Frisk ran through the halls of Dreemurr Castle. If the kid was heading somewhere, Sans certainly couldn’t see it. He followed behind her, careful to remain almost but not quite out of sight. Glen’s warning had not fallen on deaf ears.
“Well, let’s be honest. It didn’t fall on ears at all.” He said, grinning to himself. Still, he was heeding her advice.
Still, the knowledge that Alphys and the others were gone hit him hard. He’d given her the ichor sample, after all, and if she or someone else was accidentally exposed, he felt at least partially responsible. At least, he told him self he should feel that way. So why didn’t he feel worse about it? Was he just used to losing loved ones at this point, or was something wrong with him?
He shook his skull. There was no time for introspective nonsense, not at the moment. Although she was moving indirectly, the kid was heading towards King Asgore’s throne room, and Sans had already made up his mind to have one last word before the kid reached the king.
“Hey.” Sans called out.
To her credit, Frisk didn’t turn around; she simply ran all the faster.
Chuckling, Sans shifted right in front of her, blocking the passage.
“Easy there.” Sans said, catching her and holding her in place with a gesture of his hand. “No reason to be in a hurry; we got all the time in the world.”
“Let me go!” The kid shouted, struggling in vain to free herself from Sans’s magic.
“Y’know, kid, I think I’ve heard enough from you already. I wanna talk to Frisk.”
“What are you talking about?” Frisk said, “I am Frisk.”
“No, you’re not.” Sans walked around Frisk slowly, taking his time with each and every step. “Y’see, your pal Glen hasn’t figured it out yet; what that black stuff you dribbled on her actually is. Me, I had to wonder; if you had something like that, why haven’t you tried before now? I mean, we’ve run through this timeline over and over again, but this is the first where I’ve even seen the stuff.”
He stepped within inches of the kid’s face. “You could do it right now. One little loogie, and I wouldn’t be a problem anymore, would I?”
Frisk’s face was twisted into a look of fear and anger.
“But you can’t, can you? You can’t control it; the only reason you started dripping is because of Glen; something about her forced it out of you. That’s why it only burned her; it wasn’t really her burning, but the stuff burning at her touch.”
Frisk still refused to respond. She didn’t have to; the look on her face said it all.
“Alphys said it was like determination, but I think she was wrong; I think it is determination. It’s what happens to determination without a soul of its own. See, I think ya need both; without one, the other isn’t complete. That’s why your determination corrupts; even one soul isn’t enough; it wants as many as it can get.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Frisk said, but there was a tremor in her voice.
Sans made a bone appear with a flick of his finger and motioned it forward until it grazed the tip of Frisk’s nose. “I want to talk with Frisk; the real Frisk, not whatever you are. If there’s anything left, that is ... if not, well ...” He shrugged. “No skin off my bones.”
Frisk glared angrily at Sans for a few moments before bowing her head. After a few moments of silence, she looked up again, tears streaking down her closed eyes.
Sans hesitated a moment; it could be a trick, after all. “You’re Frisk?”
After a moment of silence, he realized she was trying to nod. “You can’t talk?”
“I ... I can.” She said, her voice surprisingly timid. “Sans ... I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He repeated. “You don’t have to be sorry, kid; you’re possessed.”
“You don’t understand.” She said, shaking her head. “I’d saved everyone, Sans; we lived on the surface, you, Pappy, Toriel, and me. Everything was fine for awhile. We were happy, but .... but I got bored.”
Sans closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the smooth dome of his skull, Glenda’s words of an Ebott past the barrier passing through his mind. It was there; not Glenda, but the others; Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, Frisk and Toriel ... Toriel, the bossun woman with whom he traded so many jokes through the door at the ruins. He could almost see her beautiful face, and the thought of it all being gone made his soul ache. He wanted to be angry, but he could tell Frisk wasn’t putting on an act; the tears were real.
“I don’t get it.” He said, more frustrated than angry. “Okay, you threw away everything just to see what would happen if you killed everyone. I ain’t gonna pretend that’s not messed up, but if you wanted to stop, why not stop? Why not reset and-”
“I wanted to.” She said. “I really really wanted to, Sans, believe me ... but she won’t let me. Not anymore.”
“She?”
“She came to me in Ebott.” Frisk said, her eyes growing dark. “She knew I was bored, and she convinced me to go back, to explore the possibilities. It was so fun at first; seeing how things changed based on what I did and said. Trying out new routes, times where I let Papyrus catch me, only to run away, or essentially using what I knew to mess with people. And then ... she convinced me to attack. To fight instead of showing mercy. She promised it would be a real challenge, so eventually I gave in.”
She shuddered as she continued, “It was just a few monsters at first, small monsters like froggits or whimsuns. I couldn’t bear to hurt mom or pap, but she just kept goading me, pushing me, telling me that it was all just a game, that we could reset any time and bring everyone back. That’s when ... when I killed ...”
