Golden

1

(Frisk is nineteen in this story.)

"Micheal, you can't do this! She's your dau-"

The sound of the slap made Frisk wince. Her miller father had never raised his hand to her mother. 

Not until yesterday afternoon.

"I can do whatever I please with her, Racheal. Although, I have to wonder about her being my daughter." Her father said. "Have her ready to go by noon."

When the door slammed, her mother came up to the loft. Tears were running down her face, over a red handprint.

"Your father has gone mad." She said. "He plans to marry you off to Earl Serial. In return, your father will gain a lesser title and we will leave the mill." Racheal paused then, drawing a bottle out of her pocket.

"When you changed my comb to gold, I knew that someday you would need to leave us and make your own way in the world. An old monster gave me this potion. Rub it onto your hand sparingly."

Frisk smiled silently.