King Asgore checked the date on his phone. Saturday, it read: six days since the Trial of the Crimson Hall.
Which also meant six days since Sans broke Toriel’s heart. That whole ordeal was not a pleasant way to discover such secret, one-sided feelings.
From the early morning onward, he concentrated on getting the formalities done: packing up their stuff, signing the discharge documents, meeting up with the two remaining monsters in the hospital, all while watching out for any angry humans.
A limousine arrived, along with an armed escort of Magi. Asgore found the arrangements needlessly fancy, but he had heard from Mettaton that this was a kind of transport reserved for VIPs. It would reflect bad on the host if they failed to provide the proper ride for one’s status.
“…It's quite spacious inside…” Grillby remarked.
“The seats face each other too, wa ha ha.”
Except, fitting the Goats side by side STILL proved a little too tight for comfort. So, instead they each paired up with the smaller person.
Asgore and Gerson on the forward facing side. Toriel and Grillby on the back facing side.
King and Queen sat diagonally across to balance the weight.
The long trip back to Mount Ebott thus began.
Toriel gazed out of the car window. Quiet. Lost in thought. The conclusion of Frisk’s trial had brought only a new plethora of complicated concerns for the royal couple.
Should he strike up a conversation now? Asgore wondered. Or should he give her some space? How strange it was for the “PR-Expert” to get clammed up before his own wife.
In his hesitation, he felt a sudden nudge. It’s coming from Gerson, urging him to take the initiative.
Gulp. Do or die, as Undyne might say.
“Toriel?” asked Asgore. “Do you… want to talk?”
“If you wish.” She replied, yet her gaze continued to stare into the far yonder.
He pondered out loud: “I wonder if we did the right thing? After all, our surprise press conference must have seemed like open defiance against Judge Thyme…”
“We needed to prove ourselves,” she answered. “Consider it leverage. Both sides wish to get this issue done as soon as possible. Besides, if our actions were that disastrous, time would have unwound. We would have received a warning from Frisk, or the Supreme Judge himself.”
Everyone checked their inboxes, pronto. They then breathed a collected sigh of relief when they found no signs of bad omens.
“That’s sharp of you, Toriel,” Asgore noted. “Reminds me of the old days.”
All he got was a soft ‘mhmm’ from her.
The awkward silence returned.
If Toriel couldn’t muster the spirit, then Asgore considered it his duty to stoke the flames. Therefore, he mustered every ounce of his ‘determination’ to snap her out of her slump.
“Please talk to me,” said Asgore. “I want to help you.”
“I am not sure if you can. I worry about our nation, our child, and… him.”
“Sans, right?”
Toriel nodded.
Grillby raised his hand to the surprise of everyone. “…I request permission to speak my mind…”
What did he want to say, Asgore wondered. “Sure. Fear not. We’re all ears.”
“…Do not worry about Sans Serif…” said the fiery one. “…He’s alive… He can take care of himself…”
Toriel immediately turned away from the window. “He is?!”
“…Yes, Your Majesty…”
“How is he?” She asked, worried. “Did we. I. Did I go too far?”
Bowing his head, he answered: “…No… I’d say not enough…”
Gerson laughed. “Wa ha ha! I see why your grandpa was so concerned about ya. Once you’re determined, there’s no stopping.”
“…I am?…”
The old turtle paused for a while. “I’m not sure. Maybe I got the wrong kiddo. Asgore?”
Poor friend. He had aged so much over the millennia.
Asgore cleared his throat and smiled at his citizen. “You passed the qualifications to become a Captain roughly the same age as Undyne did. Then -- despite Gaster’s pleas -- you retired early to open a bar. I think that’s quite headstrong.”
The fire elemental clutched his shirt, digging into the fabric. Troubled.
“…King Asgore…” said Grillby, “…May I confess?…”
“Certainly,” so nodded the monarch.
“…I think I’ve changed…”
“Since when?”
“…Since I got to the Surface…”
That surprised Asgore. He expected Grillby to say that he had changed since the big fire at The Magus Association, not before.
