Chapter Text
Running.
He was running.
It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to rise in the sky. His heart was aching but he could not stop. He bolted down the hallway, getting the last few items he needed. His friend had the rest.
His friend.
When he had woken up, they were already gone.
Where was his friend?
Had he left him behind?
‘Just like everyone else.’
No.
Not everyone.
Grandma had not left him behind.
She had been eaten.
“Grandma . . . I’m so sorry . . .”
He rubbed at the tears in his eyes. There was no time for them. His hands shakily scrubbed at them, wiping them away with a furious intensity. He had to focus. But it was so hard when this was likely the last time he would ever be in this place.
Be in his home.
The walls of the pod felt empty with no one else.
The pictures on the walls felt like silent gazes staring back at him. Those eyes, so many like his own. He gazed up at them, his chest aching just that little bit more.
John Dory.
Spruce.
Clay.
Floyd.
Grandma.
And then there were the photos with him in it.
The little blue trolling with the bright eyes, warm smile and love for his family.
Well, almost him.
He tried his best to ignore it.
Gray skin.
Black hair.
The only color that remained was the blue of his eyes. And then his ears, they no longer pointed up. They drooped down much like his shoulders that kept wanting to sag.
“Gotta focus.” A little slap to his now grey cheeks helped, if only a little, to keep him going. “Gotta get out of here.”
If he followed the plan then things would be okay. Footsteps carried him to his room for the last time. The two bunk beds were there, silent structures. His crib that had stop being used some time ago lay tipped on its side. Blankets were strewn on the floor, as were some clothes. He set the pack down, checking over what was inside one last time.
Five vests, all too large for him.
Check.
Clay’s dictionary and encyclopedia.
Check.
Spruce’s hair gel and frosted tips spray.
Check.
John Dory’s survival gear -what he could find of it at least- and songbook.
Check.
Floyd’s diary and favorite stuffed animal.
Check.
Clothes for Branch; clothes for him.
Check.
That was everything.
It had to be enough.
But as Branch did one final sweep of the room he eyed the pictures up again. The ones of five figures standing together as one. They were so happy in those photos. Nothing was going to stand in the way of them being a happy family.
Until it did.
Until the perfect family harmony did.
Because they weren’t perfect.
Branch wasn’t perfect.
He understood that now.
Understood it just like he knew her being gone was his fault.
“I’m sorry brothers. So sorry.”
Small hands took the photos and carefully stored them in the bag too. A photo album was also tucked away. It was all he could do. He didn’t dare take anything from her, aside from her fluffleberry recipe. She would be so disappointed in him for getting her killed.
“I’m sorry Grandma.”
It was the last thing he said before rushing towards the door. Shaky hands set a small letter on the counter, one telling them what had happened when they came back.
Because they had to come back.
Floyd promised.
And then he was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Did he pack too much?
Probably.
“Ha . . . Ha . . . Ha . . .”
“This way everyone! Dad says to head down this tunnel!” A voice called out from an overhead branch.
He glanced up briefly, catching a glimpse of a pink troll with blonde hair. If he recalled from his big brother Clay correctly, this was Princess Viva. She was only twelve, maybe thirteen if memory served. So young but already so competent. Maybe that was why Clay always talked about her when it was his turn to put Branch to bed. He would go on and on about how cool she was, how she was so smart and how everyone took her seriously but she was still funny and sweet. It was easy to admire trolls that were so amazing.
Branch understood.
He did it with his brothers all the time.
‘Brothers . . .’
“Hey kid! Get a move on!”
“Outta the way, gray freak!”
One of the older trolls running by him snapped. Another one pushed him aside. Branch yelped, stumbling a little. He would have fallen over if not for the hands that reached out and steadied him. Hands that were very pink.
“Hey! Don’t call him that.” It was the same voice that had been calling out earlier. Branch looked up to see a kind expression staring back at him. A pink gaze searched his blue one, her stare so deep it felt like she was looking into his soul. “Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a trolling gray before.”
Branch sniffled, pulling his arms away.
While being gray wasn’t uncommon in the Troll Tree, especially when a loved one had just been lost, Princess Viva was not wrong.
Trollings were not supposed to turn gray.
“I-I’m fine,” he said.
Branch ignored the other trolls bustling past them, their gazes lingering on the duo as they went past. Up ahead was the large whole the adult trolls had dug into the troll tree. It served as the escape route for all the trolls, with a network of tunnels dug into the root systems at the bottom of the tree. It was designed in such a way that the Bergens would not notice the trolls were creating a way out.
Until it was too late for them to anything about it that is.
King Peppy had come up with this plan.
The timeline for it had been moved up when he heard exactly which troll was going to be offered up first on Trollstice.
Princess Poppy.
