Asgore’s father once warned of human politics. He taught his son that he should never cross its paths, let alone follow its ways. Nothing good can come out of the bloodthirsty determined, he’d say; it’s better to hide than to get involved.
Fast-forward a thousand years and King Asgore found himself in the middle of the worst-case scenario. Hiding could only last so long, it seemed.
High tension lingered in the air. Standing outside was none other than Gungnir’s current leader: the one they call Aiden of Aratet.
Mezil Thyme drew out his gun, loaded and ready to fire.
“Why so hostile, Vampire?” The foreign human said: “You’ve won this war. Your Witch yet lives and the Spire still stands tall. You even claimed that kid as your own. The power of time is at your fingertips. We’re at your mercy.”
“I’m no fool, Gungnir. You wouldn’t have brought along your sons unless you’re in a position of strength.”
Asgore observed the guests. This Aiden fellow was not a human to be trifled with. His posture was that of a true warrior: steady and grounded, prepared to retaliate against any attack.
The brothers, on the other hand, contrasted each other. The fairer, taller, gruffer one tried hard to maintain the same warrior’s stance as his father. Asgore could tell he was outright uncomfortable to be in this position. More so when he looked at Mettaton. Still, he tried to be brave, keeping his guard up for his family’s sake.
The other son didn’t bother carrying that same staunch aura. He appeared gentle, holding an amicable yet stoic demeanour. If he didn’t have such a sun-tanned face, he could be passed off as a normal teen with some sports background.
Aiden continued: “Did you not hear that our mission failed? What can a scattered, demoralized people do?”
Mezil huffed. “Regroup, of course. I’m not being hypothetical either. I’ve seen it time and time again.”
“Then why not take the shot? Your attack dog must also be out there. Let him loose and end this farce.”
“Hmph. That last thing I want is to start a war on King Asgore’s soil.”
“Have you grown so soft as to care about these monsters?”
“It’s none of your business.”
The stalemate resumed. Much bad blood lingered between Mezil and Aiden. If nothing changes, the pressure cooker is going to blow. Dear departed father was not kidding when he said human politics reek of danger.
Frisk looked to Asgore. It’s their ‘desperate-begging-face’, usually reserved for pleas to venture to a specific place of interest. It could be the theme park. It could be the museum. It could be a fair.
This time, however, it was Frisk’s silent cry for help. It’s not likely that the boss of Gungnir would listen to a child who had yet to prove themselves in his eyes.
What about Toriel? Her character leaned closer to Mezil’s toughness. Not good for this scenario either.
Only one option remained.
King Asgore thus walked to the entrance, slow and gentle, until his foot touched the evening sun’s warm rays.
“Howdy,” said the King. “Would you like to come in and have some tea?”
Aiden and his lighter-skinned son were taken aback by the invitation, filled with caution and doubt.
Nonetheless, Asgore offered again. “It’s impolite for us to leave you outside for so long. Please, we can discuss matters at the table.”
After much consideration, the Aratet family entered Alphys’ Lab.
Asgore turned to his subjects and said, “Please give our guest some privacy.”
“I’ll protect you,” Undyne volunteered.
“Thank you, but you’re needed elsewhere. Watch over my wife and child to the best of your ability.”
Although she was reluctant at first, Undyne could not decline the call of duty. “Yes, sir!”
The King led his guests to the kitchen and settled them to their seats at the dining table.
As he turned towards the pantry, Asgore sensed a wave of magic pulsing through his fur. The strands resisted the air, making him feel like he’s under water.
It's been a long, long while since he stood in the field of a Seer’s timefreeze, but he'll never forget the sensation.
“Sans?” he asked. “Is that you?”
“Yup,” he answered, leaning against the kitchen’s doorpost. “Sans Serif reporting in, Your Majesty.”
It was serious business after all. “Report, please.”
“We’re in the worst case scenario. Mezil is right. If Aiden here ain’t in control, he wouldn't have shown up with his sons.”
“How bad is this 'bad’, Sans?”
“Bad enough for Mezil to not shoot Aiden on sight. If anything happens to the bossman or his kids, the Gungnir will force us to RESET. If I had to guess, they will probably kill one of our kind in turn. It doesn’t matter who. Could be Alphys. Could be you.”
“Then, please fetch Gerson. Anyone who stands in his field is safe.”
