Betrothal

	The woods were serene. Toriel always loved sitting alone in the forest at night, listening to the soft sounds of nature, a rushing creek, nocturnal animals wandering around. Sometimes she would find a small snail to snack on, but those were few and far between. But tonight was no night to dawdle. She was wrapped in a cloak, her features hidden. She had to get to the designated area--hopefully the mole pulled his fair share of the weight.

	Her silent footfalls moved through the forest, the hollowed stump in view.  She stealthily moved over to it, removing the top. Inside was a single scrap of parchment. She sighed, remarking that it was not at all what they had promised. But it was better than nothing. She grabbed the sheet, unfolding it, and quickly reading the only three words.

	“I’m so sorry.”

	Her ears pricked, there was movement behind her. Before she could turn to react, an impact jolted her head forward, the hit sending her unconscious.  She fell, the attackers picking her up and carrying her away.

~~~

	Toriel awoke slowly and immediately began looking around in a dazy. She was in a small clearing, {insert some descriptions). Her head was throbbing, but that was the least of her worries. Her hood was cut off, and her hands were tied. She was propped against a pole, three human soldiers standing around her.

	“G’mornin’ sunshine,” called one, his gravely voice and accent making the words scrape against her ears, “did ya ‘ave a nice sleep?” The other two chuckled. The man, who appeared to be the leader of the three, walked forward. A small knife rested in his hand. He haphazardly swung it, cutting her cloak as if it were butter, Toriel’s white fur popping out from the slashes. “Whoops,” he said with a smirk.

	“Bastards,” she murmured under her breath. A knife was placed under her chin.

	“Ah, ah, ah. I’d stay that mouth of yours, we might just go easy on ya,” he threatened, the knife still planted under her snout, its tip slightly digging into her soft flesh. He stood there, letting her struggle against the honed tip. She took in a pained breath, the knife not making it easy.

	The man chuckled, removing the blade. Toriel sighed in relief, but she knew it was only a small respite.  Another few slashes and the top half of her cloak was in tatters, her chest bare besides her underwear. The soldier let out a whistle, sheathing his knife. The other two sat and stared. “Why so modest with the clothes there girly?” he motioned to her chest, “A nice pair like these would get a pretty penny in most places. I know a few monsters who were able to save their hides by becoming wh-” Toriel spat in his face, cutting off his ‘compliment.’

He wiped the saliva from his mug, flicking his hand on the ground, “Heh, suit yourself.” He pulled his hand back, slapping the monster. She let out a surprised yelp, the hit stinging, her headache worsening.

He grabbed her snout, not at all gently, forcefully pulling her up to a standing position, the restraints tugging on her hands and her weak legs refusing. He looked her straight in the eyes. “You know what we do when the wenches misbehave don’cha?” The cold steel of the knife pressed against her cheek. “We teach ‘em a lesson, one they won’t forget.” He turned the knife in his hand, “Be a damn shame to ruin a pretty mug like yours though.”

Before any damage could be done, a bright light shone through the clearing, the leader shielding his eyes and dropping the knife, his grip faltering, letting Toriel fall to the ground. “The fuck are you two doing?!” he yelled out, still shielding his eyes. “Stop stroking your cocks and find the whoreson!”

The other two jumped up, drawing their weapons, still rubbing their eyes. One walked into the treeline where he thought he was the light coming from. There was the sound of trees rustling, and his scream cut short.

Hearing the cut short cry, the other dropped his weapon, sprinting towards the trees opposite where his comrade disappeared.  Before he could get far, a fireball caught him in the small of his back, knocking him over face first into the dirt. There were heavy footsteps approaching from the forest.

His vision slightly regained, the leader looked over at the source of the commotion, his eyesight still blurry. Seeing a large silhouette, he let out a scream, backing away before falling back. The tried to crawl away backwards, but the long strides of the figure caught up to him.

“No! Wait!” he pleaded. “We can settle this, man to man, right?” He let out a nervous chuckle.

The being harrumphed, drawing his weapon. The man continued his pleading, snot and tears running down his face.  The weapon was drawn back, the strike connecting miserable man’s head, knocking him out cold. He collected the bodies of the humans, all unconscious, tying them to the pole that Toriel was attached too.  The restraints that held her in place were cut, and she was in the arms of her rescuer.

She was slipping in and out of consciousness as his quick strides carried her through the forest.  His arms were strong, yet he was very gentle, making sure to not jolt her though the voyage. Eventually, exhaustion washed over her, her eyes closing and the forest disappearing as she fell asleep.

~~~

Toriel woke again, seemingly hours later, the headache receding. She looked around, the sight of canvas the only thing in view.  She struggled to get up, but her muscles cried out and she gasped in pain suddenly.  She tried once more, forcing her body to move. Still nothing. She gave up her attempts to leave the furs that wrapped around her body. She couldn’t say it was uncomfortable.

A white head popped in through the tent’s entrance, the face of Asgore Dreemurr peering through the flap. “Oh good, you’re finally awake,” he said, the rest of his body filling inside the makeshift shelter, “Do you need anything?”

