Chapter Text
“John Dory! John! John Dory!”
A voice broke through the haze of sleep, shaking his arm forcefully. The teenager groaned as he turned over and tried to force himself awake. His limbs protested at movement.
“John!” the voice whispered again, urgently.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbled, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He looked up at the shadow of a troll standing above his bed. “What time is it?”
It was still insanely dark.
Sure, John Dory was an early riser more often than not but this was a bit much, even for him.
“You need to wake up now.”
The voice was more familiar now. As his vision began to adjust, he could finally see the details of his mother’s wild concern. “Mom? What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up quickly. His brain did not love that. She never woke him up. Heck, she wasn’t around most of the time.
“We need to go right now. There is a Bergen at the gate,” she whispered urgently.
Something in John Dory’s brain flipped like a switch. He ripped off his covers and grabbed some pants. “What? Trollstice isn’t for another two months!”
“We need to leave right now,” his mother just insisted.
“Go where? The tunnels are nowhere near finished…”
“John, trust me,” his mother grasped his hand as the other held his goggles. She gave them to him and he put them on, resting over his eyes.
“Alright, we have to get to the boys,” John accepted, moving towards the door to get to his brothers.
“They are already gone. Rosiepuff took them,” his mother explained in a hushed tone. “You were just hard to wake up.”
Looking back, that was hard to believe. John was not a very heavy sleeper but he thought little of it. “My brothers are safe?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “But we won’t be if you don’t follow me right now.”
He looked at her for a moment. She wasn’t around a lot, leaving them to their own devices. Or, rather, leaving John to take care of his brothers. Ever since their dad was taken last Trollstice, it had gotten worse. She was gone more often. She broke promises to Clay, avoiding Bruce and well, Floyd hardly knew her. Branch probably didn’t even know who she was. Trusting her was hard.
But for his brothers, he’d do anything.
And they were her kids. She may break promises but she wouldn’t do anything to endanger them.
With a sharp nod, John Dory bolted out of the room after his mother and straight out of their pod, only sparing a small glance to the other closed doors of his brother’s rooms.
It was still dark - the sun not yet even starting to peek over the horizon. The air was cool to couch and damp on his skin, a soft breeze singing through the branches.
Branch’s voice. It almost sounded like his baby brother’s voice.
He wanted to see his brothers so bad. Make sure they are okay. He was so worried about them. And grandma… four boys were a lot to keep up with and keep together, especially at her age. He should have been there.
He should be with them.
Soon, he thought. Soon.
Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch.
Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch.
Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch.
Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch.
Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch.
He repeated their names in his head, spurring him on. He hardly noticed that there weren’t any other trolls out, swinging to the ground towards the tunnels like him. They are being stealthy, you idiot, he thought to himself. Just like you should be.
He jumped to a lower limb of the tree, one eye on his mother and swung to the next. They were quickly approaching the ground as John tried to use other pods and foliage as cover. As he got to the grassy floor by the roots of the Troll Tree, he landed with a heavy oof. It felt like a soft rock had been dropped on his head.
“Shhhh,” his mother hissed.
John’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t even realized he made a sound.
He followed as she dashed towards the edge of the cage, overlooking the dark cobblestone and even darker houses beyond. “Aren’t the tunnels the other way?”
“We aren’t using the tunnels,” his mother whispered. “Like you said, they aren’t finished. We have to make it to that alley. Others are waiting for us to be moved,” she pointed across the way to a pitch back corner. He couldn’t see anything in it.
“We have to cross a Bergen street?” John hissed, eyeing the cobblestone.
It looked very uncomfortable.
“You have to do this, John Dory. For your brothers.”
For his brothers?
Anything.
It could be twenty years of radio silence and he would still run when any single one of them called.
“Be quiet and careful,” she ordered as she stepped past the bars of the cage. He had never done that before. Walked through them. He had never stepped on a Bergen cobblestone street either. But tonight, he was going to do both.
The metal was so cold on his hands it almost burned. He tore away from them as quickly as he could. The stone was wet and slippery. It took John a few moments for the pads on his feet to adjust to the feeling and grip. Upon testing it out, he started to carefully walk across the uneven surface, trying to prevent himself from tripping in the spaces between the rocks.
“Let’s go, John Dory,” his mother tried to push him further. “You need to pick up the pace”
It was the middle of the night. There wasn’t anyone around. Out in the open like this, especially like this, they would see a Bergen coming easy.
“I’m working on it,” he grumbled. “This is harder than it looks and I don’t want to attract any attention.”
“You are going to attract attention if you don’t hurry up!” she sounded almost annoyed, definitely frustrated.
John frowned and tried to pick up the pace. Maybe if he just…
His foot twisted gracefully over the other and his eyes widened. Okay, so maybe he could do this. A dance. Choreography. And so he went off, using the dance moves he knew - from the choreo he had created once upon a time to the silly dance steps Clay was desperate to show and teach him. Focusing on that and giving it a little tune, he made it to the other side before he knew it.
He could almost swear he heard clapping but when he turned, his mother had her arms crossed across her chest, waiting impatiently with a frown.
Figures.
“Let’s go,” she just said before spinning around and darting into the darkness of the alley.
He didn’t have a good feeling about this.
The alley was so dark, he could barely make out the silhouette of his mother sometimes. He had no idea where they were or where they were going - he was just going to have to trust her. “We have to climb a bit,” she said, throwing her hair to scale a barrel.
