Chapter Text
A few days after their beach excursion, Conor found himself trying to wrap his head around a difficult problem in math class. The groups had been assigned at random, so he didn’t have Asriel’s help this time; at least he was still with Frisk, though they tended to have as much trouble as he did. However, it was the third member of their group that was making him feel a little nervous.
“It’s not that bad, really,” Aysha was explaining to Frisk while Conor looked on. “It’s like a costume party where all the letters – like ‘x’ – are in disguise, and it could be any number under there. Sometimes we’re trying to pull the mask off and figure out who it is, and sometimes we’re using them to act like any number we want.”
Conor idly wondered if Chara was making any comments in Frisk’s head right now. Perhaps they were saying something like, “See, Frisk? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” … Or maybe not. Conor still felt like he didn’t know them well enough to predict anything about them. Still, it was nice hearing them when they could speak out loud; it was just a shame that there were often too many other people around to do so.
Conor sighed, realizing he was just distracting himself from his real concern. She’s fine talking to Frisk and helping them out, but hasn’t said a word to me since that time in the hallway. He wanted to say something himself, but still felt guilty about keeping her – and everyone else – in the dark about his own running away.
But he’d try. He really would.
When class was over, he caught her as she left the room on the way to recess. “Um, hi Aysha.”
She stopped and arched an eyebrow, but remained silent, just staring at him.
“I, uh…” Conor floundered. “I just… I’m sorry about… about running away and not telling you and all that.”
“Good.” Aysha started walking away once more.
Conor just stood there, blinking stupidly for a second. “Wait… what??” He felt like he had missed some key component of the conversation. She had seemed satisfied when she replied, in an almost ‘I told you so’ sort of way, so it probably wasn’t that he’d said the wrong thing. “Hey, wait! What do you mean, just ‘good?’”
Aysha stopped once again, turning back around to face him. However, as before, she did not speak; she simply stood there. Watching. Waiting.
Maybe she wanted a more thorough apology or explanation?
Conor stepped to the side of the hall to avoid any passing students. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone; I didn’t even really plan it or anything… But they were all asleep and I was so miserable and it… it seemed like my best shot at getting away.”
If Conor had been hoping to break her chilly reception, he had certainly succeeded. Aysha strode right up to him, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You should be sorry! I know how bad it was for you, but was that the only option? Going to a mountain that kids don’t come back from?”
“Is that…? I… I never intended to die…” Conor said, lowering his eyes.
Aysha threw her hands up in frustration. “Oh, great! So you were just being an idiot! That makes me feel SO much better.”
Conor felt his shoulders tense. Why was she being like this? “An idiot who turned out to be right!” he argued. “I got help down there. I even found a family!”
For as long as they’d let him stay… He still sometimes woke up convinced that today was the day; the day they’d finally tell him that they were sorry, but they just couldn’t keep him any longer. He angrily pushed those thoughts out of his head.
Aysha glanced around, likely to ensure they weren’t causing a scene. She pulled him closer to the lockers at the sides, then said in a harsh whisper, “That’s great – really! – but it’s not like WE knew that. Everyone thought you were dead, Conor. The school held a memorial service and everything!”
Conor took a step back in shock. “They… what??”
“You heard me. I figured you’d have at least realized that some of the teachers liked you. We all waited months, but when you never came back…”
Conor just stood there, still taking it all in. He wasn’t even sure what he could say. He had just assumed no one would miss him; that they’d barely even notice.
Aysha let out a breath. “Look… Just think about how it felt for us, OK? Like, ‘think before you act’ and all that stuff.”
Or maybe ‘look before you leap,’ Conor thought to himself. Literally, in the case of Mt. Ebott…
Conor hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Aysha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know; you said that already.”
Conor mentally chastised himself, remembering that she tended to find spoken apologies pretty useless. However, that still left him at a bit of a loss as to how to end the conversation. “Um… I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow, then?”
“I guess so,” she answered cooly. “See you around.”
