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The endless void of nothingness wasn't something Clover expected themselves to be in when they were asked about their future. Yet, here they are, the endless void stretching out as far as their eye can see and feeling as far away as the end of the vacuum of space they've found themself in.
There were no walls, no floor, no anything. Just an endless void.
It was quiet.
That was fine, Clover can work with quiet.
Humming a small tune, they can't help but wonder how their friends were doing. Would they be happy that they were finally one more soul closer to finally being free? Or would they mourn Clover, wishing they had stayed when they all knew that it would only end in tragedy?
Clover.. doesn't know the answer to that. They envision the rest of the Underground cheering and celebrating as the 6th soul is claimed, unknowing to the tragedy and sacrifice surrounding it. They can just see the hope in the monsters' eyes as they realize the inevitability of their freedom as the king announces that only one more human SOUL is needed before they break the barrier.
The cowpoke can't, won't fault monsterkind for that. After all, it is merely right in the face of the injustice the species has faced. The long awaited justice for monsterkind is near to come.
The king visits them sometimes. Well, visit the SOULs.
It's the only time where the silence of the void is replaced by a weak, deep, smooth voice. Clover can't really make out the words due to the voice being muffled by what Clover assumes is the container. Nevertheless, it was there and it was the only thing preserving their sanity in this static place.
Why are they even thinking about this? What good does it even make? It's none of their business anymore. All they had to do was rest and let the void's emptiness consume them.
Endlessly waiting for the seventh human to fall.
Waiting.
And waiting…
(Clover wanted to cry but they had no eyes.)
Clover opens their eyes to darkness, which should've been expected. But, there was something different with this darkness. It felt.. off.
Constricting.
They reach out their hand and they feel something solid hit their fingertips.
This was not the void. This is not the emptiness Clover has been surrounded by ever since they had given up their soul.
Then, everything hits.
The stale air around them enters their lungs as they breathe in and out at an uncontrollable speed, pitch black enveloping Clover as their hand blindly feels for anything, the walls around them closing in on them, threatening to trap Clover for all of eternity.
They needed to get out.
Clover puts their hands on the ceiling. Its rough, bumpy, concrete-like texture digging into their palms and fingertips as they push and scratch on it.
(Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.)
They push and push until the smallest of cracks forms and light seeps into the darkness that surrounds them. This only fuels Clover to push harder until their arms ache from the heaviness. More and more light enters the darkness, blinding them as much as the dark.
Finally, finally does the ceiling slide off with a resounding thud and a bright light fully covers their eyesight. Clover stays there breathing in the fresh air, waiting for the light to subside as their eyes get used to not seeing full darkness. And when it does, they could not do anything but stare at the true ceiling.
They bring their hand to their face, lifting it just above their eyesight. Their palms and fingertips were partly coated with red resulting from the blood leaking out of scrapes that they must've gotten in their escape. Clover didn't even notice it in their desperate attempt to flee their prison.
Just what happened? Why was it one moment they were in the ever expanding void and the next they were.. here.
Clover's body moves almost automatically, albeit stiffly. Their whole body aches as their hand pushes their body up to a sitting position, giving them a better view of their surroundings.
The room is desolate with gray painting both the walls and floors. They turned and around them was a row of neat boxes made of the same stone material as the one they were sitting in. Horror paints Clover's face as the realization dawns on them.
These were coffins. They were sitting in a coffin.
Their coffin.
Clover's vision goes dizzy. Clover clutches the side of the box coffin to steady themself as the world spins around them. Get up. They needed to get up.
Ignoring all the obvious signs pointing out that they were in no shape to move, Clover pulls themself up. This proves to be a bad idea when they lose their balance and hit the hard, stone cover of their coffin on the way down. Pain shoots up from their back, robbing Clover of the little strength they had
This was going to bruise, they were sure of it. Despite the unbearable pain spreading throughout the cowpoke's body, Clover pushes themself up from the fractured stone cover. Their small frame unsteadily sways side to side as Clover's legs adjust to having to support them again.
They have to get out. Clover's thoughts race as they look at the coffins around them. Why? Why were they here? Just what happened? Why are they not in the void they've gotten accustomed to? And most importantly,
Why are they alive?
See, Clover would've easily dismissed this as a horribly vivid hallucination caused by their deteriorating sanity if it weren't for one thing. Pain.