“No can do, Your Majesty. Take that route and the Gungnir will kill any citizen minding their own business in town. It’s not just the Lab being held hostage here. It’s the whole town. Probably got several snipers scattered about for instantaneous retaliation.”
Asgore felt the nerves rise to his throat. “I see… Is there any way to defend ourselves?”
“Sounded like Aiden was expecting Snakedog at least. Dude’s fast, I kid you not. But, there’s only so much distance he can cover at once. By the time he runs to one sniper, a whole bunch of bullets would have already done their deed elsewhere. Same goes for The Royal Guard. It’s a Dead End.”
“In that case, should we use the Keys of Fate now?”
“Nope.” Sans replied.
“Why not?”
“‘Cause someone’s keeping track of the changes in time. After all those RESETs, don’t you think that Aiden showing up now is a bit fishy? We made sure court happened in a closed innocuous space, courtesy of the Old Thymer.”
Sans grunted from the penalty. His Eye lit up to convert that extra burst of pun Determination into magic.
“Sorry,” he said, “Needed a boost. Let’s see, where were we? Right, I’ll cut to the chase. I suspect that the Gungnir have an unclaimed Red Major of their own.”
The goat gasped. “I-impossible! I thought Frisk was the only Red that escaped the culling!”
“I hoped so too. Would save us a lot of headache. Unfortunately, Frisk is just one example of how little kids can fall through the cracks.”
Sans stared at the Aratet boys. Analyzing them, without doubt. “Heh. They came prepared. That colourful cloak ain’t for show. It deflects magic, scrambling my sight.”
Asgore noted, “You can’t read their stats then.”
“Yup. No dice on Aiden’s LV either. I’m only getting gibberish. Anyways, the boys are teenagers, right? Deduct ten years, and they’re way below the minimum age. I won’t be surprised if either of them is our mysterious recorder.”
“Oh and one more thing,” Sans continued, “Aiden might have figured out that I sabotaged their Spire plan. He’s gonna have a bone to pick with me.”
Asgore frowned. “Seriously, Sans? You tangled with the Gungnir too?”
“Yup. See, they planned to eliminate you and Tori before the onset of the trial. Then a squad would swipe Frisk back to their base, while the main force dealt with Mezil, Lucidia, and The Grandmaster. The whole fire thing? To destroy evidence.”
“For my own scheme to work, the Trial of the Crimson Hall had to start without a hitch. So, I forced them to take the second option. The fire became the starter instead of the finisher.”
Despite what went down with Megalovania, Asgore would be forever grateful to Sans for foiling Gungnir’s true plan. The thought of bloody chaos made his kind soul shudder.
“So yeah, this Aiden fellow is cause for concern. Despite knowing about the Keys of Fate, he got the guts to confront Sir Vampire. And I’m not chalking it up to desperation or arrogance. He’s way too meticulous for that. In other words, he has a trump card up his sleeve.”
Asgore asked, “Do you know what it could be?”
“Nope. I thought I could get a hint with my Truesight. But, that’s a bust. So, King Asgore. I gave you all this info. What do you wanna do with it?”
The king pondered for a moment. With a meek smile, he responded: “Maintain diplomacy, of course. I’ll handle the PR.”
“Heh. Good call.”
The red glow on Sans’ chest began to fade. “Welp. Running out of juice. It’s all up to you now, Your Majesty.”
“In the meantime, Sans,” said Asgore. “Please get everyone to safety into the Void. And, keep the Spirit Gate a secret.”
“Can do. Want anyone in particular to stay behind for security?”
“I’ll leave that to your discretion.”
“No probs. Okay, really gotta ciao now.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Asgore nodded to Sans. “Thank you, Tactician.”
When time returned to its normal pace, Sans had already teleported away to execute his mission.
Alright, now to make some tea.
Asgore went through the selection present in Alphys’ kitchen. Most of them were in bags, though she also had a jar of loose Goldenflower petals and a tin of Breakfast. He checked the contents to make sure they’re fresh. So far, so good.
He brought them out to the table and set them before his guests.
“Do you have a preference? We have Earl Grey, Breakfast, Goldenflower, and…” Asgore squinted at a packet with Eastern script. “I think it’s green tea.”
