Hi everyone! Today marks the first day of 2017. Let's hope it doesn't suck as much as 2016 because come on, Princess Leia? Really?

DauntlessAngel11: Oh the feels train hasn't even STARTED moving, buddy. You have no idea.

I've been waiting to write this chapter ever since I started planning this story. Enjoy:

January 15, 171 A.E.

Entry # 23

Asgore gave me this journal because he says it will soothe my feelings to write them down. I am doubtful that writing in this journal will do anything to stop this turmoil, but Asgore meant well, so I will try.

This morning, when Msr. Aster returned, I was overjoyed. I have missed them deeply, and it was wonderful to have them back. But I hadn't expected the heavy news that they brought with them.

I loved Mother. She was strict and very serious about her responsibilities, but she loved me and raised me well. After Mom fell down the year before the last, Mother was the only family I had left. Now she is gone, and I am still here. I looked forward to the prospect of leaving home and living without my parents, but not like this.

I do not know how long I stayed in my room, moping, but it seemed like forever. Everything was a blur for a long time. I was only aware of myself and the necklace Mother gave me. It seemed like so long ago since I had seen her. And now I will never see her again.

When Mother spoke to me when I was leaving for Aiphuoxbone, I did not know that it would be the last time I'd ever see her in person. She gave me a new necklace for armor, and when I checked it in August, it only had one defence point. I checked it again when I came into my room this morning. It now has one hundred.

I can only assume that the reason the necklace is so strong now is because of my feelings towards Mother. I have worn it every day for my entire time at Aiphuoxbone. It must be full of sentimental value by now. And now that Mother is gone, it's the most important thing I have left of her.

Why would Mother give it to me as armor, though? It would have made more sense at the time to gift me with a family heirloom. There would be generations of sentiment on such a thing. She could not have known that that meeting with her was going to be our last. Did she?

Asgore came in after a while and snapped me out of my thoughts. He did not say anything at first. He just set his journal on my nightstand and took a seat on my bed beside me. I glanced at him tentatively, but he did not meet my eye. We just sat in uncomfortable silence for a long time.

I felt terrible. I had been so busy minding my own troubles to think about how Asgore was feeling. He loved his father dearly, and idolized him too. Surely he was just as devastated about his father as I am about my mother.

"What are we going to do?" I sighed. I was an orphan now. Asgore's mother will surely take me in, but as soon as I turn twenty, I would have to be her royal advisor.

"I do not know," Asgore sniffed, "I hate this war. I hate the humans." He leaned on my shoulder. Judging from his ragged breaths, I assumed he was crying.

I would love to cry. Maybe it would release this awful feeling in my soul. But I could not cry. I was too numb to. Besides, crying would make Asgore even more upset. I was going to be the royal advisor in a little more than seven years. Royal advisors do not cry, even if their princes did.

"When I become your mother's advisor," I whispered, "I will make sure every human is wiped off the face of this world."

Asgore lifted his face from my shoulder and stared at me with a fearful expression. He started to say something, but seemed to decide otherwise. It does not matter what he thinks of that right now. He will agree to this someday. I have a feeling he will.

He took the journal on my nightstand and handed it to me. "Write in it," he said, "You will feel better." I gave a small grunt in thanks and Asgore headed to his side of the room without another word and drew the curtain between us.

I have delayed writing in this journal for the whole day and had instead opted to lie on my bead and stare at the ceiling. It was mainly because I did not think writing in the journal for half an hour improved Asgore's mood in any way. He seemed to be in a worse off emotionally than I was after writing in the journal. After all, I was not the one who bawled into a pillow for an hour after our talk.

Right now, Asgore and the Gasters are having dinner. I have decided to skip dinner. I am not hungry at all. I am rather nauseous, in fact. Staring at a ceiling could only entertain your thoughts for so long before they become unbearable. I felt so numb and empty. There really wasn't any way I could feel worse about anything, so I gave into the temptation and wrote.

I am sorry, Asgore. I really am. But I do not think this journal has improved my mood in any way. I still have that awful empty feeling in my gut. I do not think I will keep writing here.

~Toriel

And that, dear readers, is called clinical depression.

Remember that Carrie Fisher drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. (She actually said she wanted this on her obituary in an article, but in all seriousness, may she rest in peace.)

Review!

~Pandora