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Chapter Text

He never should have left them.

He never meant to be gone this long.

John Dory stood on the edge of Bergen Town, his eyes flitting back and forth as he scanned the eerily quiet streets. With a practiced, silent step, he raced through the shadows, ears pricked for any sound of movement. Night had fallen, so the horrifying creatures should all be tucked away in their homes, dreaming of whatever it was those troll-eating monsters dreamed of. But one could never be too careful.

He peeked around a corner, eyes locked on the distant metal spires near the center of the town. The Troll Tree. That was his target.

A year. He’d been gone for a year. At least, he figured it had been about a year, maybe a bit longer. Time was hard, out on the Neverglade Trail. He’d tried to keep track for a while, but everything just seemed to blend together. The only thing he could focus on was making it to another day. Just making it to tomorrow. This whole survival thing was a lot harder than his Dad had made it out to be.

As a kid, John Dory’s father weaved elaborate stories of surviving out in the woods, fending for oneself and charting territories unknown with only a backpack on your shoulders and your own quick thinking. Tales of strength, of glory, of bravery… John Dory had lived for them, soaking in his father’s every word. He’d wanted to be just like that when he got older.

But in reality, living out in the wilderness was nothing like those stories.

And John Dory wasn’t a brave troll.

Neither was his father, for that matter, but that was besides the point.

After blowing up at his brothers, years of frustration and anger and fear exploding out of him in a way it never had before, he had to get away. He’d grabbed his Dad’s camping bag, and with a cruel “Goodbye Forever!” walked out of his brother’s lives. He’d stalked across the trampled grass surrounding the troll tree, snuck carefully through the cobbled streets of Bergen Town, and marched into the surrounding woods without ever looking back. At least, that’s what he’d meant to do.

He didn’t mean to spend hours sat in a tree just outside Bergen Town, staring back at the Troll Tree, feeling as if his heart was being torn into pieces. It looked so small compared to the world John Dory had just stepped into. And he was scared. He was a coward.

He was running away from his brothers because he was too scared to face them. And he was sitting here because he was too scared to leave them. But after a while, he set his jaw, wiped his tears, and pulled out his father’s map, slowly making his way towards the Neverglade Trail.

John Dory wasn’t a brave troll. But he was nothing if not stubborn, and full of young, stupid pride. He said he was going to the Neverglade alone, so that’s what he would do. His brothers had made it clear they didn’t need him. They didn’t want him around. And that was fine. They’d be fine without him. They still had Grandma. And John Dory would be just fine on his own.

He had never been so wrong in his life.

He’d only meant to be gone a few weeks. But weeks turned into a month, a month turned into months, and soon, a year had passed. And it took everything he had to just try and make it to another day. His father had lied to him. There was no glory out here.

Nature was cruel. It was ruthless. And most of all… It was lonely. After months of being beaten down, again and again and again, John Dory finally broke. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

He missed his home. He missed the feeling of being safe. He missed his family.

He just wanted to go home.

So here he was, a broken troll, making his way through Bergen Town, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. Not just from the fear of weaving his way through the oversized houses of creatures that would gobble him up before he could squeak out a protest, but the apprehension of what was waiting for him back at the tree.

He’d messed up, he knew that. But at this point, he had no pride left. He was ready to throw himself at his brother’s feet and beg for their forgiveness. Nearly dying so many, many times alone out in the woods will do that to you. It puts things into perspective. Makes you realize what’s important. And John Dory realized the most important thing in his life was his brothers. And he’d left them behind. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to fix things.

John Dory shook his head, guilt settling heavily in his stomach. He couldn’t think about that now. He had to get back to them, ideally in one piece. He could deal with the consequences later. He just had to get back to them first.

He scampered across a potholed street, diving behind a foul smelling trash can. He was getting closer, and thankfully, there was no sign of Bergens yet. His eyes caught on a torn banner, hanging limply in the stale breeze wafting through the town. It was difficult to make out, but John Dory quickly recognized the crudely stitched word:

Trollstice.

A jolt of anxiety prickled across John Dory’s skin. Trollstice… When was Trollstice? Had it happened recently? Considering the banner was still up, it must have. Memories of panic filled nights filled John Dory’s head, memories of playing games with his brothers to keep them quiet and distracted while his parents helped patrol, memories of their Grandma Rosiepuff shooing them away from the windows of their pod, trying her best to remain upbeat as screams rang across the tree…

Memories of the night his father came home without their mother, handing John Dory his bloodstained goggles and Branch’s tiny egg, before walking out into the night without another word.

John Dory stared at the banner, dread building inside his chest. He quickened his pace, drawing closer and closer to the tree. He had to get home. He needed to see that they were ok. They’d be ok; they had to be ok.

Finally, he reached the edge of the large, metal cage surrounding the Troll Tree. He’d always wondered why the Bergens had built this stupid thing. It was much too large to keep the Trolls from slipping in and out. But regardless, he hated it. It always made him feel trapped.

John Dory pulled himself up the small stone wall surrounding the tree, shooting one last anxious look over his shoulders. Satisfied when he saw no movement, he turned his attention towards the Troll Tree. It took a moment for his brain to register what he was looking at. But when it did, he felt his blood run cold, freezing him in place as his eyes widened in shock.

His home lay in shambles, destruction etched into every part he could see. The ground was torn apart, holes cut deep into the dark, upturned soil. Colorful pods lay decimated, mud muting their bright tones. Claw marks raked through the Tree, leaving raw wounds that bled dripping sap down the rough bark. John Dory slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from gasping, horror surging through him.

No… no no no… What had they done?

Where were the lights? Where was the music?

Where were the Trolls?

John Dory barely registered he was moving as he began to race across the destroyed ground, blood rushing in his ears. He could see openings beneath the grass, tunnels snaking their way through the dirt. Had the Trolls built these? Had they been trying to escape? His gaze locked on a torn cape, laying discarded near what looked like a collapsed tunnel. He recognized that cape. That was King Peppy’s.

John Dory squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let dark thoughts cloud his mind as he leapt up onto the truck of the Troll Tree. No no no, they were fine, they were all fine. They were just hiding or something; they had to be here.

He climbed up the tree quickly, his hands fitting easily into the familiar grooves in the bark. And within seconds, he was standing amongst the leaves and branches he’d grown up in, desperately scanning around for any signs of life. His mouth curled into a panicked snarl, breaths coming out in short gasps.

There was nothing. No sounds, no movement. Nothing. He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, beginning to walk down a branch he’d walked many times before. Then he started to jog, then to run, then sprint, eyes locked in desperation on a pod swaying near the edge of the foliage. Home. They would be there. They had to be there.

Please… John Dory thought, his teeth clenched so tight he was worried they might break. Please, please let them be there.

He didn’t bother to knock. He pushed the door open quickly, his breaths echoing loudly through the quiet pod. He took a few shaky steps inside, his heart pounding. Quiet… no, this pod should never be quiet… It was never quiet. There was always some sort of sound. Spruce playing his records too loud, singing along as he worked out. Or Clay practicing his new instrument obsession of the week. Or Floyd chatting excitedly about a new song idea he had. Or Branch’s giggles lighting up the room.

It was never quiet. Why was it quiet?

John Dory checked every room in that pod. Then he walked through town, checking every pod for signs of life. Then he followed every one of the tunnels, each one painstakingly ending in collapsed grass and mud. He wanted to believe they’d gotten away. He wanted to believe they’d escaped, that they made it out before the tunnels collapsed. But he kept finding torn clothes, items dropped and discarded in the dirt. And blood. Some of the tunnels had remnants of blood.

It was when he was heading back to the tree when he found it. It was near one of the collapses, half buried in the mud. He honestly probably wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t nearly tripped on it. He reached down, picking up a small, leather-bound book, gently wiping off the dirt caked into its pages.

It was a dictionary. A Troll dictionary, but a dictionary nonetheless. Which wouldn’t be a big deal. However, John Dory only knew one Troll who carried around a dictionary religiously, one Troll who would pull it out at the stupidest of times to say some elaborate, fancy word to make himself sound smart. And sure enough, when John Dory opened the first page, he could see his brother’s name printed inside, the penmanship stilted and neat:

Property of Clay

John Dory’s breath caught in his throat, eyes wide. Clay would never just leave this. It was his pride and joy, meticulously annotated and bookmarked by the young troll. He would never just leave it. Unless he… John Dory tried not to look at the splattering of dried, blue blood on the ground next to where he found the book, but it was too late.

He walked back to his pod in a daze, the small dictionary clutched tight in his hands. He stepped inside, not bothering to close the door as he looked around once again at the empty hall. The quiet that greeted him was deafening.

His legs began to shake, and suddenly, he found he couldn’t stand up anymore. He fell to his knees, his body shivering as panic, guilt, and grief swirled around inside him so violently he felt like he was going to explode.

He lost them. He lost his brothers. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew exactly what had happened. The Trolls had tried to escape. The Bergens had caught them. And they killed them. Every. Last. One. There was no denying it. The collapsed tunnels, the clothes, the blood…

John Dory wrapped his arms around himself, Clay’s book falling loudly to the floor. His brothers, his family… He’d left them here, and now they were gone. They were gone, gone, gone…

And it was all his fault.

A chill washed over John Dory’s shaking body, a heavy, hollow feeling that seemed to crawl into every fiber of his being, snaking up his chest and into his throat. A sob escaped his lips, and he hugged himself closer, tears starting to stream down his face. And suddenly, he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

He let out a painful, anguished scream, the sound ripping through the suffocating silence around him. His ears twitched at the noise, but he didn’t care. He didn't care about anything anymore. He didn’t care if it was stupid and childish. He didn’t care if he screamed until his throat was raw. He didn’t care if the Bergens heard him. He hoped they did. He’d lost the only thing in this world that mattered to him. And it was all his fault.

No longer would he hear Spruce’s teasing voice, making fun of his dead social life. No longer would he see the mischievous sparkle in Clay’s eyes that said he’d just thought of the next perfect prank. No longer would he feel Floyd grabbing at his vest, begging him for another story. And Branch, Baby Branch…

John Dory sobbed again. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe, choking on the numbness flooding his body. His world was crashing down around him, and all he could think about was how the last thing he’d ever said to his brothers was “Goodbye Forever”.

He hadn’t meant it. But now he’d never get to tell them.

Suddenly, a small noise pulled John Dory out of his despair. It sounded like a cupboard door closing. He sucked in a breath, eyes turning towards the kitchen as his ears perked up. He could hear soft, hesitant footsteps pattering slowly across the floor. And the tiniest bit of hope flickered to life in his chest.

John Dory watched, frozen, as a small, grey figure peeked out from the corner of the hall, his eyes wide and wary. Despite his dull appearance, John Dory recognized the young troll immediately, his heart aching with shock and relief. He felt his body relax ever so slightly, and for the first time in months, he spoke.

“Branch?”

Chapter Text

His question was met with silence.

Branch looked at him, unmoving, suspicious fear clouding his eyes. With a start, John Dory realized his brother didn’t recognize him.

To be fair, it had been a year. A lot can change in a year. And John Dory knew he looked rough. He hadn’t brushed his hair in months, and there was a fine layer of dirt covering most of his skin. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, no doubt smearing more mud across his face as he plastered on a reassuring smile.

“B, it’s me, it’s John Dory.” He said raspily, voice cracking from non-use. He spoke soft and low, as if he were talking to a frightened critter, standing up and taking a shaky step towards his brother. “You know me, see?” He pointed at the goggles sat on his forehead. “You know me…”

Recognition seemed to flash across Branch’s eyes, and he walked out further into the hallway. “D?” He whispered, barely audible. John Dory nearly wept at the sound of his brother’s hesitant voice.

“Yes, yes, it’s me!” John Dory couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, taking another step forward. At this, Branch immediately drew back, ears pinned against his head. John Dory paused, dropping back down to the ground, lips pursed tight with worry.

Even in the dim light, he could see the greyness of his brother’s skin. He didn’t know why grey had replaced his baby brother’s normal blue, but he was sure whatever the reason, it wasn’t good. He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep a light tone as he continued to speak.

“It’s ok, Branch, it’s ok. I’m here, I…” He cleared his throat again, feeling it ache slightly. He hadn’t talked this much in a while. “What happened, B?” He asked quietly, even though he didn’t really want to know the answer. “Where is everyone?”

Branch drew in a sharp breath, his gaze falling to the floor. He mumbled something, his arms wrapping around his tiny body.

“What-” John Dory began, but was quickly cut off as Branch repeated himself.

“They’re gone.” The small troll sniffled, squeezing his eyes tight. “They’re gone, they’re all gone. You left, and then Spruce and Clay, a-and Floyd…”

John Dory blinked, shocked. No, his brothers would never leave Branch. John Dory had left, but they wouldn’t… They would never leave him. They would certainly never leave the tree.

He shook his head, trying to stay focused. Even if his brothers had left, they never would have left Branch alone. Their Grandma would have… John Dory felt dread build in his chest. “Grandma?” He croaked hoarsely, already knowing the answer.

Branch almost seemed to choke, a sob ripping itself from his heaving chest. John Dory bit his cheek, grief once again flooding through him. He never had the best relationship with his Grandmother, but he knew she loved them, in her own way. God, she’d probably be so disappointed in him…

“It was all my fault!” Branch sobbed, drawing John Dory’s attention back to him. “I wasn’t paying attention, and Chef went to grab me, and Grandma, she-” He couldn’t finish his sentence, his cries becoming more panicked. “A-and then Trollstice came, and I hid, and there were yelling and screams, and when I came back out…” He sobbed again. “They were gone, they’re all gone!”

John Dory couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, attempting to comfort his brother. “Easy B, easy, it’s ok, I’m still here-”

“N-no!” Branch pulled away from him, glaring at him through angry tears. “You left me, you…” The younger troll sobbed again, the anger melting away as his ears drooped. “You left me. Why did you leave me?” He cried, his voice breaking.

John Dory felt his heart nearly shatter, but he swallowed it down. “I was scared.” He said softly, moving forward again. “I was scared, and I was angry, and I was stupid. I was really, really stupid.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, staring intensely at his brother and pleading for him to listen. “But I’m here now, ok? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t believe you!” Branch’s shrill voice rang out across the pod, cracking and full of pain. Guilt cut through John Dory like a knife.

“That’s fair.” He whispered, nodding. “I deserve that.” He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself together as he looked into his brother’s eyes. “But I’m here now. And I promise you, B, I am never going to leave you again. I promise, ok?”

Branch looked him up and down with a narrowed gaze. But after a moment, the young troll’s resolve seemed to waver. “You promise?” He asked in a small, watery voice.

John Dory nodded again. “I promise.”

Branch’s lips started to quiver, his face scrunching up as tears once again welled up in his eyes. “JD…” He choked out, rushing forward and practically melting into John Dory’s arms. John Dory hugged him close, struggling to keep himself from breaking down as well.

“I’ve got you, B, I’ve got you.” He whispered, petting his brother’s nearly black hair as he cried, the small troll burying his face in John Dory’s chest. “It’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.”

“P-please, please don’t ever leave again. I’ll be good, I’ll do everything you ask, just please don’t leave.” Branch cried, sobbing loudly.

John Dory just hugged Branch tighter, guilt settling heavily in his gut. He did this. This was his fault. And he needed to make things right.

It was decided. He was never going to leave his brother. Never again.

No matter what.

Suddenly, a sharp sound echoed from outside. The sound of grating metal. John Dory felt his breath catch in his throat, Branch stiffening in his arms at the noise. They both knew that sound all too well. It was the sound of a key, opening the gate to the cage surrounding the Troll Tree. It meant Bergens were coming.

John Dory quickly stood up, rushing to the window of the pod and cautiously peeking outside. There were two Bergen guards entering the cage, closing the creaking gate behind them. Their bloodshot eyes surveyed the tree, and John Dory hastily ducked down to avoid being spotted.

He cursed quietly, gritting his teeth. They’d probably heard his scream from earlier and were coming to check for stragglers. He turned his eyes back towards Branch, who stood trembling as he stared at the window. And at that moment, John Dory made another decision. He had to get his brother out of here.

“C’mon, B, we gotta go.” He hissed, pulling his camping bag off his shoulders. He set it heavily on the ground, opening the zipper.

“Go?” Branch asked in a small voice. “Go where?”

“We’re getting out of here.” John Dory replied, striding over to his little brother. He crouched down, clamping his hands down on Branch’s shaking shoulders. “It’s not safe here; we have to go. Grab what you want to take with you, and put it in my bag, ok?”

Branch looked shocked, shaking his head. “We can’t leave.” He insisted, eyes wide. “The Bergens will catch us.”

“They can’t catch me.” John Dory assured him, giving Branch the most confident smile he could muster. “Ol’ John Dory’s too quick for them. Now go grab your things, we have to move.” He stood back up, rushing to the kitchen.

He grabbed as much food as he could carry, that is to say, a few boxes of granola bars, shoving them haphazardly into his bag. John Dory knew how to find food out in the woods, but he couldn’t pass up on this rare chance where it was plentiful. He then grabbed a few things he wished he’d thought to grab the first time. Like a hairbrush. His hair really was a mess.

He ended up taking Spruce’s hairbrush. He wasn’t sure why. But for some reason, it just felt like a piece of his brother he couldn’t leave behind. Spruce had always been so stingy about his hair.

As John Dory grabbed it, he couldn’t help but notice his reflection in Spruce’s mirror. It almost caused him to jump. And suddenly, he could completely understand why Branch didn’t recognize him. Not only did he look rough, his hair snarled and mud streaked across his skin. But to his shock, he noticed that his normal blue was gone, replaced with a colorless grey, similar to his little brother.

John Dory leaned forward, baffled, gently brushing his fingers across his face. When did this happen? He definitely wasn’t grey before he came to the tree…

That’s what happens when you’re the reason your family is dead. His mind seemed to snarl. You turn grey.

John Dory shook his head, trying to clear the dark thought from his brain. He couldn’t do this right now. The Bergens were coming, and he needed to get Branch out of here. He needed to get them somewhere safe.

He hastilly turned away from the mirror, instead peeking into his old closet. All of his clothes were still in there, right where he’d left them. He looked down at the torn, muddied vest he was wearing. It had definitely seen better days.

He stripped it off, instead grabbing an old, faded leather vest, with white and black spotted fur around the collar. He was pretty sure this had been his father’s at some point, but somehow, it’d just ended up with him. But it was the only piece of durable clothing he had, and between this and a denim jacket, well, it was a no brainer.

He scampered back to his bag, shoving a few extra supplies in it. Then, he went and grabbed one last thing. A scrapbook. He knew his Grandma kept tons of them. The old troll really liked her photos, even if she was terrible at scrapbooking. And John Dory needed… something. Anything. He couldn’t leave this pod without his brothers. Not again. He quickly pulled one off the shelf, taking a moment to look at the photo on the front.

It was a picture of all of them, his Grandma included, smiling cheesily at the camera. He remembered that day. His Grandma had just bought them those stupid, colorful matching puffer vests, which he and his brothers begrudgingly wore to make her happy. At the time, he had no idea those vests would become their trademark outfits for Brozone.

John Dory could feel his shoulders begin to shake, despair welling up inside his chest as he looked at his brother’s smiling faces. He’d let them all down. He failed them.

I’m so sorry… He thought, squeezing his eyes shut. But he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t break down. Not now. Branch needed him. And he was running out of time.

He carefully situated the book in his bag, desperately hoping he wasn’t crinkling any of the precious photos. He then turned to see Branch standing next to him, his own small backpack on his shoulders. The small troll was wearing a green vest that was much too big for him, and with a pang of regret, he realized it was Floyd’s. John Dory should know; he was the one that made it for him. He swallowed down his guilt, trying to smile.

“Got everything?”

Branch nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

“Good.” John Dory once again peeked cautiously out the window. The two Bergens were drawing closer, scanning beneath the tree. “Ok, B.” He said softly, pulling on his bag and crouching down so he could look his brother in the eyes. “I can get us out of here, but you have to be quiet, ok? Super duper quiet, you can’t make a sound. Can you do that for me?”

Branch nodded again.

“Alright.” John Dory said, readjusting his goggles. They never seemed to fit right. “Let’s get a move on. You can ride on my shoulders.”

“But…” Branch asked, his fists bumping together nervously. “What if Floyd and them come back, and we’re not here? How will they know where we went?”

John Dory felt his heart sink, his mouth growing tight. “Branch, I…” He started, the words hitching painfully. He thought about the dictionary he’d found in the tunnels, surrounded by splatters of blue blood. His brothers never made it out of this tree. He tried not to choke on the lump in his throat. “I don’t think they’re coming back.”

Branch looked at him with wide eyes, gasping softly. John Dory took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue.

“It’s just you and me, ok bud? You and me against the world.” He said, trying his best to sound in any way reassuring. “But we have to go, you understand? If we stay here, the Bergens are going to kill us. We have to get out of here.” He wasn’t trying to scare his little brother, but he could hear the Bergens getting closer. They needed to go now.

Branch stared at the floor, jaw clenched and eyes unfocused. But then, he slowly nodded, his hands tightening on the straps of his backpack. “Ok…”

“Attaboy.” John Dory replied, trying to smile through the aching in his chest. He reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Branch grabbed it, allowing himself to be lifted onto John Dory’s shoulders. The small troll gripped onto his hair, and John Dory was reminded of how he used to carry Branch around when he was much, much smaller.

He walked to the front door, pausing to take one last look at the empty pod. He could feel despair starting to build in his chest once more. If he’d just stayed, if he’d just been here sooner… Maybe he could have saved them.

A chill crawled up his neck, and for a split second, he could almost hear laughter echoing around the pod. His brothers’ voices giggling happily, the sound filling him with such a deep sadness and longing he could barely breathe. And for just a moment, he swore he could see his Grandmother standing in the hall, smiling at him. But he knew she wasn’t there. She was gone. They all were.

A sob started to build in his throat, but he pushed it down, instead focusing on the small hands holding on to his hair like an anchor. He could despair later. Right now, he had a job to do.

“Ok, B.” He whispered, turning out towards the darkened tree. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

John Dory raced down the branch, heading towards a hollow hole in the center of the tree. It drilled down through the trunk, into the dirt tunnels below. Within moments, he was sneaking past the Bergens in the remains of a collapsed tunnel, his steps slow and cautious as he kept his eyes locked on the towering creatures. Branch’s grip tightened on his hair.

“I’m telling you, I heard something.” One of the Bergens said in a hushed voice, scanning the tree. “Like a scream.”

John Dory rolled his eyes, kicking himself for his earlier lapse in judgement. To be fair, he wasn’t really thinking at that point. He kept moving, silently stepping over chunks of dirt and mud.

“Or you’re just hallucinating because the King has had us patrolling nights for the past week.” The other Bergen grumbled.

“I know what I heard.” The first Bergen hissed. “Besides, it can’t hurt to check. The King said he’ll reward anyone who brings a Troll to the castle. And I could use the dough.”

“There’s no Trolls left.” The other Bergen insisted, picking at his teeth. “Besides, if I found a Troll, I’d just eat it. That’s my reward.”

John Dory clenched his jaw to keep a low growl from escaping his lips, fear and anger welling up in his chest. Those vile, greedy bastards… They’d already killed everyone; how could they possibly want more?

However, he didn’t get a chance to linger on this. At the Bergen’s horrible words, Branch let out a small whimper, hiding his face in John Dory’s hair. John Dory quickly leapt behind a rock, heart beating out of his chest. But luckily, the Bergens appeared to be too preoccupied to notice Branch’s tiny cry.

John Dory let out a soundless sigh, picking up his pace to get his poor baby brother out of here. Soon, he’d climbed out of the horrifying cage, making his way through Bergentown once again.

It was a bit slow going. Branch had grown a bit since John Dory had last seen him. Not by much, but it was enough that JD couldn’t be as quick on his feet as he would like. The young troll must be seven now, almost eight. The thought that he’d missed his little brother’s birthday made his gut twist, but he pushed the thought aside. He’d make it up to Branch. Starting by getting him out of this town alive.

It took a while, John Dory not taking any risks with such precious cargo on his back, but eventually, he raced out of Bergentown towards the surrounding woods. He never thought he’d be happy to be back out amongst the towering trees, but he found himself letting out a nearly hysterical laugh, relief flooding over him.

“We made it, B!” He exclaimed, still keeping his voice low. He trotted to a stop at the edge of the forest, turning back towards Bergentown and letting out a deep breath. “We made it.”

He felt Branch shift on his shoulders, peeking towards the town. “That’s the Troll Tree?” He asked quietly.

“Yep.” John Dory replied, setting his hands on his hips. He pursed his lips, chest growing tight. The tree looked so sad, sitting in that crude cage. And knowing that it was completely empty now made the sight even more dismal.

“It’s so… small.” Branch continued, his voice trembling slightly.

John Dory nodded, ears drooping slightly. “Yeah… it is.” He thought back to the first time he’d seen the Troll Tree from out here. It was weird, looking back at it. That tree was the entirety of the troll’s lives, their whole world. And it was so tiny. They were so tiny compared to everything out here. It made him feel incredibly small.

John Dory shook his head, taking on a cheery tone. “Well, there’s no point in lingering on the past. Let’s get out of here, shall we?” He spun around his heels, marching off into the darkness of the woods. “Just you wait, Bitty. You’re going to love it out here. I mean, there’s a whole world for us to explore! Just you and me.” John Dory wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more: Branch or himself.

Branch let out a soft hum, turning his head every which way. “Is it always this dark?” He asked, his hands tightening in John Dory’s hair.

Right, this had to be a bit of a shock for the small troll. The Troll Tree almost always had some sort of light, whether it be from parties, pods, or colorful lanterns strewn throughout the branches. But out here, it was almost complete, smothering blackness. It had taken John Dory a while to adjust to how dark it got. He spent many of his first nights cowering in the trees as soon as the sun went down. He’d never been scared of the dark until he experienced it out here.

“Not always.” He replied, looking up into the foliage. “There’s no moon tonight, so that doesn’t help. But not to worry. Your big bro has amazing night vision.” He sidestepped to avoid walking into a large root. “Most of the time.”

He felt Branch nod, his grip remaining tight. “How do you-”

Just then, John Dory heard a stick snap nearby. He quickly reached up, pulling Branch down into his arms and slapping hand over the young troll’s mouth as he ducked behind a flower stalk. Thankfully, Branch didn’t fight him, instead going perfectly still as John Dory held him, peeking out towards the sound.

A large critter was sniffing nearby, its glowing yellow eyes scanning around where the two trolls had just been standing. John Dory slowly set Branch to his side, not taking his gaze off the critter as he held a finger up to his lips. He reached down, feeling around on the ground for a moment before grabbing a fair sized rock. He reeled back, then chucked it as far as he could, listening as it tumbled down the hill they’d just climbed up.

The critter perked up at the sound, letting out a low growl before taking off towards it, its heavy footsteps fading as it grew further and further away. John Dory let out the breath he’d been holding. That had been way too close for his liking.

He turned back to Branch, who stood almost frozen in terror, staring towards where the beast had run off. John Dory clenched his jaw. Poor kid. This was definitely not the best introduction to what life was like out here. He tried to brighten the mood a bit, rubbing the back of his neck in an exaggerated fashion.

“Yeah, the neighbors kind of suck. They’re a little touchy about noise.” He said quietly, crouching down so he could smile at Branch. “But like I said, ol’ John Dory’s too quick for them. And they know better than to mess with me.” He jabbed a thumb into his chest, grinning wide.

Branch looked unconvinced, but nodded silently as he continued to stare off into the darkness.

John Dory deflated slightly, letting his hand fall back loosely to his side as he stood up. God, he was terrible at this. “Alright, B.” He said, scanning the foliage. “Let’s find somewhere to spend the night, yeah? I don’t want to meet any more of our neighbors.”

John Dory led them a ways away from Bergentown, hoping to at least put some distance between them and that horrid place, before finding a nice tree to bed down in. He carefully climbed the rough bark, Branch once again nestled on his shoulders. Before long, he found a crook amongst the branches, setting Branch down before flopping down himself with a huff. It’d been a long night.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as John Dory caught his breath, Branch sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. He had a single hand latched tight to John Dory’s coat, almost as if he thought his brother would leave at any moment. The thought made John Dory’s chest ache with guilt.

Now that things had calmed down a bit, John Dory let his eyes trace up and down his brother’s shaking form. He couldn’t help but notice how… ragged he looked. Even looking past the grey, John Dory could see deep circles under Branch’s eyes, his darkened hair messy and unkempt. And he hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but the kid looked thin. Branch had always been small for his age, but now, he looked almost sickly. Alarm bells went off in John Dory’s head.

“Here Bitty, let’s get you something to eat.” He said quickly, rummaging through his bag for a granola bar. Branch had said everyone disappeared at Trollstice, but how long ago was that? How long was Branch alone in that pod?

“M’not hungry.” Branch mumbled, head buried in his knees.

“You gotta eat, bud.” John Dory insisted, trying to keep his tone light as he scooched closer to his brother. “I need you at full strength out here, and you can’t do that without fuel.” He held the granola bar out towards Branch, but the small troll just curled up tighter.

“No.”

John Dory drew back a bit, ears drooping as he stared down at the granola bar in his hands. They were shaking. His hands were shaking. He inhaled sharply, the reality of the situation really starting to hit him. Everyone was gone. It really was just him and Branch now. His heart began to race, jaw clenching tightly.

John Dory had barely survived out here. He’d nearly died plenty of times. And now, he’d dragged Branch out here with him. What was he thinking? How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to take care of his little brother when he couldn’t even take care of himself? He couldn’t even get Branch to eat a granola bar.

His breaths began to quicken, his heart beating faster as it pounded in his ears. He reached up, grabbing onto his hair, the pressure providing the slightest anchor to his tumultuous thoughts. But he couldn’t slow his breathing, panic building in his chest.

This wasn’t going to work. He’d just brought his brother from one hell into another one. His hand tightened around the granola bar, feeling it snap in half.

He couldn’t do this. He’d proven time and time again that he wasn’t fit to take care of anyone, let alone someone in the middle of this godforsaken woods. He was barely able to raise his brothers when they were living in their pod. He’d done his best to try and step up, to fill his parent’s shoes, and look where it had gotten him. If he’d done a better job, he and his brothers never would have fought. He never would have left. They would still be here.

It was all his fault. He was the reason his family was gone, and now, he was going to get his little brother killed too.

They were going to die out here.

Suddenly, John Dory heard a sniffle, the sound jolting out of his spiral. He turned to see Branch starting to cry, his little hands curling into tight fists. Immediately, John Dory swallowed down the lump in his throat, pushing his panicked, swirling thoughts aside as he pulled his little brother into his lap.

“Hey, hey, easy now. It’s alright.” He whispered, holding Branch’s shaking body close to his chest. He hoped his brother couldn’t feel how hard his heart was pounding. “We’re going to be alright.”

“I’m scared.” Branch choked, wiping at his eyes.

“I know.” John Dory replied, guilt settling heavily in his gut. He bit his cheek before forcing a smile to his face, leaning down so he could look in Branch’s teary eyes. “But I’ll let you in on a secret.” He looked around comedically, as if he was making sure no one was listening, then leaned down closer to Branch. “I’m a little scared too.” He admitted, Branch blinking at him in surprise.

Just then, John Dory had an idea. He stood up, drawing Branch up onto his shoulders. “C’mere Bitty, I’ll show you something cool.”

He climbed up a bit higher into the tree, onto the thinner branches near the top. Finally, he peeked up through the leaves, pushing a few aside so they could get a full view of the sky. He smiled at the sight. On a clear night like this, with no moon to wash out the darkness, the stars were breathtaking, quite literally. He heard his brother let out a soft gasp, and John Dory could almost picture the bright stars reflecting in Branch’s wide blue eyes.

Sure, you could see stars from the Troll Tree. But the tree was always lit up, as was Bergentown. Out here, the stars were a whole different kind of beautiful.

“It’s not all bad out here.” John Dory said quietly, the cool night air caressing him like an old friend. “I mean, it’s pretty bad, but there’s good stuff too. You just have to know where to look.” He lifted Branch down from his shoulders so he could hold the small troll in his arms. “And besides, you’ve got me! I’m an expert survivalist. And I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. You’ve got the JD guarantee.”

Sure, maybe he was hamming it up a bit. But at his words, Branch seemed to relax ever so slightly, the faintest hint of a smile on his face as he gazed up at the stars. John Dory felt himself relax a bit as well. He could do this. He just had to stay positive. He couldn’t let himself fall apart, not now. He had to be strong for Branch. He would get them through this. He had to.

John Dory carried Branch back down to the larger branches, snuggling the both of them up against the trunk. He brought out the granola bar he’d broken in half earlier, offering it once again to the small troll. Branch hesitated for a moment, but then begrudgingly took half, pushing the other half towards John Dory before starting to nibble on his own. John Dory had to hold himself back from letting out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He held Branch in his arms, his brother’s eyes slowly blinking shut. It’d been quite the day for the young troll, and John Dory could tell he hadn’t been getting very good sleep. He ran his fingers though Branch’s hair, feeling his brother’s heart beat against his own.

He’d held Branch a lot like this when he was a baby. His youngest brother had always been fussy about going to sleep, and oftentimes, John Dory would just hold him, singing to him until they both eventually passed out. The memory brought a smile to his face. Maybe a song could help now.

He opened his mouth, a familiar tune bubbling up in his mind, but as soon as he tried to sing, his throat seemed to freeze up almost painfully, the words dying before they ever reached his lips. He coughed a bit, confused, before trying again. This time, a feeling of dread washed over him so violently he almost felt sick, the music once again catching in his throat. He let out a sigh of defeat, holding his brother closer and stroking his hair gently. It didn’t matter. It’s not like singing ever did him any good anyways.

He felt Branch’s breathing slow, the small troll slipping into a fitful sleep. He continued to run his fingers through Branch’s hair. It was soothing, in a way. He could remember his Grandma doing the same thing when he was younger. The thought brought with it that heavy, choking feeling again.

For just a moment, John Dory let grief seep into his chest. He leaned his head back against the rough bark of the tree, silent tears leaving trails down his muddied face. He’d let himself have this one moment to mourn, this one moment to grieve for his family. For what he lost. Because tomorrow, he had to move on. Branch needed him. And if John Dory was going to do this, he couldn’t fall apart. Even if that’s all he wanted to do.

He didn’t sleep that night. He let the tears fall quietly until he had no more tears left to shed, his arms locked tight around his brother’s sleeping form. And as he watched the sun rise, he set his jaw tight, eyes dry and determined.

He couldn’t look back now. He had a job to do.

Chapter Text

John Dory started out the day with one goal in mind: Put as much distance between them and Bergentown as possible.

As soon as Branch had woken up, John Dory scooped him onto his shoulders, setting off into the woods. The light of the morning had revealed some large, ominous looking footprints below the tree they’d spent the night in. From the shape of them, they almost looked like they belonged to a Bergen. John Dory had never seen a Bergen outside Bergentown, but the thought sent shivers down his spine. He quickly took off in the opposite direction, not bothering to point them out to his little brother. The poor kid was already scared enough.

He could feel Branch shifting around on his shoulders, taking in the sights of the forest. It looked much different in the daytime. Brighter, and a lot less terrifying. However, John Droy still kept his eyes peeled, ears flicking around to the slightest sounds. The forest may look less dangerous in the daylight, but that didn’t mean it was. He’d learned that lesson one too many times.

He’d changed a lot since he left that tree.

It wasn’t just his appearance either. He knew he’d changed. He’d left as a loud, arrogant asshole, prideful and full of naive optimism. He was still an asshole, but after a few months out here, he’d felt himself start to change. He started to become… quiet.

It started small. At first, John Dory talked to himself all the time. Making up stupid songs, telling jokes to no one, that sort of thing. He tried to convince himself that this was what he wanted. This freedom, the feeling of being unburdened from everything and everyone.

But slowly, he noticed that he just didn’t feel like talking anymore. He didn’t feel like singing, and he could no longer find anything to joke about. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d just… stopped. But it was then when he’d really started to regret everything that’d happened. Any prideful arrogance he had was gone, shattered along with the hope that he could ever be happy out here. He could only focus on one thing: Surviving. So that one day, he could make it home.

Things got a little fuzzy after that.

John Dory massaged his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts. He hated just how easily he slipped back into this silence he’d grown so accustomed to. It just felt safer. His big mouth had always gotten him into trouble, and out here, on his own, talking served no purpose other than to alert hungry critters that there was tasty food nearby. But he couldn’t stay quiet forever. It wasn’t just him anymore.

He felt like he needed to say something to his brother, anything. But his mouth remained firmly shut, mind racing. What could he even say to him? Hey Branch, sorry for leaving you behind and getting our entire family killed, most likely traumatizing you for life. But hey, at least I brought you into one of the most dangerous places for a troll to be! Who’s the best big brother in the world? He let out a sigh, letting his hand drag down his face and fall limply to his side.

