The Garden, Chapter 7

	The car door clicked open to reveal Frisk gleefully jumping out from the passenger seat, and Asgore lumbering slowly behind her. She bounced excitedly at the door, waiting for the old King to unlock it. Despite his house being uncharacteristic of the large goat monster, it was still homey and she loved spending time there with her goatdad.

	The sound of keys jingling and tumblers clicking sounded as he turned the knob, Frisk entering eagerly. She threw her bag onto the sofa, taking a seat. She patted the cushion next to her.

	“You promised,” she said, putting on the saddest face she could muster.

	Asgore blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “Frisk… I do not think that this is a good idea.”

	“You. Promised.” She spoke with a strong yet well-meaning, deadpan voice, which was a bit uncharacteristic of Frisk.

	Asgore whimpered, accepting defeat and sitting on the floor in front of the child, who was no longer holding her sad facade. She grabbed a nearby planter, small pink, blue and red flowers adorning the stems. Plucking off some of the flowers, she set them down on the table. After she grabbed a sufficient amount, the child ran her hands through Asgore’s mane, the luxuriously soft hair flowing between her fingers. She snatched one of the flowers, tying the red petals into his golden locks. Tugging the knot tight, she moved onto the next, braiding his long hair and adorning it with pretty little flowers.

	Not even his beard was spared, his proud whiskers now tied into a neat knot at the bottom, a strand of string keeping it in place. Despite his complaints, he couldn’t say he hated it. When he saw his own reflection, he chuckled at how ridiculous he looked, but he loved the new look.

	“You look pretty!” Giggled Frisk, standing on her tiptoes looking at his reflection, “I think you could pull it off.”

	He laughed, picking up his daughter, “Me? Pretty? My child, I am the King of Monsters! I am a ferocious beast!”

	“With a big old pudgy belly!” She exclaimed, patting the front of his shirt, “You’re cute! Cute!”

	“Am I? What about…” he pulled her up face to face, “My fangs!” He showed off his pearly teeth, jutting out his fangs. He snarled silently, just to add to the effect.

	Frisk giggled again, “They’re adorable!” She raised a finger up, booping his nose.

	He feigned injury. “No! Not my snout! I’ve been hit!” He fell, landing heavily onto the carpet. “My only weakness!” While he did his best to stay in character, Frisk was in stitches, her laughing fit leaving her breathless.

	“Mercy! I beg of you!” He couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “What must I do for you to spare me?”

	“Accept that you’re cute.” Frisk said, smiling down at her adoptive father.

	“If I must…” He sighed with melodramatic effect, “I, Asgore Daphne Dreemurr, King of all Monsters Underground… am cute.”

	He broke into laughter, joining Frisk. After the two calmed down, she closed her eyes, resting her head on Asgore’s chest. “You’re the best, dad.”

	“You’re the best daughter I could ever ask for.” He felt a pang of guilt, thinking to way back when, but he tried not to linger on the past. He pulled her into a light hug, “What do you say for a little bit of TV before you get to your homework.”

	“But mom doesn’t usually let me do that,” said Frisk, picking herself up.

	Asgore put a finger to his lips, “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.” Frisk chuckled, nodding and putting her own finger to her lips. Asgore grabbed the remote, the screen flickering on. The two surfed through the channels looking for something for them to both watch, when Asgore’s phone rang.

	He apologized and picked it up, listening to the person on the other line. “Uh huh, ok.” He said into the receiver, “I’ll meet you then.” He looked down at Frisk.

	“You have to go meet someone?” She asked, a twinge of sadness in her voice.

	The old monster sighed, “Yeah, sorry Frisk. Gerson wanted to talk about something with me.”

	“No girls allowed?” She managed a small smile.

	He grinned back, “Yeah, sorry. No girls allowed.” He ruffled her hair, “I’ll be back within a few hours. You can handle yourself, yes?”

	She nodded as Asgore lifted himself from his seat, “I’ll tell Gerson you said ‘hi,’ and there’s some leftovers in the fridge.”

