#winter gaster

Winter shuddered. He would hate that voice for the rest of his life. He slowly turned to stare at the creature who attempted to raise him. He hated his father with everything in him, but he couldn’t do anything to fight him. 

He was afraid of his father. 

The creature loomed over him, his eyes dark, as usual. Unlike Winter’s round skull, his skull stretched upwards, and his snowflake eyes always pierced his soul. He wore a navy Eskimo jacket with black undertones. This creature had his way with the snow, as the fingers—on the dozens of hands he had that appeared and disappeared at command—were always covered in ice, and his head had many snowflake prints on it. He floated off the ground, often to where Winter could see his thin boots. Evil was written all over his face; it wasn’t hard for Winter to know his father was horrid. 

“Winter!Gaster,” Winter replied in the most stoic tone he could muster, refusing to show his anger towards his dad. He was never allowed to call his father ‘dad’ or the latter. It was always Winter!Gaster, or W!Gaster for short. Winter knelt on his knees, bowing to the king of the Winter Kingdom, enraged that he would never inherit the throne himself. 

“Did you take care of them?” His voice boomed in Winter’s head. W!Gaster’s eyes narrowed as he lifted his head and looked down at Winter!Sans. 

“Yes, sir, their bodies were buried successfully,” Winter did his best not to shiver while keeping eye contact. He hated killing people, but he had no choice. 

W!Gaster turned away. “Good,” he smiled wickedly. “I have a meeting today. I would like you to—” he paused. “No, you’re required to attend.” 

Winter rolled his eyes, shoving down his emotions once more. He didn’t want to sit with all the Gasters again. All of them reminded him too much of W!Gaster. He wondered if they would all be there. Summer!Gaster most likely would, the mad scientist—and ruler of the Summer Kingdom—never missed a moment to converse with his father. Spring!Gaster and Fall!Gaster would show up if they saw a need to. W!Gaster didn’t expect much from the slave master and thief anyway. 

He just hoped HE wouldn’t show up. 

“Are you coming, you waste of air?” W!Gaster barked, not turning toward his son.

Winter gazed at his hands, trying his best to remain still as the blood stained them. He couldn't afford to deal with his emotions now since he knew they would make him weak. Winter was aware that he fought to stay alive and follow orders. Orders that would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. “Yes sir,” his stoic gaze locked on W!Gaster as he followed right behind him. 

“Look at what you’ve done!” 

“You’re a psychopath!” 

“How could you?! We trusted you!” 

“WINTER!” W!Gaster’s voice broke through the screams in his head as he slapped him across the face. “Pay attention, idiot!” 

Winter nodded apologetically, snapping back into the cruel reality he lived in. 

“You looked stupid during that entire meeting,” W!Gaster rolled his eyes. “Did you even hear what the others said about your potential?” 

Winter didn’t meet his eyes. “I did, sir.” 

“Well, what do you think?” 

Winter despised that particular question. W!Gaster seemed indifferent to his opinion. His father only seemed interested in knowing his plans through his son's words. Winter loathed the designs that the Gasters discussed for his future. They were dreadful, awful, and gruesome. They intended for him to become the most skilled assassin of those who dared to defy them in SeasonTale.

“I’m taking your silence as an agreement,” Winter wasn’t surprised by the Gaster's response. “Rest up; you’ll need your energy for tomorrow. You will be attempting to hunt down the rebels again.” 

Winter gave his salutations before he civilly ran up the stairs. Once out of sight, he booked it to his room and locked the door behind him. 

A soft wind blew the white curtains into his room. A large window before him was open, creaking from the storm's aftermath. The room was dusty, musky, and smelled of books and metal polish. The room had little to no light, causing an eerie feel to the area. A small pile of snow lay below the window and in front of the bed frame, an extravagant throne that Winter laid his head on every week or so if he could rest. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, and he couldn’t remember the last time he slept through the night. 

He placed his swords in the barrel next to the door before setting his notebooks that he wasn’t supposed to have on his desk. The picture of his father loomed over the desk with his big icy crown resting on his head. There was a slight tear in the photo, and behind it showed the rebel leaders. Winter never learned their names, but they looked like lovely leaders. They had fur like the Winter!Toriel and Winter!Asgore, but their outfits included all of the seasons. It reminded Winter how badly he wanted to visit the other seasonal kingdoms.

