Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Asriel staggered through the village, carrying Chara’s lifeless body in his arms, the golden flowers of the field seemed to blur under his tears and exhaustion. A sudden, terrified scream shattered the silence. “A MONSTER! IT’S A MONSTER!” a small voice cried. From the shadows, older humans surged forward, grabbing whatever weapons they could bows, arrows, pitchforks, even crude swords. “QUICK! GET YOUR STRONGEST WEAPONS! ATTACK IT WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE!” shouted one of the older children, rallying the others. Blades and arrows rained down. Asriel’s fur bristled as he braced for impact, clinging tightly to Chara while struggling with the faint, desperate pull of Chara’s lingering will. He could feel their desire to fight, to strike back at the humans, but he knew he could not let them take control.

Not now. Pain tore through him with each strike. His vision blurred, and dust seemed to peel off his body like dry leaves in a storm. Every breath burned, every movement was agony, but he forced himself forward. He whispered hoarsely to Chara, as much to calm himself as to speak to them, “Sorry… Chara… I guess… I couldn’t even… do what you asked me to do…” With a final surge of strength, Asriel sprinted, dodging and weaving through the chaos, leaving the village behind. His consciousness wavered as he climbed toward Mt. Ebott, every step a battle against the encroaching darkness at the edge of his vision. Finally, he reached the threshold of the Underground and collapsed into the grand, silent throne room of the castle.
 Chara’s body slipped from his arms and landed softly on the floor, golden hair fanning across the tiles.

Asgore’s eyes widened in shock. “Asriel Chara!” Toriel gasped, clutching her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes. Asgore knelt beside them, shaking Asriel gently, his voice trembling. “Wake up… both of you… what happened?” Toriel’s hands glowed faintly as she tried to weave her healing magic over the children, but the light flickered and dimmed. “Tori… is it working?” Asgore’s worry cracked his voice. “No…” Toriel whispered, her lips trembling. A cold dread settled over Asgore. He reached for his cellphone with shaking hands. “We have to do something… Doctor Gaster? We need your help. Now.”

The faint static on the other end of the line crackled, and then a calm, measured voice spoke.

“What seems to be the matter, Your Majesty?”

Asgore’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening. His eyes darted between the two collapsed children, fear and urgency warring in his expression.

“Both of my children… they just came here, critically wounded,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t have many details… except that my adopted child, Chara… they’ve been quite ill for a while now, and we never found out from what. And Asriel… I think he absorbed Chara’s soul and went through the barrier to the surface… but that’s all I know.”

A pause on the line. Then Gaster’s voice, calm and precise as ever, replied:

“Right… Bring them to my lab ASAP. I’ll do my best here.”

Asgore’s heart pounded. He didn’t wait a moment longer. Carefully, he scooped Asriel into one arm and gathered Chara’s limp form into the other, holding them both as gently as he could.

“Hang on, kids,” he murmured, his voice tight with fear and determination. “We’re going to get you help. Just hold on a little longer.”

Toriel hovered close, her hands glowing faintly as she murmured prayers under her breath, trying to lend what small aid she could while Asgore navigated the halls.

They raced through the castle, the dim corridors of the Underground stretching ahead like a gauntlet. Every step was weighted with urgency, each footfall echoing through the silent halls. Finally, they emerged into the warmth of the Hotlands, the air thick with the scent of magma and minerals, and the entrance to Gaster’s lab loomed ahead dark, foreboding, and humming faintly with strange energy.

Asgore pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the lab, and immediately felt the cold precision of Gaster’s presence. Instruments, vials, and strange glowing devices lined the walls.

“Leave them here,” Gaster commanded, stepping forward. “Carefully. I’ll take it from here.”
Asgore lowered the children onto a reinforced table. Chara’s small body looked almost impossibly fragile, while Asriel’s fur shimmered faintly

“Stay calm,” Gaster murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, as he adjusted lenses and instruments. “This will require delicate work… human anatomy isn’t my usual specialty, but I’ll manage.”Toriel stepped back, clutching her robes, watching every movement, her eyes wide with worry. Asgore’s jaw tightened, gripping his hands together. For the first time, the king felt helpless in the face of a crisis he could not heal with magic alone. And in that tense silence, the lab seemed to pulse with the weight of what was to come salvaging life from death, stabilizing souls, and threading fragile hope into the very fabric of their world.
  

Gaster moved with calm, precise movements, adjusting dials and flicking switches as Asriel and Chara were carefully secured onto reinforced tables. Strange machines hummed to life, wires and conduits snaking across the room like metallic veins. Alphys hovered nervously beside him, her hands twitching as she adjusted sensors and monitors.

“G-Gaster…” she began in a shaky, hesitant voice, “only… Asriel is still breathing, while Chara… isn’t…”

Her eyes darted to the X-ray screens she’d activated, the faint glow illuminating the lab. “And Chara doesn’t have their soul… but look at this, sir,” she said, pointing toward Asriel’s scan.

Gaster leaned closer, adjusting the lens of a strange, multi-faceted device. He examined the spectral imprint on the monitor: a swirling fusion of a human soul intertwined with a monster’s essence.

“Ah… so King Asgore wasn’t lying when he said his son absorbed their adopted child’s soul,” Asgore murmured from beside the table, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and dread. Gaster straightened, his face impassive but his mind racing through calculations. “We will have to act quickly,” he said. “Alphys, put the human on life support immediately. Their body must not decay while we work to restore the soul.”

Alphys nodded, her hands trembling as she flipped the necessary switches. A soft whirring filled the room, and faint lights blinked along Chara’s lifeless body as the life-support systems activated.“Since both of them will be here for a while,” Gaster continued, adjusting Asriel’s restraints to monitor vital signs more closely, “we’ll need constant observation. Their condition is… unprecedented. This will require careful study and patience.”

Toriel hovered at the edge of the table, her hands folded tightly, trying not to touch anything in the sterile chaos of the lab. “Gaster… please… make them both well,” she whispered, her voice trembling, eyes flicking between her son and the adopted child she had grown to care for. Gaster’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands moved with the practiced precision of a man accustomed to miracles. “I will do what is necessary,” he said. “We are threading life from death here. Nothing less will suffice.”

Alphys swallowed nervously, glancing at Asriel’s mixed-soul X-ray. “I… I hope we can… I hope we can do this,” she murmured, almost to herself, before returning to her instruments. The hum of machinery filled the lab, punctuated by the occasional beep of a monitor, the flicker of spectral energy across the X-ray screens. For the first time in their lives, the children’s fates rested entirely in the hands of science, magic, and the careful precision of Gaster and his young apprentice.

Gaster watched Asgore and Toriel like a surgeon watching relatives on the verge of panic. He spoke quietly, every word measured.

“You two must go now,” he said. “Stay close to the castle. I will call you the moment they are stable enough to be moved home.”

Asgore swallowed, hands trembling as he rose to his feet. Toriel’s eyes burned with tears; she reached forward as if to touch Chara one last time, then forced her hand back. “Please,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Hurry.”

Asgore nodded once, uncertain, then carried himself out of the lab as if his legs were made of lead. Toriel lingered in the doorway a heartbeat longer, smiled a fragile, grateful smile at Gaster, and then followed her husband, closing the heavy doors behind them.

When silence settled, it was the kind of silence that filled a room with pressure. Gaster turned back to the machines and to Asriel’s faint, uneven breathing.

“We need a plan,” Alphys said in a thin voice, hovering beside a console. She stabbed at a few controls, bringing up vitals and readouts in a cascade of pale blue. “If we extract the human soul, it’s- ” She stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“It’s going to be delicate,” Gaster finished for her. He tapped the screen showing Asriel’s status. “Asriel’s vital reserves are compromised. He’s only recovered about half of his normal HP since the incident. If we remove the soul without compensating for that deficit, his body won’t survive the withdrawal.”

Alphys’s hands fluttered in the air. “W-what do we do then? We can’t  we can’t let him die. Not like this.”

Gaster’s jaw tightened. “You will continuously heal him while I perform the extraction. Do you understand? Constant, unceasing stabilization. If you stop even for a minute, his system could fail. If his body fails while the soul transfer is in process, I could ” He didn’t finish, and the unsaid implication hung heavy between them.

Alphys nodded so quickly her clip-on badge bounced. “I can do that. I can keep his vitals up. I’ll monitor everything: heart rate, blood pressure, magical energy flux whatever you need me to patch into.” Her voice steadied a fraction. “I’ll set up an auto-regenerative loop and manual override. If anything drops, I’ll compensate.”

“Good.” Gaster moved to a rack of instruments and selected a thin, crystalline filament—the kind of tool he only used for the most delicate soul work. He placed it in a calibrated emitter and adjusted the frequency until the readout matched the spectral harmonics visible on Asriel’s scan. “While you sustain Asriel, I will attempt to isolate and withdraw the human specter. Once removed, we must analyze its traits—its condition, resonance, temperament. If the human soul is too degraded from the Buttercups, it may not rebind cleanly.”

Alphys swallowed. “And injecting determination?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Gaster looked at her for a long moment. “If the soul is compromised if it lacks the cohesion necessary to reinhabit the body then a controlled infusion of determination may stabilize it enough to reintegrate. It is risky, but without it the human fragment may dissipate. We will only use the smallest possible amount, and only after analysis.”

Alphys’ fingers hovered over the console, then pressed, initiating the healing protocols. A soft, warm glow began to flow into Asriel’s form from multiple nodes; the machine’s readouts blinked green as they locked into his vital signature.

“Keep him conscious if you can,” Gaster said. “Even a flicker of awareness will help anchor the soul during extraction. Talk to him. Give him reason to hold on.”

Alphys leaned close to Asriel’s muzzle, voice shaking but determined. “Asriel… it’s Alphys. You’re okay. You’re here. Don’t you can’t go yet. Please stay with us.”

Asriel’s eyelids fluttered. A faint whimper escaped him; the machines around him hummed in counterpoint. Gaster steadied his hands, centered his breathing, and brought the filament into position above Asriel’s chest where the spectral imprint pulsed faintly on the monitor.

Gaster’s fingers moved with meticulous precision, each adjustment of the crystalline filament sending faint ripples across the monitors. Asriel’s breathing was steady but shallow, his small chest rising and falling under the weight of both the machine’s support and Alphys’ constant, careful magic.

“Now,” Gaster murmured, his voice low and even, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “I am beginning the extraction.”

Alphys’ hands glowed as they hovered over the healing arrays, maintaining a continuous stream of restorative energy. The faint hum of the machines increased, almost as if the lab itself were holding its breath.

A flicker of blue-white light shimmered along Asriel’s chest, tracing the contours of his heart. On the monitor, the human soul appeared as a pulsing, irregular shape tangled with the monster essence of Asriel. The edges of the soul shimmered like heatwaves, unstable, wavering between cohesion and dissolution.

“Gaster… it’s… it’s moving faster than expected,” Alphys whispered, her voice tight. “The soul’s resonance is unstable. If it separates too quickly… I don’t know if Asriel will—”

“Stay calm,” Gaster cut in, his tone clipped. “Do not falter. Keep his magical and physical vitals within the green band. Adjust for every heartbeat, every pulse. If he falters, I risk pulling part of him along with the soul.”

Alphys swallowed hard and nodded. Her fingers danced over the interface, a blur of motion. “I-I’ve got him. Pulse stable. Magical energy stable. Heart rate—fluctuating slightly, but I’m compensating. Don’t—don’t pause, Gaster!”
The filament glowed brighter. The soul imprint stretched and thinned, delicate strands separating from Asriel’s core essence. Each movement of the crystalline tool caused Asriel to shiver violently, a small whine escaping his throat. Gaster’s jaw tightened.

“Concentrate, Alphys. Any lapse just one could kill him. Or worse.”

The blue-white light intensified, casting long, flickering shadows across the room. Chara’s body, hooked to the life-support system, was pale and still, but the faint pulse of the machines reassured them both that it would hold. Gaster adjusted a dial, fine-tuning the resonance frequency, and the strands of Chara’s soul began to form a coherent shape in the containment field.

Alphys’ voice quivered, but she kept it steady. “It’s… it’s stabilizing. The human soul is… not dissipating. I think—” She paused, biting her lip. “I think it’s holding! Barely, but holding!”
Gaster’s eyes narrowed. “Do not celebrate yet. We are far from done. Extraction is only half the battle. The soul must survive the transfer into the human body. Any imbalance…” His hand hovered over the controls, adjusting with exacting precision.

Asriel’s body shuddered again, his small frame trembling under the strain. His ears twitched, his eyes half-opening as a faint glow of awareness returned. He whimpered softly, small hands flexing against the restraints.
Alphys’ hands glowed brighter, a surge of energy flowing into him. “Stay with us, Asriel! You can do this! Just a little longer!”

Gaster spoke over her words, calm, precise. “Now, we begin the delicate reintegration. I will guide the soul into Chara’s body, but you must maintain Asriel’s life force at every moment. Even a flicker of collapse—he will be lost.”
The crystalline filament quivered as the first strands of Chara’s soul descended toward their body. The containment field shimmered violently, tiny sparks of spectral energy arcing outward. Machines beeped and whined as if protesting the stress.

“Alphys, adjust the regenerative field raise it by fifteen percent!” Gaster barked.
Her hands flew over the console, eyes wide and sweating. “Increasing! Oh no… his pulse oh no, it’s dipping wait, stabilizing!”

A soft gasp escaped her lips as Chara’s soul entered their body, but the motion was jagged, uneven. The X-ray monitor flickered, showing a struggle the soul pushing against the vessel, refusing to settle.
Gaster’s hands moved faster than thought, adjusting the filament, recalibrating the containment, and directing the flow. “Steady… steady… you will survive this,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Alphys’ voice shook, nearly a whisper. “It’s… it’s… almost no keep going! You can do it!”

Minutes stretched like hours. Each pulse of energy, each flicker on the monitor, felt like the fragile breath of the universe itself. Asriel shivered again, tiny whimpers of discomfort escaping him, and Gaster’s brow furrowed with concentration.
Finally, the glow of the filament dimmed slightly, the jagged edges of Chara’s soul smoothing into a coherent, stable shape within their body. Alphys’ hands glowed one last time, pouring energy into Asriel to maintain equilibrium.

Gaster leaned back slightly, exhaling, but his eyes never left the monitors. “It is… stable,” he said softly, though the word felt almost too fragile to speak aloud. “For now. But both will need continued care. Analysis of the human soul’s traits and condition… and perhaps controlled infusion of determination… will be required next.”

Alphys exhaled, trembling but relieved. “They… they’re holding. They’re alive!”

Gaster nodded, expression as unreadable as ever, but inside his mind raced ahead calculating, planning, anticipating. The operation was only the first step. What came next would decide not just survival, but whether these two young lives could ever fully recover from the impossible edge they had teetered on.
The room was silent except for the soft hum of the machines, the steady, shallow breaths of Asriel, and the faint, almost imperceptible pulse of Chara’s restored but still fragile life.

Gaster stepped back from the table, adjusting the readouts and fine-tuning the containment field around Chara’s soul. The faint glow of spectral energy reflected across the walls, casting long, flickering shadows across the lab. He activated a series of sensors, running simulations and delicate tests, probing the soul’s structure without touching the body itself.

Alphys hovered beside him, hands clutched tightly together, her eyes darting nervously between monitors. “G-Gaster… what are you doing?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the machinery.

“Examining the soul,” Gaster replied calmly, his tone precise, clipped. “We must determine the integrity of the essence, the resonance between the human and monster traits, and the extent of the damage caused by both the illness and the absorption process.”
He ran another simulation, sending pulses of energy through the containment field, and watched the readouts spike and stabilize. The patterns were… irregular. Certain areas were stable, but others flickered, unstable, as if the soul itself was struggling to maintain cohesion.

After a tense few minutes, Gaster straightened, his expression unchanged but his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Hm,” he murmured, tracing a diagram on the monitor. “It seems the soul trait here is Determination, though it has sustained some damage from the illness Asgore mentioned.”

Alphys’ face drained of color, her hands clenching at her sides. “S-So… does that mean Chara… won’t survive?” she asked, voice trembling.
Gaster shook his head, voice calm but firm. “No. It simply means that the soul is compromised. We must restore it to its normal state before reintegration can succeed fully. That is all. Survival is possible—but it will require precision and care.”

Alphys’ eyes widened, and she swallowed nervously. “B-But… how? We don’t know much about humans, other than the fact that they can persist after death… And we’ve never actually tried… anything like this.”
Gaster’s fingers hovered over the controls, running calculations, adjusting filters and resonance modulators. “We will proceed carefully. First, we stabilize the human soul within the containment field. Then, we analyze which aspects of its energy have degraded. Finally, we will attempt controlled restoration, possibly by introducing small, incremental infusions of Determination to repair the integrity.”

Alphys took a shaky breath. “Y-You mean… we’d be… patching it up? Like… helping the soul heal itself?”
“Yes,” Gaster replied, voice steady, eyes focused on the faint glow of Chara’s essence. “But even the smallest miscalculation could destabilize both the soul and Chara . Your role will be critical you must maintain The human’s life without faltering, and observe any fluctuations in Chara’s soul during the process. This is unprecedented. One error… and both could fail.”

Alphys nodded, trembling but resolute. “I-I understand. I’ll do everything I can. I… I won’t let them die.”
Gaster gave her a slight nod, then turned back to the monitors, tracing the contours of Chara’s damaged Determination. “Good. Begin stabilization protocols. We will proceed one step at a time. The operation may take hours or longer but both children will survive, if we are precise.”
Gaster adjusted the crystalline filament, his eyes scanning the monitors intently. Chara’s faint, damaged soul glimmered within the containment field, fragile and fractured from illness and the absorption process.

“Begin stabilization,” he instructed.

Alphys’ hands glowed as she directed healing energy into Chara’s body, now hooked up to the life-support system. The soft hum of the machines filled the lab, punctuated by faint beeps that tracked vital signs and magical energy.

Gaster’s fingers moved with meticulous care over the controls, sending delicate pulses of energy into the fractures in Chara’s soul. The strands quivered violently, flickering like candlelight in a draft.

“Careful…” Gaster murmured. “The soul is unstable. Too much energy, it fragments. Too little, it collapses. Maintain precise support, Alphys.”

Alphys’ voice trembled but she didn’t falter. “I-I’m keeping the body stable… pulse is steady… magical flow stable… but the soul—it’s… resisting!”

“Good,” Gaster replied calmly, though his eyes were razor-focused. “Resistance means it is alive. That is what we want. Keep supplying energy, maintaining its coherence. If it falters even briefly, it could destabilize completely—and Asriel’s life depends on it as well.”

Alphys nodded, biting her lip as she intensified the healing flow into Chara. The faint flickers along the soul slowly began to align, though bursts of instability still spiked sporadically. Sparks of spectral light arced across the containment field, each one a reminder of the delicate balance they were maintaining.

Gaster leaned closer, tracing the jagged fractures in Chara’s soul with micro-adjustments of the filament. “Steady… steady… this will take time. Reinforce each strand slowly, carefully. Once stabilized, we can begin repairing cohesion and introducing controlled increments of determination to restore integrity.”

Alphys’ hands glowed brighter, sweat beading at her forehead. “I… I can do this… I’ll keep the body steady… just tell me how much energy, how long…”
“Constant,” Gaster replied, voice calm, unwavering. “Maintain continuous support. Do not let your focus waver for a single moment. Every pulse, every surge, must be precise. One slip and the soul fractures, one misstep and both could be lost.”

Chara’s body shivered under the flow of magical energy, but the faint pulses of life-support kept them stable. The jagged lines of their soul flickered violently, then slowly began to glow with steadier light as Gaster’s adjustments synchronized with Alphys’ healing streams.

The lab was silent except for the hum of machines, the faint pulse of magic, and Alphys’ controlled breaths as she maintained the delicate equilibrium. Each shimmer of Chara’s soul was a tentative victory, each stabilized strand a reminder of how close they were to losing everything. Gaster’s hands moved ceaselessly, whispering almost under his breath:

“Life threads through death… Precision threads life back… Do not fail.”

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but slowly, the first signs of true stabilization began to emerge. The fragments of Chara’s damaged soul pulsed in a regular rhythm, the cracks mending, the glow becoming steadier. For the first time since arriving at the lab, there was a fragile, cautious hope shining through the shadows.

The minutes stretched into an hour, and the hum of the machines became almost hypnotic. Gaster’s eyes never left the monitor, every twitch, every flicker of Chara’s soul recorded and accounted for. Alphys’ hands glowed steadily, her energy stream maintaining the fragile body as she adjusted constantly to the slightest fluctuations in pulse and magical resonance.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breathing came in shallow, controlled bursts. “G-Gaster… it’s been… an hour… their soul is holding, but some of the fractures keep appearing again,” she said, her voice tight with exhaustion.
Alphys’ hands glowed brighter as she responded, reinforcing both magical and physical stability. “I-I’ve got him steady… the pulse is strong, the magical output is holding… but it’s tiring… I can feel it draining me…”

“Then pace yourself, but do not stop,” Gaster said calmly, though his eyes reflected the pressure of every second. “Even a momentary lapse could destabilize the soul entirely. Keep the flow continuous.”

Another half hour passed. The soft, flickering glow along Chara’s soul grew steadier, the jagged lines smoothing slightly with each pulse. The faint sparks of instability still appeared occasionally, but each time Alphys and Gaster counteracted them, forcing them back into coherence.

Alphys exhaled shakily. “G-Gaster… it’s… improving… the cracks aren’t widening as much… it’s… it’s getting stronger…”

“Yes,” Gaster replied, his voice calm but low, almost a whisper. “But the final phase is the most critical. The soul must be fully integrated, fully coherent, before we can even consider reinfusing it with determination. One misstep now—everything we’ve done could unravel.”

The room grew heavy with tension. Machines hummed and beeped, magical energy thrummed through the air, and the faint pulse of life-support wrapped around Chara’s body like a fragile cocoon. Both Gaster and Alphys were fully consumed in their task, eyes locked on monitors, hands steady and unyielding despite fatigue.

At one hour and fifteen minutes, the glow along the soul had smoothed considerably. The jagged edges were almost entirely gone, the irregular pulses rare and faint. Alphys’ voice trembled with cautious optimism. “I-I think… I think the fractures are mostly gone… just a few minor spikes left…”
Gaster adjusted the filament for the final time, sending a steady, gentle stream of energy along the soul’s remaining weak points. “Good. Reinforce coherence… slowly… carefully… do not overcorrect.”

For the next fifteen minutes, every pulse, every adjustment, every flicker of magical energy was deliberate, precise, measured. The jagged lines finally merged, forming a smooth, steady glow along Chara’s entire soul. The faint shimmer of damage from illness was still present but now stabilized firm enough to hold, resilient enough to survive reintegration.

Finally, at one hour and thirty minutes, Gaster leaned back slightly, fingers still poised over the controls. The soft, steady pulse of Chara’s soul illuminated the room in a calm, even light.
“It is stable,” he said quietly, though every word carried the weight of the painstaking effort that had gone into this moment. “The human soul has been fully restored. Now we must proceed carefully with analysis before any attempt at reintegration or infusion of determination. But for now… they are alive. And they are holding.”

Alphys exhaled, slumping slightly, her hands lowering as she allowed herself a brief moment of relief. “W-We… we did it… it’s stable… it’s really stable…”
Gaster’s eyes remained on the monitor, unwavering, already calculating the next steps. “Do not relax yet. Recovery is only beginning. But this… this is progress. Enough to build upon. Now we prepare for the next phase.”

The hum of the machines filled the lab, steady and reassuring, as both children lay in deep, unbroken coma, their fates hanging delicately on the success of this first, painstaking triumph. Gaster’s eyes flicked from the monitors to the containment fields, then to Asriel’s young, still-fragile body. He reached for a small, precision-engineered syringe-like device, designed to infuse measured doses of Determination directly into a soul without destabilizing it. The device glimmered faintly under the lab lights, calibrated to deliver minute, exact pulses.

“Alphys,” he said quietly, his voice precise and unwavering, “Asriel’s body is still young. We cannot risk overwhelming him with too much Determination. If we do, his system could react violently… he could start melting. We must proceed with extreme caution.”
Alphys nodded, her hands glowing as she maintained the continuous healing stream flowing through Asriel. “I-I’ve got him stable… I’ll keep monitoring every heartbeat and magical pulse…”

Gaster carefully positioned the syringe above Asriel’s chest, the tip hovering just over the faintly glowing imprint of his soul. He injected the first tiny pulse of Determination, watching the monitors carefully. Asriel shivered slightly, a faint quiver running through his body, but the healing stream held him steady.

“Steady… steady…” Gaster murmured, adjusting the infusion rate, ensuring the Determination integrated gradually, without overwhelming Asriel’s fragile system. The boy’s pulse remained steady, his chest rising and falling evenly under Alphys’ constant magical support.
Alphys exhaled softly, almost holding her breath. “It’s… working… he’s holding… he’s stable…”

Gaster’s fingers adjusted the infusion, only increasing the dose by the tiniest fraction. “This is enough. Asriel does not need more—his body is resilient, but still developing. Any excess would destabilize him entirely.”

He paused, eyes flicking toward Chara’s stabilized soul. “Chara already possesses their own Determination,” he said, tone calm but firm. “That inherent trait will keep them alive. We do not need to infuse more at this stage. Our focus is entirely on ensuring Asriel remains stable through the process.”

Alphys exhaled again, relief threading her voice. “O-Okay… so all we need to do is monitor him and make sure the infusion goes smoothly…”

“Exactly,” Gaster replied, his hands moving with precise, deliberate motions. “One pulse at a time. Steady, controlled, measured. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
The faint glow of the Determination infused through Asriel’s soul, integrating slowly, strengthening the fragile life-force without overwhelming it. Every pulse, every spark of energy, was a delicate balance, a dance on the edge between life and catastrophe.

Minutes passed. Asriel’s chest remained steady, faint shivers gradually disappearing as the infusion fully integrated. Alphys’ hands glowed warmly, feeding him energy in perfect synchronization with Gaster’s careful pulses. Gaster finally leaned back slightly, his hands resting for the first time in what felt like hours. The machines hummed steadily, Alphys’ healing streams flowing continuously into both Asriel and Chara. The faint glow of Chara’s soul pulsed evenly now, and Asriel’s young body remained steady under the small infusion of Determination.

“All we can do now,” Gaster said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of exhaustion, “is make sure their heart rates do not drop and wait for them to wake up.”
Alphys hovered nervously beside him, fidgeting with a small console as she monitored both sets of vitals. “W-When… when do you think they’ll wake up?” she asked, voice hesitant, almost afraid of the answer.

Gaster’s eyes stayed on the monitors for a long moment, calculating, estimating, weighing every possibility. “I doubt anything soon,” he said finally, voice quiet, precise. “It could take months… perhaps a year or more in the worst case. If the human soul is severely damaged, it could be as long as five years before Chara regains full consciousness.”

Alphys’ hands froze mid-adjustment, eyes widening. “F-Five years?” she whispered, her voice tight with shock. “B-But… that’s… that’s so long…”

“Yes,” Gaster replied evenly, though his tone carried the weight of grim experience. “It is a long time. But it is survivable. The soul is stabilized now, and the body is being maintained. Time will pass, but eventually, if all continues as it should, they will awaken.”
Alphys looked down at the glowing, steady heartbeats on the monitors, then back at Gaster. “I… I guess… all we can do is wait and watch. Make sure they stay stable until then.”

“Exactly,” Gaster said, rising and stretching slightly. His movements were calm, deliberate. “Continuous observation. No interruptions. And if any irregularities appear, we respond immediately. That is the only way forward.”

The two of them settled into a tense, quiet vigil, the lab filled only with the hum of machines, the faint pulse of magical energy, and the unsteady rhythm of hope stretching across hours, days, and perhaps even years. Outside, the world continued, unaware of the delicate balance holding two lives between life and death

Gaster’s eyes remained fixed on the monitors, though his voice cut through the silence with a calm, measured weight.

“Though…” he began slowly, as if choosing his words with care, “when these two wake up, they may face severe aftereffects. The human may have trouble speaking, recurring fevers, vomiting… buttercup flowers, and possibly worse complications, depending on how the soul integrates fully into their body.”

Alphys froze, her hands tightening around the console. Her face paled, eyes widening in shock. “W-Wait… what? Why… why would that happen?” she stammered, voice trembling.

Gaster adjusted a dial on one of the monitors, the faint glow of Chara’s soul pulsing steadily. “Their soul has been through trauma absorption, illness, near-death, and forced stabilization. The body and soul are delicately balanced now. Any physical or magical process can trigger lingering instability. Buttercup flowers,” he explained quietly, “are toxic to humans. The strain on the body, combined with the soul’s fractured history, may cause the human to expel them uncontrollably, or experience other symptoms we cannot fully predict.”
Alphys swallowed hard, glancing at Chara’s still, fragile form. “So… even after all this… even if they wake up, they might… be sick… for a long time?”

“Yes,” Gaster said, his tone calm but unyielding. “And Asriel is not exempt. Even though his soul was less damaged, the infusion of Determination, the absorption of a human soul, and prolonged coma may leave lingering vulnerabilities physical weakness, emotional instability, and possibly heightened sensitivity to magical fluctuations.”

Alphys shivered, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the magical support on both children. “I… I didn’t think… I didn’t realize it could be this serious…”

Gaster’s eyes flicked to her, sharp and steady. “We did what was necessary to stabilize life. That was our priority. The aftereffects are consequences of survival. We will manage them, as we manage the present. But you must understand… waking will not be simple. The path to full recovery may be long, painful, and unpredictable.”
Alphys nodded slowly, swallowing her fear. “O-Okay… I-I understand… we’ll be ready… for whatever happens…”

Gaster turned back to the monitors, voice lowering almost to a whisper. “Hope is fragile. So is life. Both must be handled with the utmost care. For now… we wait. And we watch. Every heartbeat matters.”
The hum of machines filled the lab again, steady and relentless, as the two scientists prepared themselves for months or even year of careful vigilance. Outside, the world continued, unaware of the delicate, tense balance holding two young lives on the edge between despair and survival.

Days passed, then weeks. The lab settled into a steady rhythm of hums, beeps, and magical pulses, each one a reminder of the fragile lives resting beneath the protective containment fields. Alphys rarely left her post, her hands constantly glowing as she maintained the flow of healing energy into Asriel and Chara, monitoring every heartbeat, every flicker of magic.

Gaster moved through the lab with quiet precision, adjusting monitors, recalibrating instruments, and ensuring that every system ran flawlessly. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was to issue concise instructions or observations, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of unyielding responsibility.

Over the weeks, subtle changes began to appear. Chara’s body, once pallid and ghostly as if the very life had been drained from them, started to regain a faint flush of color. The gray, lifeless tone of their skin softened into a gentle warmth. Their breaths, though still shallow, became steadier and more rhythmic.