Toriel turned her head, looking for the source of the voice. Her eyes widened at the sight, the Prince of all monsters himself was caring for her, “P-Prince!” she exclaimed, trying her best to move her arms to a salute.

Asgore’s face turned worried “Don’t strain yourself for formalities! It’s just you and me, no need to be stiff about this sort of thing,” he smiled again, “Besides, right now your welfare is more important. Are you hungry?”

The grumbling in her stomach answered that question, she nodded. Asgore got up with a brief nod of his own, making his way out of the tent. Toriel stretched her back, the muscles still sore from the night before. She strained and managed to move her arms, unwrapping the soft blanket from her body.  She got up, much to the disdain of her aching legs, and stretched again, some bones popping back into their places.  She let out a satisfied sigh.

Only adorned in her undergarments, she looked for her cloak, which was feld neatly in the corner. It was in tatters, far beyond repair.  The tent flap opened again, Asgore walking in with a tray holding two bowls in his hands, muttering, “I hope that soup is fine, it’s all I re-” He let out a surprised yelp at the scantily clad monster staring back at him. He turned quickly, shutting his eyes. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know you got up.” He set the tray down. “I’ll get you something more, erm… modest.” He left the tent in a hurry.

Toriel moved to the tray to the cot, sitting down and hastily taking the soup and spoon and digging in. She emptied the bowl in record time, though it only partially satisfied her hunger. She set the wooden utensils down on the tray, the warm food making her feel better. A shaky hand shot through the opening, a simple purple robe with white sleeves dangling from its digits. She grabbed it from him, slipping it over her form.  It was slightly big, but it was nice enough.  “Come in,” she called.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he entered, “I hope you take no offense, I just didn’t… expect anything like that.” He sat down next to her on the cot, noticing the empty bowl on the tray. “Oh, do you want mine?” She nodded enthusiastically, scarfing down her second serving.

“Eat as much as you like, you were out for a couple of days.” She nearly choked on her soup. A couple of days? That felt like barely a night! “Don’t worry, I made sure nothing bad happened. I watched over you.” The words sat in the air, Asgore thinking about what he just said. “Not creepily, or anything! Just trying to make sure you were- safe!” he stammered. Toriel looked at him curiously.

“Not that you aren’t attractive or anything! I mean, you’re gorgeous! I mean… um cute? No, that’s not it…” he trailed off, a blush showing on his cheeks.  Toriel was taken aback, the Prince of monster himself turned into a blabbering fool over her?

“It’s no problem, Prince Dreemurr. I take no offense.” She downed another spoonful of soup.

“Just Asgore is fine. I don’t truly care for formalities,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, Asgore, the soup was delicious.” She set down her second finished bowl, the spoon placed on top of it. “...And your company was also very enjoyable. You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered, you know.” Asgore’s blush doubled, migrating over to his ears. He hid his face behind his large hands. Toriel chuckled at his reaction. “The soldiers were right! You’re just a big, lovable goof.”

Asgore peaked from behind his furry cover, removing his hands when he saw her smiling.  He grew his own grin, laughing with her. “I guess that’s true. I never could be as stern as my father was--oo much of my mom in me, I suppose.”

“I think the best leaders are the cutesy ones,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Stop calling me cute!” he said with mock anger.

“But it’s true! My mother always told me to not lie, especially in front of royalty,” she said with a fake aristocratic accent. The two laughed at her joke, Asgore’s demeanor changing as he got more comfortable.

Once the laughing calmed down, Toriel asked: “So, when will you be the “King of All Monsters?”

“You can’t be a king without a queen,” he responded.

“You haven’t married!” she exclaimed. “Why haven’t you? I’d imagine the idea of having both you as a husband and the ability to be the Queen would cause girls to be crawling all over you.”

“Oh, you’re quite right about that. I have to hide myself in public just to get away from the hubbub and stampede of ladies hoping that I’d take their hand.” He sighed. “My father even tried to arrange some marriages, but I’d always refuse. I want a marriage for more than just “King and Queen,’ I want someone I could spend the rest of my life and be happy with. What about you, do you have a special someone back home?”

“I never thought about it. I’d of course get the usual cat call from monsters and humans alike, but I didn’t really ever get in a relationship. Maybe when I’m older, or maybe even tomorrow. I’m just waiting for the right person.”

Asgore hummed in agreement, “I see the wisdom to that. Oh! I just realized that I never caught your name!”

Toriel laughed, “I guess I never really gave it to you, did I. It’s Toriel.”

“Toriel,” Asgore repeated, rolling the words in his mouth. “Well, Toriel, forgive me, but I’m afraid I might just do something stupid if I stay for too long.” He prepared to get up, “Do you want anymore so-” he started before being cut off. She lunged forward, capturing him into a kiss. He opened his eyes wide at the sudden move, before finally relaxing into it.

She led the kiss, putting the two through the motions, Asgore didn’t resist. The stayed there, the bond between the two forming. The kiss was passionate, almost needy.  Asgore took her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her. She hummed, returning the hug.  The two stayed there, before Toriel broke the kiss off.

“That stupid enough for you?” she joked, licking her lips.

A small chuckle erupted from Asgore’s throat. “I guess so. Wouldn’t have done it any better myself.”