The pain coursing through their body is enough of a reminder that they were alive. No, not alive, they couldn't be. The better way to describe them is a corpse. A corpse with a heartbeat.
They aren't alive. It's not possible. Clover knows they are not alive.
And if they were, it wouldn't be fair for those who came before Clover. Clover didn't deserve to be alive. They did the universe a favor the moment they gave up their soul. Because Clover ███████ is not meant to be alive.
Stumbling forward, Clover leans on the wall. Their chest felt tight due to their heart pounding so hard they could feel it. Clover could hear their heart beats echo and bounce off the wall, surrounding them with the sound of their loud heart.
They need to get out. NOW.
Clover quickly scrambles towards the end of the room. Ignoring the coffins that lay besides them and quickly passing the one with the blue heart on it.
(Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.)
By the end of the room was a flight of stairs leading upwards. Great. Clover wasn't sure if they had the ability to climb it but it's not like they had any other options to choose from.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Slip.
Clover silently curses as they barrel down the flight of stairs. If a certain golden flower was here, they were sure that he would've had a snarky reply waiting for them when they reached the bottom. The corpse gives it no attention as they pick themself up and continue onwards to the top of the stairs.
This cycle continues a few more times with Clover increasingly getting used to the monotonous pattern of bringing their left foot up then right foot up and managing to catch themself whenever they slip. Until eventually Clover reaches the top, greeted by gray brick walls with vines growing on it.
Clover shuffles away from the stairs. With their luck, they would've fallen down on it and had to redo their efforts no matter how careful they were. Yeah, not a chance.
Before continuing on, they take a moment to catch their breath. Then they gingerly approach the large entrance way. And with each step they take, a sense of Deja Vu envelopes them. Clover has done this before, they could feel it. It didn't make sense, how could they? They never even reached the castle alive.
Clover stops just slightly beyond the entranceway and into the room. Golden flowers upon golden flowers greet them, their sweet scent permeating throughout the room. Gaps of sunlight shine upon the flowers, blessing them with natural light and making them appear more golden than they already are. And most importantly, a tall figure stands amongst the flowers.
The King of Monsterkind stands surrounded by golden flowers.
Fear creeps up in Clover, urging them to run. Run, run, run as far away as they can. They had always been good at running, so why stop now.
They shakily take a step back though that would be their undoing as the sound of their footstep resound the room. "Just a moment please. Allow me to finish watering these flowers and I'll get back to you." Says the king. Great. Great. Just what they needed. They turn their heels, preparing to take off when they hear,
"All done, I apologize for the wait. Now, how can I help you?"
Freeze.
No use running now. Clover shakily turns around to face the king. The two stand before one another.
Monster and human.
King and child.
Man and corpse.
The king's eyes widened at the mere sight of them. Dread pools in Clover's stomach as they see the king realize just what is in front of him, horror filling his eyes when he does.
Why? They question. Why did he look so horrified? He had no right to look at Clover like that. Like only now does he realize the consequences of his actions. Like he has not seen a small child's corpse before when he had already taken five.
(Did he also stare in horror at the corpse beneath him when he struck down the children that came before Clover? Did he ever consider that maybe that wasn't the right thing to do? Did he ever feel dread creep up on him as the blood of the innocent dyed his hands red?)
"You… That can't be… No…" The wide-eyed monster mutters to himself. Clover clenches their fist and reluctantly steps away from the king. "Wait! Human, I… I– I mean no harm! Please don't be afraid,” Clover hesitates for a moment before coming to a full halt. “Would you like a cup of tea?" The king calls out. Backed into a corner with nowhere else to run to, Clover nods.
"Great, I'll get some in a moment. Please wait here." He says, exiting the room so quickly that Clover would've thought he was the one that wanted to run. What's to say that he didn't? That would've made the two of them then.
The king's hasty exit leaves Clover to stand alone amongst the flowers. Sunlight shining down on them for the first time in what felt like eternity.
Clover could only hope that they made the right decision.
The king returns with a table, chair, and tea set as Clover was debating whether golden flowers would taste good or not when eaten. Old habits die hard, they guess.