With that, they split up to go their separate ways. Conor spent the rest of recess trying to figure out if that had gone well or poorly. She seemed less annoyed by the end, at least, but he wasn’t sure if the core issue had actually been resolved. At least he now had more of an idea of what it was, though.
Lost in his own thoughts, the afternoon classes slipped right past Conor, and it wasn’t long before school was over for the day. As he reached the entrance to the building, he spotted Frisk and Asriel just up ahead.
Frisk was the first to notice him in return. “Hey Conor. Ready to try and stop more of Dr. Gloom’s evil schemes? I’ve got a good one planned this time.”
Conor shuffled guiltily. “Hi Frisk. Sorry, I’m going to be visiting Gerson and Alvin again. Mom’s dropping me off, so…”
“So she’s taking both of you,” Frisk reasoned. After Conor nodded, they turned to Asriel. “Chara and I can still come round, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Asriel replied. “Mom and I will just be home a little late. I’ll call you when we’re back.”
“Okay, I guess that’s not so bad. I’ll see you then!” Frisk turned back to Conor. “And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Frisk walked off to head home, while Asriel and Conor waited a little longer for Toriel to finish up. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before they saw her striding down the hallway, her bag stuffed nearly to bursting with papers. She greeted them both warmly, then walked with them to her car.
“I am sorry, Asriel, but you may not see much of me this afternoon,” she said as she started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. “I will be attending another royal advisory meeting tomorrow, so I must finish grading these tests tonight, preferably before our guests arrive for dinner.”
“It’s still OK if Frisk comes over, though, right?” Asriel asked.
“Of course! I will be glad to know you have the company. Speaking of company…” She glanced over her shoulder to address Conor in the back seat. “It is very kind of you to spend time with Gerson. I am certain he appreciates it.”
Conor boggled for a moment; he certainly felt like he was getting the better end of the deal. “His stories are great! I’m learning a lot.” Conor wasn’t lying, either; he really did enjoy Gerson’s tales (at least the ones where he could actually remember the details), and he had many fascinating insights into monster culture and biology as well. In fact, Conor was hoping to ask about bullet patterns this time; it seemed to be something monsters could do but humans couldn’t, and he wasn’t really sure why.
The question remained on Conor’s mind as Toriel dropped him off outside Gerson’s Junk Pile, though he almost forgot it in distracted musing while navigating the mazelike interior.
I don’t know why the store counter is all the way at the back. Shouldn’t it be near the exit? Or maybe the middle, so it’s close to everywhere.
After hitting two dead-ends, Conor finally reached the rear of the store. For the moment, Gerson was the only monster there, so Conor was able to immediately start talking to him.
“Hey Gerson!”
“There you are, kiddo! Glad you could make it.” Gerson patted on a seat next to him behind the counter. “How’s about we stick around down here for a while and chat? Today’s a bit of a slow day, but I could always use the help whenever the monsters do come floodin’ in.”
“Er, sure.” It didn’t matter too much to Conor where they sat, and he doubted Gerson really needed much help with the store. He perched himself on the seat and spun it to face Gerson. “Why don’t you have a chair here, anyway? I mean, you’re-” Conor immediately bit his tongue; he was about to call Gerson old, and that seemed rather rude. “Surely your legs get tired.”
“These ancient, creakin’ legs you mean?” Gerson clarified with a distinct glint in his eyes. Conor began to hunch up in guilt, but was startled out of it by the resulting laughter. “Wa ha ha! Once you get past your first few hundred years, the idea of gettin’ old starts to lose its sting. Anyway, standing helps me feel like I’m giving my customers all my attention; plus, it keeps me active.” He stomped his feet a few times in demonstration, his gaze still fixed on Conor. “Now, I can tell you’re burstin’ with the need to ask some questions – and I’ve got a lot more to teach about how monsters work’n all – so go right ahead and ask!”
Conor blinked; the chair discussion had nearly driven his earlier intentions from his mind. “Oh, yeah! I guess I was really wondering: how do bullet patterns work? They’re still kind of confusing.”
Gerson appeared somewhat surprised by the question. “Huh, I figured that’s the sort of thing they’d’ve covered in your magic classes.”
