Buttercups.

In Frisk's upturned palm sat twin silver barrettes, slim and simple, each decorated on one end with a crystal buttercup. Morning sun shone through the bedroom window and glanced on the barrettes' jeweled surface in radiant fragments of golden light.

The beautiful gift did not strike Frisk as odd. Despite how buttercups once cursed the tall, slender human back in the Underground, overtaking their body and poisoning them with each reset, most humans and monsters on the surface knew that Frisk's identical twins, Verdana and Vivaldi, tucked buttercups and flowery clips like these into their short, dark hair. The barrettes had arrived in a red box with a velvet, cushioned base and silk bow, hand-delivered by a trusted friend. But the gift giver was suspicious.

Frisk narrowed their red eyes at the crystal flowers. "Hmm."

"Better scrub your hands, sweetheart," Sans grunted, peering over his wife's shoulder at the mysterious present. He clenched his sharp teeth, adding, "That bitch Alphys ain't above poisoning."

"Didn't hurt me earlier," Frisk said, shaking their head. They first inspected the box's contents a week ago, when Undyne had given it to them before their morning jog. Until now, Dr. Alphys had shown less interest in being a friendly aunt than in cracking the twins' genetic code as monster-human hybrids. "...What if," Frisk mused, turning the lovely little clips over in their palm, "it is an apology?"

"Just 'cause Undyne said it's so don't make it so." Frowning as much as his skull allowed, Sans fumbled with the black tie of the ironed suit that his mother-in-law, Toriel, now downstairs with the kids, had insisted he wear to the day's event. His button-down shirt felt tight against his bulky ribs and shoulder blades. Frisk had long since dressed in a rose blouse, violet vest embroidered with the Delta Rune, and tailored pants, so everyone was waiting on Sans. "Dunno what she sees in Alphys."

Crashes and footstomps rang from the living room. Verdana's energy and Toriel's ire were skyrocketing. Though muffled by their bedroom walls, Frisk and Sans heard a bellowing Toriel shout, "Oh, no you don't, young man!"

No time to waste. Frisk closed their fist around the hair clips.

Gathered on the crest of Mt. Ebott beneath puffy, white clouds that sailed along a vibrant blue sky, crowds murmured beside the fortified entrance of what was once the barrier enclosing the Underground. National, city, and local press snapped a constant stream of pictures of the crimson ribbon strung in front of its open doors and of the important people standing on a nearby dais: the prime minister of the nation, the king and queen of monsters, the local mayor, and the monsters' human ambassador with their monster husband and young twins.

After years of cleanup, renovation, and preparation, humans and monsters were ready for the official opening of the National Museum of Monster History. From now on, the once-sealed Underground would be open for common, public use.

On the dais, Frisk and Sans kept the twins engaged in a word game. Vivaldi rocked back and forth in her penny loafers and tapped her chin in thought while Verdana squirmed, but held more or less still under the threat of being pinned by his father's magic.

"...pudding, onions, and before that," Vivaldi whispered, "nuggets of chicken."

"Viv, that's cheating!" cried Verdana.

As one, Frisk and Toriel turned toward him with a finger to their lips. "Ssh!"

Sans thought, but knew better than to say out loud, that maybe it was not the best idea to bring the twins. At least, not in front of news cameras where they would have to stand around like centerpieces. But since it was a museum opening, Toriel had insisted it would add a special note of importance to educating the young and blah, blah, blah.

In the middle of his itchy discomfort, however, Sans admitted, as Frisk had mentioned earlier when clipping the twins' hair aside with the shining barrettes, that their kids looked adorable. Pulling their hair back revealed the big, ruby eyes they inherited from their mother. And thanks to the comfortable, but fine red-striped sweaters that their grandmother had knitted for them, black for Ver and white for Viv, they were slightly less antsy. Slightly.

Vivaldi scrunched her pudgy face at her brother, who had turned his pointer finger to bone and waved it in her face with his best I'm-not-touching-you technique. "Stop it!"

"Ssh!"

Sans groaned.

Finally, it seemed the PM and Asgore were done with their opening speeches, so the group could breathe a bit easier as the reporters and their cameras shifted their collective focus to the plush ribbon and the giant pair of scissors intended to cut it. Frisk touched their husband's shoulder and smiled. This was more than a museum to them. This was peace.

The twins tried thumb wrestling next, but remembered to use their inside voices as they locked their hands into a fist. "One, two, three, four, I declare thumb—huh?" Their barrettes sparkled—no, glowed—with an aura that soon engulfed them. The scared children tried and failed to pull their hands apart. They were stuck together! Verdana used his free hand to grasp his mother's trousers.

In what felt like slow motion, Frisk slipped away from Sans; a moment later, as Sans turned, a blaze of red magic swallowed his wife and children. His hand reached out to them a split second too late, and he grabbed empty air.

They were gone.

As quickly as the blinding light appeared, it vanished. Frisk could only register three things: One, their children clung to their waist for dear life. Two, they were enveloped in darkness.

Three, they were falling.