He sets it up in front of his golden throne, encircling the tea area with golden flowers. It seems impractical to Clover, wouldn't the golden flowers get trampled? Or at the very least damaged. Yet, they had no room to complain. They weren't the one in charge of the garden after all, they were merely a guest. A guest who should've had been buried under those golden flowers long ago.
After the tea area was set up successfully with the help of magic, the king sits down on one of the chairs. Clover takes a seat in front of the boss monster. Sitting down, he exudes an aura befitting of royalty despite his flustered state.
The king awkwardly coughs, looking around the room for something to break the growing silence between the two. His eyes land on the golden flowers encircling the monster and corpse and naturally Clover's eyes fall on them too.
"It's a beautiful day today, don't you think? Flowers are blooming, you can hear the birds singing, and the sun is sharing its beautiful light with us." He wistfully says, Clover can't say they fully agree. Their surroundings were indeed beautiful but the circumstances that led Clover here were, let's say.. less than great.
Of course, they couldn't just say that, so instead they let out a small hum of not really approval but also not disagreement. Although, the king seems to have taken this small action as approval so he continues.
"Say human, what's your name? It would be rude of me not to know the name of the one I am having tea with."
Their name, huh…
"I am Asgore Dreemurr. I am the King of the Underground. Though, you might've already known that." Asgore introduces himself, eyes lowering as he declares his title. He doesn't look Clover in the eyes as he introduces himself, his lips forming a slight frown. Clover knows what he's trying to convey.
I am the one who led those before you to death.
They stay silent for a moment, observing the king a bit more before parting their lips to answer. "I... mumble.." What came out instead was a raspy breath. Right, years(?) of lack of use does that to your vocal box.
"Could you repeat that child?" Clover clears their throat. "My name is Clover." Their throat did not like that, that's one thing for sure. They look down at their empty cup and back to the teapot at the center of the table. Would it be rude to pour themself a cup? He was the one who offered it to them in the first place so it can't be that rude?
"Clover, like the flower, correct?" Asgore says, snapping them out of their tea etiquette-related spiral. They nod. "Clovers, I haven't seen it in my garden in a while. I believe this would be the first time in a long time I see a Clover in my garden. Golly, good things just keep happening today, huh?" Asgore lets out a smile. Not wide, but not small.
He lifts up the teapot and pours them a cup. Finally, their throat had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. "It's not clover tea but tea made out of the golden flowers around us. I hope it still suits your tastes." Huh, guess they were going to find out the answer to their question one way or another.
Clover lifts the cup up to their lips, not bothering with cream or sugar before Asgore stops them. "Ah wait." They stop and Asgore brings up a finger in front of them. A burst of warmth spreads from their head to their toes. Slowly relieving them of a weight they didn't know they were carrying.
Almost instinctively, they knew what the king was doing. Healing. It's weird, it tingles around their body and makes them feel light and floaty. It wasn't like how it was with Flowey and his save points. Flowey's healing felt like being washed over with cold water. Numbing them from all the pain yet leaving them shivering.
One thing remained the same across Clover's experiences. The pain was gone but emptiness remained. Festering.
"Much better. I apologize if that startled you Clover. I couldn't help but notice the bruises on your face ever since you entered the room." Ah, so that was what caused the dizziness and headaches. No wonder they felt so light right now. Just how many injuries did they sustain during their initial battle with the stairs?
"...thank you."
Asgore stills at the gratitude being given to him before his eyes soften. "It's no problem. You should drink the tea, it would help with the other injuries that I wasn't able to fully heal."
Clover follows his instructions and takes sip from their cup, flinching a bit as the hot liquid meets their lips yet they persevere through the burning sensation the tea brings. Warmth spreads throughout Clover's body leaving no crevice untouched. Their aching body loosens up, releasing all the tenseness from their shoulders and limbs.
Was this the effect of drinking tea? Clover highly doubts it as this was the Underground where magic exists but they can't help but humor the thought. Maybe it was a placebo effect. Tricking their mind into believing that they were okay and that everything was just all in Clover's head. Adults always liked to tell them that because what did Clover know? Children have large imaginations after all.
The tea tastes, well, good. Probably the best Clover ever had. It was smooth and sweet with a hint of bitterness that was masked by the floral scent. Clover never even knew that golden flowers could be used to make tea despite the abundance of the flowers around the Mt. Ebott area. They wonder if this is what Flowey would taste like if they plucked his petals and boiled it in a pot of water. He probably would taste more bitter.
