Shall we begin? - by planeanon

2 years after the liberation


20 miles SE of Mt. Ebott


9:57 AM


It was a gloomy overcast day, much to every child’s sadness. All weather forecasts had promised the same thing: blue skies and warm sun all throughout the weekend, perfect for one and all outdoor activities. Instead, cold gusts and stinging rain swept through the entire town, not a single youth was to be found wallowing on the wet, puddle-laden sidewalks and front lawns. All the while, a mist twirled down from the mountains, inching closer to the city with an impending swirling movement, sealing the fate of the weekend as one of indoor boredom.

Frisk looked out of his bedroom window, sitting on his neatly tidy bed, swinging his legs back and forth restlessly. He kept assuring himself that the bad climate would soon be swept clean, and Mr. Blue Sky would once again visit his town, allowing him to go play in the sun with his school friends. To no avail. The rain persisted, and the mist kept closing in, wafts of air carrying it as it twisted and twirled into shapes that seemed like limps, outstretching themselves in an attempt to engulf the small suburban houses.

At least there was no school, no homework, no Phys ed. But what WAS there to do? He looked briefly around his room. A plethora of books varying in sizes and color adorned the shelves and desks all around his tiny room, most untouched, all unfinished. He really wasn’t keen on reading, at least alone anyway. Toys? Frisk wasn’t much for toys either, so there were only a few, old toys in his room, including a wooden biplane, an astronaut action figure and a big, worn, fuzzy teddy bear. As much as he tried to think of something to do within the confines of his chamber, all he craved for was to go outside, to seek out adventure and mystery in the streets and woods, but that seemed out of the question at the moment.

He rolled around on his bed, trying to make time go by faster. Lying on his back; on his face; on his side; upside down; downside up; across the bed, all the while progressively making his bed messier and messier. He sat up to look at the digital alarm clock on his bedside desk, only to discover his efforts were in vain: only a mere 3 minutes had gone by for what seemed like an eternity of waiting fruitlessly. He sighed and flopped onto his back, bouncing slightly on the mattress before settling still on his bed, overflown with disappointment.

Just then, he heard a familiar noise coming from outside. A hum, akin to a bee’s buzz, but distinctly slower. He quickly jumped off his bed and rushed to the window, from where he spotted an old yellow hatchback pulling up to his house’s driveway. Before the vehicle could even properly settle on the concrete pavement outside of the garage, Frisk had already dashed out of his room and made his way towards the living room door, standing at utmost attention in front of the mahogany entry, waiting patiently for even the slightest movement from the knob. Soon enough he heard the sound of keys being fiddled and the distinct clicks and clacks of the lock mechanism giving way.

He did not wait a single second. As soon as the entrance was slightly ajar he sprang into action, jumping onto the figure from behind the door, with one mighty fierce hug. To a stranger, this might have seemed like something dangerous for a child the age of Frisk to do, but he knew exactly who stood behind the door, from the second he saw that automobile from outside of his window.

“O-Oh! My child!” Toriel said, slightly startled at first, but as she felt the loving intent of her juvenile assailant’s cling she opened a smile, blissfully giggling.

The human child did not reply, instead intensifying his embrace, arms wrapped around the monster’s waist, his face burrowed onto her stomach. The temperature outside was not freezing, but still chilly. Even with Frisk using his favorite pink-and-blue striped sweater he could still feel the cold breeze seeping through the fabric of his accouterment, but this seemed to be completely negated by the warmth emanating from Toriel, which he could feel so intensely on his cheeks, as he rubbed his head up and down her sweater, feeling her soft fur from underneath.

Toriel couldn’t help but blush vehemently, running her left hand across the human youth’s head, ruffling his short smooth hair tenderly with her long furry hand, using her tiny claws to scratch away at a spot on the back of his head, prompting him to let out a muffled sigh of pleasure. The human gradually reduced the intensity of his grip around the tall female monster’s body, from an intense grasp to a gentle hug, rubbing his hand up and down her back, accidentally touching her tail, which peeked out meekly from a hole in her warm clothing. As a response to the child’s doing, she slid her soft hand up to his cheek and squeezed it jokingly, a moan of protest coming from Frisk.

