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Chapter Text

John Dorey was fuming. He made his way through the bushes, moving closer and closer to the grate. John didn't look back every few seconds to see if anyone was following him. Not at all. He was going to make his threat a reality and get to the Neverglade trail. He was going to follow in his grandfather's footsteps. To see the world, and he cares about ungrateful brothers.

Climbing over the iron bars, John did not pay attention to the two Bergens passing along the street. John didn't expect to be grabbed by Bergen's smelly, callused hand. Adrenaline coursed through the veins of the unfortunate troll as he was trapped in a vice.
He squirmed and clawed, trying to break free from the steel grip. But he was only squeezed harder, breaking bones and choking off the air. Pain shot through the troll's entire body, tears flowed from John's eyes. He whined, trying to take a much-needed breath. Panic grew, and he struggled to escape, writhing. The edges of his vision began to darken as he was squeezed so hard that John couldn't make a sound.
Then he felt such a hellish pain in his leg. The crunching of bones echoed in my ears. Muscles and tendons were tearing.

She was bitten off.

A heart-rending scream escaped with the remaining oxygen. Tears streamed from John's reddened eyes. He could feel the blood flowing out of his body at a furious rate. The fear of death was felt like never before. Images of his life flashed before his eyes. His brothers, his grandmother, his grandfather, and his wayward mother.

It looked like it was the end. The end of not only the band, but also of John Dorey's short life. (He wanted to apologize so much.)
He couldn't move or fight from the pain. He froze, waiting for the end of his torment.
—Hey, you can't eat trolls before Trollstice, put him now ," said a high, angry voice.
- Scarlet, leave me alone, we want some happiness, just one troll, no one will notice. An irritated deep voice replied.
- No, you can't, so you can't. "Give it to me, or I'll tell Dad everything."
"We've already started, Scarlett, he won't survive," another younger voice replied with calm indifference.
"We can share it if you want, but don't tell anyone," the first one said with a chuckle.
"Give it to me," Scarlett replied angrily.
John felt himself being thrown before he landed in soft hands that smelled of soap and powder. He wanted to run, but all he had left was ragged, painful gasps, and his whole body ached, especially his leg. He could feel it getting colder and colder.
"Okay, take it wherever you want, you little bitch. It's not our problem if he dies. - A nasty sarcastic voice will answer.
Rapid footsteps could be heard retreating. John was gently hugged to his chest. It was the only thing he had time to realize before he lost the last shred of consciousness and plunged into darkness.

Chapter Text

Waking up was excruciating. My body ached and ached, and every breath was torture. John opened his eyes a crack, immediately wincing at the bright light and pain.

"Oh, you're awake, okay," said a soft voice above the troll.
"You've been sleeping for quite a while, and I'm starting to worry."
John Dorey tried to sit up, but was quickly stopped by the soft little hands of another troll.
"Lie down for now, you need to rest," said a stern but gentle voice.
"Where am I?" John whispered hoarsely, barely audible. My throat hurt like I'd eaten a bucket of nails.

This place didn't look like a pod. The ceiling was made of cardboard in different colors, as were the walls. John felt like he was lying on a huge pillow (too soft for a mattress), but it was too big and not like the usual herbal pillow he used at home. The window had no glass, just a hole in the cardboard through which the light passed.
"I'll tell you if you promise not to scream," said a light gray troll with pale turquoise hair (some strands were black). John could get a good look at him now. His blue dark eyes looked with question and concern. He was fiddling with the sleeves of his black shirt, and his tail was wrapped around his legs in a pink plaid skirt.
"I promise,— John said suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.
— Okay, okay, remember, you promised. The gray troll said with a sigh. You're safe as long as you're here," the troll hesitated, tugging at his shirt sleeves even harder. "We're in Bergen's dollhouse.
- what? John shouted. But they quickly shut his mouth.
—Quiet, you promised," the gray troll whispered, still holding his hands on John's face.
"I'll let you go, just don't scream."
John Dorey just nodded.
— What do you mean, "we're at Bergen"?! Dori said as soon as he was released.
It was much quieter than his scream a moment ago. Almost a hiss.
— I'll tell you right away, Scarlett is cute, but she lives with her dad and a big family, so don't make any noise. The troll said sternly, knitting his eyebrows.
— She saved you from teenagers, but you didn't wake up, and Scarlett brought you home to heal you. You got a broken rib and... the troll hesitated, looking hesitantly at John's legs.
"So don't move. The troll spoke softly. There was sadness and regret in his eyes.
John ignored the look. Trying not to cry, it was all too much for him at that moment. He decided to focus on the most amazing thing for now. (After all, life in a cage has always been a reminder of near death.) Bergen not only saved him, but he also didn't eat him. He looked incredulously at the troll next to him.
—Hey, I'm telling the truth, I'm living proof myself, I'm still not dead," the troll said resentfully, crossing his arms.
"Okay, I believe you, but I still need to get out of here, my brothers are probably worried that I am.".. John hesitated. He left on his own. And the brothers didn't follow him, they didn't even try to stop him. (Anger bubbled in his blood). If it hadn't been for a chance encounter with the "kind" Bergen, he could have been dead by now and they wouldn't have known. They're probably happy without him, because he's the one responsible for the breakup of their band. For the collapse of their family.
—It doesn't matter," John Dorey said sourly, turning to the window. Guilt, grief, disappointment, and anger mixed in the troll, settling like a stone in his stomach.
The gray troll noticed the sudden change in mood, swaying awkwardly on his feet.
—Let me get you some food." Said the troll before leaving John Dorey alone.

Chapter Text

Lying alone on a soft pillow, you can think about a lot. "Was the decision to leave hasty? How are the brothers coping without him?! Do they think about him or are they happy that he's gone? Maybe I should have tried harder!? He would be alive right now if it weren't for his savior. What should he do now? What to do? Is it his fault? Can he even come back? Was he allowed to leave first? Is it all a guilty rage? Can't he be a normal troll if he lost his temper like that?" Heavy thoughts swarmed through John Dorey's mind. The stone in my stomach was growing by the second. With every thought that came into his head.

Sadness, longing and anger (at myself in particular)— that's how John felt at the moment.
Dori did not notice how the tips of his fingers turned gray, how black, completely invisible strands appeared in his hair. How the tail tassel turned dark, almost black. He sank more and more into self-blame and longing, driving himself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair.

The pain in the body also added to the stress. My bones ached. It was hard to breathe. John couldn't take a deep breath without feeling the pain reverberating through his entire body. The excruciating pain in his leg was bothering him.
John sat up a little, wincing with every movement. My muscles were numb and aching.
Every movement was riddled with pain.

As soon as he was in a semi-sitting position, John pushed the blanket away with his hand in one sharp movement, while he had the courage (grimacing in pain at the rapid movement).

John Dorey stopped dead in his tracks. His breathing stopped, and he couldn't help but utter a sound. I was just watching. Wet, slightly red bandages covered the remaining leg. A third of the leg, a foot, and most of the shin were missing.
John stretched his shaking hands (why were they shaking?) to the bandages, he was trying to untie them. He wanted to see and feel that it was all a lie. My fingers felt numb and wouldn't obey.
"Come on, come on," John Dorey whined, trying to untie the bandages. Imperceptible tears kept pouring down, blurring his vision. His hands were soaked with blood and were slippery and sticky (he had unknowingly opened the wounds). The smell of metal was everywhere in the air.
John couldn't untie the knot and tried to tear the bandages with his claws, which were so interfering with him, when soft hands stopped him.
The troll held him tightly by the wrists, not allowing him to move.
"Let me go," John roared angrily, trying to free himself.
He twitched and writhed in the iron grip, oblivious to the pain in his ribs and leg due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"Let go!" John Dorey pleaded with some kind of pleading, still kicking, trying to pull the troll away from him.
"Let go," John begged with a kind of squeak, burying himself in the stranger's chest.
The troll's hands moved to John's back, hugging him tightly. They drew circles on her back, pulled at her hair, trying to calm her down somehow.

John couldn't stand it and gave himself up to tears. He was crying hard, clutching his black shirt like a lifeline. He was crying from pain, from fear, from despair, from all that he had accumulated over the years.
John broke down on the chest of the troll he met just today. How he didn't break down in front of anyone, even in front of his family.

At the moment, he didn't care, he was just crying, pouring out long-accumulated tears. Who knew that the last straw for the great leader of the group, the elder brother, would be the fear of imminent death. Definitely not his brothers.

After 2 hours, there were no tears left. John just sobbed, clinging to the chest of the crooning troll. He did not notice how they lay down in an embrace on a huge soft pillow.
"Get some more rest,— the gray troll gently asked, lulling the tired John to sleep.
They clung to each other, basking in their embrace. Their tails are intertwined, as are their arms. A cozy bundle of support. John breathed in the sweet scent of almonds mixed with syrup. The troll covered them with a discarded blanket.

Fatigue and hysteria made themselves felt. John Dorey dozed off with his future friend in his arms.

Sensing that John had dozed off, the troll tried to extricate himself from the tight embrace. Dort clutched at his shirt, unwilling to let go.
"I'll be right back," the troll whispered softly.
Reluctantly, John obeyed, clearly half asleep, releasing his grip and falling asleep again.

The gray troll returned with bandages and antiseptic. He bandaged his leg with practiced movements.
After putting everything back in place, the troll returned as promised.
This poor guy reminded him so much of his sister. He wanted to take care and protect. What is the meaning of a distant feeling.
Sleeping with your arms around each other is such nostalgia. The troll smiled as he fell asleep with a troll whose name he didn't even know. But I was hoping to find out tomorrow.

Chapter Text

John woke up hugging yesterday's troll. Dori abruptly pushed him away, hissing in pain due to the sudden movement.
"Good morning to you too," moaned the sleepy troll, rubbing his head.
Red John Dorey just mumbled, covering his face with his hands. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and her tail curled protectively around her legs. After all, he cried for two hours and fell asleep like a child after a tantrum. Yes, the unworthy behavior of an older brother.
"It's okay, don't worry," the gray troll said, putting his hand on top of John's head and ruffling his hair a little.
John Dorey watched through the gap in his fingers as the troll picked up the tray from the floor. Nuts, seeds, and berries were scattered everywhere.
John Dorey burrowed into the blanket. Hiding more from embarrassment.
A light chuckle was heard very close to the red troll.
John groaned. That's it, he decided, he would die under this blanket, because he would no longer get out of his soft captivity.
"Come on, get out," the gray troll said softly with a laugh.
He lifted a piece of blanket off John's head with a small bright smile.
"Let's eat something," the troll suggested, holding out a tray with the remaining nuts and seeds (the berries were not in the best condition).
John nodded, moving away to make room for the troll. The gray troll climbed onto the pillow and took the almonds.
John Dorey settled on peanuts.
They ate in silence. The smile faded from the stranger's face, and he sank into thought. John didn't break the silence either, eating a nut (he was so hungry, it felt like he hadn't eaten properly in weeks).
"You said you have brothers," the troll began with a frown, "they're probably worried.
John grimaced, remembering the recent quarrel.
- I do not know. We had a fight and I left. They didn't try to stop me," Dori confessed. The voice was low and hoarse.
"I'm sure they're worried and looking for you," the stranger replied with confidence.
- thanks... John Dorey said softly with a forced smile. He didn't argue, he didn't want to burden his savior with his problems. He knew the whole truth.
- Marzipan. My name is Marzipan," said the troll, holding out his hand.
- John Dorey, nice to meet you. John shook hands with his new friend.
"Likewise," Marzipan replied with a smile.
- You have a beautiful name, as ras for such a wonderful girl, why did your parents call you that? John asked calmly. He could be charismatic when he wanted to be. and you need to be polite to the troll who saved you.
It was Marzipan's turn to blush. A crimson blush appeared on his gray skin.
"I'm actually a guy," the troll stammered.
"What?" But you're so handsome," the crimson John Dorey replied.
Marzipan's eyes widened a little before he hid his face in his hands. He turned the color of ripe cherries, his ears and neck also turned red, as did his face.
"It's the skirt and blouse," Marzipan said faintly. - Scarlett can only sew for dolls.
"No, you're very handsome yourself," John objected, crossing his arms over his chest (wincing in discomfort at the same time)
"Shut up," the red troll squeaked.

This nervous cutie blushed all over with unexpected compliments

They heard the sound of a door opening and loud footsteps coming towards them. John and Marzipan tensed, ready to run. The footsteps stopped very close.
There was a knock (knock, knock, knock... knock).