“Did you say, ‘Goldenflower’?” asked Aiden.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ebott Goldenflower, the sacred Soul Vessels of the gods?”
Asgore nodded.
“You lot have the nerve to turn this land’s holy flower into a drink. That’s sacrilege!”
Gulp. Did he just commit a massive faux pas? Was Aiden genuinely insulted by the idea, or did the provocation serve as a test of character?
Asgore did what he had to do. He bowed his head to the Gungnir and said: “My deepest apologies, sir. The Ebott Goldenflower appeared to my nation as an unknown plant of great beauty mere decades ago. I had no idea others revered it. In that case, I will not brew it for you.”
The sons whispered to their father in their native tongue. After a brief discussion, they agreed on something.
Aiden said, “My sons forgive you for your ignorance. Therefore, I too will pardon you. They want to try this ‘Earl Grey’ you offered. Also, they want milk and sugar.”
What a relief, thought Asgore. “Very well. What about you, sir Aiden?”
“…Breakfast. No milk or sugar.”
The choice was neither on a whim or by mistake. Asgore understood that this was yet another test. This human wanted to see if the King of Monsters could serve a spot of tea without subterfuge or betrayal.
While the water boiled, Asgore searched for the requested items. To say that there was no pressure would be a lie. Did Alphys even have milk? Was it still fresh? He wouldn’t want to give the guests a stomach ache, accidental or otherwise.
The fridge did have milk in stock, but it was half consumed and therefore unsuitable to serve. Frisk was right: the pantry management had been in disarray due to the recent chaos. There wasn’t any time to shop either.
To his fortune he found some packeted sugar and creamers. They will have to do for now.
Asgore brewed the three orders of teas to the best of his ability. Mugs for the boys, and a teapot for the father and himself. He will show his goodwill by sharing their drink from the same source.
He first served the boys, bags removed. They were also given metal teaspoons to stir.
Laying down the sugar and creamer, Asgore explained, “Young men, I’m sorry. We don’t have fresh milk in stock. Would you be fine with these instead?”
The smaller boy stared at the creamer packet with great curiosity. Poked it a few times to feel the texture. It appears that he had never seen such an item before.
“Oh. If I may ask, which of you is the older brother?”
The boys looked to their father. It appears that he enforced a code of silence. Understandable, since they’re in enemy territory.
“…The taller one is my elder son, Dayton. The other is Niton.”
“Ah, I see.”
Dayton took one stick of creamer and two sticks of sugar. He showed Niton how it was done. Then, he scooped a bit of the mixture for his brother to taste.
Happy with the result, Niton repeated his brother’s steps. One creamer, two sugar, and stir.
By now, Aiden’s brew should also be ready. Asgore brought the teapot to the table and poured a cup for himself and his guest.
“Here you go, sir.”
Aiden nodded and said, “Thank you.”
“How was it?” asked Asgore.
“…It’s well done,” Aiden replied. “Please drink before it grows cold.”
“Ah, that’s right. I should.”
Asgore settled at the opposite side of the table, alone. He savoured his own spot of tea.
The leader of Gungnir asked: “Are you truly a king? Your demeanour is more of a servant. I heard that you worked as a gardener for the local school.”
“Well,” Asgore smiled, “I once abdicated my position. This earth had long fallen into human hands. Instead of resisting with our old national identity, I thought it’s best that we integrate ourselves.”
But Aiden said, “Except, integration is impossible. A pipe dream. People need identity, community, and security. Otherwise, they will be exploited by the powers that be.”
“I acknowledge the difficulties. Therefore, I took up the crown again.”
The human warrior crossed his arms, not quite impressed. “Monster, prove to me that you have what it takes to walk the talk. Only then will we be on equal terms.”
It’s not over yet. A blessing in disguise, thought Asgore. At least he wasn’t snubbed outright. “What is your test?”
“Answer a few questions. First, The Vampire was slow to notice our presence. Where had he been for the past few hours?”
Asgore realised that it will be up to his discernment to comply or to refuse. A king must know when to speak, and when to keep quiet.
In a respectful tone, he chose to tell the truth. “The Supreme Judge was overseeing a trial involving one of my citizens. We conducted judgement our way, and he wished to witness it in person.”
“How serious was this crime? I don’t imagine a petty dispute would garner The Vampire’s full attention.”
