A/N: This fic is already done, it consists of four main parts and a short bonus ending! If you've read anything else of mine, you should know that things are faaarrr from being sunshine and rainbows, this is no exception. Not trying to deceive anyone, this will get dark as well.

WARNING(s): Religion? Should I warn you about that?

Enjoy!


Chapter One

She should've seen it coming.

Frisk pressed against the wall, ducked under the sweaters and jackets hanging in there. Lines of light striped across her face and she cupped a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the whimpers that threatened to spill out.

She should've expected something like this.

Frisk's shaky hand palmed her necklace through the material of her blue and pink sweater, red staining the sleeves.

She must've fallen into the pits of hell.

Frisk's eyes squeezed shut and her chest felt as if it would burst with contained breaths and erratic heartbeats.

"Where'd you go, sweet thing?"

Forgive, oh god, please forgive her, father.

"Fun fact about me: I love a good chase!"

Frisk has sinned.

The floorboards creaked, she could hear them through the paper thin walls. He was in the hall. Bating her, taunting her. Frisk prayed he wouldn't find her… but how couldn't he? She'd hidden in a closet. She opened her eyes during a stretch of silence. Frisk almost screamed bloody murder when she saw the light from the crack door grow, spilling into the room as the door opened, a pale hand delicately poised on its surface.

Pale hand speckled in red.

"Come, on sweet thing…"

She could hear the sadism in his voice, the joy he derived from all of this.

"It'll be quick I promise…"

Frisk saw the glint of the knife and she closed her eyes again.

Creak… Creak… Creeeeaaaakk…

She was trembling now, hand clenched so tightly around her necklace that the cross had torn through the holes of her sweater and dug into her skin. She stopped breathing all together and it was purely silent.

Forgive me, lord… Forgive my trespasses...

She opened her eyes to red.

"God help me!" She screamed.

He grinned, carmine eyes ablaze with sinister joy, white canines pointed devilishly.

"There is no God down here, Frisk."

x-X-x

She fell.

Frisk looked up at the small spot of light in the very distant ceiling of whatever sort of cave she was in.

How she hadn't died was beyond her.

Frisk laid surrounded by beautiful golden flowers, large petals all glistening with dew. They smelled like honeysuckles and lavender. It was unlike any plant she'd ever known. Unique to these golden flowers. Her brown hair was splayed around her, waves brightened by the sunlight that poured down from far above, bangs curled over her forehead.

She was neither hot nor cold. She was in pain. She was dazed. This isn't something they prepare you for at church.

This must be her punishment for defying him.

Defying God.

Frisk has sinned.

Sitting up was very difficult for her. Her back felt as if it were broken in eight places and her skull felt busted like an egg; yet she only bled from a few scrapes on her legs and arms, gifts from all the branches and shrubberies that had failed to stop her as she rolled into the giant hole that led her here.

She wasn't sure where here was exactly. She had half a mind to call it hell. But would hell have flowers like this? Would it smell this nice?

She saw no child skulls lining the path in front of her, she heard no fellow sinners screaming in unrelenting agony. No one was strung by their entrails, dangling over pits of fire. Instead, she was simply alone.

Frisk brought herself to her feet.

God must have a plan for her yet.

Frisk's sweater dress was torn, creating a sinful split up the side, matching a particularly nasty gash she had running along the side of her thigh- one she had not received from the fall, but from the whipping before. Frisk could still feel the rain and leather on her skin, she could could still hear her own meek little voice counting with each strike ("O-One…. two!). Her tall socks were bunched at the tops of her ankle boots and she reached down to pull them up in an attempt to get warmer and cover her abused legs.

The cave was full of life, yet also empty. Vines climbed the wall, those mysterious golden flowers bloomed neatly in patches. Like someone was keeping up with them. Even the vines looked kempt. Not to mention… There was a path. Little stepping stones made of scintillating crystal. Her brown eyes couldn't pinpoint the color, but it was simply breathtaking.

There was a stone arch ahead, three shallow steps leading up to it. Frisk climbed them with some effort, knees throbbing a little as she bent them. Darkness swallowed her, but then there was light.

Torches lit along the walls and crystals began to glow as well. The flames were pure yellow. No orange or red. A beautiful glow. Frisk was entranced.

She had no desire to take a single crystal, she wished not to remove a single thing from its place… She only wished to know: Just where was she?

