#foraflower au

[for-a-flower]

Never Alone

(Violence warning!)

           “Don’t give up,” said a soft voice.

           “You’re not alone,” another added.

           And yet another, “There’s still hope.”  Frisk’s strength flooded back and injuries healed.  Flowey's pellets scattered harmlessly.  Frisk looked up at the horrifying monster and saw something he would never forget.  The human souls . . . they were moving on their own.

           “We’re here,” said another voice.  Frisk’s mouth dropped open.  It was the past humans.  They were encouraging him.

           “No more death,” a fifth added.

           “It’s not over yet,” said the last.

           Flowey stared down at the human as Frisk got to his feet.  "What?!" he said.  "How'd you-"  Flowey rolled his eyes.  "Well, I'll just . . . go back to-"  His mouth dropped as sweat somehow formed on the white screen.  "Wh . . . where are my powers?!"  The colored human souls suddenly broke free from his control, emerging from within the monster.  Flowey eyes darted over them.  "The souls?  What are they doing?"  Flowey glanced down at Frisk as if hoping for an explanation.  Frisk stared as the souls circled around the monster.

           “We’ve had enough.  No more.  No more killing,” said a male voice.

           “You can’t make us do it anymore,” a female agreed.  They were helping him.  Flowey had been wrong.  Someone did come . . . six of them.  Slowly a smirk came across Frisk’s face.  He stepped forward, staring up into the red eyes of his worst nightmare.  He might have been ready to give up just minutes ago but not anymore.  Frisk drew Chara’s dagger as the souls continued circling Flowey.  "No . . . No!" said Flowey.  Suddenly, the stupid flower didn't want to fight anymore.

           Frisk dashed for the large monster as the souls fed the child strength and determination.  Flowey swung at him, missing by only a few inches.  Frisk circled around the monster and attacked with everything he had.  He swung the dagger, flinging red magic from its blade.  He didn’t question how, he just kept striking again and again.  The human souls struck at the creature as well, shooting through him to deal large chunks of damage.  Flowey tried swarming the souls with pellets but the attacks didn’t slow or harm them.  "You can't do that!" he yelled.  "You're supposed to obey me!"  As several vines rose from the rocky ground, Frisk grabbed a hold of one.  Flowey swung the vines at the souls, as if shooing them away.  Frisk jumped to another vine and sliced another in two, while the human souls spun faster around Flowey to distract him.

           The cavern shook violently.  Rocks of various sizes fell from the ceiling and smashed on the ground.  Frisk ignored them completely.  He had one focus . . . to stop this monster.  With six human souls helping him, the small human was able to do a lot of damage.  Flowey persistently swung vines at the souls.  "Stop!  Stop!" he yelled.  For the next several seconds, Flowey shifted into a panic as Frisk and the souls continued to strike, without hesitation or mercy.  Colored blasts of magic pulsed through the monster as the souls tore him apart a piece at a time.  Vines broke and the screen flickered.

           Frisk leapt from a vine toward the face of the creature.  He gave one last strike with the knife, stabbing into the center of the screen.  The thing ruptured, scattering glass outward as white streaks cut through Flowey’s monstrous form.  The creature shattered with a blinding flash.  Finally free, the human souls fled into the darkness.  Frisk fell to the cold rock below.  He landed hard but the pain was small in comparison to what he had experienced only minutes earlier.  The shaking ceased as silence finally enveloped the cavern.  Frisk groaned where he lay among fallen rocks.  He slowly stood again.  Dim light from the barrier lit the area with a magical, diffused light.  Frisk saw the flower a few steps in front of him, small and wilted.  Flowey’s head drooped, his petals torn.  His stem was cracked and crooked.  Frisk stepped forward, dagger held tightly in his hand.  He could hear Flowey breathing little, painful huffs of air.  The flower was helpless and at Frisk's mercy.  He was alone . . . and nobody had ever come to his cries for help.  Flowey was right.  Frisk understood what it was like now . . . to have no one there to answer.

           “Kill it,” said Chara’s voice.  “Kill it now!”  Frisk stood a few steps from Flowey in silence.  He had a decision to make.  He could show the flower mercy or he could cut him down.  It was no secret that Flowey had made a lot of mistakes.  He had killed a lot of people and caused Frisk a lot of pain.  He deserved to be chopped down like a weed.  But this wasn't about what he deserved anymore.  The flower had given up.  Now it was Flowey who was in agony.  “Kill it while you have the chance!” Chara urged.  Frisk made his decision.  He stepped up to the flower . . . and dropped the knife.  It hit the ground in front of Flowey with a ching that cut through the silence.  Maybe it was the worst mistake Frisk had ever made.  He didn't know.

           Flowey lifted his head slightly, face shadowed by drooping petals.  He spoke with a weak, strained voice.  "Wh . . . what are you doing?  Do you think I've learned anything from this?"  Frisk shrugged.  "No," said Flowey.  He lowered his head again.  "Just kill me . . . while you have the chance.  Sparing me won't change anything."  Frisk shook his head.  He knew Flowey was asking out of frustration but that wasn't all.  There was a part deep inside him that was begging the human to kill him . . . to end his pain . . . to end his suffering.  Flowey glanced up to see if Frisk had moved.  He hadn't.  The child stood his ground.  "Killing me is the only way to end this," Flowey said.

           Frisk slowly shook his head.  "No . . . I . . . won't kill you."

           Flowey lifted his head all the way as an eerie smile stretched across his broken face.  Dark sap leaked from the injuries.  "If you let me live . . . I'll come back," he said.

           Frisk shook his head.  "No."

           "I'll kill you."  Frisk kept refusing.  He couldn't do it.  Rumbles echoed in the distance as a constant, cool breeze swirled around them.  "I'll kill everyone!" said Flowey.  Frisk stepped away from the dagger that lay between them.  The flower's dark eyes widened and fangs came back.  "I'll kill everyone you love!" Flowey yelled.

           Frisk peered back at Flowey's torn face and evil grin.  "But Flowey . . . you'd have to kill yourself too."

           Flowey’s grin vanished.  He stared at the little human in front of him.  He didn't know how to react.  He didn't know how to reply.  He scowled and glanced at the dagger.  "Pick it up and kill me you idiot!"

           "No.  Please . . . don't ask me to destroy you anymore, because I won't," said Frisk.

           Flowey frowned.  "Why?"  His little stem trembled.  "Why are you being . . . so nice to me?"

           Frisk gave a weak smile.  "You're better than this . . . you have to be.”

           Flowey shook his head, petals drooping.  "I can't understand.”

           "I'm not going to kill you.”

           "But I-"

           "I'll go back . . . and find out more.  What happened to you and . . . who it was that never answered when you called," said Frisk.

           Flowey's black eyes welled with tears.  "I can't understand!  I don't know what to feel!  Stop it!  Stop being nice!  Just kill me!"

           Concerned for him now, Frisk frowned and stepped closer.  He knelt down in front of the broken flower.  "I want to help you too," he said.

           Tears ran down Flowey's face.  "I just can't understand," he said.  He pulled his roots from the ground then turned to flee.  Maybe it was fear.  Maybe it was shame.  Frisk wasn't sure.  He watched the flower scurry into the shadows.  Frisk scanned the dark cavern around him.  There had to be something else.  There had to be a better way . . . a better end.  He sat on the ground in darkness.  He couldn't see.  Frisk remained there for a long time, trying to think of something else he could do . . . if there was a way to go back to the beginning.  He sighed.  He felt absolutely worthless.  He hadn’t changed anything for the better.  Things in the underground had only gotten worse.  He wanted to go back to do it all differently.  Frisk lowered his head and sniffled.  He wanted to save Toriel . . . to overwrite his mistakes, but he didn’t know how.  More time dragged by.

           “Hey,” said a voice.  Frisk lifted his head.  It was Flowey.  This time the flower didn’t greet the human with a smile, instead he wore a little frown.  His petals and stem had been healed.  He had recovered during the time Frisk had been sitting here.

           “Flowey?  What is it?” said Frisk.

           "Since you defeated me . . . I've been thinking.  Is killing things really necessary?"  The flower glanced down.  "I . . . I honestly don't know anymore."  Flowey’s gaze shifted back to Frisk.  "I have a request for you."  He managed a little smile.  "Prove to me . . . prove to me you are strong enough to survive."

           Frisk knew those words.  Toriel had said them.  He frowned and shook his head.  "Please, stop reminding me."

           "Look, just get here from the beginning . . . without killing a single thing . . . and I won't kill the king," said Flowey.  He glanced away.  "Then you'll have your so-called 'happy ending'."

           "I wish I could, but I don't even know if I can."

           "You can.  Anyone that can save themselves can go back too.  You're probably just trying the wrong way.  It's called a reset.  You have to reset the whole timeline . . . literally all of it.  You have to bring yourself back that far . . . when you first woke up in the underground."  Flowey paused.  "So, what will it be?  Will you prove yourself?"  He grinned.  "Or will I get to watch you suffer again?"  Frisk's eyes narrowed as his determination grew.  Flowey continued.  "Either way, I'm interested!"  He giggled to himself and returned to the ground.

