Chapter Three: Mother

Unexpectedly, Frisk woke to the smell of pie and the sight of fresh golden flowers upon the nightstand. Perhaps, after such an evening, seeing them would have upset her further. Instead, raised by the sight of those flowers, she could only associate them, within this place, with two people: her parents.

Frisk's eyes fell to the floor, and sure enough, there was a slice of Floor Pie. She'd called it that since she was a kid, because Toriel had the habit of baking late at night and then leaving Frisk a slice on the floor instead of waking her up to eat it. As such, Frisk not only got to use the pun, but also got more pie. She'd never stepped in one, and never would - though her father was always another story.

Smiling now, she slid to the floor and eyed the pie: butterscotch-cinnamon, sprinkled with rainbow confetti candy. Her eyes filled up and her smile widened, and she ate it slowly, relishing in the familiar tastes and texture, weeping as she did so. She couldn't explain why, just that she felt both comforted and haunted by the slice of Floor Pie all of a sudden - especially since it was still hot in the middle. One she finished, she got to her feet and went, with the plate and spoon, to see her mother.

Sometimes, when Frisk thought about Toriel, she wondered what it was like to be her. She'd had to not only accept the harsh reality of outliving her first two children, one of blood, but the fact that she again faced that same reality with Frisk. Once, when she was younger, she did ask, shocking Toriel.

"Mama-Tori, someone told me that... if you don't have another child, you're going to... outlive me? Is that true?" Frisk had been young enough for Toriel to kneel before her and hug her tightly to her. She hugged back a little, adding, "Even though you and Papa-Gorey are back together, I'll still outlive you?"

Toriel had stared above her head, unseen by Frisk, with full eyes, her fangs buried deep in her bottom lip to control her sudden pain. She wished desperately that Asgore was there with her, in order to help her make this easier, more cheerful, even. She always wanted to be honest with Frisk, to lead by example, but this question was... Needless to say, a trace difficult to answer.

"Yes, my child," Toriel said finally, once she had control of her voice again."But..." She had to make the decision to tell Frisk only part of the truth. "Maybe someday, Asgore and I will have another child. But not now. We will still likely outlive you, my dear. I'm... sorry."

Frisk had nodded, then suddenly burst into tears, something so unusual it shocked them both. "I'm so glad!" she sobbed out. "I don't want you to die! I don't want you to die!"

And even now, she still didn't want them to die. All children bear the burden of burying their parents, but not Frisk. She felt that she'd already done that once - twice if you counted her Great-Aunt, which she did - and that was already too many times for her to deal with. She knew, without a doubt, that when they outlived her, she would be happy. Looking back, she supposed it was weird that she had reacted the way she had, especially since Toriel seemed surprised by it, too. But Frisk was tired of burying loved ones. If she could be spared burying her parents again, she would die happy.

These thoughts evaporated once she set foot in the living room and saw Toriel sitting there in her favourite chair, reading one of her many-read books over again. The moment she saw Frisk, she got to her feet and smiled happily, setting the book aside to hug Frisk, who did the same with the dishes.

"Good morning, my dear," Toriel said, her smile so bright it made Frisk smile back. "Did you like the pie?" When Frisk squeezed her into a harder hug, she laughed. "Good to... oof... know!"

"Mama, you knew I was coming home this morning," said Frisk, trying to emulate Toriel's voice she used whenever chastising Frisk, but it didn't seem to work too well. "You didn't have to come all this way just to feed me pie. There were leftovers!"

Toriel's smile was warmer, now, proving that Frisk failed with attempts. Instead, she held Frisk's face in her hands for a moment and said, "My dear Frisk, stop being so silly. I chose to come here on my own. Let me have my choices."

Frisk nodded. "But I am okay, Mama. You didn't need to."

"Hm, well..." Toriel let go and patted her back gently. She hadn't missed the sleepless look in her daughter's eyes, nor the the fact that she had clearly slept in her clothes from the night before. "Allow an old woman to fuss, then!"

Frisk laughed again, and Toriel felt better, even if that hadn't been the goal. "Where's Papa?" she asked now, curious.

Toriel smiled wider, the gesture now devious. "Oh, places," she said. "No place you need to worry about."

"Ugh, no..." Frisk instantly knew where her father was at once: going to get snails from the Blook farm, and couldn't help but whine. She wasn't a very big fan of her parents' favourite protein, despite growing up with it. She found she preferred water sausages, thanks to sans - and her mother's own books.

"Don't you worry," Toriel said at once. "You'll have only your favourites today! Would you like to meet your father over in Waterfall, or wait for him, here?"

"Well..." Frisk shifted from foot to foot. "Could we wait? I'd like to talk to you alone for a bit, if it's okay."

Toriel nodded. "Of course. Shall I get more tea and pie?" When Frisk nodded, she left to make the tea. Frisk hesitated, then went to the bookshelf, where four framed pictures stood. Two were of her, one of Alphys and Undyne, and the last of the original four Dreemurrs. Frisk looked at the first two briefly - one of her and Asgore, the other of her about to catch a bug - as she'd not only seen them before, but had been in them, so they didn't really interest her.

