dreamingjustice-blog

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 6: The Family

Marshal nearly startled when Dogamy’s horse came to a stop. The city was thick with life this far in, people coming and going from all directions, and his growling stomach wasn’t making it easier to focus. 

“We’re here.” Amy said, dismounting. He turned to give Marshal a hand getting down, then walked around the horse to do the same with Dogaressa. 

The Boss Monster rubbed his head, looking around. The house was fairly close to the center plaza-area, and they’d been riding for what had to be an hour. He’d noticed a trend with the houses- each had a fairly unique emblem painted beside the door, with the same official-looking symbol painted above it. He’d been in enough of a haze that he forgot to ask about them, but Amy put his hand on this one for a moment.

From within the house, a soft chime sounded. Marshal tilted his head, peering past Amy at the door, and when it swung open he found himself staring at a human woman in a dark green woven dress. She wore leather gloves, kept her graying hair tied up into a ponytail, and had green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, shining out of her dark-skinned face.

“Amy and Ressa!” She exclaimed, stepping forward and giving Amy an enthusiastic hug. “It’s been ages!”

“Desi!” Amy barked a laugh, hugging his friend back. “It really has! It’s so good to see you!”

“Yes!” Ressa waved, tying the horses before coming over to join in the hug. “You look absolutely fantastic.”

“Well, the kids keep me young. And look at you two! Your fur looks great. Nice to see they’re not working you too hard.” Desi grinned. “And what’s this behind you? One of the royals?”

Marshal’s eyes widened, and he avoided her gaze. “Er. I, uh.”

“It’s a bit of a story.” Ressa interjected. “Marshal, this is Desirée Comeaux. Desi, this is Marshal. May we come in?”

“Now listen here, Marshal.” Desi said, hands on her hips. Her face turned stern, but her eyes didn’t lose their shine. “There are two rules afore you come into my house.”

“Ma’am?” Marshal said, reflexively. 

“First, you call me Desi. ‘less you’re family, then you call me that or maman. I ain’t never been a ‘ma’am’ and I never will be.”

“Yes’m. Er, yes, Desi.” Marshal said, his cheeks getting warm. He glanced helplessly to the two dogs, but their grins offered him no respite from Desi’s stare.

“Second, you enter here, you don’t leave without a smile.” Desi said. Her features softened, and she offered a warm smile to the poor Boss Monster. “You best promise, boy.”

“I promise, I won’t leave without a smile.” Marshal said. He bit his cheek lightly to keep the ‘ma’am’ from popping out, and wondered where that habit came from.

“Then y’all are free to enter.” Desi said, stepping inside and sweeping her arm in a gesture of welcome. The Dogi each patted Marshal on the shoulder, and then entered together, tails wagging in unison. 

Marshal stepped up to the door, and finally met Desi’s eyes. She nodded to him, and he felt a warmth behind his scar. Unlike before, it was a pleasant sort of warmth, comforting on a level he didn’t understand. Reminding himself not to think so damn much, he walked inside.

The Comeaux household was roomier on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Perhaps that was because they had carved it into the rock, but Marshal had a weird feeling that there was more to it than that. Nothing about Kin haalʼá had been predictable so far, although he had no way to be sure how much of that was his amnesia and how much was the city itself. 

The door led directly into a room with several comfortable-looking chairs, more than a few toys scattered throughout. The Dogi followed Desi to an adjacent doorway, then glanced back at Marshal.

“Hey, you mind waiting out here?” Amy asked, with a slight frown. “It’s just, sensitive stuff we need to talk about.”

“Yes, and you must be worn out from the day you’ve had so far.” Ressa said. “Sit down, relax for a while, okay?”

Marshal nodded, taking a seat and rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t explain it, but he certainly did feel like he’d been through hell. Maybe it had something to do with the source of his memory loss, he reasoned. His tail flicked nervously on the chair beside him, and he let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes.

Once the Dogi and Desi had left the room, he decided to simply rest. This lasted all of three minutes before a small finger prodded his shoulder, and he jumped, yellow light flaring from his hands.

Before he had a chance to figure out what the hell that was all about, his eyes fell on the source of the disturbance- a young monster, maybe six or seven years old. The kid wore a woven knee-length skirt and a plain shirt over white feline fur. Her eyes were wide and wondering, her pupils as big as saucers.

Thank goodness he didn’t yell. Marshal took a couple of deep breaths, staring at the kid and making a concentrated effort to calm down. 

“’re you a prince?” The kid asked, suddenly.

“Wha?” Marshal asked, then shook his head. “Er. No, I don’t think so.”

“Y’don’ think so?” The kid’s mouth quirked, her tail swishing in thought. “How come y’don’ know?”

“Can’t remember.” Marshal said. “I’m just Marshal. What’s your name?”

“Blanche.” The kid said, and stood up on the arm of the chair, hands on her hips proudly. “Blanche Comeaux. M’six! M’gonna be in the guard when I grow up!”

“Oh yeah?” Marshal smiled. “Like Amy and Ressa, right?”

“Yup!” Blanche said. “They said they’s gonna teach me how ta be a super tough guard! An’ maman said m’allowed!”

“You’re gonna do a great job.” Marshal said. “You snuck up on me really well already.”

Blanche giggled, hopping down and nodding. “Yup! I do it t’my bro all the time.”

“Bro?” Marshal settled back into the chair. “What’s a bro?”

“Means brother!” Blanche said, her tail swishing again. “You dunno that either?”

“I don’t remember a lot.” Marshal said. “Is that okay?”

“Guess so.” Blanche said. “Y’need me t’teach y’stuff!”

Marshal smiled again. “That’d be nice. Why’d you ask if I was a prince?”

“’cause you look like you should be.” Blanche said. “Like th’ King an’ Queen. I thought y’might be a Dreemurr.”

The Boss Monster’s head buzzed again, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Dreemurr. What was it about that name? Surely, he wasn’t somehow related- if someone so important as that had gone missing, he figured Undyne wouldn’t have even bothered to check the Gatehouse. But something about it bugged him, something on the edge of his mind...

“Sis!” Exclaimed a new voice, a boy’s this time. A twelve year old human boy stepped around the corner and scooped up Blanche, wearing a similar shirt and rough-worn pants. He had Desi’s dark skin and hair, and the same sparkling emerald eyes. “You bugging someone? I’m real sorry, mi...ster....”

