thoughts detained them to surrender to a night's sleep. Unsaid words of a misplaced intimacy, which could not and would not vocalize in that act where each one's own frailty is exposed. Lying in the same bed, relying on the honesty and loyalty of the other, even with all the good intentions, they knew it was a too revolutionary matter, right now.
Never say never however. A change of mind could occur throughout their hunt for the next constellation.
Asgore well knew that such a task was difficult. The racing heart was proof of it.
He had lingered too much along the way home with her. They were too emotionally tried, for sure, but he wished to say so many things that he could not unravel one from that tangle in his head. Only caution against tripping over roots or stumbling in the dark succeeded in forcing his tongue.
Not even the newfound confidence within the walls of home, which breathed with new and yet ancient presences, was enough to phrase one.
He fidgety twiddled his thumbs, he hoped for a spark of courage to put an end to the silent exile of their damaged marriage. But a glance on her pearl-like complexion, her nose upward, fixing her maroon eyes to the firmament, froze him on his tracks.
The Moon slowly but steadily ploughed the sky, never enough pleased to wash down its rays. But only then, in an ephemeral glow, he noticed… a slowly murmured tune delving inside his ears.
They offered no resistance, opening their gates and let it storm inside, desired invader of a reversed sally. One hummed song, gushed spontaneously behind trenched lips, velvety like wool, softened sounds of her voice that vibrated strings of familiar memories.
For hours, he would have stayed to listen. But his heart did not want to wait any longer.
"It has been a while since I heard you sing."
She stopped. Better yet, her ears decided that the sweetness hidden in his powerful voice deserved consideration.
Asgore's response was less subtle. He blushed at his own comment, stared dazed, and grated a sheepish grin.
"Oh… Gosh –" he stalled, torturing his indexes "– Now I am totally feeling the same way I felt when I first met you."
She blinked at him. "Oh dear," blurted with a smirk, a half smile, and then laughed.
Asgore mumbled with hands in his hair. He could not even gulp. "I knew I'd cut the branch I was sitting on with that."
"Ah, Asgore, do not make that face! I am laughing because, despite the centuries, you remained the same adorable clumsy monster of old!"
"Certain flaws are hard to die," he admitted resigned eventually, joining her in laughter.
"Um, maybe…" – she conceded, sly, succeeding at some point to stifle the laughter – "Do I really have this kind of effect on you?"
"Huh…"
Offhand, he did not know how to respond to her provocative, intrigued arched eyebrows.
"Okay, very well," – he calmly said to himself, palms down – "I know how obvious that may sound, but... you are the mirror of eternal youth, and I would say more, you are prettier than usual."
"Ah, you flatterer!" Toriel replied, a snort slipped out of her mouth. "Do I strike you in a trekking suit?"
Asgore looked down. Although they were made to be comfortable, her clothes did not fail on accentuating her full-figured appearance.
He facepalmed. "Oh gosh, what am I thinking?! Uh, it… it is not just about physical appearances–" he stopped halfway, not being able to emphasise with his half-choked stammer.
Toriel murmured amenably. She could not help but sweeten her sight, seeing the apparent clumsiness of her ex-husband.
Asgore let out a suppressed sigh. "The thing is, you are so feisty, gladsome. When you speak, you sound like you are singing. Your loving gaze of a mother is still unblemished, which is what I truly hold dear. You are... happy, not like I have seen you lately. You do realize that the physiology of a monster reveals clearly what is most beautiful to the eyes…"
Finally, he smiled to her, while she… tender soughed.
For so much, way too much time she missed the affection, the delicacy, the romantic side of Asgore.
It ended up buried along with that sense of magical amazement after the turn of events but, although a just whispered, tragic inkling persisted in every note, it was not dead, but furthermore enriched.
"I–" she began, interrupted only by a quick, sad suspire "– I too do not see any physical difference, no wrinkle that furrows your face. But inside, inside you have changed much. Melancholic, restrained, thoughtful, disenchanted… you have been scarred. I can feel it when you talk, when you look at me... And you cannot know how sorry I am for what I have done to you."
