AN: Hello everyone and welcome back! As always, thank you for following and for reading and for all of you wonderful reviews and comments! It really makes all of this worthwhile! I'm glad you are all enjoying this so far and believe it or not, I think I can see the end of the story from here! That's super exciting!
But before we get to that point, there are still a few things that need to happen! ^_~ And we are just a few chapters away from knowing EVERYTHING!
So, I won't keep you long. Please enjoy and I'll see you next chapter!
Chapter 11
Technicolor Hearts
Everyone deals with grief in different ways. First off, grief is a terrible and powerful thing and depending on the way people handle it, it has the ability to change who they are. It can either strengthen them or tear them apart.
Throughout the Underground, it was as if a wave of grief had swept from the ruins all the way to the capital and there was a unified sense of dread. The news of the deaths of Asriel and Chara hit the monsters like a cave-in and many of them took it like a death sentence themselves. Their days were slow and aimless while their nights felt bleak and empty and it seemed as if every aspect of life had been affected. Businesses closed while the employees and shop owners took time to mourn and on the same aspect. The patrons, couldn't find it within themselves to go out and shop.
The lethargy was, by no means, limited to the shops and businesses. Life at the lab had been similarly affected. The assistants reported for work just as they were scheduled, however, so often, they were slow and distracted that Gaster deemed them unfit to perform their tasks. In a short display of frustration, Gaster had even closed the lab. He figured that if the assistants were sluggish and absent-minded, they would be prone to more mistakes, which he could not afford, especially now of all times. In this state, he could get more work done without them. So until such time as they were not so inconveniently distracted, he had no use for them.
So, in the weeks following the children's untimely demise, Gaster worked alone on the most pressing of the projects. He couldn't let something like this hinder progress and these conditions were not foreign to him.
Sans would come and attempt to help the doctor as well. And really, Gaster was grateful for the extra pair of hands . . . aside from those he summoned himself. From Gaster's perspective, it seemed as if Sans was not as easily distracted as the other assistants. Either that or he knew better than the others how to push aside and work through those more negative thoughts. What's more was that Sans didn't need direction. He seemed to know exactly what Gaster was doing and where he would be of the most use. He didn't waste time speaking and asking meaningless questions. He did have to leave earlier than Gaster would have liked now that he had Papyrus to take care of as well, though he continued to take some of the paperwork back with him to work on in the evenings, so even if he wasn't doing lab work, he was still being productive. Gaster understood and, again, was grateful for the help.
However, perhaps it was better that Sans wasn't around as much. It allowed for Gaster to focus more intently on his work . . . and it meant that he didn't have to hide the constant clearing of his "scratchy throat" and Sans wouldn't have to give him concerned looks and silent questions.
It wasn't so long ago that the roles between the two had been reversed and Gaster had been the one who was eying Sans with concern. Back then, Gaster had wished that Sans would have opened up and talked to him a bit more. He still never really found out what was wrong with Sans besides the fact that he had been mysteriously losing HP, but in the recent weeks, it seemed as if those worrisome moments were behind them. At least as far as he knew.
But now, he did notice how taxing it really was having someone constantly watching your movements as if expecting something horrible to happen at any given moment- to have to work through your own physical suffering and keep up appearances for the sake of others.
He'd tried to set Sans' mind at ease and assure him that there was nothing wrong, but at the sudden onset of coughs that soon followed, Sans' eyes narrowed. He didn't ask or look for reassurance, but it was obvious that he didn't believe Gaster in the slightest.
There was a part of Gaster that wanted to just come clean and tell Sans exactly what was going on . . . maybe there was even a way for his assistant to help . . . but about this . . . this was personal . . . it would probably better if Sans were not involved after all . . .
Gaster was sick. He was running out of time . . . he'd been on borrowed time anyway, but now, with whatever he had left, he would do everything he could for as many as he could. Maybe afterward, he'd leave his unfinished projects to Sans. He was the most qualified to carry on after he was gone. But then again . . . he wouldn't wish his life on Sans . . . All of the secrets, all of the stress, all of the questionable methods . . . Sans shouldn't have to inherit all of that. He deserved so much more than Gaster would ever be able to leave him. No, he wouldn't leave this place to Sans, no matter how qualified he was.
Gaster cleared his throat, suppressing his coughs and with that, he could feel a certain fire being lit under him. Maybe if he could find his breakthrough, no one would have to inherit his burdens and he could die peacefully knowing that what he'd done was actually worth something in the end.
Something pulled at the corners of his mouth at the thought. It wasn't quite a smile, but maybe a cheap imitation of one. He kicked himself for thinking the way he was. What would Nyala have said if she could hear him talking like that. Like he was staring the end of his life in the face . . . If she'd known what he'd been doing? How he had been going about getting his results . . .
Gaster rubbed at his skull, fingering the crack over his eye. There's no way she would have approved of this . . . especially with as selfish reasons as he'd had for pursuing it. If there were a way of creating a synthetic human soul from the essence of a real one, he should have been using it to help break the barrier first . . . after all, what good would enhancing his own physical strength and endurance do if there was no reason to use it?
If she'd asked, he probably would've said it was for Sans, since his HP was so low, the added strength and endurance would help him regain some of what he lost.
It would have been a lie. Another lie to himself, to Sans and to his wife.
Gaster hummed as his movements slowed. He was having a hard time following his own thoughts now . . . perhaps a short break was in order before continuing his work.
He sank in a nearby chair and rested his elbows on his knees. His head sagged between his shoulders as he hands cradled his skull.
