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As Martlet drags herself out of bed, she finds herself inclined to never celebrate anything ever again.
It’s exhausting. It seems to never end. Everyone’s so happy, all the time. And they expect the same from her. As if she can be her same upbeat self through days upon days of public addresses and festivals and feasts. As if being the least bit despondent is a slight against the whole Underground.
After all, a sixth human SOUL has been collected. Only one more, and the barrier can be shattered, and monsterkind can be free. Who wouldn’t be excited about that? It’s not like that human was good for anything but their SOUL, right? They were a disgrace and a burden, just like all the others, weren’t they? They couldn’t possibly have meant anything to anyone, could they?
Stop it, Martlet. She gives herself a light slap across the face before collapsing dramatically into the bathroom counter. No crying. You can cry all you want after this stupid work event, but if you don’t make it past this hurdle, you’ll have to endure this forever.
She had done well to keep herself away from it all. King Asgore had been generous enough to dismiss her summons to the initial announcement, seeming sympathetic even in her failure to provide a good excuse. Being one of the monsters to bring him Clover’s SOUL had actually worked to her advantage, even if she still got strange looks when she couldn’t muster up a smile. Her absence from celebratory events was chalked up to her recovering from the trauma the human must have inflicted upon her. She knew the other shoe would drop eventually, but she hoped so desperately that she could just avoid it forever if she never left her house and pretended like she didn’t exist. She’d almost prefer that, anyways.
But the world could never be so kind. Of course the Royal Guard would have their own night of festivities. Of course they would want the rookie who somehow managed to capture a human to be there. Of course they would want to make her a main component of the night. Of course they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
She splashes water onto her face, lathering it fervently. She isn’t quite able to separate the feathers matted down by layers of tears, but she hopes no one will look closely enough to notice. After yanking the record number of knots from her hair and rubbing her eyes for about the fiftieth time, she picks the rogue cherry blossoms still lingering on her uniform, her SOUL sinking slightly as they crumble within her grasp. Nevertheless, she forces herself to slip it on and stumble out the door like it’s any other slightly reluctant morning, forgoing a meal because how could she be hungry at a time like this? Although, the fact that she hasn’t dared to show her face in any shop in the area since it happened could also have something to do with it.
The moment Martlet steps outside, a harsh shiver spreads through her body. Turns out, refusing to leave the house for days on end made her forget just how piercing the cold of Snowdin can feel. It only worsens as she takes a few stunted steps towards the dock, then freezes in her tracks.
She almost just tried to take Ava. Who is currently in pieces at the bottom of the Dunes. Because of her journey with Clover.
Life truly won’t ever be the same again, will it?
After running her hands down her face with an exasperated groan, she forces herself to take off. The rush of frozen wind against her face feels like countless little needles, threatening to send her plummeting to the ground with each flap of her stiffening wings. All the more reason to turn back and embrace the safety of her covers, but what choice does she really have?
It gets easier once she’s out of Snowdin, at least. The air no longer feels like it’s trying to stab her with every shaky breath in. The subdued humidity of Waterfall is a welcome change for her protesting muscles, further fatigued by the mental checklist she makes of everything she would rather be doing. A common practice of hers during her commutes. But today, she finds it’s a lot longer than usual, and much more Clover-centric.
She wishes she could be taking them to see Waterfall. She wishes she could show them the Bridge Seeds and the telescope and the crystals. She wishes she could watch them play the piano, or cheer on the snails at the ranch, or gawk at the view of New Home from the isolated path, like she knows they would. She wishes they could walk amongst the twinkling rocks together and wish until they all came true, in a secret place just for them, where the Echo Flowers would hold their conversations forever. But clearly, wishing has never done anything. Not for her, not for the rest of monsterkind, not for anyone.
She knows Clover wouldn’t want her to think like this. If only that were a little easier. If only she could just care about what Clover thinks, and not what others think of them.
The stuffy fumes of Hotland hit her before she’s ready, and she has to stop herself from startling so severely she crashes into the molten rock below. She promptly lands, shaking the perspiration out of her feathers before continuing her journey. Much to her dismay, it does little to quell the heat building beneath her armour, or the growing fog in her brain. Even worse is that no matter how many times she stops – for a drink, or a wipe of her brow, or a few rounds of meaningless pacing – she still arrives at her destination. Still as grand and lively as when she was there with Clover, and yet, somehow void of all its charm.
Captain Undyne did always tell her to face danger head-on. Well, here it is, through the door of the UG Apartments… her, and her protocols, and her prejudices, and her celebrations.
“Deep breaths, Martlet,” she whispers through a long exhale. “Fight for your own legacy.”
The moment she creaks the door open, she’s met with an eruption of cheers so loud it could shatter the Barrier on its own. A familiar scaly hand has wrapped itself around her wrist before she can scurry back out, and the other has her trapped in a harsh noogie before she can process the bright lights of the lobby. It all hits her at once, and it would be enough to send her instantly tumbling to the ground, if not for the stronger woman holding her securely in place.
“Good to see ya, rookie!” The usual volume of Undyne’s voice is only amplified by the burning sensation spreading throughout her scalp. “Or, can I even call you that anymore?”
