Blue blinded their vision, filling their perspective entirely.

Frisk's splayed limbs ached, pain thudding through them quietly. The ground below was oddly soft, like a bed, and the air smelt sweet and fragrant.

When they lifted their head gently, they realised that the blue was in fact petals, and the petals belonged to hundreds of forget-me-nots. Blinking, Frisk made to stand, ignoring the blossoming bruises along their left arm and leg. The flowers they landed on were now sufficiently crushed, the delicate petals bent and crumpled beyond repair from the impact of their fall. Frisk tightened their grip on the stick in their hand. Where did they come from? From above? Frisk could not remember.

Frisk covered their eyes from the glare of sunlight that filtered into the cavern. No turning back now, they suppose. They marched onwards, reaching a grassy knoll bathed in the same light as before. Frisk hesitated for only a moment, eyes settling to stare intently at one particular spot in the blades of green, as though waiting, expecting something to happen. With a small frown and a swift shake of their head, Frisk moved on, pushing the unsettling feeling to the side.

Frisk meets Toriel first. The woman is caring and sweet and gentle, and her capability for affection is sometimes overwhelming.

It's hard not to love her.

They hunt bugs together in her favourite bug-hunting spot, eat butterscotch-cinnamon pie and read stories by the fire. It is easy and simple and it is home. Frisk doesn't have memories of before the fall, only their name, and yet they know in their heart that 'home' had never been a familiar feeling.

After a while Frisk picks up on the little things, the small gestures that suggest not everything is as perfect as it seems. It's Toriel's check of the calendar, every morning without fail, done with shaking hands and darting eyes. It's the way she almost hovers over Frisk; the way she can't bear to leave them on their own. Almost as though if she does, they'll disappear. As though time might reverse.

Frisk has no intention to leave, not at first. It's not until they start sleep walking. They wake up, night after night, having fallen down the stairs that lead to the basement, eyes still heavy and dazed with empty dreams. Dreams of a crying blue flower and a girl covered in dust. The noise would rouse Toriel, who would peer at Frisk strangely, before wrapping one large paw around Frisk's hand and pulling them back to their bed. The impulse to go downstairs increased, the feeling deep in Frisk's chest tugging them there, a will to go on. A sense of determination.

Frisk approached the woman, their mother, and asked how to leave the ruins. Toriel vanished down the stairs, and Frisk followed. Toriel wanted Frisk to prove herself, to prove how strong they really were. The fire magic attacks burned Frisk's skin, and although they tried to offer mercy again and again, nothing changed. They attempted a feeble swing of the stick. Toriel stumbled only slightly, a small degree of damage made.

Perhaps, if it's enough, if they really do prove themselves, it'll be enough.

You want to get out, don't you?

Maybe it's the only way.

Frisk swings, each hit easier to do than the one before, each strike lifting the ache on their heart.

One more time, and Toriel's expression turns to one of shock, falling to her knees in defeat. Frisk runs into her arms, feels their mother's weight slump onto them.

"Goodbye, my child." Toriel says, her words quiet and tinged with something close to relief.

She crumbles to dust around Frisk, the white particles coating them from head to toe. The stick drops from Frisk's hands, abandoned beside them, hands desperately grabbing at the lifeless powder upon the floor, trying to get her to come back.

Frisk's tears run salty rivers through the dust on their cheeks, and shallow sobs fill the cavern.

They didn't mean to.

They didn't want this.

Frisk's cries turned to hiccups, and they stared before them, eyes wide and confused. The button seemed to almost hover in the air, and the lone word upon it, RESET, was inescapable and glaring. Within only moments Frisk's small hand had reached forward and pushed, and they were enveloped in a bright white light.

Blue blinded their vision, filling their perspective entirely.

Frisk's splayed limbs ached, pain thudding through them quietly. The ground below was oddly soft, like a bed, and the air smelt sweet and fragrant.

When they lifted their head gently, they realised that the blue was in fact petals, and the petals belonged to hundreds of forget-me-nots. Blinking, Frisk made to stand, ignoring the blossoming bruises along their left arm and leg. The flowers they landed on were now sufficiently crushed, the delicate petals bent and crumpled beyond repair from the impact of their fall. Frisk tightened their grip on the stick in their hand. Where did they come from? From above? Frisk could not remember.

AN: Ok hi! I've been sitting on this idea for ages. It's so good to finally write it down, and I hope people enjoy it. This is an Undertale AU that I came up with. This is only the prologue, but I have pretty much the whole story planned out and I am sooo super excited to write this.

my tumblr, archive of our own links etc are on my profile,
but yes I hope you all enjoy reading!