Tears started to flow from his eyes. He cursed and hit himself for it, but the sobs escaped his throat. Everything in his chest tightened as his head felt like it was about to explode. His hands shook as he went over to the snow below the window and rubbed his hands in them, desperately trying to get the blood off them. He rubbed his hands until the blood became wet again, trailing off his hands into the snow. The snow turned into a crimson-red liquid as it melted through the wooden floor. He stumbled back, his gaze disrupted by the water flowing from his eyes as he laughed between sobs. His hands were white bone again, giving him a brief moment of innocence from the lives he took earlier that day. 

He hated killing. He hated hearing the screams of innocent people rush through his head as he drove his knives through them. He didn’t understand why he had to kill them either. W!Gaster only told him that their incompetence to follow orders was punishable by death. He didn’t know what those big words meant, as he was never taught in school. He didn’t go to school at all, W!Gaster said he was too young to. His father suggested he could go to school when he was seven. 

He obeyed his father like a puppy would its master. He desperately wanted to be independent and for his father to be proud of him. However, he was never given the chance to prove his independence. W!Gaster watched everything that he did. What he read and wrote, who he interacted with, and how much he was outside. There was no life without W!Gaster, but the constant torment, abuse, and daunting tasks lit a firey anger towards him, and he wanted nothing more than to escape. 

But he didn’t know how. 

Winter Sans wiped his tears from his skull before he collapsed on the bed, using his forbidden magic to move his books into the desk drawer. He would have to return those tomorrow if he could find the time and if he could sneak out properly. Thankfully, Winter!Toriel—the librarian—understood his situation. She was the one who told him W!Gaster was evil and taught him how to read. Before her, Winter obeyed everything W!Gaster told him to do without remorse. She showed him what an evil person he was, and ever since then, he hated his father. She told him she had a surprise for him tomorrow. Winter promised to try his best to get to the library without getting caught. 

His tears had finally stopped. Winter felt his soul harden like ice as he stared at the cloudy sky. His ceiling was glass, which he didn’t like. He tried not to drown in self-pity. I have to do the dirty work… he thought. I don’t want to hurt people… I just want him to be proud of me. 

He debated over and over in his head what he wanted more: his father’s approval or to do the right thing. He didn’t want to question his father, as he had no idea what he would do without him. How could he survive in the big scary world without someone to look after him? And that doesn’t involve someone dying… 

His thoughts raced as the night endured. He figured he wouldn’t get much sleep. It would often hurt his head and affect his eyesight; he didn’t know how to tell W!Gaster that he was having vision problems when he got hit in the head or was slapped. He grunted, gripping his head. Why does my entire life involve him?! Why can’t I just be free? He broke into a fit of rageful sobs, pounding his bed. The screams started to come back again; if he fell asleep, they would become much more vivid. He got up and paced around his room quietly, clenching his head harder and harder until his vision blacked out. He fell onto the floor, unable to see anything. 

Visions of his father hurting him and Winter hurting others flashed through his mind, leaving him paralyzed on the ground. His body shook like he had hypothermia. He couldn’t move, nor did he want to move. Winter wanted the pain to be over, he wanted to be done with it all, and he hadn’t even reached his seventh birthday. 

I can’t take this anymore… Winter shuddered, curling up into a ball on the ground. I have to escape, I have to flee. I don’t want to kill or train to kill anymore… 

His vision slowly returned as the picture on his wall became less blurry; he fixated on the two goats. Somehow, they’re caring gaze gave him a glimmer of hope, hope for him and his future. 

For that brief moment, he felt at peace when he stared at the photo behind his father’s photo. He felt as if he was an innocent boy, able to be redeemed. He felt like he wasn’t so lost and broken that forgiveness was unimaginable for him. For a moment, he felt like a child, and he felt… happy.

Reality came back to him with a thud as a loud Gaster Blaster was shot downstairs. He reached for that feeling of hope, but it slipped right out of his fingers. His soul thumped in his chest as the screams returned as he wished once more that he could escape, and a single thought echoed through his mind. 

None of it made any sense. They didn’t do anything wrong… they just disagreed with W!Gaster, nothing more. Why did they have to pay with their lives for having an opinion? 

Winter felt the tears that escaped his eyes freeze on his face as the harsh wind beat against his skull. He lowered his knives and stepped away from the two monsters. “Go,” he squeaked. “Go before he kills you himself.” 

The two monsters thanked him and bolted away. 

He heaved a great sigh. What a relief. It brought him peace to spare the lives of the innocent. He hadn’t done that before… but he knew from how he felt that it was the right thing to do. 