There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could say would make this right, and he knew it. He’d ruined everything.

“Hey D?”

John Dory was pulled from his tumultuous thoughts at Branch’s voice, the sound almost making him jump. He peered to his side, the small troll gazing down at him from his shoulders.

“Yeah? What’s up, Bitty?” John Dory replied, hoping his brother couldn’t hear the tremble in his voice.

“Where are we going?” Branch asked, sounding uncertain.

“Oh, right.” John Dory chuckled nervously, facing forward once again. “I’m taking you to the Neverglade Trail.”

“The Neverglade Trail?” Branch echoed, his hands tightening in John Dory’s hair. “Like the one from your stories?”

John Dory blinked, surprised that Branch even remembered his stories. He often repeated the ones his dad told him to his younger brothers before they went to sleep. It was sort of a nightly routine. He’d never really been good at reading, so storytelling had just kind of become his thing. But that felt like so long ago…

“D?”

Right, talking. He had to answer his brother.

“Yeah, exactly.” He replied, using his hair to swing them both over a log, landing gracefully on the other side. “You’ll love it, B. It’s got these big mountains, waterfalls, and you can see for miles. And as a plus, it’s far, far away from Bergentown. We’ll never have to see another one of those monsters ever again.”

Branch hummed softly, his brows furrowed in thought. “How far away is it?” He asked finally.

“Eh, a few weeks or so?” John Dory mused, pushing through some taller grass. “It’s far, B.”

“And you’re going to walk all the way there?”

“Yeppers.”

“But…” Branch trailed off, and John Dory could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “But that’s really, really far.” The small troll said, sounding worried. “What if you get tired? Or your feet start to hurt?”

“I don’t get tired.” John Dory chirped flippantly. A lie, but Branch didn’t need to know that. Besides, he’d gotten used to walking long distances. Sure, the Neverglades were far, but he’d just spent the last month or so traveling back here. At least he knew where he was going. Mostly.

“Yes you do.” Branch replied, sounding annoyed.

“Nope. Not me.” John Dory insisted, albeit a bit strained. Despite his endurance, he was now carrying not only a camping bag filled to the brim with supplies, but also his little brother. His muscles were screaming. But he stubbornly forged ahead. He wouldn’t feel safe until Bergentown was nothing but a distant memory.

They crested a hill, revealing a small lake stretching out in front of them. John Dory quickly trotted down, making his way around the periphery.

He could feel Branch shifting on his shoulders, becoming more and more fidgety. Actually, how long had they been walking? John Dory peered up towards the sky. The sun had moved quite a bit, so it had to at least been a few hours. The young troll was probably getting antsy after sitting still for so long.

John Dory bit at his cheek, brows furrowed. He didn’t like the idea of stopping so soon. His entire body was itching to keep moving. But again, it wasn’t just him anymore. He had to think of Branch. The kid needed a break, and probably some food as well. It couldn’t hurt to make a small pit stop. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for John Dory to take a quick dip in the pond. He was still mud covered from the night before.

“Alright, Bitty.” He said finally, coming to a halt by the lake’s edge. “Let’s take a breather, yeah? You can stretch out your legs a bit.” He helped the small troll down to the ground before letting the heavy camping bag slide off his aching shoulders. He felt almost three time’s lighter, rolling out his neck as he bit back a groan of relief.

Branch immediately latched onto his jacket, looking around nervously. “Is it safe here?” He asked in a small voice, eyeing the undergrowth warily.

“It’s not safe anywhere, B.” John Dory replied with a sigh before smiling at his little brother. “But you’re safe with me.” He slid his jacket off, Branch looking at him worriedly as he continued to hold onto it.

“Where are you going?” The small troll demanded nervously, acting as if John Dory might take off at any moment. JD swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. How long was it going to take for Branch to trust that he wasn’t going to leave him again? Maybe he never would.

John Dory crouched down, continuing to smile as if he wasn’t the biggest asshole this side of the forest, and poked Branch in the chest. “I’m not going anywhere.” He firmly reassured him. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He stood up, stretching out his aching back. “Sorry Bitty, but I think you’re going to be stuck with me for a good long while. Better get used to it.”

He glanced over at his brother. The young troll didn’t say anything, but his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. John Dory took that as a win.

“Anyways, I’m going to pop in the lake for a sec. Freshen up.” He continued, patting Branch on the back. “Can you guard the stuff for me?”

Branch nodded, once again scanning the undergrowth with narrowed eyes. John Dory grinned at him before walking swiftly down towards the lake. He would make this quick. He didn’t exactly like the idea of leaving the young troll here by himself anyways.

He dove into the water without a second thought, the chill almost knocking the wind out of him, before slowly wrapping around his body in a welcoming caress. He sighed, letting a trail of bubbles leak out of his mouth and crawl towards the surface as he closed his eyes, just for a moment.

He’d always loved the water. There’d been a small pool near the roots of the Troll Tree where he spent many a summer, teaching his brothers to swim or just letting himself float as the sun beat down through the leaves. There was just a calm he associated with it, a tranquility, compared to the chaos that was always such a constant in his life.

A chaos he’d now do anything to bring back.

John Dory’s eyes shot open with a start, suddenly realizing his need for air. He clawed his way to the surface, letting out a gasp as he choked a bit on the muddied water around him. No, we’re not thinking like that. He chastised himself, shaking droplets from his hair. He looked over at the beach, where Branch sat patiently waiting for him. We’re getting our shit together. For him.

He quickly cleaned himself off, washing away weeks of build up dirt and grime. He grimaced in disgust at the amount of mud clouding the water. How had he let himself get to this state? He’d always been so concerned about his appearance. But he’d really let himself go out here. He gazed down at his reflection wearily, the grey on his skin even more stark without the mud smeared across it. He couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Once he was satisfied, he waded into the shallows, placing his hands on his hips. “You should probably hop in here too, Bitty.” He called, continuing to keep his voice low, just in case.

Branch just looked at him, bewildered. “Why?”

“Uh, because you stink?” John Dory replied with a shrug.

Branch’s hair bristled as he leapt to his feet, eyes sparking with indignation. “No I don’t!” He insisted, hands clenched into fists. He brought his arm up to his face, giving it a sniff as if to confirm. “I smell like a troll.” He huffed, glaring at his brother.

Yeah, that’s the problem… John Dory thought, lips pursing tight. He’d noticed it when he was sitting with Branch last night, but again as they were walking today. Branch smelled like a troll. He smelled like home.

It wasn’t a bad smell by any means. It was sweet, almost like ice cream, or the smell of fresh sugary donuts. It was a smell that carried with it good memories. Of comfort, warmth. Of his family. But if John Dory could smell it, then predators out here with a much better sense of smell than he had definitely could. And he couldn’t take that risk.

“C’mon, B.” He coaxed, plastering a grin on his face. “The water’s nice; it’ll cool you off a bit.”

Branch remained hesitant, but he pulled off Floyd’s, well, his vest, folding it neatly before walking over to the water’s edge. He dipped a foot in before quickly drawing it out. “It’s freezing!” He yelped, wrapping his arms around himself.

John Dory chuckled, making his way towards his little brother. “You’ll get used to it.” He was about to tell Branch to jump in all at once to get it over with when he noticed something clinging to his ankle, just below the water. He squinted, trying to make out the small, dark shape. He had to bite back his own yelp when he saw it start to wriggle.

It was a leech.

He practically leapt out of the water, falling backwards into the sand. He grabbed onto the black, writhing critter, lips curling up in disgust. “Ew ew ew ew ew…” He hissed as he pulled it, its body stretching out longer and longer. “Ew!” With a sickening tug, the creature released its grip on John Dory’s leg, leaving a small, bloodied circle. He immediately chucked it off into the woods. “Ugh, I hate those things!”

Suddenly, John Dory heard a snort. He turned to see Branch shaking, struggling to hold in his laughter as he looked at him with obvious amusement. JD scoffed in mock offense, gesturing dramatically. “What? They’re gross!”

This caused the small troll to break, laughter pouring out of him as his eyes scrunched up with joy. The sound brought a grin to John Dory’s face, his heart swelling. God, he missed the sound of his brother’s laugh. He climbed to his feet, hands planted on his hips.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” He said mischievously as he made his way towards his baby brother. “Just you wait, there’s plenty more leeches where that one came from. And they’re just dying to get a taste of Troll.”

“No!” Branch giggled, trying to get away. John Dory felt his grin grow wider as he spied the faintest hint of blue tinting his brother’s ears and cheeks. He scooped the small troll up, playfully tucking him onto his hip like he was carrying a duffle bag.

“Yep!” John Dory replied, relishing in his brother’s laughter as he walked them towards the lake. “C’mon, let’s go, they’re waiting for you! Hundreds and hundreds of nasty, squiggling critters.” Branch let out a squeal of delight as he pushed into John Dory’s side.

And just like that, it was like a switch flipped.

John Dory tensed, his ears flicking up as he heard the shrill sound echo across the lake. Without even thinking about it, he lifted Branch into his arms, cupping a hand over his mouth. The laughter died in an instant.

He scanned the treeline nervously, jaw clenched tight as icy fear pounded through his veins. But after a few seconds of no movement, he relaxed a bit, letting out a soft sigh. It was then he realized his hand was still over Branch’s mouth. With a sharp pang of guilt, he hastily pulled it away.

“Sorry, Bitty, sorry.” He stammered, voice low. Branch just stared back at him with wide eyes, clutching tight to John Dory’s arm. “I’m sorry, just…” He forced a smile to his face, reaching up to hold a finger in front of his mouth. “Just a little too loud, ok?”

Branch nodded quickly, his eyes remaining wide and fearful. Any trace of blue was gone. Regret welled up in John Dory’s chest, his ears drooping. Nice one. He thought, wading into the water with a grimace. That’s the first time you’ve seen Branch happy since everything that happened. Way to ruin it.

He let out a sigh. He couldn’t believe he was the one telling someone else to be quiet. It was almost ironic.

John Dory was loud. He’d always been loud. When he was younger, his school days were filled with teachers telling him to quiet down, and as he grew up, that didn’t change. He had to be loud to speak over his arguing brothers, loud enough to push back against adults who thought they knew better than him. But things were different out here. He was different. He’d changed.

He just hated that he had to force Branch to change too.

You never seemed to have a problem with that before. A familiar voice seemed to hiss, sending a chill up John Dory’s spine. But he pointedly ignored it, flicking his ears as if to chase it away.

“C’mon, Bitty, let’s get you clean.”

Chapter Text

Branch didn’t complain as John Dory washed the scent of troll from his dark hair. He hated that it almost felt like a sense of finality.

There really was no going back.

He set them both up in the sun to dry, handing Branch another granola bar, which the small troll once again stubbornly refused.

“Bitty…” John Dory pleaded, trying to remain firm. “We talked about this.”

Branch’s ears drooped. “Half.” He demanded, voice barely above a whisper. John Dory let out a sigh, but did as he was told, breaking the bar unevenly in half and handing Branch the larger piece. If this was what he had to do to get the tiny troll to eat, then he wasn’t going to argue. But he was going to make Branch eat several halves of those bars.

John Dory then set to work on roughly combing through his wild, snarled hair. He was lucky Spruce’s brush was durable, as he was brushing through knots about the size of his fist. He even found a stick lodged in one, which who knows how long that was there. It took a while, but he eventually got his hair back into working order, his scalp practically tingling from the way he’d been yanking at it. He gingerly positioned his goggles back on his forehead before turning to start on Branch’s hair. He was a lot more gentle with him.

Branch’s hair wasn’t nearly as snarled as John Dory’s had been, but there were still a few knots that he had to painstakingly brush through. Once again, concern built in John Dory’s chest.

His Grandmother would have never let Branch’s hair get like this.

The thought of his Grandma sent pangs of guilt shooting through his chest. They’d had a shaky relationship, but he still loved her. And he knew she loved him too. As much as she could, anyways.

Before their Dad had left, she and John Dory were actually pretty close. He could still remember the feeling of her tracing her hands through his hair, humming a lullaby as they watched over the rest of his brothers. She always called him “Johnny.” It was a bit silly, but he liked that nickname. It was something only she and once in a while Spruce would call him.

But the night their father came home without their mother, that all changed.

Grandma Rosiepuff loved her daughter more than anything. “Sunny, you light up my world.” She’d coo, causing their mother to laugh. She had the most amazing laugh.

John Dory knew his Grandma blamed their father for what happened. It was his idea for them both to become scouts anyways. Trolls that would patrol the tree, watching for stray, greedy Bergens who might try to grab a troll before Trollstice, or do their best to evacuate Trolls before their pods were grabbed. It was a dangerous job, a risky job. And that’s why their father loved it. And their mother loved him, so she was always right there by his side.

It was probably his fault she was killed. But he didn’t stick around long enough to tell them.

After that, their Grandma wasn’t around much. She was heartbroken. And five boys is a lot. John Dory couldn’t blame her for distancing herself. But it still hurt.

It wasn’t like she didn’t care. She did, in her own way. Every month or so, she’d send them money. And after a few years, she slowly started to work her way back into their lives. But John Dory knew something between them had changed. In fact, he could remember the moment he’d realized it.

He’d gone over to his Grandma’s pod just a few months after Trollstice, a newly hatched Bitty B in hand. The trolling was incredibly fussy, and John Dory was struggling to get him to sleep at night. His cries were keeping the whole pod up. So as much as he hated to do so, he went to ask his Grandmother for help.

He could remember knocking on her door, Bitty still crying loudly in his ear as his Grandma cracked it open. He could remember the look in her tired eyes. A mixture of sadness, guilt, and even a bit of anger. He could remember the words that shakily left his mouth.

“I don’t know what to do.”

His Grandmother had just looked at him, expression unchanging. “You know, John?” She’d said quietly, the slightest hint of venom in her voice. He remembered it clearly. John, not Johnny. “Sometimes, you look just like him.”

She handed him a bag of coins and a book on taking care of trollings, then closed the door with a deafening click. And that was that.

He was on his own.

It hurt. But John Dory understood. He looked too much like his father. And there was nothing he could say or do that would ever change that.

John Dory shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present. It was easy to get lost in his own thoughts sometimes, especially out here. He focused his attention back on Branch, who was drawing absently in the dirt with a stick.

His relationship with his Grandmother may have been rocky, but she loved his brothers. She would dote on them constantly. So the fact that Branch’s hair was at all scruffy and tangled set off major red flags in John Dory’s mind. It meant she’d been gone for a while. It meant Branch had been alone for a while.

John Dory frowned, gazing down at Branch’s drawings in the dirt. With a pang of sadness, he realized it was their family. Five trolls, each with their own little unique marker. John Dory with his goggles, Floyd with his vest, Spruce with a dumbbell, Clay with a book, and one troll much smaller than any of the others. And their Grandmother, her hair twice the size of her entire body. He sighed, swallowing down the painful lump forming in his throat. He hated to bring up bad memories, but he needed to know.

“Hey, B?” He asked cautiously, breaking the silence both he and his brother had settled into. Branch didn’t answer, but his ears perked up, indicating he was listening. John Dory continued slowly, not wanting to upset the small troll. “How long… I mean, when did Grandma… you know.”

Branch stiffened a bit at this, his hand freezing from where he was drawing the book in Clay’s hands. But then he shivered a bit, ears drooping.

“A few days before Trollstice.” He replied quietly, reaching over and drawing a big X through their Grandma’s figure. That wasn’t at all concerning. “Chef took her. She was going to grab me, but Grandma-” His voice caught for a moment. “Grandma pushed me out of the way, and Chef took her instead.”

Chef. They all knew who she was. The terrible Bergen who practically ran Trollstice. She’d always stop by a few days before, stating that she was “checking up on the main course”. But the Trolls knew the truth. She’d often grab one or two for herself, a little greedy treat before the main event. And she had almost gotten Branch. John Dory felt a thick wave of gratitude towards his deceased Grandmother. Thank Troll she had been there. Otherwise… John Dory bit his lip, forcing himself to continue.

“And how long ago was Trollstice?”

“...‘Bout a week ago.” Three more X’s, one for Spruce, Clay, and Floyd.

A week. No, more than a week. That’s how long his little brother had been alone. Guilt settled heavily in John Dory’s gut.

“You didn’t go to anyone for help?” He asked meekly, smoothing his brother’s hair into a perfect point.

Branch shook his head. “I was scared. I hid in the cabinet.”

The cabinet, right. Under the kitchen sink. He wasn’t sure why his brother had been obsessed with that space, but he always seemed to gravitate towards the small and dark when something was wrong.

“I’m so sorry, Bitty.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, heavy and full of pain. “I should have been there.”

“It’s ok.” Branch replied, drawing a circle around the tiny drawings of him and John Dory. “You came back. Grandma always said you’d come back.”

John Dory blinked, surprised. “She did?”

“Yep.” Branch chirped. “She said you just had to get your head screwed on right, figure out some things.” The small troll turned around to face him, cocking his head to the side. “So you must have figured them out then, right?”

John Dory could once again feel guilt crawling up his throat, threatening to choke him. He plastered on a smile, reaching over to muss up Branch’s hair that he’d just spent the last few minutes sculpting.

“Sure did.” He replied, mustering up as much fake cheeriness as he could. “Your big bro’s got it all figured out.” Another lie.

Branch smiled back at him. Man, he was a terrible person.

“Well, ehem, anyways, we should get moving again.” John Dory said quickly, climbing to his feet. He grabbed another granola bar from his bag, snapping it in half. “You work on this, B, and I’m gonna get us another few miles before sundown, alright?”

Branch took the half without complaint this time, nodding as John Dory slung the heavy bag back onto his shoulders. He pulled the young troll up onto his back, and without another word, set off once again into the woods.

The guilt nipped at his heels like those damn leeches.

He actually made pretty good time. Maybe the break was helpful after all. And luckily for him, the woods seemed to be quiet, with only a few small critters scampering around. There was only one instance with a bird flying overhead that John Dory had to shift into survival mode.

As soon as he saw the shadow, he instinctively stretched out his hair, sheltering both Branch and him beneath it. He then shifted the hue to blend in with the greenery surrounding them. At least, that’s what he meant to do. It took about three seconds for him to realize that his hair remained a dark, slate grey.

What the…? He thought, trying again, but to no avail. His hair refused to shift colors. He swiftly retracted it, darting under a few overhanging leaves until the shadow disappeared. Then, he stretched out his hair again, holding it in his hands. He tried to shift it to yellow, then to red, then green. Nothing. The color was gone.

“Hey, B…” He asked, the small troll looking up from where John Dory had set him. “Can you shift your hair at all?”

Branch looked at him in confusion, then scrunched up his eyes, appearing to concentrate. After a moment, he peeked one open. “Is it yellow?”

John Dory retracted his own hair, letting out a sigh. “No.” He replied, reaching out and pulling Branch back up onto his shoulders. So much for camouflage. Apparently, they were stuck like this.

By the time the sun had set, they’d made it a pretty good distance. John Dory nestled them amongst the roots of a large tree, hoping he didn’t look as exhausted as he felt. He really needed some sleep. He and Branch split another granola bar, then settled in, the night air a cool relief from the heat. John Dory was just about to drift off when Branch’s voice pulled him back.

“D?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He replied sleepily, prying his eyes open to look at the small troll. Branch was sitting up, his eyes focused on the ground.

“Do you… do you think I’m grey because I let Grandma die?”

John Dory jolted upright, now fully awake. “What? No, Branch, that’s not…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. “Listen, Grandma saved you, right? That’s not your fault.”

“I was supposed to take care of her.” Branch replied, his voice becoming watery.

“B, it wasn’t your fault.” John Dory pulled Branch onto his lap, holding him so he could look him in the eyes. “It wasn’t, ok? Say it.”

Branch sniffled, wiping the tears away. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Those words sliced through John Dory’s heart, his ears drooping as he shook his head. “No, you know what I mean.”

Branch looked away. “It wasn’t my fault.” He whispered, biting his lips.

John Dory hugged him close. “You’re grey because you're sad, Bitty.” He said softly, rubbing the small troll’s back. “And that’s ok. It’s ok to be sad sometimes.”

“Are you sad?” Branch’s muffled voice came from where his face was buried in John Dory’s chest.

John Dory swallowed, rubbing his cheek against his brother’s hair. It smelled like earth. “Yeah, I am.” He admitted. “But we’ll be ok.”

“Do you think the colors will ever come back?”

He didn’t know. Right now, it seemed impossible. The world just felt so dark and hollow. But John Dory forced a positive note to his voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure they will. Someday.”

Appearing satisfied, Branch snuggled into John Dory’s arms, letting out a sigh before his breathing slowed, his eyes fluttering shut.

John Dory tried to hum to him, but the music once again caught in his throat.

Singing just felt so pointless now.

Chapter Text

It was that second night when John Dory found out about Branch’s nightmares.

He was jolted awake to the sound of his brother’s blood curdling scream, shooting to his feet so fast he nearly fell over. Adrenaline pounded in his ears as he whipped around in alarm before his eyes landed on Branch, who’s cries echoed across the forest. The small troll was sobbing loudly, his breaths sharp and strained as his eyes flicked around in terror, pupils blown wide with panic.

Fear shot through John Dory like ice. He instantly crouched down, planting his hands firmly on Branch’s shaking shoulders. “Sh sh sh, Branch, hey, what’s going on? You ok? Are you hurt?” He asked in rapid succession, ears flicking around anxiously. Too loud, they were being too loud…

“N-no… no no no no…” Branch cried, squeezing his eyes shut as he seemed to almost curl in on himself. He was hyperventilating, his panicked breaths broken only by the occasional sob.

John Dory felt helpless, scanning the dark forest around them. He needed to calm Branch down. Not only for their own safety, but god, the poor kid looked like he was about to pass out. John Dory drew the small troll’s trembling frame into his chest, rubbing his back soothingly as he hoped his jacket would muffle the sound of his brother’s cries.

“Hey hey hey, breathe, Bitty. It’s ok. Just breathe.” John Dory whispered, trying to keep his voice level.

“I’m… sorry.” Branch choked out through his sobs, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok, you’re ok.” John Dory reassured him, keeping his eyes trained on their surroundings. “Just breathe with me, ok? Deep breaths.” He took a few deep gulps of air, Branch trying desperately to match him. “Attaboy, it’s ok.”

Suddenly, his ears pricked up to another noise. Howls, rising above his brother’s strained breaths. He knew that sound. Critteryotes. The pack sounded a ways away, but he knew they could travel fast when they wanted. And they’d just heard the cry of a creature in distress. They’d be on them in minutes.

He had to move.

Luckily, Branch seemed to have calmed his breathing to a point John Dory wasn’t worried about his passing out. He still cried, clinging onto his brother’s jacket. John Dory gave him a quick hug before pulling away, grabbing the bag he’d been using as a pillow and slinging it over his shoulders.

“C’mon B, we’ve got to skedaddle.” He said, attempting to keep the fear from crawling into his voice as he pulled his sobbing brother onto his back.

“I’m sorry, D, I’m sorry.” Branch whimpered back, burying his face in John Dory’s hair.

“Hey, no sorry’s, it’s ok. I wanted to move anyway. Those roots were too scratchy; giving me a headache.” John Dory replied easily, pricking up his ears to listen for the approaching creatures. The howls were getting closer, but he knew where they were coming from now. He immediately took off in the opposite direction.

It was difficult, trying to race through the woods at night. John Dory wasn’t lying when he said he had excellent night vision, but with the added weight of his gear and his little brother on his back, he felt slow and uncoordinated. But he pushed on, the sound of the Critteryote’s yips and cries driving him to run faster. He needed to put some distance between them.

After a few minutes of weaving across the forest floor, he heard the yelps rise in a cacophony of jubilation. The creatures must have found the tree where they’d been moments before. Which meant they had their scent now. John Dory hissed under his breath. He couldn’t run forever. He needed to think of something, but it was hard to think through the sound of blood pounding in his ears. His eyes narrowed as he scanned around for anything he could use to help them hide.

Finally, they landed on a few large, bulbous masses protruding from the ground, pale in the faint light from the moon. A wave of relief washed over him, a grin stretching across his face. He’d know those mushrooms anywhere.

He came to a stop next to a tall pine tree, grabbing a few rocks in his hands. “Hey, Bitty, can you hang on to these for me?” He asked, holding them up towards his brother. Branch took them without a word.

John Dory then took to climbing up the tree, careful not to set his hand in any of the sticky sap dripping down it. As soon as he reached the first branch, he paused, turning back towards the large mushrooms on the forest floor. He reached into his hair, rummaging around for a moment before he found what he was looking for.

A slingshot.

“Ok, hand me those rocks.” He said, feeling Branch shift as he did what he was told. John Dory carefully selected one that was pointed and sharp, quickly setting it up. He got down on one knee, tail whipping around for stability, before pinching one of his eyes shut, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he drew the rock back. And with a smooth, deep breath out, he let it fly.

The stone hit its mark with practiced precision, ripping through the large shroom like it was nothing. The effect was instantaneous. The mushroom exploded into a cloud of yellow spores, the wind swirling it around the clearing below them.

“Hah hah, yes!” John Dory cheered quietly, standing back up. “I’d like to see them try to find us through that.”

“What did you do?” Branch asked curiously, his voice still slightly shaky. “What is that?”

“That, Bitty, is a Stink Shroom.” John Dory replied, spinning around on his heels and beginning to climb higher up into the tree. “At least, that’s what I call them. Nasty things. I fell on one just a few weeks after living out here. I reeked for days.”

He used his hair to swing them up onto a fair sized branch. “They shouldn’t be able to track us through that. And their smell is a lot better than ours, so they should avoid it anyways.” He pulled Branch off his shoulders, setting him down next to him. “Either way, we’re safe up here.”

“Wow…” Branch breathed, looking up at his brother with awe. “You’re really smart.”

John Dory winced at this. JD was many things; smart was not one of them. “Nah, not smart.” He replied, shaking his head. “Just really good at not dying.” He could hear the angry howls of the critteryotes in the distance. Looks like the poor bastards had lost the scent. What a shame.

“Can you teach me?”

John Dory stiffened. He peered back at Branch, who was still looking at him, eyes sparkling intensely. There was still fear in them, but there was something else too. Determination.

“Well, yeah, of course I can teach you.” John Dory replied finally, a smile growing on his face as he gestured dramatically with his hands. “I mean, if we’re going to be expert survivalists together, you’re gonna have to learn the ropes. And who better to teach you than your big bro?”

Branch beamed up at him, as if John Dory had just given him some amazing gift. John Dory wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he was ecstatic to see Branch excited about something, to teach his brother the skills he’d need to survive. But on the other hand…

John Dory wasn’t exactly a troll he wanted his brother looking up to. He was a terrible role model. But there really was no one else, was there?

He shook the thought from his head, keeping the smile on his face as he flopped down next to the trunk. “C’mon, we should get back to sleep. We’ve still got a long road ahead of us.” He held out an arm, inviting his brother to sit next to him.

Branch obliged, gripping onto JD’s jacket like it was an anchor. “I’m sorry for screaming.” He whispered, his knuckles turning white. “I had a bad dream.”

John Dory frowned, holding his brother closer. “Yeah? What about?”

“Bergens.” The word sent shivers down John Dory’s spine. “It’s always Bergens.”

“Well, that’s… understandable.” John Dory replied, jaw clenched. “Do you often have bad dreams like that?”

Branch curled in on himself, tail wrapping around his body. “All the time.”

John Dory nodded tightly. That could be a problem. They were lucky tonight. They likely wouldn’t be again.

“I’m sorry.” Branch hissed, sounding more annoyed than upset. “I don’t… I don’t know how to make them stop.”

“Hey, what’d I say before?” John Dory chastised, slowly running his fingers through Branch’s hair. “No sorry’s. We’ll figure something out, I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

Branch nodded slowly, his grip relaxing ever so slightly. “Alright.”

“Good.” John Dory let out a yawn, slumping back against the tree. He was really exhausted now. He just hoped he could get a little sleep before tomorrow. And that Branch would sleep through the rest of the night without another nightmare. “Try to get some sleep, ok bud? And remember, the Bergens are long gone. You’ll never have to see them again.”

Branch hummed softly. He was clearly exhausted too. John Dory continued to smooth his hair until they both fell into a deep, fitful sleep.

.
.
.

“And these are stickleburrs! Trust me, you do not want to get these in your hair; those bastards never come out.”

It was midmorning now, and John Dory was pointing out almost every plant, berry, or mushroom he could recognize as he and Branch made their way through the still dew-covered grass. His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from how much he’d been yapping. He hadn’t talked this much in a while, his throat becoming more sore by the minute. But he couldn’t stop. Surprisingly, he found he was genuinely excited to be sharing this information with his brother, even if the kid didn’t remember any of it. It was just nice to have someone real to talk to.

He was practically spewing out every bit of information he could remember from those old survival books he used to pour over. He’d never really read any of them, as that would have taken him forever. But he memorized the photos, and the important stuff. And Branch seemed like he was invested. He was quiet up on John Dory’s shoulders, only piping up every so often with a question. Like he did now.

“Is that really what they’re called?”

John Dory blinked. “What?”

“Stickleburrs.” Branch repeated, sounding skeptical. “Is that really what they’re called?”

“Uhhh… no, I doubt it. But I can’t remember all of their names. I just know what they look like, and what they do, that’s it. Anything else is too much for my stupid brain.” He laughed, knocking on his skull as if to prove how empty it was. “So I give them my own names. Mine are much better anyways.”

“Stickleburr?” Branch deadpanned.

“Hey, c’mon, I’m great at naming things!” John Dory scoffed, carefully avoiding said burrs as he trudged his way through the undergrowth. “I named you, didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t.” Branch huffed. He paused for a moment before speaking up again. “Did you?”

“Sure did!” John Dory replied smugly. “And I dare say it’s quite a good name.”

“Spruce said you all named me.” Branch protested. “He said it was, um, u-nan-i-mous.”

“Hah, well, Spruce is a dirty rotten liar.” John Dory chirped flippantly.

Was. A voice hissed at him. And if that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black…

John Dory cleared his aching throat, trying to ignore the shiver that traveled up his spine.

“Anyways, it was my idea to name you ‘Branch’, ‘cause your egg had little itty bitty branches all over it.” John Dory continued as he forged ahead. “And I knew you were gonna be strong, the way you were kicking around in that thing. You needed a sturdy name to match, so, ‘Branch’ was perfect.” He rolled his eyes. “Spruce wanted to name you ‘Spruce Jr.’. Clay was pretty dead set on ‘Turbo’, and Floyd was pushing for ‘Moss’. But luckily for you, I had older brother privilege, and ‘Branch’ it was.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Although, I might have to change that soon.”

“What?” Came Branch’s astounded reply. “You can’t do that!”

“Sure I can.” John Dory replied with a smirk. “I named you, so I can change your name if I want to. Them’s the rules.” He reached up, poking Branch in the side. “You’re too skinny to be a ‘Branch’. I’m gonna have to start calling you ‘Twig’ or something.”

“No!” He felt Branch shift around on his shoulders, digging his hands into John Dory’s bag. Within moments, he was holding out half a granola bar, quickly munching on the other half. John Dory chuckled as he took his half, a smug grin on his face.

“Attaboy.” He said proudly before continuing to pick his way across the forest floor. “Anyways, I remember the names for some things, just not all of them. Like chamomile. It’s a plant with feathery leaves, and white flowers with yellow centers. You can chew on it if you’re nauseous, or can’t sleep.”

“Chamomile…” Branch repeated slowly, drawing out each part.

Yeah, there was no way John Dory was going to forget that name anytime soon. The first time he’d mentioned the plant to Clay, he’d apparently pronounced it entirely wrong. Clay teased him about it for months. To be fair, it was a stupid word. It wasn’t his fault that they spelled it like that.

“Besides, the names don’t matter that much.” John Dory prattled on, scanning their surroundings. “It’s being able to recognize them, and use them when you need them.”

“What are those called?” John Dory followed Branch’s hand to where he was pointing at some white and purple flowers.

“Marshmallow root.” He replied easily. He could feel Branch’s scathing disbelief without even seeing the look on the young troll’s face. “Seriously, that’s their real name! They help with coughs.

Branch huffed again, something he did often. “And that one?” He asked, pointing in another direction.

“Feverfew.” John Dory replied, jumping up onto a downed log. “Looks a lot like chamomile with the flowers, but the leaves are less feathery. You can use that for fevers, or headaches.”

“And those?” Branch pointed at a bush with several small, blue berries growing from it. John Dory felt a grin stretch across his face.

“Those are my favorite kind of berries.” He said, hopping down so he could grab a handful. “So they had to have a special name.” He pulled Branch from his shoulders, setting him down for a moment. “I call them ‘Bitty Berries’.” He smiled, poking the young troll in the chest. “‘Cause they’re small and blue, just like you.”

Branch giggled, holding out his hands so John Dory could pour a few in them. He couldn’t help but notice the distinct difference in hue between the Bitty Berries, and his brother’s now grey skin. A wave of guilt washed over him, but he forced it back down.

“They’re good!” Branch exclaimed through a mouth full of berries, his tongue stained purple. John Dory laughed, popping a few in his mouth as well. He was glad he was able to put his brother in such a good mood after the terrible night they’d had.

“They sure are. Nature provides, if you know where to look.” He winked at the small troll. “Which I do.” His voice dripped with fake confidence. If Branch knew how many times John Dory had nearly died out here, he wouldn’t have as much trust in him. But he was all the kid had. He was going to have to make this work.

Branch nodded excitedly, his tail twitching back and forth. “Tell me everything!” He pleaded, eyes shining.

John Dory grinned at him, swinging the small troll back up on his shoulders. He could do this. No, he had to do this.

“Ok, B. See that weird, spiky plant over there? That’s aloe, and it’s really good for burns…”

Chapter Text

The next two weeks or so passed by in a flash, and Branch appeared to be settling into what was going to be his new life.

He seemed a lot more comfortable around John Dory now, which made the older troll’s heart soar. The kid still clung to him constantly, whether it was to his jacket or his hair, but it was less in a “I have to make sure you don’t leave me” type of way, and more like “I need you here so I feel safe”. It reminded John Dory a lot of when they were kids. He guessed some things just didn’t change.

The fact that Branch finally seemed to trust that John Dory wasn’t going to leave him anymore was a huge relief. At least he was able to fix one of the horrific traumas he’d inflicted on his little brother.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t fix everything.

Branch was still having those awful nightmares. There were a good few nights where Branch’s screams would force them to have to run, to find somewhere else to hunker down away from the prying ears of critters who would just love a late night snack. Thankfully, nothing had caught them. Yet. But the terrifying midnight escapades were taking a toll on both of them.

Luckily, John Dory discovered a way to quell the nightmares before they reached the point where Branch was panicked and screaming. If he caught them early enough, he could usually make them stop. He began to pick up on the signs: Branch’s small whines, the quickening of his breaths, the way he’d start to twitch, curling up into a ball.

At this, John Dory would scoop his brother into his arms, holding him the same way he did so long ago, when the kid was much smaller. He’d gently run his fingers through his hair, murmuring reassurances. And gradually, Branch’s breathing would slow once more, and he’d drift off into an even deeper sleep.

It didn’t always work. But at least when Branch woke up, shaking and terrified, John Dory was there to calm him down. To promise he was safe. And if worst came to worst, he could cover his brother’s mouth, or let the kid bury his face in his jacket, allowing him to cry as much and as loud as he needed without fear of alerting hungry critters. It wasn’t easy, but it was manageable. And John Dory was willing to lose a few hours of sleep if it meant he could make sure his brother felt safe.

They were making good time. John Dory would start off early in the morning, trying to beat the heat, and typically wouldn’t stop until the sun set below the horizon, save for a few quick breaks for Branch’s sake. It was grueling work, but the faster they got to the Neverglade Trail, the better. It was dangerous out there, but it was predictable. Here, in these unfamiliar woods, John Dory felt uncertain, and completely out of his depth. But he continued to display a positive attitude. The last thing he needed was for his little brother to know how worried he was.

Fear was a great motivator. It always had been in his life.

He continued to teach Branch as much as he could about surviving out in the woods. And god, the kid was smart. Branch had always been gifted, already able to read pretty well by the time he was five, so this didn’t come as a huge surprise. But John Dory was amazed by how much the young troll could retain from his scattered rambling. He was almost like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge like it was nothing. John Dory couldn’t be more proud.

Not only that, but Branch genuinely seemed to enjoy learning everything he could. He had a thirst for knowledge that reminded John Dory a lot of Clay. Sure, Clay was “the fun boy”, but in all honesty, the kid was kind of a nerd. He’d play pranks on his brothers, but they were always meticulously planned out, perfectly down to a T. That’s what made him so good at it.

