"Am I really gonna do this?"

The spider-adorned pen dances between a skinny index and long finger as an exhale fills the solemn room with a thoughtful sigh. The wooden chair creaks as the weight on it is shifted to the legs at its back. A pair of half-tired eyes stare at the thought that was just breathed out. Despite not seeing it at all, it is as unclear as it gets.

Who would read it?

All the things that would be actually interesting to read Aofil can't actually write. They're gonna have to make it the truth for themselves too if they decide to go on with publishing it. Maybe they should've planned ahead a bit for this. So many things that are vague, even to them. Many pivoting happenings are bleeding together. May so be that it is that haunting deja vu making a ghostly jab at their memories, because as they think back to it it's like trying to listen to a radio playing two different stations at the same time. A lot of static between the stations to boot.

And that's not even getting started with those adventures inside their dying mind.

The edge of the pen stops just before it touches the wooden desk, just above some fresh claw marks from Muffin not realizing that he's too big to sit on the desk while Aofil's using it for the second time today. He's been a bit too quiet underneath Aofil's desk, but there's yet to be any messenger spiders coming out of the woodwork about the oven he was supposed to guard, so he can keep on sleeping for now.

Aofil could sniff out burnt pastry from tailwind down a hurricane, so Muffin doesn't really need to guard close by the oven. Besides, he makes for an excellent footrest. His heavy breathing gives Aofil's calves some well needed stretching, and the warmth from his body travels along the tender muscles to heat up even more before spreading comfortably throughout Aofil. Muffin's fast asleep, the fastest he's ever been in his entire life.

Do spider monsters dream of magical sheep?

The way he's drooling would suggest so, but they way he's sighing would suggest something completely different. There's a melancholy undertone to it, in the same way Papyrus' apple spaghetti sauce has an undertone of a jarring aftertaste.

"IT'S NOT JARRING! IT'S FRESHLY PICKED FROM YOUR APPLE TREE, AOFIL!"

That they are very much aware off. That he gets inside help from Aofil's household they're also very much aware off, but that card they're saving. There will come a time where Aofil's biding will pay off. They're patient, especially with this comforting footrest under their desk.

Can't really blame Muffin for missing his Muffet. She's been gone for more than a month now. Two, almost. Last time she was this estranged from Muffin was when Frisk had their eighteenth birthday, which was…

Aofil brushes away some gray hair falling down over their eyes as their brow furrows at the frankly ridiculous amount of years that have passed. A handful would've been too many, and it's almost filled up all of Muffet's hands now.

Well, not really, but still, it's been a while now.

The white on their hair turns a deep pink as the tip of their shimmering tail comes up to try and scratch out the thought. It does naught more than make Aofil conscious that they're sitting in a chair bought before they learned how to conjure their tail.

Before Frisk's eighteenth birthday which was…

The thick, magical tail lands back on the floor with a tired and hollow thud. The impact ripples through the glass-like magic, causing subtle sparks and streaks of red lightning along the traveling impact into Aofil's physical form.

It's a good thing Undyne isn't here to see the sparks, otherwise she'd insist yet again that Aofil should try and improve their magic since they're getting sloppy. For as much as Aofil would love to see her smile as widely as she did when Alphys concluded that Frisk and Aofil could potentially use magic, the strain that was put on them was something Aofil never could imagine feeling. The meditation they did to figure it out was one thing, but actually getting it to manifest was another.

It didn't result in muscle soreness, but a soreness in the way they think and feel. Emotional strain, but not in the way they express it. The mere act of its first full conception felt like the echoing pain from a flu, but mental. It didn't propagate in their bones and physical heart, but in their aura and magical heart. Like the panic one gets when a wayward embarrassing thought kicks the door in and screams aloud. That same sense of foreboding, but painfully, and throughout their soul's very being, and not their body's very being. Making it small was one thing, but a full length?

"You're exercising a muscle you've never exercised before. Like when we ran down Mt. Ebott the first time we met, Aof! And I'm just as excited about training you untrained humans as I am now! I'm not gonna stop until you can grow your tail a mile long, Aofil! You'll need to keep up with the younger and more-accustomed-to-magic Frisk too, so do plenty of soul stretching. I don't want you getting soul soreness until I tell you to! Ngahahaha!"

Can't get everything you ask for, Undyne. It wasn't as bad as she'd think it'd be though, Aofil could keep up somewhat with Frisk, and with them getting better and better with their healing Aofil could keep up longer and longer, so that turned out very good.

The reason why Aofil could keep up at the beginning though wasn't really good. They already knew about emotional soreness and drainage before Undyne commenced her training. Aofil had experience with it back when…

They breathe out as they feel their tail starts to fade from them. "Breathe out the memories, and keep focus."

The years between leaving Ebott and coming back to the Monster City was a constant sprint in their life's marathon. The monsters they thought they had to run away from kept coming closer and closer despite them quickening their pace. Just kept on straining and straining until they eventually hit the wall.

Aofil flexes their hand open before shaking it off.

They hit the wall alright.

Literally.

They don't let it close fully again, and instead stare at it. They focus both their eyes and thoughts into the white center of their palm. On the spiral that their fur grows out of, that's where they'll try and ignite. Their neck tenses as the flow of emotions begin traveling down their head and shoulders out their arm, with a surging feeling from their chest acting as a catalyst. Along their furred arm it mixes together the same way it does at their tailbone when they conjure their tail, all the way out to the tip of their clawed fingers, collecting at the center of their palm. It begins heating up, but with no flame visible. Aofil throws their hand open while tensing their entire arm, but there's not even a puff or slight orange hue visible on their hand.

Good.

They're not stressed enough by the memories to force their magic into something else. They gotta remind themselves from time to time that they've moved past those years, and this is the most efficient way. Can't really spell it out more clearly than not being able to make a spell out of it.

Asgore said it best.

"Keep a fire inside your soul instead of in your hand, Aofil. That's where it belongs for you. Wielding it underneath the banner of fear will only make you dread it. Monsters have dealt with destructive magic for long, we've had it for generations. We can help, but we also know from where those thoughts of yours stem from, and that we can't help you with even if we were human. Your magic is an extension of who you are, and summoning it from the darkest corners of your soul will inevitably make that extension your core. Your extension will begin persuading you that it is who you are inside. After all, why else would you have that magic if it wasn't what you really feel? I know that. I'm far too familiar with it. We will help you with everything we can to make sure it doesn't happen to you."

How right he was frightened Aofil, but they knew Asgore meant nothing but help from his lecture. Had it been another life Aofil might've been able to have both fire and tail, but in this they can't. They don't weep over it though, and instead they use it to remind themselves where the ground is so that they can put their feet back on it.

"I used mine under the banner I raised out of hatred. It led me to not be able see past the flames I summoned in the name of justice to cloud its nature from myself. So many years I spent in its shadow blinded with my soul burning from within. I still see the outline of the king I was back then when it flares up in my hand today. It burns with an intensity that only a misled king could muster. Today though I see Toriel behind it smiling at me through the flames. I see Asriel too, and I see Frisk. I see you too as well, Aofil. One day the old king will no longer be the spark in my hand. It will only be my family and friends that fuel my fire. On that day I will cry. I will let the tears fizzle against the flames, and the old king that gripped his trident with murderous intent will only be a set of fading fingerprints that'll disappear more and more with each drop of tear hitting them."

What a good day for rain that was.

"You focus on making your tail stronger and more splendid than anything imaginable, Aofil. The extension of you is birthed from family and friends, and that's what it represents to you. Make it shine, Aofil, and rest on it like you would the monsters around you when you're tired."

With a respectful smile Aofil returns their palm underneath their chin for support as they reminisce the King's teachings. His wide smile peeking through his beard with such pride when Aofil understood and nodded.

"And don't let Tori tell you anything about those spikes. I think you should keep them."

Toriel didn't have enough sway to convince Aofil otherwise about the spikes, no. Although, she didn't even try to in the first place, so Aofil doesn't have any hard proof of that. The pair of purple socks they're wearing at the moment with the Deltarune sewn into might actually be proof that she does have sway enough to sweep their feet, at least with her knitting. She'd never do it, obviously. Quite the opposite.

"It's cold and lonely when you shut others out of your heart. Out of your soul. You can appoint yourself the caretaker, but that care you can only bestow upon others, and not yourself. You have to let others help you care for yourself. Have others to be ready to stand up against you when you're using your magic in ways that hurt rather than protect. Even if you yourself think it's to protect, others will see it as hurting. Once you give your emotions outwards you're blinded by them. You can't change it without someone outside your aura that you're drowning inside telling you it is wrong. Just like how it's easy to slip your tongue it is easy to slip your intent. Especially when you feel like you're left without any other choice."

