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“Moving day, Walter.” Strickler murmured to the baby.
His familiar gurgled in reply, reaching out chubby hands toward his face. Strickler knew he shouldn't let the baby touch him. Knew the danger of growing too attached.
Yet he closed his eyes, and let those stubby fingers wander over his stone face. It was, after all, the only face little Walter ever saw, aside from the goblins.
He tucked the baby to his chest,, scanning the cradles for another green-eyed, brown haired baby.
Strickler knew down to the digit how many times he'd moved little Waltolomew. It was the only way to keep him safe from Gunmar.
A pudgy hand seized his nose, and he brushed it off, eyes softening at the child's giggles.
A soft growl warned him that the goblin's were losing patience. They tolerated him with the familiars, but just barely.
“I know, I know.” he said to one particularly anxious blood goblin, “I'm almost done.”
He scanned the other babies before finding one suitible, and carefully, he lifted that child out of their hammock and placed Waltolomew in the spot they vacated.
Strickler was just placing the other baby in Waltolomew's nest when a very familiar scent caught his nose.
Above the soft, powdery smell of baby, the aroma of a bull troll.
Such a thing should have no place in the Darklands Nursery, so he locked onto the scent instantly, dropping down from the hammocks and landing neatly on the floor below.
He followed the scent, and the farther he went, the more certain he became of the source of the smell.
Dictatious.
He ventured deeper into the nursery, and froze at the sight that greeted him, just beneath one of the cradle hammocks.
Dictatious stood, there, with a baby enfolded in two of his arms.
Strickler knew only one reason for Dictatious to be in the Darklands nursery.
An orphaned familiar.
Gunmar wanted a snack.
His better reason screamed at him not to interfere, but his instincts were louder.
He drew one of his cowl blades, and in three steps, came up behind the advisor and set the blade to his throat.
“Here's what you're going to do.” Strickler said through gritted teeth.
Dictaatious bristled, drawing in a sharp breath at the blade pressed to his adam's apple.
The baby began to cry.
“You are going to give me the orphaned familiar.” Strickler growled, “I'm going to take it to the surface, and you're going to tell Gunmar that----”
“Natasha isn't orphaned!” Dictatious protested.
That gave Strickler pause.
“Her names Natasha?”
“Natasha May, yes.” Dictatious had to raise his voice to be heard above the babies waiks, “Look what you've done! You frightened her?”
Then, Dictatious did something that took Strickler completely by surprise.
He lowered his head to the little one, and touched his forehead to hers, humming Goblin song until the crying died down.
The baby hiccuped, her tiny hand wandering over Dictatious face, as if seeking reassurance. He nuzzled against her, showing a tenderness Strickler didn't think him capable of.
For a long pause, the only sound in the cavern was the cooing of the babies overhead, and the quiet gurgles of the child in Dictatious arms.
Finally, Dictatious cleared his throat.
“Would you kindly take that knife away from my throat?”
Dictatious gave him a shove with one of his other arms, pushing him away.
Strickler wandered back a step, the blade still poised in his hand.
“If she's not orphaned, what are you doing with her?” he demanded, turning the knife over in his fingers.
“I'm just checking on her!” Dictatious snapped, “Making sure the goblins are caring for her properly.”
Strickler stared down at Natasha, lifting a hand to stroke his chin absently.
“And why would you care about a human child?”
Dictatious swallowed loudly, his eyes flitting away from Strickler's.
“You might as well tell me.” Strickler replied, “I could always ask Gunmar----”
“NO.” Dictatious protested, extending a hand, “You can't speak of this to Gunmar! I don't want to draw attention to her!”
“To who?” Strickler pried.
“My Lifemate!”
The answer struck him like a thunderclap, and he actually had to take a step back to process what he'd just heard.
“You have a lifemate?” He asked with a note of suspicion, “Why haven't I heard this before?”
“Because----” Dictatious paused, hugging Natasha to his chest, “Because I don't want anyone to know about our connection! If my enemies found out, they might hurt her to try and influence me!”
Strickler winced at that, understanding working its way slowly through him.
“Maybe I can help.” He allowed, “But only if you tell me who she is. And how you ended up mated to a changeling.”
Dictatious groaned quietly, lifting the baby to his shoulder and patting her back.
“As if you would just help me.” he groused, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet as Natasha started to fuss once more.
“Why not?” Strickler asked quietly, “You've helped me.”
Dictatious stared at him a long while, his six eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Her name is Ruby.” he finally said, “We met more than nine hundred years ago.”
“How?”Strickler asked, “Was she infiltrating Dwoza?”
