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Chapter Text

Athena can feel the bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face, steam billowing up from the pot below her. One soupy scoop with a ladle, into the clear temperware in her grasp, and a good portion of the pot sits still bubbling in her arms. Its aroma is meaty, thick and mouth-watering.

This was certainly a good dinner! She thinks with a small smile, and pops the red lid on the filled container. It had been a long winter evening, and the snow plowing outside her kitchen windows did nothing but fog the glass in the heated cottage. It's a "winter wonderland" as some might put it—white blurred across her now-dead garden, which gave a pang of sadness in her chest as she glanced upon it, and darkness soaked through the curtains.

Athena wouldn't have figured that Ebbot had such heavy snowfalls, but it appears that this new season would bring many surprises. I'm glad that the soup stayed hot, however, she thinks, putting the metal lid atop the pot with a small clang. It sat here for quite a long time after we finished eating. Who knew that watching a spooky "christmas" movie would take so long? But it's not like she didn't enjoy it—'movie nights' are quite fun!

Spinning around, her fuzzy socks—green and red for the "christmas" season, gifted by Alice!—pad softly on the wooden floor. She heads into the living room, past the checker-sheeted dining table (now cleaned from a hearty meal) and to the entrance hallway. The whole cottage had been decked for the season; bells hang from her lights, and from the very…fervent, requests of Alice, mistletoe had also been situated at the door tops. Athena hadn't been sure why mistletoe was always placed there, as it can be easily ignored or unnoticed (and for such a pretty plant, despite its poisonous traits, that's a shame!), but Alice just giggled and glanced away, mumbling about tradition. The goddess can respect tradition, sure—but it helps if she can understand it, just to appreciate it more.

Noises draw her ears, her eyes perking up on seeing her bickering guests. The tall skeleton by the front door—built with a nice auburn fur coat and winter boots—wiggles a finger at his shorter companion, bundled in a dark blue jacket and a beanie with a fuzzy ball on top. She tilts her head with a soft smile, slowing her approach.

The former notices her coming, and turns to face her with a relieved expression, catching the attention of his brother. "thanks again, ath," Says the very much so blue skeleton, his grin lopsided. "INDEED! THIS DINNER WAS SPECTACULAR!" Papyrus winks at her, "YOU LEARN FAST! ALTHOUGH NOT AS FAST AS I."

Athena giggles at that, remembering that past evening they had all spent cutting vegetables and stirring the soup until perfection, "Of course not! This soup could only be as good as it was because of our Friendship Cooking! Nothing more, nothing less." Smile widening and gesturing the temperware towards him, she chirps, "And that film you chose was quite the charmer, as well! Oogey Boogey was so dreadful, however," Athena sighs, shaking her head at the image of the spirit's potato-sack body being unravelled. So many poor bugs, stuffed inside him…

Papyrus joins her, a grim expression on his skull. "QUITE. BUT! LET US FOCUS ON THE POSITIVES!! FOR ONE, THE CHARMING SKELETON HERO!" At that she gives a small laugh. "And for second, the even more charming skeletons I watched the film with." Athena smiles wide as brilliant hues glimmer on her guest's faces—it's always so pretty to see them. "UH—AH—AHEM, YOU ARE, UM, QUITE CHARMING YOURSELF." Papyrus clears his 'throat', trying to keep on a steady demeanor (and failing). Sans coughs, "yeah, ath, you're uh, pretty soup-er."

Papyrus stiffens, and the temperware shakes in his hands at how hard he's glaring at Sans, all the color draining from his face. Athena pauses at this, watching as steam practically spools from Papyrus' head. "THIS….WAS A GOOD NIGHT…" He seethes, a hand rubbing his sockets, "….AND YOU JUST—" Gargling noises spill from his mouth, "AND YOU HAD A GOOD STREAK!! YOU WERE SO CLOSE!!!" Athena puts a hand over her lips, a ding! going off in her head. "Ah! Another pun?" She glances at Sans, who winks and says coolly, "technically not dinner." Which, in turn, causes Papyrus to stare at him with giant googly eyes (she still needs to figure out how he does that) burning in rage.