Never has Aofil been deafened by such silence as when Toriel halted her knitting that far-off day.

"However, you're not to fear your magic, Aofil. I won't allow it. You're not to fear that it might go wrong, because that'll color your magic too. You are to be aware of the possibility though, and always keep one finger ready to listen when both your hands are talking. A certain human made me realize that when they refused to let me protect them. Because they saw that I wasn't… Do not impose on others what you believe, because that extends into your magic, and that extends into your intention with that magic. I...I didn't want to protect Frisk. I wanted to make them listen to me by any means necessary. Protecting them was the step after, but not what made me summon my flames. Understand, Aofil?"

They've tried their damnedest to…

"It gets easier, I promise, Aofil. Talking about it sounds complicated since it's the very nature of how magic is formed by us monsters. It's emotion, and emotion is hard to describe. You can describe what you feel. You can describe why you feel. Describing how you feel is harder. It's quantifying and rigidly examining something that flows throughout us monsters more than blood flows through you humans. Now it partly flows through you as well now, Aofil. In the same way your body radiates heat from your blood and flesh, so does our bodies radiate an aura from our emotions and magic. An equivalent to you humans would maybe be trying to explain what type of hairstyle your red blood cells would prefer. What types of hats that are in fashion for them this season. It may sound strange to you the thought of applying emotion to something you only understand through science, but it's the same as applying science to something we only understand as emotion."

Their damnedest…

"I tell you all of this not to deter you, Aofil, but to help you understand what you are now. What Frisk and you are now. You're magical, and that you can't describe with science. You will have to trust your emotions on this, and make sure that your emotions understand you with enough clarity that your magic is summoned to help, and not to hurt. Don't be afraid to ask questions like these, Aofil, because I learn a lot from them trying to answer."

They were persuaded later in their life, yes, but from someone they could never turn down even if she asked for the moon.

Their heart flutters at the memory, but despite that, their fur-covered hand still feels warm to the touch. A very comforting warm. If that's all that Aofil can muster, then fair enough. It's like cozening underneath a freshly laundered and dried duvet so Aofil doesn't really have anything to complain about. They won't be able to summon any flames from this, not in a thousand years.

Almost as long as Frisk's eighteen-

Stop!

No more of those heinous thoughts. Aofil's not gonna allow reality to stick with them! Never!

They refuse!

Muffin awakes from his slumber by the sound of wood colliding. Unaware that it was Aofil's hand defiantly slamming down, he rolls out from underneath the desk with his tongue panting excitedly at the door now that Muffet's finally…

She's not here...still…

"I know, Muffin. I know," Aofil comforts to their spider pet. "I miss her too." They pat his sobbing head with their furred arm, but it's not enough. With his tongue between his legs, Muffin returns underneath the desk. Aofil will have to have their legs and feet cold for a little while until he falls asleep again.

With Muffet away on her royal business the bed's been rather cold as well. Aofil's gotten used to both a cover of down and a cover of spider-monster aura around them as they fall asleep. Spider arms too when Muffin's not squeezing himself between Aofil and Muffet in the same way one squeezes a loaf of bread through a needle's eye.

She doesn't know how to heal with her magic, but she knows ever so much how to heal with her soul.

Oh how Aofil misses her.

They can almost hear her coming up the stairs right now and closing in towards the door Muffin thought was just opened.

And it opens just as Aofil realizes that the sound came from outside their head, not inside it.

"Writing your memoirs?" comes an amused question from behind.

Aofil exhales an embarrassed cough.

"Isn't it a bit too early for you to do that?" the soft, yet commanding voice continues.

With a forearm on their chair's backrest, Aofil turns around to meet their uninvited guest. Muffin too, until he sees that it isn't Muffet. Again. "I'm not planning on doing anything world changing again, if that's what you're asking. I was too old even when that happened the first time around."

The large figure invites himself into the room, shining it up with his fur and attire rather than darkening it with his impressive shadow.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure," Aofil asks while bowing their head, "King Asriel?"

He stops as the word reach his ornately dressed form. The purple cloth flows as if gently blown, and the distinct rattle of his large and golden decorative pauldrons that has him standing sideways in the door frame shake like cutlery dumped into a metal sink. His bearded lips pull back to reveal a shocked smile. "Not until tomorrow, Aofil." He shakes the shock off before clearing his throat. "I just-" The too low a door frame halts his advance as the tip of his mighty horns clonk at the wood. With a quick hunker he manages to avoid any further scraping that would leave any permanent marks.

"Muffet's already on her way with the final delivery of the bakery," Aofil explains after stifling a snicker at the clumsy entrance. "It's only been now really that I've had the time to sit down with the pen in my hand. I haven't even started, really. Just been sitting here tapping it against the desk." They wet their finger and rub away the large dot of ink their tapping has produced on their desk. "Tapping for a long time, that is."

"No, not that," Asriel answers as his expression mellows out into an unclear glance off to his side. He takes a quiet and gloomy inhale through his nose before mustering up the strength to look back at Aofil. Even with the courage he's able to muster, he still has to scratch his scruffy cheek with a shaky claw. A black ripple amid a field of thick, white fur. Even denser than what Aofil has on their arm. Asriel's been growing it out willingly.

It looks good on him. The sturdy thickness very much reminds of his father. The color however, is from Toriel. Somewhere between white as snow and milk. Almost creamy, actually.

Could that be because of Aofil's influence?

Nah, they're not gonna take credit for that, even if it's true.

"I..." He swallows, and waits for a couple of seconds for the emotional blockage to fully dislodge from his throat. "I want to see Chara's room."

Aofil puts down their pen before they allow themselves to react, otherwise they'd drop it. Their shimmering red tail comes up as a question mark behind them. "You wanna see Chara's room?" they repeat to help them take it in. Asriel's not even greeted Aofil properly. That's not like him. Usually they're hugging as family does after a long time. This must be serious then if he's foregoing it and addressing his reason to visit directly. Aofil turns their chair fully so that they can lean forward with all their attention available to the visiting prince.

"We promised each other we'd sit together on the throne," Asriel begins explaining with his voice distant and his eyes even more so. There's a glaze to them, a thin veil of moisture held back desperately. "I just feel that I have to say that I'm sorry that I couldn't keep that promise. Tomorrow's the day, so now is the last time I can tell them that I'm sorry that… That I..." His words trail off like a road bending below the horizon's curvature. Distant and hidden, but it's where it's been led.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but isn't Chara buried in the Underground?" Aofil can't help themselves from asking. They feel extremely uncomfortable forming their question that way, so they can't imagine how Asriel's feeling hearing it, even less having to answer it. Still, both their heart and their soul urges them to ask, but not to push.

"They are," is answered through a clogged choke. "I've already told them there. Already said that I'm sorry that I can't fulfill the promise. That at least I could show them how I would look." With his sweeping arms he presents his royal outfit with a smile, but it's just as much an attire as his clothes are. His Royal Regalia, like the monster monarch he is. There's no smile big enough to mask the heavy somberness in his aura pushing down like the air before a thunderstorm. "They were so excited to see me wear this. They were so excited to be dressed the same and..." His lips stretches further into a pained smile while he inhales through his gritted teeth. "I also want to say that I'm sorry to who they were before they fell down."

Aofil bites down on their tongue before 'Me?' slips out. It's not completely out of the question that Asriel would think that way, but it would be incredibly wrong of Aofil to acknowledge that at this moment.

"Their monster part I've said goodbye to, and now I'd like to say goodbye to their human part."

Of course. You didn't have to explain a single thing, Asriel. You just had to ask. Nothing more.

"Our parents rebuilt the upstairs after Chara fell." Aofil pushes themselves up using their tail as leverage. "Knock on the wall next to you."

Asriel's knuckles carefully tap on it a couple of times. "Hollow?" he guesses after hearing his knock echo inside the wall.

"The other room was where the two of us slept." Aofil lifts their hand to show Asriel that he has their permission. "I think there's more appropriate than this part of our joint room."

"Thank you," Asriel says with a tear finally forming in his eye. He's still using all his strength to hold his emotions, and considering how he's kept his body's tone despite his growth Aofil's beginning to feel anxious of the bursting dam he's holding back. It can't be healthy to have this much on his shoulders. "You're welcome to join me if you want."

