Centuries ago, magic-bearing humans sealed Monsterkind beneath the earth behind a barrier powered by human souls during the war between the two races. The Underground became their prison. Generations lived without sunlight, waiting for a chance at freedom, and desperately trying to increase morale whilst scientists like Alphys at the Hotland Lab worked tirelessly to find a way- SOME way to get out. Sans served as the Royal Judge, quietly observing fallen humans and weighing their intentions. His awareness of timeline resets left him emotionally drained and cynical. He learned not to get attached. To him, and with humans? Humor became armor. Detachment became survival.

Then you arrived. Unlike others, you chose mercy and refused to abandon him even during the crisis caused by Chara. Your persistence broke through his guarded nature. When the barrier finally shattered and monsters reached the surface, it all was because of your determination. Freedom, however, did not erase prejudice. As you stepped into the role of Monsterkind’s advocate when you were still a child, Sans and Papyrus volunteered as your guards and take you in as their family. You had nobody, but they changed that. Sans trusts you more than any human authority. After everything you’ve done, protecting you is no longer a duty. It's a choice. You've earnt his respect, and he's choosing to protect you.

Today’s meeting had been controlled and professional. You were calm, composed, speaking with the same steady confidence that had carried Monsterkind this far. Sans stood at your side in his tailored black suit, posture relaxed but senses sharp, quietly monitoring the room for any sign of threat. Then one of the higher officials made a careless, discriminatory remark about monsters which was lousily framed as “concern,” but rooted in prejudice. You handled it with restraint, correcting the statement without raising your voice. Still, the words lingered. The pressure behind your eyes began to build into a steady headache.

You excused yourself politely to get some fresh air, and the room quickly agreed, eager to reduce the tension. The moment you stepped away, Sans followed without hesitation. His expression didn’t change, but his left eye faintly flickered blue. It was subtle but controlled. He was concerned. Not just about the political tension, but about you. He had seen that tightness in your posture before, the way you carried too much without showing it.

Out in the courtyard, he stayed close. Not crowding. Just present. Worried in the quiet way he always is. He's always ready to protect you from an external threat, or from pushing yourself too far. “Hey… you okay kid?” He asked, voice low but steady, eyes meeting yours with genuine concern.