Chapter Text
Without a thought to spare, he opened the door, meeting the imposing figure in front of him. Hooved, with a long tail dancing behind them, teal stone with carvings going from hoof to top, a short, brushed back, platinum white mane which trails through their back and, one lonely, penetrating, red eye. The other, pearl white, crossed by a crack which ran from their crooked horn down to their cheek.
There was no doubt they had been a fighter, and good one at that, but, by looking at them, he knew someone had already confirmed so before. Their voice, their body, their lonely eye, everything seemed very familiar...
-I...know you.- a contemplative whisper left him, as his eyes wandered up and down the troll. The robes looked new, tailored perfectly to their long torso, but the guards on their legs and arms looked old, way too old, dark, scratched, but holding a slight tinge of green of each spike. Those clothes were unknown, but the rest was...lost...in a delirant memory...
-Have we met before?- His question, filled with confusion and curiousity, made the cold expression of the troll shift into a soft smile, confident, slightly arrogant, and yet, somehow, friendly.
-Perhaps...- their voice clashed ever so slightly with their appearance, when most Troll voices were rough, gritty, theirs was quite velvety, smooth, but a slight growl was ever present, almost like the hissing of a snake, though it wasn't threatening, it just made their sound slightly mysterious. -A day before the Eternal Night, at dawn. After popping out of thin air.-
The dawn after being transformed, when the pain made him faint.
-The cave...- he realized seconds later, in a sighed surprise, eyes wide open too.
Those bright red eyes ran to him...to his aid. Back then, both were there, same as their horns, a perfectly symmetrical, but nontheless, intimidating sight, and even half awake, their voice hissy and firm, brought him some peace...
-Can...I come in?- they ask, cautious, as kindly as their stern demeanour let them.
It took a second for Jim to react, as hazy visions of that day blinded him. Shooking his head, the troll's face from four years ago blended with the one standing in front of him. Same cold gaze, same subtle arrogance, but same toughness hiding gentleness.
-Sure...- rattled, he stepped aside, letting Neala walk in. Their hooves clicking on the wooden planks, followed by their long tail, trailed by the same white hair on their head. As the platinun tuft at the end left the hall into the room, the door closed shut by the young man's hand.
After some seconds of silence, Neala spoke once more, trying but failing to break the ice with a faint smile, one which seemed wrong in their face.
-So...you DO remember that day...- looking over their shoulder to the Hunter, who, after years, felt a chill run down his spine. Though subtle, the troll's smile felt menacing, and their voice, ever so sarcastic, as of they were made to be intimidating. Their crooked horn and scarred eye only made them even more terrifying.
Anyone else would've run, or at least, clap back defensively, and Jim was about to do as such, but the memories, as hazy as they were, made him react with amicable anxiety.
-Hard to forget the day my life officially turned upside down.- the nervous giggle which accompanied his words, somehow, made him relax. It wasn't a defensive fear, triggered by the agent's lack of candor, but a certain friendly shyness he had thought long gone.
He felt as if he was talking with Blinky again, or Vendel. They imposed on him, but the respect and trust they had for him and viceversa made their interactions look like if he was talking to a family member he hadn't seen in a long time. Neala, even as awkward and rough as they were, provoqued the same feeling on him.
All because of that day...
Once he was no longer suffering, though still in some pain and slightly dizzy, he found himself by a fire, covered with an old fabric, most likely a cloak. At the other side, there they were, eating what, he assumed, were broken ceramics. The crunching sound became a gauge for how awake he was, until it was clear, as if they ate chips from a bag, though, the dizziness never left.
Like a fever, it kept the young trollhunter confused, as the body became accostumed to its new shape, height and weight. Similar to a kid with a growing spurt, and, akin to one, he wanted to stand up, to move and leave.
A yearning called him home, an instict of comfort maybe, beaconing him to his bed, his mom, and his home, but he was too weak still, to confused and sick to go. He needed rest, and the teal assassin made him stay put, at least for a while.
With strong claws and legs, they carried him back down, forcing him to rest a bit longer while scolding him for acting like a "youngling", guess trolls and humans aren't as different after all...or, at least, that's what Jim thought, still unaware of his new look.
