Despite the cracks littering his skull, Papyrus stood tall, shoulders hunched around the human protectively as he glowered down at his older brother. Sans stared up at him incredulously, his eyes holding a baffled amusement as he watched Frisk slowly succumb to another wave of tears in the taller skeleton's arms, almost pushed to laughter by the tiny whimpers that escaped them.
Gradually, the anger and frustration faded, taking his flaring aura with it. Sans relaxed, eyes drooping in seeming nonchalance as he shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a bored sounding sigh, his golden tooth glinting.
"And so the great Papyrus has come to save the day. How endearing," he cooed mockingly, shaking his head slowly, his eyes tracing over Papyrus' own quivering form with a scoff. "So you managed to live after all, hm? Well, congratulations. It seems your pathetic displays of compassion made me underestimate you."
Papyrus growled, shifting Frisk in his arms so he was able to point an accusing, skeletal finger at Sans, eye sockets narrowing and shining faintly with gold fire.
"Don't play dumb," he snarled, taking a step forwards. "You let me live. Face it, Sans, you couldn't do away with me even if you tried. You're just angry that you couldn't do it, that in spite of all your misgivings, a sliver of compassion lies in your core as well, and I'm living proof of it!"
At his words, Sans shook his head frantically and his hands clenched into fists as he bared his teeth furiously.
"You're wrong," the skeleton hissed, his voice rising. "You're dead wrong!"
"I'm absolutely right. What was that you said earlier, Sans? It being a matter of pride?" Papyrus sneered, triumphant at the enraged look he was getting. "There's no way that Sans the skeleton, ruler of the underworld, would ever say that out loud, though, right? That not only makes you as soft as I am- it makes you weak! Open your eye sockets. Your reign is crumbling around you, and you refuse to come to terms with it because there's nothing you can do."
He gestured to the petrified human in his arms and gently put them down a few feet away, draping his scarlet scarf onto their prone form and throwing his gloves at them. Frisk wasted no time in hiding their face in the thick red fabric, hands practically swimming in the oversized gloves- but it was better than freezing. They hunkered down and lay close to the ground, too afraid to do much else.
"This, this is a sign," he continued. "It's a sign of hope, a sign of change, and I've come to believe-"
Harsh laughter cut him off, and he growled quietly as Sans practically doubled over, his hands on his kneecaps. The shorter skeleton pretended to wipe a tear from his eye when he was through, letting out a derisive snort.
"Change?" he barked skeptically. "You think this is a sign of change? That one defective human signifies the change of an entire world? An entire history? Fool! Nothing has changed- they were murderers then, and they're murderers now! That's the law of the land. or have you forgotten? Kill or be killed. They're the ones that made us like this. Did you forget that as well?"
"You can't peg the errors of previous generations on a single child! You can't judge them so heavily!" Papyrus cried desperately, eye socket flaring with a vexed golden flame. Sans took a step, his feet swirling with triumphant red streaks of magic.
"That didn't stop you from pegging your entire lifestyle on them, Papyrus! And based on what? A pitiful whim. You're grasping at straws, little bro, because you've come to realize that you no longer fit the law of the land," Sans spat victoriously, advancing as Papyrus' aura shrunk, the taller skeleton's face falling in trepidation. "The strong flourish amongst the corpses of the weak, and they are the worthy ones, the ones that'll be part of the army that will one day rise and take back what's rightfully ours. And you? You're swimming amongst the corpses, terrified to face the fact that you won't live to be a part of it. Why? Because.."
A weak chuckle escaped him, and he slowly shook his head, pinching the bony bridge of his nose as his shoulders bounced. Sans went silent for seconds that seemed to stretch into years before opening his eye sockets once more, face lit with the color of blood as he lifted his arms and summoned his power, hurling Papyrus into the air smugly. Crimson tainted the snow as his eye widened in twisted glee.
"Because compassion has no place in this world! And you already possess too much of it!" he shrieked, slamming his sibling into one of the tree trunks, causing it to splinter and send smoking wood flying. Hearing the satisfying crunch of bone made him giggle faintly, his fingers quivering as the taller skeleton slid to the ground and landed hard. "Now I'm going to finish what I started, and y-"
Papyrus tried to lift himself up, arms quivering with the effort, almost landing face first as his upper forearm splintered and gave way, before he cut Sans off with a wail, looking at something over his shoulder.
"NO!" Papyrus screamed, trying to scramble to his feet frantically, golden fire licking at his fingertips and setting his face aglow as he reached with a mangled arm. His expression held dazed terror, pain glazed eyes rapidly filling with fear. "Frisk, DON'T!"
Sans turned, and grinned. Frisk stood inches away, their newly acquired scarf brushing against the ground faintly as the wind blew. In their shaking hand, they had a blade, its tip shining with poisonous purple light. Their lip trembled, dark eyes narrowed into angry slits, frosted trails on their face from tears that the snow had taken.
Frisk's breaths were wheezy and their irises swirled with fevered conflict as they took an unsteady step forward, blade pointed threateningly. Sans stared, making his aura fade and slowly diminish, gaze cooling as he eyed the weapon and let his hands fall.
"No, no," he said, his tone simpering. "Let them do what they want."
He took off his coat and thumped his chest with a fist, raising an eye ridge at them encouragingly. Death was nothing he feared, especially not death by human hands. It would be glorious, not tragic.
Frisk paused, eyes darting from Sans to Papyrus and back again. Here they were, with Sans exposing his magical core, willingly making himself vulnerable. When would they get another chance like this?
Then again... Papyrus' obvious heartbreak made them hesitate. Sans, despite all his treachery, would always be his brother. But was it better to do things for the greater good, and momentarily forego one person's wishes? If they killed Sans, this would all be over. There would be peace- but a new conflict would arise.
Papyrus would never forgive them.
Sans' death would mark his words with truth- Frisk would be living proof that nothing had changed after all.
A small thud could be heard as the blade was dropped into the snow, and Frisk advanced swiftly, raising their arms and-...
Papyrus stared, dumbfounded as he watched his human friend wrap their arms around Sans in a shaky hug. He didn't know whether to cry out or burst into nervous laughter. Swirling emotions kept him rooted to the ground, and he gave a shuddering inhale full of incredulity as Sans stiffened, going stock still.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Sans demanded, shoulders raising in obvious discomfort as he scowled down at them. "That's it? This is what you do with the opportunity you've been given? Idiot- I've hurt, I've killed, thousands of times, all merciless. I've made you suffer and I've genuinely enjoyed it, do you not understand?"
Frisk's fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and they only pressed themselves closer, peeking up at him pleadingly, their brows furrowed in frustrated silence.
Please...
"Stop it!" the skeleton yelled, curling his fingers into fists. "You've changed nothing! You can accomplish nothing! You-..."
His voice cracked, and his eyes widened as he realized that no matter how hard he tried, how much will he mustered, he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the small human's embrace.