The boy trailed off, and Marshal blinked. Just like Blanche, his eyes had gone wide, and he had the same wondering stare that people on the street did when they saw the Boss Monster riding by. 

“It’s- it’s okay.” Marshal said, and his cheeks again grew warm. “She and I were just talking. She wasn’t any trouble.”

“Yeah!” Blanche said, wriggling in his grip. He wasn’t so much bigger than her that he could hold her through this even if he wasn’t awestruck by Marshal’s appearance, and she slipped free and darted around the corner to hide from her brother.

“Are you-” The boy started, then shook his head. “Er. Well. My name’s Jean Comeaux, and- you, uh-”

“I’m not.” Marshal said, and couldn’t stop his tail from performing an agitated little wiggle. “Honest. My name’s Marshal, and I’m here with Dogamy and Dogaessa. That’s all.”

“Sorry.” Jean rubbed the back of his neck. “You just, you know, you look- anyway. How come Amy and Ressa are here?”

“Me.” Marshal said, and leaned back in the chair, letting his head roll back against it. “I lost my memory. I guess Desi can help, so we’re here.”

“Maybe she’s seen you before, yeah.” Jean said, starting to pace. “That’s super weird, though. Someone like you-”

Marhsal cleared his throat.

“-but it’s true! You’re- I never thought I’d even meet someone like you!” Jean said. “E-even just getting to talk to you is super cool! ‘cause we’ve been studying magic, and Royal Boss Monster magic is supposed to be super powerful and unique to each one, and-”

“Jean Comeaux!” Desi said, emerging from the side room like a sudden storm. “Are you harassin’ this poor boy?”

“Maman!” Jean exclaimed, and immediately retreated for the hallway. “I was jus’-”

“You was just about to apologize, is what you was just!” Desi said, planting a finger on Marshal’s muzzle to shush him before he could protest.

“Oooh, you’re in trouuuble!” Blanche giggled from around the corner, then squeaked in surprise when Desi took a step her way.

“Blanche Comeaux, you get your tail out here an’ apologize to the boy, too!” She commanded. Both children lined up in front of Marshal, despite the Boss Monster’s flustered expression, and bowed their heads in unison.

“Mo chagren! Very sorry!” They said, then scampered away to avoid further motherly attention.

Desi let out a long breath, then shook her head. “Those kids. They get it from their father, y’know. Never stop’n think before talkin’ up a storm.”

“It was honestly fine.” Marshal offered, meekly. “I think I just need to get used to it. Being- you know- rare and unique.”

“Whatever else you may be,” Desi said, crouching down to eye level with the sitting monster, “In this house, you’re Marshal Comeaux. Ain’t no boy with no memory goin’ to have no family either, not on my watch.”

“You- wait, what?” Marshal asked, sitting up straight again. “How- do you really mean-”

“What I mean,” Desi said, reaching forward to place a hand on Marshal’s own. “Is what I say. I know what it feels like, bein’ without anyone to turn to. ‘specially bein’ alone down here, it’s- bad. Wasn’t for Amy and Ressa, I’d prob’ly have given up after I fell down from th’ topside.”

Marshal stared into Desi’s eyes. After a moment, he turned his hand upward, wrapping his fingers around hers and holding on tight. 

“My husband’ll be happy t’have you. Lord knows, we’ve got a room empty. The dogs explained everything. I may not have seen you afore, but you are not a stranger in this house. From today on, y’have family here. My husband and I’ve got you, even once y’start rememberin’. No matter what y’learn, or who y’might be, I’m callin’ you my son, no arguin’.” 

A spark of green arced up Marshal’s arm, rippling out from Desi’s fingers. The warmth it sent through him was too much, on top of the sudden rush of emotion, and he pulled himself forward to wrap her in a hug. He buried his tear-filled eyes against her dress, hiccuping out a sob. 

After all of the mystery and craziness, to hear all this, to be treated as a person who is instead of one who was to such an extreme, to be given so much love... it was like the wall he’d been trying to hold back his fears and anxiety with suddenly broke, and he was letting it all out. Desi held him as he sobbed out his feelings, his worry about who he might be, the ‘other’-ness of being something so rare and prized, the overwhelming life and magic of the city. He gripped her dress, and she rubbed his back, reaching up under his poncho to let the warmth of her skin reach through the shirt and touch his fur. 

The pair stayed that way for fifteen full minutes. At some point, her husband- a fire elemental monster named Feumé whose flames burned a gentle blue- returned from work. The Dogi corralled him into the kitchen to explain, then the trio went to keep the kids busy on Feumé’s suggestion, recognizing that Marshal probably didn’t want extra witnesses while he worked through this. Desi hummed a song from her homeland, back in Louisiana, and rocked the boy gently in her strong arms. 

Finally, Marshal slipped into a quiet sleep. Desi wiped his tear-streaked cheek fur, then reached down and hefted him into her arms, still humming. 

The spare room would take time to set up, and there was plenty of furniture missing. Instead, she carried him into her bedroom, gently removing his poncho and shirt and folding them on a chair near the door. She laid him on the bed and pulled the sheet up over him, running her fingers through his hair once. 

Upon her return to the family room, she met Feumé and the Dogi. Desi crossed her arms at the two dogs, blocking their way to the door, and shook her head. 

“Absolutely not.” She said. “Y’all are stayin’. I’m makin’ a double batch of my special jambalaya to welcome the boy, and y’all are eatin’ it too for bringin’ him. If Undyne has a problem, she can come tell it t’me. Ain’t nobody, nobody, ruinin’ that boy’s homecomin’ feast. If y’all want to help, I have an idea...”

And as she spoke, so it was. When Marshal finally woke from a fitful dream that he couldn’t remember, it was to the smell of meat and spices and vegetables. His nose dragged his paws out of bed, and he half-sleepwalked his way to the kitchen to discover Desi, the Dogi, Feumé, Blanche, and Jean sitting at a table waiting for him. An impressively large pot- perhaps more of a cauldron- stood in the center of the table, filled to the brim with a jambalaya that could surely have been served in the heavens. 