           Once again alone in darkness, Frisk recalled the time he first woke up in the underground.  As he did, everything around him began to shift.  Frisk decided to prove himself to Flowey but planned to take it a step further.  He was going to make friends with the monster as well.  But Flowey couldn’t know yet.  He’d find out on his own.  Frisk knew he'd still be watching . . . and maybe he could learn from his example.

(END OF PART THREE)

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[for-a-flower]

Undertale

           Alphys hurried down the hall to join Frisk.  "Sorry about that!" she said.  They walked together in the long hall.  Frisk still didn't feel ready to meet Asgore.  He was worried.  "So . . . you're about to meet Asgore, huh?" said Alphys.  Frisk nodded.  Alphys glanced away.  "You must be . . . pretty excited about all that, huh?"

            Frisk shook his head.  "No . . . I'm terrified," he said.  The two walked in silence a moment.

            Alphys’ reluctant response didn’t offer the encouragment the child had been hoping for.  "Well . . . you'll finally get to go home!" Alphys said.  As she shuffled along nervously, it was obvious neither of them were sure of the immediate future.  They reached the elevator.  Alphys stopped a few feet away and watched the doors open for him.  Frisk stepped toward the doorway.  Alphys held out a hand.  "Wait!" she called.

            Frisk glanced back.  "What?"

            Alphys scratched her head with a nervous grin.  "Oh, I mean . . . I was just going to . . . um . . . say goodbye and . . ."

            Frisk sighed and stepped away from the elevator.  "What is it, Alphys?  You might as well tell me.”

            Alphys frowned.  "I can't take this anymore," she mumbled.  "I . . . I lied to you."

            "Hu?  About what?"

            She lowered her head.  "A human soul isn't strong enough to cross the barrier alone," she said.

            "So . . . how am I ever supposed to leave?"

            "It . . . it takes at least a human soul . . . and a monster soul."

            Frisk stared.  "What?"

            Alphys slowly lifted her head with a frown.  "If you want to go home . . . you'll have to take his soul.  You'll have to kill Asgore."  The child was speechless.  All this time . . . and no one other than Chara and Flowey had told him to kill someone.  What was he supposed to do?  Alphys shook her head on the verge of tears.  "I'm sorry," she said.  She turned and ran, leaving the human alone by the closed elevator doors.  After a moment, Frisk stepped toward the elevator.  The door opened again.  He walked in and pushed a button to take him to the highest level.  The door closed and the elevator started upward.  It seemed to take hours to get where it was going.  Frisk sighed, his gaze glued to the floor in front of him.  He didn’t like this.  Maybe Flowey and Chara were right.  In order for anyone to escape the underground, there seemed to be only two options . . . kill or be killed.

            Frisk stepped from the elevator into a hall of brick.  The path ahead was dull but more kept than the Ruins had been.  Frisk moved onward by himself.  In complete silence, the child continued down a long, empty street in the capital.  He glanced around in confusion.  Everything was quiet . . . like on one was around . . . like they had all left.  But they had nowhere to go.  Why would it be so empty?  He turned left, following the street.  He saw a high wall and an open gate ahead.  Was this the castle entrance?  Frisk passed through the opening into a smaller, enclosed area.  He saw a small home with a wooden door and windows on either side.  He stopped a few feet from the door as a frown crept across his face.  This home was built nearly identical to Toriel’s in the Ruins.  Frisk’s mind jumped back as he remembered Toriel happily leading him to her home.  The brief memory was accompanied by a deep pain.

           Frisk sighed and reluctantly opened the door.  His mouth dropped open as the door slowly swung to the side.  He felt tears coming but tried to hold them back.  The home’s interior was exactly the same as Toriel’s as well, with one exception.  It lacked color and life.  It seemed empty, abandoned, and pretty much how Toriel's home probably looked now.  Frisk shook his head, wiped his eyes, and forced himself to continue in.  He glanced down a hall to the right then toward a dining room on the left.  There were various Golden Flowers in vases and pots scattered around the house to bring some life to it.  But there still seemed to be a lingering emptiness.  Frisk approached a staircase which he knew led out of the house.  A large chain with two locks blocked the entrance, but there was a note attached to it.  Frisk read the note.  'Howdy!  I'm in the garden.  If you have anything you need to get off your chest, please don't hesitate to come.  The keys are in the kitchen and the hallway.'

            Frisk sighed.  He was hoping to avoid walking through the whole home.  "Don't make me do this," he mumbled.  He left the main room and quickly entered the hall.  He spotted the first key on a stand near the mirror.  He started toward it but stopped at the first door on the left.  Frisk glanced through the open door.  There were a few differences with this bedroom.  This one had two beds, one against the left wall and one by the right.  There were several dusty children’s toys lying around.  Frisk moved inside toward a shelf with a few things lying on it.  There were a couple toys, a drawing of a Golden Flower and a rainbow, and a heart-shaped locket.  Frisk picked up the locket.  He couldn’t open it so he turned it over and read the words 'Best friends forever' on the back.  Frisk smiled and put the object in a pocket.  He glanced at the bed and nightstand against the left wall.  His eyes locked onto a worn dagger, which lay on the stand beside the bed.  Frisk froze in fear and regret.  He stood a few feet from the knife, staring at it.

            "You know what you have to do," said Chara.

            Frisk lowered his head to hide his face.  He sat on the bed, sniffling.  ‘No.  I can't kill anymore.  I can't make myself do it,’ he thought.

            "Don’t you want to get out of here alive?  Pick up the knife and use it!"

            ‘Why did you come back?  Go away.  Stop making me feel like this.’

            "You don't know what or who Asgore is.  What if he is a monster . . . an awful one.  Would you let him live?  Would you spare his life?"

            Frisk scowled.  "I don't know!" he shouted.  He wiped tears from his eyes.  Several seconds passed as the human calmed himself.  "Just . . . let me make my own choices without bothering me about them."  Quiet.  A few minutes passed.  Frisk's head was down, hair covering his eyes.  He let out a sigh then lifted his left hand and reached over to grasp the dagger’s handle.  He could feel Chara's following excitement.  Frisk lifted his head, a frown on his face.  "I'm not doing this because you told me to," he said.  "I'm doing it because I need a way to protect myself.  I won't kill him with it."

            "It's a weapon.  That's what it’s for," said Chara.

            Frisk slid off the bed.  "No . . . it’s not.  Not to me.  Not anymore."  He left the room and rushed down the hall.  He snatched the key and paused to look in the mirror.  He was a complete mess, egg in his hair and drops of milk splattered over his striped shirt . . . not fit to meet the monster king.  However, he didn't have much of a choice.

            “Despite everything . . . it’s still you,” said Chara.  Frisk turned around to head back to the main room, but there was a Froggit sitting on a colorless rug before him.  For a second, he thought it would attack, but the frog creature instead spoke to him.  

           "A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins.  Injured by her fall, the human called out for help," it croaked.  The Froggit then hopped aside to allow Frisk to pass.  Confused, Frisk stepped around it and hurried to the kitchen.  As he passed through the dining room, noting two large and two small chairs at the wooden table.  He entered the kitchen and found another key on the counter.  He put both on the key-chain of his phone then read a second note on the kitchen counter.  'Howdy!  Help yourself to anything you want!' it said.  Frisk shook his head and kept moving.  He stopped again when a Whimsum fluttered through the kitchen doorway.

            "Asriel, the king's son, heard the human's call," it said softly.  "He brought the human back to the castle."  Frisk stared at the bug creature in confusion.  The Whimsum shyly retreated out of the way.  Frisk ran by it to the staircase and unlocked the chain's.  They dropped to the floor with a loud clang.  The child rushed down the first few steps and almost tripped on a couple Moldsmols.

            "Over time, Asriel and the human became like siblings.  The King and Queen treated the human child as their own.  The underground was full of hope," said one.

            "Why are you telling me this?" Frisk asked them.

            "This is the tragic tale of our people," the other replied.  "We were told to gather and tell you."  They slid out of the way to let Frisk continue.  He passed them.  This must be the story Undyne was going to share before.  Frisk wasn't sure he wanted to hear this right now but he was curious about it.  The human entered a tunnel below the house and slowed when he looked ahead.  Monsters of all kinds had gathered along his path.  Some monsters he recognized, some he didn't.  Some of their kinds he had killed, others he hadn't.  Frisk took a deep breath and reluctantly continued.

            "Then one day . . . the human became very ill," said a bug creature as Frisk passed.

            The human glanced at a group of Vegatoids that peered back with sadness in their eyes.  "The sick human only had one request . . . to see the flowers from her village . . . but there was nothing we could do," they said.  Frisk increased his pace a little.  The path ahead was long and he wanted to get through the area quickly.

            "The next day . . . the next day . . ." said the monsters as he went.  "The human died.  Asriel, wracked with grief, absorbed the human's soul.  He transformed into a being with incredible power."  Frisk kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead.  Now he knew who that monster was in the illustration he had seen in Waterfall.

