AN: Hey again guys! I'm super sorry that I haven't written in awhile but I've had a terrible case of writers block. But, I think I've got it back now so expect more frequent updates! Also, just a heads up, we're at the point in the story where some really dark themes are going to manifest so just a little warning there. The song Frisk is supposed to be singing in this chapter is Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey if you want to check that out! Other than that, happy reading!
Chapter Nine: Paying in Naivety
Of coarse the dress didn't fit. Frisk's bust was a size up from Chara's and her thighs were much thicker so instead of the sheer sequin covered dress that was usually worn for the number, Frisk ended up a still skin tight red dress with a slit up the side and a collar that was cut a little too low for her taste but there was no time to change it. They'd applied a minimal amount of makeup to her face: Ruby red lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. She had a natural flush due to the fact that her heart was beating all the way up in her throat so blush wasn't needed. As she looked in the mirror, she realized just how much she hated her image. She pressed on her stomach and rubbed her pigmented lips together, almost wishing she hadn't volunteered for this but it was too late now. They were already ushering her into position. She stood in the middle of the stage with the curtains closed as the girl who was helping her get dressed, Shyren, strapped the angel wings onto her back and adjusted them so that they were center.
Mettaton felt like he was going vomit as he looked at her standing out there. She was so young.. so innocent and he'd let her just walk out there completely unprepared. He was praying to gods that he didn't believe in that this would go smoothly and that this entire situation would turn out okay. He didn't have much time to prepare for it, however because the curtains were already opening and the girl was met face to face with the awaiting crowd. She couldn't see much due to the bright stage lighting but she'd managed to catch the horrified look on Grillby's face from way in the back before the musical cues filled her ears.
The lighting was dim and the stage was full of smoke, a single spotlight casting her in light. She took a few confident steps forward, her angelic voice belting the first line of the song with ease. Nobody had ever heard her sing before but the sound of her voice echoing into the silent room sent shivers down everyone's spine. All eyes were fixated on her. She was owning the stage. She followed the simple choreography perfectly, even adding her own bit of flare here and there but never once missing a beat. She looked like a natural up there even though she was inwardly freaking out. She couldn't see anyones reaction. Did they even like her? Was she doing well? She tried not to focus on that part and performed her little heart out. After all, Mettaton had been hesitant enough to send her out tonight so this could be her last chance to do what she'd always wanted to do. The moment was so surreal and before she knew it, the curtains were closing an a roaring crowd.
All eyes were on her the moment she re-entered the dressing room, a mixture of pride and disbelief on their faces. Mettaton was the first to step forward and throw his arms around her and fill her ears with words of encouragement. Despite the danger of it all, he was proud of her. She'd done beautifully and if the circumstances were different, he'd let her go on all the time. It was time they had a little chat.. one that he wasn't looking forward to. All of the girls and the stagehands were talking at once, congratulating her and boosting her confidence when a heavy, slow clap formed in the background. Mettaton couldn't hide the horror on his face as he looked up and saw two massive figures lurking in the shadows as Flowey stepped into the light, still smacking his hands together. A sickening smile twisted his features and it was obvious he meant business.
"Well done, my dear," he purred, stepping closer to the pair. "Well done. Forgive me for not using your proper name, but it seems that we haven't been properly introduced." He tisked in Mettaton's direction when he pushed Frisk behind him. The man looked so desperately at the crime boss. He'd take the punishment for this as long as it meant Frisk would be safe.
"Flowey please.. leave the girl out of this. She had nothing to do with this, it was all my idea."
"Oh, I believe that," he said with a soft chuckle, "Who knows, maybe its my fault. Maybe I haven't been keeping a proper eye on you. Maybe I've given you too much freedom. I should have known that you'd convert back to your old ways eventually. You just had to take in the stray. You couldn't let her roam the streets all helpless and alone, could you? I will give you props though. You almost had me fooled. In fact, you probably would have had I not run into our angry little diva on her way out the door. What? You didn't think she'd tattle?" He reached up and placed a hand on the dancer's face, brushing his thumb across his high cheekbone. "But let me ask you this, Mettaton.. Haven't I taken enough from you? Your family.. your livelihood.. your virginity... But it seems I haven't taken enough." He snapped his free hand and his thugs came to his side, causing all of the girls to cower where they stood. This only fueled Flowey's fire. Mettaton, on the other hand, was quivering. Just that small touch was enough to make him relive memories that made him sick. His words weren't comforting either.
"Flowey, please.. she's just a child.." he begged, fighting back tears. He didn't want to show his weakness, but he couldn't let him do this to someone else. "I'll do anything.. just let her go.."
"If she's old enough to dance on my stage, she's old enough for what comes next." He nodded his head and one of his men grabbed Frisk from behind. Her eyes went wide with fear and the softest whimper escaped her.
"W-what does he mean by that..?" she hadn't wanted to speak, but her curiosity got the better of her. Flowey ignored her of coarse, keeping his attention focused on Mettaton.
"Oh, don't give me that look darling.. you should feel relieved! Someone's already paid me in cash for her, so at least we don't have to stick her on stage in front of everyone wearing nothing but her underwear like we do for these poor girls."
"Why are you punishing her for something I did?!" Mettaton asked in a harsh tone, narrowing his eyes at the shorter man.
"Isn't it obvious? The punishment isn't hers.. its yours. How many times have I told you Mettaton? You can't save them all. Take her away."
Frisk screamed for her friend the entire time she was drug away and he'll never forget the look of pure betrayal on her face as he watched her disappear. She'd always wondered what the rooms on the lower floor were used for but she never expected she'd get her answer by being shoved into one. The door was locked from the outside so no matter how hard she tugged on the handle, it wouldn't open. She didn't need to look behind her to know she wasn't alone either but the voice she heard sent chills down her spine.
"Hey sweetheart," Sans cooed from the bed before pushing to his feet. "Remember me?"
