The ball room had been decorated with gold buttercups and daisies, red ribbon wrapped in bows around the pillars. Classical music plays from the orchestra, smooth, alluring. Tables scatter the edges of the room; food and drinks, mainly alcohol and other things such as desserts. Monsters in dresses and suits idolized, chatting amongst themselves and enjoying the evening.

Frisk stood beside her brothers in the center of it all, both of them getting wasted and endlessly offering her shots. Of course, she declined continuously, secretly itching to try some of the strange liquor. She questioned her logic in the refusal. She technically was eighteen, right? That's the legal age in Scotland. Legally an adult. With that she could drink the castle out dry if she truly wanted. So why not take a swig?

"Oh come on, little sister~" Asriel laughed, swinging his arm around her shoulders, wine spilling over the edges of his glass on the way, splattering across the yellow and gold checkered floors. "Your old enough, drink with me!" He laughs again.

How he knew she was a mystery to her, but it wasn't important.

He leans on her, effortlessly causing her struggle to on her feet. She growls, swearing at herself for agreeing to join them in their little "raising the roof" thing. She shoves him with all her strength, only pushing him off her. Heavy ass goat boy.

"Asriel. Stop." She dusts off her shoulder, crossing her arms and blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. She'd had it up to her nose with he and Chara's shenanigans for the night. Tired of it. She was tired of everything, and honestly, she felt like setting herself on fire. At least then she'd get a little space. Human combustion; classic. Especially since she was immune to her own magic.

Someone presses themselves up against Frisk's back, she could feel their entire body slapping against her. A rough hand finds its way to her cheek from behind.

Frisk grits her teeth in utter annoyance. "Get off."

Chara drunk-laughs, backing away from Frisk and dragging his fingers along her chin, drink in the other hand. He steps in front of her, hand caressing her arm.

"Sorry, Sibs. But you know I love freaking you out." He giggles, Frisk scoffing him and slapping his hand away.

"That isn't funny, Chara. You know how I feel about people touching me like that."

He and Asriel then start going back and forth about random nonsense, ignoring what she'd said all together. Annoyed and embarrassed, she walks away into the crowd and hopefully right out of it.

Her heart ached and she felt weak. She hated being in the presence of all those people; The ones who cared for her and who looked up to her. She felt like she was in a void, stuck in one place even though she was practically running to reach an exit. That's when...she hears a piano.

Frisk swiftly swivels around, unfamiliar to it's tune. She had only ever heard it on occasion, and never got the chance to sit back and take in one's melody. It draws her nearer, automatically making her forget her current mood and focus on the notes. Once she is close enough to the instrument, she reels in the shock of seeing non-other than the captain of the royal guard herself.

Undyne, in her black tux and slacks, red hair long and flowing down her back in a simple braid. She wasn't in her normal eyepatch, instead she had applied gauze and medical tape to keep it in place. She had applied red eyeliner and mascara, nothing more from the makeup department. Alphys could be seen in the orchestra, sweating like a stuffed pig from playing the oboe for such an extended amount of time.

The fact that either of them played was shocking enough. She had only ever seen Alphys with a clipboard in her hands, occasionally instant noodles. And Undyne was no different for her; She always had a spear at hand. She never knew the two could play an instrument, thus leading her to even more amazement as she listened to Undyne's fingers tap away at they piano's keys.

https://youtu.be/LUaHtKQ4H_U

Frisk, too enticed in the music, jumps when she notices Undyne staring at her, eyes full of curiosity.

"Punk? You alright?"

Frisk nervously laughed, forcing it more than anything. She runs her fingers across the piano's black surface. "I never knew you had such talent."

Undyne perks up, sharp yellow teeth gleaming like gold. She laughs wholeheartedly. "I don't blame you for not knowing! Your never around really, so it's okay!"

This jerks at her roughly, grabbing interest like a moth caught in a lamp light. Her breaths grow heavy, trying-struggling to understand. "What...do you mean?"

The tone in Undyne's voice seems to change, more worried and reluctant than happy the way it was a few seconds ago. She rubs her scaly neck, a bead or two of sweat on her forehead. She averts her eye, peering down into her lap.

"You and Sans haven't been around much. He's always running around going on about weird science shit or about you, and your always cooped up in your room or off to god-knows-were."

Frisk bites her inner lip, brows furrowed. She didn't believe what Undyne said about Sans talking about her, but she defiantly believed what she said about him going on about scientific matters. If he had cared at all he would have at least came to say hello.

Really, that's all she wanted. To see his face at the very least. She missed his voice, telling her how much he wished they could be together the way both of them wanted to be, not just as friends. She missed him being a gentleman and kissing her cheek when no one was looking, the wild look he got when they'd wander the Underground until people started to notice them. The smirk he had when staring at her and how he'd try to snake his arm around her waist. She wondered if he'd be willing to do it all again, for her sake.

Frisk's sweet thoughts were ripped from her at the sound of Undyne's voice continuing.

"I mean, this is the first time I've seen you since the Christmas party. Haven't seen Sans yet though."

Frisk sighs, "He didn't come."

Undyne jolts, looking up at Frisk with a sense of shock and anger. "No way, are you serious?!"

She nods, waving her off kindly "At ease, Undyne. Don't worry about it. I didn't expect him to so there isn't need to fret over it."

Undyne growls, turning the page on her score sheets and playing another song. She continues the conversation in a hushed whisper-shout.