“Would it not be better to continue this inside?” She queried.

He raised his head from Toriel’s dress, looking up at her vivid crimson eyes and nodded, noticing her broad smile which revealed her sharp frontal fangs. She was wearing her usual casual dress, a simple and very comfy looking blue sweater over a light blue cotton shirt and a long blue dotted skirt. Upon releasing her from his bear hug, he noticed she carried on her left hand a basket of fresh groceries, surely the main reason why she didn’t want to stay outside in the faint drizzle.

Both of them made their way inside, cleaning their feet on the doormat that read “New New Home Sweet New New Home”. Toriel closed the door behind her while Frisk swiftly and deftly made his way to the living room couch, jumping onto its pillows.

Toriel made her way to the kitchen with a deliberately slow walk, taking in the warmth of their cozy wooden abode, before settling the vegetable-laden basket on the counter, unloading its contents into the fridge and walking back into the living room where the hyperactive infant waited, tapping his foot rapidly on the ground.

“It’s really a shame about the weather. I know you how much you like going out.” She said, before settling herself down beside her child, gazing out the large window that took up almost the entirety of the living room’s wooden wall. The weather had gotten worse, the drizzle turned into proper rain, and the mist that once drifted at a safe distance now covered their suburban neighborhood, visibility dropping to a mere 200 feet. “But, now I am here! We could do something together could we not?”

“Yeah!” Frisk said gleefully, quickly thinking of what to do… Ah! He knew exactly what he wanted to do! Quickly, he sprang off the couch, running at max speed back into his room, looking for his backpack, which lay underneath his bed. Pulling the old beat-up ruck from under the frame, he zipped it open and pulled off an exotically colorful comic book which, in contrast with his backpack, was in mint condition.

He dashed back to the couch, once again jumping onto it, outstretching his arms to show his monster mother the cover of the fantastic book he fetched.

“Oh dearest! I don’t have my glasses.” She said, squinting in order to make out the words and drawings decorated the exuberant graphic novel. “The.. tall tales and adventures of-“

“-Nathan Zachary, air pirate!” he cut her off, in a grandiose and vibrating manner, trying to imitate a narrator’s voice.

“Great! Just let me get my glasses and change clothes and we can get started. Stay put!”

Toriel stood up and scooted over to her room, which she had recently redecorated. For the last two years she had been trying to move her old furniture from the Ruins to her new household, but many technicalities and difficulties prevented anyone from going back into the mountain, much less to the Ruins, but finally she had managed to get back all of her old furniture, from Chariel to the sock drawer.

She opened her wardrobe which revealed a nice array of formal and informal clothing. Suits, dresses, shirt, skirts: clothes for teaching, clothes for meeting, clothes for going out and clothes for staying in. There was, however, one article of clothing that sat secluded from the rest, hidden from an untrained or inattentive eye.  At the very corner of the wardrobe hanging immaculately was Toriel’s royal robe, a silky blue-ish purple dress with long white sleeves adorned at the chest with a large rune, which was colored white and light-blue. She hardly wore such a distinctive article of clothing anywhere, no real reason to, especially since her days of being a Monster Monarch were long gone.

The monster proceeded to shed her slightly humid clothes, first the sweater, then the shirt and finally her skirt, leaving only the most intimate clothing covering her womanhood, her soft layer of white fur slightly messy from removing her outfit. Looking at the old mirror which hung on the wardrobe wall, covered in small rust splotches, she analyzed her form, running her vision all over her body, while one hand rubbed her hips and another one massaged the base of her horns. From her stubby toes, up her fluffy thighs all the way up to her modest bosom, she looked at every inch of her body, before looking into her very eyes, which shone an intense rouge color. She arched her back and extended her arms, yawning as the joints of her bones let out a series of satisfying snaps, before looking at herself in the mirror again, flaring a smile of confidence and satisfaction. Despite several times older than the oldest humans who ever lived, she still maintained the most of her youth, having sported the same delicately plump motherly curves for the past few centuries. With ease, she slipped into her royal garment, picking up a thick pair of glasses which lay on her bedside desk, next to a nicely framed picture of herself next to several human women, all dressed up formally, the tag “First human-monster pedagogic collaboration” written in pen at the bottom of the image.