Conor nodded. “Sort of, but it never really made sense. I mean, where do they even come from?”
“I guess they are a bit tough to explain. They’re just so innate, really, we never have to think about ‘em.” Gerson pondered for a moment. “I suppose the best way to describe bullet patterns is… They’re a little bit of you – a part of your very self. It’s like another layer on how your magic represents ‘you.’ You can play around with ‘em or practice at makin’ new ones, but they’ll always reflect who you are.” He grinned. “That’s why they’re so popular for birthday cards! It’s like a signature, a handshake – or whatever appendage you use – and a hug, all wrapped up together.”
“That sounds like Soul stuff…” Conor considered. “But I’ve never felt my magic do anything like that. Is it because I’m human?”
Gerson seemed to consider this carefully. “You know, I’m not sure about that. From what I recall, I never saw any magic from human mages look that way, either. Ol’ Miri figured it could’ve been because usin’ magic’s a little more ‘external’ for humans, but… she never got a chance to test that theory.”
“… Miri?” Conor could not remember hearing that name before. “Who’s she?”
“Ah…” A shadow passed over Gerson’s face, and for that brief moment, he looked two centuries older. “My wife, Miriam. She passed before that first fallen human – Chara – came down, so she never got her chance to see if she was right about human magic… and she never got to see the barrier fall.”
Conor gasped. He found himself intensely curious about this other tortoise monster, but also worried about pushing too hard. Still, maybe it would help Gerson to talk…? “She must have been really smart.”
Gerson nodded slowly, his eyes beginning to focus on some distant past. “Oh, that she was. Smart as a whip and a heart too big to fit in the Underground. That was her problem, really…” Gerson paused for a moment, then let out a slow exhalation. “Anyway, she’d run circles ‘round most folks – mentally, of course! We tortoise monsters ain’t known for our speed, after all. She’d stay quiet and listen to all you’ve gotta say, and just when you’d think she didn’t really catch any of it, she’d ask a single question that made you wonder if you ever knew anythin’ at all.” He chuckled. “Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do to make friends, but she did it ‘cause she cared about people, wanted them to think about why they were doing something. And I gotta admit, I certainly didn’t mind seeing some puffed up monster gettin’ a few holes poked in their ego.”
Conor remained silent, not wishing to disturb this reminiscence. His eyes beginning to mist over, Gerson continued to speak. “Unfortunately, she was prone to melancholy, which didn’t help when she tried to take everyone’s burdens on herself. She devoted her life and studies to findin’ a way to break or slip through the barrier, but when every path that seemed promising just turned into a dead-end…” His face sank further. “Well, she just couldn’t live with the idea that monsters might be trapped underground forever. The rest… well, the rest you know.”
Conor felt a brief, sharp stab in his heart. He knew that many monsters had lost hope of escaping the Underground, but for it to have affected some so strongly… “How- Er, I mean, if it’s not too painful for me to ask… how did you not fall into that same despair?”
Gerson examined Conor closely. “I’ll be honest with you, kiddo. I figured we’d never see the sky again, so I focused more on findin’ ways for us to keep on going Underground. I decided if we’d be stuck down there, might as well make the best of it.” He smiled at the memory. “I never could’ve expected in a million years for you two to come along and do all you did, or for the young prince to return as a flower, steal all our Souls, then break the barrier with ‘em! Wa ha ha!”
Conor couldn’t tell if Gerson’s mood had actually lightened, or if he was laughing to hide the pain, like so many other monsters. Perhaps it was even in defiance of that sorrow.
Gerson must have noticed Conor studying him, as he explained, “Wonderin’ how I can still laugh after all that? Well, a healthy attitude’s important to have for anyone, but especially for us monsters. When you become one, you’ll see what I mean. It’s best not to hold in negative emotion or pretend it isn’t there.” He shook his head. “Smiling to mask the pain can be a bit of a favourite pastime for some monsters, and I keep hearin’ how dark humour can be emotionally healthy and all… just as long as it ain’t you actually ignorin’ your own suffering.” Gerson added one final warning, wagging his finger as he did. “And whatever you do, don’t fall for all that hooey about us not even bein’ negative like that in the first place. From what I recall of Chara, I suspect they might’ve felt that way…”
Conor’s ears perked up. This was related to Chara? “What do you mean?”