"Yeah but-! This is bullshit! For someone who claims to- . . . he sure is playing chicken right now, the bastard!"

Frisk tsks, crossing her arms and leaning back against the piano. She knew Undyne was never fond of Sans, now she has a good excuse to rattle off about how much she truly despised him. Suspected. She looks out over the dance floor, all the monster girls taking pleasure in get up close and personal with Asriel, feeling all over him in his drunk state. Such a ladies man... She thought. But in reality Asriel didn't really have interests. He was pretty far out there, and didn't think he had time to be going out on dates or hooking up. Chara however, sitting in his lonesome with the liquor and old men, was constantly talking about women ad how he wanted to settle down someday. The old men would tell him stories about their prime and all the women they had taken to bed with them. He got a real kick out of some of these stories, others he'd laugh and make dirty jokes, that or he's swoon over the description of the poor women.

While her brothers where enjoying their times with the opposite sex, Frisk couldn't seem to keep the men of the party away from her. Every five minutes, song after song, she was asked for a dance. To which, being kind as she was, she'd agreed and had managed to waltz with half the monsters in the ballroom. After that they'd continue to eye her curiously, some pointing and others making fowl gestures towards her. Frisk gags, avoiding eye contact with them. She agreed to dance with every one of them not to be a romantic, but because it was common courtesy. She had no fancy in any of them, unless you count adoring them as her people; For which she loved them. She would have even more so if a certain face would show itself in the crowd. It never did.

"M'lady."

A familiar, nostalgic voice coos from behind, snatching Frisk's attention and spinning her on her heel to face it's source. Heart sinking, she holds onto her locket for comfort. A sad sigh escapes her, fully aware of the fact that she probably seemed pathetic; Continuing to hold up a faith in something that just would not come to pass. Still, she had high hopes. Maybe too high.

His expression was one of pity, yet he smiles despite his disappointment. He bows, wearing long black trench coat and thin half-moon glasses. Arising, he takes one of Frisk's hands and gestures to the dance floor.

"May I?"

She sighs, applying her smile as if by the snap of her fingers for an old friend.

"Of course, Doctor!"

The orchestra plays once more, a beautiful melody ripples into the atmosphere.

Gaster grins, leading Frisk into the crowd and spinning her some. She glides away from him, a peaceful look in her expression, forever closed eyes covered by her thick black lashes and pale skin complimented by the gold lighting of the chandeliers above. She curtsies, lowering her head with respect and holding either side of her dress up with both hands. Gaster folds one arm behind his back, the other outstretched towards Frisk to take her by the hand. She accepts it, and is gently pulled towards him, needing to tilt her head up just to see the underside of his jaw. He places a hand on side, closer to her ribs so as to not make her uncomfortable, and the other hand flat against hers. Frisk places her free set of fingers on hi shoulder. Gaster looks down, wobbling some and a purple tint on his cheekbones. He clears hi throat, beginning their waltz, tipsy and clumsy.

For a minute, she is unable to tell if he has two left feet or if he had been drinking with her idiotic siblings. The answer became clear as he spoke, the stench of whiskey on his breathe.

"Well, Your Highness, how do you feel? Being official."

Frisk shrugs, being released and spun to the side, pulled back in an instant and held once again. He felt different than Sans had when he danced with her. Than again... Unlike him, Sans tended to pull her a lot closer and with a wandering eye. That, and Gaster was careful to not place his hand on her hip. She appreciates his awkwardness at times like these.

She can't lock eyes with him for one reason or another. "It's... Wonderful.

Gaster grunts. He wouldn't believe that for a second, not with how she had been acting. Gaster had been keeping a keen watch on her most of the evening, and to his observations she was miserable. "I'm sure it is."

She chuckles, looking down at their feet, in her mind thinking 1 2 3, 1 2 3 with every step she takes. She could not only sense his sarcasm, it practically crawled down her spine to remind her it was there. "What would you like me to say?" she asks jokingly, making effort to lighten her mood.

"That, child..." He lowers Frisk into a dip, a sad smile creeps to his mouth "...Is a question I do not know the answer to." He raises her back up, both giving the other a graceful curtsy "But I know that when you are unhappy, I am unhappy with you. As is others."

Damn it. . .

By the end of the night, Gaster had showed himself to the tables of elderly men (and Asriel) to join them in their conversations. And... to join them in their drunk rants.Undyne had gotten a little wasted herself, so poor Alphys was given the task to drag her back to their place.

Monsters had begun to leave the castle through any door they could find and fanning themselves in complaints of it being hot. All the food had been devoured, drinks were gone, and the entire ballroom was left a wreck for the staff to clean up; napkins, spilt wine, gross half-chewed food spat in just about every corner along with strange residues and funks from the party guest's secreting bodies. Lucky for the princes they were drunk; They had an excuse to go to their rooms- Frisk almost didn't make it into the throne room without being asked to help tidy up.

Once she'd reached the room she threw herself onto the wall beside the door frame, holding her breath and trying to slim herself as much as possible. A voice called her name from down the hall, low and professional, one of comfort but at the same dread in the current moment.

"My child? Frisk?"

She covered her mouth and shrunk even further into the wall, flattening her back's curves for the time being.

The steps grew louder, voice of her father even nearer. "Frisk?"

She wrinkled her nose and creased her brows; keeping her eyes shut tight so as to make her seem invisible. This seems to be effective since Asgore steps one foot into the flower room and steps right back out, walking back the way he came.

She thought she was alone.