Alphys noticed the changes first. “G-Gaster…” she whispered one evening, her hands glowing softly over Chara’s body, “their skin… it’s… not… pale anymore… it’s… it’s warm. Like… like they’re really alive again…”

Gaster’s sharp eyes flicked to the monitor, scanning every readout before nodding once. “Correct. The soul’s cohesion is maintaining the body more effectively now. The human is stabilizing, slowly regaining vitality. It is progress—small, but measurable.”
Asriel’s body too grew stronger. His young frame, once trembling under the weight of the magical infusion, became steadier. The pulses of Determination integrated more fully, his chest rising and falling in even rhythm, his life force holding firm under Alphys’ careful guidance.
Alphys exhaled softly, a small relief threading her voice. “I… I think… I think they’re really going to make it. They’re… they’re improving…”
Seven months had passed since that fateful day. The lab had settled into a steady rhythm of vigilance, its air filled with the constant hum of machinery and the soft pulse of magical energy. Days bled into nights, weeks into months, but through it all, Gaster and Alphys remained unwavering, their focus absolute.
Neither Asriel nor Chara had stirred from their comas, yet the subtle signs of life and recovery continued to grow. Chara’s pallor had long since faded; their skin now held a gentle warmth, faintly flushed as if the life within them was reclaiming its rightful place. The flow of magical energy, carefully modulated and constant, kept their body stabilized, preventing decay and supporting fragile organ function.

Asriel’s body, strengthened by the controlled infusion of Determination, remained steady under Alphys’ unrelenting care. Though still unresponsive, his chest rose and fell with increasing stability, his heartbeat firm and consistent. The young boy’s soul held together under the strain, resilient yet delicate, a testament to the precision of Gaster’s intervention.

Alphys moved quietly between the machines, her glowing hands never ceasing their gentle work. She adjusted sensors, monitored magical flows, and whispered encouragements she hoped the children could somehow sense. “Just… hang on a little longer… we’re here… we won’t let anything happen to you…”

Gaster observed silently, eyes scanning the monitors with unyielding focus. “Steady,” he murmured, noting the subtle improvements. “Progress continues. But patience remains vital. The human is stabilizing, the monster is resilient. The passage of time alone is a test. One misstep, one lapse in vigilance, and we could lose everything.”
Alphys paused for a moment, her eyes flicking toward Chara’s steady pulse. “Seven months… it’s been… seven months…” she whispered, voice tinged with both exhaustion and awe. “And… and they’re still holding. They’re… they’re really holding on…”
Outside the lab, the world moved on obliviously. But inside, every heartbeat mattered, every flicker of magical energy was a lifeline, and every pulse of Determination was a tether to life. Seven months had passed since the incident, and while the children remained trapped in silent comas, hope persisted in the quiet glow of the lab.
The first stage of survival had endured. Now, all that remained was to continue day after day, month after month until the moment when they might finally open their eyes. Twenty days later, the faint hum of the machines was suddenly interrupted by a soft, uneven movement. Asriel’s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the pale glow of the lab lights. The world around him was blurry, unfamiliar, and yet vaguely familiar—the whirring of machines, the soft pulse of magic, the faint warmth of the room.

“Wha-… wh-where am I…?… didn’t I…?” Asriel’s voice trembled, shaky and small, as he struggled to piece together his fragmented memories. He raised a trembling hand, glancing around the room, and his gaze fell upon the still, form lying beside him. “Chara…!” he shouted, panic and fear lacing his words. “Chara!” Chara did not respond. Their chest rose and fell steadily, their body held stable by life-support, but their eyes remained closed, their expression peaceful yet unyielding in its unconscious state. A calm voice interrupted the silence. Gaster had walked over quietly, his presence measured and composed. “Oh… good. You’re awake,” he said, voice steady, betraying nothing of the tension he must have felt inside.

Asriel’s wide eyes darted around the room, taking in the humming machines, glowing monitors, and the mysterious man standing over him. His small hands clutched at the edge of the bed, trembling.

“W-who… who are you?” he whispered, his voice shaking. His mind raced with a storm of questions, panic tightening around his chest. Why are they here? Why is Chara still… like this? Did… did I do something wrong? Is this… safe? Are they going to hurt me?
Every movement Gaster made seemed deliberate, almost alien to Asriel, and the boy flinched instinctively. Why does he look so calm? Does he know… about Chara? What… what is he doing?

His eyes flicked to the glowing, lifeless body beside him, then back at Gaster. Why is Chara not waking up? Did… did they leave me? Are they gone forever? And… why does this man even know my name? Do I… do I know him?

Asriel’s small body shook, fear and confusion mixing into a tight knot of panic in his chest. His voice caught in his throat as he whispered to himself, more questions tumbling out silently than words could express: Where am I? How long have I been here? What happened to us? Did I… did I fail Chara? Who is he really…? Can I… trust him?

Gaster, standing silently, observed the boy with a careful, measured gaze. He said nothing, allowing Asriel a moment to process the unfamiliar presence, the strange glow of the lab, and the unsettling reality that Chara—his closest companion—remained unconscious.
Asriel’s hands tightened into fists. I have to protect Chara… I have to make sure they’re okay… but I can’t even move… what if something happens while I’m asleep? What if they don’t wake up? And who… who is this man? Why does he seem… like he knows everything…?

The boy swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the fear gnawed at him, the questions spinning endlessly in his mind. Every instinct screamed caution, every heartbeat echoed uncertainty, and yet somewhere deep inside, a small spark of hope flickered as he looked at Chara, still breathing, still alive.

Gaster finally spoke, his voice calm, precise, and unwavering. “Do not be afraid, Asriel. You are safe. Both of you are safe.”

Even so, the boy’s mind raced with more questions than answers, and he stayed frozen, staring at the man who seemed both a stranger and an unshakable presence in the middle of this strange, tense room. Gaster took a slow step closer, careful not to startle the boy further. The faint hum of the machines filled the silence, soft and steady like a heartbeat. Asriel’s frightened eyes followed every movement, his small frame trembling beneath the sheets.

“It’s alright,” Gaster said quietly, his voice low and deliberate, carrying the calm of someone who had faced chaos many times before. “You’ve been through… a great deal. You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you.”

Asriel didn’t answer. His throat felt tight, words caught somewhere between fear and disbelief. He looked down at his hands small, trembling, covered in faint medical markings — then back to Gaster.

The scientist noticed the boy’s hesitation and crouched slightly, lowering himself to Asriel’s eye level. His movements were slow, intentional, almost fatherly in their restraint. “Breathe,” he instructed softly. “In through your nose… and out through your mouth. Just focus on that for now.”

Asriel hesitated, but did as he was told. His breath came uneven at first shallow, shaky then steadied little by little under Gaster’s quiet guidance. The older man’s tone never wavered, calm yet oddly comforting.

“That’s it,” Gaster murmured. “You’re doing well. I know you must have questions, but for now, all that matters is that you’re awake… and alive.”
Asriel’s grip on the blanket loosened slightly. His heart still pounded, but the fear that had once felt suffocating began to ease, replaced by cautious curiosity.

Gaster watched him closely, studying every flicker of expression, every twitch of uncertainty. Then, with the faintest trace of warmth in his tone, he said, “You were very brave, Asriel. You and Chara both. You’ve survived something few ever could.”
The boy blinked, his fear momentarily faltering beneath the weight of the words. “Chara…” he whispered again, his eyes flicking toward the still form beside him. “They’re… they’re going to wake up, right?”

Gaster’s expression softened, the shadows under his eyes deepening. “In time,” he replied. “Their body is still healing. But you did not lose them, Asriel. They are still here. That is what matters most.”
Asriel’s breathing steadied further, his shoulders relaxing just a little. For the first time since opening his eyes, the panic began to ebb, replaced by something fragile and uncertain trust.

The weeks that followed passed in quiet repetition the hum of machines, the faint rhythm of two heartbeats, and the steady ticking of time that refused to hurry. Alphys handled the daily check-ins while Gaster managed the deeper analyses, noting each tiny improvement in Asriel’s condition.

Day by day, the boy grew stronger. His steps were shaky at first, supported by Alphys’ cautious hand, but eventually, he began to move on his own slow, uncertain, yet steady But every day, without fail, Asriel would return to the same spot — the chair beside Chara’s bedside. He’d sit there quietly, legs pulled close, watching the gentle rise and fall of their chest under the faint green glow of the monitors. Sometimes he’d talk. Sometimes he’d just sit in silence, listening to the sound of the machines that kept them both tethered to life.

On one quiet evening, the sterile white of the lab dimmed to a softer hue. Gaster had stepped out for supplies, leaving Asriel alone in the room. The quiet felt heavier without the sound of Gaster’s pen scratching against his notes.

Asriel reached out, his small hand brushing against Chara’s still one cool to the touch, unmoving. His throat tightened.
“I’m sorry, Chara…” he whispered, voice trembling with guilt that never seemed to fade. “I didn’t mean to ruin your plan. I-I just…” His voice cracked, and he drew in a shaky breath. “I just didn’t wanna kill anybody… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

He lowered his head, tears blurring his vision. “I’m such a crybaby…” he choked out, his claws curling slightly as his voice broke. “You were brave… you always were." His voice grew quieter, fading almost into a whisper. “You tried to save everyone in your own way, and I… I ruined it.”
The faint hum of the machines seemed to fill the silence, the steady pulse of Chara’s life the only answer he received.

Asriel stayed there for a long time, his forehead resting against the side of the bed, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. The sterile air of the lab did nothing to muffle the sound of a child’s guilt.
Asriel’s tears slipped silently onto the sterile sheets, darkening tiny spots near Chara’s hand. His shoulders shook as he struggled to hold back the quiet sobs, his small chest heaving unevenly. The only sounds were his broken whispers and the constant hum of the machines — soft, mechanical reminders that Chara was still alive, even if unreachable.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered again, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “I didn’t mean to make everything go wrong… I didn’t mean for any of it to end like this…” He sniffled, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. “I should’ve done more,” he whispered, his voice breaking into a thin whimper. “You believed in me, and I… I let you down. I should’ve fought harder, been braver like you were. I just wanted you to smile again…”

He squeezed their hand tighter, as if hoping his warmth would somehow seep through, that Chara would stir and prove everything he feared wrong. But there was no response — only the slow rhythm of the monitor, beeping in quiet defiance of death.
Asriel’s breathing grew uneven again, the weight of his guilt pressing down on his small frame. “Please… if you can hear me… don’t be mad, okay? I didn’t mean to ruin everything…”

His voice dropped to a trembling whisper, his words almost lost under the hum of machinery. “I just wanted us to be happy again…”
He stayed there for what felt like forever minutes, hours, maybe longer whispering apologies between shaky breaths. The sterile lab light flickered once, faintly, then steadied again. Still, Gaster and Alphys hadn’t returned.

It was just him now — Asriel, the machines, and the quiet, fragile heartbeat of the friend he couldn’t reach. Asriel’s voice grew weaker with every whispered apology, until all that was left were small, uneven breaths and the faint hum of machinery surrounding them. His hand still held Chara’s, his thumb tracing slow, nervous circles against their skin.

The sterile quiet pressed in like a weight — heavy, unbroken, endless.

Then, beneath the steady rhythm of the machines, something changed.

At first, Asriel didn’t notice. The soft pulse of the monitor once even and constant skipped, just barely, then steadied again. A flicker. Then another. The faintest hint of movement rippled through Chara’s fingers.
Asriel froze, his breath catching in his throat. His gaze shot to their hand — still, then trembling, then still again. “...Chara?” he whispered, disbelief slipping into his tone.

Another flicker this time stronger. The monitor’s pulse grew steadier, quicker, alive. Chara’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest crease forming on their brow as if caught between sleep and waking.

Asriel stood so quickly his chair nearly toppled. “Chara !?” His voice was a choked mix of fear and hope, his heart hammering against his ribs. He took a hesitant step closer, eyes locked on them.

Chara’s breathing deepened, their chest rising more firmly now. Their pale face, once drained of all color, began to regain the faintest warmth a subtle flush spreading across their cheeks. A low, shaky sound escaped their lips — not quite a word, more like the first fragile exhale of someone returning to life.

Then, slowly… painfully slowly… their eyes opened.

It wasn’t sudden. Their gaze was unfocused, distant — pupils dilated, eyes glassy as though they were still half-dreaming. For a long, fragile moment, they just stared ahead, unmoving, the dull green hue of their irises catching the sterile lab light.

Asriel’s breath hitched. “Chara… it’s you… you’re you’re awake…” His voice broke on the last word, his hands trembling as he reached for them.
Chara blinked once, twice — slow, uncertain movements, their expression unreadable. Then, with visible effort, they pushed themselves up, their arms shaking from weakness. The blanket slid down to their lap as they sat up fully, posture unsteady, eyes still distant.

But they didn’t say a word.
The room was filled only with the soft hum of the machines and the uneven breaths of two children one just returned from the edge of death, the other unable to believe it was real.

Asriel stepped closer, his voice trembling. “Chara…? C-can you hear me?”
No answer. Chara’s gaze drifted toward him, slow and unfocused like they recognized him, but only faintly. Their lips parted slightly, but no sound came. And just as suddenly as it began, the moment fell still again quiet, fragile, and uncertain.
“Asriel?” came Gaster’s voice — calm, deep, precise. The sound of his footsteps followed quickly after, echoing across the sterile floor. “I thought I heard—”

He stopped short the moment his eyes landed on Chara. The faint, flickering light of the monitors painted his face in sharp contrasts wide-eyed, astonished, but quickly composing himself as he strode to their side.

“My word…” he murmured, his tone shifting from disbelief to focused urgency. “They’re awake.”

Within seconds, Gaster’s movements became a blur of methodical precision. He reached for his instruments, checking the monitors as his other hand gently adjusted the sensors connected to Chara’s body. “Pulse… rising steadily. Breathing… shallow but stable. Temperature ” He paused to glance at the display, his brow furrowing slightly. “—still low, but improving.”

He leaned closer, shining a faint light across their pupils. “Response delay… expected. Neurological recovery is incomplete,” he said, half to himself, half to the notes on the clipboard he’d already pulled from his coat.

Asriel stood close by, clutching the edge of the bed. “S-so… they’re okay? They’re really okay?”

Gaster didn’t look up right away his hands continued their steady work, attaching another wire, checking Chara’s breathing. Then finally, he straightened, his expression calm but softened. “They’re alive, Asriel. Their vitals are holding.”

Asriel’s knees nearly gave out with relief. His eyes glistened, his hands trembling as he looked from Gaster to Chara. “Alive…” he whispered, as if saying it aloud might make it real.
Gaster’s gaze lingered on Chara, sharp yet careful. He adjusted the monitor again and noted the faint but unmistakable flicker of determination glowing deep within their soul’s energy readout. “Their soul is still weakened,” he said quietly. “But it’s repairing itself faster than I anticipated. They’ve endured… far more than I expected any human could.”

He set the clipboard down gently, his tone softening slightly. “They’ll need time — rest, nourishment, and steady healing. Do not expect them to speak yet. Their mind is still catching up with their body.”

Asriel nodded quickly, wiping at his eyes. “I-I’ll stay with them… I promise I’ll help however I can.”
Gaster’s gaze met his, steady and knowing. “You already have,” he said simply, before turning back to adjust the life-support settings, ensuring they were now running at a lower, more natural rhythm.

The room fell quiet again, the hum of the machines soft and rhythmic a heartbeat of its own.
Chara blinked slowly, their gaze shifting between Asriel and Gaster, expression still distant but flickering with the faintest trace of awareness. Gaster noticed — a glint of recognition behind those glassy eyes — and exhaled quietly.

“Good,” he murmured under his breath. “You’re still fighting.”

Gaster remained beside Chara for several long minutes, eyes flicking between the monitors and the faint glow of their soul. The hum of the lab filled the silence, steady and clinical, but beneath it, there was a tension that even the machines couldn’t mask.
Gaster finally set the clipboard down, exhaling softly. His voice broke the stillness with its familiar calm. “Asriel,” he began, tone even but carrying the weight of unspoken caution, “you should prepare yourself.”
Asriel looked up, confused. “W-What do you mean?"

Gaster nodded slightly. “Yes. But survival does not always mean full recovery.” He stepped closer to the bedside, his sharp gaze softening as he watched the subtle twitch of Chara’s fingers — the small, involuntary signs of a body remembering how to live. “The human mind and soul are complex. The damage their soul sustained… it may have affected more than their body.”

Asriel tilted his head, eyes wide and anxious. “A-affected… how?”

Gaster folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly beside the bed. “When a soul suffers that level of trauma — being absorbed, then forcibly separated, nearly extinguished it often leaves scars that cannot be seen.” He paused, his tone darkening slightly. “Their memories… their emotions… even their sense of self may be fractured or lost entirely.”
The words hit like ice. Asriel froze, his tail curling inward. “Y-you mean… they might not remember me?”

“It’s possible,” Gaster said simply. “They might wake up disoriented unsure of who they are, or where they are. They may remember pieces, fragments of emotion or moments, but not the people tied to them.” His eyes drifted toward Chara’s still face. “And even if they do remember, it might not be… consistent.”

Asriel’s breath hitched, his eyes glimmering with tears. “But… but they have to remember…! I-I can remind them, right? I’ll tell them everything about the flowers, about when we met, about—”
Gaster raised a hand gently, his voice steady but not unkind. “Patience, Asriel. Forcing too much on them too quickly could do more harm than good. Their mind must heal on its own.”

Asriel’s voice faltered, small and broken. “I just… I just want them to smile again…”
For a moment, Gaster was silent then he placed a careful hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If they do not remember,” he said quietly, “then let them learn again. Be their anchor, not their reminder.”

Asriel looked up at him, unsure, but the words sank in like a promise. He turned back toward Chara, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of their chest.
I’ll wait,” he whispered, voice trembling but sure. “No matter how long it takes.”

Gaster nodded once, faint approval in his eyes. “Good,” he said softly. “Because when they open their eyes again, the first thing they will need… is something familiar. Something safe.”

He adjusted one last monitor, the soft glow of Chara’s soul reflecting faintly off his glasses. “And that… Asriel,” he murmured, “will be you.”

Chapter Text

Four days passed in the quiet rhythm of beeping monitors and humming machinery. The lab lights dimmed to a soft amber hue as another artificial night fell across the sterile room. Asriel had fallen asleep beside Chara’s bedside again, his head resting against the sheets, a small streak of drool glistening on his fur.
Then...

A faint movement.
A shallow breath that wasn’t mechanical.
Chara’s fingers twitched.

Their eyelids fluttered, a faint light reflecting off their unfocused eyes as they blinked at the ceiling above. The sterile glow made them squint, disoriented and dazed. For a moment, they didn’t move, their gaze unfocused, like a dreamer trying to remember where the dream ended and reality began.

Then slowly, shakily, they lifted a trembling hand. Wires and tubes tugged lightly at their arm. Their brow furrowed. One by one, Chara pulled at them—weakly at first, then with growing determination. The soft hiss of a detached line echoed through the lab, followed by another, and another, until the life-support cables fell away, draping limply over the bedside.

The motion startled Asriel awake. His ears perked up instantly, eyes wide and confused then his breath caught in his throat as he looked at the bed.
“...Chara?” he whispered.

Their head turned toward him slowly, their eyes glassy and faintly red around the edges from strain. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke just the quiet hum of the remaining machines between them.

Then Chara blinked once, twice, their voice hoarse but steady.
“...Asriel?”
Asriel nearly fell out of his chair as he scrambled closer, tears already gathering in his eyes. “Chara! You you’re awake!” His voice cracked with disbelief and relief all at once. “Do you do you uh… remember me?”

Chara’s gaze lingered on him, studying his face the soft fur, the trembling smile, the wide hopeful eyes. For a moment, there was silence, tension thick enough to still the air.

Then Chara tilted their head slightly and said, voice quiet but certain:
“Yeah… why wouldn’t I?”
Asriel froze. He blinked once, as if not daring to believe it. Then his face broke into a shaky, tearful smile, a tiny laugh escaping him that sounded half-sob, half-joy.

“Youyou do,” he whispered, voice trembling. “You really do.”
Chara frowned slightly, confusion flickering in their tired eyes. “Of course I do… You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Asriel let out a wet laugh, his hand shaking as he reached toward them but stopped, afraid to startle them. “I… I just You don’t know how happy I am right now, Chara…”
Chara blinked again, still looking around the strange, sterile room. “Where… are we, Asriel?” they asked softly.

Before Asriel could answer, the lab doors hissed open, and Gaster’s heavy footsteps echoed against the metal floor.
He froze in place, his eyes locking instantly on Chara awake, sitting up, the machines flickering with restored life signals.
“…Well,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It seems our patient has returned to us.”
Gaster stepped forward slowly, his movements deliberate, controlled yet Asriel could see the faint tremor in his gloved hands as he approached. He set his clipboard aside and began adjusting the equipment, his long fingers moving over switches and screens as the monitors flickered back to life.

“Stay still for a moment, Chara,” Gaster said quietly, his tone calm but laced with something deeper relief, perhaps, though buried under layers of professionalism. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time.”

Chara’s brow furrowed as they looked around again. “How long… is ‘quite some time’?”

Gaster didn’t answer immediately. He was already checking the small patch on their arm where the IV had been pulled free, making sure the skin hadn’t torn. Then he picked up a stethoscope-like device, its faint blue glow illuminating his gaunt features as he leaned closer.

“Deep breaths, please,” he instructed.
Chara hesitated, then obeyed, inhaling shakily as Gaster listened. The faint hum of the machine beside them responded with a soft pulse, matching their rhythm. After a few moments, he straightened and adjusted his glasses.

“Heart rate steady. Respiratory function normalizing,” he murmured, jotting notes onto a nearby datapad. “Muscle coordination is slightly weak, but given your period of inactivity, that is expected.”
Asriel fidgeted beside the bed, eyes darting anxiously between them. “They’re okay… right?”

Gaster glanced at him briefly, his expression unreadable. “Physically, yes. For the most part, remarkable recovery.” He paused, his gaze flicking back to Chara. “But we must confirm cognitive function before we draw conclusions.”
Chara frowned slightly. “Cognitive…?”

“Memory, awareness, perception,” Gaster clarified as he dimmed the lights slightly. “Do you remember your name?”
“Chara Dreemurr,” they answered after only a second’s thought.

Gaster’s pen paused briefly over his notes. “And where you are right now?”

Chara hesitated this time. Their eyes flicked around the room the polished steel, the glow of the monitors, the faint scent of disinfectant. “A… lab, I think. Underground?”
“Correct.” Gaster adjusted a setting on the monitor beside them, his voice lowering slightly as he observed the readings. “And what’s the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

Chara blinked, their expression tightening. For a long moment, they didn’t answer. Their gaze drifted down to their hands, flexing weakly against the sheets “I… remember making a plan for something..,” they said slowly, uncertain. “We went to the surface… and then-... i dont remember." Their voice caught. Something flickered behind their eyes confusion, maybe fear but before they could finish, Gaster gently raised a hand.
“That’s enough,” he said softly. “Don’t strain yourself. The rest will return in time.”
He finished writing his final note, then turned to Asriel. “They’ll need rest and gradual stimulation. Do not overwhelm them with questions or memories they cannot yet process. Their mind has been dormant for months—it must relearn balance before it recalls pain.”

Asriel nodded quickly, though his eyes remained locked on Chara, still wide and glistening. “I’ll be careful,” he promised softly.
Gaster adjusted one final wire, ensuring the monitors remained stable. “Good. I’ll inform Alphys of their awakening and begin the reintegration schedule.”

He turned toward the door, pausing briefly before leaving. “And Asriel stay with them tonight. Familiar presence aids recovery.”
The door hissed shut behind him, leaving only the faint hum of the lab and the quiet sound of Chara breathing alive, awake, and still so unsure of what came next.

Asriel sat quietly beside the bed, the sterile light from the monitors painting soft patterns on his fur. For a moment, everything was still — Chara resting against the pillow, the low hum of machinery filling the air like a steady heartbeat. It almost felt peaceful. Almost.

Then Chara’s breathing hitched.
A faint, wet cough escaped their lips.
Asriel jolted upright, eyes wide. “Chara?”

Another cough harsher this time. Their body curled forward slightly, hand trembling as they pressed it to their mouth. A weak sound, halfway between a gasp and a choke, echoed through the room before something small and yellow fell into their palm.

A buttercup.
Bright. Fragile. Out of place.

Then another.
And another.
Asriel froze, his breath catching in his throat. “Wh–What’s happening ?!” he stammered, his voice breaking as he moved closer. “Chara- you’re- you’re coughing up-!”
Chara blinked slowly, looking down at the flowers now resting in their shaking hand. For a long second, they didn’t say anything. Then, with a quiet exhale that almost turned into another cough, they looked at Asriel and forced a faint, shaky smile.

“Don’t worry, Asriel,” they whispered, their tone eerily calm despite the golden petals clinging to their lips. “It’s fine…”
“Fine?!” Asriel’s voice cracked, panic flooding his words. “Chara, you’re- you’re coughing flowers! How is that fine-?!”

Chara wiped their mouth with the back of their sleeve, the faint streak of gold smearing across the fabric. “Just… leftover. From before.”
Their gaze softened as they looked at the petals, then back at him. “Please don’t tell Dr. Gaster. He’ll just run more tests. I don’t want that…”

Asriel’s throat tightened. He didn’t understand he couldn’t. But the fear in Chara’s eyes, the fragile steadiness in their tone, kept him still. He swallowed hard and nodded hesitantly.
“O-okay… but only if you promise you’re not hurt,” he said, voice trembling.

Chara gave a faint, tired chuckle one that ended in another quiet cough. “I promise,” they said softly. “It’s just… part of me now, I guess.” Asriel looked down at the pile of buttercups scattered across the sterile floor
He stayed close, silent, as Chara leaned back against the bed, eyelids heavy, a faint golden hue still lingering on their lips.

The machines hummed softly again, pretending nothing was wrong. The next morning, the sterile lights of the lab flickered on, bathing everything in that familiar, cold white glow. Gaster stepped through the sliding door with a clipboard tucked under his arm, his movements brisk but composed.

“Asriel,” he said quietly, eyes scanning the monitors. “You stayed the night?”
Asriel nodded, glancing toward Chara, who was sitting upright on the bed, looking pale and unfocused but awake. “Yeah. They’re okay, I think. They… slept a little.”

Gaster gave a small nod, not questioning further. He began his usual routine — checking the readings, adjusting wires, running a diagnostic spell to measure soul resonance. Everything seemed to hover in a delicate balance: Chara’s vitals were weak, but stable.
Then, when he asked them to stand, everything started to falter.

Chara tried to obey, gripping the edge of the bed and pushing themselves up. Their legs trembled violently under their weight — muscles that hadn’t been used in months straining just to keep them upright. They managed to straighten for only a few seconds before their knees buckled, sending them collapsing forward.

“Chara !” Asriel cried, darting forward, but Gaster caught them first, steadying the child with careful, gloved hands.

“It’s all right,” Gaster said evenly, though his brow furrowed as he guided Chara back to the bed. “Your body is… still adapting. You’ve been immobile for a long time, and while your soul’s energy has stabilized, your physical structure is still fragile.”
He paused, his voice lowering as he examined their trembling hands. “Your body was clinically dead for months. The soul sustained it, but without decay which means your muscles, tendons, and even nerves must relearn how to function. It will take time.”

Chara swallowed hard, trying to respond but the sound that came out was hoarse and broken, a rasp that made both Gaster and Asriel flinch. They tried again, only to clutch at their throat with a weak grimace.
“Don't… strain yourself,” Gaster said quickly, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. He lifted a scanner and ran it over their chest and neck. A faint blue glow pulsed across Chara’s skin as the device hummed softly.

After a moment, Gaster’s expression shifted thoughtful, then grim. “As I suspected… the regeneration process wasn’t perfect. Their vocal cords were heavily damaged during the original incident. The soul’s energy kept them from disintegrating completely, but… it didn’t restore them entirely either.”

“So… it hurts for them to talk?” Asriel asked quietly, worry tightening his voice.

“Yes,” Gaster said, adjusting his glasses. “Their throat tissue is still reforming. Speaking too much or too soon will cause severe strain — possibly even regression.”

Chara blinked slowly, their breath shallow as they tried to nod in understanding. A faint whisper escaped them more air than sound. “O… kay…”
Gaster frowned slightly but didn’t reprimand them. He set his tools aside and straightened. “We’ll begin therapy tomorrow. Focus on rest and hydration. No unnecessary talking.”

He paused, glancing at Asriel. “Stay with them again. Make sure they don’t try to move without assistance. Every step must be relearned with care.”
Asriel nodded quickly, looking at Chara with worry and quiet determination. “I will.”

As Gaster turned and left, the door sliding shut behind him, the hum of machinery filled the silence again steady, artificial, and far too calm for what it concealed.
Chara sat quietly, fingers pressed to their throat, as Asriel gently covered them with a blanket. Neither spoke. They didn’t need to. The pain in Chara’s eyes, and the guilt in Asriel’s, said everything words could not.

Chara’s fingers twitched faintly over the blanket, their breathing shallow and uneven. The air between them buzzed softly with the sound of monitors and distant static the only heartbeat the room seemed to have.
After a long silence, Chara shifted, wincing at the stiffness in their limbs. They opened their mouth slightly, a faint rasp of air escaping before any real sound did. Asriel looked up immediately, worried.

“Chara?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

Chara’s lips moved again — slow, trembling, each word caught between pain and effort. “A… Az…riel…” They coughed, the sound dry and brittle. “We… sh-should…” Their throat tightened, forcing them to stop and swallow hard before pushing the rest out in a strained whisper, “...escape…”

The word was barely audible, more breath than sound, but Asriel caught it. His eyes widened. “E–escape? What do you mean?”
Chara’s expression flickered frustration, confusion, desperation all at once. They lifted a trembling hand and pointed weakly at the door. Then at themselves. Then at Asriel. And finally, again at the door.

Asriel blinked, his heart thudding faster as the message clicked together in his head. “You mean… you want to leave? Now?”
Chara nodded slowly, the movement small, their face pale with exhaustion. Their eyes darted toward the door again, wary as if expecting Gaster to return at any second.

Asriel hesitated, torn between instinct and reason. He looked from Chara to the door, then back again, shaking his head slightly. “Chara, wait… you don’t understand. Dr. Gaster — he’s not trying to hurt us.”
Chara’s brow furrowed faintly, their voice breaking as they tried to reply, “Wh… who…”

“Dr. Gaster,” Asriel said gently, inching closer. “He’s the one who saved us. You were… really hurt, Chara. Worse than me. He and Dr. Alphys they brought you back. They fixed you. He’s been taking care of us since… since that day.”
Chara’s eyes softened slightly, but uncertainty still lingered there deep, heavy, unreadable. Their hand fell back to their lap, weakly curling into the sheets. Asriel’s tone grew quieter, almost pleading. “I know you’re scared. I was too. he’s different. He talks kinda weird and… he doesn’t show much emotion, but he’s been helping. He made sure we could wake up again.”
Chara stared at him for a long moment — the silence stretching thin and uneasy before looking away toward the dull metal door. Their throat worked as if trying to form words, but all that came out was a soft, rasping sigh.

