"Human…it was nice to meet you. Good bye."

The behemoth before Frisk let his head drop, as if steeling himself. A moment later, he whipped an enormous steel trident out from beneath his long cloak, glowing with an otherworldly crimson energy that mingled with the sunlight streaming through the Barrier. Asgore Dreemurr spun around and swung the weapon with amazing agility for a creature of his size, tearing Frisk's striped shirt as she leapt backwards with a surprised shriek. The King of All Monsters's head still hung low; he refused to look at the poor child he was about to violently rip a soul from. After a moment's hesitation, he set upon her with furious strike after strike, forcing the girl to dodge and weave around her much larger foe.

"I don't want to fight you…" Frisk cried softly.

The king stopped for the briefest of seconds, hands visibly shaking, before resuming his assault. Orbs of intense fire flew all around Frisk, trying to block her from escaping the monster's trident. She ducked beneath the weapon and bolted under Asgore's arm.

"I don't want to fight you!" the girl shouted at his back.

Asgore glanced back over his shoulder at her, but quickly snapped his gaze back to looking at the ground, hands trembling even worse than before. He whirled around, letting loose a burst of flame that caught Frisk's hair. The girl somersaulted to the side, frantically patting the fire that threatened to engulf her head, running in circles while giving the monster a very wide berth.

She was close. So, so close.

Frisk firmly planted her feet, skidding to a stop. Asgore glanced up at her sudden change in strategy, and she locked eyes with him. Clenching her little fists, Frisk spoke slowly and sternly. "I am not going to fight you, Asgore Dreemurr."

Tears streamed down the king's face. He clearly didn't want to do this; he didn't want any of this. The whole world had gone mad and he was just trying to keep it from collapsing into a bottomless void of chaos and hopelessness. His hands were trembling with such violence now that Frisk was sure he was about to drop his weapon. She took a cautious step forward, arms open as if to hug the beast-king.

"We don't have to fight." Another step. "There has to be another way."

The king dropped his head again. "No, there is no other way."

And with that, before Frisk could comprehend was happening, Asgore's trident plunged deep into her stomach. She could feel it piercing all of the squishy things inside; how it broke right through the other side as she was lifted up, impaled. The girl shrieked in agony. Asgore violently shook the weapon, sending Frisk flying and slamming against the castle wall, spreading viscera everywhere. The king began to slowly approach her, dreading what had to come next, despite having already mutilating the girl beyond all redemption.

"Do not worry, child…" he said calmly, trying to comfort her. "It will all be over soon."

Frisk grasped at the bricks of the wall, pulling herself up despite every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop, to stay down, and to just let it end; but she couldn't do that – she had come too far to just lay down and die! The child limped through the open doorway into the castle, one hand on the wall for support, the other placed over her belly, where the pain was the worst.

"Please don't run, little one." Asgore called out behind her, still advancing slowly, knowing she couldn't go very far. "You're only making this harder on yourself…and on me as well."

Frisk stumbled into the throne room, bleeding all over the golden garden that had overrun it. Seeing that she was actually making it much further than he had thought possible, Asgore sprang into action, raising his trident once again. Frisk screamed as the huge monster beared down on her and everything went black.

Frisk shrieked bloody murder, bolting upright, breathing heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat. Everything was pitch black; nothing but inky blackness all around her. She was so cold. A second later, the pain hit her; a deep, stinging pain that felt like somebody was pushing down on her belly with immense pressure. It was worse than any pain she had ever felt before in her life; completely overwhelmed, she let out a long wail, doubling over and placing both hands over her belly, breaths coming is quick sobs.

Frisk was so taken by the pain, she didn't register the echoing footsteps approaching; the creak of a door opening; the light of a candle as it was set down beside her. Somebody sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

"There, there, dearie..." A cold hand began to rub her back reassuringly as another stroked her hair. "It'll get better soon enough. Here, drink." Yet another hand appeared in front of Frisk's face, offering her a small teacup filled with a viscous blue liquid.

Frisk hesitantly took the cup and downed the liquid to the best of her ability. It was like sucking on a peppermint-flavored penny. The drink quickly forced its way back up her throat; she coughed it back up, all over herself.

"Oh my…" It was a woman's voice that spoke to Frisk; that had been speaking to her. More of a girl's voice, really. Older than her though, certainly. A handkerchief cleaned up as much of the rejected medicine as possible, then offered her another cup full. Frisk's head was positively swirling. "Please try to keep at least some of it down, dearie."

Frisk took the liquid in little gulps this time, trying to ignore the sickness in her gut. A cold sensation spread throughout her entire body, both dulling her pain and numbing the rest of her senses so much that she felt like she was wearing a fish bowl on her head.

"There, isn't that better?"

Frisk tried to focus, to make out the figure in the dim light. A pair of crimson eyes looked worriedly at her…no…two pairs of eyes…and a fifth one perched above and between the others. The feminine face had purple skin and a small mouth adorned with lipstick, two little white fangs jutting out pointing downward.

"M…m….mu…" Frisk blabbered drowsily.

"That's right, dearie. My name is Muffet. And your name is…"

"Furrr…fri…skuh…."

"Yes, Frisk…good. Such a curious name for such a pretty little thing."

"Ah…as….gore…he…"

"Yes, that big brute of a king, well, he certainly gave you quite the beating, to say the least…" The spider woman looked at Frisk quizzically for a moment. "Frisk, do you not remember any of the conversations we've had the past week?"

Frisk shook her head, though it made her head spin.

"Do you remember…how you got here?"

The human wracked her brain for a moment. Past escaping the throne room, she really had no memory of what had happened. She shook her head again.

"Fair enough." Muffet sighed. "You were very badly hurt, Frisk. You're lucky you made it to me. To us. Asgore is going mad looking for you." She stared off into the distance. "But don't you worry about that mean king, dearie." The woman smiled in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner, but the grin just looked slightly sinister. "As long as you're in my realm, he can't touch you." Muffet examined Frisk's hair closely as the younger girl processed what the elder one had just said. "We really must do something about your hair, dearie…so burnt and unkempt…"

"Burnt?" Frisk raised a hand to Muffet's, feeling her own hair. It was significantly shorter than she remembered and severely singed. Memories of Asgore's fire flooded back to her and she flinched involuntarily away from the spider girl's hands.

Muffet quickly hid the surprise on her face and simply looked at the human with soft, empathetic eyes. "You've been through so much. Rest, dearie. We'll talk again when you're in better shape.

Muffet eased Frisk back into a laid-down position and patted her on the head with one hand, pulling a blanket up to the younger girl's chin with two more. "Sleep well, dearie."

The spider picked up the candle and walked to the door, looking back at Frisk one more time before walking out and blowing out the flame, leaving the poor girl in darkness once again.