	She waved as he left for the garage, reclining back against the couch. She tuned into one of the many channels, her favorite show already on.

~~~

	Toriel was sitting at her kitchen counter, Sans at her side. She could feel the regret crawling from her stomach, cursing herself for inviting the Skeletons over for her to sample Papyrus’s newest endeavor at cuisine.

	In front of her sat a steaming bowl, the noodles and sauce begging to be eaten. “come on tori, it’s actually pretty good this time,” insisted Sans, though she took it with a grain of salt. She sighed quietly as she took the fork in hand, raising it to her snout. She dared not to breath and she took a bite.

	Toriel loved Papyrus, his endeavors and determination to be a better cook always warmed her heart. He came over often with Sans, nearly begging her to sample his newest dish. She would scrunch her nose and take a bite, the spaghetti not horrible per se, but still not that great. It was certainly improving, but by what margin she was not sure. But this time, something she did not expect happened.

	Instead of an odd connection of flavors spreading across her tongue, some making no sense at all, sometimes she would catch a hint of what seemed to be peach, it was actually divine. It was nice and tangy, without being overbearing, and the noodles were perfectly al dente. She took a sigh of relief, taking another forkful.

	Sans’s smile seemed to grow, even though it couldn’t, “told you it was good. you should really trust me sometimes.” She ignored him, eating another bite, “wow, you’re really ravenous. i’m glad that you could put the not so good concoctions my brother made in the ‘pasta’... ‘orzo’ it seems.”

	“SANS, I DON’T WANT YOUR PUNS TO RUIN THE MEAL FOR MISS TORIEL.” Said an exasperated Papyrus.

	Sans chuckled, “i don’t think the meal would be ruined even by the ‘wurst’ food pun i could come up with.”

	Toriel sighed as she cleared the plate of any stray strands of spaghetti, licking her lips, “My goodness Papryus, no offense meant, but when did you get so good at cooking?”

	“WELL, I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, ‘PAPYRUS, WHAT IS IT THAT MAKES SPAGHETTI AS GREAT AND AMAZING AS YOU?’ AND THEN IT HIT ME!” He was beaming, “DON’T LISTEN TO WHAT UNDYNE TAUGHT ME!” Sans chuckled. “SO I STARTED COMPLETELY OVER!”

	Toriel tore a piece of bread from a nearby loaf, sopping up some of the sauce in the bowl. “That makes sense, sometimes you have to start from scratch when things aren’t working out.”

	“IT’S WHAT I ALWAYS SAY! SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA BREAK THINGS TO FIX THEM. LIKE… RELATIONSHIPS!” Toriel stopped mid bite, her mouth held open. Sans was shocked. Papyrus quickly realized his mistake, “OH NO! I’M SO SORRY MISS TORIEL. I DIDN’T THINK-”

	Toriel laughed. “Oh, it’s fine Papyrus. Don’t worry about, it’s in the past. That just… took me off guard, is all.” She offered her plate to the tall skeleton. “Could you make me another plate of spaghetti please?”

	“OH! UM, OF COURSE! ANYTHING FOR A FRIEND,” he said, grabbing the plate with vigor and turned back to the stove.

	She smiled, “Thank you,” before looking down at her hands. That saying was rather true, sometimes breaking things worse makes them easier to fix. Detuning an instrument makes the margin of error less to get it to the right pitch, especially when trying not to snap a string. Starting over on a hard problem always helped you solve it. The famous ‘Try unplugging it and plugging it back in again’ has worked countless many times. Was it true of relationships as well? Could wounds be mended and feelings unbroken?

	Sans nudged her side, taking her from her thoughts, “hey... pap didn’t mean anything by that… he’s just a bit of a bone head at times. he was-”

	Toriel interrupted him. “Oh, it’s alright. It was just unexpected.” His smiled looked a little worried. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about little old me, Sans. I think you should eat something, you seem rather peckish.”

	“heh, i’ll be fine. i’m big boned as it is, no need to pack on the pounds.” His smile seemed more relaxed.

	Toriel chuckled, “Whatever you say.”

~~~

	The cafe that Gerson chose to meet up at was rather nice. It was small, only a few patrons taking up booths and seats, hushed talk and the sound of mugs and plates filling the air. The old duo chose to sit outside, the shady patio offering a rather nice view of the nearby river, plenty of large trees green and lively. Gerson leaned back in his chair, sipping at his tea. Asgore tried his best to not fall out of his.

	The old king stirred the dark tea in his cup, the steam slowly rising. “So,” he asked, “how has the surface been treating you, Gerson?”

	The old turtle set down his cup. “So far so good! The only complaint that I have is that I was wrinkly enough before all of this sun came and dried me out!” He laughed, rocking slightly in his chair, “How about you, old Fluffybuns, the surface treating you like royalty?”

	“Oh hoho,” chuckled Asgore, “I wouldn’t say like Royalty, but it’s been nice. Frisk is making it better than I could ever imagine.”

	“Sounds good,” said the old monster, pointing at a stray flower in Asgore’s beard, “I can see that she’s convinced you on a few beauty tips, hmm?” A blush graced Asgore’s cheeks as he reached for the spot he missed, “Waha, I’m glad you have a daughter again, Asgore. She’s doing wonders for ya.”