Clover sets down the nearly empty cup. "That was.. really nice. Thank you." They voice out, the tea easing the pain from their larynx. Asgore's expression brightens as he replies, "Well golly, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's my favorite after all."
Moments pass with both the king and the corpse taking turns drinking their respective teas. A silence overlaps them as they skirt around the topic that hovers above the two like a sword of Damocles waiting to fall any moment. Ultimately, Asgore speaks up.
"Now, to address the elephant in the room. Clover.. how- how did you get here?"
Ah. There it is. The dreaded question.
In truth, Clover doesn't know. From first awakening back in the dark, tight box that they would later learn was their coffin to now, they have not had a single clue of what, why, and how they were brought back. All they knew was that one moment they were in the void waiting for the moment they ceased to exist, then the next they were here, getting questioned by the very man that they were warned about when Clover was still "alive".
It's funny. Clover had spent so much time cheating death with the help of a golden flower and when they finally resign themself to death, it spits them out and leaves them to deal with the consequences. Clover had thought death loved them. After all, it has always chased them, loomed over them preparing to extinguish the light in their eyes from as far back as Clover remembered. Yet, they were only fooling themself in the end.
Nobody wants Clover. Not even the earth that they were buried in wants Clover. No matter how much they longed to be buried deep, deep underground where their bones will break down and decay feeding the soil that surrounds them which in turn gives life for flowers to bloom, it will not accept them. Clover had hoped before they died that they would reincarnate as a flower. A flower that could bloom more beautifully than they could ever have in this life.
(Maybe then they would finally be worth something, something worth treasuring.)
Death was supposed to be Clover's final stop, their final act of justice. One sacrifice to right the wrongs of those that came before them. To tilt the scale to a better future.
They had gone into the Underground to deliver justice and in the end Clover made their verdict and declared monsterkind as "not guilty" which they paid for with their life. And yet, here they are. A helpless victim to the fates once again.
Suddenly, Clover's surroundings feel tight and their vision blurs. Waves of tremors travel across their body uncontrollably. They breathe in to ease the pain in their chest yet it was no use. The more Clover breathed in, the more out of breath they became. What was happening to them? They need to stop. They can't show weakness in front of this man. Get yourself together Clover! Focus on breathing. In and out. IN and out. In and OUT. IN and OUT. IN AND OUT. IN AND OUT— CAN'T YOU JUST DO ONE THING RIGHT CLOVER?!
"Clover? Are you quite alright? You've been quiet for a while now and looking a bit pale... Would you like for some more tea to calm your nerves?"
Clover's taken too long. They need to answer. NOW.
"I understand if you need some more time to think about it—"
"No! I mean yes! I– I–" Clover yells, their outburst taking the king by surprise. Fuck– Shit– Clover's done it now. Clover's unstable quivering hands take the teapot, ignoring how its hot temperature burns the palm of their hand, and shakily pours it into their cup only for them to miss and spill. The scalding tea slithers down their fingers and the gaps in-between. The pain causes Clover to let go of the pot and have it crash down to the ground, splintering it to pieces.
They're dead.
They're dead.
They. Are. Dead.
"I'm sor— I'm sorry— I'm sorry—I didn't mean to do that— hic– I'm sorry— I'll fix it— please—" Clover's vision blurs as they try to pick up one of the shards on the floor, the loud sound of the crash replaying on their mind, their throat constricting forming a lump in it.
"I'm sorry I don't know— hic–I'm so useless— I can't– Even do this one thing right– I don't– hic– I don't know— I'm sorry— pleas–" Their eyes sting as a waterfall cascades down their face. Tears joining in with the tea spilling out of the shattered pot. A muffled voice surrounds them and from the corner of their throbbing eyes, they see a hand unsure if it should touch them or not.
(Not that it mattered.)
Clover hates this. They hate this so much. All they want to do is scream, at who? They don't know. Whoever, it doesn't matter. They just want to scream and demand why. Why did everything end up like this?
Why?! Why did it have to be them?! Why couldn't fate have just picked someone else to revive?! Why couldn't it just be one of the other kids that fell before them?! Why did it have to be useless little Clover?! Why couldn't they just have stayed dead?!