“Could you explain it in more detail? Take your time.”
Grillby answered, “…At first, I could work longer hours… Then I helped the town… The next thing I knew… I fought battle after battle… And then Sans Serif betrayed us…”
“…A violent fire burns in my chest… It refuses to die down… If I was there during the press conference too…”
The fire elemental squeezed his eyes shut. “…I’m afraid I would have lost my composure…”
It’s a story that Asgore heard aplenty, more so during the war days. “It sounds like you’re grieving, Grillbz. Your hopes were high. And then, someone who should know better broke your trust.”
“…Perhaps…” The knight bowed his head again. “…Thank you for your wisdom… …Allow me a moment of reflection.”
Now, Asgore had two individuals spacing out at the windows.
* * *
When the transport arrived at Mount Ebott, the entourage found the town’s citizens waiting to welcome their ruler.
Such a scene was nothing strange for King Asgore. He’s been before crowds for as long as he could remember. Mettaton’s TV crew? That raised some eyebrows.
Mettaton in his box form gave some last minute instructions to anyone willing to listen. He called for monster children to come to the very front. For the adult monsters, Mettaton’s crew provided handfuls of pink sparkling confetti.
“Even more media?” Toriel sighed.
Squinting through the glass, Gerson asked: “King Fluffybuns, did ya set this up?”
“No,” Asgore replied. “I believe Mettaton is acting on his own again.”
The Magus driver asked: “Your Majesty, should we meet the crowd?”
“Ah, yes. Please give us a moment to tidy up.”
Tidy up, they did. Made sure their clothes fit right, no stray strand of fur sticking out, and free from other messes built up over the long trip.
Once Asgore gave the signal, the driver stepped out first. He walked over to the King’s side, and opened the door for him to exit. A formal sign of respect.
The moment the King and Queen walked on camera, the Mettaton’s TV crew lifted a signboard with a big ‘GO’ printed on it. The citizens happily obliged by throwing the supplied confetti.
Mettaton exclaimed to the TV crew. “Beauties and Gentlebeauties, King Asgore and Queen Toriel are home at last! Look at the joys on the people’s faces. Especially the children, who cannot wait to give our beloved Boss Monsters a big hug. What jubilee!”
A child asked, “Can we go now, Mister Mettaton?”
“If our royal subjects are ready, why not?”
Asgore chuckled and spread his arms wide. “Come here little ones.”
So the children ran towards King Asgore for a big great hug. They exploded into all sorts of chatter: questions mixed with excitement about their own adventures.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” said a little cat girl.
Asgore replied, “I’m glad too.”
“Are you okay?” A slime child asked. “You didn’t get hurt too bad, right?”
There’s no way he could disclose anything that went down in the Crimson Hall, whatmore the fact that he almost died. So, he kept to a more general reply: “Nothing crippling, dear child.”
An excited bird boy hopped up and down: “Asgore, Asgore, Asgore, there was a weird fog and we couldn’t get out but we stood together and and and--”
He laughed at that response. “Did you help the adults?”
“Yeah!!”
“That’s brave. Good job!”
Some of the older children -- Toriel’s students -- approached her instead. Asgore noticed Kid was among them: he’s one of the Papyrus-fans along with Frisk.
Kid asked, “Yo! Are you alright, Teacher?”
“I’m fine. Thank you, dear.” She replied, “Have you been good?”
“Yup! We stuck with each other in times of crisis!”
“I’m very proud of you.”
It was great to see Toriel’s nurturing side again, Asgore thought. She didn’t have any opportunity since she became caught up with global politics.
Mettaton showed his hand towards the scene. “Behold, darlings~ A regular sight of our nation! Every child in Ebott had sat on the King’s fluffy lap at least once, asking for a Gyftmas present. Same for me when I was a kid.”
“As for our Queen? A beloved teacher! She appears to be made of sterner stuff, but rest assured it is for the good of the future generation. Her mothering nature ensures no ill should ever befall a child under her watch.”
