by GR Griffin
“Yes. I too cannot wait to meet the ruler of a monster kingdom who wants the soul of an innocent child,” Toriel said cynically. “Wait a minute, I do not need to. I already have.”
Asgore swallowed his mouthful down hard, gripping his glass tighter. “Must you always bring that up…?”
“On the contrary, I believe we have put off this subject for too long, Dreemurr.”
“What more is there to talk about? Look, I admitted that I was wrong. What more do you require?”
“Assurance,” Toriel retorted. “We may live under the same roof and you have agreed to be a father figure to Fleck, but after everything done, I am still afraid of the risk you pose. If you were so eager to hurt Fleck in the past, how do I know you will not in the future?”
Asgore shot her a most disgusted expression. He set the glass down before he could shatter it. “Toriel, how can you accuse me of such things? I have no desire to hurt Fleck – I never wished to hurt anyone in the first place.” He closed his eyes. “You and I both know what it’s like to go from having everything we’ve ever wanted to having nothing, all in one day. I was angry, I was desperate, I just wanted our children back again, and I did things, said things that I am not proud of. I am not asking for forgiveness. All I ask is that you understand it from my point of view.”
“You condoned the murder of children, innocents whose only crime was falling into the Underground when it all could have been avoided. How can I possibly understand that?”
“I had little choice in the matter. Regardless of what you and I lost, I was still king. I had the entire Underground to think about. Subjects to look after. Morale to keep high. They all looked up to me for guidance, hope, so I gave them what they needed.”
“You gave them false hope.”
“False hope was still hope. It was either that or plunging the Underground into despair.”
Toriel continued to scowl, not moved by his words in the slightest.
“You think it was easy?” Asgore continued. He hunched forward, leaning closer to the fire. Flickering, orange light dazzled in his eyes. Vague images of better days danced within those flames. Golden flowers. Hot tea. Laughter. Lots of laughter. “I bared the entire Underground’s burdens all on myself and myself alone – I could never have dragged you into it. I took all the pain so that no one else had to. You have no idea how hard that was, Toriel… because you weren’t there.”
“I could not have been, Asgore. There was no way I could stand by your side after what you deemed acceptable. When you took to that stage and declared war on humanity, announcing to the entire crowd that all humans who fell down were to be killed, it was as if you became a different person.” Toriel stared at the fire also. “The man I loved… Gorey… King Fluffybuns… he was gone, and all the moments we shared meant nothing anymore.”
Through the excited blaze, Toriel watched from behind the curtain as the King of the Underground stood before his loyal subjects; their bodies crammed in to one tight space, coming from all four corners of their world: Snowdin; Waterfall; Hotland; New Home. He brushed aside his purple cape to raise his mighty trident. He announced a new policy, effective immediately: humans were the enemy and any who fell down into their home were to be treated as such. King Asgore added that there were going to be drastic changing, including a draft to form their own military and sentry posts.
The Queen of the Underground hoped the citizens would see through his façade, realise how monstrous such a policy was, and respond with heckling chants and the throwing of rotten fruit. Instead, her soul was torn apart to the sound of cheering; all monsters made hungry for human blood. The kind, simple man she loved roared with anger as hot as fire. She could watch no longer.
When King Asgore was finished, he marched off stage to find his wife – the one piece of family he had left – gone, leaving only her golden crown discarded on the stone floor.
“I lost the man I loved that day,” Toriel said.
“And I lost you as well, Toriel,” the broken king responded. “It wasn’t Chara’s death that almost broke me. It wasn’t Asriel’s either. It was losing you that pushed me to the breaking point. You were the last good thing I had left in my world, and after you vanished, I had nothing. I was nothing. Being king was the only reason for me to exist… the one purpose I had left, and now that is gone.”
Solemnly, Asgore rose and stepped over to the patio, giving the Emperor’s fortress another hard look. The person who occupied the throne within those walls had a story of his own, an origin to how his hatred of humanity manifested, and Asgore reckoned there lay many similarities to his own. The coolness in the air sapped the heat persisting on his fur.
“Look. I’m sorry, Toriel, but…” Asgore faced his wife. The dim greyness hued the linings of his frame. “I am not sorry.”
This got a stunned look out of Toriel. “What?” she breathed.
“I look back on everything that happened. The loss. The pain. The misery. My terrible actions. My cowardice. And if I had a chance to relive those days… I would not change any of it. If I had to bare all the pain ten times over, then I would do it all again.”
Toriel slowly rose. “Asgore… how can you say such things…?”
Asgore took a few short, confident steps over. “Because it made me the person I am today. It’s the reason why the barrier was destroyed. It’s the reason why we have returned to the surface. It’s the reason why we have a child once more.” Despite knowing everything he had been through and all the mistakes he made along the way, he managed to smirk. He took Toriel by the hands, cupping his over hers. “It’s the reason why we’re going to get them back, together.”
Toriel looked away, unable to face her husband or return his enthusiasm. “If I had the chance to turn back time,” – she slipped her hands free from Asgore’s fingers – “I would change everything: Chara and Asriel’s deaths; what you became; the ruling against humans; the lives lost along the way. Even if it meant we died without ever seeing the sun again, I would be happy to have those days back.”