'Focus' he told himself in a voice that was both foreign and familiar to him. It had been a while since he heard from N.V. He thought he was finally rid of it after so many years of pushing the voice aside and attempting to silence it . . . however, since the explosion, N.V. was back with a vengeance. Louder and more insistent than ever. 'What good are you if you can't concentrate? After all, isn't that why you sent all of the assistants away?;
"I know," Gaster answered aloud, "Just, give me a few minutes . . ."
'And what lame excuse do you have for that? What actual progress have you made that makes you think you deserve a break?"
The doctor let out a long breath as his hum became a low groan.
"I'm so tired." He was forced to admit.
'Excuses.'
Gaster cleared his throat, letting his eyes slide shut for a moment. "No, It's not an excuse. It's fact. At this rate, it's pointless to even consider—"
"Um, hey . . . Doc?" Came a cautious tone from the entryway as Sans leaned in. He was dressed rather nicely in dark colors. Nothing fancy or formal, but definitely a step up from the usual casual attire he would adopt when there was no one around.
"Hey," He began again, "You ready to go?"
"Go . . . ?" Gaster had to ask.
"The address? The memorial? You asked me to come get you when it was time, remember?"
Gaster let out another long breath as the thoughts caught up to him once again. Well that did explain Sans' more presentable attire and the dark colors. "Yes, of course." He answered plainly. Quite honestly, the thought had slipped his mind even though he promised himself that he'd make an effort to attend. For anyone else, he probably would have refused to go entirely . . . but for Asgore and for Toriel. He owed it to them. "Just . . . give me another minute or two . . . I'll meet you in the atrium and we'll make our way to the capital from there."
Sans took a moment to look back at Gaster and he gave a slow nod, "Ok."
With that, Sans left Gaster alone and made his way back to where Papyrus was waiting for them.
"Was Dr. Gaster ready?" Papyrus asked.
Sans shook his head slowly in response. "He forgot. Two hours . . . that's gotta be a new record or somethin' . . . he's definitely getting worse."
"And there's really nothing you can do for him?"
Sans shrugged, "What can I do? I've been trying to lighten his load . . . but even still . . . And it's not like I can just go and force him to tell me what's going on . . . And Gaster never really has been the forthcoming type. I'm sure that if he needed my help, he'd let me know."
Even as he said it, Sans felt the sardonic chuckle that went with it trapped at the back of his throat. Of course Gaster wouldn't tell him! When had Gaster ever really told him anything that was going on? He had been living in the lab with him for how many years now and he'd only just learned about his family? And that was only after he and Papyrus happened to stumble across the information.
Well, granted, Sans really wasn't a fountain of gossip himself, and yeah, he understood that every man had his secrets, but still . . . this went beyond just concealing the past . . . Gaster's health was in question here. And Sans was worried.
It didn't take long after that for Gaster to reappear. He had replaced his clothing to a more suitable and darker color scheme and he switched out his lab coat for a knee-length black coat that helped to accentuate his height. As he approached, he kept his hands in a low steeple in front of him and Sans had to note how strange it was to see Gaster without something in his hands. He was always carrying a notebook, text, or equipment of some sort, but this was . . . there had to be a better word than "different" or "strange" but whatever the word was, Sans couldn't find it.
Gaster stopped when he reached the other two, gesturing cordially to the entrance.
"Shall we?"
Grief is a powerful and terrible thing and depending on how one chooses to handle it, it can have the power to either strengthen them or tear them apart.
Everyone could see the effects clearly in both Asgore and Toriel. In the course of one night, they had lost both of their children. One to illness and the other to the mercilessness of humans. Neither one of them seemed to be handling the loss well and for a long while, there had been complete silence from the two of them.
Weeks had passed since the news of Asriel and Chara hit the Underground. It had taken the king and queen about that long to compose themselves enough to call the monsters together for an address. They thought that the best thing to do to help themselves and the people of the Underground cope, was to host a memorial service for the children at the capital. Those who could attend and who wanted to pay their respects to the children were welcomed.
Generally, monster funerals tend to be relatively short. Usually, only a few close friends and loved ones are in attendance for the support of the surviving family members as they say goodbye to their fallen member. Someone will say a few words for the deceased before their dust is spread.
Asriel Dreemurr did not have a funeral. His dust was never collected, but was instantly scattered across the flower garden in the throne room. So the address was called, the monsters brought together in the middle of the city to formally remember the life as a whole. As they stood from the tall archways of the giant domed pavilion-like building, Asgore and Toriel did everything they possibly could to retain at least minimal appearances of their position. The façade was thin and there was a serious lack of conviction behind their appearance.
The entire monster race was looking to them for guidance, for some indication of what to do next. They needed something. Someone to tell them how to pick up and move on. From the shadows of their own suffering, the king and queen did their best to be that light for them- to show the monsters of the Underground that they could still be everything they needed and everything they expected.
But their appearances were cracked and even the most oblivious of monsters could see that they were starting to fall apart at the seams.
When Asgore spoke, his tone was low and his speech was slow. It was obvious that he was ragged and near the end of his wits.
He began with the story of what happened. He told everyone about the illness that killed the human child and how Asriel had taken the blow. The human had been Asriel's best friend, his playmate, and the one thing that kept him occupied and happy. He had learned so much from that relationship.
Asgore told them how Ariel was able to cross the barrier and what happened to him when he did. He told them about the human attacks on him. And how he was able to somehow find his way home before he died.