Clover's mission was done yet they were still here. What were they meant to do? There was nothing left for them to do. Was Clover supposed to go against Asgore? Fight him and enact vengeance for the souls that came before them? Ha! What a joke! Clover could barely even gather up the strength to lift a teacup, let alone fight the ruler of all monsters. Clover didn't even have their gun! Or much of anything really.
There was only one way that would end. It would end with their body hitting the floor as their blood coats the golden flowers, dyeing it a brilliant red. It's useless in the end, there's nothing to gain from it. No soul to obtain, only the corpse of someone already long dead.
(Maybe the king would bury their body under the flowers tainted with their blood.)
If fate wanted revenge for the lives that have been taken too early, it should've chosen someone else to resurrect. It should've chosen the one before Clover. The one that would have the guts and the integrity to stick to her morals, no matter who they encounter. Not someone who could be easily swayed by the tiniest amount of kindness offered to them.
Or, it could've chosen the one next to fall! Let them be burdened by the responsibility of avenging those that came before them! Let it be the next to be burdened with the knowledge of being the only thing barring monsterkind from reaching the surface, of being the only hurdle that's refusing them the feeling of the sun gazing down upon them.
Oh... Who was Clover even kidding? It was always going to be them. Wasn't this the entire reason they climbed up that mountain in the first place? Chasing after a silly hope of returning the poor souls lost to the mountain, delivering justice to the grief stricken families, and being declared a "hero". A hero who the people would love and adore with all of their attention.
Yet, that's not what happened. Justice runs through Clover like water flows in a river. Faced with injustice done to the monsters, they sought to correct it. And look where that got them.
They can't help but to envy the flowers in Asgore's garden yet at the same time they wished to be buried underneath the bright golden field. If Clover asked, would he bury them alive under those beautiful flowers? If they were to die, suffocating in the ground as the flowers feed on them doesn't seem too bad of a fate.
Clover doesn't even notice the king had moved, still fixated on picking up and putting aside the broken pieces on the ever growing pile of shards beside them. They feel a hand stopping them from reaching for another shard. Then Clover feels the hand pulling them back into a soft, warm embrace.
"Clover.. You don't need to do that anymore.." They hear the king's soft, deep, voice ring out. Clover turns around to be met with Asgore's kneeling figure in front of them. He pulls back slightly but doesn't let Clover go from his embrace.
"I am truly sorry for everything, Clover. I don't know how you got here and I don't need to know. The only thing we need to know is that whatever brought you back is a miracle. What's important is that you're here and alive." The king says, the king's fluffy hand slowly patting the back of their head. They subconsciously lean closer towards his hold.
"It must've been so hard for you to traverse the Underground. And for that I am so sorry." Asgore's trembling voice cracks, "It's my fault that you ended up this way. Let me take all the responsibility for being the reason why." Clover could feel the waterworks start up again. The corner of their eyes welling up with tears, falling one after the other.
"Your companions… The ones who delivered your soul to me... They told me all about your journey, you know." Their body tenses at the mention of their companions. Clover wonders how they're doing now but stops the thought before it consumes them.
"They told me all about it... All the friends you made… The impact you had on their lives… How you had saved them and made their lives better… And most importantly, your sacrifice." Asgore says, his hands gripping Clover tighter as he mentions their sacrifice.
"It was a really brave thing to do, Clover. Monsterkind will eternally be grateful for it. But.. that's not a choice a child your age should have had to make."
They know. They know very well that their sacrifice was not the best decision they could've made. Clover had more time than needed in the void to ponder over that. But what other choice did they have? What other choice did they have that wouldn't have just been delaying the inevitable as monsterkind suffers from the consequences of Clover staying alive for a bit more.
How could Clover subject monsters to unjust suffering just to live for a few more years? How could Clover just rob them of the hope of being only one more soul from freedom? How could Clover act on such injustice?
"I'm sorry you had to make that choice, Clover. I am so, so sorry for everything you've gone through, Clover." Asgore says as he bows his head low.
And with that Clover breaks.
Tears upon tears flow down at an incredible speed accompanied by shrieks of sorrow let out by Clover. They reach out to hold the king who pulls them into an embrace. Asgore holds Clover tighter and pulls them further into his hug. Clover could barely see his face anymore with their own facing his shoulder and the tears obscuring their view.