Asgore took her hands, and seemed to her that he was holding her very heart. "No Toriel, please do not say that. Because, to be honest, neither do you come out unscathed. The disheartenment is still there, the sadness cannot be erased. None of us can say to be untroubled, without our bruis–"
Without notice she hugged him, restraining him all of a sudden. It was no longer the time to take blames.
To his beaten look, she then answered: "Come now, Asgore. Do not feel bad. I still appreciate what you said."
Her hands leaned against his cheeks now, because eyes can say more than words. "You know how to make a mother happy."
"Well, thanks. But..."
"But?"
"I wish I could also make a wife happy."
Asgore seized what she, out of shame, did not dare to name. Lips tightened into a corrugated line of muffled sorrow. Her hands went limp.
"Despite all that... you still consider me your wife?"
She questioned it with faint voice, genuine question without polemics, putting aside innocent and guilty, desirous of all those meanings that such word concealed.
He mustered all the courage at his disposal. "Would you still consider me your husband?"
It was in that moment that their gazes met truly. But this time his was so lively that the opacity, metastasized in her memories, was swept away.
"I do."
She whispered it to him and to the wind. Even she could not believe she had been able to say that.
It did not matter anymore. Everything around her lost all meaning no matter how, completely absorbed with her senses, when he, all trembling, kissed her.
Even happiness that accompanies such an act, deemed proper to bow down to the bitter taste of those lips, full-bodied of that love healed, true ever the more.
The parting occurred as if it was another violence. For a great while they stared at each other, while the world around started again to take its course.
"Listen, Toriel..." he said, struggling to say a few words.
"Hmm?"
"What you have told me before, when we were on the mountain... You really meant it?"
Toriel gaped in dismay. "W-Why do you say so? Can we not do this dream too? Do you not believe me?"
"No, I firmly believe you, but I cannot promise you a happiness without trouble, although you surely know that. Like it or not, we had control in the Underground, and here will be different. Things that we could put a stop, now will be force majeure. We cannot put behind the new disagreements and tragedies that lie ahead. Not everything will be idyllic."
"I know, and I do not doubt it. But for the simple fact that we will try with all our strength, the effort will be worth more than all the gold in the world."
Asgore mumbled a forced assent. Toriel sensed how discouraged it was.
She softly groaned at him, nuzzling his muzzle thereafter.
"You see," – she uttered, tittering at perplexed Asgore – "There is one thing I have realized experiencing loneliness. Life is like entering with hands outstretched in a thorny bush of flowers.
"These inflorescences, happiness sometimes large, sometimes insignificant and yet beyond counting, inasmuch I cannot keep them in mind, grains of a barely perceptible joy that the soul breathes in... Although you search for them surrounded by briars, coming out to be terribly scratched, at the end you smile at the yearned scent, feeling full of light.
"I am just too convinced that life is beautiful, even when it is bad. That birth is the miracle of miracles, living is the gift of gifts. Even if it is a very complicated gift, very exhausting, sometimes painful."
Asgore softened like snow in the sun. "How, how much I missed words such as these!" he said. "They ooze of the light you speak of, the one that gave colour to New Home, now lying gray. Light that you have given to this unfortunate dynasty, with your presence. And with a child in your womb."
He spoke delicate, like the kiss given to her hands clasped in his. She like a graceful maiden, thinking now of all things passed. "Our destinies really were and have remained firmly intertwined, a chain that, despite tugged and worn by time, never broke. My heart cries with joy with just the thought that now it rests on a feather bed, no more of flowers. Our dear, little Asriel."
That just dragged him in that rejoicing together with her. Only through great effort, he suppressed the overflowing desire of his throat to tell her everything.
"Of all the ill-fated memories I possess," – he reasoned – "For the mere fact of having witnessed birth, favoured even amidst its late grief over a blank nothingness, I never regretted to have wanted a son, with you as his mother."
"Ah! How you stayed true to our promise, even after I doubted you! If it was your integrity as a King, your perseverance as a father, to take them back, I do not know... but I am glad, indeed happy, because now you are here for them, and for me."
