Shards of the Marrow: A Neverending Storybook

by Saka_Sandora

Summary:

Papyrus finds a strange book in the dump. Bringing it to Sans he convinces his brother to read it. The stories are strange and growing even stranger with every new one. It's almost as if the book is trying to tell them something. A warning? Or is there something more nefarious going on?

Notes:

Thank you to SaltWaterFlower for your Beta work. Without you this story would not have been as amazing.

All pictures are drawn by the amazing Lafillehonteuse. Thank you for bringing to life my story.

Chapter 1

The air of the dump is cool. There is the scent of rot underlying every breath he heaves as he scrambles up another pile. His hand holds are perilous as he scrambles over the shifting trash. It's still early in the day. The heat of the core has not yet caught up. Soon the air will turn muggy. The water frothing with the purged heated ice from the core. 

 

Holes in the ceiling shine down like the stage lights of one of Mettaton's plays on the scattered heaps below. Papyrus' thoughts turn to Mettaton's latest play. He, a swashbuckling pirate lord, sent to save the damsel in distress.

 

After countless song-and-dance numbers, they finally come face to face with the dreaded beast of the deep—portrayed with unexpected nuance and flair by Onion-San. A gallant fight filled with all manner of acrobatics and daring deeds until Mettaton stands upon the slain beast, sword held high as he proclaims himself victorious.

 

It was easy to pretend he was the pirate lord searching for lost buried treasure. A broken broom was his sword, a piece of mostly dry cardboard his hat. He was so distracted by his fantasies he didn't see the book haphazardly perched on the mound until he stepped on it.

 

The ground shifted beneath his feet and Papyrus went with it. He tumbled down into the water, inhaling the putrid liquid when he hit. He flailed for a moment underwater before surfacing. Doing his best to spit out the rancid fluid.

 

Now soaked and fantasies dashed (what pirate lord would have been bested by a trash heap?), he pulled himself back up to dry land and sat himself despondently upon a torn cushion.

 

Soaked through and smelling of garbage Papyrus winced at what the villagers would say when they saw him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was being made fun of. It was just easier to pretend they were jealous of his good looks and daring deeds.

 

Movement at his feet drew his eyelights. A book floated in the swirling water, caught upon some sort of trash and held in place. It was lovely. An emerald green cover with gold leaf and copper accents.

 

He could see no title upon the book. It was strangely pristine looking for being water logged. Curious, he reached down and picked it up.

 

It didn't feel wet. 

 

The pages flow easily as he flips through the book. Not one sticks together like the multitude of books he and his brother had found before. He can see what looks to be hand painted pictures inside. Glimpses of humans doing various tasks.

 

Oriented correctly, he looks the book over. Its leather cover is smooth to the touch. Undamaged. The scent of the book assaults his senses, strangely sweet for having been in the dump for who knows how long.

 

The spine crinkles as he opens it. The first few pages are blank. When he finally gets to the title page its words have muddled. The water finally doing its work. Disappointed he moves on. It's a story book, mostly words interspaced with the few water logged hand painted pictures. The book's words twist and swirl. Letters slipping down the longer he looks. The water damage is worse than he had thought.

 

Disappointed, he closes the book. He should toss it. It's nothing special. The insides will soon be destroyed by the damage it's received from being submerged in the water.

 

Yet something stops him.

 

A small part of himself can't bear to see it go. Maybe it's the colors. Or the feel of the book. Or maybe it's the pictures he can barely discern. Now smudges of color.

 

Something about the book makes him loath to dispose of it. Something that niggles at the back of his skull. Whispering to him. Almost begging.

 

Papyrus slips the book into his inventory and heads home.

 

Or tries to.

 

He keeps pulling the book out to inspect it. It's only when he realizes he should’ve been home by now that he finally puts it away and moves on.

 

But somehow, it ends up back in his hands.

 

He doesn't even remember pulling it out.

 

It's just there.

 

He's out of the dump but still in Waterfall. Droplets from the ceiling fall every so often. A constant background noise that's being overtaken by static.

 

A shake of his skull and he starts jogging home, the book held loosely against his side. It bangs against his thigh with every step. His mind dwells on it: the feel of the leather, the scent of the pages.

 

Thoughts drifting back to the book when his foot hits a patch of mud and he slips. He throws his hands out and barely catches himself before he ends up a muddied mess on top of being soaked to the bone.

 

It takes the sound of a wet thud and the rustling of pages to remember he had a book in his hand.

 

Had.

 

That book is now sprawled open several feet away. Its cover has somehow opened to the first page. Drawing nearer, Papyrus finds himself puzzled. The title page now has pristine words upon it. He was sure it had been ruined by the waters of the dump, how…?

 

He takes a step closer. Eyelights parsing out the words Shards of the Marrow, a Neverending Story Book. Upon the page are new illustrations of skeleton monsters. Just like the humans before, they are being depicted doing various tasks.

 

 

Which is strange. Papyrus was certain the book had been about humans and not monsters. Did he somehow mistake monster clothing for human skin…?

 

It is preposterous!

 

Yet…

 

He draws closer, eyeing the book. The mud it laid upon didn’t soak into the leather. The pages were pristine even though he knew it had been damaged earlier by the water. Was it made of magic?

 

He picks it up, eyelights roving the scenes depicted. The sudden urge to turn the page and start reading almost gets the better of him. Well, he's not called the great Papyrus for nothing. Ignoring the fact he was the only one who called himself that, he tries to put the book back into his inventory.

 

And promptly pulls it back out.

 

He stands there for a moment. Clutching the book against his chest. Breathing picking up. He needs to get home, back to Sans…

 

SANS!

 

Turning towards home he bolts, long legs eating the distance to their house. Soon the mud gives way to slush, then ice, until finally he hits snow.

 

Ice dog whizzes by, already hard at work keeping the core cool with his ice blocks. He doesn’t bother waving. Ice, unlike his own brother, does not slack off.

 

Their house comes into view and Papyrus happily bounds in. He barely has the mind to close the door behind him before he heads up the stairs and throws Sans bedroom door open. It slams into the wall startling his brother who should have been at work.

 

Papyrus doesn't bother getting after him. He's too excited about the book. He hasn't even taken off his boots. He realizes this mid-leap, the squelch of mud loud against the mattress as he lands.He knows his brother won't clean that later. He will have to.  

 

Sans gives him a quizzical look but rolls himself over allowing Papyrus room.

 

“Look what I found!” Papyrus happily holds the book aloft. Sans smiles at him (Papyrus ignores the bags under his sockets) and holds a hand out.

 

Except, Papyrus doesnt want to hand it over. Sans must see the look on his skull because with a shrug he settles himself back on his bed.

 

“Looks expensive. Are you going to try to sell it?”

 

“What? NO!” The thought is horrid. Papyrus clutches the book against his battle body. Sans jolts, perpetual grin fading a bit.

 

“I...there are pictures of skeletons within.” Papyrus doesnt understand why he's explaining himself. Why he needs Sans to understand how important this book is to him. 

 

“Oh, a human medical book?” Sans clearly isn't understanding what he means.

 

“No, skeleton monsters.”

 

Sans sockets widen and he gives the book his full attention. He seems weary, eyeing the book with a trepidation Papyrus doesn't like.

 

“A pedia book?” Sans asks. There's something underlying those words. Fear? Worry?

 

Papyrus shakes his skull. “No, it's more like a story book.”

 

“May I see it?” 

 

Papyrus hesitates, the want to keep the book fighting against the want to give his brother anything and everything he can.

 

Something inside him pulses. Something pulls at his soul, seeking… something. A memory. Sans always gives care and attention to whatever he is interested in.

 

He's such a good brother.

 

Papyrus hands the book over.

 

Sans examines the book. He's gentle with it, carefully turning it end over end. The gold and copper catch the light, drawing Papyrus’s eyelights to them.

 

Papyrus finds himself slowly relaxing when Sans gingerly opens the book to examine its pages. He stares at the title page, sockets furrowed in confusion before he moves on. There's no table of contents that Papyrus can see. Instead the book immediately starts on a story.

 

In beautiful calligraphy, the title reads, The Tale of Two Brothers . Under that is an illustration. Two skeleton monsters stand, each an antithesis to the other. They face one another, their skulls hidden. In their hands they hold their souls aloft towards the other, almost as if in offering…

 

Sans hands are shaking as he stares down at the page.

 

“See, it's a story book!”  Papyrus curls his body closer to his brother who jolts. “You should read it to me. That's not to say I'm bored of Peekaboo with Fluffy Bunny ,” He quickly assures his brother who is staring at him, trembling hands still holding the book. “This is just something new.” Something exciting.

 

Sans looks down at the book. He seems conflicted.

 

“I would love it if you read to me.” There's something deep down inside him, begging to include his brother in this new and exciting discovery.