If Clay was still alive, he and Bitty would be a force to be reckoned with.

John Dory tried not to think about such things.

Despite the fun he had teaching his brother about cool plants or epic survival skills, he was very adamant about one thing: You can never let your guard down. The key to surviving out here was to always be alert, to be aware of what was going on around you at all times. To know what was safe, and what wasn’t.

At the end of the day, the woods were a death trap.

“See these berries, B?”

John Dory squatted down next to a large bush, Branch mimicking him as he crouched down at his side, eyes wide with intrigue.

“These are ‘Lights-Out’ berries.” John Dory explained, voice low. “Just one of these is enough to knock a grown troll out for a few days. Two, and you’re pushing your luck of ever waking up. And three’s enough to kill.”

Branch nodded stiffly, nervously biting his lip.

“Luckily, they’re easy to identify.” John Dory continued, pointing at one of the berries. “Black berry, red stem, and the leaves look like little crescent moons. And…” He grabbed a large leaf from the ground, carefully picking one of the Lights-Out berries with it. He squished it between his fingers, red juice oozing out like blood, before holding it towards Branch. “Give that a whiff. Don’t touch it though.”

Branch leaned forward hesitantly, sniffing. He blinked in confusion. “It smells… sweet?”

John Dory nodded. “Like cotton candy. That’s how they get you.” He tossed the juice-covered leaf under the bush. “Nine times out of ten, the berries out here are edible, and the worst you’ll get is a stomach ache. But there’s a few you really have to look out for. So before you eat any, always ask me, ok?”

Branch nodded seriously, staring at the bush as if he was committing it to memory. “Black berries, red stems, smell like cotton candy.” He mumbled under his breath, before turning to look back up at John Dory. “Ok.”

John Dory smiled back at him, patting his back. “Good. Now let’s go find some actual, non-poisonous food, yeah? If I have to eat another granola bar, I may have to start complaining, and no one wants to hear that.”

Branch laughed quietly. John Dory was starting to cherish the sound.

.
.
.

A few weeks into their journey, John Dory woke up with a start, a heavy feeling in his gut. He didn’t know how exactly, but for some reason, he was just sure. It was going to storm.

He quickly woke Branch, doing his best to get them as far as he could before the storm hit. The air was heavy, and thick with moisture that seemed to cling to him like a wet rag. He could see clouds rolling in from across the forest, and hear the distant sound of thunder rumbling across the blackened sky.

He really hoped it would just blow over. The last thing he wanted to do now was stop moving. But by the time the wind started to pick up, lightning crackling overhead, he knew he needed to find somewhere for them to hunker down.

He would have picked anywhere else other than a cave. However, his options were slim, and it was the only place he could find. But he wasn’t happy about it.

Branch, on the other hand, looked ecstatic.

As soon as John Dory brought them into the small cave, jaggedly carved into the side of a hill, Branch had nearly leapt off his shoulders, eyes sparkling excitedly as he looked around, shaking the water from his hair. “It’s huge!”

“Mhm…” John Dory hummed, wringing out his own hair as he scanned the darkness nervously. It seemed uninhabited, so that was good. But the feeling of dread didn’t leave his gut.

He didn’t like caves. He didn’t like the feeling of knowing how much earth was above him, how easily it could collapse down and crush him. He didn’t like feeling trapped.

He looked out where the storm was really starting to pick up, sheets of rain washing across the forest, and thunder making the ground shake. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he massaged his forehead. Yep. Trapped.

“JD!” John Dory pried his eyes open to see Branch tugging at his jacket, grinning. “This place is amazing! It’s protected on all sides, and the water's channeled away from it-” He was cut off as a loud clap of thunder rang out, causing the young troll’s hair to bristle. He covered his ears, hiding his head in John Dory’s coat as he continued to mumble. “...a-and it’s sheltered from the wind.”

“Yeah, it’s… something, B.” John Dory replied, ruffling his brother’s damp hair as he continued to look around warily. “It’ll work until the storm passes over. Which will ideally be soon.”

Branch nodded, pulling away from him. The smaller troll trotted back further into the cave, reaching up into his hair. After a moment, he retrieved what looked like a slightly crumpled piece of paper. John Dory couldn’t see what was on it, but Branch was eyeing it excitedly as he walked around.

“Don’t go too far.” John Dory called after him quietly, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “Stay up near the entrance, ok?”

“Ok!”

John Dory sat stiffly up against the rocky wall, eyes locked on the outside, where the trees were swaying ominously in the wind. He chewed absently on his nails, keeping one ear cocked back to where Branch was shuffling around as his tail flicked anxiously.

Please. Just let it blow over quickly.

Of course, things almost never went the way John Dory hoped.

The storm didn’t let up for the rest of the day. Or that night. And the next day, it was still pouring. John Dory was practically crawling out of his skin. He paced near the entrance, every so often a growl escaping his lips. His brother kept shooting him curious looks, before retreating back into the cave with that sheet of paper he seemed to be obsessed with. He knew he was making Branch nervous, but he couldn’t help it.

They’d been here too long.

John Dory didn’t like staying in one spot for more than a day. It just wasn’t safe. Their scent was all over this place now, and something could easily track them down. And if it did, then what? There was only one entrance to this cave. If that got blocked by some troll hungry monster, they’d be screwed. John Dory gritted his teeth, tail whipping around as he continued to pace. He was itching to get moving again.

However he wasn’t about to risk getting his little brother sick out in the pouring rain just because he was a little nervous. It would let up soon. He just had to deal until then.

That night, the rain had reduced down to a trickle, and John Dory couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. They’d be out of here tomorrow morning. They could get back on track, and make up the lost time they spent rotting in this stupid cave.

He hated sitting still. And without the distraction of trying to keep him and Branch alive out in the woods, he was starting to get in his head again, which was never a good sign. He needed to get out of here, for both their sakes.

His ears perked up as he heard Branch walk up behind him. “Storms finally letting up, Bitty.” he said, turning around and jerking his thumb out towards the darkened sky. “Which means you and me can hit the road again.”

Branch didn’t look at him, instead nervously shuffling his feet as he stared at the ground. John Dory’s ears immediately drooped.

“What?” He asked, confused. “What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?” He reached out to feel Branch’s forehead.

The smaller troll shook his head, pushing John Dory’s hand away. “No.” He replied, still looking down at the ground. “I just… What if we didn’t leave? What if we stayed here?”

John Dory blinked in surprise. “What, in the cave?” He asked, bewildered.

“Yeah.” Branch replied, fidgeting with his hands. “It’s protected here, and I know it’s not much, but we, we could make it a nice place, y’know? Like a hideout.” He babbled quickly, as if he couldn’t wait to get the words out. “We could make a kitchen, and bedrooms, and we could make a garden, and we wouldn’t have to be scared all the time, a-and I could build defenses-”

“Woah woah woah, Bitty, hold on.” John Dory interrupted, shaking his head. “We can’t stay here. We’re going to the Neverglade Trail, remember?”

“I know, but…”

John Dory crouched down, setting a hand on Branch’s shoulder and feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. Poor kid just wanted some stability. To know that no matter what, he’d have a place that felt safe. John Dory wanted more than anything to give him something like that.

But it just wasn’t how things worked out here.

“Look, Bitty, we can’t stay here. We just can’t. It’s not safe. If something tracks us down, if something finds us here…” He paused, trying to force down the painful lump forming in his throat. “I might not be able to protect you. And I can’t let that happen, ok? I’m not-”

His voice hitched. ‘Not strong enough’ were the words that came to mind, but that wasn’t what he said. “-I’m not going to lose you too.” He finally managed to choke out, forcing a smile to his face. “So we gotta keep moving, ok? I’m sorry.”

Branch’s face fell, but he nodded in understanding. John Dory could tell he was trying hard not to cry. He wrapped his brother in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, bud, I really am.”

“I know.” Came Branch’s soft reply.

“Look, why don’t you get some sleep, alright?” John Dory said, keeping his voice light. “I’ll come join you in a bit.”

Branch nodded again, walking over to the side of the cave and flopping down. He pulled that sheet of paper from his hair once more, giving it one last look over, before letting out a sigh and tucking it away. Guilt ate away at John Dory’s stomach as he sat, slowly watching darkness fall across the forest.

He hated disappointing his brother. He hated that he’d ruined his brother’s life, and couldn’t even give him a semblance of normalcy. It was his fault; he knew it. And he hated himself for it.

But they couldn’t stay here, that was for certain. It truly wasn’t safe. And John Dory didn’t do so well when he was allowed to just sit and think. He got too much in his head. He could already feel anguish building in his chest, his mind clouding with darkened thoughts...

If I had just stayed, if I had just been stronger, things might have been different. He thought, clenching his teeth. I don’t know what I’m doing. Any one of our brothers would have been better at this than me. They would have known what to do.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t do this. He told himself he wasn’t going to do this again. Branch needed him. He couldn’t afford to let himself get like this.

“Get like what?”

John Dory stiffened at the sound of a familiar voice, his ears pinning up against his head as a shiver traveled up his spine. He pulled his legs in closer, eyes narrowed as he stared at the dusty floor of the cave.

“You know what.” He growled quietly, stubbornly refusing to turn towards the sound of the voice as his mind swirled dangerously.

“C’mon, Johnny, don’t be like that.” The voice cooed.

Fuck.

John Dory squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them. He couldn’t help it. He turned to his side, heart aching with despair as his gaze landed on the figure sitting next to him. He would recognize that purple hair and cheeky smirk anywhere.

Spruce.

Chapter Text

John Dory stared at his brother, heart pounding as guilt churned almost painfully in his stomach. His throat tightened, a sob threatening to build in his chest. But he stubbornly swallowed it down.

“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Spruce asked, cocking his head to the side, his pale, white eyes glinting with harsh amusement.

John Dory wanted to be happy to see him. He wanted more than anything to see his brothers here. Alive. But that wasn’t what this was. This wasn’t Spruce.

He turned away, focusing his attention once again on the ground like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen. “No.” He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t real.”

“Oh yeah?” Came Spruce’s reply. “Then why are you talking to me?”

“Because, you, you just-” John Dory sputtered incoherently, gesturing wildly with his hands. But he had to admit, not-Spruce had a point. This wasn’t real. He shouldn’t even be humoring this.

He shot a nervous look over at Branch, who was still sleeping soundly by the cave wall. Spruce followed his gaze.

“Oh, that’s right.” Spruce chuckled dryly, turning back to John Dory. “Gotta be careful. Wouldn’t want Bitty B finding out how…” He twirled his finger by his head, whistling, “...you went out here, now would we?”

A low growl escaped John Dory’s lips, ears burning.

It had started innocently enough.

It was lonely, out on the Neverglade. He hadn’t expected it to be this lonely. And he never expected to be away from his brothers for so long. He missed them like a phantom limb, a desperate longing that he couldn’t quell no matter how much he tried to force himself not to think about them.

He wanted to see them again, wanted to talk to them again. He wanted them here with him. So he started to just… pretend they were.

It started small. He imagined what his brothers might say about certain things, like Spruce complaining about the chill, or Floyd gushing about some beautiful flowers. But then he started… talking back to them. Probably not the best idea, but hell, he missed them. He just couldn’t help it. He’d have whole conversations with his brothers, knowing damn well they weren’t actually there.

Eventually, he even started to see them. He could see Floyd, humming to himself as he picked a bouquet, or Clay walking next to him, babbling about this and that. He even saw Bitty B once in a while, the small troll loudly singing Brozone songs as he hopped across the stones and rocks of the mountains. They just started to… appear. Everywhere, without him really wanting them too. Even after he’d gone quiet, even after he stopped talking altogether. They’d just be there.

He shouldn’t have played along. He knew it wasn’t real, he knew that, but… It was just so nice to see them. And he just didn’t care.

He thought he had gotten past this whole “imagining his brothers were here” thing now that he was traveling with Bitty B. Now that he wasn’t alone anymore. Now that they were…

Well, regardless, this shouldn’t still be happening. He should be over this. He needed to be over this. But clearly, that wasn’t the case. Spruce was right; he was crazy.

“You’re biting your nails again.”

John Dory was pulled from his thoughts, suddenly becoming aware of how much he was gnawing at his already jagged fingernails. He pulled his hand away in disgust. Spruce blinked at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This was a terrible idea. You know that, right?” He said scathingly. “There’s no way you’ll be able to keep your shit together enough to take care of Bitty B. I mean, look at you man!” He gestured up and down at John Dory’s trembling body. “Two days in a cave, and you’re already falling to pieces.”

“I’m not-” John Dory took a deep breath, keeping his voice low. “I’m fine, alright? I just want to keep moving.”

“You can’t lie to me, John.” Spruce replied sharply before he shrugged. “Although you seem to lie to yourself all the time, so I suppose that checks.”

John Dory hissed in irritation, glaring at his brother.

“Ooo, careful Spruce.” Another voice piped up from his other side, dripping with sarcasm. He turned to see a grinning face and messy, yellow-green hair, the troll’s hands up in mock defense. Clay. “JD’s a big, scary survivalist now. Don’t want him going all wild on you.” He mimicked John Dory’s hiss, curling his hands into fake claws.

John Dory felt his face flush, pulling his legs tighter to his chest. Those hisses and growls just came out instinctually now. It was like he’d forgotten how to be a normal troll. And it didn’t exactly feel great hearing his little brother point that out.

“Can you guys just go away?” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

“Why? I thought you wanted us here.” Spruce replied coldly.

“Yeah, don’t you miss us?” Clay added.

“Of course I do.” John Dory choked out, his throat growing tight again.

“Then why do you want us to leave?”

“Because, you’re not-” His voice cut off. He grabbed at his hair again, gripping it as tight as he could. “Because you’re gone, they’re gone.” He managed to say, voice hollow. “They’re gone.”

“And whose fault is that?”

John Dory looked up to see Spruce and Clay glaring down at him. He felt like he was shrinking under their gaze. He didn’t have to say anything. They all knew the truth.

“Sorry we make you feel guilty.” Spruce spat harshly. “That must be really hard on you.” John Dory remained quiet, his tail wrapped around his feet. He couldn’t even argue. His brothers had every right to hate him after what he did.

“Do you think he’ll forget about us?”

John Dory turned towards a new voice, coming from over by where Branch was sleeping. A figure crouched next to him, his pink hair drooping towards the ground. Floyd. His face was sad as he slowly brushed his fingers across Branch’s cheek. “Forget our faces?”

John Dory swallowed down the lump in his throat, shaking his head. “No, Floyd, he… he won’t. I have pictures.” He assured him weakly. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget.”

“What about our voices?” Floyd continued shakily, keeping his eyes trained on Branch as he held a hand up to his throat. “What if he forgets what we sound like?” He turned his attention towards John Dory, the look of desperation on his face enough to make JD’s heart break. “Do you even remember what we sound like?”

John Dory felt as if he’d been punched, the air leaving his lungs in an instant. God, did he remember what they sounded like? Floyd was talking to him, but was that his voice? Or was it just how John Dory imagined it’d sound?

He felt his chest seize up, panic jolting through his veins. He was supposed to remember, why couldn’t he remember? They were his younger brothers, his family, he should remember…

He covered his mouth with his hand, hoping to quiet his gasping breaths. His little brothers were gone. They were gone, and it was his fault, and they were never coming back.

And he couldn’t remember the sound of their voices.

“I’m sorry…” The broken words left his mouth before he could stop them, his wide eyes stinging as he stared unseeing at the ground.

“D?”

John Dory’s ears perked up at the sound. A voice. A real voice. He looked up, and his eyes met with nothing but a dark, empty cave.

He peered to his side where Branch had propped himself up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Are you… talking to someone?”

John Dory sucked in a deep breath, letting his hand fall from his mouth. “No, nobody, um…” He mumbled, clearing his aching throat. “Just… myself.”

Branch hummed softly. “You should sleep.” He murmured, letting his small body slump back down onto the cave floor. “You’re tired.”

“Yeah.” John Dory let out a weak laugh, slowly unfurling his hand from where it still had a death grip on his hair. “Yeah, I think I am.” He crawled over to Branch, wrapping his arm around the young troll and giving him a soft squeeze. “Sorry for waking you up, Bitty.”

Branch just hummed again, snuggling into his arms. “S’ok.” He replied sleepily. He let out a sigh. “Love you, D.”

Guilt surged through John Dory’s body, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a whimper. Branch didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be constantly fearing for his life, or sleeping on rocks in some troll forsaken cave. He deserved to be living in a pod, with their family. Growing up and getting into trouble. Somewhere where he was safe, and happy. And far, far away from his screw up of an older brother. He deserved the world. But John Dory had taken that away from him.

The fact that Branch could still love him after that made his stomach churn.

He hugged his brother closer, hoping the small troll couldn’t feel him shaking. “I love you too, B.” He replied, his voice breaking slightly. “More than anything.”

“You’re going to mess this up, Johnny.” Spruce’s voice hissed in his ear. “Mess him up, just like you. Just like us. Just like you always do.”

No. John Dory thought back, gritting his teeth. I won’t. I can’t.

Things were different now. He was different. And he was going to do his best to give Branch a good life even if it killed him. He would make it happen. He owed it to him.

He couldn’t fail his brother. Not again.

.
.
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The next day, John Dory awoke as light began to seep into the cave. He slowly pulled himself away from Branch, careful not to wake him as he made his way towards the entrance.

The sky was golden, practically glowing as the sun began to rise over the horizon, painting the few clouds with splashes of pink and red. John Dory couldn’t help but smile, feeling the first rays of sunlight starting to warm his skin. The storm had passed. They could finally get out of this stupid cave.

He wasted no time waking up Branch, ushering the small troll out of the dark cave and into the growing light. Branch blinked blearily, not exactly sharing in John Dory’s enthusiasm as he shot a look of longing behind him.

John Dory felt his spirits dampen slightly at this, taking a moment to gaze out across the treetops. But then, his face stretched into a grin once more. He crouched down next to Branch, directing his gaze outwards.

“Look, Bitty!” He chirped, pointing towards the distant horizon. “You see those giant, pointy rocks out there?”

Branch squinted slightly before his eyes widened. “Woah…” He breathed, jaw slack with awe.

“Those are the mountains.” John Dory said excitedly. “That’s where we’re headed. That’s the Neverglade Trail. We’re almost there!”

Branch began to smile as well, albeit a bit nervously, his tail twitching back and forth. “How long?” He asked, turning his attention back towards John Dory.

“‘Bout a week, give or take.” John Dory replied, slinging his bag over his shoulders. “Maybe faster, if we book it.”

He turned back to Branch, who was once again looking over his shoulder at the cave, fidgeting with his hands. John Dory reached down, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“It’s going to be ok, B.” He assured him, trying to keep his voice light. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he noticed the figures of Spruce, Clay, and Floyd, standing in the mouth of the cave, watching him closely. He swallowed, trying to ignore them. “It’s best not to linger on things, y’know? Keep moving forward. It’s… safer.”

“Yeah…” Branch whispered before nodding, slowly turning away. “Safer.”

John Dory grabbed his hand, hoisting the small troll up onto his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” He said cheerily, spinning on his heels and starting to make his way down the hill.

He could feel his brothers’ eyes boring into his back as he left, but he pushed onwards, refusing to let the smile fall from his face.

Chapter Text

Every day brought them closer and closer to the Neverglade Trail, which brought with it mixed feelings of anticipation and dread.

On one hand, safety. John Dory knew those mountains like the back of his hand. He’d lived out there long enough that he knew what to expect. It wasn’t easy, not by any means, but it was better than charting through unfamiliar territory with a young kid on his back. Once they got there, he’d be able to settle into routine, find some of his old camping spots. Start to give Branch some of that stability the kid so desperately needed.

But on the other hand, John Dory’s experience on the Neverglade Trail hadn’t exactly been… great. He’d survived, sure, but just barely. There were plenty of close calls. The Neverglade was mostly predictable, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Cold nights, scarce food, hungry critters, it had them all. And John Dory wasn’t exactly a beacon of confidence anymore.

He’d seen first hand what living out there can do to a troll. And he didn’t want that to happen to his baby brother.

However, that seemed like an issue to tackle when he actually reached the trail. For now, he and Branch were still making their way through the forest. He could tell they were getting closer though.

Aside from the steady uphill climb that never seemed to cease, John Dory’s legs aching more and more with each passing day, the air was becoming brisk, the days cooling and the nights dropping down to much lower temps. He began to see more familiar trees, flora he associated with the mountain climate of the Neverglades. Even the air seemed to carry with it a sense of familiarity, the sharp smell of pine and icy water. He couldn’t tell if it was more welcoming or foreboding.

The nights had gotten cool enough that John Dory figured he should start building a fire at the end of each day. Luckily, this was something he was actually good at. It took him a lot of trial and error to figure out the best way to do it, and plenty of very, very long nights spent shivering in the cold, but he could practically make a fire with his eyes closed now. He didn’t, but he probably could. If he really wanted to.

He scraped a match across the rocks, the flame flickering to life instantly. He’d made sure to grab a pack of them from their pod before they’d left. He didn’t technically need them to start a fire, but they made it so much easier. He lit the spindly kindling he’d gathered ablaze, blowing on it softly. Before long, the fire crackled to life, its warmth slowly leeching into John Dory’s skin as it chased away the darkness. He felt himself relax a bit, letting out a sigh.

He perked up as he saw Branch lean forward, the flames reflecting in his wide eyes as he stared at it. “You did it…” He breathed, almost transfixed by the dancing light.

“Was there ever a doubt?” John Dory laughed, gesturing at himself dramatically as he shot his brother a cheeky grin. “I’m known far and wide as an expert fire builder. Y’know what they call me, Bitty?” He arched his hand in front of him. “JD, Lord of the Flames.”

Branch gave him a withering look, which was quite amusing to see on a seven year old’s face. “No they don’t.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well, if there were trolls out here, that’s what they’d call me.” John Dory retorted, quickly flicking his tail away from the flames, where the tip of it had started to become singed. The last thing he needed right now was a burn.

He flopped down next to Branch, the two trolls quiet for a moment as they watched the flickering flames, warming their chilled bodies. John Dory was always fond of the feeling of sitting by a fire at night, especially after a long day of traveling. It felt like a job well done, a reward for making it through another difficult day. He smiled, watching the glowing embers shift and change as he basked in the heat from the flames. It was beautiful.

His attention was drawn back to the present as he noticed Branch looking around uneasily, his mouth curled into a grimace. “Won’t the light and stuff attract critters?” He asked nervously, eyes scanning the undergrowth.

“Yep, sure will.” John Dory replied flippantly, the young troll giving him a worried look. “That’s why it’s a small one. We’re gonna warm up quick, eat some food, and then we’re gonna put it out and skedaddle. Find a tree or something to spend the night in. Sound like a plan?”

Branch remained concerned, but nodded, scooching a bit closer to John Dory. He smiled down at the small troll, ruffling his hair before turning to reach into his bag and retrieve what appeared to be the last granola bar. Frowning, he let out a soft hum. Looks like he’d have to start getting them some real food soon.

He snapped the bar in half, handing the larger piece over to his brother, who took it without a word. As they munched on them quietly, John Dory kept his ears pricked for any noise. But the night seemed content to enjoy the silence, allowing the two trolls to eat in peace.

John Dory could probably go his whole life without having to eat another damn granola bar.

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.
.

The next day, John Dory’s mind kept circling back to food.

He wasn’t too concerned about the whole “finding it” aspect. It was scarce up in the mountains, but it was manageable, if you knew where to look.

And… how to hunt. That’s the part he was worried about.

Trolls were pretty much vegetarians, eating only what they could grow themselves or harvest from critters when needed. They never actually had to hunt for food. But out on the Neverglade, that’s exactly what John Dory had to do.

There were plants and berries, sure, but they were fewer and far between, thanks to the colder climate. And after a day spent climbing over jagged rocks and trekking across the wide mountain valleys, berries were hardly enough to keep a troll going. John Dory had almost starved before he learned how to hunt. It was just a necessity.

But he was a bit concerned about how his little brother was going to react to eating a critter for the first time. To eat something he killed.

So he figured before they got too far up into the mountains, he could collect a fair amount of berries to bring with them. Help to maybe… ease Branch into what they needed to do to survive, not just toss him a bloody critter carcass and say “Bon appetit!”.

He took a brief pit stop in a grove of Bitty Berry bushes, collecting a few bags full of the tasty fruit. They would probably last for at least a week, so hopefully John Dory would be able to introduce Branch into the whole “kill or be killed” thing before they ran out.

Speaking of his little brother, John Dory was happy to see Branch starting to, well, branch out more, pun definitely intended. The young troll seemed to have a bit more confidence, no longer clinging to John Dory’s jacket each time he was set down. He still liked to be near his older brother, but he seemed content now to just walk by John Dory’s side, even venturing off a bit too look at interesting plants, or something that caught his eye. But he never went too far, constantly checking to make sure John Dory was still in his line of sight.

It was nice to see his brother becoming more comfortable out here, considering how the poor kid was pretty much thrust into it without warning. But John Dory was glad Branch still carried with him a bit of wariness. The last thing you should be in the wilderness is cocky. And besides, John Dory liked to have Branch in his line of sight as well. You never know what could happen.

He shot a look over his shoulder at his younger brother, who was across the clearing picking berries as well. The kid was more than thrilled to have a task to do, carefully plucking the small fruits as his tail twitched back and forth. John Dory smiled with pride, turning back to his work. He liked seeing Branch’s enthusiasm as well. It was… refreshing, in a way.

John Dory had developed such a bleak view of what life was like out here, he’d almost forgotten there was a sort of beauty in it as well. Seeing Branch excited about certain things was almost like a breath of fresh air. Maybe some of John Dory’s forced positivity was actually starting to rub off on him.

He wrapped up the last bag, tossing it to his side and stretching. Man, he was sore. His entire body ached constantly these days. He was only seventeen for troll’s sake, but all this traveling was really starting to catch up to him. He rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw shut to avoid letting out a groan as he pushed himself to his feet.

As he stood up, a sudden sinking feeling formed in his gut, an icy chill leaching out into his veins. He froze, feeling the hair on his neck bristle as his ears perked up, flicking every which way. He couldn’t hear anything but… Something was off. He wasn’t sure what, but he just knew.

Something was wrong.

He turned around slowly, silently, to look at Branch, who was still picking berries across the clearing. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the underbrush, feeling his heart beating in his throat. He was about to call out to his brother, tell him to come back, when he saw it. Movement from behind the leaves, a shaggy, hulking figure creeping forward… John Dory recognized it immediately.

A Growlbeast. Huge, and deadly, sunlight glinting off of its large teeth and claws. The critter was silent as it stalked out from the underbrush and into the clearing.

Heading straight for his little brother.

All caution was thrown to the wind as John Dory lunged forward, panic shooting through him. “BRANCH!” He screamed, his voice sharply breaking through the quiet of the forest.

Branch whipped around, his eyes locking with John Dory’s. Then, they shifted up to the large beast towering over him, widening with fear. The bag of berries dropped from his hands, spilling across the ground.

John Dory didn’t falter, continuing his desperate sprint towards his brother. “BRANCH, RUN!” He screamed again.

But Branch didn’t move. He froze.

John Dory watched helplessly as the small troll’s body seemed to lock in place, trembling slightly, his wide eyes trained on the creature in front of him. The beast took another step forward, a low growl escaping its lips. It didn’t need to be silent anymore. It had its prey.

Time seemed to slow down, becoming achingly slow. The critter lifted a large, clawed paw, and with a lightning fast flick, swiped out at the small troll. Luckily, Branch had the wherewithal to lift his arms up defensively, covering his face. The critters' claws raked across his arm, knocking him to the ground as Branch let out a small shriek of pain. He immediately grabbed his injured limb, watching in horror as dark blue blood began to seep from the wound, trailing down his grey skin and dripping into dirt below.

At the sight of his little brother’s blood, John Dory felt a rage roar to life inside him unlike he’d ever felt before.

This creature had hurt Branch. It made him bleed. And John Dory was going to make it pay for it a thousand fold.

Without breaking his stride, he grabbed a large stick from the ground, snapping it in half with ease. With a cry halfway between a scream and a snarl, he leapt into the air, landing on the Growlbeast’s back. And with all the force he could muster, he drove the sharp, jagged ends of the broken stick into the creature’s neck, feeling them sink easily into the soft flesh below.

The beast let out an agonized howl, reeling back as it tried desperately to swipe at the troll on its back. But John Dory just snarled, driving the sticks in deeper, and twisting them for added measure. He was going to make this hurt.

The critter tried once more to remove him, reaching a clawed paw over its shoulder. This time, it managed to clip John Dory, who dodged just a millisecond too late. The claws raked down the side of his face, pain blossoming sharply as the vision on his left side became tinged with blue. But this only served to piss John Dory off more.

He released the sticks, crawling up on the critters head. He needed to get this thing away from his brother. He grabbed on to its eyelids, yanking them back with all his might. The creature yowled, rearing onto its hindlegs as it shook its head violently, trying to dislodge the angry troll. And after a few seconds, it succeeded, sending John Dory flying across the clearing into a tree.

But he was ready for this.

He landed easily on the bark, and without even pausing to take a breath, launched himself back at the snarling critter. The force bowled the beast over, hissing and spitting as it fell to the forest floor, trying desperately to scramble to its feet. But John Dory wouldn’t let it.

He attacked the writhing creature with a vengeance, lashing out at every bit of fur and flesh he could see. Biting, clawing, kicking, scratching, pounding his fist into the creature’s face, over and over and over again. His vision kept flashing, tinged with the blue of his own blood, from the snarling face of the Growlbeast to the toothy grin of a Bergen. He could barely tell which one he was fighting anymore, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. Anger roared in his ears, impossibly loud. He wanted to make it hurt, make it pay for what it did to…

Suddenly, a small noise rose above the deafening rage pulsing inside his head. A whimper, so soft he could barely hear it.

Branch.

And just like that, it was like a switch had flipped. John Dory’s hand froze from where it was hovering above the beast’s bloodied face, where it was just about to deliver another blow. He was breathing heavily, entire body shaking as he gazed down into the critter’s eyes. They were narrowed, and angry, but there was no fight left in them. It was defeated. It wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

John Dory slowly shifted his weight, sliding off the large creature. It stumbled to its feet, glaring at him one last time before limping off into the woods, likely to lick its wounds. John Dory could see the marks he left all over its body. Deep gashes, ripped fur, bite marks. He did that.

He looked down at his hands, drenched in the critter’s bright pink blood. And with a lurch of disgust, he gagged, hunching over as his gut heaved painfully. He could taste iron on his tongue.

Once he’d thoroughly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass, he whipped around, staggering towards where his little brother still sat terrified on the ground. He nearly fell to his knees, cupping Branch’s horrified face in his hands.

“Are you ok?” He asked shakily, his voice cracking.

Branch stared at him, eyes wide, but nodded quickly. John Dory looked down at the wound on his brother’s arm. It was still bleeding slightly, but it wasn’t deep. Nothing John Dory couldn’t take care of. He let out a small breath of relief. But then, fear rose in him again, and he grabbed firmly onto Branch’s shoulders.

“You can’t freeze like that!” He choked out. “Never, ever freeze like that, ok?! When I tell you to run, you run!”

Branch’s lip quivered, eyes still wide with fear. “I- I’m sorry.” He stammered.

John Dory felt his panicked desperation ebb, replaced by a mix of guilt and overwhelming relief. He hugged his brother close, Branch doing the same. “No, I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re ok.” He whispered quietly, his body shaking. “You’re ok.”

“I’m ok.” Branch repeated, pushing his brother away. His alarmed eyes were locked on John Dory’s face. “But you… you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding a lot.”

“What, this?” John Dory laughed almost hysterically, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins making him dizzy. “This is nothing. Head wounds just bleed a lot; it’s just a few scratches.” It was true. They didn't feel deep, and luckily, the claws had missed his eye. He still couldn’t see very well, blood clouding his vision, but he’d be fine.

He could see where he’d smeared blood on Branch’s face, the mix of blue and pink vibrant against the young troll’s grey skin. The sight of it almost made him queasy again. He wasn’t afraid of blood, no. But he was afraid of whatever that was. The side of him that acted truly… wild. That was something he didn’t want to feed into.

He stood up, forcing a smile to his face. Branch immediately latched onto his jacket with a firm grasp. Probably not the best sign, but for right now, John Dory didn’t care. He set a gentle hand on Branch’s shoulders, leading him towards a nearby stream.

“C’mon B, let’s get you patched up.”

Chapter Text

John Dory tenderly cleaned Branch’s wound, letting the cold mountain stream work its magic. It clearly stung, the younger troll wincing slightly, but he appeared to be trying to put on a brave face, stubbornly clenching his jaw as his tail twitched back and forth.

“Sorry bud, I know it hurts.” John Dory said empathetically, trying not to let his ears droop as guilt churned in his gut. He should have noticed that Growlbeast sooner. If he had, Branch wouldn’t have gotten hurt. How could he be so careless? That thing could have killed him…

“It’s ok.” Branch replied, hissing slightly in pain. “It just… stings.”

“I know. You’re being real brave though.” John Dory continued, gently wiping some dirt and grime from the edge of the cuts.

Branch’s eyes squeezed shut. “M’not brave.” He mumbled, a sharp edge to his voice.

John Dory hummed, examining the marks on his brother’s arm. They were clean, and not deep, but still bleeding slightly. He scanned their surroundings, and with a quiet “Aha!”, locked eyes on his target. He quickly trotted off, and within seconds, he returned with his hands full of leaves, using the river rocks to crush them into a poultice.

“You recognize this plant, Bitty?” He asked, trying to take his brother’s mind off the pain. It seemed to work, the young troll leaning forward to peer at the plants in his older brother’s hands.

“Um…” He mused, John Dory practically able to see the cogs turning in his brain. “It… starts with a ‘Y’?”

“You got it!” John Dory laughed, heart swelling with pride. “Yarrow. At least, I think that’s what it’s called. Whatever, doesn't matter. Looks like this.” He held up a stalk. “Good for cuts like these, with bleeding and healing and all that.” He carefully smeared the mushed-up plants on his brother’s arm, his nose twitching at the sharp scent. “I had to use this one a lot out here.”

Reaching into his bag, he retrieved a small first aid kit, wrapping his brother’s arm with practiced precision and ripping it with his teeth. “Anyways, this should heal up just fine.”

Branch looked at the wrap, brows knitted together in concern. “Is it going to scar?”

“Ehhh… probably.” John Dory admitted. “But that’s ok; scars are cool. Make you look tough, y’know?”

Branch gazed up at him. “Tough like you?” He asked, eyes tracing up and down the collection of scars dotting John Dory’s body.

“Heh, yeah…” John Dory replied, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest. “Tough like me.”

Branch nodded, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. But it quickly fell as his eyes narrowed, gaze becoming sharp. “Ok, your turn.” He commanded, pushing John Dory towards the stream. “You’re still bleeding.”

“Alright, alright!” John Dory laughed again, amused by his brother’s insistence. “I’m going. Why don’t you mash up some more of that yarrow for me?”

“Yes, go.” Branch replied bluntly, giving John Dory one last shove. He then plopped down, starting to grind the leaves as if it was the most important thing he’d ever do, tongue sticking out in concentration. John Dory just shook his head, wading deeper into the freezing water.

It was difficult to see, the top of the stream swirling and shifting, but he could just about make out his reflection on the surface. He let out a soft hiss, delicately touching the painful cuts slicing across his face.

They weren’t deep, but they were big. Three of them, running from his forehead and down to his neck. It looked like the creature had even nicked his ear, taking a small chunk from it. Blood oozed from them, making them look much worse then they probably were. And they were definitely going to scar.

He probably wouldn’t be winning any beauty pageants any time soon. Then again, he was never considered the best looking among his brothers. That title belonged to Spruce. But man, he was really lucky that sucker had missed his eye. He would have really been screwed then.

He sucked in a breath, then all at once, dipped his head below the water, letting the current wash away the sticky blood coating his body. Pain erupted on the side of his face, and since he was underwater anyway, he allowed himself to let loose an agonizing shriek. But as soon as he popped back up, he bit his tongue, trying not to wince too much at the sharp pain.

He stumbled back out of the stream, blood still trickling down his face, which he quickly began to dab with a few gauze pads from his first aid kit. He applied the poultice Branch had helped make, then wrapped the side of his head best he could. He couldn’t help but laugh at how terrible it looked. It definitely wouldn’t last, but he needed at least some pressure on the wound. So until the bleeding stopped, he’d just have to deal with it.