Branch didn’t know much about the recently born Princess. No one really did. She was a little over a year old, hardly old enough to fend for herself. It was sickening that the Bergens thought she was a suitable meal.
A baby who had done no wrong.
But couldn’t the same thing he said for all the trolls. They had not done anything wrong either. No troll deserved to be eaten. Grandma did not deserve it either. So why?
“Uh kid? Hey kid! Are you sure you’re okay?” A hand waved in front of his face.
Branch shook himself, if the princess had only been a little worried before she was really worried now. And it was all his fault. A lot of things were lately.
“I-I’m fine. S-sorry for taking up your time.”
Branch tried to back further away from her, tightening the bag he wore. It was carefully strapped with all the little buckles on it. Nothing from it could be allowed to fall out. If those items fell out John Dory, Spruce, Clay and Floyd would be so upset.
“Hey no! Don’t apologize! Uh, where is your family little bud?” She asked.
Branch froze, unable to stop the small shiver that escaped him. “I’m waiting for them to come back. T-they left a while ago.” Admitting it hurt, but it was the truth.
His brothers taught him to tell the truth.
So did Grandma.
Princess Viva stiffened. “You mean to tell me you’re all by yourself? Where’s your guardian? What are their names?”
Oh no, this was bad. He didn’t want to talk about this. Everything about this hurt.
“R-Rosiepuff isn’t here anymore. And Johnny and Flo and-and the others aren’t either.” Branch struggled to manage those three names. His throat closed up before Spruce or Clay’s names could get out.
The Princess paused a little. “Rosiepuff . . . Floyd . . . I feel like I’ve heard those names before.”
Branch stiffened, his breath hitching. The chaos of all the trolls shouting and moving around them was overwhelming. For a trolling who was only used to keeping crowds at a distance while performing, this was far too much.
“Yeah, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure Cl-“
“S-sorry gotta go!” Branch took opportunity her musings provided to run around her, promising himself internally to apologize for his rudeness to the Princess later.
“ay mentioned those names from his family before. Hey wait!” She called after him.
“Viva come on! We need to get going!” Another voice called to the Princess.
One that would have been familiar to Branch, had he just paid attention.
Branch did not hear her, Viva’s voice lost to the cacophony of voices as Branch slipped down the tunnel at the heart of the troll tree. He did not hear the other voice either, Branch’s mind too focused on getting away. His small hands scrambled for purchase as he all but fell down, the awkward sliding rubbing at his arms and legs. The pack cushioned his back as down, down, down he went.
“Oof!”
“Let’s go!”
“We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Ow, my leg!”
“Oh no Richie is stuck!”
There were so many voices once he reached the bottom. If he had thought there were a lot of trolls earlier on the branches there were even more now. They appeared in droves, their expressions harried with terror. Some were pushing, others shoving, to get through the masses to the dark tunnels lit only by the lanterns the escape teams placed for the past few days in preparation for the escape.
Branch shook all over. This was way too much sensory overload. Normally, Branch had one of his brothers with him whenever there was a big crowd. They would hold his hand or just hold him, carrying Branch around and protecting him from every scary thing.
But they were no longer here.
Grandma had told him that the day of the escape he had to stick close to her at all times and listen to everything she said. She had made him promise over ten times to listen -Branch had kept track- and had went through the escape plan with him too just so everything would go smoothly.
But she was no longer here.
And so much of her plans were going awry.
Like where was Hype, Illume and Bolt? Their pod had been empty this morning when he checked for them. It seemed like they had left without him.
Had they forgot about him?
Branch pushed that thought aside. He tried to follow the other trolls to the biggest tunnel, figuring things would feel better if he just got some fresh air and space from all these strangers. But all the pushing and shoving as trolls panicked to escape as quickly as he could had him barely managing to stay upright. He huffed and puffed, feeling suffocated with all the bodies surrounding him. Heat was so immense, sweat and solid bodies pressing into him.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Branch fell forward, landing on his knees. They ached, the ground scratching at soft flesh. Tears sting his eyes, clouding his vision. There were way too many voices. Branch crawls forward slowly, waiting until enough trolls passed him by before standing again. He had went down a smaller tunnel, still used by other trolls but not nearly as many as the massive swathes of before.
Here he could actually breathe.
Branch sat back on his knees panting.
Damp, dank air filled his lungs.
He coughed at the foul taste, wincing.
“Why am I alone? I don’t wanna be alone.”
He shivered, tugging the vest he wore tighter around himself. It was far too big for him. The pattern of soft leafy green and woven thread along the borders normally brought him a little comfort.
But it was hard to feel comfort when he felt so lonely down here.
He missed his brothers.
He missed Hype.
He missed her.
Even though she was gone and not coming back.
‘And whose fault is that?’
