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Asgore arrived in the world of flowers.
The Dark Fountain had opened right there in the flower shop—was it a stroke of luck, or perhaps ill fate? Asgore happened to be inside the shop at that very moment. Flowery, however, felt that this was all part of Kris’s plan... or rather, the plan Kris was executing.
That child, Kris, had mysteriously snuck into the flower shop through the back door in the middle of the night. (Don't ask how a flower staying on the second floor knew about this! He just did.) they didn't make a single squeak while stepping on the stairs, proving just how familiar they was with this kind of thing. They was rustling and tiptoeing around the shop back then, and Flowery even heard the faint sound of him gently setting down a rather heavy piece of furniture. Asgore’s sleep quality had been deteriorating over the past few years, especially after the divorce; if he had been in this room that night, it surely would have woken him up, right? And perhaps, just as expected, he simply wasn't in the room at that time.
When Flowery awoke in a humanoid form, he wasn't particularly surprised... the upright vest, the dark coat, the golden hair—for some reason, the thought that he was inherently meant to look this way rooted itself deeply into a non-existent memory, deceiving the feelings in his heart. Flowery looked down at his own reflection in a puddle, practicing narrowing his eyes until they curved into crescents. A smile possesses immense power—he remembered Asgore saying this to Kris and Asriel when they were little. Back then, Asgore was like a trickling stream untouched by the malice of the world, a warm and dependable father who seemed to have walked straight out of a fairy tale! Coming from him, those words were uniquely persuasive, especially when he spoke with that kind, gentle smile, shining so brightly that even the sun would sigh in defeat.
From that moment on, Flowery remembered the importance of smiling. He narrowed his newly acquired eyes into a smile and walked toward Asgore... Their Dark World was safe. The other six flowers, and the rest of the Darkners, had no intention of hurting Asgore. Therefore, Flowery was in no rush to run to the man... He had to maintain his dignity. This was his first actual meeting with Asgore, and he had to present his absolute best self, ensuring that one could tell at a first glance just how exquisitely and carefully this flower had been tended to. Otherwise, he would be failing his own conscience.
——
Meeting Asgore meant too many things. Whether it was the part where the surging darkness was about to break out of its shell, or simply the psychological impact of being able to stand by that man's side... it was a lot.
Flowery smiled as he introduced Asgore to this Dark World—a world created just for him! Every beautiful scenery was displayed for his eyes alone. He believed Asgore would absolutely love these things. Excitement still throbbed uncontrollably in his chest; despite being well past childhood, having a heart that leaped and bounced like a kid was honestly childishly endearing. What’s more, when he first saw Asgore, he was absolutely certain that a swift succession of emotions had crossed the man's face: surprise,pleasant surprise,happiness. This made him even more confident in his thoughts, certain that Asgore would love everything in this world! While Asgore was busy blowing on the steaming green tea handed to him to cool it down, Flowery had already notified the other six flowers about Asgore's visit and the three children... Yes, they had only obtained these new bodies a few hours ago; yes, they hadn't even seen each other's new appearances yet, but they needed no words (well, Aqua was chattering away about a lot of things) to believe and prepare for it. Flowery was truly grateful to his younger brothers and sisters.
Carrying a cheerful heart, his steps felt light. He skipped and drifted over to Asgore’s side, holding a carefully selected, handmade yellow flower. To avoid startling this fluffy Lightner, he intentionally made some soft footsteps, gently resting his chin on Asgore’s shoulder.
"Gorey," he said, "How is the scenery? Are you enjoying the view?" There was even a faint blush on his face, showing entirely how happy Flowery himself was.
But Asgore did not answer right away.
"Gorey?" he called out again. "Best friend? Are you okay?"
The confusion at the end of his sentence belatedly brought the King's drifting consciousness back. Asgore paused, his tone tinged with an unignorable awkwardness. He turned to look at Flowery. Their faces were very close—Asgore didn't realize just how close they were. It was a distance where one could kiss those lips just by leaning in, a distance where even breathing felt like a luxury. He seemed to instinctively use his right hand to cover something pressed against the grass. Flowery looked past his bashful, pounding heart and glanced at those papers... and he understood.