“Agh! Captain!” Martlet thrashes from within her headlock. “H-how’d you even know it was me?!”
“How do you think? You’re the last one to show up to everything!” She has no time to process her commander’s jab before she’s dragged into the day’s next trial while her head still spins from the one before. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting for the big-shot hero!”
Hero. The word makes her sick. She has no right to be regarded as anything even close. And yet, the looks of admiration from her superiors imply anything otherwise. The lolling tongues and wagging tails of the dogs. The expectant gazes of every other monster behind them. The fierce, proud grin of her captain. They’re all directed right at her, waiting in eager anticipation for the next move of a nobody who was in the right place at the right time.
“Um… h-hi?”
The crowd goes wild once more. Maybe she really will be sick. If she knew it were this easy to become a hero, she would have sworn herself to the solitude of her house long ago.
“That’s right!” Undyne perches her foot dramatically on the head chair of the banquet table, slapping the plate armour of Martlet’s shoulder with a resounding clank. “Feast your eyes, everyone! You’re in the presence of a monster who risked life and limb to fight an invading human… and WON!”
Martlet opens her beak to chime in with scathing corrections. She swiftly decides she values her life and snaps it shut. She almost wishes she didn’t.
“They thought they could stuff us down here and call it a day, huh? That we’d just lie down and take it? Well, NOW look at us! Every day we fight, and train, and patrol, because the hopes and dreams of every monster rest in OUR hands! We CAN beat the humans! And we HAVE!”
Undyne leaps onto the table, landing heavily in the centre. Martlet squawks in surprise, but it’s drowned out by the roaring approval from her colleagues. She seizes the opportunity to sink down in her seat until she practically disappears.
“SIX!” The captain continues, pumping her fist in the air as her voice climbs. “Six human SOULs! That’s how many we’ve proven we’re stronger than, and that’s how many we’ve collected! Now, how many do we need to break the barrier and take our freedom back?!”
“SEVEN!” Every monster visible above the table’s edge chants in unison.
“THAT’S RIGHT!” She pulls out her spear in a fluid motion and circles the table with it outstretched. “Each and every one of you is on the Guard for a reason. You have what it takes to be the hero that frees us all! If Martlet can do it, YOU can do it! So, WHO’S READY TO BE THE NEXT ONE?!”
In the past – before she had any reason to be the target of such a backwards compliment – Martlet may have cheered right along with everyone else. Suckered in by Undyne’s passion-fuelled speeches, Chujin’s embittered rants, and the dream of freedom that feels closer now than it ever has. But all she can think is that maybe, just maybe, there might be other humans like Clover. Bright, compassionate, resilient… heck, even willing to let monsters have a fair chance. Lost to a war they didn’t ask for, just as countless monsters before her were. Numbers in the spiralling cycle of violence that Clover gave their life to prevent. They’re the hero, not her.
If they were here, they’d want her to speak up. To set the record straight, not just for them, but for the good of everyone. For the next human who falls. For the monsters that could never see good in them. For a better solution, where no one has to die. Like a real hero would find. That would be something worth celebrating.
She stands up to do just that.
“Looks like our mighty human-hunter has something to say!” Undyne bellows.
She’s swiftly reminded that she’s no hero.
The silence that falls over the room is louder to her than the jaunty banter of before. Once again, every eager eye in the room is trained onto her. Waiting for something to feed into their cycle. Something she wouldn’t give them even if she could.
“W-well…” Her gaze drops to her hands, wringing themselves out in a repetitive gesture. “See, I did, but then I… I actually-”
“Tell us how you did it!” A heavily-armoured monster calls out from the back.
“Yeah, yeah!” A dog chimes in, tail swishing excitedly behind him. “Did the human hurt you? Was it big? Was it scary? What kind of magic did it have?”
“You have no idea what a human actually is, do you?” Martlet asks, her voice steady with anger she didn’t even know she was feeling.
“Nope!” He responds without missing a beat. “Did it have sharp claws?”
“Poisonous tendrils?” The monster behind him adds on, curling their own tentacles.
“Did it try to eat you?!” Someone else calls out as if the danger was right there with them.
“If I saw a human,” another heavily-armoured guard pounds his chest, “I wouldn’t be afraid no matter what it looked like.
“Yeah!” Someone else jumps up from their seat. “I’d take its SOUL before I even knew what to be scared of!”
“I’d make sure everyone knew just what we’re fighting when we get to the Surface!”
“I’d make sure-“
“STOP IT!”
Once again, all sound ceases, and all eyes snap to Martlet. The mighty Martlet, who’s slammed her hands onto the table so hard they sting, whose whole body is trembling with rage, with fear, at the mere thought of Clover having found one of them instead of her. She may not be a hero, but she’s at least found the courage to let them know it.
“You wanna know what happened so bad?” Her voice quivers with her beak. “Nothing. I didn’t fight the human. I… I barely even played a part in the SOUL-delivering stuff. I was just there when they were there, and the worst part?” She tries so, so hard to keep her tears contained, but they spill out in front of the horrified crowd anyways. “They didn’t even fight back. I just let it happen. I couldn’t do right by us, or them, or anyone! I’m just a coward and a quitter, and I couldn’t even do that right!”