She clenched her eyes shut. “Pap didn’t stop believing in me, not even when he was just a skull and ... and I stomped him to dust. I should’ve know something was wrong, but I felt like I wasn’t completely in control anymore. I killed everyone, every last monster ... and then it was you and me in the chapel and ...”
“Yeah?” Sans asked, intruiged even though he’d lived through it so many times.
Frisk’s eyes shone with admiration. “You were awesome, Sans! You wiped the floor with me! If I’d been anyone else, I’d never have gotten past you!”
Her face fell. “You were the hero I should have been, but I could just restart over and over again, learning your moves, your reactions until I could get through it all and kill you. When I did, I felt sick. I almost reset right then. I wish I had reset right then.”
She let out a sigh. “But I was so close. I had to see the end. I told myself that when it was done, I’d just restart, save the Underground, and that would be it; I didn’t want any more resets; I just wanted to finish and go home.”
“And?” He asked, his tone soft. “What happened when it was over? When you killed everyone?”
Frisk hung her head as though in shame. Sans took a step toward her, still ready to strike if necessary.
“Frisk,”’ He said, “What happened when you killed Asgore?”
When Frisk raised her head, Sans automatically took a step back. The child’s eyes were open wide and blood red, her mouth twisted into a wide, creepy smile. “She gave me her soul, so I could do it all again and again ... murdering all of your friends, your would-be wife, and of course your dear trusting brother. It was so much fun!”
Sans narrowed his eye-sockets at her. “Who are you really?”
“My name is Chara.” She said.
“Chara?” The voice came from the throne room. Sans kept an eye-socket on Frisk as Asgore swept from the room, his cloak falling around him.
He approached the child slowly, his eyes full of sadness. “Chara, my poor child. This was your doing?”
Frisk looked ashamed. “Don’t look at me.”
“We took you in as our own, loved you as though you were Asriel’s natural sister. Did we do something wrong?”
“You liar!” Frisk shouted. “You never cared about me! I was just a token human you could show off to give the rest of these freaks hope about being stuck down here.”
Asgore simply watched her, his face so sad that it brought a tear to even the skeleton’s eye. “We wanted you to be happy here, with us, here in the Underground. Perhaps that is where we made the mistake; perhaps you’ll never be happy as long as you’re here.”
After a few long moments of silence, Asgore sighed and said, “Put her down.”
“King Asgore.” Sans said, stunned. “But she’s possessing-“
“She is my daughter. She is my responsibility. Let her go.”
The authority in his voice was unquestionable. Even though every bone of Sans’s body screamed that it was a mistake, Sans released the child from his magic.
“Come, my child.” Asgore said, gesturing to the entrance to the throne room.
Frisk looked from Sans to Asgore uncertainly.
“He will not interfere.” Asgore said, giving Sans a warning look. “He will remain outside.”
“Like hell I will.” Sans said.
“I AM STILL YOUR KING!” Asgore roared, startling Sans enough to make the skeleton take another step back. The bossun king quickly composed himself and continued, “I will take care of this. I promise.”
With a final angry glare at Frisk, Sans turned away and said, “Fine. Go ahead. I guess I’ll go and see if she’s left anyone alive this time.’
Sans remained with his back turned to Asgore and Frisk until the throne room doors closed. Asgore was dead; there was no question of it. Asgore was an able fighter, but against a child he viewed as a daughter? She’d bring him down before he had a chance to defend himself.
Glen said she was on the way. If Sans was right, all it would take was for Glen to grab the kid and hold her until whatever strange power Glen had drove Chara’s determination right out of Frisk’s body. After that ... well, after that, Sans didn’t know. Whatever prevented Chara from resetting would likely stop Frisk as well. Still, if it was Glenda, as Chara suspected, the mysterious human seemed nothing if not willing to help. Perhaps she could reset the timeline, maybe even provide insurance that things went well; Frisk seemed genuinely repentant, but if something went wrong, having someone like Glen to keep an eye on things seemed like the best kind of insurance.
That couldn’t happen if the kid escaped to the surface after absorbing Asgore’s soul. Sans couldn’t wait for Glen; he had to get in there and keep King Asgore safe. The doors were closed, but that meant nothing to Sans; he had doors of his own.
The world shifted in his view as he vanished from the hallway only to appear in a cramped space partially covered by cloth. He was behind the queen’s old throne, now pushed against the back wall of the throne room.
He carefully peeked out from behind the cloth-covered throne to see Asgore and Frisk standing in the middle of the garden.
“They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they?” Asgore said quietly. “Your brother brought them here before he died. Seeds caught in his fur; I cultivated them here. It ... it seemed appropriate.”
Frisk didn’t respond. She just stared at Asgore with her red eyes.
