His Duties - Monday

It was raining that morning. Not heavily, but it was pretty constant. That was fine, he needed to practise this spell anyway.

As the large figure walked down the street with a bag of tools on his shoulder, individual droplets of rain vanished with a faint hiss and a puff of steam. He hadn't needed to do this for centuries, and the rust was showing as a few drops dodged the net and dampened the fur on his arms. He didn't mind though. Even the extra large umbrella he bought was a cumbersome thing with the joints occasionally catching on the fur on his hand, and the rain coat wasn't much use with his horns. The occasional pattering of water was actually soothing. As he dwelled on this he arrived at his destination. Time to fulfil his duties.

Asgore walked up to the front door of the school and, fiddling with the keys, opened it for the day. His deceptively light footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as he made his way to the basement. In typical fashion, the furnace had gone out. He looked forward to when CAP would be up and running. In the meantime he grabbed a few logs and some coal, loaded up the furnace and, with a gesture, watched it become a roaring fire. Good for the less hairy students attending, even if it made him personally uncomfortable.

Double checking the boiler, everything looked good. Heading back to the corridors, he appraised the floors for the first time. Looked like Woshua had just finished washing them. That was a relief, somehow they hadn't found a mop for him that didn't require him bent double, and while he wasn't getting any older, it still puts a strain on your back. It was a great idea of Frisk's to hire him. A few voices called from the cafeteria. The cooks had arrived to prepare for the breakfast program. Good, he could attend to his duties.

The rain was mere drizzle now, so his spell should block it all. There was a large puddle in the middle of the path. He knew ideally he should clear it first, but the kids love puddles. Perhaps he'd tidy up the bushes first. He'd meant to do that last week, but his actual duties had called for the first time in a while. The cloak and crown duties. It wasn't serious, some eminent domain issue about the pipes and cables for CAP, but it had taken him away from the school for several days. Diplomacy was a lot more...bureaucratic than he remembered. He couldn't complain, it was preferable to negotiation at the tip of a spear.

Sure enough, as he cleared the nasal cavity of Papyrus' leafy skull, children had started to arrive. The scaly ones had fun splashing in the puddle, while the hairier ones studiously avoided it. They might have enjoyed splashing, but a teacher would have had to fastidiously dry their paws off with a towel, and that would have been embarrassing.

They waved at him as they entered the school. He remembered visiting some of them in Snowdin. Not many people could claim to see their erstwhile leader on such a regular basis, but it made Asgore smile. The few human children, however. He was just as cordial with them as with the monsters, but they didn't seem to reciprocate. Was it because they were scared of him? He doubted it, they seemed to get on well with Toriel. He hadn't given it much thought, it meant thinking about...well, there was a time and a place for that.

As he continued work on his latest project, a bush around half his height and vaguely shaped like a small person, his equal arrived, donning a smart sun-yellow cardigan. She looked at him trimming the hedge, then to the large puddle, then back to him, with a brief smile. He knew what she'd be thinking, that of course he'd prioritise this, even though they discussed this before. It was almost endearing how little this had changed.

"Asgore."

"Toriel."

It was a polite exchange, even warm. He had a feeling if not for that last moment of shared pain they couldn't have even made it this far, and in a ways he was grateful for it. And speaking of the pain, Frisk was approaching now, waving enthusiastically, and close behind them...

"...hi."

This was the politest the flower had been for some time. The motorized buggy he could control with his head had been a form of probation, a way to get around the soil-free parts of town. Frisk and Toriel kept a kill switch should he try and run for it, but it had been months since he tried. Maybe he was just resigned to it now. He hadn't even argued when Toriel suggested he attend school. She had said how it was time to learn more about the world, and it was something they could do together, seeing how she kept maybe two weeks ahead of her classes. Asgore saw right through her reasons for suggesting it. Clearly she wanted to see more of him. Asgore hadn't contributed to the discussion at all, but the benefit of seeing him was one he shared. Even though they had to keep his name in their hearts, as putting it elsewhere was one way to need new windows, for the moment it felt acceptable.