Marzipan exhaled, immediately relaxing, which could not be said about Dori.
"We're here, Scarlett," the gray troll shouted.

The roof opened, revealing the Bergen girl's face. Light gray, dull face (almost white), black eyes with purple bags. Small button-down nose. Sharp ears. Disheveled curly black hair with bright red tips. The most eye-catching was the mouth with a wide, joyful smile.
The Bergens only had an expression of complete happiness when they ate trolls.

John Dorey tensed, scanning a possible escape route. Breathing fast, he ran his eyes around the room, realizing that they were trapped. Panic began to build. He clutched at Marzipan, trying to squeeze into a corner in the hope that they would not be noticed. The memories of his near death were too fresh.

Bergen grimaced, squinting at Marcitan.
John didn't like it very much. The iron grip became even stronger, he pulled the gray troll towards him, wrapping all his limbs around him, baring his teeth.
John's heart was pounding like crazy, it was about to jump out. There was a noise in my ears. He was ready to fight back at any cost.

Bergen stepped back quietly, putting the roof back in place.
"I think he needs to get used to it," Bergen said sadly, as quietly as possible.
John hissed, but calmed down a bit when Scarlet was out of sight.

Soft hands touched her cheeks and turned her away from the wall.

"It's okay, come on, you're safe, I'm safe," a gentle voice purred, distracting John from his contemplation of the ceiling.

Dori turned his attention to the soft hands on his face, how close they sat, how their limbs intertwined. He quickly retreated, blushing slightly.
"Hehe, I'm sorry.
"It's okay," Marzipan said with a smile.
"I'm going to talk to Scarlett."

John didn't let the troll get off the pillow. He wrapped his arms and tail around his torso, preventing him from leaving. John didn't want Marzipan to go to Bergen. It's too dangerous there.

Marzipan tried to free himself from the tail.
"John, it's okay, don't worry," Marzipan begged.
"I'll be back soon."
Reluctantly, John Dorey loosened his grip, sinking into the soft pillow.

The adrenaline was starting to fade, and my body was cramping with tension.
Marzipan stroked the troll's head, smiling gently.
"I'll be back soon and I'll take some painkillers with me."

John watched as the troll walked away, leaving him alone. Excitement settled in John's soul, he did not want to be alone when Bergen was nearby.
He still didn't believe her. And Marzipan could be in danger or being blackmailed. He couldn't be sure of anything. So is the story of the good Bergen.
Maybe it's this girl's trick. She is fooling not only him but also Marzipan. Collects more trolls to eat them all at once. John has to keep his eyes open. For the sake of survival. And persuade Marzipan to run away with him. And if he's in league with Bergen... No, he's too kind and naive, it's obvious right away. Bergen probably tricked him.

John's mind was wandering. He couldn't focus on anything in particular anymore. The pain was so damn bad and the muscles were so sluggish. John felt sick and hot all over his body. He slowly closed his eyes, trying to somehow calm the beating heart in his temples.

How he longed to be at home in his grandmother's warm embrace, so that she would sing him a lullaby. How I wanted to feel the presence of my brothers, their laughter and games. How he wanted to feel at home. He wanted to see his grandfather, he missed her so much. A single tear rolled down John's cheek. He felt so lost and alone.

He felt something cold and wet on his forehead before passing out.

Chapter Text

His limbs felt like they were filled with lead. The troll felt the heat all over his body. John could barely open his eyes. He felt lousy. Well, the stress of the last few days didn't add to my health. "Hmm, I wonder how long I've been here,— John thought.

John wiped the damp cloth from his forehead, combed (tried to) his disheveled hair. When he didn't feel his glasses, he immediately tensed up. Jumping up quickly (it was a bad idea), he groaned in pain. He noticed how the gray troll was sleeping on the floor, with his head on a pillow, covered with some kind of blanket. There was a basin of water nearby. An involuntary smile blossomed on John's face. He looked around, trying to find his glasses. "Just don't let them get lost in the attack," John Dorey pleaded. He never parted with his grandfather's gift.
It was one of the few things left after his death.
John noticed them on a kind of bedside table made of matches.
The troll breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to get up to pick up the glasses.
A sob of pain escaped the troll as he tried to move his legs. Everything was cramping so hard that John couldn't breathe. Dori leaned back against the pillow, breathing through clenched teeth. My vision was blurred by tears and ripples .
"It'll be all right now," Marzipan gently promised, waking up because of the noise.

There were quick retreating footsteps.
The pain was starting to subside a little. John didn't move, just moaned for a long time, letting the agonizing sensations slowly recede.

Marzipan is back. He picked up some kind of green ointment with a pungent mint scent. With slow movements, the troll rubbed the slippery slush over John's legs. Slightly relieving the swelling and pain.
Dori whined, digging his nails into the blanket.
When the pain subsided a little, John was able to exhale, relaxing. He felt broken and broken, which was exactly what it was.

A cold cloth was placed on Dori's forehead.
"You still have a fever," Marzipan explained.
The gray troll wiped the last of the ointment off his hands.
"You shouldn't move so quickly, your muscles are very weak. You've been lying motionless for about two weeks with a fever, I've tried my best to help, but it's not enough," Marzipan said quietly.
John grew paler with every word he uttered. For two weeks he was so far away from his family at Bergen's house. He had been fighting for his life for two weeks, he might not have woken up, and none of the brothers would have known.
Two weeks wasted.

Marzipan noticed how the troll's mood was deteriorating.
He came over, ruffled John's hair, and smiled sweetly.
"Don't worry, you'll see them soon, they'll be glad you're back," the gray troll gently reassured. He sounded so confident that I wanted to believe.

John grimaced, but said nothing.
In the house, he was the elder brother, the leader. Grandma helped, but at her age she couldn't keep an eye on the violent boys. With such a leg, he couldn't protect his family, he couldn't lead. John wanted to come back, but what was the point? He became a burden, a weak link. His brothers were already angry at him because of his failure. What happens if he comes back in this state? Perhaps he will be forgiven, but he will still be an extra mouth in a big family.

No, they'll be better off without any problems.

Marzipan gently bandaged the clean bandages. (When did he get there, John was so deep in thought that he didn't notice?). He did everything with such precision and skill. As an experienced doctor.

"Where did you learn that?" asked John, trying to push away the bad thoughts.
The troll stopped for a second. Without taking his eyes off his feet.
"My sister got into trouble a lot, and I loved helping her, even though I was younger," Marzipan replied with a sad smile.
John nodded, not wanting to pursue an obviously painful topic.

They sat in pleasant silence until they heard a knock (knock-knock-knock... knock).
"Is he all right?" asked Scarlett in a whisper.
John grinned at Bergen's voice. He doesn't intend to just sit around without a fight, even without a leg.
Marzipan covered his face with his palm, glaring at Dori.
"Yes, he's fine," Marzipan replied and threatened John in a reproachful whisper: "Don't growl at the child."
Dori really wanted to answer, but the gray paw prevented him from speaking.
"I'm glad," came Scarlett's soft voice.
"I'll go talk to her, and you be a good boy," Marzipan said before leaving.

John Dorey watched as the gray troll was quickly satisfied. John was at a loss how to approach Bergen on his own, and even protect it. No, she definitely brainwashed him. John pouted, he definitely has to talk to Marzipan when the troll returns.

John noticed a small tray of new seeds and nuts on the floor. Apparently, Marzipan brought them along with the ointment. John grinned and tried to reach for the almonds. With joys , Dori managed to pull the treat towards her.
"I've definitely messed up my brain," the troll's head was buzzing.

Chapter Text

Marzipan peeked out from his hiding place, carefully examining the space.
It was rare for anyone to enter Scarlett's room for no apparent reason.

Everyone was at work. Father Tom was on duty guarding the troll tree (Scarlett hated this job, as well as cooks). Kozlet's grandmother ran a farm outside the city. Uncle Tim and Aunt Serena were in their shop with household utensils. And their children, Clara and Carl, were most likely bullying somewhere on the street. The older cousins often disappeared somewhere, returning only late at night. There are no schools in Bergen Town as such. Parents teach their children the basics of writing, reading and mathematics themselves. Children occupy themselves or work with their parents.

Everything was quiet and peaceful.
A small room with a bed, a wardrobe, several shelves, wooden chairs, two small tables in different corners of the room, one with a lamp and various small items, the second stood by the window. There are several posters, flags, and paintings on the gray walls. A small ottoman in the corner.
As usual, everything was littered with clothes, books, toys, unfinished paintings and various materials in which it was easy to hide. The cupboards were filled with all sorts of stuff, often things that shouldn't be there.
The usual room of a scruffy teenager.

Scarlett was sitting on a chair at the table where there was a homemade cardboard dollhouse. She was frowning out the window, watching the passersby. Many Bergens wandered aimlessly back and forth, hunched over and unhappy. Everyone was just living their day waiting for Trollstice. Many went to unloved jobs. They lived in old rickety houses, waiting for happiness. They didn't care at all about themselves and their loved ones, they were doing at least something just to pass the time.

The troll moved closer to the upset girl, climbing onto her shoulder. Scarlet didn't take her eyes off the window, lost in thought. Dark clouds slowly drifted across the sky, giving the already cold city gloom and gloom. Marzipan stroked the girl's pale cheek with his soft hand, attracting her attention.
Scarlett stood up, walking to a soft bed with lots of plush toys and cute little pillows (many handmade). Settling into her nest, Bergen shifted Marzipan onto her cupped hands.
"Do you think he hates me even more?" Scarlett began quietly, looking at the troll expectantly.
"Scarlett... John doesn't like all the Bergens, not you personally. Simply... He doesn't trust you yet, I'm sure you'll get along," Marzipan replied slowly and quietly, trying to cheer up the teenager. Scarlet laid the troll on the pillow next to her, pulling her knees to her chest.
"I know we should be hated. We have enslaved the trolls, we have taken away your freedom, we are eating you like cattle! My ancestors have been doing this for centuries and continue to do so... You have to live every day with the fear of death...... A sob... Scarlet wiped away her salty tears, her voice getting quieter and quieter.
"Scarlett."
"I just want to know if he hates me more than the others... a sob, because if I had been a little faster... He wouldn't have lost a leg." Scarlett was completely broke down . Tears streamed from his reddened eyes. The girl buried her face in her lap, hiding from the world in a small space of tranquility in her room.
Marzipan climbed with the help of hair on the girl's head. Stroking the disheveled black and red hair.
"Scarlett, listen to me. It's not your fault. The Bergens are destroying us, but not you personally....... Scarlett, John got hurt because of teenagers, you couldn't have known this was going to happen. Please don't blame yourself for not in control.
- But if I had been a little more attentive, I would have noticed them sooner. She replied, burying her face deeper into her knees.
- no. It's not your fault. Scarlett, you're the amazing Bergen I know.
"You only know me." The girl replied with a little mischief.
"Don't interrupt... Cough, cough. So, you're wonderful, without you I would have died a long time ago. You have helped me, you have become my faithful friend, I will forever be in your debt, and I will always love you.... So please don't talk so badly about yourself.
Marzipan hugged Scarlett's head, burying his face in her soft hair.
- thanks. Scarlett replied hoarsely in tears. While the troll stroked her head.

The whole sky was overcast. The first drops of rain began to patter on the glass.

Chapter Text

A thunderstorm was beginning outside the window, and John Dorey could hear raindrops drumming on the roofs, and a strong wind shaking the branches of trees. The troll flinched at every thunderclap. This kind of weather always brought back old memories.

Which John didn't want to remember right now. How all the brothers hid in Grandma Rosiepuff's room during the storm. How they snuggled up to each other, listening to fairy tales and stories, eating sweets. Such pleasant little things in life.

The troll tried to distract himself, but his thoughts drifted away. Marzipan still did not come back. So John sat alone in silence. It would be a strange feeling, new and unfamiliar. His brothers were always there for him. Dori couldn't even remember when he was truly alone.

It started after Spruce appeared. They were inseparable, they were always together. They played and ran after each other. Like little gladiators smashing everything around. Because of the 2-year difference, they were the closest, even becoming older brothers.

2 years later, Clay appeared, a small bundle of joy. To whom they devoted their love and care. The little sun, who, like a duckling, followed his older brothers. He got into John's hair, always repeated stupid things for Spruce, was always there and gave everyone a smile.

Two years later, Floyd appeared. He was very whiny and clingy, constantly wanting the attention of his older brothers and grandmother. He especially loved to ride in his hair and practically did not get out of John Dorey's head. A pink ball with great emotional intelligence. He always supported and encouraged you, knew how you felt, even when you were just a baby.

