Three soft knocks punctuated the sound of a bristly brush stroking through a head of short human hair. Frisk halted her motions and turned to answer.
"Come in."
The grainy hardwood door opened slowly into Frisks spacious bedroom, quarters that were no longer shared between herself and the fluffy cinnamon roll. For personal reasons, Asriel and Frisk had agreed that they were too old to be bunking together, that they could both use the added privacy of having separate bedrooms, and so Asriel took the room directly across from hers. In truth, a lot of the expanse was wasted with both rooms being too big for one person, but there was a certain feeling of liberty that came with the change, and they each had their own bathroom as an added perk.
Not long after this change in venue, Toriel had intercoms installed in each room of the house for ease of communication, something that Asgore felt was long overdue by virtue of he and Toriel sleeping in separate bedrooms - as they always had, even in the Underground, save for some rare and very intimate occasions - especially since hers was on the second floor and his was on the first.
But the matter at hand was something that needed to be addressed face to face.
"Oh, hi Mom."
It was Toriel who stood in the doorframe, which was a bit of a surprise to Frisk. Rarely did Toriel ever knock before entering either of her kids rooms, which led to a few...unscrupulous sightings on her part, seeing things that her children would have preferred she didn't. Her coral sweater and burgundy pants clashed with the immaculate cream carpet that had only recently replaced the old laminate hardwood flooring, one which was thoroughly scuffed with clawmarks and eroded in large patches by water damage, mostly from tears and Asgores watering can.
"Is everything okay, Frisk? You gave us all a bit of a scare downstairs."
Frisks eyes were still locked with the mounted mirror she stood in front of, gingerly bobbing her hair with delicate curving strokes from the brush. Though the worries from earlier were still weighing on her, she was better able to keep her emotions in check this time around.
"I'm okay Mom, just tired is all. Having the darndest time fixing the mess Azzy made of my hair, too."
Toriel giggled to herself and tentatively stepped inside, padding past the onlooking party of stuffed animals lining the walled edge of Frisks cornerside bed. Stuffed characters would have been more accurate, since each one of them was made in the likeness of each of her beloved friends, nevermind that they had all made at least one attempt on her life in ages past. Spindly Papyrus, pudgy Sans with his tiny little slippers, a chibified Alphys in labcoat, Undyne gripping a plastic harpoon, Toriel in her trademark robes, Asgore complete with crown and trident, and of course the dorky prince himself, gripping a bouquet of plush flowers. All hand-stitched by Toriel, and all well worn from night after night of snuggles most aggressive.
Past these she kept walking until she was barely a rulers width behind Frisk, staring into the mirror with her. Her clumpy furred mitts reached for the brush that Frisk was brandishing, who handed it off with a nod as she picked up where Frisk had left off, one clawed hand on her shoulder, letting the brush fall in steady curves and contours, as if she were rolling lint off a piece of clothing.
"It doesn't matter what you do with it, Frisk. You will always be beautiful."
"You're just saying that."
"No, I mean it Frisk. It's no wonder he's so fond of you."
"Moooooom!"
Frisk began swaying, fidgeting like a nervous volunteer at a magic show. Her reflection caught every sheepish detail in her features, even with those sandbag eyelids concealing her chestnut irises. Like any good mother, Toriel took pleasure in embarrassing her children, especially on a topic matter that she could relate to from personal experience, and she was certainly getting her moneys worth here.
"Heehee, you know I'm right!"
That she was and Frisk knew it. Still, it was a very sensitive matter for her, being that Mama Goat was the only one in Frisks close circle of relatives who knew about her secret senpai, as otaku-meganerd Alphys would have put it.
"You didn't tell Dad that I have a boyfriend, did you? I haven't really figured out how I'm going to break it to him yet. I'm still a little afraid how he's going to react to all of this."
"You worry too much, child. I'm more surprised that he hasn't noticed already, but I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear the news. That boy is like family, after all."
