You flip your hand quickly. A fire ignites in your palm, and the child moves back. "No, no, my child. There is no reason to be frightened. I will not hurt you." The child- a girl, you could see now- slowly moves forward. The small red bow in her hair bobs slightly as she reaches out to the touch it. She couldn't have been older than six.
You smiled down at her. She smiled back up at you. This child already loved you, so you would love her back. That's what a mother does, right?
1
You hold back a tear as you watch your child be carried away, through the door into Snowdin. The plastic knife fell from her fingers, but you were too grief-stricken to care. How had she fallen down? Was it a monster who pushed her?
(...)
The next child was rather ferocious. He didn't trust you at first, but then eventually treated you like a mother. It was all fine for the first few years, until... he asked where the others lived. "What?" You had said. "What others?" "The other monsters."
You swallowed, and told him about the rest of the underground. Soon, he insisted on going out. Paranoid and anxious, you let him go.
2
The news that he was dead came barely a week later. They could only find one glove, and sent that one back to you. You placed it in your dresser.
(...)
She was a beautiful girl, with a tutu and a pair of pink shoes. She'd fallen down, and hit the ground so hard she'd broken a leg. She agreed to live with you until she healed, then she would 'escape this damned hole.' You used magic to heal her ankle, and then, since she asked, told her about Asgore. She insisted on going to the barrier.
You said you could accompany her to Asgore's home, but she refused. You said her leg wasn't fully healed. She said it was good enough. You pleaded with her not to leave. She did anyway.
3
News never reached you, but you could assume she was dead.
(...)
The next one was the kindest soul you'd ever meet. They loved baking, and you made many pies together. But, like the last two, they found out about the barrier and Asgore. Unlike the last two, you told them about the children who had died before. They were mildly worried by this, but told you they'd be safer. They wouldn't fight. They'd flee battles.
So you, knowing they'd die like all the rest, left.
4
They at least made it to Hotlands.
(...)
He came next, ready to fight until a standstill. Armed with a toy guy, the child was barely a teen. He cried into your arms, that he was an orphan and he'd come down here because he didn't want to bother living above. He made good friends with Loox. However... after a few years, he wanted to see what else there was.
He had been like your own son.
5
You let him go, hoping he might get to Asgore.
(...)
She was crying from the moment you met her. Her broken glasses were easily fixed with tape, and you could reattach the pages to her notebook, but you couldn't fix her. Eventually, she began to wander around the Ruins, and shared her stories with all the monsters. They enjoyed them, and she started writing more. But she wanted to go back to the surface, to see her mom and dad.
It hurt slightly, hearing her say "mom". But you let her go, knowing she probably wouldn't make it past Snowdin.
6
The next human to fall down would be the key to everything, breaking the barrier and waging war on humanity. But you... you could never do that, seeing all these children.
(...)
You saved this one from a monster, a deranged flower. You weren't sure how long they'd last against monsters, but you knew already. They were determined to succeed.
Frisk was very, very determined to make it home alive.