Notes:

Trigger warnings:

Minor mentions of graphic violence

Mentions of death

Gerson stomped his hammer into the ground repetitively, the motion causing an earthquake reaction and causing the hammers Gerson had spawned to bounce chaotically in the field. Kris reacted with a barrel roll to the right to dodge the bouncing weapons, tapping with the toes of their foot to swiftly dodge to the left after the first dodge. The dance between the two went on until Gerson ended the attack.

After Gerson's attack, Kris swiftly closed the distance between them immediately, swinging their sword to strike Gerson. And in a split second, Gerson dodged.

Just as Gerson prepped another attack, he praised them. "Good job, squirt! But ya gotta work on your timing."

"What'd I do?" Kris asked, breathless and almost exasperated. It was a given, considering they'd been doing this every day for the past two weeks at the ass crack of dawn. And each time they'd battle, it was always Gerson who'd win. The damn monster can't even give them a break for no more than 10 minutes before they're at it again.

As Gerson reeled his arm back, prepping yet another earthquake attack, he said. "You were too fast. Maybe with daggers, but ya can't be eager when using a sword."

Kris scowled, preparing to launch themselves in the air to avoid the shockwave from his hits. "Being eager works when in group attacks." They pointed out, crouching down to spring in the air.

"Yeah." Gerson pounded the ground violently three times. His moves showcased in a flashy manner. "Group attacks."

Kris hopped over the first wave, a gust of air rushing beneath them, and as soon as they reached the ground, they jumped again, feeling the same gust of air and this time, a nick and their HP reduced by 5. They cursed internally at their timing as they attempted to get back on track before being overtaken by the shockwaves.

"Even then, being eager doesn't work in group attacks, either." Gerson tossed his hammer, allowing it to spin in a twirling motion around the field and forcing Kris to leap over it before he gracefully caught it. "Sure, it works for you and your comrades. But when yer pitted with a stranger? It won't work, at all. You'll only get yourself and others killed that way."

Kris wiped the sweat from their brow during the brief respite they were given, before they once again ran forward with eagerness and were ready to assault Gerson. But like a fool, instead of listening to Gerson's advice to quit being eager, Gerson blocked them with the handle of his hammer, a harsh 'TWING' ringing in their ears.

"Didn't I tell ya to stop being eager?" Gerson asked.

"You're still talking." Kris snarked back.

"Oh, yeah!" Gerson suddenly remembered. "Forgot talking was a bad thing to do on the field."

They frown at the remark and take light hops backwards, allowing for Gerson to get another attack in.

"But." Gerson started, raising his hammer in the air and readying himself to strike down. Immediately, Kris knew this attack differed from the others. "So is not ending the fight sooner."

He struck the ground three times, both dirt spikes and shockwaves advancing at them at breakneck speeds, before they abruptly came to a halt in front of Kris.

They fell back onto their ass afterwards, panting heavily in silence as they stared at the spiked dirt in front of them. They had lost 10 hp in that fight, rounding them down to a measly 10 hp out of their previous 25.

"What's that make it now, Torey?" Gerson called.

Toriel stopped the timer and looked down at it. "2 minutes and 21 seconds."

Gerson whistled. "Wow, longer than yesterday!"

Kris furrowed their eyebrows, eyes glowing an iridescent red. They wanted to stomp and whine that this wasn't fair, but they already did that the week before. If they give up now and throw in the towel this early, they can't ever get strong.

But it was, in all honesty, utter bullshit how they couldn't even land a hit on Gerson.

"Stop." Kris spoke through gritted teeth.

"Stop? Why?" Gerson mocked.

They lay on their back, Gerson's hammer pressing down on the sword held between them. Kris pushed back with such force that their arms trembled. If they lost their grip, Gerson's hammer could strike down into their gut and practically disembowel them. They were going to die if they didn't fight back. They were really going to die.

Kris's arm slightly buckled. "You're going to kill me!"