Toriel strode calmly back into the living room, glasses hanging on her snoot and hands held together, exhaling happily, finding Frisk already sitting on one of the beige reading chair’s arm. Plopping down onto the large comfy chair which was located beside the large living room window, the monster was quickly handed the colorful action-packed volume by Frisk, adjusting the fidgety glasses that sat awkwardly, but gracefully on her nose.

“Shall we begin?” she asked the excited little child which was now huddled up against her, holding her left arm, still sitting on the chair’s arm.

“Uh-huh!” he nodded.

And with that, the motherly monster proceeded to lick the tip of her index finger, carefully grabbing the edge of the book’s cover, and flipping it, revealing a front page laden with explosions, planes and less interesting things, like dialogue. She cleaned her throat, adjusted her glasses one last time before inhaling deeply, but, just as she was about to open her mouth to utter the protagonist’s first words, a phone all the way across the room started ringing.

Toriel looked up from the pages towards the phone. This was unusual, rarely did anyone call her on a Saturday, especially so relatively early in the morning. Normally she would’ve just kept on reading, but she was so intrigued by who might be trying to reach out to her at such an abnormal time that she had to excuse Frisk for a moment to answer the call. Frisk sat patiently on the chair’s cushiony arm, trying to listen to his mother’s phone conversation, being snoopy as he was.

She settled her glasses down next to the base of the old bakelite telephone before picking it up with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Hello?”

“…” a mumbling from the other end of the line replied. Frisk wasn’t able to tell the words being spoken, and probably wouldn’t be able to as much as he tried, for the phone was too far from him, so instead he just concentrated on what Toriel had to say.

“Yes, this is Toriel.”

“…”

“…What do you mean? Is it not possible to wait until Monday?”

“…”

“Today? But it’s a Saturday!”

“…”

“I know what the union said, but you cannot just do things like that and expect me not to protest.”

“…!”

“I understand, but I-“

“…!!!”

“…Yes. I… I will be over there shortly.”

Toriel then proceeded to put the phone back down, her look of curiousness had morphed into one of apprehension, sighing and looking back at Frisk, who had now gotten off the chair and stood in the middle of the living room.

“Are we gonna continue?” he asked meekly.

“Sorry, darling, but something has just come up, I need to leave for a while.” She replied, making her way back into her room, this time scooting rapidly into her chambers, before shutting the door behind her. It was not very long afterwards that she opened the door back open, pacing as rapidly as she was before, revealing her to be back onto her casual clothes which she had hurriedly put on.
Awkwardly making her way to the living room door, she assured Frisk she wouldn’t be long, just running some simple errands back at work. Not having time for a proper goodbye, she just knelt down and kissed the child on their brow, before darting out the front door and into her car.

Frisk wasn’t worried in the slightest, he was absolutely confident in his mother’s words. If she said she wouldn’t take long, then she wouldn’t take long. Yeah! Soon enough they’d be sitting cozily back on the reading chair, devouring through the pages of his comic, as well as other books he had in store. All he had to do was way a bit, is all. Toriel would be back in no time.


1:38 PM


Frisk lay flat on his face on his bedsheets, idly pressing away at his cellphone’s screen, which shone dimly onto his face. On the screen was a chat log with Monsterkid, in which he discussed how bummed out he was about the whole weather ordeal. It’d been at least 3 hours since Toriel left. Three long hours of painful and seemingly fruitless waiting. By now he had already tucked away all of his volumes back into his ruck and eaten some leftover spaghetti from when Papyrus dropped by on Wednesday, not bothering to touch the fresh vegetables his mother had brought earlier.