It was indeed surprising that father goat was so egregiously unaware of his own daughters clandestine love life. As far back as Frisk could remember, that boy had spent virtually every day with the Royal Family, walking to and from school with her and Asriel, sharing every period and lunch break with them, even coming over for the occasional sleepover in their younger years. He was invited to tag along whenever the family went to Grillbys or whenever they took road trips to visit Undyne and Alphys at the beach (though he would never go anywhere near the water otherwise). They even gave him a nickname to establish a unique identity all his own, because calling him by his usual name was...well, it really wasn't a name at all. And even if it was just an abbreviation of what he was normally known by, it was his and he prized it. The boy was indeed treated like family, so the inevitable discovery that Frisk was courting him would probably not be such a staggering revelation when the time came.
The doubts still remained though.
"Even so, it must be pretty strange to everyone, seeing a human dating a monster."
That it must have been. Even if monster-human relations were at their peak, humans dating monsters was not a very common sight no matter where you went. It was not a practice that was completely unheard of, but it was rare enough to raise eyebrows wherever it was observed, and even frowned upon in some cases, typically by the more reserved and closed-minded individuals of both races.
Toriel was not such a person. Being the caring parent that she was, wishing only for the well-being of her children, Mother Goat washed away that niggling uncertainty with candid sincerity.
"As long as he makes you happy, that's all that matters to me."
Not what Frisk was expecting to hear, but it was reassuring all the same. As strict and protective of a mother as Toriel was, if she approved of the relationship, then breaking the news to Goatdad and the smelly dork was going to be childs play by comparison.
"There, all done."
Toriel lowered the brush and Frisk turned to face her, her hair now in a perfect, fringeless bob. Her gaze was cast downwards towards the five-pointed charm that she was cradling in her petit hands. A Wayfinder, one of three she crafted by hand several years ago, an idea she had ripped from a now-famous Disney game that only recently she had the privilege of playing, at a sleepover during her last summer vacation, with none other than her favorite Aunties, Alphys and Undyne. A shimmering star of sapphire stained glass and silver lining, with a Delta rune etched in its center, painted in vibrant shades of orchid. It was attached to a lightly beaded chain of seashells, held together by simple yarn and minute dabs of glue. A gilded F tailed the end of the chain, twirling in opposing directions, clockwise, then counter-clockwise, then clockwise again. It gave off a soft, silvery luminescence, starkly contrasting the amber fingers enclosing it and signifying that it was in close proximity to the other two - one ruby red with a C, the other topaz yellow with an A - both of which Asriel kept with him at all times.
"I still can't get over it, Mom. It feels so weird with Asriel not living here anymore. Deep down I was happy for him when he left for college, but I cried so much when he did."
Frisk held the trinket out and dropped it into Toriels gargantuan cupped hands, dwarfing her own by at least threefold but trumped in equal measure by Asgores massive meathooks. Its radiance brightened the encompassing fur like sunlight in a room full of mirrors. She simply stared at the pointy bauble in her matted palms, letting out a soft sigh as gloomy memories rose to the surface.
"We all cried when he left, Frisk. It was hard on all of us. Even though he stays in touch with us, it's just not the same around here without him. Even Asgore took it harder than I expected."
Frisk was not alone in her sentiments; everyone had a bittersweet reaction when Asriel left home. Though a proud moment for a parent to witness, seeing their child head off to college, pursuing their dream, beginning the next chapter of their life, the flipside to that reality is that they wouldn't get to see their child as often, going from observing that beaming face on a daily basis to settling for infrequent phone calls and the occasional visit. It was a hard change to adjust to, doubly so for Frisk because of how close the two of them were.
But they were all happy for him, nonetheless. And just as quickly, Toriels bitter recollection was replaced by a more jubilant one.
"But Asgore was so delighted when you finally took up his offer to become Ambassador. You've really helped to soften the burden he carries, and he loves being able to spend time with you."
