Would That Make You Happy?

Frisk is your child, the result of a teen pregnancy, but they've always been told that you're their older sister. In an effort to get away from your own abusive mother, the two of you end up falling into the Underground, where Sans is startled by this abrupt change in what had become a predictable pattern of events. Maybe your presence is what is needed to stop the endless cycle of Resets.

After many struggles, both internal and external, you and your found family reach the surface, only to face even more difficulties from the society you weren't sure you'd ever see again. You meet new friends and encounter people from your past, though for good or ill, you're not sure. Sometimes it's difficult to tell kindness from cunning.

1Likes
1Comments
23164Views
AA

158. Liar

It only takes Deacon a moment to realize that Sans is standing there at the treeline, eye still crackling, magic poised on the tips of his fingers. The mage flinches, holds up his hands in a warding gesture as he opens his mouth to speak, but Sans won't let him. He's done listening.

Sans reaches out with his magic, wrenches Deacon's Soul —green for just a moment before washing over with blue— from his chest, and yanks him down to the ground. His lungs empty with a whoosh of air and a pained grunt, and the kids can only stare as Sans takes a step forward, keeping the pressure on.

"you lied to us!" Sans shouts, picking him up off the ground and slamming him back down.

Deacon groans, tilting his head so he can look up at him. He reaches out towards him, grimacing in what Sans hopes is pain. "Sans, wait. Let me explain."

"both of you get over here." He gestures with his free hand for the kids, beckoning them over. They do as he says, but Frisk looks conflicted, glancing between Deacon and Sans. "is this what you're planning? another barrier? you son of a bitch, if you think—"

Deacon's hands flash green and before he can try to react, a barrier springs to life around Sans, trapping him and cutting off his magic on the mage's Soul. Slamming his fist against the inside of the perfect sphere, his arm bounces off of it harmlessly, leaving him seething within a bubble of green. He tries to teleport outside of it, but that doesn't work either. He's stuck. Powerless. Deacon pushes himself up off the ground, keeping one hand raised and focused on Sans as he wipes his face with the back of the other. 

"I'm not here to trap anybody," he says, rising to his feet. He cringes, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "I mean, I know how this looks, but I—"

"you tricked me into trusting you! all of us! i was right this whole goddamn time!" Sans bellows, his voice distorted inside the ball. Clenching his hands into fists at his sides, overwhelmed with impotent rage, his left eye flares bright, yellow threaded in the blue. If he had enough space he could summon a blaster, see if it could punch a hole through it, but he can't. Deacon must have remembered. Fuck why had he shown him the blasters? Why had they all shown him what they were capable of?

"Sans, I'm your friend! Hope's friend! This doesn't change that, please just listen!" Deacon says, but his pleading falls on deaf ears.

"this changes everything," he snarls.

Deacon flinches back, lips parting in surprise as his free hand cups protectively over his Soul. The color is starting to dim, just a little, and for a brief moment he looks panicked. Unsure. "Just... Sans, give up and calm down."

Give up. "i will never give up again!" Sans smacks his fist against the side of the barrier. "i won't ever stop fighting to protect my family from people like you!"

"I haven't done anything to hurt anyone!" he exclaims, brow furrowing. "I was just sent to keep an eye on things. To learn."

"i hope you've learned a lot about how many different ways i'm going to kick your ass when i get out of here. you can't keep this up forever."

"Let him go!" Asriel steps forward, fire gathering in his hands, fangs bared.

Deacon pales, raising his unoccupied hand towards him. "Come on, Asriel, don't do this," he says, his fingers flickering wisps of green.

"asriel, you stay back!" Sans yells, but the prince isn't listening.

White furred fingers gather in more fire, and as he flings a spray of flames at Deacon he ducks his head and summons a small shield in front of his outstretched hand. The fire splatters across the curve of magic and dies in a puff of sparks. "Shit, kid, stop!" Deacon blurts out, taking a step back. The hand pointed at Sans twitches, shaking a little. The ball shudders and gets a little smaller.

"Let him go!" Asriel shouts again, pelting the shield with more fire.

"Asriel wait!" Frisk blurts out, rushing up beside him and wrapping their arms around one of his. He hesitates, looking at Frisk and lowering his hands.

"both of you get back!" Sans snaps, pounding on the bubble again.

"Asriel he just saved us! We should listen!" Frisk says, then turns to look at Sans. "Dad please!"

But Sans gives a sharp shake of his head, gritting his teeth and hunching his shoulders. The space inside the ball is electric with his magic, making the air tingle over his bones and crackle against the green energy keeping him in. "he's lied to us this entire time. the whole goddamn time!"

"You lied to Mom! But she listened and she understood!" Frisk says.

"that was to protect her! to protect both of you!"

"And I was just trying to protect myself!" Deacon exclaims, and his hands are shaking worse now. "I used my magic to protect two kids and this is how you r-reacted!" He's breathing hard, eyes darting between Asriel and Sans, refusing to drop either the bubble or the shield. "Did... did you ever trust me, or was it all just an act... to get Hope off your back?"

Sans glares, hard, as he feels the magic close in tighter around him. Deacon's Soul is turning ashy, graying as sweat drips down the side of his face. "i trusted you. we all fucking trusted you. and you've thrown it all in our goddamn faces!"

"What was I supposed to do, Sans? Introduce myself as a mage?" Deacon asks, his expression desperate. "No one knows we still exist... and I'm not one of the mages you need to worry about. If you'd let me explain..."

The ball shudders, losing color and then brightening again as the shield on himself melts away. His arm falls limp at his side. It's just a matter of time. He's exhausted, Sans can see it in his face. 

"Please. I'm not your enemy," Deacon begs, shoving sweat-damp hair out of his eyes with the side of his arm. He looks afraid. He should be. "I'm a friend. Please."

"you're not my friend," Sans says, glaring up at the roof of the ball as it shrinks more. The mage can't keep this up. He can't. "and once everyone knows the truth, none of them are going to be your friends either. i should have trusted my instincts from the moment i met you."

He shakes his head, gasping as a leg buckles. He drops to one knee. "Fuck!" Deacon hisses, and Sans thinks he can see tears in his eyes. "I just wanted to help. Why isn't... it ever good enough?"

With one last shudder of magic, the bubble shatters and dissolves into nothing, and Sans flings the blunted end of a conjured bone right into the center of Deacon's chest. It strikes him right beneath his near-colorless Soul, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sprawling back into the dirt at the base of Mt. Ebott's cliff.

Sans summons a spray of bones over his head, poised to strike again, but Deacon doesn't move.

"Dad! Why did you do that?" Frisk cries out, staring at him wide-eyed.

"go back to camp," Sans says, low and careful, gritting his teeth as he takes a cautious step towards the sprawled-out mage. When the kids hesitate, he snaps his head towards them. "i said go back to camp."

Flinching, they shy from him and Asriel starts tugging Frisk away. After a moment they let themselves be led away, and he can hear them running back through the trees. Sans returns his attention to Deacon.

His Soul is still hovering there above his chest, flickering weakly with only the barest hint of green. After a moment, as Sans grits his teeth and waits, it sinks back inside of Deacon where it belongs. He's unconscious.

"shit," Sans breathes, and buries his face in his hands.

   
Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...