She shoves her chair out of the way and sprints back into the lobby before anyone can confirm what she already knows.
“Rookie, wait!” Undyne yells after her.
She’s already out the door.
Sobs escape her throat through gasps for breath as she runs into the deserted alley behind the apartments. She wastes no time darting behind the dumpster against the far wall, before dropping to her knees and frantically wiping her tears away. The weight of all her failures finally collapses from her shoulders, pushing her further down to the cold gravel floor.
If only they could have seen just who they were saying those horrible things about. If only she could offer them such enlightenment. If only they would listen.
She promised herself she wouldn’t cry today. All she needed to do was keep it together for one work event. To celebrate the idea of freedom, just for one night. But freedom can’t feel anything but hollow to her now.
When she’s finally able to push herself up from her fetal position, she staggers up the stairs to the roof. She takes in the view of the CORE with loud sniffles and hiccups. Normally, she would find herself dismantling the machinery with a microscope in her mind, trying to crack open the brain of the former royal scientist through his legendary mechanisms. But she already did plenty of that while waiting for Clover up here. Besides, how could she ever hope to measure up to him? When she’s never tried to achieve anything worthwhile in her life? When what little she stands for runs contrary to everything she wants to be?
“I wish you’d have come back to Snowdin with me,” she whispers to no one. She imagines it, candidly; the single thing that’s been getting her through her long days in bed. The sight of Clover making themselves at home in her little wooden hut, living out their life as a child should. That would have been something worth celebrating.
Right. The celebration. She kind of just left the entire Guard in shambles. For all she knows, they could be looking for her right now, ready to bring her in front of the King for treason. Maybe she should fly back home and slink back under her covers before they think to check the roof. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. She should do that.
She turns around in preparation to take off. She’s immediately met by a familiar armoured form, standing mere inches from her, a solemn expression etched onto her face. Martlet leaps back in shock, so far that she feels the edge of the roof threaten her seized talons.
“C-Captain!” She sputters, her wings raising themselves instinctually above her head. “Listen, I swear it’s- it’s not-”
“Come.” Undyne motions with her hand before walking straight past her and dangling her legs over the side of the roof. “Sit.”
Martlet does exactly as she’s told, shoulders hunched and hands on her knees. Many seconds of suffocating silence pass as the two look onwards, save for the occasional manic glance to the side from Martlet. She watches Undyne’s tight ponytail billow in the stiff wind, and her polished armour practically twinkle under the soft light of the CORE. The spitting image of a hero, and yet, the spearhead of a movement more aligned with villainy.
“You sure are upset for someone who’s so close to freedom,” Undyne finally says, causing Martlet to jump. “Is there something else going on?”
“Um, uhh…” Martlet shuffles frantically in her spot to jumpstart her brain, before stiffening and snapping her wings to her sides. “No, ma’am! Nothing to report! Everything is good, and, um, just-“
“MARTLET!” Undyne slams her hands on the ground, and Martlet screams, in spite of herself. “Cut the goody-two-shoes crap! Just answer the damn question!”
Regret seeps into her expression immediately as Martlet scrambles away from her and struggles to control her squeaky breathing. She leans forward and puts a hand on her soldier’s knee. “Sorry,” she says, much quieter. “I didn’t mean- I’m not mad. I’m just… sick of pretending like you haven’t been acting strange since the human showed up. The Guard looks out for each other, y‘know?”
“I- yes. I’m sorry,” Martlet responds in kind, shrinking further into herself. “I guess it’s just… what’s bothering me is… really hard to talk about.”
“Well, running back to your house and disappearing again sure isn’t gonna make it bother you any less.”
She can’t argue with that. Rotting away in bed has been pretty miserable. Any protest she could hope to muster dies in her throat with a thick gulp.
“What have I been telling you this whole time? You gotta face your problems–”
“--head-on, I know,” Martlet finishes her sentence with some contempt. “But I just admitted in front of everyone that I didn’t do that. And now you all know what a fraud I am, and everyone thinks the solution is to get even angrier at the humans, and I can’t help but feel like I screwed everything up.”
She buries her face in her hands. Undyne shoves her shoulder with muted force, an affectionate gesture, as she’s come to learn. “Martlet, look at me,” she says, only continuing when the bluebird obliges. “None of them know what you must have gone through. If any of ‘em give you hell for it, I’ll give it right back. It’s not your fault that the human manipulated you.”
“That they–” Martlet’s back arches straight upwards in her shock. “Wait, what?!”
“Don’t think I didn’t figure it out!” More of Undyne’s typical passion seems to return to her as she clasps the edge of the roof again. “You abandoning your post… clearly lying about where you were… the way you looked when you delivered the SOUL… it had ‘this human tricked me into sympathizing with them’ written all over it. But you’re one of us, Martlet. You always will be, even if it tried to lure you in with its influence.”
“Wait,” Martlet pleads, pushing away Undyne’s hand as she tries to place it back on her knee. “Hold on. Slow down.”
