[AN] So, about those "more regular updates". I lied. I'm a liar. I've cheated you all. Also, it only occurred to me after I published the last chapter what I had done: I've made a character who is yellow with lines for eyes in-game into an Asian in my headcanon. I'm not racist, I promise. Also, I still can't get the formatting on this site to cooperate - any italics in the text cause all of the text to be italic, non-alpha-numeric characters cease to exist, and the text gets smashed together with only a single line-break between everything whenever I hit "save". Anybody have a solution?[/AN]
Furry-folk were starting to pool up in the town square, hundreds of them by the time Sans and Undyne arrived on the scene. Sans balanced on his tiptoes, trying to see over the rabbits, squirrels, and various other critters in the front of him to no avail.
"What's happening?" he asked.
Undyne shifted on her feet as well, trying to see past the throng. "I dunno; I can't see either. I think I see some guys from the Dog Regiment up there."
"So, what? The Guard is making a special announcement?"
"If they are, I wasn't told about it." Undyne frowned. She was the captain of the Royal Guard. Everything from Waterfall west was in her jurisdiction. Why hadn't anybody called her about this?
After failing to solicit information from a couple of nearby locals, Undyne decided to take matters into her own hands. She began to forcefully shove her way through the crowd, barking about "official Royal Guard business", while Sans followed close behind offering nods and casual greetings as they went. Apparently, not many people recognized the famous Undyne without her intimidating suit of armor; most just cast confused, annoyed looks at the fish-woman.
"What's going on here?!" she demanded, bursting through the other side of the throng.
Standing on a small wooden stage before them were indeed several members of the local Dog Regiment, standing at attention with their shields and swords firmly planted on the ground. Another dog – a black and white Husky – turned around to face Undyne, icy blue eyes flashing an annoyed glare at her before realizing who she was.
"Madame Captain!" The Husky jumped down from the stage and stood at attention, saluting, his cold steel armor strangely silent as his weight shifted.
"Aron, what's the meaning of this?" She demanded. "Why wasn't I told about...whatever is going on here?"
"My apologies, Captain." Aron said with a frown. "This all happened very quickly."
"And what exactly is this? I—"
Undyne looked past him, up at the stage. A large rabbit-man stood in the center, enormous arms tied behind his back, a black canvas bag thrown over his head. Floppy white ears poked sadly out from under the bag as his he looked slightly in Undyne's direction.
Aron simply watched Undyne's expression change from confusion, to incredulity, to outrage. "I'm afraid it's very necessary, ma'am." He explained. "This rabbit, he's….he's killed two men. One of them was mine."
Undyne blinked; once, then twice, looking between Aron and the rabbit. If one looked closely, they could see that the rabbit's fur was indeed matted down with a substance that could only be monster dust.
"Corduroy acted in self-defense!" the rabbit-man roared indignantly, his voice a deep, thunderous boom that rumbled across the town center. "Corduroy ain't done nothing wrong!"
Two dog-guards moved closer to Corduroy, swords drawn and poised to pounce should the rabbit descend into a violent rage.
Aron looked up at Corduroy solemnly. "We're waiting for word from HQ on what to do with him." He said flatly, his voice not matching his expression at all. "Since he's killed both a soldier and a civilian, it's unclear if he should be tried by a military tribunal or royal judge. Until we find out, we're obligated under King Asgore's Fundamental Laws of the Realm to hold him prisoner and announce to the public the crime he is accused of."
"Corduroy ain't done nothing wrong!" The rabbit rumbled again. "He was only protecting his flanny!"
Undyne shook her head, a little overwhelmed. It had been…ages since she had to deal with something of this magnitude. It had just been patrols and breaking up drunken brawls for so long that she was totally out of practice.
"Alright, alright, so…tell me exactly what happened?"
Aron grimaced and waved one of the guards over. A tall, grey dog with floppy ears and big brown eyes approached sheepishly. "Tucker, tell the Captain here what you saw."
The dog, Tucker, looked between Aron and Undyne uncertainly for a moment. His eyes dropped to Sans, who merely gave him a nod and a friendly "how's it goin?". With noticeable effort, the dog-soldier began to speak. "W-well ma'am, I was out on m-m-my patrol, o-over by t-the Akito T-t-trail, w-w-with my p-partner, R-rudy, and w-we heard a s-sound c-coming from the w-woods, like somebody w-was h-h-hurt." He paused and stared down at the snow.
"Go on, corporal." Aron urged him.
"A-a-and we w-w-went into th-the trees, and f-found a c-cle-clearing, a-a-and th-th-ere w-was a h-h-head and t-t-the b-big r-rabbit h-he t-t-took a b-big r-r-r-rock and—" Tucker broke off, clearly very upset. It was clear the poor oaf wasn't meant to be a soldier.
"And where's this Rudy?" Undyne asked. Aron threw her a solemn glance as she realized the situation. 'He's killed two men. One of them was mine.' Warily eyeing the restrained rabbit, she asked, "So, who was the other one?"
