Chapter Two: It sings to me inside

"Fuck yeah!"

This was followed by Undyne grabbing both Frisk and Asriel into her arms and lifting them above the ground in a tight, fierce hug. "Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fucking awesome!"

"Ow," Asriel gasped out, but Frisk was used to years of this and merely giggled out her reaction.

"Hello!" Alphys waved from behind Undyne to shut the door – and then to join in on the hug, surprising both Asriel and Frisk. "Congratulations!"

The moment the two were released, Frisk hugged each of them in return, though Asriel remained a bit aloof, unsure of how else to react. With a kind smile, Alphys led them into the living room, where they sat on the well-worn couch, Undyne and Alphys sharing their favourite chair.

"So," said Alphys, "you wanted some wedding advice?"

Frisk nodded. "I have no idea where to start when it comes to things like clothes and stuff. Where do we go?"

"Underground for Asriel," Undyne said at once. "The surface is great, but you want privacy, and Underground is best for that."

Asriel nodded in agreement.

"You're easier, Frisk," Alphys said. "You can do both, but I'd also recommend Underground. You're both… kind of a hot topic at the moment."

That was true. In the year that had passed, the media couldn't get enough of the two, despite their myriad attempts of avoiding them. No amount of dark clothes, hoodies, and sunglasses protected them, to the point in which Frisk had to work from home and Asriel not at all. (Though he did become addicted to online gaming, and soon had his own Let's Play channel – minus the face-cam, of course.) It was so bad that their incognito attempts became almost a fashion statement – but still not enough to protect them.

"Do you think we can keep this a secret?" wondered Asriel now.

Both Alphys and Frisk snorted, and Undyne rolled her eyes. "Of course not, kid-boy," she said. "If they don't already know by now, I'd be shocked.

Asriel made a face at that, especially at the use of 'kid-boy'.

Alphys looked thoughtful. "Do you need help? I can recommend a few placed and can help you choose."

"You?" Undyne teased. She knew her wife's idea of dressing up was a dressy shirt over new jeans.

"Well, not me, but…"

"Darling Goat Children!"

The Underground's main presentation stage, located in Hotland, was crowded, but luckily Asriel and Frisk managed to avoid the crowds via VIP passes. Once backstage, Mettaton greeted them with an overjoyed expression, practically dancing on the spot. Frisk grinned, but Asriel blushed; he never knew when Mettaton was being serious or not.

"So," Mettaton said now, throwing his arms around their shoulders with a grin. "You're getting married traditionally and need my help, do you?"

"Just clothes," Frisk said, but Mettaton scoffed. "Nonsense! I must help for the whole event!"

"Uh," Frisk tried again, but Mettaton was already steering them away, talking so fast and excitedly that there was no other chance to get a word in.

"This is stupid. I look stupid. I quit this stupidity."

Frisk kicked the door of the change room with her foot – currently covered in a flat, shiny shoe. "You're stupid for sure if you don't show me," she replied.

"Asriel, dearie, do be a good kid and come on out," Mettaton sang, though there was a sharp edge to his voice. "Frisk has."

There was a pause. "She has?"

"Yep," agreed Frisk.

Mettaton had managed to pay off the clothes store owner quite a sum of gold for privacy, and now they could finally breathe without fear of being caught by a camera (or a hundred). But this still didn't help Asriel's shyness.

"Come out now, or I'll come in and get you," Mettaton warned.

The door immediately opened to reveal Asriel, wearing a lovely mid-calm kilt and a clean-pressed blue shirt beneath a tailcoat of the same material as the kilt – a dark blue and green tartan threaded with black. Asriel was scarlet, his eyes on his feet, his hands limp at his sides. "Stupid," was all he said.

Frisk stared at him, now scarlet, herself. Her hand went to her mouth, then to her nose, before her eyes flared and she turned away, both hands at her nose now.

Mettaton was grinning smugly, arms crossed over his chest. "Gorgeous."

Asriel looked up to glare in response – but saw Frisk instead, and any words he wanted to say died in his throat, replaced by dizziness. She wore an ankle-length kilt, of the same tartan as he, another swath of it wrapped around her shoulder to her waist over a close-fitting emerald blouse, her flat shoes of the same colour. Though her hands were still up, and she looked embarrassed, she also looked beautiful.

"Holy shit," he whispered, and she turned to him with a shy smile, before saying, voice muffled, "Back at you."

Both suddenly received light smacks upside their heads. "Never doubt my taste again!" Mettaton chastised. "Now may I plan the wedding, based on this success?"

But they were ignoring him, already embracing, Frisk keeping one hand up but still able to hug. They were whispering to each other, occasionally giggling between words, not used to seeing each other like this but loving it.

"I'm taking that as a yes!" said Mettaton with triumph. Before they could even agree or disagree, he was already gone to pay for the clothes – his wedding gift to them.

The Throneroom was beautiful during the day, but almost ethereal at night. Though the stars were too far up to even be seen, their light could be, and the now set-up room, filled with benches and a raised dais at the front was also lit with candles along the walls, giving the room a gentle glow.

Frisk walked slowly with Asriel, hand-in-hand, as they examined the beautiful work that was both from Mettaton and Toriel. The flowers curled around their feet and ankles, a pleasant floral smell like no other filling their senses. The skylights provided a beautiful, abstract pattern upon the entire room, and neither had imagined such beauty.

"It's perfect," Frisk whispered, squeezing Asriel's hand.

He had been nervous coming here, the last time's memory holding no kindness for him. But with Frisk there, as well as with new eyes, he could see the true beauty before him.

It was finally the day before the ceremony, and though she thought she should be, Frisk wasn't nervous. Instead, she felt excited, jubilant, as if she could cup the stars and dance their dance, she felt so happy.

"It is perfect," murmured Asriel, as if a louder voice would somehow shatter it.

"So perfect," agreed Frisk. "All of it. Even if Mettaton makes it into a stupid event." She pointed to the wall-mounted cameras, and he scowled, but then shrugged; it was a small price to pay for a good ceremony, he figured.

Frisk turned to him. "Are you nervous? Having second thoughts?"

Asriel stared at her. "Are you stupid? Of course not. I guess I should be, but I'm not. Maybe I'm stupid."

She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled warmly. "No, my love," she replied happily. "Not even a bit."

He hugged her, then, a little teary, and she held him close, stroking his ears gently. "Tomorrow," he whispered into her shoulder.

"The start of the rest of our lives," she finished with a deep sigh.