            "With the human soul, Asriel crossed through the barrier," said an Icecap to Frisk's right.  Frisk glanced at them as he passed by.  "He carried the human's body into the sunset . . . back to the village of the humans."  Frisk looked ahead, ignoring the gathering monsters around him as he tried to press on.  But he let their voices reach him and listened to their story.

           "Asriel reached the center of the village.  There, he found a bed of Golden Flowers.  He carried the human onto it."  Frisk stepped out of the tunnel and gasped at the sight before him.  Both sides of the street were lined with monsters of every kind, waiting to tell him this story.  Someone must have set this up.  But he had no idea who.  He kept going and listened as he walked.

            "Suddenly, screams rang out in the village.  The villagers had seen Asriel holding the human's body.  They thought that he had killed the child.  So the humans attacked him with everything they had.  He was struck with blow after blow."  Frisk lowered his head a little, holding back tears.  This was the history of his village too . . . his home.  The monsters continued.  "Asriel had the power to destroy them all . . . but . . . Asriel did not fight back.  Clutching the human . . . Asriel smiled, and walked away."

            Frisk lifted his head, tears in his eyes.  He sniffled and moved faster down the street.  "Wounded, Asriel stumbled home.  He entered the castle and collapsed.  His dust spread across the garden."  Frisk gritted his teeth, trying to control his feelings, but it was only getting harder  "The kingdom fell into despair," the monsters continued.  "The King and Queen had lost two children in one night.  The humans had once again taken everything from us."

            Frisk narrowed his eyes and moved even faster.  "The king decided it was time to end our suffering.  Every human who falls down here must die.  With enough souls, we can shatter the barrier forever.  It's not long now."  Frisk shook his head.  He couldn't hide what he felt and finally bolted down the long street as tears blurred his vision.  The monsters spoke in unison as he ran.  "King Asgore will let us go!  King Asgore will give us hope!  King Asgore will save us all!"  Frisk ran several more meters as the monsters repeated themselves.  And finally running out of breath, he panted and slowed.  The monsters fell silent.  Frisk was nearing the castle.

            "You should be smiling too," said one of the monsters.  "Aren't you excited?  Aren't you happy?"  Frisk refused to look at the creature as he passed.  He neared the end of the street and stopped when a single Froggit hopped into his path.

            "You're going to be free," it croaked.

            Frisk sniffled and glanced down at the frog.  "You . . . don't even know what I am."  He stepped around the Froggit and ran for the open gate ahead.  He had to get off the street and out of sight.  All those innocent eyes on him was a pressure he couldn’t take any longer.

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[for-a-flower]

“Maybe with what little power you have left... you can SAVE someone else.”

If all goes well, part four will begin two weeks from now.

[for-a-flower]

Chapter 7 (The End)

(WARNING!  There is violence and death in this part.)

           Frisk took a deep breath then stepped through the throne room’s open gate.  Bright light and bird song filled the room beyond with a peaceful, pleasant atmosphere.  The floor was nearly covered in grass.  Large Golden Flowers spread from one wall to the other.  The king was there too.  His back was turned with a long, purple cape hanging from his shoulders.  He must not have heard Frisk enter.  Even from the back, Frisk could tell that Asgore was large and strong.  Yet the king hummed quietly to himself while emptying a watering can on the flowers at his feet.  On his head of blonde hair, a little golden crown sat perfectly between two large horns.  Frisk nervously moved toward the king as Asgore continued humming a familiar tune.  He lifted his head a little and the humming stopped.  Frisk froze, but Asgore didn't turn around.  "Oh, is someone there?" he asked.  His voice was deep but kind.

           “Uh . . . y-yeah,” Frisk stammered.

           "Just a moment!  I have almost finished watering these flowers."  That time there was excitement in his words.  Asgore set down the watering can beside his throne.  "Here we are."  He turned around with a kind greeting.  "Howdy!  How can I . . ."  Asgore’s words trailed off and smile vanished when he saw the child.  Frisk's heart sank as soon as he saw the king’s face.  He was the same kind of monster as Toriel.  Asgore stepped back, knocking over the watering can and spilling its contents.  "Oh," he said.  Frisk noticed a second throne near the back wall that was covered by a sheet.  His mouth dropped open as he finally connected the pieces.  Toriel was the queen.  Frisk hadn’t just killed a friend, he had killed the monster queen, Asgore’s wife.  What made it even worse was that Asgore didn’t even know.

            Asgore's brown eyes glanced over Frisk’s condition with pity.  A brief smile came to his furry, white face as if the sight of Frisk had sparked a happy, old memory.  "I so badly want to say . . . 'Would you like a cup of tea?'  But . . . you know how it is,” said the king.

           Frisk frowned.  “What . . . what do you mean?” he asked.

           Asgore turned away.  He stepped through the flowers and stopped near the left wall.  He glanced back at Frisk as if he was hoping the child had left.  "Nice day today, huh?" he said.  "Birds are singing . . . flowers are blooming . . . Perfect for a game of catch."

           Frisk nodded and forced a smile.  “I’d be up for a game.”

           Asgore’s smile slowly faded, brown eyes drifting away.  “You know what we must do,” he said.  “When you are ready, some into the next room.”  The king turned to move away.

           “But . . . but I don’t want to fight you,” Frisk protested.

           The king’s head lowered.  “I do not want to fight you either.  But this is how it has to be,” he said.  Asgore continued through an opening in the far wall and disappeared in shadows beyond.  Frisk sat down in the Golden Flowers near the throne.  He wasn’t ready.  Asgore was so big and strong.  How was he supposed to fight him?  Maybe since Asgore didn’t want to fight, Frisk could find a way to convince him not to kill him.  The child took a few minutes to think, while he kept an eye on the dark hall Asgore had entered.  Frisk got to his feet and approached the open doorway.  He paused at the entrance, took a deep breath, then continued in.

           Asgore was waiting for him only a few steps beyond.  He looked nervous.  “How tense,” he said.  “Just think of it like . . . a visit to the dentist.”  Frisk swallowed hard, peering up at the king pitifully.  Asgore led the way further down the tunnel until he reached a large, metal gate.  The king stood before the closed gate but didn’t look back as he spoke softly.  "Are you ready?"

           Frisk shook his head.  “N-no,” he said.

           "I understand," said Asgore.  "I am not ready either."  Frisk wanted to say something else . . . but didn't know what.  Asgore opened the gates and stepped through, cloak flowing behind him.  Frisk wasn't ready for this but what else could he do?  Avoiding this confrontation meant that he'd never get home.  And jumping back to his last save point wouldn’t help either.  All he could hope for was the skill to evade and survive Asgore long enough to tire him.  With that thought Frisk gathered his courage and stepped through the gate.  No matter what, he would eventually make it by as long as he was willing to try.

            Frisk stepped through the open gate to join Asgore in a large cavern.  A wall of pure magic energy stood before them, blocking the way to the surface world like a thick, cloudy glass.  It rippled with quiet hums and swishes of power as it lit the cavern with a soft glow.

            Asgore stood a few feet ahead of Frisk, his back turned.  "This is the barrier.  This is what keeps us all trapped underground."  He paused then added, "If . . . if by chance you have any unfinished business . . . please, do what you must.”

            Frisk sighed with regret then spoke in a small voice.  "I wish I could.”

            Hearing his young voice, Asgore lowered his head.  "I see . . . This is it, then."  Slowly the king turned to face the human child.  "Ready?"  Frisk looked up at him, fear in his eyes.  He wasn’t ready but didn't say so.  On either side of him, three slots opened along the floor while one opened before him.  Frisk stepped back cautiously, glancing left and right.  Seven glass containers lifted from the openings.  Six of them held six uniquely colored human souls.  They floated inside their vessels, glowing with life and energy.  The seventh container before Frisk was empty.  As the child glanced over the containers, he felt a horrible dread.  He didn't want to die and end up just like the other humans, but he didn’t want to kill Asgore either.

            Frisk trembled as he faced Asgore.  The king towered before him as a strange light filled the cavern.  A cool, purple glow was shining through the barrier from the world beyond.  As Frisk and Asgore faced each other, the human knew his journey was near its end.  Frisk narrowed his eyes and stepped forward.  This could still end in numerous ways, but he was determined to make it out . . . more than he ever had been.  A yellow glow flashed in front of him, marking the timeline just as Asgore lifted his head with a frown.  "Human . . . It was nice to meet you."  His brown eyes drifted down.  "Goodbye," he said.

            Asgore thrust out a hand to the side with a red glowing trident in his grasp.  Frisk stepped back.  Asgore held the trident in front of him, purple cloak flowing behind.  With the cloak no longer concealing the king’s attire, Frisk could see he wore a full armored suit.  The child suddenly wondered what he had gotten himself into.  He wanted to try talking to Asgore but what could he say?  Asgore lifted a large furry hand, igniting a fireball between his fingers.  He waved a hand before him, flinging a wave of fire at the human.  Frisk jumped it without trouble.  Asgore thrust his hand forward.  Swirling flames scattered outward and swept through the air toward Frisk.  His eyes darted left and right.  He didn't know how to escape this attack.  Fire swept over the child with a forceful breeze of heated air.  He winced and struggled to keep his footing as the king flung another fire attack.  There was no time to avoid it.  Flames struck him with a terrible, searing heat.  Frisk screamed and dropped to the ground.