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Toriel tried her best to not glare at Mettaton for his ‘description’. She hadn’t gotten used to runaway news yet, as it’s been many decades since she was in Monsterkind’s limelight.
“Oh!” The superstar switched his attention to the insides of the car. “Do I spot Gerson Boom, the Hammer of Justice? He’s been travelling the world as a historian, giving eyewitness testimonies of the ancient past. Quite a feat for a thousand-year-old turtle!”
“Wa ha ha, ya didn’t need to call me out like that.”
Asgore himself encouraged the children to greet his old friend. He kept a close eye nonetheless, just in case a child tripped into his shell. They can get quite clumsy in their jostling.
Grillby waited behind the car. He had exited the vehicle on his own, keeping a lookout for any trouble.
“I spy with my fantastic eye a hero returning from duty!” Mettaton exclaimed, “Grillbz Grillenn, former Captain of the Royal Guard. Putting down his title doesn’t stop him from protecting the populous. He was none other than my comrade in arms during the great Spire fire!”
The grownups went wild with flirting hearts. Bachelors of male, female, and other categories -- defined and undefined -- squealed for the fiery one. Some swooned over.
“He’s sooo handsome!”
“Dashing!”
“Glasses are injustice!”
“I knew he had a bar, but I didn’t know he was the Captain!”
“Marry me, hero!”
“Oh my,” Mettaton gasped. With some extra dramatization sprinkled on top. “Looks like he’s becoming the next hot topic! My, my, my, my. Will he steal my spotlight?”
Poor Grillby. Asgore sensed that he’s getting intimidated by the attention: he never showed his face to the public for a reason.
The King stepped forward to calm his citizens down. “People, please don’t distract him. Sir Grillenn has taken on the duty of my bodyguard despite recovering just yesterday. I ask that you give our good man some space to do his job.”
There was a big ‘oooh’ from the crowd.
“Of course, Your Majesty!”
“Protecting you is very important.”
“Do your best, Sir Fire!”
I’m always grateful that they’re so cooperative.
“Who did I see over there?…” Mettaton pointed to the back of the crowd, feigning ignorance.
“Oh dear, I can’t get a clear view. Darlings, would you be so kind to step aside?”
The citizens giggled and laughed as they shuffled around, cutting a path towards the intended direction. They’ve been clued in from the start: Mettaton is meticulous when it comes to showbiz after all.
Judge Mezil Thyme in his best suit waited at the far end, his cane resting before him like a sword of human yore. He always looked serious. Quite hard to tell if he’s angered or otherwise.
Asgore spotted someone hiding behind the stern human. It’s tiny and blue, with a bit of purple, topped off by dark brown.
“Frisk?” he muttered.
Frisk indeed. The child hopped out of their hiding spot, waving to their parents in great joy.
Mettaton announced to the camera loud and clear: “It’s Frisk, our beloved human Ambassador! Look at how healthy and hale they are. Not to mention utterly elated! After almost a whole week on their own, they’re finally reuniting with their dearest family~~”
Asgore couldn’t contain himself. Neither could Toriel. Both hurried on their feet to meet dear Frisky Frisk again.
The child couldn’t wait either. Their steps got faster and faster, until they sped to an all-out run.
“Mom!” Frisk cried out. “Dad!”
“Frisk!”
“My child!”
They jumped into each other’s embrace. King Asgore and Queen Toriel hugged them together: not as two estranged persons, but as a single couple. A return to the days before the tragedy.
The populace cheered. They threw away whatever remaining confetti they had in their hands and shot magic into the air. Young and old, humanoid and otherwise: their hearts celebrated as one.
Mettaton posed in front of the camera. “The most splendous sight! Love crosses all borders indeed~ Brings a tear to my mechanical eye.”
A rhythmic tapping sound then caught the attention of Asgore’s ears. It belonged to a certain man’s cane.