Whether or not he was royalty, Marshal ate like a king that night. He laughed for the first time, a full belly laugh, when Feumé and Desi shared a story about the festival dance that brought them together. Jean introduced him to the concept of magic, in particular magic as a science, by recounting the teacher’s demonstration that had created a rainbow which smelled like fruit. Blanche challenged him, once they were all good and full, to a game of chase that wore the two of them out thoroughly. 

Marshal helped get the kids- no, he thought, my little brother and sister- tucked into bed, yawning the whole time. Feumé wrapped an arm around his shoulders, a bright-blue grin on his fiery face. 

“C’mon, kiddo.” He crackled. “This way.”

The Dogi had been busy while Desi was cooking. The room had a plush fake-fur carpet that felt wonderfully soft as Marshal stepped onto it. A dresser made of fresh wood, a twin bed that was blessedly long enough for Marshal’s lanky legs, and a closet that surely hadn’t actually been built into that wall before. On the nightstand there was a small bowl of herbs that smelled absolutely wonderful to the boy’s sensitive nose, a handwritten letter with ‘Amy and Ressa, for Marshal’ written on it, and a paper-wrapped box. 

Marshal fell into the bed wordlessly, his jaw slack. After a long moment, he turned to Feumé, who was standing in the door with a proud smile.

“For... me? All this?” The boy asked. 

“Of course.” Feumé said. He leaned on the doorframe, flames sparking gently. “No child of mine deserves anything less than the best. Ressa and Amy helped, too. The crystal there by the bed lights up when you touch it, if the dark bothers you too much. I’ll teach you how to control how bright it gets tomorrow. Right now, how about you get some more sleep, okay, kiddo?”

“Th- thank you.” Marshal said, quietly. Feumé nodded, then turned and left, closing the door but not latching it behind him.

The boy turned, picking up the envelope and opening it. 

Marshal,

Amy and I are so happy that you’ve got a home now. No matter where your memories come from, or who you might be, you’ve got a family here and friends at the Southern Gatehouse. 

To make sure you don’t ever forget that, we left you a special little present. It’s got a few other secrets- you can get messages through it, and talk to people, which should come in handy- but it’s mostly there to help you stay grounded. 

We’ll be back in a week to check in on you. Remember, you’re more than some special Boss Monster that people are surprised to see, and you’re not some empty person without your memories. You’re Marshal Comeaux, and you’re the friend of the Dog Guards. 

Good luck,

Amy and Ressa

Marshal wiped his eyes, folded the letter carefully, and set it back on the nightstand. He opened the box gently, and gasped at what he found.

Inside was a golden locket in the shape of a heart, attached to a leather necklace. Upon opening it, Marshal gasped again. Somehow, the Dogi had managed to get a picture of the entire group assembled at the dinner table at the very moment Marshal started to laugh. His family, the family that had taken him in, all looked so happy. 

He shut the locket again, slipping it around his neck and taking a deep breath. 

Marshal Comeaux. He had to admit, it sounded nice in his head. He laid back and closed his eyes, one hand resting on the locket and the bone charm nestled in his chest fur, and let sleep take him. 

This time, he had a smile on his face as he drifted away.

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 5: The City

Kin haalʼá, Dogaressa had called it. Marshal vaguely recognized the sound, but not the words. He really didn’t know what to expect from a place the Dog Guards would call ‘home’, but even in his wildest dreams he couldn’t have anticipated what he saw.

The cavern was massive, and if he could’ve remembered his time in Albuquerque, he would probably have marveled at how the cavern could hold multiples of the city if it had needed to. Its central feature was a sort of natural valley, and homes and buildings had been carved into the walls and built along the top, far too many to count. In the center of the settlement, Marshal could see a large clear space full of tents and cooking fires and people. The river from the previous cavern continued along the western side of the valley, and orchards and other farmland had sprung up there, in seeming defiance of the stone that surrounded them. 

Far above, the sun- or perhaps just a simulacrum, or a smaller sibling- lazily arced its way across the cavern ceiling, which was lit up brilliant sparkling blue from the minerals and gems hidden away in it. Despite all reason suggesting it should have been impossible, the sun heated Marshal’s fur, the wind teasing at the edges of his poncho. Perhaps due to the sheer size of the cave, natural clouds swirled overhead, as white and fluffy as any seen on the surface.

Dotting the edges of the cavern were gatehouses and tunnels just like the one Marshal and the Dogi had entered through. Distance made detail impossible to capture, but each was distinct from the wall and large enough to hold its own regiment of guards. At the very opposite end, in the haze of the distance, Marshal could make out the gleaming spires of an impressive castle, its turrets rising triumphantly. Even at full speed on horseback, the trip from one end to the other would easily take multiple hours.

Despite lacking any frame of reference, Marshal felt deep in his gut that this was nothing short of miraculous. He gasped, and his breath caught in his throat. 

Dogamy laughed. “Welcome to Kin haalʼá, capitol of the Underground.”

“It’s.” Marshal faltered. His wide eyes scanned the landscape again, and his tail flicked against the horse’s back. “Big.”

“That it is!” Ressa said, laughing with her husband. “It has to be, you know.”

“Considering we have so many Monsters and Humans living down here, together.” Amy said, saluting to a human on the side of the road. The human, wearing leathers and furs along with a yellow-green mask that was currently atop their head, saluted back- but couldn’t resist staring at the Boss Monster on Amy’s horse. 

Marshal waved hesitantly, and the human blushed, turning and hurrying along. 

“Don’t mind that.” Ressa said, after a moment of watching Marshal’s tail grow agitated. “It’s just that, you see, ah...”

“Boss Monsters are a bit of an unusual sight.” Amy continued, glancing back at the pair. “At least, ones like you are. There’s plenty of different Boss-level Monsters, but you’re, uh...”

“Royal-looking.” Ressa finished, and met Marshal’s startled gaze. “And, to get technical, kind-of sort-of an endangered species.”

“Uh. Come again?” Marshal asked, tail whipping wildly. 

“Strong amnesia.” Amy commented. “You really don’t know anything about yourself, huh?”

“Or about the Underground.” Ressa mused, rubbing her chin. The foot traffic was starting to get thicker as they approached the start of the incline, the first few buildings rising on either side. These were newer, some still under construction. Bulky wolf and bear-like Monsters worked alongside careful Human craftsmen, combining their talents to produce sturdy, comfortable dwellings.

