Axetober, Day 14: Maddening Music
(https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857010/chapters/61096756)
The
ruins of Old Home had been empty of all but the smallest, most
terrified monsters for far longer than the Hunger had existed. It was
a place of refuge for the weak and abused, the misunderstood and the
abandoned. It had stood the test of time, bearing the long history of
monsterkind from beyond even the ancient war that had imprisoned
them, and bore testament to a proud heritage forgotten in a time of
hatred and fear.
The
caretaker of the ruins had been likewise benevolent and protective,
keeping watch over the many echoing halls and caverns, the empty
homes and the forgotten palace where she had once reigned with a
crown of gold. The little monsters had nothing to fear while she
walked the tunnels, a merry song of hope and joy bouncing off the
stone walls for all to share.
A
different song haunted the ruins now, and brought nothing but fear
into every soul that witnessed it.
The
caretaker had been gone for more than thirty years, returned to a
palace and a people that needed her far more. The doors that had once
stood tall, defending against the frigid winds and creeping ice of
the arboretum, now lay in a shambles in the entrance to the echoing,
lost kingdom. The dust and blood of monsters fleeing the madness in
the air covered everything,
every floor and surface and statue and wall, and any monster that
remained alive clung to the shadows desperately, starving into husks
of what they once were but living in terror of ever being found.
A
beast that never slept roamed the halls now, and to be found was to
meet your end.
It
had never been Napstablook’s design, of course, to be regarded with
the terror that they were. It was the last thing they had ever
wanted… and they had done everything they could to prevent it.
The
Ruins were an old, old friend to them, a refuge the same as it was to
lesser monsters. They had come there many times, in those old, long
lost days before the end of the world, to be alone, away from the
reminder of their lost family, to wander the Ruins and listen to the
music that they had designed with their favorite cousin and reminisce
and wish, wish silently for a reunion, if only for a single day.
They
would never impose on him, though. He was so bright and so popular
and so happy,
a shining star for the entire Underground. Mettaton had everything he
wanted now… they could cheer him on from the background, if that’s
what he really desired.
It
didn’t bother them. Not really.
They
had been reunited through the efforts of the human, though, the same
human that had been so kind and patient with them; they had had happy
years, together with Mettaton and the crowds that loved
their
music (they had never understood why). They’d… never been a
particularly happy monster; they knew just how morose they appeared.
But those years brought them as close to happiness as they’d ever
been.
It
hadn’t been meant to last. One day, a great disturbance broke the
magic of the Underground, and turned monster souls from love to
unending hunger. That hunger tried to visit Napstablook too, in their
home as they watched the news with worry, but they neglected
answering the door so long, too nervous to even peek through the
curtains to see who it was, that it left in impatience.
They
stayed in their home, too, as the days grew longer and the violence
grew; the broadcasts became more and more terrifying, the danger
Mettaton put himself in to air the events in the Underground shaking
them to their pale soul… until the electricity failed at long last,
the plant in the swamps overloading and halting entirely, and the
news stopped coming.
Mettaton
never returned. No matter how long they waited, how many times they
called his phone (he’d always answered before… he’d never ignored them
before)… he never came back, and when the waters of the swamp,
sickly and murky with dust, began to crawl towards their homes and
the farm, Napstablook fled, to the only place that could comfort them
now, or offer any kind of resistance to the hunger that knocked at
their door daily.
The
Ruins.
The
Underground he passed through on the way there, the furthest away
they could get from the greatest point of corruption, was a wreckage.
Monsters prowled the caverns in search of any food that they could
find, including but not limited to each other, homes were in flames,
shops boarded up and abandoned… the air felt thick and choking, as
though weighted down with something that simply could not be seen.
The
break of the world had changed them all, taken everything from them…
and it would come for Napstablook too, in time. They couldn’t
resist it forever, try as they might, run as they did. It would warp
them the same as it did with all else, twisting their mind and their
form irreparably… force their hand in the satiation of the hunger
that never ended.
All
they had of their former life, in the dark places of the world, was
the last song they and Mettaton had composed together. It stayed
their mind, soothed their soul, and became their mantra, a haunting,
neverending hum that echoed from the dust stained walls and filled
the empty caverns and sent smaller monsters scurrying away, to do
their best to hide.
Perhaps
it was a mercy, a warning, an attempt to keep Napstablook away from
them, to spare them an unjust end.
They
only wished the little monsters were better at hiding.