This idyll of 4 brothers lasted for 12 years. During this time, they created their ideal band and became more or less recognizable. The grandmother could not feed herself and 4 children alone. After becoming a band, they often received presents and gifts from fans.

The result came as a surprise. It took a long time before their mother showed up. Honestly, they thought she was dead. Just a thought that seemed the most logical and plausible in their world. There was no grief for someone they didn't know, no joy when they found out she was alive. (That's what they called themselves )

Sharpie lived for her own pleasure, not caring about her old mother, dead father or her abandoned children. She just came with a bright, unquenchable smile, left her grandmother's egg, patted John on the head, and disappeared like an obsession (it was a good thing that the brothers were not at home at that moment). The proof of her existence was a blue patterned egg in the hands of Grandma Rosiepuff.

Sharpie has always been like this. Bright, cheerful, smiling, with curly cream-colored hair flowing in all directions, she was always more interested in fun and parties than responsibility. She appeared and disappeared. The most time she spent at home was the first year of John Dorey's life.

When she returned for the first time, there was hope that she had come to her senses, that neither mother, father, nor son would leave them anymore. But she just handed over the purple egg and left without saying a word.

John remembered bursting into tears in the arms of the Branch grandfathers, while Grandma Rosiepuff sat devastated in her favorite armchair with an egg.

That would have been the case with Clay if it hadn't been for Grandma. Rosiepuff grabbed the young troll by the arm, preventing him from leaving. Sharpie didn't turn around, just standing in her mother's tight grip.
"Sharpie, listen, I can't take care of the kids alone. Your father..." Rosiepuff's voice trembled, holding back tears.
"They took him, Sharpie... Please think about the children. Don't take away their mother, who they need so much."
Sharpie didn't answer.

John could only hope that she would stay as he hid behind the couch in the living room. It was the middle of the night, and Dori should be in bed, but the constant nightmare made it difficult to fall asleep.
John waited for his mother to agree and stay with them, but hope was dashed as quickly as it had been born when the front door slammed. And the muffled sobs of Grandma Rosiepuff could be heard. John quickly returned to the room before Grandma noticed, crying all night.

Two more years have passed since that moment.
Grandma Spruce and Clay went to the market, leaving John alone.
Sharpie entered the house as before.
Dori didn't know how to react, and just stared at his mother in a daze, whom he hadn't spoken to in over 4 years. She didn't seem to mind. When she reached the troll, she grabbed his face, pulling him closer.
"Eeeee, you're so handsome. Just a sweetheart. Almost perfect. Come on, have fun, smile, because we're all going to die tomorrow," Sharpie sang, examining her son's face. She had a bright smile on her face. Her blue skin was covered with glitter, and her creamy hair was tangled with streamers. Sharpie ran her hands through her hair and pulled out a small pink egg. Giving it to John. Before the troll knew it, she was gone. Stunned, John Dorey sat on the couch with his brother in his arms.

"If I were perfect, would she stay?" the thought was spinning in his head.

His brothers and grandmother found him so lost with an egg in his hands a few hours later.

No matter how hard John tries to be the perfect troll, grandson, older brother, singer.
The mother returned only 12 years later with an egg in her hands.

John Dorey groaned, digging his claws into his face. The troll was trying to get old memories out of his head. He couldn't be perfect, not with that leg anymore, he couldn't raise perfect brothers, he couldn't create a perfect band, he completely failed. Tears flowed from his reddened eyes. It was all useless. It was all in vain. It's not worth what he did to his brothers. She would never come back, she would never love him, her brothers, or her grandmother.

John was crying, not noticing that he had turned completely gray.

Chapter Text

John wrapped himself in a blanket that smelled of powder and salt. He tried to pull away from everything and stifle his crying. The storm was too loud and creepy, the memories too fresh and bitter, the pain too intense and real.
She was throbbing in every cell of her body.

"It's bad, very bad, I was crying in the arms of a stranger recently, and now I'm huddled in a corner feeling sorry for myself. It's selfish. The undignified behavior of an ideal big brother," a familiar voice mocked in John's head.

This voice was always present, criticizing and pushing me further, driving me to exhaustion.
That voice was so familiar and so depressing.

It sounded so much like his own voice.

Shuffling footsteps were heard.
John burrowed deeper, trying to hide his face with a patch. He didn't react, pretending to be asleep. Hoping to avoid such sympathetic eyes.

A cool hand touched his forehead. John involuntarily shuddered at the touch, revealing his wakefulness. He opened his eye slightly, looking at Marzipan's smiling and for some reason tear-stained face.

-Have you been crying? What happened? It's because of her, isn't it?! John shouted, quickly taking an upright position (it hurts). He gently cupped Marzipan's cheeks, pulling him towards him. John tried to make out any signs of fear or pain on his face.
-Ha ha ha. I should be asking why you're crying, Marzipan laughed softly, mimicking John's pose. Wiping away large tears with his thumbs. He looked sad and somehow desperate.

John frowned, but he didn't pull away.

- It's okay. it's just that my body hurts a little. it wasn't exactly a lie. Muscles and bones ached mercilessly.
-Well, I'm fine too. We talked with Scarlet for a while, and we remembered a couple of cases. Do you want me to bring some painkillers? asked Marzipan in a soft, hoarse voice. He studied John's face carefully. His blue eyes were trying to see something, to understand. He was clearly worried.

John shook his head. (Still trapped in Marzipan's clutches) Pain can be tolerated. He already owed the troll a lot.

A burden in no other way.

Marzipan looked somewhat skeptical before leaving. He clearly didn't believe in the absence of pain.
John didn't try to stop him, just lay there, wrapped in the smell of laundry detergent.
Marzipan returned with a plastic tray.
The scent of mint wafted everywhere.

It wasn't the first time a pleasant scent had reached John's nose.
- what is it? The troll asked, squinting at the tray in Marzipan's hands. There were white bandages on the tray, a deep plate, and a small white fragment of a white stone, John guessed. (No, it's not.)
— It's grated mint with a bunch more additives. The ointment helps to relieve muscle pain and cools down well.

Marzipan has already settled down at John's feet, laid out all the necessary supplies. Dori looked away, staring at the ceiling. "Weakling," he didn't want to look at the mutilated limb. It was too real, too scary, too familiar for any troll in the tree.

If someone managed to escape, which was rare, the troll would forever remain crippled, with numerous scars, broken bones, pulled out hair, burns, and hypothermia. Only a small part of those who returned survived. Many died from their injuries within a month. John was afraid to become one of them. The attempt to return home would not have been successful in any case. And even if they had managed to return, there was only a slim chance of survival.

John vividly remembered visiting the returned (he was doing it even now). When there was a little faith that Grandpa would come home. An unrealizable fragile hope that has decayed with age.

The wounds festered and bled. Each troll suffered in agony, clinging to life surrounded by loved ones and loved ones. John secretly watched them die, burning up like candles. How the family was constantly sitting in the ward in the hope of recovery. How quiet tears flowed. As many did not wake up. How they died without even opening their eyes. John's ears still rang with the anguished cries and screams of the dead.

The most memorable was the cry of a small (2-3 years old) lonely purple troll with blue hair and green tips. The troll was crying alone for a young woman. Her calm gray face no longer expressed anything. She no longer made that gurgling, rasping sound when she breathed (she was no longer breathing). Seventeen-year-old John didn't even think twice about reassuring a boy who didn't deserve (no one deserved) the loss of perhaps the only relative.

John didn't encounter the little troll again after that. Only knowing that he was sheltered by a nurse.

John was grateful that he went alone without his brothers and grandmother. Only a few trolls in his memory were able to get out of bed again. Wounded and broken, they returned from the other world already different.

Not the same trolls as before.

John hissed when Marzipan pulled the bandages too tight.
-I'm sorry, you're fine?
John nodded, breathing raggedly through his nose, clenching his teeth. The pain was constant. Dull throbbing .
-Here, swallow this.
Marzipan held out a white shard and a glass of water. When finished with my leg.

John didn't argue. He just swallowed the contents without taking his eyes off the ceiling. The bitter taste remained on his tongue, but John ignored it.

Marzipan was rushing back and forth. He replaced the tray (wherever it belonged), changed the water in the basin, and threw out the trash, consisting mainly of bloody bandages. He brought a new nut and seeds, and a glass of water, putting it in John's reach.

Dori did not move, listening to the thunderstorm. My head was in a kind of haze. The pain dulled a little, and John dozed off to the sound of Marzipan and raindrops.

Before John completely lost consciousness, he felt a gentle stroking of his head, so reminiscent of his grandmother.

Chapter Text

Marzipan was bustling like a squirrel in a wheel. John couldn't stay unattended for long. His fever hasn't gone away yet. The temperature could rise sharply or return to normal in just a second. The body tried to fight with all its might, clung to life. With Bergan's medicines, the troll got better, but Marzipan could not constantly stuff him with painkillers and antibiotics.

Marzipan patted the sleeping troll on the head. It was warm, but not hot. The colors seemed to have faded, they became completely faded. He was already not very bright at the first bright, now Marzipan could only partially distinguish the colors of the troll. The shades became dark and dirty.

The child didn't deserve all this. Marzipan assumed that John had quarreled with his family and run away, catching Bergen's eye. He's probably 17 years old. (No). His parents were probably worried that he hadn't returned home.

Marzipan frowned, thinking of the inconsolable parents who had lost their child. John also talked about the brothers.

Involuntarily, Marzipan's sister's face came back to him.
Her screams and pleas for help, crying and crunching bones, the smell of metal. How they opened her stomach, pulling out her insides. Her limp body that was being crushed into small pieces. His mother's hands, trying to block his view.

Marzipan sank to the floor, covering his mouth with his hands. He was breathing raggedly, holding back vomiting. So many years had passed, and he still couldn't get her torn body out of his mind.

Marzipan bit his finger, drawing blood. He was trying to distract himself from the memories. He didn't want to sink into that pool. Not when an injured child was sleeping next to him.

Marzipan tightened his jaw, biting through the soft flesh. He tried to focus only on the pain. On how the warm liquid runs down my arm, staining my shirt with traces of blood (again).

The troll was breathing rapidly through his nose, trying to even out his breathing.
His mother's screams and his father's curses rang in his ears, mixed with tears. He forced himself not to think about what would happen next.

"It's not the time. Not now. Calm down. Think about something else. Focus on your breathing. They need you. You're not a child anymore. Take control of your emotions. It was a long time ago. Suppress it."

Marzipan shuddered on the floor when John's whimpering was heard. (How long had he been sitting there trying to calm down?)

The gray troll abruptly raised its head, staring intently at the wounded man.
John whined and moaned, tears streaming from his eyes.
-Shh, it's okay. I'm with you, it's okay.
Marzipan stood up abruptly, approaching John. He ran a clean hand through his matted hair, humming something like a lullaby mixed with sobs.

His cramped legs hurt terribly, as did his bloody arm. The blood has already stopped flowing, but the shirt and skirt are completely soaked.
"I need to change my clothes and help John bathe when he wakes up." Marzipan tried to stay in the present, thinking only about helping the teenager. "Maybe I should ask Scarlett to make more clothes, he looks cute in a fluffy robe, but we need something else." (We won't leave John in his old clothes for 2 weeks. Although he hasn't noticed any changes in style yet.)

John calmed down by pressing his nose against Marzipan's palm. He inhaled its scent, snoring peacefully. He seemed so small.

Marzipan sat for a few more minutes before getting up. I need to get myself in order.
Marzipan walked shakily to his room on the ground floor. He and Scarlett had built this dollhouse since they first met. He was already mercilessly hung down, many times he had to be repaired and replaced with cardboard crumbling over time. This dollhouse has become a real home for Marzipan over time.

When he reached the room, Marzipan took off his bloodstained clothes. Leaving her lying on the floor, the troll went to a bucket of water and lowered his hands, washing off the remnants of blood.
Marzipan watched as the clear cold water turned pink. The water reflected the troll's face. A bloody mouth, protruding fangs and a lifeless look. This was not the first time Marzipan had seen such a picture, and certainly not the last time.

He shook off the memories. I washed my face. Taking a towel lying next to him, Marzipan removed the moisture from his face and hands. He bandaged his finger to hide the bite.
The actions were sluggish and sluggish. My mind wandered, not stopping at anything.
There was an unpleasant coldness and heaviness all over my body.

Marzipan threw on a long black skirt and a red sweater to keep warm. He felt cotton wool in his head and an unpleasant lump in his throat.