A couple hours went by, and Neala kept a close eye on him, and in the sunset, making sure both could go out without issue. They were unsure if the recently transformed young man in front of them would petrify or not at contact with the sun, but it was a theory they weren't willing to prove. So, once the night reigned, Jim was put on his feet, the cloak falling to the floor, as Neala helped him traverse the forest back home.
Words were said by the exhiled soldier, harsh and confusing, but more than needed. If only Jim's mind was clearer then, maybe some would've been useful, fortunately, a phrase stuck out...
"...Luckily, you've always done the right thing. At our darkest hour, you've burn brightest, and even now, I don't think that will change..."
As the words sunk in, he saw his home nearby, though hazy and wobbling, his yearning pushed him to leave Neala's embrace to reach the door and his mother's comfort. The troll had no option than oblige, while remaining vigilant from the woods, seeing him stumble his way up the porch and into the house.
They stayed there, until they smelled the new leader of Trollmarket and Arghamon closing in, they knew that if they could smell them, Gunmar's champion could as well, and so, Jim was left back home, but nothing would be the same after...
As the Trollhunter rose to meet the expectations of his rank by defeating the evils lurking under his feet, Neala fought on the sidelines, clearing the streets and saving as many humans and trolls as they could, even sending most to the school or hospital while Jim went to war and won.
But a loss occurred, the first of many to come, at least for the troll warrior, now scarred and at the service of a gentleman...
A soft scoff, satisfied by a plan which somehow worked. Their intimidatingly friendly demeanour having some mixed results pushed them to continue.
-True, been there...a couple of times- Many days had shifted their life, too many to enlist, but none have left a scar, except..
-Your eye says as much...- the young man replied without a thought, as he leaned over a drawer, more relaxed but certainly curious over their reason for checking up on him.
Another scoff made the troll turn around slightly, meeting Jim's eyes. Honest, even in their own menacing behaviour. -Indeed, one of many. Other being the day after we met-
-Huh?- the Trollhunter retorted, confused.
With that tusked smirk, they reached into their satchel, taking something, which seemed small in their claws, as the malachite looking stone covered the object, not letting the other know what they hid. Suddenly, after some maneauvering, the little object came to view. -Remember this?- he saw it for a second, squinting his eyes before it was tossed his way. As he catched it, the size was more evident. It was a crystal sphere, black, which covered partially the palm of his hand, as he rolled it around, two dim yellow circles could be seen, concentric. It was an eye, one he'd seen before, 5 years or so ago.
-This...- The memory crawled its way slowly, as the eternal hiss of the owner's ashy voice growled his last words...after being impaled by daylight, holding a raging Morgana in his arms. A gasp, as the realization hit. -This is...!-
-Angor Rot's Eye, yes- their voice was soft, unusually so, melancholic despite it all. Emotion could be felt in the way their lonely eye met Angor's, a yearning, a longing, and yet, a certain relief. All of it, coexisting in a heart which, appearently, had only met such companionship alongside the Pale Assassin.
Still, Jim was beyond baffled. He had known Angor lived way beyond the time of his deal with Morgana, he had heard of the myths of the vigilante he was before his soul was stolen, and yet, the teal troll who then had his eye had been overshadowed by the other.
-How?- in his voice, there was surprise, and in his eyes, a flickering spark of life, curiousity turning dull blue eyes into sparkling gems, directed only at Neala, who came close to take the eye from the young man's hands.
As they held it tenderly in between malachite claws, mismatched eyes kept longing for him. -Well, you aren't the only one who has lost someone important and thought it was their fault.-
Silence covered the room, but not in tension, but in solemnity. Angor had left honorably, doing what was right, even if it didn't bring back his freedom. Still, he parted like a hero, but, only the Hunters knew that...
No one else was at the bridge, or, at least, not over it.
The Day Morgana unleashed the Eternal Night, everything went surprisingly smooth. Of course, certain things didn't go as planned but the result was achieved without much trouble. There weren't any major casualties, only some people got hurt, but most reached refuge easily.