 

His brother nods and slowly adjusts himself on the bed, clearly trying to get comfortable. Papyrus knows he should make room for him, should help him, but he doesn’t want to. The feel of his brother so close. The only thing separating them is their clothes.

 

He wants to be even closer.

 

When his brother finally stops squirming and settles down. Papyrus rests his skull against Sans's own. Beneath him, Sans shivers. The book is carefully placed between their laps and with a deep breath, Sans starts to read.

Chapter 2

 

“In a dreary city filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes, two brothers are doing their best to get by. The elder is a short-statured monster weighed down by depression and a deeply rooted belief in his own worthlessness—”

 

Sans stutters, his voice failing him. The words swim before him. This isn’t something he feels comfortable reading. What kind of story…?!

 

Next to him Papyrus gives him a nudge. 

 

Clearly, Papyrus feels he can freak out on his own time. 

 

Swallowing, Sans reads on.

 

“—and pain from having been abandoned by monster kind so many years ago, only had his younger brother to keep him going.”

 

His brother, the opposite of him in every way, is his last hope.

 

“—Hope.”

 

Sweat beads down Sans skull. This book is hitting too close to home. There is something wrong here. He only has one HP and the reason is curled up against him. Another nudge. Papyrus clearly wants to see where this story goes.

 

A small part of Sans is curious too, a nagging feeling that this story will help him with… something. He isn’t sure what that was yet. It seems as if it should be something good though. He knows it.

 

A much larger part wants to chuck the book into the fireplace and set it ablaze.

 

“Sans, come on. Your pauses have become too dramatic. There is a very fine line in the arts.”

 

Sans chuckles tiredly. “Ah, you know me too well, I am quite the character.” 

 

Papyrus groans behind him. 

 

Steeling himself, Sans goes on.

 

“—The younger brother knew the elder was hurting and wanted nothing more than to protect him. There was a way, but it would come at a great cost. For in the city they lived, one could buy and sell emotions.

 

The younger knew his elder brother would be gutted if he knew, so he did not speak of it. Instead, he snuck away whilst his elder brother slept and stole down to the marketplace.

 

There was a cacophony of sights and sounds that met the younger brother. He was in awe. So many stalls, each hawking their wares.

 

Passion, affection, desire, contentment, excitement. So many emotions he passed until he found himself stopped before a stall selling happiness.

 

Some emotions were rarer than others.

 

The mechant, a wizened turtle of unknown age, grinned at the younger brother, his toothless maw parting as he asked, “What brings you to my stall young one?”

 

“I wish to purchase happiness today,” the younger replied.

 

The turtle laughed. “What do you offer in return?”

 

The younger thought this over. It was clear the monster's wares were expensive. As such he needed to give over something just as good, if not better.

 

“How about my pride?” Surely that was good right? The turtle only laughed.

 

“Everyone feels pride my boy, no matter the quality you would give me, I could not offer you anything from my stall in return. Perhaps the stall selling contentment would be in your best interest.”

 

Contentment was not good enough, not for his brother. The younger brother wanted his elder brother to feel something more! The younger brother thought long and hard over the matter. He needed to offer something most monsters did not possess. But what?

 

“What about my self-assuredness?”

 

The turtle looked startled, then contemplative. “Let me see your worth.”

 

The younger brother nodded and pulled his soul out―”

 

Sans chokes on his words, startled by how brazen the act is. Next to him Papyrus shifts. Another nudge. Sans hesitates. This is a story, even if it spoke of things most monsters would find shameful, with a sigh, he continues.

 

“―and showed it to the turtle. A look of awe crossed the turtle's face. “My, what quality! You possess a fine trait indeed!”

 

The turtle reached out and plucked the emotion from the younger brother's soul. The pain was quick and fleeting. Still, the younger brother winced as he put his soul back.

 

The younger brother felt strange as he waited for his purchase. He did not know this, but in selling his self-assuredness, he was inviting doubt and uncertainty into his life.

 

The turtle slipped the emotion away into a locked box before pulling out another. The younger brother leaned in, eyelights wide.

 

Happiness shone inside the box. It brimmed with a pulsating gentle golden light and it was beautiful. The younger brother was excited to give this gift to his elder brother.

 

Quivering with excitement, the younger brother watched as the turtle wrapped up the happiness. Finally it was handed over. With a quick nod of thanks, the younger brother took off.

 

The younger brother ran the whole way home. Clutched in his hands, carefully cradled against his chest, was the happiness. The younger brother could feel the emotion affecting him even through his clothes.

 

As soon as he spotted home, he burst through the door startling his elder brother.

 

“I have a gift for you!” The younger brother shoved the emotion into his elder brother's hands. A look of awe passed over the elder brother. This was a wondrous gift. An expensive gift.

 

“Where did you find the money to afford such a thing?”

 

“I sold my self-assuredness for it,” the younger brother proudly announced.

 

The elder brother was horrified, and asked why ?

 

“So, that you may have a chance to get away from your depression and sadness and—”

 

Sans breathing picks up. Papyrus gently nudges him to continue.

 

“—and I wanted you to feel happiness, like I feel, for you.”

 

The elder brother, saddened by what his younger brother had to do, and yet pleased with the great gift, accepted it.

 

The days passed. Slowly, the happiness the elder brother gained waned. Lethargy sets in, eventually, the elder brother needed more.

 

So the younger went back to the old turtle to buy more.

 

Except, the younger brother's self-assuredness was not as great as it once was. Worth less now than it was, the younger brother received less for it.

 

Still, the younger brother persisted. Their elder brother needed it. On and on this trade went until finally the turtle said:

 

“Your self-assuredness is not worth an ounce of happiness.”

 

The younger brother was devastated. What would he do? His elder brother needed this happiness! He tried other stalls, but no one had a use for his own diminished emotions.

 

Soul broken, he trudged home. He didn’t want to face his elder brother. Not after his abject failure.

 

Standing upon the porch, the younger brother couldn’t bring himself to open the door. Instead, he rested his skull upon it, tears gathering at his sockets.

 

He was not used to failure.

 

With his self-assuredness so low, the uncertainty and doubt that had started to fill the void left behind grew. He was a failure. He was the reason his brother couldn't be happy. He was the reason his brother was…

 

The door opened. Startled, the younger brother stumbled inside. The door closed before the elder brother gently took his younger brother's hand and led him to their couch.

 

“Why do you cry, brother?” The elder asked.

 

Tearfully, the younger explained his reasoning. The elder listened intently. When the younger's tale was done, the elder smiled at the younger and happily told him there was no need to worry.

 

Surprised, the younger wiped his tears away and asked why?

 

The elder grinned and took out his soul—”

 

“Honestly Sans, we already know how this works, please just keep reading!”

 

“—and told his younger brother that he had started to grow his own happiness. The happiness that the younger brother had bought and planted in the elder had finally taken root.

 

The happiness had grown into joy before eventually blooming into love. Love for his younger sibling. Love for the sacrifice the younger had given to the elder.

 

Love.

 

Shocked, the younger sibling rejoiced. Arms wrapping around his sibling and pulling him close, they kiss—”

 

Sans hesitates here. Papyrus swallows. That uh, wasn't what he had been expecting either. Sans goes on after Papyrus gives him another nudge, but he's clearly uncomfortable.

 

“—They declared their love for each other, offering each other all of their emotions. I would do anything for you, the younger said. The elder replied that he knew and he too would do anything for the younger.

 

The younger wanted to affirm their love. The elder agreed. They headed upstairs where they started to undress and—”

 

Sans stops reading. 

 

Papyrus nudges him to continue, but Sans is already closing the book. “We don't need to finish this.”

 

“What? Why?” Papyrus feels frustrated. He wants to know the ending. Sans only shakes his blue-tinged skull. “Well then, give me the book and let me read it.” He's reaching for it, but Sans pulls away. Papyrus reaches for it again and Sans teleports away.

 

Shocked, Papyrus runs around the house trying to find him. He can hear his brother teleporting and avoiding him. Enraged, Papyrus shouts that he will find the book and read it by himself with or without Sans there. There's a moment of silence before Sans teleports back into the room. Papyrus waits as Sans sits down on the couch. This time with a bit of space between them.

 

Papyrus frowns but doesn't have a chance to say anything as Sans opens the book and continues to read.

 

“—They are undressing each other. Telling the other how much they care and love one another.

 

They tell each other how long and how much they had wanted the other.—”

 

Sans's voice is warbling. He hesitates for a moment but goes on when Papyrus reaches for the book.

 

“—I have always loved you," the elder said. The younger had tears in their sockets.

 

They pulled out their souls—”

 

And Sans stops reading again. 

 

Papyrus has to nudge him to go on.

 

“—Their souls touched. They cried out each other's names.—”

 

Sans hands go slack. Papyrus is able to catch the siblings' names as the book falls to the ground.