The four of them briefly looked at the child-sized hedge. He hadn't told any of them what or who it was supposed to be, but even if he didn't know it the other three had figured it out. Flowey in particular regarded it with interest. Looking away from it, Asgore noted two copies of a light blue book Frisk was holding.

"Oh, is that the book you're reading in English class?"

Frisk nodded. "'Thanks for the Sardine'. It's pretty funny."

"It is a peculiar book." mused Toriel aloud. "They act so strangely. And yet its conclusion is a worthwhile lesson to impart on young minds, about what family can be if we give each other a chance."

There was a grumpy snort from the buggy.

"Oh, you disagree, Flowey?" Toriel took a deeper breath than necessary to continue. "I thought you had insisted you would not finish the book until we read it in class."

"Believe me, I wanted to." said Flowey. "But Frisk here wouldn't stop being a bookworm and reading ahead and talking to me about it. So now I know how it ends, and you're wrong."

"I am? Well what do you think the book tries to say?"

"It's a useful lesson, but not just for kids." Flowey looked blank, but his tone had a trace of resentment. "It's about how you shouldn't try to force people to be what they're not and just let them be themselves, no matter what you really want them to be."

Asgore looked over at Toriel. Her face was reserved, but he was sure that would have gotten to her. This wasn't really about the story. He glanced down at Frisk, and their expression betrayed they thought Flowey was closer to the meaning than Toriel, even if they didn't agree with how he was applying it. He'd have to take their word for it.

"Well," replied Toriel steadily. "We can discuss that when the rest of the class have read it, before we move onto our next book. Now come along children, the bell shall ring shortly."

Asgore watched them enter the school, and thought about the conversation. Flowey was clearly benefiting from his time at school if he could ponder the implications of a story like that. After the first few temper tantrums surrounding schoolwork and homework and a visit from Sans to remind him to behave, Toriel had told him of the armistice, that Flowey would do what was asked of him and no more. He had been getting good marks, not as good as he once might have, but it seems like education had given his life some well needed structure. Even if he used that structure to rebuff what was offered.

As Toriel had warned, the bell rang, the last few stragglers ran inside, and Asgore found himself alone again. The rain had stopped at last. Good time to take care of that puddle. Raising an arm, the magic almost flowed automatically. The puddle began to bubble as steam rose from it, and it steadily shrunk until it vanished entirely, leaving a patch of entirely dry pavement in the middle of the still somewhat damp path from the street to the front door. That was one duty addressed. Time to move onto others

An hour later, the chipped paint of the cafeteria wing was covered by a fresh coat. Of course, now the rest of the building looked a bit scuffed by comparison. What was the human expression? Don't start what you can't finish? He laughed, imagining Toriel saying how he badly needed that advice, and he'd have agreed. He could have spent the day finishing it, but he had a few other things to do. Better to set aside a weekend and do it properly, or maybe wait until summer vacation. Maybe he could raise it at the PTA and suggest the Royal Colours again. Actually that probably wouldn't pan out, Toriel had mixed feelings about it, and this was her area of expertise after all.

The gutters needed cleaning. If he was truly on his own, he might have used a spell to make himself featherlight and just jumped up, which would save time, but the kids would probably see him and that would be a bad example to copy, especially if it was the human children. Fetching the ladder it was. Fortunately human ladders, while a bit narrow, were really sturdy, having to hold the weight of all that water humans had in them. Despite his size, he was barely heavier than Frisk, and was still able to play with them on the see saw when they got a chance, while they held Flowey so he wouldn't feel left out and...hmm. Ah, they weren't too clogged this time. A little magical force - no fire this time - was enough to push the detritus clear. A brief washdown with the hose and the gutters looked brand new. Down again, across the playground, up again, rinse and repeat.

This school had a lot riding on it, and Asgore never forgot that. He was grateful to help out, and while he knew his occasional forays to meet diplomats and politicians were of the utmost importance in the long run, being able to act on something so immediate was satisfying. No difficult questions to answer when a trash can gets knocked over. No hard choices when a lightbulb breaks. These were the duties he cherished.

