Lights Like Stars (Sans x Reader)

35 - Had to be Done

In which Asgore's funeral is violated for the greater good, and Alphys is in high demand.

You

Asgore's funeral is held outside, in his garden. The crowd is large and made up of both monsters and humans, most of whom you don't recognize. You suspect some of the human mourners are politicians; their faces look familiar, but you don't really care for politics and don't know what your own representatives look like, so eventually you resign yourself to that vague feeling of frustration that comes from almost recognizing someone without being able to place them in any specific memory. The weather has been chilly for the past couple of days, so you're wearing a jacket over your all-purpose little black dress. There's a lot of cloud cover, and you feel like rain would have been appropriate, but instead the iron-gray sky just hovers heavily above the crowd and occasionally spits a smattering of droplets down on all of you, like it can't decide whether to drench you or let you be.

The service is simple, short, and rather off-the-cuff: Toriel speaks first, sharing memories of her soulmate, things about Asgore that she loved and things that annoyed or upset her. Some of it is startlingly candid. Toriel herself looks strung-out and weary, and her voice is soft and weak. Every once in a while, it trembles, and when that happens, her face assumes a firm expression and you can see her forcefully draw herself back together so she can continue. It's easy to forget that Toriel is a queen, but in those moments, you've never seen someone so regal. Frisk speaks after Toriel. Her quiet voice is a little hoarse, as if she's been crying. Her vocal inflections are subdued, making her sound almost monotonic as she relates her own memories of her foster father, and you realize with some surprise that this is the first time you've heard her speak more than a few words. Frisk, too, looks exhausted, but while Toriel appears listless, there's a nervous energy to Frisk, a slight wildness in her eyes, that makes you worry for her. She's been working nonstop as the monsters' ambassador since Asgore's assassination, and looks as if she's under incredible pressure. You can't help thinking the burden may be far too much for a kid her age.

Once Asgore's family has finished sharing stories, the scattering ceremony begins. You lean into Sans, who puts his arm around you, as Toriel takes the urn containing Asgore's earthly remains and scatters the dust over what, according to Sans's short explanation on monster funeral practices, should be Asgore's favorite thing. It's a very large mug with what looks like a pretty garden pattern running around its base. You squint, but at this distance, you can't make out the words printed on it.

Afterwards, you, Sans, and a very quiet Papyrus follow the crowd into the house for a reception that you'd expected to be subdued and which was anything but. Monsters' emotions tend to run very close to the surface, and they're pretty unconcerned with formality. Many of the human guests seem shocked by the sudden noisy conversations and reactions that rise up as soon as the scattering ceremony is over. Undyne isn't the only guest that's crying, but she's by far the loudest, and her furious tears are punctuated by dramatic vows of vengeance that have any humans in her vicinity shrinking away as if they're afraid she's about to grab them and break them over her knee like twigs. Most of the guests have split up into smaller groups to share memories of their own and to console each other. For the most part, the monsters and humans keep to separate groups, but there are a few pockets of interspecies camaraderie. Here, you can see humans and monsters comforting each other. It takes you a moment to realize that, when the humans are doing the comforting, it's almost shockingly effective. You're struck again by the peculiar connection between human intent and monster response.

Undyne is passionately cursing the heavens when you hug her from behind, focusing as hard as you can on how much you care for her, how badly you want to comfort her. For a moment, you're afraid her warrior reflexes are about to send you flying across the room. Instead, once she realizes who's holding her, she spins around and hugs you back so hard your sternum pops. Her torrent of tears slows to a trickle and dies out with a sigh as she snuggles you. Papyrus piles into the pair of you, turning the embrace into a group hug. He's crying a little bit, too, but he didn't know Asgore well and is responding more to the sorrow around him than his own grief. You reach out blindly and flail around for a bit before catching Alphys and pulling her in, too. After a few moments, Papyrus disengages from your cluster-hug and wanders across the room, forcefully embracing anyone who looks like they're in distress, human or monster, whether he knows them or not. You're glad you could give him something to do. Though you hope he doesn't run into someone who really doesn't want a hug. If that happens, there's a possibility it might turn into a struggle.