That peace quickly faded when he realized what punishment he would receive for committing such an act. Would W!Gaster throw him out to fend for himself in the storm again? Would he hurt him?

Would his father kill him? 

Winter didn’t want to think about it. He broke the crystalized tears off his face as he felt the books in his cloak get heavier. He shoved down his emotions and refused to feel them. There was always a looming reminder that his emotions were a weakness anyway. 

Stepping out of the alleyway, Winter!Sans removed the cloak from his face and walked quietly into town. He hoped that he could time his visit to the librarian just right that his father wouldn’t expect anything. 

Twenty minutes…

* * *

“I’m glad you enjoyed the books, Winter.” Winter!Toriel placed the books on the shelf before turning towards the child. “I’m even more grateful that you could read them.” 

Winter nodded silently as he sat in a chair away from the windows. The library was warm and extensive. There was a small desk that he sat in front of next to the hallway that revealed thousands of books on massive shelves. Winter wished to read all the books within the library but felt he couldn’t. An impending doom of getting caught grew heavier each time he came. Winter believed W!Gaster was catching onto his distant behavior, and he didn’t know how to mask it well enough. 

“Would you like some new books? I had a new collection come in…” Winter!Toriel paused, glancing back over at Winter!Sans. She tilted her head in concern as she observed him twirling his thumbs and staring at the floor. “Are you okay?” She asked gently, approaching him and leaning in front of him. 

Winter desperately tried to hold back his tears. “I couldn’t-” he gasped. “I couldn’t kill them this time…” 

“Oh, honey…” W!Toriel extended her arms and wrapped them around Winter. “That’s nothing to be upset about; you did the right thing.” 

Her embrace was so foreign to him. What is she doing? Was she going to attack him from behind? Why was she not moving? Winter didn’t know how to react. In fact, he just cried… the tears ran down his skull as he tugged on her cape. He didn’t want her to let go… her embrace was comforting, something he had never felt. 

“You are very touch-deprived, dear.” To Winter’s dismay, she let go and looked him in the eyes. “You feel better about not hurting them, right?” “Yes, ma’am,” Winter nodded. 

“That’s good, that’s how you should feel,” The librarian nodded slowly before standing up. She sighed with great worry before looking at Winter once more. “Winter, It’s… It’s not good for you or anyone else to stay with your father… I… I believe you need to leave.” 

Winter glanced up at her, his tears drying up. What did she mean? Why would he leave his father? He couldn’t go out in the snow again and expected him to return to the mansion promptly. “But I need to go home in ten minutes, or he’ll be mad.” 

“Honey, you wouldn’t return to him, ever,” W!Toriel explained. “You would run and start a new life, free from him and his evil plans.” 

… I can be free? 

The librarian kneeled in front of Winter, her voice hushed. “Listen to me closely, Winter. I can help you,” she glanced at the door before continuing. “The rebellion against the gasters wish to save you. They would help raise you in a much better environment than you are now.” 

Winter didn’t understand much of what she was saying. However, he knew what the rebellion was. It was the highest form of treason against the gasters to be a part of it. Winter gave slow and painful deaths to those accused of it and watched others suffer in W!Gaster’s grasp. The fact W!Toriel was even mentioning it means that Winter would have to kill her. 

Winter drew his knives, causing Winter!Toriel to back up. “I… I have to kill you. The rebellion is what my dad has ordered me against.” 

“But they can free you,” She insisted. “They will give you a much better life than you have now.” 

Winter’s hands were shaking with the knife in them. Everything in him told him not to attack the librarian, especially after all she’d done for him. However, he was told the rebellion was dangerous, and orders were orders. “The rebellion is bad-” 

“Is that what they call us now, the bad guys?” 

Winter and W!Toriel stared at the monster standing in front of the hallway. The boy’s jaw dropped. It’s the goat from the photo in my room… 

She looked similar to Toriel; the same species. However, she was much shorter and her horns were curved. Instead of wearing a blue gown patted with snow, her clothing was pure starlight and shined white like the snow on the ground. Her gaze penetrated with an uneasy amount of determination and power, but there was also understanding and care. It was a look Winter never understood. 

“Put the knife down young boy,” the starry goat demanded. “It is not your destiny.” 

“W-Who are you?” Winter’s voice quivered as he obeyed, laying the knife on the floor. Although he recgonized them from the painting, and had a good idea of who she was, he wasn’t sure. 

“I am Season!Toriel, co-leader of the rebellion against the gasters and the rightful queen of SeasonTale.” Season held her head high, looking down at the boy. “And I am here to rescue you.” 