****

The dark clouds that had been there since he woke up that morning were brightening, though still keeping a monopoly on the sun. It was half an hour until lunchtime. Heading back round to the front, to his nearby toolshed, he noticed the half-finished hedge. He wanted to grab his shears and continue work on it. But he needed to see if there was any paperwork that demanded his attention. He could be called away at any time, and wanted to ensure that Woshua had plenty of notice so he wouldn't get carried away and try to clean the kids' art projects or something. Again. As good as he was at cleaning, he needed structure almost as much as Flowey.

His inbox, usually topped up by Papyrus or Undyne dropping by in the morning, had a few notes of varying formalities. An early cup of tea, and he'd examine them in detail. It was as he held the kettle in his hand heating it up he noticed the tupperware box on the table with a note.

"Know it's been a while, thought you'd like this - Frisk and-" But the second name had been obliterated by angry looking scribbles.

Opening the box, it was a large piece of pie. It looked like Frisk had carefully smuggled it from last night's dinner table and darted in here while Toriel took them to school. He laughed again. In the early days on the surface there had been a definite edge in Toriel's refusal to offer him pie, maybe even a sense of not wanting to reopen those feelings. But Frisk's influence had won out, and now it was almost a game the three of them played, Frisk trying to smuggle a slice whenever they could without Toriel noticing. She almost certainly knew every time it happened, but she didn't say anything. She'd even brushed some crumbs off his beard once without further comment. Also it looked like this time Flowey had got in on the fun. It was impossible to read whatever was beneath the scribbles, but he wagered Frisk had either accidentally or deliberately used the name. Asgore admired their determination, and wondered what toy or book had paid the price for Frisk's refusal to let go. The fact it would elicit such a response was almost...No, don't dwell on it now, these letters needed to be acted on.

The only one properly sealed had a city council identifier rather than a legal office or personal address, so he couldn't continue his most important duty just yet. Looked like there was another meeting about CAP tomorrow morning and he needed to straighten a few things out, so he'd have to tell Toriel he'd be busy. The rest of the notes were far less formal, and thus far more urgent. The pie would have to wait. Not to worry. Like anything out of Toriel's oven, it would keep as long as he needed it to.

Taking a moment to drink his tea, he mentally plotted out the route around town he'd have to take. The cup drained, he grabbed his spare crown from the coat hanger, one made cheaply from tin in case he had to speak for monsters at short notice, and carefully adjusted it on his head. He then grabbed a slab of wood with another crown carved on it and hung it on the door of the shed, so Toriel would know where he had gone if she came looking, and set off. He could hear the lunch bell ring as he reached the street corner.

****

The first port of call was easy enough. The large kennel-like building informally known as The Barracks. One of the few monsters taller than he was bounded into him, barking excitedly, but Asgore was adroit at keeping a firm stance against such assaults, and hadn't budged an inch. After Greater Dog had calmed down, Doggo had emerged to reiterate his hastily scribbled complaint about the weekend barbecue plans.

"I don't trust that guy Mettaton's sending to help cook the meat." he growled.

"Oh?" Asgore raised an eyebrow. "But you seemed to like those burgers he grilled, even if they were, em, a bit sparkly. Your tail didn't stop wagging."

"Yeah," he muttered begrudgingly. ", but I just don't like the look of him. No snout to speak of, a little pink nose, tiny triangular ears. It just ain't right."

Asgore sighed. "I told you the other day, it's not just for the Royal Guard. It is a day of fun for the schoolchildren and their parents too. I can't cook everything by myself."

"You don't need to! There's nothing wrong with it raw-"

"Not after last time." his tone was final. "I shall not have Undyne on the warpath again because half the Royal Guard get sick from undercooked steak. Now I can procure different less sparkly meat, but I am accepting any help Mettaton offers."

Doggo growled softly at the thought of the erstwhile assistant, but ceased all argument. "You're the boss, Boss."

"There's a good boy." He smiled as he gave Doggo a brief pet of the head, and then proceeded to his next destination.

****

"Ribbit."

