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THUD. THUD. THUD.
“Yeah, take some of this—and a little of that—!”
Crash BOOM thud THUNK.
Cautiously, Toriel crept towards the cacophony at the end of the tunnel. Her palms blazed with fire magic, casting sharp flickers across the unforgiving stone.
She’d been on vigil near the Barrier all night. This was… the third night in a row? Fourth? It was difficult to measure with the thin rays of light that filtered through the Barrier. The only glimmer of reality that penetrated this prison.
Until tonight, possibly. But… why would a human break into the Underground?
“Huff, puff… You think you’re tough, don’t you? Well I’ll show you, stupid fake wall!”
CRASH BANG BOOM.
Toriel crept a little faster. Her fire wasn’t the only thing lighting the walls, now.
At the end of the tunnel, a white blob glowed, hurling itself against the barrier hard enough to send stalactites crashing from the ceiling to the floor. The shatters echoed, ringing in her ears.
“Oh. It’s only a ghost.” Toriel smiled in relief. No humans had come to finish them off tonight. Her people would live a little longer.
The ghost spun, an enraged expression on its face.
“Only. Only? ONLY??” It spun around her, suddenly pelting her with bullets. Thankfully, Toriel was used to sneak attacks. She blocked each with a swipe of her flame-filled paws. “I’m the strongest, sexiest murder blob in the world! Now sit back and watch me punch through this stupid wall!”
Toriel blinked at the outburst. She knew better than anyone how useless punching the Barrier would be—she’d attempted that tactic for a week straight before Gerson and Wingdings had convinced her to give up. Also, this ghost didn’t appear to have hands?
But ghosts currently held the highest percentage of monsters who had fallen down. Seeing one here, with enough energy to sneak past her and attack the Barrier, of all things…
“Alright.” Toriel stepped back, extinguishing her flames. The ghost was more than bright enough to keep the tunnel lit. “I am watching.”
“Heck yeah you are. Okay. Okay.” The ghost seemed to take a deep breath, despite that being unnecessary.
Then it screamed and shot a flurry of star-shaped bullets. The Barrier flickered brightly where each attack hit, but of course, it didn’t break. The human mage who had made their final demands had been merciful enough to explain the Barrier’s design.
No monster soul could pass through alone. Only a monster with a human’s soul could. And it would take the equivalent of seven human souls to destroy the abomination for good.
“That was just…” the ghost huffed, “that was just a warmup! But you got a taste of how cool my attack was, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?”
“Er, yes, it was very… ‘cool.’” Toriel forced a smile.
This ghost was strange, and a little off-putting. But it had passion, which was something her current guard was severely lacking.
“In fact,” Toriel said more firmly, “You were so cool, I would like to offer you a position in my Royal Guard.”
“Huh? Who are you, the queen?” The ghost laughed.
“Yes.” Unfortunately.
The ghost’s laugh cut off abruptly.
“Then you’re Toriel? Toriel Dreemurr?”
“Toriel Dreemurr,” she echoed with a sigh. “Daughter of Torwin and Maliel Dreemurr, heir to the throne, and all of the baggage that the last generation of Boss Monsters left behind.”
She wasn’t sure why she added that last part. Perhaps because this was the first time since losing the war that she had been treated like just another monster.
“Huh. That sucks. Anyway, thanks for thinking I’m awesome and sexy, but I’m not joining your little club.”
“What—you are calling the Royal Guard a little club?” She gaped. Morale may be low, but the Guard still employed the strongest monsters in the kingdom.
Well… the strongest monsters that had survived.
“Yeah? That’s what I said? If you’re mad about it, we could like, fight to the death, and then I could be the new Dreemurr—wait can ghosts even have last names we don’t even have first names—”
“No fights to the death,” Toriel said, exhaustion suddenly crashing down on her.
She wasn’t going to die. And she wouldn’t let any more of her subjects die, either. That was the entire point of taking this humiliating retreat into the earth.
“Awww, that’s lame.” The ghost sighed. “But you’re the Boss, I guess. I’ll trick you out of your name somehow. Eventually. Because I’m cooler and smarter than you.”