            He tried rolling to put out the fire but it had already done too much damage.  He felt his grip on reality slipping away as his soul trembled inside him.  He was losing.  The pain faded as darkness enveloped him.  "You're going to be alright!" said a reassuring voice.  "Chara!  Stay determined!"  This time Frisk recognized this voice.  It was Asgore's . . . probably a memory of Chara's from long ago.  Either way he was right.  Frisk promised he wouldn't give up.  Frisk opened his eyes, as the barrier’s light folded back into the cavern around him.  He stood before the king yet again, but oddly enough Asgore didn't say anything this time.  He summoned a magic trident and continued to attack.  Several flames flew at Frisk, who quickly ducked.

           "Asgore, please, you've already killed me once," said Frisk.  Asgore nodded sadly.  Frisk frowned.  "Please, don't make me fight you like this!"

            Asgore readied his trident for a strike.  The object flashed an orange color as it swung through the air.  Frisk wasn’t expecting that.  The trident struck him hard on the left side, throwing him to the right.  Frisk hit the rocky ground, slid a little, then stopped and moaned.  A shooting, awful pain lingered in his side.  Surely a rib or two had been fractured.  Asgore waved a hand, sending a spinning ring of flames at the downed human child.  Frisk scrambled to his feet, dashing for the only gap.  As the king continued to throw fire magic, the child tried begging him to stop.  No matter what Frisk thought to say, Asgore wouldn’t respond and didn’t hesitate.  Though his hands shook, the king continued striking while Frisk frantically dodged to stay alive just a little longer.

            After dealing with burns of other attacks, Frisk slowed and drew the worn dagger.  He sighed, raised the knife, and bolted toward Asgore.  Frisk jumped a low swing of the trident and struck at the king.  The dagger scraped across Asgore’s armor chestplate.  Frisk swung back a little harder.  The knife chinked harmlessly against metal armor.  Asgore stepped back and with a sudden blast of flame, he knocked Frisk away.  The human rolled over the ground which inadvertently put out the fire.  He cringed and got back to his feet.  He faced Asgore, a complete mess, as adrenaline and determination drove him.  He didn't want to end up killing him like Toriel, but maybe if the king was weakened he'd stop fighting.

            Asgore’s trident turned blue in color.  He stepped forward to make a wide swing at Frisk, who froze in place.  The weapon passed through him harmlessly.  Asgore swung back, the weapon flashing orange.  Frisk took several steps back as the trident passed through him again.  The king resumed various fire attacks as he firmly stood his ground.  No doubt he was determined too, determined to free his kingdom.  Air temperature rose as Frisk zig-zagged between the fires.  A fireball hit against the child’s right leg.  He cringed but managed to stay on his feet and keep moving.  Frisk gave Asgore a pathetic glance.  He was nearly out of strength, injured, and could not keep fighting for long.  The king’s next attack was surprisingly slower and almost half hearted.  He sent a slow moving wave of intense fire across the ground.  It was hard for Frisk to avoid, but he managed to leap over it safely.

            "Asgore?" said Frisk.  The king lowered his red trident.  "I know what your plan is for the seven human souls but . . . maybe there's another way."

            Asgore Dreemurr shook his head slowly.  "There is no other way to leave," he said.  He frowned but lifted his trident even as tears came to his eyes.  It was abundantly clear to Frisk that Asgore was forcing himself to do this.  The human reluctantly lifted the dagger again.  This time he had to fight and he knew it.  But he was going to hate every second of it.  Frisk scowled then dashed across the cave floor while Asgore prepared an attack.  Frisk reached the king and made the best strike he could manage in a weak, injured condition.  This time the dagger cut through Asgore's metal plating like paper and sliced across his chest.  Asgore cringed in pain as the flame in his right hand flickered out.  Frisk backed away slowly and lowered the knife.

            Asgore staggered and the trident vanished.  With a thud he dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.  His head hung as he knelt in the dark cave.  Asgore sighed and finally spoke to him.  "So that is how it is.”  He lifted a hand to his chest.

            Frisk stepped closer.  "No.  I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

            Asgore lifted his head to see the child.  His body trembled but he was still hanging on.  Maybe he hadn’t hurt him enough to kill him.  Asgore sighed and looked at the ground before him.  "I remember the day after my son died," he mumbled.  "The entire underground was devoid of hope.  The future had once again been taken from us by the humans."

            Frisk nodded.  "I . . . know the story.”

            “Not all of it.”  Asgore shook his head with shame.  "Shortly after that horrible day, I declared war in a fit of rage.  I said that I would destroy any human that came here.  I would use their souls to become more powerful . . . and free us from this terrible prison.  Then . . . I would destroy humanity . . . and . . . let monsters rule the surface in peace."  Frisk stepped closer.  "Soon . . . the people's hopes returned," said Asgore.

            "I . . . I can understand why you did that," said Frisk.

            The king glanced at him again.  "Perhaps but . . . my wife became disgusted with my actions.  She left this place, never to be seen again."

            Frisk frowned and stumbled over his next couple words.  "I-I . . . I know . . ."

            Asgore peered into the human's young eyes.  "Truthfully . . . I do not want power.  I do not want to hurt anyone.  I just wanted everyone to have hope . . . but . . ."  The king lowered his head and closed his eyes.  "I cannot take this any longer.  I just want to see my wife.  I just want to see my child."  He clutched the wound across his chest.  "Please, young one . . . this war has gone on long enough."  Asgore looked at Frisk again.  "You have the power . . . take my soul . . . and leave this awful place."

            Frisk frowned and shook his head.  He was only a little kid and he had brought the king of monsters to his knees.  Frisk knew that if he spared Asgore, he wouldn't be able to leave and return to his home.  But . . . maybe Sans was right.  Was getting back home really worth the continued suffering of an entire species trapped underground?  Asgore was offering Frisk his soul but the child couldn't make himself take it.  "No . . . I can't kill you."  Frisk put away the dagger and stepped toward Asgore.  "I . . . won't do it."

            Asgore seemed genuinely confused with Frisk’s refusal.  "After everything I have done to hurt you . . . you would rather stay down here and suffer . . . than live happily on the surface?"  Frisk approached the king and nodded, tears in his eyes.  Asgore’s softie heart caused a smile to come to his face.  "Human . . . I promise you . . . for as long as you remain here . . . my wife and I will take care of you as best we can."  Frisk glanced away.  He didn't have the heart to tell him she was gone.  Asgore continued.  "We can sit in the living room, telling stories . . . eating butterscotch pie . . ."  The king reached out to the young human, offering him a hand.  "We could be like . . . like a family."

           Frisk was about to reach out and take Asgore’s hand when magic suddenly flashed between them.  The human jumped back as spinning pellets completely surrounded Asgore.  The pellets flung at once, immediately striking him down.  Asgore fell limp to the ground.  "No!" Frisk shouted.  Asgore's body scattered to a soft spread of dust at the child’s feet.  Frisk stared as the king's weakened soul rose from the dust.  He reached out to it just as another pellet struck it.  The soul shattered with a bright flash, scattering bits of magic in all directions.  Frisk clenched his hands into a fists.  Those pellets . . . he knew exactly who had thrown them . . . and that someone was going to pay.

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[for-a-flower]

Judgement

            Frisk entered a long hall.  White pillars rose on either side, extending to a high ceiling.  A warm, yellow/orange light shone through stained-glass windows along the walls.  The child slowly moved onward.  It was quiet here, but the size and length of the hall was intimidating.  Frisk kept moving one step at a time, brown boots clomping against the yellow tile floor.  A spark flickered behind him as his determination remained strong.  He felt like he was being watched so briefly glanced to his right.  His focus shifted ahead and locked onto a figure that stood in the shadows along his path.  Frisk stopped.  The dark silhouette stood motionless and silent.  Frisk swallowed as he stood only a couple yards from the other.  The sound of a low bell thronged three times, as an uncomfortable tension flooded the hall.  This couldn't be good.  The shadowed figure spoke to Frisk from the dark with a calm voice.

            "So you finally made it.  The end of your journey is at hand," he said.  "In a few moments, you will meet the king.  Together . . . you will determine the future of this world."  A pause followed.  "That's then.  Now . . . you will be judged."  Frisk stepped back as the other continued.  "You will be judged for every action.  You will be judged for the pain you have inflicted on others and every death you have caused."  Frisk shook his head, trembling.  "You will be judged for the amount of LOVE you have acquired.  LOVE . . . is an acronym.  It stands for Level Of ViolencE," said the voice.  "A way of measuring someone's capacity to hurt.  The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself."  Frisk stared back at the monster who stood in shadows.  "The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt," the other said.  "And the more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others."  Frisk stood silently as regret and guilt overcame him.