There were times when Asgore would veer off on a tangent, reminiscing on his children. His voice would often catch and he would sigh deeply, almost forgetting to speak at all, but at a touch from Toriel, he was brought back to the present enough to continue. It was depressing and disheartening to watch.
From the roof of a nearby building, Gaster looked along, watching the service from afar. Below, it seemed as if the entire Underground population was in attendance for the prince's memorial. It was standing room only down there and even if Gaster wanted to be a part of the throng, he doubted there would be any room for him down there. No, up here was much less . . . claustrophobic.
He was not the only one who had the idea. There were several people who were thinking along the same lines and were scattered along the rooftops in positions where they could see and hear the king and queen while avoiding the sea of people below.
So from the roof, he, stood, watching along as his friends attempted to keep face as they suffered through what were arguably and quite possibly the worst days of their lives. The loss of a child is . . . the worst pain any parent could possibly feel. To have a life that you helped create and nurture. A life that you had the opportunity to watch grow suddenly be ripped away. To forever wonder what they would have grown to be . . . such a waste of unrealized potential. To be constantly plagued by the memories of their laughs and their smiles knowing that they would never be seen or heard again. It is absolutely devastating . . . Especially the loss of one as young and as genuinely pure as Asriel.
Gaster knew that pain more than any other monster in attendance, and as he stood, with his arms folded behind his back, he could feel his entire soul aching for his friends. This is why he needed to come. This is why he had promised to get away from the lab to be in attendance. The king and queen, Asgore and Toriel, his friends, were in pain. And when Gaster had been going through the same kind of pain, they had been right there to literally support him when he fell apart.
'Well, now they can truly say that they understand what you were going through. Now they know that same pain and how useless it is just to have the empty words of people who say they feel sorry for you. Or worse, that they sympathize. Sympathy suggests that the person is in-tune with your pain. That they feel the same pain you do. No one can feel your pain unless they've been through it themselves. No one could ever possibly know the agony and suffering you've endured unless they have had to endure it too. Now, they can finally say they sympathize. Now they know first-hand how you felt all those years ago. And they know how impossible to continue smiling. How much it physically hurt to put on a false face and pretend to be alright, to make light of the darkest days you have ever suffered. Just look at them. They don't even know how to do that. How can they hope to keep the Underground together when they can't even do it for themselves.'
Gaster hissed quietly to himself as he shook off the dripping thoughts of N.V.
From the corner-edge of the same roof, with their feet hanging over the edge, Sans and Papyrus didn't seem to notice. They were intently focused on the domed building, listening to the king speak.
Gaster tried to drive the snide thoughts of N.V. as far away as he possibly could as he continued to listen in.
But the king had halted his speech, seemingly mid-word as he looked over the faces of his people. The king could see the pain in their faces and in their bodies as they stood packed together like a fistful of weeds, shriveled, dull and devoid of life. He realized he wasn't the only one who was thoroughly devastated by the loss of Asriel and of Chara. There were so many people right in front of him who had seen the friendship between the two of them as a sign- as a ray of hope for the future. A monster and a human getting along, becoming as close as brothers. It was proof that there was hope for them all, that maybe, finally, they could return to the surface and be accepted.
And then in the course of just one night . . .
Asgore lowered his head and let out a long breath.
"I am such an idiot." He grumbled in his low voice, "I am such a damned idiot!"
Immediately, Toriel's eyes widened and her ears perked. Asgore never cursed in public! What was going on in his head? Once again, she laid a hand on his arm, attempting to bring him back to the matter at hand.
"Gorey, honey . . . the address."
"To hell with the address!" Asgore bit, "Look at them, Toriel! They are in as much pain as we are! These people don't need us up here talking about how sorry we feel for ourselves. They need leadership and direction! They need action!"
There were gasps and rumbling chatter that quietly spread through the crowd. This was a different Asgore than many of them had ever seen. This wasn't the kind-hearted and gentle soul that they'd come to know. This was someone with an agenda. Someone who was ready to release a boiling vat of rage that had been building up over a long long time. Someone who was ready for a fight!
At once, Toriel tore her hand away from her husband, a certain worry crossing her features. He was deviating from their plan! He was veering from the speech they'd carefully formulated together! He was going off-script and there didn't seem to be a way to talk him out of it!
"My people," Asgore began again, a different tone coming over him, a voice no deeper than normal, but ten times darker carried his true thoughts and emotions for the entire situation. "I have made a terrible mistake. I have failed you! Now is not the time to be in despair and in agony! No, now, of all times, is when we should be banding together as one! Strengthened by one another with one common goal, one common purpose! Now, more than ever, we must stand united against our real enemy! The disease that has plagued this world since before many of us can even remember! I'm talking, of course, about the humans!
"Take a second and think! How many times have the humans taken everything we've ever had!? How much have we already lost at their hands!? How long have we been trapped in this Underground HELL!?"
In the crowd, there were scattered claps at Asgore's more direct approach and honest-unbridled emotion. He was angry! He was more than angry and to them, it was refreshing to hear. It got their own spirits going and it lit a fire under them. They cheered and applauded, finally feeling as if they were on the road to making some progress. The King was going to do something about their situation and this was where it was going to start!
Gaster, from his spot on the top of the building, raised a brow as he listened. His interests and curiosities piqued as he became more attentive to the King's more forceful tone. The way he spoke . . . it was as if he had transformed right in front of his eyes! And Gaster was intrigued to hear what this new assertive Asgore had in mind.
"How long has it been!?" The king continued, "How long have we been robbed- deprived of any and all hope of being able to see the sun again!? Any and all hope of ever being on peaceful terms with the humans!?