“How do I look, B?” He asked, putting on an award-winning grin as he turned towards his brother, accompanied by some flashy jazz hands. However, Branch didn’t seem to hear him, the young troll staring at the ground intensely with his ears pinned to the side of his skull. John Dory immediately dropped the act, worry flickering to life inside him. “B?”

“I’m sorry I froze.” Branch blurted out, his tiny body shaking with anger. “I didn’t mean to, but when I heard you yell and I saw that… monster-” The young troll’s bottom lip began to quiver, and John Dory could see he was struggling to hold back tears. “I couldn’t move. And then you jumped on it, and I… I thought I killed you too, just like-.” His voice broke as he continued. “Just like with Grandma.” A small sob escaped his lips, tears finally starting to run down his cheeks. He hastily tried to wipe them away, ears drooping even further.

“No no no, Branch, it’s fine.” John Dory said quickly, rushing to his brother’s side. “I’m fine, see? No harm done.”

“But you’re not fine!” Branch cried quietly, something he’d become very skilled at doing. “You got hurt because of me.”

“No bud, look.” John Dory replied, setting his hands on Branch’s shoulders. “I got hurt because I wasn’t paying attention. I should have seen that stupid Growlbeast, I just…” He shook his head. Self-deprecation wasn’t going to help him right now.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know that this-” He pointed up at his face. “-wasn’t your fault, ok? None of this was. Creatures attack one another out here; it’s just what they do. It’s kill, or be killed. And that thing wanted to kill you.” John Dory squeezed his brother’s shoulder slightly, that rage once again flickering to life in his chest. “So I had to make sure it didn’t.”

Branch sniffled, wiping at his face. “You beat it up bad. I didn’t know you could fight like that.” He said in a watery voice.

“Yeah, uh, me neither.” John Dory chuckled nervously. It wasn’t like John Dory didn’t know how to fight. Actually, back at the Troll Tree, before Brozone, he was kind of known for getting in scraps with other trolls. He may have been a bit… protective of his younger brothers, in the worst of ways. And if definitely got him into trouble more than once.

But those fights consisted of fists, bruises, and maybe once in a while a broken nose. They were nothing like what he’d done to that Growlbeast. He’d practically torn that thing apart.

He really didn’t want to think about how… wild he’d become at the sight of his injured brother. He knew he’d changed, spending that year alone out here. Hell, he was reminded every time a hiss or growl escaped his lips. But this… He’d attacked that thing as if he were a critter himself, all snarls and claws and teeth. He’d felt completely and utterly out of control. And it scared him.

So instead, he decided he was just going to not think about it. Just one more memory to lock away forever. Troll knows he had enough of those.

He cleared his throat, plastering a smile on his face. “Anyways Bitty, like I told you before, I care about you, just like Grandma did. We both decided to protect you. And that’s not your fault, ok? Say it.”

Branch looked down at the ground, unconvinced. But he mumbled quietly anyway. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Right.” John Dory ruffled his hair before wiping the remaining tears from his brother’s cheeks. “We can work on that whole ‘freezing’ thing together, ok? Just like with the nightmares. There’s nothing that we can’t handle. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” He pushed as much false bravado as he could into those words, the wide smile on his face causing his wounds to twinge painfully.

Branch smiled at him. “Yeah.”

“Attaboy.” John Dory grinned, glad he was able to turn his brother’s mood around. Sure, he was being a bit cheesy, but if it made his little brother happy, then who cares? Besides, the last thing Branch should be worrying about out here was him.

He released Branch from his grip, giving him a firm pat on the back. “Now, let’s go get our stupid berries, and get the hell out of here.”

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Their wounds healed up pretty quickly, all things considered, John Dory disposing of the wraps within a day.

The gashes on John Dory’s face still looked pretty gruesome, aching every time he tried to smile, but at least they weren’t bleeding anymore. He still felt guilt heavy in his gut every time he looked at the marks on Branch’s arms, already well on their way to becoming scars.

John Dory never wanted to see his little brother’s blood ever again.

The young troll was sleeping now, clinging loosely to his brother’s back as John Dory climbed a steep trail. They’d both been up last night, John Dory unable to curb one of his brother’s awful nightmares, the poor kid waking up screaming and crying. They’d both covered his mouth, Branch’s hands shaking as he sobbed uncontrollably into his brother’s chest. And John Dory just held him close, rocking him gently, tiredly whispering reassurances into his ears until eventually the small troll cried himself back to sleep.

John Dory didn’t fall back to sleep, however. He continued to rock his brother until the sun rose above the trees.

He could definitely use some sleep now though. Between the fading light, the steep climb, and his brother’s own steady breathing, he was exhausted. He felt like he could drop down right now on the jagged rocks and be out in an instant. But he couldn’t, not just yet. Because right over this last slope was…

John Dory stopped, breathing heavily. Relief swelled in his chest, a grin stretching painfully across his scratched up face. He quickly reached up, poking at his sleeping younger brother.

“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.” He chirped excitedly, barely able to contain himself. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Wha…?” Branch replied tiredly as John Dory set him down, the young troll rubbing his face. He then blinked, looking out in front of him as his eyes grew incredibly wide. “Is… is that…” He stammered, unable to finish his sentence.

“That, Bitty B…” John Dory announced dramatically, “Is the Neverglade Trail.”

From where they were standing, mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see, reaching up into the bright, blue sky. Tall peaks topped with rocks and snow, and impossibly large valleys lush with trees and wildflowers. And if one looked closely, a single dirt trail, snaking and weaving through the landscape to right where they were, with a single, shoddily made wooden sign reading “Neverglade Trail: Trek at your own risk.”.

John Dory took a deep breath, pushing his worries aside to give himself one moment of relief. They’d made it. In one piece too! That was a major plus. Well, mostly one piece. John Dory was missing a chunk of his ear, but he still counted this as a win. He’d managed to get his little brother here safely. And that was all that mattered.

“It’s huge!” Branch squeaked, his tail twitching back and forth.

“I told you!” John Dory laughed, crouching next to his brother. “You and me, Bitty? We’re gonna make this place our own. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re tough, right?”

“I’m tough!” Branch insisted firmly, hands curled into fists.

“Yeah you are.” John Dory chuckled, cupping his hand behind his brother’s head and pulling his forehead into his. “We can do this.” He murmured, half to reassure his brother, and half to reassure himself.

He could do this. He could make this work.

He set up camp next to the Neverglade Trail sign, taking a moment to peek at the old, rotting wood. There, on the very back, he could see where he’d scratched his name into it, so long ago.

“John Dory Was Here”

It was the first thing he did when he got out here. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was going to make it back, so at least this way, travelers might see his name and wonder who he was. He smiled sadly, rubbing his thumb over the etching. He really was a different troll back then. It was kind of a miracle he made it back to see it at all.

He set up a fire, roasting a few mushrooms he’d collected for Branch and him. They ate in silence, John Dory tiredly zoning out as he stared into the flames, biting absently at his nails. If he squinted, the flickering tendrils almost looked like troll hair, swirling and dancing amongst the logs. A pang of sadness shot through his heart.

He missed his brothers terribly, but strangely, he found himself thinking about the rest of the trolls on the Troll Tree as well. He’d never been super close to anyone but his own family, but it was still heartbreaking to think about all the trolls who’d lost their lives to those monstrous Bergens. Like King Peppy, who’s cape he’d seen torn and tattered in the tunnels. And the King had two daughters, one only a year younger than Branch.

All of them were gone. They didn’t deserve that.

“Hey, D?”

John Dory blinked, pulling his eyes away from the flames and thoughts of the past as he turned his attention towards his brother. Branch was frowning, also staring into the crackling fire.

“Do you think our brothers would have liked it out here?” He asked, fidgeting nervously with his hands. “If they were here, I mean.”

John Dory was thrown off for a moment. Branch hadn’t mentioned their brothers at all since they’d left the tree, only their names in passing. They hadn’t really talked about… anything regarding them. Except for the fact that they were gone. John Dory actively avoided the subject, the memories painful and raw, and not wanting to upset his baby brother. But, if Branch was asking… He let out a sigh, a sad smile on his face.

“No.” He chuckled softly. “I don’t think they’d like it.” He leaned back, looking up at the stars. “Spruce hated the idea of camping and all that outdoorsy stuff. He liked being comfortable. He’d probably complain about the cold the whole time.”

“Damn right.” A voice chimed in from John Dory’s side. His eyes briefly flicked over to see an image of Spruce standing a ways back, shivering slightly as he hugged his arms around his skinny chest. “It’s freezing out here. I mean, you couldn’t do your whole ‘survival thing’ on a beach or something?” John Dory pointedly ignored him.

“And Clay always worried about dangerous critters and stuff like that.” He continued, shaking his head. “I think he’d have a heart attack.”

“Well, yeah!” Another voice popped up from his other side, where Clay was gesturing wildly with his hands. “I mean, look at your messed up face! It’s not safe out here. Any troll with half a brain could see that!”

John Dory could feel a lump starting to form in his throat, grief welling up inside his chest. But Branch listened with rapt attention, holding on to his every word. So he kept going.

“And you know, actually, I think Floyd would have liked it out here, at least a little bit. It’s beautiful, with the flowers and the landscape.” An image of Floyd appeared behind Branch, the young, pink-haired troll smiling softly. John Dory swallowed, his voice growing hoarse. “But I don’t think he’d have the heart for it. He was always so-” His voice cut off, his chest growing tight.

Was. His brother was. He isn’t anymore.

And who’s fault was that?

He could feel that heavy feeling again, spreading throughout his body. A fear that seemed to reach out from his rapidly beating heart and into his veins. He gripped tightly onto his shorts, turning away from his brothers’ eyes.

C’mon, John Dory, get it together. He thought, his jaw clenched tight. Whatever this is, you need to stop. Now.

“I miss them.”

John Dory looked up to see Branch staring sadly at the ground. He wasn’t crying, but there was a hollow note in his voice as he grimaced. “I really thought they were coming back.”

John Dory pushed down the horrible feeling in his chest, scooting closer to his brother. “I know.” He replied, voice low. “I… miss them too.” He looked up, seeing Spruce, Clay, and Floyd staring at him from across the flames. He wanted nothing more than to break down, sob until he couldn’t anymore. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he turned around, reaching in his bag. And for the first time since they’d left, he pulled out the scrapbook he’d nabbed from their pod. “But just ‘cause they aren’t here doesn’t mean we can’t remember them.” He said shakily, trying his best to smile as he opened the pages, showing them to his little brother. “We still have their memories.”

Branch leaned over, letting his head fall against John Dory’s side. “Will you tell me some?” He asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I don’t want to forget.”

“Yeah.” John Dory replied, struggling to keep his own voice from breaking. “I can do that.”

John Dory spent the rest of the night telling his little brother stories, pointing to different pictures as he did. He could feel the images of his brothers watching him, silently, appearing to listen as well. He tried his best not to look at their emotionless faces.

When Branch eventually drifted off to sleep, the fire nothing but a few dying coals, he finally looked up. But they were gone. Which was probably for the best.

He and Branch were about to set off onto the Neverglade Trail. He had to be at his best, not falling apart over the past. He couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes.

Branch needed him. And he wasn’t going to let him down.

Chapter Text

“See what happens when you don’t follow my lead?”

“Dude, this is exactly what happens when we follow your lead!”

John Dory whipped around, glaring at Spruce as anger flickered to life in his chest. “Oh, so it’s my fault? Is that what you’re saying?” He massaged his forehead, gritting his teeth. Why wouldn’t his brothers just listen to him? Didn’t they see how important this was? Everything was falling apart… He tried to take a deep breath, frustration crawling across his skin. “Look, I know we can reach the perfect family harmony, we just-”

“What if we don’t want to?” Spruce snapped, eyes blazing. John Dory just stared at him, stunned. Don’t want to? What the hell was Spruce on? They didn’t have a choice! They had to!

If they didn’t hit the perfect family harmony, the fans would be disappointed. And if the fans were disappointed, BroZone wouldn’t make enough money anymore. And if they didn’t make enough money, John Dory wouldn’t be able to take care of his brothers.

And if trolls decided that John Dory couldn’t take care of his little brothers…

“Yeah dude, this used to be fun.” Clay chimed in, pulling John Dory from his spiraling thoughts as the young troll rolled his eyes. “Now it’s all about being perfect.” He spat the word, as if it left a sour taste on his tongue.

“Ugh, you know what? I’m done. I’m done playing into your stupid obsession. I’m not doing this anymore.” Spruce stalked up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I quit.”

“I quit too.” Clay added, throwing off his vest and messing up his perfectly sculpted hair that John Dory had styled earlier. “You assholes never take me seriously, not on the stage or off it. If you’d just followed my choreo, it would have been fine! But no, you just had to ruin everything, just like you always do!”

“Guys, please…” Floyd piped up weakly, pleading. But John Dory could barely hear him over the blood rushing in his ears.

“Me ruin everything?!” He bristled, rage boiling over in his chest. “If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t have any of this! I gave my whole life to get us here, and you’re just going to quit?! Just like that?!”

He was breathing heavily, eyes wildly darting across his brothers. Spruce and Clay continued to glare at him, unwavering. Floyd couldn’t even meet his eyes. And Bitty B… The poor kid looked like he was about to cry.

And John Dory just couldn’t take it anymore. Something inside him just snapped.

“Fine!” He laughed dryly, throwing up his hands. “I don’t need this. I don’t need any of you! I’m done, I’m out. I’m sorry.” He stomped across the pod, grabbing his father’s camping gear from where it was tucked haphazardly in the corner collecting dust, swinging it over his shoulders. “I’m going to go hike the Neverglade Trail, by myself. Maybe then I’ll finally get some fucking peace and quiet.”

An awful feeling started to build in his chest, but he pushed it down, letting the hurt, betrayal, and anger continue to swirl in his mind. “Good luck trying to make it without me.” He snarled, kicking the door open with a bang. “Goodbye forever!”

He wanted to hear someone yell for him. Someone. Anyone. For anyone from his family to try and stop him from leaving. Even his Grandma, who he knew was sitting in the corner, listening to the whole thing. But no one did. No one tried to stop him. Not one of them wanted him to stay.

They didn’t need him.

It would have hurt less if they’d just punched him.

He went to slam the door closed behind him when he heard a small voice, echoing in his ears.

“D?”

John Dory froze, a wave of confusion washing over him. No, this… this wasn’t how it happened. Nobody called for him. He’d left, and that was that. He blinked, turning around slowly to see the pod was empty. Save for one, tiny grey troll staring back at him, painfully clutching his chest.

Branch.

The young troll pulled his hand away, and with a start, John Dory noticed it was covered with bright, blue blood.

“Branch?” John Dory croaked, panic shooting through him like ice. Time seemed to slow down as he rushed forward desperately, catching his brother as the small troll collapsed, blood pooling from his chest.

“No no no, c’mon Branch.” He tried to stop the bleeding, but it poured past his fingers. He couldn’t stop it. And the young troll was already gone, his eyes pale and lifeless.

“No…” John Dory whispered, feeling the breath leave his lungs. “No no no, please, please…”

Branch’s body seemed to shift, the image blurring. And suddenly, John Dory was holding Floyd. Then it was Clay, then Spruce, their bodies limp, bleeding, soaked with that bright blue blood. It covered his hands, sticking to them, the sickly sweet smell making him nauseous.

It was all his fault.

Their blood was on his hands.

He wanted to scream. But all that came out was a garbled cry as blood welled up inside his mouth, choking him, the taste of iron making him gag.

It was all his fault.

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.

John Dory woke up with a start, adrenaline shooting through his veins as his hand shot over his mouth to cover his gasping breaths. He was shaking like a leaf.

He turned quickly to look over at Branch, who was curled up next to him, sleeping soundly. His eyes scanned the young troll up and down, and for the briefest of seconds, he could swear the blood was still there, stark against his brother’s grey skin. But as soon as he blinked, it was gone. There was nothing. He was fine.

John Dory forced himself to take a few deep breaths, his heart pounding in his chest. Just a dream. He thought, squeezing his eyes shut to try and calm his swirling mind. Just a dream, just a bad dream.

He slowly laid back down, uncovering his mouth as he looked up at the sky. It was just beginning to grow light, dawn creeping across the horizon. He watched it chase away the darkness as he listened to his brother’s steady breathing. Branch was fine. He was fine. He had to be fine.

He didn’t dare go back to sleep. Branch’s nightmares were bad enough. John Dory couldn’t afford to start having them too.

He let the young troll sleep in as the sun started to rise in the sky, bathing the mountains in a gorgeous yellow hue. It had been a few days since they’d reached the Neverglade Trail, and already they were settling into a routine.

They continued to travel every day, John Dory still not liking to stay anywhere more than one night. Staying in one place meant more sitting around, which meant more thinking, which meant John Dory’s mind could run wild. His thoughts would always drift towards things he didn’t want to think about, giving him a headache. So, they kept moving. It was safer that way anyways.

They didn’t travel nearly as far nor as fast as they had before. There was no need. They simply meandered along the trail, stopping and starting whenever they pleased. They had no destination, no timeline, no place they needed to be. John Dory said they would hike the Neverglade Trail, so that’s what they were doing.

And as long as Branch was with him, and he was safe, it didn’t matter where it took them.

John Dory had started to take the time to build crude shelters at night as well. He didn’t like to leave fires going overnight, so it was nice to have something to block the bone chilling wind, holding his brother close to keep him warm. And Branch was more than happy to watch his every move. The young troll seemed obsessed with everything his brother did, especially the whole “building shelters” thing, his eyes lighting up whenever John Dory mentioned it.

“Y’know, I was going to be an architect.” Branch said one evening, puffing out his chest as he watched John Dory weave a few sticks together.

“You were?” John Dory asked, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as he readjusted his goggles. This was news to him. Then again, he’d been a bit hyperfocused on Brozone for much of Branch’s life. There was probably a lot he didn’t know about his baby brother. He paused what he was doing, turning to listen.

“Yep.” Branch replied, his tail swishing back and forth on the rock he was sitting on. “I was going to build things, really cool things.”

“Yeah? Like what?” John Dory asked, leaning up against the shoddily built shelter. “Like pods?”

“Ugh, no.” Branch huffed, rolling his eyes. “Pods are stupid; they’re a stupid design. They’re too bright, and a Bergen can grab one just like that…” he made a snatching motion with his hand, squeezing it into a tight fist, “...and you’d be dead!”

John Dory winced, shuddering slightly. It was true. The Bergens used to pick pods from the Troll Tree like they were colorful fruit. However, hearing that gruesome picture depicted by his baby brother was a bit… disturbing to say the least. But he supposed Branch had seen his fair share of disturbing things.

“I would build something safe, something where nothing could ever hurt us.” Branch continued, face serious. “A hideout, far away from the Bergens, with weapons and defenses and structural support. Maybe even underground, with tunnels so we could escape!”

“Yeah, ‘cause that worked so well for us before.” John Dory heard Clay’s sarcastic voice speak up from behind him.

“That’s… a good idea, Bitty.” John Dory said, forcing a smile to his face. “You’re a smart kid; I’m sure you’d make a great architect.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to be one anymore.” Branch replied, hopping off the rock. “Now I’m going to be a survivalist, just like you!”

That uncomfortable feeling formed in John Dory’s gut again, his ears drooping. That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Uh, sure, B.” He said weakly, turning back to the shelter. “Just like… me.”

A day later, John Dory dug through his camping gear, checking their supplies. And with a sigh, he realized they were down to their last bag of Bitty Berries. Which meant it was time for him to start getting them more food.

Which meant it was time for him and Branch to have a talk.

“Hey, Bitty?” He called apprehensively, Branch’s ears perking up as he turned towards his older brother. John Dory flashed him a toothy grin, hoping his voice didn’t sound strained. “How’d you like to go catch some fish?”

The young troll cocked his head to the side, looking confused. “Catch… fish?”

John Dory led his younger brother to the riverbank, quickly whittling down a sharp stick as he tried to think about how he was going to do this. Branch watched him closely, like he was analyzing his every move. “You’re going to catch them with a stick?” He asked, looking even more confused. “How?”

“Well, uh…” John Dory bit his cheek, rubbing the back of his head nervously. He was already messing this up. He shot his brother a look, then made a stabbing motion with the stick. Branch immediately understood, eyes growing wide.

“You’re going to kill it?!” The small troll squeaked, horrified. John Dory looked away, face flush with shame.

For some reason, he felt like he was breaking some kind of troll code by hunting for critters. He couldn’t imagine what the trolls back at the Troll Tree would have said if they saw what he was doing. Actually, he could. They’d have the same look of horror Branch had on his face, probably mixed in with a bit of disgust as well. Killing things wasn’t what trolls did. They sang and danced and laughed and hugged. This was unacceptable.

But they had to eat.

“Look, Branch, there just isn’t enough food out here for us to survive.” He explained hastily. “I don’t like it, but this is just what we have to do, ok?” He felt like he was pleading with his little brother to understand.

“We’re going to eat it?” Branch asked in a small voice.

Man, he was really screwing this up. John Dory let out a sigh, shoulders dropping. “Yes.” He replied, voice low. “It’d be nice if we didn’t have to, but we do. It’s kill or be killed, remember?”

Branch’s eyes flicked between him and the sharpened stick, looking conflicted. But then, he seemed to swallow, his gaze flicking back up to John Dory. “Ok.” He said quietly, stiffly sitting down on the rocks. “Show me.”

John Dory hesitated for a brief second, then nodded, wading out into the water. He stood completely still for a few minutes, watching the swirling stream bubble past, small shapes darting around in it. And after a moment, he lunged forward, plunging the stick down into the water, and bringing it up with a wriggling fish attached. But it wasn’t moving for long.

He quickly stumbled back out, feeling as if he’d just committed some horrendous crime. “Nothing to it.” He hissed out through gritted teeth, forcing a smile to his face. Branch just stared in silence at the fish skewered in his hands.

John Dory wasted no time cleaning the critter, cooking it over the fire. He pursed his lips, skin practically crawling as he kept shooting anxious looks over at his younger brother. Branch still hadn’t said a word since the stream, just watching as John Dory slowly turned the critter over the flames. And it was just about killing him. Finally, he couldn’t deal with the silence any longer.

“You don’t have to eat it.” He blurted out. “Not now, at least, if you’re not ready. I still got some Bitty Berries, so-”

“Are you going to eat it?” Branch interrupted, looking up at his older brother.

John Dory swallowed. “Yes.” He replied stiffly.

Branch seemed to consider this for a moment before his eyes narrowed in determination. “Then I will too.” He stated, holding out his hand.

“B…” John Dory began, but Branch just shook his head, reaching his hand out further. JD sighed, handing it over. “Ok, but just, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it, ok? We can figure something else out.”

Branch ignored him, giving the cooked critter a sniff. His nose curled up at the smell, but he closed his eyes, quickly taking a hesitant bite. He was quiet for a moment, but then, his eyes shot open in surprise. “It’s good!” He mumbled through a full mouth, turning back to his brother. “Weird, but good!”

John Dory couldn’t help but let out a huge sigh of relief, leaning back a bit. Maybe he wasn’t such a screw up after all.

“Yeah?” He laughed almost hysterically, feeling some of the pent up nervousness leave his body. “Well, at least someone appreciates my cooking.”

Branch took another bite before shoving it back into John Dory’s hands. “I didn’t even know we could eat critters. Why didn’t we do this before?” He asked curiously.

“Uh, I don’t know.” John Dory lied, taking his own guilty bite. Because I didn’t want you to think less of me. His mind whispered. Think I was some sort of… monster. “Just didn’t need to I guess.”

“Well, tomorrow, will you teach me?” Branch asked, gazing intensely at his brother. “How to catch fish?”

John Dory chuckled, just so utterly relieved this had all turned out ok.

“What, did you think he was just going to refuse?” Spruce lounged next to his younger brother, his tail flicking lazily. “The kid idolizes you, troll knows why. He’d probably jump off a cliff if you asked him.” He glared at John Dory, eyes sharp. “Don’t mess this up.”

“Uh, sure, sure I can.” John Dory replied, tearing his gaze away from Spruce as he smiled, that uncomfortable feeling in his gut again. But he chose to ignore it.

The next morning, he took Branch back out to the stream, figuring they could catch a few fish before they got on the road. He whittled the young troll his own spear, then walked him into the freezing cold water, where fish continued to dart around their feet.

“The trick is to aim where they’re going to be, not where they are.” He explained, Branch intently nodding along. “And they’re not going to be right where you think they are. The water bends the image, something about light or whatever, so don’t worry if you don’t get it the first time. It takes practice, and-”

John Dory’s voice cut off as he spotted a particularly large fish swim past. He reacted on instinct, stabbing down with his stick. As he did, however, the rocks under his feet shifted, and with a yelp, he fell into the swirling water.

He resurfaced with a gasp, sitting halfway submerged in the rushing stream. But when he lifted his stick, the fish was on it. Success.

“Hah! Got you, bitch!” He cheered, shaking the water from his hair. He turned back towards Branch, who was snickering at him. “And for the record, don’t do that. Try not to fall in, ok?”

Branch laughed, John Dory spotting the faintest bit of blue tinting his ears. But then, Branch’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes focusing on something below him. With a sharp jab, he plunged his own stick down into the water. After a moment, he brought it up again, and on the end was a small, wiggling fish.

Branch stared at it, as if he couldn’t believe it was actually there. Then, his face broke into a grin. “Got you, bitch!” He exclaimed shrilly, holding it out so John Dory could see. “JD! I got it!”

John Dory blinked, then laughter exploded from his gut. He leaned over, placing his hands on his knees as tears sprang to his eyes. He could see Spruce and Clay on the shore, laughing their tails off as well, and Floyd shooting him a bewildered look, letting out a stern “JOHN!” But John Dory couldn’t help it. And god, he hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time.

“Nice catch, B!” He said, wiping away tears as he tried to stifle his giggles. “You’re a natural!” Branch beamed at the praise, tail twitching back and forth. John Dory ruffled his hair with a grin. “Now c’mon, get moving. We’ll have a feast tonight!”

“Ok!” Branch chirped, darting out of the water. John Dory smiled at him proudly. He’d been so worried about this, but it really wasn’t that big a deal, was it? His little brother was strong, and determined. He took to this survivalist stuff like, well, like a fish to water.

That uncomfortable feeling once again rose in John Dory’s gut, but he pushed it down, trying instead to focus on the faintest shimmer of blue on his brother’s ears. He shuffled his way to the shore, jogging to catch up. It was fine. Branch was ok, and it was fine.

But that feeling wouldn’t go away.

Chapter Text

Days turned into weeks, then into months, and time seemed to blur together once again as they continued to trek across the mountains. It wasn’t easy, but things were working out better than John Dory had hoped.

And Branch seemed to be becoming more and more confident by the day.

Despite the small setback with the whole Growlbeast attack, his brother was back to the point where he didn’t feel the need to cling on to John Dory’s jacket 24/7. The caution was still there, but Branch now seemed comfortable enough to venture out again, to walk by John Dory’s side. And he began to vehemently protest any of John Dory’s offers to carry him.

“I’m not a baby.” He’d insist, jutting out his bottom lip stubbornly. “I don’t need you to carry me.”

“You’re clearly exhausted, B.” John Dory would reply, massaging his forehead in exasperation. “I’m just trying to give you a chance to rest.”

Branch would just shake his head and whip around without another word, stomping tiredly across the uneven terrain. John Dory had no idea where the kid got his stubbornness from. But to be fair, it was easier to hike without the added weight on his back. Though he missed the feeling of his brother’s grip in his hair, keeping him grounded.

The young troll was still having nightmares, but they were becoming a bit fewer. Less intense. And John Dory was usually able to stop them before Branch ever woke up. However, whereas Branch typically only cried for his Grandma during these nightmares, John Dory started to notice his younger brother murmuring his name as well. And hearing his name spoken in such a small, scared voice always made his heart ache.

He couldn’t help but wonder what horrors Branch’s young mind was being forced to see each night. He’d definitely seen his fair share since coming out here.

They had a few close encounters with critters, and a couple large storms they had to deal with. And of course food was a constant worry. But other than that, things were going surprisingly well.

John Dory continued to teach Branch everything he could about surviving out here. He taught the young troll how to hunt for small critters, with both his slingshot, and traps they could set up during the day. He taught him how to track, and how to look for signs of critters they should probably avoid. He taught him about the mountain plants, both edible and medicinal, and how to properly use them. Weather patterns, building shelters, he threw it all at his little brother.

And Branch held on to his every word.

However John Dory still couldn’t get rid of that… feeling. The feeling that something was wrong. That he was doing something wrong. Everything seemed to be working out just fine, but that feeling was still there. And it wasn’t until a few months or so had passed that he realized what it was.

It started out small.

He was sitting next to the fire with Branch one night, trying to unwind from the day as he gazed up at the stars. But he was pulled from the night sky to his brother when he heard a strange noise. His eyes flicked downwards to see Branch biting absently at his nails, hardly even aware he was doing it.

And John Dory felt his heart sink.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He said quickly, pulling his brother’s hands away from his mouth. “It’s gross.”

Branch blinked, looking down at his hand in surprise. “I didn’t…” He started, before shaking his head. “But you do it.” He insisted pointedly.

“Yeah? ‘Cause I’m gross.” John Dory replied with a huff. “And you don’t want to be like me.”

“Why?” Branch asked, looking confused.

John Dory didn’t have an answer for him. But for the next few days, if he ever saw his brother’s hand start to move towards his mouth, he was there to slap it away, trying to curb the bad habit before it started. Luckily, it seemed to work. But that wasn’t the only thing.

After that, he started keeping a closer eye on his younger brother. And he started to notice more habits his brother had picked up. Small things, things he hadn’t noticed before. But now they seemed to stick out to him like a sore thumb.

The way Branch’s eyes and ears flicked around warily, checking for danger. The way he clenched and unclenched his hands when he got nervous. John Dory even heard him let out a fearful hiss when the shadow of a bird passed overhead.

His brother was like a sponge, soaking up anything and everything he saw. He listened intently to his older brother’s every word. He idolized him. But it wasn’t just the things that John Dory was teaching him, no.

Branch was taking in everything.

And that realization scared the hell out of him.

Branch was copying his every move, and John Dory hated it. He hated that he could see his brother trying so desperately to be like him, picking up on all his bad habits, when that was the last thing he wanted. Branch shouldn’t want to be like him; he was terrible! He tore their family apart, he got their brothers killed. He was the reason Branch was stuck out here in the first place. And the way he acted sometimes, he was barely even a troll anymore.

He didn’t want his brother to be anything like him.

But what really scared him was when Branch started to go quiet.

The young troll was always a bit of a talker, especially when he got excited, asking questions or babbling about something or other. He spoke softly, and carefully, his stories often long and incoherent, but John Dory didn’t mind. Typically, he’d just let his brother ramble, without saying anything. He was content to just listen to Bitty speak about whatever he wanted to. He felt like he’d missed so much of his brother’s life, even before he’d left the tree. And now, he wanted nothing more than to hear his voice.

But slowly, things started to change.

Branch stopped asking questions. The curiosity was still there, but it was more often conveyed with a gesture and a questioning look. He no longer talked without reason, only piping up every so often if he really had to. And John Dory was the same way. The change was so slow and imperceptible that he didn’t even really notice it until one day, it suddenly hit him, dread building in his chest.

Days. He and Branch hadn’t talked in days.

To be fair, they didn’t really need to anymore. They could communicate just fine without using words at all. A twitch of the ears, a swish of a tail, or a point in a certain direction. Reading each other’s expressions and body language. They just… understood each other, without ever having to make a sound. And it was safer, sure, but this had been exactly what John Dory was afraid of.

They were going quiet.

That's what this place did to trolls. It’s exactly what it did to him. And John Dory couldn’t let that happen to Branch.

Suddenly, he regretted every time he’d slapped a hand over his little brother’s mouth.

He knew had to do something. He had to fix this. He needed to get Branch talking again. Hell, he had to start talking again. He couldn’t afford to let himself go quiet either. So, he came up with a plan.

He and Branch walked in silence, the young troll scanning the valley with narrowed eyes. And John Dory figured this was the perfect time to put his plan in motion. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak.

“Hey, Bitty?” He asked, his ears twitching slightly at the noise. The words felt strange in his mouth.

Branch turned towards him with a start, pausing for a moment. John Dory could tell by the questioning look in his eyes and the way his ears swiveled around that his brother was wondering why exactly John Dory was speaking. But he refused to be put off, clearing his throat once more.

“I was wondering…” He continued, walking over to a nearby cluster of flowers, placing his hands on his hips in an exaggerated fashion. Branch followed behind him silently, John Dory turning to look at him as he gestured downwards. “You know what these are?”

Branch’s face scrunched up in confusion, giving the older troll a strange look. But John Dory didn’t say anything. Instead, he waited patiently for his brother to reply. And after a few moments, he did.

“You know what they are.” Branch replied, his raspy voice barely above a whisper.

John Dory shrugged, shaking his head. “I keep forgetting.” He lied easily. C’mon, Bitty. He thought, jaw tight. Please let this work.

Branch looked between him and the plant skeptically, fidgeting with his hands. But then, he spoke up again. “It’s yarrow.” He answered softly.

“Right!” John Dory replied with a laugh, smacking his head softly. “Yarrow. And what do we use that for again?”

Branch’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t have to say anything; the message was clear: You’re being weird.

John Dory deflated slightly. Maybe this was a stupid idea. But he forced himself to take a breath, doubling down. “C’mon, what do we use it for?” He repeated, an exaggerated grin on his face.

Branch glanced around nervously. “Is this… a test?” He asked, looking back up at John Dory.

“Uh, yeah, sure! It’s a test. A… survivalist test.” John Dory stammered out, tapping at his skull. “Gotta keep the mind sharp out here, y’know? And I’ve been teaching you a lot, so I wanna see how much you remember!”

“Oh… ok.” Branch replied slowly, clearing his throat. “We use it for cuts and stuff. To stop the bleeding, and heal faster.”

Yes! John Dory’s mind cheered, his smile growing wider. “And this one?” He said, pointing to a different, striped plant.

“Snakeroot.” Branch answered easily. “For snake bites.”

“Attaboy!” John Dory said, starting once again to walk down the trail. Branch followed close behind him. “And if I got burned, what could I use?”

“Um…” Branch thought about this for a moment, looking up at the sky. “Aloe? The weird, spiky one?”

“Yeah, you got it!” John Dory laughed, relief flooding through him. It was working! They were talking again! John Dory couldn’t be more relieved to hear his brother’s voice, even if it was much quieter than before. He continued to ask Branch questions as they hiked, the young troll whispering back the answers, albeit still with slight confusion.

That night, as they sat by the fire, John Dory gently brushing the snarls from his brother’s hair, he pushed himself to speak again, once more breaking the silence. “Y’know, just because we have to be quiet doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other.” He pressed, leaning forward as he plastered on a reassuring smile.

Branch just looked at him, ears flicking around nervously. “But… it’s safer.” He pointed out hesitantly.

“Wow, John Dory, he sounds just like you!” Clay’s sarcastic voice piped up from across the flames, where he was giving his brother a smirk.

Shut it… John Dory thought back, shaking his head. “Maybe.” He replied. “But we don’t have to be quiet all the time.”

“But what if something hears?” Branch asked worriedly, his hands opening and closing by his side.

John Dory shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Then something hears. And I’ll take care of it.” Branch still looked unconvinced, so John Dory scooted to his side, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “I like talking to you, B! And I’m not going to let our cranky neighbors get in the way of that.”

Branch gave him a withering look, something he was getting very good at doing. “They could eat us.” He deadpanned.

“Well, I’m not saying we don’t try to be careful.” John Dory replied, throwing an arm over his brother’s shoulders. He pursed his lips, ears drooping slightly. “I just, don’t want you to live your life feeling afraid all the time.” He took a deep breath, forcing the smile back to his face. “Besides, you’ve got a nice voice, Bitty. Be a shame to lose it.”

Branch appeared to think about this for a moment, brows furrowed. “Well, if we’re careful…” He said slowly, fidgeting with his hands. “And quiet, maybe… maybe you could start telling stories again? Like you did when we were kids?”

“You’re still a kid, B.” John Dory chuckled, but he felt hope build in his chest. “But yeah, that’s a good idea! I could do that. On one condition: You have to tell me stories too. You never finished telling me about the time Grandma almost blew up the oven.”

Branch giggled at this, the sound like music to John Dory’s ears. “Deal.” He said, eyes shining. “But you first.”

“Alright, fine.” John Dory replied, turning to face his brother as he raised his hands up dramatically. “Once, there was a young troll named Timber, and he journeyed out to explore the Neverglade Trail…”

He let the words fall easily past his lips, weaving together stories of heroism and bravery. And as Branch watched on in awe, he felt his worries ease, just a little. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step in the right direction. He just had to keep his brother talking. He wouldn’t let him lose himself out here. Not like he did.