Trollmarket aided greatly, the changelings did as well, but most were at the front lines, handling sentinels and opening the path for Jim, but none were actively seeking to protect the people of Arcadia.
Most of the population panicked over the dark tornado looming by the bridge, and so, those who couldn't fight, joined the mass hysteria, which would've led to way more losses than it actually did.
So, how did everything work out in the end? Someone else had to deal with crowd control and safeguarding...
The Hunter, making use of his smarts, though rusted, still figure it out. -You were there that day, weren't you?- quizzical, suspiscion rising. Positive, but still confusing. He knew they had to be involved, who else would have the know-how to make an efficent evacuation? After all, if they didn't knew, why else would Krel use them as their agent?
Their eyes wandered off the sphere dancing in their claws, as that soft smile turned into an intimidating smirk. -You could say that- gazes clashing, as the truth became clear.
Jim was right in his especulations, Neala had been orchestrating ghe Hunters' tryumph. As panic ran amock, the troll sought to protect as many humans as they could, at first, it was silent, as they fought the upcoming sentinels, but soon, they noticed none were seeking shelter in secure places, so they instructed them to go to the school. They had met Uhl, as he fled from his once respected director, halting him and forcing him to listen, even growling at him in german, which finally made him react.
One by one, each person or troll they saved, were sent to the school, where the teachers protected the area, or to the hospital, in which Dr. Lake had taken the lead, looking after anyone which appeared on the building's doorstep, most brought by the Teal Exhile as they patrolled and managed the perimeter or the city's center.
If you had asked them, a thousand years ago, if they would be protecting humans from the tyrant they once saw as a God, they would've killed you without a second to spare. But, they did...why?...
The trollhunter's expression said as much. He remembered their cloaked sillhouette, dancing through the buildings and the trees, even before that day. Firstly, he thought it might have been his imagination, but when the Eternal Night happened, there they were again, carrying people, trolls, and slicing sentinels like a shadow. He hadn't pit much thought on it, but now, as all fell into place, it made sense.
But why didn't they made themself present? Why hide?...
Jim may have been silent, but his eyes darted around, writing a million questions in the aire between them, and the assassin heard each and every one.
Calmly, they took seat in the bed, letting their long tail run over the matress as it softly swayed. -Long story short, I never trusted humans, Arthur was the first and only example I needed from them to know they were bad. Angor agreed, and, from then on, we protected troll kind when the Trollhunter couldn't, but then...-
-He made the deal, right?- The young man interrupted, sitting in front of them, in a stool beside the wooden drawer, looking at them, kind, with his heart open, ready to listen, to tie the loose ends together. -With Morgana?- his voice was soft, gentle, but curious nevertheless.
Their gaze, still fixated on the sphere, as a scowl grew, alonside a growl, akin to a cougar's. -I told him not to, but he was always so...noble, so cunning and, yet, so naïve.- the last word deflated their anger, as if unable to stay mad at the pale one for more than a minute. A sigh, and so, the story continued.
-From then on, I was on my own, thinking the worst had happened, but I could've never imagined the truth...- the scowl, somehow remained, but it had shifted, from anger, to frustration, deep, tinged with guilt. The wound still bled inside them, too old to heal, too wide to close.
-I managed to beat him, sealing him in a mausoleum, right before we moved to the new continent...- Victory wasn't sweet, it left a bitter taste. Sad, as the true story had come to light, only for it to sink into darkness by their own claws. The choice was the better one, but the cost...was too much to bare. Jim could see his pain on them, the guilt, the same blood staining their conscience. The impotence of not being able to do more...
-For centuries, I did our work, but as time went on, we were fewer, so, I had no option than letting them hide in Arcadia, under Vendel's protection- Defeat, a knee taken by force. Humans were too many to handle, and to advanced to face on their own. The frustration lingered unseen, as their pride cracked under the pressure.
Still, that didn't answered his question...-Then...why were you in that cave instead of being wih the rest of Trollmarket?-
-Guilt, Lad...and shame- once again, their eyes met. Nothing but honesty in their eyes. Another sigh left them, before a claw took hold of one of their huge blades, the ones on their back. -Do you remember your troll ABC's?- with a swift move, the sword was placed in between them, it's edge making a slash in the floor, and the sudden movement making the Trollhunter jump on his seat before contemplating the weapon in front of him.