“Of course,” Toriel deadpanned. “Now, if you would be so kind as to vacate this area…”
“Heck no!! I’m not done fighting the Barrier!! I’m the strongest thing under this mountain that can turn invisible. I’m not going to lose to a stupid wall!!”
“Very well,” she relented, her head pounding. It wasn’t as if the ghost could truly hurt anything down here. It couldn’t cause any more rockslides than Toriel had last week, at any rate. “Wake me if any humans arrive.”
Perhaps the ghost wasn’t fit for the Guard. That wouldn’t stop Toriel from taking advantage of the unexpected guest. She doubted the ghost would mind being asked to make a little more noise.
“Pffft, no humans are gonna dare come CLOSE to me! Ha!” The ghost flung into the Barrier again. And again.
Toriel shook her head and walked back to her tent. Trusting sentry duty to another wasn’t like her. Particularly to a monster outside of her own inner circle.
But right now, she was too tired to care. She collapsed onto her futon and fell asleep.
XXX
“Pfffahahah!” Toriel doubled over, sloshing red wine on her gown and her horrendously boring paperwork. The sight made her forget all about the hilarious joke that the ghost was telling.
Toriel scowled at the stains. Red was such an ugly color. Red was human blood, caking in her fur and clinging, clinging, sticky and gross and everywhere, because the humans were everywhere, why couldn’t they just leave monsters alone—
“Oh, are we trying new bullets now? I bet I can cry harder than you!” The ghost stared at her, its mouth scrunching up even as its eyes widened.
She was—oh. She was crying, wasn’t she? Why was she crying, again?
She downed the rest of her glass, wiping the back of her wrist across her mouth. The buzz of alcohol blurred her ghost friend’s muttering.
“Speak up, Sugarblob,” Toriel giggled. Sugarblob. Her ghost was white and sparkly with the tears trickling from its eyes. Sparkly like a bowl of sugar, hee hee…
“You’re not listening,” the ghost huffed, snatching the near-empty bottle of wine from Toriel’s other hand. Her palm felt tingly with the emptiness. “What’s in this stuff, anyway? It makes you stupid. But also funny. I want it!”
“Help yourself, I guess.” Toriel frowned.
She didn’t really want to share, but it would be rude not to, right? Why hadn’t she offered some to her ghost earlier? Yes, she was the Queen and she needed the relaxing drink more, but it was silly to be the only one drunk. Drinking was something you were supposed to do with friends, or partners, or at least not all alone in your tent like some kind of washed-up… something.
“Yes! Yes! YES!!” The ghost flitted around the tent excitedly.
Then it smashed the bottle on the ground.
Toriel blinked, some lucidity returning as red veins spread across the rug.
“Why… did you do that?” Her brow furrowed. A piece of glass was stuck in her leg fur.
“Ghost wine, duh. I had to kill it first.”
Toriel wasn’t drunk enough to believe that—but there the ghost was, pulling a shimmering translucent bottle out of the wreckage.
“This stuff better taste good,” it said, then downed the large bottle with a loud GLUG-GLUG-GLUG-GLUG.
“You have never drank before, have you?” Toriel said.
“Nope.” The ghost burped. “Tastes kinda stingy. Like it's trying to fight my insides.”
“Hmm. I hope you can hold your liquor.” Toriel frowned before emptying the contents of her stomach in her sheets.
She blushed. How hypocritical. At least it wasn’t much—monster food converted to energy near perfectly, but alcohol could slow the metabolism.
“Woah! Sick!” The ghost giggled, then vomited alongside her.
Toriel hadn’t even known that ghosts could vomit. The liquid… gas… stuff looked just as incorporeal as the ghost and its ghost wine.
“How was that? Do I win?” It grinned.
Toriel burst out laughing again.
“If you had lips, I would kiss you,” she blurted.
Before her ghost could reply, the tent flap swung open. Outlined against the darkness stood Gerson and Wingdings, in equal states of confusion.