She says it for herself, more than Undyne. The comment sends her brain into such a whirlwind that she has to stop her thoughts from flooding out of her mouth, before that gets her into trouble like it always does. That fear of repercussions is the only thing holding her back from the furious tirade she’s been wishing for since she got here, laying into Undyne and the others and everyone for passing such judgements without even meeting Clover. For disgracing the name of someone who did so much to change her life. Who she ultimately failed to protect, and even after their death, she can do nothing to protect their good name unless she wants to be ostracized without a second thought. Rage will get her nowhere. They, in all their purity, probably wouldn’t even want her to get upset. She needs to stop. Breathe. Be compassionate, like them. Be cunning, like Ceroba. Be bold, like Starlo. So she does.
“You really think that’s what happened?” She asks after a slow, deep breath.
“I know so. It’s just how they are.” Undyne stares down at her clenched fists. “If their history has taught me anything, it’s that they have a damn way with words. Especially when it’s to get what they want."
“Wait, their history?”
Martlet’s beak drops open. Undyne’s hands fly to her mouth. “Crap, did I actually just say that?” Her quiet admission is further strained by the metal digging softly into her skin.
Bingo. She just fell into the trap that Martlet worked so hard to avoid. And she got what she needed from it. An in.
“Hey, it’s okay, Captain.” She smiles Undyne’s way, the first time it’s felt even somewhat genuine since it happened. “The Guard looks out for each other, right?”
“Y… yeah.” Undyne coughs into her fist. “And to be clear, it’s JUST so I know what we’re up against. Keep your enemies close and all that.”
“Right. Of course.” Martlet’s grin only widens.
“You don’t think I’m telling the truth, do you?!” Her voice flies back to its usual volume as she turns sharply towards Martlet. The bluebird doesn’t even get time to scramble for a measured response before all the fight deflates from her muscles. “Aw, forget it. I’m an awful liar anyways. It’s just so cool. Like, did you know that statistically, humans wield swords up to 10 times their size?”
“No way. Seriously?!” Martlet gawks. Suddenly, the dinky little firearm Clover had when she met them makes so much more sense. They really weren’t trying to hurt anyone.
“Yeah! And they can leap from rooftops and stuff like it’s nothing! And some of them even have crazy mind powers, and… and…” Undyne clears her throat once more, stiffening her posture. “Point is, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Wow. That’s… that’s incredible.” Martlet turns her head back towards the glimmering lights of the CORE, her mind wandering towards the image of humans just like Clover, with all of those crazy abilities. Maybe Clover even had them, too, they just hadn’t grown into them because they were a kid. And now… they never will.
Her chest clenches, and her fists follow suit. She hadn’t even noticed that Undyne was mirroring her wistful gazing until she turns back to face her. “You’re doing it again,” she states, shuffling carefully closer to Martlet. “What’re you thinking about now?”
“Promise not to get mad at me?” Martlet asks quietly.
“Hey, you’re keeping my deepest, darkest secret right now. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think that’d work out well for me.”
A chuckle leaves Martlet’s beak, but it lacks substance. Her gaze drops to her knees.
“If what you’re saying is true… and Clo– and the human did manipulate me…” The words feel disgusting leaving Martlet’s mouth, as if she could be sick just from entertaining the idea. “Is it wrong of me to miss them anyways? To… to think the good things they did were just because they were good?”
“It’s not wrong,” Undyne says flatly, her gaze hardening. “It’s just… not productive.”
“Who cares?” Martlet tries to get her captain to look her in the eyes, but she won't. “Why is it fair that they were on our side, and I still have to keep pretending like they’re the enemy? Is it that hard to believe that just one human could be good?”
“It’s not about good or bad.” Undyne wastes no time before answering, staring back at her fists. “It’s about us. They hate us, Martlet. Just because one of ‘em may have been nice to us down here, doesn’t mean they won’t fight back when they see us on the Surface. They’re dangerous. We can’t trust them.”
A shiver runs through Martlet’s body, clutching her very SOUL. Because of the harshness of Undyne’s words, and yet, for just a moment, she doesn’t even feel as if she’s with Undyne anymore. She feels the biting winds of Snowdin, the tingling of the warm coffee in her hand, and the manic gaze of Chujin, saying those exact same words.
“Talk to me,” Undyne urges her.
“You just reminded me of someone,” she whispers.
“Who?”
“My… my mentor. He taught me how to craft, and build, and all that.”
“Can you talk to him, then?”
“He’s gone, too.”
The statement comes out so nonchalantly, and yet, it forces a choked sob from her throat. Before she can stop herself, she’s drawn her knees up to her chest and buried her teary eyes into them. She finally allows herself to cry, truly cry, in the presence of someone who has promised to waive judgement, leaving room for the painful truth that she is grieving. She bawls for the loss of one of her truest friends, and the loss of a guiding light in her life, and the loss of the man she thought he was. Her entire body convulses with the weight of her sobs, allowing everything she’d been taught she couldn’t reveal to escape at last.
Eventually, she feels cold metal around her back as Undyne puts a stiff, yet gentle arm around her. She just continues to cry, as she realizes that in her hysteria, she can’t even form words.
“Tell me about him,” Undyne urges her. Just once, even though it takes her a while to compose herself enough to respond.