He sniffled, standing up again.
He had to keep moving even if he was alone.
Right?
Yes, surely that was right.
His little feet pitter pattered through the small tunnel. The trolls here were still hurried to get out but there was a lot less pushing and shoving. The grunting and groaning however remained.
He soon found out why.
Because the tunnel ended up rising up much higher, creating a path that required a steep climb to keep going. Branch stared up at it. The size of this dip was massive. So steep, it was well over ten trolls high. Branch had climbed enough in his young life.
But never that much in one sitting.
Never that high.
He gulped, pulling the pack he wore closer to his small frame, trying to summon some courage. Branch watched adult trolls trying to climb the incline. Several slipped and fell. They landed in gasping heaps, and one troll even looked like they had broken their leg. Branch shivered. An adult troll would suffer little injury if they fell.
But it would be different if he fell.
If he fell he could be badly hurt.
And possibly even-
No.
Branch refused to let that line of thinking continue. He had to survive, had to get away from the Troll Tree. His Grandma did not push him out of the way so he would die here. She wanted him to grow up and live his life. So even if he did not feel like doing anything right now he had to try.
He had to try.
But it was like his body would not respond. Branch shivered, staring up at the incline with wide eyes as his body trembled from a maelstrom of emotions. There were so many feelings rushing around inside him. It made it difficult to breathe. His knees buckled as he sat there hiccuping in gasps of air. Distantly he heard the voices of other trolls screaming and yelling.
The Bergens had come to the tree.
The Bergens had come to the tree and had found they were escaping.
That fear of being found and eaten should have got him moving, but his legs refused to cooperate. They were locked in position, too scared to move. He was so alone and the underground walls were shaking from the Bergens above ground. Branch whimpered, a small sentence escaping him, a desperate desire that was trapped in him escaping. Tears made his vision glassy as he whimpered, hugging himself in a failed attempt at comfort.
“I want my brothers.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ground shook.
Dirt cascaded everywhere.
He grunted, annoyed as more of it got into his hair. Several of the red strands were likely filthy at this point. It was so frustrating. He shook his head, wiping at it with one hand as he barreled down the path. He had promised his sisters to be quick in retrieving Mom’s old family scrapbook, knowing they’d all be heartbroken if it were left behind here. But the journey to retrace his steps back to their pod had taken way longer than he would have liked and now he was behind schedule.
That would not do at all.
“Hey! Get out of the way!” He squeezed through another crowd of trolls. Their faces were filled with panic and he would have stopped to help them if the situation had been different.
But right now he had to get back to his sisters.
They needed him.
He was the man of the house now, their Grandfather had taught him as much. So he could not allow himself to be delayed. Not when they were waiting for him -outside the escape tunnels- wanting reassurance, wanting to be told everything would be okay.
It did not matter that he was just barely older than Ember and Spark. Not one bit. He was their big brother and he needed to be there for them.
“Ha . . . Ha . . . Which path to take?”
The one he had traveled down with his sisters hours earlier was filled with way too many trolls. It would take far too long to get through. Plus he would run the risk of the Bergens catching him.
Another thing he could not allow to happen.
So he scanned the paths, choosing the one which looked the most clear with the smallest amount of escaping trolls traveling through. The scrapbook was tucked neatly in his hair, and hopefully protected enough from the dirt that still showered overhead from residual movement above.
He had no idea who he was about to meet.
How important this troll would end up being to him.
His footsteps staggered to a halt when a large looming incline came into view. It was huge, so steep and rocky. There were trolls attempting to scale the incline and failing. There were also trolls that had fallen to the ground, a very few who had reached the top, and a few who were trying to work together in teams.
He thought that every troll in the area had been spotted and categorized in his head right up to the moment when he saw him.
It was bizarre.
He blinked once, then twice, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“A gray trolling?”
He hardly dared to believe it, but there was no denying the clear evidence in front of him. The trolling was a deep gray color, missing whatever bright coloring he was supposed to have. His hair was a deep black, like a shadow. The small trolling was curled in on himself, wearing a leaf vest far too big for his little shoulders. The pack he wore was also massive compared to his small size.
Then there was the way the little boy held himself. Curled inward, his little arms wrapping around him as he trembled and cried. The older troll looked around, wondering where this boy’s parents were.
‘Where is your family?’
He needed to be getting back to his sisters.
He needed to get out of here.
“I want my brothers.”
That made him pause. The little trolling wanted his brothers? Presumably he meant older brothers, and something inside him instantly seethed. This little boy could be no older than four years old. A child this young should have his family with him during every step of this abysmal nightmare of leaving the only home their trollkind had ever known behind.
And he was alone.
The scrapbook was a small weight in his hair.
While getting back was important, there was nothing inside him that would ever permit him to leave this trolling alone.