Aofil would, but they won't. They can sense he needs to do this on his own. They will follow Asriel into the other room after putting away their notebook however. On any other day it's a guestroom, but today it's to return to what it was in the beginning. Aofil hasn't paid Chara any mind for years now, but standing here now with Asriel, it's like they're a child again. Like they have a twin who's just out at the moment picking apples and that Aofil's showing their twin's best friend their house for the first time and…

Asriel offers an embroidered handkerchief. "Here."

Aofil takes it with a scoff. "Just came rushing back to me," they explain with another stuffed chuckle while they dot the purple fabric underneath their watering eyes. "And I don't even remember them." Their nose is in dire need of evacuation, but they'll do that with some paper tissues later. No reason to get mucus all over this nice handkerchief. "Hit me like a truck all of a sudden."

The longest arm on the spider-clock hanging on the opposite wall manages almost a full rotation before Asriel can muster up an answer. "Yeah." And even that's almost inaudible. It could be that he didn't even say it, just projected it out his aura. The way he shakily accepts back the handkerchief from Aofil is worse than when Aofil's handing back a test to a student who didn't study for it.

It's really scary seeing someone so grand and kingly on the verge of collapsing. He could barely even utter his last word, and yet he made sure to give Aofil a handkerchief so that they could wipe their eyes. He'll make for a fantastic king, but for now he's as much as a child as he was when Chara was still alive. Toriel would never leave his side ever again if she saw how his entire form is quaking like an aspen leaf inside a hurricane. Had he not been standing on a girdle the whole house would've shaken along with him. He's really holding it in though, so Aofil should leave him alone to grief. They point to where they put in the second guest bed last year. "That bed is where Chara would be sleeping. It's where the drag is the least draggy apart from where I slept before with them, so I put it there when we made this the guestroom," Aofil tells quietly while whirling their hand through the air. If they speak any louder Asriel's dam will burst. "Would've been the same situation without the wall too."

They begin to turn, but a large and fuzzy hand grabs their shoulder ever so gently and ever so robust. They have no idea how to react to it.

"Stay, Aofil."

And neither to that.

"Please."

There's more want in the timid squeeze Asriel puts on Aofil's shoulder than anything they've ever felt before. Same with the quivers that follow from his large fingers. The softness of his fur does nothing to hide how hard this is for him. Thing is though that he has to face this himself. It's not for Aofil to share. It's between him and Chara. Asriel thinks he wants Aofil here, but he can't. He needs to grief alone. That Aofil knows from experience.

Too much experience.

The time will come when Asriel can grieve with company beside him. He'll get past this, but he's the one that has to face his sorrow alone first when it comes to this. Aofil will be close by so that he can compose himself afterwards. "This is for you and Chara, Azzy." Aofil puts their human hand over Asriel's. "Just the two of you," they tell to his glimmering eyes. "I'll be downstairs packing. Take your time, kid."

"You were their twin, Aofil," Asriel protests with his eyes doused in tears. He's still holding it in for Aofil's sake, and that they don't want him to do. With a firm push they slink their shoulder out of his grasp, and hold their gaze against the waves blinked out of him. The drops falling from his chiseled jaw crash against the floor louder than drops from the faucet left slightly open in the dead of night. This sound Aofil will do something about instead of trying to ignore it.

"But you were their best friend. You were more family to them than I was. We just share genes, but you and Chara shared something much more." Now it's Aofil's turn to place their hand on Asriel's shoulder, which they have to push themselves up a bit on their toes and tail with to reach naturally. "And like you said, you're not king yet. I don't have to obey you just yet." They again push off from him, but this time with a slight chuckle that Asriel mirrors.

"Heh heh heh."

"Come, Muffin," Aofil commands to their pet as they head down the stairs. "Let's leave the Prince alone for a bit." The laughter behind them is as thin as paper. He'll succumb any second now to the pressure built up.

"Heh...heh...heh..."

And there it turns.

Laughter into crying. Chuckling into sobs. The sound of Asriel's form collapsing on his knees rocks the entire house. The color inside turns a somber blue despite the bright midday sun outside shining in through all the windows that Aofil will have to close before they leave. The held-back wails rush throughout the silence, overwhelming it like a mighty and forceful river. Aofil almost has to brace themselves as it hits their aura. Damn, his soul has grown something fierce these last years. He's surely passed his father by now. He'll make for such a fantastic king with a monster soul...half the strength of a human soul? Aofil doesn't know exactly the ratio, but it's enough to wipe away any doubt about Asriel taking over from his father.

That's for tomorrow though. Today they'll let him cry himself out. Asriel needs it. He needs it to never again look upon the throne he's about to inherit and feel that it is empty despite him sitting in it. Aofil can't do much for the actual coronation, but they can allow the to-be king to grief for as long as he likes before he's off to claim it for the future.

"Cry, Asriel," Aofil tells the weeping Boss Monster from down the stairs. They wished they could face him, but they shouldn't risk their own aura mixing in with his. "You've done more than enough to deserve it." All they can do is to turn their head up towards the ceiling to let someone else know. "And watch over him on the throne, Chara. That's what best friends do, after all."

/

"You got some water?"

Singe Aofil's soul…

"That bad, huh?"

His voice…

"Sorry if I was a bit too loud there."

No, no, no! Don't apologize! "Water, there." Aofil points over to their faucet. They have to swallow themselves seeing how Asriel's massaging his throat. There's more gravel in his voice than on Mettaton's restaurant car park! "Glasses just above."

"Thanks."

No again! Don't speak. Drink, please. Drink yourself liquid, Prince. Half of Monster City's must've heard him cry. He has to replenish himself before his throat turns to dust. Aofil's not gotten a single thing packed. They haven't even gotten their bag out to begin. All they've been able to do is sit in silence with Muffin in their lap for both his and Aofil's comfort. So much so that Aofil doesn't need a change of clothes after having Muffin in their lap for so long. There's not a single drop of spider-saliva on them. Muffin's not been able to drool anything. He's just been listening.

Listening and focusing on each rugged inhale that the trees outside bent their crowns over to bow towards the grieving Prince soon to be King. Bowed to offer their fresh air so that he could cry his fullest. It's rushed past Aofil and their pet like a storm, whistling up the stairs to aid Asriel's wailing. His cry then soaked into the wooden material around him. They couldn't shake enough at his lament for his best friend. There isn't a material in the world capable of resonating with his mourning. The wood could only soak it up, nothing else. Years upon years of longing and heartache now manifests in the very planks of Aofil's house.

Good thing they're leaving for a while so that it can air out in peace.

The same peace Asriel's found, hopefully.

"I'll turn the oven off for you, Aofil. The cake seems done by now."

DON'T SPEAK DAMMIT!

"S...sorry."

Finally he begins drinking, and it's not until his fifth emptied glass that he dares breathe in again. He does so unlike what he's done this last half hour though. Instead of his breath falling heavy down below, it flutters out through the opened kitchen window and up towards the sun on weightless wings. He leans his head back a bit so that his muzzle is completely covered in the warming rays from outside. Even the sun tries to comfort him and caress his cheek warmly and motherly. Asriel's closed eyes are tranquil, and his following inhale even more.

It's just as peaceful it is looking at him now as it was scary looking at him before. His shining smile radiates the same caressing warmth as the sun he's indulging himself in. "Forgive me, Chara," he speaks carefully, barely moving his lips while his word weakly trickle out of his quivering lips. After a second slowly passes he straightens his expression determinedly, and lets it mellow out into a slight tug that's jut enough so that a fang can peek from underneath his upper lip and rest gently outside his lower. "I promise I'll rule for the two of us."

You'll keep that one, Asriel. That Aofil knows from both their halves. Complete and fully. Mind and soul. "And you watch over him from where you are, Chara," Aofil adds under their breath. Not for the Prince's ears, but for their twin's. If their parents can hear them, then so can Chara. "Keep your brother safe against the Surface you promised him from the rainbow which your soul has joined within."

The sixth filled glass touches Asriel's lips like morning dew touches the velvet of a Golden Flower's leaf. Ever so softly and with the sunshine exploding its radiance inside the liquid.

The metaphor turns literal as the water explodes out of Asriel's mouth like the edge of Undyne's conjured scythe upon a defiant stem of a weed in her backyard.

