Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale

Rating: for death (including suicide), self-harm, implied adult themes and mild language

A/n: I played Undertale a while ago and found myself wondering what happened to the six humans who preceded Frisk. This started out as a quick exercise in their stories but then I started to delve into Toriel some more and this is the result. Three guesses how many chapters there will be. I hope you enjoy!

The Colours of a Promise

Patience (Light Blue)

The first human since Chara to fall down is young – younger, even, than Chara was. She's wearing a bright red ribbon in her hair and her small hands clutch what looks like a knife, but there's something off about the blade. Plastic then. It's been a long time since you've seen plastic used like this.

As soon as she sees you, she backs away. You take a small step forwards and she takes one backwards into the golden flowers that cover Chara's grave. Slowly, she raises the plastic knife and points it at you. You stop and for one irritable second you wonder whether all humans are naturally violent but then you remember Chara and Asriel and force that thought away. Humans can be violent: it doesn't mean they are. You have to believe that.

"Child," you say as gently as you can, "are you hurt?"

She jumps at the sound of your voice but doesn't move.

"Child," you say again, "I won't hurt you. Are you injured?"

Again, she doesn't respond or move. You suppose that, from her perspective, you are a tall, imposing monster. Maybe she's never seen anyone like you before. How many years has it been since the war? Chara was different but Asriel found Chara. Nobody could ever have been scared of Asriel.

You grimace. There's no point thinking about them. Not anymore.

"Child," you say for the third time, "please, at least let me check you for injuries." You pause and wonder if you should try a different tactic. "Let me introduce myself. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins." The words sound strange on your lips. "Tell me, how did you fall down here?"

She still doesn't say anything. You wonder whether you should leave her. She isn't your responsibility, after all. But although it has been some time since war was declared on the humans, the promise of freedom has not faded from the Underground: you know that if you leave her here for too long, someone will take her to Asgore, or even kill her themselves, and you will not let that happen. You will never let that happen.

So you wait. It is almost as it was with injured animals, back when there were injured animals to coax towards you. You want her to be used to your presence. You want her to trust you enough to let you help. But she waits too, not moving an inch, arm barely twitching and expression unmoving. After a few minutes, you meet her eyes and see only endless patience. You realise that could be here until the end of time and she would not move. So you start to talk, your voice barely echoing around the walls that surround you: about the Ruins, the Underground, what you're planning to make for dinner, your favourite jokes, your gardening skills or lack thereof, your favourite food, your-

"Snails?" For the first time, something other than wary patience flits onto the human's face. "You eat snails?"

You try not to be too excited by this development. "They are delicious, child. But, uh, I can eat other things as well. Pie, for example. I love to bake." You watch her carefully. Her knife is still outstretched but now you can see from her slight swaying and more frequent blinking just how tired this human is. "The Ruins are dangerous, my child. But for you to return to your world, you would-"

But she shakes her head. "I … I'm here now." When you cock your head, the human glances up. "Dad took me to the mountain and told me to wait. I did but it got cold and dark and then light and still cold so I climbed a bit higher and…" She bites her lip and the knife shakes violently. "He always said if I was bad, he'd leave me on the mountain." Her eyes squeeze shut. "He didn't want me."

Your heart clenches.

"Child, I…" You step forwards. She doesn't back away so you keep stepping forwards until you are in front of her. "Do you want to come with me? I have a large, empty home and…" You trail off, thinking of everything that is no longer used there. "And an old woman like me could use company."

You step back and hold out your paw. After a couple of seconds, she loosens one fist from her plastic knife and grabs it. Together, you start the walk back. No words pass between you as you walk. Eventually, she stumbles so you pick her up and carry her. By the time you arrive, she's fast asleep. You tuck her into the bed that you keep there, even if there is no Asriel, no Chara, no other children who use that bed.

There's her now, though.

Dhriti. That's her name. She tells you that the next day, through mouthfuls of bread. She is younger than Chara, as you thought, but she seems as old. The plastic knife – a toy – isn't hers. She found it on the side of the road while she waited for her father.