Gerson scoffed. "Barely."

"You blood-thirsty hound!" Kris yelled, trying and fruitlessly unable to push back. "I'm going to die!

They can't die.

They had a purpose.

They couldn't die here!

"Then fight back!" Gerson yelled.

Kris ground their teeth in frustration and slight fear. They were trying! Can't he see that? He's too strong!

"Your soul is red!" Gerson yelled. "Where's your determination?"

Goddammit, where's his sense of morality then?! Kris only wanted to see how strong Gerson was, not actually experience it! They never even agreed to being trained by him!

The turtle had rushed into their hotel room the second day they had met him and hauled them out of bed with a sword and hammer in hand without further word. Then, before Gerson recommended that they be trained by him, they were hauled across the entire kingdom to the castle and then to a vast, empty field. And still, not a single word was spoken to them the entire. Time.

The first term they would use to describe him as was insane.

At first, the agreement wasn't too awful because they'd learn about monster culture and the strength of the people who worked for the king and queen.

But they weren't prepared for this! They weren't expecting a crazy, insane, maniacal, lunatic attempting to murder them every morning!

"I said." Gerson reeled the hammer back, their muscles crying out in relief, though it was only for a split second.

"Fight."

Then he swung down with such ferocity that Kris wasn't sure if the sword would make the attack.

"Back!"

Kris bared their teeth and struck their sword out at the hammer. It wouldn't do anything but damage the sword itself. But dammit, do they really want to live to see tomorrow. Though, what they were expecting—which was the sword snapping in two—didn't happen. Instead, a loud metallic bang was heard, almost as noisy as a gunshot, ricocheting in the field.

They blocked their face and couldn't see their surroundings, sparks caused by the two metals flying down onto their face. And, in the moments they were unable to see, Gerson struck, yanking their sword from out of their grip and flinging it across the field.

They gasp at the weightless feeling in their hand, being pulled along with their sword and dragged onto their stomach by the sudden yank. Gerson took their momentary distraction to swing his hammer down. And it was almost as if time had slowed down. They stared up with wide eyes, beads of sweat dripping down their face, and gritted teeth.

Then Gerson's hammer struck their ribcage, and they screwed their eyes shut, expecting for their ribs to come out shattered beyond repair.

A second went by.

Two seconds.

Three.

Four.

Nothing.

Carefully, they squinted as they looked up at Gerson.

The turtle was…

Grinning. Cheekily, might they add.

They felt a tap on their ribs and looked down to see where Gerson had "struck." It was such a light hit that it barely sapped 1 health. Kris would be fascinated by Gerson's ability to regulate his hits to the point where he can control how much harm they deal. But…

"I hate you." Kris muttered breathlessly.

Gerson held a hand out for them to take. "Mercy ain't an option when fighting."

They stared at the hand, a deep frown set on their expression. "I know that."

Gerson arched a brow. "Do you?"

"Yeah." They spat.

"Then do you know that mercy is an option?"

"Wha- you just said it wasn't an option!" Kris uttered in disbelief. "Don't contradict yourself!"

"Mercy is an option if you are willing to forgive others." Gerson said, pulling his hand back.

"No." They intoned. "Mercy is just letting others live."

He looked at them with a funny expression, one that they wouldn't understand for another few years. "You think mercy is just letting others live? What kinda rock are you living under?"

"An easy one." They said, gritting their teeth in pain as they used their elbows to support their body.

"Ya can't just take the easy way out."

"Why not?" Kris asked.

"Wow, okay." Gerson rubbed his face, pulling down his hand from his forehead to down below his eyes. "Life doesn't work that way."

They scowled. "Gee, thanks for telling me."

"Okay," Gerson said, shrugging with his hands out in front of him, showing his palms, "then let me reiterate: ya can't live that way."

Kris frowned.

"Living that way will only get you hurt or others hurt in the end. If someone were begging for their life, what would you do?" Gerson questioned.

"Spare."