Asriel gently reached out, resting a hand over theirs. “Please… just trust me. For now.”
Chara’s gaze met his again, faintly trembling tired, uncertain, but no longer resisting. Slowly, they gave a small, reluctant nod.
The hum of the lab filled the silence again, steady and sterile. Outside the glass walls, the shadows of the underground stretched long and still, while inside, two children sat beneath the watchful glow of machines — caught between fear, trust, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a cage after all.

The next morning came quietly — if “morning” could even be called that underground. The artificial lights hummed to life one by one, bathing the lab in pale white as the soft whir of machinery filled the silence. Gaster stood beside the observation table, clipboard in hand, his face unreadable as always.

“Asriel,” he said evenly, his gaze flicking from the monitors to the two children. “Assist Chara as we did yesterday. We’ll begin again with slow standing balance, then move to short steps.”

Asriel nodded, though his nervous glance at Chara didn’t go unnoticed. Chara sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped slightly, hands trembling against the sheets. Their legs still looked stiff, as if they didn’t quite belong to them.

“Ready?” Gaster asked.

Chara hesitated, then nodded weakly.

“Good. Slowly now no rush. We’re rebuilding pathways that have long gone dormant.”

Asriel carefully took Chara’s hand, helping them slide off the bed. The cold metal floor met their bare feet, and immediately, Chara’s knees buckled. Asriel caught them before they fell, holding tight.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Asriel said quickly, voice rising in alarm. “I’ve got you ”

Chara’s breath came shallow, uneven, as Gaster approached, noting the movement of their legs, the tremor of their muscles. “Again,” he said calmly. “Support them from the left side this time. Let them bear more weight gradually.”

They tried again. And again.
Each time, Chara’s legs trembled violently, their steps collapsing before a second could follow. Their grip on Asriel’s hand tightened until their knuckles turned white. Sweat began to bead on their forehead, frustration replacing fear in their tired eyes.

An hour passed. Then two.

But the results didn’t change. Their body simply wouldn’t cooperate every command sent by their mind was met with weakness, as if their limbs had forgotten what it meant to be alive.

Gaster crouched beside them at one point, his gloved hands gently resting against their knees, testing for response. “Hm,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful rather than disappointed. “The muscle fibers are still underdeveloped. The soul is sustaining life, yes, but…” He glanced up at the faint flicker of the monitors. “...the vessel still carries remnants of death. It will take longer than I anticipated.”

Chara tried to speak, but the sound that came out was more a rasp than a word pain curling through their throat. Gaster’s gaze flicked to them immediately. “Do not strain your voice,” he said. “It’s recovering from prolonged disuse and magical interference. Pushing too far will only cause more damage.”
Asriel frowned, helping Chara sit back on the edge of the bed. “Can’t we… can’t we stop for today?” he asked, glancing at Gaster with quiet pleading.

Gaster adjusted his glasses, then finally gave a small nod. “Very well. That will be enough. Their recovery is a process, not a race.”
He turned away to record notes on his clipboard, speaking almost to himself. “The body functions. The soul stabilizes. But coordination will take time… perhaps a month, perhaps more.”

Chara sat still, their breathing uneven, eyes fixed on the sterile floor. Asriel stayed close beside them, hand hovering near theirs but not quite touching.
Gaster looked back once before leaving the room, his voice calm but distant. “Rest now. We’ll begin again tomorrow.”
The door slid shut behind him, leaving the faint hum of machinery and the quiet sound of Chara’s labored breathing in his wake.

The lab lights had dimmed to their night setting a low, bluish glow that cast long shadows over the machines and monitors. The air was still, save for the rhythmic hum of the equipment keeping constant watch over its occupants.

Asriel lay asleep in the chair beside Chara’s bed, his head tilted slightly, a faint snore escaping between soft breaths. His hand still rested near Chara’s arm, fingers curled as if refusing to let go even in sleep.
Chara stirred quietly, their eyes blinking open. The world around them looked cold and mechanical, but their gaze soon drifted down to their legs — pale, motionless, almost foreign. Gaster’s words echoed faintly in their head: “The vessel still carries remnants of death.”

Their hands clenched weakly against the blanket. They didn’t want to wait anymore. They were done being weak.
Slowly, with trembling effort, Chara pulled away the covers and lowered their feet onto the cold floor. The chill bit instantly into their skin, but it only made them more determined. They gripped the side of the bed and pushed themselves up.

Their knees buckled immediately.

They fell with a quiet thud against the floor, gasping softly — the sound small enough not to wake Asriel. Pain shot through their legs, dull and aching, but Chara bit it back, steadying themselves on shaking arms.
“No…” they whispered hoarsely, the sound barely a breath. “Not… again…”

They tried once more.

And again.

Every fall hurt more than the last the sharp smack of skin against the cold floor, the dull ache in their joints but slowly, painfully, something began to shift. Their legs remembered. Their body began to respond, however weakly, to their will.
Hours passed. The soft light above shifted ever so slightly as time crawled forward. Chara’s breathing was ragged now, their palms scraped raw against the tiles from pushing themselves up over and over.

But then, finally after what felt like an eternity they stood.

Shaking. Unsteady. But standing.
Their breaths came quick, uneven, but the realization hit them like a pulse of warmth through the cold. Their legs held. For the first time since waking, they held. The hiss of the lab door broke the stillness.

Morning light or what passed for it in the sterile underground spilled in as Gaster stepped through, clipboard in hand, his expression composed and calculating as ever. He was already mid-sentence, murmuring notes to himself. “Day twenty-three. Subject stability remains consistent. Next phase”

He stopped.

The pen in his hand froze mid-stroke as his gaze lifted from the clipboard and saw them.
Chara stood in the center of the room. Unsteady, pale, barefoot on the cold floor — but standing. Moving. One trembling foot in front of the other, hands lightly outstretched for balance.

For a long, silent moment, Gaster didn’t move.

The only sound was the faint hum of the machinery and Chara’s shallow, uneven breaths. Their hair clung to their forehead with sweat, their hospital gown slightly wrinkled from effort.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft lower than usual. “...You’re walking.”

Chara paused mid-step and looked up at him, startled. Their eyes met his, wide with something between shock and disbelief; theirs, weary but glowing faintly with defiance.

Gaster took a slow step forward, adjusting his glasses as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “How long?” he asked quietly, though the question was more to himself. His gaze flicked toward Asriel, still asleep in the chair, then back to Chara.
Chara tried to respond lips parting, throat tightening but no sound came out. Only a broken rasp. Their hand lifted weakly, gesturing toward their neck, then down to their chest.

Gaster’s expression softened, ever so slightly. He nodded once, understanding. “Your vocal cords are still damaged,” he said, approaching carefully. “Speaking will come… but not yet.”
Chara’s brow furrowed, frustration flickering across their face. They tried again forcing out a single, breathless whisper that barely carried: “I… can…”

The rest of the word never formed. Their legs trembled violently beneath them. Gaster reacted immediately, Gaster’s hand flicked subtly, the faint glow of blue energy flickering around his fingers. In an instant, Chara’s trembling legs froze mid-step, their body gently held in place as if invisible hands had grasped them.

Chara blinked, eyes wide with surprise and confusion, a sharp cough escaping as they strained their throat again. “W… wha… what… was dat…?”

Gaster’s expression remained calm, precise, as he adjusted the monitors with one hand while keeping the other raised slightly. “One of my abilities,” he explained in his steady, measured tone. “Blue soul magic. In other words… it’s just telekinesis.” His eyes flicked toward Chara. “I used it to keep you from overexerting yourself. Walking too far, too fast, could have caused serious injury.”

Chara stared at him, still catching their breath, the faint glow of residual energy around their body fading slowly. “Tele… kinesis?” they rasped, their voice broken but laced with awe.
“Yes,” Gaster said quietly, his gaze softening just slightly. “You cannot speak properly yet the vocal cords need more time to heal. So… in the meantime, I will teach you sign language. That way, you can communicate without straining yourself, and we can continue your recovery safely.”

Chara’s eyes widened again, a mix of surprise and tentative relief crossing their pale face. They lowered their hands slowly, still trembling, and looked at Asriel, who had finally stirred fully awake, confusion and worry etched across his features.
“You’ll learn,” Gaster added, his tone firm but not harsh. “And once your voice recovers… you’ll speak again. Until then, we adapt. That is how progress is made.”

Chara let out another small cough, nodding weakly, the corners of their mouth twitching in a faint, exhausted smile. They glanced at Asriel again, who squeezed their hand gently, relief and awe mirrored in his wide eyes.
Gaster’s blue magic faded completely, leaving only the faint hum of the lab. “Now,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “we begin communication in a new way. Step carefully, speak carefully even silently and you will recover fully.”

Chara nodded again, their body still unsteady, but a small spark of determination flickered in their eyes as they lifted a trembling hand toward Gaster, ready to learn. Gaster stepped closer, adjusting his glasses and setting his clipboard carefully on a nearby counter. His movements were deliberate, precise, as he demonstrated the first simple hand signs.

“Repeat after me,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “This is hello.” His fingers moved slowly, forming the sign with deliberate care.
Chara’s hands trembled as they tried to mimic the motion, muscles stiff and unpracticed from months of inactivity. Their brow furrowed in concentration, lips pressed tightly together as if biting back the frustration of failing over and over.

Asriel, meanwhile, had found a small, squeaky toy on the floor a stuffed goat plush that had somehow survived in the lab. He pushed it back and forth between his hands, the occasional squeak drawing faint smiles from Chara despite the struggle. Every time Chara’s fingers twitched correctly, Asriel let out a small cheer, clapping softly.

“Good! That’s it, Chara!” he whispered excitedly, though careful not to disturb their fragile balance.

Chara’s fingers wobbled, then settled into the sign, eyes lighting up at the faint acknowledgment. A small, exhausted laugh escaped their lips a rasp of sound, but enough to make them feel connected again.

Gaster watched closely, noting every misstep, every flicker of muscle fatigue. “Careful with your wrist,” he instructed gently. “Small, controlled motions. Precision matters more than speed.”
Chara tried again, slower this time, each finger bending and flexing carefully. Asriel clapped once more, holding the toy in one hand and the other gently supporting Chara’s arm when needed.

Minutes stretched into an hour. Sweat dotted Chara’s pale forehead, and their arms shook with effort, but under Gaster’s steady guidance and Asriel’s encouraging presence, the first signs of real progress appeared.
Finally, after several attempts, Chara executed the hello sign perfectly. Their wide eyes flicked up at Gaster. He gave a single, faint nod, a rare gesture of approval. Gaster observed the progress with careful eyes, noting the delicate recovery of fine motor control. “Very good,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “The muscles are responding. Neural pathways are reconnecting. Coordination is improving.”

Encouraged, he gestured for Chara to continue. “Now we move on to more complex expressions. You are ready to form words with your hands not just single signs.”

Chara lifted their hands, hesitant but determined, and mimicked Gaster’s movements as he demonstrated a simple sentence: “I am here.” Each finger had to move independently, each joint flexed with precision. Their hands shook, but the motions gradually became smoother.

Asriel watched in awe, gripping the plush toy tightly yet keeping one hand ready to support Chara if needed. “You’re doing it, Chara… you’re really doing it!” he whispered, voice brimming with pride.
Chara’s lips quivered with the effort, the faint rasp of a laugh escaping again as their hands followed the motions more confidently. For the first time, they felt a small, tangible control over their body again a freedom that had been lost for far too long.

Gaster’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the lab. “Excellent. Repeat after me until the movement becomes instinct. Precision, control, and patience. These will rebuild what was lost.”

Hours passed, but the glow in Chara’s eyes grew with each successful attempt, fingers flexing more naturally, hands responding almost as they had before. And though their voice could not yet join the lesson, the silent communication through gesture alone carried the weight of progress, hope, and determination.

So now later on...

Asriel sat cross-legged beside Chara’s bed, the plush goat clutched loosely in one hand. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide with cautious excitement. “So… uh… how are you feeling today?” he asked softly, unsure if Chara could answer.
Chara’s hands lifted slowly, still unsteady but controlled. Fingers bent and twisted in careful motions, forming a sign he had taught them: “Better.” Asriel’s face lit up, a mixture of relief and awe crossing his features. “Better… that’s good! I was really worried about you.” He hesitated, then added, “I mean… I still am, but… not as much, I guess.”

Chara’s hands moved again, this time signing: “I’m tired… but okay.” Their eyes flicked down briefly, then back at him, faint determination shining despite the exhaustion.
Asriel nodded, trying to match their careful gestures in his own, though clumsily. “Yeah… I get that. It’s… really hard, isn’t it? Doing all this… relearning everything?”

Chara’s hands twitched, hesitated for a moment, then signed clearly: “Yes… but I want to.”
Asriel smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from their forehead. “I know you do. And… I’ll be here with you. I promise.”

Chara’s hands relaxed slightly, still moving with care. “I know… just… don’t fuss over me.”

Asriel nodded again, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Got it. No fussing… promise.” He glanced down at the plush goat in his lap, squeezing it nervously. “I’ll just… sit here and… keep you company, quietly.”
Chara gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod, eyes softening just a fraction. Though they avoided overt displays of affection, the message was clear: they trusted him, and that was enough.

The lab was quiet again, filled only with the soft hum of machines and the subtle shuffle of two recovering children, learning to communicate in their own careful, guarded way.
Chara had been making a solid recovery over the past weeks. Their movements were steadier, their coordination returning bit by bit, and even though their voice remained fragile, their determination burned brighter than ever. Asriel slept quietly in a chair nearby, clutching his stuffed goat plush, leaving the room in a calm hush.

Before Gaster could leave for the day, Chara’s trembling hand shot up slightly. “Wait…” they rasped, their pale eyes tracking his figure.

Gaster paused mid-step and turned slowly, adjusting his glasses. “Yes?” he asked, his tone calm but attentive.

Chara swallowed, their throat still sore from disuse, and signed the words simultaneously with effort. “I have a question… since you had to extract my soul from Asriel’s body and he had it for a good, like, fifteen minutes or more on the day of the incident — and our souls had fused, wouldn’t that mean I would be capable of using some type of magic too… or anything?” Their hands trembled slightly as they finished, the effort clearly taxing.

Gaster’s brow furrowed as he considered the question, pacing slowly in thought. “Hmm… I suppose that is a good speculation,” he said finally, voice calm but carrying a trace of admiration. “Pretty clever for your age.”

He adjusted his glasses, peering at the monitors and then back at Chara. “When two souls interact in such an intimate and extreme way such as the fusion that occurred there is a theoretical potential for shared influence. Certain innate traits, energy patterns, and even subtle capabilities can transfer or leave residual impressions.”
Chara’s eyes widened, a faint flicker of excitement passing over their exhausted features.

Gaster continued, his tone precise. “However… this is not guaranteed. Magic, in particular, is highly dependent on compatibility, control, and the condition of the vessel. While you may retain fragments of Asriel’s magical potential from that period, any abilities you manifest could be unpredictable. Uncontrolled, they might be dangerous… to you or to others.”

Chara leaned forward slightly, their hands twitching with the effort to sign again. “So… I could… use magic?” they whispered, their voice a faint rasp, more curiosity than certainty.
“Yes,” Gaster replied, nodding slowly. “But understanding, careful control, and training will be essential. Magic is not simply power it is a reflection of the soul and the harmony between mind, body, and spirit. Only with patience can you hope to wield it safely.”

Chara’s eyes flickered with determination, a small spark igniting despite the exhaustion in their limbs. “I… I want to try,” they murmured quietly, almost to themselves.
Gaster’s usually impassive expression softened very slightly, though his tone remained steady. “Very well,” he said. “But first… you must fully regain your strength. Once your body and coordination are fully restored, we can begin careful, controlled experimentation. Until then, patience is your greatest ally.”

Chara nodded faintly, their fingers curling in a tentative fist of determination. The faint hum of the monitors filled the room as the boy’s mind raced with possibilities, a cautious spark of hope blending with the careful weight of Gaster’s warning.
Two months had passed since Chara’s first tentative steps with Gaster’s guidance. Their coordination had improved remarkably, their movements smooth and confident, and even their vocal cords had regained enough strength to speak softly without strain. Asriel had fully recovered, his energy and cheerfulness restored to the vibrant, playful boy he had always been.

In the lab now, the two children darted around carefully, playing tag and catch, laughing quietly while making sure not to knock over any equipment. Chara’s face glowed with cautious excitement, and Asriel’s grin stretched wide as he chased after them, their laughter echoing softly against the sterile walls.

The door slid open with its familiar hiss, and Gaster’s calm voice filled the room. “Good news. You two are going to be able to leave by next month. I have already informed your parents.”
Both Chara and Asriel’s eyes lit up instantly, though Asriel’s spark of joy shone a bit brighter. “Really!? That’s great!!” he exclaimed, bounding forward with unrestrained happiness.

Gaster nodded once, expression measured. “However… since I have no further tests to conduct on either of you, and no additional questions, you may spend time with some of my children for now. I have important matters to attend to shortly.”
He raised his hand, calling out, “Sans! Papyrus!”

The door at the far end of the lab opened again, and two skeletons appeared. The taller one, wearing a brown sweater, black pants, red boots, and a bright red scarf, bounded forward with uncontainable enthusiasm. “WOWIE!! NEW FRIENDS!?” Papyrus exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

Beside him, a smaller skeleton in a lab coat and pink slippers moved more slowly, hands in pockets, expression calm but amused. “Seems like it,” Sans replied, his voice lazy yet warm.
Chara let out a small sigh, glancing at Asriel, who seemed thrilled at the prospect of new company. Chara’s shoulders tensed slightly at the thought of interacting with more people, still preferring the quiet with just Asriel for now.

“Sans, come to the Core in thirty minutes,” Gaster instructed before turning to leave. “Enjoy your time together, and take care not to disturb anything important.”
With that, he departed, the soft hiss of the closing door leaving the children in a quiet mix of excitement, apprehension, and the faint thrill of freedom waiting just around the corner.

“PAPYRUS!!” the taller skeleton declared dramatically, striking a pose with his scarf flaring behind him. “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, PUZZLE MASTER EXTRAORDINAIRE!!”

Asriel’s grin widened. “Wow! A puzzle master!? That sounds awesome!”

“Of course it is!” Papyrus said, puffing out his chest. “And today, my young friend, you shall learn the ways of intricate puzzles, clever tricks, and the art of strategy!”

The two of them quickly fell into an easy rhythm. Papyrus guided Asriel through a series of simple mazes and logic challenges, cheering enthusiastically at each success. Asriel giggled, sometimes tripping over his own excitement, but Papyrus was endlessly patient, correcting him gently and making exaggerated, goofy demonstrations that had Asriel doubling over in laughter. Hours seemed to pass in what felt like minutes, and Asriel was completely absorbed, his worries of the past months fading away in the shared joy of problem-solving.

Meanwhile, Chara had settled into a corner of the lab with Sans. The smaller skeleton lounged lazily against a stack of crates, one arm propped on his knee, a soft smirk on his face. “So… you’re the human the king and queen adopted?” he drawled, voice lazy. “I gotta say, you’re looking pretty… awake. Unlike some of us before morning coffee.”

Chara gave a faint roll of their eyes, muttering in signed gestures while Sans tilted his head to read along.

“I mean… seriously,” Sans continued, grinning, “I got a bone to pick with you. Well, figuratively. Mostly just a skeleton pun, but still.”
Chara’s eyes narrowed, a faint blush creeping onto their cheeks as they tried not to groan.

“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?” Sans asked, already knowing the answer. “They don’t have the guts.”
Chara’s hands twitched in half-amused, half-exasperated motions, clearly signing “stop” and “why” in rapid succession.

“Cringey, huh?” Sans said with a lazy shrug, chuckling softly. “Yeah… I get that a lot.”
Despite themselves, Chara let a small, almost imperceptible smile slip, shaking their head at how relentlessly punny Sans could be. They didn’t say anything aloud, but the corner of their mouth twitched upward just enough to betray the tiniest spark of amusement.
Chara let out a faint, rasping voice, still hoarse from the long months of recovery. “I… I don’t know if I like puns,” they muttered, their words shaky but audible.

Sans grinned, tilting his skull to one side. “Oh, come on, human. You gotta admit, they’re bone-afide classics.”

Chara groaned, hiding their face in their hands for a moment. “Ugh… stop…”

“Stop?” Sans echoed, smirking. “You mean… oste-stop?” He tapped his chin dramatically. “Guess I’m just too rib-tickling for you, huh?”

Chara’s eyes widened, and they could only shiver in exasperation, the corners of their lips twitching despite themselves.

“I… seriously…” Chara muttered, signing quickly with one hand while trying to keep their voice steady, “I can talk now, but this… this is torture!”

Sans chuckled softly, leaning back lazily. “Torture? Nah… I’d call it a pun-ishing experience. You should be grateful. You’re learning the skeleton sense of humor. It’s… crucial survival knowledge.”

Chara groaned again, leaning against the crates, one hand massaging their forehead. Yet, despite their irritation, a faint flicker of amusement lingered in their eyes. Every pun, no matter how cringey, reminded them that life had gotten a little lighter, a little closer to normal.

Asriel, noticing Chara’s struggle, laughed quietly from across the room, holding up his hands as if to signal, Don’t worry, they’re just jokes.

Sans winked at Asriel. “Heh, don’t worry, kiddo. Soon, your friend here will be laughing in bones at my humor… or at least groaning politely.”

Chara, still trying not to crack a smile, muttered through gritted teeth, “I… am not laughing… ”

Chara’s lips twitched as they eyed Sans, still lounging lazily with that irritating smirk plastered across his skull. For the first time since speaking, they tried something bold. Their voice came out weak but determined:

“You… you’re bare-bones stupid, you know that?”
Sans blinked slowly, a surprisingly sharp glance cutting through his usual lazy demeanor. “Whoa… okay,” he said, leaning back a little. “That’s… uh… harsh. I mean, I appreciate the attempt at wordplay… but ouch. That’s a real rib-cracker.”

Chara’s lips curled in a faint, satisfied smirk, a tiny spark of amusement dancing in their tired eyes. They weren’t going to let Sans get all the jokes today.

Sans tilted his head, grinning despite himself. “Heh… not bad, human. Not bad at all. I guess I deserve that one. But just so you know… next time, I’ll be ready with a counter-bone.”
Chara groaned, leaning back against the crates, trying to hide the faint smile creeping onto their face. “Ugh… why do I even bother?”

“Because it’s fun!” Sans replied, chuckling. “And because deep down… you know I’m your favorite skeleton pun partner. Admit it.” Chara rolled their eyes again, still pretending to be annoyed, but the small smirk that tugged at the corner of their mouth betrayed them. Sans chuckled at the sight, clearly pleased with himself, when the soft hiss of the door interrupted their banter.

Gaster stepped inside, his presence immediately commanding attention. The calm hum of the lab seemed to quiet as he crossed the room, a thick, dark-covered book tucked under his arm. His coat was slightly dusted with chalk residue from whatever work he’d been doing, and his sharp eyes found Chara almost instantly.

“Ah, good,” he said, his voice even but carrying faint warmth. “You’re all still here.”

He approached Chara and extended the book toward them. “Here. This is for you.”

Chara blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “What’s this?” they asked, their tone curious but cautious.

“A foundation,” Gaster replied. “A primer on basic magical control and energy channeling. Since you’ve expressed interest in exploring your potential, I believe it’s time you began proper study. Start practicing every day simple focus, resonance, and containment exercises. I’ve marked the appropriate chapters.”

Chara carefully took the book, their fingers brushing over the worn cover. The title, etched faintly in faded gold letters, read Fundamentals of Soul-Bound Energy Manipulation. Their chest tightened slightly this was the first tangible step toward what they’d been wondering about for months.

“Thank you…” they murmured softly, genuine gratitude flickering in their tone.

Gaster gave a small nod, turning his attention toward Sans. “Now, Sans come with me. I need your assistance in the Core for a recalibration sequence.”
Sans gave an exaggerated sigh, pushing off the crates. “Heh, guess the pun break’s over,” he said, shooting Chara a playful wink. “Don’t blow up the place while I’m gone, kid.”

Chara rolled their eyes but clutched the book a little tighter, pretending not to care.
As Gaster headed for the door, he paused briefly and looked back at both of them Chara and Asriel, who was still sitting beside a half-finished puzzle Papyrus had left behind.

“Ah, and one more thing,” Gaster added, his tone softening. “I’ve contacted your parents. They’re aware of your progress and of the news that you’ll be able to return home soon.”

Asriel’s face lit up like the sun. “Really?! That’s amazing!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.
Chara’s eyes widened slightly. Home. The word felt distant… yet comforting.

Gaster nodded once, his expression unreadable but faintly pleased. “Continue to rest and train. You’ve both come a long way.”
With that, the scientist turned, his coat swaying as the door hissed shut behind him leaving Chara staring down at the book in their hands,

The faint hum of the lab’s machinery filled the air as Chara turned the book over in their hands, tracing the golden lettering with quiet curiosity. Asriel sat nearby, still beaming from the news, his tail twitching with excitement as he helped Papyrus rearrange a puzzle on the floor.

The door hissed open again. Both of them looked up.

Instead of Gaster or Sans, a familiar figure stepped through soft cream-colored fur, a gentle but weary expression, and eyes that carried both warmth and exhaustion.

“Mom?” Asriel’s voice cracked with surprise as he stood up so fast the puzzle pieces scattered.
Toriel smiled faintly, her eyes glistening as she took in the sight of her children one reborn from death, the other smiling brighter than he had in months. “My children…” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Asriel ran to her immediately, hugging her tightly. She knelt down, wrapping her arms around him and pulling Chara close as well before they could even react.
Chara froze, muscles stiff at the sudden embrace. Physical affection had never been something they were good at receiving — it felt too close, too raw. They blinked awkwardly, their arms hanging limply at their sides as Toriel held them both.

Asriel looked up, confused but smiling through tears. “Uhm… Mom? Where’s Dad?”
Toriel’s expression faltered, her warm gaze dimming into something heavy and pained. She released them slowly, brushing Asriel’s cheek with one trembling paw. “Asgore… will not be coming,” she said quietly. “He and I are… no longer together.”

Asriel’s ears drooped. “W–What? Why?”

Toriel hesitated, her voice catching before she continued. “Because… he has chosen a path I cannot follow. He… he decided that if another human were ever to fall into the Underground, he would kill them and collect their soul. He wishes to gather seven… to break the barrier.”

Her words hung in the air like the sound of glass cracking quiet, but sharp enough to cut.

Asriel stared at her, his hands curling into fists. “He… he wouldn’t! He wouldn’t hurt anyone!”
But Toriel only shook her head sadly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I am sorry, my child. I tried to reason with him, but… his grief has consumed him. He believes it is the only way to free our people.”

Silence stretched between them heavy, aching.

Asriel buried his face into Toriel’s robe, trembling. “Dad… why…?” he whispered.

Chara stood quietly beside them, gaze distant, expression unreadable. But inside, their thoughts were sharp cold. Well, they thought bitterly, it’s what those humans deserve anyway.
Their fingers tightened slightly around the magic book Gaster had given them. They didn’t say it out loud, of course not with Asriel crying softly against Toriel’s shoulder but the thought lingered, stubborn and dark in the back of their mind.

Toriel stroked Asriel’s back soothingly, whispering gentle comforts. Chara only looked away, eyes glinting faintly under the lab’s sterile light.

Toriel turned her gaze toward Chara, her expression softening with concern. She gently loosened her hold on Asriel, who was still sniffling quietly, and reached out a trembling hand toward Chara.

“My child… you’ve been through so much,” she said softly, her voice trembling with the weight of months of worry and pain. Feelings were… harder. Messier. They shifted their gaze toward Toriel, their expression unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line.
“It’s fine,” Chara said quietly, their voice flat, almost mechanical.

The tone startled Toriel. There was no anger, no sorrow just a strange stillness, like calm water hiding something deep beneath the surface. She hesitated, lowering her hand slightly, searching their face for a flicker of emotion.
“Chara…” she began gently, but the child only shook their head.

“I said it’s fine,” they repeated, a little firmer this time.
Toriel blinked for a moment, then forced a small, tender smile through the heaviness of the moment. Her voice softened, trying to bring some warmth back into the air.

“Well… we can go home now,” she said quietly, brushing a tear from Asriel’s cheek. “And maybe…” she added, her tone brightening just a little, “we can have butterscotch-cinnamon pie to celebrate!”

Asriel’s ears perked up instantly, his face lighting with joy. “Really!? You mean it, Mom?” he asked, his tail swishing with excitement.

Toriel chuckled softly, resting her paw on his head. “Of course, my child. You both deserve something sweet after all you’ve endured.”
Asriel grinned ear to ear, already bouncing with enthusiasm. “Yes! I’ve missed your pie so much! Oh, it’s gonna be perfect!” he said, twirling around, his earlier sadness melting away like snow in spring.

Chara, meanwhile, stood still. Their gaze lowered slightly, fingers fidgeting on the edge of the magic book still clutched tightly to their chest. Home. The word echoed in their mind like something half-remembered
Butterscotch-cinnamon pie… that was supposed to mean comfort, wasn’t it?

That night, the lab was unusually quiet. Even the hum of the machinery seemed softer, as though the whole room knew it was their last evening there.
Asriel had already crawled into one of the small resting beds near the corner, clutching his old plushie that Papyrus had given him. Chara sat on the edge of their own bed, still clutching the book of magic Gaster had given them, its worn cover glinting faintly in the sterile light.

Toriel lingered by the door, tucking the blankets gently around Asriel’s shoulders before doing the same for Chara. “Rest well, my children,” she said softly, her smile faint but warm. “Tomorrow, we return home.”
Chara gave a quiet nod. Asriel mumbled something sleepy and cheerful before quickly drifting off.

When Toriel’s footsteps finally faded down the hall, Chara turned the book over in their hands again — the faded gold letters catching their gaze. Fundamentals of Soul-Bound Energy Manipulation. They traced the words once more, then closed it carefully.
They lay back on the thin pillow, eyes open for a long while, watching the soft glow of the lab’s monitors fade into the dim blue of night.
Sleep eventually came deep, dreamless, quiet.

The next morning
Toriel returned, looking more composed than she had the night before. “Wake up, my children,” she said gently, her voice echoing through the sterile chamber. “It is time.”

Asriel stirred first, yawning and stretching before bouncing up, his energy instantly restored. “Morning, Mom!”
Chara rubbed at their eyes, sitting up slowly. Their body felt heavy, the reality of leaving beginning to settle in.

Toriel packed a few small things Gaster had left for them — medical notes, health records, and Chara’s magic book — then turned to usher them toward the exit that led back to the Ruins.

Halfway down the corridor, Chara frowned a little and turned to Asriel.
“Hey, Azzy,” they said casually, “where’s Gaster?”

Asriel blinked mid-step, tilting his head. “Uh… who?”

Chara gave him a puzzled look one that almost bordered on comical disbelief. “You’re joking, right? I didn’t take you for the forgetting type.”