You're not sure what to do with Dhriti now that you have her and for the first day, there's a lot of stepping around each other. It seemed a lot easier to promise yourself that you would look after and guide any humans who fell from the surface when the idea of another human falling down was just that: an idea. Often, you tell her that she can go out and play if she wants but she waits patiently with you, offering to help you with the little errands you run. As you work, you talk, and she listens. She's a funny child. Not at all like Asriel or Chara.

That first day, and the ones that follow, are strange, with neither of you quite sure how to act around the other. But as the days turn into a week and then into weeks, you hit a familiar rhythm that echoes, a little, of your life before. Every morning, you wake her from a twitchy slumber. Together, you eat breakfast before you teach her reading and writing and maths and all sorts of other things that you used to teach Asriel and then Chara. You make her lunch then and in the afternoon, she either plays in the house or on the balcony facing Home, or helps you with chores. When evening comes around, you eat dinner together and then you read together, your arms still covered in bandages from the Hospital games that Dhriti likes best. When her eyes are drooping closed, you gently lead her to bed.

On some afternoons, however, you ask her to stay in the house while you get groceries, and you always find her in the room you left her in, patiently waiting for you. On others, you take her for walks in the Ruins and she clings to you, as though afraid you, too, will leave her on a mountain – even to the point that when her ribbon falls down a hole, she refuses to let go of you to retrieve it.

It strikes you, after days and weeks of this rhythm that you could do this. You said (promised) you could but now you think you really could. You could keep Dhriti safe here. She's happy and she seems so much more alive than she did when you first found her. You could raise her as your own child – prove to the monster world that humans aren't bad. You could let her be your child and maybe it will fill the hole that has been in your soul since the day your two children died and you lost your husband. You could let yourself be as happy as she is beginning to be.

So you do. And as weeks turn into months, she becomes more talkative, more playful, more prone to taking the initiative. Sometimes, she ventures out of the house on her own, or runs a little way away from you on walks, though always, always she waits for you before going too far. She doesn't talk much about her past but then, you never talk about the spare toys you own or the bedroom door that you will not open, nor your life before Dhriti. You don't need to. Not yet. Her wounds and yours still need time to heal.

But one day, you're preparing to go for a walk when you realise she's gone ahead. But when you look around the yard and the rooms before it, she isn't there and none of the monsters have seen her. Confused, you return to the house but she isn't in any of the upstairs room. Which, of course, is when realisation hits you. You run downstairs and to the exit of the Ruins.

The door is open.

Heart racing, you charge forwards, looking, looking, paws filling with fire, screaming her name and-

It's too late.

The King looks up at you from just a few metres outside the door and it takes all of your self-control not to set him on fire. You want to. You really want to.

"Toriel, I-"

"Don't."

You want to say more but the words won't come. On the ground between you lies Dhriti, bleeding and broken. One of the soldiers nearby holds a canister with something light blue inside. A soul. Her soul.

"I had to," he says and there's nothing of the gaiety you remember of him in those words. "I have to free everyone."

"By killing children," you spit. "Did she even attack you, Asgore? Did she threaten you at all?"

He looks down. Of course she didn't. More likely, she waited, frozen, thinking that if she was patient, you would come.

"Leave," you hiss. "Leave and never come near the Ruins unless you want the Underground to be down one king as well as its Queen."

He nods and bends to pick up the body but you make a warning noise, so he turns and leaves with the two guards. Once he's gone, you pick up her body, cradling it to your chest, and walk into the Ruins.

You bury her under the tree in front of the cottage, where she sits and reads – used to sit and read. You find her toy knife on the floor of the lobby but you can't bring yourself to touch it now. Let it stay here, you think. After all, she loves (loved) this place too.

It isn't until you are in her room (and it's funny but you've only just realised you think of it as Dhitri's room now rather than the guest room) and you suddenly realise that of course she isn't there to tuck into bed, that you allow yourself to sit down and cry.