"Look at where we are! Look at what they've done! The humans have made it perfectly clear that they have no intention of making peace with us. When a child presented himself to them, their first reaction was to slaughter him! Tell me, does that seem like an affirmation of peace!?"
There were more cries from the crowd now as the speech pulled at their emotions, several more monsters now cheered at Asgore's fury and several more shouted loud "boo"s at the distasteful display of the humans. The monsters began to rally together, creating a slowly but steadily increasing roaring rumble.
"They didn't show Asriel a single shred of mercy! And I say that if the humans won't show us mercy, then why should we show any to them!?"
"When the humans sealed us down here, they were hoping to be rid of their 'problems' by sweeping us under the rug, hoping never to have to see us or deal with us again! And they actually expected us to just bend over and take it!"
From behind the king, Toriel's eyes went wide at the utterance, "Asgore!" She gasped, "That's incredibly indecent!" She continued with a hiss as she leaned in closer to his ear, "There are children in the crowd! Please! Think of them before you continue."
Asgore continued at full volume, "The children need to know the true nature of the world they live in. If we don't show them, then how do you expect them to learn?"
"Please, Asgore!" Toriel pressed, still keeping her voice lowered, "Just calm down."
"Calm down!? Tori, how the Hell do you expect me to keep calm after all of this! How can you keep calm!?"
Toriel's face fell drastically as she glared back at Asgore. The shock was gone from her expression and from her posture as a darkened look crossed her features.
"Don't you dare make this about me . . ." She said in a lowered voice, making sure absolutely no one except for Asgore could hear her. She removed her hand from his arm slowly so it hung at her side as she shook her head, "And don't make this about you either! This was supposed to be about our son! About our children! Look at what you've turned it into!"
For a split second, something flashed in Asgore's eyes, but as the crowd continued to cheer with such zeal, he turned his head away from Toriel once again. His people had gained so much more life with his words than he'd seen from them in several decades, maybe even centuries!
"Look at you!" He re-addressed his citizens, "This is not the life you deserve! You were not meant to bow your heads to the humans. And for a long while, that's exactly what I had you do! That was the mistake of a young and naïve fool! Well, I say no more! Don't you think it's about time we stop being docile!? Let's show the humans that we're stronger than that! We will not just roll over and die! We will stand! We will fight! We will take back what is ours! We will show them that they cannot keep us down here forever!"
The churning of the monsters' roars became an explosion! So many were thrilled, inspired by the idea of what Asgore was suggesting! They would finally be taking a stand against the humans. They would take the surface back for monsters! They would fight the humans with no mercy of which to speak! They would give those humans a taste of their own medicine!
Toriel hung her head, turning her face away. It was difficult for her to even listen to. It was as if everyone in the underground had forgotten the reason behind this gathering, turning it into a bastardized celebration instead of the tribute it was supposed to have been.
"This isn't what he would have wanted," She muttered quietly to herself, "I'm so sorry, Asriel."
She had to hide her face away as Asgore continued, and it took everything she had just to remain standing by his side and listen to what he was suggesting.
"Now, I know you're wondering what we could possibly do from here. I admit, while we are trapped down here, there is not a lot we can do to reclaim the surface . . ." Asgore hesitated as he caught one or two monsters' shoulders drooping, "However!" He continued and he shot a look up to the corner of the roof where Sans, Papyrus and Gaster were watching. "Our esteemed team of scientists have been hard at work looking for a solution to this conundrum for quite some time. And while they are dedicated and very talented, they need your help!"
Gaster's expression widened a bit, his eyes opened slightly and he tilted his head in curiosity. Asgore was going to tell all the monsters about his project? The one he'd labeled "classified" and "highest priority"? Interesting. Well, if all monsters were on board with the project, then perhaps there was a way to complete it in an even shorter amount of time. On the other hand . . . Gaster couldn't help but wonder just how many added and unforeseen variables Asgore was adding to the project by including everyone. What could he possibly have them do? How could they possibly "help"? Or were these just idle words to motivate them into hope?
"This is what we know," Asgore began again. "In order to break the barrier and be free from here, we need souls. Human souls. Seven to be exact. Once we have collected them all . . ." Something struck Asgore then as he looked back upward toward Gaster. Gaster, looked back with a silent question. They both knew what would have to happen in order for the seal to be broken. It was not as if they could just throw the souls at the barrier and shatter it. Asgore would have to absorb all seven souls in order to become strong enough to break the spell and the seal. But if that were to happen, there would be no way for him to revert to the way he was now. Their Asgore would be lost forever. It seemed as if there was a part of Asgore that was genuinely frightened by that idea . . . but to save his people, that was what he was willing to do.
Asgore gave a nod and Gaster nodded back. If he was sure it was the route he wanted to take, then that will just have to be the way of it.
"Once we've collected all seven souls, we will be strong enough, not only to shatter the barrier, but to rid this world of the human infestation! This is war! And it all begins here! But we need your help to make this a reality. So, from now on, I want you all to be on the highest alert! Humans will inevitably fall into the Underground. If you see one, we want you to eliminate them on sight! Inform the Royal Guard immediately. They will collect the soul and deliver them to us. Now, the humans are a violent species. This much is true, so you must exercise extreme caution. If you do not feel you can fight the human, find someone who can. If you see a monster fighting a human and they are outmatched, help them! With your help, we will be free once again and we will finally know true peace!"
Again, the monsters erupted into a raucous bout of cheers and applause. Finally, a ray of hope seemed to be in sight and freedom was within their grasp. Every monster wanted to play their part in helping their king in his war against the humans. This would call for every single one of them and they were more than ready to assist.