“You’re too late,” the ghost spoke up. “Wine’s already gone. Hey, you should bring us some more—”
“We came ‘cause we heard a crash,” Gerson said, stepping right through the ghost.
It shuddered, and Toriel scowled. She knew how much her friend hated being ignored.
“It was nothing.” She fought down her blush and tried to stand. She was not that drunk. Her friends would see that she was fine, that even the Queen just needed to have a little fun, that was all—
She toppled forward.
It all happened in rapid succession. Her ghost trying to catch her, the cold chill as she passed through their incorporeal form. Then the abrupt jerk as blue magic caught hold of her soul, holding her inches above the broken glass on the floor.
She threw up again, of course. Any monster would have, under the circumstances.
“Woah. Groovy.” The ghost hovered near, trying to headbutt the blue glow surrounding Toriel. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“No, he can’t,” Gerson said flatly. “Now scram.”
“You can’t tell me to scram.” The ghost puffed out its chest. “I’m Toriel’s Royal Guard.”
“I’m the Queen’s Royal Guard, and you said you didn’t want to be in our ‘club.’” Gerson put airquotes around the word.
Toriel giggled from where she was floating horizontally. Hee hee, this was nice. Floating. Like being drunk, but better.
“I changed my mind,” the ghost said.
“Yeah, well I didn’t. Scram.” Gerson tried to shoo it out of the tent. His hands just kept going through it.
Toriel couldn’t stop laughing.
“PLEASE, YOUR MAJESTY…” Wingdings gently pushed her back to her bed before releasing his magic. She flopped unceremoniously onto the mattress.
Then her laugh was the only voice in the awkward silence. This was why she didn’t invite Gerson and Wingdings when she was like this. They were no fun whatsoever.
“You’re right. I don’t wanna be in your stupid club,” the ghost muttered to Gerson. “Look at those stupid shapes on your chest. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!!”
“You mean the Delta Rune?” Gerson asked. “Y’know, the same symbol that’s on everything else?”
“It looks stupider on you!” it insisted. “Like, those triangles? They’re all you stupid people! Getting crushed under the magic flying circle.”
“MAGIC FLYING…?” Wingdings murmured.
“Y’know. The Angel. The circle. The one who’s gonna bust us all out of here.” The ghost grinned. “That’s me, by the way. Me!”
“Uh-huh.” Gerson nodded. “And I’m a five-legged Froggit.”
“Whatever. You boring flesh monsters wouldn’t understand.” It spun around his head, sprinkling a few tears onto him. He yelped and glared up at it. “Anyway. Toodles!”
The ghost phased out through the tent wall. Leaving Toriel to the mercy of her more responsible friends.
Ugh. She didn’t have enough wine for this.
XXX
“Take some of this! And a little of that!”
The ghost’s voice was coming from the small garden her citizens had been cultivating near the light of the Barrier. Toriel wasn’t worried. Her ghost must be fighting the Barrier again, as useless as the action was. At least the activity kept it out of—
“Please, now, there’s no need for that.”
—Trouble.
In the middle of the garden, the ghost was shooting bullets at the only other remaining Boss Monster.
Asgore Rendager.
“What? You think you’re too good to fight?” it taunted.
Asgore held up his spade, blocking the flurry of bullets and reflecting them back at the ghost. It hissed as the bullets made contact.
“Oh dear… my apologies; I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What? What? WHAT? You think THAT puny attack hurt?”
“Ah, so you were not trying to attack me with your full might.” Asgore smiled. “How kind of you.”
“ARE YOU FOR REAL??” The ghost shouted, readying another ring of bullets.
Toriel finally shook her head and strode over to break them up. Perhaps she wanted nothing to do with the other Boss Monster, but it was her duty to protect all of her citizens.
“Asgore,” she said coolly. She opened her mouth to call out her ghost as well, but it still hadn’t chosen a name. “...Ghost,” she finally said, unsatisfyingly.
“That’s not my name~” the ghost said with a giggle, as if it hadn’t just been trying to attack another monster moments before. “You can’t deadname me in any way that matters~”
“Why are you trying to fight him,” Toriel asked in a huff.