John followed, a bit surprised by the pinch that itched at him from the base of his hair as he threw it. It was fine. He’d figure it out later.
They climbed a few boxes up to a window sill. It was open and the inside was dark. “Are we…”
“It’s long abandoned,” she assured and jumped inside.
Something definitely didn’t feel right but he followed anyway. Scurrying across the dusty counter, he noticed other tiny footprints and steps. Several other trolls had come through here and recently so. They must have come through here. Some of them had to be his brother’s he thought, determined.
“Come on, we need to hurry,” she urged, now just a hair behind him. “Right through there,” she pointed to a torn and jagged hole in the wall.
John didn’t hesitate.
Oh, he should have hesitated.
His eyes were assaulted by a sudden bright overhead lights and he was temporarily blinded by them. His arm went up on instinct to block it, trying to shield himself from the light while his eyes adjusted and quickly, they did.
He was in a kitchen.
A kitchen that was not abandoned. A kitchen that was being used.
There were a couple of cages nearby with terrified trolls already inside of them. Two Bergens were in his line of sight around the other side of the room.
John gasped and took a step back. He backed into the shining flat side of a knife. He shuddered and glanced up, another Bergen looming over him with an interested smile.
“Right on time, dear,” she chuckled, pushing her knife along the counter, forcing John forward. His heart pounded out of his chest, all rational thought fleeing from his brain.
Right on time.
This was a trap.
“We thought you might miss the deadline.”
Deadline?
“He is here, isn’t he?”
His mother’s voice was hardened and irritated.
He wanted to throw up.
Mom?
The Bergen ushered him into a cage. The other trolls inside huddled on the other side, cowering in fear. John turned just as the door closed behind him. His mother walked towards him, calm and unafraid. The Bergen made no move against her.
“And in return, your pod will be left untouched,” the Bergen promised. “Your family is down to an acceptable number since the hatching of your last son.”
Branch, John exhaled.
“He is a fair specimen,” The Bergen studied him carefully, using a smaller knife to try and turn him around. It poked at his side. “Bright, robust. A bit smaller than the last one I was brought by you.”
John’s blood went cold.
He could guess.
“He isn’t an adult quite yet,” his mother explained. “If you wait a few years, he would be. And bigger.”
“That will be up to the assigned customer,” the Bergen waved off as she turned away. “Hurry up with the last words. Then move along. We have others scheduled to arrive tonight.”
His mother approached. “I’m sorry John Dory.”
He didn’t know what to say. What was there to say?
“I had to,” she sighed. “Our family was too big, even with Floyd. We hid it for years.”
“You sacrificed dad,” he realized, his voice grating against his throat.
“He went willingly,” his mother’s ears flattened in offense. There was an edge to her voice. “He sacrificed himself for his family.”
Did he believe her?
Could he?
Did it really matter?
He already made the mistake to believe and trust her before, resulting in this. Then again, what would she gain by lying? The damage was done. She had signed his death warrant. Signed, sealed and delivered.
“They kept a closer eye on us,” she admitted. “After finding out about Floyd. Even after your father.”
“Branch,” he exhaled.
“We couldn’t hide it when he hatched. Our family was too big again. I had to do something. For Branch,” she insisted. She insisted like she cared at all. John didn’t know how he could convince himself that she cared about him when his baby brother didn’t even know what she looked like.
“So you sacrificed me.”
“He has the voice of an angel,” his mother said. He must have heard Branch sing somewhere. She didn’t deserve to hear it. “John, I had to protect my family,”
Am I not?
His thoughts felt numb.
It hit him like a ton of bricks.
She had already emotionally detached herself from him, from his place in the family, even. She had probably been doing it for years.
“Spruce can take care of your brothers just fine,” she explained, calmly. As if that would make him feel better or something. “He’s been taking up more responsibility for a while now, covering your slack.”
He was helping me, John’s mind screamed.
Spruce had been helping out more but it had started years ago. He remembered coming home late one night. Very late. He had gotten stuck at a job and it was nearly so late it was almost not worth coming home. But he did anyway. Clay and Floyd had fallen asleep on the couch. Spruce had waited up for him.
He had been upset at first and John had been too tired to fight him.
And then, all of a sudden, Spruce had softened.
“John,” he had sighed, gentle and understanding. “Just let me help you. I have your back.”
And after that, things shifted a little. John refused to let Spruce drop out of school like him or get behind on any schoolwork in any way but he did become more lenient on Spruce helping him. Let him stay up later. Let him help cook. Even helped him get a minor part time job.
“John Dory.”
The way his mother said his name made him sick now. He wished she would never say it again. It felt tainted now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anyone say it again.
“I’m sorry things have to be this way.”
Did they? Have to be this way?
“But I have to protect my family, do you understand?”
He’s been protecting them for years.
“What would you do for your brothers?”
Anything.
The thought was immediate.
“What would you do for your brothers, John?”
“Anything.”
“This is it,” she said quietly. He was almost comforted by her tone. “This is it, John. This is it. You are protecting your brothers.”
This was anything.
“What would you do to save your brothers?”
Tears clouded his vision.
He hated that the last family he would ever see was her.
“Anything,” he choked.
“Anything,” she repeated.
“Okay mom.”
He was resigned. Her name felt like poison. It would numb his tongue.
“Okay. For my brothers.”
He just wished he had gotten to see them one last time.