Every word they exchanged dug in, and it was indeed Asgore to feel seized with renewed energy and intent. Everything seemed to him surpassingly perfect.
He got up, tired of being huddled, pulling her in the open field so that the moonbeams could faintly, fully illuminate them.
"I want to be blunt, Toriel. To take our relationship into our own hands again, will not come all at once. Vicissitudes will always be here, lurking. Even though we are still ourselves, we both changed. But some things remain."
She let herself be carried away by the new state of things, chuckling and wondering about who knows what crazy reason he was so excited for.
"Tori, to see you every morning was like falling in love for the first time. I fell in love every day, of each merit and flaw of yours, of you that have become my everything, and time did not graze it. What happened was like being torn away from my own soul, and now that is mended I do not know what to make of me without you and these children. I give my thanks to Frisk, to goodness and heavens, to the Hyperuranion and whoever else that graced me to see you again. And aye, by golly! Tori you are beautiful, as beautiful as the day I married you."
Chained to her eyes, to her face flushed with embarrassment, he knelt before her.
"For it seems we just met again, now then! My beloved, I renew here, under this spotless and mysterious Moon, my promise: I will not fail to respect you and honour you all the days of this life, whose hours strike again. I will help and support you in the asperities that will not miss to try to bend us. I will nourish our bond with the entire magic at my disposal if necessary, so that nothing will oppress and wear it.
"And, I will accept whatever this choice entails, and patiently endure every grudge for my mistakes that might still abide, striving to remedy them for as long as the time we have left."
He drew the biggest sigh of his life. She suppressed her own gasp with the hands.
"Toriel, do you want to continue this journey with me?"
"Oh Asgore!"
She threw herself with arms open on his neck, tumbling both of them with a thud on the fresh grass, laughing their head off.
And soon after, however, they stood stunned.
A callow voice sang loudly: "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore!
"When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore!"
They realized upon sight of the windows aloft, that the children were standing leaning on the sill, and Franco flinging himself about for inspiration.
"Come on brother!" – Vérane complained – "You interrupted them at the best part!"
"Little sister listen to me, or actually as you'd probably say, laisser faire! Back home, a declaration is always accompanied by a serenade!"
"But you could have waited!"
"Nah, that was taking too long."
Toriel wanted to say something about all this, but she could not because the laughter was struck in her throat. She laid down defeated on Asgore's chest, who was unable as well to focus forces to stand up.
"Well, now I lost the track, how was it again?" Franco spoke, completely oblivious of what they were suffering down there.
Unbeknownst to him, Sophie joined the chorus: "When the stars make you drool just like a pasta and fasul, that's amore!
"When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet you're in love!"
"Ah yes!" – the boy realized, at the top of his lungs – "When you walk in a dream but you know you're not dreaming signore… Scusami, but you see, back in old Neapoli that's amore!"
If it had not been so overwhelming. Even all the others started to get the hang of it, chanting and playing all wrong notes, until the noise was such that the lights of nearby houses turned on and, rather than join them, they began to hurl protests.
"You think this is the right time to make all this goddamned racket?!" shouted one.
"There's people who want to sleep here!" yelled another.
"Shh! My children are asleep! Shut up, please!" shrieked in the most muffled possible way yet another one.
Laughing indeed makes for good blood.
"Tori, I haven't see you so cheerful in centuries!" – Asgore struggled to say, interrupted by his chortles under the mix of voices that gave no sign of decreasing – "You remind me of so many things!"
"No more so than you!" – she replied, taking advantage when she could of the little air funnelling through the lungs – "Just like the first few times we dated, you tried to look romantic while I fell head over heels, in the chorus of dins of maddened people! We were helpless just as today!"
Immersed in sounds and memories, loosening a smile while hugged tight under a playful moon and the spring breeze, in such a way they consecrated their new beginning.
Because in life there is nothing but beginnings.
And about the hardships of the past, and those that might ever come, is easily said: a laughter will bury them all.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Sonnet 116 – William Shakespeare
These two surely had to put their mind at rest. In a sickly sweet manner, just the way they like it, I guess.
But let things go, because many other turning points, serious and crucial, await.