Asriel laughed a little nervously. “I… don’t know a guy named Gaster. Is it a new monster you met or something?”
Chara’s smirk faltered. They stopped walking. “Azzy… the royal scientist guy. You know tall, weird voice, white coat, glasses?"

Asriel just blinked at them, ears twitching. “Ohh! You mean Alphys! She’s the royal scientist."
Chara looked surpised "Whatt..."

They stopped.

Toriel turned, noticing Chara had gone still. “Chara, my child? Is something the matter?”

Chara blinked a few times, their mind suddenly buzzing with static. They looked around the corridor — at the walls, the faint hum of the lights, the faint residue of blue magic energy that had always hung faintly in the air when Gaster worked.
It was gone. Completely.
“No… nothing,” they said finally, shaking their head. “Just… thought I forgot something.”

Toriel gave a soft, motherly smile. “That’s quite alright, my dear. It’s been a long few months. Let’s go home.”
Asriel ran ahead, laughing, while Chara lingered a moment longer.

Their eyes flicked down to the book
but now, where the name W.D. Gaster had once been embossed on the inside page, there was only blank paper.

Chara’s chest tightened. A cold realization crept through them — something was wrong.
But when they tried to remember his voice… his exact face…

It was slipping away.
And yet, somehow, they still remembered that he existed.
Even if no one else did.

The purple stone walls of the Ruins rose tall around them as they stepped through the great doorway. The air here felt different—cooler, softer, with a faint echo that carried every footstep like a whisper of memory.
Chara trailed a few paces behind Asriel and Toriel, their eyes sweeping across the moss-lined bricks and glowing purple patterns that pulsed faintly with life. It had been months since they’d seen this place, but the familiarity was strange—almost too familiar, as if the Ruins themselves hadn’t changed at all while everything else had.

They descended the familiar staircase, passing the crumbling archway, the quiet save points, and the faint hum of distant waterfalls. The further they went, the more Chara felt that creeping sense of déjà vu, like walking through an echo of their own memories.

And then, finally, Toriel pushed open a small wooden door near the end of the corridor. A warm light spilled out.
Their new home.

Chara froze in the doorway, eyes wide. Every corner, every shelf, every tiny detail it was exactly the same as their old house in New Home.
The same framed pictures on the walls. The same twin chairs by the fire. The same soft rugs, perfectly placed. Even the faint smell of cinnamon and dust felt identical.

“Whoa…” Chara murmured, stepping inside slowly. “It looks… exactly the same as our old house.”
Asriel nodded, just as stunned. “It does, doesn’t it…?” he said quietly, padding over to the couch and running a paw along the armrest. “It’s like… nothing changed.”

Toriel smiled warmly, though there was a tired sadness behind her eyes. “I wanted it to feel familiar,” she said softly. “You have both endured so much. I thought… perhaps, if our home could feel as it once did, your hearts might find peace more easily.”

Chara glanced around again, taking it all in the same hallway leading to their rooms, the same yellow flowers by the window. It was comforting, yes… but unsettling too. Almost too perfect, like a memory rebuilt instead of lived.
“I’ll start dinner,” Toriel said gently, slipping off her cloak. “And of course… I shall bake a cinnamon-butterscotch pie to celebrate your return.”

She moved toward the kitchen, humming softly, the sound of clattering pans and rustling ingredients quickly filling the home.

Asriel smiled and ran after her, offering to help stir the filling.
Chara lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, staring at the faint reflection of themselves in the framed mirror by the stairs.

Chara lingered in the hallway for a moment longer, the warm light spilling softly from the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon was already beginning to drift through the air, rich and nostalgic. It tugged at something in their chest—a memory half-faded, half-sharp—but they pushed it aside.

Their footsteps were quiet against the floorboards as they made their way down the familiar hallway toward the bedrooms. The door creaked open with the same soft groan it always had.

Inside, everything was just as they remembered.
Two beds side by side.
One neatly made Asriel’s, with a few of his stuffed toys resting at the foot.
The other slightly rumpled, a small crack in the wooden headboard from years ago when Chara had tried to balance a book on it and failed spectacularly.

Chara exhaled slowly, sitting on the edge of their bed before finally lying back. The mattress was soft, a little too soft, like it was swallowing them whole. Their eyes traced the wooden beams of the ceiling above, where faint lines of moonlight spilled through the window.
They reached over to the small nightstand and picked up an old, faded red ball one of Asriel’s toys that had somehow made its way to their side of the room.
Without much thought, they tossed it upward.
Thump.
It hit the ceiling.
They caught it.

Again.
Thump.
And again.

The rhythm was steady. Soothing, almost. It gave them something to focus on other than the quiet hum of memories in their head.
From the kitchen, they could faintly hear Asriel’s laughter mixing with Toriel’s gentle humming the sound of a family that should have felt whole again.

But Chara’s eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, the ball rising and falling in a perfect loop.
They didn’t smile. They didn’t frown.
They just… watched it fall, caught it again, and whispered to no one,
“…It really is like nothing ever changed.”
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the warm, golden glow of the oven bathed the room in soft light. The smell of melting butter and cinnamon filled every corner, comforting and heavy with nostalgia.

Asriel stood on a small wooden stool beside Toriel, sleeves rolled up, paws dusted with flour. His tail swayed from side to side as he tried to whisk the filling just right. “Like this, Mom?” he asked eagerly, his tongue poking out in concentration.
Toriel chuckled softly, adjusting the bowl in front of him. “Close, my child—though perhaps not quite that fast. You’ll splash it everywhere if you are not careful.”

“I got it, I got it!” Asriel said with a grin, slowing his motions but still moving with all the energy of a child trying his best to help.

Toriel smiled warmly, her eyes soft as she watched him. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was laughter echoing in their home again. “You’ve grown so much, Asriel,” she murmured, her voice thick with affection. “Even after all that has happened… your kindness remains.”

Asriel blinked and looked up at her. “Heh… well, I had a good mom to learn from,” he said shyly.

Toriel’s expression melted into a tender smile as she reached over and brushed a bit of flour from his cheek. “Oh, you sweet child…”
The pie was nearly ready the crust golden, the filling bubbling softly. The scent grew stronger, filling the house like a warm blanket.

But behind that warmth, Toriel’s gaze drifted for just a moment toward the hallway. She thought of Chara quiet, distant.
She wanted to call for them, to have them come help, to hear them laugh alongside Asriel like they once did. But something in her heart told her to give them space.

“Mom?” Asriel’s voice pulled her back. “Should I go get Chara? Maybe they’d want to help too.”
Toriel hesitated, the wooden spoon pausing mid-stir. “…No, my child. Let them rest for now. They have been through much.”

Asriel tilted his head but nodded obediently. “Okay… but maybe when the pie’s done, they’ll want a slice! I bet they’ll love it.”
Toriel smiled again, faintly this time. “Yes… I’m sure they will.”

Chara rolled onto their side, the red ball resting at their fingertips. They stared at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of moonlight with a distracted gaze, their mind elsewhere. The faint scent of cinnamon and butterscotch wafted up from the kitchen, tugging at something deep in their memory.
Chara let out a quiet sigh, tossing the ball lightly to the ceiling again. Thump. Catch. Thump. Catch. The rhythmic motion calmed something restless in their chest, a tiny anchor against the flood of thoughts.

From below, Asriel’s laughter rang out, light and unrestrained, mingling with Toriel’s gentle hums as she stirred and hummed in time with him. Chara’s lips twitched faintly at the sound. They didn’t move, didn’t speak just listened. Part of them wanted to go downstairs, to be part of that warmth, but another part hesitated, still cautious, still measured.

Eventually, the ball rolled to the floor beside their bed. Chara picked it up again, bouncing it softly
And for the first time in months, the thought didn’t feel impossible. It felt… faintly real.

From the kitchen, the rhythmic clinking of spoons against bowls and the faint pop of the oven timer reminded them that life continued downstairs. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow they’d join Asriel, Toriel, and the pie maybe they’d even laugh a little.
For now, though, Chara lay back, eyes on the ceiling, letting the scent of butterscotch and cinnamon wrap around them like a fragile promise of something resembling peace.

A few moments later, a soft knock at the bedroom door caught Chara’s attention.
“Chara! Dinner’s ready!” Asriel’s cheerful voice called from the hallway. His tail swished excitedly behind him as he peered into the room, eyes bright and expectant.

Chara blinked, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of their lips. For the first time in a long while, the simple invitation to eat together felt… comforting. They set the red ball aside and swung their legs off the bed, standing slowly, stretching slightly to shake off the last remnants of rest.

Following Asriel down the hallway, the familiar sights of their home soft rugs, yellow flowers by the windows, the twin chairs by the fire felt warmer now, less uncanny. The scent of butterscotch and cinnamon grew stronger with each step, filling the air with a kind of homecoming that tugged at their chest.

Toriel stood at the head of the table, a gentle smile on her face as she placed a plate in front of each of them. She cut a generous slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie for Chara first, then Asriel, the golden crust warm and inviting, the filling bubbling faintly at the edges.

“Here you go, my children,” she said softly, placing the plates down with care. “A small celebration for your return.”
Chara took their slice, feeling the warmth of it seep into their fingers. They took a tentative bite, the flavors rich and comforting, just as they remembered sweet cinnamon, soft butterscotch, and that faint undertone of home.

Chara chewed thoughtfully, a small spark flickering in their eyes. A mischievous idea crept into their mind, and a tiny, almost imperceptible grin spread across their face.
As Toriel turned to check the oven timer, Chara’s fingers twitched with anticipation. Quick as a flash, they grabbed a piece of pie and—splat!—pressed it right into Asriel’s face.

“Hehe! Food fight!” Chara giggled, stepping back and trying not to laugh too loudly.

Asriel wiped the sweet, gooey mess from his eyes, his mouth forming a shocked “O!” before breaking into a laugh. “Hey! That’s not fair!” he exclaimed, lunging forward with a piece of pie in hand, aiming for Chara.
Chara ducked just in time, laughing as they darted past the table, pie in hand, weaving between chairs and the soft rug. “You’ll have to be faster than that, Azzy!” they teased, darting toward the hallway.

Asriel bounded after them, giggles spilling out uncontrollably. “I will! You won’t get away!”

Toriel turned just in time to see the two of them weaving through the house in a chaotic blur of laughter, crumbs, and butterscotch. She let out a long, tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, my children…” she murmured softly, shaking her head with a fond, exasperated smile. “Some things never change.”

Chara darted down the hallway, dodging around the corner with a playful twist, pie smeared fingers glinting in the soft light. Asriel skidded to a stop, then lunged forward with a laugh, swiping at Chara with his own piece of pie.

“Gotcha now!” Asriel shouted, though his aim was sloppy from laughing too hard.
Chara yelped in mock alarm and rolled aside, the pie sliding harmlessly across the floor. “Missed me, Azzy!” they called, darting toward the living room with agile, careful steps.

The chase wove through the house past the yellow flowers by the windows, the twin chairs by the fire, even around the small kitchen island. Each time Asriel got close, Chara twisted or ducked, giggling so hard it made their stomach hurt.

“You’ll never catch me!” Chara taunted, tossing another dab of pie toward Asriel. He squeaked as the sweet filling splattered on his sweater, only making him laugh harder.
“I’m gonna get you!” Asriel yelled, spinning in a clumsy circle to chase Chara across the soft rugs. He lunged, and Chara jumped just in time, flipping over a chair to evade him.

Toriel, in the kitchen, watched the whirlwind of crumbs, laughter, and sticky hands with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “My goodness…” she muttered under her breath, ducking slightly to avoid a rogue splash of butterscotch. “They truly are unstoppable when they team up against… themselves.”

Chara skidded to a stop near the couch, turning quickly to throw a playful glance over their shoulder. “You’re too slow, Azzy! You’ll have to do better than that!”
Asriel, undeterred, grinned wide, lunging once more. “Just watch me!”

Asriel lunged with all his energy, finally closing the gap. “Gotcha!” he shouted, swiping a generous piece of pie right at Chara’s face.
Chara squealed in surprise as the warm, gooey filling splattered across their cheeks and nose. For a brief second, they froze, then a small giggle escaped, growing into full laughter. Without hesitation, Chara leaned in and licked a bit of the icing off their own face.

“Yummy!” Chara exclaimed happily, eyes sparkling with delight.

Asriel laughed so hard he nearly toppled over, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. “Haha! You’re crazy!” he managed to gasp between laughs.
Chara joined in, their own laughter mixing with his, echoing around the house like a chorus of pure joy. Their sticky fingers clutched at Asriel’s sweater as they both collapsed onto the rug in a tangled, giggling heap, faces and hands covered in butterscotch and cinnamon.

Toriel stepped into the living room, a gentle but firm look on her face as she surveyed the mess: pie smeared across the rug, crumbs scattered on the floor, and two small, sticky figures tangled together in laughter.

“My children…” she began, her tone soft but carrying that unmistakable weight of authority, “I am glad to see you happy and full of laughter… but we will have to clean this up soon.”
Chara peeked up from their pile of giggling, wiping a smear of butterscotch from their cheek. “Aww… do we have to?” they mumbled, their voice playful but faintly begrudging.

Asriel groaned dramatically, though his tail wagged with reluctant agreement. “Yeah… I guess… but not yet! Just… a little more pie time?”
Toriel sighed, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “A little longer is acceptable… but not too long, my children.

Chara and Asriel exchanged mischievous glances, their laughter bubbling again as if daring each other to ignore the warning just a moment longer.

 

Chara and Asriel eventually dragged themselves off the rug, still snickering as they picked crumbs out of their hair. With a resigned sigh and a shared look, they began to clean—wiping pie from the walls, scrubbing the rug, and carefully gathering bits of crust into a small plate. Toriel watched them from the doorway, arms crossed but smiling quietly to herself.

It took a while, but the mess slowly disappeared, replaced with the familiar warmth of their tidy home. When they were finally done, both siblings flopped down on the couch, exhausted and sticky, laughing softly at the absurdity of it all.

After a warm bath and fresh clothes, they retreated to their shared room. The dim glow of a single lamp filled the space, casting gentle light over their matching beds. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon, and the quiet hum of the house settled around them like a blanket.

For a while, they just lay there—listening to the faint flicker of the fire in the next room, the sound of Toriel humming softly downstairs.

Then, in the dark, Asriel’s small voice broke the silence.
“Chara… are you awake?” he asked hesitantly.

Chara rolled over, facing the wall, biting back a grin. “No, I’m sleeping,” they said in the most serious tone they could manage.

“Oh… okay,” Asriel replied, his voice soft and innocent.

Two long minutes passed. Then, suddenly—

“WAIT A MINUTE! CHARA!!” Asriel shouted, sitting upright.

Chara couldn’t hold it in anymore—they burst into quiet giggles, covering their face with a pillow. “Yeah, yeah, I’m awake,” they admitted between snickers. “What is it, Azzy?”

Asriel crossed his arms with mock indignation, but his tone softened. “Well, I just wondered…” He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor. “You remember… the incident, right? Are all humans really that aggressive?”

Chara blinked, the laughter fading slightly. “Wellll…” they started, their tone thoughtful. “Most of them are. And honestly? Most humans are assholes anyway. Why?”

Asriel nodded slowly, fidgeting with his paws. “Oh… I just thought maybe—if another human ever falls down here, we could stop them from going to Dad before he… y’know… kills them.”

Chara scoffed lightly, sitting up a bit. “Well, from his side, I actually get why he’d do it. I mean, wouldn’t you? If the same species that sealed your people underground nearly killed your son—all because of a misunderstanding?” They looked at Asriel seriously. “You’d wanna protect your people too.”

Asriel went quiet for a while, thinking. The flickering lamp light reflected softly in his eyes. “Yeah…” he murmured at last. “When you put it that way…”

He paused again, then smiled faintly. “But… I forgive them. I understand why they attacked me. I mean, I did look kinda scary—carrying your lifeless body and all…” He gave a small, sad laugh. “I guess they had every right to think I’d hurt you.”

The room fell silent again—soft, thoughtful. The warmth of the fire in the next room danced faintly across the walls, wrapping the two in quiet comfort.

Chara turned toward Asriel, voice barely above a whisper.
“...You’re too good for this world, Azzy.”

Asriel smiled faintly. “Maybe. But I’d rather forgive than hate.”

Chara sighed, lying back again. “Guess that’s why everyone loves you.”

Asriel chuckled softly. “Do you?”

Chara turned away, hiding a smile in their pillow. “...Go to sleep, dummy.”

Asriel grinned, closing his eyes. “Heh… love you too, Chara.”
Chara and Asriel eventually dragged themselves off the rug, still snickering as they picked crumbs out of their hair. With a resigned sigh and a shared look, they began to clean—wiping pie from the walls, scrubbing the rug, and carefully gathering bits of crust into a small plate. Toriel watched them from the doorway, arms crossed but smiling quietly to herself.

It took a while, but the mess slowly disappeared, replaced with the familiar warmth of their tidy home. When they were finally done, both siblings flopped down on the couch, exhausted and sticky, laughing softly at the absurdity of it all.
After a warm bath and fresh clothes, they retreated to their shared room. The dim glow of a single lamp filled the space, casting gentle light over their matching beds. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon, and the quiet hum of the house settled around them like a blanket.

For a while, they just lay there listening to the faint flicker of the fire in the next room, the sound of Toriel humming softly downstairs.

Then, in the dark, Asriel’s small voice broke the silence.
“Chara… are you awake?” he asked hesitantly.
Chara rolled over, facing the wall, biting back a grin. “No, I’m sleeping,” they said in the most serious tone they could manage.

“Oh… okay,” Asriel replied, his voice soft and innocent.
Two long minutes passed. Then, suddenly

“WAIT A MINUTE! CHARA!!” Asriel shouted, sitting upright.

Chara couldn’t hold it in anymore they burst into quiet giggles, covering their face with a pillow. “Yeah, yeah, I’m awake,” they admitted between snickers. “What is it, Azzy?”
Asriel crossed his arms with mock indignation, but his tone softened. “Well, I just wondered…” He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor. “You remember… the incident, right? Are all humans really that aggressive?”

Chara blinked, the laughter fading slightly. “Wellll…” they started, their tone thoughtful. “Most of them are. And honestly? Most humans are assholes anyway. Why?”

Asriel nodded slowly, fidgeting with his paws. “Oh… I just thought maybe if another human ever falls down here, we could stop them from going to Dad before he… y’know… kills them.”

Chara scoffed lightly, sitting up a bit. “Well, from his side, I actually get why he’d do it. I mean, wouldn’t you? If the same species that sealed your people underground nearly killed your son—all because of a misunderstanding?” They looked at Asriel seriously. “You’d wanna protect your people too.”

Asriel went quiet for a while, thinking. The flickering lamp light reflected softly in his eyes. “Yeah…” he murmured at last. “When you put it that way…”

He paused again, then smiled faintly. “But… I forgive them. I understand why they attacked me. I mean, I did look kinda scary carrying your lifeless body and all…” He gave a small, sad laugh. “I guess they had every right to think I’d hurt you.”
The room fell silent again soft, thoughtful. The warmth of the fire in the next room danced faintly across the walls, wrapping the two in quiet comfort.

Chara turned toward Asriel, voice barely above a whisper.
“...You’re too good for this world, Azzy.”

Asriel smiled faintly. “Maybe. But I’d rather forgive than hate.”
Chara sighed, lying back again. “Guess that’s why everyone loves you.”

Asriel chuckled softly. “Do you?”
Chara turned away, hiding a smile in their pillow. “...Go to sleep, dummy.”

Asriel grinned, closing his eyes. “Heh… love you too, Chara.”

Asriel let out a contented sigh, curling up on his side, the warmth of the blankets and the quiet of the room slowly lulling him toward sleep. His paws twitched slightly as he muttered a sleepy, “Goodnight, Chara,” before closing his eyes completely, a small smile lingering on his face.
Chara watched him for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his chest calming something deep within them. They shifted slightly under the covers, tucking the pillow closer, and let out a quiet exhale. The lingering sweetness of the day the pie, the laughter, the warmth of home settled around them like a gentle weight.

“…Goodnight, Azzy,” Chara whispered softly, their voice barely audible even in the quiet room.
With that, they let their eyelids close, the shadows and flickering light of the fire fading from their mind. For the first time in a long while, they felt safe enough to let go completely.

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, spilling pale gold across the room. The faint chirping of birds outside and the gentle rustle of leaves against the windowpane marked the start of a new day.

Chara stirred slightly, blinking against the soft light, the events of yesterday lingering in their mind like a comforting echo. Asriel was still curled up beside them, breathing evenly, the small rise and fall of his chest a quiet reassurance.

The house was already filled with the subtle warmth of a day beginning: faint clatters from the kitchen, the smell of fresh bread and lingering cinnamon wafting up from the oven. Toriel’s gentle humming floated through the halls, a soft, steady rhythm that spoke of normalcy, safety, and care.
Chara yawned, stretching their arms above their head,
Sliding out of bed, they glanced at Asriel, who twitched slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake. A small, faint smile tugged at Chara’s lips as they quietly moved to get ready for the day, the memory of butterscotch-cinnamon pie and playful chaos still warming the edges of their thoughts.

Chara padded quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake Asriel, their bare feet brushing softly against the wooden floor. They slipped into the bathroom, the cool tile sending a faint shiver up their spine. The mirror above the sink reflected their pale, slightly tousled hair and the faint remnants of yesterday’s smiles.
They picked up their toothbrush, brushing methodically while staring at their own reflection, the soft morning light catching in their eyes. Once finished, Chara rinsed their mouth, then reached for a glass cup and filled it to the brim with cool, clear water.

A mischievous glint appeared in their eyes. Quietly, as if performing a secret mission, Chara tiptoed into the kitchen. One by one, they grabbed seven cups, filling each one to the brim with water, careful not to spill a drop. The small stack of glasses balanced in their hands like a tower of tiny, fragile ambitions.
The soft hum of the morning kitchen the clinking of glasses against the counter, the faint sizzling from the oven made the operation feel like an adventure in its own right. Chara set the cups down neatly on the counter, surveying their handiwork with a tiny, satisfied smirk

Chara’s smirk widened as they glanced at the two remaining cups, still empty and waiting on the counter. With careful, deliberate movements, they carried one to the faucet, filling it slowly, then the last one in the same meticulous way. The sound of water pouring, soft and steady, seemed to echo in the quiet kitchen, each drop a small victory.
But just as they set the final glass down, the soft tread of footsteps approached from behind. Toriel had entered the kitchen, her arms crossed, the familiar calm yet firm look on her face. The soft hum of the morning seemed to pause for a fraction of a second.

“Chara,” she said gently, her voice even but carrying a weight that made the child’s heart skip a beat.

Chara froze, the corners of their mouth twitching slightly. Slowly, they turned around, trying to keep their expression neutral.

“Yes…?” they replied cautiously, the single word carrying a mixture of curiosity and mild apprehension.
Toriel’s gaze swept over the row of water-filled cups, the precise balance and effort clear in each glass. She raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“Care to explain why you’ve filled all of these…?” she asked softly, though there was an edge of gentle reproach in her tone.
Chara’s eyes darted to the cups, then back to Toriel, caught between mischief and honesty. “I… thought it might be useful?” they said, voice hesitant but with a faint hint of cheekiness.

Toriel sighed lightly, the corners of her mouth twitching into the smallest smile despite herself. “Hmm… I see. Very… thorough, my child. But next time, perhaps ask before creating a small water mountain in the kitchen.”
Chara let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, a tiny rebellion tucked behind their compliance. “Okay… I’ll… ask next time,” they murmured, though the sparkle of mischief in their eyes remained.

As Toriel’s footsteps faded from the kitchen, the quiet hum of the house returned. The sunlight grew a little stronger, spilling through the windows and warming the floors. Chara glanced at the neat row of water cups one last time, smirking faintly at their own handiwork, before moving to the living room to find Asriel stirring awake on the couch.

“Morning, Azzy,” Chara said softly, sliding into the space beside him.

“Morning…” Asriel mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Did I… miss anything?”

Chara shook their head, a faint grin tugging at their lips. “Just water experiments. You didn’t miss much.”

Soon, they both settled on the living room floor, sitting criss-cross apple sauce. The familiar comfort of the rug beneath them made the moment feel grounded, safe. Asriel’s tail twitched slightly in anticipation, his ears perked forward, and Chara mirrored his alert posture with a sense of cautious curiosity.

Toriel appeared shortly after, a warm smile on her face as she set a small notebook and quill on the low table in front of them. “Today,” she began, her tone calm yet carrying the weight of importance, “we are going to discuss something very important. Something I think both of you should understand before you venture too far into this world: the concept of LOVE.”

Chara raised a brow, frowning slightly. “LOVE?”

Toriel nodded, kneeling to sit at their level. “Yes. But not the kind you might think… in this world, LOVE often measured as a Level of Violence, or LV is… the power that comes from the choices we make when faced with conflict.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle
Asriel tilted his head, ears twitching. “Level of… Violence?”

Toriel nodded solemnly. “It is how much harm you allow yourself to cause, the measure of your willingness to hurt others. The higher your LV, the more dangerous your choices can be not just to others, but to yourselves. And that is why…” Her eyes softened as they met Chara’s and Asriel’s. “…choosing mercy is always the wiser path. Choosing kindness, understanding, forgiveness—it lowers your LV and preserves your soul, even when the world seems harsh.”
Chara folded their arms, listening quietly. Their mind flickered briefly to past experiences, the weight of human cruelty, and the cold edge of their own thoughts. Yet even so, they felt the warmth of Toriel’s words and the faint pull of her wisdom.

Asriel’s small paw lifted slightly, curiosity shining in his eyes. “So… even if someone’s scary, or mean, or tries to hurt us… we can choose mercy?”

Toriel nodded, her gaze soft but steady. “Exactly, my child. It is never easy, but it is always right. Choosing mercy doesn’t make you weak—it makes you strong in ways that violence never can.”
Chara shifted slightly, absorbing the lesson in their own way. The mischievous glint in their eyes had dimmed for the moment, replaced with a thoughtful stillness. Even with their sharp mind and careful awareness of timelines, the notion of mercy, of tempering anger with understanding, settled like a seed, waiting for the right moment to grow.
Toriel smiled warmly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Now… we’ll practice exercises, small decisions, and scenarios. By the end, you both will understand the power of mercy—and how it shapes the world around you.”

Chara and Asriel exchanged a glance, sitting a little taller on the rug, ready to learn, even if in their own ways.

Toriel’s voice softened, drawing their attention fully. She leaned slightly forward, hands resting gently on her knees, and asked the question with careful patience.

“What would you do,” she began, her gaze steady, “if you saw a scary monster in front of you? Would you fight it… or would you spare it?”

Chara’s eyes narrowed slightly, considering. Their mind flickered through memories of humans, monsters, and the harshness of both worlds. The instinct to strike first, to protect themselves and Asriel, tugged at them—but Toriel’s words lingered, urging a different path.
“I…” Chara started slowly, their voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “I’d… think about it first. See if there’s a way to spare it. If it’s… possible.”

Asriel’s paw lifted again, ears perking. “I’d definitely try to spare it! I mean… everyone deserves a chance, right?” His eyes shone with earnest conviction. “Even if they’re scary. Even if they tried to hurt us… maybe they’re just scared too.”

Toriel’s expression softened further, a proud smile curving her lips. “Exactly. That is the essence of mercy. To see beyond fear, anger, and appearances… and to give another chance.”
Chara glanced at Asriel, his optimism and unwavering kindness making their chest tighten. Part of them still felt the cold, bitter logic of past experiences, but a smaller, quieter part—a part Toriel had nurtured without knowing it—nodded in agreement.

Toriel continued, her voice calm yet firm. “Sometimes, the bravest choice is not to strike first. To spare… to forgive… to understand. This is how we shape a future where we do not perpetuate pain.”
Asriel’s tail swished slowly, and he nodded eagerly. “I want to be brave like that… Chara, do you think we could really do it?”

Chara hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah… maybe we could,” they said softly, the idea of choosing mercy planting a quiet resolve in their heart.

Toriel gently closed her book, the soft thump echoing slightly in the quiet living room. She placed it on the low table beside her, hands folding neatly in her lap.

“Now,” she began, her voice calm but carrying a subtle weight of authority, “I will teach you both magic. For self-defense, of course—not to hurt others needlessly, but to protect yourselves and those you care about.”

Chara’s eyes flickered with interest, their fingers tightening slightly around the edge of their lap as they leaned forward. Asriel’s ears perked, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Magic! Really? Like… fighting magic?” he asked, tail swishing.

Toriel smiled softly, reaching out to gesture to the empty space in front of them. “Not fighting for the sake of fighting,” she said firmly. “Magic can be a tool for protection, for ensuring safety. It must always be used responsibly, with a clear mind and an understanding heart. You will learn control, focus, and how to channel your energy safely.”

She stood and extended her paw toward them. “Chara, Asriel, come closer. We’ll start with something simple: a protective shield. Think of it as a barrier around yourself, a way to stop harm before it reaches you.”

Chara and Asriel moved closer, sitting criss-cross apple sauce as Toriel instructed. Their eyes followed her every movement as she demonstrated, a faint glow forming around her paw as she whispered a soft incantation.
“Focus on your soul,” Toriel instructed, her voice steady. “Feel the energy within you, the warmth and strength it holds. Do not rush… let it flow naturally, like a stream following its path.”

Asriel tilted his head, concentration painting his face, while Chara’s gaze was sharp, analyzing every flick of Toriel’s hand, every shimmer of her energy.
“Now,” Toriel continued, “I want you both to try. Remember: control, focus, and the intention to protect, not to harm.”

Toriel stepped back, giving them space, her eyes soft but watchful. “Very well… begin.”

Asriel closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His small paws rose in front of him, energy coiling like a spring beneath his fur. A faint warmth appeared, flickering at first, then growing steadily as he focused. Suddenly, a tiny flame leapt to life above his paw, dancing like a miniature candle flame. His eyes went wide with awe and delight.

Chara’s gaze followed him, a quiet spark of determination lighting their features. They extended a hand, palm facing upward, and concentrated. Slowly, a small flame hovered just above their palm, steady and warm. It wasn’t large—Toriel wanted them to start small but it held a sense of control, a reflection of their own calm precision.

“Very good,” Toriel said, her voice full of encouragement. “Chara, Asriel… feel the energy within you. Let it respond to your will, but do not force it. Control comes from focus, not anger or fear.”

Asriel’s tail swished excitedly as he gently wiggled his paw, the flame responding to his movements. “Look, Chara! I’m making it dance!” he exclaimed, a giggle bubbling from him. The small fire twisted and spun like a tiny firefly, warm and bright.

Chara watched him for a moment, lips twitching in a faint smile, before returning their attention to their own flame. They let it flicker side to side, testing the limits of their control, feeling the energy hum in their palm. Their brow furrowed slightly with concentration, and the flame steadied, glowing brighter with their focused intention.

Toriel nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Both of you are learning quickly. Remember, the key is not the size of the flame—it is the precision, the control, and the calm in your heart. The moment you lose focus, the magic can falter.”
Asriel laughed softly, eyes shining as he made the flame leap and twirl in small arcs. “This is amazing! It’s like… having my own little sun in my paw!”