“Ooooh!” Mettaton narrated the events: “It’s the Supreme Judge of the Magus Association. I heard some naysayers insisting that he was just twiddling his thumbs, but this couldn’t be further from the truth! Diplomacy, baby~”
Asgore’s fur stood a little. He had once suffered the brunt of this human’s combat capabilities in a terrifying test of wills. His merciless might reminded him of Genocider: unyielding and unwavering.
Mezil, however, reached out for a handshake. “Your people are kind to me. I’m grateful for the hospitality. Thank you.”
Asgore returned the gesture with a smile. “And thank you too for looking after us.”
On that day, for the first time in a thousand years, the ‘Kings’ of Magi and Monsters shook hands before the world.
* * *
With all the welcoming business done and over, the entourage adjourned to Alphys’ Lab. Her spacious estate and the vitality of her equipment turned the place into the unofficial headquarters of the kingdom.
Not everyone attended the meeting. Cenna wasn’t there. Neither were Garamond and Gaelic.
Lady Lucidia and Captain Undyne updated the others on the situation.
First, Mettaton -- self-proclaimed to be a vital member of the diplomacy team -- had caught wind of the news fallout. So, he took it upon himself to provide the necessary ‘counterbalance’.
Second, Papyrus was tasked to cook a near-impossible feast. He asked for Toriel’s help on her signature pie. Somehow, it’s part of his key victory plan.
After getting a list of ingredients, he bolted right out of the door. Asgore supposed that Papyrus already knew all the remaining details. Therefore, he didn’t need to sit through the whole meeting.
Next on the itenary: the Six SOULS had been recovered, and soon they’ll be ready to speak with everyone. Frisk wanted to respect their wishes… whatever those may be.
Then, Lady Lucidia disclosed the Barrier’s true nature. That was the most startling news so far. By the time she was done, it left every monster dumbfounded.
“I… I see,” Toriel muttered.
Gerson shrugged. “Knew there was a catch. To think an envoy from the Surface should have come to set us free, but never did…”
Mettaton leaned forward on the sofa, amazingly whimsical despite the news: “That’s the twistiest of twists! Life is more exciting than fiction on rare occasions.”
Alphys wiped the sweat off her face with a handkerchief. “The Barrier sapping our spirits due to the lack of humans… Is that the real cause of the persistent sadness in the Underground? I… I don’t know. We were still grieved over the Prince’s loss.”
“B-but,” asked Undyne, “What the heck was up with the Prophecy then??? Asgore, wasn’t that divine message confirmed by the ancient Seers?”
The King nodded. “Yes, it was.”
Doctor Gaster hung his head low, as Asgore had expected. The matters of his family history had always been complicated on his emotions.
“This means…” he said, “The Surface would never become truly safe for us Monsters no matter how long we waited. The prophecy would lead us to ruin in all eventual realities. Except for maybe the original plan--”
Sans walked right into the meeting area. In his usual casual manner, he said: “Nah. Forget about that Adult-Asriel business. Total disaster.”
Peace vanished in a blink. Grillby dashed towards Sans at top speeds, his fist charged with mighty fire.
Good thing the sly skeleton zipped out of harm’s way. That action bought Asgore enough time to regain control of the situation.
“Grillbz Grillenn,” He ordered. “Stand your ground!”
The former Captain knew when to yield. But, the elemental magic continued to course around his body unrestrained.
“Whoa there,” said Sans. “I thought the whole attack-on-sight deal ain’t your thing.”
Grillby questioned: “…Did you escape imprisonment?…”
Those words put the alarm in context. This faithful knight thought that the criminal had broken out of his confines. Maybe set to do more crime.
“Nope,” Sans replied, “I’m also part of the emergency science team hammered together by Lil’ Miss Lucy here.”
“…Address Lady Lucidia with more respect…”
The skeleton raised his brow. “You got the hots for her too? She’s a married woman y’know. Geez.”
“…Rich nonsense coming from you…”
What mood whiplash. The day started out so fine, and now the dignity of the wives was at stake.