 

Papyrus and Sans.

 

Chapter 3

Sans doesn't know what to think. Papyrus happily tells him this must be a magic book that makes up stories based on the owner.

 

Sans wonders who tossed the book and why. Papyrus says their loss. He wants to read on. Sans is not in the mood after that story, firmly telling Papyrus not tonight. He feels uneasy. The story was… too much.

 

Almost pornographic in its contents.

 

Siblings?

 

Together?

 

That's… not right. It's not something that's done any longer. Not since they have shored up their numbers. Back then, when they were few and fading, survival turned desperate. But those days are long gone.

 

“Let's head to bed. I think that's enough for tonight.,” Papyrus grumbles but acquiesces.

 

Except, he hesitates before leaving, shyly asking if he can stay the night instead. With Sans. In his bed.

 

Sans doesn't want to. Normally, he would be fine with it, but not after that story. Not after the ending where… but Papyrus is earnest in wanting companionship. Finally Sans agrees.

 

He's never been able to tell his brother no. Not really.

 

There's the usual disappointment when Papyrus sees Sans’s room, but there's no stomping of feet or admonishment that follows. Sans stands in the doorway watching as Papyrus pulls the old soiled bedding off and gets new linens out. Sans figures he can be sort of helpful and grabbing the soiled bedding, teleports to the bathroom to toss it into the laundry basket. He teleports back to see his brother has already made the bed.

 

Papyrus stands in the middle of the room, eyelights on the bed, busy making sure the bed is up to his standards. He doesn't see the ways Sans is watching him. Doesn't see his brother's eyelights quivering as it dawns on his elder brother that maybe he, like the brother in the story, might have feelings that he shouldn't.

 

Papyrus happily declares the bed suitable for habitation and promptly starts to undress. Choking, Sans turns around shouting as he does so: “What are you doing?”

 

“Getting ready for bed. You too, brother. One mustn't wear the wrong clothes for the wrong activity.” Papyrus rustles beneath the sheets, now dressed in the pajamas he pulled from his inventory, and settles into bed.

 

“Your turn brother.”

 

Sans chokes. There's no way he's getting undressed in front of Papyrus. Not after that story.

 

“Uh, one sec.” 

 

Sans quickly snags his never used pajamas, ignoring the way Papyrus perks up before teleporting to the bathroom.

 

He takes his time, hoping Papyrus will be asleep. When he finally makes his way back to his bedroom, its to disappointment. Papyrus is wide awake and waiting for him.

 

A small part of him is happy. Papyrus still wants to hang out with his elder brother. He hasn’t grown out of what should be a childish activity. Sans honestly hopes he never outgrows it.

 

He slips into bed. Papyrus happily snags him and pulls him close, cuddling closer. Their legs intertwine. Their chests press together. Sans skull fits perfectly in the hollow between Papyrus’s own skull and chest.

 

Like they were meant to be together. 

 

Like puzzle pieces. 

 

Like…

 

The next day, everything is normal between the two of them. They work. They have lunch at their respective places. They go back to work until it's time to go home. At home, they share dinner. Later, Papyrus steps into the shower and frowns, puzzled—had he really skipped one last night? He bends to check his joints. "Oh my goodness, is that mud ?"

 

When it's time for bed, Papyrus gets Sans to agree to use his bed for their nighttime routine of reading a story. Papyrus happily presents the book to Sans who begrudgingly takes it.

 

The story ends on the next page with a warning: Do not set yourself on fire to keep others warm, but the warmth of a loved one will keep you until the end of your days.

 

It's a strange ending and neither really knows what to say.

 

The silence grows oppressive. Papyrus finally ends it when he asks Sans to start the next story.

 

Sans turns the page.

 

The front page is an illustration of a skeleton kneeling before another. Their skull is bowed. Before them stands another skeleton.  They seem almost standoffish, as they stare down at the other.

 

The title reads: A Silence Shared.

 

 

The next story is also of two brothers.

 

“Of the two brothers, the elder was a guard. The lieutenant—”

 

“Oh, how amazing! That's my dream job! Do you think one day I have what it takes to be lieutenant?”

 

Sans grins up at him. “Yeah bro, I think you do. You're a cool monster.”

 

Papyrus can't stop the blush from painting his jawbone. Still, being cool doesn't mean one will make a good lieutenant. Of course Sans would say that. After all he loves… him…

 

“—commanded his recruits with an iron fist, second only to the Captain of the guard.

 

The younger was a loner, whose depression was slowly pulling him down, who was drowning in the harsh realities of life with his only life preserver being his brother—” 

 

Sans's voice has slowed down, getting quieter the longer he reads until he finally stops. Now he just stares down at the book, hands shaking.

 

Papyrus hesitates to nudge him. The first story is still in his mind. Are these stories supposed to be helpful? Like other fairy tales? If so, Papyrus doesn't understand how. His brother seems to be upset every time he reads these.

 

At least Sans starts back up after a moment. 

 

Well, not before he takes a deep breath.

 

“—The two brothers went about their daily lives.

 

The lieutenant worked hard on cleaning the village of the more unsavory lot. This includes the lowlifes that bullied and stole from those they deemed lesser. Although the villagers felt safer with the lieutenant's work, they still gave the siblings a wide berth when they saw them, for the elder brother had a wicked tongue and an even shorter temper. Neither of which anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

 

The younger brother loved his elder brother dearly, but a loneliness that no familiar face could soothe lingered. What he yearned for was someone new, someone who might fill the silent spaces his brother never could.

 

At first, he tried to befriend the villagers, but they shunned him, turning their backs, crowding him out from the stores and shops. He then turned to the punks next, but they only mocked him.

 

Despondent, the younger brother sat upon a stump and cried bitter tears. Engrossed in his weeping, he missed the barkeep getting nearer and so was startled when a white handkerchief clasped in a warm hand met him.

 

“It is cold out here, why don't you come to my bar and warm yourself on a few of my fine spirits.” Surprised and pleased, the younger brother happily took the offering and dried his skull.

 

Taking the hand next, he allowed himself to be pulled off the stump. The walk was long, but with such fine warm company, the younger brother did not mind.

 

They ended up at the barkeep's place. It was warm and cozy inside. The younger brother happily took a stool as the barkeep made a spiced drink.

 

It was warm. Warmed the younger brother's bones all the way to their soul. Pleased, they thanked the barkeep.

 

“It's no problem. I take pride in satisfying my customers.”

 

The younger brother stayed, listening to the barkeep talk. Their voice was soothing and their words kind until they finally took their leave as curfew drew near.

 

The next day, they went back to the bar.

 

It was busy. Filled with patrons. Nervous, the younger brother made their way to the bar and settled down. He could feel the eyes of the other monsters… watching him.

 

A glass was set in front of them—a gentle reminder from the barkeep that all are welcome here. The barkeep gave them a wink before moving on. To the young brother’s surprise, their neighbor on the stool to their right started to chat to them.

 

That night, the younger brother made many friends.

 

Everyday after, the younger brother would visit the bar, the inhabitants happily greeting the younger brother before turning back to their drinks. Surrounded by others, the loneliness was easier to bear.

 

While the younger brother grew close to the bar's inhabitants, the elder found themselves arresting many of them for drunk and disorderly conduct. Resentment started to grow towards the elder brother.

 

Although these monsters were affable towards the younger brother, they were not trustworthy monsters. Before the brothers had come to town, many had been cheats and thieves, and the barkeep’s home had served as a den of ill repute. They had not forgotten their ways, although they were better about hiding them.

 

Many of these monsters, angry at the lieutenant, wanted their revenge. Their target, oblivious, was sitting at the bar happily drinking in both the spirits and ambience. Who better to rope into their plot than the kid?

 

Still, the younger brother was not a stupid monster. If they hoped to get their revenge against the elder, they would have to be smart about it. 

 

That night, the bar's inhabitants kept the younger brother stocked up on booze. Each had placed a drop of poison in the drinks they happily handed off to the younger brother, for if they all did it, who was to say which one of them was the culprit?

 

Unknowingly, the younger brother drank the poison. Little by little, it started to affect them. They grew exhausted, words slurring and body trembling, until eventually, the poison became too much, and the younger brother fell into a deep sleep.

 

Laughing, the monsters went back to their drinking, leaving the poor intoxicated younger brother to his fate. One by one, the inhabitants of the bar left until all that was left was the bar keep and the younger brother. 

 

Who slept on.

 

The elder brother was growing worried. It had been much longer than it should have been for his younger brother to have come home. Much too long. It was nearing curfew. They would just have to go and pick him up then.

 

Grabbing their cape and boots, they headed towards the bar. The night was quiet—strangely so. Usually the bar’s inhabitants would be making their way home about now, their rowdiness too loud so close to curfew.

 

The silence was worrisome.