“Well, I bet you’ve been hearing all about how monster Souls’re nothin’ more than pure love and compassion and happiness and whatever other positive emotions you can think of.” He shook his head ruefully. “But I’ve lived long enough to know that ain’t true. We’ve got our share of anger and sadness and other negative feelings. Now, I won’t deny that some of that was righteous fury over how we were treated,” he clarified, “but it ain’t all so pure.”
Gerson let out a long, slow breath. “It’s pretty easy to lose sight of that, though, and some folks get it into their heads that monsters’re all good and humans’re all bad. I think Undyne may have been leanin’ that way until you’n Frisk showed her otherwise. After all, monsters are no more made of love than humans’re made of LOVE… if you catch my meanin’.” Conor could almost hear the capitals in the word, carrying Gerson’s intended meaning loud and clear.
Gerson appeared to study his own hands. “It’s just as true for me as for anyone. Folks kept callin’ me a ‘hero,’ said I was a champion of monsterkind… but my greatest accomplishment in the war was simply survivin’ it.”
“Well…” Conor reasoned, “you said humans are really tough, so, isn’t surviving that pretty impressive anyway? Did you have to Fight any?”
“A few,” Gerson answered. “Never had a hope of beating any of ‘em, though. Just Fought alongside fellow soldiers, tryin’ to hold the humans off long enough for other folks to get away.”
Conor’s eyes began to widen. “That sounds pretty heroic to me. I mean, you saved lives!” It was then that Conor realized that throughout Gerson’s many stories, he had never really spoken in any detail about his own magic. “How did you Fight them, anyway? Was it like Undyne?”
“Hehehe,” Gerson chuckled. “I wasn’t called the ‘Hammer of Justice’ for nothing, you know.” He raised one hand and conjured a large hammer made of pure, blue-tinted ice. He then gripped it with both hands and gave a mighty swing downwards, smoothly dismissing it just before it made impact with the floor. “Undyne learned her energy weapon stuff from Asgore, but he wasn’t the only one to Fight with magic that way.”
Hammer of Justice… Conor hadn’t expected the title to be so literal. Putting two and two together, he remembered another title that was similarly descriptive. “Oh, duh; so Undyne was following you as the ‘Spear of Justice.’”
“Yep,” Gerson replied amicably. “She followed after me in plenty of things. Well, after Asgore, too. He was a bit like her pa, and I was like her grandpa! … Even though he’n I are practically the same age.” He shook his head ruefully. “I guess boss monster biology is like that, though.”
Conor cocked his head to one side. “Huh? Like what?”
“Heh, guess this counts as another lesson. Adult boss monsters only age if they’ve got kids; same with young ‘uns only if they’ve got a parent. It’s a link between their Souls that does it, though beats me how. Anyhoo, ol’ King Fluffybuns didn’t age at all until he and Tori had Asriel, then they both stopped again when the prince died…” His voice briefly faltered at those final words, but he soon brightened again. “Now the kiddo’s back, your mom and dad are back to getting older, though they’re never going to catch up to me! Wahaha!”
Conor’s face screwed up in confusion. “That’s… really weird.”
Gerson grinned. “Yep! Could be the reason their Souls’re strong enough to persist for a little while, though, so I guess it’s good for somethin’!”
Just then, a sudden realization hit Conor, making him gasp. “So if they’re aging again now… then restoring Asriel’s Soul also re-connected them!”
Gerson’s smile warmed further. “Looks like it. You three still owe me an explanation of how you did that, but it’s mighty impressive however you look at it, that’s for sure.”