"Need to check on John."
Marzipan leaned against the wall as he climbed the stairs, his legs shaking and unwilling to obey. Marzipan let out a heavy sigh as he went up to the sick troll's room.
John was snoring peacefully, burrowing his head under the covers. Only his nose was sticking out.
Marzipan somehow forced a smile, reaching out to the troll, checking the temperature.
Warm.
Marzipan sat on the floor next to John, giving himself time to rest.
The troll leaned back on the pillow, closing his eyes.
"Just a few minutes"

Chapter Text

Scarlett watched the weather subside. The rainstorm is over. There were only small clouds with cool water drumming on the roofs. Somewhere, the rays of the red setting sun were breaking through the clouds.

"Everyone be back soon."
Scarlett didn't understand family relationships very well.

On the one hand, she lived with murderers who didn't want to change. No one listened to her when Scarlet talked about the alternative of eating trolls. Calling her stupid, not understanding basic things. The whole city was filled with ignorant egotists, including Scarlet's family.

On the other hand, they were still a family. People she had known all her life. They were all connected by blood. She should love them, help them, and accept them for who they are. That's what a family is for (it has to come from both sides). If they don't want to change the need, understand and accept it. Try to negotiate, come to a compromise (preferably without eating trolls). As a good daughter, she should love everyone in her family.

But she hated them so much. And every inhabitant of this rotten city, and especially the king with the power to stop all this with one word. They are all blind, living like parasites on someone else's happiness.

Scarlett wanted to escape and stay at the same time to try to change everything.

Try to save innocent lives.

Some small part of her didn't want the troll-eating to stop. Every time Trollstice came, everyone was happy. They laughed, talked, spent time together as a family, gave gifts, and did not ignore each other.

All her life, Scarlett has hated and waited for Trollstice.

She was waiting for the day when she was truly loved and accepted. A day when she was noticed and not brushed off like a splinter.

A leper child who does not respect traditions and orders.

The roar of Grandma Kozlet's car could be heard. A huge dark green SUV.
The door opened, revealing a plump, squat old woman.
Her pale gray-purple skin glistened with raindrops. The black Gothic dress was soaked. And the gray hair in the bun stood out from the humidity. His black eyes sparkled with anger and annoyance.

"Damn rain, always on time. I just missed you. Stupid weather, damn it.
Kozlata swore as she got out of the car and headed into the house. The mud squelched on her feet, which made the old woman even more nervous. She's always been like this. Harsh, rude, and angry. She only smiled at Trollstice.

Scarlett didn't move, they wouldn't remember her until dinner time anyway.(if they remember) She was just watching the clouds floating in the sky. Ignoring Grandma's nagging.
"How tired I am of everything, of the weather, of the stupid staff, of..."
The door slammed shut, ending Kozlet's monologue as she entered the house.

Two black tops flashed in the distance. Clara and Carl were racing towards the house. They were very similar both externally and internally. Tall and thin. Black hair, gray-blue skin, brown dark eyes. Clara is wearing a burgundy dress covered in mud, Karl is wearing burgundy pants and a white T-shirt with dirty spots. The leather shoes were also covered in mud, as were the teenagers themselves. Brisk and pugnacious, many took after Grandma Kozlet.

"Brake ,— Karl shouted, running ahead. Suddenly, Clara grabbed her brother's arm, pulling him back. The boy suddenly fell on his back. There was a splash of water and curses. Clara didn't have time to run far before she was caught and knocked over in the mud.
"Let go, you freak!"
"We're twins, you fool, we have the same face."
"That's not true, I'm much more beautiful than you."
"Shut up."
"Aw, don't bite."
"Let go of hair, asshole."
"You let me go first"
"Get it "

Clara knocked over her brother and ran on. While Carl was trying to get the dirt out of his eyes.

"Sucker, forever second " the girl shouted, running into the house. Her brother ran after her with dirt on his face.

Scarlett smiled at their scuffle. They could be cruel, but they accepted each other. They were brother and sister. A real family.

A deafening scream rang out from the first floor.
"Oh, you devils! Dirty pigs! Yes, even the piglets on my farm are cleaner, you're always hanging around somewhere and coming back somehow!!!"
"Grandma, it hurts, let go of your ear!"
"Oh, Grandma, it's Carl!"
"Don't lie!"
"Shut up and go to the bathroom now!"

A few minutes later, the familiar sound of an old engine was heard.
"GAZ-18 (1957)". Aunt Serena's little yellow car.

After parking, Aunt Serena herself and her husband Tim appeared from it.
A tall thin woman, gray-purple skin, black hair, as well as eyes, in an orange sundress. My aunt went to the house. And behind her is a short, muscular man with gray skin, brown eyes, black hair and a curly beard. Tim was wearing a black formal suit.
He walked a little forward, opening the door for his wife.

They were so sweet and funny at Trollstice. We hugged and kissed, went on romantic dates or cooked pastries at home.

In normal times, they often cursed and settled on simple politeness, pulling away from each other.

Scarlett turned away, looking at the horizon. The sun had already completely set. From afar, they noticed another familiar figure.
A tall man in old trousers and a grey shirt. A thin jacket is draped over it. The gray face remained stony and neutral. The black eyes were expressionless. His dark hair was slicked back, as always.

Scarlett rose from her seat.

She left the room, locking the door (for a very long time she fought with her grandmother so that only she had the keys to her room). After going down the stairs, Scarlett stood next to the door, waiting for her father to arrive. The usual routine that made my heart ache every time.

There was already a lot of noise and bickering in the dining room (Trollstice was idyllic and there was a lot of laughter).

The wooden door opened. Tom entered the house, kicking off his shoes.

"Welcome back, Father."

Once again, Scarlett didn't deserve an answer. Tom just gave her a blank look before taking off his jacket and hanging it on a nail in the hallway.

The man walked past the standing girl without saying a word, heading for the dining room.
Scarlett followed with a casual ache in her heart.

When they entered, no one paid any attention. Kozlet and Sirena were arguing about running a business. Clara and Klar were trying to steal a more delicious piece from each other's plate. Uncle Tim just ate quietly, not paying attention to anyone. Scarlett and Tom took their seats and started eating.
Heated soup made from various vegetables and sausage. Fried cutlet with vegetables. Compote of dried fruits. And not dessert — dried oatmeal cookies.

An ordinary family dinner.

Scarlett tried to stuff the food into her mouth as soon as possible to get back to the room.

She felt nervous and suffocated. Nausea twisted his stomach, as if they might attack him. As if it wasn't her family. It was as if she hadn't known these people all her 16 years of life. It was as if she didn't belong here.

Dinner was quickly finished, and Scarlett left, putting the plates in the kitchen before that. No one paid attention (as usual)

Quickly reaching the room, the girl closed the door, returning to the window, she needed to think.

It became completely dark, the clouds were gone, revealing a view of twinkling stars. The bright moon illuminated the earth with light. Yes, you can sit for a few more minutes.

Chapter Text

John woke up when an annoying ray of sunlight blinded his eyes. He grimaced and tried to turn over and cover himself with a blanket. John tugged at the edge of the blanket, trying to sleep longer. Something heavy was preventing the blanket from moving. John grimaced, taking an upright body position. Yawning, the troll pulled his cramped muscles (not too abruptly) and looked down at the floor.

Marzipan was sleeping on the blanket, curled up in a ball. He was clutching a piece of blanket to himself. The tail wrapped around John's good leg. His face was relaxed and calm. Her hair was a mess. (John smiled at the sight of this disheveled nest.) The skirt was pulled up, exposing her legs too much. There were old abrasions on his knees. Curved cuts and claw scratches on the thigh were slightly visible, pulling further upward. The sweater had slipped down a bit, exposing her collarbones and part of the burn. (What other scars were hidden behind the clothes? And small enough to be invisible in the fur?)

They all had scars. They were a reminder, an imprint on the skin of decisions and actions that were often not of their own volition. They could carry something profound or silly, depending on the context.

John had scars too. Both small and large, which had to be covered up or hidden with clothes. He got them by accident when playing outside. Having quarreled with several guys, which led to an inevitable fight. Trying to pull off some trick or stupidity. Often for a bet or to show off.

He got them by saving his brothers.

Like when Spruce was attacked because of a crazy girl. This bitch declared the father of her unborn child to be a seventeen-year-old teenager. And she demanded marriage with her older brother. Well, John couldn't stand it and told this liar everything right to her face. So he got a bite on his neck. And that bitch's older brother has broken ribs.

He got another scar on his arm when the wayward Clay almost fell off a branch at the age of 10. John barely caught him, catching his hand on a branch and cutting it from the wrist to the elbow.
There were a lot of tears and blood back then.

John got a burn on his back when he shielded Floyd from an overturned mug of boiling water. The kid was afraid to go into the kitchen for 2 weeks and wouldn't let John in there. The ten-year-old kept following his older brother, taking care of him, until the burn turned into a scar. (It was so sweet.)

John managed to get a scar from the Branch. Trying to get his toy, a one-year-old baby climbed onto a shelf. But the old bolts couldn't support the child's weight. John miraculously managed to save himself from falling to the floor by hitting the top of his head with a vase. Yes, everyone was hysterical at that moment. Finding John covered in blood and crying for someone else is a sight to behold. But John would have done it a hundred more times to ensure his brother's safety.

He would have put his life in danger without hesitation if it had protected his younger brothers and grandmother.

He couldn't do it now. He's useless with his leg bitten off. The cripple. The dead weight, if it manages to return home, will be eaten by the next Trollstice. And God forbid the brothers to see it. What if they try to save him? Dori imagined their terror and panic. How they cry, trying to get him out of the clutches of the beast. How they would inevitably be caught with him. How death awaits them all, without exception.

John grimaced: "No, let them think that I travel the world rather than babysit a disabled person, they should have a happy life."

John leaned back against the pillow. Sadness and longing were eating me alive. The pain in his body throbbed. My head was in a mess. My ears were ringing. John could feel the heat in his body. It's all so boring. It was as if his life had been wonderful yesterday. John was doing what he loved (songs are his passion). My favorite family, band, and fans. He was about to reach his ideal. Maybe he deserved his mother's return. But at one point, everything collapsed like a house of cards. Everything he had built was gone in a single moment. Everything he had been working on for years was destroyed by his anger.

"Could this be my punishment? I abandoned my brothers. I left them without help. I pushed on them and pulled them further down with me. And he paid with his foot. It sounds quite reasonable."

The light suddenly went out. Plunging the troll into a pleasant semi-darkness. Marzipan closed the window with dark curtains. They were thick enough to block out the scorching sun.
-Get some more rest. Marzipan said hoarsely, rubbing his eyes.
He was rather sleepy and disheveled himself.
-Why are you sleeping on the floor? John asked a long overdue question.
- I... I'm just checking your temperature and... aah..... I feel better when I'm around.... And... seeing you breathe.... I... Marzipan fell silent. A blush appeared on the troll's cheeks. Even in the semi-darkness, John could see his embarrassment.
Marzipan did not look at Dori, his eyes darted, and his tail wrapped around his legs. He fingered his fingers.
-I'll get you something to eat, you must be hungry! Marzipan hurriedly ran away, leaving Dori alone.

John didn't try to stop him.
"I'm a total problem. He cares so much about an almost dead man. How long will I live? How many more lives will I ruin." The troll lay staring at the colored ceiling. He could feel sweat trickling down his body. How the heat spreads. How my head is ringing. My body felt like it was made of cotton.

A cold cloth was placed on Dori's forehead, cooling her down. (Again, he did not notice the movement of the Marzipan.)

-You know, I'm glad I met you. I've only been with Scarlett for so long.... I've already forgotten what it means to communicate with an equal....... I'm glad I was able to help someone. I'm too cowardly to go back to the tree..... And there's no one to go back to. It was said so softly that John barely caught the last words.
-That's why I stayed with Scarlett..... She's wonderful, but you know, I miss having fun, singing and dancing with other trolls. Simple communication with your kind.... I'll be glad if you stay with me until you decide to return home to your family.....
Marzipan smiled tightly. He seemed so tired at that moment. So broken and alone.

John took the troll's hand. Dori's resolve was kindled.
-Come with me. As soon as I can get up, we'll escape. I'm not leaving you at Bergen's house. You won't be alone anymore. I'll help you.

