I was sitting on the roof of the lab, drinking tea.

It was about four days after the battle that monsters had won. I had gotten some lab employees to carry a small table and a chair up to the roof of the lab, and I was sitting there, looking out across the town. From the lab roof, you could see the fields beyond. To the east, there were clear scorch marks and gouges in the ground from my Blasters, the same Blasters modeled after Firhaur, mirroring the rage in his eyes, the power.

Unfortunately, my weapons had come just a little too late. Due to the extreme excess of energy I had expended, not to mention the fact that I wasn't fully recovered from the rune carving, I had been unconscious for a full two days. While I was out, King Relgore had died from the wounds he had sustained in the battle.

Asgore was now king.

And how he managed to take the time to ensure I was recovering on top of his grief, funeral planning, and new Royal responsibilities, I have no idea. He was the one who had suggested I drink tea, saying it had medicinal properties and it would help me get back on my feet more quickly.

Honestly, I've got no clue where that monster's love for the beverage comes from. It really doesn't taste that great, and I've tried a good many varieties...

But Asgore had much to deal with, so I humored my friend and drank the tea.

Really, the runes were nearly completely healed. All that remained of them was faint grey lines across my bones, and they would be gone by the end of the day. I was, admittedly, still a little shaky on my feet, but that was just because of my extreme exhaust. I would be fine in a day or two.

But, again, to humor Asgore, I was sitting at the table on the roof of the lab, sipping tea and looking out at the destruction I had wreaked, instead of working.

I have to admit, it did feel good to sit back and close my eyes, let the sun warm my bones...

I was just about asleep, finally getting some much-deserved rest, when a loud thwack jerked me awake. A newspaper had been dropped on the table. Asgore and Dagiel were standing on opposite side of the table to me.

There was an agony in Asgore's eyes. I knew that look. It was my own pain.

Asgore jabbed a finger at the newspaper. "I want this." He said simply.

I looked at the newspaper. Four days after the event, and I was still running front-page headlines, along with the news of King Relgore's death.

Today's paper featured an artist's interpretation of my victory, and it was rather flattering if I do say so myself. I was standing tall and straight, my shoulders thrown back proudly. In my right hand I held a bone, glowing in a haze of purple Magic. And above me, five Blasters, the likenesses of Firhaur, the headline read "DR. GASTER'S BLASTERS".

That made me frown just a little. I didn't want them to be my Blasters. They were meant as a homage to Firhaur. But the name was sticking, and eventually it would be shortened down to Gaster Blasters.

I never called them that.

Nonetheless, they were powerful weapons, and I had finally gotten my goal: the king wanted my weapons.

But... "No." I shook my head. "You don't want those." Asgore started to protest, but I cut him off. "I'm not saying I won't make you weapons. I'm just saying not these weapons. Compared to you, I'm small, and incredibly light. My skill relies on speed. You, though? You're big. Heavy. Strong. You want something you can put power into, something that'll withstand the strength of your blows. So not these."

Asgore blinked a little. "But you will make something for me."

I grinned, the fire surging up in my chest again. "Absolutely. I can have something within the month."

Asgore nodded grimly. "Good. How about for the rest of the Royal Guard?"

I nodded. "I mean, it'll take a little longer than a month. But yes. We'll be ready by the time the humans have recovered enough."

"Good. I'm relying on you, Dr. Gaster."

... The entire nation was.

My research began the next day. Building weapons for myself was easier than this; I knew what I wanted, and it was easy to get all my own weight and height measurements, as well as my own Magic capacity. But now I needed to get that information from someone else, and keep track of it.

And then Asgore also told the Guardsmen the information I needed for weapons, and they gave me their information, too. Which, for as helpful as it was to have all the data I needed, it was difficult to keep track of.

Nonetheless, I got things done. A month later, I was leading Asgore into my lab to show him my creation.

My work for Asgore really was something amazing. A suit of armor, golden, with strengthening runes on the inside, and a bloodred trident nearly twice my own size. Once I bound the weapon to Asgore, of course, it wouldn't be corporeal until he summoned it.

I was grinning as I showed off my work. I was not meant to be on the battlefield; for as strong as I was, I tired easily. This though, making weapons, strengthening those who were on the battlefield, that was how I was meant to spread the fire that burned in me.

Asgore did not share my enthusiasm. He was in pain, grieving the loss of his father. He did not fight to avenge, as I did, he fought purely to end the war, so that no other monsters might suffer as he did.

As we did.

There is, though, one bright spot in this entire thing. Asgore's reaction when I told him how I would bind the weapon to him... that was comedy gold.

And it only got better when I told him that, in order to carve the runes, he would need to shave off his fur so I could get at his flesh.

Just adding insult to injury, he said. I only laughed.

After a little while, I realized that he didn't realize he would be sedated for the process. I had not been sedated, and I was the only one who had undergone this procedure.

So I actually sat him down and explained the whole thing.

"When it's over," I told him, "you'll wake up in your own bed, a bit sore, but otherwise fine. And a day or two later, you'll have a new weapon at your disposal."

I think that made him a lot more receptive to the whole thing.

Eventually, the day came that we had planned for the binding. He came into the lab and pulled off his shirt, nothing but pink flesh beneath.

It's a little funny, actually. I never realized before how much of Asgore's girth was actually just floof.

Nonetheless, we got to work. He laid back on the table, and I readied the aerosol sedative he would be taking. It took a little longer than I would have liked to take effect, but that was understandable; Asgore was a big monster. It took time for drugs to affect him.

But affect him they did, and after a little while, he passed out, and I was able to start the rune carving.

Unfortunately, Asgore did not wake up in his bed as I had promised. Once I had finished with the binding and bandaged up his chest, no one was strong enough to carry him back to the castle. So he remained in the lab at least until he was awake enough to lean on Toriel's shoulder as she guided him back to the castle.

And me?

I wasn't happy, exactly. I couldn't be happy, not with Firhaur gone, not with the war. But I had a grim sense of satisfaction.

The fire was spreading.

§

A/N

I wrote most of this during lunch, so forgive me any typos! (:

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and votes are my Favorite Things, and every notification I get makes my day!