The child's wails fill up the silence of the throne room. The sound bouncing along the walls and leaking into the hallways outside. Clover hits his metal chest plate with their fists, uncaring if it only serves to hurt them instead. The king just accepts it all with no further comment.
Clover doesn't get it. Why was he like this? Adults aren't supposed to be like this, much less the king who's haunted them for the entirety of their journey with the promise of death. He isn't supposed to be kneeling down apologizing to them. He isn't supposed to be taking all the hits they're giving. He's not supposed to be holding Clover in his arms tenderly as he comforts them. He's supposed to be angry. Angry that they're not six feet underground. He's supposed to kill them the moment they walked into the throne room.
Not this.
(Never this.)
Despite everything, Asgore holds them silently with comforting pats along their back all throughout it. No matter how loud Clover got with their cries, he gently cradles their body against his. No shushes or "be quiet"s, only acceptance.
One thing's for certain though, the echoes of a child's wails could be heard throughout the castle.
After a while, Clover buries their head in Asgore's shoulders to muffle their wails. Finally gaining some awareness on how loud they were being. Nonetheless, Asgore continues to caress their back in an effort to provide comfort to the wailing child.
"Clover, let me make this up to you." Asgore starts and Clover stills their crying for a moment. "Would you like me to call one of your companions? You can stay with them and I'll make a public announcement for no monster to bother you. You could live out the rest of your days here until the day the barrier breaks and we emerge back to the Surface again."
Clover inhales sharply. It's something they've avoided thinking about since they've been brought back. They.. aren't quite sure what to do. On one hand, they wanted to be with all their friends again. On the other hand, was it fair for Clover to re-enter their lives again? After everything that transpired in their last meeting? After dying on them, was it alright for Clover to waltz back in and demand a place in their life?
So, with a shaky breath, Clover buries their head further into the king's shoulder and shakes their head "no".
"Are you sure? Your companions, when I met them, seemed to love you a lot. I'm sure they would be delighted to have you back." Despite what Asgore said, Clover nods in affirmation to their previous answer.
"Then... Would you like to live with me?" Asgore offers.
The offer takes Clover by surprise. It probably showed on their face but thankfully burying their face into the king's shoulder meant that he couldn't see it.
"We could sit in the living room of our home, telling stories... Or eating butterscotch pie, though I'm not the best baker... Or just sit around here in the garden soaking up the little sunlight the Underground gets..."
They consider it for a moment before hesitantly nodding.
"Really? You'd like that?" Asgore says, surprise in his words as he pulls back to look at Clover. His eyes soften in gratitude and his face lights up with a smile.
"Then Clover.. I promise you that for as long as you remain here, I will take care of you the best that I can." He declares, determination and resolve coating Asgore's words.
"We–we don't have to be a family," yet. "but.. we could be like roommates. Peacefully coexisting with one another."
Somehow, the words coming out of Asgore's mouth were awfully familiar to Clover. In another place and in another time, someone must've said these words to them. Yet, the only thing that comes to mind is dust.
(Visions of a rooftop, a blur of blue, and vines flash through their mind. Taunting them with memories that don't exist.)
Clover makes the choice to not think about it any longer. It doesn't concern them. Not anymore.
The child falls limp in Asgore's hold, their legs finally failing them. In response, he readjusts his hold and lifts Clover up as he stands up. Hehe, they're so tall now. Half of Clover wants to start swaying their legs in the air from the newfound height they gained in the king's arms.
"Now that's been settled, we really should get going back to my home. No, no, our home." Asgore corrects himself.
Home. What a funny word.
Clover gazes back at the mess they caused and makes an incomprehensible sound in an attempt to draw attention to it. It works as Asgore follows their line of sight.
"I'll fix that up later, or better yet, have someone else do it. We have some more important matters to attend to." He says.
Asgore starts to walk away with them in his arms. The growing familiar scene of the throne room slowly fades away into long hallways. Fogginess clouds Clover's mind, the ever expanding halls of the castle blur together in one gray sight.
Everything felt.. unreal. As if everything was just a silly outlandish dream they cooked up in their solitude. Not only that, everything felt distant. Distant like Clover was merely a outsider looking through a distant universe where everything could be alright. A universe where they could continue on with their life.