On the roof, as the Skeletons watched over the crowd and the king and queen, a very different wave of emotions seemed to wash over them.
Gaster wore a smile that tore across his face like a rip in a sheet of paper. He had not been expecting the king to out in out declare a full-on war against the entire human race! What he knew of Asgore had always pointed at the king to be more of a pacifist. And if he had to fight, he would do so defensively, But he would never instigate confrontation and would, instead, seek out a peaceful alternative. On top of that, Gaster had not foreseen a reaction quite like this from his fellow monsters! It was a much-needed change in the morale of this place and it did, indeed, motivate everyone to move forward, even the doctor himself.
He let out a deep laugh, unfolding his arms from behind him and joining in with the applause with his own slow and steady clapping.
"Well done, your majesty." He nodded quietly to himself, "Well done."
Meanwhile, from his seated position at the corner of the roof, Sans sat with both hands fisted tightly in the fabric over his knees. He had to fight with himself to keep his breathing even and controlled as he listened in to the king's speech and the other monsters' reaction to it. His eyes had gone completely black as he stared at nothing in particular and tried to absorb everything he'd just heard. And though he was otherwise unaware of it, just about every inch of him was trembling.
It wasn't until Papyrus reached out to him that he even remembered where he was and at the touch, Sans flinched heavily, nearly jumping out of his . . . well he didn't have skin . . . but if he did, he would have jumped out of it.
"Brother?" Papyrus asked cautiously, "Sans, are you okay? You don't look well."
Sans' widened eyes stared back at Papyrus as he fought to find words. For some reason, he couldn't find a single one. And it hurt to breathe. And his chest . . . felt tight.
Papyrus reached out to take Sans' hand in his own, but even as he did, there was a warm warning heat that emanated from Sans. Papyrus would undoubtedly burn him if he touched him now.
"Dr. Gaster?" Papyrus called over his shoulder, "Dr. Gaster, there's something wrong with Sans!"
"No!" Sans finally responded, though a little too suddenly and a little too adamantly, "No, not . . . No . . . I'm-I'm fine . . . I'm okay."
It seemed as if he was still having trouble breathing and even as Sans pulled himself up to his feet, turning his back on the king and the crowd of people still cheering for the oncoming war, Sans cradled his head, as if in an attempt to cover his ears and block out the sounds.
At the sight, Gaster stepped forward, ceasing the claps and congratulatory remarks. His smile faded when he caught a glimpse of Sans' face. It looked like he was suffering- like he was in pain.
"Sans?" Gaster frowned, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Sans answered. Again, the response came a little too quickly, "I said I'm fine!"
Gaster stalled for a moment, assessing the claim. He noted Sans' widened and empty eyes and the lack of composure in his posture, he knew that look well. He'd seen it several times in the eyes of his family and in his own expression when he saw the crack in his skull and when the coughing started again. That was fear in his eyes. Sans was terrified.
"You're lying, Sans. You're not fine. But I think I understand. There's no need to lie to me."
Sans scoffed, "You do?"
Gaster nodded as he tried another step forward, "You're afraid. This declaration, this war on humanity is no laughing matter. There will be fighting, there will be dust . . . You must be wondering how you fit into it all . . . If you were to come face to face with a human . . . I'm sorry to say, but you wouldn't stand a chance."
Sans scoffed once again.
"But you see, you needn't worry. Your role in this is not that of a soldier. And I assure you that you will be protected."
Sans shook his head, muttering the word "protected" under his breath as he stepped away, making sure to avoid Papyrus and Gaster. "That's not it." He retorted, "But you get an 'A' for effort. Look, don't worry about me, okay. I just . . . need to get some rest. That's all . . . I'm going back to the lab. Feel free to stay here and celebrate with everyone else, Paps."
Both Papyrus and Gaster stood, shocked, as they watched after Sans' retreating back. On a hunch, Gaster stealthily CHECKED Sans to see if there was anything off.
His Max HP had been trimmed down to 4.
Gaster snapped an accusatory glare toward Papyrus and CHECKED him as well.
Papyrus . . . didn't have Sans' missing HP this time . . . So where had it gone?
*meanwhile back with the King*
Asgore looked over the excited faces and cheerful vigor of his people, drinking in their enthusiasm. He'd never seen so much life in them. The shriveled weeds from before were completely gone and what he saw before him now was a field in bloom. Each monster was completely motivated to do his or her part in ensuring freedom for them all. It was a refreshing sight and it even motivated him.
But when he looked behind him to show his wife just how much change there had been in the monsters since they'd all gathered, there was no sign of the queen. Toriel had slipped away sometime during the address and Asgore was left alone.
Grief is a powerful and terrible thing. And depending on how each person deals with it, it has the power to either strengthen them or tear them completely apart.
After meeting with several monsters regarding his plan for the attack on humanity, some asking how his family was holding up, and others asking where Toriel went (Asgore had told them a white lie about her being tired and needing to go home to rest), Asgore returned home. His first thought was to find his wife and fill her in on everything she missed . . . maybe find out what happened to her earlier.
The house seemed desolate. Empty. Lifeless. With the exception of the few golden flowers Asgore had taken from the garden to help liven up the place, the house seemed abandoned. Toriel's chair hadn't been occupied in weeks and the pleasantly warm fire that she would usually keep going in the hearth had long since been smothered. It was likely that she wouldn't be lighting another fire there for a long long time. The space in front of the fireplace had been a favorite napping place for both Asriel and Chara and Toriel had always been more than happy to keep the fire going for them, sometimes falling asleep right along with them.
