SoulFire ( sans x frisk AU)

Two Handkerchiefs

*Frisk POV*

I napped there- In the throne room. I didn't have any motivation to get up once I lied down and must have fallen asleep for a few hours. When I opened my eyes I could see stars through the patches of the roof that weren't covered in rock.

For the first time in so long, I saw what the surface looked like at night. I don't think I have ever been more pleased to see that god forsaken sky, the one drenched in darkness while I am only searching for some sort of light. But this was different, these were the first I had seen since falling, and they were beautiful. In Ebott they were blocked out by the toxins of the bustling city, I enjoyed seeing them finally flourish and sparkle in peace.

A sudden pang drums in my chest, twisting and squirming around in discomfort. It brings back the revelation of why I had chosen this spot as sanctuary in the first place...

This isn't my first star-gaze. Only the first I've had alone.

I reach up towards them, the pain growing stronger in me as I shift my position, rolling slowly onto my back and getting closer to touching one of those shining wish-granters as they shoot across the sky in a whisp of dust.

A piece of me is spirited away, longing for the dreams I still keep conjuring to one day leave my slumber and magically become a vivid reality; For things to not be so difficult to do when they are considered easy in one's book.

I can't remember ever feeling so weighed down, my arm falling heavy like a rock and slapping onto my stomach, over the tight silk lilac dress I still wore from hours ago.

I hear quiet chuckling from the depths of the throne room.

I jolt, sitting up and wiping my head in the direction of it's source, vision blurring and fists clenching, stabbing into the petals around me and damaging the flowers. I squint hard, desperately trying to see through the darkness, my only light being that of the moon's rays.

From the depths, I can see a black tuxedo worn by one of the elders I had not seen at the party, but within the crowds during coronation. A short familiar turtle from months back. Back when the Rune first burned into my hand. Gerson waves with his can, pale and green-grey skin covered in age spots and laced with wrinkles that cradled his wise eyes.

"Good evening, Gerson." I quickly stand, dusting flowers from my gown and gently folding my hands in my lap, back straight and shoulders relaxed.

"Evening, Princess." He bows, tipping his stovepipe hat my way, rising with it back on his bald head.

Content is written in his expression, serious in a calm sense, he breathered wheezily however, something he had not been doing last I had seen him. Cane jabbed into the flower covered ground, he clearly needed it to be mobile, and he wobbled once he attempted to go without using the old stick. A stick seemingly as old as him. My heart ached for him, and I could feel the weakness in him, engulfing me. So much to give, but he had never received anything in return. Yet, this is the way he liked it... I pitied him.

"May I...?" He croaks, lifting a hand and shakily pointing it to the space in front of me. I give him a kind and sorrowful "Of course." and he hobbled over, squeaking in his shoes with every step. He reached me slowly but surely, leaning on his beat up stick to catch a short breath before giving an open gummed smile.

"I see the hope has grown stronger since I last saw it, hm?" He takes looks to my Rune hand, I hesitantly allow him to. This monster may be a little strange, but I can't imagine how strange I must seem to him, so I'm in no place to judge. Gerson examines it, slowly letting go and waddling over to stand at my side, facing were my back was. I felt him jabbing his stick into the ground.