Most importantly, they felt empty. Like a core piece of them had been ripped away leaving a glaring part missing.
(Maybe they had made all of this up. That in reality, Clover had gone mad. Maybe the emptiness of the void did finally consume them once and for all.)
The halls were starkly empty, Clover wasn't sure if they ever passed another soul as the two traversed the halls. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, it didn't matter, really. The only things that mattered were the sounds of footsteps as the king carried them to their destination and their consciousness fading away as the gnawing emptiness took a hold.
They weren't quite sure when the fog started to clear or when they were placed on the couch. The first thing they noticed were the first aid kit and medical supplies strewn about messily. Then they notice their hand in Asgore's as he applies a bandage on one of their fingers. Observing their hand further shows Clover that the bandage he's applying isn't the only one.
"That should do it." Asgore says as he finishes up, looking around he notices the mess that he's created. "Ah, I'll clean those up. It's... It's been a while since I've done this." He picks up the extra bandages laid around with a sad smile.
"My children," Children? Where?
"They used to get into a lot of trouble, which of course, would result in them getting injured often. And me and my wife would patch them up as they would try to explain what caused it, or rather, make-up excuses for them."
"Of course healing magic would usually do the trick, but, there's no harm in keeping backups, no? Especially considering injuries such as the ones I just patched up right now." Clover says nothing, only a brief noise in agreement. This spurs on Asgore to continue.
"My other child... They.. they had accidents which lead them to get injured this way quite frequently. Which was why it was always stocked up. Ever since they.." Asgore stops himself, snapping out of his reminiscing. He quickly puts the supplies into the kit and puts it away.
"Enough about that. Why don't I show you where you'll be sleeping till we get your room sorted, hm?" He extends his hand towards Clover. They take it and walk with their wobbly legs as he guides them down the hallway.
They stop for a moment in front of a mirror and Clover, for the first time in ages, soaks in the image reflected on it. It was like they had never died. Everything from their clothes to the number of freckles on their face was the same. Aside from the bandages applied by Asgore, Clover was virtually indistinguishable from themself when they were alive. Yet.. not.
Clover’s hair.
Though still the chocolate-y brunette color it has always been, strands of their hair had turned into a bright gold. A gold that matched the intensity of the color of their eyes.
Sections of their hair now has gold weaving into them. Looping around one another as it follows the curls of Clover’s hair.
They stare at it for a moment or two. Wondering…
(Despite everything, is it really still you?)
Clover tears away their gaze from the mirror and urges Asgore to move on, which he thankfully obliges in. The two pass a slightly open door. From the short glimpse they got of the inside, Clover notices the end of a bedframe and a toy box in front of it.
Clover decides not to comment about it.
Instead, they stop at the door next to it. Asgore opens the room to a cozy room with a closet and a king sized bed from what Clover could tell.
"This is where you will be staying for the time being." Asgore explains. "It's actually my room so I hope you don't mind it. We'll decorate yours to your liking when it's done being prepared."
With that information, Clover turns to Asgore to refuse and offer to sleep on the couch, it's not like they haven't done it before. But, seeing the look on the king's face, their words die on their tongue and instead they offer a smile.
After that, Asgore bids them goodbye citing he needs to prepare clothes for them to wear and leaves Clover by themself in the room. All alone with their thoughts and the growing familiar hollowness they feel, exhaustion weighs their bones down deep, deep below.
Honestly, they don't know what comes next. They've secured a place to stay, somehow, but what now? Yeah, sure, Clover has the king for company now but.. everything just felt so empty. Like all the life inside them had just been sucked away. Well, technically it did, for a period at least.
Every time they close their eyes, they're back in that cold, unfeeling place again. Not even when they have their eyes open can they escape it. Something in the back of their head tugs them to it. Clover assumes that it's tugging them to their SOUL. Tugging them back to the culmination of their entire being.
Clover, for a brief moment, tries to summon their SOUL, the same way they did when they gave it away. They close their eyes and… Nothing.
Not a single presence akin to a SOUL appears before them.
It's strange.
(Just as strange as coming back from the dead.)
Deciding that it's not worth it, Clover shelves what just occurred for another day as exhaustion weighs heavy on them. Not even bothering with anything else, Clover plops down onto the bed and welcomes the void-like nothingness sleep brings.
Letting the dark consume them again.