Those had been some of Asgore's fondest memories from the times his family had been whole. And now . . .
Pushing the memories aside, Asgore searched the house, calling for Toriel by name, there was no answer. He checked every room and called her name in each room- all to the same silence.
After searching all of the rooms, Asgore stopped and descended the staircase. Obviously, she was nowhere in the home. Perhaps she had gone into the throne room.
Quickly and silently, Asgore navigated the walkways and corridors, passing through silent halls and empty passages in hopes to hear or see anything of his wife. Of course there was still no sign of her. Even over one of the walkways just before the final corridor that overlooked one of the thickest parts of the capital; the place where he and Toriel would spend hours contemplating, discussing the future of monster-kind, cracking jokes with each other, flirting . . . the place was barren. The streets below were empty as well-so many monsters having shown up to see the address and perhaps just had not made it back yet to fill the streets again.
Onward then, through the final corridor where the bright reds and golds shone through the stained glass filtering through one of the only places in the Underground where actual sunlight could permeate the barrier. That light played against the tiles, painting the room in a state of perpetual sunset.
Sunset had been Asgore's favorite time of day and he and Toriel would find any excuse to sneak away and watch it together nearly every day . . . of course that had been before . . . before the first war, before monsters had been forced underground . . . before he and Toriel had even been married . . . heh, even before Asgore's horns had fully grown in. They were young, betrothed to each other through their families. Asgore had been so nervous and clumsy and awkward around Toriel, terrified of doing or saying something wrong. Of course, Toriel had found it endearing and adorable and Asgore had fallen hard for her shortly after.
When they commissioned this room be built, they had been trying to recapture that part of their lives, their brightest memories of their lives on the surface.
It was when he was nearing the end of the corridor that he heard it. A soft voice speaking to someone despite the lack of response. Scattered between words and phrases where the gentle notes of a quiet song.
"Tori?" Asgore whispered as he stepped through the threshold. The voice carried from beyond the walkway leading to the throne room. Asgore followed the voice and realized that Toriel had taken to the room below the entrance to the throne room. It was a long staircase down into a dimly lit space, dank and dreary.
Toriel was turned away from the door as she leaned down to stroke the hard rigid edges of a small casket adorned with a red heart. She was humming a soft tune, something she would often do if one of the children had fallen or had a distressing nightmare. It was a calming sound, sweet and soothing. Asgore couldn't help the small and saddened smile as he listened in.
"Here you are, Tori." Asgore greeted with a tiny smile, "What happened to you out there. I missed you. And everyone was asking about you."
Toriel halted in her singing and in her movements. She stood up completely, but didn't turn to face Asgore. She let out a long breath, clasping her hands in front of her as if trying to stop herself from trembling.
"Well, look who it is." She said in a dark and quiet voice. There was just the slightest tremor to her words.
"Tori?" Asgore questioned, stepping forward. He reached out his large hand to rest on her shoulder. In another step, he was close enough to wrap his strong arms around her and hold her close. She had been crying. He could tell just by that little tremor in her voice and how she refused to lift her head and look at him. Doubtless she was a strong woman, but sometimes, in times like these, she needed the support. And he was always happy to oblige.
"Don't 'Tori' me, Dreemurr!" She snapped, ripping herself away from his embrace and putting a sizable difference between them, "And don't touch me!"
"Tori . . . el" Asgore hesitated, struggling to find the right words to use for her. Toriel would only call Asgore by his last name in one of two situations. Either she was being very flirtatious and playful . . . or when she was extremely upset with him. The latter happened so infrequently, that it was always a shock when she did it.
For now, Asgore took a step backward, giving her the space she wanted. But she was still upset and he felt he needed to do something to rectify it. He needed to mend her shattered spirit. The problem was, he was never really good at verbal comfort. That was her specialty. She always knew just what to say. If he couldn't hold her, what was he supposed to do? Especially if he had no idea what was wrong.
"Toriel." He sighed, "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"The fact that you have to ask is, in itself, a cause for concern." The queen bit.
"Was it something I did?" Asgore questioned, his eyes going wide. She was like this because of him? What did he do to cause this? Or was it something he . . . said?
"Is this about the address?" He concluded, "Look, Tori-"
She gave a warning growl.
"Toriel. I know it wasn't the route we'd worked out together. But when I saw their faces . . . so dejected and hopeless. You saw them . . . so many looked like they were at their wits end. They needed something to give them a little hope!"
"'Not the route we worked out' . . ." Toriel scoffed shaking her head, "Asgore, it was the exact opposite of what we'd agreed to say! We were supposed to assure the people that despite this, there was still hope for peace! That we would not let this set us back as a people! That even through this tragedy, we would remain steadfast and sure that we would find a way to regain our freedom together. That . . . display . . . I am astounded that they are not rioting out there as we speak! You . . . you turned it into a circus . . . What were you thinking!?"
"Tori . . . I—"
"A war!?" She cried, finally turning to face the king, "That was your bright idea of banding the people together!? Of giving them hope!? You remember what the last war was like don't you!? How many we lost! How many families were completely obliterated! How many friends we lost! Who could possibly be hopeful after that!? Why would you ever want to bring that on us again!? Tell me, who does that benefit!? Who's hopes are you really milking with that sentiment?"