Chara allowed themselves a tiny smirk, watching the flame hover steadily in their palm. “Not bad for a warm-up,” they murmured, their voice quiet but filled with satisfaction.

Chapter Text

The training went on through the morning, the air in the living room warm and faintly shimmering from the bursts of small flames and sparks. Toriel moved gently between the two, correcting their posture, steadying their focus, her calm voice a steady anchor in the gentle chaos of learning.

Asriel’s confidence grew quickly his little flames brightened, flickered into soft shapes, and soon, they began to shimmer in colors. What began as orange fire slowly shifted into hues of blue, green, and pink, like fragments of a rainbow bursting from his paws. He gasped in delight as a small, glowing star suddenly formed and drifted upward before popping like a bubble, scattering tiny trails of colorful light.

“Whoa!” Asriel exclaimed, his eyes wide. “I can make stars! Look, Chara!”

Chara turned from their own practice, watching the rainbow shimmer reflect in his eyes. A smirk tugged at their lips. “Show-off,” they said lightly, but their tone carried more amusement than envy.

Toriel smiled, her voice proud and warm. “Very good, Asriel. Those stars are pure light magic—a rare gift. You must practice control, though, or they will tire you quickly.”

Asriel nodded eagerly, still grinning as he watched another rainbow star swirl in his paw before fading into a wisp of light.

Meanwhile, Chara was quietly focused on something else. They closed their eyes, feeling the hum of energy within them not fiery or bright like Asriel’s, but something deeper, gentler, and oddly familiar. When they opened their eyes, a faint green glow surrounded their palm. Slowly, carefully, they guided it upward until something began to sprout from their hand a small, delicate stem unfurling into a white flower.

Toriel’s breath caught softly. “Ah… plant magic,” she murmured.

Asriel leaned closer, eyes wide with wonder. “Whoaa! You can make flowers! That’s so cool!” he said, practically bouncing in place.
Chara looked at the small blossom in their hand, then glanced at Asriel. A playful smile crossed their face as they gently reached forward and tucked the tiny flower behind his ear.

“Here,” Chara said simply.
Asriel blinked, then laughed a bright, bubbling sound that filled the room. “Heh, thanks! Guess I’m a flower prince now!” he said proudly, puffing his chest a little.

Toriel’s expression softened as she watched them. Her shoulders relaxed, and for a brief moment, all the worries and pain of the past seemed distant. The sight of her two children laughing, learning, at peace filled her heart with quiet joy.

Toriel clasped her hands together, her voice warm but instructive. “Very good, both of you. Now magic grows stronger with understanding. It responds to your emotions, your focus… and your heart.”

Asriel nodded eagerly, tail swishing as he summoned another handful of rainbow stars. They sparkled like tiny gems before drifting into the air, bursting into harmless shimmers of light. “Like this, right?” he asked proudly.

Toriel smiled. “Yes, Asriel. You are learning to control your gift.”

Meanwhile, Chara had turned inward again, curious about the strange, living pulse of energy within their chest. The faint green aura that had sprouted the flower still lingered on their fingertips—soft, warm, and alive.

They crouched down, brushing their palm over a wilted fern that sat forgotten by the window. The moment their fingers touched the brittle leaves, a spark of light flickered, and slowly, the fern began to straighten. The brown faded to green, curling back to life as if it had simply been sleeping.

Toriel gasped quietly. “Chara… you can heal the earth itself.”

Chara blinked in surprise. “I… can?” They touched another plant, a small bud that had never bloomed. Within seconds, its petals opened, revealing a gentle purple flower. A smile tugged at their lips. “Heh. Guess I can.”
Asriel was instantly at their side, eyes shining. “That’s amazing! You’re like like the life version of me!” he said, summoning a tiny flame and balancing it above his paw. “I make light, and you make life!”

Chara laughed softly. “Yeah, except mine doesn’t explode if I sneeze.”
“Hey!” Asriel protested, then laughed along with them.

Toriel chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “Now, now. Every gift is special in its own way. But Chara, your connection to nature… it’s rare. Few monsters ever wield such magic It's unexpected that a human would even have magic"
Chara nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “What else can I do with it?”
Toriel gestured for them to focus. “Try… calling it forth again. Let your intent guide it.”

Chara closed their eyes, focusing on that green hum inside them. It responded like something alive gentle, patient, and wild. The glow in their hands deepened, and suddenly, green tendrils unfurled from their palms, weaving together into thin vines. They slithered across the floor like living ropes, curling around Chara’s ankles before blooming into small white flowers.

Asriel’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa… you can make vines too?! That’s so cool!”

The vines gently receded as Chara opened their eyes, the magic fading into soft sparks. “Huh,” they murmured. “That… actually felt kind of nice.”
But when they focused again, small glowing pellets appeared in their hands green, floating orbs that pulsed faintly with power. Toriel tilted her head, watching carefully. “Those… are life projectiles. Pure vitality. They can protect or attack, depending on your intent. Use them wisely, my child.”

Time flowed like a gentle current in the months that followed.
Under Toriel’s patient guidance, Chara and Asriel grew stronger both in magic and in heart. Each day brought a new lesson, and each evening was filled with laughter echoing through the stone halls of the Ruins.

When they weren’t training, the two explored every hidden corner of their underground home. They wandered through mossy paths lit by glowing purple crystals, chased frogs

Chara, of course, had a sharp tongue they couldn’t help teasing the others from time to time, especially the shy ghosts or the nervous Froggits. But even when they pushed a little too far, a quick grin or playful apology was usually enough to make amends. Asriel always laughed it off, saying, “They know you don’t mean it, Chara. You’re just… you.”

And so, three months passed warm, peaceful, and filled with the quiet rhythm of family.
Now, the Ruins glowed faintly with winter’s soft chill. The air smelled faintly of spice and warmth, and in the corner of the living room stood a small, glittering Christmas tree Toriel had decorated herself, adorned with hand-cut paper stars, golden ribbons, and little candies tied in bows.

Asriel and Chara sat in their shared room, the gentle sound of Toriel’s soft breathing faintly audible down the hall—she had long since gone to bed after reminding them, “Tomorrow morning, my children. Not a minute earlier.”

But of course… temptation was a dangerous thing.

“Hey, Asriel…” Chara whispered, leaning over with that mischievous sparkle that Asriel had come to recognize all too well. “You wanna try and sneak a Christmas present?”
Asriel hesitated, his ears twitching nervously. “Uh… I dunno, Chara. Mom said not to-”

Chara grinned slyly. “Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re opening it… we’re just looking.”
Asriel’s tail swished anxiously before he sighed, giving in with a tiny smile. “...Fine. But if we get caught, you’re doing the explaining.”

“Deal.”

They crept out of the room on silent feet, the hallway dim and bathed in the warm glow of the tree’s lights. The faint flicker of red, gold, and green danced across the walls like mischievous spirits.

Chara crouched near the doorway, peeking around it like a thief on a secret mission. Under the tree, nestled in neat stacks, were a handful of brightly wrapped presents.

“There,” Chara whispered. “Target acquired.”
Asriel stifled a giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at this,” Chara shot back with a smirk.

Without another word, they held out their hand, the faint green shimmer of plant magic forming at their fingertips. Thin vines sprouted from their palm, winding silently across the rug toward the tree. Each step of the vines was careful, deliberate, their tips curling like cautious fingers reaching for treasure.

Asriel’s eyes were wide, his hands balled tightly in his lap. “Come on, come on…” he muttered under his breath.
The vines brushed against the first box wrapped in soft blue paper and tied with a white bow and gently began dragging it across the floor. Inch by inch, it slid toward them, making the faintest rustle.

Then another. A red one this time, small and square, with a shiny gold ribbon.
“Almost there…” Chara whispered, eyes narrowed in concentration, brow furrowed.

The two presents were halfway across the rug, creeping closer and closer to safety.
A floorboard creaked faintly in the distance but they were too focused to notice.

“Come on, come on…” Asriel repeated, clutching his paws together anxiously.
The gifts slid a few more inches. They were almost at the doorway—just a little further—

And then

“Children.”

The voice was soft, calm… and terrifyingly close.
Chara froze. Asriel’s fur puffed up instantly.

Very, very slowly, they turned around.
Toriel stood behind them in her robe, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, the faintest, tired smile tugging at her lips. The soft glow from the tree reflected in her eyes, making them gleam with a mix of amusement and disappointment.

“…Would you care to explain why there are vines wrapped around the Christmas presents?” she asked gently, one ear flicking.
Chara’s mouth opened… then closed. “Uh…”

Asriel swallowed hard. “It it was Chara’s idea!”
“Hey!” Chara hissed, glaring at him.

Toriel’s sigh was long, but her eyes were kind. “I thought as much.”

For a heartbeat, the room was silent just the faint jingling of an ornament swaying on the tree.
And then, despite herself, Toriel’s lips curved into a small smile. “Well,” she said softly, “since you are both already awake… perhaps you would like some hot cocoa instead of coal?”

Asriel’s face lit up. Chara blinked, relief flooding through them before they grinned.
“…You drive a hard bargain, Mom.”

Chara quickly waved a hand, and the green vines slithered back toward them, curling into harmless wisps of light before fading away entirely. The presents settled neatly back beneath the tree, untouched, as though nothing had ever happened.
Toriel shook her head softly but couldn’t hide her amusement as she turned toward the kitchen. With a flick of her wrist, a soft golden flame sparked to life in her palm—gentle and warm, casting a cozy glow against the stone walls of the Ruins. The scent of cocoa soon began to fill the air as she carefully heated the milk in a pot, the flickering firelight reflecting in her eyes.

Asriel padded after her, tail swishing excitedly. “Can I help, Mom?”

Toriel chuckled, stirring the pot. “Of course, my child. You may add the chocolate powder carefully.”
Chara leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them. The once-mischievous smirk on their face softened into a small, genuine smile. The warmth of the kitchen, the flicker of firelight, and the faint jingling of ornaments from the other room made everything feel… peaceful.

Toriel soon poured three steaming mugs and set them on the table. “Come, my children,” she said warmly. “Let us enjoy this night together.”
Chara took their mug, feeling its warmth seep into their hands. “Guess this is better than stealing presents,” they muttered with a grin.

Later that night, after their mugs were empty and the fire had faded to soft embers, Toriel gently ushered the two children toward their room.
“Come now, little ones,” she said with a tender smile. “Even on Christmas Eve, sleep is important. Santa or perhaps a certain mother goat cannot deliver presents if someone stays awake all night.”

Asriel giggled sleepily as he crawled under his blanket. “Okay, Mom…”
Chara smirked, already half under their own covers. “Fine, fine… but if I hear hooves on the roof, I’m checking.”
Toriel chuckled, brushing a hand over both their heads before quietly blowing out the lantern. “Goodnight, my children. Sweet dreams.”

The next morning, faint light filtered through the curtains. The Ruins were quiet, blanketed in that strange, glowing calm of an Underground winter.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.

“Asriel! Asriel wake up! It’s Christmas!!”

Chara’s voice rang out as they shook Asriel’s shoulder with growing impatience.

“Mmnn…” Asriel groaned, face buried in his pillow. “Five more minutes…”
Chara grinned, bouncing slightly on the edge of his bed. “Nope! C’mon! There’s probably presents! And maybe pie! Or both!”

Asriel peeked one eye open, still groggy but smiling. “Heh… alright, alright, I’m up.”

Chara practically dragged him out of bed, excitement buzzing in their chest like a spark of magic. The scent of something sweet and warm drifted from the kitchen, and soft music echoed faintly through the halls—Toriel was already awake.
“Race you there!” Chara said suddenly, darting out the door before Asriel could respond.

“Hey! No fair!” Asriel laughed, chasing after them, their footsteps echoing down the old stone corridor toward another morning filled with warmth, laughter, and family.

The two tumbled into the living room almost at the same time Asriel skidding to a stop on the rug while Chara barely managed to keep from tripping over him.

The faint golden light from the fire flickered across the room, casting long shadows on the stone walls. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering softly in the glow, and beneath it sat a small pile of gifts wrapped neatly in colorful paper and ribbons.

“Whoa…” Asriel breathed, eyes wide as he stared at the tree. “It’s even prettier than last night…”
Chara stood beside him, hands on their hips, eyes glittering. “Told you it’d be worth waking up early,” they said, grinning.

Just then, Toriel emerged from the kitchen, her expression warm and gentle. She carried a tray with three steaming mugs and a plate of fresh butterscotch-cinnamon pie slices. “Good morning, my little ones,” she said softly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom!” Asriel chirped, rushing to hug her, his tail wagging happily.
Chara smiled, their usual smirk softening into something genuine. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Toriel chuckled, setting the tray down on the table. “Now, now before you open anything, have a bit of breakfast. Presents are much more enjoyable on a full stomach.”

Asriel groaned playfully but obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the floor as Toriel handed him a plate. Chara joined beside him, nibbling at their slice while eyeing the presents eagerly.
Toriel watched them both with quiet affection, her heart full. The simple warmth of the fire, the sound of laughter, the faint scent of cinnamon in the air—it was the kind of peace she had long dreamed of.

When the last bite of pie was gone, Toriel smiled knowingly. “Alright… I suppose it is time,” she said, gesturing toward the tree.
“Finally!” Chara and Asriel said at once, scrambling toward the pile of gifts.

Chara’s hand hovered over the first one, eyes gleaming with anticipation as they exchanged an excited look with Asriel.
“Ready?” Chara asked.

“Ready!” Asriel grinned.

Asriel tore open his first present eagerly, eyes widening as he pulled out a rainbow-colored, knitted scarf, soft and warm to the touch. His jaw practically dropped.

“Whoa…! It looks so cool! Thanks, Mom! I’m never taking this off!” he exclaimed, wrapping it around his neck immediately, the colors reflecting the flickering firelight. He spun around, showing off the scarf like a tiny, proud hero.
Toriel’s eyes softened, a warm smile spreading across her face. “I’m glad you like it, Asriel,” she said, her voice gentle and full of affection.

Chara, watching him with a small, amused smile, then turned their attention to their own gift. Carefully, they unwrapped the paper to reveal a pair of bright red boots, perfectly made to their size.
“You said your normal shoes weren’t fitting you anymore,” Toriel explained softly, “so I went and made some for your size.”

Chara blinked, holding the boots in their hands for a moment, cheeks tinged pink. They hadn’t expected something so thoughtful, especially from Toriel.

“Th-thank you…” they muttered quietly, their voice low and almost embarrassed, shifting their gaze to the floor for a moment before looking back at her.
Toriel chuckled softly at the faint blush on Chara’s cheeks. “You’re very welcome, my child,” she said, placing a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I hope they serve you well.”

Chara set their new boots carefully to the side, glancing back at the pile of presents still waiting beneath the tree. Asriel, still twirling in his rainbow scarf, grinned.

“Okay! Next one! Let’s see what else Santa I mean, Mom got us!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

Chara chuckled, reaching for another gift wrapped in shiny green paper. They tore it open, revealing a small, intricate puzzle box. “Huh… this looks… interesting,” they murmured, turning it over in their hands, the faint clink of hidden mechanisms echoing softly. “I’ll have to figure this one out later.”
Asriel, not to be outdone, ripped open a blue-wrapped box, revealing a set of magical crayons that shimmered faintly with every color of the rainbow. His eyes widened in delight. “Whoa… look at these! They sparkle! Mom, can I use them right now?”

Toriel laughed softly, her eyes warm. “Of course, my child. Just be careful not to draw on the walls.”

Chara reached for another gift, this one square and slightly heavy. Carefully unwrapping it, they found a small leather-bound journal, the cover embossed with a subtle floral pattern. Their fingers traced the design, lips twitching into a small smile. “A journal… perfect,” they muttered. “Now I can keep track of… everything.”

Asriel was already pulling open another box, this one revealing a tiny wind-up robot that skittered across the floor, wobbling and spinning in erratic circles. He laughed uncontrollably as he chased it, shouting, “Look, Chara! It’s alive!”

Chara chuckled softly at Asriel’s antics, shaking their head before reaching for the next gift—a long, thin box wrapped in shiny gold paper. Carefully, they tore it open to reveal a set of colored quills and inkpots, each filled with a vibrant, shimmering shade. Their eyes lit up as they held them, thinking of all the letters, sketches, and notes they could create.

“These… these are amazing,” Chara murmured, twirling a quill between their fingers. “I can… do so much with these.”
Asriel, still laughing at the wind-up robot, grabbed the next gift, a medium-sized box wrapped in bright red paper. He tore it open to find a small set of building blocks—each piece carved intricately to look like little ruins and towers. His tail wagged furiously as he began snapping the pieces together on the floor.

“Whoa! Look, Chara! I can build a whole castle!” Asriel exclaimed, his voice bubbling with excitement. “And we can make magic towers and rainbow bridges!”

Chara leaned over to inspect, smirking. “Not bad… but I could make a forest around it with these quills.” They tapped a quill lightly on the floor, imagining green vines and leaves creeping between the tiny towers.
They each grabbed another gift, eager to see what surprises awaited. Asriel opened a small box revealing a set of rainbow-colored marbles that glimmered faintly, rolling them across the floor with delighted laughter. Chara opened a soft, square package to find a cozy hooded cape, the kind Toriel had sewn herself, perfect for winter explorations in the Ruins.

Toriel watched the two of them, her chest warming as the room filled with excitement, laughter, and the gentle clatter of gifts being explored. “I think this is enough for now,” she said softly, though her smile betrayed her happiness at seeing them so joyful.

Chara and Asriel exchanged a conspiratorial glance, a shared spark of mischief in their eyes.

“Oh! Yeah, Mom! We made something for you too!” Asriel said,

Toriel tilted her head, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Chara smirked, extending their hand. Green vines unfurled gently, carefully tugging a box toward Toriel. The wrapping was haphazard—scraps of colored paper and yarn tied together with obvious charm. Asriel’s eyes twitched just slightly, a mix of awe and mild exasperation. Couldn’t they just go to the room and grab it…? he thought, trying to hide his grin.

Toriel’s hands trembled ever so slightly as she lifted the makeshift box and carefully untied the wrappings. Inside lay a soft, hand-knitted purple sweater. Across the chest, stitched in uneven but loving letters, were the words: “Best Mom in the World!”
Toriel’s eyes shimmered with emotion. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the letters, her voice soft and thick with warmth. “Oh… my children… this is… beautiful.”

Chara grinned, shrugging casually. “Well… you do deserve it.”

Asriel giggled, his paws clapping together. “Yeah! We picked the colors and everything! Right, Chara?”

Chara gave a lazy nod, a playful smirk still tugging at their lips. “Yep. Totally. Full effort… mostly.”
Toriel pulled them both into a gentle hug, her laughter mingling with the quiet, happy chaos of the living room. “You two… are impossible,” she murmured, “but I love you more than anything.”

The moment lingered, warm and golden, a Christmas memory stitched not just into fabric, but into their hearts.

Time flowed gently in the Underground, like the quiet rivers that wound through Waterfall. Seasons blurred into one another, marked only by Toriel’s decorations and the passing warmth of candles.

Chara and Asriel grew steadily through those years their laughter louder, their magic sharper, their bond stronger than ever. By now, Chara was twelve, Asriel eleven. The two were older, taller, and more adventurous, their curiosity pulling them to places Toriel might not entirely approve of.

That day, their steps echoed faintly in the damp air of the Waterfall’s dumping grounds a quiet, misty corner where discarded items and faint bioluminescent mushrooms glowed along the slick stone.
Chara wrinkled their nose as the scent hit them. “Ugh… it smells like rotten fish here,” they muttered, rolling up their pants to avoid the damp water lapping near their feet.

Asriel tiptoed behind them, his paw pressed to his snout. “I agree… this place stinks! Are we sure this is the best place to hang out?”

Chara turned with a smirk, their hands on their hips. “Wellll… you’re not gonna start complaining now, are you? We did fall down here, didn’t we?”
Asriel frowned lightly, trying not to laugh. “That doesn’t mean we have to hang out in a fish graveyard, Chara.”

Chara chuckled, glancing around the misty cavern, their tone teasing. “Hey, you never know what we’ll find down here. Maybe some ancient treasure! Or…” They picked up a broken training dummy’s arm, twirling it like a sword. “A weapon fit for a hero!”
Asriel giggled, covering his mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

The soft dripping of water echoed around them as the two continued deeper into the dim glow of Waterfall,

The two continued onward, their footsteps echoing faintly against the wet stone. The faint shimmer of glowing crystals lit their path, and the constant drip-drip of water filled the silence between their laughter. Tiny echoes of their voices bounced through the mist, giving everything a strange, ghostly feel.
Asriel was crouched near a pile of old, rusted junk a few discarded armor plates, a cracked shield, a faded toy spear when he looked up and noticed Chara had gone quiet. They stood still a few feet ahead, their back to him, motionless.

“Uh… Chara?” Asriel called softly, tilting his head. “You okay?”
No answer. Just the faint sound of water trickling nearby.

He stepped closer, frowning now. “Chara?”
Then, without turning, Chara’s shoulders started to twitch ever so slightly ike a stifled laugh. Slowly, they turned around, their face shifting into a grotesque grin wide eyes, and a shadowy intensity that made them look almost possessed.

Asriel’s heart leapt into his throat.
“AAAHHH—!!” he screamed, stumbling backward so fast he slipped on the slick stones and fell right into the shallow stream behind him with a splash. The water hissed faintly as it met the warmth of his fur, and before he could even scramble up, the current pulled him a few feet downstream, dragging him through the mist.

“CHARA!!” he yelped, flailing as the water tugged at him.

Chara couldn’t hold it anymore laughter burst out of them like a wave. “PFFT—HAHAHAHA!! Oh my god, you should’ve seen your face!” they wheezed, doubling over with laughter, barely able to breathe.
Asriel spluttered from the water, his fur plastered flat, cheeks puffed out in irritation. “That wasn’t funny!” he cried, though the corners of his mouth twitched in spite of himself.

Chara was nearly rolling on the wet rocks now, tears of laughter streaming down their face. “Y-you looked like you saw a ghost! Hahaha!”

“Maybe I did!” Asriel grumbled, crawling out of the stream, dripping wet.

Chara finally caught their breath, smirking. “Oh, come on, Azzy. Admit it that was perfect.”
Asriel crossed his arms, pretending to sulk. “…Maybe a little,” he muttered.

Chara grinned triumphantly. “Ha! Knew it. You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
Asriel wrung out the ends of his scarf with a huff. “You’re lucky I didn’t get swept all the way to Hotland…” he mumbled, though the faint smile tugging at his mouth betrayed his annoyance.

Chara leaned forward, teasing, “Awww, poor Azzy, almost got taken away by a puddle.”

“It’s a stream!” he protested, stamping one wet foot on the stone with a small splash.

Chara only snickered harder. “Sure, sure whatever you say, river prince.”
Asriel sighed, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing now, too. “You’re the worst"

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” Chara said with mock pride, stretching their arms behind their head.
They both paused for a moment after that, the laughter fading into the soft ambience of the cavern. The glow from the blue mushrooms cast an almost dreamlike hue over everything—the gentle mist curling around their ankles, the faint hum of the Waterfall echoing in the distance.

Asriel tilted his head, the faint blue light glimmering in his curious eyes. “Hey, Chara… I know you already said before that you hated humanity, but… what’s the surface like? Not the humans—just, y’know, the world up there. Is it cool? Fun?”

Chara blinked, caught off guard by the question. They stared out toward the rippling water for a moment, their reflection flickering in the dim light. “Hmm… the surface, huh?” they murmured, tapping a finger to their chin. “Well… I didn’t get to explore much. But when I did, there were always some beautiful sunsets.”
Asriel’s ears perked up slightly, intrigued.

Chara’s voice softened as they continued, their tone distant, almost nostalgic. “They painted the whole sky orange and gold, sometimes pink or purple. The kind of colors that make you think the world’s on fire but in a good way. I only ever got to see them through a window, though. Never face to face.”

“You weren’t outside your home?” Asriel asked, his expression gentle but surprised.

Chara let out an unsure chuckle, rubbing the back of their neck. “I well, I guess you could say that…”
Asriel frowned, his tail curling close to his legs. “You mean… your parents didn’t let you go outside?”

Chara didn’t answer right away. Their eyes flicked toward the mist, the faint blue glow painting their face in soft shadows. “It’s not that they didn’t let me,” they said finally, their voice quiet. “It’s more like… I didn’t really want to. The world outside was loud, busy. People always looked at me funny. It was easier to just… stay in my room.”

“Oh…” Asriel murmured, ears lowering slightly.

Chara tried to shrug it off, forcing a small smirk. “But hey, windows weren’t that bad. I could still see the sky. Watch the birds. Guess that’s better than nothing, right?”
Asriel nodded slowly. “Still… you didn’t get to feel it. The wind, the warmth, the air…” He smiled faintly. “When we get to the surface someday, I’ll make sure you do. We’ll watch the sunset together.”

Chara blinked, surprised. Then a small, real smile tugged at their lips—one of the few Asriel ever saw. “Heh… you’re a real sap sometimes, Azzy.”
Asriel chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly against the cavern walls. “Yeah… maybe I am.”/

 

The two of them continued their exploration through the Waterfall, stepping carefully over slick stones and weaving between the faint glow of mushrooms. The faint drip of water and the gentle hum of the stream created a rhythm to their steps, a quiet melody that accompanied their conversation.

After a few moments of wandering in companionable silence, Asriel’s ears perked up with curiosity. “Hey… Chara?” he asked hesitantly, glancing at them. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you climb the mountain in the first place? I mean… I’m sure you knew it was dangerous, with monsters and all…”
Chara stopped walking for a moment, turning toward Asriel. Their face was serious, eyes shadowed by something heavy and distant. For a heartbeat, they looked almost sad

Then, with a small sigh, they shook their head, forcing their features into something more neutral. “Hm… let’s not talk about that right now,” Chara said softly, trying to push away the weight of the memory. “I… I wonder what’s in Hotland.”
Asriel tilted his head, his tail swishing slowly with interest. “Hotland? You mean… the place with all the machines and lava and… stuff?”

Chara nodded, their expression shifting back to curiosity and excitement. “Yeah. I heard it’s really bright there. And warm. Maybe even… kind of fun.”
Asriel grinned, the spark of adventure returning. “Well… if we ever make it there, I bet we’ll discover all sorts of cool things."

Chara smirked, the sadness momentarily forgotten. “Yeah… maybe we will.”
The air went suddenly thin — a metallic, electric hush that swallowed their footsteps. The bridge ahead loomed, slick with mist, and for a second everything was only the soft drip of water. Then a spear erupted out of the gloom and slammed into the wood where Chara had just been standing.

“HALT, HUMAN!! I SHALL KILL YOU and TAKE YOUR SOUL, AS ORDERED BY KING ASGORE!” a voice bellowed, raw and unwavering.

Undyne dropped down onto the bridge
“Asgore’s orders?” Asriel sputtered, voice small. “W-wait—uhm—Miss, Chara Is-—” He stumbled over his words, backing up. “We—”

“Sorry, Prince Asriel,” Undyne cut him off without a flicker of pity. “This human’s got to go.” She hurled another spear with brutal grace.

Chara didn’t scream. They barely had time. A spear sliced a harsh, white line across their green sweater; the fabric tore, and a heartbeat later heat and a red bead welled along the cut. Chara’s face tightened. “Damn it,” they hissed—because the pain hit them twofold: physical and the sharp, intrusive sting that meant their HP was dwindling.

More spears rained down. Instinct took over: green vines burst from Chara’s palms like coiling ropes. They lashed out, catching and wrapping several spears midflight, wrenching them aside and yanking them out of the air. The vines hummed with effort, straining under the force of the assault.

A spear, faster and crueler than the rest, came from nowhere — from behind — and struck clean into Chara’s shoulder. The impact knocked them to one knee. The world tipped; a bright flash of pain seared through them. Their status screamed in the back of their mind: HP: 10/20. The cold rush of adrenaline came too late to stop the blood that ran warm and bright down their arm.

“Chara!” Asriel’s voice cracked like a twig. He lunged forward, paws scrabbling for his sibling, eyes huge with terror.

For a sliver of a second, everything slowed. Undyne’s lance was still raised; more spears hovered in her hand like angry stars. The bridge trembled with the weight of the moment.

Asriel, frantic and helpless, did something he’d barely trained to do: he focused. Tiny rainbow motes gathered at his fingertips and exploded into a single, bright star that shot forward. The star struck the nearest spear mid-flight and sent it spinning harmlessly into the mist a brief, glittering shield that knocked a shower of spears wide of their mark.

That small burst bought them half a heartbeat.
Chara tasted copper and grit and the battered edge of panic. They forced themselves upright on trembling legs. The vines around the other spears tightened, then, with the last of their steadiness, the wound burning, they plucked a soft green pellet of life from the air one of the fragile vitality orbs they’d practiced with. It pulsed cold and alive in their palm.

This would hurt. It always hurt.

They pressed the pellet to the gash. Warmth rolled inward like a tide; muscle spasmed under their skin. Pain lanced through them as their soul reluctantly gave. The wound knit, slower than they wanted, but it closed enough for them to breathe without gasping. Their HP crawled from 10 to 13 out of 20, but the effort left their limbs leaden and a faint green afterglow clung to their fingers.

Undyne watched all of it the star, the vines, the sudden, stubborn healing. For the first time since she’d landed, something in her stance shifted. Rage was still there, but so was a new, flickering uncertainty. A human bleeding at her feet, another monster-prince pleading with his voice it wasn’t what she’d been ordered to expect.
She lowered her spear just a little, enough for the tip to point at the boards instead of their chests. “I will take you to the castle,” she said at last, voice raw with authority and warning. “You will answer to the King.”

Asriel scrambled in front of Chara without thinking, eyes blazing despite the shaking of his little body. “No! You can’t Chara’s hurt please, don’t take them ” His star dimmed as exhaustion from the shock drained him.

Chara, shoulder stinging, blood cooling under the sleeve, forced out a breath and forced their jaw into a tight line. They were hurting, but alive. A slow, dangerous calm settled over them the kind that said they were not finished yet. Their vines twitched; the life-tinged smoke from the pellet curled away. They rose, more stubborn than brave, and looked up at Undyne with a glare that burned brighter than their wound.

Undyne’s eyes snapped open, her grip tightening on her trident as she lunged forward with a swift, slashing strike aimed directly at Chara. The metal tip cut through the air with a hiss but stopped dead mere inches from Chara’s chest. The attack glanced off a green shimmer that pulsed around Chara, their soul glowing brightly, impervious. No damage came through.

“Your SOUL is green now!” Undyne bellowed, voice cracking with a mix of anger and disbelief. “That means you can only block with that spear!”
Chara’s eyes narrowed, a sharp, mischievous smirk tugging at their lips. They leaned back slightly, vines coiling lazily around their wrists. “You’re annoying,” they said coolly, tilting their head. “And loud. And your breath… smells like dog shit.”