Conor merely sat there, pondering all this new information. It had all started from a simple question about bullet patterns, but now he felt almost overwhelmed with everything that he had learned about Gerson and his own parents. Still, sorting through this knowledge, one final question did arise… One that he hesitated to ask. “Do you… do you think, if I can get this spell to work… if I can become a monster…” Conor tried to swallow, but his throat suddenly felt too dry. “Would I have that same connection?”
Gerson stared at him for a long time. “Now, that’s a tricky question. Nothin’ like this has been done before, so I can’t rightly say one way or the other.” His eyes crinkled up into a smile. “I do know one thing for sure, though.” He poked Conor in the chest. “Whether it happens or not doesn’t matter; you’ve got your own link to ‘em already.”
Conor found himself with no idea of what to say, his mouth opening and closing multiple times in succession. Gerson seemingly decided to take pity on him, not requiring any response. “Now, on the subject of your parents… have I ever told you about the time ol’ Fluffybuns found himself apologizin’ to a statue?”
Conor stared at Gerson with deep skepticism. “No. How would Dad end up doing something like that?”
Gerson’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Well, I’ll give a little spoiler and say that some ghost monsters were involved. Anyway, it all started when…”
Gerson’s tale continued with surprisingly few deviations and tangents, though he did have to occasionally stop to serve a customer. Eventually, it was interrupted when the next monster in line wasn’t actually a customer at all, but Alvin.
Gerson immediately stopped what he was saying and faced his son. “There you are! All done at the University, then?”
Alvin still radiated calm, but there was a faint edge of stress this time. “Yes. I apologize for being late; the department meeting ran longer than expected, and then there were some urgent matters brought up by a couple members of the faculty afterwards.”
Gerson brushed off Alvin’s worry. “Oh, it was no trouble at all! I was just finishing tellin’ a story to Conor about Asgore.”
Conor glanced between the two tortoise monsters. He was glad Alvin had made it here to pick him up, but Gerson hadn’t quite finished yet. “Wait, how did it end?”
“Ah, well, to cut a long story short, the shy little ghost had been spooked so much by all the noise, they’d fled right out of the statue and into a nearby dummy. So, when Fluffybuns turned around and accidentally bonked the statue with his horns, he immediately apologized to it, when it was nothin’ but a hunk o’ rock! Now the statue stayed silent, of course, so he thought they were pretty mad at him and felt even more guilty… until he spotted the poor dummy shiverin’ in the corner. He then went right over and did his best to cheer them up and help ‘em feel better.” Gerson pondered for a moment. “You know, I think they ended up headin’ over to the Ruins when they got older, trying to get a bit of peace and quiet.”
“Ah, yes,” Alvin said. “I think I know that monster. They are one of the ones that remained in the Underground. I suspect they are enjoying the smaller population down there now.” He turned back to Conor. “Are you ready to go? I believe we should still have some time before dinner. It was very kind of Toriel to invite us, by the way.”
Gerson firmly agreed. “Yep! I’ll be seein’ you both there later. I’m looking forward to it!”
Conor hopped down from his seat. He hadn’t really unpacked anything, so he was basically already ready. “Ok! See you there, Gerson.” He thought back to the old tortoise’s earlier words, blushing faintly. “And thanks again.”
Gerson winked. “‘Course! It’s all true, after all.”
Alvin’s car was rather compact, only having the two front seats, which explained why they did not all travel in it together. The journey to his house was rather quiet, too, though he and Conor did share brief moments of minor chatter. Unsurprisingly, it did not take long for the subject to shift to magic, particularly Conor’s progress in his studies.
By the time the two of them had reached Alvin’s house and settled in his living room, the topic had honed down to the specific spell Conor had shown the first time they met. “When you cast your illusion,” Alvin explained, “I certainly did not expect you to use that spoken phrase. In a way, that was rather like one small aspect of a ritual already. How did you know to do that?”
Conor thought for a moment. “It just… felt right. I mean, that’s how a lot of magic works in books, anyway, so I guess I was thinking of those.”
Alvin appeared both startled and energized by the news, his eyes wide and gleaming. “You got the idea from human books? Truly? Then perhaps some remnant of spellcasting remains in humanity’s public consciousness, preserved through tales and stories. And yet, without that initial spark of magic, they remain just that: stories. This has some absolutely fascinating implications!” He excitedly fetched an old notebook and opened it up to a fresh page. “Please, what are the names of some of these works?”