She hung her head, letting out a long breath and steadying her nerves before making a confession, "I know you're upset about our son. I am too. And I know you blame the humans. I blame them too. I'm furious at what they did to Asriel . . . to my . . . perfect little boy . . . and yes, I would love to exact that fury against those . . . barbarians. Make them pay for what they did to us . . . for what they did to him! It makes me absolutely sick! He did nothing to merit that brutality! He was just a child . . ."
Toriel trailed off as her voice cut short and her breath was pinched harshly in her throat. She shut her eyes tightly as burning tears began to flow again, matting her fur and leaving stains on her cheeks.
Asgore listened to her every word, each one was like a burning hot knife that penetrated his defenses and cut him straight through. The amount of pain his wife was in . . . the unadulterated rage behind her words . . . he had no idea she felt that way. And through it all, she had pushed all of that aside to call for mercy. She still had hope that a peaceful solution could be reached, despite what happened to Asriel.
He reached out to her again. She was falling apart. If nothing else, he could at least be her support before she crumbled. But even as he tried to reach her, she took another step backward to keep her distance.
"No, Asgore." She sighed, taking breath after steadying breath as she fought with herself to speak again. "Please don't." Her next words were quiet as if she was speaking more to herself than to him . . . which, of course, was not the case, " Declaring war . . ." She groaned, "At our son's memorial . . . What the hell!? Oh! And that's another thing!" She continued at full volume, "How could you be so vulgar! In the presence of children, no less! The things you said . . . disgraceful! And extremely unbecoming of a king! And then . . . to turn on me and expect me to play along in your little stunt! Accusing me in front of everyone of not being passionate enough about the murder of my son! How DARE you!? How could you do that to me!? How do you think that makes me look to them!?"
Asgore's jaw fell open slightly as he listened to her, and the more he listened, the more he realized just how she felt about the entire situation. She was right. He hadn't been thinking about the implications of what he'd said. Had he inadvertently made her seem weak or villainous? And even if the other monsters didn't feel that way about her . . . she did. And that was because of him.
"Tori, please! Let me make it better!"
"'Make it better'!? It's a bit late for that, Dreemurr, don't you think!? The damage has already been done! We're at war! Against all of humanity! Or have you forgotten that already? Every monster out there is expecting us to lead them into glorious victory now! Going on a rampage and slaughtering every human who crosses our path! How does that make us any different than the humans!? What? Are we going to kill every child who presents themselves to us now too!? Because that is exactly what you just suggested our monsters do! 'Eliminate them on sight'!? 'Rid this world of the human infestation'!? Did you even hear yourself out there!? How could you subjugate them into doing your dirty work!? Not all monsters are fighters, you know! And all humans are not evil! Our child was proof of that! And you just gave every monster an order to kill first and never ask questions! What if the human doesn't want to fight? What if they are innocent, just like Asriel!? Did you ever think about that!? And now, thanks to you, we'll never know. Thanks to you we'll never have peace. Not really anyway. Either, we will somehow find a way to be 'victorious' and all have to live with literal and figurative blood on our hands . . . or worse, we get to the surface with a declaration of war in our ears and in our heads and be completely wiped out by the humans! And you will have been the fool of a king who led his entire species to extinction! You said you were an idiot for surrendering to the humans and asking monsters to stand down? You were smart then! You had the well-being of your people to think about and you did what you had to in order to spare them! That is what a king should do! That is how a king needs to think! You were no idiot then . . . but now . . . Well, I hope your happy with your decision, whatever it entails."
Toriel went quiet after that, though she was still fuming. It seemed that after a long tirade, she'd run out of words. And what was worse was that Asgore couldn't think of a single word that could help calm her or comfort her through this. He'd messed up badly in her eyes and as of that moment, there was nothing he could do to fix what had been done. The declaration had been made. The monsters had their orders and they had their expectations. They had their image of their leaders. Anything he said now to contradict what he said earlier . . . would send a ripple effect of negativity and bring his leadership into question.
"But Tori . . ."
"Why are you still here?" She scowled, turning back to the casket where their human child lay resting, "Don't you have anything better to do?"
That stung more than anything else she'd said to him before. It seemed as if there really was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say to bring her around. At least not at that time. Perhaps with time, he could find a way to present himself to her and maybe they could come to some common ground. For now . . . he would leave her, but not before he said one thing.
"I'm sorry, Toriel." He sighed as he turned to reascend the staircase.
Toriel turned back for a moment to watch Asgore leave, a certain part of her wanting to call him back. To fall into his arms and let him be that comfort that she even had to admit to herself that she needed and that he'd tried so hard to be . . . but the larger part of her, who was still livid from everything that happened and everything she'd said, let him go. Now was not the time. She needed the space and they both needed the time.
It didn't take very long after that. Only a few weeks in fact since Asgore's declaration of war. The people of the Underground were in a state of complete jubilation, announcing the good news in the streets and telling anyone who would care to listen.
They'd done it! They had managed to kill not one but two humans! Twins! Brother and sister. It seemed they had fallen into the Underground near the Ruins while on a camping trip. They'd managed to find their way through the Ruins virtually unscathed. They were the sneaky sort and managed to escape capture all the way to the area just outside of Hotland where they were finally cornered and eliminated! The sister acted as a distraction, brandishing a gun at the monsters surrounding her as the brother ran forward, with his frying pan in hand- off to fight the king, no doubt.
But through the joined efforts of the monsters, they were both eliminated and their souls harvested by the Royal Guard to be delivered to the king as requested. As a new recruit in the guard, Undyne seemed more than happy to be the one to deliver the souls. That one in the cowboy hat had been her first kill and she was particularly proud of that!
Word travelled quickly and soon it was all anyone was talking about.
