The King's Torment - by planeanon

7 years after the liberation

My eyes darted open as my heart throbbed frantically. Tearing asunder my covers and becoming upright on my bed, hyperventilating, I realized I was in no danger. I was still in my own room, in my own home. Alone. I proceeded to slump back into the mattress, the springs in it letting out a creak and a wheeze of protest due to my hefty form's weight. Grunting out a sigh, I covered myself again with my wool sheets, shutting my eyes and trying to slide back into the slumber I was so inadvertently pulled out of.

For the past few months, every other night this would happen. It seemed to have stopped for a few weeks, but now it was back. It had been the same overall formula all the times it'd happened: I'd dream of being back... there again. Voices. High-pitched voices. The voices of children, echoing throughout my chambers. I'd hear my wife, giggling. I'd feel sluggish, trying to move out of my throne. I was unable to see anyone. Everything was grey, even the flowers that covered the halls and rooms of my fortress of solitude were devoid of color. I'd look out through my windows and all I'd see would be a void. I'd hear my son, calling out to me.

This fever dream had haunted me for a few years now, even despite being on the surface and well-established within human society. I was even able to talk to Toriel again! Frisk had done wonders for our relationship. But all those years buried beneath those tons and tons of rock still tormented me. I could tell it also haunted Tori, though our inner struggles were much, much different.

My mind kept racing, and I found myself unable to gather any amount of strength or willpower to force myself to sleep again. I could use something to wet my throat anyway.  I stood upright yet again, bringing myself to a sitting position just about ready to hop off the side of my bed. Yawning, I ran my fingers through my messy, dirty hair, massaging the base of my horns before wiping my eyes and sliding into my slippers.

I looked over my shoulder towards the direction of a heavily ornamented longcase clock, adorned at the top with the delta rune. Just as I turned to face it, it struck 3:30. Hopping groggily onto my feet, I made my way out of my room towards the kitchen, which was just next to the living room.

Moonlight dimly shone through the small skylight on the roof, giving the entire room a slight blue hue. Stepping into the kitchen, I flipped the lights on and filled a small kettle's worth of water, before putting it on the stove. I could have simply used my fire magic to heat up said water, but I used my better judgment and decided for the safer option. A little flame sprung to life with easy at the flick of the button, the hum of burning gas breaking the impeccable silence in which my home found itself in.

While I waited patiently for the flames to heat up the water, I couldn't help but another long yawn, this one much more pronounced then the last one. I thought about the things I'd do the following day. Not much, really, my next-door neighbor had asked me to trim his hedges and kill some weeds. Undyne had called me this morning asking if I'd be willing to go to her Gym to show some of my tactics to her students. All this seemed really mundane, but mundane was just my kind of thing now. I didn't mind. I wanted to get as far away from my life as a King as I possibly could. Barely any good came out of said life.

I couldn't get my mind off that terrible dream, as hard as I tried, I was always drawn back to its distorted, faded images and distant sounds. The voices of children seemed to resonate the most within my head

Perhaps if I talked to someone about it it'd help? But whom to talk with? A psychiatrist? Unlikely, as much as I am open with whom I meet, this is something that has simply been clinging to me too hard. Perhaps Frisk? No, no... He's too young, I don't want to taint him with my desperation or suffering. The only person I could think of that would understand to some degree my pain would be... well.. Toriel.

Should I call her? In the middle of the night? That would be a most inconsiderate course of action, disturbing her sleep like that. I contended myself with just drinking some tea and heading back to bed, "I'll figure this out tomorrow" I whispered to myself.

Soon enough the water was boiling, and I served myself a nice cup of golden flower tea. Sipping away, while seated in a raggedy wood chair I hummed away an old forgotten tune, scratching my beard. I arched my back a little, prompting a creak from the chair, as well as a snapping noise from my spine. Before long, I had emptied the cup of all liquid and only a faint scent of tea remained.

I shuffled my way back into my room, once again collapsing on my bed and tucking myself beneath the long sheets, forcefully shutting my eyes and yawning. It wasn't long until I started to feel my senses fading, my breath slowing down and serenity washing over my mind. At last, asleep.

Suddenly, I heard chirping. Faint, distant chirping, but chirping nonetheless. How odd, no birds are up and about this late at night. I open my eyes but I'm met with overwhelming brightness, rubbing my eyes while cleaning my throat. Opening my eyes again, I squint, slowly waiting for my retina to adjust to the light.

Golden flowers covered the whole floor, as well as parts of the walls. Beaming sunlight shone through a few holes on the stone roof. Stained glass windows lined both sides of the chamber. I was sitting down on a heavily ornamented throne. A silky purple cape covering my entire body, held by large golden shoulder blades.  I stand up, my feet softly pressing against the flowing sea of flowers that covers the room. I motion forward a few feet before coming to a halt. How was I back here? There was no way this could be a dream, everything felt... too real.