"We don't know." Aron stated. "He was a scaly from Hotland, as far as we can tell. We haven't been able to get anything coherent out of the rabbit, and as far as we know there are no other witnesses."
"So, if he…if those two were unlucky, how did you catch him?"
"He chased the corporal all the way back to the barracks in some psychotic rage." Aron shook his head, an uneasy chuckle escaping his throat. "It was…terrifying. Took eight of us, plus the big guy," On stage, a large, fluffy white dog rivaling Corduroy in size tilted his head in their direction. "to take him down."
The group stood in silence for a moment, the nervous chatter of the crowd washing over them.
"Hey, I know it isn't any of my business," Sans spoke, jerking his head in the direction of the throng. "but what are you gonna do about that? Something tells me the locals won't take kindly to one of their own getting punished over a Hotlander."
Undyne exhaled a long breath. "We'll burn that bridge when we get there."
A long gown flowed down Frisk's legs and pooled around her feet. She swished the fabric back and forth on the floor experimentally, frowning, as Muffet toyed with the poor human's hair. It was strange color that played tricks on Frisk's eyes – sometimes blue, sometimes purple, sometimes red, sometimes all three at once in varying capacities. The gown was made of the same material that most of the other articles of clothing in the castle seemed to be made of – silk; specifically, spider silk from the royal tailor, crafted exactly to Muffet's measurements of Frisk. It amazed Frisk how versatile the silk was – depending on the thickness and exact composition, it could be used to make everything from undergarments to blankets to ball gowns. She supposed it was a prime example of 'making do with what you have'; if there was anything spiders should have no shortage of, it was silk.
Muffet finished fixing up what remained of Frisk's hair, drawing it up into a bun in the back while leaving two locks of hair on each side of her head. The spider-woman clapped and laughed giddily as Frisk studied herself in the mirror.
"So, dearie, what do you think?" she asked excitedly.
"It's…" Frisk looked for a word, furrowing her brow.
"Beautiful? Amazing? Adorable?"
Frisk digressed with a smile. "I love it, Muffet." She said, wondering if it was a lie; she didn't dislike it.
"Wonderful!" Muffet grabbed Frisk by the shoulders and pulled her into the center of the bedroom. "Let's review a few things: if offered food, you…?"
"Eat it only with a fork made of white metal."
"If offered tea?"
"Drink with my pinky extended and in three to six second sips."
"And if asked to dance?"
"Politely decline and say that humans are hopelessly inferior dancers to spiders." This rule had been added only after Muffet had discovered that this seemed to actually be true, with several crushed toes to show for it.
"And if anybody says you look tasty, or any related adjective?"
"Remind them that I am a guest of the Queen."
Muffet pounded several fists into several hands. "By Arachna, you've got it, dearie. I think you're as ready as you will be."
As if on cue, three curt knocks came at the door. "May I come in?" Jerith inquired from the other side.
"What's the magic word?" Muffet demanded.
"May I come in please?"
"Try again!"
"May I come in pretty please?"
"One more try!"
"Mirabelle!"
"Fine, fine!"
Jerith opened the door and slipped into the room, closing it behind him. "They're waiting for you. I suggest we hurry before Ava Stithmal leaves with her entire clan. The Rositeshas too. And the Lefcorroras. Honestly, the Stithmals are the only thing keeping any of the eastern clans here."
"Relax, brother!" Muffet exclaimed, placing her hands on Frisk's shoulder. "You're making poor Frisk nervous. Look at how pale the little dearie is!"
Jerith grimaced, shoving a pair of hands into his pants' pockets. The prince was dressed in a very sharp midnight blue suit with a white shirt beneath. It occurred to Frisk, as she studied the suit, that she had never noticed how spider clothing had six sleeves to accommodate all of the arms. The color of Jerith's tie matched that of Muffet's dress, a dark magenta.
"Look, I'm sorry," Jerith addressed Frisk. "but I can't let you go out there without understanding the gravity of the situation."
"Jay! You insult her intelligence." Muffet scoffed, only somewhat jokingly. "She's made it this far – she outsmarted the Royal Guard and almost made it past Asgore himself." Frisk winced at the mention of the king's name; she hadn't thought about her near-death experience for a while. "She perfectly understands how much is riding on this. Don't you dearie?"
Frisk blanched and nodded slowly.
"Oh, Mira! You've just made her more nervous!" Jerith snapped.
"You're the one who wanted her to be nervous!"
"I never said that! I wanted her to understand what she was getting into!"
"Which she perfectly understands!"
"So why did you have to remind her?"
"Why did you have to remind her?"
The siblings took several steps closer to each other, eyes burning with anger. Frisk could practically feel the tension between them as they leered at one another over her head. She was an only child, but she had witnessed some of her friends quarrel with their siblings with similar intensity. The girl grabbed Muffet's dress and Jerith's sleeve, giving them both a tug. The two looked down at her sheepishly, as if they had just been scolded.
"I don't want to think too hard about it." Frisk said. "I just want to get it over with."
After a moment, Jerith nodded. "Of course." He looked back to his sister. "You should go make your entrance. After, oh, ten minutes, I'll bring her out and we'll present her to the court. How's that sound?"