"Alrighty, and if that person was a bad person?"

"Kill?" Kris scoffs. "What's the point of this?"

"Hold on, I'm gettin' there, you brat." Gerson scolded. "Lemme ask, if that 'bad person' was just trying to steal so that their family can eat for the night, would you still kill them?"

"Yeah? They were trying to steal. What if the person they stole from would go hungry that night?" They asked.

"Good question, but wrong answer." He said. "The point is, they're doing something good for other people. Yes, they might be starving the person they stole from, but ultimately, they're doing this for their family."

Kris frowned further, but remained silent.

"So, would you still kill them?" He asked.

"But they…" deserve it. Did they really? They were just… Kris blinked in a sudden realization. But before they could acknowledge it, Gerson continued.

"They don't deserve it."

Kris glared at him, anger writhing in their stomach. "They do. They're bad."

Gerson sighed and began to become tired of this back and forth. "Alright, fine, then why do you carry that empty Shabbat around?" He asked, nodding to the carrier that lay abandoned near a bench.

They didn't answer for a moment, but quietly, almost softly, they say. "It was a gift from someone. She told me to leave it empty so I don't hurt others."

Gerson grinned. "And ya kept that promise well!"

Kris remained quiet, deep in thought.

They were terrible at keeping promises though.

"Kris, are you alright?" Toriel asked from in front of them, offering a towel for them to wipe their sweat off.

They blinked before they nodded, standing up and taking the towel from her hands.

Gerson, as he rubbed his face with his own towel, asked. "You spoke a lot today. Something wrong?"

Kris busied their mind with the towel, letting their actions distract them. Yes, something was wrong. But it was none of their business. So, after they finished wiping their face, they shook their head.

"Cool, let's take a-"

"No, you've had your fun. We're going to practice the piano again." Toriel cut him off by saying.

Kris perked up and looked at her with a hopeful gaze. They always liked to practise the piano after training. Sure, they wanted to get stronger, but it wasn't the only reason they put up with training and being dragged here to the castle every morning.

Gerson frowned, but relented in the end after Toriel gave him the look.

"We'll continue tomorrow." Gerson said, much to the dismay of Kris.

After that, no words were exchanged. The three of them packed up the remaining supplies, Kris's Shabbat carefully tucked to their side, and Gerson's hammer dissipating into the air in a mixture of light colours. It was always fascinating to watch such a thing. They hadn't even known it was possible for monsters to do that until after they started training with Gerson.

"Are you ready?" Toriel asked the two.

Kris nodded as Gerson confirmed with a gruff, "yup."

"Good, let's get going."

Once the three arrived at the music room, they saw both W.D. and Asgore were already there, each in their own world while they conversed. While Asgore brightly beamed, W.D. was grinning as if Asgore had told a particularly amusing joke, his hands lingering over the keys of the piano as if he was too distracted to play.

The three stared as if they were walking in on a couple making out. The scene was docile and lovey-dovey, in contrast to the three standing in the doorway. It was strange for Gerson and Kris to walk in on, but they weren't sure how Toriel felt.

Both Gerson and Kris shared eye contact for a second before their gazes shifted focus to Toriel to gauge her reaction.

They were expecting anger, or jealousy, or something. But she was smiling instead, her eyes impossible to discern.

And Gerson wasn't sure what that meant. But it was utterly terrifying.

It was then that, luckily, W.D. noticed the three, his smile still plastered on his expression. He then waved to catch the attention of Asgore, who blinked and looked at them.

"Oh, howdy!" He said.

Toriel blinked, slightly nodding. "Ah, uh… yes!" She greeted back.

Gerson internally cringes. This was awkward.

"Is something wrong?" Asgore questioned when he saw the two cringing behind her and Toriel's own odd look, looking to W.D. for an answer, to which he shrugged.

Toriel's polite smile almost fell, but she kept it up, shaking her head. "No, it's nothing. Just, uh… what're you two doing here?"

