Archive of Our Own ^beta

Toriel hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the surface. She’d never truly considered the idea of it; after losing both of her children and severing contact with her husband, it didn’t seem like there was much reason to hope for it. Her family would not see the sky ever again, and if she saw it on her own, it would not be without a cost.

As children falling into the underground became more and more frequent, the prospect of reaching the surface had only filled her with a grim sense of dread. If the barrier were broken, seven human children would be dead. And while she had not been the one to hurt any of the six humans that had fallen down, she could feel their loss dragging down her soul, as though she had been the one who had sent them to their fate. When she was living in the Ruins, sometimes it felt that she had.

The barrier had broken, though. Standing just past where it had been, she had looked out with the others in awe of it all. Her memory truly did not do the Surface justice. 

She wasn’t alone, seeing the sun setting just past the treeline, and there was one child that she was able to save. 

Reminiscing on each of the children she loved no longer brought back waves of regret, but warm fondness. Frisk had been asking about each of them, prompting her to speak at length about their kindness, and their bravery, and their determination.  She told them how she saw parts of each and every one of them in Frisk.

Speaking of her child, Frisk had much that they wanted to know, and plenty that they wanted to share. Over baking a different, new type of pie recipe they’d wanted to try, they had asked about her first two. The pie had a sort of chocolate filling. By the end, they had both teared up, laughing as she told stories about a child who saw the best in others, no matter what, and another who found beauty and determination from the smallest of details.

The house she lived in was no longer empty or quiet, much to her delight. While she and Frisk had elected to stay together, more often than not, there was company staying over, never unwelcome. There was always an extra room, and a pull-out futon waiting for anybody who needed or wanted to stay.

While the others always expressed gratitude in their own way, she felt that she should be the one saying thank you’s. 

Her dear friend was no longer speaking to her through a door, unless Sans had a particularly good knock-knock joke to share. Though, normally, she would open the front door and he would stroll in from an entirely different location. The strangest door he had emerged from had been the fridge, before a comment about him needing to “chill out.” She was still unsure about the logistics; it was always packed with leftovers and baked goods.

She had also gotten to meet the Papyrus he spoke so fondly of! His brother was everything she’d expected and more. It may have taken him a little while to get her name correct, but he’d gotten there eventually! He absolutely detested both of their puns, as expected, but soon came to learn that he didn’t actually mind all that much. If anything, the performative frustration was endearing, and more of an encouragement than anything. He also had an uncanny ability to locate precisely where difficult puzzle pieces would go, which was appreciated all around.

Speaking of Papyrus, between him and Undyne, the house would never be too-still or too-quiet ever again. They were not allowed to use the kitchen together, however. While she and Undyne had not seen eye-to-eye on many things, she appreciated how she made Frisk feel okay to express themselves, even no matter how loud they needed to be. She may have been loud, boisterous, and far too quick to summon her attacks, but she was somebody Toriel would always be happy to have in her home.

With Undyne came Alphys, the former Royal Scientist. Despite what she had said of herself, having conversations with her was nothing short of pleasant. Even when Toriel had nothing much to say, Alphys always had something new that she was excited about, whether that was a new robotics project she’d begun or a series she and her partner were binge-watching. Occasionally, Toriel would research a dish from one of the shows that she had been watching, and recreate it as a surprise when Alphys would visit next. Seeing her eyes light up, electricity sparking between her fingers, was always such a treasure. Behind closed doors, however, she and Alphys had bonded over the weight of such responsibilities on both of their shoulders. Knowing that neither of them would have to bear such a heavy burden was a welcome relief.

Toriel was unsure how to think of Asgore. All she knew was that her child had wanted him in their life, and that they deserved a chance to have a relationship with him, even if it made her hands shake each time they would go over to visit without her present. He had respected her wishes, though, and seemed to only want the best for Frisk.

Occasionally, a little yellow flower would peer in through the windows. She did not know if he was lonely, or if he needed a place to stay, but he would sometimes talk with Frisk when he thought she could not hear. She would have to invite him inside, someday.

It was rarer to not have company over than for it just to be the two of them. Knowing that there were people there, who she cared about, and who cared about her in turn had filled her soul with more joy than every single sunset on the surface had. The fear of losing another family, all over again, was crushing, but she was learning to live with it, and accept the worry for what it was.

Most importantly, though, her child had a future with so many people who treasured them as they were. They had pulled everybody together all on their own, and she found herself wishing they would accept her thanks.

Toriel had missed the Surface, and the rest of the Underground, but it wasn't the beauty of the sunsets that had made it important; it was, as always, the people.