Asriel blinked, frozen for a second before stifling a laugh, despite the tension. Undyne’s jaw dropped. The trident wavered slightly in her hands as she processed the insult, heat and fury radiating from her in waves.
Chara only smirked wider, letting the quiet, defiant energy of their green soul pulse in the air around them. Their vines writhed lazily, but the gleam in their eyes promised that if Undyne made another move, they wouldn’t hesitate to strike back.

The clash continued, the echoing thwack of Undyne’s spear striking Chara’s green soul filling the cavern. Vines whipped and deflected, weaving a fragile net of defense around them, but Undyne’s strikes were relentless, sharp, and impossibly fast. Each time Chara thought they’d predicted her move, Undyne adjusted, catching them off guard with a sudden spin or dive, her trident slamming dangerously close to their side.

Asriel’s eyes widened, heart hammering in his chest. “Chara! Watch out!” he cried, trying to move closer, but the current of tension and fear held him frozen.

Chara gritted their teeth, their vines trembling from the force of Undyne’s assault. Sweat mingled with the blood dripping down from the scratch on their shoulder, staining their green sweater further. They lashed out, barely dodging a strike here, deflecting one there, but the toll of their injuries, the exertion of maintaining their vines, and the strain of protecting Asriel began to weigh them down.

Minute after minute dragged on like hours. Chara’s breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each dodge more desperate than the last. The green glow of their soul flickered, flickered again, and then… snapped. The protective light faded. Their soul, once glowing bright and green, reverted to its natural red hue shivering, exposed.

Chara collapsed to their knees, trembling violently, sweat and blood mingling on the rough stone. A faint trickle ran down their temple, their shirt sticking to their torn, trembling form. Each heartbeat thudded painfully in their ears. Their HP was reduced to a single, precarious point.
Undyne stepped closer, Spear held steady but her grin wide and fierce. She let out a booming laugh that filled the cavern, echoing over the mist and rushing water. “Hahaha! It seems like you’re all talk!”
Chara coughed, blood flecking their lips, and glared up at her, chest heaving, soul now glowing faintly red in the dim light. “…Not done yet,” they rasped, a defiant spark lingering despite the overwhelming pain.

Time slowed to a single heartbeat then another.
Undyne raised her Spear high, the tip gleaming wet in the dim light. The world narrowed to the hiss of the spear cutting air, the roar of the waterfall like distant thunder, and the raw, raw ache in Chara’s lungs. They tried to move, to roll, to push themselves up, but their legs would not obey. Their arms trembled uselessly at their sides.

“—”
Asriel’s shout ripped through the cavern, small and terrifying and impossibly fierce. He dashed forward with all the reckless courage of someone half his size and twice his heart, flinging himself between Chara and the incoming spear.
“Wait! Miss stop!!” he screamed, voice cracking. “Chara isn’t someone my dad wants dead! Before him and my mom divorced, they adopted Chara! Believe me or not, but you can ask him yourself!”

For a blink, everything hung on that single sentence.

The trident’s arc met Asriel’s small, brave body. The impact threw him back hard not cinematic, not pretty just a sickening, real shove that knocked the breath from him. He hit the wooden planks with a thud and slid, stunned
Undyne froze as if someone had slammed a heavy door in her chest. The spear trembled in her hands. The ground under her boots seemed to breathe. For an instant, the fury in her eyes fractured into something far more complicated — order colliding with the very human sight of a child bleeding and pleading.

Chara crawled forward on hands that shook, the taste of copper bitter in their mouth. Pain screamed across their body, but it was nothing compared to the sight of Asriel — small, coughing, trying to push himself up despite the way his chest rose and fell.

“Azzy!” Chara rasped, voice raw. The world narrowed around the two of them.
Undyne’s lips parted. No triumphant cry, no immediate command. Just the heavy, hollow sound of someone forced to choose in a heartbeat between obedience and the sight of a brave, wounded child.

Behind her, the mist seemed to wait. The Waterfall’s roar blurred into a hush that held its breath with them all.
Undyne’s grip loosened almost imperceptibly. Her jaw worked. The trident dipped, then hovered.

“—”
In that silence, Asriel’s voice faint, but steady coughed out again. “Please… don’t take them. Please.”
The cavern remained suspended in that tense quiet, the mist curling lazily around stone and water, the faint glow of mushrooms casting pale light across the scene. Undyne’s gaze flickered between the two children, her trident wavering in her hands as she processed the impossible weight of what had just happened. Asriel lay there, chest heaving, and Chara’s bloodied form crawled forward, each breath a harsh rasp.

Then, from Chara, a sound broke the silence. It was soft at first, almost hesitant a chuckle that trembled through the cold air.

“…Heh…”
It grew a little, uneven, like a string being pulled too tight. “…hah…hah…”

Asriel blinked, startled, looking at them with wide, concerned eyes. “Chara? Are you… okay?”
Chara’s lips twitched into a crooked smile

the rest of their body still trembling. “Heh… yeah… just… funny, isn’t it?” they rasped, a dry humor threading through the exhaustion and pain.
Undyne’s eyes narrowed, confusion flickering through her fury. The laughter wasn’t mocking, not really. It was something else entirely bitter, shaky, stubborn, refusing to break even under impossible pressure.

Chara coughed, blood flecking the corner of their mouth, then chuckled again, quieter this time, almost to themselves. “Heh… always… something ridiculous…”

and commanding, was sharp and incredulous now.

“Why… are you laughing!?” she demanded, stepping closer, the echo of her words bouncing off the cavern walls.
Chara’s chest heaved, pain and exhaustion mingling with that strange, stubborn humor. They coughed again, blood flecking their lips, and let out a faint, crooked grin. “…I dunno,” they rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “…guess… guess it’s just… funny how… serious everyone gets

Chara’s faint grin faltered, their body convulsing violently. Without warning, they vomited blood streaking crimson across the stone floor, interlaced with small, delicate buttercup flowers that tumbled out as if spilling from some strange, twisted magic. The contrast was grotesque, almost surreal.

Undyne’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening slightly. “W-what…?!” she stammered, stepping back, Spear trembling in her hands as she tried to process the bizarre scene.
Asriel didn’t hesitate. He scrambled forward, arms wrapping around Chara’s trembling body, holding them steady. “Chara! Are you okay!?” His voice cracked, ears pressed back in fear as he met their dazed, half-lidded gaze.

Asriel’s paws glowed bright green as the energy of his healing magic surged through him. He pressed them to Chara’s chest and arms, focusing every ounce of his intent on restoring them. Slowly, Chara’s HP began to climb:

From 1 to 4… a faint warmth spreading through their body. From 4 to 9… the trembling eased slightly, their breaths steadier. From 9 to 14… the blood stopped trickling, the flowers fading harmlessly.

Finally, from 14 to 20/20… the red glow of their soul pulsed strong and steady once more, their body no longer a mess of exhaustion and injury.
Chara sagged against Asriel, dazed but alive, their breathing deepening as clarity returned. Asriel’s eyes brimmed with relief, fur slicked from panic and effort. “Y-you’re… okay now…” he whispered, voice shaking as he held them tighter.

Asriel gently helped Chara to their feet, supporting their weight as they took tentative steps through the misty cavern. Each movement was careful, deliberate, but Chara’s legs wobbled, muscles still weak from the fight. Their vines twitched faintly, unconsciously testing the strength beneath them, but their focus was on taking each step.

“I’ve got you,” Asriel murmured, his small paws wrapped firmly around Chara’s side. “Just lean on me.”

Chara nodded weakly, letting themselves be guided. The path back to the Ruins was slow, the eerie glow of the mushrooms casting long shadows over their wet, muddied forms. Finally, they reached the familiar stone streets, the warmth of home calling them forward like a fragile promise.

Toriel was in the kitchen when they arrived, humming softly as she tidied up. The moment she turned, her eyes caught the crimson streaks across Chara’s green sweater, the rips and scrapes etched across the fabric. Her hands flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping.

“Wh-What happened?!” she exclaimed, rushing forward, concern and fear etching her face.

Asriel quickly stepped forward, still holding Chara steady. “M-Mom… we went to the Waterfall, and a fish lady with red hair and armor attacked us! She said it was Dad’s orders to kill any humans on sight, and she… she attacked Chara!” His voice cracked, trembling with lingering fear and relief. “I… I healed them, though.”
Chara coughed lightly, forcing a small nod to confirm Asriel’s words. “Y-Yeah… that’s… pretty much it,” they rasped, trying to steady their voice despite the lingering pain in their shoulder and the tremble in their legs.

Toriel’s eyes softened with both worry and gratitude, her hands moving instinctively to brush Chara’s hair from their face. “Oh, my children… you must be more careful,” she murmured, her voice low but firm. She glanced at Asriel, pride and fear mingling. “And you… brave little Azzy, thank the stars for your quick thinking.”

Chara’s lips twitched into a faint, exhausted smirk, leaning slightly into Asriel’s support. “Heh… guess we made it back, huh?”
Asriel let out a small, relieved laugh, brushing stray hair from his damp fur. “Yeah… back home… safe.”

Toriel knelt to inspect the sweater and the wounds, her hands gentle but precise. “We’ll get you patched up properly,” she said, her voice calm but imbued with motherly concern. “But no more wandering into dangerous places… not without telling me first.”

Chapter Text

Toriel sighed softly, her hands trembling just a little as she examined the frayed edges of Chara’s sweater. “You two truly gave me a fright,” she murmured, then straightened and gently took Chara’s hand. “Come, my child. Let me clean those wounds before they reopen.”

Chara didn’t protest just followed quietly as Toriel guided them to the small table near the fire. The warmth from the hearth filled the room, wrapping them in a gentle glow as Toriel dabbed at the dried blood with a damp cloth and applied fresh bandages. The sting made Chara wince once or twice, but Toriel’s touch was soft and careful, her eyes full of that same unshakable love.

Once she finished, Toriel carefully helped Chara pull off the damaged green sweater, holding it up with a thoughtful frown. “This poor thing,” she said softly, turning it over in her hands. “It’s torn quite badly. I’ll knit it up again—it will be good as new.” She offered a warm smile. “For now… you’ll wear something else, alright?”

A few moments later, she returned with a simple white T-shirt clearly one of Asgore’s old ones, far too large for Chara. She handed it to them with a gentle chuckle. “This will do until I finish mending your sweater.”

Chara slipped it on with a faint sigh, the hem hanging down nearly to their knees. “Feels weird without it,” they muttered, tugging at the sleeve.
Asriel, who’d been watching from the couch, suddenly snickered. “Hehehe… it’s so big on you, Chara! You look like you’re wearing a blanket!”

Chara shot him a glare, cheeks faintly pink. “Shut up, Azzy.”

Toriel smiled softly, shaking her head. “Alright, enough teasing. Both of you should rest. It’s been a long day.” She gave Chara’s shoulder a gentle pat before carrying the torn sweater away to her sewing basket.

Later, as the quiet of the Ruins settled in, Chara and Asriel sat together in their shared room. The faint glow of the fire seeped through the open doorway, and the only sounds were the drip of water outside and the soft rustle of blankets.

Chara sat cross-legged on their bed, staring at the faint light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling clearly lost in thought. Asriel shifted beside them, tail flicking lazily.
After a moment, Asriel broke the silence. “Hey, Chara?” he asked quietly.

Chara hummed, not looking over. “Yeah?”

Asriel hesitated, ears twitching. “How do people fall in love? Is it… any different from how monsters do?”
Chara turned their head slowly, blinking at him with a puzzled expression. “Why would I know?” they said flatly.

Asriel’s ears drooped, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I dunno… I just thought maybe humans had it figured out better or something.”
Chara snorted softly, turning their gaze back toward the ceiling. “Trust me, Azzy. Humans barely figure anything out.”
Asriel chuckled quietly at that, his small fangs glinting in the low light. “Yeah… I guess that makes sense,” he said, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Mom says love is… something you just feel, not something you think about. But that sounds kinda confusing, doesn’t it?”

Chara tilted their head slightly, their eyes half-lidded in thought. “Maybe it’s supposed to be,” they murmured. “People monsters, whatever—they all talk about love like it’s some big, perfect thing. But it isn’t. It’s messy. It hurts sometimes.”

Asriel looked at them, blinking. “Hurts?”

“Yeah.” Chara’s voice was soft, almost distant. “Because when you love someone… you start to care too much. And when things go wrong, it’s worse than anything else.” Their fingers fidgeted with the edge of the oversized shirt, twisting the fabric. “That’s what I think, anyway.”

Asriel was quiet for a moment, studying their face. The flickering light from the other room made Chara’s eyes seem darker, deeper. “So… does that mean love’s bad?” he asked hesitantly.
Chara glanced at him, a faint, tired smile tugging at their lips. “No. It’s not bad. Just… dangerous.”

Asriel frowned thoughtfully. “You make it sound like fighting a boss monster or something.”
That earned a soft laugh from Chara small, but real. “Maybe it is,” they said. “Except you can’t win by fighting back.”

Asriel smiled faintly at that, tilting his head. “Then how do you win?”

Chara was quiet for a long moment before answering. “You don’t,” they said finally. “You just… try not to lose too much.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and quiet.
Asriel didn’t really understand, not completely but something about Chara’s tone made him feel like it wasn’t a joke. So, instead of asking more, he scooted closer and rested his head against their shoulder.

Chara blinked in surprise but didn’t move away. The warmth of his fur, the soft rise and fall of his breathing—it was comforting in a way words couldn’t describe. Slowly, their eyes softened, and they let out a quiet sigh.

“Goodnight, Azzy,” Chara whispered.

“Goodnight, Chara,” he murmured back, already half-asleep.

Outside, the drip of water continued its rhythm, the ruins settling back into their usual silence. And for that night, at least, both of them felt safe.

Chara’s eyes fluttered open slowly. The dim, soft purple glow of the Ruins was gone—replaced instead by pale sunlight seeping through old curtains. The air smelled different too… cleaner, sharper, tinged with the faint scent of floor polish and something artificial.

They sat up suddenly, their heart hammering in their chest. The bed beneath them was too soft. The walls—painted beige—were wrong. And the faint hum of electricity, the creak of the floorboards…
This wasn’t the Underground.

Their breath caught in their throat. No… no, this can’t be real.

They looked down at themselves—the familiar yellow sweater clung to their body, the one they hadn’t worn since before they fell. It made their stomach twist.
Their hands trembled as they reached up, touching their hair, their face. Everything felt too real. Too warm.

“...It’s just a dream,” they whispered under their breath. “Just a dream. I’ll wake up any second now…”

But the ticking clock on the wall didn’t stop.
The light didn’t fade.
The world stayed solid.

Swallowing hard, Chara swung their legs over the side of the bed and stood, the floor cold under their feet. The hallway outside was exactly how they remembered it—too clean, too empty, too quiet.

And then—

“Oh, good morning, my sweet girl!”

The voice hit them like a slap.
Chara froze, every muscle in their body locking up as they turned their head toward the kitchen doorway.

There she was.
Marwen.

Her hair neatly pinned, her smile painted on like a mask, her tone dripping with false sweetness. But her eyes—those eyes were cold. Controlling. Familiar.

Chara’s stomach dropped, bile burning the back of their throat.
That fake warmth, that lilting tone everything about it was wrong. They remembered the way she’d use that same voice before screaming, before throwing things, before blaming.

“...You’re awake late today,” Marwen said with that sharp-edged cheer. “You should really start setting an alarm, you’re not a little girl anymore, you know.”

Chara’s jaw clenched. There it is.
That word. That tone. That lie.

Without saying a word, Chara stood up straighter and walked past her, refusing to make eye contact. They could feel her eyes on their back like a knife.
“Hey!”

The sweetness vanished in an instant, replaced by the sharp, venomous voice Chara knew too well. “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”
Marwen lunged forward, grabbing Chara’s arm with a grip that burned, her face twisting in rage. “How dare you ignore me! You ungrateful little—”

Chara tried to pull away, tensing with every fiber of their body, but her hands were iron. Their mind raced, panic bubbling under the shock, and their heart thumped like a drum.
“Stop it! Let go of me!” Chara hissed through clenched teeth, their voice shaking.

The yelling escalated, a whirlwind of anger and accusations, until the front door creaked open and Elias stepped in. His eyes widened at the scene, his voice firm, cutting through the chaos.

“What’s wrong, honey? Why are you screaming at our son like that?” Elias demanded, stepping between Marwen and Chara.

Marwen spun toward him, her fake sweetness curling into scorn. “Sweetie, you know that Chara’s better off as a girl than a boy! It’s obvious!”
Elias’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening. “No. They’re my son, Marwen. And I get to decide how we respect their identity!”

Marwen scoffed, waving a finger at Chara’s face. “Oh, come on! Look at her! She's always been more delicate, more—”

“Delicate or not, Chara is still my child! A boy! You have no say!” Elias shot back, voice rising.

The two of them continued to argue, voices bouncing off the walls, a tense storm of possession and control.

Chara stood frozen in the middle of the room, stomach knotting, palms clammy. Please… wake up… please… they thought desperately, wishing for Toriel, wishing for Asriel, wishing for the Ruins. Hoping—begging—that this was just a dream, and that the warmth of their real home would pull them back before their heart broke completely under this chaos.

Marwen waved her hands in exasperation, pointing at Chara. “I just want what’s best for her! She’s better as a girl!”
“No!” Elias barked. “He is my son. And I will raise him as he truly is!”

Chara closed their eyes, trembling. Their chest felt tight, like it was being squeezed from all sides. The words, the anger, the shouting it was suffocating. All they could do was stand there, wishing, praying, that it would end… that they’d wake up soon.
Elias’s face flushed red with anger, his hands clenching into fists. “Marwen! Enough of this enough! You’re going to drive them mad with all your nonsense!” His voice cracked, full of fury and desperation.

Before Chara could react, Elias’s temper boiled over. His hand lashed out, striking Chara across the shoulder. Pain exploded through their body as they stumbled, barely catching themselves, only for Elias to shove them harshly against the wall. The impact jarred their bones, and the rough plaster scraped against their back.

“You’re a boy, got that?!” Elias roared, chest heaving. “And don’t you dare try to say otherwise!”

Chara’s knees buckled under the force, their head spinning. Shock and fear froze them, and their hands pressed against the wall as they slid slightly to the floor. The room seemed to tilt, the argument around them fading into a blur of shouting and rage.

Marwen’s mouth opened to retort, but even she paused, eyes flicking to Elias with a mixture of shock and incredulity.

Chara’s heart hammered violently in their chest. Pain, humiliation, and helplessness coiled tightly around them. They closed their eyes, wishing, praying with everything in them, that this nightmare would end

 

Chara’s breaths came in uneven, shallow bursts, chest heaving as the remnants of the nightmare clung to them like sticky cobwebs. The darkness of their room felt heavier than usual, the faint glimmer from the cracks above unable to cut through the weight pressing down on their chest. Their palms were clammy, shaking as they wiped frantically at their face, smearing tears across the damp skin.

“Why… why am I crying…?” they whispered, voice barely audible even to themselves. “It was just… a nightmare… I’m not… a crybaby…”

The words came out in broken fragments, swallowed by the stillness of the night. They tried to laugh—a dry, brittle sound meant to convince themselves it was over—but it fractured into another sob, muffled into the pillow. Their chest constricted painfully, and a trembling wave ran down their arms as if their body itself was rejecting the memory of the fear and helplessness from the dream.

Asriel stirred slightly beside them in his sleep, shifting on the mattress, and Chara froze, heart thudding so loud they were certain he might hear it. The thought of waking him, of having to explain or hide this trembling mess of feelings, made them curl tighter into themselves. They tucked their knees closer to their chest, arms wrapped around their legs, pressing their face into the folds of the blanket in a desperate attempt to make the tears stop, or at least go unnoticed.

“It’s fine… it’s fine… it’s just a dream…” they whispered repeatedly, the words looping over and over like a mantra. But the reassurance didn’t reach them; the nightmare’s shadow still lingered, a cold weight pressing at the back of their mind. They could still feel the sting of Elias’ voice, the crushing presence of Marwen’s false sweetness, the helplessness, the fear. It felt too real.

Chara’s body shuddered again, tears slipping past their fingers, and they pressed the pillow harder against their face, biting down on their lip to stifle the sobs. Their small hands fisted the blanket, knuckles whitening as they tried to anchor themselves, to remind themselves that they were safe, that it wasn’t real… that they weren’t there anymore.

“I’m… I’m okay… I’m fine…” they rasped, words trembling with unspent emotion. But even as they said it, their body betrayed them, shoulders trembling, tears streaming freely. They didn’t know how long they sat like that, caught between trying to calm down and the lingering terror that refused to fade.

Eventually, their sobs slowed into quiet, shaky sniffles. They wiped at their face again, leaving streaks of salt and sweat across their cheeks, and let out a shivering sigh. The nightmare’s shadow had loosened just enough for them to breathe a little more evenly. Still, their heart raced, and a lingering ache gnawed at their chest.

The quiet was broken by the soft creak of the bedroom door opening. A gentle, familiar voice filtered in, carrying the warmth of concern and comfort.

“Children… are you okay? I heard crying,” Toriel asked softly, stepping into the room. Her eyes scanned them both, full of worry and care.

Chara, startled, quickly pressed the edge of their white t-shirt to their eyes, dabbing at the streaks of tears and blotting their damp cheeks. They gave a small, forced laugh, trying to steady their trembling voice.

“Yup… we’re both okay!” they said, their words a little shaky but laced with bravado.

Asriel peeked over at Toriel, his ears flicking nervously. He gave a tiny nod, trying to echo Chara’s reassurance, though his wide eyes betrayed how rattled he still felt.

Toriel’s gaze softened, and she stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad to hear that,” she murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “But… remember, it’s always okay to tell me if something frightens you, no matter how small it seems.”

Chara swallowed hard, blinking at her words, and gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod. The warmth in Toriel’s presence made the tremor in their chest ease just a little.

Chapter Text

The next morning came quietly — sunlight streaming through the curtains, painting soft stripes of gold across the floor
Asriel rubbed his eyes and yawned, his fur still a little ruffled from sleep. When he looked over, Chara was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring absently at the floor. Their expression was distant, thoughtful and a little sad.

“Hey, Chara… are you okay?” Asriel asked softly, tilting his head.
Chara blinked and looked up, startled out of their thoughts. They forced a quick smile. “Hm? Yeah, just thinking!”

Asriel tilted his head a bit more, curious. “About what?”
“Ohh, just, you know…” Chara’s voice trailed off. They hesitated for a second, fingers twisting in the fabric of their shirt before continuing, “…if I just tried to give up my soul so Dad could get closer to his goal.”

They said it almost too casually, like it was some random thought — but the weight of the words hung in the air like stone.
Asriel froze. “H-Huh…?” His voice cracked slightly, his eyes widening. He didn’t like the way that sounded. Not one bit.

Chara chuckled weakly, waving their hand. “Nah, don’t worry, you big crybaby, I was joking!”
But the laugh didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Asriel scowled, ears flattening as his chest tightened. “That’s… not funny, Chara.”
Chara blinked, looking at him — and for a moment, their smile faltered. Then they sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of their face. “Yeah… I guess it’s not.”

Asriel’s gaze lingered on Chara, uneasy and full of questions. The silence between them felt heavier than it should have — the kind that made your chest ache, like you were holding your breath without realizing it. Chara looked away first, pretending to be busy straightening the blanket, but their movements were distracted and clumsy.

Asriel frowned softly, his voice breaking the quiet. “...Why do you always do that?”

Chara blinked. “Do what?”

“Laugh everything off,” Asriel said, his tone gentle but edged with hurt. “Even when it’s not funny. You always pretend it is.”

Chara froze mid-motion, their back still turned. For a moment, Asriel thought maybe — just maybe — they were going to actually answer him. But then Chara gave a little shrug and let out a small, airy laugh.

“What, you mean my amazing sense of humor?” they said, forcing a crooked grin over their shoulder. “I can’t help it, I’m hilarious.”

“Chara…” Asriel’s voice softened, ears drooping. He could tell they were dodging it again — like always. Every time something serious came up, every time their voice trembled or their eyes got too wet, they’d hide behind a joke or a smirk like armor.

Chara glanced at him, still smiling, but there was something brittle in their expression. “C’mon, Asriel, don’t give me that look. If I start being all serious and gloomy, you’ll start crying again.”
“I’m not gonna cry!” Asriel snapped defensively, but the way his lip quivered made his protest sound weak. “I just… I want you to talk to me! You don’t have to keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Chara chuckled again, leaning back on their hands. “Pretending? Nah, I’m fine, promise. Totally normal, totally not planning any tragic human sacrifices today.”

“Chara!” Asriel said sharply, his voice rising a bit. His eyes were wide, pleading. “That’s not funny! You can’t just—” He stopped, biting his lip, unsure how to finish the sentence.

For a moment, the grin slipped entirely from Chara’s face. They looked down at their knees, the shadow of the morning light tracing across their cheek. Something flickered in their eyes — regret? sadness? — but it was gone before Asriel could be sure.

Then they sighed dramatically and plopped backward onto the bed, hands behind their head. “You worry too much, Azzy. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Asriel frowned deeper, his tail twitching. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Chara asked, feigning innocence.

“Joking,” he said quietly. “Because you don’t want to tell me what’s really wrong.”
Chara looked at him from where they lay, the ceiling reflecting dimly in their eyes. “Maybe there’s nothing wrong,” they murmured.

“You’re lying.”

Chara’s smirk wavered. Their lips parted like they might say something honest,
but then they turned away again, pulling the blanket up to their chin.

“Then I guess I’m just a really good liar,” they said softly, with a little laugh that cracked halfway through.

Asriel sat there quietly, watching them. His throat felt tight. He wanted to reach out, to say something that would make it all better — but Chara’s wall of laughter, sarcasm, and false smiles stood between them like glass.

So he just whispered, almost to himself, “I wish you’d stop pretending.”

Chara didn’t answer

The silence lingered between them — thick, heavy, and full of all the words neither of them knew how to say. Asriel’s eyes softened as he watched their back rise and fall beneath the blanket. For a second, he thought he saw their shoulders tremble — maybe just from a sigh, maybe from something else.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could, Chara’s voice broke the quiet.

“I’m hungry.”

The words came out suddenly — light, casual, like the tension from moments ago hadn’t even happened. They threw the blanket off and sat up, stretching their arms above their head as if the air hadn’t been suffocating a second ago.

Asriel blinked, caught off guard. “H-Huh?”

Chara swung their legs off the bed and stood, rubbing at their eyes. “Yeah. You know, hungry. As in, stomach growling, food time, breakfast — ring any bells?”

Asriel’s ears twitched, the weight in his chest refusing to lift. “But… Chara, we were just—”
“Talking?” Chara interrupted with a grin that didn’t quite meet their eyes. “Nah, that was just your imagination, Azzy. You must’ve been dreaming with your eyes open.”

Before Asriel could respond, a voice rang out from downstairs — warm and cheerful, cutting through the tension like sunlight through mist.

“Asriel! Chara! I bought you both a new friend!” Toriel called.

Asriel’s ears perked up immediately, his earlier worry melting into curiosity. “A new friend?!” he said, his tail giving an excited flick. He glanced at Chara, who looked far less enthusiastic — their brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

“What does she mean, ‘new friend’?” Chara asked, suspicion already creeping into their tone.

“I don’t know!” Asriel said brightly, already bounding toward the door. “C’mon, let’s see!”

Chara sighed and followed, dragging their feet behind him. The air downstairs smelled faintly of cinnamon and flowers — and standing beside Toriel at the entrance of the Ruins was someone new.

A small human girl — younger than both of them. Her dark brown hair fell just past her collarbone, one bang sweeping over her right eye. The other eye, visible and bright cyan, shone with nervous curiosity. A red ribbon tied in her hair, and in her hands, she clutched a small toy knife — more like a keepsake than a weapon. She wore a light blue shirt with a single yellow stripe across it and plain black pants.

Toriel smiled warmly, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Children, this is Emily. She will be staying with us for a while. Please, make her feel welcome.”

Asriel’s face lit up with excitement. “Ooo, a new human! Hi! What’s your name? I’m Asriel, and this is Chara!” he said, his tail swishing happily.

Emily smiled shyly, giving a small wave. “I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you both.”

Asriel grinned from ear to ear, but when he turned to Chara, the warmth drained from his face. Chara wasn’t smiling. They weren’t even pretending to. Their eyes were sharp, cold — locked on Emily with an expression that made the air feel heavier.

Emily’s smile faltered slightly under that glare. She looked between them, confused. “Um… does Chara not talk?” she asked softly.
Asriel’s stomach tightened. He looked at Chara, silently pleading with his eyes. “Chara…” he murmured.

But Chara didn’t even blink. Their expression twisted, dark and venomous. Asriel could see it — that deep resentment that Chara had always carried for humans, no matter how much Toriel tried to soften it.

Finally, after a tense moment, Chara’s lips curved — not into a smile, but something much colder.
“I hope you get torn into multiple pieces by a monster down here,” they said flatly, voice low and steady. “And I hope your SOUL gets painfully ripped out of you.”

The words hit like shards of ice. There was no sarcasm, no smirk, no trace of their usual mocking tone — just pure malice.

Asriel gasped, his fur bristling. “Chara! What— why would you say that?!” he cried, eyes wide in shock.

Emily’s cyan eyes went wide, shimmering with tears that she desperately tried to blink away. Her lip trembled, her small hands tightening around the toy knife for comfort. “I… I didn’t mean to make you mad…” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Toriel’s expression changed in an instant — the warmth on her face fading into stunned disapproval. “Chara…” she said softly, her tone calm but sharp enough to cut through the air. “That was very unkind.”

Chara’s eyes flicked to Toriel for only a second — unreadable — before turning away entirely. “Whatever,” they muttered.

Asriel’s heart ached. He stepped closer to Emily, his voice trembling but gentle. “I-I’m sorry about that, Emily. Chara didn’t mean it, really—”
But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

Emily nodded faintly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to smile through the hurt. “It’s okay,” she whispered, though her voice cracked.
Toriel gave Chara a long, disappointed look — one Chara refused to meet — before gently guiding Emily further inside.

“Come, little one,” Toriel said softly. “Let’s get you something warm to eat. Asriel, you may join us.”

Asriel glanced back at Chara one last time — the tension in the air still coiled tight like a storm waiting to break — before following them, his mind spinning with worry.

The air in the living room was thick with unease. Toriel had gone to prepare something warm for them — pie, most likely — leaving the three children sitting together in a silence that felt far from comfortable.

Asriel sat on one end of the couch, his hands folded nervously in his lap. Emily sat across from him, her small frame stiff with uncertainty. She kept glancing toward Chara, who was leaning against the armrest, arms crossed, expression unreadable but clearly cold.

To break the silence, Asriel tried to sound cheerful. “So, um, Emily… do you like it here so far? The Ruins are really safe! Mom—uh, Toriel—she’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

Emily nodded, trying to smile. “It’s really pretty down here. The flowers, the purple walls—it’s kind of peaceful.”

Chara snorted. “Peaceful, huh? Guess you haven’t met the right monsters yet.”

