In the entirety of my knowing him, Firhaur only once expressed anything nearing anger towards me. In the end, I don't think it was even really anger, just deep frustration.

Nonetheless, it was still painful.

After nearly four failed infiltrations into the Capital City, the humans had more or less taken a step back from direct assault on the castle. They were attacking other places, but the Capital City was one of the safest places. There was practically a thirty mile radius around the city that was quite nearly human-free.

I was in this area once. I'm not quite sure why, though. Looking back on it, it seems an incredibly stupid idea, and the fact that I can't remember why I was out there is evidence enough that I didn't have an incredibly good reason to be.

Nonetheless, I was out there, walking around.

At some point, I heard a shout, "Get him!" and something slammed into my back. I had a moment of panic; humans were attacking me!

But something in me snapped, and I decided that I wasn't going to go down easy. So I scrambled away from my attackers and turned to fight.

The fight didn't last long. A few quick punches and kicks and a blast of Magic, and I had apprehended my foes.

I quickly found out why these humans were so easy to fight. They were not warriors, they were not wizards. They weren't trained to fight. They weren't even adults.

They were kids, the older being no more than fourteen by my guess. I doubt they were even supposed to be out there; they probably had some harebrained idea about showing off or proving their strength or something by killing a monster.

The thought sparked up a burning anger in me. Killing monsters just to show how strong you are. It's absolutely disgusting.

As I took a step towards the kids, they scrambled back on the ground, fear in their eyes.

The fear tasted sweet to me. I would make them fear, yes.

I took another step forward.

I would show them what it was to kill.

As I set my foot on the elder child's chest, I could feel his heart beating wildly, even through my boot. I leaned forward, putting weight on my foot, pressure on the kid's chest.

One of the two, I'm not sure which, cried out. "Please! Please, stop!"

I just laughed. "Would you have stopped if I asked you?" I put a bit more weight on my foot.

Still they begged. Please, please stop, please, have a little mercy.

It was not the humans' voices that made me stop. It was Firhaur's.

It's far too easy to have blood on your hands, and that's an impossible thing to forget, an irreparable damage to your Soul.

The idea of showing myself to Firhaur with blood on my hands, with this damage to my Soul...

But I didn't lift my foot. I couldn't just let the humans go. They had to learn that killing monsters was not okay, was not a thing you could do for sport.

So I leaned forward, burying my fingers in the scarf around the kid's neck. As I started to pull it away, the human let out a small protest, grabbing at it.

I paused. "... I could take your life, instead." I said coldly. "Consider this a mercy."

With that, I yanked the scarf away. As I stepped back, I wrapped it around my own neck. For a moment, I looked at the humans. Both were staring at me, still on the ground, terror in their eyes.

"Remember this." I told them. "Remember that I could have killed you. That I didn't. Remember that the next time you go to kill a monster."

And with that, I turned and walked away, scarf red as blood fluttering over my shoulder.

It's a little ironic, really. Many, many years later, I would give that stolen scarf to my son Papyrus, who wouldn't even steal an unwanted bread crust if he were starving.

Firhaur was not happy to learn how I had gotten the scarf. He was not upset that I had been attacked (okay, maybe he was, but not so much as I would have hoped at the time) but rather that I had taken the scarf.

"It was not a mercy!" He snarled to me, his amethyst eyes alight with fire. "It was petty thievery!"

"Well I couldn't just let them go!" I replied angrily in Hands. I was far too worked up to speak in Common.

"Y E S Y O U C O U L D ."

I have heard anger in many peoples' voices before, both directed at me, and at others. Not even Asgore at his worst has ever come close to the rage I heard then in Firhaur's voice. There was burning coldness to it, a dark power, a wild strength.

For a moment, I stood, shocked. Then my own anger bubbled back up, taking me over. "I could have killed them. Do you know why I didn't? I didn't because of this. Because I didn't want to see what would happen, I didn't want to see this look on your face when I came back with blood on my hands. But now I see this was the result anyway, and I'm beginning to realize my mistake." I turned towards the door, then spat over my shoulder, "I should have taken their lives instead." And I stalked out of the lab, truly angry with Firhaur for the first and last time of our brotherhood.

For a full two days, we didn't speak to each other aside for the basic communication required by working in the same space. For the entire two days, my emotions were a mess, a combination of indignant anger (who gave Firhaur the right to approve or disapprove my actions?!), disappointment (I should have known that would be the reaction. Firhaur thought of monsters and humans as equals. I should have recognized that.) and guilt (maybe Firhaur was right? Should I have just let them go? Was all this really worth this rift in our relationship?) all of which were hidden behind a stony mask of indifference.

And then, Firhaur came up beside me and sat down. For a long minute, there was a tense silence between us. And then, slowly...

"... Gaster. I-..." Firhaur spoke very slowly. Carefully. He though over his words before he said them. "I understand that... you wish to make a difference in this war, and... your first instinct is to fight, to violence. ... I know that... you must have wanted to kill them. And... for as much as I disapprove of taking the scarf... I appreciate that you did not kill them, for me. And, as I said... I do not think taking the scarf was... the best solution, but... I will respect your decision. And-..."

Another long moment of silence.

"... And I am sorry that I neglected to do so, and I am sorry that I lost my temper over it."

Slowly, I looked up at him. He wasn't looking at me, but straight down, sorrow on his face. For another seemingly infinite moment, we stayed that way. Then, Firhaur looked up at me.

"I am sorry, Gaster. Please, forgive me."

Wordlessly, I stepped over and hugged Firhaur.

Firhaur hugged me back, tightly. And I didn't ask about why he kept shuddering slightly, or why he kept making small, sad sounds, or why I felt something wet soaking through my clothes to my shoulder.

I just hugged my brother.

... As for the rage I had seen in his eyes...

It was once of only two times I ever saw such an expression cross his face. The second time...

Well...

We'll get to that.

§

A/N

Aaaaaaaaand there's Papyrus's scarf! Originally, I actually had a much... bloodier origin of the scarf planned, but it didn't quite fit with the layout of the story. Not because of Firhaur's want for nonviolence, but other reasons that are a bit spoiler-y.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and votes are my Favorite Things, and every notification I get makes my day!