Flipping the script(swapfell)part 1

chapter 15

...and that was where Asgore felt his world tip sideways.

Sans was walking a pace in front of Papyrus, his presence almost filling up the room with a display of power-play and barely-restrained killer intent. His aura was intense enough that the rest of his appearance wasn't even necessary, but he walked up to the seating area in what appeared to be a set of homemade armored clothing that was obviously intended to be functional if need be. Upon a second look, Asgore recognized several pieces as coming from Papyrus's own armor.

Despite the armored parts, the rest seemed almost risque with Sans exposing his spine, shorts and black leg covers that only came halfway up his femurs, and leather boots that had heels that seemed unnecessarily high and sharp. Still, the overall image blended in perfectly with his presence, something odd and disarming, yet sharp and armed to the teeth and ready to strike if the need arose.

Sans made his way up to the front, inclining his head in respect to the Royals as opposed to Alphys's bow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We've come as requested,” he said, his voice pitched low, yet loud and commanding. “I want this done as quickly as possible, I don't want Papyrus being exposed to this nonsense more than necessary.”

The Skeleton hovering above and behind him didn't seem all that bothered by the group of people, instead keeping his eyelights down at Sans's head. However, Asgore saw the younger Skeleton's shoulders hunch further, as though wishing he could curl up in a ball and block everything out.

Sans flicked his eyelights over to his younger brother. “Sit,” he commanded, and Papyrus immediately sat himself on a chair. Sans remained standing with Alphys, his expression plainly saying 'ready when you are'.

Asgore traded a look with Toriel before picking up the file. “This is...perhaps the most unorthodox thing I've ever read...and that is being generous,” he said. “And I...hardly know where to begin.”

“I do,” Sans replied, tapping his finger on his arm. “I take responsibility for what brought this all about. I neglected to see how deeply immersed Papyrus was in our personal life, and his option to defend himself was kept quelled. However, he DID want it to stop, and yet they did not. When I saw Papyrus, he was broken. Entirely. He was and still is unable to handle reality.”

Toriel glanced that the file with distaste. “And the claim of 'damage to property'?” she asked. “A very hefty accusation, considering servitude is a rarity here.”

Sans reached over to Papyrus and hooked his finger under the loose end of a frayed and shredded collar, lifting it slightly to show just what it was. “No claim. Papyrus IS my property,” he replied. “He willingly handed his life to me to do with as I pleased, and that was BEFORE the incident occurred.”

Asgore frowned. “You DO realize that servants of Monsters, 'property', in this case, are unable to have positions of power,” he said.

“I do.”

“Papyrus is—was—Captain of the Royal Guard. Why would he give that up?”

“Simply because it was mismanaged so horribly that he was given the excessive brunt of the workload, leaving the rest of the Guard to pace around and twiddle their thumbs,” Sans stated bluntly. “Papyrus is overburdened, depressed to the point of suicidal, and often came home in tears because he thought he would have to endure it to his dusting day. He hated his job, and he hated his life. Handing control over both eased the burden on his soul exponentially. Losing his standing in the Guard was literally no skin off his bones.”

Asgore was trying to ignore the look of disappointed disapproval his wife was giving him. “Was it truly that bad?” he asked, somewhat regretting the question when Sans's blue eyelights blazed slightly.