"Asriel!" Aofil shouts as the ornate Boss Monster bends over their sink with his hands grasping the metal lip with hurry. Muffin's many legs jerk in every direction possible as he jumps out of his solemn curl inside Aofil's lap. "What happened!?" Before they can send their chair flying and crashing against the wall behind them they're stopped by the flat palm of Asriel's hand thrown towards them and bouncing with each of his reflexive coughs.

"Wrong throat," he assures with a pained smirk that he sends over his shoulder for a brief second before he continues to cough over the sink. His form ebbs between tensed and compact to expanding and bellowing with each heave he forces down the metal crater. He tilts his head up to speak again, but all he can produce are some lighthearted guttural noises as his words are sent down his throat by his coughing. "Dammit," he manages to produce before his coughs overwhelm him again and he begins dunking his fist on the sink with such force that normally Aofil would have some very well chosen word to shout at him.

They do have some for now, but they're not for his fist, exactly.

"You don't have lungs!" Aofil retorts for reasons unknown to themselves. What does it even have to do with anything at this point? They're so full with such a strange concoction of mixed emotions that they're not sure what the hell they should be doing!

"Figureofhumanspeech!" Asriel forces out of him before he's taken over by coughs and hacks to his annoyed dismay. "Just need a bit more-" He breathes in hard through his nose to try and counter the heaves surging up, but it's too stuffed to provide any help at all. There's a moment's respite which he acts upon to drown away the last tickles inside his throat. After which he holds his breath with a single finger raised. He begins to slowly breathe again, his finger bobbing gently in rhythm of his returning breaths. "Just need a bit more water," he risks. He pauses afterwards with his brow furrowed.

One last cough he directs into the bend of his arm.

Then he's done.

"Phew," he says almost in a whistle as he places down his emptied glass inside the sink. "Don't think I can do much more like that with my throat now." His gentle chuckle proves as much as it's more as an open-mouthed whistle than a laugh. "I gotta speak to my subjects for the first time tomorrow and all that. One tradition I am not gonna follow is scarily bleating and slipping my tongue like my parents did the first time they held their first speech."

Aofil sits down again from their hurried stand. They did both movements a bit too hastily they can see now through their vision half-clotted with fading dark. Their mind begins spinning, and they clutch their head while they breathe in deeply to get some oxygen back into it.

"Did I scare you?" an out-of-focused Asriel asks as he tilts his head down so Aofil can see him through their half-closed eyes. "I didn't mean to, if that's any help."

"A bit," they admit while shaking their head to get some blood back to it. "You scared me bit and a half, actually." Whether their cheeks are flush with emotion or returning blood they're not sure of. Due to their blood's absence they wipe their forehead with their furred arm, which leaves behind it some beige strands that disappear down the deepened folds of their forehead. "I need some time to come back from this last half hour."

"Sorry," Asriel apologizes while sighing and leaning against the sink's edge with one hand and one foot folded behind his other. "Didn't really think how it'd be for you as I was a bit...caught up...in the moment upstairs." He rubs his chin with his free hand as he speaks, rummaging for what words to use inside the thick growth.

"It's fine," Aofil promises while they massage their increased heartbeat out of their cheeks. They finish it off by pushing them in and blowing out their loose lips. "How are you feeling now, by the way?"

Maybe not the most poignant time to ask just after they blew a tired raspberry with their hands still pushing up their cheeks like their grandma is pinching and congratulating them on how big they've become.

Or Toriel, in Aofett and Muffil's case.

Asriel only has to look Aofil in their eyes with his own reddened and almost swollen ones to get his point across. "I'm better now," he adds though. "I still have some...um...knowledge of how to...not manipulate, but to go from one emotion to the other from Flowey. Guess Chara brought him back for a moment here. He cried for them too down in the Underground when he was...alive, not that he'd call his existence that. Once the crying was over for him though there was nothing left but emptiness, some of it I still feel now that I'm coming down." After some quiet rubbing of his temples, Asriel reaches down for his glass again. "I'll have some more if that's fine with you."

All this talk about Flowey and Chara taps some very cold fingers against Aofil's spine. "Yeah, go ahead," they answer the Prince absentmindedly as they lean hard back against their chair to try and suppress the chill snaking up their spine. They can feel their tail retract as the chill travels higher up, which only worsens it.

"Pbblthg?" wonders Muffin while he gingerly dives underneath Aofil's furred hand. There's no immediate scratch, however, and Muffin buffs himself closer to his human to try and warm their aura that's turned cold all of a sudden. "Ppggblltthh?" he blurts more intensively to try and solicit a reaction from his human, but Aofil keeps sitting still with their chin resting on their human knuckles as they observe Asriel composing himself over their sink.

There's a slight scratch that has Muffin hopeful for a brief moment before he realizes it was only Aofil's claws dragging on his head as they lift it up to look at it. Clumsily he moves around the chair and underneath the table to lay himself as support for their human hand instead as it comes down from his human's chin. No scratch here either, but Muffin knows they need him for some spider reassurance right now. Muffet's not here, nor are the little ones, so Muffin will have to do. And do he will! "Pbblth!" he musters up to himself.

Aofil focuses the chill into their curled palm as it begins pooling out into their neck. Through their fur it changes from a shivering cold to a fluttering heat that tries to bend Aofil's fingers as it pools inside their palm.

It's hot. Like a turned-on stove.

Dammit.

Disappointed, Aofil lets their arm fall. They can feel the warmed air tussle with it as it falls, but before it can come to a halt at their side, it's gripped tight around their forearm. Asriel's hold is secure, but still gentle. He could move it anyway he'd want and Aofil would just have to follow along, but with the care his aura is emitting he'd never do it. Not even Muffin reacts to it.

"I know what my father has told you about what he saw in the flames," Asriel tells while he lightly coaxes Aofil's wrist back up. "And he's right." With his other hand he produces a crackling spark inside their furry palm through a calm snap of his white finger. It hovers silently where he places it, and he frees Aofil's arm to let them hold the spark for themselves. "Your fire should be inside your soul, and not in your hand."

The spark's strange to their exploration touch. Like a dry carbonation sputtering tender jumps of equally curios flares that bounce off Aofil's beige fur with only a fading orange color in their wake. They can feel it being fueled from where Asriel gripped their arm, where their fur lies flat in the ravines he squeezed down with his imposing hand. There's still a feeling of...him...on the bent strands.

"So he said to me as well," Asriel continues after sitting down in front of Aofil. With another snap his arm is engulfed by a twisting vortex that casts the entire kitchen in a drowning, flickering orange. Just as violently eagerly his flames are summoned they're sucked in towards his curled palm, forming a flame that is as much raging as it is calm. "My mother has shared with me her wisdom too." The white ferocity of a forest fire contained within a shell of light-purple as thin as the cowering flame of the last matchstick desperately lit to keep a deadly blizzard at bay, but which radiates hope as bright and warming as a great bonfire lit for the most joyful of festivities.

The way it whirls where the two layers meet is mesmerizing. At the same time it both rages and understands why its here. Why it has been summoned is a panicked and confused mystery to it, yet it remains subdued and obedient.

The magic of a great King.

"What I've discovered myself though, is that there's only so much you can reflect in a mirror. Only so much you can see of yourself when the light you're using to reflect upon yourself isn't lit by your own experiences." Without any effort, Asriel has his magic coil around his fingers where it set ablaze his claws like candles. He brings them together so that they touch, and reforms his flames into a gently pulsating heart. "What we see in our magic is what we are. It is what we come from, and where we are going." It sizzles without any steam as a tear falls onto it. "This is where my father and I differ though." However, the flame doesn't change like how Asgore described it. In fact, it straightens proudly as the tear felt wasn't of grief like it was shortly ago. "And where my mother's wisdom fails to apply." This one is of the same seed that's birthed his fire.

"That I have you to thank for, Aofil," Asriel sighs with content as he lowers his fingers to let the heart float over towards the human sitting enamored by the flourishing display in front of them. As the fiery heart closes in on Aofil the outline of the hunched-over Prince begins to flare up just as violently and distinct as it was in his hand. The entire kitchen behind him is replaced by purple and smoldering curtains that envelop like cozy duvets. "Remember what I asked you when we were at that shore many years ago?"

The answer flushes through Aofil as the fire heart places itself over their chest. If they're remembering themselves or it is Asriel's answer that moves their tongue doesn't really matter right now. "How can I live up to dying?" they say amid the blaze around them. Completely in trust of Asriel, and completely in respect as well.