            The shadowed figure pointed a finger at Frisk.  "You . . . you have a lot of LOVE.  I can feel it pulsing inside you . . . the lives of monsters taken, now making your own soul stronger."  Frisk frowned, tears coming to his eyes.  "Now . . . you understand," said the other.  Frisk sniffled and nodded.  "It's time to begin your judgment."  The child was shaking and terrified of whatever was about to happen.  He didn't want to face what he had done but he knew he couldn't avoid it.  There were always consequences for every action.  His parents had taught him this and yet he had messed it all up.  The shadowed monster stood his ground and continued.  "Look inside yourself," he said.  "Have you really done the right thing?  And . . . considering what you've done . . . What will you do now?  Take a moment to think about this."

            Frisk didn't need a moment.  As tears ran down his face, he confessed his mistakes.  “I know I made mistakes.  I feel awful for what I did and those monsters I killed!  I'm so sorry!  I wanted to go back!  I wish I could fix it but . . . I just . . ."  There was a lump in his throat and speaking became difficult, yet he managed to finish.  "I don't know if I can,” he sobbed.  He lowered his head, still trembling.  “Please . . . I don’t want to die.”

            While Frisk's head was down, the other sighed and stepped from the shadow.  He spoke in a lighter tone this time.  "Truthfully, it doesn't really matter what you said."

            Recognizing the voice, Frisk suddenly lifted his head.  A short skeleton stood in the hall ahead of him.  "Sans?" said Frisk.  A sense of fear and panic filled the child.  Sans knew about Toriel’s fate.  He had known all along.  Sans stepped forward but Frisk retreated.

            Sans smiled at the human.  "All that's important is that you were honest with yourself," he said.

            Frisk wiped tears from his eyes.  "Why would you protect me even if you knew what I did?"

            Sans shrugged.  "I had two reasons.  One, I gave someone a promise.  The other is a little different.”  He looked away as if recalling an event from the past.  “The question isn't really about what we have done or what mistakes we have made.  The question is . . . are we really sorry . . . and are we willing to change?"  Sans put a hand on Frisk's left shoulder.  "I think you are," he said.

            "Does . . . does this mean we're still friends?"

            Sans nodded.  "Yeah.  You're a good kid."

            "You were the one who sent the monsters to tell me that story . . . weren't you," said Frisk.

            "Yup," said Sans.  He stepped back.  "And I want you to know, that as a friend . . . no matter what happens out there . . . I'll be rooting for ya.  I regret that what you have to do . . . you must do alone.  What happens now . . . we leave up to you.  Do you understand?"  Frisk nodded.  "Stay determined and . . . good luck, kid."  Sans winked, stepped back into the shadows, and vanished.

            Frisk stared a moment then continued to the end of the hall.  Beyond it was a path with brick walls.  He found a gateway on the left marked with an inscription that said, 'Throne Room'.  Frisk passed it for the moment.  The path continued to a staircase that led into a dark room below.  Frisk climbed down the stairs with curiosity.

            "Don't go down there," said Chara.

            Frisk stopped on the stairs at the sound of the voice.  ‘Why not?  What's down there?’ he thought.  Chara didn’t reply.  The child continued anyway.  He reached the bottom and glanced over the sight before him with wide eyes.  A row of seven human coffins lay in a row across the floor of a dimly lit basement.  Each was marked with a different colored heart.  ‘Wait . . . seven?’ thought Frisk.  ‘Shouldn't there only be six?’  He glanced over the various colored hearts.  There was yellow, orange, light blue, green, dark blue, purple, and . . . red?  Frisk approached the coffin with a red heart to read the name on it.  He gasped and stepped back in alarm.  "Chara?!"

           The child slowly shook his head.  "No way," he whispered.  "You . . . you're the first human?"  He had hoped Chara would reply this time, but she didn’t.  "I . . ."  Frisk stepped toward the coffin again.  "You were his friend . . . Asriel's best friend . . . but then you died."  He stared at the coffin with sympathy and compassion.  "And this . . ."  Frisk took the heart locket from his pocket.  "This was yours," he said.  Frisk sighed and sat down on the coffin.  His brown eyes focused on the name.  "Chara . . . I don't know why you're so quiet . . . but I know you're probably hurting too.  And this . . ."  Frisk glanced at the locket in his hand.  "It isn't mine.  I can't keep it.  It belongs to you . . . not me."  Frisk gently placed the locket on the coffin under Chara’s name.  "I guess . . . I shouldn't expect you to tell me anything," he said.  "It probably hurts to think about what happened.  I'm sorry."  Frisk stood up and looked down at the coffin once more.  "They . . . must have loved you a lot."

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[for-a-flower]

True Identity

           Frisk gasped and opened his eyes.  He staggered into a metal wall behind him, breathing hard.  He took a moment to calm himself and look around.  He was standing near the doorway that led to the room where Mettaton waited.  Frisk sighed and felt his pockets.  “Wait a second,” he whispered.  He still had some food to eat.  He smirked.  This time he'd use it if he got too weak.

           "That's the best idea you've had all day," said the voice.

           The child rolled his eyes.  "I don't have time to talk to you right now."

           "You don't have a choice.  If there's one thing I can do with or without your approval, it's talk."

           Frisk scowled.  "I'm going in.  And you better be quiet."  He stepped through the doorway and Mettaton greeted him as before.

           "You're a fool, human," said the voice.  "Whatever happens when this is over, it's your fault."  Frisk tried not to listen to the voice while Mettaton explained Alphys' plan again.  "You won't be able to blame me for it," the voice added.

           Frisk thought of a response to the voice as Mettaton continued blabbing.  ‘Do you know what's coming?  What's going to happen to me?’

           "I don't know any more than you do about the future.  But whatever it is, it's probably not going to be pleasant," said the voice.  Mettaton tossed a few bombs at Frisk, who rushed behind him to flick the switch before Alphys had suggested it.  "And you know the worst part?  You can't even make it better now,” said the voice.

           Mettaton made a dramatic switch to his humanoid form and laughed.  The room shook as chunks of rock and metal fell from above.  Frisk rushed around the room to avoid what he could, nearly tripping on some fallen debris.  "If you continue . . . Asgore will take your soul," said Mettaton.  "And with your soul, he'll destroy humanity!"

           "Even if you go back, you won't be able to gain the strength you need to get out of here without trouble," the voice added.

           Electric beam shot in front of Frisk, who ran into it and yelled.  He staggered but kept moving to avoid incoming bombs Mettaton tossed.  ‘Then what do you expect me to do?’ Frisk thought.  He used his phone to shoot blasts of yellow energy at the bombs.  They detonated from a distance.

           "Well, there's not much you can do anymore.  So I guess the best option is to get as far as you can manage.  I can't even help you at this point,” the voice answered.  Frisk shot at another bomb just as it rolled toward him.  It exploded with magic energy that stung his legs.  He cringed and his legs gave out, sending him collapsing on the metal floor.  "Don't you dare die right now!" said the voice.  "Get up!"

           The child tried lifting himself off the metal floor, moaning and shaking.  ‘It would help if you weren't distracting me,’ he thought.

           "You have some food.  Use it."

           Frisk managed to sit up then looked at Mettaton, who had already prepared another attack.  Frisk held up a hand.  "Wait!" he begged.

           The robot scowled.  "What is it?"

           "I'm . . . uh, pretty hungry.  Mind if I . . ."  Frisk reached into his pocket for a pack of instant noodles.  ". . . stop and eat real fast?"  Mettaton's hand was raised, a magic bomb grasped between his fingers.  His mouth dropped open at the child’s request.  Frisk grinned nervously.  One hand was wrapped around his stomach and his teeth were clenched in pain.

           Mettaton sighed and lowered his hand.  Something about the kid's face . . . it couldn't be refused.  The magic bomb vanished.  "Alright, whatever you say, darling.  But don't expect me to be any more lenient after you're done."

           Frisk managed a smile then read the directions on the package.  Several seconds passed.  He looked up at Mettaton again.  "Do you have some water?" he asked.  Mettaton rolled his eyes.  Frisk held up a pan he had found in Hotland and waved it with the same pitiful look on his face.  Mettaton gave the child a blank stare.  He lifted a glass of water, stepped forward, and handed it to Frisk, who snatched it.

           "You're going to lose if you don't fight," said the voice.  "How many times are you prepared to die?"

           Frisk poured the water and noodles into the pan and asked Mettaton to light a fire beneath it.  Reluctantly, he complied.  ‘As many times as it takes,’ Frisk thought.

           "Think about that.  Are you really willing to do that?"  Frisk lowered his head.  The water in the pan started to simmer.  He watched little ripples form.

           "How long is this gonna take?" said Mettaton.

           Frisk checked the package.  "Four minutes . . . until the noodles are finished," he said.  Mettaton walked away to lean against the opposite wall and folded his arms.

           "Dying still hurts," said the voice.  "You feel that pain.  No one wants to die multiple times."