 

The elder brother hurried. He knew something had to have happened. Worry for their younger brother ate at their soul until they were running. The bar came into view.

 

The elder brother burst through the door, ignoring the startled claims of the barkeep. Their soul eased at the sight of their brother sleeping at the bar. Marching towards them, they angrily demanded why they were still at the bar and not making their way home?

 

The younger brother did not stir. Surprised, for their voice could wake the dead (so they had been told), they reached out to touch their brother. He did not stir. His breathing did not change. His skull remained slack. 

 

The elder brother shook the younger, but nothing happened. Worried, the elder brother picked their sibling up and carried them to the healer in town, who answered their banging fists dressed only in a nightgown.

 

Shocked, the healer allowed them in, ushering the elder brother to set their sibling upon the table. The elder brother did so, soul tight for their brother did not stir.

 

“What has happened?” the healer asked.

 

“I do not know, I found my brother at the bar like this.”

 

The healer tried their best, but they could figure out what was wrong. Nor could they wake the younger brother. Worried, the elder called for the Royal Scientist who told him to bring himself and his sibling to her post haste.

 

The elder thanked the healer for their work and paid them well before taking off running with their brother. He made it to the wooden boat where the River Person was waiting. “Hotland!” the elder brother barked and settled themselves down on the boat with their brother clutched against them.

 

The boat rocked as it took off. The River Person’s voice whispered into the night. “Tra la la, beware those smiling faces who hide their contempt.” 

 

The elder brother said nothing to this other than to clutch their brother tighter.

 

Finally, they made it to Hotland. The elder brother disembarked with their sibling still grasped tightly against them. The Royal Scientist met them outside the lab and directed them to the medical bay.

 

As the night wore on, the elder brother's soul grew colder. The Royal Scientist didn’t know what was wrong. Other than his low stats and sleep, his brother was physically fine. Perhaps his brother was just tired? For now, they would let him sleep. In the morning, they would get their answers.

 

Except, the younger brother did not wake.

 

Enraged and worried, the elder brother called in his guards and had the whole bar arrested. Unfortunately, The bar inhabitants claimed to be just as shocked and surprised as the elder brother as to what had happened. They all claimed innocence of any wrongdoing. Frustrated, the elder brother had to let them go, for he had no true reason to keep them. 

 

As night fell, the elder brother sat by the younger brother's side, hoping that in the morning the younger would wake, hoping that if he remained vigilant, any minute he would see a twitch of his bones meaning his brother would soon be up.

 

It did not happen.

 

For many days and nights, the elder brother sat by their siblings' side, begging his younger brother to come back, to wake up.

 

Eventually the elder brother had to go back to work. Their Captain, who had been unusually kind about the whole debacle, could no longer handle both jobs by themselves. Still, the elder brother made sure they had time to visit their sibling.

 

In the morning, they would eat their breakfast with them, telling them about their plans for the day. In the afternoon, they had lunch all the while speaking of what they had seen. Then at night, their dinner.

 

The elder brother refused to leave their sibling by themselves. Rather, they had insisted on sleeping next to them. Curled against their sibling, they begged them to come back—to not leave them alone.

 

Their brother did not wake.

 

The days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. And the elder brother found themself growing increasingly despondent, their sibling still had not awakened.

 

The Royal Scientist offered many suggestions on how to bring his brother back. Not one worked. Nevertheless, the elder brother tried each and every new one offered.

 

Finally, the Royal Scientist's suggestions grew more and more outrageous. Desperate, the elder brother tried each and every one until finally the Royal Scientist’s last suggestion came.

 

“Perhaps a true love's kiss?”

 

Out of options, the elder brother agreed.

 

But what is a true love's kiss? It must be genuine, the elder brother thinks. But what is genuine? Is it one who loves another?

 

And must it be a strong love to work? Must it be formed from a shared emotion between them, or could his emotions be strong enough to power his siblings?

 

But what if the love for his brother was not the correct kind? Shouldn’t it include encouragement for who his brother is? The love of what makes up his brother—the very shape of his soul?

 

What if his love needed something more? Support? Encouragement? Pride? Acceptance?

 

His brother was a flawed monster, but the elder truly did love them. All of them. Perhaps that was what was needed then.

 

The elder brother concentrated, pouring all of the thoughts of their brother into this one action, for this last action could possibly save their sibling.

 

Acceptance of their brother. Of his flaws and the mistakes he had made. How willing they had always been to support one another. How encouraging his brother has always been. Never doubting him for a moment.

 

Love blossoming in his soul, the elder brother leaned in. His teeth met his sibling’s, a brief clack before the elder pulled back and waited.

 

A moment passed where he feared nothing would come of the deed, until he spotted the twitch of phalanges. Surprised and overjoyed, the elder brother watched as the younger slowly opened their sockets.

 

The younger brother was finally awake! The elder, overjoyed, held his sibling and cried over his weakened form. His sobs soaked through the younger’s jacket, tears dripping down and over his ribs until finally hitting his soul.

 

The emotions the elder brother had been feeling surged through the younger, who was shocked at what he felt. Who in turn found their own emotions rising.

 

They turned to their brother, grasping their sibling’s shoulders and really looked at them—heir elder brother, the one who had always been there for them, who they know would do anything to keep them alive and out of harm's way. Their rock. Their foundation.

 

Tears gathered at the younger brother’s sockets. The elder laughed and held their sibling close. The younger’s tears dripped down over the elder’s armor, slowly slipping through the cracks and over their ribs until it splashed through to their soul.

 

“I love you brother,” the elder said. “Do you believe me Papyrus—?”

 

Sans stops reading, eyelight wide as he stares down at the page. The words haunt him. This story is about them, too.

 

Papyrus nudges him, encouraging him to keep reading. So far the story has been fascinating!

 

“—The younger brother chuckled tiredly.

 

“Yes m’—” One glare from the elder and the younger relented. “Yes, Sans.”

 

A smile. A gentle clack of teeth against teeth. Forever onwards, the siblings would always be there for one another.

Chapter 4

Sans doesn't want to read the book again. It's strange how the book knows about the lab, the Royal Scientist, the bar, just… everything. Something isn't right.

 

Papyrus wants to keep reading.

 

Sans doesn't.

 

Normally such a fight would resolve with his younger brother getting his way. It's how such fights tend to work in their family. Papyrus always gets his way.

 

Except, Sans really doesn't want to read more.

 

Papyrus tries to argue his side. The book is interesting. The stories are new. Have they truly been harmful? Is there something wrong with them? They follow alongside other fairytale stories Sans has read him. Why were they ok and this one isn't?

 

Sans tries to explain his side. These stories are based on them. The book must be changing depending on who reads it. Why else did the illustrations before depict humans?

 

The book must take information from them somehow and display it in the form of a story. Don't you find that odd, Sans asks him. How does the book do that? Why does it do that? Who created this? And why?

 

Their argument runs circles around the siblings. Neither backs down. Their voices slowly rise, until they are yelling at one another. Frustration gives way to anger and finally to rage.

 

Sans, frustrated that his brother is not listening and done trying to explain himself, teleports away, leaving Papyrus standing in Sans bedroom by himself. Alone.

 

It's a funny thing to suddenly feel as if you have been abandoned. Papyrus does not like it. The room feels colder without the warmth of his brother. Empty. Just like his mind.

 

His brother left him.

 

Again.

 

Hurt, Papyrus paces the house searching for his brother. It's quiet. There's not even an annoying dog hidden away somewhere. Just silence.

 

There isn't the noise of his brother teleporting around their home so he must not be here. Still, Papyrus looks for him all over the house. Then again. And again.

 

He sits upon the couch. Wringing his hands, eyelights on the door even though he knows his brother will more than likely return to his room first rather than… no, his brother will return. He would not have abandoned him… would he?

 

His brother doesn't return.

 

The clock ticks and tocks. Time slowly grows larger and larger. Finally, unable to take it, Papyrus heads to one of the few places he knows his brother will be.

 

He left me… alone.

 

Closest and first is Grillby’s. The walk is longer than usual. He should be running, but he can't bring himself to move faster than a slow walk. The bar comes into view and Papyrus is disappointed to see his brother inside. He's slumped over the bar. Drinks litter the surface around him. Next to him, on another stool, sits the book.

 

Papyrus sighs, hand on the door. He will need to go in and fetch his brother. Like the multitude of times before.

 

It's never bothered him as much as it does right now.

 

He goes in. Watches as Sans takes another swig of his ketchup. Grillby greets him to Papyrus's surprise. The elemental seems pleased to see him. He's eyeing Sans with worry.

 

If he were truly worried, wouldn't he have cut his brother off before the bartop turned into a garbage dump?

 

Sans sullenly says hello. They are the only two in the bar, if you ignore Grillby which Papyrus is very happy to do so. His brother should have been cut off long ago.