His breath faltered because of it. The sound of his heartbeat no longer echoed in his chest, realizing what he had misunderstood, what he had misjudged.
Asgore didn't like all of this as much as he had imagined.
Within his heart, he was still that man consumed by revenge. His smile was merely to accommodate others, not from genuine joy.
That trickling stream now seemed to flow with thick, pitch-black blood, no longer a clear and cool river.
But Flowery couldn't let his expression betray any reaction. Clearly, Asgore instinctively didn't want him to know about this... Perhaps if he asked, the man would answer. But he didn't dare to imagine what kind of face Asgore would make while describing it.
He hated being pitied in any form like this...
"Flowery?" Ah, now it was his turn to be questioned... "Are... are you alright? I'm sorry I didn't respond to you right away, but you seem dazed... What's wrong?"
Such a kind Asgore, his King. Flowery still maintained that smile, he thought. If his King decided to pursue the path of revenge to the bitter end, he would support him. Yes, he would never do anything against Asgore’s wishes, but before that, please...
"It's nothing, Gorey. Just a mysterious wind caught my attention... I also brought some tea and pastries. Let me put those papers away for you first so they don't get dirty."
——
He worked harder than he thought to destroy those written words.
Flowery, didn't you say you would support whatever Asgore does? That was certainly true. But the flower knew very well what lies at the end of revenge; there is never a good outcome. Flowery had seen Asgore's wild arrogance and his breakdowns with his own eyes. After all, the flower was always by his side. He knew how deeply Asgore hated the imagined "culprit," and he knew that to chase the so-called truth, Asgore had put himself into increasingly difficult situations more than once... But what could a flower do? He was merely a helpless flower inside a glass dome, one that would easily die without someone's care. With an existence like his, what right did he have to correct or dictate Asgore’s life choices?
Was this his struggle with all his might? To blur those words.
It seemed cowardly and pathetic. Even when those notes returned to Asgore's sight, he didn't question Flowery about any clues regarding the ruined papers. He even bypassed those notes, obsessively continuing his search. As he searched, there was no smile on his face.
The grand dinner, the banquet, the other six flowers who wanted to play with him and shower him with affection... none of it could make him bloom a genuine smile again. Rather, his smiles became increasingly forced or casual, to the point where even if Flowery hadn't noticed the clues earlier, he could easily discern it now. Despite this, Flowery still didn't give up, bringing up those ideas, changing the subject, trying to make Asgore enjoy this time a little more...
But Asgore only grew more agitated.
Flowery looked at the metal armor he had forged for his King. The inorganic surface gleamed with a sharp light, reflecting his own face upon it. Though it was a bit blurry, he knew his face didn't look good at all right now.
The silence instead made his state of mind glaringly clear. Flowery lowered his head, feeling dizzy, as if thick dark clouds were blocking all his thoughts. For some reason, although he wanted most to show his most outstanding side in front of Asgore, compared to being in front of his siblings or even those three children, when he was alone with Asgore, he deeply felt his inability to fake it... He couldn't always maintain that smiling face. Especially with the profound realization of how close he was to death.
Death was not terrifying; his only fear was that before dying, he wouldn't be able to make his King bloom a genuine smile again.
Please smile. He desperately wanted to say that. Please stop choosing the path that brings you pain. I want to see you smile happily.
In the end, he only gently held Asgore’s palm, intertwining their fingers. His head remained lowered, leaning lightly against that broad arm like a withered flower clinging to a water source.
Asgore didn't speak, but he didn't pull away either, just sitting there quietly. Flowery couldn't see his expression.
...Would it be too much to ask Asgore if he could kiss him right now?
He looked at the floor, thinking this unconsciously. The request was too excessive; Asgore was currently immersed in the anxiety and distress of revenge. Just leaning on him right now was inappropriate. No matter how he thought about it, it was a question that shouldn't be asked.
...But if he didn't ask it, perhaps he would disappear at the end of this unnoticed festival, carrying the regret of never making Asgore smile and never receiving even a tiny bit of touch from the depths of his heart.
Flowery snapped his head up. He didn't know what kind of expression he had right now, as he had no luxury to control himself and display a perfect smile—but when Asgore saw him, a different expression indeed surfaced, unlike the one tangled in hatred just moments ago... It was a... oh.