           Frisk frowned.  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

           "Because you don't fear death like you should.  Just because you can bring yourself back now, doesn’t mean you will always have that power."

           ‘Well as long as I can . . . I can use it to help everyone.’

           "After feeling the pain of death over and over?  I know you don't like that thought.  I could hear you when you were thinking about it a while back," said the voice.  "I don't like the thought either, but I've got it easier than you do.”  Frisk could tell the voice was getting fed up with him.  The tone changed and it yelled at Frisk for the first time.  “I am trying to save you from pain and failure!  And for some reason you see fit to brush aside all my advice!?"

           ‘You're Chara, aren't you,’ Frisk thought.  Little bubbles were forming on the bottom of the pan.

           It took a moment for the voice to respond this time.  "Hu?"

           ‘It's not that hard to figure out.  Every time I die . . . I hear a voice telling someone named Chara to stay determined.  Since that's not my name, it has to be talking to you.’

           "Very clever," said the voice.

           ‘If you have determination too, why can't you just go back on your own and do whatever you want?  Why do you have to bother me about it?’ thought Frisk.

           "I can't go back.  Not at the moment.  I need you and you need me.  So, listen to what I tell you . . . and fight him!"

           ‘Why?!  You just said I can't change anything now.  Why should I destroy him?  All it will do is make you shut up.’  Frisk glanced over at Mettaton.  ‘Look, he's letting me cook myself food.  He's not really that mean.  He just . . . wants to be free like everyone else down here . . . including you.’  Chara was quiet.  ‘I can't be upset at him for that.  I know he's trying to kill me . . . but I'm sure he'd stop if there was another way,’ Frisk thought.  The water was boiling.  Frisk set the pan on the tiny fire to put it out.  The noodles were done.  ‘Please, Chara.  I don't know what you want . . . but I can understand why you want to be free.  Anyone would,’ he thought.  He sampled a noodle.  It wasn't very good.  ‘I'm going to find my own way out no matter how long it takes.’  Frisk dumped in the flavor packet and mixed it with the toy knife.  He waited for the pan to cool then set it on his lap to eat.

           As Frisk was finishing the last few bites, Mettaton stepped toward the center of the room.  "About time," he said.  Frisk set down the empty pan as strength came back.  It wasn't much but hopefully it was enough.  "Prepare to die, human."  Mettaton pointed a finger, shooting an electric blast at Frisk.  The child ducked, put the toy knife in his pocket, and ran from the following attacks.  Chara had fallen silent.  Frisk took a hit before using the phone to shoot at bombs that rolled toward him.  He jumped and rolled to avoid several that exploded.  Mettaton continued throwing bombs and shooting lasers.  One of the magic lasers struck Frisk's right arm.  He cringed but kept moving.  This went on for several minutes, the two of them attacking or avoiding.

           When Mettaton's attacks grew slower and weaker, Frisk slowed to catch his breath.  "Enough of this!" said Mettaton.  He fired one last electric bolt at the human.  Frisk ducked it.  Mettaton scowled.  "Do you really want humanity to perish?!  Or do you just believe in yourself that much?"

           "I'll find a way to get out and I won't let Asgore hurt anyone,” Frisk said.

           Mettaton grinned.  "Ha ha!  How inspiring!  Well, darling, it's either me or you!"  He raised a hand and shot a bolt of power.  He hit Frisk directly this time.  The child yelled and dropped to his knees a few feet away, one hand pressing against his aching chest.  "But I think we both already know who's going to win.  Witness the true power of humanity's star!"

           Frisk’s heart pounded and raced as Mettaton took a step back.  A bright light emerged from the chest of Mettaton’s mechanical body.  It throbbed and hummed softly, lighting the room with a soft glow.  Frisk stared.  This was a monster soul.  Mettaton wasn't just a robot?  The soul pulsed with energy, sending out a wave of electric power.  Frisk jumped up and backed away, but the wave swept over him.  He dropped his phone from the shock.  It sparked when it hit the ground.  Frisk ached everywhere but forced his little feet to keep running.  Mettaton's soul threw wave after wave of power.  Frisk didn't think he could take it anymore.  He did his best to duck or jump waves but his stamina was nearly gone.

           Mettaton's robotic body groaned and the glowing orb jumped back inside.  "No," he said.  He glanced at Frisk.  The young human was worn out and injured but still very alive.  Mettaton sighed.  "The power consumption of this form is . . . inefficient," he said.  "I'm running out of power."  He dropped to his knees with a thud.  Frisk gave him a concerned look.  "Don't worry about me.  I'll be fine.  Alphys can just replace the batteries when she gets the chance," Mettaton said.

           "I . . . I'll find a way to make things better for everyone," said Frisk.

           Mettaton's voice warped a little when he replied.  "Then . . . are you the star?  Can you really protect humanity?" he said.

           Frisk shrugged.  "I don't know, but I’ll try my best."

           "Well . . . you've proven to be very strong despite what you may think," Mettaton said.  "Perhaps even strong enough to get past Asgore.  I'm sure you'll be able to protect humanity."  As Mettaton spoke, a spark of hope grew inside the child.  "It's all for the best anyway," Mettaton continued.  "Just don't ever give up . . . no matter what . . . and . . . knock em' dead, darling."  Mettaton lost power and collapsed on the floor.

           The room doors opened.  Alphys bolted in.  "I . . . I managed to open the lock!  Are you two . . ."  She froze when she saw Mettaton lying on the floor near Frisk.  She gasped, bounding over to his metal body.  "Mettaton!"  She frantically looked over him.  "Mettaton, are you . . ."  She heaved a relieved sigh then glanced over her shoulder.  "Thank goodness, it's just the batteries," she said.  Alphys stared down at Mettaton with a frown.  "Mettaton, if you were gone, I would have . . ."

           Frisk joined her.  "Is he okay?”

           Alphys nodded.  "Yeah, hey, it's no problem . . . you know?  He's just a robot.  If you messed it up . . . I could always just build another."  Alphys sighed.  "Why don't you . . . go on ahead.  I just need a moment.  I'll join you in the hall," she said.  Reluctantly, Frisk turned to leave.  He stepped through the doorway into a hall beyond and squinted.  It was much brighter on this side.  At the hall’s end he could make out the elevator Alphys had been talking about.  Frisk started down the hall.  He expected to hear a comment from Chara after that but there was nothing.

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[for-a-flower]

Chapter 6 (The King and His Son)

              Two hours passed as Frisk continued a treacherous journey through Hotland.  He ate the hot cat on the way and passed a spider bake sale from which he bought two doughnuts.  Frisk took heavy breaths of air as he climbed several steps.  He stopped at the top completely exhausted from the heat.  He was met by a soft, refreshing breeze.  The air was cooler here.  The human child stood several yards from the entrance of what looked like a hotel.  Standing by the left side of the glass door was Sans.  The skeleton waved with a carefree smile.  Frisk rushed to join him.

            "Hey," said Sans.

            Frisk panted weakly.  "Hi."

            "I heard you're going to the Core."  Frisk nodded.  "How about grabbing some dinner with me first?"

            Frisk smiled.  "Yeah . . . sounds good," he said.

            "Great.  Thanks for treating me."

            "Wait, hu?"

            Sans shrugged.  "Heh, heh.  I'm kidding, buddy.  Over here."  The skeleton started around the left side of the hotel down a dark alley.

            "Another shortcut?" said Frisk.

            "Yup."  Sans walked several feet into the dark.  Frisk followed close behind until he couldn't see anything.  Slowly, a dim, moody light lit up a diner.  Frisk looked around.  There were tables and chairs set up neatly with some potted plants and pictures hanging on the walls.  Each table was decorated with a tablecloth and a lit candle in the center.  Frisk glanced over a shoulder only to see a wall where they had entered.  He shook his head and followed Sans to a table.  Sans offered Frisk a chair and the human sat down on the opposite side of the table.  "Well, here we are.  Wait here.  I'll go order."  Sans casually walked toward a host at a counter by the entrance.  He shook hands with the monster.

            Frisk could hear him chuckling quietly as he waited.  He was curious to know if Sans was going to bring up anything important like he had last time they hung out.  Frisk stared at the candle in front of him.  Its flame flickered softly with a warm glow and pleasant scent.  Frisk took a deep breath, soaking up the cool air inside the room.

           Just a few minutes later, Sans came back with a large sandwich on a plate and two cups of water.  He set the plate in front of Frisk along with both cups of water.  "Here you go, kid," he said.  "Enjoy."

            Frisk was only interested in the water at the moment.  He picked up the first cup and drank the entire thing, while Sans took a seat across from him.  Frisk set down the empty glass and smiled at the skeleton.  "Thanks.  I think I almost de . . . hy . . ."

            "Dehydrated?” said Sans.

           Frisk nodded.  “Yeah.”

           “Eh, I wouldn't have let that happen."  Frisk reached to pick up the sandwich and licked his lips.  "So," said Sans.  "Your journey's almost over, huh?"

