Frisk was a very clever girl; Intuitive, empathetic, and adaptive. One thing she was not, however, was stealthy, especially not in her current state.
Maybe, if she was already thirteen years old and had been forced to train as a member of the Catai People's Guard, she would be nimbler and quieter. Both of her mothers had entered the People's Guard at thirteen, and both still attended training four times a year – mainly because the government mandated it, but still.
Frisk shuffled down the dark corridor, one hand planted on the right wall, unable to see more than a foot or two in front of her. The lack of vision amplified her other senses; she heard her own breathing and heartbeat; smelled the musty hanging miasma of dust and something else; felt the cold on her largely uncovered body. She inched forward at a snail's pace, terrified to make any noise for fear of what would happen if she was captured…or saved, she supposed. Muffet was intent on protecting her; the Spider Queen certainly wasn't going to just let her charge run off and sacrifice herself.
Why, Frisk could only guess. It seemed that the spider queendom – 'Arachnia', as Abner had called it – had been at odds with Asgore's kingdom for a very long time. She had assumed that Muffet's realm was just a part of the greater Monster Kingdom, but evidently it was its own independent entity that was used to defending itself from Asgore's aggression.
Frisk shook her head, attempting to clear her mind. She had to focus; this was no time to contemplate the geopolitics of the Underground. The girl had no clue where she was going and was, for all intents and purposes, a sitting duck. If she could just get outside, or even just find a window and get her bearings, maybe – just maybe – she stood a chance of escaping. Unfortunately for her, Muffet's lair – clearly an extensive manor or castle of some sort – was enormous and labyrinthine in nature. She spent a very long time wandering the halls aimlessly, passing doors and archways, choosing directions randomly at intersections; she spent an even longer collective amount of time frozen in place, paralyzed in fear at the sound of somebody walking – either the skittering of a true spider's legs or the footsteps of a creature like Muffet – or the echoing of a voice, trying to ascertain where it had come from and if she was in danger of being discovered. A few times, she could have sworn she saw a tall shape standing at the end of the hallway, a pair of glowing, odd colored eyes staring at her, watching her every move. She convinced herself that it was just her mind playing tricks.
It was truly Hell. She could feel her physical strength quickly draining from her as well as her resolve to leave. It was pointless, wasn't it? There was no possible way for her to navigate a path out of this place, and even if she somehow stayed hidden for days, scavenging food and water without being noticed, somebody would realize that she was gone whenever the spiders next checked up on her. The pain in her gut was starting to become more severe now and the cold was starting to really get to her, biting at her hands and feet, invading her unshielded body. Just as she was contemplating giving up, she stopped in her tracks, alert as a frightened doe in the woods.
There had been a sound – the rattling of a suit of metal armor like Undyne wore – followed by a long sigh. It had been very close. Just around the corner, probably. She could turn back and try a different direction…but did she really stand a better chance of getting out if she did that? Being caught was an inevitability as this point. The girl hunched over and slowly, ever so slowly, kept inching in the direction of the sound, finding that there was indeed an intersection. She could hear the idle sounds of the person as they shifted from foot to foot, scratched an itch, and just breathed. A guard of some sort? It would make sense for the Queen of Spiders to have some sort of Royal Guard. Frisk cautiously peaked around the right-hand corner, opposite of the direction the person seemed to be in, and tried to be as quiet as possible as she began walking down that corridor, hoping to come upon another intersection soon where she could move out of the person's potential line of sight – she assumed that the spiders had excellent night vision, which was why the manor was bathed in such complete darkness. She held her breath, thinking that maybe she was actually pulling this off.
No such luck.
There was the dreadful sound of metal on leather as a weapon was drawn. "Hey, you!" A brash, raspy masculine voice exclaimed. "Stop right there! Identify yourself, in the name of the Queen!"
Frisk made a split-second decision. She began to run as fast as her short little legs would carry, abandoning any and all pretenses of stealth. Thundering footfalls pounded behind her as the guard gave chase, still shouting for her to stop. The girl didn't care, she just ran; but she could feel her body beginning to give out now from sheer exhaustion due to her condition. She almost considered stopping and giving herself up, but she never got the chance.
Frisk felt her foot hit nothing but air before she comprehended what was happening. It wasn't until she was actually falling that she let a curse word escape her lips, screaming in terror as she tumbled down a flight of steps and slamming into the stone at the bottom. She lay unmoving on the floor, trying to will the pain away. The girl tried to force herself to her feet, but found her body completely unwilling to fulfil her brain's commands. Her terror rose as the guard descended down the stairs.