Marzipan just smiled more sincerely. His eyes radiated kindness and tenderness. The troll squeezed John's hand in response.
-Well, you need to eat. Marzipan said, sounding more cheerful.
- I know that nuts are not very suitable, but this is the only thing I can offer right now.
Marzipan lifted the tray of nuts and dried fruits to John's eye level.
-It's okay. Don't worry. Dori said, propping himself up on his elbows.
John sat up heavily and reached for the raisins. A damp cloth rolled off Dori's forehead, covering her face. There was a hoarse chuckle before Marzipan removed the cloth.
-After you eat, I'll return it. The gray troll also had such a bright smile on his face that John couldn't help but smile back.
They ate in comfortable silence. John felt calmer than before. "Yes, I will return it to the tree. This Scarlett won't be able to use it!... I'll figure out what to do with the brothers later—that's the problem of John Dorey's future. Now we need to figure out how to walk," John mused, eating sweet raisins.

"What a cute kid. He just caught fire. I'm sure he'll be fine, we just need to get him to come home and make peace with his parents. Marzipan watched John thinking hard as he ate dried fruits. The smile grew even wider.
"Yes, I saw, everything will be fine" (no :)

Chapter Text

Scarlet went down to the first floor (not forgetting to lock the door), entering the dining room. Breakfast is almost over. Only Grandma and Aunt Serena remained at the table.

There was one untouched bowl of porridge for Scarlet in the corner of the table.
-Good morning. Scarlett said, sitting down in her rightful place.
- Morning. Did you see what time it is? Everyone has been up for a long time. How much sleep can get? Aunt Serena grumbled, standing up with a plate in her hands.
Scarlett didn't answer, swallowing the first spoonful of cold porridge. It became common for her to be noticed if she did something wrong or needed to be done. It was only at such moments that she became "part of the family."
Grandma didn't say a word, but followed the Siren.
Scarlett's heart ached again. I should have gotten used to it a long time ago. But every negative word, remark, and disregard led to tears. She didn't understand any better, so that she didn't notice at all, or they shouted and criticized tirelessly.
My appetite is gone. Scarlett got up from the table, having finished a third of her plate. And she began to climb into the room. "Maybe Marzipan or Jam would like some porridge." Nausea her faithful companion did not stop chasing her. Basically, she and Marzipan ate nuts and dried fruits hidden in the room.
Everyone mostly dined out. And Scarlett stayed "alone" all day. Everyone left in the morning and returned late at night.
Scarlett hated the kitchen so much that she never cooked. And generally avoided going in there in any way. She was scared by the knives and the stains scattered all over the kitchen. Each time, her imagination conjured up images of torn bodies. How trolls were killed and eaten. How they asked for help, mercy, and mercy. How, despite their pleas and screams, they were being slaughtered like dumb cattle. It was cooked and served in the form of exquisite dishes. At such moments, the lump in my stomach turned over, and the nausea increased.
So he and Marzipan sat in the room, eating their stash. They rarely went out, living as hermits. Going out to replenish supplies or take a walk once in a hundred years.
Scarlett knew that locking herself in wouldn't fix anything, but what else could she do? She was considered crazy not only by the city, but also by her own family. In the early years, she tried to set her on the right path. She turned over the cages in the castle, releasing the trolls. She stood in front of the bars, preventing others from entering. She screamed loudly that it was so unrighteous. The more she tried, the more the townspeople annoyed her. She was forbidden to enter the castle. She was hated and despised, she was shouted at and threatened. They didn't touch him just because his father was a guard, and they didn't want any problems. And Scarlett gave in to the pressure. She didn't scream or beg anymore. She just hated them all. Sometimes she would drive teenagers and younger children away from the cage while walking. That's how she found John. He was just very lucky that he and Marzipan were walking at that time.
Her stomach twisted as she thought of the other trolls that hadn't saved her. There were too many thoughts running through Scarlett's head as she climbed the stairs.
Unlocking the lock, Scarlett quickly went inside, closing the door.
Scarlett put the plate on the table and went back to bed. Sometimes she didn't want to get up at all. She just wanted to stay in the room, educating herself about creativity and reading. Isolate yourself with Marzipan and do not leave the safe room. She wanted to imagine that the outside world didn't exist.

Scarlett sighed, burying her head in the pillow, and pulled the blanket closer around her. She wanted to lie down a little longer. Scarlett reached out, pulling a book from the bedside table. An old binding with the title "Crime and Punishment" half-erased.
An interesting story about Bergen, who decided to bring justice through murder, attracted Scarlett. It wasn't the first time she had borrowed this book from the library.
Although there was a library in the city, it was rarely used. The old building, filled with cobwebs and dust, with half-full books, did not attract the Bergens. An elderly man worked in it, it seems, older than the library itself. Blue-gray skin, gray hair and bright purple eyes. Scarlett liked the little, hunchbacked old men. He wasn't grumpy or rude. Just tired and sad. He likes to read an old book over a cup of tea. Mr. Vinnie is one of the few people who doesn't ignore Scarlett. He is more or less polite (by Bergen standards) to all visitors to the library.
Scarlett opened the bookmark, immersed in reading. She did not notice how the troll's head appeared from the house. As he smiled maliciously, he quietly crept up on her. How easily and smoothly he moved closer, closer, closer and closer.

Suddenly, something jumped on Scarlett's head, letting out a soft playful growl. Scarlett flinched, dropping the book. Her moan signaled her annoyance. But a warm smile spread across her face.
She took off the troll, bringing it to eye level.
- It's not funny.
- It never gets boring. A slight smile shone on Marzipan's face.

They had known each other for 8 years. They became close friends (Marzipan became Scarlett's older brother, although he doesn't know it). They had lived these years in constant fear of disclosure, but at least together. They supported each other, forcing them to live endless long days in a cage, the so-called Scarlett family home.
When they first started living together, it was awkward and strange. Remnants of greyness are still present in Marzipan. Although he has become much better than in the first 3 years of their acquaintance. The colors have become less dark, and life has acquired more reasons for joy. Scarlett also perked up, stopped being so self-contained and throwing emotions through tears and tantrums, self-destructing (she still cried for any reason). They saved each other to some sophisticated degree. Trapped in a city of hate and sadness. Consumed by self-loathing. Two souls who care about each other more than they care about themselves.
(Two friends who were created and mutilated for the sake of a plot and someone else's satisfaction.)

-How's the Jam?
-John's fine.
-Yes, yes, John.
- it's better now, the temperature has dropped, and now he's resting.
-How are you? Scarlet stared at the troll in her hands, looking for new signs of stress.
-I'm fine, don't worry. Marzipan replied, looking away.
-I don't believe you. The girl said calmly, raising an eyebrow.
-Scarlett's getting better now. I can handle it. The troll assured, raising his hand in a defensive gesture.
-I don't believe you. The same tone.
-Okay, okay, don't believe it, but it's true. The troll pouted, clasping his hands.
-You were biting again. The undeniable fact that she noticed. The smell of metal, bandages on his arm, and warm clothes. It wasn't the first time she'd seen this, and every time it felt like a metal knife was piercing her heart.
-.......
- Listen, you can always come to me, I don't have anything to do when you're hanging out with Jim anyway. (It's hard to remember names.)
- John
- yes. And so. I can at least give you time to sleep.
-He doesn't trust you. The troll replied skeptically.
-I can watch him when he sleeps.
- It's creepy.
- Come on! You need to rest too.
-........
- Come on, Marzipan!
- Okay, I'll talk to him when he gets up. The troll replied, lowering his hand.
- She's healthy! By the way, there's porridge on the table, maybe he'll like it.
-You haven't had breakfast again?
-I'll eat later, don't worry.
- Scarlett.

The girl quickly put the troll back on the table, picking up the book.
-Later.
-You promised. The troll replied somewhat painfully.
- Yes, yes, Mom.

Marzipan just snorted, getting comfortable in a soft needle-free needler . They haven't read together in a long time.

Chapter Text

John woke up and blinked in surprise. There was no ceiling. A soft, subdued light filled the room. Looking slightly to the right, John noticed a lock of black hair sticking out. The troll tensed, looking for Marzipan. He turned his head in search of a possible hiding place. He tried to crawl into a corner. John stared at Bergen's motionless head in panic. My heart was pounding in my chest. My instincts told me not to move, not to make a sound, not to breathe, to try to blend in with my surroundings. His muscles were tense and ready to fight at any moment. John could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
How all the senses are tense, trying to anticipate the predator's actions.

John felt his heart stop when Bergen's black eyes met his own.
Fear gripped his body. John didn't move, hoping they wouldn't notice him. Time seemed to drag on, every second seemed like an hour. Unbidden tears were about to fall. He didn't want to die.

The eyes disappeared, leaving John in a heavy loneliness. He felt nervous and hot, like a volcano that could explode at any second.
A soft voice was heard, startling the troll. He shuddered all over, huddling further into a corner. He felt like a mouse trapped by a cat.

-I'm sorry I scared you. Marzipan fell asleep, and I decided to keep an eye on you.
-....
- Are you okay? Do you want anything?
-....
- I know that you hate me, it's okay, I just want to help.
-....
-.... You may not trust me or despise me, I deserve it, but please tell me if something hurts or is needed... You are welcome.

"Lie, run, don't move, hide, it's scary, it hurts, move quickly, someone help, help, help, where are they, it's scary, I don't want to die, it hurts, please leave me."
My thoughts raced with great speed. Fear was all John felt at the moment. Fear twisted my insides. Death felt so close.
John didn't notice how his breathing was getting faster. And how tears flowed from reddened eyes. He was one-on-one with a predator.

The light dimmed, and the roof fell into place. This calmed John down a bit. Just a little bit.

Muffled sounds were heard. There was blood rushing in his ears, so John couldn't tell for sure.
A sleepy marzipan enters the room. The sight of him still alive and well calmed him down a bit.
John didn't dare move, just watching the troll approach. Marzipan sleepily rubbed his eyes with slow steps, heading towards Dori. The gray troll stretched out his hands, wiping sweat and tears from the teenager's cheeks, humming a little melody. (John doesn't admit that it made him feel better when the troll touched him.)

John didn't move, huddled in a corner. His body went numb, deciding not to take any chances and stay in hiding.

It's a strange feeling to lose control of your actions, to force yourself to move. John loses control when anger clouded his mind. But he didn't stop, he was smashing and seething, talking and snapping. He couldn't stop when rage soaked through his body. He was like a fire that burned everything in its path. He felt like an ice floe right now, sharp and cold. He floated in the water, driven by the waves, motionless and silent by himself.

John felt how insistently Marzipan was pushing him to lie down. As the troll gently stroked his hair, continuing to hum.

Abdominal cramp, starting to weaken. The frantic pulse adjusted to the soft melody of marzipan, slowing down. His nerves relaxed a little, allowing John to take control of his own body. He felt so tired and broken. He's so scared and ashamed of his weakness.

Slowly, John wrapped his arms around Marzipan, pulling him closer, forcing him to practically lean on himself. The troll did not resist, continuing to purr.

John could feel the steady beat of his pulse under his fingers. The warmth emanating from the marzipan. The lump in his throat loosened, allowing him to breathe.

They lay there long enough for the fear to subside. At some point, John dozed off. The adrenaline completely receded, allowing the pain to appear. John didn't react, allowing himself to lie in the warm embrace.
_____________
Scarlett hunched over her book. Tears were streaming from his reddened, swollen eyes. His mind wandered again, returning to the frightened troll. He seemed so small and sick. His expression expressed fear and despair. He was afraid of her.

Scarlett wiped her eyes, trying to stop them. She shouldn't feel sorry for herself. It's entirely her fault. But that doesn't make it any easier. The attempt to distract himself was unsuccessful.

Scarlett clutched at her hair, pulling it back until it hurt.
-Stop it!
A whisper swept through the room, addressing no one. Scarlett was sitting alone. The walls seemed to be pressing down on her. All these posters, drawings, handicrafts. What did she spend her time on, what did she do when trolls were being killed in batches? She was enjoying life while the city was being slaughtered. Every day, someone was torn apart.

Scarlett clutched her hair harder, scratching her scalp with her claws. She needed to get out now.

Scarlett went out the door, locking the door, and quickly descended the stairs. Scarlett ran down the hall and out into the backyard.

The deplorable picture to be visible. Barely alive bushes and trees, overgrown paths, moss overgrown on an old rusty swing and a rotten wooden bench. Despondency and hopelessness were in the air. Every house in the city presented a similar picture.

Scarlett sat on the swing, digging her claws into her hair. The tears wouldn't stop. She was just crying quietly.

Chapter Text

Marzipan stroked the sleeping troll. John was so fragile and gentle. Well, there was no fever. The stress of the last few days has not done any of them any good. They lived in constant confusion and fear, although for different reasons.