“Here’s the basics.” Amy said, once the first crowd of pedestrians moved out of earshot. “You’re specifically a type of Boss Monster known as a Royal Monster, not just one of the strongest magically, but simply rare. There used to be hundreds of your kind, but last I heard, there’s only a couple dozen of you total. Finding a new one, or even one that’s been missing, is kind of a big deal.”

“And,” Ressa said, “The reason they- you- are called Royal is because, since forever, your kind have been in charge. Not through force or anything, just a matter of fact. Nobody ever said the Dreemurrs did us wrong, and I wouldn’t trade King Asgore or Queen Toriel for anything. Just, understand that seeing one of you out this far riding on someone else’s horse is a little odd.”

Marshal rubbed the bases of his horns, his tail not having settled. If he’d thought there was a lot to take in before, this was enough to nearly overwhelm him. Royal? Boss Monster? He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He certainly didn’t feel particularly special. On top of that, those names- Toriel, Asgore, Dreemurr- they itched his brain in a deeply uncomfortable way, one that made him dizzy. He gripped Amy’s middle again just in case, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing.

Calm down, he thought. You’re learning about yourself. So what if you’re some kind of rare monster? You’re still just you, and now you can tell people not to treat you weird.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. Ressa glanced at him, and her mouth quirked. “For explaining. Seems I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“You’ll be okay.” Ressa said, saluting to another group as they passed. “You seem pretty sturdy.”

“Yeah, and we won’t let anything happen to you.” Amy added. “You’re under the unofficial protection of the Royal Guard’s best canine squad, and we’re going to find you a great family to stay with, too.”

“Family?” Marshal asked, slowly lifting his eyes from the horse’s back. He tried not to meet the wondering gaze of the various monsters and humans that they passed, but couldn’t help his curiosity about some of them. A group of brightly colored reptilian monster kids with no arms huddled in a window, staring back at him. A human and their winged bird-monster friend sat atop one of the roofs, sharing a meal of corn tortillas and some kind of meat. Two humans carried a mouse monster-child and a human child, discussing their plans for an upcoming festival.

“Family.” Amy confirmed. “Kid like you has to have one, even if you can’t remember the one you started with.”

“Undyne’ll do a clean check on every Boss Monster family in the Underground.” Ressa said. “But that’s gonna take some time, and you need food and a place to sleep while you get your feet back under you. Hopefully, you’ll start to remember things after a bit.”

Marshal made a noncommittal noise, his tail flicking back and forth. A family. That’d be nice, if they accepted him. He wasn’t sure why he felt anxious about that- despite Undyne’s gruffness, even she had treated him with kindness. Perhaps it was the revelation of his strangeness that bothered him.

He could think about it more later, he decided, as they passed a group of musicians playing handmade instruments and dancing in front of a home. He watched until the throngs of people obscured them, his ears slowly perking up. The Underground- and, specifically, Kin haalʼá- was full of life and bizarre, wonderful people. Marshal resolved to simply take it in, pushing his uncertainties to the side. 

If his experiences so far had taught him anything, it was that he simply couldn’t predict where the Dogi were going to take him now, and that he should simply trust and let go. So that was exactly what he did, listening as they described the sights of the city, observing its citizens, and keeping mostly quiet. There would be time for questions once he had a family to pose them to.

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 4: The Guards

The path inward was well-worn. Marshal wondered about that. He wondered where he’d found himself, whether this was his home or some strange land. As he walked through the limestone halls, he ran a hand across the wall. Painted figures in all colors, shapes, and sizes spread out across them. Some of them were vaguely familiar, others not so much. He paused, one hand tracing across a pair of large white figures, then shook his head and kept walking.

Familiarity wasn’t enough to make him remember, not yet. He needed someone to talk to, someone he could ask questions of. Someone who might, just maybe, recognize him. He kept walking, as the grass under his feet gave way to more smooth stone. 

A stiff breeze hit him as he rounded a corner, sunlight blinding him momentarily. It was just long enough of standing still, one hand raised against the brilliance, to get noticed.

“HEY! What the hell are you doin’ naked like that?!” 

The voice was rough and female, and hostile enough to make his fur bristle. The spots swimming in front of his eyes slowly gave way to an impressively muscular woman. She was only slightly taller than him, with long red hair and one missing eye. She was covered head-to-toe in blue scales, and wore a simple shirt with a familiar-looking emblem on the chest and a pair of cavalry pants that were patched in a number of places. She went barefoot, and both her hands and feet were webbed. 

More concerning for Marshal was the quiver full of glowing spears strapped to her back. He also found his eyes drawn to the mouthful of dagger-fangs she was baring at him. 

At least he didn’t wobble when she poked his chest. 

“I’m, uh. Er.” Marshal faltered. “Not sure. I woke up back there naked.”

Undyne rolled her eye, crossing her arms and flexing just a bit to look that little bit more intimidating. “Sure you did.”

“Honestly.” Marshal said. “That’s all I remember.” 

He met Undyne’s gaze and held it until she dropped her arms. The fish-lady sighed, shaking her head. “Whatever, kid. Don’t remember seeing you around before. You got a name?”

“Marshal.” The boss monster rubbed the back of his head, frowning. “Least, that’s what I’m callin’ myself. Probably had a name, but I can’t remember.”

“Riiiight.” Undyne turned, rolling her shoulders. “Well, I’m Undyne. Assuming you ain’t trying to bullshit me, let’s get you some clothes and see if anyone’s been reported missing.”

Marshal took two steps to follow her and froze, his golden eyes wide.

There was a river cutting a path through the stone. The tunnel opened up into a much wider cavern, and wind carried through it from some unknown source. The path was clearly worn, and trees- trees!- sprouted from dirt that must’ve been intentionally embedded to create a small forest. Even Marshal knew that such a thing underground was incredible. The river wove its way through the trees, and briefly, he wondered if he perhaps hadn’t been caught by this guard as she prepared to take a swim.

“Hey!” Undyne snapped, whirling and clapping her hands. This got Marshal to jump, his tail whipping anxiously. “Come on, kid! I’m not leadin’ you on a sightseeing tour!”

Marshal nodded wordlessly, and jogged to catch up with her. 

The pair walked past several stone buildings, some with torches burning outside, others smelling like food was being cooked inside, and a few with creatures Marshal felt like he should recognize watching him and Undyne from their windows. Human and monster alike peered out at the two of them, but Undyne didn’t stop and Marshal was determined not to fall behind again. 