Asgore’s smile faded. “That is why you returned to our old home, is it not?” he asked.
“I guess I should not be surprised,” Toriel replied, making eye contact. “The Underground was a small place; the ruins even smaller. There were only so many places to go.”
Asgore said, “Toriel, I think I deserve to know what happened down there.”
What happened after Toriel fled the imposing metropolis of New Home, carrying in her arms the bundled, lifeless remains of the first human child, was such a complicated story for her mind to handle. Chara did not deserve to remain in the King’s clutches, locked within that coffin forever. Just like how monsterkind sent off their loved ones, so did humanity. Chara got a decent burial as far away from the troubles that plagued New Home as possible, in the spot at the end where light from the surface shone through. Toriel returned to pay their respects every so often, and eventually, flowers bloomed on their final resting place. A sign that even beauty can blossom in the wake of tragedy.
So much and yet so little happened upon her return to the first home, where all of them – herself, Asgore, Asriel, Chara – spent the greatest years of their lives before braving the trek back to the cusp of the barrier. Where does she begin?
“I needed to get a far away as possible,” Toriel explained. It sounded more like a confession.
“Far away from me?” Asgore asked.
“From everything. New Home held too many memories. Bad ones.” Toriel faced the fire and saw the same orange glow that ordained the mantle of her previous house. “And it was the one place where the first human was found. I knew that if any more humans were to fall down, it would be there. I walked through the ruins more times than I can remember and encountered only a handful over all those years…”
Toriel closed her eyes and hugged her body as their youthful faces returned to her, one by one.
The boy with the apron, who loved to cook, was always so kind-he
arted and gentle. The pies never tasted as sweet or as crumbly after he left.
The ballerina girl, always so honest and graceful in both body and principle. Toriel heard a passing rumour that a child of the same description was found in Waterfall a couple days after she passed the door.
Then there was the most inquisitive boy she had ever seen, always so knowledgeable on what he knew and curious on what he did not know. There was an interesting story regarding how Gerson came across a torn notebook and a badly damaged pair of jam jar glasses while in the garbage dump. He could not remember.
That girl with the beautiful red ribbon was such a patient little trooper. She stayed with Toriel the longest and appeared ready to settle in permanently until, sadly, it was discovered that the ruins were not the safest place for a human child to play in.
The boy who dreamed of being a sheriff when he grew up was always seeking out wrongs to put right and bad guys to prove wrong. Toriel regretted telling him about the King; that mentality was what urged him to leave the safety of his new home, seek out this tyrant, and put an end to his diabolical reign. He reached the castle’s doorstep before his resolve clicked as empty as his gun.
The tough kid with the bandanna who possessed a bottomless pit for courage was the last child to fall down before Fleck did. His bravery only got him so far, though. Someone slain him sheer minutes after he left the ruins.
Toriel lingered behind the door, wondering whether or not to pass through and confront the world that had forgotten her. Six children had fallen down. Six children she tried and failed to protect. Six children were dead. Their souls resided in the king’s possession, awaiting a seventh. One more soul was all that was needed to destroy the barrier, meaning the sacrifice of one more human was required. One final human from the surface would eventually fall down to their world; it was inevitable, and each day she squandered was one day less she had to prepare.
By revealing her face to the world, Toriel would in turn confront those who followed King Asgore’s commands. The thought made her hands tremble inches away from the door. She tried to picture the faces of those who killed those children, but dreaded how she would act upon meeting them, upon breaking her own self-imposed exile.
She worried and made excuses to herself. What if another human had fallen into the ruins right now? She needed to be there to guide him or her to safety. Did she remember to turn off the stove? Was there a burning smell in the air or was it just her? She was no spring chicken, there was nothing wrong with being forgetful in her old age. Speaking of which, did she remember to sweep under her armchair when she cleaned up last week? Her bed, also? Dust always accumulated the most under there.
And then two distinct taps rattled from the other side, accompanied by two little words…
“Knock knock.”
She opened her eyes and almost said who’s there. She had returned to the moment of time inside the inn. Rain speckled against the glass and a gust creaked the foundation. “I thought I could protect them,” Toriel whispered.
“Protect them?” echoed Asgore.
“Against the policy. Against the monsters. Against you. I tried to keep them safe, show them the best love a mother could give, but their love of the surface was greater than mine.”
Asgore went anguished. “You tried to be a mother to them…?” Suddenly, it all made sense. “Through all my anger, I had to face the truth that the pain would never go away, that I would ultimately learn to cope with it. But I dealt with it in the worst way: I refused to move forward and chose to root myself in the past, refusing to acknowledge the terrible things that had happened, refusing to acknowledge that you weren’t there anymore, believing that it would all come back one day. So you see, you weren’t trying to protect any of them… not really. You were just like me, trying to live in the past. Perhaps we are more similar than we initially thought.”