“Where are your brothers?” He asked, approaching the trolling until he was right in front of him.
The gray boy froze, arms tightening around himself before looking up with glassy blue eyes. That blue of those eyes was the only color this trolling had to him. And even that seemed faded to gray, or at the very least gray blue.
“Floyd?”
He froze at the little trolls question. That name the boy said was entirely unfamiliar. It sounded like a whispered hope, so fragile and pure. He tilted his head, knowing there was no choice but to break the truth to the little troll. The little guy would find out soon anyways even he didn’t say anything.
“No. I’m not Floyd.”
“Y-you’re not?” The little boy asked, looking at him like he hoped to be told otherwise.
“No. I’m not. My name isn’t even close to Floyd it’s —ah what’s the point. It doesn’t matter. Answer my question. Where is your brothers?”
The gray trolling looked down, sniffling a little. When he glanced up again his eyes had tears trickling down, an expression of heartbreak on his small face.
“They’re not here.”
“Not . . . Here?”
“Not here.” The trolling affirmed.
“Are they already out of the tunnels?” He asked, not liking the thought of any brother willingly leaving behind the young troll in front of him.
“N-no.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry, are they-“
‘Are they dead?’
It was a difficult question to voice out loud, highly personal and painful. Plenty of trolls had lost family members due to Trollstice. It would be far more difficult to find a family who had not at some point.
The little troll shook his head vehemently, as if sensing the older troll’s thoughts. “They’re not dead! They’re alive!”
“Then why aren’t they here?”
The gray boy went rigid, his face scrunching up. One second passed, then two. And it was like they were the only trolls there, even though there were still other trolls nearby. But those trolls were all adults and they paid the two boys no mind.
“They left. They left a while ago. But, but Floyd promised he’d come back!”
Ah.
So they escaped before.
Or maybe they tried to escape and failed?
Maybe it was the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in, or perhaps it was the desperate look in the gray child’s eyes, but he did not have the heart to voice his doubts. What good would they do anyone right now anyways?
“Okay. So they aren’t here now though?”
“Yeah.” He was met with a shaky nod.
He sighed, well that was just wonderful.
“And I’m assuming you don’t have any other family nearby?”
There was another pause.
And then a little sniffle as more tears welled up in the small troll’s eyes. He looked so upset in that moment. The older troll regretted asking.
There was likely a reason this kid was gray after all.
“No.”
He rubbed his hands together, ignoring the sweat beginning to build there. Clouds of dirt were showering down again. It was getting more frequent now, the screams from other tunnels managing to echo their way to them.
It was now or never.
“Okay then. Look kid, I’m not this Floyd troll. But I am a troll that can’t standby and let another kid die cause he’s scared-“
“I’m not s-scared.” The younger boy replied, a little indignant, even though his body trembled.
“Uh huh. Sure. Anyways, you need to get out of here and so do I. So how about we get going.”
He could have the boy follow him out. That was doable. But the younger one shook his head, his ears drooping.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t move.”
The older boy sighed again. That was to be expected. This was a pretty scary time. He could only imagine how much worse it must feel to younger troll like this gray boy, who had been through so much.
This would slow him down, but he pushed that concern behind. His sisters would understand.
“Okay then, just, be prepared to hold on tight.”
“Wait. What? Ah!”
He didn’t give the younger boy time to argue, reaching out and scooping him up into his arms. The gray troll squirmed in his arms, legs flailing a little. He held on tighter, rubbing a soothing hand up and down the boy’s vest clad back. It was a gesture he had done to soothe his sisters on more than one occasion. Much to his luck it got the squirming to still.
“Sorry for the abrupt pick up, but you can’t move right now and I’m not leaving you here. So I’m going to do you a favor and get you out of here.”
“Y-you are? Even though I don’t have family right now?” The boy asked.
He tightened his hold on the smaller boy as he reached the incline wall. The deep dark wall rose above the duo with its formidable nature. This would not be easy, but he would manage it.
“Of course. It’s the right thing to do. And you should always try to do the right thing. That’s what being man of the house is all an about.”
“The man of the house?”
“Yup, that’s what my grandpa taught me. He says that the man of the house in charge of keeping everyone safe, and making sure everyone’s happy. Then everyone’s alright.”
“T-that sounds nice.”
“It is. And it’s the right way to live too!” He couldn’t help the warm inflection to his voice. Even in this frazzled moment, because thoughts of his own family had a way of doing that to him.
“Okay.” Was all the little gray troll offered in reply, his smaller hands going to wrap around the back of his neck. A wise choice, considering the effort the older boy would have to focus on with his climbing.
“Now hold on tight. I’m getting us out of here.”
And together, the two trolls, one gray and one purple, made their way out of the escape tunnels together.