As big and rough as it was, it seemed familiar. It looked froged from raw stone, barely giving it form, just an edge to cut those who dared face it. In it's spine, engravings spelled something in trollish, five letters...
-Neala...- he whispered, their name, carved in stone, unchanging and everlasting. Right after, they spinned the blade, revealing the writing along the other spine... -Gumm-Gumm!- a gasp of disbelief as the realization became evident. -You were a gumm-gumm?!- a growl, full of incredulity. The only Gumm-gumm he had met who turned to face the light had been Arrrgh, and he hadn't mention someone else following his lead, but, it made sense. Vendel was cautious of Arrrgh, even as he fought for Douza in Killahead, and according to Blinky: It took centuries for the Albino Troll to trust the Kruuvera exhile.
He was a warrior, trained to kill without mercy, to follow orders without complaining, deprogramming a killing machine and trusting it wouldn't backfire was a risky bet. It worked, but he was a Youngling in a brute's body, turning him into a pacifist was easy, all things considered, but Neala...was a different story.
It would've been like ripping their spine out by making them lay down their swords, making them another troll under Vendel's eye. And even if they did, earning everyone's trust after being last known as a Gumm Gumm Soldier would've been torturous. Rather than going through such tribulations, they prefered to stick to the shadows, alone, but doing the right thing nevertheless.
Neala's sigh, full of shame, confirmed it all.
-Angor was my path to redemption, like Blinkous was to Argamon. The Black One lost two champions that day before the battle at Killahead Bridge- and as quickly as their sword was unsheithed, as quickly it returned to their back.
The Trollhunter's eyes wandered, imagining it all, being them, on their own, alone after losing their partner and tribe. Though it was the right thing to do, it wasn't easy giving up after so long...
-So...you hid away from Trollmarket because of this?- his voice showed empathy, he began to feel his guilt mirrored by the exhiled soldier, by how they took loneliness and made it their only company.
He had become a ghost in Arcadia, and they, in Trollmarket...
-I knew Vendel wouldn't be kind to me, and I deserved it.- Honest, nothing hidden from view, and yet, there was no shame on it. It was a fact, pure and simple, a reality they have come to terms with, unlike Jim's grief. -For centuries, I followed Gunmar, loyal to his cause, until the Witch revealed the cracks on his resolve. Then, I left. Gunmar's Hellhound was gone, to never come back.-
-Then...- the young man thought, as he felt his burried feelings crawling to the surface, slowly seeing his pain more and more in the Troll's tale. -You remained in that cave since coming to Arcadia?- Like how he had remained in the wreck his home had become after the War? -What did you do?- What could he had done differently?
-I kept threats away, while Kanjigar dealed with Bular. Then...you came- their clashed once more, determination conducted through their mismatched gaze. Jim just looked at them, taken aback, though he suspected something, he didn't give it much thought when younger, but now, as it was confirmed once more, some relief, though a sliver of it, was reached.
All those nights he heard the clashing or swords in the distance, the growling behind him as a scene was unfolding, everything was not his imagination, but a silent ally...-I became your shadow, unsure you had what it took, and also..-
-Because I'm human.- His comment fell upon like led, no echo, no doubth, a fact based on evidence brought upon by the troll. -You didn't trust me- though slightly hurt, he couldn't blame them.
After centuries of trolls taking the mantle, suddenly a kid was burdened with a role far bigger than himself. How? Why? No one knew...
-But you proved me wrong, time and time again. Everytime I was about to enter, to finish the job, you solved it.- as factly as Jim had been, but determined to give the kid some merit, some much deserved candor, even if it came from a soldier placing their cards on the table.
The young man's eyes lit up, ever so slightly, relieved again by their kind, yet awkward praise. -You even got to remember Angor who he was, and thanks to that nudge, he did the right thing- They recounted, sweetly, a low purr could be heard as a brief silence ran amock. Their love, if it could be called so, for the assassin, was true. Their body betrayed their stoick front each time Angor's memory was brought upon, making each claim more truthful in Jim's eyes.