As they continued on in their travels, it became a sort of game. Every time John Dory noticed either one of them starting to go quiet, he’d force himself to start asking random questions, or have Branch tell him a story. Maybe it was a little silly, but it worked. And John Dory was willing to do anything to keep his brother from falling into that heavy, crushing silence.

It would always start off the same way too. John Dory would turn to his brother, an exaggerated grin on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey Bitty, I keep forgetting…”

Followed by his little brother’s exasperated groan.

Chapter Text

John Dory panted heavily, wiping sweat from his brow as he watched the large Bobtail he’d been fighting scamper off, its angry yowls echoing across the mountains. He snarled after it once more for good measure before falling back in the dirt with a groan, the adrenaline in his veins quickly being replaced by heavy exhaustion.

Damn thing tried to jump him and Branch while they were fishing. But what it didn’t account for was John Dory being able to fight back. He spit some fur from his tongue, trying not to gag on the taste of blood in his mouth.

“You alright, Bitty?” John Dory called behind him, looking over his shoulder to see his little brother practically shaking with anger.

Ooo, that’s not a good sign… He thought, pursing his lips.

“No.” Branch growled, ears pinned back against his head, the animalistic sound making John Dory cringe slightly. But it perfectly encapsulated exactly what his little brother was feeling:

Frustration.

When the Bobtail leapt down from the rocks, hissing and spitting, ready for an easy meal, John Dory had turned to run. But Branch, like he had every time they encountered some dangerous critter, froze in terror, eyes wide as his body went completely stiff. The creature zeroed in on him immediately, so John Dory had no choice but to fight it off. And clearly, his little brother wasn’t too happy about it.

“Let me rephrase that.” John Dory said, pushing himself to his feet and walking over. “Are you hurt?”

“I froze again!” Branch hissed, hands clenching and unclenching at his side as his tail whipped back and forth in agitation. “And you got hurt again!”

“What, this?” John Dory held up his arm, where the critter had nicked him with its claws. “This is nothing; it’s barely even bleeding. I’ve gotten worse in my sleep-”

“It’s not nothing!” Branch interrupted, his voice raising ever so slightly from the quiet tenor he and John Dory usually talked at.

“It’s fine, B.” John Dory insisted with a shrug. “Really, it hardly scratched me.” Branch remained unconvinced, staring at the ground with narrowed eyes as he angrily kicked at the dirt. John Dory sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, did you try what I said? To move one foot, then the rest will follow?”

Branch’s ears drooped, telling John Dory that he heard him, but he didn’t reply, instead just hunching up his shoulders. JD leaned forward more, trying to meet his brother’s gaze. “Bitty…”

“You have to teach me how to fight!” Branch blurted out, turning back towards John Dory, eyes blazing.

JD blinked, taken aback by his little brother’s intensity. That uncomfortable feeling started to grow in his chest once again. The thought of his brother becoming like him, fighting the way he did, all snarls and claws and teeth. Wild. Ruthless. Feral. No, absolutely not. He wouldn’t let that happen. And he told him as much.

“Nuh uh, no way.” He replied firmly, shaking his head. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you anywhere near those things, let alone let them get anywhere near you.”

“But I could help!” Branch insisted, a slightly worrying desperation in his eyes.

“It’s easy, Bitty!” John Dory could see an image of Clay out the corner of his eye, smiling mischievously as he snuck towards a different image of Spruce. “You just have to find, weak, unsuspecting target…”

“Don’t you dare-” Spruce hissed, glaring at his younger brother, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence before Clay pounced on him, the two trolls rolling on the ground in a mix of green and purple as fists flew back and forth.

“You guys are being ridiculous.” Floyd chastised from off to the side, rolling his eyes. He stiffened as his tussling brothers locked eyes on him, matching grins on their faces. “Ah! JD, stop them!” Floyd yelped, taking off as Spruce and Clay sprinted after him, cackling.

John Dory was sure it wasn’t a good thing that he was seeing them more and more. He clenched his jaw, ignoring their shouts as he turned his attention back to Branch.

“Bud, can we focus on one thing at a time?” John Dory pleaded, massaging his forehead in exasperation. “You can’t fight if you freeze at the first sign of danger, right?”

Branch’s shoulders hunched more as he crossed his arms over his chest. John Dory sighed again, crouching down beside him and setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell you what. You keep working on that whole ‘freezing’ thing, ok?” He said, smiling reassuringly as he jabbed a thumb into his chest. “And leave the fighting to your big bro. I’ve got it handled.”

Branch glared at him, but it wasn’t in anger. More so that same frustration from before. “I don’t want you to keep getting hurt.” He replied softly, hands tight on his arms.

Oh, so that was it. Branch was worried about him. John Dory grimaced, heavy guilt once again rearing its ugly head.

“Hey, don’t you worry about ‘ol John Dory, alright?” He chirped, poking his brother in the side. “Like I said, I can handle it, just like I always do.” He stood up, wincing a bit as his muscles twinged. Ok, so maybe that fight had taken a bit more out of him than he expected. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He stretched, ignoring his body’s subtle protest. “Besides, you’re way too itty bitty. Those critters would use you as a toothpick.”

“I am not!” Branch replied, clearly offended.

“Yeeep.” John Dory drew out the word, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Way too itty bitty. Maybe when you’re older, kid.”

“I am older.” Branch huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m, uh…” He paused, thinking. At this, John Dory paused too, the gears in his head starting to churn.

Was Branch… eight now? It was hard to tell. He didn’t even know how long they’d been out here, but it’d at least been a good six months, probably more. In all likelihood, Branch’s eighth birthday had come and gone.

And he’d missed it. Again.

“Whatever.” Branch’s voice broke through John Dory’s swirling thoughts as the young troll sighed tiredly, sounding much older than he looked. “Can we take care of your arm now? It’s bleeding.”

John Dory looked over to see indeed, the scratches on his arm were bleeding a bit more than they were before. “Uh, yeah, good idea.” He replied, following Branch over to the stream.

But he couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

.
.
.

It continued to trouble him the next day, his mind swirling as he absently picked his way over a few loose rocks on the trail.

How could he have forgotten about his little brother’s birthday? He’d already missed one of them while he was off fighting for his life on this godforsaken trail. But now he’d missed it again. He felt like a walking pile of scum, guilt eating away at his stomach.

What kind of troll forgets about his little brother’s birthday?

In his distraction, he didn’t notice how close he’d gotten to the edge of the trail, stepping on a rock he probably shouldn’t have. The stone immediately crumbled under his foot, and with a soft yelp, he lost his balance, clumsily tumbling head over heels down the sharp, rocky slope.

He came to rest on a small outcropping, a few berry bushes stopping his fall. A groan escaped his lips, in both a mix of relief and irritation. He really wasn’t on it today.

Branch peeked over the ledge, brows creased with worry. “You fell.” He stated bluntly, obviously questioning why his usually surefooted brother was stumbling around like a newborn Puffalo. “You ok?”

“Thank you, B, I noticed. And I’m fine.” John Dory grumbled stiffly, carefully picking himself from the berry bush that’d kept him from continuing to tumble down the mountain. He readjusted his goggles, pulling a few branches from where they’d lodged in his hair and staring at them in annoyance. At least they weren’t prickly; that would have really sucked. With a moment of clarity, he blinked, turning his attention back towards the bushes, recognition flickering in his mind.

Fluffleberries. Small, purple, and covered with a soft layer of fuzz. He’d recognize them anywhere. His gaze shot back up to Branch, where the small troll was still staring down at him curiously.

They were his brother’s favorite treat.

At least, he assumed they still were. Out of all the trolls in their family, Branch was the only one who would actually eat their Grandma’s disastrous “Fluffleberry Cake”, a horrid concoction of said berries, along with a few extra ingredients she swore “added character”. Fluffleberries themselves didn’t taste half bad, albeit a bit tart. However their Grandma truly had a gift for cooking the worst dishes known to troll.

And Branch always seemed to love them.

Suddenly, an idea popped into John Dory’s head, a grin stretching across his face. And with a sneaky shake of his hand, he waved his brother off. “Get away from the ledge, Bitty, I’ll be right up.” He called, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Just give me a sec!”

Branch seemed skeptical, but did as he was told, his hair disappearing as he drew back a bit. And John Dory took this moment to quickly break off a few branches of the Fluffleberry bush, tucking them safely in his hair before climbing up to join him.

He couldn’t believe it. Truly, what were the odds he’d stumbled on to a Fluffleberry bush now? He silently sent a thanks to the Neverglade Trail for giving him this one stroke of much needed luck.

He was going to make this up to his brother. Starting by giving him the birthday celebration he deserved. He just needed a few more supplies…

John Dory spent the rest of the day gathering things he needed to make this celebration work. Some flowery vines he pulled off a tree for streamers, a few handfuls of Glitter Rose petals for confetti, Nectar Lilies for another sweet treat. He even found a Honeybug nest, climbing carefully up into a tree to retrieve a few combs. And receiving a few nasty stings in the process.

Each time, he managed to distract Branch somehow, pointing him in a different direction or asking him to dig for something in his massive camping bag. But he could tell his brother was getting suspicious, the young troll watching him with narrowed eyes. The kid was too observant for his own good sometimes.

Finally, he found the perfect spot to camp for the night, and for a much overdue birthday celebration. He quickly built a fire, Branch silently watching his every move. He could tell he was making his brother nervous, but it would all be worth it to see the look on his face. Hardly able to contain his excitement, he spun around.

“Ok, Bitty! Close your eyes!” He chirped, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Branch blinked, looking confused. “Why?” He asked hesitantly, a flicker of fear crossing his expression. John Dory immediately deflated a bit, holding up his hands.

“It’s nothing bad!” He insisted hastily, smile growing slightly strained. “I swear, it’s…” He fumbled for the words, not wanting to spoil the surprise. “Look, do you trust me?” He asked finally, anxiety crawling into his chest.

Branch stared at him, jaw tight. But slowly, he nodded. And with that, he closed his eyes, hands clenched tight on his pants. A wave of joy and relief shot through John Dory’s heart. The goofy grin on his face was so wide he thought his face might split.

“No peeking!” He said cheerily, starting to pull things from his hair. Branch just gave him a shaky thumbs up.

It only took him a minute or so to get everything set up; he really didn’t have much. And as he surveyed his so-called “party”, he couldn’t help but feel his spirits fall slightly.

It looked… dismal, with just a few vines hung haphazardly on the tree branches, and a pile of Fluffleberries on a rock, which he’d decorated with the Nectar Lilies and honeycomb. In troll party terms, this would hardly even earn a one out of ten. Hell, they didn’t even have music. But it was the best he could do out here, and goddammit he was going to make it work. His brother deserved it.

No, his brother deserved much more than this.

John Dory swallowed down the heavy feeling in his throat, trying instead to focus on making this a good night. He trotted over next to Branch, plastering a smile on his face. “Alright B, you can open them now.”

Branch did as he was told, giving his brother a weird look. But then, his eyes flickered around the shoddily decorated clearing, confusion washing over his face. “What is-” he began, but John Dory didn’t let him finish before throwing a handful of Glitter Rose petals into the air, watching them float lazily over his brother and settle in his dark hair.

“Happy Birthday, Bitty.” He exclaimed softly, squinting as he plucked a petal from where it had fallen between his brother’s surprised eyes.

“But…” Branch stammered, looking around. “It’s not my birthday… is it?”

“Today? Who knows!” John Dory laughed with a shrug. “But we’re celebrating anyways, no matter if we’re super early, super late, or right on time.” He grimaced a bit, ears drooping. “I mean, I missed your seventh birthday so, this is kinda a double celebration as well.” He shook his head, trying to perk up a bit. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is today, we’re celebrating you!”

Branch blinked at him, before his eyes locked on the pile of berries and flowers. “Fluffleberries…” He whispered, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake?”

“Pfft, hardly.” John Dory scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t really have the supplies to make a cake out here, so it’s just the berries, and some other junk.” He bit his cheek, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry, Bitty, I wish I could give you a real birthday, I just-”

He was cut off as he felt two arms wrap around his torso, squeezing him tight. He looked down in surprise to see Branch hugging him, his tail whipping back and forth.

“Thanks, D.” The young troll murmured, voice slightly muffled.

John Dory felt his heart nearly rip in two, and he quickly crouched down, hugging his brother back. “No problem, bud.” He whispered hoarsely, closing his eyes. “You deserve it.”

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he pushed his brother back with a smile. “Ehem, anyways, you got to make a wish, ok?” Branch looked up at him, grinning, ears and face flushed with the slightest hint of blue. John Dory’s smile grew even wider.

He walked over to the pile of Fluffleberries, Branch following close behind. And with a dramatic flourish, he produced a single match from his hair, swiping it over a few rocks to set it ablaze. He then stuck it down into the biggest berry with a grin. “Alright Bitty, all yours.”

Branch beamed at him, looking down at the glowing match. But then, John Dory watched as his smile grew sad, the blue fading back to that colorless grey. The young troll closed his eyes, and with a deep breath, blew out the match, smoke curling into the air.

“You make a good one?” John Dory asked gently, concern fluttering to life in his chest.

Branch nodded. “Yeah.” He replied softly. “But it won’t come true.”

“Well, it could.” John Dory tried, ruffling his brother’s hair. “You never know.”

“I know.” Branch shook his head. “And it won’t.”

They were silent for a few moments, John Dory feeling his heart ache. He gazed sadly at the grey on his brother’s skin. Branch had been through so much, at such a young age. He wished things were different. He wished he had done better, had been better. But Branch was right. There are some wishes that just don’t come true. His gaze dropped down to his own grey hands.

And there were some things he just couldn’t fix.

“Are we going to eat them now?” Branch broke through John Dory’s dark thoughts as he eyed the Fluffleberries hungrily.

“Nah.” John Dory replied, giving his brother a mischievous look as he scooped them up. “I figured we could just find some critters to feed them too. Nobody likes these things anyways.”

“No!” Branch exclaimed with a giggle, grabbing on to John Dory’s arms. “I want them!”

“You don’t want them? Well, alright…”

“JD!”

Later that night, stomachs full of sweet berries and honey, he and Branch sat next to the cooling fire, each sipping on a Nectar Lily.

There was only one thing left to do.

He reached up into his hair, pulling out an object he’d shoddily wrapped in leaves earlier. He held it gently, regret swirling around in his chest almost painfully. But with a soft sigh, he turned to his brother.

“Here.” He said, Branch giving him a surprised look as he took the gift from his brother. “A birthday present.” John Dory explained, a sad smile on his face. “It’s not much, but hey, I had to get you something, right? Besides, I think you’ll have a lot more use for it than I will.”

Branch looked between him and the gift in his hands, then slowly unwrapped the leaves covering it. He held it up in awe, hands tracing over the soft leather, before opening the first page, his eyes widening slightly as he read the signature inside.

It was Clay’s dictionary.

Chapter Text

“Pft, John can’t read.”

John Dory froze, feeling as if he’d been slapped. He whipped around to face Spruce, who continued to brush his hair without a care in the world, humming a tune.

His brothers had just gotten home from school, Clay immediately running up to him practically bursting with excitement. “JD, I won!” He’d exclaimed, waving a sheet of paper in John Dory’s face, the older troll having to lean back to avoid getting a papercut. “I won ‘Best Story’ in the class! I got a gold star!”

“What, really? Nice!” John Dory had replied, pride welling up inside his chest as he took a break from the laundry he’d been folding, punching his younger brother on the shoulder. “Look at you, mister smarty pants, showin’ up your class.”

Clay beamed up at him, shoving the paper towards his brother’s hands. “You have to read it!” He’d chirped, tail whipping back and forth as he smiled smugly. “It’s really, really good!”

John Dory just stared at it, his smile becoming slightly strained. “Uh, maybe…” He’d began hesitantly, an icky feeling starting to build in his gut.

Clay didn’t seem to notice his brother’s shift in mood, grinning as he held the page out further. That’s when Spruce decided to chime in, his flippant words cutting through John Dory like a knife.

And suddenly, the whole pod was quiet.

Clay’s face fell, eyes wide as he looked up at John Dory. “You… can’t read?” He asked slowly, head tilting to the side in confusion. John Dory bristled, anxiety crawling up his neck.

“I can read!” John Dory insisted, shooting a glare over at his second youngest brother. “Spruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Spruce looked back over at him, confusion on his face as well. “But, you said-” He began, but one look from John Dory shut him right up. He stalked over to his purple-haired brother, jabbing him in the chest.

“I told you that in confidence.” He hissed angrily, unable to stop the bit of hurt that crawled into his voice.

Spruce seemed to realize his mistake, guilt flashing across his face. But he quickly shook it off, throwing his hands in the air. “Well how was I supposed to know that?” He replied, stomping off towards their room. John Dory glared after him before spinning back around, snatching the paper from Clay’s hands.

“I’ll read it.” He said firmly, walking over to the couch and flopping down with a huff. Clay’s gaze flickered between John Dory and where Spruce had disappeared, looking lost. But then he just shrugged, trotting over to where Floyd was drawing feverishly at the table.

John Dory grimaced, holding tight to the sheet of paper as his heart pounded in his chest. He could read, he could. Just… not very well. It was never easy for him like it seemed to be for other trolls. And he hated it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try. He did. But the words and letters just didn’t make sense. They’d move and shift in front of him, and the harder he tried, the more he stared at them, the worse it seemed to get. He could read, but it took time. He was slow. And more often than not, he’d get bored from sitting so long.

However, he still tried. But it was never enough. He could remember the looks on his parent’s faces as his teacher talked to them.

“John Dory’s just… special.” She’d said, but not special in a good way. The way she said it was full of pity, and dismay. “He’s very bright, but he just doesn’t seem to want to apply himself.”

His mother’s eyes had been sad, worried, her mouth tight as she squeezed his shoulders. And his father’s had been full of sharp disappointment.

“I’m trying.” He’d attempted to explain, frustration prickling across his skin.

“Don’t try.” His father had replied bluntly. “Do.”

But he couldn’t. His stupid brain just never seemed to work right. There was something… wrong with him.

So when his Mom and Dad had gone, and they needed someone to watch baby Branch, John Dory decided that school just wasn’t worth it anymore. He had more important things to do. It wasn’t like he was ever going to get anywhere anyways, so what was the point? Besides, it was boring, and he hated it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Truth is, he liked school. He liked hanging out with friends, and he liked learning. He just wasn’t any good at it. So once he’d dropped out, he tried to keep teaching himself important things, pouring over his Dad’s old survival books like crazy. His brain may be messed up, but that didn’t mean he had to be stupid. Besides, this survival stuff was way more interesting than anything they talked about in school.

But he still made sure his brothers went every day. He refused to let them end up like him.

John Dory shook his head, trying to clear his swirling mind. He was getting distracted. He needed to do this for Clay. He focused on the first sentence, reading through it slowly, following the shifting words with his finger:

“Once upon a time, there was a troll named Timber…”

John Dory smiled. That was the name he always used in the stories he told his brothers! It was sweet to see that Clay used the same one. Actually, what story was he going to tell tonight? He could tell the one about the landslide, or maybe the one about the pack of Grossums? Ugh, it didn’t really matter, he could decide while he was making dinner and crap, he was pretty sure they were low on food again…

John Dory blinked, kicking himself. He was getting distracted. Focus. He hissed internally, squinting at the page as he bit absently at his nails:

“Once upon a time, there was a troll named Timber, and he lived on the moon…”

The moon? Ok, ok, switching it up a bit. Clay did like the idea of space. That’s why John Dory was going to make him a space themed cake for his birthday. He was thinking of decorating it like a little moon, and putting a little troll doll on it…

Dammit! He cursed, shaking his head. This was taking too long. Could he not get through one goddamn paragraph? He glanced over at Clay, who still seemed to be chatting happily with Floyd. Surely he’d start to get suspicious soon. How long did trolls normally take to read a story? His heart was starting to beat faster… Was it supposed to be that fast?

He looked back down at the paper, eyes narrowed as he forced himself to continue to read. He could do this, he could. He just had to apply himself. If he just tried harder… The letters continued to shift in front of him, and the shaking of his hand didn’t help. He wanted to grab the letters, tell them to just hold still, just for a second. If he could just…

Suddenly, a sharp jab of pain jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see his thumb bleeding a bit, nail chewed down to the nub. He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh as he felt baby Branch peek his head out of his hair, probably wondering why John Dory jumped.

“Ouch.” The small trolling cooed, looking over John Dory’s goggles at his brother’s bleeding hand.

“Yeah.” John Dory replied gruffly, biting down his frustration. “Ouch.”

He sullenly walked back over to Clay, handing the sheet of paper to him. “It was real good, Sparky.” He lied easily, plastering a smile on his face as he ruffled his brother’s wild hair. “I can see why it won.”

Clay immediately brightened, grinning. “Yeah?” He asked excitedly. “What was your favorite part?”

John Dory stiffened, but didn’t let his smile fall. “Uh, the first part.” He replied, unable to meet his brother’s shining eyes. Which was probably for the best, as he saw Clay’s face fall a bit at his words. He cleared his throat, spinning around. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he read it or not. What matters is Clay was excelling in school; he was smart. And he was going to go places someday.

It didn’t matter.

“Anyways, dinner. Who’s up for Trollnut butter sandwiches?”

.
.
.

John Dory shook the memory from his head, focusing back on reality as Branch slowly traced his fingers over his brother’s name.

“It was Clay’s.” He explained, probably unnecessarily. But it felt important. That dictionary was his wild-haired brother’s prize possession; he couldn’t just leave it at their pod, abandoned. But it wasn’t like he was going to get any use out of it. Branch on the other hand…

His youngest brother was smart, incredibly smart. He was always thinking, analyzing, able to remember things like it was nothing. And John Dory didn’t want him to lose that. Branch was way too smart to let that big brain of his go to waste.

Unfortunately, he was stuck with his “rocks for brains” older brother out here. But like always, John Dory had a plan.

“I figured we could make a game out of it.” John Dory said with a grin, gesturing towards the book. “Every day or so, we can find a new word, and figure out what it means. And then you can practice reading or writing it.”

Branch blinked up at him, tilting his head. “Why?” He asked, confused. “We don’t have books out here. Or paper.”

Yep, smart kid. It was true; they didn’t. And they probably never would. But John Dory wasn’t going to let that get in the way. Branch needed to read, he needed to write. It was important. At least, it was important to him. Just ‘cause they were stuck out here didn’t mean Branch shouldn’t know these things. He was too smart for that. And John Dory would make it work.

“That’s true.” He replied with a shrug. “But they’re still good skills to have. And who knows? You might need them someday.” Unlikely. But Branch didn’t need to know that.

The young troll still seemed unconvinced, staring uneasily at the leather-bound book. John Dory leaned back against the rock he was sitting by, flippantly waving his hand. “Go on, find us a word or something. I know Clay’s got-, ehem, well, he had a bunch bookmarked, so flip to one of those, and we can figure it out together.” At least, he hoped they could. This could really backfire if John Dory’s stupid brain couldn’t read the damn thing.

Branch did as he was told, turning to a bookmarked page. He squinted, sounding out the marked word as John Dory took a swig from the Nectar Lily he’d been sipping from.

“For- ni- cat- tion?”

John Dory’s eyes went wide, spitting his drink about halfway across the clearing. He coughed, choking as he heard Clay’s hysterical laughter, an image of his brother rolling on the ground appearing a few feet away from him.

“Classic!” The wild-haired troll shrieked with laughter, clutching his sides. “That’s what you get for giving my stuff away without asking!”

John Dory sucked in a few breaths, coughing as he shook his head. He’d forgotten that Clay was at that age. “Pick something else, anything else.” He rasped, frantically waving his hands. “In fact, don’t turn to any pages Clay marked. You just find one that looks cool, ok?”

Branch gave him a weird look, Clay still cackling in the background, but he flipped back a page or two, squinting again.

“For- bod- ing.”

John Dory let out a sigh. Ok, good, he knew this one. And it wasn’t completely inappropriate for an eight year old. “Right, good, and what does it mean?” He asked, settling back down.

“Um, ‘a feeling that something bad will happen’.”

Well, ain’t that relatable. John Dory huffed, rolling his eyes. “Good to know.” He said, trying to keep his voice cheery. “And now, you write it out, for practice. Just like, in the dirt or something.”

Man, he really sucked at this. Out of all the trolls his little brother could have gotten stuck with, why did it have to be him?

Branch looked down at the dirt for a moment, then back up at his older brother. “Why?” He asked again, suspicion clouding his gaze.

“Like I said, you might need to know it someday.” John Dory repeated, waving his hand in the air. He was pulling stuff out of his ass now, but he really needed this to work. He would really feel like crap if Branch lost the ability to read and write because of him. “Now c’mon, write it out.” He pushed, tapping on the book. “I wanna see what it looks like.”

Branch sighed, but obediently leaned down, drawing in the dirt. The word was written stiffly, and in all capital letters, but it still worked. “There, happy?” Branch huffed, looking annoyed.

“Very.” John Dory replied with a proud grin, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders and hugging him close. “See? It’s fun!”

Branch looked up at him, eyes darting across his brother’s smiling face. Then, he grinned too. “Yeah. Fun!” He replied, turning back to flip through the book. “I’ll find another one.”

John Dory just smiled at him proudly, relieved. He perked up as he saw a figure appear next to him, smiling softly. Floyd.

“Good job.” The younger troll said, looking a bit sad. “He’s getting so big… I wish I could have seen it.”

Yeah. John Dory thought, his chest aching as he gazed into his brother’s pale eyes. Me too.

“I still think JD should have asked before giving away MY dictionary.” Clay’s voice chimed in with a scoff, an image of him appearing next to the pink haired troll. Floyd just shot him a look.

“Why would he?” The younger troll replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like you’re using it. Clay’s dead, and you’re not real.”

“Oh, right!” Clay laughed, slapping a hand over his face. “I keep forgetting that!”

The rest of Branch’s birthday celebration was spent playing around with Clay’s dictionary, before both trolls settled in for the night. John Dory put out the fire, not bothering to build a shelter. The grove of trees they were in blocked the wind pretty well, and besides, the stars were absolutely gorgeous tonight. He leaned up against his camping pack, Branch nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm as they both gazed up at the night sky.

“D?” Branch asked softly, letting out a yawn. “It’s your turn.” He didn’t need to elaborate, John Dory knew exactly what the young troll meant. They’d been taking turns telling stories at night, another one of John Dory’s bright ideas to keep his brother talking. The older troll chuckled.

“Alright, what are you thinking?” He asked, his little brother humming softly.

“How about…” Branch mused, thinking. Then, he perked up a bit. “What was it like? When I hatched?”

“When you hatched?” John Dory repeated, a bit taken aback. He could picture that day clearly, the image sharp in his mind. He remembered exactly what it was like.

Terrifying.

“Uh, it was amazing.” He replied, putting on a smile. “I had been carrying your egg around in my hair, like I always did, when suddenly I heard a sharp little crack.”

And nearly had a heart attack. He thought absently. I thought I broke the damn thing.

“You carried me?” Branch asked curiously. “I thought Grandma did.”

“No, she was… busy.” John Dory replied, quickly moving on. “But it was fine; I was good at it. I set you down in the nest I made you, and then we all gathered around and watched as you kicked your way out of that thing. It took a while, but you must have gotten impatient, because when you did finally break out, you sent shell fragments flying across the room!”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I mean, I knew you were going to be strong, but that just proved my point. Spruce and Clay immediately started fighting to hold you, and Floyd nearly passed out he was so excited.”

He could laugh about it now, but at the time, John Dory had practically been a nervous wreck. He’d seen his brother’s hatchings, but nothing prepared him for actually being in charge of one. He’d practically held his breath the entire time. Honestly, if Floyd had passed out, John Dory might have passed out along with him from the stress.

John Dory’s face grew sad as he pictured his little brothers all huddled ecstatically around baby Branch’s tiny egg. But he forced himself to continue. “You were so small… I was actually kind of worried at first. I mean, you fit in the palms of my hands! But then you opened your eyes and… I knew you’d be ok.”

“Did I cry?” Branch implored, clearly intrigued.

“Like crazy! You had a set of lungs on you, Bitty.” John Dory chuckled, squeezing his brother slightly. “That’s how I knew you were going to be a good singer too.”

Branch seemed to stiffen at this, his ears drooping. “I don’t sing.” He said tightly, his shoulders hunching up a bit.

John Dory frowned, concern flickering to life in his chest. Branch could sing. Hell, he was an amazing singer. He was practically a musical prodigy. At such a young age, the small troll was able to keep up with not only his brothers’ singing, but their choreography as well. It was like he was born to be in a boyband. Honestly, if Brozone hadn’t fallen apart, John Dory was sure his little brother would have absolutely thrived in the limelight. But clearly, that just wasn’t meant to be.

John Dory had made certain of it.

He pursed his lips slightly. He couldn’t sing anymore, not since he’d gone grey, his throat closing up every time he’d tried. But he hadn’t even thought about Branch. The kid hadn’t sung a note since either. That seemed like something he might need to talk to his little brother about eventually. But not now.

“Well, anyways, you were loud.” John Dory continued hastily, trying to move on from the whole singing thing. “You cried and cried till I put you in my hair. You always liked it up there. Made you feel safe I guess.”

“Like the cupboard.” Branch replied quietly.

“Huh, yeah.” John Dory agreed, nodding. He hadn’t thought about it like that. He cleared his throat. “It was a good day, B. I couldn’t have been more happy.”

Even if I was scared out of my mind, wondering how I was supposed to take care of you. He thought, biting his cheek. He opted to leave that part out of the story.

Branch didn’t reply, remaining silent. John Dory turned to peek at him, the young troll’s eyes wide as he looked up towards the treetops.

“JD… the sky is moving.” He whispered in awe. John Dory blinked, quickly directing his gaze upwards as well. And indeed, the sky was moving.

It seemed to shimmer and shift, different colors fading in and out as they stretched across the sky like a sparkling curtain. John Dory felt his jaw drop slightly, his expression matching his little brother’s. He’d only seen this happen once before, and it hadn’t been nearly this bright, nor this colorful.

“The Northern Lights…” He murmured, before smiling excitedly. “See Bitty? Even the Neverglade knows it’s your birthday!”

“It isn’t my… This isn’t…” Branch stammered, but he couldn’t seem to finish his sentences. “Wow.” He breathed finally, the greens and pinks of the sky reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah.” John Dory whispered back. “Wow.” He snuggled closer to his brother, letting his worries fade for a moment as they both watched the shifting sky.

“Happy Birthday, Branch.”

Chapter Text

“Read me another one, Bitty.”

“Again?”

John Dory snickered at his brother’s exasperated groan as the young troll rolled his eyes, flipping through the well worn pages of the dictionary. Time was passing quickly, months flitting by like they were nothing. And the small troll was growing with each passing day. He was still small, though. To be fair, they both were, despite John Dory’s best efforts. Not sickly by any means, but just… scrawny. But that’s to be expected with constant traveling and scarce food.

A few weeks ago, they’d passed the farthest point John Dory had reached on his journey out here, now tracking through uncharted territory. The trail continued to crawl upwards, higher and higher into the peaks of the mountains. The air was becoming sharp, chillier, cutting through John Dory’s body and causing him to shiver, and at night the temperatures would plummet, fires and shelter becoming pretty much a necessity at this point. They’d probably have to stop and build one soon, the sun already starting to tuck behind the mountains. But for now, they continued to trek on.

John Dory was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed an image of Floyd walking next to his little brother, stretching to peek over his shoulder. Yeah, that was still a whole thing…

Despite ignoring them as best he could, his brothers continued to… appear, showing up at random times to provide a plethora of unhelpful comments. John Dory did his best to just try and tune them out, but it didn’t seem to help. They were always just… there. And unfortunately, John Dory was almost getting used to it at this point.

“He hasn’t answered yet.” Floyd said worriedly, cocking his head to the side. “You think he’s stuck?”

“I’m sure John can help him.” Spruce chimed in from his side with a disbelieving huff. “Since he’s apparently ‘so smart’ now.”

“C’mon B, I’m not getting any younger here.” John Dory clipped, trying to focus his attention solely on Branch as he stretched his arms up over his head.

The young troll was really doing well with this whole reading thing, and over time, the worry of his brother losing the ability slowly dissipated. However, he still tried to have him do it at least once a day, just in case. It couldn’t hurt, and hey, at least it kept him talking.

“I’m trying to find a new one.” Branch grumbled back, continuing to flip through the pages. “We’ve already done like, a billion of them.” Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for, pointing out a word. “Ok… Inertia.”

That sounds made up. John Dory thought as he clicked his tongue.

“Yeesh, sounds fancy.” He said aloud, rolling his eyes as he carefully picked his way over a large rock, offering his hand down to help Branch do the same.

Branch, however, just glared at him. “I can do it myself.” He huffed, pulling himself over the jagged stone. John Dory just held his hands up in defense. Branch had been on this whole “independence” kick for a couple months now, refusing to ask for or accept any help from his brother. Kid was stubborn as a Maracamule sometimes.

“Fine, fine.” John Dory replied, setting off again as Branch trotted close behind him. “What does your fancy word mean, then?”

“‘A tendency to do nothing, or remain unchanged.’” Branch read out, stepping easily over the loose rocks.

“Cool.” John Dory rolled his aching shoulders, trying to shift the heavy bag on his back as he forged ahead. “Alright, another one.”

“Do I have to?” Branch complained.

“Hey, you'll thank me for it someday.” John Dory replied with a smirk. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, batting his eyes as he began to speak in a shrill voice. “Oh, thank you John Dory for teaching me how to read out in the big, bad, scary wilderness. What would I have ever done without you?”

“I don’t sound like that!” Branch bristled, his tail whipping back and forth.

“You do.” John Dory insisted. “Now, either find another word, or I’m going to start naming off plants. You gotta pick one.”

“JD…” Branch groaned.

John Dory just grinned at him with a hum. “Find another one.”

Branch scoffed in irritation, looking back down at the page. “In- Incorrigible.” He said haltingly, eyes flicking back up towards John Dory. “You’re being incorrigible.”

“See? You just insulted me, and I don’t even know what it means! Now that’s a skill.” John Dory laughed, before rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, what does it mean exactly?”

“Dunno.” Branch replied cheekily, snapping the book shut and tucking it back up in his hair. “That’s for me to know, and you to… not.”

“Oooo, he got you!” Clay’s voice piped up, the wild-haired troll appearing by his brother’s side, grinning. “Way to go, B! You’re a natural!”

“Bitty!” John Dory gasped, dramatically clutching his chest before his eyes narrowed. “That’s it, I’m going to start naming plants.”

“No!”

They put a few more miles behind them, the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains. And with that, the temperature started to plunge. John Dory could tell Branch was getting chilled, the young troll shivering as they walked, dragging his feet slightly. JD pursed his lips, letting out a soft sigh. He would have liked to have made it a little further, but he wasn’t about to let his little brother freeze out here just because he was anxious to keep moving.

“Right, let’s stop here for the night, rest up a bit.” John Dory announced, Branch peering up at him stubbornly.

“I’m not tired.” He objected defensively, appearing to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. John Dory had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. The kid looked exhausted, despite his claims otherwise, and was still shivering like a leaf.

“Yeah? Well I am.” John Dory lied easily, letting the heavy bag fall from his shoulders with a huff. “I need a breather.”

“Well, ok, if you have to.” Branch relented, unable to hide the relief on his face as he sat down. John Dory smiled at him, plopping down for a sec as well. As he did, he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Maybe it wasn’t as much of a lie as he thought.

Suddenly, his ears pricked up, a small scuffling sound coming from off to his side. He turned to see a small, fluffy critter, sneaking around the rocks nearby. He alerted Branch with a subtle twitch of his tail, silently nodding in the direction of the snuffling critter, before reaching into his hair and grabbing his slingshot. Without another word, he offered it to his brother with a smile, the message clear.

You’ve got this one.

Branch’s face brightened excitedly, taking the slingshot into his hands and quickly locating a small, sharp rock. He positioned himself carefully, eyes locked on the critter as he drew the rock back with perfect form. Keeping completely still, tongue stuck out in concentration, he waited for the opportunity to strike.

After a moment, John Dory picked up on a slight tenseness in his brother. A hint of nervousness in his eyes, and a tremor in his hands. So he shifted to Branch’s side, close enough he could hear the young troll’s rapid breathing, and set his palm on his brother’s back. He closed his eyes for a brief second, then took in a deep, exaggerated breath, letting it out slowly, watching it curl like smoke in the frigid air.

Branch mimicked him, sucking air in, and out, eyes narrowed. And just like that, he wasn’t shaking anymore. With another smooth breath, he let the rock fly, easily hitting his target.

They both ate well that night.