"IT DOES NOT MATTER IF IT'S DINNER OR NOT!!! PUNS ARE STILL—" He strains, mumbling with grit Incorrigable and Heinous, although Athena can barely make out the garbage words.

Suddenly, Papyrus huffs sharply, standing up straight as an arrow, and announces, "THE NIGHT!! IS RUINED!!! WE SHALL LEAVE BEFORE THIS—" He points accusingly at Sans, who stares at the finger barely touching his nose with amusement, "—HOOLIGAN, CAUSES ANYMORE TROUBLE!" There's a small pang in her chest at his words, but she ignores it.

Athena just tilts her head at the skeletons, and smiles softly. "He makes no trouble at all, Papyrus. Besides, I wouldn't call the night ruined—I doubt anything could ruin this night, in fact! Not even displeasurable puns. We had too much fun, decorating the tree and making soup, and that movie. I had a wonderful time." Her tall friend grumbles, but the steam seems to have cooled (she still notices the dirty look he sends Sans, though).

"I ADMIRE YOUR OPTIMISM, DEAR ATHENA. HOWEVER," Papyrus takes a glance at the watch on his wrist. It's has a very much so neon pink and black design, with the clock in the shape of a box and several squares beneath the hands that apparently serve no purpose other than looks. How interesting that society calls them "hands", and not the usual knobs—how interesting that they hold time in the palm of their hands (Not literally. That's impossible, and would be quite inconvenient for Time to keep "running" if it's stuck on a palm)! But, Athena believes it belongs to a brand called Mettatime? Which is owned by the monster robot, Mettaton.

A bell goes off in the back of her hand that that's another pun, and she almost points that out to Sans before being interrupted—"I REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT WE DO HAVE TO LEAVE. THE ROYAL FAMILY IS HOSTING A DINNER PARTY FOR CHRISTMAS EVE, AND I AM A VERY IMPORTANT FIGURE THERE! OH, AND SANS IS COMING ALONG TOO.

"HE WILL BE PLAYING A—Ugh—COMEDY SHOW, WHICH YOU KNOW WILL BE SPECTACULAR," Papyrus says with no little amount of sarcasm, "TO IMPRESS THE HUMAN LEADERS OCCUPYING THE EVENT." He makes a determined face that Athena smiles at, excited, "I SHALL ASSIST IN MAKING IT GREAT! LIKE MYSELF! NYEHEHE!" The fuzz on Sans' head juggles back and forth with his nodding. "it's gonna be a ball." Papyrus' groans, rolling his googly eyes, and just sets the soup in his arms.

Then, faster than expected, Papyrus turns and wraps his arms around her.

She stiffens at the sudden touch, surprise overcoming the sudden warmth from his form. And then Athena melts into it, hugging him back with equal ferver, and she can feel her heart start to drip a cozy feeling in her chest. That is until he squeezes a bit tighter, making the hug greater. And she squeezes in response. He hugs tighter; she hugs tighter; a battle ensues until they're both essentially pressing the air out of each other's bodies with the amount of love they're sending one another via arm strength.

Athena thinks this might go on forever she wants it to go on forever, but Papyrus lets go with a giant huff of air alongside releasing her. He gently prods at the sides of his ribs, and says, "YOU HUG LIKE UNDYNE!" A metaphorical lightbulb goes over his head. "I SHOULD START A HUGGING COMPETITION WITH UNDYNE!! YOU TWO COULD GO UP AGAINST EACH OTHER!!!"

Athena tilts her head at that, "Are hugs usually performed for sports? I thought they were used to display an act of love for another being." Sans tugs at Papyrus' coat before he can answer, and gestures his head towards the door. "we gotta go bro. y'know the kid'll get on our coccyxs." Papyrus lets out a yelp, swirls around and swings open the front door.

A sudden blast of snow splashes into the two skeleton's faces, covering them in thick layers of white. Papyrus sputters it off him, while Sans throws the stuff off in chunks. The wind whistles past them, flurries kissing their skulls and the snow pounding atop the already white ground.