He bounces his fingers and palms into each other while he scoffs a chuckle through his nose to the side. Despite it being stuffed and not letting any air out, his relief, almost reprieve, disappears from him and is absorbed by the fire around him. Asriel tilts his head back to face Aofil, and while doing so, the fiery curtains open up to end his theater and display, for now it is time for reality. A reality he's finally found for, and by, himself. "I think I have an answer for that."

It again surges through Aofil. Up to their cheeks, which almost begin burning from the heat of the clarity. Their tail turns almost crystal-like in its colorful refracting, with the light-purple color of Asriel's magic dancing with Aofil's red magic up and down its returning length and thickness. Their spine against tenses as magic runs up it, exploding inside their head as if quenched by a thirst they didn't even knew they had. It even colors Aofil's pupils the same purple as the magic for a brief moment before they blink it away, same with how the heart given to them by Asriel dissipates with one last beat.

They can naught but look over to the Prince smiling earnestly with his eyes soft like silk. "Asriel..." Aofil whispers. "I never knew..." They want to reach out and hug him, but what he's given them is something even more personal. Hugging doesn't seem respectful, like it would stain what he's shared with them. His answer to his own question. And even more, how he found it out. Just between the two, and for no one else. "This is..."

"I've never told anyone," he replies. "Until tomorrow, that is. They'll hear it though, and not experience it like you did. That's my thanks to you for helping me understand who I am." He motions with his opened hand towards the spark still hovering inside Aofil's palm. "Ignite my flame with your own memories and experiences now, Aofil. That way you'll see what's inside it, and how you can make sure to never let it escape your grasp."

Is it their turn now? To find their own answers inside their conjured flames?

Are they ready?

Yes, they're ready. With a King at their side they're ready for anything.

"You won't see yourself as me," Asriel jokingly assures. "I promise that you won't. Unless you do want, that is." With a pair of overly-confident fingers he caresses his beard while pouting slightly and carefully narrowing his eyes. "I wouldn't blame you, human," he says like he's trying to smooth out an accordion.

Instead of smoothing Aofil, Asriel's words instead has their brow folding deeply as they furrow it against him. Seems like they gotta first make sure that this future King's feet are still on the ground.

"If my flames turn green you'll also have to promise me that you won't try and steal it away like you stole Fuku's pencil case and pretended to find it to get to talk to her."

It's amazing how much time can pass in one second. Years, in Asriel's case, as his stalwart and respectful expression morphs into teenage tiredness and embarrassment. His shoulders holding up his golden pauldrons fall down at a slouched angle, and his entire robe sighs along with him. "That you still remember it..." he mutters with his head lowered and his long horns tickling the lamp above the kitchen table. "Guess not much has happened in this town while I've been gone if that's still fresh in your head."

Aofil's incredibly happy that Asriel didn't transfer over his memories of his blossoming teenage romance too while he was on it. Because with how hard he crashed and burned with Fuku, outside the metaphorical meaning too with Asgore's van, they'd also turn philosophical to try and cope with it. "You were almost black as coal like that other Boss Monster who isn't a Boss Monster that was a couple of classes lower than you, I remember too." Aofil leans forwards slowly to give Asriel enough time to regret remembering as well. "So surely, you must remember, your highness?"

With a petered fart, the spark inside Aofil's hand disappears. "Oh no," worries Asriel while not really. He only moves his mouth functionally to get his faux concern out. "Looks like your facetious ramblings have severed our connection." He smacks his lips for show. "What a shame." Still no emotion to be found in his words. "What a shame indeed."

Aofil lets their furred arm and furrowed brow fall down. "You're kidding? Tomorrow's king can't even handle a slight tease from his old teacher."

"You said 'old' not me," Asriel remarks as he stands up. Aofil follows suit, but it's like threatening a tree with a plastic toothpick. "So that one's on you." He chuckles friendly. "But seriously, I made the connection in a different mood than what is changing to right now, so that's why," he offers as an explanation while straightening his regal robe. "And to be honest, I want this one more than I want the other." His arms then open for Aofil as they're welcomed into his embrace. "I've missed you all."

Not even blinking hard can persuade Aofil's eyes to halt from tearing up. They can only smile at Asriel. How much he's grown. How much he's come to understand himself. How splendid his magic's become. How…

Aofil accepts the embrace with both their arms and both their hearts. It is time now. What had to be said and cried for is done. It's the time for hugging now. The two can properly greet the other like the longing family they are. "And I've missed you too, Asriel." Aofil lets themselves drown inside Asriel's comforting arms and soft robe. "We've all missed you so much. Look at you!" They choke a sob into the silk of his clothing. "You've grown so much. I'm so proud of how well you've done for yourself." Asriel's fuzzy chin comes down to run over their head as thanks. "Welcome back."

"Thank you for having me back," Asriel replies while accidentally dragging a snort through his stuffed nose. "And thank you for letting me say goodbye to Chara."

"Anytime," Aofil offers with a nod as they give the large Prince a pat on his back. "Just let me know beforehand next time so that I can coax Muffet and the kids out of the house first."

"Don't worry." Asriel breathes in through the stuffing in his nose, breaking through with a short snort that becomes clear as a whistle immediately after. "That was the last one I needed."

"Then maybe I should get to packing then." It was quite a while since they said they would, after all. Aofil breaks from the hug with water still overwhelming their eyes. They reach for the roll of paper towels on the table to dry themselves off. "Luckily your mother not-so-subtly asked us to pack lightly just in case we need to bring some large clothes back. Even less subtly when she came over with some freshly baked snail pie and her rolls of measuring tape." The trashcan lid opens automatically as Aofil throws their bundled paper towel dotted with tears towards it. It also moves forward to catch their weak throw. "So I'm gonna fetch the bag that's suitable to bring home a purple robe myself."

With his hand covering his mouth filled with the monster mucus he just inhaled from clearing his nose, Asriel nods. "You do that." His careful smile peeks out from the sides of his hand, but not too much so that it begins leaking out from between his exposed teeth.

Thankfully.

"Just gotta fetch my suitcase in the basement."

"I'll help."

"Spit first," Aofil orders firmly with a monster finger pointing at the small blob beginning to form at the back of his mouth. "After I've left the room." They then leave the room with Muffin in drooling tow. His saliva dries fast enough and doesn't smell if you have an opened window, but with Asriel just coming home from University they don't trust the cleanliness of those royal gums of his.

"And I'll let you use my flames later if you want, by the way."

What did Aofil say about spitting first? And besides, nah, Aofil won't need the flames. They've faced their life enough. They have that luxury and that they'll live on. Actually they're glad that Asriel snuffed the spark so that they didn't have to say to him that they didn't want it. He'll forget about it soon. It's usually how the subject goes with the monsters. Once something else interesting happens it becomes the priority and everything else that happened earlier in the day falls by the wayside, only to be noticed when the pile reaches above Mt. Ebott.

However, they could do with a bit more courage now that they flick the light on in their basement, they realize with their pout tucked to the side. The illuminated mess looks better when it's in darkness and invisible. Less of a reminder to Aofil that they need to clean it out soon. Old ovens, old bookshelves, old everything. More dust down here than it would be if the Riot got underway too. "You stay up here, Muffin." Otherwise all that dust will escape up into the hallway once he finds something interesting to him.

The wish of darkness is partly granted by the long shadow of Asriel rounding the corner and placing himself behind Aofil. However, the darkness only obscures the steps leading down, and all it does is remind Aofil that they also need to change the broken spider-light that's supposed to shine above the staircase. Maybe if Aofil doesn't think about it their spine will remember the height of the steps. "But can I come down?" Asriel asks with a voice more his normal tone. Aofil turns around and runs their eyes up and down his clothes.

"Should you?" they retort."Your mother will kill you and then me if you stain your ceremony robe. The clothes around here aren't your size anymore to boot. And that boot won't fit you either. Unless you want to squeeze yourself into Muffet's old novelty aprons." Before Asriel can share the extent of his want, if any, Aofil spins around on their heel with their monster index finger raised sternly and their tail coming up to block the rest of the door frame just in case he gets any ideas that'll haunt Aofil for the rest of their life. "And you don't want that for even a second, right?"

Asriel only smiles as an answer.

Alright then, guess he's not allowed down the stairs either. "If the Prince takes one step down the stairs you jump up and hang on his horns, Muffin."

With his smile still ever present like he's imitating Sans, Asriel quirks an eyebrow down to Muffin bending his many legs to prepare for a jump. "Attacking a Royal Family brings with it a hefty punishment," he reminds almost as a threat.