The third was the newest, and hilarious, despite some... censoring. Toriel had a shutter-bug problem, one she had unwittingly passed to her husband. Out of hundreds of hundreds of digital photos taken that day - the wedding party - Toriel had chosen one of the most embarrassing ones to censor, print, frame, and display. In it stood Undyne in the front, looking as if she was in the middle of a really good yell, her hand up and her gesture blurred (one can imagine what her hand looked like easily enough), her other arm thrown out protectively over Alphys, who stood hiding behind her, looking sweaty and miserable - though her own arms were around Undyne's waist in a similar protective fashion. Both were brightly lit, thanks to both Asgore and Toriel flashing their shutters at once - and both looked ready to murder the photographers, Undyne looking off to the side at one, Alphys glowering at the other. Every time Frisk saw that one, she smiled - if not laughed - especially from the memories she had from that day. (When asked, Toriel admitted, "It's actually a really good picture of them together. It shows how much they both love each other, and how much passion they have - as well as strength. Plus, it's funny as hell!")

Finally, Frisk turned to the last, and picked it up with trembling fingers. It was old, faded with age, and it showed Toriel with Asriel and Asgore with Chara. Both children held bouquets of yellow flowers and laughed. Frisk always figured one of the castle's hands had taken the picture for them. Asriel was so small in the picture, smaller than the boy she'd seen eight years ago. But every time she saw him - and Chara - she bit her lip, feeling a tug at her heart and pain deep within her soul.

What if sans is right? What if Asriel isn't the one I've been talking to, but Chara? What if Asriel was finally put to rest that day, but Chara remained?

Toriel walked in with the tray of tea and pie, noticing that Frisk was once more staring at that picture, looking as if she had known them. She did that every time she was here at Home, and it used to pain Toriel, seeing her Frisk stare with pain at the picture of her Asriel and, yes, her Chara. Over the years, Toriel had had to get used to that, though she didn't like it at all. She also didn't mention it, simply because Frisk didn't, either, and Toriel respected her privacy, and always had.

Now, she made the point of making noise when setting the tray down to alert Frisk - which worked; she carefully replaced the photo and went to join Toriel at the table, smiling a little. However, when sat down and took her tea, her eyes were distant, her smile small, fading slowly between sips of tea and bites of pie. Toriel watched her closely, sipping her own tea, wishing she could read her child's mind.

Frisk was trying to find the right words, her mind on Asriel, and Asriel alone. No words came, though, just piles of thoughts, painting her further into her corner of regret. She remembered what he had once asked her: "Take care of Mom and Dad for me, will you?"

Have I? Are they happy? Have I taken care of them? Or have I only hurt them? Maybe they have the right to know, have had that right all along... I'm just a coward, wanting to find Asriel in Flowey myself and bring him home, when I should have just told them the truth, when they should have been the first, the only people to know the truth? He was... is... their son, they have that right...

Unless sans is right, and there's only Chara. But sans has been wrong before...

Toriel watched as Frisk at and drank as though in a trance, her eyes searching the air before her for... something. Toriel wished she knew, wished Frisk would tell her what was wrong, what she was struggling with.

"Frisk," she said, "are you alright?"

Frisk jolted in her seat, her eyes wide. She swallowed hard and nodded, looking haunted, so much so that it pained Toriel. "Yeah, Mama," she said, smiling a little. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind, today being today and all."

"Anything I can help you bear? That you wish to tell me?"

Frisk swallowed again, looking - and feeling - hurt by that, because of course she couldn't - not yet, not until she was sure. "No, Mama," she said. "It's just silly stuff."

"I highly doubt that," answered Toriel, sniffing at Frisk a little, offended to be dismissed in such a way. "But you can try again, my dear, and do be more witty this time, won't you?"

She couldn't help it; Frisk laughed. She could never lie to Toriel, ever; the monster seemed to either have the kind of ears that could tell from sounds, or a psychic power that rendered her able to sense them, but lies never worked on Toriel.

"It's something frustrating," admitted Frisk, "but I'm okay. I promise." Toriel eyed her closely, but Frisk merely raised her chin, having nothing to hide, and that satisfied them both.

"Alright, then. Shall we discuss the way you'd like to spend your day today?" Toriel wondered, smiling and hoping to change the mood. "Today is a special day."

"Ma," sighed Frisk. "do I even have to say it?"

Toriel grinned. "You can say it, but I won't hear it," she replied. "I never have."

"Ma..." Frisk whined. "Please...? No party?"

"Sorry, my hands are tied, this time by your father," she giggled a bit at that, surprising Frisk. It always surprised her that Toriel could giggle like that, like a woman much younger than she was. Or was that the way to think of it? Toriel was old, but her body was not. When had she stopped ageing? What was her real age? How old was she when she had had Asriel? When he had died?

Luckily, Toriel's voice pulled her away from these thoughts - and thus the risk of voicing them - as she went on. "He said that this year was special, because you can legally vote. Of course you've been able to talk and influence the politicians already with who you are, and have been for years, but now that you can do it with paper, suddenly it's important to the old billy-goat."

Frisk smiled warmly. Of course Asgore would think a political milestone was important; though Toriel was the definite intellect of the two, Asgore had an odd penchant for the messed-up patchwork that was politics, something that only grew as his daughter's involvement increased with humans. He'd been an excellent mentor and mediator, and had always given her the best advice that she could ever ask for.

"Okay, okay," she said, giving in like always. There was always one reason or another why she absolutely had to have a party. Toriel looked so happy, and Frisk couldn't help cheering up at the sight. She loved Toriel, so deeply, more than she probably had ever loved her human mother, and more than anything always wanted her to be happy.

Have I taken care of them, like you asked me to? I don't know. But I think I do know someone who can tell me. And, even better, today.

As she and her mother talked over the party, Frisk's mind was already forming more plans for this one puzzle that she had never, ever solved.