John Dory curled around Branch’s tiny body, trying not to shiver as the cold nipped at his ears. The shelter he’d built kept them out of the wind, but did little in terms of the icy chill that never seemed to let up. He may need to start thinking of making them some heavier clothes, or sleeping bags or something if they were going to stay up here.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Branch let out a small whine, the young troll’s face twisting into a grimace. “No… JD, don’t… Don’t go…” He whispered, voice slightly strained. John Dory immediately hugged him tighter, tiredly running his fingers through his hair.

A nightmare. Branch didn’t have them as much anymore, but they still happened. And they were still terrible. As much as his younger brother wanted to act like he was all grown up, he was still just a kid. A kid who’d been through way too much in his young life.

“Sh sh sh, I’m here, Bitty.” John Dory murmured back reassuringly. “I’m here. It’s ok, we’re ok.”

Branch let out a soft hum, relaxing just a bit. “Love you…” He breathed, curling up a bit more as he shivered slightly.

John Dory bit his cheek, guilt springing to life in his chest. “Love you too, bud.” He whispered back. “More than anything.”

.
.
.

The next morning, John Dory woke up to almost blinding light shining into their shelter.

He blinked blearily, trying to see outside, but there was nothing but bright white glaring at him, making his eyes hurt. After a few seconds, his mind slowly woke up, and he realized what’d happened.

Snow. It was snowing.

John Dory had only seen snow once before. It didn’t really snow back at the Troll Tree, the weather tending to be more on the side of warm and sunny. However, just once while he was out on the Neverglade Trail, he woke up to a completely snow-covered world. It had only lasted for a few hours, melting quickly, but John Dory still looked back on it fondly. It was one of the few good memories he had of his time alone out here.

Childlike excitement grew in his chest as he crawled over to the entrance, peering outside. There was a good few inches of snow blanketing the ground, covering the sparse trees. It continued to trickle down from the sky, swirling around as if locked in an interpretive dance.

It was beautiful.

“B? Bitty, c’mere!” John Dory whispered, turning to jostle his still sleeping brother.

Branch slowly pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes as he shivered slightly. “D? Why’s it so-” He began, but then his eyes widened as he took in the new, sparkling landscape.

“It snowed!” John Dory exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. He made his way outside, Branch following close behind him. “Hah! Look at that! I’ve never seen so much in one place before!”

Branch crouched down, enraptured as he scooped up a handful. “Snow…” He whispered, before shaking it off his hand. “It’s freezing!” He announced.

“Branch is right.” An image of Spruce appeared off to the side, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he shivered, glaring at his older brother. “It’s absolutely frigid up here. Seriously, Johnny, mountains? You couldn’t have gone to a tropical island or something? This sucks!”

John Dory shot him a scathing look before turning his attention back to Branch. “You’ll get used to it.” He chuckled, shielding his eyes as he took a look around.

The landscape was frosted for as far as he could see, painted in that blinding white. Which made it easy to check if there were any nasty critters nearby. He scanned their surroundings carefully, and when he saw none, he let out a sigh. And with that, he spread his arms out wide, and let himself fall backwards into the soft powder.

John Dory lay there for a moment, just watching as snowflakes drifted down from the sky. That is, until Branch peeked into his field of view.

“What are you doing?” The small troll asked curiously, tilting his head to the side.

“Enjoying myself.” John Dory replied with a smile, shifting his arms through the soft snow. “You should try it.” Branch just rolled his eyes with a scoff, looking away. So John Dory took the opportunity to sweep his brother’s legs out from under him, causing the young troll to fall backwards next to him with a poof.

“JD-” Branch started to complain, but then he looked up, watching the small flakes float down from the sky. A tiny “Oh…” escaped his lips before his jaw snapped shut. And for a few moments, the two trolls just lay in silence, letting the quiet of the snow muffle the sounds around them.

Finally, John Dory let out a groan, stretching his aching body before pushing himself to his feet. “Alright, now I’m starting to get cold.” He joked, shaking the flakes from where they’d started to accumulate in his dark hair. “Let’s get a move on, get our blood pumping, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Branch agreed, shaking snow from his body as well as he shivered slightly.

They quickly packed up their things, then continued to make their way along the trail. It was definitely cold, but John Dory assumed things would warm up and melt as the day went on. Plus, now that they were moving, they could generate some much needed body heat.

However as they walked, John Dory started brainstorming some ideas for keeping him and his little brother warm. He couldn’t risk them getting sick. They were both wearing sleeveless vests, which didn’t really help them much up here. John Dory didn’t know much about the ice and snow, but he knew what they had wasn’t going to cut it. They needed something more. If he found some leaves, maybe he could start making them some actual coats, or maybe even a blanket…

It was in this distraction that he didn’t notice a single, straggly tree in front of him. And without even a second glance, he walked right into it.

“Ow, dammit…” He hissed, glaring up at the tree as he rubbed his throbbing forehead. Just in time for the entirety of the snow that’d built up in its branches to decide to fall on him in a massive clump.

He blinked, stunned for a moment, covered head to toe in the thick snow, before shaking it off, letting out another “Dammit!” He brushed the chilly ice off his arms before his ears perked up, honing in on the sound of his brother’s quiet, giggling laughter.

John Dory grinned, his heart swelling at the sound. Then, he quickly gathered a clump of snow into his hands, tossing it at the snickering young troll. It easily hit its target, exploding in a cloud of white.

“Hah! Serve you right! Laughing at your poor older brother.” John Dory teased haughtily, planting his hands on his hips. Then, his ears pricked up to a new sound.

A growl.

His smile fell slightly as he stared at his little brother, who shook the snow from his dark hair. Branch’s mouth was curled into a snarl, eyes flashing. But it wasn’t in anger, no. Amusement flickered in his bright eyes, the snarl more a grin than a grimace. He stalked towards his older brother, still growling as his tail swished in anticipation. But it was soft, playful, his ears twitching ever so slightly, and tinged with the faintest hint of blue.

Part of John Dory cringed inwardly at the animalistic sound, that heavy, uncomfortable feeling churning in his gut. But the other half of him was just overjoyed to see his brother in such a good mood, something that was becoming more and more rare. And eventually, that side won. John Dory’s eyes narrowed as he crouched down with a grin, a playful growl escaped his lips as well, daring his brother to try.

Branch happily obliged.

He leapt at his older brother, arms outstretched as he let out a soft battle cry. John Dory let himself be bowled over, tumbling backwards into the pile of snow. He then grabbed his brother, tossing him into the air and letting him fall into the soft snow behind them.

Branch giggled, scrambling around to launch another attack, but before he could, John Dory smacked a clump of snow his way, blinding the young troll. He then leapt towards him, hugging him close as they both rolled through the powder, huffing and snarling.

They finally came to a stop a ways down the trail, John Dory purposely landing on his back, his younger brother standing on his chest as they both panted heavily.

“I win!” Branch chirped proudly, grinning down at his older brother. John Dory just grinned back, before sweeping Branch’s legs out from under him, causing the small troll to fall into his arms.

“Eh, I still think you could use some work.” He replied smugly, poking his brother in the side. Branch laughed again, his breath making little puffs of vapor in the air. They both climbed to their feet, shaking the snow from their bodies. “Now c’mon, enough dilly-dallying. We’ve got places to be.”

Branch hummed in agreement, eyes still twinkling with amusement as he fell into step behind his brother. John Dory just smiled down at him before once again facing forward.

He lived for these moments. Even though it was small, seeing his little brother happy like that made it all worth it. It reminded him what he was doing this all for.

Branch. Branch was worth it. He was always worth it.

As they continued on their way, following the trail up into the mountains, the landscape seemed to darken, a few snow clouds moving in to cover the sun. John Dory shivered slightly, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his good mood. He stuck out his tongue, catching a stray flake as it drifted down.

After everything they’d been through together, a little snow was about the least of his worries.

Chapter Text

John Dory should be used to being wrong. He should be used to messing up. He should know better.

But he never seemed to learn.

As the hours ticked by, he and Branch bantered playfully, making their way along the trail as it weaved through the mountains. But after a while, the temperature slowly started to plunge once more, dark clouds blocking out any heat the sun might have provided as a sharp chill crept across the snow-covered ground. And a ‘little snow’ was quickly turning into a lot of snow.

It all felt a little… foreboding. And suddenly, John Dory didn’t really feel like joking anymore, his jaw snapping shut as he focused on the increasingly snowy trail.

The wind whipped around the mountain peaks, snowflakes curling in a wild dance as more and more poured from the sky. And slowly but surely, worry started to build in his chest.

Even on the coldest nights he’d spent out on the Neverglade, he’d never experienced anything like this. Such a sharp, unyielding cold that seemed to chill him down to his bones. He forced Branch to take hold of his tail, disregarding the young troll’s protest. He wasn’t taking any chances out here, the spiraling snow shrouding everything in a white haze.

Despite his growing concern, they continued on. John Dory thought it was probably best to keep moving, keep their blood pumping, and their bodies warm and working. Besides, surely it would let up soon.

His survival books had always said that during a storm, it was best to hunker down and wait it out. But that was thunderstorms, not snowstorms. The books said nothing about snowstorms. Thunderstorms have lightning, flooding, and all sorts of things that one typically wants to avoid. But snow wasn’t dangerous… was it? John Dory wasn’t so sure anymore.

This wasn’t the soft, white snow that drifted down from the sky, sparkling in the sun. This was heavy, harsh, and deathly cold. It almost seemed to bite, clawing at him like a wild animal, the sharp shards of ice slicing his cheeks and causing them to sting. But unlike an attacking critter, this was something John Dory couldn’t fight back. He just had to grit his teeth, and press on.

With every step he took, it only seemed to grow darker, the world eerily quiet and muffled. He didn’t like it at all, dread growing in his chest. Despite being in an open area, it was like he was starting to suffocate, pinned between the low, heavy clouds and the white mountain terrain. And for the first time in a while, he was really starting to get scared.

The snow continued to grow heavier and heavier, visibility dropping so much he couldn’t even see the mountains anymore. He painstakingly trudged through the seemingly endless white landscape, snow now up to his knees. Fear rolled off him in waves as his teeth chattered, rubbing anxiously at his freezing arms. He blinked frost from where it was crystalizing on his eyelashes, his rapid breaths puffing in the frozen air.

He tried to focus only on the trail, squinting at the snow covered ground. If he just followed the trail, they’d be fine. But with a sudden, sharp jolt of panic, he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

Where… where was he going?

He paused for a moment, desperately scanning the frozen land before taking a shaky step back. He couldn’t tell where the trail was leading anymore, the snow whipping around, disorienting him. He shook his head, powder falling from his hair.

No, no this was a mistake, it was too risky. He couldn’t keep going like this, and Branch certainly couldn’t, the poor kid up to his waist in snow. They had to go back.

He went to turn around, go back the way they came and escape what was quickly turning into a nightmare. But as he did, his eyes tracing across an identical snowy landscape, he was struck with another horrifying realization.

He’d lost the trail.

The rock markers that lined the Neverglade Trail were long covered up, buried under the heaps of icy snow. Even their tracks disappeared within seconds, washed away by the relentless wind. John Dory sucked in a cold breath, eyes wide. So not only were they stuck out here, trapped within the neverending white. They were completely and utterly lost.

The fear that shot through him flowed like ice through his veins, freezing him in place. He took a few short breaths, head whipping around as he scanned for any sort of landmark he could use. But there was nothing. Nothing but white, swirling snow.

Branch peered up at him nervously, hands tightly gripping his older brother’s tail. “JD?” He asked, teeth chattering in the cold. John Dory could barely hear the small troll over the roaring of the wind. He swallowed quickly, trying to stay calm as his heart pounded in his chest.

“We’re fine.” He replied through clenched teeth, his stomach twisting as he saw Branch relax ever so slightly at his blatant lie. This was bad. Really, really bad. He’d messed up. He should have known better. They should have turned around while they had the chance. They were lost, exhausted, in the middle of a freezing storm, with barely any supplies, and no idea on how to get out.

John Dory had led them into a death trap.

His mind churned with a mix of different emotions: Guilt, panic, regret… But he forced himself to stay calm, biting his cheek so hard he could taste blood. Branch was counting on him. John Dory got them into this, so he had to get them out. It was fine, they were fine, he just had to think…

“I’m going to find us some shelter, hunker down for a bit.” He continued with forced confidence, voice strained. “No matter what, don’t let go, ok?” Branch shivered, nodding, his grip tightening on his brother’s tail. John Dory faced forward, or what he assumed was forward, and once again began to trek through the endless snow. He just had to keep going; they’d have to run into something eventually.

But as time went on, things only seemed to get worse. The snow whipped around violently, John Dory just barely able to see a few feet in front of him. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes, but they didn’t do much to help navigate the unchanging terrain. They could be stumbling around in circles for all he knew. And it was cold, much too cold. His ears and nose burned, numbness creeping across his fingertips, which he knew couldn’t be good. And he was getting more and more panicked, more and more desperate…

More and more tired.

He was failing…

He thought about using his hair, wrapping it around them and waiting out the storm. But he was already weak, his body shivering with the effort of plowing through the deep snow. This storm could last for hours, and at this point, he wasn’t even sure he could stretch his hair for a few minutes. He needed to find something, anything to shelter them. He strained against the wind, heavy exhaustion weighing him down. They were running out of time.

He peeked behind him again, relieved to see his little brother still hanging on, his head bowed into the wind. “You doing ok, Bitty?” He called worriedly, unable to keep the fear from leaching into his voice.

Branch just blinked, slowly lifting his head to look at him. His eyes were blank, and unfocused in a way that immediately set off alarm bells in John Dory’s brain. He shivered, swaying on his feet as he seemed to force himself to speak.

“M’… cold…” The small troll admitted, the words slightly slurred. Fear jolted through John Dory so violently he thought he might be sick. Branch was all about putting on a brave face these days, stubbornly independent. If he was saying he was cold, the poor kid wasn’t just “cold”, he was freezing.

It was too cold. It was just too cold. And Branch was freezing. If John Dory didn’t do something fast… His mind swirled dangerously.

“Shit, shit… ok, buddy, ok.” John Dory frantically muttered, scooping Branch into his arms, the young troll curling into his chest without protest. This only served to deepen John Dory’s panic as he wrapped the flaps of his jacket around Branch’s thin body, zipping it up. His muscles shook at the added weight, but he couldn’t care less. His little brother was freezing. He needed to get them out of here. Now.

He pressed on, his steps frantic and uncoordinated, hugging Branch’s trembling body tight to his chest. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was still moving at this point. His feet felt numb, his body shaking from both cold and exertion. But he wouldn’t let himself stop. He had to keep moving. He needed to get them out of here. He grit his teeth, one foot, then another… Just keep moving…

Please… He begged through his foggy mind, although to whom he didn’t know.

Please… He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for. Something, anything…

Please, please, please…

Finally, something broke through the blinding snow. The slightest change in hue. John Dory’s chest ached with relief as he staggered towards it, desperate for anything other than the unrelenting white. And he wasn’t disappointed.

It was a rocky cliff face, stretching up as high as John Dory could see. It wasn’t much, but right now, he’d take anything. He stumbled, catching himself on the sheer ledge, breaths heavy and strained. Slowly turning, he began to follow it, scanning the jagged rock for any sign of…

Yes, there, just up ahead. A large split in the sheer stone. A cave.

Shelter.

He fumbled his way inside the opening without hesitation, nearly collapsing on the hard ground. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark as his breaths echoed across the wide space, the roar of the storm now muffled outside. It was still frigid, the stone like ice on John Dory’s skin, but at least they were out of the wind. He let out a small, shaky sigh of relief.

As if waiting for this moment, there was a sudden, deep growl, near the back of the cave. John Dory’s hair bristled, stiffening as he stared into the heavy gloom. His gaze was met by two large, glowing green eyes, glaring at him from the darkness. Looks like they weren’t the only ones trying to find shelter from the storm.

A menacing growl started to build in his throat as well, eyes narrowing as he clutched tighter to his brother. His lips curled into a snarl, baring his teeth. He was not leaving this cave. His brother was freezing to death, and if they went back out there now, he was sure they wouldn’t make it. It would kill them. He needed to get Branch warm. Nothing was going to make him leave this cave, and he would fight tooth and nail for it if he had to.

The unseen creature continued to growl at him, and John Dory snarled back, daring it to try. He could tell the thing was big, but he was desperate. And Branch was so incredibly still in his arms… He didn’t have time for this!

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, the critter finally came into view. He’d never seen anything like it before. It was huge, with large scales laid across its segmented body. Its face was squished in, almost comically, with big round eyes and an even bigger mouth, also curled into a snarl. He didn’t recognize it from anything he’d seen or read about before, and it definitely didn’t look like it belonged in the mountains, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was he wasn’t about to let this thing stand between him and saving his brother.

However, as he continued to snarl, poised to jump into action the moment the creature made any sign of attack, he realized something. The growl coming from the critter… It wasn't aggressive. Nor was the creature making any moves towards him. Instead, it appeared to be on the defensive. The growl was a warning, telling him to stay back. And as his eyes adjusted more, he realized why.

There, at the massive creature’s feet, lay a small pup. John Dory blinked, growl dying in his throat. The baby critter wasn’t moving. And with a jolt, John Dory realized it was already long gone. Understanding flooded through him, along with a wave of sadness and grief as he turned his eyes back up towards the growling critter. She glared back at him, eyes clouded with pain.

She wasn’t going to attack them. She was a mother. She was grieving. She was just trying to protect her pup.

“I’m sorry.” The words left his lips before he was able to stop them, echoing quietly across the cave.

The critter’s face fell, the growl fading as her gaze softened, turning incredibly sad. She turned her attention back towards her pup, tenderly laying down beside it. Eyes heavy with grief, she pressed her face into its side. And slowly, she began to hum, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate around them, echoing off the walls of the cave.

Singing… She was singing her pup to sleep. John Dory felt his heart begin to ache.

It was the first time he’d heard music in a long, long time. And he could understand every note of pain in the critter’s song.

He shook his head, backing away from the heartbreaking scene as he scampered towards the other side of the cave, fear shooting through him once more.

He couldn’t let Branch end up like that pup. He had to save him.

He couldn’t lose his brother. Not again.

Chapter Text

John Dory sat down immediately, ignoring the icy stone of the cave floor pressing against his skin. His attention was focused solely on the small, shivering troll clutched tight in his arms.

“Ok, ok…” He muttered half to himself, situating Branch on his lap as he quickly stripped off his jacket, wrapping it around his brother’s trembling body and hugging him to his chest. He was careful not to jostle the small troll too much, as if he were made of glass. It felt like if he made one wrong move, his brother would shatter in his arms. And he couldn’t let that happen.

“H-how you doing, B?” He asked through chattering teeth, cupping his brother’s ice cold hands in his own and breathing into them softly. When Branch didn’t reply, that heavy dread started to churn in his stomach once again, but he pushed it aside. He had to focus. “C-c’mon, Bitty, talk to me, how you doing?”

Branch’s eyes were half closed, staring at nothing. He blinked slowly, letting his head fall limply into John Dory’s chest with a low hum. “Tired…” He whispered, letting his eyes flutter shut.

John Dory sucked in a sharp breath, panic flooding his veins as he breathed again into his hands. “Ok, buddy, but we can’t rest yet, alright?” He replied with forced cheeriness, grabbing one of his brother’s ears and blowing warm air onto it. “Gotta get you warmed up first.”

The small troll didn’t answer, his eyes remaining closed. And John Dory started to become more desperate. “Keep talking to me, B.” He pleaded, breathing onto Branch’s other ear before moving back down to his hands. “C’mon bud, please, can’t rest yet, ok? You gotta stay awake.” But Branch still didn’t reply, his breaths slow, quiet.

John Dory held him closer to his chest, hoping his body heat could help in any way. But he was freezing too; it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have anything to build a fire, or blankets, nothing he could use to help warm them. All he had was himself, and it wasn’t enough.

He was starting to become frantic now, his breaths quickening as he fearfully cupped his brother’s cheek. It was cold, so cold…

He needed to keep Branch awake. He was sure if his brother fell asleep now, he wouldn’t wake back up again. He had to do something, anything…

“H-hey Bitty, I keep forgetting…” He strained, desperation pulsing through his veins. “What could I put in a cut? T-to stop the bleeding?”

Branch made no indication he heard him, so John Dory repeated himself, once again breathing warm air onto his brother’s ears. “What plant could I use, Bitty?”

The young troll’s ears flicked weakly, and slowly, he mumbled a reply. “Yarrow…” He slurred, eyes remaining closed. “S’white flowers…”

“Good, yeah!” John Dory replied, trying to keep his voice light as he grabbed his brother’s hands, blowing into them again. “A-and if I ate something I shouldn’t have?”

“Cham… ile…” Came Branch’s murmured response.

“Yes, you’ve got it!” John Dory could feel himself becoming more and more frantic, but he tried desperately to swallow it down. Branch was talking, he just had to keep him talking… “Ok uh, what’s my favorite kind of berry?”

Branch let out a quiet hum, as if he wanted to speak, but just couldn’t find the energy to move his lips. Panic shot through John Dory, trying not to let it show in his voice as he asked again. “C’mon Bitty, you know this one. It’s small and blue, just like you, remember?”

The young troll didn’t reply. His head dropped further into John Dory’s chest, his breaths scarily slow. This was a stark contrast from John Dory, whose breaths quickened to a point he was nearly hyperventilating, unable to hold back the panic that was now surging through him.

“No no no, please Branch, please.” He begged, a sob building in his throat as he tried desperately to warm his brother’s icy skin. “C’mon buddy, please, I can’t- You can’t…”

This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening… He was losing him. He messed up, and because of that, he was going to lose his little brother. It was all his fault. He was failing, failing, failing…

All at once, his brothers appeared around him, their faces matching expressions of pure panic as they stared down at the small troll in John Dory’s arms.

“John, do something!” Spruce commanded, voice shrill with desperation.

“You’re losing him!” Clay cried out, eyes wide with fear.

“Help him, please!” Floyd sobbed, tears streaming down his face. “Please, John Dory, help him!

“I’m trying!” John Dory bit back his own sob, holding Branch closer. “I’m trying, I’m trying, c’mon Branch, please don’t do this. I can’t lose you too, please.” Tears started to fall from his eyes, leaving cold trails on his cheeks. This was all his fault.

“Don’t leave me…” He begged, choking on the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please… Please don’t leave.”

Suddenly, warm air blew over him in a huff, his hair bristling out as he shivered. His ears swiveled behind him, and he could hear the breaths of a large critter, just inches from his neck. A jolt of fear flashed through him. The critter from before… Had she changed her mind? Deciding that indeed, she could go for a nice little snack? He slowly turned around to face her, his entire body stiff and shaking.

The critter gazed back at him, not in hunger or anger, but in curiosity. Concern. She blinked slowly, letting out another puff of warm air. And weirdly enough, John Dory understood. It was a question. She was wondering why he was upset.

John Dory clenched his jaw, hesitant, but then gently pulled back his jacket ever so slightly, revealing Branch’s shivering body to the large creature. The young troll grimaced slightly at the chill, pushing his face into John Dory’s chest.

The critter leaned in closer, her eyes tracing over his brother’s small figure. And with another large exhale, blew warm air directly his way. Branch let out a soft hum, curling slightly at the feeling of heat. John Dory immediately wrapped him up again, hoping to maintain as much of it as he could. He was still breathing heavily, terrified as he stared at the large beast.

The critter let out a hum, taking a few steps back. Then, she plopped down on the ground next to them. And John Dory watched in stunned awe as a small hatch on her side popped open, falling to the ground as a sort of ramp. Heat seemed to pour from it, steam rising in the air. He blinked, wondering if his panicked mind was making him imagine things. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time. But no, he could see it now. This creature… It was like a Caterbus, a transport critter.

And she was inviting them inside.

He jumped to his feet, ignoring his body’s painful protest as he stared between the door and the creature’s face. She churred at him, motioning with her head as she almost seemed to smile softly.

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

He raced into the critter as fast as his freezing legs could carry him, a wall of warmth hitting him as soon as he stepped inside, the hatch clicking shut behind him. His eyes flicked around the cabin frantically, taking in the strange sight. He didn’t know much about transport critters, but he was surprised to see it fully furnished, with a couch, shelves, kitchenette, everything. But he didn’t care about any of that. What his eyes locked on was a stove, tucked away in the back of the critter.

And the smallest flicker of hope started to build in his chest.

“Ok, Bitty, stay with me here.” He said quickly, sprinting over to the couch. He set his brother down, wrapping his jacket around him tightly. The young troll let out a small moan of protest to the loss of his brother’s body heat, swaying to the side as if he were going to lay down.

“Ah ah ah, not yet, bud. Gotta sit up, ok?” John Dory said, catching him before he fell. He scanned the couch, finding a small blanket, and wrapped that around Branch as well. “You have to stay awake, ok? Promise me.”

Branch said nothing, but after a moment, nodded ever so slightly. John Dory leaned forward, kissing his forehead before rushing to the stove, practically throwing his now soaked bag to the ground. He retrieved a canister of water, then pulled open one of the many cabinets in the small kitchenette. He nearly cried with relief when he saw pots and pans inside.

He yanked one out and immediately turned the stove on, beginning to heat the water on the highest setting he could put it. He had no idea how it was working, but at this point, he didn’t care. This strange critter had given him a chance to save his brother, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

As the water heated up, he continued to talk to his brother, blowing warm air onto his hands and ears. Branch didn’t speak, but his ears continued to twitch in acknowledgement. For right now, that was enough.

Finally, John Dory had a mug of warm water in his hands, and he sat next to his still shivering brother, hugging him to his side. “Alright, drink this Bitty, slowly.” He said in a low voice, holding the mug to the young troll’s lips. He began to help his brother take small sips, rubbing his back as gently as he could as he murmured softly. “Good job bud, it’s ok, I’ve got you, you’re ok…”

It felt like he was sitting there for hours.

Slowly, incredibly slowly, Branch began to perk up a bit, his breathing growing more steady, his eyes opening ever so slightly. And eventually, he shakily reached up, grabbing the warm mug from John Dory and blinking, as if he were coming out of a trance. His eyes flicked upward, confused.

“JD…?” He asked weakly.

“Branch!” John Dory exclaimed, unable to hold back the cry of complete and utter relief as he cupped his brother’s cheeks, pressing his forehead against his. “Oh thank troll, I… I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.” He laughed almost hysterically, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re ok, I'm so glad you’re ok.”

“I’m… ok.” Branch replied, still sounding confused. He reached up, touching John Dory’s face. “Are you ok? You’re… crying.”

“I’m not, I...” John Dory continued to laugh, ignoring the tightness in his throat. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

Branch let his hand fall. “Where are we?”

John Dory pulled back, chuckling nervously. “I don’t know, really. In a critter? Kind of?”

Branch’s eyes widened, looking around in alarm. “We got eaten?” He squeaked.

John Dory laughed again; he couldn’t stop. He was just so relieved to hear his brother’s voice. “No, no, it’s like a Caterbus, sort of. What matters is, we’re safe.” He took a deep breath, shivering slightly. “We’re safe.”

The young troll relaxed a bit, continuing to look around hesitantly. “Are you sure?” He asked, clutching tight to the mug in his hands.

John Dory thought about the critter outside, her lost pup, and the look on her face as she invited them inside. “Yeah.” He replied firmly. “I’m sure. She saved us.”

At this, a low rumble echoed through the cabin. She heard them. John Dory smiled, gently petting the wall as a wave of gratitude surged through him.

Branch still seemed a bit worried, but before he could say anything else, he let out a yawn, slumping down into John Dory’s jacket. “D? Can we… sleep now?” He asked tiredly, his eyes heavy lidded.

“Finish drinking that.” John Dory replied, gesturing to the mug in his brother’s hands. “And then yes, we can. It’s been a long day.”

That was putting things lightly. Now that he knew his brother was warm, safe, and protected, the frantic energy and adrenaline that’d been fueling him for the past couple hours slowly began to ebb, exhaustion hitting him like a stampeding Puffalo. He was so tired, it felt like his muscles were falling off his bones. It took everything he had not to slump over and collapse right then and there.

He let Branch finish his drink, then set it aside, curling into his brother as they both flopped down on the soft couch. It’d been a while since he laid on something other than hard dirt. It was so comfortable… He felt his eyes drift closed almost immediately.

John Dory was still shivering, slightly chilled, but he was much too tired to go search for another blanket now. He hugged Branch close, relieved to feel the warmth coming from his brother’s tiny body. He was ok…

He felt Branch start to shift in his arms, and he blinked an eye open tiredly. “What’re you doing, bud?”

“Your jacket.” Branch replied, continuing to squirm. “You need your jacket.”

“Mmm, no, I’m fine.” John Dory muttered slowly, letting his eyes fall shut again. “You keep it for now.”

“But you’re shivering.” Branch insisted, sounding nervous. “Your hands are cold.”

“I don’t get cold.” John Dory hummed. “I’m warm-blooded.”

“That’s not what that means.”

“M’ok, Bitty.” He hugged his brother closer, letting out a sigh. “We’re ok.”

Branch didn’t reply, but he pulled John Dory’s hand into his warm chest, the older troll able to feel the strong beat of his heart. And after a moment, the small troll let out a sigh, whispering quietly.

“We’re ok.”

Chapter Text

John Dory’s brain slowly drifted back into consciousness, despite his best efforts. He didn’t want to be awake yet, exhaustion pushing him further into whatever he was laying on. It was so soft…

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning softly as he reached his arm out to hug his brother closer, but was confused when he met with nothing but empty air. He blindly reached out again, and this time, his weight seemed to shift forward. With a surprised yelp, he tumbled ungracefully onto the floor.

Wait… floor?

Now fully awake, John Dory immediately leapt to his feet, nearly falling over once more as he frantically scanned his strange surroundings. And just like that, memories from yesterday flooded back into his foggy head. The snow, the cave, the critter… Right, they were in that transport critter, she’d saved their lives. He rubbed his face, looking around. Then where was…?

Finally, his eyes landed on his little brother, who peered up at him from where he was digging around in the cupboards. John Dory let out a deep sigh of relief, flopping back down on the couch with a huff.

“That was dramatic.” Branch chirped, sounding much more like his usual self as he turned back to his rummaging.

“Yeah well, I am dramatic.” John Dory grumbled in reply, feeling exhaustion wash over him once again. He let his hands trace over the couch cushions, the fabric soft, inviting. He blinked slowly, then peeked over at his shoulder, where a blanket lay haphazardly draped over it, likely a courtesy of his younger brother. A warm feeling spread through his chest, his lips turning up in a soft smile. However, that warmth was quickly replaced by worry, and he forced himself to get up, letting the blanket fall back on the couch as he walked towards the younger troll.

“How you feeling, Bitty?” He asked, pressing his hand into his brother’s forehead. “You feel sick at all? Chilled?”

Branch bristled at this, slapping his hand away. “I’m fine!” He snapped, looking annoyed. “I just got a little cold yesterday, that’s all.”

John Dory held his hands up in defense. Alright, apparently his little brother was back on the whole “independence” kick, which was fine. It meant he was feeling better, thank troll. But John Dory still crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed sternly.

“You were more than just ‘a little cold’.” He replied, guilt rising in his throat, but he stubbornly swallowed it down. “Look, I just want to make sure you’re ok, that’s all.”

“I’m ok.” Branch insisted firmly, his face drawn up into a scowl. “It was a one time thing; it won’t happen again.”

No. John Dory thought, the image of Branch’s quiet, shivering body stark in his brain. It won’t.

Branch turned back to his task, examining different pots and pans. “This is weird.” He commented, eyes sharp as he held one up, turning it every which way. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, transport critters are weird.” John Dory agreed, feeling the creature rumble a bit in response. It was just one of those things that was impossible to explain, like how trolls could get so caught up in a song, they just know the lyrics and choreography, or how they can store comically large items in their hair. John Dory just tried not to think about those things too much; it made one’s head hurt.

He walked up to the critter’s dash, scanning the different levers and buttons. They looked brand new, like they’d never been touched before. He figured she must still be pretty young. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing up here, especially with pup in her care. She definitely didn’t look like she was made for the snowy mountains. However, that was a likely question he’d never get an answer to.

His eyes drifted upwards, peering out the windshield to the cave entrance. It appeared to still be storming, snow blowing in through the opening and drifting across the dark cave floor. It looked like they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, but that was probably for the best. John Dory was exhausted, his muscles aching with every move he made. And honestly, he wasn’t too keen on going back out into the snow. In fact, he could do with never seeing snow again; this had been more than enough for a lifetime.

The more he stared at the entrance, the more his eyes seemed to unfocus, the image blurring and shifting. He could almost see the snow as a howling critter, trying desperately to get inside the cave and finish what it started. And despite himself, he could feel the hair on his neck start to bristle, a low growl building in his throat as his hand tightened on the dash…

“JD?”

John Dory perked up at the sound of his brother’s voice, turning to look at him. “Huh? What?” He stammered, rubbing at his tired eyes. Troll, he felt out of it.

“I asked what we’re going to do for food.” Branch repeated with a hint of concern.

John Dory pursed his lips, making his way over to his camping gear and peeking inside. They had enough berries for a day, maybe two if they stretched it. And hopefully, the storm would let up by then. Otherwise, well, he wasn’t really sure what they were going to do.

“I think we’ll manage, B.” He said with forced cheeriness, closing the bag back up. “We may just have to be a bit hungry, that’s all.” And worst comes to worst, John Dory would just give the entirety of the food to Branch. The growing kid needed it much more than he did.

Branch still looked unconvinced, nervously clenching and unclenching his hands by his side. John Dory’s smile grew strained, his ears drooping slightly. He hated seeing his little brother so worried. He quickly thought up a distraction, walking towards the hatch of the large critter.

“You wanna meet our rescuer, Bitty?” He asked with a grin, patting the inside wall. “I think I owe her a thank you for saving our tails yesterday.”

Actually, he owed her a lot more than a thank you. Without this critter, Branch wouldn’t have made it, and it was likely John Dory wouldn’t have either. Even though she was mourning her pup, she still saved them. And for that, John Dory owed her his life. He needed to make sure she knew how grateful he was.

Branch, however, looked incredibly uneasy, his eyes growing wide. “The critter?” He asked in a shrill voice, his gaze flitting between his brother and the door. “What if it tries to eat us?”

“I think if she wanted to eat us, she would have done so already.” John Dory chuckled back dryly. “She won’t, I’m sure of it.”

Branch crossed his arms over his chest. “How sure?”

“Uh, about… eighty percent?” John Dory replied, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe eighty-five...”

“Eighty-five?!” Branch squeaked in alarm. John Dory immediately backtracked, smiling reassuringly.

“Look, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean us any harm.” He said quickly. It was true; for some reason, John Dory could just… feel it. “I mean, she let us stay in here, didn’t she?” He continued, the young troll appearing to consider this, relaxing ever so slightly. “So let’s just go check it out.”

Branch still looked uneasy, but after a moment, he nodded reluctantly. John Dory grinned back at him, then pushed the hatch open, cold air flooding into the cabin. He shivered a bit, then filed out into the cave, Branch following close behind him.

He strode around the critter’s side, her massive head swiveling to look at them. Despite himself, he felt a jolt of fear course through him, freezing him in place. He was pretty convinced she wasn’t going to hurt them, but she was still BIG. A nervous grin stretched across his face, and he waved awkwardly.

“Hey, ehem, hey… you.” He said, his voice a few octaves higher than it usually was. The critter just stared back at him, blinking her wide green eyes. She was actually kind of cute, in a giant, scary critter type of way. He cleared his throat, body tense as he continued.

“I just wanted to say thanks, y’know, for saving us. Letting us stay… in you? I guess?” He laughed nervously, anxious energy prickling across his skin as he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

The creature stood up, shoving her huge face close to his. He heard Branch let out a fearful hiss, the young troll’s hair bristling as he clutched his older brother’s shorts. John Dory, however, stood his ground, feeling her warm breath wash over him. She stared at him for a moment, scanning him up and down, before her entire face seemed to brighten. And with that, she stuck out her tongue, coating John Dory in the thick layer of glittery drool.

“Ugh, what the-?” John Dory started, but he didn’t get to finish before the large beast pounced on him, practically pinning him to the ground. She began to lick him voraciously, her entire body wiggling with delight.

“Ah! Stop, stop!” John Dory yelped, but he couldn’t help but laugh as the creature continued to cover him with slobber. He pushed her fuzzy face back. “Stop, blegh, it’s getting in my mouth!”

“JD!?” He heard Branch cry out in a mix of confusion and fear.

“It’s ok, Bitty! It’s ok!” John Dory yelled back, unable to quell his giggles. “It’s ok; I think she likes me!”