She continued down the narrow tunnel with stone walls, clearly man made, not naturally eroded. She hadn't come across a single person, but the place around her seemed rich with personality. She didn't feel lonely. She felt free.

She stretched her arms around herself and spun, dark blue sweater dress remaining close to her body. Frisk began to run, she skipped, she sang hymns.

And no one told her to stop.

There was a bridge ahead and Frisk dashed to it, halting when she noticed tall spikes adorning it. She felt no reluctance, but slowed her pace. She saw a path, it came to her like a memory. Frisk knew exactly which steps to take.

"The lord's light?" She said aloud, unsure how else she was being guided through. With each step, the spikes retracted. Forward, left, right, forward, left, forward again, and she emerged uninjured on the other side.

That was not her last obstacle, either. The lord's light guided her through each puzzle that presented itself to her. This tunnel, cave, whatever she was it… it was extensive, made to keep others out. But she saw the way.

Why?

Why was she permitted? She was a sinner, was she not? Still she took the blessing and counted it.

It had been hours and Frisk felt no more lonely, only tired. Her pace had slowed, but she pressed on. Her necklace swayed from side to side with each step, grazing the swell of her chest. Frisk could hear chatter ahead, laughter too.

She stopped, then.

Just who could be ahead? She closed her eyes and inhaled, uncertainty weighing within. What would they ask? What could she tell them? Her brown eyes reopened, glinting with determination.

The truth, she supposed. She was guided here by the lord's light. She was on the pathway to forgiveness and mercy.

The voices grew more distinctly male as she drew closer. Frisk could see their forms moving ahead, in front of a grand tree which blocked a small, cottage like home.

Her steps grew loud as she walked into fallen leaves, colored like it was autumn. She could hear the strangers rustling as well, their words finally comprehensible.

"Come on Asriel! You're so slow!"

"I'm right behind you!"

"Who has the ball though?"

The forms were running around the tree, kicking a ball. Frisk squinted and her face heated up. Shirtless, they were both shirtless.

Attractively so.

She slapped a hand over her eyes and made a small noise.

Resist temptation, you are on the path of the lord's light.

Once calmed, she dropped her hand… and was just as affected. Though more intrigued this time…

The taller one was pure white, like snow… he had pristine white fur. A face like a goat… though teeth like a wolf's, small horns protruded from his head. There was a blush bleeding through his fur and he seemed to be flustered with what the other was doing. He was built like a lumberer, strong arms and thighs, lean torso. Yet his massive hands and claw-like nails were as clean as the rest of him. Like he hadn't worked a day in his life.

Frisk's eyes moved to the other, a human just like her. He was shorter than the goat-like creature, but not by much. She tried to keep her eyes on his face, which was slim and pale, but her eyes kept dropping to his body.

He reminded her of the first boy she'd seen shirtless.

He was paler than the second.

Slimmer than the third.

Frisk thought about the third again and inhaled a sharp breath.

Her hand traveled under the hem of her sweater dress and she pinched her inner thigh.

Unclean.

This boy was sinewy, petite, yet taller than her. She could see that his pants barely clung to him; the V between his hips like an arrow to dangerous ideas. She had to look away then, not even sure what she would think if her thoughts went any lower.

She could feel her filthy mind working itself, this must be a test. The lord was testing her to see if she would be able to resist temptation; if she would be able to live this second-life unspoiled by greed.

Her legs slowly moved. She approached them, eyes returning to the tall… goat-like person.

He looked monstrous, honestly, but kind. Her heart held no fear; she felt like he would be the kind to listen. She wanted to touch his fur, he was so different… man yet animal.

Man all the same.

She looked to the human, his bone-straight brown hair tied into a short ponytail, large hand pushing his bangs back as he struggled to keep the ball away from the other. He hand the fingers of a pianist, slim, dainty, skilled.

Frisk's heart jolted with fear.

She would be leery of him.

Her crunching steps drew their attention when she was close enough and that's when she met his eyes.

Green. A demon with green eyes. Maybe not a demon at all, then.

"He-Hello…" She said. The boys froze. The kind one stepped forward, "Hello?" His voice was so warm.

"Asriel, get father," the human said, red eyes commanding. The demon, 'Asriel,' looked concerned, he hesitated. "Now," Red eyes emphasized. Frisk recognized a shift in power.

"I won't be long!" She watched Asriel turn and run behind the large tree, his eyes connected with hers before he vanished into the cottage.