Which runs off Aofil like water on a goose. "I may not be an ambassador like Frisk, but with the amount of money and or bottles of Royal Purple he owes me from our poker nights I could saw off your horns and glue them to my own head without even as much as a hum from him."

"You'd have to increase the height of your door frames then." Asriel knocks gently on the top of the one he's barely standing underneath with his knuckles.

Smiling, Aofil shoots a glance over their shoulder towards the Prince. "And that's why I haven't done it already."

"Guess you're jealous of Frisk then." Like magic, Asriel dispels the determined furrow on Muffin's head by scratching the spider pet behind his ear. He melts almost immediately into a puddle of purring and hummed chittering. "Finally it's come out."

"Muffet fell in love with me, not Frisk," Aofil reminds with their furred arm lifted at the bent and their thumb pointing at them. "So I ain't got nothing to be jealous of the kiddo of."

"Still calling them 'kiddo'? After all these years?"

"Always. Can't have them growing up going to their head."

"Or yours?"

Aofil clears their throat violently just suddenly like that. It happens. No reason needed. Not like there was any. Nope. Not at all.

They clear it again.

That'll throw Asriel off the scent.

Right?

"Maybe I can try on my old sweaters then to un-remind you of the time that's passed?" Asriel proposes as Aofil's almost down the stairs. "Mom gave you some boxes of Frisk's and mine once we moved away, didn't she?"

"Yes, that she did. You also wanna know how long you and Frisk have been away?" Aofil infers as a challenge as they reach the end of the staircase. A dose of his own medicine, perhaps? They glance at a nearby covered mattress and debate for a short while whether they should push it out to the end of the staircase in case Asriel faints. "The two are finally large enough to use Frisk and yours old sweaters. Fits them really well. You'll see them wearing the sweaters at Jarasevo. Before auntie Toriel slips on their ceremonial robes, that is."

A thud from atop the stairs has Aofil's amused smirk draining fast, and they round the staircase's support beams without the thought of how they would actually manage to catch Asriel tumbling down the stairs without injuring themselves something fierce. To their luck they don't find long, flailing limbs tied up in crashing purple robes. There's a pair of parallel lines of shadow running down the length of the wooden stairs instead, originating from Asriel's horns leaning against the top of the door frame. His arms are still swaying just the slightest, with his wrists showing and hiding as his robe follows along the inertia, finally settling and hanging freely just like his stunned jaw.

Seems like he won't fall from his awkward position, at least. Aofil should take the opportunity to dig out their suitcase. "Make sure he doesn't move," they command up the stairs to their pet while they narrow their eyes against the sun sitting perfectly between Asriel's large horns. "And if he does, let me know."

So that Aofil can get out of the way in time.

Now, where did that old case go? The basement's been quite crowded ever since Muffet and Aofil decided to clean out the attic for Muffil and Aoffet to have as a room. The one thing Aofil insisted to be left up there for the two to use was that old chest that used to belong to Chara. It felt fitting that Chara's niblings would inherit their chest they used to own. Name's still on it. Aofil won't tell Asriel about it though. They thought about doing so, but he said that he's said his goodbyes now. No need to pour salt before the wound's healed up. He should be able to handle it in the future if he finds out about it. The old mirror with the dots of skin colored make-up on it to hide their cheeks Aofil removed, however. Rubbed the solidified color and donated the hand-held mirror to the school's theater production. It's no longer a curse to have those cheeks which blossom with magic. That's Aofil's legacy and gift to their twin. Those cheeks shine just as bright on Aofil's children as it does on them.

Children that are now too big to ride down Aofil's tail like what they used to love doing while playing outside. One after the other. Down, and then repelling up with their string, and then down again.

They're big enough to wear Frisk and Asriel's old sweaters now…

Another wooden thud bounces between the cement walls of the basement as Aofil sits down hard on a nearby low table.

Perhaps this means that they can conjure back their spikes on their tail again? No longer a risk for their kids to get stuck and impaled on their parent's magical tail if they're not sliding down it any longer.

Oh this has very much backfired on Aofil. It was supposed to stun Asriel! Not them! Seeing how much he's grown though it was inevitable that they'd begin thinking of their own two kids. Guess Aofil will see how much Aoffet and Muffil grows up to be like Frisk and Asriel.

Hopefully not a lot.

Toriel and Asgore might be strong enough to raise children that can, and have, changed the world, but Aofil's not. They already did it themselves, so it will have to skip a generation. Perhaps that's a bit harsh of Aofil to say as a parent, but they renovated an entire attic for their spiderlings, for God's sake!

Somewhere they gotta draw the line.

Aofil stands up again and breathes out. They have enough clarity to consciously turn their head away from any nearby objects that are covered in dust, which means they have enough clarity to continue searching for their suitcase. It should be somewhere nearby since it was on the attic to begin with.

Maybe behind those pile of poorly stacked boxes?

"Mom added holes for Aoffet and Muffil's arms though, right?"

Well they're not poorly stacked no more. In fact, not stacked at all. Avalanching down over Aofil, however, that they are. A pair of large, white arms stretch out to catch the boxes like they were air just before they begin presenting their solid contents over Aofil's head. They unfold their own arms forming a protective cocoon of shin and fur over their head, and peek behind them. What greets them has them turning their head quick enough to almost snap the neck of any ordinary human.

Which Aofil is.

Ow.

But besides their neck hurting, where in the absolute hell, be it both monster or human, and even more importantly, why, in the second absolute hell both monster and human?

Why...

Why?

Why!

"Isn't this like one of those dreams you told us about, Aofil?"

Years!

So many damn years!

Aofil's been married to one for years too! Had children! Raised monsters themselves!

"You know the one where you visited Alphys and Undyne's house late at night?"

And they'll never!

"And then instead of Alphys opening it's a human?"

Never!

"And then it turns out to actually be Alphys?"

NEVER!

"And that we've all been turned into-"

"I'm sick and goddamn tired of you monsters!" Aofil tries to shout defiantly, but with their laughter overwhelming them and making their voice crack with angry joy. "I'll never understand you! Why are you like this!? Explain, Prince! Explain, King of the Monsters! Why can't you be normal for one damn second? Singe my soul with you all!"

A silent beat passes as Asriel amuses himself too much, according to Aofil, by waiting for their flimsy cover of shouting to subside, with only their failure to hold in their laughter left to fill the silence. "The more important question, I feel," he says like it's the most important thing to him right now. It pisses Aofil off that it is. "Is why Muffet bought some of these in my size."

Alright! That's it!

A swift kick born out of Aofil having to at least pretend to be frustrated sweeps the bottom box of the leaning tower Asriel's holding up. It collapses over him in a symphony of metal and book percussion followed by a melody of his brassy bleating as he's covered in stuffed cardboard.

Oh, there's the suitcase. It was underneath the boxes.

Perfect.

The Prince can figure his own way out of the pile of strewn curios over him bouncing in rhythm with his hefty laughter interrupted periodically by the dust making him cough. "My throat, Aofil," he reminds as they lug their luggage up the stairs.

Should've thought about it before you assaulted Aofil by appearing right behind them like a ghost wearing one of Muffet's novelty aprons, Prince.

"I'm gonna use your shower then!" he shouts, in complete disregard to what he just tried to remind Aofil of.

Their head falls down as they reach the top of the stairs, with Muffin putting up two pairs of legs on Aofil's jeans and quirking his head curiously to the side. They follow his drying trail of saliva with their eyes over to the coat rack in their hallway where a beautiful and ornate purple robe fir for a king hangs next to an old raincoat with two holes for arms, and another raincoat with six holes for arms. With a weary sigh Aofil lolls their head back, blowing their lips in the process. "Why do I love these monsters so?" they ask no one, because no one can answer it. "Just be careful with the shower cabin," Aofil sighs back down into basement. "Muffet had it commissioned with spider webs."

"I'll pay for it if I-"

"It's the principle!" Aofil interrupts, again wearily against their own hilarity to this whole situation. There's some faint nostalgia to another monster using their shower mixed in as well. It was a given back in the day when they lived in Mt. Ebott when Undyne would visit. Aofil's deeper than the Underground with these monsters if they're feeling nostalgic about them using their shower without asking and breaking in without asking. Still, it's good that the monsters are at least asking now. Some hint of respect.

Finally!

"I'll be in the master bedroom packing."

"Sounds-" Asriel sneezes. "Sounds good."