"The hell is this?!" he demanded, probably gawking at Frisk's sprawled form. The guard let out an exasperated sigh. "Little moron is probably a stupid quatrapalegio or whatever now." He said to himself, coming closer. "Intruders are supposed to be dead meat anyway; might as well put it out of its misery."
Frisk tried to brace herself for the end, for the blade that was going to be driven through her temple or neck, but found herself unable to. Instead, she felt tears welling up in her eyes and a choked sob force its way out of her throat. This was it. She was going to die; she would never see Mother or Momma ever again; none of her friends, from the Surface or the Underground; she wouldn't even get to taste ice cream one last time. Frisk was going to die bawling like a baby, consumed by darkness. She stared into the inky blackness and saw the same eyes from before, glowing in the dark but apparently unnoticed by the guard; she blinked, and they were gone.
"You there! Stand down!" a man shouted. Hurried footsteps raced down the corridor.
The guard heeded the orders, backpedaling several steps. "Your Highness! I was just taking care of this intruder!"
"This isn't an intruder you stupid brute!" The man hissed severely as a pair – several pairs, in fact – of arms closed protectively around Frisk.
"But, Your Highness-"
"Oh, for Arachna's sake! Just get back to your post!"
"Yes, Your Highness…"
Before the guard could even retreat, the man, this 'his highness', was off, striding down the hallway with the human child in his arms, muttering to himself and cursing under his breath. Frisk was still completely blind; the girl could do nothing but rest her head on the man's chest. She was so, so sleepy. They traversed several more flights of stairs and the man expertly navigated the corridors as Frisk slipped in and out of consciousness. Eventually, they entered an area where many lit braziers adorned the walls, lighting up the darkness, if only somewhat. Frisk looked up at her savior's face. He had grey skin with a slightly purple tinge, shaggy black hair cropped to just below where the ears would be on a human, and five green eyes that looked sternly ahead. The man could be considered handsome – at least by an eight year old human girl's standards – but bore no indicator that he was somebody bearing the title of 'Your Highness'. He wore a long dark blue jacket over a simple white shirt; hardly the attire of nobility.
They passed by a very broad archway opening up into an expansive room. "Mirabelle, we have a situation! Please come to my office at your earliest convenience!" He called out into the room, stopping for the briefest of seconds. Frisk spotted many other humanoid spiders standing around. She wondered where Muffet was.
They passed a few people who looked on in confusion at the sight, of a 'Your Highness' carrying a half-naked, bloodied and bruised child of unknown species through the halls, but the man either didn't notice them or didn't care. Eventually, they came to a wooden door with a large iron knocker; the man entered into a spacious sitting room. Past a curtain, Frisk spotted a long room with several beds. The man took her into a much smaller bedroom and gently laid her down on a low bed. She realized that this room, along with the rest of the little clinic, was lit by electric lights, not fire. The man walked over to a counter and opened a drawer, rummaging around in it.
"You poor thing." He said. "I never intended for this to happen. What were you doing out of your room in the first place?"
It took Frisk a moment to realize that she was being asked a question. "…Asgore." She stated simply.
"Asgore? You were afraid that Asgore was coming to get you?"
"I was afraid that Asgore was coming to get you." She corrected him flatly.
He looked over his shoulder at her, eyeing the girl keenly and smirking as he gathered the meaning of her statement. The man approached her, donning a pair of five-eyed goggles. Frisk smiled at the sight.
"That you for saving me." She said. "If you hadn't shown up…"
"Yeah, I help people." He said. "It's what I do."
"What's your name, mister?"
"Jerith." Muffet's voice came from the doorway. "Doctor Jerith Neith, dearie."
Frisk refrained from meeting Muffet's eyes as the queen entered the room. The woman seemed to have nothing but concern for her, but Frisk couldn't help but feel she was also angry that she tried to leave, or would be if she discovered that was what had happened.
"Just call me Jerith." Jerith clarified. "Or Jay. Everybody else does."
"Or 'Your Highness'." Frisk observed.
"Yes," Jerith conceded, "people do tend to use that to address the brother of the queen."
"Muffet, you never told me you had a brother."
"Yes, well, it really wasn't relevant. I intended to introduce you two at some point. Jerith here is the one that healed you when you first arrived. He's both a skilled doctor and magician."
"Then thank you times two." Frisk said, smiling.
"Ugh, you taught her that silly nickname?" Jerith said, sounding genuinely annoyed. "Really, Mirabelle. You're not a child anymore."
The siblings leered at one another for a moment as Frisk put two and two together in your head.
"Wait…Muffet's name isn't Muffet?"