[I was trying to play a song that Asgore remembered.] W.D. answered.

Asgore hummed. "It's been stuck in my mind for some time, and since you were busy with Gerson and Kris, I asked Wing Dings for some help."

Toriel slightly frowned in thought. "You play the piano, Dr. Gaster?"

W.D. nodded, grinning. [Yes, since I was five. I don't play as often as I want to now.]

Toriel nodded with a hum, and the three's conversation fizzled out. While Toriel awkwardly averted her gaze, both W.D. and Asgore looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

Oh god, this was so awkward. They don't even realize how… domestic they are.

Gerson pressed his lips together, staring at Kris with a look that only they could see and understand. He loathed being the fourth wheel in this situation, but at least he wasn't the only one suffering with Kris there. That made him feel a little better, at least.

"And what're you three doing here?" Asgore finally asked after a moment.

Toriel floundered. "We were just here to, uhh… practice the piano!"

[Go right ahead.] W.D. said.

Toriel cut in with a loud inquiry just as the two began packing up, folding the piano book together and gathering the few objects they had laid around. "Where are you going, you two?"

No. Please, Toriel. Gerson internally cried. Just let them leave, it's so awkward.

He could almost see Kris beginning to form tears.

Asgore raised an eyebrow, answering. "The garden. We're planting those vegetable sprouts, remember?"

"O-Oh!" Toriel's smile stiffened. "We'll be, umm, here, then! U-Uhh…"

W.D. slowly nodded. [Alright? Though, if you need us, you can always call for us.]

"Yes, of course, I'll… do that. Yes!" Toriel put her hands on her hips in faux confidence.

"Okay?" Asgore nodded to the three. "We'll be out of your way for now."

After they left, the music room fell silent, Gerson and Kris still cringing at what had happened. Gerson couldn't think of anything to say to break the uneasy quiet between them. So, instead, they waited for Toriel to do something. Luckily, or rather unluckily, Toriel sighed and leaned against the piano, her arms splayed out as she gripped the grand piano with all her might. She was arched over, clearly exhausted by the interaction.

"Y'alright, Toriel?" Gerson asked.

"They're so…" Toriel trailed off with a heavy groan.

"Do you think they're cheating?" Kris bluntly asked.

Before almost immediately, Gerson scolded them with a hiss. "Kris!"

"No, no, it's fine, Gerson." Toriel placated. "To answer your question: no. I doubt both Asgore and Dr. Gaster would be capable of such a thing. It's just…"

Kris stayed silent, quietly conversing for her to continue.

"It's complicated." She said. "Their relationship is…"

"Weird." Gerson finished for her.

She nodded, echoing. "Weird."

"They like each other. Like-like." Kris asked, though it came out as more of a statement.

"Yup." Gerson said.

Toriel sighed. "It's just… I don't know what to do. It's clear that me and Asgore love each other, but then there's Dr. Gaster and Asgore's relationship…"

"Why not polyamory? Or an open relationship?" Kris recommended.

She shook her head. "It's not that easy."

"She just doesn't like that sort of thing." Gerson reiterated.

"It's not that-"

"It kind of is."

"It's just that I'm not…" Toriel waved her hands in a circular motion. "A fan of it."

"That's still the same thing."

She huffed. "Either way. Their relationship is complicated. They won't cheat, but they won't…" Toriel shrugged. "Y'know?"

Kris, in fact, did not know. "Have you asked them to stop?"

"Squirt, love doesn't work that way."

They shrug. Could've fooled them.

"It's not like we can do anything. It might go away over time, or it might not, but either way, it's out of our hands." Toriel said, straightening herself and pushing the piano chair in. "We were going to practice, yes?"

Kris blinked, but in the end shrugged and joined her on the bench. Whatever Dr. Gaster, Asgore and Toriel had going on, had nothing to do with them.

A year later from a distance, the human lined up her shot, a handgun aimed towards the left front wheel of the car.