The next cave exit was guarded by a large gatehouse. The gate was wide open, but Marshal couldn’t get a good look through before he was pulled into the gatehouse by the scruff of the neck, Undyne huffing at him.

“Get in here. Jeez.” She growled, rolling her eye again.

Inside, Marshal found himself stared at by a trio of impressive dog monsters. Two of them were almost identical, holding similar war-axes and differentiated only by the pattern on their simple leather armor. The other wore a Spanish helmet and a confiscated uniform that barely contained his muscles, as well as a pair of sabers of Spanish make. All three were apparently sizing him up, and he was ever more acutely aware of his awkward situation.

“Er.” His tail lashed again. “Howdy.”

The dogs turned their attention to Undyne, who shrugged. “This kid was wandering like this near the shaft leading to Old Town. Says he’s got amnesia or whatever. I’m gonna check the missing person list, you three give ‘im the once over and see if there’s anything familiar.”

The dogs saluted, and Undyne left the room to head deeper into the gatehouse. Marshal swallowed, reaching up to hold the badge with one hand, squeezing it for reassurance until the edges dug into his pads.

“Right.” The male axedog said, standing and walking over. “Ressa, you take the left. I’ve got his right. Give him the one-two sniff.”

“Sounds good.” The female said, closing in on Marshal. Though he was taller than they were, he had no idea how to defend himself, and given their armor and weapons he couldn’t help but feel slightly concerned.

For some reason, the way their noses dug into his fur and started sniffing and snuffling did nothing to ease his worries. His tail whipped back and forth nervously, and he shut his eyes as they reached his face. The pair switched sides, heading back down to their starting positions, and finally stepped back.

“He’s familiar, but I can’t place it. How about you, Amy?” The female dog- Dogaressa?- said. 

“Smells like cinnamon, and there’s some distinctive Boss Monster in there, but nobody I know myself.” Dogamy confirmed, shaking his head. “Your name’s Marshal?”

Marshal blinked, then nodded. “Least, it’s what I’m calling myself. Got nothing else to go on but this badge, ‘cause it feels important to me.”

“Hmph.” Dogaressa shrugged. “Just smells like metal and dirt to me. Looks like something the surface humans made.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything specifically like it, but it does say U.S. on it. Probably something to do with the human nations up top. No idea why a Boss Monster like you would care about that, though.” Dogamy glanced to the third dog. “Doggo, you’re up.”

Doggo stood, and he was taller than the other two, only slightly shorter than Marshal. He walked over slowly, hands on his hips, and squinted at the boss monster.

“Move.” He said, quiet but forceful. 

Marshal stepped aside, and Doggo grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into place.

“Move around, but don’t leave that spot.” He clarified. “So I can see you better.”

Marshal’s ears lifted slightly at that, but he did as instructed. Doggo seemed to mean well, even if he was a bit intimidating, and given his current situation the Boss Monster couldn’t very well question someone else’s oddities.

Doggo spent five full minutes examining Marshal, poking and prodding, sniffing and squinting. At one point, he placed a hand directly on Marshal’s chest, and stared him in the eye while holding it there. Finally, the dog guard stepped back and crossed his arms with a huff. 

“I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He concluded. “But you’ve got a scar on your chest that’s warm to the touch, your teeth are almost brand new looking, and you smell and feel like you haven’t eaten anything in your life.”

“So what’s all that mean?” Marshal asked, one hand sliding up to feel his scar. Sure enough, it ran crosswise across where his heart should’ve been, and exuded a warmth that his fur couldn’t explain.

“Means you’re weird.” Doggo replied, shrugging and pulling a small bone from one of his pouches. “Nothing wrong with that, mind, but you’re definitely weird.”

With that, the guard returned to his seat, snapping his fingers to summon a small ember and lighting the tip of the bone with it. Dogamy and Dogaressa glanced at each other, then sighed in unison and each put a hand on one of Marshal’s shoulders.

“Don’t mind him.” Amy said. 

“He’s right that you’re a mystery, though.” Ressa said. “If Undyne can’t figure anything out, maybe we can find you a place to stay.”

“We’ve got plenty of family and friends.” Amy observed, nodding. “And if you come with the support of the Royal Guard, nobody’ll give you trouble.”

Marshal gave the pair a slightly confused smile and a nod. “If you say so.”

“We say so.” Amy said. He was about to continue (or, perhaps more accurately, Ressa was going to continue for him) when Undyne walked back in. She fastball-pitched a pile of spare clothes at Marshal, who just barely caught them, and then stamped her foot in irritation.

“Not a single missing monster, much less a Boss Monster, no one named Marshal or anything like that, nothing!” She half-yelled, half-snarled. “Get those clothes on and then the Dogi can figure out where you’re staying, because I’m going to need to think about what to do with you otherwise!”

Marshal swallowed, his tail doing that anxious swish again, and began to get dressed then and there. A brown pair of spare riding pants (in her size, which left them a little baggy on his legs), a tan button-down long-sleeved shirt that she absolutely hated, and a mid-length poncho in an earthy green. 

The poncho, he decided, he liked the most. It was hand-woven and had that same familiar insignia lining its edges, perfect to be worn around the shoulders and providing warmth and comfort. The shirt and pants were nothing unusual, but the poncho was something special. 

Undyne huffed at him, but the Dogi gave him an encouraging shared grin. “Official orders, Captain?”

“Official orders are to get this weird furball out of my sight until I figure out what the hell his deal is.” Undyne said. She paused, then growled. “And don’t let him anywhere near the royal family. He might bring up unpleasant memories.”

Amy shook his head, and Ressa put a finger to her lips in response to Marshal’s puzzled expression. The two dogs escorted him outside, then fixed the fit on his poncho, tugging it into position.

“What’s that all about?” Marshal asked, and Ressa sighed.

“The Royals are Boss Monsters, like you.” She said. “They had a son, once, but...”

“...he died in an accident.” Amy finished, hooking his axe to his belt. “That’s all there really is to it.”

“Captain’s probably afraid you’ll look too much like he might’ve, and, well, nobody needs that.” Ressa said. “Amy, you want to get the horses?”

“On it.” Amy said, and disappeared around the far side of the gatehouse.