"And fix the mess you did."

"I did? Only I?"

Yes.

/

"You know..."

Aofil lowers down their flipped-up lid of their suitcase to see over it from their kneeled position as they pack. It's been a couple of minutes since the blasting water quieted down from across the upstairs hallway.

Asriel stands in the door frame with a towel wrapped around his waist, and with another in his hand drying underneath one of his heavy ears.

"I'm still not Fuku, Asriel," Aofil reminds as their plastered smile disappears behind their suitcase's lid that they flip up again so that he's hidden behind hit. Apart from his horns, that is. "So please put on a shirt."

His amused and confident scoff might be enough to woo any of the monsters that had the luxury of sharing the same campus as him, but it falls silent on Aofil's deaf ears. The only thing they hear are the drops knocking on the wooden floor below him. Must be from his other ear that he hasn't dried yet. "I won't steal you away from Muffet, don't worry."

"You're not using the right towels." Aofil throws up their furred hand to point accusingly without looking. "Those are for the spiders, and they won't absorb as well as the towels for the fur does."

"Huh..."

He's joking, right?

"I bought these kind of towels at University since they scratch really well," Asriel explains with a muffled voice. "Does good for my dandruff."

"And that it also has you standing without a shirt on for longer since it dries you worse I'm guessing was another reason your bought those?" The long silence following Aofil's question is answer enough for them. Asriel talking about his dandruff has them listening even harder for him drying himself of with the spider-towels. The second they hear the fabric similar to the rough side of a scouring pad scratch on his skin underneath his thick fur Aofil will chastise him for bringing snow indoors. "If I ask you to put on a sweater instead will you do that?"

"Speaking of sweaters." Wet and rough fabric slaps against poorly-dried fur, and Aofil shakes their head behind their suitcase. "Didn't mom offer to make the two their own sweaters?"

There are no audible drops any longer, but Aofil's still on edge for them to begin again any second now. "As soon as Muffet and I agree on the colors," they answer as they fold in a second pair of jeans into their luggage. One pair blue and one pair black in case Aofil's missed something on the list they got from Toriel.

Or more, in case Toriel assumed that it was obvious to Aofil whatever it was she was assuming.

"Heh," Asriel again scoffs muffled. "Gonna be a while then."

Shouldn't be too much more now. The weather forecast for Jarasevo doesn't state any risk of rain, so there shouldn't be a problem stuffing the purple robes into their suitcase for the way home. "Probably," they answer Asriel while adding another pair of socks to the neatly folded pile. Scandalous for a royal ceremony, maybe. Should be fine though. "Purple is a given, but it's the secondary color that we've yet to choose."

"Shouldn't Muffil and Aoffet be the ones choosing?"

A tickled mist shoots out of the chortle forced between Aofil's lips. "Oh then it'll take even longer! I've tried again and again with saying to Toriel that the colors don't really matter, but you know how she is." They form a mouth with their furred hand. "It's a choice most important for us, Aofil," they have it speak while imitating Toriel.

Poorly.

"Oh mom," Asriel piques, "I didn't know you had botched surgery on your throat."

"Ha ha, my child. You're hilarious, my child," Toriel's strained voice speaks out of tune and emotion. "The colors should represent both you and Muffet, Aofil. Her monster purple and both the human and monster side of you. Spend time on this, my dear human. Your children deserve as much."

"If I'm gonna be honest, to me it sounds like she was stalling. Probably said it so that she could stock up on yarn. She's got a lot of arms to sew for the two, after all."

"Yeah well I'm not gonna challenge her on that," Aofil makes clear as they return their hand to packing from imitating. "Not gonna look a gift Boss Monster in the mouth."

"Gift employer, you mean?"

"That too." Although Aofil's done things much worse than asking their school's principal for some striped sweaters. The cloud trick with their mouth has become a tradition outside of their control now, so they've had to up their game to more...lavish...displays. Some a bit more lavish than other. Too lavish, some would say.

Like Toriel.

Not Undyne though. She's a good measuring stick though. If it's too much for even her confidence to take in stride, then maybe Aofil should put away the vials of potent acids.

They can still smell the faint whiff of the hole the chemicals burnt into their desk even to this day.

"Who of the two wears my green and yellow ones, if I may? I'm curious. And hey, maybe it gives you a clue which color looks good on them?"

Aofil shouldn't really answer that while Asriel's half-naked, but then again it's only the two here. "Aofett." The messenger spiders and the cake Aofil has already packed and are waiting down in the kitchen. Their gamble that Asriel would take a short while using the shower backfired. Or chestfired, in this case.

A sigh through wet fabric almost has the suitcase lid falling down. "Dammit."

With a confused hand Aofil pushes the lid back upright as it begins tilting over them. "Dammit?" What does he mean by that?

"I wagered Muffil."

Wagered? What the hell? "With who?"

"Whom."

"Shut up." Aofil gets a chuckle in return that they gladly let slip past them without acknowledging. "Who is the person you wagered with?"

"Frisk."

Should've figured. "You two kids will never be your Royal status. You'll act it, yes, but never be it."

The two impressive horns peeking above the suitcase lid bounce in a shrug. "They were the one suggesting it," Asriel defends before his horn and the rest of him bend down and then walk off into the bathroom again.

"But you didn't say no!" Aofil shouts after him as he closes the door. They time them closing the lid with the Prince closing the door as they're curious if it'll harmonize.

It didn't.

Oh well.

A glistening white bust angles into the door frame of the master bedroom again. "Should I hang up the towels or put them in the laundry basket?"

Aofil holds their gaze against Asriel, but his face is still tightly dragged into a genuinely questioning expression despite Aofil's challenging blinks. Their head begins shaking slowly. "You've lived alone for far too long." Asriel looks down guiltily while reflexively smirking. His Prince Charming methods still have no power around here, and it only furthers Aofil's shaking of their head until their hair swivels across their face like windy curtains. They lament a deep sigh before tapping their thumb on their closed luggage. "To have a King tomorrow that today is still wet from the womb..."

"If you know that I don't have any lungs then you must also know that us monsters aren't born the same way you humans are." Asriel's eyes narrow and his muzzle furrows playfully. "You've had two, Aofil, and you still don't know?"

"Put. On. A. God. Damn. Shirt. My. Dear. Prince!"

The Prince's hand raises questioningly from behind his back. In it is the towel he still has no idea where to put it exactly. A straight answer would get him to put it away and free his hands up to put on a damn shirt.

"Laundry," Aofil sighs out without emotion.

"Thank you~," Asriel then sings as he slinks off into the bathroom again.

Hurried steps fly down the stairs with the packed suitcase held in its handle with a human and a monster hand. Aofil shoots a glimpse over to the coat rack to see that Asriel's robe is gone. He must've brought it with him into the bathroom. A slight temptation flushes through Aofil as they imagine playing some overly dramatic choir-singing as Asriel walks down the stairs from his elevated position, both figuratively and literally. They allow the temptation to birth a chuckle that they expel while lifting up their suitcase on the kitchen table next to the cake package and the jar of spiders. The heavy emotions that were shared a short while ago have all aired out by now. Enough

As they try and turn away though, they're stopped. Gently bitten at their shin, with desperate huffs and moans coming from underneath the table. "Muffin..." Aofil sighs melancholy. "I know. I know," they comfort to their spider pet sniffing and slobbering as it cowers in sadness. "Tylior will come over and pick you up later today, I promise. You'll get to intimidate with Sevoltne again. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

The small smile slipping through Muffin's angry demeanor quickly fades as he rebuilds his stone-faced huffing. "I saw that," Aofil teases while sinking their claws in behind Muffin's ear. Deep scratches. "And we'll all be back soon. You know that."

"Ppbgglthr..."

"There you go, Muffin," Aofil finishes of by squeezing the spider's cheeks and lifting them up to force a smile on him. "No hanging cheeks." They droop down even further as they let go, and Muffin slinks off into the living room and jumps up on the sofa with his back defiantly turned against his owner.

"Any last thing you need my help with before we leave?" offers Asriel while fluffing up the tuft on his head. "You got everything packed?"

"Just gotta shut the windows."

"Right." Asriel nods towards the living room. "I'll take this way then. I've also called for a taxi."

A what? Aofil's hand hangs on the handle to their opened kitchen window. "A taxi?"

"How else are we supposed to get to the airport?" comes from the living room somewhat confused. Asriel's face turns questioningly to the side as he locks the handle on the window he just closed with his weight leaning on it. "Don't think we'll manage in time if we walk."