 

“Of course you go to Grillby’s.” Papyrus is upset. His brother shouldn't be drinking. He’s not… he's depressed and… pretends he's alright. Except Papyrus knows the truth.

 

Now he knows.

 

Perhaps the book wants to be helpful?

 

“Did you come here just for the book?” Sans isn't looking at him.

 

“We were not done with—”

 

“Well, I'm done.” His brother is being rude. Grillby stills. The glass he was cleaning is set aside. A nod towards them and Grillby steps away. Into the back.

 

“Sans, please. I just…” Drugs, mixed with depression. Suicide. Papyrus feels doubt creeping in. What is he willing to do to protect his brother? Who seems more than willing to—

 

“I don't want to hear it!” Sans had never yelled at him before. Papyrus jerks away, the hurt stabbing his soul. Why is his brother being so mean?

 

He brings forth his hands, wanting to reach out, wanting to touch, wanting…

 

Later, Papyurs won't know why he did it—Sans running away, his own frustration at finding him drunk, his brother's inability to talk, his refusal to be serious without a pun.

 

Later, Papyrus will wonder why.

 

Later.

 

Right now, with everything bubbling up, there is only one way out. It spills past his teeth, a trickle of words growing into a stream, then a river. A lake of words kept back, finally breaking through the dam.

 

“I care about you! I love you! I have always loved you!” Sans is staring at him. “I hate the fact you leave me. I hate being apart from you. I want to keep you in my life for as long as I can!” Sans mouth opens as if to speak but nothing comes out.

 

“If that's wrong, well I don't want to be right! You are my world! If everything else around us were to disappear I would be content as long as I had you!” Sans eyelights are quivering.

 

“I don't want to live without you. I don't want to learn to. I just want you.” Grabbing his brothers jacket he hauls him up. “I want you.”

 

There's a moment. Their sockets meet. They are far enough apart. They could easily pull away from the other.

 

Their teeth clack together.

 

-------------------

 

That night, as Papyrus is getting ready for bed, Sans, hovering in the doorway, asks if he wants a bedtime story. Papyrus knows it's his way of apologizing. He is also more than happy to take it.

Chapter 5

Sans takes the book and settles himself down on the bed, Papyrus happily curled into his side.

 

The title reads: The Brothers Snow Day . The illustration is of two skeletons making a snow fort. 

 

 

Sans turns the page and Papyrus is surprised to see this story looks more like a Fluffy Bunny story. Which is fine. He does love Fluffy Bunny… he had just been hoping for something more like the other stories.

 

Sans looks relieved as he stares down at the pages. On one side is an illustration and on the other is only a few words. He starts to read.

 

“It's a sunny winter day. Large snowflakes are falling outside the window. It would be a great day to play outside in the fresh snow—”

 

This isn't what Papyrus wants to listen to. Still, the look on his brother's skull—excitement and joy—perhaps he can deal with it tonight. Sans turns the page.

 

“One brother is excited and energized. He has a new blue scarf and hat and gloves. They are very soft to the touch—”

 

Papyrus sighs, hands starting to play with his own gloves. They have roughened with use. Old. Sans had found them at the dump for him. His scarf, too. He doesn't have a hat though. Maybe his brother will find him one.

 

“The other is tired. He's a very lazy monster. He would much rather be sleeping than playing in the snow today—”

 

Why is this story so childish? Is it because of Sans? Did Sans choose this story? Is he right about the book changing based on who has it?

 

“The energetic brother gets a basket ready. They are going to have a picnic. He puts in tacos and a bottle of honey—”

 

That's an odd thing to put in for a picnic. Why not spaghetti or even sandwiches. Or spaghetti?

 

“The lazy brother takes the tablecloth from the dining room table. This will make a great picnic blanket—”

 

Of course the lazy brother takes the laziest thing he can grab. There were a multitude of options the lazy brother could have gotten, better options! Just like Sans to do what's easiest.

 

“Now ready, the brothers head outside. It's cold. The energetic brother is happy to have his new clothes. He is very warm. The lazy brother was too lazy to change out of his shorts. He is very cold—”

 

Papyrus chuckles before he can stop himself. He's amused by the knowledge that Sans would definitely be too lazy to change into something warmer and, of course, the energetic brother would have made sure they were dressed for the weather. He would have never let himself out of the house underdressed.

 

“The Brothers make their way to the forest. The energetic brother wants to find the perfect spot. The lazy brother finds a divot. He wants to make their picnic there. The energetic brother refuses; it has to be perfect—!”

 

Well, of course they need to find the perfect place. Papyrus would refuse anything less!

 

“The lazy brother finds a rock. He thinks this would make a good picnic spot. The energetic brother refuses. It's a very lumpy rock—”

 

Who wants to eat on a lump? His brother would, of course. He is a lump. Laughing, Papyrus grins at his brother who is smiling right back at him. Papyrus can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around his brother, resting his skull against his brother's own.

 

Sans stiffens briefly.

 

“T-the lazy brother finds a stump. Is this good enough, he asks? He is very tired. The energetic brother does not agree. It's too cylindrical—”

 

Papyrus hums. That is an interesting thought. Would a cylinder make a good picnic spot? Are picnics supposed to be square? Then perhaps something of a different shape would have been better? A rhomboid?

 

“Exhausted, the lazy brother finds a flat patch of snow. This has to be correct. He's too tired to go on. The energetic brother finally agrees. Yes this is perfect—!”

 

Ah, yes, flat is a good shape! Papyrus runs his phalanges over his brother's chest. Too bad his brother is lumpy and cylindrical. Sans jerks, voice warbling as Papyrus’s phalanges rub along his cloth covered ribs.

 

“They place the picnic blanket down. The lazy brother immediately falls upon it to take a nap. The energetic brother laughs and pulls their food and drinks out—”

 

Papyrus splays his hand across his brother's sternum. Oh, he has found a flat spot.

 

“—Come eat Pa-Papyrus,” the energetic brother calls out—

 

Papyrus smiles. Other than the slight stutter, his brother seems to have gotten over the shock of their names.

 

“—The tired brother groans—”

 

Wait, why is he the tired one?

 

“—Ok, Sans, although it looks like we have a lot to taco about…” The tired brother laughs at his joke. 

 

The energetic brother does not, even though he is amused. “Hilarious brother, although perhaps we should put your cleverness to good use later and make a snow fort—!”

 

It wasn't that good of a joke Papyrus thinks, even as his brother giggles through it. Papyrus knows his brother has many more cooking up in his, yes, clever mind. Thankfully his brother keeps reading.

 

“—The brothers eat their meal. It's delicious—!”

 

Of course he… or that is to say, his brother, would make something good.

 

 “—Now it is time to make the snow fort. The energetic brother immediately gets started. He piles snow upon the ground. He will build a big fort! A magnificent fort—!”

 

A magnificent Sans? Well, he would not lie, Papyrus had always thought his brother was magnificent. Although he doubted his brother would agree. Still, he can see it. Can feel it. His hand slides down, running along his brother’s xiphoid process.

 

“—The lazy brother used his blue magic to gather rocks and sticks. He could not be bothered to get up—”

 

Was it laziness though? Perhaps it could be considered magic practice instead. If you could use blue magic to pick things up, of course you could use it to hold things down…

 

“—The energetic brother sighed at his lazy brother. “Honestly, Papyrus, could you be any lazier?” The lazy brother grinned. “Would you like me to try—?”

 

Papyrus could use magic to help his brother stop being lazy. He wouldn't need to move, wouldn't even need to exert any energy. Papyrus could do it all. He swallows at the thought, hand scraping against the bone beneath. 

 

Sans shivers, one of his legs kicking out.

 

“—The snow fort has grown very tall. Even taller than the short energetic brother. Not as tall as the lazy brother. Not yet at least—”

 

Papyrus wraps his own legs around his brothers. It's slightly difficult with how short his brother is, but he doesn't call himself great for no reason. Sans shifts as he works on noodling his legs around his brother’s.

 

“—The snow fort has grown even taller. Now it's as tall as the lazy brother. ‘Perhaps it's too tall?’ The lazy brother asks. ‘Nonsense,’ says the energetic brother. He is going to make it even taller—!”

 

Hmmm, Papyrus really wants to wrap his arms around his brother. That would make it easier to cage his brother in.

 

“—Oh no! The fort has started to sway! Thankfully, the lazy brother uses his magic to move the sticks and rocks he had gathered to make scaffolding. The snow fort is now stable. The brothers cheer at their work—!”

 

Papyrus has to slide the arm he has placed above their skulls downward, squirming it under and around his brother. His phalanges brush against one another; his brother is so small.

 

“—‘I'm glad we worked together. Otherwise we wouldn't have made this magnificent snow fort!’ The brothers look over their masterpiece. It looks amazing! Happy they head home. What will they do tomorrow—-?”