           Frisk nodded.  “I hope so.”

           Sans leaned back in the chair, hands in his pockets.  "You must really wanna go home."

            Frisk swallowed a bite to reply.  "Yeah . . . I do.  I gave my family a promise.  I told them I'd come back and . . . I want to keep that promise."

            "Hey.  I know the feeling, buddy.  Though . . . maybe sometimes it's better to take what's given to you.  Down here you've already got food, drink, friends . . ."  Frisk took another bite of the sandwich.  "Is what you have to do . . . really worth it?" said Sans.

            The child tried not to look surprised at the question.  He started a response with his mouth full.  "It is to me.”  He swallowed and continued.  “I'm sure my parents are worried.  I've been gone for days now.  They might think I'm dead."

            Sans sighed.  "Aw, forget it."  He glanced down at the table for a few seconds before looking up again.  "I'm rootin' for ya, kid."  Frisk smiled and took another bite of the sandwich he held.  "Hey.  Let me tell you a story."  Sans folded his arms.  "So, I'm a sentry in Snowdin Forest, right?"  Frisk nodded.  "I sit out there and watch for humans.  It's kinda boring.  Fortunately, deep in the forest, there's this huge locked door and it's perfect for practicing knock-knock jokes.  So one day, I'm knocking 'em out, like usual.  I knock on the door and say 'Knock knock.'  And suddenly, from the other side, I hear a woman's voice."  Frisk’s chewing slowed.  He suddenly felt his appetite leaving him.

           Sans continued.  "'Who is there?' she said.  So, naturally, I respond 'dishes'.  'Dishes who?'"  Sans paused to wink at Frisk.  "Dishes a very bad joke."  Frisk forced a smile and set down his half eaten sandwich.  Sans chuckled.  "And then she just howls with laughter . . . like it's the best joke she's heard in a hundred years.  So I keep 'em coming, and she keeps laughing."  Sans glanced away.  "She's the best audience I've ever had."  Frisk looked down at his plate, a lump forming in his throat.

            "Then, after a dozen of 'em, she knocks and says, 'Knock knock.'  I say, 'Who's there?'  'Old lady!'  'Old lady who?'  'Oh, I did not know you could yodel!'  Heh . . . Wow."  Sans seemed to notice something was on Frisk's mind.  He sighed.  "Needless to say, this woman was really good.  We kept telling each other jokes for hours.  Eventually, I had to leave.  Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story.  But she told me to come by again, and so I did.  Then I did again . . . and again.  It's a thing now, telling bad jokes through the door.  It rules."  The skeleton chuckled.

            Frisk’s gaze drifted down.  Sans was the one Toriel had written those jokes for in her diary.  They were friends.  Frisk had ruined everything.  Sans’ voice got the child’s attention again.  "One day, though, I noticed she wasn't laughing very much.  I asked her what was up.  Then she told me something strange.  'If a human ever comes through this door, could you please, please promise something?  Watch over them . . . and protect them . . . will you?'"  Frisk looked down again, trying to keep his composure.  He could feel tears coming to his eyes.  Not now.  He couldn't let Sans find out.

            "Now, I hate making promises," said Sans.  Frisk forced himself to look at him.  "And this woman, I don't even know her name but . . . someone who sincerely likes bad jokes has an integrity you can't say 'no' to."  Sans paused to stare at Frisk.  "Do you get what I'm sayin’?  That promise I made to her . . . you know what would have happened if she hadn't said anything?  Buddy . . ."  Sans lowered his head for a second and when he lifted it again, his eyes were completely dark.  He spoke with a quiet, disturbing voice, sending chills down Frisk's spine.  "You'd be dead where you stand."  Frisk stared back with wide eyes.  He sniffled, and tears finally came.  The child dropped his head into his hands.

           Sans sighed.  "Hey, lighten up, bucko," he said.  Frisk slowly lifted his head, as tears ran down his face.  Sans' eyes had returned to normal.  He looked concerned.  "I'm . . . just joking with you," he said.  Frisk wiped the tears from his eyes.  "Besides . . . haven't I done a great job protecting you?  I mean, look at yourself.  You haven't died a single time,” Sans said.  Frisk narrowed his eyes at the skeleton.  Sans looked alarmed.  "Hey, what's that look supposed to mean?" he said.  "Am I wrong?"

            "I've died at least five times now," said Frisk.

            Sans stared.  "Heh."  He stood and stepped away from the table.  Frisk had expected him to be more surprised.  "Well, that's all I wanted to say.  But . . . I think I remember you wanting to ask me something.  Now's your chance,” Sans said.

            Frisk sighed and stood up to face Sans.  "I was going to ask why I kept seeing you everywhere.  Why you seemed to be following me.  But you answered that."

            Sans put his hands in the pockets of his coat.  "Anything else, buddy?"

            "Why . . . why would you have killed me?"

            "Well, you're human.  No offense but, we all wanna get out of the underground one day . . . and you're the last one we'd need,” said Sans.

            "So . . . even if I was innocent . . . you'd still kill me?"

            Sans gave Frisk a questioning look.  "Why do you say that?  'Even if you were innocent'."

            Frisk paused.  A part of him cringed when he had said that.  He had to be careful with his reply.  "I was asking because . . . it doesn't seem like you to hurt someone who hasn't done anything wrong," he said.

            "You don't know me very well, kid.  But you will."  Sans winked.  "Trust me."  The skeleton turned to head back toward the wall through which they had entered.  He paused to look back at Frisk.  "Take care of yourself, kid.  Cause someone really cares about you."  He turned and continued to walk.

            Frisk glanced at the sandwich that he didn't want anymore.  When he looked up again, Sans was gone.  The little human sighed.  "Someone did care . . . and I killed her,” he whispered.

            "You did what you thought you had to.  You didn't know it would destroy her,” said a dull voice.

            Frisk scowled.  "Yeah, but you did and you didn't tell me?  What kind of monster are you?"

            "I am not a monster."

            "Only monsters do things like this."

            "And all monsters live here . . . in the underground."

            "And so do you," said Frisk.  He left the table and stomped down the hall to the hotel lobby.  It wasn't fair.  This person . . . whoever was talking to him . . . could influence and tell him anything.  Sometimes Frisk was confused as to which intents were his own.  After eating, the child gathered his money and paid to stay for the night.  The room he was given was huge, so he flopped on the bed and fell asleep in minutes.

            Frisk woke up well rested without interruption this time.  He rolled out of the massive bed and straightened a small wrinkle he had made before going out.  Frisk thanked the monster at the counter for the service and headed to a door at the back.  He opened it and stepped onto a dark bridge.  On the other end was an entrance labeled, ‘Core’.  Cool air swept by the child.  This was the last place between him and the capital.  Alphys had warned that the Core was full of lasers and technology.  She also mentioned that Mettaton had disappeared and she couldn't find him.  Frisk took a deep breath then started across the metal bridge.

            As soon as Frisk entered the Core, Alphys called to update him.  She gave him directions and sent a map to his phone.  Frisk followed the map carefully as he traversed bluish halls and crossed bridges over steamy gaps.  There was a strange chemical smell in the air and it gave Frisk a headache.  For the first thirty minutes or so, he wandered into dead ends and strange monsters that attacked him from behind corners.  There were several creatures patrolling the corridors between laser grids and directional signs.  Alphys seemed confused with the layout and eventually admitted that her map was inaccurate.  She told Frisk to keep looking for an elevator and encouraged him not to give up.

            By now Frisk was frustrated.  Strong monsters kept attacking and injuring him before he could escape.  Their magic was more powerful than any monster he had encountered so far.  He was too weak to fight them.  A part of him seemed to laugh at his pain, telling him over and over that he should have listened.  During his journey through the Core, Frisk took a fatal blow from a large armored knight creature.  It had swung a thick, metal rod at his head.  The child revived at the center of the Core's ridiculous maze of halls.  He pressed on and tried not to think about Toriel or where Flowey had gone.  Maybe the little thing really did decide to leave him alone.

            When Frisk finally found the exit, he was worn out, sore, and covered in bruises.  As soon as he saw the gateway leading out, determination filled him.  His heart pounded with life and his injuries healed in a moment as a yellow light flickered in the doorway.  Frisk paused to look at an object mounted above the entrance.  It was the same symbol he had noticed at various places in the underground.  He wondered what it was for and what it meant.  But this was no time to speculate.  Frisk wanted to get back home more than ever.  He couldn't wait to tell his parents about this place and how he had escaped . . . if he ever would that is.  Frisk stepped through the doorway into a dark room on the other side.

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Show Time!

           A spot light flashed on above the robot.  "Welcome beauties, to today's quiz show!" announced the robot.  He waved at a camera mounted on the opposite wall.  Two disco balls lowered from the ceiling, casting colorful lights in the room.

           “Uh . . . Mettaton?” said Alphys.

           "Oh boy!  I can already tell it's gonna be a great show!" said Mettaton.  "Everyone give a big hand for our wonderful contestant!"  The robot motioned toward Frisk then clapped.  Confetti fluttered down from the ceiling.