"Shots lined up." She told her superior.

"All right," her superior said. "From the count of 3, on go."

The human held her breath.

"In 3."

The gun cocked.

"2."

It didn't feel right to take lives like this.

"1."

But if this was for her home. For all of humankind.

"Go."

She'd do it ten times over.

Then, all of a sudden, there was an explosion of colours.

And, in a split second, there were three piles of dust sitting in a burning car.

Asgore placed a marigold in Gaster's lap on a crisp Sunday morning, the same marigold he planted just two months earlier in the garden. Wing Dings arched a brow, a silent question as to what Asgore was doing.

Asgore hummed, making a square with his fingers and squinting his eye, as he looked through the square. "It was between either a black hollyhock or marigold that I thought would look nice on you."

Gaster looked down at the marigold, gently picking it up to inspect it further. It was indeed a beautiful flower, but he still didn't understand what Asgore meant by what he said. His confusion must've been clear in his expression, as the goat monster explained further.

"Each person has a flower that corresponds to them." He said. "Toriel is a buttercup, Gerson is a water lily, Kris is a black dahlia, while you—" he pointed at the flower with a bright grin. "Are a marigold."

A marigold.

He didn't think he was anything beautiful like this flower, but…

[Why can't I be both?] He blurted.

"Pardon?"

[Why can't I be both a black hollyhock and marigold?]

Asgore thought to himself for a moment, and eventually, he shrugged. "Do you want to be both?"

It would've been easy to say, 'no, I don't want to be.' But he bit his tongue back, his odd sense of pride and stubbornness holding him from answering. Instead, he shrugged, leaning forward methodically as he came face to face with Asgore.

"Ah… did I… offend you?" He asked.

Instead of saying what he was doing, he quietly tucked the marigold behind Asgore's ear. Leaning back to look at the sight of the monster in front of him. It matched him, the marigold, more than it ever would on himself.

[It looks good. I think you're a marigold too.] Gaster signed.

Asgore tapped the flower, blinking, before a pastel pink dusted his cheeks. "Oh… I see…"

They didn't have a moment to themselves before Gerson came running for them with urgency, likewise to desperation.

"Asgore!" Gerson yelled abruptly from a distance, drawing the attention of the two.

He was breathless and his expression was twisted into something it normally wasn't, Kris trailing soon after with just as distraught of an expression. Both their eyes were wide with terror and anguish, pale and cold looking as if something happened, something terrible.

And Asgore knew. He just knew something happened.

"Your parents!" He yelled. "Your- fuck- it's your parents!"

All of Asgore's blood drained at once, his heart leaping into his throat and suffocating him of all breath. There was a deep, penetrating and intuitive fear that just knew someone had died. His thoughts screamed at him that someone died, someone died, and it was someone important.

Even so, he asked in a tiny, breathless voice. "What about them?"

It was only two words, just two simple words that could've meant anything.

But it managed to numb him of any feeling, disconnect him from reality as if nothing were real. It was an odd sensation, seeing his vision shift into something fake, like an unnatural doll. A dreadful feeling. Yet one he would feel for a lifetime.

Gerson thickly swallowed, retted eyes becoming noticeable. "Something happened."

Asgore's vision blurred, the bridge of his nose stinging as he bit his lip and sharply inhaled. Dread twisted and mangled his gut, his throat constricting with anxiety and doubt and anger and negative emotions he wasn't used to feeling, negative emotions he didn't enjoy feeling.

It was easier to numb things out and smile everything off. Better for the work he does and for the work he'll have to do in the future. To feel this way was to be weak for their people. Happiness was the key to striving for hope. Even if they didn't feel that way. That was what his mother and father had taught him when dealing with their people. What they had taught Toriel and Gaster and every other monster and human working under them.

Though, those thoughts didn't stop the tremble in his hands as he balled the fabric of his pants and covered his mouth in a weak attempt to stop the pathetic whimpers leaking from his throat.