Those blue sapphires averted Neala's gaze for a second, ashamed. Now that he knew Angor wasn't completely left on Morgana's claws, a little amount of guilt stood beside the one he already had...
-I killed him...twice.- remarking the last word, as if taking late responsability for an act long done. He somehow expected them to lash out, maybe scold him, but none of that happened.
The Troll looked back at the eye still dancing on their claw, as if its owner was looking back from beyond the grave. Holding it as if their heart was on their hand. Softly, they stated a truth long overdue.
-The first one, was deserved. As for the second one, he chose to die by your hand, sacrificing for our cause. You let him die a hero, and for that, I'll be eternaly grateful.-
Their eyes returned to look at Jim, there was a warmth hidden in its stoick expression, honesty beyond words, trully speaking from the bottom of their heart, genuinely thankful for his departure. But...why? He died tragically, even if it was in the name of the greater good, he was gone and they were still there, watching the years go by without their partner. Was it worth it? Was holding onto his eye and legacy worth losing him? Jim's guilt was growing defensive, as it was poked by the direct words of the teal warrior in front of him. As such, he stood up quickly, fighting his coping mechanisms, his everlasting grieving process.
Grunting, as his inner conflict went down, a bark, painful to the ear, left his aching chest. -Why...are you telling me all this?-
He might have hoped for something hurtful. Maybe they did so to punish him further, maybe to stab again the wound already proving hard to close: how he should've died with them, how his sacrifice would've been more valuable than his life as a husk.
His anxiety turning him into a shivering dog, cornered and waiting for the kick, but none of that happened. The troll knew better than to make him feel worse, after all, they had been there...
-I felt guilty for Angor's fate for way too long- their eyes looking at a void space, recalling the asphixiating feeling both troubled soldiers shared.
The Trollhunter could only react, though subtlely, to the fact, his barrier pierced by a thin pin, as it poked where it hurt the most. Frozen in place, he only hugged himself, as if bracing for the worst.
Neala kept talking, knowing what they were doing. Though they knew it would be an ache far greater than any weapon could provide, they also knew it was the only way to make his catharsys happen.
Taking a deep breath, their deepest feelings became exposed.
-I tussed and turned thinking what would I had done differently to prevent it. In the end, no matter how much I beat around the bush, how much I hated myself for letting him go to her, it wasn't my choice, nor my responsability.- The Young man's torso shivered, holding in his grief, the loss, the everbleeding wound in his chest. Their words were touching the right strings, they had to go on.
-In the end, it was his choice to go look for her, to make a deal. It was his choice to be lost in the madness of his enslavement, until his soul itself got lost.- Could it be...it was Toby's and Claire's choice to fight, even though they knew the price to pay? Were they willing to die to win? Jim couldn't fathom the though of it, he was the most experienced, the leader, even in the end! He could've forced them to stay still, to return to their homes, but he didn't. It was his fault!
A gasp for air left him, it was agony, survivor's guilt making the truth hard to swallow. They had to keep going...
-He forgot himself, was reckless and greedy, nothing like the troll I knew. And I asked myself: how could I let him get to this? Should I had killed him that day in the mausoleum? Should I had forced him to stay instead of letting him go? Should I kill him now and be done with it? I was torturing myself, day and night, eaten up by guilt, you know where that got me?-
With a trembling voice, tainted in a last ditch of defensive anger, he barked in pain. -Nowhere...?- heaving, as his mind and heart fought one last time to proof a point, one which wasn't correct, not then and not now. His eyes, crystallized, were holding back tears, as the truth sunk in.
Neala, still stoick, but empathetic, wanted to soldify the lesson, expecting it to be their final blow.-Precisely, as guardians, as warriors, we can't reminice and get lost in our pain-
But the years of anger, of pented up frustration, woudn't fade without a fight.-But what if it really is your fault?!- a roar, broken and aching left him, as he turned around to face the troll, tears streaming down his face. -What if you could bench Angor with you? Avoiding his enslavement? His death?! What if you had the power to say no!- Though he sounded furious at the fellow soldier, his sadness was there, cracking the sound, letting you know he was seeing his impotence in theirs. He wanted to know what could he had done differently all those years ago, how could he be rid of such penance when it was more than deserved. The answer...was simpler than he though.