Handing the trinket back, Frisk slipped it into the knapsack atop her desk, a sleek charcoal-colored pack with a plated strap latch, doubling as both a purse and a bag for carrying schoolbooks. Her private workspace was strewn about with open hardcovers on political science and literature, rough drafts of half-finished essays and crumbs of old, leftover pie. One of her less desirable habits, being somewhat disorganized with her schoolwork, even a little on the slobbish side, but seeing as she pulled straight A's in just about every class she took, Toriel didn't complain.
"Me too, but truthfully, I make a lousy Ambassador. I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Give it time, Frisk. You will learn."
A cliche bit of wisdom, but it was sound in Frisks case. Even if she was inexperienced and unschooled in the field of politics, Frisk had far more knowledge about monster relations than most humans, having spent the bulk of her life among their ranks. She knew them better than anybody, their culture, their sordid history, their struggle to adapt to life on the surface, to conform and integrate into human society. A legend among their people for her selfless deeds, and a friend to so many, Frisk commanded the respect and trust of all monsters far and wide, and her charismatic (if a bit flirtatious) personality made her well-suited to the job. All she needed was a teacher, and being that he was so heavily involved in the world of diplomacy, who better to guide her then the King himself? Her own father, Asgore Dreemurr.
Her father.
"Hmm? What's wrong, Frisk?"
"Huh?"
Frisk shook her head and snapped herself back to reality, forcing herself away from the depressing thoughts that had once again stolen her attention.
Once more though, the evidence was telling.
"Oh, it's nothing, I was just thinking about something."
Again, normally Frisk did a good job of hiding her feelings, but her worries from earlier were stilling weighing on her considerably, and it showed rather blatantly. Frisk was angry with herself for letting it slip so easily again, and she hoped that Toriel would just drop the matter entirely.
Unfortunately, as Toriel was already suspicious from before, it was not to be.
"Oh? What were you thinking about?"
"I...well..."
And try though Frisk might, it was a wasted effort to even attempt to conceal anything from Goatmom. She wasn't doing a particularly great job to begin with, but even disregarding the incident from earlier, Toriels impish wit always caught on to even the slightest of irregularities, and her judge of character was often painfully accurate, almost to the point of scary. She could read strangers, peers and even her students with varied success, but when she chose to read her children, or Asgore, or even close friends like Sans, it was as if they were picture books with large, simple manuscript. She could always tell when something was off, even if she didn't know exactly what or why. It was a mothers intuition at its finest.
"You don't have to hide it, Frisk. We already know."
"Huh?"
Slowly Toriel walked over and sat on the edge of Frisks bed, her tufted tail pointing straight up through a small hole cut into the rear of her scarlet slacks. With a wave of her hand she smoothly brushed the spot beside her and gave it a quick pat, beckoning Frisk to join her.
"Come child, sit with me."
Gingerly Frisk heeded her mothers request and sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. Then Toriel daintily removed the reading spectacles mounted atop her muzzle and massaged her brows, as if trying to rid her eyes of morning sand. She folded her glasses and clipped them to the collar of her violet sweater, then placed her matted palms flat on her lap, one atop the other, and turned to Frisk.
"You've been a little aloof ever since we gave you the news. Asriel took it very well, but you were more reserved, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Usually you're very cheerful and high-spirited, but when we announced that we were planning to have another child, you were surprisingly timid about it, and...well, we're just worried about you, Frisk. This isn't like you."
Frisk let out a soft sigh in the midst of the brewing turmoil but said nothing; she merely stared down at her socked feet as her shy little legs kicked lightly over the bedside. It was a quirky defensive mechanism of hers, a telltale sign that something was genuinely wrong, but even without knowing that, her body language was ripe with discomfort, and Toriels concerns from earlier only grew even stronger.
"Frisk?"
Still despondant, Frisk suddenly felt a large, wooly hand close over her own, squeezing tenderly.
"Please, Frisk...just talk to me. Whatever it is that's bothering you, we can work it out, but you have to tell me about it. Please..."
For one long, pregnant moment, silence hung in the air like a pestilent cloud as Frisk woefully weighed her options. They all sucked, every single one of them. She didn't want to talk about it. She fervently didn't want to talk about it. It was all but guaranteed to cause an upset the second Toriel learned the truth, and she didn't want to spoil the mood, to be the damper on such a joyous evening.