"I quite agree, that wasn't fair of them."

"Ribbit!"

"Now I think that was going too far, there was no need to lose your temper."

"Croak?"

"I'll have a word, and if it happens again you can call me or Undyne, rather than take matters into your own hands."

"Ribbit."

"You're welcome."

Satisfied that Franklin understood, now it was across town to track down the offending Temmie which had so crassly and thoughtlessly impugned his personal honour, as Franklin had melodramatically put it. There were two approaches to resolving a dispute in which a Temmie was involved. Take an hour to talk them through why they were in the wrong until they understood, or buy two boxes of Temmie Flakes and they would do whatever you said out of gratitude. Sure enough, Asgore left the chat thinking about how to reorganise his cupboard to store the latest purchases. If he didn't know any better he'd have suspected the Temmies were running a racket of some sort.

****

The final hotspot, for want of a better word, was potentially the most serious. He'd have gone there straight away had the letter informing him not asked him to wait until the doctors assessed the situation. He arrived at the medical clinic to find a human man with a large burn hole on one of his trouser legs, with bandages apparent beneath it, and a Vulkin looking distraught. Doctor Drake, chief expert in human injuries caused by monsters, approached him.

"Andrew Ollys. Second degree burns on his shin." he sighed as he held a clipboard in his wings. "It was an entirely magical injury, so it should heal up completely with proper treatment."

"Can I assist?" offered Asgore. Toriel was far and away the better healer between the two of them in general, but they were evenly matched at handling burns owing to their affinity for fire.

"Of course, sir."

He turned to the patient. "Howdy, Mister Ollys! I'd like to help you with your leg. Mind if I take a look?"

Andrew viewed him all over, regarding his claws and his fangs and his horns and the tiny tin crown, but eventually rested on his bright purple eyes and seemed to relax a little at what he saw there. "Um, sure."

"Good! Now, this may feel rather hot."

Delicately he lowered his huge hands so they covered the burnt area entirely, and allowed the magic to flow through his hands with little conscious thought. Andrew grunted slightly at the new pressure on his wound, but as Asgore worked his look of discomfort faded.

"Hey, the pain's gone!"

Doctor Drake descended on him, and carefully removed the bandages. They looked a total mess, but told a misleading story as the leg underneath them looked like nothing had happened to it that day. The Doctor looked impressed.

"You know your way around burns, Your Majesty. Well Andrew, my human colleagues will want to run a couple of tests to make sure everything is fine, but then I think we can discharge you in an hour or two."

"Wonderful." beamed Asgore. He took out a large wallet, and with a degree of difficulty extracted three tiny bills and a business card. "Now Mister Ollys, on behalf of the monsters I offer my most sincere apologies for what happened. I'm going to have a word with our friend here, and then I can arrange a Taxi to take you wherever you want to go at my expense. This money should cover a new pair of trousers and any costs this accident has put on you. If you, er, wish for a more formal arrangement, my contact details are on the card if your attorney wants to-"

"No, no, don't worry about it." said Andrew, feeling his restored leg with fascination. "It really was an accident after all. Don't go too hard on her, she's been in convulsions since it happened."

"Well, you have the details if you change your mind." replied Asgore. "Oh, and we monsters are having a barbecue in the park on Saturday. You're more than welcome to come along."

"I don't know if I can, I have other plans. But thanks for the offer."

"Alright then, Mister Ollys. I must apologise once again for what you've gone through."

Doctor Drake continued to fuss over the leg. Without another word Asgore left the room, the Vulkin following him without prompting. They both stopped as they stepped outside the clinic.

"Valerie..."

"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "He was watching me fishing by the lake and we were talking about the rod I was using and he was so nice and said I had a good technique and I was so flattered and excited I hugged him without thinking! And then he started yelling in pain-"

"I know," he said sympathetically. ", and it's fortunate he considers the matter resolved, but you do recall Grillby's awareness meeting for Hotland residents about controlling their heat? Humans don't have the kind of tolerances for extremes that monsters do."