They were scared kids. Scarlett and John scared each other, and as the eldest, Marzipan has to solve this problem. (He was so tired, the sleepless nights with John, the constant stress and nervousness were exhausting. Marzipan felt overwhelmed, but continued to calm himself down). You can't leave them marinating in their own fear.

Marzipan slowly freed himself from the clutches of the troll. John fumbled with his hands for a bit before clutching onto the fluffy blanket. He pulled the soft cloth to his face, slowly inhaling the scent of almonds and syrup. After getting comfortable, the troll relaxed and fell asleep. He seemed so small. John pressed his ears and tail to himself, looking even younger than before.

Yes, he must help these children. (They don't have such a big age difference, which Marzipan tried not to think about. He just took on responsibilities for everything)

Marzipan came out of hiding, looking around the room. Scarlett couldn't be seen, which was strange. The teenager preferred to be in his corner rather than wandering around the house. (Even if no one was there, she didn't dare go out for long)

Marzipan moved to the bed, waiting for the girl to return. It took about 10 minutes before Marzipan noticed a worn book lying on the floor out of the corner of his eye. The troll frowned as he descended.

Jumping onto the soft, old carpet, Marzipan approached the book. The one Scarlett loved so much. The one they read recently. The one that was kept in the drawer separately from the others.
The troll took on an even more frowning look and headed for the wooden door.

The door wouldn't budge when Marzipan tried to open it. This did not bother the troll. Scarlett always locked the door when she went out, it would be more strange if she didn't.

Marzipan ducked into the gap between the cabinet and the wall. He had another way out.

Numerous tunnels leading to different parts of the house. When Marzipan arrived at Scarlett's house, the burrows were already there. They came all over the house, old and dirty. They were empty and gloomy. But it was the best way for the troll to move. Over the years, the troll has learned them all. Most likely, the tunnels were made by rats or some other pests.

There were still traps with old moldy cheese in several corners of the house.

Marzipan walked through the familiar dusty tunnels. He didn't want to leave John alone, but Scarlett needed support, too. He needed to talk to both of them.

Marzipan walked for a long time through the winding tunnels until he found himself in the garden.
It was running and made a sad impression. The gray-blue sky only increased the feeling of longing and despondency.

Scarlett was sitting on the swing. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs. She was sobbing and gasping, trying not to make a sound.
It's sad that it's not the first time Marzipan has found her the same way.

Quietly looking around, Marzipan headed for the swing. The wind rustled the leaves, making her feel sad.

After making his way through the dense undergrowth, Marzipan climbed onto the swing, using a bush that was very close. He deftly climbed up the dry branches and settled on the lap of the girl.

Startled, Scarlett lowered her hands that were covering her eyes. A few pulled-out hairs were tangled in her fingers. Tears mixed with blood were streaming down her face. The girl scratched her head with her nails. She looked unhappy and broken. Red, tearful eyes stared intently at the troll on his knees.

Marzipan smiled tightly. He felt his heart ache at the sight of the sad teenager.(at the sight of the sad younger sister)

-Scarlett, there's no need to cry. What upset you so much? Marzipan began, staring intently at the panicked teenager.
She looked like a child trying to hide a mistake.
Bergen ran her eyes, rubbing her hands, smearing the blood. She didn't seem to notice the maroon liquid on her hands. I didn't notice the blood trickling down my face. I didn't notice that I was in pain again trying to calm down.

Marzipan regretted very much that he was already used to the sight of blood on her hands.

-I... I...
Marzipan was silent, not pushing. He looked expectantly at the girl in front of him.
Scarlett took a deep breath, trying to run her hands through her hair again. Marzipan stopped her, pulling her red hands towards him. He didn't say a word, but the message was clear. Scarlett didn't pull away, wrapping her big, cold arms around the troll. Imitating hugs.

- I do not know... I should have anticipated his reaction. I was ready for this... I thought I was ready...
Marzipan stroked her thumb, soothing her. And asking to continue.
- And... and ... and then he looked at me so scared, I don't think he was even breathing... and ... I felt like my heart was pierced by a thousand knives. He didn't see me, he saw the monster in front of him. He wanted to escape... He was afraid of ME... On the last word, tears welled up with renewed vigor. She squeezed the troll a little harder in her arms, pulling him closer.
-Scarlett. The troll croaked a little strangled.
Scarlett quickly put the Marzipan on the bench and hugged herself protectively.
-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just...
-Scarlett, listen to me. The troll interrupted her, climbing back onto her lap.
-Yes, John was scared, but not of you. He doesn't really know you. He only knows Bergen, who for some reason didn't eat him right away. He needs time to understand you and get used to the idea that Bergen can be happy without eating trolls... I'll tell you honestly, the first time I met you, I kept waiting for you to change your mind and eat me.
Marzipan smiled sadly, patting Scarlett's leg.
-It's just that you both need time.
Scarlett wiped her watery eyes, picking up the troll again.
- But he's been with us for almost a month now.
- And he was asleep most of the time.
- Yes, you're right, it takes time. Come on, let's go back

When they came out of the garden and into the house, Scarlett felt much calmer. The fear and nervousness remained, but were slightly dulled by the onslaught of her best friend. The tears haven't dried, but they're softer than before, and the lump in my throat has subsided. She was very lucky to have met Marzipan.

Chapter Text

When Marzipan and Scarlett returned. The setting sun illuminated the space of the room with a soft pink light. The sun was a rare source of color in the gray city. It was rare to see warm rays due to dark clouds. It seems as if nature itself did not dare to bring life to this dreary gray city. The plants were withered and dry to match the mood of the inhabitants.

Only the troll tree, enclosed by a metal cage, did not wither.
The leaves were always green and fresh, the grass and insects flourished, imitating the cheerful trolls. There were songs and laughter all year round. It was like another world, surrounded by rusty thick bars. Joy and contentment, locked under a heavy lock.

How ironic. There was peace and prosperity inside the cage. It was cold and gloomy outside. But the inhabitants of the cage were in grave danger. And the predators are beyond it.

It was only in one day that the bitter reality of this world was fully revealed.

Scarlett climbed onto the bed, picking up a worn book from the floor. Her nose wrinkled, betraying her indignation. She was carefully dusting off the spine.
Marzipan smiled before disappearing into the dollhouse. He went into the room to change his clothes. There were bloodstains on Scarlett's sweater, and the hem of her skirt was stained with tunnel dust. (The laundry accumulated pretty quickly.)
Throwing a blue sundress over a white T-shirt with long sleeves, the troll headed upstairs.
John stayed awake, eating the seeds and nuts he had left behind.
He stopped with the cashews halfway to his mouth when he noticed the Marzipan.
- And there you are, I started to worry.
John began to move a little closer, crawling to the edge of the pillow.
Marzipan smiled as he came closer. Sitting down on the edge, the troll began his hastily made-up conversation.
-John, we can talk?
Dori raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically at the guy in front of him.
- Yes, of course, what are you talking about?
Marzipan took a breath before continuing. (He really didn't want this conversation.)
- I understand that you are uncomfortable with Scarlett, but she really wants to apologize.
-Apologize? For what? It's in her nature! She is a predator who doesn't care about us! She and her ancestors ate us enough to "apologize"!!
Anger flared up in the troll like a match. He was furiously swinging his tail from side to side.
-John. Scarlett didn't eat anyone...
John screamed, interrupting Marzipan.
-How do you know that? Did she tell you? This is clearly a lie!!!
John clawed at the blanket. If he'd had a good leg, he probably would have been pacing the room, but for now he was just huffing and growling.
-John, please listen.
- You listen to yourself!!! You don't understand what you're saying!?!
John specifically growled. His hair stood on end, and he clawed at Marzipan's shoulders, shaking him a little.

Marzipan threw his arms off his shoulders, getting up from the pillow. His tail was slowly wagging in annoyance.
- John, I've been living with Scarlett for 8 years now. If she wanted to, she would have eaten me long ago!
- How many?!?
-Eight. Marzipan spelled it out slowly.
John stopped, his brain seemed to shut down, digesting the information. "Eight years in the Bergen house."
-I know it's difficult, but trust me, Scarlett doesn't mean any harm. I'll be right there, just have a little chat with her. Ok?
John nodded absently, still lost in thought. "I haven't talked to anyone for 8 years, except Bergen. Don't sing or dance with other trolls. To live in constant fear."
-John, are you okay?
- Yes, yes... I'm just thinking.
-Let's put off apologizing to Scarlett for tomorrow.
Marzipan forced a smile, putting a cold hand to the troll's forehead.

John felt much better, but the weakness was still felt all over his body. (The colors were a dull gray, but distinguishable. The troll's emotions were constantly changing under the influence of stress.)

-How about a bath? I think you can handle it.
John nodded. A swim sounded tempting. He felt uncomfortable and dirty.
Marzipan went out, leaving John alone.
Dori ran a hand over his head, smoothing his greasy, unruly hair. He was still thinking about Marzipan's words,
"8 long years. Without songs and dances, without parties and celebrations, without laughter and fun? Would I be able to live for 8 years without family and friends? Without Spruce, Clay, Floyd, Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff? How can Marzipan smile when he's so alone? How can he help me, someone who has abandoned his family with his anger?... I have to bring him back to the village. No matter what it costs me, I will make him happy. Still, I owe him my life" (John takes too much on his shoulders too often).

After a while, Marzipan returned. He looked a little nervous.
- John Scarlett needs to raise the roof and put the tub inside. You don't mind?
John grimaced a little, he absolutely did not want to see Bergen for the second time that day.
Marzipan wagged his tail a little nervously, continuing:
-We can go down by ourselves if you don't want to. Scarlett will leave the room, don't worry.
He won't like the second option even more. Being in an open area did not suit him at all. It's better to put up with this Scarlett for a few minutes and be in a quiet corner than to be in a huge room in Bergen defenseless.
- It's okay, I can lose her for 5 minutes.
John smiled falsely. He hoped that Marzipan's presence would ease the situation a little (but he wasn't sure).
Marzipan smiled tenderly, climbing onto the troll's pillow.
Marzipan wrapped his arms around John's head and hugged him to his chest. John breathed in the sweet smell of syrup, listening to the pulse.
-Scarlett, you can open it.
John could feel his face burning, but he still buried himself deeper when he heard a rustling sound.
Something heavy hit the floor of the room. The troll felt his muscles tense and his pulse quicken.
Soft hands gently tickled the base of John's neck, sending a wave of goosebumps over his skin.
Dori let out a strangled laugh, snuggling into the embrace.
The noise stopped, but John didn't want to stop hugging. He clung to the troll, basking in the warmth, enveloped in a sweet smell.
Marzipan didn't mind, burrowing into the teenager's hair. The smell of succulent grass mixed with earth was soothing.

They sat like that for a few more minutes before pulling away.
There was a large deep bowl filled with water in the middle of the room.
Marzipan quickly lowered his hands, checking the temperature.
-Take off your clothes, I'll help you get in. Said the troll, standing with his back to John.
A blush suffused Dori's face, but he obeyed, untying the belt of his robe.
John mumbled indistinctly, looking at such an interesting floor.
The troll's ear caught an approaching step. (Oh man, how embarrassing.)

John did not expect to be raised as a bride
A strangled squeak escaped from the troll before he could come to his senses. He clutched at Marzipan to keep from falling. Out of the corner of his eye, Dori noticed a blush on the other troll's face.
John was immersed in warm, pleasant water. His leg, bandaged with fresh bandages, stung a little, but not critically.
Dori leaned against the ceramic wall of the gray bowl.
Marzipan handed John small bottles and a piece of sponge:
-It's shampoo, it's soap, call if you need me. The troll quickly disappeared into the hallway, leaving John basking in the water.

Chapter Text

Marzipan leaned against the wall of the corridor and slowly rolled to the floor. Burying his red face in his lap, the troll let out a heavy sigh.
"John is a good—looking guy, so a blush is quite expected," the troll tried to justify his reaction. He didn't fully admit his embarrassment.
"He's so sweetly embarrassed, and it's a smile, and when he snuggles up to me, I feel butterflies in my stomach every time I look at him."
Marzipan broke into a blissful smile, immersed in his fantasies.
"So... no... “stop it. John has to come home. You can't keep him here forever, he has family and friends. Maybe even a soulmate. You don't know anything about him and you can't want him to give up everything for you," another part of marzipan whispered. A voice in his head whispered fears and doubts, and Marzipan easily obeyed. It's hard not to listen to someone you've created yourself. The oppressive whisper seems to have been there all his life. He showed himself, and Marzipan obeyed implicitly. This has already become an integral part of the troll. But this time, the words of an old friend caused a bitter taste on the tongue and a sore heart.
"You don't know each other at all. John was unconscious or delirious with a fever for most of the "acquaintance." You can't want romance from him. The maximum is friendship. If he allows it. You haven't even asked his opinion, but you're already imagining something more," paranoia screamed.