Her heart was pounding and to her displeasure, the human stepped closer. He couldn't be much older than her, not a single wrinkle on his smooth face. She could see sweat glistening like diamonds on his porcelain skin.

"I-I don't mean any harm… J-Just lost…" She was stuttering, all the determination she had built up seemed to be sucked away into oblivion.

When he said nothing, she forced her gaze up and jumped slightly at the large grin he was sporting. He was so close to her and still hadn't said a word. His long lashes fanned down as he looked her face over, he leaned forward and Frisk heard him draw in a long breath.

"Still sweet," he said.

Frisk was petrified. This one intimidated her.

"Chara!" The boy turned around and stepped away from Frisk's trembling form and waved. Asriel had returned with… a larger Asriel. He was thicker, taller, horns huge, completed with a long blonde beard and strong face.

The devil.

Frisk collapsed.

x-X-x

She woke to the sound of arguing.

"You've killed the poor creature!"

"She's still breathing, Tori!"

"Ah! Why didn't you come get me, Asriel!?"

"I-I—"

"Don't bring him into this!"

Frisk sat up, sweating under the seven blankets that had been thrown on her. She'd never felt so swaddled in her life.

There was another goat monster, yet they held no horns. They wore a deep purple dress with a modest neckline and waist. Frisk connected them to the female voice.

Asriel caught her observant gaze, "She's awake?"

Everyone turned and Frisk grew self conscious. "Oh thank goodness!" cried the lady demon. She rushed to Frisk's side, "I made you some pie dear, savory… you've got quite a bit of bruising and scrapes from your fall."

Frisk tilted her head, "How'd you know…" She cleared her throat, removing some gravel from her voice, "How'd you know I fell?"

The lady's amber eyes drew away to look back at the devil. He shrugged. The demon boy looked concerned.

"Well, dear… That's the only way you've could've gotten here."

Frisk was unsurprised, "Oh."

As she ate the pie, the monsters (that's really the name of their species, they weren't demons) introduced themselves. Toriel was the woman, wife of Asgore (surprisingly not the devil), and mother of Asriel, the boy. He wasn't a boy really, but Frisk wasn't sure what to call him.

"What about the… uh… the other human?" Frisk asked.

Asriel looked around, "Oh he isn't in here. Uh, that's Chara. My brother. He fell too… a long time ago."

Asgore laughed, "It really feels like yesterday, humans grow very quickly, you see. Compared to monsters, that is."

"Chara," Frisk tasted the name. It tasted like her vocal chords rubbing themselves raw. It tasted like iron. It tasted like pain.

Irrational. She's irrational. Frisk's wounds healed after she finished the pie, including the lashes, though pale scars were left behind as thin scars that wrapped around her calves. She grew very sleepy afterward, Toriel explained that it was normal and then the Dreemurr family left her to rest.

All except one, at least.

He crept in while she slept and tapped her forehead to wake her up. She did so, groggily, her body screaming at her to let her eyes close.

"We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves… Sorry about that," He spoke with a smile. He smelled like those golden flowers, the tang of sweat gone.

"Chara," Frisk said, "Your name is Chara."

He chuckled lowly and looked over her face like he had done earlier, "It is. But who are you, sweet thing?"

The tiny hairs on the back of Frisk's neck stood up, "Why do you call me that?" She asked quietly. His carmine eyes widened a little and he stepped forward to sit on the edge of her bed, "Because it's what you are…" His fingers grazed her cheek, "Sweet…" He lifted his hand away, simpering. Frisk's heart flipped, but so did her stomach. She stared into the red pools of his eyes, the air grew palpable, she wasn't sure what with.

What is it with him?

Why did he speak like he knew her?

"I'm sorry if I come on a little strong…" He broke the silence, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck, "Never, uh, seen a human girl before. At least, not that I can remember."

Frisk's brows lifted, so that's what all this is about. He's curious. "O-Oh…" She said quietly, sleepily, "Well… My name is Frisk, then. I'd prefer you call me that as opposed to…"

"Sweet thing?" Chara smirked, "Very well, Frisk." The way he said her name didn't really help. He met her eyes again, they looked calmer now, "I suppose I should let you rest now, hm?"

Frisk stared at him, did he want her to say yes? Isn't that rude? "I… I am tired," She replied neutrally. She felt the mattress raise as he stood, dressed in a dark green sweater, collar of a button up peeking out from around his neck. "Very well," he said. "Sweet dreams, Frisk…"

She closed her eyes.

The dreams weren't sweet at all.


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