Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Undyne’s hands were shaking.
“Stop.” She willed them, desperately. “Stop. Now.” More commanding, like an officer. A voice in her head chimed up. Like Asgore.
She clapped a shaking hand to her mouth at the thought of him. No, not like Asgore. Never like Asgore.
But it was like Asgore, really. He had trained her. His mark was on every decision she made, every step she took, every breath she breathed. He was like a ghost.
For a few days after it happened, Officer Undyne had disappeared. She had locked herself in her apartment. She hadn’t eaten, she hadn’t drunk, she hadn’t slept. She was dead.
Like the deer girl, chimed the voice.
The pain in Undyne’s leg from a shard of something registered before she even realised she had dropped the bottle.

She looked down, barely caring, barely feeling. A deep cut, blood red, dripping down electric blue scales. Nothing, nothing at all. The crash, the deer girl, the court case, the dismissal, the two broken families. All of it had filled her with a deep, choking numbness, that swallowed up every inch of her life.
Every so often, Undyne would sit down, and listen at her wall, through to her neighbour’s apartment- the lizard. She heard life. Joyful laughter, a too-loud TV, pens scratching paper, food sizzling. She wanted it desperately, like air. She wanted her life back.
All she had was broken glass, a dark apartment, and a dead fucking deer.

Chapter Text

The Holiday residence had never been so cold.
Ever since a few months ago, Carol Holiday had staunchly refused to use any sort of heating, even in the middle of winter. They were deer. And deer, she said, survived.
As such, when she stepped out of the shower, she was cold. And when she did her hair, she was cold. And when she left to go to work, she was cold. She didn’t care. Others, she thought, were colder.
Just as she went to open her car door, Carol heard a warm, familiar voice from behind her. Rudy.
“Hey, jingle bells, I-”
“I asked you not to call me that, Rudolph.”
Rudy stopped mid-sentence. Who was this cold, cruel woman? Why was she wearing his wife’s wedding ring, when she could not be any further from the woman he fell in love with; the witty, sharp-tounged blonde genius he met in college? No, his wife was gone. Frozen.
Carol watched his expression fall. She felt… something. Whatever it was, she had pushed it away before it could present itself. There was no room for feeling anymore. Not when her own heart had been ripped so suddenly away from her, so unnecessarily. How dare others cry, and weep. How dare they. How selfish could they be, to let their tears fall openly, when no tears would ever fall from her daughter’s eyes, ever again?
“R- right. Okay, sorry. I just, uh, wanted to ask, uh-”
“Spit it out, Rudolph, you’re going to make me late.”
“Okay, sorry. Noelle- Noelle said you told her she wouldn’t be getting driven to school anymore.”
“Yes. I did. Anything else, or can I go and do my job?”
“Well, don’t you think she’s a little young to be walking?”
“The world won’t wait for Noelle, Rudolph. She has to grow up, and soon.”
Carol turned and stepped into her car, shutting the door behind her.
“Carol.”
Her husband’s voice, saying her name in that cold, disappointed tone, brought that feeling up again. She pushed it away.
“What, Rudolph, what could possibly be so important that you have to-”
“This isn’t about Noelle, is it?”
Carol’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, scratching the leather with her nails. She started the car and began reversing.
“Goodbye, Rudolph. I’m going. To work.”
Rudy finally snapped.
“Oh, fuck off, Carol. Our daughter is DEAD, and you’re acting like it’s a personal attack on you. Grow up.”
That feeling again. Then, nothing. And finally, rage. Pure, boiling rage.
Carol slammed the accelerator, and the car shot out the driveway.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t wait to see how her husband responded. She told herself she didn’t care.
If December Holiday was dead, so was everyone else.

Chapter Text

Asriel’s hands were steady as he put the oven gloves on. Steady as he opened the door. Steady as he took the pie and placed it on the counter. Baking, he thought, was familiar, predictable. Clear and concise instructions, expected and pleasurable results. Steady.
Not anything like the last four months.
He heaved a great sigh, tossed the gloves to the side, walked to the sofa and sank into it lethargically. He took at his phone and began scrolling mindlessly. His friends from out of town on holiday, tanning on sunny beaches, dying their fur, eating nice food. A new chapter of his favourite game, a victory for his favourite Dragonflame team, a-
He clicked the off switch and shoved his phone in his pocket, laid down on the couch and just stared at the ceiling. He was feeling what he called “The Nothing”. A great big feeling of zilch, with a side of nada. Emptiness, like everything inside him had been taken away, like he was completely hollow. Just a walking automaton, carrying out life like nothing had happened.
The thing was, he knew exactly who he usually would tell about how he felt. And she’d think for a moment, and her fluffy ears would twitch like they always did when she was thinking. And she’d say something halfway stupid, halfway smart, and then cuddle him like he was made of angel dust.
And that just made him feel emptier.

