10th January 16XX

The child lives still. As we trek through deep caverns to find a place to rest, I carry the children as best I can. I ask for no help, yet Toriel sees me struggling, and takes the infant from me, laughing as he tries his best to yank on her fur. This march is easier then the one to the mountain. The king stops us regularly, to allow the injured and tired to rest. A few mushrooms can be grubbed up from the caverns. They are bitter but safe. I do my best to try and feed the sleeping child, but he will not take nourishment. I...

Please, I can't handle any more death...

? January? 16XX

It's too dark to tell the passage of time here. From here on out I am guessing.

We have reached our final destination. In an expanse of cavern, wide, flat and lit by bright crystals in the walls, our king thrust his trident into the soil and declared this place to be our new home, er...Home...We all love our king, but he's bloody useless at names...

Those of us who are still strong have begun to raise buildings through magic. They are crude things, built from raw stone, yet they should serve us until we can recover enough to begin building afresh.

The children, for the time being, are staying with me. Toriel recognizes that the child requires medical care, and the infant grizzles if he is seperated from his brother. I have managed to get some soup down the boy, yet he still sleeps on. His soul is still there, I can see it, even carefully using soul magic to bring it into the dim light, examining every inch of it to test for cracks and damage. It is whole, yet what should be a lovely sky blue is the colour of a grey sky. I can see tendrils of blue twisting inside it. Perhaps the damage is healing?

I have...

For some reason, this thought has crept into my head. This boys life is an omen. If he lives, monsters will survive underground, if he dies...we will perish, slowly, wailing in despair in the dark...

I know it is only my grief manifesting itself, searching for an outlet for emotion. Truth be told, I am glad. It gives me something to strive for. Sleep, child. Rest and grow strong.

Possibly February 16XX

I have not been able to attend to this diary in some time. My duty calls.

There has been no change. The boy slumbers on. Sometimes in his sleep, he will twitch and cry out softly, before sinking once again into insensibility.

His brother, though...

I have never in my days met a happier child. He never seems to stop giggling, finding innocent entertainment in the smallest things. Even as I write this he is contentedly chewing on the edge of my robe, making quiet baby noises. He's a dear little thing.

By his size, I'm guessing the baby is 6 years old. Us skeletons age so much slower then most monsters, so its hard to tell with any accuracy. His brother is likely only ten years older then him, barely a baby himself. They were dirty and underfed, yet the clothes they wore had been carefully made and darned. Someone loved these Babybones very much. I have seen few other skeletons in the underground so far. One doesn't need to be a genius to understand the sad story behind these children...

I wish the boy would wake.

It's been over a month.

Please, child.

I've lost so much.

Please just give me this one thing.

Still February? 16XX

He woke!

Last night a scream woke me from a fitful nightmare, not the wail of the infant seeking a cuddle, but the anguished sobs of a child in misery.

I have never moved so fast in my life, conjuring a light as I saw him awake for the first time in months, hugging his knees and crying as through his heart would break.

I held him close for what seemed like hours, asking him nothing. He would tell me in his own time, but for now he had demons to conquer that no child should.

…

It is morning ,same day. Around 3 am the boy drifted off into sleep, proper sleep, not the quiet coma he had been trapped in. When he awoke, he screamed again. This time for his brother. I could see the panic welling in his eyes as fresh tears surged forth.

The infant was not impressed to be snatched from his cradle so early, but cheered up immensely when he was pressed into his brothers arms. The child's screams stopped in an instant, and he curled up around his brother. Slowly, he is calming down. When I have prepared breakfast, I will gently seek answers.

…

His name is Sans. The infants name is Papyrus. They were survivors from the Capitol purges. Their mother had not been so lucky. She had kissed Sans goodbye, wrapped her infant in her scarf, and stood guard at the threshold so that the boy could run with the only family he had left. That is all he could tell me, before he dissolved into tears once more. He is frail, this boy, and damaged in more ways then one, clinging to his brother as if to let go is to fall.

I sympathize with him. I too have lost my world.

March? I think? 16XX

Time has passed. I have been exceedingly busy, as monsters everywhere gather their strength to begin the construction of a proper city. There are numerous accidents, and the smaller of us are dropping like flies with exhaustion. The makeshift hospital is full.

Surprisingly, Sans insisted on helping, his brother carried by him on a sling. I tried to protest, but he insisted, revealing a remarkable talent for telekinesis as he lifted bricks up into place, tiny legs shaking and teeth clenched, yet still pressing on. I suspect he is attempting to drown out his inner pain with work. He is driven. There is little I can do besides ensure he takes frequent breaks. Papyrus watches the bustle with interest, utterly unconcerned for the noise. Slowly, a city is rising. The humans have cast us out of their cities. Very well. We will build a better one.

March 23rd (I am assuming this is the date and working from there)

The section of the city I live in has been completed. No more a house that is pretty much a cave! No, now there is a neat, tidy brick dwelling, warm and snug.

In...in a bigger cave...

The children are still with me. I'm not sure what to do with them yet, and Sans seems as though there is something on his mind...

March 24th

Today...today Sans approached me with his concern. I confess, when he spoke up, eyes big and frightened, his words shook me to the core.

"Are you going to send me away?"

The child thought he was a burden to me. I felt...I wanted to cry.

I don't know where the decision came from, what part of me it welled up from, but...

Heh...the funny thing is, I always hated the idea of having children. Me and Helvatica both agreed you'd never find us tied down by the screaming little nuisances...

But now...

I spoke the words so easily, as I rested a hand on Sans's shoulder.

And told him that him and his brother could live with me.

As my sons.