Work Text:
Asgore had acquired a new flower recently. Flowey wasn’t sure where it had come from, but there was something distinctly different about it compared to the rest of Asgore’s garden. The new flower looked the same as all the rest, save for a dark line resembling a scar running along its stem, so it shouldn’t have stuck out so much.
And yet, something about it rubbed Flowey the wrong way. If Flowey were pressed on why, exactly, he would probably say that it radiated a distinctly smug aura. He hadn’t realized a flower other than him could do that.
But that wasn’t all. Flowey had recently discovered that, in addition to the flower’s… cockiness? Was that the right term for it? Well, in addition to its vibes, the flower was also incredibly chatty, for a flower.
See, flowers could communicate through their root system, and while Flowey usually couldn’t pick up anything more than the vague outlines of emotions in the flowers’ chats, he swore that the new fucker had exclaimed “Glue!” on several different occasions.
If Flowey was being honest with himself, the new flower had singlehandedly stopped him from visiting Asgore’s throne room on several occasions. It used to be that if he was tired, Flowey could hang out among Asgore’s flowers, blend in for a bit, and drift in his thoughts. But now? Now, he had to deal with Fuckface the Flower yapping about his “Jarona” or people eating his flesh.
Flowey was gonna kill the damn thing.
________
His first assassination attempt on the flower hadn’t actually had the gravitas that the title “assassination attempt” would imply. Flowey had shown up in the throne room one afternoon in a bad mood, looking to take his anger out on Asgore’s throne. At least, that was the plan before Fuckface had decided to greet him with a “Hey there, little guy!”
Flowey wasn’t upset about the change of plans. It would probably be much more cathartic to kill that flower that he hated, after all. He cackled to himself as he readied his bullets. Their power boosted by Flowey’s rage, the bullets hit their target and—
Did no damage whatsoever? What?! Flowey froze in shock. His aim must have been less accurate than he thought. He readied another round of bullets, shot them at the flower, and once again did no damage to it.
That couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t! Sure, flowers didn’t have souls, but Flowey’s bullets would surely do some damage to a flower. Squinting, Flowey checked the flower’s stats.
What the actual fuck. There was no way.
999 in all stats? Did stats even go that high? Well, clearly they had to, since Flowey’s attacks weren’t doing anything to the damn flower.
“How the hell do you have 999 defense?” Flowey muttered.
Fuckface said, “Heh, it’s my Jarona!”
“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?”
________
Flowey took his subsequent assassination attempts much more seriously.
His first thought was to try different types of magic on the flower. Sure, normal bullets wouldn’t work on its ludicrous defense, but what about fire magic? All he needed to do was trick Asgore into burning Fuckface, and boom! If he was lucky, fire magic would have a good enough effect on the flower that it would simply burn up and die.
It had been difficult with his lack of hands, but Flowey had managed to write a note to Asgore claiming that one of the flowers seemed sick, and would need to be culled in order to prevent the disease from spreading. After that, all Flowey had to do was hide in the garden and watch.
It wasn’t long before Asgore came running into the room. Flowey knew the moment the king did, since Fuckface announced it by exclaiming “My king!” like he did every fucking time Asgore came into the room. Oh, Flowey was looking forward to this.
Asgore looked around the garden for a moment before spotting the flower and rushing over to it. The king kneeled down in front of it and ran his fingers over it. Flowey grinned. Yes, everything was coming together.
Asgore chuckled. “Well, little one, it looks like whoever sent that note must not know flowers. You’re healthy as can be!”
Oh, for angel’s sake! Of course Asgore would have to double-check; the asshole cared more about his damn flowers than he did any human or monster in the world.
Fuckface seemed to preen under Asgore’s touch. “Sustingus!” said the flower.
________
Flowey’s next attempt to get Asgore to burn the flower went similarly well. This time, Flowey tried to get Asgore to attack him for invading the garden, only for Flowey to dodge at the last minute and leave Fuckface in the path of the fire. That part was successful.
What wasn’t as successful was Asgore’s reaction to burning one of his own flowers. Flowey couldn’t even tell if the fire had done anything before Asgore had rushed over to use healing magic on the flower.
Flowey glared from across the room. This was personal, now.
________
“Since we’re friends and all,” Flowey asked, “Could you do me a favor?”
“OF COURSE!” Papyrus exclaimed, “WHAT IS IT?”
Flowey smiled at the skeleton. “There’s this flower in the king’s throne room…”
________
Papyrus came back doubly unsuccessful. Somehow, not only had he failed to even try offing the flower, but he had also come to the opinion that it was actually really cool for a flower. Flowey made sure to reset, so that that opinion would never be formed again.
________
By the time the seventh human fell into the Underground, Flowey had reached his breaking point. He had tried everything. Magic, regular arson, anvils cartoonishly dropped from the ceiling, everything.
But the human’s arrival changed things. If he played his cards right, Flowey could steal the six souls from Asgore and become a god. And if he was a god… if he was a god, he could kill that damned flower once and for all.
He watched as the child killed Asgore. He cackled as he destroyed the king’s soul and claimed the human souls. And when the child showed up, determined to fight him, he grinned maniacally as he killed them again and again.
But then, after the child had lost to him dozens of times, the human souls rebelled. Circling the child, the souls lent them their power.
“This meanie’s no fun,” the aqua soul said.
“But now’s our chance to take him down,” said the purple soul.
“We’re stronger than him,” said the orange soul.
The green soul said nothing, but exuded an air of encouragement as well.
“We will gladly join the fight alongside you,” the blue soul said.
“Let’s beat this monster!” exclaimed the yellow soul.
“Flowers blooms in your heart” said the golden flower—
Wait what.
That.
What.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE?” Flowey screamed.
Unfortunately, Flowey never did get his answer, because the six human souls and the goddamn flower joined forces with the human child to defeat him and restore the world. And even after all that, the child spared his life.
Flowey spent a while after that moping. Eventually, though, he ended up back in the throne room like he always seemed to. Right next to Fuckface the flower.
“I don’t deserve this,” said Flowey. “Having my life spared. Why didn’t they kill me?”
For once, the golden flower next to him stayed silent.
Flowey sighed. “That child… I don’t think I’ll ever understand how they think. Why they have that much faith in me.”
Flowey looked up at the ceiling. “Or maybe, their faith isn’t in me. Maybe they have faith in the world, instead. Faith that the world is a just place.”
Somehow, the silence from the flower next to him was almost as irritating as the yapping had been. Then again, Flowey thought to himself, maybe he was being too harsh on the flower. Maybe, somewhere along the way, he had let his anger get the best of him once again. Maybe he could be a better person, like the human seemed to think he could.
Flowey looked at the golden flower. “Well, do you have anything to say about any of this?”
The flower was silent for a moment longer, as if contemplating. Then: “Your dad’s my best friend.”
Nevermind, screw all that self-improvement bullshit. Flowey was going to find a way to kill that damn flower.