	“She sure is, making things a lot better than I thought it would be,” he sighed happily, “She called me ‘Dad’ not too long ago. I think that has been the happiest I have been in a while.”

	Gerson took a long sip at his drink, his face turning somewhat serious, “Asgore, lemme ask you something...” Asgore nodded, “Are you happy?” The question hit Asgore like a truck. He felt good, he was enjoying tea with an old friend, had a daughter at home who loved him, plenty of friends and loving subjects. Was he happy though?

	In his own head, he should be. He didn’t have a reason to be sad. “I-I suppose so.”

	“Asgore, old friend, I’ve known you longer than anyone else. We’ve been friends for practically forever. I’ve seen your high points and low points, times when you’re head over heels and when you have everything locked down. You can be honest with me.”

	He wanted to scream the name, the one he loved, the one he cursed, the one he shared many lifetimes with. “I miss her so much, Gerson.” He stared down into the mug, his reflection rippling and looking back up at him, “So, so much.”

	Gerson sighed, and put a wrinkled hand on his friend’s arm, “I don’t doubt it. It was disgusting how cute you were together, you could almost taste the love in the air.” He looked wistfully up at the air, “I was convinced I’d be a bachelor forever, thinking that falling in love was a joke. Live life rolling through the punches, don’t settle down. Though, seeing you two together made me a heartthrob, and even though it was a bit of a relief not have to see another nose nuzzle at the royal banquets, I knew I would never be able to feel the way you did, ever.

	“When I realized that I wanted that closeness, that bond with someone else, it was far too late. I’m a gnarled old geezer, with a bad eye and a mean sense of humor,” he chuckled, “But you, you are still in your prime! You could probably hitch any girl you wanted! You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re royal, and a ginormous fluffball for God’s sake! I bet you anyone would want a piece of you.”

	Asgore’s gaze didn’t break from his reflection, “It wouldn’t be the same…” he mumbled. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not now, it would just make things worse.

	“I know it wouldn’t be, but sometimes that’s for the best. Heck, maybe they’ll be even better!” Gerson threw his arms up, exclaiming, “‘You never know if you don’t try’ is what I always say! Being this old let’s you try a lot of things, let me tell you.”

	Asgore looked up from his drink, a small smile on his lips, “I would know,” he chuckled, “I’m older that you.”

	“Not by that much! Plus you don’t even act it! Do you even OWN a cane?” Both of them laughed, their spirits lifting from the rather serious talk. “Asgore, as being your oldest, and best friend, I just want you to know that I’m always rooting for ya, no matter what you choose. Don’t forget about the people who care about you. Me, Frisk, Undyne, Al, we’re all here for you.”

	Asgore got up, pushing his chair back under the table, “Thank you, Gerson. I’ll remember that.”

	The old monster smiled, “Of course! Just take care of yourself, I think even Toriel would want you to do that.” Asgore nodded. “Oh! And one more thing.”

	“Yes?” asked Asgore, turning before leaving.

	“Are you gonna finish that?” He pointed at the untouched tea, not even a sip taken.

	“Hmm, I suppose I should.” He sat back down. “I guess I can stay a while longer.”

~~~

	Frisk sat up from the couch, the marathon over. She rubbed her eyes, Asgore still away. Her phone buzzed, Asgore announcing that he was gonna be out a little bit later. She didn’t really mind, as long as he was happy.

	She explored the house, though there was much to explore. It was ridiculously tiny, only two bedrooms and two baths, a main room which contained the kitchen and living room, along with the foyer. There was a room off to the side for laundry that also led into a single car garage. She looked around, noticing nothing much of interest. The bookshelves contained nothing worth reading or held any pictures worth looking at. The walls were a dirty beige color, which wasn’t that appealing. On the piano sat a planted with a single little flower, red in color and a nice break of scenery. One thing that she did notice was that it was primarily dusty. The books didn’t seem to be touched since they were placed on the shelves.

	The kitchen was plain, simple white tiling and basic cupboards, the fridge was neatly organized and the stove was clean. In any other house, this wouldn’t be peculiar, but knowing Asgore, this was far from that. His kitchen back in New Home was rather messy, crumpled up attempts at recipes, a fridge with barely any room for food since snails took up most of the space. The stove was rather dirty, attempts at pies sometimes leaving remnants on the walls and floor of the furnace. Something was off, and Frisk was determined to find out what.

	She stood at the last place to be explored: The Door to Asgore’s room.