Marzipan stood up, pacing the hallway (without looking into John's room). The troll nervously rubbed his hands, biting his lower lip.
He really didn't ask John. And he wasn't interested in his life at all, and he didn't tell me anything about himself. They only knew each other's names.
"He might hate you if he finds out how you got here. You hate yourself. And Scarlett probably despises you in her heart. She just feels sorry for you. If you tell him the truth, you will definitely lose him. And you can't even count on friendship. The most you'll get is a vision," the voice whispered, twisting and crawling in the troll's overloaded brain. The giant worm of doubt and fear was coiling into a tight ball.
Marzipan stopped abruptly.
The troll could hear tinnitus and muffled screams and crying. Tears and suffering, haunting him constantly. Marzipan put his trembling hands to his face, trying to stop vomiting. My stomach twisted, and a bitter lump rose in my throat, preventing me from breathing. He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to think.
Marzipan opened his mouth with sharp teeth, intending to calm down a bit, when there was a noise from John's room. The troll started, stopping abruptly, his thoughts paused for a second before panic began to build.
-John, are you okay? It took a tremendous effort for the gray troll not to run into the room at the moment when there was a knock.
-I just dropped the soap. John squeaked in some embarrassment. Marzipan heaved a sigh of relief, rolling down the wall again. He didn't notice how his breathing had stopped and how his instincts had tensed up, ready to jump at any moment. After sitting for a while longer, the troll got up, heading to his room to get clothes for John (He was so nervous that he forgot John's clothes in his room. ).
He felt that he was too overwhelmed and wanted to distract himself for a few minutes (in a more gentle way). Panic will catch up with him anyway when he stops being distracted. Marzipan knew this perfectly well. His whole life consisted of paranoia and fear, like most of his fellows. It's just that someone hid it better (Marzipan reassured himself with a partial truth). He felt better when he was moving, so the troll walked briskly to the 1st floor.
His skin still itched, but Marzipan tried to resist the urge to scratch his recent wound.
A lot of inconspicuous and small scratches decorated the troll's body anyway, now he didn't want new ones (before he needed them) even for a little relaxation.
The whispering, which had subsided for a moment, reawakened, prompting John's injury ideas. Imagining images of Dory's injuries if Marzipan stays away for too long. The troll quickened his pace, practically running into the room and grabbing the supplies he needed (taking a notebook and pencil with him). At the same pace, the troll returned to his place in the hallway, a little out of breath. His thoughts were still racing, encouraging the troll to make new moves. Marzipan sat down on the floor, putting a soft towel and a new bathrobe next to it. Taking a notebook and pencil, the troll tried to switch, waiting for John's call.

Chapter Text

John was basking in the warm water. He was red because of the bathtub, but not like the cute troll in the hallway. My thoughts wandered under the influence of heat and the smell of punitive soap. "That's why Marzipan smells so sweet,— John thought, pressing a bar of soap to his nose, absorbing the sweet scent.
He could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth. John really wanted to know if Marzipan's skin was sweet. What does it taste like? Will there be the same sweet taste of almonds and caramel syrup? How soft would his flesh be when John tasted it, leaving hickeys? How would Marzipan react when John ran his tongue over such a tempting neck? What would his lips taste like? How red will his face be? What kind of expression will he have? Will he be embarrassed and turn away, or will he be assertive and wild? What kind of look will he have?
John squeezed the poor piece of soap so hard that it slipped out with a pop, hitting the ceramic cup and going under the water.

-John, are you okay? Marzipan's panicked question was heard.
-I just dropped the soap. John squeaked in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands.
"Aah, what am I thinking? I don't think, I don't think, don't think!!! Get it out of your head!!!"
John shook his head in panic, trying to shake off the delusion. The troll looked like a tomato. Completely red. He sank lower under the water, almost completely disappearing. "How embarrassing."

For some reason, the water always calmed John down. He felt airy and light, like a fish in water. After a particularly hard day, the troll liked to soak up a warm shower (the bath was too long, and there were other more important things to do). The brothers complained all the time that John had been occupying the bathroom for too long. Although it wasn't that long compared to Spruce.

Seriously, man, you're beautiful. It is not necessary to smear all the creams and oils in the house. And especially to rub so much lotion into your hair.
Yes, John was right after Spruce. Then there was Clay (he took a shower like an average troll for 30-40 minutes) and Grandma Rosiepuff. Then Floyd (this bastard doesn't like to wash and jumps out of the water after 20 minutes). It's hard to say about Branch, because he hasn't been swimming on his own yet. But looking at how much he splashed in the bathroom, he can be put on a par with Spruce.
John emerged from the water a little more calm. Yes, water has always brought a sense of peace.

John tried to feel the soap in the greenish water, soaked in the smell of bitter herbs.
"What did Marzipan add to the water?"
The murky water interfered with the view, so I had to search by touch.
John accidentally touched his bigger leg and clenched his teeth, trying not to make a sound. Marzipan was so worried about the bar of soap, what would happen to him when the troll showed signs of pain?
Yes, now he was a helpless cripple, incapable of anything.

A burden.

When John and Marzipan returned to the village, they might not see each other again. Marzipan will no longer have to deal with a helpless invalid who has been punished by anger. John is to blame for his own misfortunes and troubles. What will the brothers and grandmother say when they see him? He can no longer be in mainstay of the house. He could no longer be their support, only their burden. Useless. Cruel. Rude. Not perfect.

Groping for the soap, the troll let out a strangled groan, still in his evil thoughts.
He sat for a while longer before finally taking a bath.

Chapter Text

-I'm done. John shouted when he washing up. He didn't try to get out on his own. The water had already started to cool down and was not as warm as it was initially. The troll felt clean and fresh.

Soft footsteps approached. Marzipan put his things on the wooden table. He put a towel on the chair next to it, and hesitantly approached the bathroom. There was a pinkish tinge on her cheeks. Marzipan was clearly embarrassed and tried not to look at John. Dori, completely oblivious, stared at the wall. It wasn't just the water that made her cheeks warm.
The gray troll slowly rolled up his sleeves (carefully delaying the moment). Marzipan lifted John up with a little effort and put him on a chair, immediately throwing a huge fluffy towel over the troll, completely hiding his body.
The trolls still weren't looking at each other, but were carefully running their eyes around the room.
Marzipan came in from behind, covering John's head with another towel.
-I'll help you. The gray troll said hoarsely, gently drying his hair.
John smiled sheepishly.
-Thanks. My brothers and I often did this for each other. The most problematic one is Clay and his impossibly curly hair, which sticks out in different directions and doesn't want to lie down at all.
-What kind of brothers are they? Marzipan asked with an unreadable expression.
-Well, they're still assholes, but I love them very much. I'm the oldest, I'm 20, then Spruce, he's 18 now.
- You're 20!? Marzipan cried out in amazement.
- Well, yes. How old did you think I was?
- About 17-16 years old.
- No, I'm a grown man now. John replied smugly, breaking into a smile.
- How many brothers do you have in total? Marzipan asked, returning to the original topic.
-4. The middle Clay, he's 16, and Floyd, he's 14, the smallest Branch, he's 2 now. They all get to me the same way, despite their age.
Spruce is the closest to me in age, he is obsessed with sports and proper nutrition, although I think I partly drove him myself, I encourage his hobbies in boxing. Clay is a little sun, he can make anyone smile, although his hobbies in books seem boring to me, I have tried many times to persuade him to go camping with me, but he refuses. Floyd is the most sensitive of us, his emotional intelligence is huge. He likes to be dramatic and sad lately. I'm still waiting for his emo phase. I'll take so many pictures, and then I'll remind him of it all. (John was smiling like a maniac, but this is a trait of every older child :) Branch is our little angel, he's just adorable, I don't have enough words to describe his sweetness. He's such a bun when he follows Floyd like a duckling. God, I have a whole album with his pictures......
I really regret that I left out of anger.
- When you come back, they will definitely forgive you. Marzipan said while still wiping John's unruly hair.
- I'll put them in danger if I go back. I can't protect them now, I can't even run away. John said, looking at his bandaged leg (wrapped in a huge amount of bandages so as not to disturb with warm water).
- John, listen, they love you and will help you with everything. I would give anything to see my family again. Marzipan replied painfully, squeezing John's hair a little too hard.
-What happened?
Marzipan said nothing, handing John a new robe. Marzipan's face was filled with grief, hatred, and other emotions that John couldn't understand.
Dori didn't ask any further, pulling on a warm turquoise robe.
There was a heavy silence that neither of them dared to break.
As soon as John tied the belt of his robe. Marzipan picked him up, intending to put him in the bed, which already had other bedding (when does Marzipan have time for everything?).
-I'll tell Scarlett to clean the tub. Marzipan said before disappearing into the hallway. John watched him go with a sad look, not daring to call out

Chapter Text

Marzipan strode out of the house, heading for Scarlett. The teenager was fiddling with cardboard at the table when she noticed a frowning troll.

- Hey, how are you? Scarlett asked with a tight smile.
- It's okay, can you please take the tub? Marzipan replied sourly, looking away.
- Hey, what's up? I can see that you're upset.
- I'm just worried about him. The troll answered with a half-truth.
- Is he running a fever again? Scarlett asked worriedly.
- No, the leg is gradually healing, the burns will remain, as I was afraid, but it was our only option, I'm worried about something else.
- Because of what?
- He is afraid of the reaction of his family, he is afraid that he cannot move on his own, he is afraid of being left helpless and in need. I understand his fears, but I don't know how to help.

Scarlett tapped her chin thoughtfully, thinking about something.

- How about a prosthetic?
- A prosthetic?
- Yes, although I'm not much into woodcarving, I can give it a try.

Marzipan perked up, clearly interested in the idea.

- Yes, that would be a good solution, thank you, Scarlett. Marzipan said with a smile, looking thoughtfully out the window.

- Only you need to take measurements. The girl said as she approached the dollhouse.
- Thinking you need to get back to John before I open the roof. Scarlett spoke with a dejected expression on her face. Her flat voice couldn't hide her pain and despair.

- Yes, it's good. Marzipan replied as he entered the house.
- You're the best. Said the troll before disappearing through the door.
Scarlett smiled, but did not believe this outright lie (in her opinion).

Standing by the cabin for another minute, Scarlett heard Marzipan scream.
- You can pick it up, Scarlett.

The teenager carefully lifted the roof. John was sitting on a pillow, pressed against the Marzipan, his small body trembling. Scarlett tried not to show the pain and despair that settled in her soul. Her heart sank and her stomach twisted, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. Scarlett quickly lifted the ceramic tub, trying not to spill the water, and replaced the roof. Scarlett just stood there for a few minutes, trying to move. She felt strangely numb. She didn't want to do anything else, just hide. She didn't want to be among the Monsters. She didn't want to inspire fear.

Scarlett forced herself to pick up her cup and go into the bathroom (not forgetting to lock the door). The teenager reached the sink on shaky legs. She poured out the green water, turned on the water, and began rinsing the cup. The movements were purely mechanical. The girl did not feel how the water turned icy until her hands could not withstand the temperature. The cup slipped out and hit the ceramic sink with a nasty clink. A piece flew off the edge of the cup, leaving an uneven crack.

Scarlet felt herself crouching against the wall, limp, tears streaming from her eyes. There was no reason to cry or feel sorry for herself, but she couldn't stop.
Okay, no one was home.
It's strange to realize that Trollstice asked you several times a day how you were doing, but on normal days they just weren't interested in you.