But there was no avoiding it, sooner or later the truth would come out, and it would only continue to brew and boil over if Frisk kept it to herself. It was not going to go away. She didn't want to confess, but life generally doesn't care what you want, and if this was the way it had to be, then ainsi soit-il.
She turned ever so slightly to lock eyes with Toriel again, and spoke.
"When you and Dad announced that you were planning to have another child, deep down I really was happy. Asriel and I had always hoped that you and Dad would get back together one day, and I think it's wonderful that you two are finally mending your relationship after everything that has happened."
For just one second the faintest of smiles flashed across Frisks sleepy mug, deflecting Toriels concerns ever so slightly. Those curtained eyelids of hers were like camoflauge in a way; often they made Frisk look weary and fatigued, even if that was contrary to how she really felt. They were doing a good job of that now, masking Frisks true feelings, if only for a moment.
"And truthfully, I'd love nothing more than to have another brother or sister. But..."
But just as quickly, that morose frown returned in spades, bearing the full brunt of Frisks lament with it.
"...I'm scared..."
"Scared?"
A vacuous stare was all that Toriel could muster as the confusion of this newfound discovery took root. Clearly it was not the answer that she was expecting to hear, and while it addressed maybe one or two of her questions, it also left her with a dozen more to ponder, one of which stood out far more than the others.
"I don't understand, Frisk. What is there to be scared of?"
And Frisks response to that question was even more surprising than the one that came before it.
"That I'll...I'll just be in the way when the baby comes."
"In the way!?"
If Toriel was worried about Frisk before, it was beans compared to what she was feeling now. 'Where was all of this coming from?', she thought to herself.
"Goodness Frisk, why would you think that? Why would you ever think that you're in the way?"
And Frisk couldn't lie. The urge to do so was a strong one, because much as she detested the concept of dishonesty, the alternative disgusted her even more. But she could not lie about something like this, no matter how much it pained her. It wouldn't be right to keep something like this a secret. It wouldn't be fair.
"Because..."
It took every last fiber of Frisks being to scrape together what little nerve she had remaining, but finally she composed herself enough to give her waiting mother an answer.
"...because I'm not really a Dreemurr."
"What!?"
The sudden spike in Toriels voice made Frisk tremble like a dog left out in the cold, and who could blame her? The icy vibes that Toriel was giving off with her stare alone could have made Frisk shiver even if the thermostat had been set to ninety. Her voice became little more than a meek whisper, and she had to turn away to hide the shame in her crumbling visage.
"It's just that...I don't look like any of you. I don't have fur, or horns, or fangs or claws or anything like that. I'm a human, the only human in a family of monsters. What if it confuses the child? What if they ask you one day, 'Mommy, who is that weird human that lives with us?' What if..."
Numbness crept through Frisks veins like frozen molasses, briny pearls racing down her bony cheeks, as her true fears finally came into the light.
"...what if they're afraid of me? What if they hate me? What if...if..."
Frisks gaze fell groundward again, tears falling like raindrops onto the creamy carpet below, as her momentary burst of courage leaked out of her like a sieve, a breach in the wall of her inner defenses, leaving only a palpable sense of desolation to fill the void. As soon as the words left her mouth, the weight of the universe seemed to concentrate itself squarely on Frisks shoulders, as if gravity itself had somehow become stronger, and Frisk had to cup her hands over her eyes to stem the gushing tide of salty rapids streaming down her sobbing face. More than anything, hearing the reaction that Toriel had to this shocking discovery only served to reaffirm just what a rotten person Frisk thought herself to be, and she couldn't fault her mother for being upset with her or even hating her for still harboring such horrible feelings after all this time. In her mind, she deserved no better.