Asriel shot Chara a look. “Chara…”

“What?” Chara said innocently, not even glancing at him. “I’m just saying. Not everyone down here is all sunshine and pie.”

Emily’s smile wavered, but she tried to stay polite. “I-I’m sure there are nice ones too. Like you and Asriel!” she said softly, hopeful.

Chara’s lips twitched — not into a smile, but something sharper. “Yeah. Sure. Nice.” Their tone dripped with sarcasm. “Because the first thing I said to you totally screamed nice, right?”

Emily’s shoulders slumped, her hands tightening around the hem of her shirt. “I… I didn’t mean to upset you before…”

Chara tilted their head, eyes narrowing. “Then maybe stop talking.”

“Chara!” Asriel’s voice cracked, his eyes wide with shock.

Chara shrugged, leaning back lazily against the couch. “What? I’m being honest. That’s what you’re supposed to do with friends, right? Be honest?”

Emily looked down, her hair falling in front of her face to hide the tears threatening to form again. “I-I thought… we could try being friends…”
Chara’s voice softened slightly, but not with kindness — more like a blade dulled just enough to make the cut hurt longer. “You thought wrong.”

The words hung there, cold and cruel. Even Chara seemed to feel the weight of them after a second their expression flickering with something almost like guilt — but it vanished just as quickly.
Asriel clenched his fists. “You don’t have to be like this,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “Emily didn’t do anything to you.”

Chara looked at him for a long moment, their face unreadable. Then they gave a dry laugh. “Didn’t do anything yet.”

Asriel’s heart sank. “Chara…”

Emily’s lip trembled again, but she forced herself to stand, her small hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to make you mad"
A small, choked sound escaped her — the kind that wasn’t quite a sob yet, but carried all the weight of one that wanted to come. She tried to wipe at her eyes quickly, but the tears were already spilling down her cheeks, dripping onto her hands.

Asriel’s heart twisted. “Emily, it’s okay, please don’t cry—” he started, reaching toward her.

But beside him, Chara’s shoulders gave a tiny twitch. At first, Asriel thought maybe they were finally feeling guilty — that maybe they were holding back tears too. But then he saw the way their hand shot up to cover their mouth, their face turning away sharply.

“Chara…” he whispered, his stomach dropping.

He could see it — the faint shake of their shoulders, the way their body trembled. But it wasn’t from holding back tears.

It was from trying not to laugh.

Chara’s fingers pressed against their lips, muffling a sound that still slipped through — a sharp exhale that cracked into a half-suppressed snicker. They turned their head even further, biting their lip, their shoulders shaking harder.

“Chara, stop,” Asriel hissed, his voice tight with disbelief and anger.

But the sound of Emily’s small, broken sniffles only made it worse. The moment cracked — and suddenly, Chara burst out laughing.

It started as a sharp, breathless giggle, then spilled into uncontrollable laughter — loud, unrestrained, almost manic. They doubled over, clutching their stomach, gasping between each laugh as though the whole situation was some kind of twisted joke.

“Hahaha oh, come on !” Chara wheezed, barely able to breathe between fits. “She’s crying over that? Seriously?!”

Asriel’s eyes widened, horrified. “Chara! That’s not funny!”

But Chara didn’t stop. The laughter just kept pouring out, wild and broken. Even as tears began to form in the corners of their own eyes — not from sadness, but from laughing too hard — they couldn’t control it.
Emily stared for a second, stunned, then covered her face with both hands as another sob tore free. She turned and bolted out of the room, her small footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Asriel snapped his head toward Chara, anger and disbelief warring on his face. “What is wrong with you?!” he shouted.

Chara’s laughter finally began to die down, replaced with short, breathy chuckles. “Oh, relax,” they muttered, wiping at their eyes. “She’ll be fine. Humans are so dramatic.”

Asriel stood, trembling. “You made her cry!”

Chara met his gaze, their smile faltering for just a moment. Something flickered in their eyes — something small, uncertain — but it vanished quickly under a scoff. “If she’s that weak, she’s not gonna last long down here anyway.”

Asriel stared at them, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You don’t mean that…”
Chara looked away, jaw tightening. “…Maybe I do.”

Just as the tension in the room hung like a thick fog, the soft sound of footsteps approached. Toriel returned, carrying a warm, steaming pie in her hands, the sweet aroma filling the room. Her eyes immediately softened at the sight of Asriel, but they quickly flicked to the hallway, where faint sobs still echoed.

“Oh… my child,” Toriel murmured, her voice tight with worry, setting the pie down on the table. She rushed a few steps toward the hallway. “Why are you crying? Emily, my dear, what has happened?”

Emily peeked around the corner, her face red and streaked with tears. Her small frame trembled as she clutched the hem of her shirt, trying to hide her tears. “I… I… I didn’t do anything wrong…” she whispered, her voice quivering.

Toriel’s gaze softened further, but concern and mild frustration mingled in her eyes. She knelt down, taking Emily gently by the shoulders. “Oh, my sweet child… it’s alright. No one is going to hurt you here. Please, come back with me. Everything will be okay.”

Asriel rushed forward, staying close to Toriel and Emily, his ears flattened in worry. “Chara… why did you do that? You made her cry!” he demanded, his voice trembling, almost as if he were trying to hold the anger, fear, and hurt all at once.

Chara, leaning casually against the couch, arms crossed, didn’t move. They stared blankly at the wall, expression unreadable, as if Asriel’s words barely registered. “…She’s fine,” they said flatly, shrugging. “Humans cry. Big deal.”

Toriel’s gaze snapped to Chara, her eyes narrowing slightly, but her voice remained calm, though firm. “Chara, that is not how we treat guests. Or anyone.”

Chara’s jaw twitched, but they didn’t answer. Asriel, watching Chara’s cold indifference, felt his chest tighten even more.

Toriel gently guided Emily back into the living room, sitting her down on the couch. She rubbed her daughter’s back soothingly, murmuring soft words of comfort. “There now… it’s alright. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.”

Emily sniffled, trying to calm herself, and gave a small nod, still trembling. Asriel sat beside her, pulling her hands into his gently. “I’m… sorry, Emily. Chara… doesn’t usually mean to…” His voice broke, and he trailed off, unsure how to explain Chara’s cruelty.

Chara remained silent, leaning back with a faint smirk that didn’t reach their eyes, watching the scene unfold — a storm contained behind a wall of amusement and malice.

After a while, the warm pie filled the room with a comforting scent, and the tension from earlier slowly eased. Toriel sat at the head of the table, carefully serving slices to each of the children. Asriel tried to keep the atmosphere light, chatting quietly with Emily as they ate, but Chara remained mostly silent, poking at their food with little interest and occasionally glancing up with that same unreadable expression.

Once the last bites were eaten and the plates cleared, Emily shifted slightly beside Asriel. Her small hands fidgeted in her lap, and her voice dropped to a soft whisper.

“Asriel… why… why does Chara’s cheek always look like they’re blushing?” she asked, her cyan eyes wide with curiosity. “Like… why are their cheeks so rosy?”

Asriel froze mid-bite, thinking over her question. Huh… good question, he thought. He’d noticed it plenty of times before — even when Chara was furious or completely unreadable, their cheeks seemed to have that faint pink flush. At first, he’d assumed it was just a trick of the lighting or maybe some kind of makeup.

But then he remembered the day at the waterfall, when Chara had gone wading in the cold water, and the rosy tint hadn’t washed away. Not at all. He had never asked why, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he ever would — Chara rarely gave explanations, and it was just one of those little mysteries he’d accepted about them.

Emily tilted her head, her curiosity genuine. “It’s… kind of cute, though,” she added softly, trying to make sense of it in her own way.

Hey, Chara…” he began hesitantly, his ears tilting slightly forward. “Why… why are your cheeks always so rosy? Like… ever since we met, they’ve always been like that.”

Chara perked up at the question, their ears flicking slightly, and they tilted their head, looking genuinely confused for a moment. “Oh…” they murmured, eyes narrowing slightly as if thinking hard.

“I… I don’t know,” Chara said after a pause, shrugging. “I think it’s because… my blood vessels in my cheeks are more prominent than other people’s… or maybe really high, but I’m not entirely sure.”

They paused, glancing away for a second, then added, almost casually, “But I just know they’ve always been like that.”

Asriel nodded slowly, absorbing the answer. It made sense — kind of. “Oh… okay,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I guess that explains it"
After that little conversation, Asriel and Emily seemed to find a comfortable rhythm together. They started quietly playing with some small toys Toriel had set out in the living room — building little block towers, making up stories for the stuffed animals, and giggling quietly when one of the towers inevitably tumbled over.

Asriel’s laughter was soft but genuine, and Emily’s shy smiles gradually became brighter. Each time she looked at him, there was a spark of trust forming, a bond growing between them that made the room feel warmer and lighter. Asriel found himself explaining little things about the Ruins to her — where the flowers grew, which rooms were safest, and which monsters were more friendly than scary. Emily listened intently, her curiosity shining through, and she asked questions eagerly, sometimes tilting her head in ways that made Asriel laugh softly.

Meanwhile, Chara didn’t join in at all. Whenever Emily was around, Chara stayed in their room, sometimes peeking out the doorway for a moment but never really interacting. They’d sit on the edge of their bed, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the living room with that same unreadable expression, and then turn back to whatever they had been doing in solitude.

Despite Chara’s absence, Asriel didn’t seem to mind too much. He was too busy enjoying Emily’s company, laughing at her small jokes and offering little words of encouragement as they played. Emily, in turn, slowly began to warm up even more, whispering secrets to Asriel about her favorite flowers or the games she used to play before coming to the Ruins.

Through those simple moments, Asriel and Emily became close friends, their bond strengthening with each shared laugh and quiet conversation. Chara remained apart — a silent presence that was felt but not involved — their rosy cheeks a faint glow behind the closed door of their room, untouched by the lightness of friendship blossoming just outside.

Even so, Asriel couldn’t help glancing back at Chara from time to time, a small worry tugging at him. He wondered what Chara was thinking, why they didn’t join in, and whether they would ever allow themselves to be part of the little world he and Emily were building together. But for now, he pushed the thought aside, letting the laughter and warmth fill the living room.

Chapter Text

Later, when the laughter from their games had quieted down for a moment, Chara could be seen lounging lazily on the couch, arms draped over the backrest, looking completely unbothered — or at least trying to appear that way. Their eyes were half-lidded, and their posture suggested a mix of boredom and casual superiority.

Emily, meanwhile, had wandered over without thinking too much, curious about Chara. She reached forward tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair from Chara’s face and gently running her fingers through the dark strands. She thought it was playful, almost like grooming a pet, and she hummed softly as she worked, enjoying the silky texture.

Chara, feeling the touch, perked up slightly and let out a short, amused chuckle. “Asriel… you know my hair isn—”

They stopped mid-sentence and spun around, eyes narrowing as they realized it wasn’t Asriel at all. Emily’s small hands were still in their hair, looking up at them with a shy, cheerful smile.

Chara’s expression shifted instantly from mild amusement to stone-cold stoicism. Their lips pressed into a thin line, and their eyes glinted with unmistakable distaste.
“Oh… ew. You… don’t touch me,” Chara said flatly, leaning back slightly and trying to create some distance, though Emily’s tiny stature made it almost comically difficult.

Emily blinked, caught off guard. “O-oh… I… I’m sorry! I thought—”
Chara waved a dismissive hand, though their ears twitched in mild irritation. “Thought what? That I’d let you mess with my hair? Nope. Not happening.”

Asriel, who had been sitting nearby, hid a small grin behind his hand, trying not to laugh at Chara’s sudden reaction. Emily’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, but she nodded quickly, letting her hands fall to her lap.

Emily’s flushed cheeks slowly faded as she looked up at Chara, curiosity and admiration shining in her cyan eyes. “I… I like your eyes,” she said softly, tilting her head. “They’re… like rubies. It’s… really cool!”

Chara froze for a moment, their gaze flicking toward Emily. They tilted their head slightly, side-eyeing her with that familiar mixture of suspicion and annoyance. Their ears twitched, and the corner of their mouth lifted ever so slightly — not enough to look like a smile, but enough to show that Emily’s comment had snagged at their attention.

“…Hmph,” Chara muttered, voice low and clipped. “Thanks… I guess.”

Emily’s small grin grew, encouraged by the tiny reaction. “I mean it! They’re really… unique. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like yours before.”

Chara’s side-eye sharpened, and they leaned back a little more, arms crossed. “…Unique, huh?” they said slowly, almost as if weighing whether to be offended or not. They gave a short, dismissive snort

Asriel, watching the exchange, couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle. Emily’s honesty and Chara’s half-resentful, half-flustered reaction was… new territory. And despite themselves, it seemed like a small bridge had just started forming between the two, fragile though it was.

Emily, unfazed by Chara’s words, continued to smile brightly. “I mean it! You really do have amazing eyes.”

Chara huffed again, turning slightly away from Emily as if the conversation weren’t happening. “…You sure say a lot of things for someone so small,” they muttered, voice dripping with that same sharp edge.

Emily tilted her head, undeterred, and smiled even brighter. “Because I mean them! And you’re really cool too, Chara. You’re… strong, and smart, and… I don’t know, kind of mysterious!”

Chara’s ears twitched. “…Mysterious? Seriously? That’s… that’s supposed to be a compliment?” they asked, tone skeptical, though there was a flicker of curiosity in their eyes.

“Yeah! It’s… it’s like you have secrets that make you interesting!” Emily insisted, bouncing slightly on the couch cushions, her enthusiasm unwavering.

Chara rolled their eyes dramatically. “Secrets, huh… Well, maybe I do have secrets. Doesn’t mean you get to know them,"
Emily giggled softly, unbothered by the rudeness. “I’m not trying to know all your secrets! I just… like learning little things about you. Even the tiny stuff is cool!”

Chara leaned back further, folding their arms tightly, but the faintest twitch of a smile threatened at the corners of their lips. “Hmph. Tiny stuff, huh? Don’t think I’m impressed.”

Emily tilted her head again, ignoring the tone. “I am! Like, I love the way your hair falls over your eyes sometimes. And your voice… it’s kind of intimidating but also… nice?”

Chara’s side-eye was sharper now, but their body language betrayed them — a small shiver ran through their frame, a mixture of irritation and something they didn’t want to admit. “…Intimidating and nice? That’s… dumb,” they muttered, though their ears twitched as Emily’s words lingered.

Asriel watched quietly, hiding a smile behind his hand. He could see it clearly: Emily’s persistence, kindness, and honesty were slowly, subtly breaking through Chara’s walls, even if Chara would never admit it out loud.

Emily leaned closer, whispering playfully, “I think you’re… kind of amazing, Chara. Even if you don’t want me to say it.”
Chara froze mid-huff, a quiet pause hanging in the air, and for just a moment, their eyes softened — though they quickly looked away again, muttering under their breath, “…You’re annoying.

Emily, undeterred by Chara’s muttered annoyance, tilted her head with a small, playful grin. “And… did you know that my SOUL is patience?” she said softly, as if sharing a secret treasure.

Chara let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling their eyes and leaning back even further. Their ears twitched lazily, and their expression was the very definition of uninterested. “…Cool,” they said flatly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re… making me impatient.”

Emily blinked for a moment, not quite expecting that response. “I… what?” she whispered, tilting her head curiously.

Chara smirked faintly, crossing their arms again. “Yeah, patience or not, you keep yammering at me, and it’s… annoying. I don’t have the patience for this.”

Emily giggled softly, undaunted. “Oh… so you’re… impatient? That’s… kind of funny, actually!”
Chara, a small twitch betraying their irritation. “…Ha. Hilarious,” they muttered,
Emily’s giggle lingered in the air, and she leaned forward slightly, curiosity sparkling in her cyan eyes. “So… what’s your SOUL, hmm?” she asked softly, tilting her head, trying to coax a response.

Chara’s ears twitched at the question, and they let out a short, scoffing laugh, rolling their eyes. “…Determination, I think,” they muttered, shrugging one shoulder. “Idk. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Emily’s eyes widened a little, not offended but genuinely intrigued. “Determination… that’s… really cool! It suits you!”

Chara side-eyed her, unimpressed, though their ears flicked back slightly. “…Cool, huh? Guess it does… whatever.”
Emily’s grin widened. “It’s like… you never give up, even when things get tough! That’s… kind of amazing.”

Emily’s grin didn’t falter as she leaned a little closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I heard that… all humans have determination, and they can persist after death! But that’s only if they have enough determination, too So… what would it mean if a human has a SOUL that’s literally determination?” she asked, her voice bubbling with wonder.

Chara let out a long, exaggerated sigh, tilting their head back slightly. Their ears twitched lazily, and their expression turned into that trademark mix of annoyance and superiority.

Emily’s eyes widened, her curiosity lighting up her whole face. “I heard that all humans have determination and can persist after death! But… that’s only if they have enough determination, right? So… what would it mean if a human has a SOUL that’s literally determination?” she asked, voice soft and awed.

Chara let out a long, low sigh, leaning back and crossing their arms with an almost exaggerated sense of patience. Their ears twitched, and their tone dripped with that familiar passive-aggressive edge. “…Alright, little human, listen up,” they began, voice calm but sharp. “You think all humans having determination is the same as having a SOUL of determination? It’s not. Not even close.”

Emily leaned in eagerly, hanging on every word.

Chara continued, eyes narrowing slightly. “Humans have determination — sure. It’s what lets them keep going, keep trying, even when things are… well, impossible. But that doesn’t mean they can do what I can do. Human determination doesn’t let them reset, doesn’t let them load a situation like it’s a game. Once it’s over… it’s over. That’s it.”

Emily’s mouth opened slightly, trying to process what she was hearing.

Chara’s expression hardened, though their voice softened just a touch as if this part of them was… complicated. “My SOUL? Mine is literally determination. I could reset if I wanted to. Go back. Change things. Undo… failures. Humans can’t do that. They keep persisting, yeah, but they can’t actually try again with a blank slate. That’s the difference.”

There was a quiet pause. Chara’s gaze dropped slightly, a shadow of uncertainty flickering in their eyes. “Not that I… actually know how to fully do it yet,” they admitted quietly, almost under their breath, as if afraid someone might hear. “Deep down… I don’t really know how to reset completely. But yeah… I could, if I wanted.”

Emily blinked, staring at Chara with wide eyes. “Wow… that’s… that’s… incredible.”

Later that night, the Ruins were bathed in quiet stillness, the faint hum of the underground waterfalls echoing softly in the distance. The dim glow of the candles Toriel had left burning filled the bedroom with a warm, orange light.

Emily lay on a small air mattress between the twin beds that belonged to Asriel and Chara. Her blanket was pulled up to her chin, and her wide eyes flicked between the two monsters as they settled in for the night.

Asriel stretched, tail flicking lazily as he turned toward them with a hopeful grin. “Hey, guys… we make a great trio, don’t we?” he said, his voice warm and genuine, clearly trying to lighten the sleepy atmosphere.

Emily smiled, her voice soft and cheery. “Yeah, we do—”

But before she could even finish, Chara’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and flat. “Me and Asriel make a duo,” they said firmly, turning on their side to face away from Emily. “But me, Asriel, and you, Emily… don’t make a great trio. Don’t get it twisted. I still don’t like you. Not even a bit.”

Emily blinked, her smile faltering slightly, unsure how to respond.

Asriel sighed but smiled anyway, used to Chara’s rough tone. “Well, at least it’s not hatred anymore,” he teased lightly, trying to smooth things over with humor.

Chara didn’t miss a beat. They turned slightly, their voice calm but cutting. “Oh no, no,” they said coolly. “I still hate her. Don’t worry.”

Emily’s cheeks puffed a little in mock offense. “That’s… mean,” she mumbled softly.

Asriel chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, his tone playful but reassuring.

Chara huffed, pulling their blanket tighter around them. “Don’t count on it,” they muttered, though if anyone had looked close enough, they might’ve caught the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth

Emily’s smile returned as she yawned, curling up under her blanket. “Goodnight, Chara… goodnight, Asriel.”

“Goodnight,” Asriel replied warmly.
Chara didn’t answer they buried their face in their pillow, muttering something under their breath that almost sounded like, “...Night.”

The next morning came early, sunlight trickling faintly through the cracks of the Ruins’ stone ceiling. The air was cool, and the soft, distant drip of water echoed through the halls as the three children stirred awake.

Emily was the first to sit up, rubbing her eyes sleepily before smiling at the sight of Asriel already getting ready, tail no, ears perking up with excitement. “C’mon! Let’s go play outside the house!” he said cheerfully.

Chara, however, was still sprawled out on their bed, blanket half over their head. “Pass,” they muttered groggily, their voice muffled by the pillow. “I’m not wasting energy on… playing.”

Asriel frowned. “Oh, come on, Chara! It’ll be fun! Emily’s never seen half the Ruins yet!”

Emily glanced over hopefully, clutching her little jacket. “Yeah… I’d really like if you came too,” she said softly.
Chara sighed loudly, sitting up with a dramatic groan. “Ugh… fine. But only because Asriel won’t shut up about it,” they muttered, brushing their messy hair out of their face.

Not long after, the three were out in the open hallways of the Ruins, the soft purple glow from the walls lighting their way. Emily’s laughter echoed as she and Asriel ran ahead, while Chara trailed behind at a lazy pace, hands tucked into their pockets.
“Come on, Chara!” Asriel called, waving. “Let’s play catch!”

Before Chara could refuse, Asriel threw the ball lightly in their direction. It bounced once, and Chara caught it easily with one hand. They stared at the ball for a moment, expression blank, then threw it back—straight to Asriel.

“Nice throw!” Asriel grinned, catching it. He tossed it again, and Chara caught it again, just as effortlessly. But when Emily lifted her hands expectantly, waiting for her turn, Chara didn’t even glance her way.

Instead, they threw it right back to Asriel again.
Emily tried not to look disappointed. She smiled, though it was smaller now, shuffling her feet a little. Asriel noticed instantly.

So, the next time he caught the ball, he smiled slyly and tossed it not to Chara but gently to Emily instead. “Heads up!”

Emily’s face lit up as she caught it, her laughter bright and genuine. She threw it back, though her aim was a little off, and Asriel ran a few steps to grab it. “Nice one!” he said encouragingly.

Chara, still standing a few feet away with arms crossed, rolled their eyes but didn’t say anything.
And so the game went on: Chara only ever throwing to Asriel, Asriel making sure Emily always got included, and Emily—despite Chara’s cold shoulder—still laughing and smiling as if she didn’t notice at all.

The three of them kept playing for a while, their laughter echoing through the stone halls of the Ruins. Even though Chara mostly kept to themselves, the sound of Emily and Asriel’s joy filled the space with warmth that softened the cold, damp air. Eventually, after what felt like hours of running, tossing, and chasing the ball across the mossy floor, they all flopped down to rest near one of the glowing violet walls.

Asriel leaned back with a happy sigh, catching his breath. “That was fun,” he said between laughs.
Emily nodded, cheeks flushed from the excitement. “Yeah! I haven’t run around that much since… forever,” she giggled, setting the ball beside her.

Chara sat a short distance away from them, back against the wall, arms crossed loosely. They looked calm and detached as usual, though the faintest trace of a smirk flickered on their face as they watched Asriel trying—and failing to flatten his fur from all the static the moss had caused.

Emily, still catching her breath, glanced over at Chara with a thoughtful look. After a moment, she tilted her head and asked, “Hey, Chara… I have a question.”

Chara didn’t move, just gave a slow blink before answering in their usual monotone. “What.”

Emily giggled nervously, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “Um… how do you even pronounce your name? I’ve been saying ‘Chair-uh’ this whole time, but… is that right?”

For a moment, Chara just stared at her. Then, with the most uninterested voice imaginable, they said flatly, “Oh. Pronounced Kara. Or like how you’d say character without the cter. Or Char-uh, or Chair-uh. I really don’t care.”
Emily blinked at the blunt response, then nodded slowly, trying to process it. “Oh… okay! Chara” she said, testing it softly.

Chara shrugged, still leaning against the wall. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

Asriel chuckled under his breath. “You could’ve just said Kara from the start, you know.”

Chara side-eyed him, a faint smirk tugging at their lips. “You could’ve stopped talking five seconds ago, but here we are.”

Chapter Text

The three of them walked deeper into the Ruins, their footsteps echoing faintly against the purple stone walls. Dust motes floated lazily in the dim, soft light filtering through cracks above. Vines twisted up the old pillars, and the faint hum of ancient magic hung in the air like static.

Emily and Asriel were ahead, chatting and laughing, darting around to examine the flowers and faded murals carved into the walls. Chara followed behind, hands in their pockets, eyes half-lidded with boredom. They didn’t say much just walked, occasionally kicking a loose pebble or sighing when Emily got too loud.

“Wow, this place is so pretty!” Emily said, spinning around with a bright smile. “I can’t believe it’s all underground.”

“Yeah,” Asriel said, smiling warmly at her. “It’s kinda… peaceful. Don’t you think, Chara?”

Chara didn’t answer right away. Their gaze was fixed on the floor, on the way their shadow stretched and broke against the cracks. “Sure. Peaceful,” they muttered. “If you like moss and rocks.”

Emily turned around, still keeping her energy up. “Well, it’s cozy! It’s not that bad!”

Chara gave a small snort through their nose. “Yeah, if your standards are underground tombs, I guess.”

Asriel rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“I try,” Chara said dryly.

They walked for a while longer before coming to a wide chamber its floor uneven and cracked down the middle. A long, jagged fissure split the ground, dark and deep enough that none of them could see the bottom. Pebbles occasionally tumbled in and disappeared into the void with a faint echo.

Asriel stepped closer, peering down nervously. “Whoa… that’s a long way down. We should probably go around it.”

But Chara’s eyes had a glint—mischievous, dangerous, the kind that made Asriel’s stomach twist. They stepped forward, tilting their head as they studied the unstable ground.

“Hey,” Chara said suddenly, that grin creeping onto their face. “Do you guys dare me to go on it?”

Emily’s smile instantly faded. “Wait, what? No! I don’t think you should do that…”

Toriel and Chara made their way toward the cashier, Chara’s bag now holding the jacket, pants, and a small stack of chocolates. The shopkeeper, busy arranging some jars behind the counter, finally looked up and gave them a wide, curious smile.

“Ahh, so is this the monarch of the Underground?” they asked, their eyes twinkling with intrigue as they looked directly at Chara.

Chara froze mid-step, brow furrowing. “The… what now? Monarch?” they asked, voice sharp with confusion.

The shopkeeper chuckled softly, adjusting their apron. “Yes, yes! A monarch. You know… royalty, nobility. Like your little prince friend, Asriel. He’s the prince of the Underground, isn’t he?”

Chara’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing. “Prince… okay… so what am I supposed to do with that? Bow or something?” Their tone was flat, almost mocking, but a faint twitch in their shoulder betrayed a flicker of unease.

Toriel, standing beside them, gave a small, awkward smile. “Oh, no, my child. It’s just a… title, nothing to worry about. The shopkeeper simply meant it as a compliment,” she said gently, trying to ease Chara’s tension.

Chara crossed their arms, staring at the shopkeeper with a neutral, unreadable expression. “I’m… not royalty,” they said flatly, though their voice lacked the usual bite, more… skeptical than angry.

The shopkeeper laughed softly, waving a hand. “Oh, of course, of course! But there’s a certain… presence about you. Something commanding. You carry yourself differently than most.”

Chara’s eyes flicked down to the bag in their hands, tight fingers curling around the straps. They said nothing, their jaw tightening, but the faintest trace of a blush crept across their cheeks. They weren’t sure if it was embarrassment, annoyance, or something else entirely.

Toriel cleared her throat, placing a gentle hand on Chara’s back. “Let’s just pay for our things, my child. We have a little shopping left to do before Asriel’s birthday.”

Chara gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and followed Toriel to the counter, the words of the shopkeeper lingering in their mind like a strange echo they couldn’t quite place.

Chara turned their head sharply toward her, tone dripping with mock amusement. “Why should I listen to you?”

Before anyone could stop them, Chara stepped out onto the cracked surface. The floor creaked under their boots, a low, groaning sound echoing through the chamber—but nothing gave way. Chara stood there, perfectly fine, then casually stepped back.

“See?” they said with a smug shrug. “Nothing. You try, Emily. Or are you too scared?”

Emily hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “I… I’m not scared.”

“Then prove it.”

Asriel opened his mouth, “Emily, you don’t have to—” but she’d already stepped forward, her foot landing on the trembling surface.

The sound came immediately.
Crack.

Emily froze, eyes wide, and Asriel took a step forward. “Emily—!”
The ground gave way beneath her in an instant. A deafening crash echoed as the floor shattered, chunks of rock tumbling into the abyss. Emily’s scream pierced the air as she vanished into the darkness below.

“EMILY!” Asriel yelled, dropping to his knees at the edge. His voice trembled. “E-Emily, can you hear me!? EMILY!?”

The echo of her fall faded, replaced by silence.

Chara just stood there, staring down at the gap where Emily had been seconds ago. Their breath hitched, something sharp and hot twisting in their chest—but not guilt. Not exactly. Something else. Something darker. They felt it an urge, a bubbling sound in their throat then it slipped out. A laugh.

It was quiet at first, a single, stifled chuckle. But then another followed. It was wrong. It was wrong.

Why was it funny?
Why did their chest feel so light when it should’ve felt heavy?
Why did the fear in Asriel’s voice make them want to laugh harder?

Chara pressed a hand over their mouth, but their shoulders trembled. Their mind screamed at them to stop to feel something but instead, that hollow amusement kept slipping through. They didn’t even understand it. Maybe it wasn’t joy. Maybe it was… something breaking loose.

Asriel looked back at them, eyes wet, confusion and disbelief on his face. “Chara… why are you”

But before he could finish, another laugh escaped. A sharp, broken sound that echoed through the chamber like glass shattering.

Chara’s hand was still over their mouth, but the laughter kept spilling out, ragged and uneven. It wasn’t joyful. It was hollow. A trembling, choking sound that didn’t belong to someone okay.

“Stop it,” Asriel whispered, voice shaking. Then louder. “Chara, stop laughing!”
He scrambled to his feet and grabbed their shoulders, shaking them hard. “She fell! She could be hurt! This isn’t funny! Chara, stop!”

But Chara couldn’t. Their breath came in sharp bursts between fits of laughter, tears prickling at the corners of their eyes not from sadness, not from pain, but from how hard it was to breathe. They tried to choke it back, but every time they saw the panic on Asriel’s face, the sound clawed its way out again.

“Hah—hah—A-Asriel—” they stammered between breaths, but it came out like another laugh.
“What’s wrong with you!?” Asriel shouted, shaking them again, his voice cracking in desperation. “Why are you acting like this!? Emily could be—she could be !”

Chara’s laughter only grew harsher, more unsteady — a sound that didn’t fit the quiet, trembling ruins around them. Each breath came out broken, every inhale catching on the edge of another shaky laugh.

