Merely a practice in description and emotions.

I have no idea what have I done in here…

But I know I cried, writing all of this.

Enjoy.

Determined to SAVE him

"They…ASGORE…will kill you."

If there was anything that life on the Surface taught Frisk, was that nobody would kill unless they had a reason to. Of course, knowing the legend of the mountain, the war that raged on – and that monsters were never victorious – it was probably a good warning at first. But it looked less and less like that, with each new friend they gained, with all the kindness they showed towards monsters.

And Frisk was convinced, with every text on the plaques before their eyes, that humans were the one that started this war. Unprovoked. And monsters were surely trying to fix the mess that must've happened – there was no real evidence as to who was the one starting this whole war. In addition to that, monsters never tried absorbing human SOULS to win this stupid conflict.

But a question remained: Who was the beast with unfathomable power?

As they touched the star that shone brilliantly through the leaves, a heavy sigh escaped them. With what Alphys told them, with what monsters told them – because the story was the sole reason that Toriel's words could be interpreted differently – they were just an expression of the remnants of her hate towards Asgore, nothing less. All the warnings meant just one thing: they had to fulfill monsterkind's dream.

They shook their head in disappointment, realizing both goat monsters were at fault – Toriel for abandoning him when he needed her, Asgore for declaring something he could never fulfill – and in their folly, they never realized both had their ounce of truth in the chaos.

Before Frisk stood the large goat monster, the king of the entire monster race, whose demeanor showed both a gentlemonster and a warrior at heart. But they could see that the king's eyes betrayed the pain and horror at the thought of taking a life – and yet, it had to be done – while knowing this was the only way. But to Frisk, that meant Asgore could fulfill his declaration, that meant he could bring further hope for his people.

A strange feeling started to stir within the child's SOUL.

I am a prisoner.

The king looked at the somewhat terrified child, and a fleeting dream revealed itself before the king's eyes – the dream of a family, alongside Toriel – if only he knew where she went. He tried to ease the tension by making a silly comparison between a dentist and himself, as if he promised the child it won't be long until the plan of monsterkind came true. So why did he feel alone? Why did he feel like he was in a trap that he cannot get himself out of?

At first, the thought of being a prisoner in an unequal battle was a little unsettling for Frisk – who held onto the knife they found and wishing they never did – they didn't want to strike down the king. Fighting was never an option in the first place, and when they saw him mercilessly destroying the one chance at forgiveness, Frisk's soul broke in regret at seeing the monster being caged in his own sorrow.

I have no chance.

The child bravely tried to stand against the king, reluctantly landing hits upon him, trident clashing against knife, and it didn't matter that their hair and clothes caught fire sometimes, they kept crying with pain. No, not the pain of them being hit – but the pain of abandon, the pain of heartbreak – and as they landed the last hit upon the king, making him kneel, they kept crying.

The king thought for a moment that he heard Toriel's voice echoing in the cavern. There was no mistake to that tender voice, but as he clutched to his wounds, he realized it was naught but an illusion, to hide away all the pain. Oh, how he would've given anything to hold her in his arms.

They're waiting.

Frisk threw away the knife as they still sobbed, and extended a hand towards their broken MERCY button. They were tired of seeing him suffer like this – they were determined to save him.

They ran in the king's arms, and the latter, as wounded as he was, eventually hugged the child and smiled, his tears falling on the child's hair.

But the moment of peace was torn away by Flowey, who was watching in the shadows, and wasted no time in tearing the king's SOUL apart. Frisk's eyes were still full of tears, and yet, rage filled them as they ran for the knife and pointed it towards Flowey, rage giving way to determination in their teary eyes.

The flower did nothing but grin menacingly, as if waiting for the child to succumb to the temptation of killing. But they refused, violently shaking their head, and promised the flower that…

…Even if it was just a relentless killer, they will not abandon their path of peace.

They will save him, they will return his family.