 

Sans finishes the story. He looks pleased although he does frown down at the way Papyrus has squirmed himself over and under and around himself. 

 

Papyrus grins at his carefully laid trap. His brother will be unable to escape. Papyrus giggles to himself while Sans turns his tired eyelights his way.

 

“Goodnight, bro.” There's something a little more warm in his words. Something a little more…

 

“Goodnight brother… I… love you.” Sans doesn't respond, but that is okay. Maybe next time.

 

Next time…

 

Papyrus had wanted a story about fantasy, adventure, romance….

 

Still, tomorrow there will be a new story that could easily include all of these things.

 

Tomorrow.

 

Tonight… Papyrus nuzzles his brother's skull. Tonight he will ruminate over the simple pleasant story he received instead. Perhaps he will even dream of their own pleasant activities.

 

For tomorrow will be a new day.

Chapter 6

The next story is titled The Monster Who Would Be King . The illustration shows two skeletons upon a cliff with their back facing the viewer. They are staring out into the distance where a castle looms above a city. It looks eerily like the castle in New Home.

 

 

Papyrus can't stop himself from kicking his legs in excitement. He's laying on the bed, skull in his hands and watching his brother, who has leaned himself against the headboard. This is exactly what he had been hoping for.

 

“—This, dear readers, is a story about two brothers. It’s a story of love and loyalty. It’s a story about what one will do to keep their loved ones safe. And how far they will fall to do it.

 

We start in a house where two brothers will soon reside. The elder, newly born, is destined to become a judge of a corrupt kingdom—”

 

Sans stops reading. Eyelights pinpricks in their sockets. Papyrus frowns, glancing up at his sibling.

 

“Is everything ok?” 

 

Above him, framing him in with his legs on either side of him, Sans is shivering. “Do you need a blanket?” Papyrus sits up. It’s a confusing thought. They don't feel the effects of heat and cold the way other monsters do. Still, his brother's constitution is delicate.

 

“N-no.” Sans doesn't start reading again though.

 

“Do you need a glass of water?” 

 

Sans shakes his skull. 

 

Maybe then… 

 

“Are you already tired of reading? Perhaps I should take over?”

 

Sans gives another shake. Before Papyrus can do or say anything else Sans goes on.

 

“—Their king, once a kind soul, had become corrupted ever since the death of his two children. Their wife, the queen, run off, unable to live with herself—”

 

Sans shaking has grown worse. Papyrus crawls up the bed to hug his brother. “It’s okay. It’s just a story.” He comforts his brother the same way Sans would when they can't find Fluffy Bunny. Still, Papyrus is looking forward to this. After last night this is more what he had been hoping for.

 

“—After the death of… of her children.

 

Soon, madness took hold of the king. He ordered the death of the queen's maids, for they must have been complicit in her escape. Then the queen’s guards, for they must have known she would run. Then the queen's family, for they would have known where to find her.

 

The king’s advisors protested. This was not the way, they cried. The king, maddened with grief and enraged at their words, ordered their deaths.

 

What has happened to our kind king, the nobles moaned. The king, with madness having consumed his soul, slew them where they stood.

 

The people protested this treatment and so the king declared a new rule. Their world was to be ‘kill or be killed.’ Soon, any shred of kindness and decency had been wiped out.

 

That is, until the younger brother was born—”

 

Sans stops reading again.

 

Papyrus gives his brother a nudge, but Sans doesn't respond. He's staring off into space. With a sigh, Papyrus reaches for the book only for Sans to jerk and pull the book away.

 

“I-uh,” Sans gives him a weak smile. “Maybe we should stop here.”

 

“Why?” So far the story has been perfect. Sans doesn't answer. He's staring down at the page. Skull tilted down. Papyrus can't read his expression.

 

“Please brother, I want to know what happens.” His brother takes a deep breath, rib cage expanding before he lets it all out in a sigh.

 

“—The elder brother was in awe. His father, the Royal Scientist, was an absentee parent, more interested in their work on freeing monsters from their prison than caring for their creations.

 

Before the elder brother sat a perfect child. Their bones were unmarred by injury or starvation. Their smile was filled with the happiness of one who has not yet lived through days filled with silence and fear.

 

The elder brother promised to protect this child—from their father, from the other scientists, from the very world in which they were born—and so they did.

 

When their father died by the very machine they had created, the children were cast out onto the streets. The younger brother, who had never known hunger or cold, was despondent.

 

“What will we eat!” They cried out as their stomach rumbled. “Where will we sleep?” They sobbed as their bones shivered.

 

The elder brother could not allow themselves to fall apart here.

 

“Do not worry brother.” They held their sibling tightly. “I will make sure you do not starve.” And so the elder did.

 

They stole food from businesses and made sure they were not caught by the guard. To be caught would be a death sentence.

 

Unfortunately, in their exhaustion and hunger, they made a mistake. The guards were alerted and immediately went searching for the two brothers. The brothers needed to find someplace to hunker down for the time being.

 

Eventually, their travels brought them to a damp cavernous world where even the guard dared not tread. All except for one. The Captain herself.

 

The brothers thought they would be well protected in this new place. Who would be dumb enough to set up camp near the dreaded Captain afterall? They found a small hole the two of them would fit into. With both shelter and a full belly acquired, the siblings fell into a deep sleep.

 

Unbeknownst to them, the Captain of the guard had been alerted to the brothers’ plight. She vows to capture them and bring them to justice. For she is the Captain of the guard, no one can best her!

 

The next morning, the brothers wake hungry but warm. They will need to find something to eat and soon. Their stomachs rumble as they head out.

 

They do not find anyone in their search for food. The roads are empty. The shops, closed. Confused and worried, the siblings decide to look elsewhere.

 

Their travel takes them across a multitude of rivers. Fish can be seen hidden within its depths. Neither brother has any luck catching them.

 

The younger brother starts to scrounge for roots and clams while the elder searches for water sausages. The younger, too hungry and wet and growing cold, does not see the carefully laid trap. They step into it, shouting when a net falls over them.

 

Their elder brother, alerted to their cries, runs back. Only to see the Captain has captured their brother. She points her spear at the elder brother, declaring him captured too.

 

The elder brother can do nothing. Their hands are tied and they along with their brother are dragged to the king’s castle. The walk is long, the brothers growing more tired and hungry and cold.

 

Eventually, they make it to the castle where they are marched in front of the king.

 

“What have you brought me?”

 

“Two thieves, my king! Captured near my home.”

 

The king looks the thieves over. The shorter of the two catches his eye. He can feel something from the child. Something familiar. Ah! He thinks. This child is a judge. How fortunate.

 

“Good work, Captain. You have brought me the Royal Judge.” The Captain, pleased bows. “Send the other into the recruits. Perhaps they can also be of use to me.”

 

The Captain gives one last bow before leaving with the younger brother, who shouts, begging his elder brother to save him. The elder brother tries to teleport but a command from the king brings them up short. They cannot fight back against their king.

 

Both brothers watch as the other disappears from their sight. Neither knows they will eventually see the other again one day—”

 

They breeze through chapter after chapter. Sans’s voice grows hoarse the longer he goes on but Papyrus is entrenched in the story. He can almost see it—smell the air of the Underground. Papyrus closes his sockets and for a moment, he swears he sees the startled look of another who looks so much like him except for the scars raking across his skull before he's shaken back into awareness by his brother.

 

“Let's head to bed, bro. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

 

Papyrus agrees. He is strangely tired. They get under the covers and curl up together. Sans turns the light off with his blue magic.

 

Papyrus closes his sockets, ready to slip away into dreamland, except, Papyrus finds himself now dealing with the excitement of the story. He can't get it out of his mind. What happens next?

 

Unable to sleep and unwilling to toss and turn, Papyrus sits up. His brother does not wake. He eyes his sibling, waiting for a twitch of a socket to show he's still within the chance of waking. Nothing.

 

Papyrus slips out of bed. He hesitates as he reaches for the book. Eyeing his brother one last time before snagging it and sneaking his way down to the living room.

 

The light is bright as he turns on the living room lamp. Almost too bright. Papyrus quickly glances upstairs and waits, listening intently. Silence greets him—an old friend he is very excited to see right now. Settling down on the couch, he cracks the book open and starts to read.

 

“—The younger brother is despondent. He had lived his life protected by his elder brother. This new ‘kill or be killed’ world is a confusing mess he is trying to carefully navigate.

 

He desperately longs to see his brother, but is told only survival will give him that chance. The younger brother vows to find his elder brother. To get him back and in turn protect him. This vow carries him through guard training—”

 

Papyrus flinches as he reads about how exactly the younger brother did all of this. Truly taking in the new law of ‘kill or be killed.’ It shouldn't be surprising. He too… if he had been separated from Sans… would he also do such horrid things?