They glance at each other, before her blue guest waves a hand back lazily at her and trudges out into the cold. Papyrus takes a deep breath, stepping forward and waving a gloved hand with so much tenacity she worries it might fling off. "I SHALL SEE YOU, DEAR LADY, ON CHRISTMAS MORNING!" He says with a wink, and Athena giggles.

"Good-bye! Stay warm and safe! 'Happy holidays!'" Athena smiles widely, grabbing the doorknob and watching her friends walk further from her cottage. Their forms, chatting and animated, go until she can't see them anymore, swallowed by the ever-consuming and icy winter darkness.

She stares out into that black.

Her breath comes out in a large white cloud, the steam tickling her nose, and the chill creeping up through her toes. The trees above and beside her cottage are thin, their tops sheathed in white blankets and their thinnest branches whipping in the harsh wind. They scratch against her home, echoing in her halls like fingernails digging at her door. But she knows it's nobody. Nobody will come—not this late at night, not this cold of the season. The only people who would just left, taking their brightly colored faces and warm arms with them.

Athena swallows with a dry throat and closes the door. She needs that warmth she needs them back.

The lightbulb hanging over her, in the entrance hallway, flickers. It casts her shadow tall, taller than she thinks it should be. She must've left the door open too long, because the chill still hasn't left the hallway—maybe she should start the fireplace in her living room. Relax, set it out properly, then take a nap for the night—it's the Christmas season. You're supposed to sleep tonight, else you don't get presents. She set up the tree beside her bed, decorated it with her friends, so she could get presents, and be surprised in the morning (but Alice said he wasn't real. That can't be true—there are so many stories about him. He has to be true). But, you're also supposed to spend tonight with family, friends. She has nobody.

Sure, there's Mother, but Athena never sees Her anymore. Mother isn't here—She's up there, watching and that's not good enough. Athena would call Alice, but Alice is away on 'holiday'. Her family is down South, at beaches, where it's warm and bright. Where there's no darkness creeping in at all sides, and there's noise to drown out your thoughts and there's family and your friends who are there for you and there's presents under the tree and you're happy and distracted an—

There's a knock at her door.

Athena turns around, standing by her dining table. When did she get there?

There's a knock at her door.

Wind whistles past her darkened windows as she steps slowly towards her front door—

Knock-kn-kn-knock.

She jumps out of her skin and runs towards the door, confusion knitted on her forehead. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect someone to be here so—" Her eyes peer out at the empty forest. Wait…there are footprints in the snow. Those aren't Sans or Papyrus'…Her eyes follow the third pair of feet to her porch, and they widen.

whydotheyhaveherfacewhoisthiswhydotheyfeellikeherwhoaretheywhydotheyhaveherfacewhoaretheywhoaretheywhoARETHEYYYYHWHOOOAREEYOOUUUUUUUU

Chapter Text

She's standing at her doorway.

Her feet are planted on wooden floorboards, in two fuzzy socks. They were given by Alice. Alice is away on holiday.

She smells trees, rain, and ice. Her animal friends are in those trees, smelling that ice. But ice isn't really a smell, is it—

Focus.

She feels her hand grip the doorknob of her cottage. Her cottage that she built, that she's lived in all by herself for nearly the past year. For a while, living in that cottage, she'd been alone.

But she isn't alone, not right now. There is someone on her doorstep. Their—his? Her?—face is illuminated by the hallway light. Her eyes widen, the edges of her vision blurring as she stares. Their face is her face. Her own face.

Athena's face, the one she carved from her own 'hands', is on this stranger—this stranger that feels like her. That emits a sort of chill, separated from the winter behind them, a wet and soppy cold that comes from caves and fear. From the bowels of one's SOUL.

Her lip twitches. Then she breaks into a small smile, thin and stretched (a thought zips by that she should visit Stretch for Christmas. It warms her a little), and says, softly, "Who are you?" They say nothing—or more, you say nothing.