That, or she’s marking me as prey… He thought absently. Honestly, he couldn’t really tell. But after a moment or two, he came to the conclusion that no, she was just being affectionate. He laughed again, hugging her face as she rubbed her cheek into him with a purr.

“Aw, who’s a sweet girl? You’re just a lover, ain’t cha?” He cooed, reaching to scratch under her chin. She practically melted at his touch, flopping over on the cave floor with a heavy thud. John Dory grinned at her, climbing to his feet as he readjusted his now drool-covered goggles. Branch scampered over next to him, hiding behind his legs as he glared at the large critter.

“See Bitty, I told you! She’s friendly!” John Dory gushed, the creature rolling back upright and giving them a dopey smile, panting heavily. He leaned forward, making a kissy face at her. “Aren’t you?”

Branch remained quiet, clearly hesitant. And honestly, John Dory couldn’t blame him. Almost every creature they’d met out here had tried to kill them; it’s no wonder the kid was scared half to death. He set a hand on his brother’s shaking shoulders, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Go ahead, B.” He said, nodding towards the large critter. “She’s really soft.”

Branch looked up at him with wide eyes, then back over at the critter. He swallowed nervously, then set his jaw in determination. “Ok.” He said, voice trembling every so slightly. “Just, don’t let it lick me.”

John Dory chuckled. “No guarantees.”

With that, Branch crept forward stiffly, keeping his eyes locked on the critter. When he was just a few feet away, he paused, his body appearing to freeze up on him. He took a few shaky breaths, then closed his eyes, reaching out his hand while he turned away.

The creature seemed to pick up on his nervousness, leaning towards him slowly. She let out a puff of air, similar to how she did the day before, the air making Branch’s dark hair sway. He peeked an eye open, looking at her. Then, he stretched forward, gently petting her face. She churred with delight, leaning into the touch. And Branch’s eyes widened with surprise.

“She is soft…” He whispered, a small smile playing on his lips. The large critter cooed at him, nearly shoving him over as she pressed her face into his chest. Branch giggled, hugging her back. And John Dory felt himself grinning like an idiot.

“I told you so!” He laughed, joining his brother in doting on the large creature. She seemed ecstatic with all the attention, panting happily. And suddenly, a wave of gratitude washed over John Dory once more. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as he pet her fuzzy cheeks.

Thank you… He thought, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. He just needed her to know. But as he pulled away, for the life of him, he was sure he could see it sparkling in her intelligent eyes.

She understood.

As Branch tried to keep the playful critter from licking him, John Dory drew back a bit, letting his eyes slowly scan the cave as he tried to get an idea of what they were working with. From what he could see, it appeared to be sealed, with only the one exit still swirling with snow. It wasn’t a big cave per se, but big enough for everything to echo around them strangely.

He pursed his lips slightly, that feeling of being trapped nagging at him like a thorn in his side. But between being trapped in a cave, or going back out into the snow, it was a no brainer. He’d just have to deal with it.

Besides, for now, he and Branch were safe here. And that was all that mattered.

His eyes finally landed on a small mound of dirt, tucked way in the back. And with a lurch, he realized what it was. The creature’s deceased pup. At some point during the night, she must have buried it.

Just like that, any trace of his good mood vanished, a feeling of dread washing over him so violently it felt like he’d been punched.

He felt his stomach start to churn, his breath catching in his throat as his vision almost seemed to tunnel, locking on that gruesome image. All the fear and panic from yesterday hit him like a freight train, knocking the air from his lungs. Now that they weren’t actively in danger anymore, now that he could actually think about everything that happened…

That’d almost been Branch. He’d been so close to losing the young troll due to his own stupid mistake. If they hadn’t found this cave, if this critter hadn’t saved them, he would have lost his baby brother. And it would have been all his fault. Again. He would’ve had to bury him, leave him out here in the middle of nowhere…

And he would have been completely alone.

John Dory felt dizzy, unable to tear his eyes away from the raised pile of dirt. Everything was beginning to sound muted and far away, save for his own beating heart. All he could think about was how that could have been his little brother’s body down there, dead and gone, rotting alone in the dirt.

Just like everyone else.

He didn’t like how hard his heart was pounding.

“JD?”

He heard Branch’s voice, but it was muffled, as if he were under water. He shook his head roughly, trying to clear the fuzziness, but it didn’t seem to help. So instead, he just plastered a smile on his face.

“Yeah bud?” He replied slowly, hoping his voice didn’t sound off. Everything felt strange… Was he even talking out loud? He hoped so.

“Can I look around a bit? At the cave?” The young troll asked excitedly, his tail twitching back and forth.

“Uh…” John Dory droned back, massaging his head. It was probably fine; the cave seemed uninhabited and sturdy. But after what happened yesterday, John Dory hated the idea of his brother being out of his sight, even for a moment. He reached out to set a weak hand on Branch’s shoulder. “Look, B, maybe we just…”

Before John Dory could finish his sentence, he saw something that made him stop cold. Where he’d set his hand against his brother’s arm, he could see the skin cracking like ice, shattering under his touch. He could almost feel the cold, jagged edges, pressing into his palm. He instantly jerked his hand back, panic shooting through his veins. But as soon as he blinked a few times, the cracks were gone.

Branch looked up at him, confused. And for a just moment, his eyes seemed to flicker, becoming pale and lifeless, before returning to their normal piercing blue. John Dory rubbed his eyes, feeling more and more dizzy.

He was going to be sick.

“Yeah, uh, why don’t you explore a bit, Bitty?” He choked out quickly, forcing that shaky smile to his face as he took a few steps back from his brother. “I’m just… going to grab my jacket, ok? I’ll be right back; don’t go far.” With that, he spun around unsteadily, heading back towards the large critter.

“Uh, ok!” Branch called from behind him, his voice still a bit confused. John Dory just waved him off, listening as his small footsteps receded into the cave. And with that, he nearly stumbled into the creature’s side, swallowing down his growing nausea.

Everything felt off, in a way he couldn’t even explain. He almost felt… disconnected. It was like he was dreaming, but he knew he wasn’t. He was awake, but… The critter rumbled at him, sounding concerned.

“Can you keep an eye on him? Please?” He asked, the words feeling garbled and weird in his mouth. Despite having known this critter for less than a day, he felt he could trust her with his life. And more importantly, his brother’s life. “Please, I just, I need a minute…”

The critter hummed, seemingly in agreement, the worry still present as she nuzzled him gently. He patted her cheek, then slowly made his way back inside, throwing open the hatch before staggering over to the stove, grabbing one of the pots Branch had left out. His gut wrenched, and he immediately heaved, bile stinging his throat as his body slumped forward with exhaustion.

He almost thought he could taste blood.

He didn’t know what was happening… Everything felt off and wrong, and Branch had almost died. He couldn’t stop circling back to the fact that he’d made a mistake, and it almost cost his baby brother his life. Just like how his mistake of leaving before cost his other brothers theirs. He just never learned… It was all his fault, and he never learned.

John Dory spit bile into the pot, panting heavily. And now he was… What, having a breakdown? What even was this? His head was all fuzzy, and he was seeing things, things that couldn’t be real, he knew they couldn’t be real…

“Well, that’s not exactly a new thing, is it?”

A voice cut through all the haziness in John Dory’s mind, sharp and scathing. And he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated groan, letting his head fall against the cool rim of the pot.

He didn’t even have to look to know that Spruce was at his side.

He never could seem to catch a break.

Chapter Text

John Dory reached out a shaky hand, grabbing one of the canteens of water from his bag and washing the taste of bile from his throat, before splashing a bit on his face. He needed to calm down. Whatever this was, he needed it to stop, right now. He pointedly avoided looking over at his brother, but could feel his sharp gaze following his every move.

Finally he turned around, letting himself slide down the cabinets until he was sitting on the cabin floor. He yanked his goggles from his head, the familiar item no longer a comfort. Instead they seemed to press into his skull, serving only to make his headache worse. Panting heavily, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force his swirling mind to still. He didn’t have time for this; he was supposed to be taking care of Branch…

“What is wrong with you?”

His ears twitched as he heard Spruce’s voice. No, not Spruce. This wasn’t real. Spruce wasn’t here; he was gone.

“Johnny.”

John Dory squeezed his eyes shut further, the nickname cutting through his heart like a knife. He wanted to ignore him, but… He couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. He was scared, and he didn’t want to be alone right now. He wanted more than anything to see his brother. So slowly, he opened his eyes.

Spruce crouched directly in front of him, his gaze piercing, and unblinking. “What is wrong with you?” He repeated.

“I dunno…” John Dory replied weakly, feeling as if he were talking with marbles in his mouth.

Spruce pursed his lips, standing up to glare down at him with a mix of frustration and pity. “I told you, I told you you were going to mess this up, but you didn’t listen! You never listen!” He hissed, eyes flashing. “Branch almost died because of you! He almost died, and now, you think you have any right to be sitting in here, having a breakdown because of something you caused? You are so fucking selfish!”

“I didn’t mean to, I… I didn’t know-” John Dory started, but was immediately cut off as Spruce scoffed.

“Didn’t mean to? You led him into a death trap, John! He followed you because he trusts you, and look where that got him! You promised you wouldn’t let anything happen to him, you promised!” Spruce’s voice broke as he drew himself back a bit, his face growing hard. “But then again, you never were good at keeping promises, were you?”

John Dory wilted at his words, and suddenly, the sound of his own, younger voice filled his head:

We’ll be ok! I promise.

Once I get Bitty to sleep, I’ll be right there. Promise.

C’mon Sprucie, I promise this’ll be fun!

I promise. Someday, I’m going to get us out of here, away from all this.

We’ll always be together. I promise.

I promise, I promise, I promise…

The words chanted in his head, taunting him. A soft hiss escaped his lips as he desperately covered his ears, but it did nothing to silence the sound. His eyes drifted over to another figure, who sat a few feet away from him, shaking. Floyd.

“Branch almost died…” The young troll said, his eyes wide with fear. “He almost died; does he know he almost died? Does he even understand?!” His voice grew slightly hysterical as he buried his head in his arms.

John Dory gritted his teeth, his gaze flicking over to an image of Clay, feverishly pacing the cabin.

“It’s not safe out here…” The wild-haired troll muttered, eyes wild enough to match. “I said it wasn’t safe out here; didn’t I say that?! But no, you had to bring him out here anyway! How could you be so stupid?!”

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Spruce chimed in, anxiously smoothing back his bristling hair. “But you never listen to me!”

“What did you want me to do, Spruce?” John Dory shot back, almost frantic as his mind swirling dangerously. “Everyone was gone; I had no choice!”

“Neither did Branch!” Clay pointed out, shaking the nervous energy out of his hands as he paced. “Yet you still dragged him out here! I guess Bitty B finally learned exactly what happens to people who follow your lead. You ruin everything!”

Spruce ignored the younger troll, his sharp gaze unyielding, pinning John Dory in place. “You need to get it together.” He snarled. “Branch is counting on you, and you’re failing him. Just like you failed us.”

“It was an accident, a mistake, I… I didn’t know.” John Dory hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m trying…”

“It’s not enough.” Spruce spat. “It was never enough.”

“You need to do better.” Clay added, continuing to pace.

“He needs you.” Floyd insisted. “Please, John.”

“I know!” Everything was getting much too loud, between his brothers’ cutting voices and his own heart pounding in his ears. He just needed it to be quiet, just for a moment so he could think. If he could just think…

“Thinking? Oh yeah, that’ll help.” He heard Clay say, voice dripping with sarcasm. John Dory turned his gaze upwards to see Clay staring at him, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Why don’t you just face it, JD? You can’t do this, you never could. You don’t know what you’re doing, you can’t take care of Bitty B, and oh yeah, now you’re talking to yourself again! Face it man, you’re delusional. And not only that, you’re just downright crazy!”

At this, anger surged through John Dory’s chest, and he leapt to his feet. “I am not crazy!” He snarled, ears pinned up against his head. He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking slightly.

Clay just looked at him, eyes cold in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of his younger brother. Then, he shrugged, fading away into nothingness. John Dory drew back, a fearful hiss escaping his lips as he gazed around the empty cabin. Right… this wasn’t real.

And he really was crazy.

He stumbled over to the couch, flopping back on it and anxiously grabbing at his hair, trying to focus on anything other than his own swirling thoughts. His leg bounced up and down quickly, as if all his frantic energy was trying to escape through it. God, he was losing it… He needed this to stop, he couldn’t humor this anymore. Spruce was right, he had to get it together. He couldn’t do this, not when Branch was relying on him.

“Finally coming to your senses?”

John Dory pried an eye open to look at Spruce, standing directly in front of him. The purple-haired troll’s face had softened some, looking more like the brother he once knew. But John Dory just closed his eyes again, chest aching.

“Go away…” He whispered painfully, tears threatening to spring forth.

“I would.” Spruce replied, sounding almost sad. “But you don’t actually want me to, do you?”

John Dory grimaced, grip tightening on his hair. He heard his brother take a seat by his side.

“You don’t want us to go.” Spruce continued tightly. “Because if we did, that would mean we were truly gone, wouldn’t it? You’d rather have us here, even if it’s like this.”

“I don’t…”

“You do.” Spruce insisted. “You can’t lie to me, John.”

John Dory clenched his teeth. “You’re not Spruce. You’re not real.” He murmured.

“You’re right.” His brother agreed. John Dory forced his eyes open, looking at the figure. Spruce glared back at him intently. “So make me leave. This isn’t real, it’s all in your head. So make me go away.”

Sadness, regret, and guilt churned to life in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He wanted this to end, he wanted this to stop. But he just… couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lose his little brother again, he couldn’t. Even if it wasn’t real, even if he was crazy… He just wasn’t strong enough.

Spruce’s face wrinkled in disappointment. “This is only going to get worse, you know that right?” He said harshly, a sharp edge to his voice. “And what happens if you’re trying to protect Branch, and you can’t trust your own mind? Then what, huh?”

John Dory grimaced, curling into himself. He needed this to stop now, he just needed it to be quiet. He needed to think… He slowly released the grip on his hair, bringing his hands back down to his ears. Just be quiet…

“You can’t ignore this, Johnny” Spruce insisted loudly. “You’re going to get him killed!”

He knew this was all in his head, he knew there was no way he could do anything about it, but regardless, he clamped down on his ears more, trying to block out the noise. You’re not real…

“Will you just listen to me?!”

He squeezed his ears harder, biting his cheek.

“John.”

He could taste the blood in his mouth, ears aching at his tight grip.

“John!

Please… He thought, digging his nails into his skin. Just leave me alone…

“JD?”

John Dory let out a growl, anger sparking to life once more. “What, Spruce?!” He finally snapped, whipping his head towards the voice. But instead of meeting his purple-haired brother’s cold gaze, his eyes landed on Branch, the young troll standing a few feet away, eyes wide with shock as he held John Dory’s goggles in his hands.

“Branch?!” He yelped, leaping to his feet. “What are you.. When did you…” He stammered out, fear coursing through him. God, did he see all that? Did he know his older brother was losing it?

“I heard shouting…” Branch replied worriedly. “So I came to see if you were ok.” He fidgeted with his brother’s goggles. “Did… Did you call me ‘Spruce’?”

John Dory swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Did I?” He replied, letting out a nervous laugh as he sat back down on the couch. He massaged his forehead, leg bouncing once more. “Heh, sorry B, I’m uh… I’m just a little tired right now. Well, maybe not a little, more like a lot tired.”

Branch looked him up and down, unconvinced. “You don’t look tired…” He commented, too observant for his own good.

It was true; John Dory felt absolutely wired right now, practically crawling out of his skin. He shook his head, putting on a smile as he pressed firmly down on his leg, locking it in place.

“No, I’m exhausted.” He insisted. That’s probably why this was all happening. He was exhausted and sleep deprived, so that’s why he was seeing things. Well, seeing more things than usual. He just needed to get some sleep, and this would all go away. It was fine, he was fine. Everything is fine.

Branch pursed his lips in concern, climbing onto the couch next to him and setting the goggles aside. “Are you feeling ok?” He asked, reaching out a hand towards his brother’s forehead. Despite himself, John Dory flinched away. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brother’s skin seemed to shatter under his touch.

However, at Branch’s worried gaze, he shook the thought from his head, forcing himself to take hold of his brother’s hand. He was relieved to see it stay intact and grey, just like it usually was.

“Sorry, B, I’m ok, I am. I’m just really… really tired.” He reassured his brother, the lie tasting foul on his tongue. He let his head rest in his other hand, trying to curb the shaking of his body.

“You should rest then.” Came Branch’s reply, John Dory turning his head slightly so he could look at him. His brother’s eyes were wide with concern, which only served to make JD’s guilt deeper.

“No, I… I can’t.” He replied with a dry chuckle. “I just need to think, figure out what we’re going to do now, where we’re going.” He reached up, grabbing at his hair as he laughed again. “How to get us out of this mess I made.”

Branch considered this, eyes narrowed with concentration. “We’re not going back out into the storm, are we?” He asked finally, a hint of fear in his voice.

“What? No, no no no, absolutely not.” John Droy replied quickly, shaking his head. “Never again.”

“Well, then we have time, right?” Branch continued bluntly, fidgeting with John Dory’s hand in his. “It’s ok, you can rest.”

John Dory sighed, massaging his forehead again. Branch had a fair point; as long as they were stuck here, he should try to at least make the most of it. Rest while he still could. Troll knows he didn’t need anymore… episodes like what’d just happened. Plus, he could see dark circles under his brother’s eyes as well. Some rest would probably do them both some good.

“Sure, yeah, yeah… We can chill for a bit.” He said, flopping down on the poofy sofa. His entire body almost seemed to hum with relief. He held an arm up, inviting Branch to join him, and the young troll gratefully obliged. He hugged his brother close, the warmth a stark reminder that he was ok. He was ok…

As they lay there, John Dory’s thoughts turned back to the snow, and the Neverglade Trail. He assumed the trail would continue to wind up into the mountains, leading them higher and higher. Which meant there was a greater chance of something like this happening again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture his brother’s cold hands in his.

If he were by himself, he might’ve kept going. He might’ve thrown all caution to the wind, and not cared where the trail took him. He might’ve followed that trail, chased that unreachable goal, until it ultimately killed him.

But he wasn’t by himself, was he?

You and me, Bitty? We’re gonna make this place our own. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re tough, right?

I’m tough!

John Dory clenched his jaw, feeling his ears droop. He’d come to a decision.

“Hey, Bitty?” He whispered, his brother’s ears flicking in acknowledgement. “I think… I think we need to go back.”

Branch turned to face him, looking confused. “Back?” He questioned.

“Yeah, back the other way. Back towards the start of the trail. Maybe even back to the woods, I don’t… I don’t know.” John Dory continued, feeling his ears droop further. It felt like he was admitting defeat, admitting he wasn’t strong enough to continue on the path the trail was leading them.

It felt like he was admitting that he’d failed.

He thought about what Clay had said, repeating it aloud quickly, as if he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “It’s just not safe out here, it never was, but at least before I knew what I was doing. If we keep following the trail into the mountains, it’ll kill us. I’m sorry but… We have to go back.”

Branch was quiet for a moment, thinking. But then, he replied with a firm “Ok.”

John Dory blinked. “Ok?” He repeated.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be in the snow anymore.” Branch said with a shiver. “And if it’s not safe, then we shouldn’t go.” When John Dory didn’t reply, the young troll’s face fell slightly. “What?”

“I don’t know…” John Dory replied, letting out a soft laugh. “For some reason, I thought you’d hate m- Uh, be disappointed. I mean, I said we were going to hike the trail, and now I’m going back on my word.”

Branch scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s dumb.” He huffed, snuggling deeper into John Dory’s chest. “I don’t care where we go.” He murmured sleepily. “As long as you take me with you.”

John Dory felt his heart nearly break in two, and he hugged his brother closer. “Sounds like a deal.” He replied shakily, hoping Branch couldn’t hear the way his voice was breaking.

“He’s a smart kid.”

John Dory peeked up to see Floyd staring down at them, a soft smile on his face.

“You should listen to him more often.” The pink-haired troll continued, sitting by their side. “Instead of listening to us.”

John Dory just closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion from before wash over him.

He really needed some rest.

Chapter Text

The following day, John Dory let Branch sleep in a bit as he stepped outside the large critter, surveying the entrance to the cave. The snow had drifted a lot, nearly blocking it out entirely, but he could tell it was still there, peeking through the white.

Sun. Sunlight. The clouds had gone.

The storm was over. They could finally leave.

John Dory planted his hands on his hips, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He wanted nothing more than to be somewhere warm again. He was starting to understand what Spruce was always going on about. And god, was he glad that they could get out of this cave. Feeling trapped like this always seemed to bring out the worst in him.

Memories from the previous day swirled around in his mind, his ears drooping slightly. Whatever had happened to him yesterday wasn’t a good sign. In fact, he would go as far as to say it was a very bad sign.

He was used to seeing things, hearing things that weren’t real, but this was almost something else entirely. Similar to the way he got while fighting critters sometimes, he’d felt completely out of control, unable to force his mind back to reality. And he couldn’t get Spruce’s words out of his head:

And what happens if you’re trying to protect Branch, and you can’t trust your own mind? Then what, huh?

John Dory had always had issues trusting other people, but he never thought he’d have to worry about trusting himself. He was the one person he could always count on, the one thing he was always in control of, no matter what. He’d always managed things on his own, with his brothers, Brozone, everything. Even out here, he trusted his instincts, his senses, to react perfectly to any threat or challenge thrown his way. But what if Spruce was right? What if they were being attacked, or in some dangerous situation, and John Dory’s head went all wonky again?

What if this time, it cost his brother his life?

What had his Dad always raved about in his survival stories? Relying on nothing but a backpack, and a good head on your shoulders? Well, John Dory was definitely missing one of those things, and newsflash, it wasn’t the backpack. He chewed absently at his nails, staring at the entrance to the cave as doubt began to cloud his mind.

It was getting harder to ignore the growing fear in his gut, ignore the images of his brothers haunting his every move. He knew he needed to move on, for Branch’s sake, but… What if he couldn’t? This whole time he’d been trying to move on, to not think about everything that's happened, and how was that working out for him? It was only getting worse. He was only getting worse. It was as clear as the grey on his skin.

He knew he needed to move on, he knew that. But at the end of the day, maybe he just didn’t want to. He never was a strong troll.

He was supposed to be better than this. He was supposed to be this amazing, survivalist older brother, able to face whatever the wilderness threw at him. He couldn’t afford to have flaws, he never could; he always had to be perfect. But he was failing. He’d failed his little brothers back then, and he was failing Branch now. He just couldn’t stop messing things up, just like he always did.

John Dory bit down on his thumb, wincing a bit. How was he supposed to do this when he couldn’t even trust himself to make the right decisions? To even know what’s real, and what’s not? All of a sudden, he’d become a liability. Putting not only his own life, but Branch’s in jeopardy, all because he couldn’t let go of the past.

Spruce was right. He was so fucking selfish.

Suddenly, John Dory’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted as he felt something warm and fuzzy press into his side, nearly knocking him over. A surprised snarl escaped his lips, his mind immediately shifting into fight mode, but felt himself relax as he laid his eyes on the transport critter, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Amusement started to grow in his chest as well, and he let out a soft, “Hey!” as he pushed her back a bit. “Can’t you see I’m brooding? It’s rude to interrupt a man mid-brood.”

She ignored this, nuzzling him as she let out a soft coo. And John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his face on hers as he pet her fuzzy cheeks, feeling his body relax even further at her touch.

“Bet you can’t wait to get out of here either, can you girl?” He said sadly, the creature letting out a soft hum of agreement. They both avoided looking towards the back of the cave, where the critter’s young pup was buried. Some things were best left unspoken.

John Dory pulled back a bit, petting her between her huge eyes as his heart swelled with gratitude. “Thanks again for saving us. For saving Branch. Without you, he would’ve-” The words caught in his throat, which he stubbornly tried to clear. “Ehem, anyways, thank you.”

The critter cooed affectionately, pressing her face into him once more, clearly vying for more pets. John Dory laughed, scratching under her chin. And with a pang of sadness, he realized he was really going to miss her.

Despite her enormous size, she truly was a sweetheart. She not only saved their lives, but was also goofy and expressive in a way that immediately put John Dory at ease. And he felt safe around her, something that was incredibly rare out on the Neverglade Trail. It almost felt like they just understood each other, in a way he’d never experienced before.

Over just the past day or so, John Dory really felt like they’d formed a bond, a trust. And he didn’t trust easily. But with her, he just knew that they were safe. She provided them with shelter in a way he didn’t feel trapped, didn’t feel as if he were itching to leave the next day. She was warm, protected, AND equipped with a small kitchenette? This critter was practically a miracle on paws.

And, to be perfectly honest, it’d been really nice to sleep on something other than the cold, hard ground.

John Dory let out a sigh, leaning his head into hers. He truly was going to miss her. And he really hated goodbyes.

Suddenly, as if someone had switched on a lightbulb in his cobwebbed brain, an idea popped into his head. His eyes shot open, pushing himself back.

“Wait, what if you come with us?” He asked, tail swishing excitedly.

The critter cocked her head to the side, giving him a goofy grin.

“Branch and I are heading back down the mountains.” He continued, grinning like an idiot. “And if you want, you could join us! I mean, we’re not the best company, but we are company, and then you wouldn’t have to be alone!”

He stepped back, pacing a bit as he spoke, waving his hands wildly. “You can provide us with transportation and shelter, and I’ll provide you with food, protection… And entertainment of course!”

He whipped back around to face the critter, feeling like he was about to burst with excitement. “What’d’ya say, girl? It’s not much, but if you want, you could be part of our sad, broken little family!” He laughed, holding out his arms. “We could be sad and broken together!”

John Dory took the way the critter enthusiastically drenched him in glittery slobber as a firm yes.

He already knew exactly what he was going to call her.

As she continued to lick him, John Dory trying and failing to push her away, Branch finally peeked his head out the hatch, looking confused as he held firmly on to the wiggling creature.

“JD? Were you talking to yourself or the critter?” The young troll asked, hopping down onto the cave floor.

John Dory rolled away from the large beast, still laughing. “I was talking to our new travel buddy!” He said excitedly, shaking drool from his hair as he watched her lumber off. “Rhonda here’s going to join us!”

Branch blinked in surprise. “She is?” He asked, before shaking his head. “Wait, Rhonda? You named her Rhonda?”

“Fits her well, don’t it?” John Dory replied with a grin. “Strong name for a strong woman. I told you I was good at naming things!”

Branch huffed, rolling his eyes. “I guess it does fit her pretty well.” The young troll admitted with a grumble. Then, his eyes locked on the entrance to the cave, widening slightly. “It stopped snowing…”

John Dory nodded. “It did. Which means we can finally get the hell out of here. And we’ll be leaving in style too! No more wading through waist deep snow.”

Branch’s face brightened a bit, John Dory practically able to see the gears turning in his young mind. “No more cold nights…” He whispered, tail beginning to swish back and forth. “No more walking for hours and hours… No more sleeping on rocks?”

John Dory scooped him into his arms, the small troll too excited to protest as his older brother pressed his forehead against his. “No more sleeping on rocks!” John Dory agreed with a laugh. “Thanks to Rhonda here, I think things are about to get a whole lot easier.”

They both turned to look at the new member of their party, who’d made her way to the back of the cave. And with a jolt, John Dory realized she was standing next to where she’d buried her pup. Sadness welled up in his chest, the smile falling from his face as he watched the large creature close her eyes, pushing her face into the dirt. And slowly, he heard that sad, humming melody begin to once again echo through the cave.

“What’s she doing?” Branch whispered.

John Dory swallowed, heart aching. “She’s saying goodbye.” He replied stiffly, holding his brother closer to him.

Branch looked between him and Rhonda, confused, before it seemed to click, his face growing sad. “Oh…” He said, ears drooping as he turned back towards the critter.

The music seemed to wrap them in a gentle caress, grief heavy in their eyes. They all understood this pain.

Once Rhonda had said her goodbyes, she trotted back over, a determined look on her face. And with a click, the hatch on her side fell open. She cooed at the two trolls, inviting them in.

She didn’t have to ask them twice.

John Dory sat in the driver's seat, rubbing his hands together as he stared at the button-filled dash. He shot a grin over at his brother, who looked a bit nervous as he stood by John Dory’s side.

“You ready for this, Bitty B?” He asked, trying to muster as much confidence as he could. He couldn’t tell if he was more excited or scared, but regardless, both feelings were making his body hum with adrenaline. He couldn’t wait to get moving again, leave this cave and the memories behind.

Branch gave him a shaky smile. “Mhmm.” He hummed apprehensively.

John Dory nodded, just about to turn back to the dash when he noticed the images of his brothers behind him, lounging in different places around Rhonda.

“What, you didn’t think you could leave without us, did you?” Clay said dryly as he leaned against the wall with a glare. “Yeah, you don’t get to do that again.”

“At least we’re getting out of the cold.” Spruce chimed in, cuffing Clay over the back of his head as he went to flop on the couch, giving John Dory a pointed look. “Like I’ve been saying we should this whole time.”

“This is the right thing to do; we have to keep Branch safe.” Floyd added, the pink-haired troll appearing by Branch’s side, nervously fidgeting with his hands. “Right, JD?”

John Dory took a deep breath, pulling his attention away from them. They weren’t real. And for now, until he figured all this… mind stuff out, he would continue to ignore them. Maybe he couldn’t move on just yet, but he was great at avoiding things.

He stubbornly pulled his goggles down over his eyes, facing forward once more. “Alright, next stop… who knows? But at least we’re doing it together, right?”

Branch didn’t answer him, instead frantically peeking around the front of the critter. “Do you know how to drive?” He sputtered nervously. “Maybe there’s an instruction manual or something…”

“Nah, we don’t need that. I’ve got it handled.” John Dory replied, grinning wildly as he cracked his knuckles, excitement growing in his chest. He scanned the dash, eyes landing on a large button that read Hustle. “Ah, see? That’s probably the ‘go’ button.”

He was just about to press it when his eyes landed on another button next to the steering wheel, this one actually reading Go. “Oh, never mind, found it!” He laughed, pressing it down. Rhonda let out a low rumble, rearing onto her hindlegs. John Dory gripped onto the steering wheel for stability, letting out a cackle. “Whoo, she’s got some kick to her!”

Branch jumped onto his lap, pulling the safety belt across the both of them and snapping it in place. He looked scared, but his jaw was set in determination. “Ok, I’m ready.” He said, voice shaking slightly. “Just… not too fast?”

“Please, Bitty, I would never drive too fast.” John Dory replied, face curling into a malicious grin as his foot hovered over the accelerator. “Now let’s do this.”

To be fair, he only almost crashed poor Rhonda about three times. She was fast. However he soon got the hang of it, with a fair amount of chastising from his younger brother.

It took a while, but he eventually managed to find his way back to the Neverglade Trail, beginning to follow it once more. But this time, he took them in the opposite direction, away from the mountain snow, and back towards the warmth.

In a weird way, it almost felt like they were going home.

Chapter Text

Rhonda truly was a miracle, making their lives a whole lot easier. Not easy by any means, but easier. And with her by their side, time almost seemed to race by.

They slowly made their way back along the Neverglade Trail, stopping whenever and wherever they pleased. John Dory no longer had to worry about building them shelters, or fires to protect them from the cold. They always had somewhere warm to stay, and a soft bed to lay on. But every once in a while, he’d still build one, just for funzies.

He also didn’t have to worry about traveling as much, Rhonda able to span great distances and maneuver the mountain terrain like it was nothing. Valleys that might have normally taken them days to trek now only took maybe a day, saving he and Branch both from sore, blistering feet.

There were still, however, times where he just wanted to walk, letting the large critter trail along lazily by their side. As much as he loved driving her around, feeling the power in her stride and watching the landscape zoom by, there was just something special about hiking alongside his brother, bantering back and forth like they did before. And Rhonda was more than happy to join along in their fun, her joyful attitude a constant breath of fresh air. It wasn’t like they were in a rush to go anywhere. Besides, sometimes sitting still for so long started to drive John Dory bonkers, and that was never a good thing.

He hadn’t had any huge… incidents since the one he’d had back at the cave. He was still seeing things, well, three certain things, almost constantly, but that wasn’t really a big deal. At least, that’s what he was continuing to tell himself.

Every once in a while, he would start to get that same fuzzy feeling, that feeling as if he was disconnecting from everything. Sometimes something would trigger it, but sometimes it would just happen, for apparently no rhyme or reason. It would just hit him, that awful feeling of dread, the lines of reality blurring slightly…

It still scared the hell out of him. But it was becoming more manageable.

Whenever his head started getting fuzzy like that, he’d pull over, forcing himself to walk, to talk with Branch, do anything he could to try and ground himself in reality again. If that didn’t work, he’d stop them for the day, retreating into Rhonda and hiding under a blanket until the feeling went away. It was annoying, but he was making it work. Mostly. And troll, he was so damn lucky he had Rhonda.

Because of her, he didn’t have to worry about Branch while he was having one of his… Moments. Oftentimes when his older brother got “tired” like this, the young troll would find some way to entertain himself inside the large critter, where John Dory knew he was safe. It allowed for John Dory to relax a bit, take the time he needed to screw his head back on. And thankfully, Branch didn’t question him about it, reserved only to shooting his brother worried glances. They never talked about it, but John Dory kinda preferred it that way.

Speaking of Branch, the young troll was growing like crazy. As the months drifted by, John Dory watched as his brother seemed to sprout, right in front of his eyes. He was still pretty short, even for troll standards, but he was no longer as scrawny as he once was. Neither was John Dory for that matter. And that was once again all thanks to Rhonda. The critter provided them with something that John Dory had missed desperately.

A kitchen.

Not only did she have a working stove, pots, and pans, allowing for John Dory to start actually cooking things like he used to, and not just charring them over a fire. But she had a fridge. A freezer. Space. Things they could use to actually store food away for later. No longer was every day a hunt for food, the fear of not finding any gnawing away at his stomach in tandem with the hunger. They always had stuff on reserve, frozen berries and critter meat stored away in case they needed it. They were never hungry anymore.

John Dory didn’t dare question how any of those things worked. He was just content to be grateful they did.

Unfortunately, food was still scarce out on the Neverglade Trail. And now, John Dory had not only three mouths to feed, but one of them was about ten times the size of the others. Berries were hard to find, and the critters were typically small, he and Branch having to catch a fair few in order to have enough to feed Rhonda and build up their storage. As time went on, it became increasingly difficult to justify why they were even staying out here anyways. So eventually, John Dory made another decision.

They were going to have to leave the trail.

It felt a bit risky, but ultimately he decided the pros outweighed the cons. It was more predictable out here, sure, and there was less threat from dangerous critters. But at the end of the day, it was cold, barren, and they were much too exposed. There just wasn’t enough food for him, Branch, and the massive critter they were providing for. And it was clear Rhonda didn’t belong up here, the poor girl almost always shivering at night despite John Dory’s best efforts to keep her warm. He just didn’t have the means to protect her.

And after everything she did for them, John Dory figured he at least owed it to her to take them somewhere where she could be warm.

So, they left. And John Dory didn’t feel a hint of regret as they did. The Neverglade Trail had long since turned from the sparkling frontier he’d imagined in his dreams to something he now only saw in nightmares. Part of him wondered if his Dad would be disappointed that he couldn’t manage to tough it out here. But then again, he doubted his Dad would have managed it either. He never was a brave troll.

John Dory only ever saw him in his nightmares as well.

The next several months were spent adjusting to life back in the woods. It was just as daunting and unpredictable as John Dory remembered it, teeming with all sorts of large critters, dangerous plants, and harrowing storms that would last for days. Rhonda was big, but at the end of the day, she was a lover, not a fighter, so they did their best to avoid anything too dangerous. Usually, things would take one quick look at Rhonda’s size and the bristling trolls by her side, and decide it wasn’t worth it. But when they did, it was typically John Dory who had to defend them.

He earned plenty of new scars.

But overall, they adjusted pretty well, and life became… easier. Again, not easy, but easier. They were protected under the trees, the nights hardly ever dropped down enough to be considered chilly, and between the flora and fauna of the forest, food was plentiful. This sense of security brought with it a feeling of relief John Dory hadn’t known he was missing, cementing in the fact that he’d made the right choice.

He felt better, Rhonda was happy, and most importantly, his brother seemed to be thriving here, continuing to learn and grow with each passing day.

Life was good.

Moving back to the forest presented new challenges, but so far, he and Branch had faced them head on, adapting best they could. Specifically, because of their massive travel partner, they had to start learning how to hunt larger critters in order to provide for her. And surprisingly, it was actually working out incredibly well. John Dory figured out the best ways to do so through tedious trial and error (a lot of errors…), and Branch quickly caught on, following his lead without hesitation. And because they could now store the surplus of food away, they only had to hunt about every few weeks.