Their souls had been Yellow and Green.
*In the capital*
It didn't take long at all for the news to reach New Home. The Royal Guard had in its possession two human souls and they were heading to the lab to be processed before being delivered to Asgore and Toriel.
Toriel had gone absolutely silent when she heard what had happened. The two humans were only children . . . just like she had been dreading from the beginning. Without a second thought, the monsters, their people, had slaughtered innocent children and were parading around the Underground celebrating like it was some grand accomplishment. There was a dark part of her that could easily picture the humans celebrating in a similar fashion knowing that they had killed her son.
And Asgore hadn't gone to tell them otherwise. He was their leader. He had given them the order, if there was going to be a change, it would have to come from him.
Still Asgore did nothing. In fact, he nodded when the news was delivered. There hadn't even been the slightest hint of remorse, regret, or change. He had been given another chance . . . and again, nothing came of it.
That was the last straw. If Asgore wasn't going to change his tactics, then she would have to take matters into her own hands. She would scout the humans first. Protect them if she could, prevent any more needless bloodshed. Especially if that blood was innocent.
That night, after Asgore had gone to bed, Toriel left silently. Her mission rang clearly in her ears and she would do everything she could to stop Asgore's plan from coming to fruition.
*At the lab*
Back in the lab, they seemed to be ecstatic about the news as well. They now had three of the seven souls they needed and with the addition of these two, they would finally be able to assist in the processing. They could finally see what the doctor had been planning to do with the souls before.
Sans stood in the back of the enthusiastic monsters listening in to their frenzy but opting not to participate. There were too many things going through his mind at the thought of having two more human souls brought in for processing. After what happened to Gaster with the last soul and the implication of what had to have happened in order to obtain these new souls . . . he wasn't sure if he wanted any part of it. And he wasn't sure he could handle it.
Sans went to bed early that night, feeling absolutely drained. He wasn't feeling well again and there were knots where his stomach would be. His mind was swirling and his orientation was skewed. He needed to lie down before something bad happened.
Papyrus returned later, having finished another section of map. He'd made a habit of coming home with enough time to make sure Sans had something to eat and enough time to get a bedtime story in before they fell asleep.
This time, however, when Papyrus returned, Sans was already in bed, but instead of finding a peacefully sleeping Skeleton, Papyrus had opened the door to their bedroom to find Sans clutching his pillow tightly, magic spilling from his eyes and hands. Around him, other objects, books, clothing, the chair for the desk all floated in mid-air, being held aloft by Sans' magic.
Something was wrong! Something bad was happening to Sans!
"Brother!" Papyrus exclaimed, rushing toward Sans, dropping his things and kneeling to stop his brother's fit. "Brother, wake up! Please! You have to wake up!"
There was no response from Sans except for the moaning. He was repeating a low muttering "No no no no no . . . I can't . . . I won't . . . No no no . . ." Papyrus had no idea who Sans was talking to or why he sounded so distressed, but he knew one thing! Something was happening in Sans' nightmares that forced him to think he needed to use his magic. Maybe Sans thought that his life was in danger and he was projecting the images from his mind to what was happening in the real world.
"Sans!" Papyrus called again, taking the smaller skeleton in his arms. "Brother, it's okay! I'm here and I promise nothing is going to hurt you!"
Sans continued to muttering refusing to loosen his grip and refusing to wake up.
"It's okay!" Papyrus continued, hoping that he was saying the right things, "You're safe here! I'm here and Dr. Gaster is here and your friends are here! Nothing is going to hurt you! I promise . . . I promise . . ."
From there, it took a few more minutes and a bit more assurance, but eventually, Sans relaxed, the magic dying down. The objects around came crashing down, the chair being the heaviest, but still he slept through it. Soon, Sans was just sleeping just like any other night, safe and sound in Papyrus' embrace as his brother comforted him.
It almost went unnoticed, and if Papyrus hadn't been paying such close attention to Sans at that moment, it probably would have been. In the seconds that passed as Sans resumed resting, there was a subtle blue glowing that emanated from his chest. That must have been Sans' soul . . . but why was it so close to the surface? It should have been deep within his ribcage.
Papyrus continued to watch to see what would happen and at first it was as if the soul was just floating there, trying to escape, but trapped within Sans' shirt. But then, it seemed as if tiny little specks of pale blue light began to slowly find their way through the threads and into the air. Just a few pinpricks of light and they didn't go very far. The tiny light specks stayed just above Sans' chest as if waiting for something to happen.
Papyrus stared at them in awe. They were glowing so softly and so beautifully that it felt like it would have been a crime to look away. It was like a small bit of Sans' magic had come out to say hello or to thank Papyrus for calming Sans or something and a bit of a warm feeling fell over Papyrus.
A second later, however, they began to float higher separating from Sans completely and heading upward toward the ceiling!
. . . but those . . . belonged to Sans! They should be inside of him! He had to get them back and return them!
Papyrus reached up for them without thinking and the instant he touched them with the tips of his fingers, the specks of light turned orange and disappeared with a zap to Papyrus' hand. That shock ran quickly through his body and caused the Skeleton to shudder slightly and for a quick moment, he felt warm. In shock, Papyrus turned his attention back to Sans. The glowing in his chest had died down and he was still. He continued to sleep.
After watching Undyne and Dr. Gaster do it a few times, Papyrus had learned the subtle finesse that went into CHECKING someone. With the same hand that absorbed the light, Papyrus waved over Sans, searching for the information he needed.
What he found caused his chest to tighten and his soul to ache.
Sans only had 3 HP left.