Reign - Chapter 1
Papyrus seizes the crown for himself, and declares Sans his queen.
A series of one-shots covering the highs and lows of their reign, and everything in between.
This chapter: A scrappy rebellion with a dangerous weapon threatens to take Papyrus away from Sans.
No expense is spared on the five course meal laid out for the king and his queen. Bread as light and fluffy as a cloud, soup with the perfect amount of seasoning. Thick cuts of beef from freshly slaughtered bovine, vegetables plucked and peeled from the garden that very morning.
Papyrus’ detractors claim he’s ushering in a new era of decadence and despotism, but in Sans’ (slightly biased) opinion, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Asgore had dragged the kingdom down into ruin after his son was killed and his queen went mad. Papyrus has spent his first year as king fixing Asgore’s mistakes, restoring the kingdom to its former glory. His stringent rules and policies could be unpopular, but the king does not need to be adored by the populace, only obeyed.
To Sans’ dismay, corralling the Underground back into some semblance of order has left Papyrus with little time to spend with him. Papyrus spends the days training up the new captain of the guard, brokering tax agreements with merchants, going over new infrastructure with engineers and construction workers. Sans splits his days serving as judge for high-profile cases, and dealing with the petty complaints of the common folk. By the time they’ve finished their daily duties, both are exhausted. Sans often passes out the second he hits the mattress, and Papyrus is rarely far behind.
But not today. Today, Papyrus called an end to his meetings at the stroke of four, and Sans pushed back the next trial on his list to the following day. This evening is about them.
Sans would have been content to spend the night in bed, alternating between fucking and lounging around. But Papyrus intended to really make the most of it, ordering the cooking staff to prepare an especially ornate meal for the evening.
Sans salivates at the obscene amount of food laid out before them, and discretely wipes off drool on his cloth napkin.
Papyrus sits at the head of the table, Sans at his right. At the king’s legs sits his massive hellhound, a dish of raw venison left out for it by the servants. It watches with its sharp red eyes for Papyrus to begin eating before it wolfs down its meal. Sans takes this as his cue to eat as well, carefully cutting his food into bite-sized portions. A few months of manners training has wrung most of the sloppiness out of him. When in public, at least.
“How’s the new captain?” Sans asks, between mouthfuls of filet mignon. Guards are posted by both sets of doors into the room, but Sans can speak freely; the guards won’t dare report back to their captain about the words of their king and queen.
Papyrus stabs a bit of his steak moodily.
“That bad, huh?”
“They’re a placeholder, and everyone knows it.” Papyrus says. “There’s another monster, that goes by the name MK, who joined the ranks not too long ago.”
“He’s better than your captain?” Sans spoons more food onto his plate.
“Not yet, but soon will be. Still, it’s better for MK to climb the ranks with his own prowess than me simply appointing him.”
“Good call.” Sans shovels a cheesy pasta into his mouth, enjoying how it settles warmly in his magic.
“Still, they won’t respect a captain that can’t hold his own in a real fight.”
