The black wind howled.

Toriel and Asgore watched Undyne’s spears pierce the heavens. One by one they exploded into a mass of magic, anger, and frustration.

Alas, the heavens swallowed her might whole, unbudging. Breaking a Mark was of a whole different magnitude compared to a false Barrier.

It’s a great imitation indeed.

Soon the noise died down; even Undyne could run out of energy.

Asgore sighed. “I think we should go.”

Past their starting chamber was a land covered in snow. Tall, dead trees lined the path ahead.

“Snowdin…?” Toriel muttered.

“It seems that Sans has recreated the region,” said Asgore.

They continued down the straight path until they reached a curious structure. It’s a ball-course surrounded by a transparent plastic border. The only way in was through an electronic sliding door.

A wall-mounted sign explained the rules:

‘One person may attempt the puzzle at a time. Anyone else can only instruct from the sidelines.’

The golden-maned goat offered himself to accomplish the task. Toriel stayed behind.

“Good luck, dear.”

However…

Asgore kicked the ball too hard. It flew straight toward the Barrier itself, disintegrating into nothingness over their heads.

“Asgore, for goodness sake. Be more gentle!”

When the ball respawned at the beginning of the course, the King tried his best to heed his wife’s advice.

Except the result refused to change. Another ball lost forever.

He grumbled out of irritation.

She glared.

That man, seriously.

A king shouldn’t be behaving like a child.

When he realised what he had done, the man hung his sorry head low to apologize. “Sorry. Having the Barrier over my head… it’s clouding my judgement.”

At the very least, she understood how her estranged husband felt. Waves of prismatic light pulsated over the black sky. It’s a power filled with bad memories… a reminder of their thousand-year imprisonment.

She knew better than anyone else about Asgore’s weakness. He’s a gentle giant through and through. But, whenever his anger or anxiety go past a certain threshold, he succumbs to outbursts.

The last time he behaved like this… was their children’s death.

“Switch out with me,” she said.

“But--”

“No buts.”

“O-okay…”

Asgore walked back to the entrance. Detecting his presence, the gate door slid open. It remained so until Toriel entered the chamber.

She proceeded to guide the ball with her feet, careful to apply just enough force for it to go where it needed to.

Meanwhile, Asgore sat down by the side, remaining silent in deep self-pity.

That man… Seriously. Do I have to do everything myself?

Since the beginning of their marriage, she was the one who buckled up and took charge of the political scene.

The refugees hailed her as the ‘Mother Queen’ for a reason. She was the one who made sure the shelters were well-built, the food distributed fairly, and that no cheeky fellows took advantage of the less fortunate.

On the other hand, ‘Father King’ Asgore handled the integration. He gave people a place and a purpose. Mediated differences between the different species. Provided medicine for the sick and healing for the injured.

One logical, one holistic. Together they were the dream team.

For a long time, Toriel thought the same. Thought that her marriage was strong enough to withstand anything.

How wrong she was.

The ball fell into the hole, a coloured flag popped up. It played a short message.

Green, for Kindness.

Your concern and care for “Ball” led to a delicious victory.

It’s a sign of completion. The barricade lowered itself and the ball didn’t respawn.

“We’re done,” said Toriel. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t move. Kept staring at his bitten arm, ever doleful.

“Asgore?”

That man… will he be alright?

Toriel walked over and laid a hand on his broad shoulders. It’s only then Asgore snapped out of his daze.

“S-sorry about that.”

Asgore stood too quick. His eyes glazed over. Backwards, he fell.

She gasped, catching him just in the nick of time. “Gorey?!”

It was a nickname she hadn't used for ages. The couple exchanged a few moments of awkward silence.

After a while, Asgore broke the ice. “Ah… I’m feeling rather lightheaded. Been so since I got bit…”

The overhead speakers then activated.

“Tori, you might want to ask that scaly-ton more about the anesthesia he used. Well. If you ever get a chance to do so anyway. King Asgore is showing signs of sensitivity. Dizziness. Minor disorientation. He should try to avoid that chemical next time.”

“Sans?” Toriel muttered.

“Remember back in hospital, the doctors had a clipboard detailing Frisk’s medication? There’s a reason for that. Some folks get more side-effects than others. Let’s just say King Fluffybuns isn’t very lucky with whatever that was injected into his systems.”

“Can you help him?”

Sans didn’t respond.

Toriel squeezed her hands together. She looked up towards the Barrier-filled sky and pleaded for mercy.

“Please, Sans. I know he could have handled your case better. And, I understand if you don’t want to help. But I… I can’t just watch him suffer.”

“I’m not a doctor, Tori,” Sans replied. “The wrong medication might make things worse. I could conjure something to alleviate the symptoms, though. Show your palm.”

When she did so, a salted lemon candy drop materialized in her possession. It’s a common human remedy for mild malaise.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“Here, this might help.” Toriel unwrapped the sweet and fed it straight into Asgore’s mouth. Like how they used to do when they were still happily married.

Asgore lightened up upon the taste of delicious candy. “Oh my~! I didn’t think salt, lemon, and sugar went so well together.”