Asriel was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening.
“ugh- Mom? That You?” He called, groggily.
“Yes, dear, I’m back.” Came the gentle voice of Toriel, a little tired-sounding, in a colourful dress- the kind she always wore for teaching.
“Cool. I made-” Asriel stopped short. Was that-?
“Hey, Kris cross!” He dashed across the room over to kris, who had just walked in and was staring at the floor, their long hair covering their eyes.
Asriel knelt down to Kris’ level, and gently centred the little red horns they wore.
“Why’re we home so early, buddy? I thought you had chess.” He asked, in a caring tone.
It took Kris a second to respond. Then, suddenly, they wrapped their arms around Asriel’s torso and squeezed tight, staying there for a moment before dashing upstairs, sniffling.
“Hey, kri-!” He stopped as they rounded the corner, out of his sight.
“What’s up with the little guy, mom? And why are they home so early? Did chess get cancelled?” Asriel asked, puzzled.
“My, this pie looks wonderful, Azzy! You’re getting so good at baking.”
Well that was a question dodge if he ever heard one.
“Mom, what’s up with Kris?”
“If you keep this up, you may very well compete at next year’s cake sale! But don’t come for my spot, hee hee.” She sounded strained.
“Mom. Kris.”
“To think that-”
Oh no, she wasn’t getting out of this one. She couldn’t dodge his questions forever.
“MOM!”
Toriel started. She clearly hadn’t expected him to shout.
“Um, yes, dear?”
“Kris?”
“What about them?”
Asriel stared at her. This was really starting to get on his nerves.
“You know what I’m talking about, Mom. Please don’t play dumb with me, it’s just rude.”
“I-” Toriel stopped for a moment, and Asriel thought she looked like she was weighing up her options.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about—”
“WHY IS KRIS CRYING, MOM?” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice. But it just got to him, the way she was lying to him. Kris’s sniffles had put him in defence mode, and the fact that it was his own mother he was having to protect them from was pissing him off.
Toriel snapped immediately.
“DON’T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME, YOUNG MAN! I H—”
Asriel cut her off. She wasn’t going to make this about him.
“Fine. I’m not yelling. Why is Kris upset?”
Again, this seemed to throw her off. Asriel had her cornered, and if she tried to make this about the fucking pie again, he was going to raise his voice at her.
“I- well, it-”
Asriel could practically feel the guilt coming from his mother.
She sighed, defeated. “I’ve decided that, from now on, Kris… won’t be attending chess club. Or any club, for that matter.”
He blinked.
“…what?”
“There. Happy?” She said, bitterly.
That made him even more pissed, if that was possible.
“No? Why?! They love chess!”
“I want to- to keep an eye on Kris, at all times. I- I can’t do that at chess club, I’m not allowed to stay behind if I’m not doing work. So, no more chess. Simple.”
“No, not simple. Chess is really good for Kris. It gives them an outlet, a distraction. You can’t just take that away.”
“I think you’ll find that, as Kris’ mother, I decide what they get to do, not you. Plus, they’re barely ten. What could they need a distraction from?”
Asriel thought he might actually hit his mother.
“What could they need… a distraction from?” he said, in a dangerously quiet voice.
Toriel looked away. She seemed to know she had gone too far.
“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s think for a moment, shall we, Toriel? Oh! I remember!” Every word dripped with sarcasm.
“Maybe it’s the sudden, unnecessary death of someone who was basically their older sister? Maybe it’s the fact that that death is entirely their father’s fault, for drunk driving? Ooh! Maybe it’s all the attention they’re getting for it! Or perhaps it’s their parent’s divorce, or their brother going away to college, or the girl that picks on them at school, or their lack of sleep, or their falling grades, OR MAYBE, IT’S THE FACT THAT THEIR OWN FUCKING MOTHER IS TAKING AWAY THEIR FAVOURITE HOBBY, UNDER THE GUISE THAT SHE’S ‘KEEPING THEM SAFE’ WHEN REALLY, THE ONLY THING SHE’S PROTECTING, IS HER OWN DAMN EGO!” He roared.
Asriel was shaking with rage, with grief, with all the emotions Toriel had pretended were not there.
And Toriel simply said,
“Okay then.”
She walked slowly over to the counter, took a piece of Asriel’s pie, sat down on the couch, and switched on the TV.
“Very good pie, by the way.”
Asriel stood there, deep in shock.
He had expected a reaction, a weak defence, maybe even an apology, a promise to try harder.
But he had been ignored.
Dess, Asgore, Kris and now him.

A few hours later, Asriel was going to bed. He saw Toriel on the couch- a few seconds pause before deciding she could wake herself up. She was meant to be the adult.
He went up the stairs, and gently opened the door to him and Kris’ room. He saw them, curled up like a puppy on their bed, and made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. He treaded over to them, knowing they wouldn’t stir- like a corpse when sleeping and a banshee when awake, Asgore used to say.
He gently pushed them into a comfier position, lifting the horns carefully from their head and placing them on their shelf, tucked them in, and planted a gentle kiss on their forehead.
“Night, buddy.”
He crept into his own bed, shuffling through the day’s thoughts, before eventually landing on Dess, like he always did.
“Oh, snowball.” He whispered into the dark. “What should I do?”

But of course, there was no reply.

Chapter Text

Noelle sat at the headstone, deep in the Holidays’ acres of snow-covered garden. It was beautiful, really- but it definitely wasn’t Dess. A grand marble thing, purest white- ornate carvings round the edges in an ancient script. It read on the face-
“HERE LIES DECEMBER HOLIDAY, A SHINING LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS OF OUR LIVES.
“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”
MAY THE ANGEL GUIDE HER.”
She read that middle line, again and again. It was the only part of the grave she felt was truly Dess- Azzy had picked it from a book she had loved, and Noelle had suggested it to her mother- she couldn’t refuse.
Noelle had long wondered what Dess would’ve thought of the headstone. How strange it was, to think of her sister at her own grave. Dess would make some clever, dark joke about it, and Kris would laugh- not a snicker, but a full bellied, roaring laugh. Not easy to get from Kris. And then Azzy would look at Dess like she was made of angel dust, and the—
“Noelle! Dinner!”
Her father’s warm voice came from a while away. She looked back at the great marble thing, thought for a second, and then dashed away, back towards her house.
There was one other thing about the headstone she liked, though. And her mother would never know about it.
If you took your hand, and brushed away the long grass growing at the base of the grave, you might see a few words scratched into the white marble. Noelle’s final gift to Dess- an attempt to keep her memory alive, who she really was. Messy. Loud. Rude. Wonderful. No angel. Just herself.
“Rock on, Dess.”