Chapter Text
It was a bright day when the rumors started.
Monsters and humankind had been surviving peacefully for as long as written civilization existed. The world was discovered and mapped out by both creatures, and kingdoms rose where monsters and humans could live as rulers.
There was a small kingdom in a forgotten corner of the world where there ruled a proud king. He had fur white as snow, and his horns were so long, they curled around his head and into the sky. He was the image of a king, and at his side was his golden wife and three children, all strong little boys.
The odd thing about monsters is that they rarely aged. Children would grow rapidly after birth, usually as fast or faster than humans. But once they became adults, they sort of, stopped. Until they had a child of their own and began to grow older as their child aged.
But unlike humans, they did not create children quite so quickly. Still, the humans did not understand their neighbor’s immortality, and this king had been their king for what felt like a century. It was more akin to forty years, but when your ruler rarely showed signs of aging, it was difficult to tell.
The rumors didn’t reach the castle until nightfall, when the three children were tucked into bed, and the king’s small wife was sitting in a comfortable rocking chair, reading the latest reports for her husband. He was preparing for bed when there was a knock on their bedroom door.
“Sire!” The small sheep was out of breath, carrying with it a tightly wound scroll. “The humans in town are talking of regicide! They have been meeting in the center and speaking in groups. We should get you and your family to safety!” The king paused from removing his boots, walking over to the sheep. One paw took the scroll, the other pet the sheep’s head gently. He opened it and read, expression serious for a moment. And then he smiled.
His wife, watching, smiled as well, and returned to the reports.
“There is nothing to worry about. Some humans are distressed by our kind, young one. It is as it always has been, and I am sure it will be the same when my eldest takes the throne. These are but drunken grumbles. It will pass.” The scroll was thrown in the empty fireplace, a small ball of flame sparking from the king’s paw to consume the scroll. “Put this out of mind and rest. If it becomes serious, we will be fine.”
And so the king and his wife and the castle of monsters and humans went to bed, warning forgotten. But the rumors didn’t stop. They continued.
Monsters are immortal, the rumors whispered. They’ll push us out of our land and will never give up the throne. Immortal rulers are lazy and will tax us too hard. They already take more from us than we can afford!
And then a monster died.
Unlike most wars, this wasn’t someone most would consider important. This monster was just a turtle, a quiet old turtle who had many children and whose wife had died long ago, her dust spread over their family farm as was their way. But this was the first death of a monster that was not due to accidental violence or old age. It was ten years after the initial warning, which had been long forgotten.
The king called his children. The eldest was Asgroc, and he had inherited his grandfather’s bulllike features and dark hair, a hulking shadow even in the sun. Ashaal took the most after their mother, all feline grace and golden curls that betrayed his kind nature. The youngest, Asgore, had the white fur of his father with tufts of gold. He looked the most like their father, but had their mother’s kind eyes.
And now, they stood in a row before their father, watching him pace before his throne. The king had retrieved a little seen item, a red trident bare of decoration. The three children shifted as the king walked, his face grave, his white fur streaked with grey.
“The humans are beginning to gather and revolt,” he said finally, stopping his pacing and turning to face the brothers. “They have maliciously killed one of our own, and they continue to terrorize other citizens. We need to stop them before it gets out of hand.”
“We have magic. Why don’t we find our strongest mages and use them against the humans?” Asgroc asked, shifting to step forward. “Allow me to gather the royal guards. I’m sure we will route them out without harm coming to us.”
“We’re not as strong as them,” Ashaal said in a calm voice. “We should find what they want and attempt to give them it to maintain the peace.”
“They’ve already broken the peace, and they want our throne. They don’t wish to listen to reason. They want to push us out.” The king looked to Asgore, but Asgore had nothing to say. Violence would only breed more violence, and giving in would hurt the other monsters.
“I only know that the humans are our people too. Maybe we can find the leaders of this coup and bring them before a trial?” Asgore said slowly. He smiled slightly. “It would be the fairest thing to do.”
“It would. We will attempt this. Asgroc, step forward.” When he did, the king held out the trident. “You are nearly of age to take the throne. Your mother and I wish for you to take our heirloom, and to wield it at the head of our guard. It will be your duty as our heir to bring in the proper humans for judging.” Asgroc took the trident, bowing his head.
“Thank you Father. I will hold this with honor and respect. “
“Ashaal, go with your brother. You are a mage of some talent. You can be of use.” Ashaal nodded, turning to follow Asgroc. Asgore stared up at his father, swallowing.
“What am I to do?” he asked timidly. He wasn’t the best mage like his mother or Asheel, nor was he a great stragetician like his father or Asgroc. He was truly a fifth wheel in the family.
“You will be going to our friends in the South. We may need their aid if the humans prove stubborn.” There was a pause, then the king stepped down, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “And you have to visit your betrothed, to keep up appearances.”
Heavy fur didn’t allow for much color to show through, but Asgore could feel his face heat under the fur. “Father, please. She’s five years my senior. Why doesn’t Asheel marry her?”
The paw on his shoulder tightened, but his father’s face softened. “I know, Asgore, it is not an ideal situation, but age won’t matter much in a few decades. And she is a handsome young goat. You will grow to love her as I did your mother.” Asgore sighed through his nose, dropping his gaze.
“Yes father. When do I leave?”
“The sooner the better. If anything is to happen, we’ll need you to come back as soon as possible with help. These humans…they know we aren’t as strong as them, despite our magic. If they put up a serious fight…” Asgore looked up in time to watch his father turn his face away, hiding his own tears.
The young man knew better than to try and comfort his father, so he merely bowed and turned to leave. Despite his reservations about the Lady Toriel, he was eager to leave. Not to run away, though the humans’ murder had shaken him.
No, he was going to get to visit an old friend.