Without realising it, she smiled.

At least he cheered up a little.

Oh, what am I thinking? We don’t have time to dawdle.

“Let’s carry on. And, Sans… thank you.”

The couple continued wading through the digital snow.

This time, Toriel kept a close watch on Asgore. Her heart began to ache over her own failings.

…We must have been apart for far too long. I should have noticed the weakness in his steps.

They arrived at a long, suspended bridge. Or rather, a rock formation painted to mimic a bridge. Toriel had crossed the original construct in the real Snowdin before. The level of detail in this reconstruction baffled her.

The creator, Sans, stood at the other end of the bridge. Not a hologram.

“Hey there,” he said. “Ready for a ‘cliffhanger’?”

Toriel forced herself to suppress a snicker. That was such a bad pun. Maybe too bad, considering the ominous tone behind it.

She took a deep breath and asked: “What are we supposed to do here?”

“Cross the bridge. Easy, right? I thought so too… so why don’t we spice it up?”

Sans clapped his hands twice.

Both goat monarchs gasped in terror when the ropes lowered an assortment of deadly implements.

Spike balls.

Sharpened spears.

Flamethrowing bellows.

Cannons.

Even a small, white, fluffy dog at the very end. It wagged its excited tail with a high-pitched bark.

Sans chuckled at their stunned expression. “Welcome to the Gauntlet of Deadly Terror. Made by Papyrus himself. As you know, his estimations of physical abilities are pretty… ‘sky high’.”

“Only one person needs to get to my side to deactivate the trap. There’s no sensors, so you’d have to use this red button.”

Stepping aside, he revealed a convenient stand with the alleged input device.

“Press that and all the dangerous stuff will go away. So. What’s your plan? I’ll wait.”

So far, nothing had happened. Toriel wondered: will it activate when they get close? At the end, the beginning, the midway?

Questions, and more questions. Toriel stood paralyzed from sheer hesitation.

………

She felt a brush against her arm. It’s Asgore, trying to press forward while still somewhat dazed in the head.

“What are you doing?!”

The man stopped. He looked back at her with a sad smile.

“If anything happens to me… please take care of Frisk. You are the better parent between us.”

Her heart sank. Did he just suggest suicide? Sacrifice? Martyrdom?

“What are you talking about? You’re in no condition to go through that danger!”

“I know,” Asgore nodded. “At the very least, you will learn how it works. The timing. The way the ropes swing. Maybe you could destroy them from the sidelines. You have that power too.”

Toriel blew her top. Anger. Grief. Disappointment. It all erupted like one of those legendary volcanoes.

Grabbing Asgore’s unnumbed arm, she put her entire might in dragging him back away from the bridge. The further, the better.

“T-Tori?” he muttered.

Toriel scolded: “Don’t you DARE call me by that name! Not after that! Do you think Frisk would be happy knowing that their father gave up his life over a stupid bridge trap?! Could you actually think with your head for ONCE???”

Confusion defined her husband’s face. “I am. Like how you would want me to.”

“I don’t want you to die!”

“But you want me to rule. And this… this is what it means to be a good, loving ruler. To put the lives of others before oneself. You have opened my eyes, Toriel. A king must lay his life down for his subjects. For too long I’ve been hiding between living and existing.”

“I should have stepped out into the unknown with the first human SOUL we obtained. By delaying the war… all I did was prolong the suffering of my citizens. They hoped, and yet hope never arrived. It’s the worst state of life for anyone.”

“I have to own up to my failures now.”

Toriel’s head spun. Why did Asgore insist that it was for her sake? As far as she could remember, she didn’t--

Or did she? Maybe it did cross her mind. But she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Sorry, Tori. Asgore made the better choice.”

Her train of thought stopped at Sans’ comment.

Him?

Of all people?

The one who judged Asgore for doing nothing?

Is now judging her?

Sans leaned against the switch. His hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, very casual.

“…Your idea got me thinking for a long while,” he said. “It sounds nice on paper. But, I’m afraid that’s just a pipe dream.”

“The moment Asgore begins his attack, both the Magi and the national security forces will be on high alert. I give a maximum of two hours before we have an opposing army mobilized at the foot of the mountain. Of course, led by none other than the Supreme Judge of that time.”

“None of us knew just how much humanity’s firearms had advanced. Not even myself. I had theories and could make a rough estimate… but it’s still not the same.”

Sans pointed towards a nearby snowy cliffside. “See that? I’m going to simulate some expected firepower from the era when the second child fell. Just to give an idea what all-out war with humanity might look like.”

He conjured a series of rockets. Sent them flying. The moment they touched ground, they burst into a horrid explosion of fire, smoke, and pulverized rock.

By the end of the barrage, only charred shallow craters remained. It took mere seconds.

Toriel felt a shaky warmth enveloping her. It’s Asgore, unconsciously trying to shield her from the destruction.

“And that’s just the ‘tip of the iceberg’. The days of swords and arrows have long passed. Oh, and there’s always that nasty nuclear factor. Contrary to fiction, it never gives you superpowers. Only a very painful death.”