That was what made Toriel and Asgore such fantastic parents though, their patience and understanding, never ones to pass judgment or condemn their children for their shortcomings. When Frisk struggled to make grades in her first year of schooling - a lot of which was on Toriel, as she had no knowledge of Frisks prior education and had to 'feel' her out to find the proper level of curriculum for her - they were accepting of her unique situation and devoted their time and attention to helping her improve; now she was almost a straight-A student. When Asriel still had guilt-ridden nightmares and grappled with the memory of the horrible things he had done in his previous life, they were compassionate, reassuring and supportive as he battled to sort through his grief over the years, bit by painstaking bit. It didn't absolve them of a good talking to in certain cases, but even in those moments when Goatmom and Goatdad were angry and perhaps even disappointed in their children, their love was always there to temper it, never absent from the equation.
This was such a case, and angry though Toriel was, it was not at all in the way that Frisk was expecting her to be. But she was going to get a firm scolding out of it.
"Now you listen to me, child, and you listen good! I don't know what has come over you or where you got these ridiculous ideas from, but I don't ever want to hear you say something like that again! Ever! Do you understand me!?"
Now on both knees, Toriel grabbed Frisk by her sleeved arms, hands as large and soft as feathered pillows, and with strenuous force squeezed Frisks shoulders and shook her like a jammed vending machine, her own carnelian peepers now glossy with saline.
"It doesn't matter if you don't have fangs, or claws, or horns or fur or anything of the sort. It doesn't matter whether you're human or monster, adopted or not. Family is family, regardless of blood. After all these years, haven't you learned that yet?"
Delicately Toriel raised a free paw and brushed Frisks moist bangs aside, revealing that precious straw mug of hers, worn and weathered by the tears she had already shed. Those squinty acorn irises were still cast downward at her socked tootsies, eyes that were ringed by dark, ugly circles, as much of it the result of sheer exhaustion and lack of sleep as it was a byproduct of her own strangled wailing.
"Listen to me very carefully, Frisk. The new baby will adore you just as much as we do. They will look up to you for guidance and support, just as they will Asriel. They will need you both as they grow. You being adopted, being human, makes no difference whatsoever."
Frisk was as silent and unmoving as a granite statue, not at all sure that she believed a single word of what she was being told. Toriel picked up on this immediately, Frisks stony, neutral expression being a giveaway all its own, and opted for another approach instead. Though it was strangely out of character for Toriel and ran contrary to her usual methods, if Frisk could not be swayed through empathy, then maybe logic could help her to see the light of reason instead.
"Let me ask you, Frisk. How many friends have you made over the years? Hundreds, possibly thousands, correct?"
After pondering the question for a few tense seconds, Frisk bobbed her head up and down dubiously, feeling poorly animated as she did, like a ventriloquists puppet.
"And they've all grown very fond of you too, have they not?"
She nodded again, this time without any hesitation. That much was never in doubt.
"So what makes you think this will be any different? What makes you think that the newborn will not respond well to you, when everybody else you know holds you in such high esteem?"
The argument that Toriel made was a sound one and Frisk found it difficult to challenge, but just to cement her case further, Toriel decided to try a little social experiment.
"In fact, here, I want you to list them all for me, name by name. All of your friends. Everyone you can think of."
Both surprised and confused by the nature of her request, Frisks only ad-hoc response was a few rapid blinks in Goatmoms direction, her once-blank pokerface now contorted in a fazed stupor.
"Huh? R-right now?"
"Mmhmm. Go ahead, Frisk."
Though unsure of the meaning behind this little exercise, she was not one to question her elders and did as her mother instructed.
"Umm..."
Unsurprisingly, she began by ticking off those in her immediate family, the white-maned furballs themselves.
"...well, there's you, Mom. And there's Dad. And then Asriel, of course. He's my best friend..."
Then came her wacky relatives, the ossein skelebros from Snowdin who lived only a few houses down, the aquatic royal captain from Waterfall and the brilliant reptilian scientist from Hotland, nine years happily wed with beachfront property off the coast, both hopelessly addicted to a life of crudely dubbed anime and cheap, imported ramen.
"...and then there's Uncle Papyrus and Uncle Sans, and Aunt Alphys and Aunt Undyne..."