Asgore sought to calm the situation. “I’m sure nobody here believes that silly allegation. Please, Sans, don’t make things worse again.”
The short skeleton snickered. “Don’t ya think it’s a bit weird that the ex-Captain of the Royal Guard is being so antsy over a princess from a different nation? One might even call it defensive.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yup. Grillby protected her from Gungnir. And I got some other scoop that hints to a specific direction, if you get my drift.”
The King started to sweat. All that news, dropped right on his feet with no time to mull over.
Toriel stepped forward. Her back straight and head high. “Is that a problem, Sans? I don’t think so. If Sir Grillenn is so careful with Lady Lucidia, it means that Judge Thyme could entrust her security to us.”
“Like how they entrust her security to Gaelic the Snakedog? He said some reeeeal saucy stuff.”
Before further damage control could be done, Grillby stormed off without saying a word. He took the stairs.
The scene left everyone extra awkward. Faces of disbelief. Faces of aggravation. Faces of shock.
“What in the blue blazes were you thinking?!?!” Gaster freaked out. His Amalgamated friends burst into a flurry of hand-signs, reprimanding their son.
Even Mettaton cannot stand to see the outcome. “Was that a joke, darling? Because it’s not even funny.”
“Welp,” Sans replied, “I had other things on my mind, but I got too distracted by Sir Hothead The Traitor Knight to remember what.”
Undyne blew her top. She slammed her fist on the table so hard, it tilted to one side. “You haven’t answered the question!!!”
“Sorry, not now. Catch ya later.”
Just like that, the provoker slipped back to his workshop.
* * *
When the couple excused themselves for a drink in the kitchen, Toriel approached Asgore for a request.
He knew that it would be business related. Nonetheless, it’s a welcome change from getting completely snubbed. The recent developments still felt unreal. So many things happened in the span of a week.
“Asgore, you should speak with Grillby. I don’t know him enough.”
“Well, I…”
Toriel glared with a pout. “Don’t tell me you were holed up in that castle for so long, you don’t know anything about Sir Grillenn either?”
“No,” Asgore explained: “He’s the stoic sort. Never said much about his personal life, or feelings for that matter. You know how difficult it is to discern Frisk or Judge Thyme when they don’t speak?”
“So that moment in the car…”
Asgore nodded. “Was the very first time he asked for advice.”
Toriel squeezed her hands together, anxious. “I think we’ve done something… irreversible. What if, by giving him a piece of our life force, we somehow changed him? I-it was my plan to begin with. I--”
She cut herself short with a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry. I think I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Toriel,” Said Asgore. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll go talk to Grillby first.”
“Thank you.”
The King looked all over. Whatever jovial atmosphere that welcomed him in the beginning was gone, replaced with uncertainty.
The fire elemental was nowhere to be found…
He wasn’t on the first floor.
Or the second.
Or the third.
Or the fourth.
Or the fifth. Or was it the sixth…?
Asgore thought that he should have taken the elevator. It’s a little disorientating without big giant numbers labelling every floor.
Finally, he found him on the rooftop. It’s a beautiful day outside. The flowers of early Spring had begun blooming around town, and the sun shone in bright white: a sign of approaching noonday.
Grillby was with Garamond. He’s inspecting a brown plump stick with curiosity. It appeared to be made from tightly rolled leaves.
Asgore thought he shouldn’t interrupt the men just yet.
“…So this is a cigar…” commented Grillby. “…It’s quite different compared to a cigarette…”
The skeleton behind the face plate said, “Sir Grillenn, I warn against starting the habit. Your fighting style demands top physical condition. Tobacco will do more harm than good.”
“…What about you, then?…”
“I came from an era where it was mistakenly considered medication. By the time their true effects were exposed, I’ve become too addicted to stop.”
“…Addiction, hm?…”
Grillby bit off a small tip of the cigar despite the warnings. Fire elementals could consume anything their flames can burn, traditionally edible or not.
