Author's Note: This is re-posted. The original is on AO3. There are currently more chapters and will be more detailed notes on AO3. I also have never done anything in yet, so please tell me if I did something wrong. Now, whichever site you choose to use, please engage and enjoy!
"welp, I'm going to grillby's. papyrus, do you want anything?" Sans muttered.
The skeleton slunk off behind a pillar. Frisk clenched all their muscles in anticipation of a trick. After a minute, they were just confused. They took a reluctant step forward and checked behind the pillar Sans had disappeared behind. Dust. There was a pile of dust. The comedian had finally failed.
Frisk laughed in relief. For a bit, Frisk thought they might never escape. He was more unnerving than Undyne had been, but ultimately didn't last much longer. Finally, the last obstacle was gone. Unless…
No, Frisk decided it was best not to count themself out just yet. The six human souls… if Asgore or Flowey had taken them, there might be another world of hurt in store.
These are the thoughts that flooded Frisk's mind as they took tentative steps one at a time towards Asgore and his throne room.
Flowey was Frisk's ally, in a certain way. He thought of Frisk as his childhood playmate, Chara. Flowey wasn't too far off, but it didn't matter at all. He was probably too much of a coward to do anything to his best friend. Asgore was just as much of a coward himself, if not more. Frisk decided they were probably safe.
As Frisk stepped into the throne room, Asgore turned to face them. Asgore began talking, but Frisk tuned him out. Something about the room felt off. There were the distant notes of some song.
This melody wasn't like the noise Frisk could always hear in the underground. It was more real and present. It seemed to be coming from a real instrument. Along with that, while the notes were unfamiliar, the vibe seemed strangely similar to the song Frisk heard after their every death. The one fueling them with determination. Except, the song wasn't fueling Frisk with determination, but… dread? No, that wasn't it. Guilt? Not quite that either.
The words "flower warned me about" pricked Frisk's ear. Of course he was a traitor as well. Frisk wasn't surprised in the least bit.
Still, something about the room felt odd, almost foreboding. Perhaps it was just Flowey's presence, or maybe Frisk was just paranoid after that skeleton came from nowhere.
Frisk made a conscious effort to ignore the sensation. Then, they started a battle with Asgore.
"Why not settle this over a nice cup of tea?"
Swish! It wasn't really much of a battle.
"Why? You-"
Friendliness pellets appeared around Asgore, then closed in and killed him, leaving his soul, which was destroyed in the same fashion. Afterwards, a familiar weed popped up in front of Frisk.
"See, I- I never betrayed you! It was all a trick, see? I was waiting to kill him for you. After all, it's me, your best friend. I'm helpful! I can be useful to you! I promise I won't get in your way! I can help! I can- I can-" Flowey begged.
"Please don't kill me!"
A loud, crunchy slash rang out through the throne room. It was followed by a harsh scream, abruptly choked off by the next slash. Then the next, and the next, and the next, and the next and the next and the next until the flower standing before Frisk was nothing at all.
"Your best friend too? That lil' plant's pretty popular, ain't he?" someone else commented.
A tumbleweed rolled between Frisk and the stranger. They stood next to the former king's throne, leaning on it. They were facing away from the murder. They also wore a hat, reminiscent of that from a western film. Its duller brown contrasted with the golden bandana the cowboy wore around their neck. The rest of their attire had a similar appearance to their hat, which was pulled down over their face, obscuring it in shadow.
"Then again, you don't look much like the friendly type," they added.
Frisk raised an eyebrow a small, nearly imperceptible amount. "Who are you?"
A smile split across the stranger's lips. "You'll have plenty of time to figure that out."
Suddenly, the cowboy drew a gun and shot rapidly. Frisk was unprepared, dying to the very first shot.
The stranger holstered their gun and sighed before forcing their muscles loose. This wouldn't be their last clash.