"As good a plan as any." Muffet replied. After making a few last minute tweaks to Frisk's hair and wishing her good luck, she was gone.
Jerith let out a long breath and leaned against the wall, producing a pocket watch and studying the time closely. Frisk stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, simply staring at Jerith. The man was still something of an enigma to her – she had never really been alone with him, and when he was around the topic of discussion was always either her, the Underground, or the Surface. Leaning against the wall like that in his suit, looking down at the watch, Frisk might have mistaken him for a pale human if it weren't for the extra arms.
As if sensing her gaze, Jerith looked up at her and smiled reassuringly; though he was better as this than Muffet, the smile still exposed a pair of long, intimidating white fangs. There was just something innately predatory and malevolent about the spider-people that Frisk couldn't get past.
"Knock knock!" A little voice exclaimed, barely audible. Jerith stepped towards the door. "Knocks-ity-knocks! It's ya' lil' buddy Abner!"
"Come in." Jerith allowed the smaller spider entrance. Abner scrambled beneath the door, apparently never needing permission to begin with.
"Abner Petra, reportin' for duties ya' Highness!" Abner announced proudly.
The size difference between the two spiders was comical – Abner was no larger than Jerith's thumb. She wondered how the kind of spider that Jerith and Muffet were came to be as the two spoke, but that conjured up…unpleasant images in her head.
"Frisk, I believe you've met Abner before?" Jerith asked. Frisk nodded. "He and his family have been loyal servants of House Neith for a long time. You can trust him."
"I'ms gonna ride around ons ya head!" Abner declared, skittering towards Frisk.
"Yes." Jerith confirmed, seeming a bit unnerved by the smaller spider's enthusiasm. "Abner will be your, uh, lifeline at the ball, giving you any important information you might need and notifying Mirabelle or me if things go wrong. Just give him the word and we'll have you out of there in a flash." After a moment, he added, "Not that anything will go wrong. It's just, um, a precaution."
"I tooks good cares of you before, Frisk, I'll keeps takin good cares of ya'!"
"In public, she is Princess Ming Li of Dyuzhimin." Jerith informed him.
"Princess of Doozyman, got'cha."
"Just call her 'my lady'."
"Got'cha again. No worries, ya' Highness." Abner scampered over to Frisk's shoe. "May I, m'lady?"
Frisk nodded, and Abner monkeyed his way up the gown, onto her shoulder, and up into her hair. The girl resisted the urge to shudder, still greatly disliking the feeling of spider legs on her. Looking in the mirror, she found Abner nearly invisible while hidden beneath the bun Muffet had tied.
"Lookin' good, Miss Lady Frisk."
Jerith snapped shut the watch and pocketed it. With a quick glance at his own hair and a few awkward attempts at making sure Frisk's bun properly concealed little Abner, he opened the door with a flourish. "Everyone's waiting for you, my lady."
Frisk took a deep breath and walked out into the corridor. "Yous gonna do great, m'lady." Abner assured her, hunkering down for the ride.
"Thanks." Frisk replied, trying not to think of the arachnid nesting in her hair.
Jerith led the way, suddenly standing up much straighter and wearing a stoic expression. He wasn't 'Jay' anymore; he was Prince Jerith of Clan Neith. Frisk followed behind uncertainly, glancing from side to side occasionally, unable to shake the uncanny sensation that she was being watched. Their path was much shorter than the one Frisk remembered; before she knew it, they were going down a well-lit corridor line with murals, tapestries, and other ornate works of art depicting spiders and spider-humans. She vaguely remembered it from when Jerith had rescued her from the guard.
Frisk's blood froze as she heard the chatter of conversation. Muffet, Jerith, and Abner were the only people she'd spoken to for ages.
"Prince Jerith!" a woman's voice called out. "I have someone I'd like you to meet!"
"I'd love to later, Lady Deolia," Jerith replied cordially, "but I must be getting to the throne room. I have important matters to attend to – you understand."
Frisk kept her head down, glimpsing at the dark crimson and saffron dresses of the woman and her companion ahead.
"Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me for—" The woman choked on her words as she saw Frisk. The girl risked glancing up and saw the woman's shocked expression, all five eyes wide in disbelief. Frisk sensed no malice from them; simply confusion.
She felt herself stand straighter as she looked up and ahead, smirking slightly at their dumbfounded gaze following her as she walked past, and the dozen others that she solicited along the way to the throne room.
"Yous already knockin' em dead, sistah!" Abner whispered excitedly.
Frisk grew more confident, even flashing a smile at a man who dropped a glass of some deep purple liquid – presumably wine – to the floor in surprise, splattering it all over a woman's white dress.
Jerith and Frisk soon came to the grand archway that served as the entrance to the throne room, the royal court. Hushed voices chattered back and forth as a hundred eyes turned to gawk at Frisk.
"Ready?" Jerith asked in a low voice.
Frisk smiled, stepping through the arch, feeling like an astronaut stepping onto another world, the gown her space suit and nobles a bizarre alien race. "As ready as I'll ever be."