She sniffed as tears of lava streaked down her cheeks. "I just remember when Frisk hugged me and how nice it was."

"Yes," agreed Asgore. ", but Frisk is pretty unique among humans.

"Yeah," she looked a little more upbeat. ", they broke the barrier, they can do anything!"

"That's right." he said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. "So what I suggest you do is maybe practice around some Snowdin folk. You may make them uncomfortable, but they'll endure it better than a human will."

She nodded weakly, and then scurried away. Asgore then pulled out his brick of a phone and started dialling the number for TLL Taxies.

"Is that River Person? Howdy, it's Asgore, I need a favour."

****

He got back to the school with twenty minutes before final bell. There were a couple of odd jobs that needed done, but by the time he set up to handle them the hustle and bustle of hometime would make it awkward to attend to them. So instead he deposited his crown and retrieved his shears from his shed and continued working on the small hedge along the main path.

By the time the bell rang the hedge's main body was looking a lot less cylindrical, and something that might have been arms could be discerned. He continued clipping as the children filed past. He waved at most of them, but like in the morning only the monsters responded. Well, Frisk waved at him too as they turned to head into town. Flowey looked at him but gave no reaction beyond that. Was that an improvement? It was hard to say.

As the stream of children became a trickle, he decided the hedge could wait until tomorrow. He headed for the cafeteria to help clear out all the rubbish. The cooks could have managed on their own, but his great carrying capacity sped up the process considerably. He then tracked down Toriel, who was marking homework in her classroom.

"Er, Toriel..."

"Was it Doggo again, dragging you away?" Straight to business. He couldn't help but smile.

"Well, yes, but there were other matters to attend to. Valerie was in an accident with a human-"

"Hmph." she frowned, but it was more out of concern than annoyance. "That is the third 'Hotlands' incident in two months, Asgore. We cannot afford to become careless."

"I'm aware of that. He was most understanding, fortunately. I shall have a word with Grillby to arrange a refresher meeting just to be sure."

She nodded approvingly. "You do that."

"Oh, and the City have another meeting about CAP that they've invited me to. I'll probably take Alphys to explain the technical details, but even with that it may be most of tomorrow morning."

"That should be fine. As long as you open up the school Woshua can make sure the corridors are clean."

So...how was he today?

The question was on the tip of his tongue, but it was stuck there. He still didn't feel like he had the right to ask. He let it evaporate.

"Alright then. I'll have some sandwiches ready at my house when they come back from town, and you can collect them later."

"Thank you, Asgore. I shall lock up the school when I am finished with these."

He bowed slightly, an old habit from even before they had wed to show his respect for her decision, and headed for home.

****

He sat in the kitchen, admiring his handiwork. A pile of sandwiches he'd managed to assemble, and he had even been able to cut them into sort-of neat triangles. Once again Toriel had him beat when it came to wonderful recipes, but he could at least trust himself to heat up meat and assemble slices of cheese and bread with some butter and produce something edible.

Holding his kettle in his hand, he was reminded of doing this earlier that day, and realised the pie was still in his shed. Looked like it had been granted a reprieve. As the kettle warmed up, he looked out the window at the much neater handiwork in his garden. There hadn't been anything to do to them when he got home. He'd done most of the serious pruning and caring at the weekend, and then the morning's rain had taken care of the rest. It was nice to have this time to practice his kitchen skills, even if he was currently just polishing the skill he had long mastered. He had just finished straining the tea when he heard the front door.

"Howdy! How did you get on in town today?"

"We visited Gerson." replied Frisk. "You know, I think ever since he moved to the surface his memory's gotten better. He likes telling us stories now."

"Yeah, well," said Flowey in a bored voice. "I know most of them already. Not that he knows."

Asgore regarded them for a moment. That had indeed been a regular activity when they passed through Waterfall, long ago.

"Anyway Frisk, I have sandwiches ready. Make sure you don't leave here with an empty stomach."

"Thanks. Also, um, Flowey was a bit tired today. Can you check his soil?"

"Frisk! If I want help I'll ask for it!"