“I d-“ She chokes on her words. “I don’t know. He was helpful, and nice, but he also wasn’t. He would be upset at me for feeling bad for a human. But I still miss him, even if he wasn’t perfect, so why can’t I miss them?” Her breathing picks back up. “And I just wish he could have seen them, too, and maybe they would have made him change his mind on all the bad things he did, and maybe he would have- he would have gone back to being helpful and kind to everyone. Even them. Even himself.”
She shudders from the exhaustion of her emotional release. Her entire form sags into a deflated ball of feathers and misery.
“He thought I wasn’t cut out to be a Guard,” she mutters. “I don’t want him to be right about that. But I’m starting to worry that he is.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Undyne mumbles.
Martlet looks up at her inquisitively. She takes this time to scan her expression for any anger or resentment, but there is none.
“Listen Martlet.” Undyne’s face goes stiff. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. You’ll always have a place here. But it can be hard, doing what needs to be done. We’ve.. we’ve turned away perfectly eager monsters because of that. And you’re clearly tearing yourself apart over it. I don’t want you getting hurt like that.”
“I have been considering resigning,” Martlet admits. Barely even loud enough for herself to hear, but an admission all the same.
“At the very least, you’re relieved of your duties until you make up your mind. Don’t be making any decisions while you’re like this. This is about you, not us.”
Silence falls over the pair for a few short moments, save for Martlet’s continued sobs. The anger in her SOUL washes slowly away, into something just as strong and bitter, but something that finally feels heard.
“I don’t really know what to do from here,” she finally sighs.
“Prove him wrong.”
She looks up at Undyne again. “Sorry?”
“You said he was the one who taught you how to do your puzzle stuff, right? So become the best damn puzzler in the Underground, just because you can. With or without the Guard. Show him you are strong enough. If he was really as nice as you say he was, it’d make him happy to see that.”
Undyne smiles down at her, her typical bold grin taking over her face again. Martlet stares back with stunned silence. The proclamation was filled with such conviction that the obvious answer of insisting it would be too difficult doesn’t even occur to her.
“I think…” She sniffles. “I think that’d be exactly what he’d want. I-it’s like you were in his mind.”
“I may not know exactly who this guy is,” Undyne leans back, “but I know a thing or two about showing your mentor what’s what. Even if it had nothing to do with puzzles. If you quit, we’ll have to find someone else who likes ‘em as much as you, ‘cuz I can’t stand them.”
“Whaaat?!” Martlet springs back to life, meeting Undyne’s gaze once more. “How could you hate puzzles?! Their mechanisms are so fascinating! And they’re such a core component of monster history!”
“They’re BORING, is what they are!” Undyne groans. “Like the Bridge Seeds! Who even uses those, anyways? If you can’t jump the river, what are you doing in Waterfall?!”
Martlet can’t help the laugh she expels, loud and genuine, taking hold of her stomach for several moments. Despite the thickness of the Hotland air, it feels clear and fresh entering her lungs in dramatic gasps. It’s the first time she’s felt anything but misery since meeting Clover. She hopes it would make them happy to see that, too.
“There’s the rookie I know,” her captain says with a gentle smirk.
She beams with recognition, in spite of herself. It does feel good to be back.
“You gonna be coming back downstairs?” Undyne asks after a few more moments, nudging her head towards the stairs.
Martlet wrings her hands together. “I- I’m not sure… D’you think everyone is mad at me?”
“Nah. The food came by and they may as well have forgotten the whole thing. And I told ‘em to be nice, anyways.”
Undyne shrugs and motions with her arm, but Martlet just shrinks further into herself. She sighs and pushes herself to her feet. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Parties don’t seem like your scene, anyways. But I better not find you cooped back up in your house, or I will get mad at you this time!”
She shoves Martlet’s shoulder with a grin, and the rookie Guard giggles. “I don’t feel like doing that anymore, either,” she assures her, which is clearly music to her ears. “Honestly, I’ve probably owed some friends a visit for a while now. I can’t imagine they’re doing much better than me.”
“Oh, those guys you entered the Castle with? Yeah, go check on them.” Undyne extends an arm to help Martlet to her feet, and she swiftly accepts it, holding back a wince at the force of her captain’s grip. “And… ask them if they got my apology letter while you’re at it, would ya? They never wrote back.”
Martlet smiles again, and comes to realize she missed the feeling on her beak. She sidesteps Undyne quickly to avoid another noogie of death. “Can you at least tell the others not to go too hard on the humans?” She asks sheepishly between forced exhales.
“I’ll tell ‘em that they can be cool while they’re down here. Or maybe when they’re wielding giant swords.”
Music to Martlet’s ears. She and her captain exchange grins, and for the first time, she doesn’t look so scary and harsh anymore. She salutes Undyne’s way before taking off, enjoying the liberating rush of being in the air for a few moments before starting a course towards the Dunes.
The heat of the Dunes has always been more bearable to Martlet than Hotland. Perhaps it’s because the air is drier, like in Snowdin, or perhaps the might of one Swelterstone can’t compare to pools of lava everywhere. Regardless, today she can’t help but feel like it tastes even sweeter, because she knows there’s something waiting for her here.