Marshal rubbed his head, just around the base of his right horn. Something about that story unsettled him deeply, and it made the scar on his chest- or perhaps the Soul hiding behind it- ache slightly. But he couldn’t figure it out, and he was snapped from his reverie by Ressa’s gentle hand on his shoulder again.

“Hey.” She said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Amy and I are gonna find you a great family to stay with, and you can take this at your own pace. Losing your memory is tough, and I bet you’re confused pretty badly, but don’t worry too much. Got it?”

Marshal stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded, returning her kind smile with a shaky one of his own. “Got it. Thank you. I promise I’ll repay you for this someday.”

Ressa barked a laugh, shaking her head. “Repay us for what, doing our jobs? I don’t think so. Now, you remember what a horse is?”

“Err. Yeah, I think so?” Marshal said. 

“Good.” Amy said, rounding the corner with two proud black and white horses. Like their riders, the two horses were nearly indistinguishable, and Amy offered Marshal a hand up onto his horse’s back while Ressa mounted hers. “Makes this easier. C’mon up, and we’ll get going.”

Marshal clambered up, wrapping his arms around Amy for stability. As the horse started to move, however, he found that it was hardly necessary to steady himself- his body moved reflexively, like he’d been riding all his life. Maybe I have, he reflected, glancing back at the forest behind them. This just keeps getting weirder. Who knows what I used to do?

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me askin’,” He said, “Where exactly are we going?”

“Kin haalʼá,” Ressa said, “Home.”

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 3: The Marshal

The dreamer wasn’t really sure what woke him up. At first, he suspected it was the rain- what of it could seep through the barrier- but as he sat up in the fine mist, he reconsidered. He’d been dreaming, hadn’t he? Something frightening. He couldn’t remember what, his eyes didn’t want to focus, his body felt wrong. Awkward. Too big and then again not big enough, all at once.

More distressing was what else he couldn’t remember. He rubbed his eyes, trying to think, but while he knew there had been something prior to this, he couldn’t remember what. For that matter, no matter how hard he tried to focus on it, his name totally escaped him. The past was a blur of colors and emotions, but none of it was clear enough to make any sense. 

He dug his toes into the soil and took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. Less blurry now. Good start. 

This cave felt familiar. He supposed that made sense, considering he’d fallen asleep- or unconscious- here. He stopped to take stock of himself. 

His body was covered in plush white fur, which seemed correct- or did it? He wasn’t sure. Three thick toes on padded paws, three fingers and a thumb on padded hands, all with dull claws. His limbs seemed awkwardly long for his body, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that was correct or not. A quick check confirmed that everything was at least functional around his hips, including a lengthy rope-whip tail and a thick tuft on the end. It wasn’t exactly under his control, but it was there. It whipped around anxiously, and he supposed that was appropriate.

His chest and stomach seemed, if nothing else, intact. Probably. His hands reached up to his face, and he squeezed his broad snout, then sneezed. He frowned deeply. Was sneezing really bad, or just annoying? He couldn’t remember. Importantly, he discovered that the nostrils he was breathing from were at least on his face, and that seemed right. He reached into his snout, exploring it with two fingers. Sharp teeth, including two fairly large incisors poking out over his lower lip. 

Two big, floppy ears, hanging down to his shoulders. A slight mop of what he thought (if he crossed his eyes just right) he could see to be blond hair, and a pair of deceptively sharp horns that curled backward just slightly. They weren’t very big, and that somehow disappointed him, though he couldn’t say why.

His attention finally turned outward again. He frowned at the body he saw nearby. That didn’t seem right. It looked entirely too familiar, which sent a shiver up his spine. So he stood, slowly, and stepped over to the corpse. 

Hm. No name, no familiarity, but at the same time... he reached down to retrieve the charm from around the man’s neck, staring at it. Something was familiar about it, something he couldn’t place. It felt Important. He slipped it around his neck, shaking his head. His gut told him this was Right, and it was all he really had to go on right now.

He also retrieved the badge, holding it tight. It was also Important. “US Deputy Marshal” might not have actually meant anything to him, but it was worth holding on to. 

With those retrieved, and the badge pin slipped around the cord of the charm’s necklace, he set to the arduous task of digging. He used a nearby branch, and didn’t stop to rest, feeling no fatigue. Something about this process felt painful, but he couldn’t place the feeling. He buried the body respectfully, because his Soul told him that was the right thing to do, that it was Just. And that, among all the fog and uncertainty, felt absolutely correct.

Once he was finished, he turned to the tunnel leading out of the cavern. His hand tightened around the badge, and he closed his eyes. He was going to need a name. Even if he had a name that was Correct, right now, he couldn’t remember it- and he didn’t want to come across somebody who might help him and have nothing for them to call him. 

“Marshal.” He said, aloud. His thumb pad ran across the etching on the metal badge, and he nodded. “Marshal sounds good.”

Then, on unsteady feet, ‘Marshal’ started out of the room. Hopefully someone would recognize him, but even if nobody did, there was a decent chance he could at least find help. He could work from there, certainly. He had to.

Nagging at the back of his mind was an urgent, clear feeling. There was something he was meant to do. He didn’t know what it was yet, but any progress toward learning what he’d forgotten would surely push him in the right direction. He had to believe that, because every other outcome was unthinkable.

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 2: The Flower

Flowey wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. 

Oh, sure, he’d seen a Human fall before. But this was different. This was new. The last Human that fell had ignored him, and he had ignored her, and that was fine. But the last time he saw one hurt like this...

He pushed the thought from his mind. Besides, the last time he saw a human fall, it wasn’t anywhere near his little corner of the Underground. He needed to approach carefully, assess the situation. Maybe he could get them help. Maybe.

Nick’s breathing rasped, and he coughed, blood spattering the ground. He had propped himself up against a stalagmite, trying to find the source of the gaze that he knew was there. Granted, blood loss and pain could’ve easily produced a hazy hallucination, but he didn’t want to take chances. 

The last thing he expected to see was a yellow flower staring back at him. 

Flowey’s eyebrow quirked, and he slid forward, vines creeping through the dirt and poising to hold Nick still. Humans were unpredictable- Flowey knew this better than anybody- and even if he was reasonably sure this one was too far gone to be dangerous, he didn’t want to risk it. 