Dictatious shook his head.
“No, we just sort of...wandered into each others lives. I was a stripling, then, not much older than the trollhunter. She came out of the woods like a wild doe and walked right up to me.”
Strickler listened as Dictatious spoke, but his gaze was still locked on the baby in his arms.
“I didn't know she was a changeling at first.” Dictatious admitted, “I thought she might be a gutter troll, or from one of the villages Arthur raided. She knelt in front of me and asked----”
He stopped then, side-eyeing Strickler, as if debating exactly how much to tell him.
“Well,” Dictatious stated, choosing his words carefully, “She could tell I was in some distress. She asked me what was wrong.”
“Ah, compassion.” Strickler couldn't help but jab, “That should've tipped you off she wasn't a troll.”
Dictatious glowered at him, then closed his eyes, letting the memory wash over him. Sights. Sounds. Smells.
His nostrils flared, as if taking in the ghost of an aroma as....
Dictaatious froze with his back against the tree, the she-troll close enough for him to detect her scent. It was slightly spicy, like cinnimon, and distinctly female.
She was the color of new rose petals. The bud right before it blossomed, with eyes that shined the same shade as a fireflies light.
A girl! His instincts screamed, unhelpfully, as she searched his face.
“Hey, you.” She said, her eyes following the trail of a tear as it made its way down Dictatious' cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Dictatious wiped his eyes furiously, sniffing once to calm his shuddering breaths.
“Who are you?” he shot back, his cheeks reddening at the thought that she'd seen him crying.
The she-troll smiled.
“I'm Ruby!” She declared, “Ruby May!”
Her gaze shifted to the book laying in the grass by his side.
“Hm? You read?” the Ruby asked, tilting her head slightly.
“Y-yes?” Dictatious replied, blinking all six of his eyes.
“Wow,” She whistled, “I wish I knew how to read!”
Dictatious' jaw dropped.
“You don't know how to read!?”
Ruby smiled at his surprised tone, her eyes narrowing into an expression of playful slyness.
“Nope! Say, maybe you can teach me.”
“I can't teach you to read in one night!” Dictatious protested, still not entirely sure how he'd managed a conversation with her this long.
Ruby leaned even closer, her eyes alight with excitement.
“Then meet me tomorrow and teach me!”
Dictatious choked back a startled cry.
She wanted to meet with him again? Most girls couldn't wait to get away from him, it seemed.
“Y-You don't even know my name!” Dictatious protested weakly.
“Then tell me!”
“It's Dictaatious!”
“Dictatious?”
“Yes, Dictatious Galadrigal.”
Ruby puffed out a laugh.
“Pffff. Dick.”
“HEY!” Dictatious flashed a glare, but was unable to maintain it. Her good humor was too contagious.
She leaned closer, and now Dictatious' head was swimming with her scent and the warmth coming off her body.
“I'm really excited to learn to read, Dictatious!” The corners of her eyes crinkled in another smile, “I'm sure you'll be a great teacher!”
“Ah, well, I'm not sure I'm that great of an instructor.” Dictatious admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ruby stood up straight, trotting toward the woods from where she'd come.
“And if you don't show up tomorrow,” She called back, her voice honey-sweet, “I will find you and destroy you!”
Dictatious face broke into an expression Strickler had never seen on him before, his eyes half lidded, lips parted slightly in a smile.
Strickler shook his head in slow disbelief.
“You mean to tell me a random troll just walks up to you and ask for reading lessons, and you just...agree to give them? Without knowing her allegiance?”
“I was a different troll back then.” Dictatious growled, “Softer. Weak. But I don't regret meeting her the next night in the forest.”
Little Natasha had dozed off as the soothing drone of Dictatious voice, and he set her gently back into her cradle.
“So,” Strickler asked, “What happened next?”
Dictatious opened his mouth to reply when a goblin dropped from the ceiling, landing between them.
Dictatious frowned, glaring as the Goblin hissed out a few words in its gutteral language.
“We'll have to continue this tale another time.” Dictatious stated, “The Dark Underlord has need of me. I'll make a deal with you. You keep what you've heard to yourself, and I'll be sure to forget about how you've been moving your familiar to keep them safe.”
Strickler's lips pulled back from his teeth.
“If you're threatening me---”
“It isn't a threat, Stricklander, merely an offer.” Dictatious sighed, reaching out one last time to brush the hair way from Natasha's face. “One I'm sure you'll take me up on.”
Strickler. Snorted, and folded his arms across his chest.
“And how can you be so sure of that?” He demanded.
“Because,” Dictatious replied quietly, “We both have too much to lose.”