She lands at the grandiose gates of the Wild East, and is immediately greeted by a passing townsfolk. The wave they offer her is much more sullen than she’s used to, as if weighed down by the same force that’s been plaguing her for the past week. As she offers the same sort of distilled greeting, a single thought enters her head: I’ve finally found somewhere I belong.
Perhaps it wasn’t the celebration she resented, she realizes as she strolls through town, but the isolation. The idea that she’s a traitor to her kind by not fitting in. That no one else sees past the nauseating black-and-white of a human SOUL being collected. But of course the Wild East would. They loved Clover, just the same as her, but they have each other to lean on. So they continue as normal, chatting and laughing amongst one another, even despite the melancholy looming in the air, because they know the others will catch them when they fall. Martlet can only kick herself for not thinking of coming here sooner, but she tries to enjoy the passing conversations anyhow. She missed this feeling too much to feel anything else.
The door of her captors-turned-friends’ rickety house almost seems to groan in protest as she raps on it with her knuckles, but it’s the only sound that fills the area. She knocks again, louder – much to the door’s dismay –, but again, without response. A twinge of anxiety surges in her chest at the thought of her friends being reduced to the same state she was in, but she supposes she can’t blame them. And if that’s how they are, she supposes she’ll just have to do something about it.
“Hellooo? It’s Martlet!” She calls through the door, on the chance that her presence will give them the same sense of comfort she’s been hoping theirs will for her. “I’m just here to say hi! Which I really should have done a long time ago, but the point is, I’m here now!”
But nobody came. She slides down into a sitting position against the door with her arms crossed, vacantly toying with the idea that they don’t even want to see her again. After all, she did just kinda leave them to wallow in her own misery. Maybe they think she doesn’t care – or worse, that she’s bought into all the celebration crap – and they’ve decided they hate her now. Maybe-
“You lookin’ for North Star?” The gruff voice of a passing purple monster snaps her from her own head so fast she startles. “He an’ his posse are at the Saloon right now. Not sure how you didn’t notice, to be honest, they’ve been makin’ quite the ruckus. I’ve got a headache just hearin’ ‘em from over here.”
Relief washes through Martlet, so intensely that she can only offer a mumbled thanks to the sharp-suited man. He just tips his bowler hat and continues hobbling in the other direction, giving her the perfect opportunity to scurry behind him and exhale all of her insecurities away. Now that she’s listening for it, jaunty banter echoes from the doors of the grand building, slicing through the air even several feet away. Completely contrary to the downtrodden energy of the rest of town, from the people she’d expect to be the most down. Just when she thought she could get away from rowdy parties.
What exactly had she missed while she was withering away in bed? Do they not even care? No, that can’t be right. But still, her hand hovers in front of the double doors, and fear digs into her SOUL. She can’t take another emotional beatdown like she did at the Apartments. She can’t. She hasn’t even recovered from the first one, all the way back on the balcony. The mere possibility that another could be waiting for her in there is almost enough to send her flying back home.
You wouldn’t want the captain to be angry with you, would you? She hears above all her other scrambled, panicking thoughts. And you wouldn’t want to miss out on another nice time like that.
She takes a deep breath and pushes the doors open before she can stop herself.
Six heads immediately turn to face her as she enters. She meets the eyes of the barkeep, whose name she can’t remember to save her life, if only to ignore the expectant stares of the self-proclaimed Feisty Five. The only one in the vicinity who seems to pay her no mind is Ceroba, who keeps her head resting against the back counter, covering her ears as the others whoop and cheer at the sight of their friend. Martlet can’t help but follow the fox monster’s lead.
“Feathers!” Starlo exclaims, leaping up and yanking her further into the saloon. “Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any better! Dina, get ‘er a root beer on me!”
Dina, that’s her name. Martlet makes a mental note as she’s practically shoved onto the nearest barstool, to save herself from any further embarrassment, because she doesn’t think she can take any more than this.
“Where’ve you been?” She hears the concerned voice of Moray before she feels them slide quickly into the stool beside her. “We’ve been worried sick!”
“Yeah!” Mooch chimes in from across the horseshoe table. “We really missed you!”
“Mooch, you only missed her because she didn’t notice you trying to pickpocket her the first time she was here,” Ace deadpans from beside her.
“Not true!” She puffs out her cheeks in a pout. “And even if it were , she wouldn’t hafta know that!”
Martlet can’t help but chuckle, and feel the weight on her SOUL lift itself, just a little bit.
“I-it’s just been tough, I guess,” she admits, and the immediate shift to sympathy in everyone’s expressions feels akin to a fluffy blanket. “Especially with the Guard and stuff.”
“They aren’t givin’ you a hard time, are they?” Ed grips the edge of the table with his burly fists as he asks.
“No, no! They’ve actually been really understanding!” This statement even seems to catch Ceroba’s attention, but Martlet takes a swig of her newly-obtained bottle of root beer to quell her sudden surge of panic. “I-in fact, the captain sent you guys an apology, apparently. She was wondering if you got it.”
“Wait, that was her?” Ceroba finally pipes up, lifting her hands from her eyes. “It wasn’t even signed! We were going mad trying to figure out where that came from!”