“Do you know what happened to your brother?” Asgore asked. “After you passed, he-”
“He died.” Frisk said shortly. “Then your Royal Scientist brought him back as a traitorous flower who I will personally pluck the next time he shows his repugnant little face!”
Asgore sighed. “Is there any kindness left in you, Chara? For me? Your brother? Your mother?”
Frisk stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Yes, my dear mother. She’s dead, you know.”
“Yes.” Asgore said, hanging his head. “I imagine she posed little threat to you.”
“Nope.” Frisk pulled the knife from her belt. “Even after I killed everything else in the ruins, she still didn’t put up a fight. None of you did, least of all you.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been back here hundreds of times.” Frisk said, testing the edge of the knife. “And you know something? I’ve never killed you, not once. Your precious son took care of that ... didn’t you, Flowey?”
There was no response. Flowey, whoever he was, was evidently not there.
“Hmm. Well, it doesn’t matter.” Frisk said with a shrug. “I’ll just have to do it myself. I may not be able to reset the timeline anymore, but I will escape from this place.”
“My child.” Asgore said, “Please reconsider ... not for my sake, but for yours.”
Frisk laughed; it was a long, ugly laugh that left Sans feeling uneasy. “It’s already over, your majesty.”
“No!” A yellow flower burst from the ground between them. It shot two long stems forward, wrapping around Frisk’s hand.
“Let go, Flowey!” Frisk said, trying to pull away.
“I won’t!” Flowey said, struggling to hold his grip.
“Really? What happened to this being a wonderful idea?”
“I was wrong!” Flowey said.
Frisk tore her hands free, ripping the stems from the talking flower. “You knew what would happen if you got in my way!”
Before anyone could react, she slashed at the flower, severing it from its roots with a single swing.
The flower writhed on the ground between King Asgore and Frisk, flailing its remaining petals around for a few moments before falling still.
“D-dad ...” Flowey whispered before falling to dust.
Asgore hung his head. Even from his position, Sans could see tears in the bossun’s eyes.
“No more distractions!” Frisk snarled, throwing the kitchen knife with pinpoint accuracy. It flew toward Asgore’s chest far too fast for him to react.
*tink*
A blue field burst to life around Asgore. The knife bounced off the field as though it were solid rock. Frisk looked on with shock as the knife fell to the floor with a clatter, as did Sans; he didn’t detect any magic, so what the heck made the force field?
“It’s still not too late.” Asgore said, recovering from the shock of his own near-assassination. “Please, Chara, just end this.”
Sans couldn’t believe the compassion Asgore was showing. Even after knowing that Frisk killed his ex-wife, even after witnessing her kill his son, he still wanted to give her a chance.
Unfortunately, his plea for peace fell on deaf ears. Her face a mask of rage, Frisk rushed at Asgore, sweeping the fallen kitchen knife from the ground and bringing it around to stab Asgore in the chest.
Sans tensed, ready to shove her back with telekinesis before she could injure Asgore, but it wasn’t necessary. Just as she drew near, Asgore swept his coat aside and caught the hand holding the knife with a single metal hand. Both of the bossun king’s arms were covered with a pair of strange gauntlets, the word ‘Headache’ etched on the sides.
“No.” Asgore said, “You’ve killed enough for today, I think.”
The next few seconds happened so fast that even Sans couldn’t process it all for a few moments. The child stabbed with her other hand, this one holding the toy knife. Asgore brought up his other arm, the outer casing separating to reveal some kind of emitter that flared to life, again producing the blue protective field. The force of her blocked stab was enough to jar the weapon from her hands. Before she could react, Asgore lifted Frisk by her arm and flung her across the room with deadly force, the gauntlets obviously augmenting his already impressive strength. Her body hit the far wall with a crunch that made Sans’s bones hurt. She collapsed to the floor, ichor streaming from places where broken bones protruded through her skin.
She gasped for breath as Asgore slowly approached, her eyes eventually rolling up in their sockets as she lost consciousness.
Sans could only watch in shock as the life left the child. The LOVE she’d accumulated should’ve made her the stronger, but the strange gauntlets overpowered them, as though filled with their own determination. Sans felt a momentary pang of sadness for Frisk; whatever she may have done, she was genuinely sorry in the end. Now she was gone, and with her the possibility of bringing back those that were lost.
A glowing red heart-shaped light rose from Frisk’s dead body, spinning ever so slightly.
“The seventh soul.” Asgore said. “Freedom for our people. If I’d known the price, I’d never have started down this path.”
Shaking his head, the King of the Monsters reached forward to take the soul for his own.
Something was nagging at Sans, something important. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was until he caught a glimpse of black swirling within the red light of Frisk’s soul. Dead or not, Chara was in full possession of Frisk's soul when they died. If she was the source of the ichor ...
“Your Majesty!” He said, quickly rising from his hiding place, but it was too late.681Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN1MflHh6MZ