Sans continued his explanation. “Maybe by theory a Seven-SOUL Asgore could make quick work of the humans. That is… if the human SOULS don’t rebel first. Frisk’s testimonies and Papyrus’ vision dive confirm that control can be usurped if the SOULS have enough Determination. How much is ‘enough’? Apparently a Red Minor has enough to vacate on will.”

“The moment Asgore claims a true Red, the control will become an even split. Think Asriel and Chara; there’s nothing to stop them from hijacking The King and turning him against his own people.”

“And the biggest factor of all,” said Sans. “The Supreme Judges. Welp. You know what they can do. The Magi won't spare us if we’re going on a full offensive. The public already would’ve had the notion that monsters want them dead.”

“Destroying us is a small price to pay to protect the other hidden nations under their custody. All because we struck without warning. Is that really the best option?”

When the truth sank into Toriel’s head, her knees weakened. Asgore did his best to support her with his one functioning arm.

“King Asgore is still a ruler who puts his citizens first. Even if it’s at the cost of everyone’s general well-being, his own included. I have my gripes, but they’re over a different issue. Not relevant to our current conversation.”

The bridge had yet to be crossed.

Frisk still waited for their rescue.

And the angel of judgement stood between them and their goals.

Imprisoned hope was locked far away.

“Why are you doing this?!” Toriel cried out in tears. “What do you want from us???”

Sans breathed out a relaxed sigh. Or so it seemed. “Stop trying to do everything all by yourself, Tori. That's a good start. Guide each other, perhaps? Do whatever couples do. I’m not too sure about it myself. I didn’t get to witness much of this dynamic before my own parents passed away.”

“Other than that, I want you to trust me. Because… I’m putting in real effort for the first time in my wasteful life.”

“I have a goal. And this time I have the means to accomplish it. Maybe you won’t agree with me. Maybe you won’t even forgive me. But, I must.”

He turned around, preventing Toriel from looking at his face.

“I hope you don’t mind that we start the pun routine a little later. Or less frequent. In the beginning at least. I’m gonna be real busy, y’know. Managing resources. Building new facilities. Getting the aquifer running as soon as possible.”

“Life under the Barrier may be safer, but it ain’t perfect. There’s still lots of work needed to be done. Gotta get self-sufficient.”

Toriel stared with her jaw agape.

That man… has he gone mad?

Or…

If luck was of any indication, it would be the latter. A proverbial lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down for the golden question:

“Sans, are you trying to manipulate time?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he responded with a different statement altogether. “Want a hint to the puzzle? Let’s see how Papyrus accomplished it.”

With a wave of his hand, Sans summoned a holographic image of his taller younger brother.

Papyrus paused at the beginning of the bridge. He groaned. Shook his head.

…Then he charged straight down the path without a single hindrance.

When he reached the end, the youngster grumbled out loud: “REALLY SANS? YOU INCLUDED THIS? I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS THE PASSWORD, WHICH ALSO MEANS I CAN CHOOSE TO NOT ACTIVATE IT!”

“Heh bro, thought you might want to make it challenging for yourself.”

“MAYBE WHEN I DON’T HAVE A TICKING CLOCK BREATHING DOWN MY TRACHEA.”

The Gauntlet of Deadly Terrors was nothing more than an illusion of danger. It’s harmless without the master key.

Toriel felt cheated. Sans had played her for a fool.

“Come out and face me, coward!!!”

The short skeleton was long gone. Papyrus’ hologram served as the perfect distraction.

Toriel stormed down the bridge. She ignited rope after rope in her wake, causing the implements of doom to free-fall into the chasm below.

…But she spared the fluffy dog. Her motherly nature refused to destroy it, even though it may just be a digital recreation of the actual animal.

“Oh, you poor thing. Brought into this world to be another person’s toy…”

Leaving it hanging here would be too cruel, so she untied the critter from its binds and carried it in her arms.

Wagging its short tail, the dog licked her face in gratitude.

“Aren’t you the annoying dog who stole my phone? Or at least, The Void’s version of it.”

The dog barked once.

Toriel couldn’t help but to smile at its inherent cuteness. She tapped it on the nose and said: “Well then. As long you behave, we’ll make sure you don’t turn into dust. Be a good dog for your own sake.”

Oh look at me. Lost all my rage because of one cute pup.

How can I forgive anyone if I can’t forgive myself?

An arm of strength guided her steps. When she looked up, it was none other than Asgore.

“We have this in ‘the bag’, Toriel.” He encouraged.

“But I--”

Her husband for a thousand years beamed. “Please understand that I don’t blame you for anything. I know you always mean well. Always.”

Between the two, Asgore was the more forgiving one. It’s a fact that Toriel had taken for granted -- both in marriage and in her self-imposed exile.

She leaned her head against his chest.

Her heart ached with a mixed cauldron of emotions that she had yet to successfully describe.

For some reason, she had insisted in bringing up all these old, irrelevant hurts.

Why did they matter to her? The past should stay the past.

“…Thank you, Fluffybuns.”