The table erupts into laughter, and Martlet becomes absorbed in it herself, for the second time that night. She really did miss the feeling.
“Still, I shoulda come to see you guys earlier,” she continues when the energy dies back down. “I- I missed you, too. I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“What matters is that yer here.” Starlo puts a hand on her shoulder, his voice so convincingly soft that it slices even further through all the pressure and expectations that were building on her shoulders.
“Speaking of, what is here?” She looks around at the table again, at the collection of jolly faces that still nauseate her with the reminders of her compatriots. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“Ceroba happened!” Starlo saunters over to her and slams his hand a little too hard on her back, causing her to jump. “Until today, she wouldn’t even leave our little house! But we finally got ‘er to go on a walk to the plantation, all the way there and back! Can ya believe it?”
“I’m not a child, Star,” Ceroba grumbles from beneath her sleeve.
“But it’s still a big deal,” he rebuts, quieter, looking back up towards Martlet. “Don’t’cha think, Feathers?”
“It… it’s…” her sentence dies in her throat as heavy giggles replace it.
“It’s funny?” Ceroba glares up at her.
“No, no, it’s just…” She catches her breath as the implication truly hits her. “It’s my first day out of the house, too. What a coincidence.”
The fox monster’s expression immediately softens, and the two exchange a long glance, feeling something tighten in their minds the longer it holds. Like they can see in the other what they couldn’t see in themselves: pride.
“Well, I’ll be!” Starlo whistles before nudging Martlet’s shoulder with his elbow. “Seems like we got double the reason to celebrate, then! You gonna stick around?”
“I think I’d like that.” She downs the last of her root beer and hops off the barstool.
Even through all the liveliness of before, through all the genuine happiness for his friends, she sees his smile widen with something even brighter at her response.
Mooch skips over to the jukebox across the room, and just like that, everyone is up and about again. Martlet shuffles awkwardly on the spot for a moment, still reeling from the exhaustion of her earlier exchange. Only when she nervously darts her eyes around the room to check if anyone’s noticed does she meet the gaze of Starlo, doing the same thing. She jumps a little upon seeing him so close. She expected him to be back with his friends, but he hasn’t moved, either.
“You okay?” She asks quietly.
“I could ask you the same,” he responds in kind. “You’ve been cryin’.”
“Wh- no, I- w-well-” She swipes frantically at the feathers underneath her eyes. “It was a while ago now. I was kinda just hoping no one would notice.”
“Well, I do tend to do that. More than folks realize, I think.”
His voice sours just a bit upon finishing his sentence. She catches him glancing towards Ceroba, who has remained seated with her hands over her eyes.
“You’re worried about her?”
“More than I could even say.” He sighs. “It’s been a hard week for all of us, but she’s… well, it’s been about celebratin’ the little victories. Which is what we talked about doin’ anyways, I guess.”
“Poor thing.” Martlet swallows a thick wave of dread. “I wish I had been there when it… y’know, when it happened. To help.”
She hears a small noise of acknowledgment from beside her, before a tension thickens between them.
“Hey, you never answered my question,” she continues. “Are you okay?”
“I have to be.” He turns to her and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m North Star.”
“Hey, none of that.” She playfully punches at his shoulder, but her expression doesn’t change from its grimace. “What makes you think we don’t wanna help you, too?”
“I don’t think that.” The words barely leave his mouth. “I just dunno how I’m supposed to feel any better if I’m not doin’ anything to help.”
“Maybe you should ask.” Martlet nudges towards Ceroba with her head, and she’s met with a look of uncertainty from Starlo. But when she walks over and heroically takes a seat beside their friend, he decides he has no choice but to follow suit.
“What’s on yer mind?” He asks her, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
“It’s loud.” Her voice is muffled through her sleeves. “And I’m tired. But if you and the group are having fun, I don’t really care.”
“Not without you,” he responds, more honest than he’s sounded all night. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she deflates from the touch. They all wait for each other to say something else. No one does.
Martlet squeezes her eyes shut and thinks, as hard as she possibly can, about what she would want someone to say to her when the world was loud and tiring. One thought prevails above the rest.
“For what it’s worth, Ceroba,” she says softly, “I’m proud of you.”
At first, she thinks Ceroba maybe didn’t hear her, because she doesn’t respond. Then she sees her shoulders begin to rise and fall dramatically, then she pounds at the table with her fist. Starlo startles and tries to soothe her through her hysterics, but it only makes her break down further, shoving him away and yanking at her hair.
Great, Martlet thinks, I’ve made everything worse. She moves to stand up and leave before she can cause any more trouble for her friends, until the image of her in the same position flashes through her mind. Of Undyne beside her, offering nothing but her patient presence, and the feeling of cathartic emptiness that came with letting everything out. Of being here only because someone sat and listened. So she scurries back into her seat and tries to trust that maybe she can do the right thing for once.
Starlo has his hand on Ceroba’s, softly talking her through her own breathing, watching with fearful anticipation as her trembling slows, but never halts. He needs someone to back him up. He needs a hero.
“Talk to us,” she urges her, the same way Undyne did.