It was pouring now, the noise of the hard rain hitting the roof echoing through his room and piercing his ears, occasionally interrupted by the faint buzz of a new message popping into his phone, all the while distant thunder caused the windows to rattle on their frames.

Frisk was just about to send Monsterkid another funny picture when the doorbell rang, a long steady buzz reverbing through the household. Usually the people that drop by have a distinct way of buzzing the doorbell, Asgore does two quick buzzes in short succession, Alphys does a single simple quick buzz and Undyne usually absolutely obliterates the buzzer, smashing it rapidly, but this one was like a stranger’s buzz.

Against his own will, the child got up from his bunk and dragged himself to the living room, picking up a small stool that sat by the entrance, standing on it so to be able to peer through the peephole. Upon first inspection, all he was what seemed to be a large cardboard box, completely sodden, placed directly in front of the little glass hole. Shortly after, however, the box seemed to move backwards, revealing it to be sitting atop a two-box-tall stack of soggy cardboard containers with washed out numbers written in permanent marker, being held at the base by what seemed like… pale white hands?

Frisk hopped off the little stool, stashing it away on its corner, before hastily opening the door, revealing the absolutely soaked monster, rainwater trickling down her snoot and ears, standing completely still just in front of the opening,  with an expression the likes Frisk had only once before seen, way back in the Ruins

“Thank you, child.” She said in a monotone voice, slowly stepping inside, water dripping onto the polished wood floor from her drenched skirt.

“You need help mom?”

“No.” She replied drily, visibly upset, though Frisk sensed the anger was not directed towards him.

And with that she walked over to her room, stopping at the door to look back at Frisk.

“I trust you have already eaten lunch. I will be unable to cook you anything for now.”

Frisk did not answer, simply looking at his adoptive mother with a look of confusion and curiosity, what could’ve possibly gotten her on such a sour mood? What could he do to help her? But, alas, it seemed as if she was unwilling to be helped, at least for now.

“Please go to your room. I need to work now.” She stated, her voice almost trembling for a second, entering into her chamber and shutting herself in, leaving the child standing dumbfounded on the corridor. Out of options, Frisk simply walked back into his room, head down and droopy-eyed. Climbing back onto his bunk, he went limp, ignoring completely the bellowing thunder outside and the constant buzzing of his cellphone.

Seeing Toriel upset like that tore Frisk apart on the inside, leaving him with an almost physical ache in his chest. He didn’t like seeing anyone upset, really, so it was to no surprise that his mother’s torment left him so disconcerted. He couldn’t bear it. There was absolutely no way he’d just lie in his room all day while Toriel locked herself away and succumbed to anger. She deserved better than that, and he knew this damn well.  However, how would he manage to break through his mother’s broken spirit?

Tip-toeing out of his room, he slowly made his way back to Toriel’s door, trying to peek through the keyhole. The room seemed dimly lit, he was unable to make out anything in particular on the insides of the monster’s den. It was also immaculately quiet, aside of course from the loud torrents that assailed the entire neighborhood, only being able to hear a faint scribbling noise, interleaved by suppressed sneezes.

He reached up to the polished golden doorknob, cautiously placing his hand on it, hesitating for a second before ever-so-slowly twisting it, hearing a very quiet “clack”. Luckily for the child, Toriel had recently lubricated the hinges on the old door, allowing him to move it open ever so slightly without producing any sort of noise. Peeking from behind the entryway, he saw Toriel sitting on her study chair surrounded by two towering piles of papers, some of them wet, but most of them dry.

The monster scribbled away at a very fast pace, only ever stopping to adjust the glasses that slowly slid off her long nose. A few droplets of water still meekly dripped off her long fluffy ears, despite having changed her clothes, her wet attire stuffed away in a basket in the corner of the room. Her fur was bristled and messy, showing she had not taken the time to properly groom herself before nose-diving into the mounds of paperwork. The cardboard containers sat underneath her table, over a small towel that covered the neatly polished wood floor. From where Frisk stood he couldn’t see his mother’s eyes, but he could tell her daze never left the paper in front of her.