A fleeting kiss like a dragonfly skimming the water landed on his forehead.
"You seem to be having a hard time," Asgore said, brushing the hair from his forehead. "I hope this makes you feel better... I... might not be able to give much of a response, but..." Asgore paused, his thick, gentle fingers hiding the sharpness at their tips, tenderly wiping away a falling droplet... Was someone crying?
"Flowery, I am really grateful for everything you've provided. This world is perfect. Everything looks so beautiful."
"Then you—"
"But, a dream must eventually end, and I still need someone to watch over the real flower shop. Otherwise, who is going to take care of the flowers?"
——
Petals drifted into his line of sight along with the tolling of a bell.
Now, they had lost to the heroes of the world, and Flowery, in the end, failed to protect this world and guard their dreams as he wished. The Fountain was about to be closed, and his dream had reached its curtain call.
He was reminded once again of the fact that he was just a flower.
Yes, what he had wanted to achieve was truly overestimating his own capabilities—delusionally hoping to repay the extra life and care he had won, delusionally hoping to reclaim that smile by his own strength, delusionally hoping to obtain a love that transcended even that.
Now that he recognized all reality, he was in no hurry to express anything... Clutching something in his hand, he walked slowly toward the fountain.
Under the eerie light of the fountain, the heroes were making their final preparations. Ralsei was talking about something with Susie and Kris. Flowery quietly approached Asgore's side.
"My King."
Hearing this, Asgore turned his head to look at Flowery. His profile was faintly illuminated by the blue-black light of the fountain. His expression was calm and appeared rather relaxed, which gave Flowery the courage to keep speaking.
"This is for you... I hope you won't look at what it is until you return to the Light World. I just want you to hold it." Flowery gently lifted Asgore's hand, pressed a small piece of fabric-like material into it, and watched him close his hand into a fist.
"...I will," Asgore looked at his clenched palm and nodded. Flowery was incredibly grateful that Asgore agreed to his request without asking too much. After all, if he had asked, Flowery would have probably just smiled and said something like, "It's my last jarona..." He shook his head. At this moment, the fountain beside them began to emit a dazzling light. The fountain was about to be sealed—
Everything happened too fast. From the Dark World not disappearing, to realizing someone had opened a second fountain, to the Knight swooping down and snatching Asgore away—
Before he could process it, Flowery had already summoned a continuous flight of flying flower steps, sprinting to catch up with the Knight.
He tried everything to initiate a battle—it was a destined, hopeless tragedy, but he had to try. Even if he was just a useless flower, for Asgore's sake, he had to try.
Dealing with the Knight was extremely exhausting. He focused twelve out of ten points of his concentration, zeroing in tightly on the Knight itself, creating fake damage values to attempt to deceive or at least cause illusory harm, leaving him with no spare energy to check Asgore's reaction. The Knight didn't seem intent on harming Asgore, which was the only piece of important news for him, wasn't it?
His chaotic mind didn't really think about other things. No matter what, he would fight for his King until the very end. It was a fact as simple as that.
Though that "end" came too quickly, appearing almost absurd.
The experience of being slashed by a blade was very novel. It wasn't a sudden, piercing agony, but rather a belated, dull ache that slowly severed his connection and responsiveness to his lower body... Is this how humans feel when they are slashed by a blade? He couldn't be sure; after all, he belonged neither to the Lightners nor the Darkners. He was just a flower.
In that instant, he knew this was his end.
Before the Knight departed, he looked at Asgore's astonished expression. He seemed to want to say something, his brow tightly furrowed, but Flowery couldn't hear it. He only slowly lowered his gaze, seeing the King's hand still tightly clenched.
Although the King couldn't return to the Light World for the time being, he believed the heroes would definitely bring him back.
And he also hoped the King would keep their promise, waiting until he returned to the Light World to look at the thing in his hand.
That way, in the Light World, he would only see a tiny, insignificant piece of shredded cloth.
Rather than in the Dark World, where it was a torn piece of a certain scarf, woven with no special characteristics and for no apparent reason, bearing a little heart pattern.