“I’m just sick of this,” Ceroba chokes on her words in much the same way she did. “Why won’t you do the sensible thing and leave me be? All this trying and trying for someone who hurt you like I did, who can’t even try to help you back… doesn’t it just exhaust you?”
“There’d be nothing sensible about that.” Starlo looks completely serious, and his voice is so sincere that Ceroba tilts her head up to see. “We told ya we’d help, didn’t we? What kinda friends would we be if we went back on our word?”
“That shouldn’t matter.” She pushes herself up and wipes the tears from her eyes. “Look at what you’re missing out on because of me. Not to even mention how much I missed of you trying to help me, and all I could think of was myself. Go enjoy your time with them, and forget about me.”
“It’s easier to say that, isn’t it?”
Martlet pipes back up before she even realizes the words are leaving her beak. The other two turn to her.
“It’s easier to tell everyone that they should just leave you behind so you don’t have to wonder if you’re actually making them happy. If you wish hard enough, maybe they’ll actually believe you so you don’t have to try. Doesn’t it feel that way?”
“Thanks for yet another lesson on why I’m morally inferior,” Ceroba spits.
“I’m not trying to do that. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past week?”
She has no response to this.
“When we went on that walk this mornin’, and you said hi to my folks, and you looked so happy to be out in the air…” Starlo has to collect himself as tears well up in his eyes, too. “I know yer worried too, Ceroba, but it helped. Somethin’ just as simple as that. But there wasn’t anythin’ more fun than watchin’ you breathe for the first time in a week. It… it helped me breathe, too. And now I wanna help you, too. Can’t you see that?”
“Depends. Can you take your own advice and let me catch my breath?” Her tone is light, but her voice is small, as if she’s asking for the whole world.
“You wanna go home?” He asks quietly.
“I just want to stop watching you suffocate yourself because you think that’s what I want. And acting like it’s not enough to just… stay by me until I can do things like walk around.”
“That’s doing something to help, isn’t it?” Martlet follows up with a reassured smile. Watching the weight leave Starlo’s shoulders makes her feel like finally, finally, she’s been the hero everyone thinks her to be.
He leans closer into Ceroba, and she allows herself to sag until her head hits his shoulder. Martlet can’t help but join in, wrapping her wings around the pair and feeling the last of the heaviness leave her chest when they both place a hand on her wrists.
“I miss ‘em,” Starlo mumbles. Martlet looks up to see his lower lip quivering.
“So do I,” she whispers back.
“We all do,” Ceroba sighs. “But if there’s one thing this has taught me, it’s that we can only hope they’d be happy to see us like this.”
Ceroba’s affirmation is shaky, uncertain, but the three take a long, deep breath un unison anyways. The look they exchange afterwards is much more assured.
“Alright, you lot,” Ace calls over the commotion, turning down the jukebox and motioning towards the others with his hand. “I’m setting up poker on the stage. Join in only if you’ve got the coin to lose.”
“You don’t think he was listening to us, do you?” Martlet whispers.
“I have no doubt he was,” Starlo sighs. “He’s got a knack for that kinda thing.”
“Now that’s an idea I can get behind.” Ceroba’s words mix with the giddy exclamations of the rest of the posse. She moves to stand, meeting resistance as the others tighten their grip on her and shoot her concerned glances, but a reassured smile and nod from her is enough to get them to loosen up and follow her over to the circle.
“You wanna be dealt in, Martlet?” Starlo asks as he takes a seat.
“You should!” Moray chimes in from beside him. “I think you’d like it!”
“Oh, um, I- I’ve never really played poker before.” Martlet fidgets with her hands. “It sounds really confusing. Maybe I’ll just… catch you guys later, or something.”
“You can play with me,” Ceroba offers without missing a beat. “I can show you how it’s done.”
Martlet blinks in surprise for a moment, staring towards Ceroba, who looks back with no judgement or urgency. The gesture of kindness is so simple, yet rattling to her, after all the expectations shoved onto her. She forgot it was possible to just exist peacefully on the sidelines. Even though they just talked about doing that.
It’s not going to be easy to fall out of her own habits. But that’s why they have each other, to lighten the air.
With only a smile, she sits eagerly beside her friend and watches as the cards are passed around.
In truth, she absorbs virtually none of what she learns that night. She eventually finds herself attempting to predict what Ceroba will do, with middling accuracy, though she can’t quite pinpoint how. But the ebb and flow of the game unfolding, the shuffling of cards and the passing of G between fingers, it’s so methodically soothing that she allows it to take her over like a trance.
“Cheater! Ace is cheating!” Mooch cries with an accusatory finger pointed his way.
“You have no proof of that,” he responds with a simple shrug.”
“Maybe someone else should deal fer once,” Ed suggests, reaching for the pile of cards.
“Remember what happened last time you tried to shuffle?” Moray nudges Ed playfully with their elbow before swiping the deck. “Let me do it.”
The group laughs. The game continues. It’s so simple, but it’s so soothing.
She closes her eyes and allows the soft simplicity to wash away the ache that festered in her SOUL. This is peace. This is celebration.
Perhaps, she thinks, celebrations can be pretty alright after all.