“Asgore…” Toriel said in a low growl. “Do not even dare comparing me to you…”
“Neither of us could handle the future we faced,” he persisted. “The only difference is you chose to run from it, thinking that not being involved would make you the better person.”
“Dreemurr…”
“Admit it. We had the perfect family, and when disaster struck, we both buried our heads in the sand and pretended like nothing was wrong, that all these problems would just go away on their own.” He stabbed his finger downward. “I woke up in that castle every day, wrote the same thing in my diary, and kept the flowers tended wishing that a family would come to me instead of going out there and making one. Just how you woke up in our old home every day, searched the ruins, and kept a bed ready wishing that one day you’d have a child of your own who would call you ‘Mom’.”
Toriel was shaking. Sadness and fury brewed deep inside her. “I am warning you, Dreemurr…”
“Did you really care for those children better than I did…?” Asgore knew what he was about to say would hurt both of them. “Or were you just that desperate to be a mother again?”
No words. No thoughts. Toriel lashed out. She did not think to do it, her body simply reacted. Her body whipped around, swinging an open palm directly into Asgore’s waiting cheek. He saw it coming a million miles away and yet chose to do nothing but take it. The slap was quick, sharp and painful; Asgore reacted with a silent turn of the cheek. The strike left it feeling hot and prickly. He deserved it, and, honestly, it was well within her right.
Down below, the patrons went quiet as the whipping crack drew all eyes upwards to the balcony above. The few monsters huddled around the bar paid the arguing pair a couple of seconds before returning to their drinks. None of their business. Among them, the frog boatman frowned as he reached back for his glass of grog water.
He shared a glance with the bartender and said, “Dirty laundry,” before swigging the remaining traces and sliding the glass over. “This stuff’s flat. When did you last change the keg?”
The bartender took the empty, cloudy glass and tipped it under the beer tap. “Lots of dirty laundry,” he agreed as he pulled on the handle. “And I changed it five minutes ago.”
After allowing the pain to pass, Asgore’s soft eyes – devoid of anger – lay upon Toriel’s. “Did you do that to Fleck, too?”
Toriel clutched the hand that struck him. She gripped the wrist tightly, refraining it from lashing out again.
“I did not… I did not wish to… I thought I knew what was best for them…”
“You did.” Asgore said. “Why?”
“I was desperate. I was lonely.” Her own actions burst to life in the flames. What happened between herself and Fleck was uncalled for. Waves of fire went forth from her palms. Fleck dodged the blasts, occasionally taking a few. “I was scared. I thought I was scared of what might happen had you gotten a hold of Fleck.” She slumped back down in her chair and witnessed in the licks of flame the sweet cuddle she gave the child before she let them go. “When all this time I was truly frightened of being on my own again.”
Asgore saw the orange glint in Tori’s eyes, then took his seat beside her.
“Out of all the children who ventured through the underground,” Asgore said, “Fleck was the only one who reached me. The first time I ever laid eyes on them, I…” Pause. “They kind of look like Chara, don’t they?”
Toriel nodded slowly, remaining fixated on the fire. “I have also witnessed glimpses of them in Fleck…”
Asgore took his glass and held it a foot off the table. “We both messed up, didn’t we?”
Toriel grabbed her glass off the worn beermat. “Royally,” she replied as she glumly clinked glasses with her ex.
Together, the two guzzled the rest of the fizzy water in one go and slammed their empties back down simultaneously.
Asgore savoured the bubbly tickle on his tongue until it dispersed a couple seconds later; the taste not long after. This was the longest conversation both he and her have had since they exited the Underground, progress into rekindling some fo
rm of compromise between them hopefully had been established, and yet the fire still burned and the rain pelted from outside those walls. So much had changed between them, as boss monsters, but the world around them progressed how time always did. The patrons below, huddled around the bar telling stories and passing rumours, had problems and demons of their own that meant the Outerworld to them, and were completely unrelated to theirs.
After minutes of silence, Asgore broke it. “Toriel,” he said, “I look upon you and I still see the woman I loved. Still love. I know those days are over, I know you are not perfect, and I know you have made your fair share of mistakes, but none of that changes how I feel about you.” He faced her. “Even after all that has happened, you are still the Queen of the Underground to me. I understand your actions, but why can you not understand mine? Why can we not leave the past behind us and start again with a clean slate?”
“Some things are not so easily forgotten, Asgore,” said Toriel. “I want to believe that the man I loved is somewhere in there, but… every time I gaze upon you, all I see is what you became all those years ago.”
The former queen remembered the look on Asgore’s face, shortly after Fleck had flew away to the heavens and as she hysterically scoured the books in the living room. She look back in anger as her former husband looked upon her with those soft eyes.
Just for one second, she did not see the whelp she despised. She saw him. Gorey.
I miss you, she thought. I still miss you.
* * *
The downpour riddled the ground, making it moist and slick. The soldiers had a colossal task ahead of them as they heaved the prisoner transport over the rising hills. The incline was the hard part. At the peak stood a service elevator that led up to Highkeep Enclave. Once they were up there, and the rain had ceased, then it was smooth sailing the rest of the way.