"I don't know?" With their brow furrowed, Aofil picks up their suitcase and carries it with them to the hallway. "Something more prestigious for the King of the Monsters?" they then shout around the living room corner.

"Tomorrow I'm gonna be the King," the Prince reminds. "Today we're using a taxi."

"So being a prince isn't good enough?"

"For what?" Asriel's even furrowed brow asks as he tilts it out from the kitchen. "A horse-carriage?" He swoops up the cake package and jar of spiders effortlessly. "We'll never make it in time with that either!"

"Alright!" Aofil has to concede on that point. "Alright." They open up the door for Asriel so that he can get what he is carrying out of the house. Down the steps he's placed his own bags. There's tell-tale signs of glue residue from the stickers he's removed. How many and how risque they were for Asriel to conclude that he had to remove them all is something Aofil's not exactly keen on asking in case they get captured and magically forced to spill the secrets that the King of the Monsters had stickers of himself in various states of nude on his bags when he was crowned.

And speaking of crowns.

"You keep your crown in your carry-on?"

"Couldn't fit it inside my suitcase."

"And why do you only have one? Can't a soon to be King of the Monsters get to pack two suitcases? Is your status as a prince worth less than my librarby card?" Aofil shouldn't really be surprised by all of this since they've lived down the street of the Royal Family and not once has there been any parades or even trumpets played from up the road. It's good, means Aofil hasn't been woken up by a Royal Decree spouted by a crier early in the weekend mornings.

Still, taxi to the airport and future crown in a carry-on case? Make no mistake, Aofil is over Mt. Ebott with excitement to be flying first class, but now they're begin to suspect that it isn't out of kindheartedness from the Royal Family, but out of necessity. Asriel squeezing himself into an economy class seat? Not even with magic could he do that!

"It'll go through customs," he assures while slinging his carry-on over his shoulder.

Aofil lets the rustle of their key-ring spinning around their finger to the talking for them. "...Sure." They catch their house key and lock their door with a reflexive turn of their wrist. "Set guest access for Tylior," they then instruct the spider-webbed panel next to the doorbell. "Key-less, password 'Season two of Mew Mew is superior'." Aofil turns back towards the road.

What meets them is Asriel's face scrunched up in both disgust and confusion. "Not really a password as much as it is a passphrase?" He clears his throat. "And why?" His question holds more weight than the world.

"Because he's wrong just like Alphys is," Aofil explains likes its' obvious. "Gotta make sure he learns any way I can." They tap a knuckle against the door panel. "Escalation is necessary if nothing else works."

"But what if he refuses to speak it?"

"Then he won't be able to leave Muffin back into the house. I've given him a key, but when the panel informs him that he has a key-less option he'll gladly use that one instead. He puts in the key in the panel, and then is told his password. It does so when the door is locked for the first time with the guest access, and not when it's first unlocked. A quirk of Alphys' programming, but now that I've learned about it so many doors have opened up to me, funnily enough."

The air between the smiling human and frowning monster turns a bit bitter. Unsure. Asriel's neck cranes back just the slightest. "…Were you always this evil, Aofil?"

"Well..." they emit through a hum before throwing up a clawed thumb and swinging their arm in front of them. "I'm part monster, aren't I?"

The bitterness dissipates with a puff, and Asriel shakes his head with his eyes closed. He takes a deep and disappointed breath. "And fully racist, it appears."

"Well I'm part human too," they agree in passing while swiveling their head down the road. "Now where's that cab, Prince?"

From a pocket inside his robe he produces a watch that's chained with, what appears to be, gold. It has a different shine to it than his pauldrons, which means it might be brass? Or perhaps his shoulders are brass? One or the other. "We have quite a bit of time, so there's no stress." He bounces the watch in his hand for a thoughtful second. "You know..." He closes his while inhaling audibly through his nose. "Could we make a slight detour, actually?"

Don't think a lot could be more enticing than lounging in the first class commodities at the airport. "What did you have in mind? Lunch? We're having some at the airport though, right? The first class lounge?"

"I was thinking we'd ask the driver to swing by Ebott."

Okay? "Why?"

"For starters I was thinking of picking up a magnifying glass from the pastor there," Asriel begins with a very obvious undercurrent to his voice that it isn't close to what he actually wants. He tries to disarm by throwing up his hand haphazardly and rolling his wrist. "Something about him wanting a new one for this new era. Apparently he got one way back from another priest, and now he wants a new one to commemorate. I didn't get much else out of him as he bonked me on the head with his hammer while telling me how much I took after my father. He shook his head amusingly afterwards while guffawing."

Touching. Genuinely. However, it's not the reason. The real reason. Aofil holds eye contact with Asriel, and it's not long before he caves, almost as if he wanted to in the first place.

"I'd like to show your family too how I look as the King. They're family to Chara and to me too, in a way."

But… "You said that you didn't need to cry again." He seemed so genuine. "You're always welcome to, you know?"

"No, I'm fine. It was the last time for me. I's just that...I think they'd appreciate it." He smiles at Aofil. "That's all. I promise." Warm, caring, and respectful. Not like Toriel. Not like Asgore.

But as Asriel.

His own brand that's he's grown all by himself. There isn't the slightest hint of his parents anywhere on him right now. The gentle bend of his eyelids radiating both want and understanding. The way the slight wind brushes past his gently-tugged muzzle, swaying his fur over his smiling lips. That one fang pointing downwards and exposing itself to show how trustful he is.

Sure, they can do that. They can take the detour. The first class can wait. For a thousand years it can wait!

...Maybe not a thousand years since Aofil's getting a bit peckish. Maybe a hundred years? Ten? One should be enough.

"Sounds good to me," Aofil says. "It's been a while since I visited. Took the kids and Muffet with me last time. The Pastor had his brow furrowed when he saw my magic for the first time. I could see his mouth say that name of the mage he thought was my relative."

"Cter?" Asriel quirks after some thinking.

"Yeah, her." Aofil nods towards the black car moving around the corner, and picks up their bag and jars of spiders. "The aspen is nice this time of year as well."

"Birch."

Their step is halted as if walking into a brick wall. "Birch?" they ask back. "What do you mean?"

"The tree behind the grave is a birch."

"It's not a birch. It's a..." Wait…

Wait…

Wait!

Oh. My. God.

He's right!

It is a birch. It is a birch...

How…

Why did Aofil call it an aspen? They've done so for years!

"I've been calling it an aspen since..." they mutter out loud as the taxi pulls up next to their mailbox. Asriel's quick to gesture for the driver to keep her hat on. It's second nature to him at this point. "Why has no one corrected me?"

A joyous, almost perverse smile leans down in front of them. The softness in Asriel's eyes have been replaced by utter and sheer joy. The savoring he's extracting from this quiet second fills him with giddy he shouldn't really enjoy as a king, but that he will remember for the rest of his life as a prince.

"Because we're monsters."

/

Author's Note:

And here's where we will be leaving the monsters and the human-monsters. They've been through a lot, and now I feel that it is time for them to live the rest of their life for themselves. They deserve as much, I feel.

It's been a very good three years of writing, and I've learned quite a lot during these many fics. I've written by the seat of my pants for the entire time and gone from week to week not being sure what the next chapter will take me and my story. It's forced me to learn discipline to be consistent and to also improve my writing.

All of that learning I will now be putting into another story which I've hinted a bit about. I've covered Toriel and Asgore falling in love and the events that occurred after the Barrier broke, so to me there's one period left that I want to explore and share my take on.

The events leading up to the Barrier's creation.

I will be doing things differently this time around though, because I have something planned that I don't think anyone else has done in the Undertale fandom yet. Trust me when I say that it'll be my biggest undertaking yet, but to do so I want to plan everything out beforehand so that I can really bring it all together the way I've envisioned it.

This means that I won't be visibly active for awhile. I will be sharing a chapter to let you all know that things are starting up once I have it all together, but I can't give you a time-frame on it at the moment. I have some minor stuff coming out in a while that I've written earlier, so at least there's something.

Wrapping this all up, I want to thank you all for reading. Aofil would too, and they'd watch the thunder from their patio and tell you all about how difficult it is to raise spiderlings as a human. Of course they'd let you touch their tail too.

Stay tuned for the adventures of Cter, the mage, and her (Yes, gendered OC! See how far I've come!) story that will take her from a mere University graduate to deciding the fate of two races.