And as Frisk worked her way down the registry of her colorful and extensive nexus of contacts, the underlying point that Toriel was trying to make slowly began to emerge, like a groundhog rising from hibernation.
"...and Mettaton, and Doggo, Dogamy, Dogaressa, Lesser Dog, Greater Dog, Grillby, Nice Cream Guy, Onionsan, Monster Kid, Mr Gerson and Muffet and Burgerpants and Bratty and Catty and..."
Like a thunderbolt from Mount Olympus, it suddenly dawned on Frisk that she couldn't even catalog them all on memory alone. There were literally hundreds, thousands of individuals that Frisk had befriended and mingled with in one capacity or another, from the humble Froggits and Vegetoids of the Ruins, to the irritable Gyftrot and the optimistic Snowman - who still resided in Snowdin to this day -, to the competitive body-building Aaron and the tonedeaf Shyren of Waterfall, to the affectionate Vulkin and the lovesick Tsunderplane of Hotland. The list went on and on.
She had touched the lives of so many, and the road ran both ways, for all of them had left an impression on Frisk as well, especially the ones she was closest to, and it showed in her character today. From Papyrus's upbeat, lively pep to Sans's cool, stylish aplomb. From Undyne's brave, loyal spirit to Alphys's blazing passion for all that she took pride in. But the traits that stood out most were the ones that she had inherited from her adoptive family. She had her mothers kind, charitable nature, she had her fathers selfless altruism and tireless work ethic, and of course she had a healthy helping of her brothers unconditional loving sweetness (and a fair bit of his crybaby habits too). She was very much her own person, but she had also taken on shades of all of her friends, everyone she had bonded with over the years, and at last she realized a stunning truth that she had never even considered until now.
She was who she was today because of them.
The cold, deadpan air of menace that had made itself home on Frisks weary mug only minutes earlier had now dissipated completely. Having finally recognized what was most important to her and what she truly meant to those in her life, Toriel seized the opportunity to quash this festering blight once and for all, and she moved in for the kill.
"You see, Frisk? You've made so many wonderful friends over the years. You've won the hearts of so many people. And do you know why that is?"
Frisk shook her head tentatively, not having the slightest clue. Though she knew it to be true, the reason why she was held in such high regard by those closest to her was still an enigma.
"It's because of this."
Toriel replied by pointing an ebony claw squarely at Frisks chest, prompting a confused Frisk to touch a hand to her bosom in turn, feeling somewhat unsettled as she did. Bright, sparkling rays of dazzling crimson danced between the gaps of her tiny digits, the undying light of her ever-burning SOUL.
"This?"
Frisk asked, her tone laced with hints of dismay. This was the reason everyone adored her so much? Because of that shining prize housed inside her mortal husk?
As it turned out, she couldn't be any further from the truth.
"No, Frisk."
Unexpectedly, Toriel corrected Frisk by grabbing her hand and laying it palm flat against the spot where she had pointed only seconds before.
"This."
And then she felt it.
The calm, mute pulse of her beating heart, its hum slow, steady, and in perfect rhythm, like the mellow patter of timpani drums.
"Because of this, Frisk. Because of what a sweet, wonderful girl you are. That is how I know the little one will come to love you too, just as much as we do."
A subtle tinge of glee flickered across Frisks ravaged features for one brief instant, but Toriel caught it in all of its splendor. Though still skeptical to a certain degree, if she really did have as many friends - as she knew she did - through the strength of her character alone, then she must have been doing something right.
Seeing that she was finally getting through to her little girl, Toriel took both of the childs hands into her own and cupped them together, one frizzy palm flat on top, one underneath, like a fuzzy clamshell concealing a hidden pearl.
"So please, Frisk. Please. Don't you ever tell yourself, even for a second, that you're not a part of this family, that you're not worthy of our love, because it's not true at all. You are a Dreemurr, in every sense of the word. You could never be in the way. You're our precious baby girl, our little angel without wings."
Her wrinkly eyes sparkled like glassy garnet beads as the most genuine of smiles made itself home on Toriels gnarled muzzle, beaming from ear to droopy ear.