“Well, I was going to introduce you to her, but it looks like introductions have already been made,” Winter!Toriel scratched her head, chuckling nervously. “I said you could live a better and happier life, Winter. If you go with Season, she will ensure of that.” 

Winter’s entire body was shaking now. There she was, the former ruler of SeasonTale, standing right before him—the ultimate target of W!Gaster, and the main threat to his throne. Winter had only read about her rule and power. Although she was a good and caring leader, his unfortunate circumstances have ruled him against her. He was only a boy, and he feared his death would come upon him any moment now. 

Season oversaw Winter, her eyes softening. With eloquent grace, she knelt on the ground to make herself smaller. She extended her hands towards Winter. “You don’t have to follow your father's footsteps,” she whispered. “You can rise above that and become a good and caring leader one day. Let me help you. Let me rescue you from Winter!Gaster.” 

Winter stared at her paws before looking at Season and then at Winter!Toriel. She nodded in agreement. Winter fought back tears. He wanted freedom; he wanted to escape. This was his opportunity. This might be his only chance. 

“I can’t.” 

* * *

Each step back to the castle got more painful. His teeth gritted against one another. He had given up his only chance to escape. 

He couldn’t even figure out why himself. Was it because he wanted his dad to be proud of him? Maybe there was some hope in turning his father around… Maybe, just maybe, he could find another way. 

But he couldn’t join the rebellion. 

There was no way… After all that he had done? Sure, they are fighting for justice; they are the good guys. Winter knew they would have treated him better. 

But would they have? 

Winter had killed so many rebellion members. His entire life, despite it not being that long, he fought against them. He was a threat to them… a target. 

He was a bad guy. 

He didn’t want to be, but he didn’t see how he could change. Although there was a slim hope he held out for his father, that same hope wasn’t measured to himself. 

And it swallowed him whole. 

“You’re two minutes and three seconds late,” W!Gaster’s voice boomed as he closed a pocket watch in his hands. 

Winter sighed, closing the door behind him, and took his coat off. It took him a bit to stomp off all the snow before answering. “I apologize. I had a bit of a delay with the bodies.” 

“Right, because you didn’t kill them.” 

It was as if the boy had been shot. He froze in place, fear taking control of his mind. Panic swirled within him. How did he know? How did he find out? Was he watching the whole time? 

W!Gaster let out a low, rumbling laugh. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Those traitors were spotted crossing the Summer Kingdom this evening. Thankfully, I had them taken care of-” he whipped around, his hand raised. “UNLIKE YOUR PATHETIC FAILURE TO DO THE JOB!” 

Winter collided with the ground from the punch that rolled across his skull. His vision immediately blacked out. No, no, no, no… 

He didn’t see the remaining hits that were laid upon him. “You had ONE JOB! ONE HELL OF A JOB! You failed, as always! You worthless piece of-”

The rest of the insults were muffled as his hearing rang. He curled up in a ball as he embraced hit after hit. His breath was shaking, and it was almost impossible not to cry. 

He had enough. 

Winter could make out the sound of a gaster blaster charging up. He braced for impact, but when it fired, he felt nothing. 

The beating had stopped. 

Winter sat up, his vision still blurred. He couldn’t make much out except for the new hole in the wall and W!Gaster’s boots hanging from it. When he turned around, he saw that the blaster was his own. 

His eyes widened with fear. What have I done? 

The next few seconds were the most rash seconds of his life. Winter didn’t waste any time before he grabbed a different coat and bolted out the door. He couldn’t stay… he was going to die if he did. His little feet carried him to the edge of the hill. He quickly looked around for something to get him down, as the stairs were too slow. 

He heard W!Gaster’s enraged roar from the mansion. With no time to think, Winter grabbed a giant icicle from the cliff and slid down the hill on it. Although it was slippery, and he fell off it at the end, it gave him the head start that he needed before teleporting into the town. 

His heart was beating faster than he ever thought it would. His feet were aching, but that didn’t stop him as he burst through the library door, his vision blurred once more. 

Winter!Toriel glanced up in surprise before rushing over to him. “Oh my gosh, what happened to you?” 

“Help,” Winter grasped onto her arms. “He’s after me. I have to go.” 

Before W!Toriel could call for her, Season was already by her side. She glanced at his face before kneeling, offering her hand quickly. 

He didn’t hesitate to accept her offer this time, squeezing her hand as the fear of his father gripped him like a python. “Please, help me.”