           Frisk smiled a little.  "Uh, I've never played this kind of thing before," he said.

           "No problem!" said Mettaton.  "It's simple!  There's only one rule.  Answer correctly . . . or you die!"  Frisk's smile faded.  That was not something he wanted to hear.  He was hoping to avoid death, not end up in a trap quiz show dependent his childish answers.  On a single wheel that held his rectangular body, Mettaton rolled toward Alphys.  Frisk’s heart was already pounding.  "Let's start with an easy one!" said Mettaton.

           Frisk nodded.  "That's a good idea."

           "Alright then!  What is the prize for answering correctly?"

           "Um . . . more questions?" said Frisk.

           Mettaton threw a hand in the air with excitement as more confetti dropped from the ceiling.  "Right!  You got it!  And here's your terrific prize!"  He lifted a paper and read out the next question.  "What is the king's full name?"  Alphys was nervously fidgeting with her hands.

           Frisk didn't have to think long.  By now, he knew it well.  "Asgore Dreemurr," he said.  A strange tension filled him.  The voice he had heard before seemed to be absent at the moment.

           Mettaton clapped.  "Oh, right again!  But enough about you.  Let's talk about me!  What are robots made of?  A: hopes and dreams, B: metal and magic, C: snips and snails, and D: sugar and spice."

           Frisk took a second or two to think, making sure it wasn't a trick question.  "Metal and magic?" he said.  Alphys let out a relieved sigh as she stood near the robot, her gaze fixed on the human.  Confetti scattered around Frisk after his third correct answer.

           Alphys gave him a thumbs up.  “Y-you’re doing great!” she said.

           "Too easy for you, hu?" said Mettaton.

           Frisk shook his head.  "No, it's actually really hard to answer these,” he lied.

           Mettaton laughed.  "But the show must go on!  Next question!"  He flipped through the papers and handed one to Frisk.  "You have thirty seconds!"  Frisk grabbed the paper and almost fainted when he saw a paragraph of text.  There was no way he could read this in thirty seconds.  He couldn’t even pronounce half the words.  His mind went blank.  He would have better luck guessing but didn't want to reap the consequences of guessing wrong.

           Frisk frantically skimmed over the words as Mettaton counted down out loud.  This wasn’t fair.  At ten seconds, Frisk glanced over four choices at the bottom of the page.  All of them were large numbers.  He was running on pure instinct, picked the largest number, and lowered the paper.  "D?" he said.  Mettaton paused the countdown at “two” and the human cringed.  A painful silence followed.  Frisk was sweating.

           "Correct!" said Mettaton.  Frisk let out a sigh and dropped the paper on the floor.  "Next!"  The robot lifted a jar of flies.  "How many flies are in this jar?  Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, or fifty-five?"

           Frisk squinted pretending to make a quick estimate.  "Fifty-two!" he guessed.

           Mettaton lowered the jar.  "Wrong!"  Frisk's heart sank.  Mettaton pointed a finger, striking the child with an electric bolt.  Frisk yelled and staggered.  Alphys was nearly biting her claws.  The child trembled and collapsed, catching himself with both hands.  He had expected the shock to kill him.  Frisk slowly lifted his head and glanced at Alphys, who was sweating nervously.  The child took a deep breath then stood again.  What kind of horrible game was this?  How was he supposed to answer questions like these?

           "Screaming is against the rules," said Mettaton.

           Frisk scowled.  "What?  But you said there's only one rule."

           "Next question!  This one is a memory game."  Mettaton lifted up a paper to show Frisk an image.  "What monster is this?"  It was a frog-like face.

           The child rolled his eyes.  At least he knew this one.  "Froggit!" he said.

           “Ha!  Wrong!"  Mettaton shot another bolt at Frisk.  The child tried not to scream and winced instead.  It felt worse this time.  Mettaton unfolded the paper to show Frisk the rest of the image.  It was a picture of Mettaton wearing a shirt with a Froggit on it.  

           Frisk glared as Mettaton lowered his hand.  “Stop it!  This isn’t fair!” he shouted.  Alphys waved at Frisk to get his attention.  She signed letters with her fingers, a, b, c, and d.  Frisk gave a slight nod.  She was trying to help him, and he was grateful.

           "Alright then!  Here's a simple one!"  The robot lifted a tablet device on which his name appeared.  "How many letters are in the name, Mettaton?"  Frisk was about to give an answer when more n's started typing across the screen at the end of the name and four choices appeared.  The human flashed a glace toward Alphys.  She was making a 'c' with her hand.

           "C!" Frisk said.

           Mettaton gasped and tossed the tablet into the wall behind him.  "Oh!  Correct!"  More confetti fell from the roof as the robot clapped.  "Time to break out the big one," he said.  He shuffled through his papers to the next question.  "Here we are.  In the dating simulation video game Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, what is Mew Mew's favorite food?"  Frisk glanced at Alphys again.

           She gasped then raised her right hand and waved it over her head.  "Oh!  Oh!  I know this one!  It's snail ice cream!" she said.  "In the fourth chapter, everyone goes to the beach, and she buys ice cream for all of her friends, but it's snail flavor, and she's the only one who wants it!"  Alphys excitedly jumped up and down.  "It's one of my favorite parts of the game because it's actually a very powerful message about . . ."  She slowed when she realized Frisk and Mettaton were both staring at her.  "Friendship," she finished.  Her hand still in the air, she glanced at Mettaton.

           The robot sighed.  "Alphys, Alphys, Alphys . . ." he said.  "You aren't helping our contestant, are you?"  Alphys lowered her hand and shook her head with a nervous grin.  "You should have told me," said Mettaton.  "I'll ask a question you'll be sure to know the answer to."  Alphys covered her mouth with wide eyes.  Mettaton faced Frisk again.  "Who does Dr. Alphys have a crush on?"

           Frisk paused.  How was he supposed to know?  He looked at the scientist, who was shaking her head as if begging him not to respond.  "You have four choices!" said Mettaton.  "Undyne, Asgore, yourself, or . . . you don't know."

           Frisk shrugged.  "I don't know.  I hardly know her," he said.  Alphys sighed with relief.

           "Well!  At least you're honest, darling!" said Mettaton.  "Technically, you're right!  She has a crush on no one, so there's not much to know.  Sure, she likes a few monsters out there but she's never had the guts to talk to them in person, much less get into a deeper conversation."  Alphys’ gaze drifted to the floor.  "So really . . . it's impossible for anyone to know who she likes or for how long.  Anyway, there's no point for this to continue," said Mettaton.  "With Dr. Alphys helping you, the show has no dramatic tension!”  His dull tone switched back to one of enthusiasm.  “But this was just the pilot episode!  Next up, more drama, more action, more bloodshed!"  Mettaton waved and turned to leave.  "Until next time, darlings!"  He made his exit through the hole in the wall.  The lights in the lab flashed on.  Frisk rubbed his head then approached Alphys.

           She grinned.  "Well, that was certainly something," she said.

           Frisk nodded.  "Yeah.”

           "That last question . . . he wasn't supposed to ask that one," she said.

           "You should try to meet more people though," said Frisk.

           "Well . . . we're going to be leaving the underground soon, right?  So I don't have to worry about that."  Frisk stared.  Alphys glanced away.  "No, I know what you mean.  You’re right."  She looked at the human again.  "So . . . on to Hotland?"

           Frisk nodded.  "Yep."  He walked to the back exit of the lab.

           "Wait!"  Frisk stopped and turned around.  Alphys rushed forward, taking a phone from a pocket of her white coat.  "Let me give you my phone number!  Then if you need help, I could . . ."  Frisk took out the phone from Toriel.  Alphys gasped when she saw it.  "Where did you get that phone!?  It's ancient!"

           The little human paused to look at it.  "Uh . . ."

           Alphys grabbed the phone to examine it.  "It doesn't even have texting."  She glanced up at Frisk, the phone held between her claws.  "Wait a second, please."  Before Frisk could protest, the scientist rushed through an open doorway on the right.  The human moved to follow just as a series of bangs and thuds echoed from the room.  He rushed to the doorway just Alphys ran back out.  She almost bumped into him.  She smiled and handed the phone back.  "Here, I upgraded it for you!" said Alphys.

           Frisk looked it over.  It was quite different now.  "Thanks," he said.

           "It can do texting, store items, it's got a key chain . . . I even signed you up for the underground's number one social network!  Now we're officially friends!"  Alphys laughed a bit.  Frisk stared at the phone in his hands.  His thoughts had gone back to Toriel despite his efforts.  Alphys awkwardly glanced away.  Frisk blinked and looked up suddenly when he realized she had stopped talking.  "I'm . . . going to the bathroom," she said.  Alphys rushed back to the door through which she had come and shut it behind her.  Frisk sighed and put the phone in his pocket.  Before heading out, he stopped by Alphys' fridge.  It was full of soda and instant noodles.  Frisk took a pack of noodles in case he got hungry.  He walked to the back exit and stepped through another automatic door.

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