 

Papyrus reads on, cheering the younger brother’s conquests and crying at his failures. Eventually, the younger brother works his way up the ladder until he finally becomes the lieutenant of the guard, second only to the Captain, a woman he admires deeply.

 

In his ceremony, the younger brother finally meets his elder brother, who is standing at the king’s side. Papyrus feels for the younger brother when he learns his elder sibling is the Royal Judge.

 

Which means they can never be together. Not unless…

 

If he were to kill the king and take over, he would regain his brother. 

 

They could live together again. They would never have to be separated again!

 

The younger brother makes a new set of vows. He promises his sibling he will see him again. Be there for him.

 

Never leave him again.

 

Papyrus reads on.

 

He cheers when the younger brother defeats the Captain, gasps when he asks her to join him and cries when she refuses.

 

He understands why it must be done, but his soul throbs when the younger brother kills her. He can't imagine having to do that, but for his brother…?

 

The younger brother becomes the new Captain of the guard. He grows in strength until he finally feels as if he is ready to face his biggest foe.

 

The evil king.

 

Papyrus is shivering in excitement as the younger brother marches towards the king's palace. He's shaking when the younger brother confronts the king.

 

The battle is long and bloody. Papyrus can smell the scent of dust and almost see it swirling in the air. Eventually, the younger brother defeats the evil king and claims the throne as his own.

 

Crowds of monsters drawn to the battle chant his name. Papyrus stares down at the words before him.

 

Papyrus.

 

It's his name. Over and over. The crowds swell and howl as their new king Papyrus gives a rousing speech where he promises to protect the Underground.

 

What Papyrus sees as the moral end of the story is merely the close of a chapter. He turns the page and pauses, staring at the next chapter's full-page illustration. Here is King Papyrus sitting on his throne. At his side, kneeling, a collar around his throat is Sans. Or at least a version of his brother if he had sharp teeth.

 

It's not what he was expecting but the image…

 

Heat floods his bones.

 

He reads on. The story isn't finished yet. The younger brother, in order to protect his elder brother, roots out any and all who oppose him. Nobles are sentenced to death. Many beg for their lives promising to obey and are spared by a binding oath.

 

Once his kingdom is secure, only then does he visit his brother. Who he had locked up. To protect him from those who would use his sibling against the newly crowned king.

 

Papyrus gasps when the younger brother announces his intent to take his own brother as a concubine. He declares his brother property of the crown, both as concubine and judge.

 

No one can harm Sans without death as their punishment.

 

Papyrus turns the page. Eyelights widen as he reads what, exactly, the younger brother intends to do to his older brother—to tie his sibling to himself, completely and utterly, so that he cannot escape.

 

The story ends with those mad eyes turning towards his own. A voice asks if he too will take up arms against his own mad king to protect his brother.

 

Papyrus slams the book shut. He's heaving for breath. It felt so real. He could hear the others’ dulcet tones whispering into his acoustic meatus. See those red eyelights boring into his own white.

 

He's excited. Magic pools between his joints, begging for release to…

 

He slowly makes his way back up the stairs. His hand gently turns the doorknob as he slips back inside his brother's room. Quietly, he makes his way back to bed, curling himself against his brother, forcing himself to keep still lest he wake him. But he doesn't sleep. Eyelights trail over his brothers still form.

Chapter 7

In the morning, Papyrus walks his brother to his sentry station. He needs to leave soon. Head off to Undynes to train. Leave his brother by himself. Out here. All alone.

Where anyone could take him.

His brother gives him a grin and waves him off, promising they will have dinner together. Papyrus relaxes, reassured. He trudges away, eyelights trailing back to make sure his brother hasn't moved.

At Undynes, he's so distracted that when she finally asks what's wrong, he answers truthfully. He admits that he heard through the grapevine that Asgore has grown “mad” and perhaps he needs to be… not disposed of but perhaps locked up. Undyne looks startled at this, only to turn angry.

“Where exactly did you hear that from?” She descends upon him. Normally, he would have teased her, perhaps tricked her into another subject. Instead he faces her head on and says “Around.”

It's not a lie exactly. Not the truth either. Undyne hesitates. Clearly, this is not what she was expecting. She eyes him for a moment before nodding.

She tells him about what has happened—to Asgore and Toriel and their children. Papyrus doesn't know what to think. It's just like the story, except rather than grow mad and start killing people, he instead has locked himself in the castle and hidden himself away to mourn.

Papyrus feels for him. He thinks about the other Papyrus, what he had to do and why.

Undyne sends him off afterwards, not in the mood to continue. Neither is Papyrus to be fair.

The rest of the day, Papyrus spends in silence, turning over every choice he might have made. Wondering what paths he would’ve taken—for his brother. For himself.

Dinner is a strangely quiet affair. Both siblings are too busy thinking about the book. About what tonight will bring.

Papyrus is fine with rereading the story again. He wants to know what his brother will do when he reads about what the younger brother has planned for the elder.

Will he read it? Will he blush over the words that are used? Will he stutter through them, bones blushing a lovely shade of blue?

Or would he stop?

Would he slam the book shut? Tell him—Papyrus—that he's too young. Too immature to read such filth?

Papyrus wants Sans to read those passages. Wants his brother to see what the younger brother was… is going to do. What he wants to do. To him.

Dishes clink. Dinner is finished. Excitement curls in Papyrus’s gut. He eyes his brother, watching as Sans hands his dishes over.

He wants to toss them into the sink, leaving them for tomorrow, except his brother would wonder why. Perhaps… yes, the delay, will make the rest of the story that much more exquisite.

He swallows down the magic that pools in his mouth and hurriedly washes and dries the dishes before practically running to the stairs to join his brother.

As they settle down in bed, ready to finish the story, Papyrus can't keep his eyelights off of his brother. He's wearing an old long pajama top that comes to his knees. Nothing else is beneath.

It wouldn't be difficult to push his clothes up. Snuggled right into his chest. If his hands rubbed along his ribs. If he did it just right…

Sans opens the book. His mouth parts. Papyrus can see the hint of a magic tongue. A tongue he knows is very flexible. Except, instead of reading, his brother frowns.

“What’s the matter?” Papyrus asks as his brother closes the book and reopens it.

“It's on a new story.”

“What?” Papyrus leans in, looking the story over.

Indeed, it's on a new one. The title reads: Dark Desires. The illustration is of a graycolored room. Two skeletons, surrounded by humans, are curled together. Their bodies are contorted as if trying to protect the other.

“I don't understand, it won't let me turn the page or-or… anything.”

Papyrus doesnt know what to say. Is it because he read the story and it finished? Was that a thing? This was a magical book. Perhaps the rules were different.

“Sans, I…” Sans’s eyelights are on him. “Last night…” That story. The ending. The words. “I finished the story.”

Sans looks surprised then… hurt.

“I couldn't sleep!” Papyrus hurries to explain. Eyelights on the illustration, his brother doesn't look at him. “I had to know what happened.”

“Ok.”

Papyrus waits a moment, wondering if his brother is going to say something more.

“I don't want to read this.”

“What? Why?” Papyrus tries to reach for the book but Sans pulls it away.

“It doesn't look right!” Sans snaps. Papyrus jerks back, startled at the tone Sans gives him. “Look at it! Look at them! Look at what the humans are doing to them. Do you want to read this?” Sans is brandishing the illustration at him.

“I…” Does he? This book feels like a puzzle. One Papyrus wants to solve. One he wants to figure out. These stories are warnings. To what, he doesn't know. Not yet. “Yes. I do.”

“Well, I don't!” Sans rises. Papyrus, knowing what his brother is going to do, leaps for him.

Sans shouts as he's knocked to the bed. Papyrus kneels on top of him. Sans eyelights widen as Papyrus grabs the book, wrenching it out of his brother's hands and tosses it onto the side table.

Sans eyelights are quivering in their sockets. Watching him. His brother's whole attention is on him, him!

Their hips are touching. His legs are on top of his brother’s. Papyrus’s hands slide down, over his brothers, covering them. Gripping them.

His phalanges slide between his brothers and he clenches down.

Papyrus bends himself down, body contorting. His brother is so small beneath him. Sans tries to turn away. Tries to refuse.

He will not be refused.

Wetness pools against his skull. Teeth clack against his. Sans’s own teeth remain closed. They refuse to open. Papyrus licks them.

A noise.

Sans whines through his clenched teeth, refusing to part them.

Something pulls aside Papyrus’s attention. The book. It calls to him. Whispering. Begging to be read. A new story awaits.

… Except he really wants to continue with his brother. Can he not do both? If he moves the book, maybe.

Papyrus carefully transfers both of his brother's wrists to one of his hands. With his other, he grabs the book and places it above Sans’s. Opening it, he turns the page and starts to read as Sans cries beneath him.