The human approached with caution, not wanting to reveal his presence until within reach of his mother. With light-as-feather steps, he tiptoed his way closer and closer towards her, until he was close enough to her that he could feel her warmth and energy. He slowly opened his mouth and whispered just loud enough as to be hearable but quiet enough not to startle her:

“Mom..?”

The frantic scribbling ceased immediately, leaving only the sound of Toriel’s deep breaths filling the room. She did not move, she simply said a few words, in the same monotone of frustration of a few minutes prior.

“I told you to stay in your room.”

“I was worried...”

Toriel slowly turned her head, just enough so she could see Frisk from the corner of her vision, observing what she could of his small form, as be held his hands close to his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his sweater.

“I understand, but I need you to leave my room.”

“No, I wanna stay here with you.”

“You cannot.” She retorted, looking away from her child and proceeding with her paperwork, writing away as fast as before, flipping the paper around to work on its opposite side. “Now please, go back to your room.”

But Frisk did not go anywhere, standing defiantly on his feet, in the same exact spot he was before. He wasn’t ready to just call it quits and walk away. No, it took a lot to discourage Frisk from doing something, the very fact that Toriel sat in that chair, in that house, proved that he wasn’t one to give up. It took a while, about the time to complete another 4 forms of paperwork, until Toriel realized that her stubborn adopted son was in her room.

She looked surprised for a brief moment, but soon enough she returned to her previous expression of grumpiness and turned to face her paperwork once again.

“I will say this one last time, Frisk, please leave.” She said, her nervousness starting to show as her voice trembled for an instant.

It was then that Frisk moved in for the kill, leaning towards her, he wrapped both his arms around her chest from the side, leaving only her arms free from his grasp, digging his head into the fabric of her sweater. Toriel seemed untouched by her son’s demonstration of affection, continuing her work as if to show the pointlessness of Frisk’s doing. But, alas, the human noticed that his action was taking its toll on the monster. Progressively, her scrawling lost momentum, becoming erratic, almost as if she was having hiccups. Eventually, her writing simply came to a halt, the fountain pen that lay between her delicate fluffy fingers sat idly on the paper beneath it, creating a large spot of ink, before she completely let go of it, leaving it to drop and roll on the paper form.

Instinctively, Toriel used her left arm to pick up Frisk and place him on her lap, cradling his head close to her with one arm, whilst the other mimicked the human’s gesture, wrapping around his torso with a firm motherly grip, landing a series of soft, heartfelt smooches on the top of her child’s brow. Both had their eyes firmly shut, reveling in each other’s tenderness, their hug progressively becoming more like a cuddle. The moisture still remnant from the rainfall made Toriel’s fur much more malleable and silky, creating a pleasant effect to the touch. Frisk meekly removed his face from its burrow on his mother’s chest to deliver a kiss on her “cheeks”, prompting a faint trembling gasp from the monster Queen. With the hand she cradled Frisk’s head she caressed his hair and cheeks, whilst the hand that rested on his back dug beneath his sweater, her fur coming into direct contact with the skin on his back, which caused both of them to exhale a sigh of relief and joy.

Eventually they opened their eyes, looking into one another’s. Frisk noticed straight away the look of torment on his mother’s face was gone, replaced instead by bright shining crimson eyes of bliss and a small smirk.

“I’m sorry my child.” She said, snuggling against Frisk’s head. “I got a little caught up in all this work.”

“It’s ok mom.”

“What do you want to do? Read that book of yours?”

Frisk simply nodded, prompting another smile from Toriel. Running her fingers across the fur on her head, she finally noticed how unkempt she was, telling Frisk to go along to the living room first, as she needed to properly groom herself before their time together. The human proceeded to dart out of her chambers, audibly making his way to the living room, while, Toriel shed her clothes once again, dropping them on her bed as she picked up a set of towels and brushes from her sock drawer.