“Your Majesty.” Asgore took a knee, crushing one of the popato sprouts that had barely begun to grow.
“You are crushing the plants,” she said before turning away from him. “And you. I know that you care for me, but you cannot go around fighting any monster I dislike.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s not why we were fighting!” The ghost grinned. “He ate a snail! He must be punished. Punished. Punished!!”
“A snail?” Toriel looked back to Asgore—only to find tears dripping from eyes onto the dirt. “Asgore—what is the matter?”
“You… truly dislike me?” he asked. “Forgive me. How you feel is none of my business…”
Toriel groaned. She had really said that in front of him? Her ghost’s lack of decorum was rubbing off on her.
“It is not that…” She trailed off with a sigh.
It really wasn’t that anything was wrong with Asgore. As the only other remaining Boss Monster, however, other monsters had certain… expectations of them.
The people wanted a stable monarchy again. They wanted what they were used to. They wanted someone who would marry, and produce an heir, and lead them back into the light. Not someone who would spiral further and further into the dark.
“You literally just said you disliked him,” the ghost pointed out.
Asgore sniffled wetly.
“I cannot—how I feel does not matter,” she huffed, blushing. She couldn’t be held responsible for Asgore’s emotions. “We cannot have infighting among ourselves.”
“But he ate a snail!” the ghost protested, pointing to the ground with one nubby hand. “Look! You can see the shell right there!!”
“Are the snails property of the crown?” Asgore asked, wet eyes widening. “I didn't mean to steal from you, I promise. I only wanted a snack while weeding these popatoes—erm, not that that makes stealing alright!”
Toriel bit her lip. As much as she would like an excuse to be upset with him, she couldn’t fault anyone for snacking on a delicious snail. Besides, the garden belonged to the community, not to her.
“You have done nothing wrong, Asgore,” she said.
He smiled in surprised relief. It might have been endearing, if his nose weren’t dripping with snot.
“How can you say that??” the ghost demanded. “Snails are our friends! Our comrades! Our wise and benevolent guardians!! Only someone heartless would eat snails!!!”
Toriel’s brow furrowed. Her ghost had said some incomprehensible things, but this was surely the strangest.
“My Sugar, I eat snails.”
The ghost's eyes widened enough to fill its whole face.
“You. Do. WHAT?”
Asgore winced at the volume, and Toriel’s soul sank. The sparkling tears in the ghost’s eyes didn’t seem to be for fun, this time.
“It is natural, for corporeal monsters,” she tried to reassure it. “Snails are an excellent source of protein, which is difficult to come by in our… situation.”
The ghost’s body pulsed with anger. Its tears fell, beating the plants beneath it.
“Fine. Fine. FINE!!” it screamed. “Then—then you go be natural by yourself! Alone! With no friends and no co-ruler to share your cool last name! This relationship is over. Over! OVER!!!”
Toriel’s mouth hung open. Relationship? They were… well. They’d never said exactly what they were. But whatever it was, it had been shattered right in front of Asgore Rendager.
Dang it. Now he was going to know she was single.
“By the way, if you ever want to give up eating snails, I know a sexy murderblob,” the ghost flitted around Asgore’s horns, its tears still dripping acidicly onto his head. “It’s me~”
“I. Erm. Alright?” He rubbed his head.
With those last words, the ghost—Toriel’s ghost—flew off over the tents, towards the unexplored caverns. Toriel stared after it, embarrassment finally giving way to annoyance. She hadn’t even wanted to be in a relationship!
But she had wanted a friend. And for all of the ghost’s faults, its loss left a heartache behind.
“Um. Are… you alright?” Asgore’s voice startled her.
“Yes,” she snapped. “I am perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Oh. Well.” He cleared his throat. He was still kneeling. For some reason, that annoyed her. “If you were not… or if you ever, erm, just wanted someone to talk to…”
“I have more friends than just one ghost.” She crossed her arms. “And I have business to be about. Do not make me rescue you again, next time.”
She glided away from the garden, refusing to let her own tears fall.