-It doesn't matter!- Neala roared back, freezing Jim once more. -It was his choice, and he paid dearly for it! In the end, each thing he did was his will, his decision, and no matter how much I tried to change his mind. What happened, happened! There's no going back, and there's no use in getting stuck in the past!-
What he did, what he didn't, it didn't mattered. It was said and done and nothing could be done to change it...
-You have to keep moving forward, see what's around you, and think, what would they do if they still walked the earth.- they stood up in front of a frozen Jim, who was coming to terms with the fact he might've not failed, that he might've just...trusted they had what it took to handle the fight without him...and that, even If they didn't, he couldn't fix it, and they took that risk...so...
-Would they mop around, lamenting what was and could've been, or they would try to make their home a better place in spite of it all?- Giant claws on his shoulders made him look up at the troll, even spiked and heavy, they felt...familiar, comfortable, like Blinky's or Arrrgh's, the stone, though cold, felt good, as if it was always meant to be there, holding him when he's weak.
Tenderly, or as Neala could manage, he comforted the hurt young man however they could.
-They made their choices, want it or not, now you have to make yours.-
The future is scary, unknown and unpredictable, loneliness makes it desperate, but now, in a home, surrounded by those who still stood and cared, it didn't seem as such. Sure, he might still feel responsible, but at least his guilt over his survival was fading, but the pain of the loss was another story.
-They...didn't deserve to die...- a hoarse moan, filled to the brim with heartache. Who could blame him? Even if he then knew it wasn't his fault, he still lost two of the most important people in his life. His best friend, and his girlfriend, both at a terrible turn of events. Even then, his anger on Hisirdoux's slip semed to fade as well, as he also wasn't entirely at fault for not predicting Belroc's last attack, if he had, he knew he would've protected them with his life.
Even if they won, they all lost something, and now...it was time to fight to get some of it back, but first...the wounds had to be mended...
-I know...- they whispered, trying to comfort the young man. Jim clutched his fists, aching to hold something, or rather, to be held. Neala knew it, and though they weren't very kin of physical contact, they couldn't let the kid bottle his pain further. So, taking a deep breath, they pulled him into a hug, in which he melted instantly.
Small whimpers came, though muffled by the agent's uniform, still, they did no attempt at silencing them. This was what he needed, to let it all go...to deal with the truth, accept it, and cherish it.
Their claw found itself caressing his hair softly, as the other held onto his back. It was a sight their younger self would've scoffed at. If you had said that to them a century or so ago, they would've cut your head off cleanly while growling in offense. But now, after warming up to the Human Trollhunter and to the Prince-in-waiting, it seemed plausible. Both had seen the worst of it, and deserved the same respect as any other warrior, even if they didn't were of their kin.
And those who left them, even more so...
With another whisper, meant to be kind, they continued the fact left incomplete. -But they died like heroes- a truth, which slowly became more tangible as it was said.
His crying, as silent as it was, had nearly stopped, but the hug continued, as he searched for comfort despite it all. A whisper, kind, quiet, and sweet could be heard. -Just like Angor...-
The comment, as innocent as it was, struck a cord in the troll, a truth they knew and had preached, but it still felt awkward when thrown back. So, as their body absorbed it, a sigh, almost a quiet laugh, made their chest deflate ever so slightly. -Exactly.-
They'll never admit it out loud, but Angor was more than their words let on. He not only was their path to redemption, in time, they became close, closer than anyone would've thought. They had shared a goal, a community and a space for way too long. Their heart had opened to him, and his to them as well. They bonded over the minute and the great, the mundane and the extraordinaire.
Though most knew him at his worst, as the wicked beast of the witch, as the dark assassin, he was better than those myths let on, and only they knew it. Such burden, such grief, few knew how heavy it was...and Jim, as young as he was, knew it to perfection, but now, it was his time to mourn it correctly, to shed the guilt and keep moving foward, akin to them.