“…It tastes better than I expected… But I feel a little ill…”
“The nicotine content of a cigar is higher than a cigarette. Plus, it has no fillers to water it down.”
“…I see…” The man of fire returned the remainder of the roll. “…Thank you…”
The King smiled. It’s always great to see new friends bonding.
Walking forward, he greeted: “Howdy, Grill--”
The knight however bowed and… stepped backwards.
Asgore thought that it was because of surprise at first. But, whenever he tried to approach him, the man of fire responded by maintaining distance.
“What’s wrong?” The King wondered out loud, blinking.
“…Your Majesty, forgive me…” he replied, “…I shouldn’t be in your presence…”
The stiff formality combined with a guilty expression confused Asgore.
“I don’t understand?”
Investigator Garamond too bowed before the King. “Please allow me to explain, Your Majesty. Sans Serif had studied an alternate timeline where Persona defeated Judge Thyme. That Sir Grillenn joined House Berendin of his own accord to secure citizenship for your nation.”
“…That would make me a traitor, just like Sans…” Grillby winced at the thought. “…Perhaps his accusations had grounds after all…”
Asgore reasoned: “This is not that timeline. The circumstances differ.”
“…But I may already have feelings for Lady Lucidia… I just don’t know if this is love… Or something else…”
Things just got more complicated right under his nose. Asgore paused to think. The ex-Captain may be an experienced law officer, but his personal life seemed bare.
Gardening takes patience and care. Dealing with the heart of others was no different. If only he could transfer those skills between areas of expertise.
Asgore asked: “Maybe I can help narrow it down? Please tell me why Lady Lucidia became special to you. Be it with many words or few.”
The spring breeze drifted by, bending the orange flames to its path.
“…When I swore a bloodless battle… I saw how her face lit up in reserved hope… That her prayer for a miracle would come true… It’s as though she expected failure… the death of others being the only possible outcome…
“…Would it hurt to show her the light Frisk brought to us?…”
Asgore pondered harder. He tried to recall the days when he first dated Toriel. What made him pursue her as his wife? It certainly wasn’t mere diplomatic ties.
What were the days of his courtship like?
How did he feel when he prepared the flowers for young Toriel?
The memories of his first impressions had yellowed with time, but they certainly never faded.
“Do you feel your heart beating faster?” asked the King. “Fluttering? Awkward warm reactions? Flames changing colour? Water boiling in the cups you hold?”
“……No, Your Majesty……”
What a huge relief. “Then rest assured, it’s not romantic love. I believe your strong emotions came from empathy on her plight. She is in a difficult situation. One that I don’t envy.”
Instead of being glad, the knight grew more sullen. “…Is that so?… Would her plight alone be enough for me to defect?… If yes, what kind of a person am I?… Am I even fit to serve anyone?…”
Tap, tap, tap. It’s that cane again. Mezil must have noticed the long absence.
“Your Majesty,” so he said, “If Sir Grillenn so wills it, would you allow me to pass him under the forge of judgement?”
“The Crimson Hall?” asked the King. “I thought it’s only for Reds?”
“You’re right, the Crimson Hall is typically reserved for Living Victories. But that doesn’t mean I can’t host miscellaneous trials when I see fit.”
Mezil continued, “Besides, the Hall itself is already booked for one such an unusual trial. I’d like to begin proceedings right now. You and Sir Grillenn must attend.”
“Now? As in, this very moment?”
“Apologies for the sudden haste, but we truly don’t have much time left. The Ocean Battle is three weeks from now.”
Asgore’s chest thumped.
Three weeks.
Twenty one days.
That’s not even a month anymore, and they haven’t even signed an official agreement yet…
The King of Monsters asked: “We can’t postpone the battle.?”
Mezil scrunched his brows. “There are ways. But, I suggest that we settle the important matters first.”
Asgore tried to remember what other Red SOUL individuals needed examining. Frisk was already a done deal. So… who else?
“Excuse me, may I ask who will be trialled?”
Turning back to the stairwell, the stern Judge replied:
“Sans Serif.”