“Uh…” Conor had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He had just figured he was being rather unoriginal; he’d never have thought of what Alvin had just suggested. The idea that the stories that always fascinated him might just be a connection to magic and history – both subjects he loved – sent a thrill down his spine. He quickly recommended some of his favourite books to Alvin, along with a few others he knew were quite popular.
Alvin was writing down Conor’s answers in a flurry of penstrokes; Conor had never seen his hands move so fast. He was beginning to understand just how passionate Alvin was about his field of study. Once he had finished, Alvin glanced back up from the paper. “Thank you for the list. I shall have to investigate them as soon as I can. I suspect they will be invaluable to my research.”
However, one thing didn’t quite line up in Conor’s mind. “Um, but aren’t you more looking into how magic works? Like, the really fundamental stuff?”
“Yes, but seeing what – if anything – might be different for magic between humans and monsters… learning what humans might have retained over the centuries… Well, these are all fascinating subjects that still fall under that broad umbrella.” Alvin seemed to stare off into space for a moment. “One thing my father and I share in common is our belief in the power of stories. We both know there is often a deeper truth to them, whether it be a lesson on life or a hidden fragment of the past. Many myths have a grain of truth at their core, after all, and I suspect that this is no different.”
“The power of stories…” Conor muttered to himself. He had been listening entranced by Alvin’s explanation to the point that he had completely forgotten about the original purpose of his visit.
Fortunately, Alvin was able to recover his focus and bring them both back on track. “Well, anyway… Perhaps staying on the subject of books: how are you doing with that last textbook I lent you? Any questions or difficulties?”
Conor unpacked the book from his bag and pulled out several sheets of paper with his own notes. “Um, I think a lot of it was ok, but the section on… uh…” He flipped to a page he had bookmarked to refresh his memory. “‘Runic structures’ was really confusing.”
“Yes, that subject is rather non-intuitive,” Alvin agreed, “and this book does not explain it as well as I would like. Sadly, it is the only one that covers this particular aspect with any sort of detail. Let’s see if we can make sense of it together.”
Over the next hour, Alvin helped Conor go over the section, answering his questions and explaining the content in a much more comprehensible fashion. By the time it was over, Conor certainly felt a lot more confident about the material, though he still had plenty more questions. Alvin was able to answer many of them on the drive back to Conor’s home, but he knew he’d have to wait to ask the rest. Inviting the Booms over for dinner was meant to be enjoyable and relaxing, after all, not a session for grilling them with more questions.
So, while Conor bounced around a little with excess energy, he managed to hold himself back from asking anything else while Alvin knocked on Toriel’s front door.
Surprisingly, it was Asriel that answered instead of his mother. He glanced between the two people waiting on the doorstep, raising an eyebrow in Conor’s direction. “You took your time; dinner’s almost ready.” He then caught himself with a guilty flash and spoke directly to Alvin. “Um, sorry, Dr. Boom. Mom’s just finishing with dinner. She’ll be over pretty quic-”
“Alvin, welcome!” Toriel’s voice rang down the hallway. She came up to the door still wearing a large pair of oven mitts over her paws, and a delicious smell wafted out of the kitchen behind her. “Please, come inside!”
Asriel darted out from holding the door open as Toriel welcomed Alvin in; Conor dashed over to join him. “Gerson got here half an hour ago,” Asriel told him as they hurried into the kitchen towards the attached dining room. “He’s been telling some pretty interesting stories about Mom.”
Gerson was already sitting at the dining room table, and he must have heard Asriel’s last comment, as he added, “Oh yep, she was a real firebrand! Always causin’ no end of trouble! Wa ha ha!”
“Now, now, Gerson,” Toriel said as she made her way back to the oven. “I am sure they do not need to hear all the details.”
“Probably not,” Gerson agreed. “After all, I’d say a burnt-down barn speaks for itself!”
