Royal Blue

The Boiling Point (Chapter Twenty Seven)

There was something enchanting, and hollow, about the Castle.

The bare drifts of morning sun shining through the tall gold stained-glass, soaking through the damp dewy grass and fields of golden flowers.

Asgore knew this emptiness well; and yet, this morning, there was something different about it.

Even as he begun his usual routine: waking up, heading out to his garden, grooming and taking care of the flowers, and using a few blooms for his morning tea...

There was something... different.
Something that accompanied the usual slumbering hollow.
Something... not quite as alone as usual.

Asgore made his way back inside, heating up some water and pouring it over the buds he had gathered; the heat making the petals unravel. 

He was careful to pluck out the centers.

The petals were harmless, and made for a good tea, but the centers, stems and roots... they were all quite poisonous.

He knew that particular fact intimately well.

"Oh," A soft, far too familiar voice spoke from behind him. Almost startled, Asgore turned only his head; glancing from the corner of his eye.

A flash of memoriam.
Toriel stood in the doorway, holding a child's hand; and for just the briefest moment...

It looked like Them.

A pair of Green and Yellow striped shirts flickered in his mind.

A smile. A fondness. A love now lost to the ages.

A feeling like loss and heartache and everything he'd lost; stood just feet away from him.

Asgore blinked, his throat suddenly clawing and dry.

Toriel had that look on her face, one he first saw when he declared war; so filled with grief.

He hadn't bothered to even speak with her before declaring that all humans were to be killed on sight.

That was when that expression of betrayal shined through her eyes
An expression that had not faltered since.

There was not a moment he regretted in life more than that one.

And, similarly, there was not an expression that soured his tongue more than that one.

Frisk tugged on Toriel's hand, sending a glare up at their mother.

Toriel sighed, her expression softening.

Asgore turned his head back to face his tea; doing his best to pretend as if he had not noticed them.
Giving a solid moment for Toriel and Frisk to leave; to pretend that they never saw him.

Toriel had made her feelings toward Asgore quite clear; just before they had gone up to the surface... and.

Afterwards.

When Frisk fell ill.

Another child bedridden in this very castle... it had reopened old wounds.

Asgore watched the flower petals shift in the hot water, the sun was shining softly through the garden.

The flowers had been blooming regularly, and swayed gently in the breeze.

It was a beautiful day outside.