Athena tilts her head a little, her feet itching to step away, but she wills them to be still. To walk away would be rude, and make a bad first impression on…whomever you are. She tears her eyes glances away from you to the forest beyond, where you came from. The darkness seems…heavier, somehow. The pines are pushed down, as if pulled, the white layered. Her land, her forest, is being suffocated, slathered in a bursting blanket of snow.

A chill suddenly goes up her skin—she clears her throat, trying to calm her running heart, and turns back to you. "It's cold outside. Do you need help?"

She steps aside and gestures to her home. "Please, come in." But you just stand there, hands behind you. Your face hasn't changed from its observant expression (it's so odd, seeing her face on someone else. Are you surprised as well? Are you feeling the same creeping uncomfortableness from her presence as she's feeling from yours?).

It's then she notices the long tail swishing behind you. Her eyebrows lift a little when she remarks internally how it looks like a cow tail. How cute! She thinks (mostly relieved to have something to look at other than your face).

She turns back to you, blinking, but she only stares at an empty porch. What? Athena whips her head around and sees the sopping footprints on her floor going behind her.

Turning around, you've somehow moved from the hallway to the living room in the span of less than a second. And she didn't even hear you! Athena's brows scrunch in confusion as she closes her front door, following your footsteps. She'll need to clean those later—OH MOTHER you don't have shoes!!

Athena gasps, "Oh no!" She runs to the fireplace at the edge of the living room, grabbing a log at the pile sitting beside it, a safe distance away.

Putting it in and getting the fire started, she smiles nervously, "You don't have any shoes! Please, warm your feet and relax! Would you like something to drink—good gods!" She turns around and jumps at your form directly behind her.

You stand over her as she kneels down, and she sees there's a small smile on your face. In the firelight, she notices the shiny brooch on your clothes, sitting by your right shoulder. It's silver, quite big (Athena doesn't know how she didn't notice it before), and gives the impression of an eclipse.

Pretty, she thinks, and stands up, brushing off her sweater and nightgown. "Like I said, is there anything you'd like…" She drifts off as she realizes she never asked your name. Her heart gives a thump—She never told you her name either!!

This has been such an eventful evening, her bones ache a little with the thought, chastising herself for her foolishness. I will take a good nap after this—my SOUL severely needs it!

Athena tilts her head at you with a nervous little chuckle, putting out her hand, and smiles—despite how crooked it looks. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we've introduced ourselves; my name is Athena. This is my house!" She waves another hand towards the cottage. "Welcome! And who might you be?"

She tries to put her words in the politest tone she can, in spite of her skin crawling. Her outstretched arm stays that way, positioned right in front of you. You look down at it with her eyes and then back up at her. Smile widening, as if you found something funny, you take it.

A shock goes through her forearm—torso—lightning-thunder-pounding rain-buzzing buzzingbuzzingbuzzin—herskinisboilingitsbubblingbubblingBUBBLINGMOTHERHELPTHEREISSOMETHINGWRONG—

She jerks her arm away from you.

Breathing hard, Athena takes that backward step her feet have been itching to do. Her veins are squeezing, heart pumping—thumpthumpthump—fear rushing in her legs and arms and feet. Her fingers itch to do something, her knees poised to run—

"I go by many names," Her voice comes out of your mouth—or is it both of your voices? No, that's not right, "But, since I wish to be acquainted properly with someone like yourself," Athena feels a pit gathering in her gut—"You may call me—

me—

me—

meeeeeeEEeeeEEEEEeEeE—

Athena's brain implodes. She can feel her neurons popping, sizzling in the pale flesh of her mind. Every artery is bursting, the blood pumping pumping pumping too fast it's too much her feet feel so heavy yet her knees feel so weak it's. It's…..

She stands with her skin ready to peel off. Despite the growing fire, oranges and reds and yellows glowing atop her furniture, she feels nothing but cold. "How do you know that name?" Athena hears herself—herself, not you—ask.