“Howdy.” He said, quietly. “You don’t look so good.”

Nick coughed again, holding the wound in his chest. His brow furrowed. Whatever this was, he decided he could at least talk. Talking would be nice- nobody wanted to die alone, after all. “Well,” He managed, “I’m talking to a flower, and drowning in my own blood. Not the best day I’ve ever had.”

Flowey’s vines crept up around Nick, probing his wounds and eliciting sharp gasps. The flower frowned. That chest wound was going to kill this stranger, just like a similar one had killed Chara. 

He wished he could still feel messed up about that, but lately he’d been struggling to feel much of anything.

“Name’s Flowey.” He offered. 

“Nicholas Masters.” Nick said. He grunted, pulling his US Deputy Marshal pin off and offering it for investigation with one trembling hand. “Call me Nick.”

“Nick.” Flowey echoed, taking the badge and looking it over. He pretended he could read it, then set it back on Nick’s chest with two vines, nodding. “Okay Nick. What happened t’you?”

“Occupational hazard.” Nick said. He let his head fall forward, closing his eyes again. “I fucked up and got shot up for it by some bad guys. All there is to it.”

“Yeesh.” Flowey grimaced. He scooted forward again, wrapping a vine around Nick’s hand. He didn’t really care- he wasn’t sure he even could- but he knew what had made him feel less cold when, he-

“Flowey.” Nick said, not looking up. He squeezed that vine gently. “Think I’m gonna die here.”

“Yeah.” Flowey said, snapped from his reverie by Nick’s voice. “Think you are. It’s not so bad. I died before.”

“That’s insane.” Nick coughed again, wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand. “You tryin’ to reassure me, or something?”

Flowey hesitated. “Kind of. It’s true, though.”

Nick looked up to meet Flowey’s eyes again. His vision was dimming around the edges, and his limbs felt cold. Not long now, he reckoned. Why not believe this weird little flower? Who would lie about something like that, especially to a dying man?

“Sounds like a story.” Nick mumbled, letting his head fall. “Share it.”

Flowey froze up. Share it? With a stranger- a human, at that? How was he supposed to do that? He could still barely process it himself! 

Then again, Nick was dying in front of his eyes. And after replaying the events so many times in his head, maybe talking about it out loud would help him get his mind around them. 

“I used to be a monster, a prince. I had a friend. A sibling.” Flowey started. “Their name was Chara. They were human, but that didn’t matter, because they were my best friend. We lived down here, Underground, with the other monsters and some humans, and things were pretty okay.”

Nick grunted in acknowledgement. If he was going to accept a talking flower, he reckoned he could accept whatever came out of its mouth too. 

“We, uh, that is, Chara and I-” Flowey stopped to consider, then sighed. “They wanted to see the surface. And to make it where the people from Underground could live up there again. Humans with weird helmets forced us to run down here, that’s what the books say, and it always made Chara so angry.”

“Spanish.” Nick murmured. “Probably.”

“I guess. Anyway, you can’t get back out without a key, or the power of a human Soul and a monster Soul. And my mom- the Queen- she wouldn’t ever give us a key. So I stole one, and we went outside to look around, and Chara... they were so upset, all the time, and they tried to start a fight with some humans in helmets. There were loud bangs, and then their Soul was there, so I grabbed it and absorbed it, but...”

Flowey faltered. Why hadn’t he fought back? The rush of strength from absorbing his sibling’s Soul had been so intense, and he had been urged by them to wipe out the soldiers, but instead... he shook his head. He’d been an idiot. Those helmeted idiots had deserved revenge, and he’d just left, panicking and not wanting to hurt people or whatever idiot thing had been on his mind back then.

“It was all I could do to run away.” He lied. “And I got hurt, too. Those loud bangs again.”

“Guns.” Nick coughed. He was barely conscious, but hanging on Flowey’s every word.

“Guns.” Flowey repeated. “I didn’t make it. I remember my mom holding me when everything went black, then I woke up here, as a flower. I just wanted Chara to see the surface again, but...”

Nick was quiet. To him, Flowey’s story was almost nauseating, or it would’ve been if he could still feel his stomach. Shot in the back by the Spanish, used by some ‘Chara’ person that he still thought of fondly for their own grudges, and now stuck as a flower. Sure, it was all insane, but what about his current situation wasn’t insane? Flowey’s very existence strained belief. His story sounded genuine, and he was keeping a dying man company.

A flare of yellow crackled across Nick’s chest. Flowey winced at the light, but found himself pulled in by Nick’s hands, the last of the human’s strength used to yank the flower against his chest. 

“Wh-” Flowey gasped. “What.”

Nick grunted, cupping his hand behind Flowey and pinning him against his chest. Human Souls, huh? He couldn’t let all of this injustice go. And if his last act was reaching toward that ideal he’d chased all his life, then just maybe he could rest peacefully. 

From somewhere deep within, a pulsing yellow Soul emerged, flooding the room with its brilliance. Nick’s physical wounds had only strengthened his Soul, and Flowey’s jaw fell slack at the sight of it. 

On autopilot, Nick’s free hand shoved the Soul violently down toward Flowey. Raw magic arced between the flower and the Soul, crackling across the surfaces of the room. There was a flash like lightning, and a blast like thunder, echoing out of the cavern and audible on the surface. 

Nicholas Masters fell backward, limp and empty, with a smile on his face... and all was still.

[dreamingjustice-blog]

Part 1: The Fall

1891. The Old West was still as dangerous as could be, between outlaws, animals, and other hazards of the frontier. The United States was still growing rapidly, despite the devastation the Civil War had waged upon it not 50 years earlier. 

In the New Mexico Territory, Albuquerque was just incorporated as a City due to the presence of the Santa Fe railroad and associated construction. It was on this railroad that Deputy Marshal Nicholas Masters arrived from Chicago. At 27, Masters was a reliable agent and a skilled gunman, noted for having an unwavering commitment to justice even when it led him to dangerous situations and questionable decisions. 

It made him perfect for a very specific kind of job, and he knew just how to handle it. He traveled light, kept his gun on him the whole way, and slept on the train to make sure he’d be ready when he arrived. 

He was familiar with his quarry this time. 

Bruce Holmes, 35. An insurance agent from New York, not particularly notable in his public life. Never married, held a stable job at the same company since he was 15, never excelled or fell behind in any real sense.