Just a few minutes later, she walked out into the living room, bearing more splendors and oozing more good vibrations then before. Her perfume filled the whole air as she strode over to her reading chair, Frisk sitting patiently while cradling his comic book. The monster Queen settled herself down on the chair, looking out the window that revealed the misty roads and front lawns being savagely beaten down by a relentless downpour.

Cleaning her throat, prepping her glasses, licking the tip of her index finger, she shifted her gaze back to Frisk and asked, her words flowing like wine:

“Shall we begin?”


10:12 PM


The faint crackling of wood and a quiet snore were all the sound that existed inside of the house, a few embers burning out of the fireplace that struggled to stay alit. In front of the cozy reading chair sat a coffee table, with an empty bowl of vegetable soup sitting neatly on top of it, a dirty napkin sticking out from inside. A pile of assorted books lay on the carpet besides the chair, some scattered about and some piled up. Frisk lay dormant on Toriel’s lap, his chest moving with his breathing. The monster caressed her child’s stomach, humming away an old classical tune. Outside, the rain had ceased and the mist had thinned for the most part, street lamps glaring a bright yellow light that shone through the moist haze, seeping into the house creating and ambiance of pure relaxation.

The monster Queen's human son was asleep for quite some time now, but she could not bring herself to carry him anywhere, in fear of disturbing his deep slumber. Instead, she just sat on her chair, delicately fondling him to ensure he stayed calm through his rest. This scene was very familiar to her, the last few times they read together it usually ended the same way, with Toriel eventually carrying Frisk back into his room, though, Frisk was not the first child she did this to. It had been so long though, so long since she had held... him in his arms, together with her husband. It had been so long since she'd done this with her offspring.

Toriel's eyelids were becoming heavy, struggling to stay awake, barely able to concentrate on massaging the human. Placing the boy over her arms, she stood up, carrying him slowly back into his accommodation. Striding over to the door that led onto the child's messy room, which was opposite to her own room, she hesitated. She just felt like she couldn't lay him back onto his bed, she did not know why but, she felt compelled to carry the gentle youth into her own chamber.

She had already taken care of the wet clothes and stashed the school paperwork back onto their respective boxes, leaving the bed in an impeccable condition. The monster affectionately laid her son down on the bunk, tucking him in as he shifted around, mumbling and groaning, still asleep. Toriel didn't bother to put on her pajamas, slipping under the bed sheets whilst still sporting her royal attire.

This was actually the first time she did something like this, not because she disliked the idea, but simply because she thought her bed could not comfortably fit both her and her son, but now that she was lying beside Frisk, it was actually surprisingly snug, almost criminally snug. The boy rolled onto his side, facing his mother, who was just a couple of inches from his face, his breathing tickling her neck fur.

Looking at the fragile being that lay right next to her, such innocence and tenderness oozing off of him, she couldn't help but think of her son, her -REAL- son, her long-gone son, Asriel. They used to do this quite often, hundreds of years ago. She still remembers him entering her room, his hands holding a little felt pillow coupled with his shy voice. How dearly she missed him, all those days and nights they spent together, back when she was still with Asgore. All those memories were reflected and projected upon Frisk, and for an instant she could almost swear that it was her offspring that lay beside her, not a human.

She inched closer to Frisk and cuddled up against him, bringing him close to her body for warmth and comfort. Sometimes it was hard for her to believe that the little creature she was cradling was responsible for saving her life as well as countless others from an eternity of solitude. She not only was extremely grateful for him, she absolutely loved him, with every single fiber of her being, all the energy contained in her SOUL devoted to loving and caring for the little human boy.

Toriel kissed her child on the forehead, holding his head close to her own, before whispering softly, as if she wanted to contact him in his dreams:

"Rest well, my child. I love you."

Soon thereafter the Queen herself succumbed to her tiredness, drifting into deep sleep, her cradle with Frisk being maintained all throughout the chilly night.