“What!?” Conor and Asriel gasped in unison.
Toriel stopped dead in her tracks, clearly flustered. “Th- that was hardly intentional! Now, may we please change the subject?”
“Probably best for our health,” Gerson agreed with a wink at the two kids. He then turned his attention back to Toriel. “I noticed your garden out back’s lookin’ pretty good. Picking up a bit of a green paw, yourself?”
Toriel took dinner out of the oven – chicken and leek pie, by the smell – and brought it over to the table. Setting it down and cutting it into portions, her tense stance began to ebb away “It is something I began during my time in the Ruins… I find it helps me relax.”
Knowing where Chara had been buried, Conor was pretty sure he knew another reason she had tended one patch of flowers in particular. However, he wouldn’t have dreamed of voicing that thought out loud in a million years.
Just when are you going to tell her you’re still here, Chara? he wondered to himself. Mom and Dad would want to know, honest. However, Chara resided within Frisk’s head and not his own, so silence was his only reply.
“It does seem to be agreeing with you,” Alvin said to Toriel. He then turned towards Asriel and Conor. “Do either of you two join her?”
Asriel nodded. “We’ve started to, yeah. It’s a lot of work, but… it is kind of nice to help something live…”
Conor caught a note of guilt in Asriel’s voice, and silently brought his hand onto his brother’s shoulder for support.
“Yes,” Toriel said, “they have taken to it with more zeal than I expected.” Her voice was dry as she added, “It is almost as though they have already been learning from someone else.”
“We don’t just watch TV and play games on the weekends, Mom,” Asriel answered haughtily, though he threw in a cheeky wink as well.
Toriel nodded, placing a paw on her chest. “I am glad you are having fun. Truly.” Her voice then took on a teasing note. “Though if you really want to help, Asriel, then I am always appreciative of any assistance in the kitchen.”
Asriel rolled his eyes at this. “Ugh. You’ve already got Conor in there, and isn’t there an expression for that? ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth’ or something?”
Toriel chuckled lightly. “Oh, I do not know if that is true. I think you two would be quite good at it. You are broth-ers, after all.”
The dining room was filled with the combined sound of laughter and groans (mostly groans). The rest of the evening devolved into more jokes and anecdotes, until Conor and Asriel finally had to head up to bed. Gerson and Alvin were staying a little longer to discuss some other matters, and while the two kids were eager to eavesdrop, Toriel’s watchful eyes and ears quickly caught them and sent them to their room.
Once they were inside, Asriel sat down on the edge of his bed, sighing happily. “We need to have Gerson and Alvin over more often. I had no idea of half of that stuff about Mom!”
“I knew even less!” Conor agreed. “I guess when you were growing up, she was already calmed down?”
“Yeah. I mean, she’d already been queen for centuries before I was born, so I guess she had lots of time to get more…” Asriel paused, seemingly trying to find the right word. “Measured, I guess.”
“That makes sense,” Conor said. “It’s got to be a lot of responsibility.”
“Yeah. Mom and Dad tried to keep me from feeling that burden, but it’s hard to escape. I think Chara felt it straight away, though, being the only human in the Underground and all…”
“Maybe I would have, too,” Conor mused. “Er, if I’d known, that is. She was just a kind lady in the Ruins to me, no royalty or anything. Simply… someone willing to take me in.”
Asriel became pensive. “Maybe it was fate that you and Mom found each other, when you were both so desperate for a family.”
“Fate…” Conor muttered. He’d never liked that word. ‘Fate’ had seen him born as a human, and had given him biological parents that wouldn’t even keep him. Furthermore, the idea of it made him feel trapped – powerless – like nothing he did mattered. He hated that feeling…
However, just this once, the word did not sit sourly upon his tongue. There was a sweetness this time; a gentle benevolence, like the universe had conspired to give him exactly what he had needed. The word brought the feeling that he was ‘meant’ to be with his mom – with Dad and Asriel, too – that he was ‘meant’ to be a Dreemurr.
Yes… maybe he could hope that it was fate. Just this once.