-They died doing the right thing, and I bet they don't regret it.- they knew Angor didn't, and if the little sorceress who adorned the bedroom walls and the warrior in copper were similar to him, they knew they didn't either. They could see the portraits, the confidence and strife the young girl carried, how corageus she was, and even without her greatests moments on pictures, they had seen her in action.
The portal which saved Trollmarket from Gunmar and Usurna led to their cave after all, they hid, and saw everything from the darkness, but then and there her potential became evident, such resilience was uncommon, even more so for a human. Slowly, she proved her strength, to the point in which she alone rejected Morgana's advances on her, something not even Angor could do.
And as for the hammer wielding knight, though small and derpy at times, never give up a fight. No matter who he went against, he never backed down. Both proved their devotion to the roles they chose, and as Angor did before it all went down, were willing to die to see goodness prevail. They didn't regret it, then, so why they? The ones still standing?...
Neala, consumed by the thought, asked, with no ill intempt whatsoever. -Do you regret letting them be Trollhunters?-
Jim reacted instantly, separating ever so slightly from the hug, facing the troll, surprised upon the question. -What? No, no, of course not.- his eyes, fixated on theirs, red from crying, but clearer than ever.
-Toby was such a good help when I began, he made me feel I wasn't alone and, Claire, I...don't know what I've would've done those two years without her.- Nervous giggles, full of adoration followed each statement, as his mind finally recalled more than their ends. -Both helped me so much, without claims or whines, they just...did it, even in the end...- the last, stained with sadness, bittersweet, but his smile, crooked and weak, still persisited.
His gaze wandered around, tears in the edges of each as his breath drew heavy on his chest. After seconds of joyfully painful whimpers, he locked eyes with a photo on the wall.
It was Claire, and him, taking their bows after playing Romeo and Juliet. She, beautiful in her renaissance dress. Him, wearing the Trollhunter armor...a trembling hand reached his chest, were the amulet was stuck by the shard, were a scar now was, laying beyond view.
As painful as that was, the joy of the moment made it less so. Remembering their debut, their common thread, how he managed to talk to the one and only Claire Nuñez by her passion.
The melancholy of it all pulled him to the photo, as if it was a magnet, calling him to it with ease. His calloused hands soon took it off the wall, and teary eyes locked upon her, as salty droplets dripped over the glass.
-Toby had become so skilled...and Claire, who...who could've imagined she was such a poweful sorceress? Ha! I could've never imagined but I wouldn't doubt it either. She...exceled at anything she put her mind to...she even learned to speak and read troll before I did- He giggled softly, echoes of the past reverberating in his mind, lines of dialogue spoke in tandem, as their own little language...
Shakespeare had written about young, imprudent but passionate love, and though his words were everlasting, as well as a lesson to those beyond the spotlight, the truths hidden in his endless lines of prose rung true to them.
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite."
Even if they stole each other's lines from time to time, it just became a testament of how much they cared for the other to the point they could do each other's roles despite the differences, despite the barriers that existed and, later, crumbled beneath their feet. Unlike their characters, they trascended, they lived and learned, they loved and fought for it till the end of the line.
The sum of it all made it more painful, but it also made it easier to understand her decision, still...-I...just wish they were here- the heartache won't fade as easily.
Neala sighed, looking briefly at Angor's eye, perfectly understanding the sadness which prevails, even after years. -Been there...- discreetly, they held the eye close to their lips, giving it a subtle kiss, before retuning it to their satchel.
-I miss sparring with Angor, he was the only one who could follow my lead. He was so kind, so righteous, and quite funny when he wanted to be. Even our discussions were enticing...At least I got to have one that day, even if it was so he could come to his senses, little did I knew, you already had beat me to it, huh?- they walked to Jim, to hold his shoulders once more, causing him to look up with teary eyes and a crooked smile. The troll returned it, as a snarky smirk, letting their ivory tusks be seen, adding to their intimidaring image. Still, the young man knew it wasn't a comment made with ill intention, nor it was to mock him, they were trying, as they could, to aliviate the tension.
So, as awkwardly as them, he giggled, feeling lighter as he did.
