VOXISTALE: Season 1

City of Lies

A gentle, yet icy breeze gusted its way through the window, the wooden shutters flapping slightly, attached to cold stone. Despite the chilly temperatures, the day was rather pleasant; clear blue skies, the crisp morning air, the sun shining brightly down upon the Kingdom of Hopes . . .

Beside this open window was a large oak desk, a lit candle sitting at the head of it, casting a soft orange glow on a map splayed out across its surface. Standing at this desk were two young, haughty men. The recently appointed King Asgore, and his newly anointed Royal Scientist: Wingding Gaster.

"Derek is likely to strike from here . . . and here," Gaster told the King, pointing at two particular spots on the map, which Asgore studied, brow furrowed.

"Hm . . . that does seem like a strategy he could pull . . . would you recommend more defense or offense when he arrives?"

"Defense," Gaster replied simply, folding his hands behind his back. "For as a wise man once told me; a good defense is an even better offense." The scientist smirked.

Remembering the line that he too had once heard, Asgore let out a chuckle, "Yeah . . . dad sure had a way with words," he sighed, head beginning to droop.

"You'll make him proud, Asgore," Gaster assured, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "His death won't have been in vain."

They were interrupted when the doors to the chambers opened with a loud creak, the head of a young and beautiful monster sticking itself inside, "Am I interrupting?" Toriel asked.

"Not at all, your highness. I was just about to leave," Gaster replied with a warm smile.

"Oh, don't leave on my account, Wingy. You're welcome to stay."

"Ah, such a tempting offer, but seeing my two best friends eat one another's mouths requires a stomach that I don't possess." Gaster replied cheekily as Toriel entered the room.

"You don't have a stomach," she stated.

"My point exactly. Your excellencies," with a deep bow that appeared to make Asgore a little uncomfortable, Gaster made his way out of the room.

"I hate it when he does that," Asgore muttered to Toriel once the door was closed.

The Queen wrapped her arms around Asgore's torso and rested her cheek against his back, sighing softly, "That's why he does it," she replied as Asgore raised one hand to rest on hers, his other grabbing a quill and dipping it in ink, marking the territories Gaster had pointed out.

"I've missed you, Gorey~" Toriel told the King, her voice light and loving.

"But you were just here?" Asgore frowned, his mind preoccupied with the war.

"Yes? And I left. Now I'm back. Turn around and face me, Dreemurr," Toriel demanded, letting go of Asgore and taking a step back.

Asgore let out a humored sigh, and set the quill down, "Alright, alright. I'll try to ignore our impending doom and the safety of our kind for one hour. You get me all to yourself. For just one." He knew she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible before the inevitable took place, her unwavering love enough to spur him beyond his usual duties.

Toriel smiled up at him, her gaze deep in his, her hands finding his own and holding onto them. Leaning in, her voice was but a whisper.

"I love you, Asgore."

Toriel's voice lingered on his mind, her scent still fresh in his nose . . . with a smile, Asgore opened his eyes and was greeted by a white paneled ceiling. Confused, he slowly sat up, and found that his chest was stinging in several areas, like large needles were being shoved into his body.