"And we are so proud of you."
And now Frisk was crying again, rampant and unbridled, but it wasn't for the same reasons as before. This was unabashed, untainted by any trace of shame or self reproach. These were tears of joy that Frisk was now shedding. In all of two seconds the dark mass of despair that had engulfed Frisk only moments earlier had been wiped clean, snuffed out like a torch in the rain, and Toriel could now see it in crystal clarity, that her maternal, nurturing touch had finally won the day.
"M-Mom..."
Was all the weeping girl could mutter before she was enfolded in the snug clasp of Toriels homely embrace, sheltered in a veil of toasty fluff. Her sweater smelled faintly of rich flour and sweet cinnamon, and the earthy fragrance of fresh goldenrod tea was still on her breath. Her vanilla fur was like a dense blanket of warm velvet, a silky, all-encompassing cocoon of comfort and security. There was no fear or uncertainty in the refuge of mothers arms, only an overwhelming feeling of tranquility and a complete release of will. It was a most peaceful sensation, and Frisk lost herself in it as the worries from before melted away like snow left in the sun.
Her life today wasn't at all what she thought it would be, and it was certainly not without its share of challenges and complications, but there was so much for Frisk to be thankful for as well, so much for her to take joy in. She had a family who loved her, more friends than she could count, and the future was so bright it made her eyes tear. And though she was still faced with the dread uncertainty of whether or not Baby Dreemurr would be accepting of her, she felt just a slight twinge or reassurance too. After all, if Goatmom, and Goatdad and Goatbro and all of her wonderful friends loved her as much as they did, why wouldn't the newborn love her too?
And she was filled with DETERMINATION.
When they finally pulled away from each other, there was no more sadness in Frisks expression, no more sorrow in her voice. The fears were still there, lurking beneath the shallows like some malicious, stalking predator, and doubtless they would not be so easy to purge, but at least for the time being, all felt better. The sobbing sniffles had turned to joyful giggles, and Toriel sealed it by planting a warm, loving kiss squarely on Frisks forehead, wiping away the last of her tears with taloned thumbs.
"Now dry your eyes, child. We'll talk about this another time. Tonight you're going out to spend some time with your brother and have some much needed fun."
"Y-yeah!"
Now pumped and primed for a night on the town with Goatbro, Frisk quickly bounced off the bed and slipped on her favorite pair of hiking boots, laces tucked beneath the cuffs of her jeans. Staring into the mirror one last time to inspect herself, she retrieved the heart locket hidden beneath her striped sweatshirt, as shiny and pristine as the day Asriel gave it to her, and looped it around her collar, cyan and gold now clashing against navy and striped magenta. Straightening out her amaranth hoodie, she turned to her mother for the final verdict, arms lazily falling to her sides.
"How do I look?"
Ever the neat freak, Toriel stood and dusted the microscopic bits of debris off of Frisks shoulders with a few flicks of her cottony paws, tidying up Frisks collar as she did. Satisfied, Toriel gave off a warm, beaming grin of approval, brushing aside Frisks dampened bangs to expose every last charming detail of her physiognomy for the world to see.
"Like I said, Frisk. It doesn't matter what you do. You will always be beautiful."
The smile was returned airmail, and a second later their noses were joined together in a matrimony of sweet, nuzzling affection. Frisks colorful collection of handstitched dolls served as the silent audience to this cavity-inducing ritual shared between mother and daughter, with Frisk on her booted tippie toes and Toriel leaning downward, like two Apache dancers in the encore of a hit Broadway musical.
"Hehehe."
Thereafter, Toriel held the door open for Frisk and beckoned her along, guiding the way like the innkeeper of a rustic tavern.
"After you, Frisk."
Slinging her knapsack over her shoulder, Frisk reciprocated the kind gesture with a curt bow and merrily skipped her way out into the hall, the soft plodding of bare feetpaws against thick carpet trailing her as Toriel closed the door behind them ever so gently.
And they walked hand in paw down the stairs, shepherded by the soothing chatter of their caprine kin.