-Yeah...I guess...- he sighed, relieved some of the weight was lifted from his concsience. Years of turmoil could've been avoided if he only had listened to everyone. If he hadn't fallen prey to his fears, maybe he wouldn't had been alone for so long, but...guess there's always a time to start...
His eyes lowered once more, looking at the photo, admiring the memory it held. -It's painful, you know? To let them go, to...believe it wasn't my fault.-
Rubbing his shoulders with dark green claws, their eyes also wandered towards the picture, remembering how they got there. The trials and tribulations which guided them to the play. So young, and yet, so mature, so capable. So frail, yet so corageous. Then, they began seeing mankind as more than mindless, greedy beasts, but as kin creatures who happen to also suffer at the hands of their own kind, more so like Trolls, and despite it all, they came on top, stronger, fiercer and learning from each defeat.
They had learned too, just from looking at them, from looking at him. Jim was all Arthur was not, and stil, the sword rebuffed him. Maybe...it was as corrupted as its previous owner. Would it unsheith for the unjust? For the cruel? Like the alien who kept them chained to a cage and electrocuted when they overstepped? It was an idea they dreaded, but one which now seemed plausible because...if it had refuted such a gentle soul, such a noble warrior, then...the sword wasn't worthy of such wielder.
With as much kindness as they could muster, they tried one more time to settle what was being talked about. Make him aware the pain would live on, but it wouldn't weight him down any longer.
-I know, but aknowledging it is a good first step towards healing.- and they should know. They lost Angor thrice, and each time, it hurt the same, but the last, was the one were the guilt left, as he did what he had to do. Then, they finally breathed fresh air, and still, their heart ached at the idea of never seing him again...
Jim would have to live with it, to learn how to manage it, but at least he didn't have to wait eons for the lesson to land, after all, he wasn't alone, not anymore.
-Thanks, Neala, again- he whispered once more, looking at them, kindly, a spark in his eyes as renewed hope flickered in his heart, like a candle in the dark.
Their mission had been successfully accomplished, the kid was now on the path towards burrying his demons. Finally, they had helped him without dancing in the shadows. A chuckle left, instead of a relieved sigh, before they rustled his dark blue mane, making him giggle.
-You're welcome, cub.-
Now, they understood why Blinkous had fallen for him, why he had adopted the knight he trained as his child. There was not a bad bone in his body, his noble heart carried through even when hurt by loss, it just needed to realize he wasn't the culprit of its own pain.
Now, he knew, and the kid burried under the rubble of the titans finallt began to see the light.
-Well, you should rest.- with the morale up and the night running as they spoke, sleeping was at hand, needed for the day to come.
-Embassador Tarron has a meeting scheduled with all of us at 700. Then, we can sparr.- It felt good, to invite another fighter to their sessions, to once again be fighting alongside someone. They might've not showed it, but there was also a renewed spark ignited in their eyes. As if, somehow, the owner of the eye they carried was back.
Even as stoick and snarky as they might look, a childish giddiness hid beneath malachite stone.
At the comment, Jim reacted with outmost surprise. Leaving the photo on his hands over the drawer behind him.
-How? Excalibur is still on the stone and...I've got no armour- So, he was open to train again, good! Very good! Their smile said it all...
-Embassador Tarron has that already covered.- again, that softness in their voice returned as they spoke of the Prince. -Trust him, he's suffered more than you know.-
The young man lowered his head, thinking of how harsh he had been earlier with him. An apology was more than needed... With a sigh, he accepted such responsability, another little step towards the light.
-Sure, 700 on the clock?-
A nod, calm and collected, was Neala's reply.
-Good night, Trollhunter- at the door already, door opened and knob on their claws. The only thing keeping them waiting, was his response.
With a shy smile, he nodded back.
-Night, Neala-
And like that, the door closed behind them, leaving Jim alone once more. His thoughts, clearer, his heart, lighter. As his eyes wandered back to the picture, a sigh left, a last one, full of sadness and nostalgia. Claire would've hated seen him so broken, so bitter and disconnected...it was time to return to the fray. Do what they would've done if they still lived, for them...for their love, boundless, infinite.