Chapter 8

 

This is a tale of two brothers living happily together. Neither is aware of the future they will soon be facing. Humans will break into their Underground and capture them. They will be used in experiments where humans will find out their magic has many helpful properties to it. Magic can give some humans abilities. Others can use the magic for healing and medicine.

 

Monsters will be treated like commodities—bought and sold—bred for more of their kind. Weaker ones will be given to humans with diseases in order to heal them.

 

Stronger ones will end up in laboratories where their magic will be taken by any means necessary. Where they will be poked and prodded.

 

Their bones will be cracked open to steal their marrow. Their souls, grasped and fondled. Their bodies, forced to make their ecto—the resulting slime scraped away. Their cries will grow in volume. Their tears, carefully gathered and labeled.

 

These pieces of themselves will be sent off for testing. The humans’ excitement will grow at the knowledge of what high yield and quality products they have. 

 

The brothers are to be transfered to a new high security lab.

 

Together. 

 

The brothers' joy at remaining together will curdle into horror when they witness what’s done to each other. They will not be separated. The one with only 1HP is far too valuable to lose. So they will be kept side by side, forced to watch. In the same room their cries will harmonize, their voices rising and falling together.

 

Hands touch them. Too many. Too many hold the brothers immobile as they touch, reaching into places the brothers themselves had never had a chance to explore.

 

The brothers find themselves strapped to chairs, legs spread and tied to stirrups. Machines are hooked up to them. Too many. A tube runs down their throats, feeding them, making sure they will keep producing until the end of their shift.

 

The machines pump and suck. Two on their chests cover each breast formed from their ecto. The last two on their groins. One is shoved internally, wicking away the liquid before it can be lost. The other covers the phallus they were forced to create.

 

Then later, after a full day’s work of drawing magic from the brothers, the humans give them a break. A chance to stretch their sore limbs. A chance to rest, brief as it may be, before the humans come back to force them into another shift.

 

Eventually, the humans want more. Eventually the humans wonder if they can create more. Eventually the humans will force them to copulate.

 

Surrounded by these fiends, held down and strapped to a bench, they can feel the press of their siblings behind them—a suffocating presence, vile and relentless. They force their way inside. Not gentle, not tender. Just movement. Just heat. Just need. Thrusting. Groaning. Finishing. Again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

They're not given a chance to enjoy each other. They are pulled away as soon as the last drops have fallen. There's a pat on the shoulder when their duty has been done. A sigh when it has not. 

 

Another round. 

 

And another. 

 

Until it is done.

 

They rest—for one is carrying. The other is still expected to work their shift. They are not separated. The humans allow the other to stay—stay near enough to get what dredges of magic they can from the sire.

 

The pregnancy is growing. So quickly. Much quicker than many of the other species. The brothers’ worth grows in turn.

 

They birth many more of their kind into the world. Each pregnancy switches between the siblings. Over the years, they have grown resigned. Their bodies fall into a rhythm. A consistent output.

 

Their children, who the humans take away, will also, when old enough, become new producers. They will have no knowledge of anything else. To them, this is normal. Their lives are a carefully structured thing that does not deviate.

 

The brothers will spend the rest of their lives in this laboratory. There will be no retirement. Not for their kind. They will produce until their souls eventually pass from old age. Many many years later.

 

They are at the end of the story. 

 

The last page holds only four words.

 

What will you do?

 

Papyrus stares down at the words, shock and horror filling his soul. This was not what he had been expecting. Not what he had wanted to read. But something was forcing him to. He hadn't been able to look away, to stop the words that fell from his teeth.

 

Those horrid words. The descriptions. The emotions the siblings felt. The horror at what was happening to them. Their fear. The horror at seeing the other strapped down, forced to watch their sibling.

 

Forced… just like he has…

 

Beneath him Sans thrashes, breaking free. Papyrus jerks back, hands leaving his brothers, who in turn smacks the book away. It slams into the floor, falling open to those words.

 

What will you do?

 

Horror sings through him. What was he doing? Beneath him, Sans scrambles away. Papyrus shivers at the look in his brother's eyelights.

 

Sans slips past him. Towards the wall. The door. His hand on it. The knob twists. He’s going to leave. Sans is going to leave him.

 

Papyrus’s breath hitches, a sob building in his chest. It's loud in the silence. Sans stops. Hesitates at the door. Papyrus does not move. Only watches his brother.

 

Sans mouth opens and closes. Words are at the tip of his teeth, words that would destroy them both. Sans stands on the precipice of something… and says nothing. Turning, he heads outside.

 

________________________________

 

The next day sees Sans slumped over his sentry station. He and Papyrus have not spoken to one another. Papyrus hadn't even questioned where the book was. 

 

It was currently in his trash torando. Where it would remain. Forever. 

 

A spot of black against the white and brown of the forest draws his eyelights. Something moves between the trees. Its making noise, barely discernible between the ambience of the Underground but there nonetheless. 

 

It's a drone. 

 

He knows because he had seen the picture of it within the book. He stares at it. Mind blanking. There's the sound of static filling his skull. A chill running down his spine. 

 

He destroys it with a barrage of bones.

 

It's just like in the book. In the beginning the humans check out the monsters. See what they are up to. Find out about their magic, their engineering, their ways. The humans interest growing until a hoard of humans descend upon the Underground. Capturing them.

 

The monsters don't stand a chance.

 

Sans is on the verge of a panic attack. This can't be real! This… is all because of the book! It has to be!

 

He needs to get rid of it.

 

Now.

 

He teleports home. His brother will be out for a while. This is the perfect time to get rid of it. He should have done it before.

 

Well, he will take care of it now.

 

He grabs it from the trash tornado, only to drop it and jerk away. Something screams at him not to. It's just a book. Why?

 

Sans bares his teeth at the book. His eyelights are wild as he grabs it again. The screaming returns, louder than ever. It's howling at him, begging him not to.

 

This won't stop what's going to come.

 

Sans doesn't care. He teleports. Feels the book trying to stop him. Teleports again. The book is now trying to push him… somewhere. He teleports again. Sees his brother. Sees the look of shock on his skull. Sees the way his eyelights snap down to the book and back up.

 

The narrowing of Papyrus’s sockets.

 

Sans teleports. He's running out of time. He needs to get rid of this book. Now now now!

 

The dump. The waters pulls him towards the falls. Towards the edge. He teleports.

 

He's standing above the edge of the dump. The void yawns before him. The light disappears down into its dark depths. So too will this damned book.

 

Sans tosses it. For a moment, the book clings to his hand, holding on, clutching with all its might. Sans snarls, blue magic lighting up, and with all of his strength, he shoves the book away. It falls. Tumbles end over end. 

 

It disappears down below.

 

Behind him, Sans hears splashes. Papyrus is drawing near. Sans doesn't wait. Instead, he teleports himself home.

 

____________________________

 

The book hits the water below and tumbles through a series of rapids before it’s spit out into the dump again. Its floats through the swirling water before bumping into a pile of trash where it sits.

 

The light above fades. Darkness presses in. The book slowly phoreses. Pulsing and shimmering, its lights a dazzling display. There is no one around to see. Eventually, day returns. The book waits patiently.

 

Finally. There are footsteps. Water splashes as the person draws nearer. A yellow lizard steps out from behind a pile of trash. Their eyes parse through the mounds, hoping to find something good.

 

Something interesting.

 

The book brightens. Its metallic cover shines across her scaled face. She blinks, eyes snapping towards the book. Her head cocks to the side, eyes widening with interest.

 

She gets closer.

 

The book whispers, luring her in, begging her to open itself, to see what wonders it can create. What wonders she wants to see.

 

Her scaled hand is rough against its exterior, her claws gentle as she opens the book. Her interest immediately peaks. Her soul beats faster. The pornish pictures she sees excite her. The last story contains illustrations of skeleton monsters.

 

A closer look and she thinks the pictures look like Sans and Papyrus. It's lovely. Their bodies entwined. Held down and… she frowns at the sight of humans. Fear briefly cows her.

 

The book pluses, promising other stories. Ones without humans. Ones about her favorite people.

 

She heads home reading the passages, hiding it when others are near. When she finishes the story, she is in her lab. She sets the book down. Giddy and hot, she takes a shower to cool off.

 

When she comes back to check the book out, it has changed itself. The next story now depicts her and Undyne as the main characters.

 

Intrigued, she starts to read.

Notes:

...and done! Excited doesn't quite capture how I feel. I have been reading stories from the Undertale community for many years before I started writing for them. Every single person I have talked to have been amazing. I am so glad I found this community.

And Again thanks to..

SaltWaterFlower for your amazing Beta'ing skills, and tagging and everything else I needed that you were always willing to help me out with.

Lafillehonteuse for the absolutely amazing drawings. They were everything I had been hoping for.