A tap on his shoulder brought him to reality, barely turning to acknowledge Gaster.

"They're dead." He said it so matter-of-factly that Wing Dings felt like he was floating and disappearing into nothingness.

[You don't know that.] Wing Dings motioned silently.

"They're DEAD, Gaster! They're dead!" And he was so loud that it didn't sound like him, growling and biting and tearing in each word. Debilitating him of all reasoning. "Mom and dad died. They're dead. THEY'RE! DEAD!"

Wing Dings gritted his teeth and glared. He doesn't know that, no one knows that. So why doesn't he just stop saying stuff he doesn't know? All they found were the burned remains of a car. That could've meant anything.

But before he had a chance to point that out, Asgore stood up incredibly fast and threw his chair before kicking the table over, furiously yelling and gripping onto his ears. But his eyes were so pained and distraught, that Wing Dings couldn't do anything but blankly stare at the destruction unfolding in front of him. He couldn't do anything, and he felt so incredibly slow and pathetic because of it.

All he did was lean forward, cover his face with his hands, and sigh. Because the king and queen weren't dead, nor was the chancellor. They can't be. They just… it'd be such a pathetic way for them to die. The king and queen weren't stupid to have run into a trap. Gaster should know that.

But they were kind, his treacherous mind whispered.

And that was it. Wasn't it?

They were kind.

And that was all it took.

The king and queen were on their way to an intervention conference to negotiate and reduce the violence between monsters and humans, since monsters were being murdered left and right, while human souls were being stolen. But it was obviously a trap set up by the humans, considering it was the humans themselves who set up this meeting. So… they knew, everyone knew, that this was a trap set up by the humans. But they just didn't see the warning signs. Ignored them.

He leaned back against the wall, his hand running down his weary face. Kindness could be a silent killer at times. Some days, they won't know whether that goodness would pay them back tenfold or whether it was all a ruse. There was no way to tell until the kindness revealed its true nature.

This time, this one time, that kindness turned out to be a snake. And they fell for it.

"Gaster." Asgore moaned in a creaky voice, eyes red. "What do I do now?"

He looked at the monster with pinched brows, biting his lip and averting his gaze, before he finally met Asgore's eyes and shrugged pitifully. [You… keep going?]

Immediately, he knew it wasn't the right thing to say. He watched as Asgore faltered and looked at the ground, roughly rubbing his eyes with his sleeves. His cries were quiet, more silent than he'd ever heard from someone mourning, more silent than the blazing anger from earlier.

Gaster wished he knew what to say, knew what to tell Asgore to make him feel at least somewhat better. But the truth was, as much as he liked Asgore's parents, he didn't know them like Asgore, Gerson or Toriel had. He wished he had, so that he knew what to say to him.

Gaster took Asgore's wrists in a gentle grasp, looking at him with a melancholic gaze. He so badly wanted to hug him and tell him it was alright. But it wasn't. He knew that. This wasn't the time and place for those kinds of words and actions.

So, instead, he held eye contact with him, and smiled a quiet kind of reassurance.

'It's alright to cry.'

Was the message.

Asgore pathetically sobbed and hung his head, letting the tears fall down.

They stayed like that until the sun set and Gerson, wearing an outfit that looked too neat on him, came in to get Gaster to help with the funeral arrangements.

That Wednesday morning, they attended three people's funerals.

Notes:

"Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?" Hey UTAU veterans, remember that song? I bet you don't but that's A-OK! The original fic was one of my inspirations for this fic. So I thought I should mention it!

While writing this, I wanted Gaster to use sign names (a thing where you give people animal/object names because you can't sign their full name in sign language) but then I realized it'd be inconvenient and difficult to memorize since I won't need to use it often. Plus, it'd be a little ridiculous to have Gaster call Toriel "bakery" or "piano" in serious situations.

But anyway, I'll stop rambling, see you all later!

(Uploaded: 2023/07/15)