Calming down completely, Scarlett stood up, leaning against the wall. The cracked cup lay limp at the bottom of the sink. The crack wasn't that deep, but she didn't want to deal with it right now. The teenager took the cup with shaking hands, putting it in the lower cabinet. After washing her face with cold water, Scarlett looked down at herself.
Light gray, dull face (almost white), black eyes with dark purple bags. The capellars turned red and stood out well. A small button nose full of snot. Sharp ears. Disheveled curly black hair with bright red tips. An ordinary Scarlett, just more shabby.
The teenager turned away, quickly leaving the room. The girl stopped, hesitating for a second, but went back into the room. Unlocking the door, she noticed Marzipan already waiting for her. (How long had she been in the bathroom crying?)
- Scarlett, I took all the measurements. The troll began cheerfully, but his face quickly changed when he saw the teenager's red eyes.
- Hey, what's up?
- I'm just a little bit upset, you know, I can cry about anything, there's no need to worry. Let's make a sketch instead. Scarlett replied, avoiding the troll's eyes.
Marzipan didn't believe her, but stepped back, tearing off his little notebook.
- Does John mind if I get him a prosthetic? The girl asked, sitting down at the table and taking out a piece of paper and a pencil.
- Well, he was skeptical about it, but I assured him that I would help too, and he accepted it.
- What is he doing now?
- It looks like the warm water has softened him, and he's sleeping, I understand that this is necessary for his treatment, but I'm starting to worry.
- It's normal for trolls to sleep so much.
- I don't know, I'm not a doctor, we can accumulate energy this way, but trolls usually don't sleep much, preferring to move constantly.
- When you came to me, you also slept a lot, but refused to eat or move. Scarlett said with a sad smile as she drew a sketch on paper.
- It's a little different.The troll replied sadly, looking out the window again.
- Everything will be fine, I'm sure. The girl tried to cheer up. Her sad eyes were fixed on the troll.
- Yes, it will be like that. The troll replied, and he desperately wanted to believe it.

Chapter Text

Branch watched the trolls running through Behind window. Everyone was scrambling and running, preparing to escape. As Grandma Rosiepuff said, this may be our only chance of salvation. And Branch believed her. But he couldn't help but think about my brothers, who might come back, but they wouldn't find anyone (Floyd promised he would). They will feel hurt and lonely for being left behind. Perhaps they will become as pale as before. Perhaps they will hate him even more when they realize that he did not wait for them. Perhaps they will all come back after the escape or later and be upset that their younger brother left without them.

The sharp crackling and grumbling of the grandmother slightly distracted the little troll from the window. Grandma Rosiepuff was running around the house, collecting all the essentials and not so much.
This turmoil has been going on for a week now after the last tunnel was built. And the closer day X approached, the more nervous Branch became. He hoped that the brothers, or at least Floyd, would return before the escape. And with each passing day, hope faded, giving way to despair. They've already talked about it with Grandma. We cried and talked a lot. But I still had a stone of fears and doubts in my stomach. Grandma insisted that no one was to blame, it just wasn't the best way. But this could not completely convince the little troll.

They agreed to write a letter to each of the brothers so that they would know what had happened.
Sorting through the envelopes, the two-year-old kid couldn't wait for his grandmother to finally collect everything he needed. Branch put everything in my little backpack a long time ago.
Pajamas, a change of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and soap, some cookies and nuts, two bottles of water, a folding knife (a gift from Spruce. There was a lot of controversy about this), the survival manual (from Clay), Floyd's vest and Susie the flying squirrel (John was crippled for all his fingers when he sewed it).
These were the most important things in Grandma Rosiepuff's not a ton of yarn.
She sat and sorted out what she had to take, what she could try to fit, what she wanted to take, but it didn't matter, and everything like that. She had been doing this for a week, moving everything from place to place.
- Grandmothers, are you coming soon? The boy began to whine, already with envelopes decorated with sequins and stickers.
- Yes, my dear, almost everything. Grandma shouted from her room.
She said that an hour ago.
- Well, Grandma, let's write, and you will continue to prepare. The rascal said in his slimiest voice.
There was another crackle and grumble from Grandma before Rosiepuff appeared in the room.
-Okay, honey, I think I could use a break.
- Cheers. The child screamed, already rushing into his grandmother's arms.
Rosiepuff gently ruffled the troll's hair before sitting down at the wooden table.
The elderly woman took a white sheet of paper and a bright shiny pen.
- So, my angel, what are we going to write?
-Floyd first. Branch whispered quickly, vibrating in his chair with impatience.
Grandma just smiled warmly.

"Hello, big brother Floyd. I think you'll be very upset when you come back and we won't be at home, so Grandma and I decided to write letters to you all. We had to leave, that's what King Peppy said. We really didn't want to, but we had to. I'm sorry, I wanted to stay, but Grandma forbade it. I miss you very much. I'm still very glad that you kept your promise. I took your vest, it will always be with me.
When you find the letter, go to the forest north after the tunnel. I'm sure you'll find us and we'll be together again. And I will definitely build a bunker for us, as we wanted. You wouldn't mind if my friends helped me, would you? I made a lot of friends when I went to kindergarten. I'm sure we'll be fine by the time you get back. Love you, your brother Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff."

- Did it turn out beautifully, Grandma? Let me draw the hearts o and Ladybug and ...
- It turned out very well, I'm sure your brother will like it. An elderly woman replied with a sad smile. She handed the letter to her grandson with slightly trembling hands. Moisture gathered in her tired eyes.
-Now, Brother Clay. Branch said, holding out a new white sheet.

"Hello, brother Clay. I'm sure when you'll be back. Even though you didn't promise, I know you missed us. Sorry, we had to leave because of the escape. It's all King Peppy. You'll need to move north when you get through the tunnel, I'm sure you'll find our new home. You're so smart. I took your encyclopedia with me, I can't read yet, but I'll learn and read your big books with you when you come back. Now I want to go to kindergarten and have made a lot of friends. I miss you very much. Brother Floyd will be waiting for you when he gets back, he'll probably be back first, as promised. And you'll have a surprise waiting for you, just don't tell Brother Floyd that I blabbed. Love you, your brother Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff."

- Let me see, let me see. A little troll squeaked, already with a yellow felt-tip pen in his hand.
Rosiepuff silently handed the letter to the child, picking up another piece of paper.
- Now, Spruce. A little troll was humming on a chair, sorting through shiny letter stickers.

"Hello, brother Spruce. We had to leave because of the escape. King Peppy said that we need to run as fast as possible. When you find the letter, head north after you pass through the tunnel, and then you'll find us. I brought your folding knife with me. Everyone in kindergarten is thrilled because of him. Grandma doesn't want me to use it, and she's grumbling.

-You little the boy. The grandmother spoke out, ruffling the child's hair.
Branch chuckled as he continued to draw stars on the paper.

I miss you very much. I hope you all come back soon. There will also be a surprise waiting for you all. Don't tell Floyd that I blabbed.
Love you, your brother Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff."
Rosiepuff handed the letter to the child.
He picked up a pair of scissors, cutting shells out of colored paper with a very focused expression on his face. Grandma Rosiepuff looked longingly at the new blank sheet in her hand before picking up a bright green acid pen.

"Hello, John Dorey. We miss you very much. Come back soon. We had to leave, but we didn't want to. It was an order from King Peppy. When you find the letter, head north after you pass through the tunnel. We'll be waiting. There will also be a surprise waiting for you. I love you, your brother Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff."

The child looked thoughtful. He was carefully drawing fish on a new envelope.
-Is there anything else you want to write? Rosiepuff asked with a sad smile.
-Do you think John has forgiven me? The child asked, hunched over in his chair.
-Oh, my dear, why should John be angry with you?
- But... The child's lower lip trembled, foreshadowing tears.
Grandma Rosiepuff pulled the little troll onto her lap. Gentle hugs gave warmth and care.
-Oh, my dear, I'll tell you again, I'll tell you a million, if that's what you want. They will never be offended by you.
He was crying, burying his face in his grandmother's chest. The child couldn't stop crying, sobbing.
-But it was because of me that the concert failed... and... and... John left. .. And the others too.
The old woman pulled her grandson closer, stroking his disheveled hair.
- Listen to me, kid, I promise you that the concert failed not because of you, and your brothers left also not because of your fault. Rosiepuff said with complete confidence. And he wanted to believe her calm voice, but some part of him refused to accept her words. The little troll did not answer his grandmother. He didn't want to argue with her.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other's embrace.
- Grandma, let's write another letter to John.
Rosiepuff smiled warmly, taking a new piece of paper. The child moved to the next chair, but intertwined his tail with his grandmother's leg.

"Hello, little brother John. We miss you very much and want you to come back as soon as possible. I'm sorry, but we had to leave because of the escape. King Peppy said that we need to run as fast as possible. When you find the letter, head north after you pass through the tunnel, and then you'll find us.
I also made new friends in kindergarten. You were right, it's great there.
I met Cooper, Satin and Chenille, Fuzzbert. They are all very good. They will help me build a bunker. Satin and Chenille doesn't want to dig in the dirt, but they also agreed to help. Just don't tell Brother Floyd that I blabbed. Love you, your brother Branch and Grandma Rosiepuff."

Grandma Rosiepuff put the letter in a ready-made envelope and sealed it with a sticker in the shape of a seahorse.

Branch took the letter in his arms and ran to lay them out in the brothers' bedrooms. Rosiepuff just smiled sadly, watching her grandson. She wasn't sure if these letters would ever reach her or if they would remain in their abandoned pod. They were as forgotten and unnecessary as the rest of the things she couldn't take with her.
They will stay in their old place, but the house will be empty.
Rosiepuff ran her hand over the smooth wood of the table. She looked around the room, which was hung with paintings and photographs, and there were various small things on the shelves that held so much, but were worthless.
The old woman got up, feeling tired, haunted by the death of her beloved husband. It seems like so many years have passed, but it seems like it was only yesterday.

Rosiepuff slowly followed her grandson. It was necessary to pack the remaining things.

Chapter Text

Scarlett was sitting at a table littered with crumpled junk and materials. He and Marzipan have developed a functional prosthetic design. (At least that's what they hoped.) And she had to bring it to life. The prosthesis is relatively simple, but it can create problems for an inexperienced craftsman. Scarlett has already ruined 4 prototypes and tried with 5. The prosthesis was a support with a bifurcated beginning, something like a slingshot. But the bifurcated base was flat and wide enough to fit a foot there and secure it with straps. It was the simplest design in terms of implementation that they could come up with.
Scarlett tried to carve from a single piece of wood as smoothly as possible. The previous attempt was functioning, but it was uneven and mowed down. Who would have thought that she would still need a cutting tool. Scarlett couldn't remember where they came from. She used the tools 2-3 times. And thanks to this, a skewed wooden bird with uneven body proportions is displayed on the shelf. Scarlett would rather paint or sew than mutilate her fingers.
I hope this one comes out better, Scarlett thought as she carefully cut the wood.
It had been about 5 days since their conversation, and the prosthetic was still not ready. When Scarlett came up with this idea, she didn't expect to feel guilty the more she messed around and made mistakes. She felt her brain pushing her harder and harder. The teenager really wanted to help John, but with every passing hour and day, her confidence was falling.
The eye was constantly picking up flaws, and as soon as Scarlett tried to fix everything, everything collapsed. On the second attempt, she eroded the base so that the wood simply broke.

And then there's another bump, another incision, and the tree breaks.
- Damn it. Scarlett cursed, throwing away the wasted hours.
- Damn it! Bergen clutched at hair, pulling at the unruly strands. The teenager leaned forward, slamming her forehead into the table with a light thud.
- Arch.
A soft hand touched her cheek.
- Well, what is it? Marzipan asked. He looked pale and exhausted. The troll wasn't sleeping well, and Scarlett knew it perfectly well. The girl moaned something clearly, without raising her head. She needs a break.
- Don't worry so much. I'm sure everything will work out. The troll tried to cheer him up. His voice sounded deep and hoarse.
- You should get some rest. Scarlett said, finally raising her head. The teenager hid her hand under the table, straightening up.
Marzipan just smiled without answering. He knew he was overloading himself, but he couldn't sleep. As soon as he returned to his room, his brain projected a terrible future for him. Marzipan had already given up and was just sleeping fitfully or by John's room. (Unbeknownst to the wounded troll, he doesn't need any extra worries.)
- How is the work progressing? Marzipan asked, turning the topic in the right direction.
- It's not ready yet. Scarlett squinted at the broken wood on the floor. It was difficult to make a small but solid piece.
Marzipan felt an incomprehensible relief when he saw the broken prosthesis. The troll dropped it, focusing on the teenager.
- You will succeed as always.
- Yeah. Scarlett moaned, picking up a new piece of wood. She took some logs from the first floor to work on.
- Let's take a break. The troll said, without taking his eyes off Scarlett's mangled hands. His fingers were covered in Band-aids, and several shallow cuts remained intact.
- Can we read together?
Scarlett didn't argue, even though she wanted to continue working immediately. But if there was an opportunity to put Marzipan to sleep, she would use it. She picked up the troll in her arms, heading to her bed. Yes, they both needed a break. It's amazing how two anxious and broken creatures came together. They care more about each other than about themselves, and that makes them good campagnens.