Two years ago, he’d been heavily implicated in a string of murders dating back to 1885. The investigation had closed in, and he’d fled New York after fatally stabbing one of the detectives involved. He’d turned up in Chicago, where Nick had first encountered him, and slipped the noose again after a lengthy manhunt.

Two days ago, Holmes had been spotted in Albuquerque preparing to head South. If he fled across the border, locating him would rapidly become next to impossible. He was dangerous, had a talent for finding the lowest of the low and paying them to protect him, and wasn’t terrible with a gun himself.

It was no surprise that the US Marshal’s office had sent one of its more reliable Deputy Marshals on this job. 

After tracking Holmes’ contacts through Albuquerque, Nick found himself heading Southwest through what had been Navajo territory on horseback, using unreliable information and a badly-drawn map. It didn’t matter much. Holmes was an expert at covering his tracks in the city, but out here, he was entirely too easy to follow. 

His path snaked past a rock outcropping called the Devil’s Fortress, and it was only half a mile away that Nick finally found him. The fugitive had hired a few thugs for muscle, Nick noted- and one of them was missing from around his campfire. An ambush? Dangerous. But with dawn approaching fast, he couldn’t let this opportunity slip by.

Nick slid off his horse behind some brush, crouched low, and checked his gun. Six shots, with another thirty in his belt pouch and several dozen in his saddlebag. It’d have to do. No way to determine which of the figures around the campfire was actually Holmes, but it didn’t really matter.

Siding with that murderer meant fighting against justice, and Nick had very little mercy for people who would choose that.

He lined up his revolver barrel across the back of his arm. Once he took this shot, he’d be in an actual fight. Had to make it count. 

One of the figures leaned forward toward the light of the fire, and Nick fired. The shot tore through the man’s chest, but missed his heart. Damn. Another quick shot, and the bastard howled, grabbing his hand. It had a neat hole in it now. That one wouldn’t be a problem for a bit.

The other two men yelled obscenities and pulled guns, opening fire while rushing for cover behind some rocks. Nick rolled behind a rock of his own, wincing as shards of stone flew past him. 

Whoever Holmes had found to help him had better aim than he’d expected. Damn. 

He waited until their fire stopped, took a deep breath. Eight shots from them. They probably only had four remaining between them, and he needed to stop them from reloading. He exhaled, then turned and sprinted to the right. 

There! He took a running shot and caught the bastard on the left in the shoulder, spinning him out of his hiding place. Another shot caught him in the head, and his gun spun away from his body. One down, two to go, plus the one hiding somewhere.

Nick dove behind another rock, inhaling sharply. He started to reload as another shot spun past his hiding place. The asshole on the right had definitely had time to reload by now, and when he took a chance and peeked out, he saw that the first man- the one he’d failed to fatally wound- was missing. Shit. Behind his wagon, maybe.

Another shot put him back behind his rock, inhaling sharply. The thug on the right had good enough aim that he’d need to be clever if he wanted to catch a good angle. He reached up to his neck, grasping his good-luck charm tightly- a small bone carving of an owl’s head, given to him by his mentor. Supposedly, it was Indian in origin, although Nick hardly knew if it was genuine or not. All he knew was that it felt like it brought him luck, and luck was what he needed right now.

He kicked up the dirt to the right, then lunged to the left. There! When the bastard fired at his dirt cloud, Nick fired back. A clean hit to knock him away from his rock, and then another shot that pierced his leg. Nick cursed under his breath, collected himself, and fired again. Straight through the heart- the man dropped.

Back behind the rock, Nick reloaded quietly. Two left, one was Holmes- he was sure neither of the two thugs had the right body shape- and one was unaccounted for. Holmes was probably in the wagon. He wouldn’t have gone out on watch when he could send someone. 

Nick approached slowly. He crept forward, moving from cover to cover, eyes locked on the wagon. Their remaining gunman was no doubt approaching the camp again, if he wasn’t there already, but rushing in would get him shot. 

Motion inside the wagon drew his attention. Was that where Holmes was hiding? It was a strong position, forcing Nick to make the first move. 

Nick was almost to the wagon when a shot rang out from behind. He sucked air hard between his teeth as the bullet dug into his left shoulder, spun, and fired from his hip. 

A lucky hit- and the third hired gun’s use of a rifle- allowed him just enough time to slam the hammer back on his belt and fire again, ending the fight before it got out of hand. 

The next gunshot made him stagger. He had time to turn and face the wagon, adrenaline dulling the pain in his side, before Holmes fired again and hit him square in the lung, laughing the whole time.

Nick fired once as his body seized up with shock, staggering back, but missed and hit the wagon. Holmes was about to finish him when the horses- spooked by the closeness of the gunfire- started to run, throwing his aim off. 

Nick swore, then coughed and tasted blood. He tried to line up another shot, but the wagon was moving too quickly, too erratically. Even with adrenaline and shock keeping him from feeling all of the pain, his body couldn’t steady itself enough to aim.

Damn. Damn, damn. Nick fumbled an attempt to holster his gun, then carefully slid it in. Another cough, and the blood speckled the ground in front of him.

It was a miracle that he made it to his horse. With the sun rising, he needed shelter to try to bandage his wounds. Sure, on some level, he knew it was a pointless gesture- his breathing was already labored, and his vision blurry. But it was all he could think to do. The Devil’s Fortress loomed not far away. 

As soon as he arrived in the shade of the outcropping, he slid from the horse and crumpled. It took him a minute to get his legs under him, staggering forward, blood dribbling from his mouth. 

Sloppy. Should never have approached the wagon. What the hell was I thinking? He wondered. He made it to the wall of the outcropping before his legs gave out from under him.

Wait. Why did the world feel like it was shifting? He gasped, coughed again, then yelled as the rocks slid out of the way and the ground swallowed him up, plunging him into a lengthy fall.

He hit the thick brush underneath him with a pained scream, rolled off it onto his back, and lay there struggling for each breath. The sun filtered down through a separate series of holes, illuminating a cavern covered in paintings he didn’t recognize and couldn’t understand, yellow flowers and desert brush having just barely broken his fall. 

What a place to die in. He thought, closing his eyes. He fully intended to lay there until the darkness took him, if it weren’t for one distinct, creeping feeling.

He was being watched.