“Indeed, you are right. The list was long and severe, with possible treason as one of the accusations.”
“Bring that criminal to us.”
Asgore remembered what Sans had warned. He responded: “I’m afraid I’ll have respectfully to decline. A guest should not trouble himself with the internal affairs of my kingdom.”
“But it is our business. Your Oracle, Papyrus, promised to cook us a feast. Yet your kingdom continues to hinder his efforts with matters of lesser importance.”
So this is what Sans warned me about. I admit, Aiden is pushing against my nature. Putting the foot down is more of my wife’s expertise.
The King of Monsters shook his head. “I disagree with the notion that it is ‘lesser’. Without the necessary verdict, negotiations with the Magus Association could not proceed. And in return, your eventual safety at the feast would end up jeopardized.”
“Please explain.”
“Trust, Sir Aiden. In return for our assistance in the future battle, they are to trust the Dreemurr Nation to host a feast in your honour.”
It appears that Aiden has finished his first cup. Offering the pot, the King asked: “Would you like to have more tea?”
The human pushed his cup forward. No words needed to be exchanged. His body language spoke for itself.
The attempted rapport resumed over the freshened servings. Aiden again made the first move. “Then let us speak with the Oracle. We wish to know if the feast will go as planned, or if extra information is required.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that either. Papyrus is unavailable at the moment.”
“Unable to greet his guest?” Aiden asked, “That doesn’t sound like the Oracle at all. He risked his life to return Dayton in the name of friendship. A man who values bonds will make time to maintain them, no matter how preoccupied. Or… do the warlocks have unspoken motives toward sabotage?”
The accusation threw Asgore off balance. “Pardon me? Why would they? If Papyrus keeps his promise to you, a new path opens for the betterment of all.”
“Is that what you truly desire, ‘king’? Or are you only going to abide by the whims of your citizens like some lowly servant?”
Somehow, that triggered an epiphany. What if Aiden’s idea of a king was something completely different?
It’s best to clarify matters. “Sir Aiden, it appears that you misunderstand. According to the standards of the my nation, a king is to serve his citizens. It doesn’t matter whether it’s walking the political tightrope or soothing a crying child, a service is a service. I am not to demand any special treatment. Whatever respect and gifts the citizens lavish on me should be of their own free will.”
“With that said, it is also my duty to protect everyone. I’m doing so by not treading the path of war. If peace can be achieved, peace I shall choose. As King.”
“Even if your adversary is a people who’d rather see you decimated?”
“Yes,” Asgore answered, bold. “I do not want to sound pretentious, but I understand the grief of your people. I remember the Sealing. I remember how my son died to human hands. And, I once announced the war to end all wars, to seek vengeance for the humiliation we endured. That is not the case anymore. I have renounced war, because I have opened my eyes to the truth.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“My enemies have families too.” He briefly smiled at the teenaged boys, acknowledging their presence.
“Should I wage war, there will be many more ‘Asgores’ losing their children to monster hands. And in turn, monster families would lose their loved ones to human retaliation. The cycle of violence thus continues unending. Is that the scenario you prefer, King of Gungnir?”
Aiden lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip.
But after that, he didn’t set the cup back down. Instead, his arm trembled. Ripples rocked on the still-hot liquid, threatening to spill over their ceramic container.
An electrical current coursed through Aiden’s body, inflicting what appeared to be a great pain as his breath bellowed with the dark foreboding of a thunderstorm. The more the human’s blood boiled, the stronger the currents coursed.
“…Sir Aiden?”
Asgore’s fur began to stand, fluffing up his entire being. A mix of snaps and cracks buzzed in the air of the kitchen while wrath unquenched threatened to let loose.
Such irony that this man despises monsters, because he was not very far from one himself.
Then, the call of his sons snapped the father out of the rage. Aiden seized his arm in an attempt to subdue this power.
In the end, he smashed the teacup on the table. It triggered a small bolt of lightning that shot straight towards the ceiling, leaving behind a blackened patch.
Asgore’s fur flattened as the remaining static faded. What a close call. But the relief turned into a different sense of alarm when he noticed what happened to his guest.
The human just had hot tea splashed on him. To make matters worse, small bits of broken ceramic had lodged themselves into his skin.
“Sir!” Asgore exclaimed, “Your hand--”
The King’s concern was met with bitter seething. “Stay away, monster.”