She sees you visibly perk up, much to her confusion and despair. Sharp teeth lie under your lips, a 'cheshire' grin stretching your cheeks. "Because it is my name. How do you know that name, Miss Athena?" There's a foreign feeling crawling inside the pit of her abdomen; from her research on the human body, it's somewhere in her diaphram, under her ribs. This feeling, this urge—it makes her hands clench, her jaw becoming tight.

Athena has the worst feeling of wanting to wring her hands around your neck.

But she musn't. She can't. She can't harm another, even if every fiber of her being wants to scrub them off the face of the fucking planet—

Athena needs to calm down. She needs to.

She needs to have a drink of her chocolate milk. Yes. Yes that will do nicely.

The goddess gulps in a dry throat, unclenching her hands and clasping them together in front of her, politely. She hears herself say, softly, "Would you like something to drink? Hot Cocoa, perhaps? I hear it's 'all the rage' this season." She watches you nod, a glimmer in your eyes. A glimmer of amusement? Are you happy with the bundle of emotions she's feeling? Are you finding her turmoil at dealing with whatever the hell you are funny?

Before her feet take the chance to leap at you, Athena steadily escapes walks to her kitchen, separated from the living room by a hallway. The kitchen is a good size; cupboards line the upper walls, above drawers and cabinets. They're filled with an assortment of spices, food and other valuables. Tools, silverware, knives—

She slams the door to the spoons with a bang. Her eyes peer down at the mug below her, that she can't remember getting out. She's too lost in her thoughts for that. It's a bright blue mug, gifted by Blue. It has a picture of a single white bone on the front; To help you remember what's important in life, he had said. There's another one just like it in the cup-cupboard (The cupboard. She should tell Sans that one), gifted by Indigo.

But instead of blue it's a vibrant magenta, with a picture of his face on it, bearing his teeth in a snarky grin. He had also told her that his mug would help her remember what's important in life, but she was severely doubting it at that point. Slightly weirded out (but charmed nonetheless), she kept the things. And now Athena was using her friend's gift as a drink for someone who should not be here.

And she doesn't mean to be rude—despite the vibes that keep coming off of you, and the fact that you literally appeared on her doorstep in the middle of the night right after she closed the door on her friends who were leaving. She heard nothing from Papyrus or Sans; surely, either one of them would bring up conversation with you on your way to the door (It is, once again, the middle of the night. She wasn't expecting anyone else). So, did they really not catch you, or…

…Did you not want to be found? Were you sneaking out there the entire time, waiting for them to leave? Why? How?! Who in their right mind would do that?!

Her hand clenches on the nearly-opened packet of Cocoa in her palm, fingers pinched on the ripped strip. It can't be. It just…can't.

You can't really be her. Yes, there's a possibility (greater than she'd like to admit if so) that you might be a god. Sadly, she fully believes you are. You could be lying (but why didn't she sense it? Why didn't she realize it sooner? How didn't she? Were you hiding yourself, or was she just blinded by emotion?) about your name. It's the heavens. A swirling cacophony of sound and magic—everyone knows everyone.

So why didn't she know about you? So how didn't she realize that there's someone else like her down here? She can respect wanting to stay hidden—she's doing the exact same damn thing! But to just outright come to her house in the middle of the night, with only a weird vibe and barely saying a word, no injuries, no reason for actually being here, hell you could have come as a charoller and she'd have been nonethewiser—

Athena. Athena, you're panicking. They're probably going to tell you everything you need to know when you give them their Cocoa. Get your milk Athena (But—! (Athena.)). The goddess clenches her fist at the sudden intruding voice. Her consciousness; the scale of right and wrong in her heart. It's always guided her, and if it's speaking right now, then…

…Yes. Yes, it's right. She should calm down and give her (albeit unexpected) guest their drink. Athena should be the polite host that she is, and cater to them. Yes. Everything will be answered then. Even if it isn't, not immediately, it can't hurt to ask. She has to ask. She deserves to know.

Her hand, clutching the hand of the mug, relaxes. A white bone gleams against the harsh light of the kitchen, and wind billows on her shingles outside.

…

…She puts the mug in the sink, fills it with water, and grabs its partner from above her. She shouldn't use a good mug like that.