Asriel’s hands tightened on their shoulders, his claws trembling against the fabric of Chara’s shirt. “Stop!” he shouted, voice echoing sharply off the walls. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”
But Chara just doubled over, shoulders shaking harder. They pressed both hands to their mouth now, muffling the sound, but the laughter still bled through — hoarse, breathless, like their body had stopped listening to them.

“Chara!” Asriel barked again, his tone cracking with anger now. “She’s gone! She could be hurt or worse and you’re ” He stopped himself, jaw clenched, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. “You’re laughing like it’s some kind of game!”

Chara shook their head weakly, trying to speak between the convulsions of laughter, but the only thing that came out was a strangled snicker. “I—I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t!” Asriel snapped, voice rising. “You can! You just don’t care, do you!? You never cared about anyone but yourself!”

That hit something deep, but not deep enough to stop the laughter. Chara’s chest heaved, the sound quieter now, trembling, almost pained. They looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, and their lips curled just barely not in joy, but in something close to disbelief.

Asriel’s breathing was ragged. He stared at them like he didn’t recognize the person standing in front of him. “You’re sick, Chara,” he hissed, his voice raw. “You’re seriously sick.”

The laughter finally began to fade, tapering into a hollow quiet. Chara stood there, hunched, trembling, still clutching at their stomach as if it hurt. Their expression was unreadable — eyes wide, lips trembling between confusion and something that almost looked like fear.

Asriel took a shaky step back, chest rising and falling fast. “I can’t even look at you right now,” he muttered, his voice thick with anger and grief.

Chara stood frozen, the echo of Asriel’s words ringing in their ears. You’re sick.
It reverberated through their chest, louder than their own heartbeat, louder than the crumbling silence that filled the ruins.

Asriel’s footsteps scraped against the stone floor as he turned away, rushing toward the edge of the pit. “Emily! Emily, can you hear me!?” His voice cracked with desperation, fading slightly as he got closer to the ledge.

But Chara didn’t move.

Their arms hung limp at their sides, breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls. The laughter that had just spilled from them moments ago felt unreal now — like it hadn’t been theirs at all. Their throat burned, and their stomach ached, but worse than the physical pain was the hollow ringing in their head.

They blinked slowly, their vision unfocused on the cracks beneath their feet.
Why did I laugh?

It should’ve scared them — Emily falling like that, Asriel’s panic, the sound of the ground giving way — but instead… it had felt light. Something in them had snapped, and for that moment, everything inside had come loose.

Now it was gone. Replaced by a heavy, suffocating stillness.

They looked down at their hands — shaking, pale, faintly trembling like they were still trying to hold onto something that had already slipped away. Their fingers curled into fists. “I didn’t mean to…” they whispered to no one, voice small, barely audible.

The ruins were quiet except for Asriel’s echoing cries somewhere below, pleading for Emily to answer.

Chara took a step forward, then stopped. Their legs felt weak — not from fear, but from the weight in their chest. The memory of Asriel’s expression that look of disgust, of fear — replayed over and over.

You’re sick.

Chara’s breathing hitched again, their gaze lowering to the stone floor. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to laugh,” they muttered under their breath. “I just—”
The words caught, empty.
If that had been me… would anyone have laughed too?

Their fingers twitched. Their nails dug into their palms. They could still feel it — that rush, that strange, weightless high that had filled their chest when Emily fell. That bubbling amusement that shouldn’t have existed. It scared them now.
Why had it felt so good to laugh?
Why did it feel like they’d been waiting for something bad to happen just so they could finally… feel something?

Their stomach turned. They wanted to throw up, to cry, to do anything, but nothing came. Just that same heavy emptiness.

“I’m not…” Their voice trembled as they spoke to the quiet. “I’m not like that. I’m not…”
But the words died in their throat because even they didn’t believe it.

They could still see Asriel’s eyes in their mind — that flash of betrayal and disbelief. He had looked at them like they weren’t even human anymore. And for a moment, maybe they hadn’t been.

Their mind spiraled.
What if he’s right?
What if something’s wrong with me?
What if it’s always been wrong?

Chara pressed a hand to their chest, gripping the fabric of their shirt tightly as if they could hold themselves together by force. But their heart felt distant, like it wasn’t even theirs. Like it was some broken clock ticking somewhere far away.

They remembered moments flashes of their life before this smiles that felt fake, moments of anger that felt too easy, guilt that never quite landed. It was all blurring together now.
Maybe it wasn’t just today.
Maybe it had always been there that hollow space inside them where feeling was supposed to be.

Their breath came out shaky. “I don’t…” they whispered, staring at the faint tremor in their hands. “I don’t even know what I am anymore.”
Their reflection shimmered faintly in a puddle near the cracked floor. The face staring back looked… wrong. Pale, empty, the faintest glimmer of something cruel lurking just beneath the surface.

And then that question that same thought came again, sharper this time, digging deep into their mind:

If I fell… would anyone have cared?
Would Asriel cry for me like that?
Would he scream my name, or would he just… stare?

Their throat tightened. The thought burned, but they couldn’t push it away.
Maybe that’s why they laughed. Because deep down, they already knew the answer.

They tilted their head toward the pit, eyes dull and unfocused. “You were scared,” they murmured softly, almost dreamlike. “And he cared. He ran for you.”
A bitter, trembling smile ghosted across their lips.

“Guess that makes you luckier than me, huh, Emily?”

Chara stared into the pit for a long moment — the air felt heavier here, colder. It reeked of damp stone and old silence, the kind that clung to your skin. Their eyes flickered, distant, as if the thought of turning back barely even occurred to them.

Then, without hesitation, they stepped forward — and jumped.

The air rushed past them, sharp and biting, their stomach twisting as the darkness swallowed them whole. They didn’t scream. They didn’t even gasp. Their hands reached for the jagged edges of the broken stone mid-fall, catching themselves against a ledge, twisting their body, landing rough but controlled. It was messy, but they didn’t care.

When their boots hit the ground below, a small cloud of dust rose. Their knees stung, their hands were scraped, but they didn’t flinch. It wasn’t the fall that scared them — it was how familiar it felt to fall.

They stood slowly, brushing off their sweater, and scanned the dim cavern. The silence was deafening down here, and the air carried the faint scent of earth and stone. And then, there — just ahead — was a small figure lying motionless against the cracked ground.

Emily.

Her tiny frame was twisted awkwardly, one arm curled beneath her. Her SOUL — faint, flickering cyan — hovered weakly above her chest, like a dying ember trying to stay alight.

Chara’s blank expression didn’t falter. They walked toward her, slow, deliberate steps echoing softly in the ruins. When they reached her side, they crouched down, staring at the pale, lifeless face.

“I could… go back,” Chara murmured, voice low and eerily calm. Their reflection shimmered faintly in the fading light of Emily’s SOUL. “I really could. But you’d just die again anyway, wouldn’t you? Maybe by a monster… maybe by Asgore.”

Their head tilted slightly, tone flat and almost detached. “So… I’ll just let you rest.”

Without hesitation, they extended their hand. From their fingertips, green vines sprouted and curled around the air, softly wrapping around the broken cyan SOUL. The tendrils pulsed faintly with energy, tightening — not to crush, but to repair. The cracks sealed slowly, light blooming gently through the room like quiet starlight.

When the SOUL finally steadied, glowing brighter, Chara’s eyes reflected its color for a brief, ghostly second. Then they reached out, grabbed it carefully, and tucked it into their coat pocket.

“I’ll take this to Dad,” Chara said simply, standing again, brushing the dirt from their knees. Their voice was neither sad nor triumphant — it was just… empty.

They turned, raising one arm. A thick vine shot upward from the floor, twisting and coiling into a sturdy rope that anchored against the ledge above. Without another glance at Emily’s body, Chara climbed — methodical, silent, mechanical.

When they reached the top, they didn’t look back.

The ruins felt even quieter now. Dust floated lazily through the air as they walked — past the cracked path, past the flowers that still glowed faintly in the dim light. They moved through the halls like a ghost.

Toriel’s house came into view in the distance warm light flickering from the windows, soft and welcoming. Chara didn’t even slow down. They passed the doorway without a word, without even a glance inside.
They kept walking.

Through the quiet caverns, through the winding paths, until the soft blue hue of Snowdin painted the world around them. The air bit at their cheeks, crisp and freezing, but they didn’t shiver.

The River Person was already waiting by the shore their face hidden beneath the hood, their small boat floating on the gentle, dark current.
“Hey,” Chara said, voice low. “Can you bring me to the Core?”

The River Person’s head turned slowly toward them. For a long moment, they said nothing, then gave a single, slow nod. “Yes.”
Chara climbed aboard. The wooden boat creaked under their weight. The River Person pushed off from the bank, and the current took them.

For a while, there was only the sound of water lapping softly against the sides. The tunnels blurred by — old, silent stone giving way to metallic reflections as they drew closer to the heart of the Underground.

Then, halfway through the long ride, the River Person spoke. Their voice was soft, echoing strangely, as if carried by the water itself.

“Beware the man that speaks in hands… taaalalalaa…”
Chara’s eyes flicked open, brow furrowing. “The man who speaks in hands?” they repeated, their tone skeptical but faintly curious.

The River Person said nothing more. Only the sound of the river answered them.

The boat slowed to a gentle stop as the metallic hum of the Core surrounded them — the air thick with heat and the faint whir of machinery. Orange light flickered against the walls, reflecting off Chara’s expressionless face.

They stepped off the boat, boots clicking softly against the metal floor.
“Thank you,” Chara murmured.

The River Person only nodded, their voice a quiet echo that followed the current. “Come again soon…”

Chara gave no response as they disappeared into the narrow corridor ahead, walking past the flickering panels and glowing pipes. The deeper they went, the quieter everything became — until the only sound left was the faint hum of energy beneath their feet.

Then, the path opened up into a vast chamber — the throne room. The air smelled faintly of soil and fresh water, despite the machinery humming in the distance. Golden flowers grew around the base of a massive chair, and beside them knelt Asgore, tending to the blossoms with careful, deliberate hands.

“In a second a little more and… oh!” His voice brightened suddenly as he looked over his shoulder. “Char?”
He stood quickly, the watering can clattering softly against the floor. “My goodness, it’s really you! It’s been months since I last saw you—how have you been?” He stepped forward, his smile wide, genuine, and full of warmth.

Without hesitation, he pulled Chara into a hug the kind of embrace that felt like a parent who never stopped worrying.
But Chara didn’t hug back. Their arms stayed at their sides, limp, their expression unreadable.

Asgore noticed almost immediately and pulled back, his smile faltering just a bit. “Ah right, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his tone softening. “Was there something you needed, child?”

Chara said nothing for a moment. Then they reached into their pocket and pulled something out faintly glowing, soft cyan light bleeding between their fingers.
They held it out toward him. “Take it.”

Asgore’s eyes widened. His hand hesitated in midair before he finally took it, staring down at the faintly pulsing heart-shaped Soul resting in his palm.

“A… a human Soul…?” he breathed, his voice low, shaken. He looked back up at them, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

“Yes,” Chara said flatly. “She died from falling.”
Asgore’s grip tightened slightly on the Soul, the glow reflecting in his eyes. “I see…” he murmured, his tone full of sorrow. He opened his mouth, perhaps to ask what happened, to offer comfort, to say something—

But Chara was already turning away.

Their footsteps echoed dully across the metal floor as they walked toward the exit, their silhouette fading back into the glow of the Core’s hallway — silent, small, and steady.
They didn’t look back.

The ride back was quiet.
The river stretched endlessly, dark and still, broken only by the soft sound of the oar cutting through the water. The River Person didn’t speak this time — not a word, not a hum, not even a whisper.

Chara sat motionless, the faint glow of the Core fading behind them. The cyan Soul was gone now, and their hands felt strangely empty — like something warm had been taken away, leaving only cold in its place.

When they finally reached Snowdin’s dock, the River Person only murmured, “We have arrived.”
“Thanks,” Chara said softly, stepping off the boat without another word.

Snowdin was silent — no laughter, no wind, no sound but the crunch of their boots on the snow. Their path led them back the way they came, through the frozen forest, through the lonely stone doorways, down into the ruins. The air grew warmer, heavier with each step.

And then they heard it.
The sound of quiet sobbing echoing through the halls.

Chara hesitated at the doorway of the bedroom. The small space looked exactly the same — two beds, soft light filtering through the cracks above.
But Asriel sat on the edge of his, clutching something in his trembling hands.

Emily’s ribbon — faded, torn, still faintly stained with dust from the fall.

“Asriel—” Chara began, their voice quiet, uncertain.
His head snapped up. His eyes were red and puffy, but the grief in them had sharpened into something else — anger.

“Shut up.”
His voice cracked, but the venom in it was unmistakable. “You hated her from the start,” he spat. “You probably wanted this to happen!”

Chara froze. The words hit harder than they expected, though they didn’t show it. Their face stayed blank — pale, cold, unreadable.

For a long moment, they just stood there. Then, almost without thinking, the words slipped out — quiet, empty, bitter.

“Maybe I did.”
They turned slightly, their eyes dull. “And so what.”

Asriel’s breath hitched, his expression twisting between disbelief and heartbreak. But Chara didn’t look at him again.
They just walked past him — slow, steady steps — and sat down on their own bed, back turned to him.

Chara’s back was stiff, arms crossed tightly over their chest, and their jaw was set. Asriel’s sobs had quieted into a low, bitter hum, but the tension in the room was so thick it felt suffocating.

“You…” Asriel finally said, his voice low and trembling with rage, “you… you monster! How can you even stand there like nothing happened? She’s gone because of you!”

Chara slowly turned, face expressionless, eyes cold as ice. “Because of me? Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. She’s a human. Fragile. That’s not my fault.”
Asriel’s hands shook, fists clenching at his sides. “Not your fault?” he spat, voice rising. “You were there! You were smiling when she fell! You didn’t even try to help—nothing! You laughed! You laughed at her death!”

Chara’s eyes flickered with a faint, dangerous light. “I laughed?” they hissed, stepping closer. “You think I wanted this? You think I enjoyed it? No! But don’t you dare act like you’re holier than me. You can cry, scream, fall apart all you want, but you… you have no idea what it’s like to feel how i do!"

"How you do!?" Asriel bellowed, stepping toward them, face twisted with fury. “Empty? You’re standing there with your eyes like stone, talking like you don’t even care! You destroyed her, Chara!”
Chara’s lips pulled into a thin, bitter line. “I didn’t destroy anything!” they shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “She’s fragile, Asriel! She’s human! You don’t get to shove this all on me like I’m some kind of villain!”

“Oh, I see!” Asriel snapped, stepping closer, voice shaking with rage and grief. “You’re not a villain? You’re worse than that! You’re—You’re… heartless! You act like nothing matters, like life is some game you watch while everyone else suffers!”

Chara’s fists tightened at their sides. “And you think you’re any better? You cry over her ribbon, you wail and scream, and for what? She’s dead, and you think that makes you righteous? I’ll tell you what makes me better than you — I survive. I move. I deal with it. You’re just… weak.”

Asriel’s face twisted, a mixture of rage and shock crossing his features. “Weak? Weak?! You’re the one who laughs at death! You’re the one who watches people fall and doesn’t care until someone yells at you!”

Chara’s expression didn’t waver. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But don’t you pretend you understand me, Asriel. You don’t. You never will. You can scream, cry, beg, or curse me, but I’m still me. And nothing you say will change that.”

Asriel’s voice cracked, high-pitched and sharp, echoing in the room. “You’re sick! You’re twisted! I can’t… I can’t even—ugh! You’re disgusting!”

Chara’s eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a tight, unreadable line. “And you’re pathetic,” they spat back, voice low and cutting. “I’ve seen you fall apart at the tiniest thing. You couldn’t survive what I survive every day. So don’t lecture me about what’s right or wrong.”

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound their ragged breathing. Both of them glared, unflinching, the air between them charged with pure hate.
Then Asriel threw his hands up, voice dripping venom. “I hate you. I fucking hate you, Chara! You hear me? I hate you more than anything! You’re… you’re poison! And I wish you weren’t alive!”

Chara’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the rawness of it, but it was only for a heartbeat. Then they turned on their heel, voice cold and flat.

“Good. Then stop following me. Stay out of my way. I don’t care what you feel. I don’t care about your hate. I never asked for your pity, Asriel. And I sure as hell don’t need your approval.”
With that, Chara sat back on their bed, back rigid, arms crossed, expression locked in stone. Asriel stayed frozen in the middle of the room, fists shaking, chest heaving.

The room felt colder now, emptier, and for the first time, it wasn’t just grief or anger — it was a hatred so sharp it could cut through the walls themselves.
Neither spoke again. The argument had ended, but the poison lingered.

Chara shifted slightly on their bed, finally turning their gaze away from Asriel. The words echoed in their mind—I hate you… I fucking hate you…—and for the first time, they truly heard him curse at them. Really heard him. Not playful frustration, not teasing, not even the desperate pleading they were used to.

It was frightening.
A heavy knot settled in their chest, not from fear of him, but from the sheer intensity of raw emotion. They felt… horrible. Sick to the stomach, cold and hollow at the same time, like a weight pressing down on their ribcage.

Asriel didn’t move, except to wrap himself tightly in his blanket on his own bed. His shoulders shook violently as sobs wracked his body, muffled but unmistakable. Chara couldn’t tell if the sounds were born from anger, grief, or pure heartbreak. They didn’t dare ask. They didn’t dare speak.

They’d never seen him like this. Not like this. Not vulnerable and enraged and shattered all at once. Not with his voice raw, shaking, and filled with hate that felt like fire cutting through the room.
So they stayed still. Lying on their own bed, arms crossed loosely over their chest, back stiff. Their eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks and shadows there.

Thoughts swirled, dark and quiet, but no words came. No apologies, no comfort, no explanations. Just the distant sound of Asriel’s sobbing, the cold weight of his hatred, and the stark realization that for the first time, Chara felt the full, terrifying impact of their own presence on someone they actually cared about.

Days passed. Weeks. Then months. The silence between them became a permanent fixture in the house, a heavy tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

Chara and Asriel stopped talking altogether. Not a word in the mornings, not a glance in passing. Their shared space became a minefield of unspoken grudges, quiet resentment, and a growing sense of estrangement that neither dared to bridge.

And then one day, it finally exploded. Another argument—this one sharper, more cutting than any before. Asriel’s voice rose, full of accusations, full of demands, full of the same anger and grief that had once torn through the room.

Chara’s patience snapped. Every word, every jab, every you’re wrong, I hate you, why can’t you understand me boiled over.

“I’m done!” Chara yelled, voice breaking but firm. “I’m done with your endless bullshit!”

They reached up to their neck, fingers trembling as they unclasped the small, worn heart-shaped locket they had always worn. The silver was scratched, dulled by months of wear, the words engraved across it still faintly legible: Best Friends Forever.

Without a second thought, Chara slammed it into the floor. It shattered with a harsh, metallic clink, scattering shards across the wooden boards.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. The sound of the broken locket echoed in the room, loud and final.

Chara didn’t even dare look at Asriel after that. Their gaze stayed fixed straight ahead, cold, rigid, a wall shutting out the world. Asriel, chest heaving, didn’t move either.

Toriel tried. She tried everything. She coaxed, she pleaded, she offered small gestures of warmth, tried to create moments that might heal the rift. She suggested games, shared meals, even gentle talks about forgiveness and moving forward.

Nothing worked.

The two of them remained on opposite ends of the spectrum — physically in the same house, but worlds apart. Every attempt Toriel made felt like a bandage on a wound that refused to close, a reminder that some fractures were too deep to mend with kindness alone.

One year had passed since that terrible argument, and life had settled into a tense, quiet rhythm. Chara was now fourteen, a little taller, a little older, but just as distant as ever. Asriel, thirteen, had started attending Monster School in Waterfall, learning things Chara had no interest in, while Chara remained behind in the Ruins. They didn’t care much for school anyway; they preferred to teach themselves, delving into books and experiments on their own terms. Most days, Chara barely left their room, existing in a comfortable solitude that Toriel had long since learned not to push too hard.

One morning, the soft creak of the bedroom door drew Chara’s attention. Toriel stepped inside, carrying that familiar warmth that always seemed to follow her.

“Greetings, my child,” she said gently, her hands folded in front of her. “Would you like to come to the store with me? We can get some groceries and pick up a few supplies for Asriel’s birthday… and anything else we might need.”

Chara blinked, glancing at her, and then slowly sat up. “Sure,” they said quietly, their voice even but cooperative. They tugged at the hem of their green sweater with the horizontal stripe, which had begun to ride up slightly, and glanced down at their pants.

Toriel raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Are you… outgrowing your clothes?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. “Do they feel tight on you?”

Chara nodded once, almost absentmindedly. “Yeah… kinda,” they admitted, shrugging slightly.

Toriel chuckled softly, the sound light and warm in the quiet room. “They do grow up so fast,” she said with a small sigh, shaking her head slightly. “I suppose while we’re at the store, we can pick out a few new things for you as well.”

Chara simply nodded again, standing and stretching slightly as they followed her out. Their green sweater had become a little snug across their shoulders, and the horizontal stripe now cut a little higher than it used to, but they didn’t complain. They had bigger things on their mind than fashion—though, strangely, they felt a faint flicker of interest at the thought of new clothes.

Toriel led Chara through the quiet streets of the Ruins toward the small store tucked between familiar stone walls. The bell above the door jingled softly as they entered, and the scent of fresh bread, herbs, and a faint sweetness filled the air.

A monster shopkeeper, a stout creature with soft fur and bright eyes, looked up from behind the counter. “Ah, greetings, Toriel! And… you’ve brought a guest,” they said warmly, giving Chara a curious glance. “Welcome! Feel free to look around; we’ve got a bit of everything today.”

Chara’s eyes widened slightly. They had never been to this part of the Ruins’ stores before. Rows of shelves stretched out, stacked with items they had only vaguely seen before—tools, jars filled with strange powders, books with odd, glowing letters, and racks of clothing that looked… surprisingly fashionable.

As Chara wandered through the shop, their gaze fell on the clothes section. A white T-shirt hung neatly on a hanger beside a green jacket

Their fingers brushed the fabric carefully, and they smiled faintly to themselves, imagining it as a better fit.

Nearby, a pair of black pants caught their eye—loose enough to move in freely but still practical. They held them up against themselves, nodding quietly. “Yeah… that’ll do,” they murmured, placing both the jacket and the pants carefully into a small bag they had brought along.

Chara wandered a little further, and their gaze landed on a towering display of chocolates, stacked precariously high. The smell was intoxicating—rich, sweet, and almost impossible to resist. Their mouth watered instantly, and a small, almost guilty grin flickered across their face as they imagined sinking their teeth into the glossy treats.

Toriel noticed the look and chuckled softly. “Ah… I see you’ve found the sweets,” she said gently. “A treat or two wouldn’t hurt, especially after all that growth and learning you’ve done on your own.”

Chara blinked, hesitated just a moment, then reached out, picking one chocolate from the top of the tower and holding it carefully. The simple indulgence felt… new, almost daring in a way, and they couldn’t help but feel a strange flicker of excitement as they examined it.

The store, with its abundance of things Chara had never noticed in this part of the Ruins, felt surprisingly alive, almost like a small adventure waiting to happen. And for the first time in a long while, Chara allowed themselves to feel just a tiny bit… interested.

Toriel and Chara made their way toward the cashier, Chara’s bag now holding the jacket, pants, and a small stack of chocolates. The shopkeeper, busy arranging some jars behind the counter, finally looked up and gave them a wide, curious smile.

“Ahh, so is this the monarch of the Underground?” they asked, their eyes twinkling with intrigue as they looked directly at Chara.

Chara froze mid-step, brow furrowing. “The… what now? Monarch?” they asked, voice sharp with confusion.

The shopkeeper chuckled softly, adjusting their apron. “Yes, yes! A monarch. You know… royalty, nobility. Like your little prince friend, Asriel. He’s the prince of the Underground, isn’t he?”

Chara’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing. “Prince… okay… so what am I supposed to do with that? Bow or something?” Their tone was flat, almost mocking, but a faint twitch in their shoulder betrayed a flicker of unease.

Toriel, standing beside them, gave a small, awkward smile. “Oh, no, my child. It’s just a… title, nothing to worry about. The shopkeeper simply meant it as a compliment,” she said gently, trying to ease Chara’s tension.

Chara crossed their arms, staring at the shopkeeper with a neutral, unreadable expression. “I’m… not royalty,” they said flatly, though their voice lacked the usual bite, more… skeptical than angry.

The shopkeeper laughed softly, waving a hand. “Oh, of course, of course! But there’s a certain… presence about you. Something commanding. You carry yourself differently than most.”

Chara’s eyes flicked down to the bag in their hands, tight fingers curling around the straps. They said nothing, their jaw tightening, but the faintest trace of a blush crept across their cheeks. They weren’t sure if it was embarrassment, annoyance, or something else entirely.

Toriel cleared her throat, placing a gentle hand on Chara’s back. “Let’s just pay for our things, my child. We have a little shopping left to do before Asriel’s birthday.”

Chara gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and followed Toriel to the counter, the words of the shopkeeper lingering in their mind like a strange echo they couldn’t quite place.

Chapter Text

Chara stood at the counter, bag in hand, but their usual spark of curiosity and energy felt muted. They glanced down at the stack of items—clothes, chocolates, little trinkets—and then back at Toriel, who was humming softly as she placed the items on the counter.

They didn’t reach for anything extra for Asriel. Their gaze drifted to the floor, the counter, the rows of goods, anywhere but the thought of buying something to make him happy. It wasn’t that they didn’t care—they did, in a twisted, stubborn way but after everything that had happened between them over the past year, the motivation to do something for Asriel felt… hollow.

Toriel noticed the subtle hesitation, her brows knitting together slightly. “My child,” she said gently, “I know you and Asriel… haven’t been seeing eye to eye. But perhaps… it would mean a lot to him if you helped pick out something for his birthday.”

Chara’s fingers tightened around the strap of the bag. “Yeah… I get that,” they muttered flatly, voice low, almost disinterested

It wasn’t enthusiasm that made them help—they did it out of obligation, out of a faint, stubborn sense that they couldn’t completely ignore the world outside their own head. Even their choice of chocolate, which made their mouth water earlier, was handed over with a flat, “Here… he’ll like it,” without a trace of excitement.

Toriel gave a soft sigh, trying not to let the disappointment show. “Very well, my child. Thank you,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with concern. “I hope, in time, you’ll find joy in little things… even for Asriel.”
Chara said nothing. They just adjusted the bag on their shoulder and followed Toriel out of the store, leaving the small shimmer of potential connection between them and Asriel somewhere back on the shelves among the chocolates and clothes.

l. They dropped the bag onto the floor and quickly began changing, shrugging off their old green sweater and worn pants.

The white T-shirt slipped on easily, followed by the green zip-up jacket. The black pants were slightly loose, giving them room to move without restriction. Finally, they laced up a pair of red boots they had picked out earlier.

Chara took a slow, deliberate breath, running their hands over the new clothes. For the first time in a while, the fabric didn’t cling or constrict—they felt… free.
“Finally,” Chara muttered softly to themselves, a rare note of satisfaction in their voice. “It doesn’t feel like I’m being suffocated by my own clothes.”

They spun once in place, testing the movement. The jacket zipped smoothly, the pants didn’t pinch at the waist, and the boots fit snugly without rubbing.

Later that evening, the soft glow from Chara’s room flickered as the door creaked open. Toriel stepped inside, her expression a little somber, eyes carrying a quiet weight.

“My child… may we speak for a moment?” she asked gently.

Chara, sitting on their bed with their new clothes already snug and comfortable, perked up slightly, eyes narrowing in mild curiosity. “Hm?” they muttered, tilting their head.

Toriel took a deep breath, smoothing the folds of her robe with careful hands. “Listen… I hope you understand where I’m coming from. But as you know, humans keep falling down and dying… and Asgore… he keeps taking their souls. I know you dislike humanity, and your distaste is well known… but I’m asking, if any humans ever make it out of the Ruins and reach Snowdin, could you… please keep an eye on them? Protect them to the best of your ability?”

Her voice wavered just slightly, not from weakness, but from concern and hope. “I’m sorry this comes as a burden… but it’s just a small request.”
Chara blinked slowly, face unreadable. Their fingers drummed lazily against their legs, They looked entirely uninterested, eyes flicking toward the floor for a moment before settling back on Toriel.

“Fine,” they said finally, voice flat. “Don’t expect me to be all buddy-buddy with them.”
Toriel’s lips pressed together in a small, understanding smile. “That… is all I ask, my child,” she said softly, stepping back toward the doorway. “Even the smallest act of protection… it can mean so much.”

Chara simply nodded once, then leaned back against their pillow, adjusting their jacket slightly, already turning their attention elsewhere. Their face betrayed nothing, but somewhere deep inside, a faint, reluctant acknowledgment of responsibility flickered

Chapter Text

★If you read erasure of a time before this, i js wanna say
NO this isn't really connected to it, erasure of a time was just to see what i could do and how much ideas i'd have and how accurately i could characterize my characters

★Chara's abilities here are gonna be kinda slimar to story shifts but also which the way i formated my AU you'll see them using diferent abiltiites here's a list of what you'll see
-plant magic
-weakened determination(So they know everytime a human dies)
-knife summoning
-Pyromancy
-Ostheokinesis(Copying papyrus)
-Teleportation(Copying Sans)
-Memory copy
-chaos blasters(Due to copying Asriel)
-Scaft Manipluation

 

★Asriel's abilities
-Pyromancy
-Tridents
-magical spears
-star magic
-sword skills
-Chaos blasters
-Teleportation
Determination:Is able to manifest DETERMINATION, which can be used to enhance his abilities.(NOT RESET OR ANYTHING)

 

★the next few chapters are gonna be a bit angst filled before frisk's arrival but hey! ill add some lore on papyrus and sans too since Sans will also be important to this story

★I'm planning to make the humans souls fall a bit after eachother like months apart so chara and asriel won't be a whole adult by time frisk arrives this time I'm probably gonna have chara be 14/15 and Asriel 13/14 for when frisk comes

★Their will be a different angatonist since Asriel isn't flowey but theres no saying!

★Also i wanna thank you for leaving kudos!

★I dont have any deadlines or idea of how i'm gonna end this story off but im hoping to have it finished by december or january but hoping the latest is april

★SHIPS!
-Up to your interpetion, js don't be weird about it like make it make sense
Purposefully i only do canon ones

★Relationships
Frisk and chara are gonna have a one sided hatred(like Chara haes frisk) but opens up and theyre like cousins now
Frisk and Asriel-cousin bond
Frisk and toriel-motherly
Frisk and Asgore-father and child
Chara and Sans-best friends in puns and being insufferable
Chara and papyrus-It's like an ehh, chara thinks papyrus is still egostical and papyrus thinks charas too blunt
★Chara and Emily(Patience) they didn't really get the chance but if i had to say they were becoming close to somewhat friends
★Chara and clover(Friends but you can ship them ion really care!)

★If your asking no chara doesn't replace sans in the judgement hall Instead i feel like it'd make more sense for chara to be in the new home right before you get to the judgement hall, since like thats literally their home

★Undertale yellow included