Still bleeding over the table, Aiden declared: “I need no pity from such a weak creature.”
“But…”
“Your proclamations of peace come from safety and comfort. True imprisonment is not being left alone under a mountain with your ways intact: it’s having to watch your people get torn apart for who they are!”
“I’ve cremated the corpses of broken girls and maimed boys. I’ve cut down orphans hung on trees. I’ve freed slaves who later died of disease. The survivors live either in poverty or fear, even to this day.”
“Your declaration of pacifism spits on the dignities of the living and the dead!”
Sorrow filled King Asgore’s heart. The human world truly was as cruel as his father warned.
“…King of Gungnir,” said Asgore. “I apologize if I have crossed the line. However, my point still stands: I do not want those horrors to repeat on anyone. Therefore, I’m determined to not become that instigator.”
“Enough. It’s clear to me that you’re ignorant. This ‘peaceful world’ of yours is nothing but a ruse. Congratulations, King of Monsters, you’ve made another enemy.”
Aiden got up from his seat. “Sons, it’s time to leave.”
Enemy.
The worst possible outcome.
Despite all his efforts, King Asgore had failed. He failed his child, his family, and his people.
He reached out, wanting to call for the human's return. Their talk cannot end on such a negative note. Otherwise, all hopes for a proper resolution may vanish forever.
Yet, he couldn't think of a plea that wouldn’t sound trite. Even if he got his attention, what then? This man was of the Aratet, the true heirs of the Gungnir way. Asgore had nothing to keep the other party interested.
The moment that man leaves The Lab, he will give the order to eliminate Monster and Magi for good. It will be a decimation his kind have not endured for a millennium.
The slim chances faded right before the king's very eyes. What should he do?
What CAN he do?
Asgore reached for the shortened haft of his unformed weapon, ready to extend it to its full size as a trident. He pondered in great fear for what he might have to do with it.
Should he throw a warning shot against the wall?
Should he stab the human threat before it passes the point of no return?
Should he hold the sons hostage and use them as a bargaining chip?
Ugly, ugly thoughts flashed through Asgore’s mind. It sickened him to even consider them.
Asgore thus chose not to draw out his weapon. Rather, he summoned a wall of fire at the exit.
Dayton shielded his brother Niton with his body. Aiden merely lifted his hand to his eyes to shield them from the light.
Aiden grunted. “You intend to incinerate us?”
“No,” thus said the King of Monsters. “I just intend to make you stay and listen.”
How ironic. Maybe my wife rubbed off on me more than I’d like to admit.
The human lifted his chin, defiant. “Will you then admit your hypocrisy? Here you are, initiating violence in the name of protecting your people. When you’re at gunpoint, battle is inevitable.”
“…Why yes indeed.” Asgore kept his head straight while mustering a gentle smile. “I think I see now. We are quite similar.”
“It must be difficult knowing that your people wither away constantly under the mountain of political and societal pressure. You’re barred from seeing the sunlight of freedom. Always watched. Always suspected. Forced to hide in the shadows.”
“You longed. You groan. You blamed. You wished. Sacrificed others in the name of many. We used to live that way too, King of Gungnir.”
“Will I ever understand your horrors? Perhaps not. But I understand the suffocation of oppression. Such was my life for the past thousand years.”
“I am here to offer an alternative path for your people. My goodwill remains: the less bloodshed, the better. My children -- both living and deceased -- had shown me that a less violent path is more than a dream.”
King Asgore showed his hand to the table. “I apologize for starting on the wrong foot. But, will you not let us help you break your own ‘Barrier’?”
The goat monster did not know if he did the right thing or said the right words. The hearts of humans were as unpredictable as the violent oceans.
Silence continued to hang in the air until at long last, there were footsteps. Aiden and his sons headed, not out of the dining area, but towards the sink.
Turning on the faucet, Aiden replied: “King of Monsters, I suppose you’re not all bark. Our talk shall resume once my wounds are tended to.”
A huge wave of relief washed through King Asgore.
The worst was over… for now.
While Dayton applied first aid, Asgore took on the task of cleaning up the mess made on the table. Can’t have shards of ceramic linger around, royal or not.
Well, I suppose I’ll have to get ready for round two.
“Would you like to have another cup?”