But Asgore had already unbuckled the pot from the buggy and brought him over to a table by the back door where a couple of other pots and assorted gardening tools laid. He touched none of these, and instead gently prodded a large finger into the soil.

"Hmm." he said clinically. "Dry. Very crumbly. You're not getting enough water. And the colour is very light. I'd say you've been sitting in this soil for, maybe two weeks?"

"...three." he eventually admitted.

"Well that would explain it. You've gotten everything you can from that soil. In a sense, you're starving."

"Flowey," said Frisk. ", I filled your next pot last week, and the week before, and gave you privacy to move yourself. Why didn't you do it?"

The leaves at his stem twitched in what may have been a shrug. "Maybe I wanna move when I wanna move, not when you tell me to."

"Independence is laudable," said Asgore. ", but you're moving past independence into unnecessary stubbornness again. I'll prepare a pot here for you."

"Golly, how nice." The tone disagreed with the words.

Frisk and Flowey watched him gather soil from the one plant-free part of the garden, Frisk eating their sandwiches and Flowey wearing a face like they were being insensitive for doing so. He came back inside, and carefully packed it in a blue pot that stood apart from his current brown-red one, suggesting to Frisk that they get different coloured pots so it would be easier to keep track of whether Flowey had actually moved.

"And what if I still don't want to move, huh?"

Frisk had grabbed their phone. "Hello, Sans? Oh, nothing much, Flowey's just-"

"Okay, fine!"

He didn't help, but he didn't resist either. This suited Asgore actually, it was like repotting a regular plant. He carefully took him out of his old pot, clearing away any soil that clung to his roots, and gently lowered him into the new pot, covering the roots with much darker soil, and then poured a little water from his can. He knew that had done the trick, as Flowey straightened up slightly like he had been invigorated. This wasn't a sign he saw in his other flowers, but he had learned to recognise it here. He smiled in satisfaction.

"Change your pot next Monday, and you won't need me to stand over you and make sure you do it."

"Say thank you, Flowey."

"'Thank you, Flowey!'" The cheeriness was entirely fabricated.

"You're welcome." Mock praise was an improvement from the old insults.

This was followed by an exchange of the day's events. Frisk had learned of Valerie's accident when they found her hanging around the Snowbunny's shop, and had almost hugged her to make her feel better when they realised that might send mixed signals. Flowey snorted when Asgore showed them the cupboard full of Temmie Flakes. He then faked a cough where the word "racket" could be plainly heard. Meanwhile Frisk's class had finished the book they were reading and would start another one on Wednesday. Curiously Flowey had not contributed to the class discussion like he had that morning. When pressed he said he'd already said his piece. Asgore didn't push, but he noticed Frisk regarding him intently.

The sandwiches finished, Asgore transplanted the tea onto a tray and moved into the living room to watch some television. Flowey's regular demand they watch the action movie channel was once again vetoed. Everyone had agreed that was for the weekend when all homework had been done. So instead it was a science fiction show. Frisk had said they loved these shows before coming to Mount Ebott, but time in the presence of Alphys seemed to have robbed the show of its novelty.

The show had a good sense of timing. There was a knock on the door as the credits wrapped up. Toriel had finished marking the homework and had been making preliminary notes for geography lessons she had planned for a few weeks later. She thanked Asgore for repotting Flowey and agreed to get different pots so as not to enable his self-neglect. Frisk hugged him goodbye, and Flowey regarded him blankly, like he was appraising him, before following them out the door.

With the house empty, he proceeded to his bedroom. Better make sure his proper crown and cloak were in order if he was to attend a formal meeting. Sure enough they were just as clean as when he had absently cleaned them yesterday. Just as he looked around for pyjamas, he noticed the open book on his desk. Right where he had left it.

Nice day today!

The last time he had written in this book, the barrier still existed. So much had gone on since, highs and lows, negotiations and arguments and duties, he had fallen out of the habit. And yet he felt there were things he should be noting. The surface was infinitely more varied in less than a year than the journal would have bore witness to in the Underground. So much had gone on. So many feelings to express.

He turned away from it, and located his pyjamas.