Walking around I noticed, like the many other fever dreams, I was entirely alone, the metal sound of my armor echoing throughout the hallowed halls of my stone abode. The capital, this time visible from my window, was in immaculate silence. I wandered aimlessly around my home, looking in every nook and cranny possible for any sign of life. Nothing.

This had to be some sort of twisted version of that damned dream I kept having. Yes, of course. No other possible explanation for this madness. Sitting back down on my throne, I gripped my head firmly, with both hands, digging my fingers beneath my long hair, prompting my crown to tumble down from my head, onto my cape, finally landing neatly on a single flower. My eyes were tightly shut. I could feel my heart throb again. My breathing started to become erratic. I was waking up!

No. I was not.

Instead, a voice coming from directly in front of me pierced my ears. A familiar voice. A distressed voice.

"D-Daddy...?"

My son's voice.

My eyes shot open wide, looking towards the source of the voice. There he was, my own long dead son, standing right in front of me, holding his trembling hands together with streams of tears sliding down his cheeks. He had an expression of utter terror on his eyes, and from his posture he seemed to be either extremely tired, or in excruciating pain.

I nervously got up from my throne, inching closer to him with an anxious shuffle.

"Asriel, my son. Do not worry, I am here." I said, stretching out my arms from under my long cape.

With every step I took towards him, he seemed to back away further from me, almost as if the thing he was afraid of was myself.

"Daddy, please. I'm scared." he whimpered

"It's going to be fine, Asriel. I promise!" I said, my voice trembling while getting closer to him, the pace in which I walked increasing slowly.

"I-I'm really cold.."

"Come to me, my son! I'll tuck you into your bed and read you a story!"

But Asriel continued backing away in terror, eventually becoming cornered up against a wall. He was now hysterical, covering his eyes and sniffing intensely.

"Everything will be alright. I'm here for you." I whispered, trying to comfort my little fragile offspring. To no avail, if anything, he was now even more agitated, sliding down the cold stone wall and curling up into a ball, sobbing and crying relentlessly.

"Please... D-Daddy." he cried.

I slowly grabbed hold of him, lifting him by his arms and holding him near me, his tears staining my cape. He felt very weak, very frail, very cold. He shook uncontrollably, gripping my neck desperately. It felt so real. I was starting to doubt if this was in fact a dream. Part of me wished it really was one, part of me did not. I gently caressed his head, his fur seamlessly gliding through my large, robust fingers.

Abruptly, however, his whimpering, shaking and crying ceased, all at once. His grip on me loosening to the point of letting go. Something wasn't right. I held him up in front of me, his eyes closed. He seemed to have gone completely limp.

"Son, are you... feeling better?" I queried him

He slowly opened his eyes, looking straight into mine and replied:

".....No."

Upon his answer, specs of dust started floating down from the top of his head, sliding down into my view and onto my hands.

"... No, N-NO!!" I stammered.

I was helpless to do anything, slowly, his form started to dissipate,  his eyes disappearing into a mass of grey dust, in. His feet and legs became like a waterfall of dust, creating a small mound of the powder at the base of my own feet. I was paralyzed, I tried to scream, I tried to grip the flowing remains of my son, but I was powerless. Soon, all that remained was his green and yellow-striped sweater, which lay in my own hands.

Stunned, I let the sweater slip out of my hands and into the ground. Revealing the SOUL of my  fallen angel, levitating just a few inches off from my nose. But I was still frozen, I couldn't do anything, only cry as I watched the very essence of my child shatter and disappear before my own eyes.

I collapsed onto my knees, gripping the sweater which lay neatly on the mound of mortal remains. I stuffed my head into the sweater, sobbing uncontrollably, my fists clenching in a mixture of seething rage and utmost despair.

I felt my entire body burning, my heart throbbing out of control, my breath becoming deeper and deeper with every inhale and exhale. On the palms of my hands I felt the materialization of my fire magic, and around me I could feel the room becoming hotter and hotter. I could not hold in my torment any longer, letting go of the sweater, I cast fire throughout the entire throne room, setting the bed of flowers, as well as my throne, aflame, before letting out a bellowing scream.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

My voice reverb with such intensity and might, that I felt the very stones that lay foundation to the castle vibrate, and the stained glass windows shattering violently, sending glass shards flying throughout the room, none of them hitting me.

I was exhausted, I was done, I was at the brink of my own sanity.

I let out a whimper.

"Asriel..."

Then I woke up.