Which was exactly what they were doing now.

John Dory crouched next to his little brother in the foliage of a small tree, their eyes locked on a few gigglefruits they’d piled up in the middle of a clearing. The sweet treat was something that was almost irresistible to Swag Stags, a large critter that was rumored to cough up treasure if made to laugh. However, treasure wasn’t exactly what they were after.

They tasted pretty good too.

The stags were able to hone in on the scent of gigglefruits like a beacon, drawn for miles by their overwhelmingly sweet smell. And that’s exactly what he was counting on.

He clutched the wooden spear he’d whittled tighter, shooting a quick glance over at his younger brother. Branch had his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he scanned the edge of the clearing. There was mud streaked across his hair and skin, along with a few leaves and sticks for added measure to help him blend into the forest greenery. John Dory donned the same earthy attire.

Although their greyness helped a bit with camouflage versus say, the bright blue they would normally be, it was unfortunate that it prevented them from shifting their hues. But John Dory’d found a way to get past that, despite his method being a bit less than ideal. He sometimes almost forgot that he and Branch had ever been anything other than grey. He supposed at some point, they’d just gotten used to it. Just another one of those things they never really talked about.

He turned his attention back to the clearing, trying to focus on looking for any signs of movement. They’d been at this for a few hours already with no luck, and he was starting to get antsy. The longer they stayed here, the more likely it was that they’d become the ones being hunted instead. Plus, his legs were starting to get stiff.

Suddenly, his eyes locked on to something large, pushing through the branches. His body tensed, preparing to leap into action, but quickly relaxed as he realized it was a false alarm. It wasn’t a stag, but instead a Pinegolin, the lumbering critter huge and covered in giant brown scales.

His eyes widened excitedly at the rare critter, smacking his brother with his tail to get the younger troll’s attention. Branch stiffened, gripping his spear tighter as he looked John Dory’s way, ready to go. But the older troll just shook his head, nodding towards the Pinegolin.

They watched, intrigued, as it peered around the clearing for any trouble. Once it was satisfied, it shook itself, bristling out its scales to allow several small, Pinegolin babies to roll out, the tiny critters playfully frolicking around their mother. She nuzzled them fondly before leading them back into the underbrush, the clearing empty once more.

John Dory turned back to his brother with a grin, mouthing the word Wow! as he used his hand to mimic an explosion by his head.

Branch just gave him a baleful look, rolling his eyes. He brought his hand up, pointing at his ears, then his eyes, then the clearing below. The message was clear: Focus.

John Dory silently scoffed, rolling his eyes as well. His prickly little brother was no fun sometimes. But, he did as he was told, turning his eyes back towards the clearing. However his focus was immediately interrupted as he noticed a certain pink-haired troll appear by his side, peering down as well.

“You think anything will show up?” Floyd asked, tail twitching back and forth as he tapped his fingers on the branch. He always was a bit of a fidgety kid; he and Branch were very similar that way. His eyes were narrowed, scanning the trees with intense concentration. “We’ve been here a while already…”

“I’m bored!” John Dory heard Clay’s shrill voice pop up from behind him, trying to keep his ears from twitching towards his brother’s loud, exasperated groan. “This is boring, JD.”

Well, you could always, I don’t know… Leave? John Dory thought back, prying his eyes away from Spruce, who appeared to be lounging sleepily just behind Branch, looking bored as well.

Just then, his eyes locked again on movement from across the clearing. And this time, he wasn’t disappointed. A large stag stepped out into the sunlight, eyeing the gigglefruits hungrily. From the way Branch’s body tensed, he could tell his brother saw it too.

Just like that, the hunt was on.

He didn’t have to look at his brother, instead just flicking his ear to indicate it was time to go. Branch flicked his ear in response, silently slipping down the tree as John Dory followed right behind him. Once they’d reached the forest floor, he finally got Branch’s attention, pointing at his ear, then his mouth.

Listen for my signal.

Branch nodded, spear at the ready. And with a flick of his tail, he ducked off into the woods, John Dory heading the opposite way.

He moved quickly and quietly through the underbrush, keeping his eyes locked on the stag as it gorged itself on the sickly sweet fruit. He could just barely see Branch doing the same. Once they were in position, John Dory crouched low, with one hand on the ground, and the other wrapped tight around his spear. He let out a series of low clicks, the sound echoing across the clearing. The stag’s ears flicked at the noise, but didn’t appear too bothered as it continued to eat.

That is, until a young troll burst out of the bushes, letting out a ferocious snarl as he bristled his hair up to three times its normal size.

The stag reared up in panic, taking off in the opposite direction as Branch continued to chase it. His little brother sprinted with purpose, making sure to direct the stag exactly where he wanted it to go: Straight into his brother’s spear.

John Dory waited for the right moment to strike, until the stag was nearly on top of him, then lunged forward a growl, preparing to stab his spear into the unsuspecting critter. But he must have moved just a moment too soon. The stag spotted him, digging its hooves into the ground and changing direction at the last second.

John Dory cursed under his breath, abandoning the spear as he leapt on top of the critter, tackling it to the ground with a snarl. It let out a fearful bray, kicking out with its hooves, which John Dory skillfully avoided.

He wrestled with it for a moment, trying to hold it still so he could grab something to hit it with, when he noticed a large, bulbous flower critter lean over them, its eyes narrowed with hunger. He recognized the plant immediately, fear shooting through his veins.

He hastily scrambled off the poor stag seconds before flames blasted from the flower’s mouth, incinerating the critter instantly. And with a sharp sucking sound, it inhaled the ashes left behind, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the grass and a few teeth, still stained with the purple gigglefruit. It then turned towards John Dory, as if daring him to protest. However, he didn’t really feel like dying a fiery death today.

He chuckled nervously, taking a few steps back as he held up his hands defensively. “All yours, pal.” He said with a shrug, before turning tail and making his escape. As soon as he was a ways away, he slowed to a walk, gritting his teeth in frustration as he peered behind him.

Dammit… He thought, absently kicking at a small stone, sending it skittering across the ground. I was this freaking close…

“Dammit!” Branch echoed his thoughts aloud as he walked up alongside the older troll, looking frustrated as well. “That was our kill.” He hissed in a squeaky voice, glaring in the direction of the flower critter.

“‘Darn it’, B.” John Dory corrected him, trying to curb his little brother’s increasingly colorful vocabulary. “And no, it was almost our kill.”

“Stupid Torchflower…” Branch grumbled, seething as he kicked at the dirt.

“Just bad luck, Bitty.” John Dory sighed, readjusting his goggles. “But hey, at least I didn’t get incinerated, so ultimately, I’d say this was a win.”

“I’m glad you’re not incinerated.” The young troll huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a pout. “But we’ve been at this for hours, and we’re still empty handed!”

“I know.” John Dory replied, sharing in his brother’s exasperation as he rubbed the back of his neck. He peeked up at the sky, the sun starting to drop low. It’d be getting dark soon, and he did not want to be out here when it did. He let out a sigh, picking up his spear in defeat. “C’mon, let’s call it for today. We can give it another go tomorrow. We should at least have enough food for…”

He trailed off, the hair on his neck standing up as his ears flicked towards a new sound. Something large, moving through the leaves. He peered over towards Branch, whose body had grown stiff, frozen, his eyes locked in terror on something behind his older brother. John Dory’s ears pinned to the side of his head, gripping his spear tighter as he slowly turned around, adrenaline already beginning to surge through his veins.

There, just a few feet from them and bristling with rage, was the largest Tuskhog he’d ever seen.

And its gleaming red eyes were locked right on them.

Chapter Text

John Dory stood perfectly still, not taking his eyes from the large critter as they stood locked in an apparent standoff. He tried to keep his breathing level, the silence broken only by Branch’s soft gasps, and the pounding of his own heart.

“It’s ok, Branch.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “Stay still, don’t move a muscle.”

His brother only responded with a small, fearful squeak.

“Yeah, that’s not going to be a problem.” John Dory heard Spruce’s voice say from his side, tight with alarm. “Kid’s frozen stiff.”

John Dory cursed inwardly, his knuckles almost white as they gripped his spear. Branch had been doing better with the whole “freezing” thing, typically able to at least run away when John Dory told him to. With the amount of dangerous critters they encountered out here, the young troll had plenty of good practice in trying to overcome his paralyzing fear. But clearly, that was not the case today, making things a bit more difficult.

The rusty gears in John Dory’s mind began to churn as he tried desperately to think of a plan, still staring into the Tuskhog’s narrowed, bloodshot eyes.

“Ok ok, Tuskhogs are aggressive, and highly territorial, with six large, deadly tusks protruding from their mouth.” Clay’s voice muttered anxiously. “They’re top-heavy, have bad eyesight, and, uh… Argh, the real Clay would know more about this! Screw you and your stupid mind, JD!”

Quiet. John Dory thought back, taking a deep breath. It was ok; he could do this. He slowly brought his arms up, protectively shielding his brother behind him.

“Bitty, focus on just moving one foot, remember?” He said quietly as he took a step back, trying to move as slowly and as carefully as he could. He wrapped his tail around his brother’s waist, both as a reassurance, and to gently move the small troll back with him. He could feel Branch shaking, his breaths raspy and uneven, but slowly, his brother also took a step back.

“Attaboy…” John Dory whispered, the critter’s beady eyes gleaming with malice as it watched them. If they could just get out of its sight, or out of its territory, maybe it would let them leave. Doubtful, but for now, it seemed to be working. John Dory took a few more careful steps back, the Tuskhog’s eyes following his every move.

It appeared to be going smoothly. He continued to direct his brother back towards the underbrush, his eyes never leaving the critter as they slowly but surely made progress. He almost thought they were in the clear. That is, until he mistakenly stepped on a dry stick, the harsh snapping sound nearly causing him to jump out of his skin.

With that, the Tuskhog decided that indeed, it was feeling murderous enough to attack.

The critter let out a screech, rearing up on its hind legs as it threw its head with rage. Then, it charged, its heavy hooves thundering across the ground. John Dory reacted immediately, ‘slow’ and ‘careful’ no longer an option as he leapt into action.

He spun around, grabbing Branch’s stiff body without a second thought and practically shoving him into the bushes. He’d have to apologize later. He then whipped back towards the charging critter, trying to position his spear, but it was far too late; the creature practically on top of him. The spear dropped from his hands as he caught the Tuskhog’s large tusks moments before he was skewered, the force sending jolts of pain up his arms.

The critter continued to drive into him, forcing him back. John Dory’s heels dug into the soft earth as he fought against the creature’s strength, but to no avail. He was clearly outmatched here in brute force. So, a different tactic then.

He dropped down to the ground, allowing the Tuskhog to rush over him. And with a lurch, he kicked upwards with both his feet, directly into the bristly fur of the critter’s stomach, using its own momentum to send it flying. It let out a sharp squeal as it tumbled through the air, crashing into a nearby tree with a loud thud.

John Dory hastily climbed to his feet, panting heavily. He could not believe that worked. He watched as the Tuskhog scrambled back up as well, a lot quicker than he would have liked. It shook its head, tearing at the grass with its hooves as it angrily scanned around the clearing with squinted eyes.

It swiveled its massive head towards the bushes, and for a terrifying moment, John Dory thought it might find Branch, the younger troll just barely visible between the leaves. Rage surged through his chest. No, he needed this critter's attention on him, and only him. He wouldn’t let it hurt Branch. So, he did what any sane troll would do.

He threw a bomb at it.

A flower bomb, to be precise. The sticky seeds had a tendency to explode upon impact, and well, what better way to get the large critter’s attention? He pulled one from his pack, whipping it through the air with practiced precision. It flew smoothly, smacking the Tuskhog in the side of its face, clinging to it. And within moments, it exploded into a cloud of glitter, the critter letting out an agonizing screech.

Oh yeah, he definitely had its attention now.

The creature whipped towards him, pure, white-hot rage burning in its eyes, the side of its face now covered with a mix of blue glitter and charred flesh. John Dory had about half a second to think Huh, maybe I shouldn’t have done that… before it let out a furious howl, charging at him blindly, the force of its hooves making the ground shake. He scrambled to grab his spear, just barely able to position it before the creature reached him. With a furious snarl, he thrust it forward, aiming directly into the critters chest.

If Clay had been there, he might have told John Dory that Tuskhogs have incredibly thick skin, almost impenetrable to any and all weapons. But Clay wasn’t there, and with a snap, the spear bowed against the critter’s chest, breaking instantly.

John Dory had mere milliseconds to once again catch the critter’s tusks as they plunged towards him, the creature pinning him to the ground. Its hot breath washed over him, heavy and sickly sweet, smelling of rotten fruit. Foamy drool dripped down his arms and onto his face as the Tuskhog snapped at him, gnashing its teeth. He would have been disgusted if he wasn’t so absolutely terrified.

He struggled against its weight, its hooves digging into the ground much too close for his liking. He tried kicking it off him once again, but the critter had learned its lesson, sagging its weight down more so John Dory couldn’t get a good kick in. Panic and rage swirled to life in his mind as his feet slammed uselessly against its thick skin.

It had him trapped.

This thing was going to kill him.

No… no no no. If this thing killed him, who was going to protect Branch? His movements became more frantic, more desperate as he spat and snarled, his muscles beginning to fatigue.

He couldn’t let this happen. Branch needed him. If he died, his little brother would be left alone in these horrifying woods, all by himself. No, he needed to be there.

He promised.

But right now, he was failing, his arms shaking with effort as his vision began to tunnel. The Tuskhog pushed down further, practically driving him into the dirt. Crushing him… He couldn’t breathe…

Suddenly, he noticed movement up near the critter’s head. Dark grey hair, followed by the appearance of a small, mud-streaked troll.

Branch.

The young troll straddled the critter’s neck, the creature apparently unaware of the new addition, too focused on the one it was trying to crush beneath its hooves. Branch raised his arms over his head, his spear clutched tightly in his hands. And with a shrill cry, he brought it down, jabbing it into the Tuskhog’s eye.

Thankfully, their eyes aren’t as thick as their skin.

The spear sank easily into the soft flesh, driving deep into the critter’s skull. It didn’t even have a chance to squeal. Its eyes unfocused, jaw going slack as it shivered, its muscles immediately giving out. And it was dead before it hit the ground.

Or more specifically, hit John Dory. The damn thing collapsed right on top of him.

He still couldn’t breathe.

He pushed against the now limp mass of flesh slumped over his body, the concept of “deadweight” having much more meaning now. But he was struggling to shift it off him, his lungs screaming for air.

“JD!” Branch shouted, leaping to his side. The young troll began to shove his body into the critter as well, and together, they were able to roll it off him.

He let out a gasp, sucking in air desperately as he rolled to his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing. Branch quickly crouched by his side, fear flashing across his face. “You ok?!” The young troll asked, hands hovering in the air, as if he were unsure what to do with them.

John Dory coughed again, unable to speak in his current state, but held up his hand, making the universal sign for “Ok.” He then pointed at his brother, before making the same sign.

You ok?

Branch nodded, visibly relaxing as a small smile of relief crossed his face. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he gave his brother a shove. “You pushed me!” He hissed, tail twitching angrily.

John Dory rolled onto his back, having finally caught his breath enough again to speak. “Sorry, B.” He rasped, letting his head fall back against the soft dirt. “But to be fair, I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get skewered, so give me a little credit here.”

His eyes drifted over to the dead Tuskhog, the spear still lodged deep in its skull, a small trickle of blood rolling down its face. An image of Floyd appeared by its side, a horrified look on his face as he stared down at it.

“Branch… killed it.” He said softly, as if he couldn’t believe it. John Dory barely could either.

It wasn’t like Branch hadn’t killed things before. In fact, he was about just as good as John Dory with the slingshot, and even better at building traps. But the small troll had never killed anything bigger than a Grossum. And this thing? This was much, much bigger than a Grossum.

But truthfully, he was just relieved his brother had killed it with a spear, and not his teeth. He didn’t go all wild, feral like John Dory usually did while fighting. And Branch was safe. That was all that mattered. He could worry about all that other stuff later.

Just then, it occurred to him exactly what had happened, and he turned towards his little brother with a grin.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, pushing himself into a sitting position. “You didn’t freeze!”

Branch blinked, before shaking his head. “I did freeze.” He replied, ears drooping.

“Well, yeah, but then you unfroze!” John Dory continued enthusiastically as he climbed to his feet. “You leapt into action, and saved my sorry tail from being flattened!”

Branch considered this, looking over at the dead Tuskhog. “Yeah, I… I guess I did.” He replied, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

John Dory reached out an arm, wrapping it around his brother’s shoulders. “Yeah you did!” He laughed, mussing up his muddied hair. Branch just pushed him away, grumbling his complaints.

“Yeah well, somebody’s gotta protect you.” The young troll said, fixing his hair. “That was stupid. You make really stupid decisions, and then you always end up getting hurt.”

John Dory let out a disbelieving snort. “Please, I make great decisions.” He replied, readjusting his goggles. “You just don’t understand how awesome they are.”

Branch crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you decided you wanted to be crushed by a giant critter?”

John Dory held up a finger. “I… don’t appreciate the sass.” He replied haltingly.

Branch just scoffed. John Dory could see his brother was shaking slightly, hands tight on his arms. And immediately, he felt the bravado fade. He was making Branch worry.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Bitty.” He said in a low voice. “I’ll… try to be more careful, ok?”

Branch remained tense, but let out a sigh, gaze softening. “Ok.”

John Dory smiled, holding out his arms. “You want a hug?” He asked coyly.

Branch huffed, turning away. “No.” He replied in a trembling voice, clearly doing his best to put on a brave face.

John Dory let his hands fall to his sides. His brother wasn’t too keen on hugs anymore, fiercely independent and stubborn to a fault. Troll only knows where he got that from. But John Dory knew this, and he respected it.

Most of the time.

But right now, his big brother instincts told him that Branch was indeed in need of a brotherly hug. He felt a grin stretch across his face, sneaking forward.

Branch was perceptive, but John Dory knew just how to move to remain perfectly quiet. And, he was the master of distraction. He carefully scooped a small pebble from the ground, and with a flick, he tossed it to his brother’s other side.

When Branch turned to look towards the noise, he made his attack, leaping through the air and tackling the small troll to the ground, his brother letting out a small yelp of protest. They wrestled for a moment before John Dory eventually succeeded in wrapping the young troll in a tight hug.

“JD! Get off!” Branch growled, struggling against his brother’s grip. But John Dory just growled back playfully, letting out a soft hum.

“I’m so proud of you Bitty~” He crooned, hugging his brother closer as he rubbed his cheek on his face.

“I know! Now leggo!” Branch continued to protest, pushing against his brother’s chest. “You’re squishing me!” John Dory eventually relented, letting Branch scamper away. He let out a chuckle, leaping back to his feet and stretching out his already aching muscles.

“Alright, alright, we should probably get out of here.” He continued, anxiety once again beginning to prickle across his skin. “I don’t want to imagine what might have heard that whole ruckus.”

Branch nodded in agreement, still slightly disgruntled. John Dory slapped a hand on his shoulder. “But hey, extra kudos to you, Bitty.” He said with a wink, turning his brother towards the Tuskhog as a grin stretched across his face.

“Looks like you got us some dinner.”

Chapter Text

John Dory pulled the spear from the Tuskhog’s face; his brother had really jabbed it in there.

“You wanna call Rhonda, Bitty?” He asked, tossing the bloodied stick off into the woods. “How’s your whistle coming along?”

“It’s not.” Branch replied with a scowl. “I still can’t do it.”

“Not with that attitude.” John Dory chirped, walking back to the young troll. It was strange. As the months went by, Branch was starting to become increasingly more pessimistic, despite John Dory’s constant forced optimism. He no longer got excited about things, and his good moods were fewer, and far between. Hell, John Dory couldn’t remember the last time he saw a hint of blue on his brother’s ears. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing something wrong.

But he refused to give up, not letting the smile fall from his face. “C’mon, give it a go. Practice makes perfect y’know.”

“Wow, where have I heard that one before?” Spruce’s dry, sarcastic voice chimed in, the purple-haired troll poking at the Tuskhog in disgust.

Real helpful, Spruce, thanks. John Dory thought back, a flicker of irritation growing in his mind.

“I’m not trying to be helpful.” Came Spruce’s deadpanned reply.

John Dory shot him a scathing look before turning back to Branch, who sighed, but did as he was told.

He scrunched his eyes, blowing into his fingers, but all that came out was a hissing breath. “See? I can’t.” He huffed, looking frustrated. “It doesn’t work for me.”

“You’ll get it.” John Dory assured him, patting him firmly on the shoulders. “Don’t give up, alright? Keep practicing. Watch what I do.” He then turned to the side, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to let out a shrill whistle. The loud sound was enough to make his ears twinge painfully, and he had to resist the urge to rub at them.

Branch apparently had the same issue, massaging his ears as he let out a sigh. “You make it look so easy.”

Within minutes, Rhonda burst into the clearing, scampering over to them excitedly. John Dory greeted her with open arms, petting her face as he cooed lovingly.

“Aw, hey sweet girl! Sorry we took so long, we-” He cut off as a rancid smell reached his nose, pushing himself back from the large critter with a grimace. He noticed she had her mouth firmly shut, a guilty look in her eyes. “Rhonda, what do you have?”

Rhonda refused to look at him, so he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed.

“Rhonda, drop it.” He commanded, pointing at the ground.

Rhonda grumbled, but opened her mouth, spitting out a glob of glittery drool and a fair number of Stinkbugs. Branch gagged, turning away as John Dory shook his head in disgust.

“Don’t eat those!” He chastised, rubbing his face in exasperation. “I’ve told you not to eat those. You know better than that!”

Rhonda churred at him, pressing her face into his body. John Dory couldn’t help but laugh as he pushed her away. He could never be mad at her. “No ma’am. You keep your stink to yourself.”

“I don’t get why you talk to her like she understands.” Branch said, his nose still wrinkling as he also gave her a few pets.

“She does understand!” John Dory insisted with a grin. “Watch. Rhonda, blink twice if you understand.”

The large critter just looked at him, panting, blinking her large eyes once. Branch scoffed in disbelief, but before he could say anything, John Dory held up a finger. “No no no, wait for it…”

After a few seconds, Rhonda blinked again, John Dory shooting his brother a smug grin. “See? She gets me.”

Branch just shook his head. “You are so… weird.” He mumbled, before scanning around the clearing. “We should get out of here.” He continued nervously. “We’re being too loud.”

“Right, good thinking.” John Dory agreed, once again stretching out his aching body as he walked over to the dead Tuskhog. He didn’t really feel up to fighting with anything else today. “Rhonda girl, can you carry this for us? Bitty B got us some dinner!”

Rhonda let out a soft rumble, nuzzling into Branch’s side. The young troll just pushed her back, but a smile played at the edge of his lips. “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome.” He said softly, petting her back. Then he blinked, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, now you’ve got me doing it.”

Rhonda lumbered forward and scooped the deceased critter into her mouth. Usually John Dory would consider that unsanitary, but Rhonda was a strange critter. He’d discovered she had a weird pocket dimension inside her mouth, one she could use to carry large things such as this. And like most things with their huge travel companion, he decided not to question it.

He and Branch clambered inside, and John Dory quickly drove them away from the clearing, back out into the woods. For being so large, Rhonda was still able to move through the forest quickly and quietly. And John Dory had gotten much better at helping her navigate, such as avoiding areas where they’d seen dangerous critters before.

They kind of traveled all over the place, but John Dory never felt lost. Weirdly enough, the layout seemed to make sense, if you really thought about it.

He led them downhill in search of some water, both to stock up, and to wash off the mud and grime both he and his brother had accumulated. They’d been going through a dry spell recently, without rain for a few weeks now, so water was a necessity.

As was a bath; he still reeked of Tuskhog drool.

He eventually found a small stream, parking Rhonda next to it so she could get a drink as he and Branch took turns filling up a few containers with water. It was a bit grueling, John Dory’s muscles still weak from the fight earlier, but he swallowed down his exhaustion. He still had a lot to do before he could rest.

As he stepped back outside Rhonda to fill up another canteen, his eyes landed on Branch, the young troll climbing to his feet with a container in hand. And with a sudden jolt, he paused, chest tightening. He blinked, wondering if his tired eyes were acting up on him.

For just a moment, John Dory could have sworn his brother looked just like Floyd.

He bit his cheek, ears drooping. It wasn’t just the vest, no, although it fit him much better now. And clearly, Branch’s dull colors in no way matched the bright blue and pink of their fourth youngest brother. But with a pang of sadness and guilt, he realized what it was. Branch looked almost about the same age as Floyd now. At least, the age Floyd was when he…

John Dory sucked in a sharp breath, a wave of despair washing over him so violently it made him nauseous. He quickly set down the canteen and ducked around Rhonda’s other side, out of his brother’s sight as his head swirled. He leaned into her scales for a moment to steady himself, breathing heavily as she let out a soft, worried coo. He patted her gently, trying to assure her he was ok. Because he was ok, he was. This just… happened sometimes.

He’d been doing better with not thinking about the whole “his little brothers were dead and it was his fault” thing. But sometimes, out of the blue, it would just hit him all at once. The guilt, the regret, his heart racing so much he worried he was having a heart attack… But it was fine, it was totally fine. He’d just take a few deep breaths, and find a distraction, and it was fine. He swallowed down the bile forming in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. He was fine.

Rhonda let out a soothing purr, the vibration helping some to calm John Dory’s rapidly beating heart. John Dory pet her gratefully, rubbing his cheek on her scales and basking in her touch for just a moment. But he knew couldn’t stay here, wallowing in this feeling. If he did, it would only get worse. And he couldn’t afford to get all fuzzy-headed right now; he had work to do.

So, he set his jaw, took a deep breath, then walked stiffly back around her side, before immediately taking off running towards the stream. Without even a moment of hesitation, he jumped in, letting the ice cold water shock him out of whatever his brain was thinking at the moment.

It worked perfectly, the frigid stream nearly taking his breath away. Now all he could think about was how absolutely freezing he was. He quickly popped up above the surface, letting out a sharp gasp.

“JD! I wasn’t done!” Branch groaned, gesturing in exasperation to the now muddied water. John Dory responded with a mischievous grin, stretching his hair out and wrapping it around his brother’s filthy body. With a jerk, he pulled him into the icy water, the young troll letting out a shrill yelp before plunging into the cold depths.

He laughed as Branch surfaced with a gasp, wrapping his arms around himself as he glared daggers at his older brother. “W-what the hell, D?” He stammered out, eyes flashing.

“‘Heck’, B.” John Dory corrected him before he shrugged. “I c-could smell you from here.” He replied, teeth chattering through his devious smile. “Just tryna help.”

Branch just splashed him, rolling his eyes before dutifully starting to rinse the mud from his hair.

They both got cleaned up as quick as they could, the water enough to chill them to the bone. However, the dry spell had brought with it plenty of heat, so they were able to warm up within minutes. As much as John Dory didn’t appreciate the sun beating down on him, nor the heavy humidity that never seemed to cease, he would take it anyday over the icy cold of the mountains.

Ever since that day, he really hated the cold.

He began to clean the large Tuskhog, doing so with practiced efficiency, as Branch set up a few defensive traps around their camp. The young troll was fascinated by the things, coming up with unique traps that John Dory couldn’t have thought up in a million years. His brother was smart, but definitely a bit… paranoid about things finding them out here, and rightfully so. But the traps did make sleeping at night a bit easier, and if that’s what his little brother had to do to feel safe, then John Dory wasn’t going to get in the way.

He decided to keep the Tuskhog’s large tusks, cleaning them off and storing them away in Rhonda. Maybe they’d be useful someday.

When he’d finally finished cleaning the large beast, he stored a fair amount of the meat away, before giving the rest to Rhonda, who churred at him gratefully. They should be good for weeks now, maybe even a month before they’d need to hunt again. Which worked for him. He was nearly crushed under a hog today; he deserved a bit of rest.

But not just yet.

He quickly set to work cooking up some dinner for him and Branch, using spices he’d dried earlier this week. He smiled as he did, warm memories filling his mind. He always enjoyed cooking for his family. It was like the one thing that no matter what, he always managed to do right. And even though his family was a lot smaller now, it still brought with it a slight sense of pride, of normalcy. He could almost pretend things weren’t as messed up as they were.

“Okay B, food’s done.” He called, carrying their plates over to the couch. Branch didn’t seem to hear him, fully concentrated on a sheet of paper set in front of him, on which he was drawing feverishly with a piece of charcoal. The similarities between his youngest brother and Floyd began to bubble up again, but he quickly shoved them back down, instead peeking over his brother’s shoulder. John Dory recognized the page immediately.

Branch was constantly obsessing over this one sheet of paper, something he’d had with them since the beginning of this whole journey. It’d become slightly worn, covered with charcoaled marks where Branch had been adding to it over the years. John Dory still had no idea what it was, but it was clearly important to his brother.

“Hey, Earth to Bitty, food.” He repeated with a chuckle, setting the plates to the side as he sat by his brother. “Whatcha scribbling about?” He asked curiously, trying to make sense of the scribbles on the page.

“Nothing!” Branch squeaked quickly, folding up the sheet and tucking it in his hair. “It’s nothing, it’s…” John Dory raised an eyebrow, and Branch let out a sigh, fidgeting anxiously with his hands. “It’s just… plans. For the future. Y’know if we ever like, stay. Somewhere. Like a… home.” Branch’s ears drooped slightly, as if he were ashamed.

“Oh, I see, uh…” John Dory, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. He knew Branch was more so the type to hunker down somewhere, and how much his brother yearned for a sense of stability that John Dory just couldn’t provide. But he didn’t know the young troll was actively planning for it. Hoping for it, putting it down in ink. Well, charcoal. It made the fact that John Dory was keeping him from it feel even worse, guilt building in his stomach. His eyebrows knit together, deep in tumultuous thought.

Constantly moving around kept them safe, and kept John Dory from getting too lost in his own head. It’d been working out for them so far. If they kept moving, they could leave all the scary, dangerous things behind them. They could leave the past behind them. And despite its hardships, he kinda liked this life he’d built for them. It was terrifying, sure, and constantly fearing for their lives wasn’t ideal, but they hadn’t died yet, right? And things had gotten easier with Rhonda around. Although John Dory wished he could give Branch some stability, this still seemed to be the best course of action. It was just better this way. And as for him…

John Dory had Branch. He had Rhonda. They were safe. Things were good right now.

In a way, he almost already felt like he was home.

But clearly, it wasn’t enough.

“JD? Earth to JD? Gross.” Branch reached out, smacking John Dory’s hand away from his mouth. The older troll hadn’t even realized he’d starting gnawing at his nails.

“Sorry, bud, I was just… thinking.” He said sheepishly, a sad smile on his face. “Y’know I… I really wish we could find somewhere to stay, Bitty, I just…” He sighed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It just isn’t safe.”

“I know.” Branch replied, fiddling with his hands again. “I wasn’t saying I want things to change. I like our life. I’m just… planning ahead. To pass the time. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” John Dory said firmly, poking his brother in the side. “Who knows? Maybe someday we’ll find a place. Away from it all.” He chuckled, rustling his brother’s hair. “You and that big brain of yours, always with your plans. I get it.”

Branch waved him off with a huff, but he shot his older brother a small smile. John Dory plastered a smile on as well, before thrusting a plate of food under the dark-haired troll’s nose, trying to move past this whole conversation.

“Now do me a favor, and eat your damn food before it gets cold.”

They both dug in like a pack of starving Grossums.

Chapter Text

It’d been a few days since the whole Tuskhog incident, John Dory leading them deeper into the woods.

They’d passed by a few Critteryote trails a while back, and he was purposely trying to avoid having a run-in with them, taking them the opposite direction towards some bigger hills and cliffs. He needed a bit of a break from critter fighting, still not fully recovered from his fight with the Tuskhog, neither physically nor mentally.

Apparently, nearly being crushed to death had shaken him up a bit more than he thought. And the more he thought about the whole situation, the worse he seemed to feel.

Not only had he nearly died while fighting that thing, possibly leaving his baby brother alone out here, fending for himself in these dangerous woods, but said baby brother actually had to save him. It was great the young troll had overcome his fear, but at the end of the day, he shouldn’t have had to. John Dory was supposed to protect him.

But he couldn’t even manage to protect himself.

He’d had plenty of near-death experiences when he was out here on his own, and yeah, they’d sucked, but they weren’t that big a deal. However, with Branch, things were completely different. His little brother needed him. He couldn’t risk dying when Branch was depending on him. And the whole Tuskhog situation seemed to cement that in.

John Dory would willingly give his life to save his brother’s without a second thought, but at the same time, his dying would only serve to make the situation worse, stranding Branch alone in the wilderness. The only way he could keep his brother safe was to stay alive long enough to do so. Which meant no more risky stuff like the shit he’d pulled with the Tuskhog. Branch needed him alive.

Plus, in all honesty, his little brother didn’t need any more trauma; he’d already had more than enough for a lifetime without having to watch his stupid older brother die some gruesome death. And at the end of the day, John Dory supposed he didn’t really want to die either. That would be… less than ideal.

He let out a silent sigh as he walked, trying to distract his brain from its swirling thoughts by being vigilant, his ears swiveling around to the different noises of the forest. He’d decided that sitting behind the wheel today, letting his mind run wild, was not the best course of action. So it was a hiking day, he and Branch leading the charge while Rhonda obediently followed behind them. But it didn’t really help that they were walking in complete silence.

It was much more of a necessity to be quiet in these woods as compared to the wide-open expanse of the Neverglade Trail. Things could sneak up on them a lot easier here, and the critters were typically bigger, and a lot more dangerous, so being quiet was crucial. But thankfully, they hadn’t “gone quiet”, at least not fully. John Dory made sure of it. He continued to force himself to speak along with his brother, making sure they talked to each other at least once a day. He’d even force Branch to bring out Clay’s dictionary once in a while, even though the young troll practically had it memorized at this point.

When traveling, however, they were usually silent, stepping lightly as they made their way across the forest floor. They were both already pretty skilled at traveling quietly, able to communicate with each other without ever making a sound. And out here, these skills only seemed to improve.

So much so in fact, John Dory easily managed to hear his little brother slip away as they walked, ears flicking slightly as Branch snuck skillfully into the woods. He held back a chuckle, keeping his eyes trained forward as he pretended not to notice. He knew exactly what the young troll was doing.

He listened as his brother’s footsteps scampered ahead of him, before coming to a stop near a few dense bushes. John Dory continued to feign ignorance, striding past them nonchalantly. He could hear Branch’s tail twitch in anticipation.

Three, two, one… He thought, before ducking down easily, Branch sailing over his shoulders as he pounced just a little too late. The young troll cursed under his breath as he landed in the dirt, John Dory pausing so he could crouch down next to him with a grin.

“Not bad, B.” He smirked quietly, reaching a hand down to help him up. “But your tail’s still giving you away.”

Branch let out a soft growl, ignoring his brother’s offer and pushing himself to his feet. “It’s not fair.” He grumbled, brushing the dirt off his vest. “You have like, super hearing.”

John Dory hummed coyly as he stood up as well, starting to hike once more. “Well, I’ve had good practice. When you’re raising four, crazy little brothers, you have to be hyper aware, all day, all the time.”

“I’m sorry, who’s crazy?”

John Dory nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice, speaking much louder than he and Branch’s usual soft tenor. Without meaning to, his head whipped towards the sound, locking eyes with the images of Spruce and Clay, who glared at him from a nearby log. Usually, John Dory was able to ignore his brother’s voices, but this had caught him off guard. He instantly realized his mistake, trying to correct it, but the damage was already done.

Branch hissed, his body completely tense as he stepped closer to John Dory, eyes narrowed as he scanned the log. He reached into his vest, pulling out a small, whittled stick and gripping it tightly. He flicked his gaze up up towards his brother, the message clear:

What is it?

John Dory shook his head, cursing his messed up mind before turning back to Branch, pushing the stake back into the young troll’s vest. “Nothing, nothing…” He choked out almost frantically, glaring back over at the images of his brothers. “It’s nothing, it’s-”

Suddenly, a shadow rose behind the images of Spruce and Clay, stretching several inches above their heads. John Dory stepped back, pushing Branch behind him as he recognized the plant. A Snapdragon. It licked its lips hungrily, eyes locked on the two trolls.

This time, John Dory let out a warning hiss as well, pulling out his own wooden stake from his vest as he bared his teeth. He glared up at the beast, growling, daring it to try him.

The Snapdragon looked like it was about to take him up on that dare, its leaves shivering in anticipation, when it suddenly balked, peering behind them. Another growl joined his own, this one much lower. Rhonda.

The plant looked her up and down before appearing to wilt, sinking back down behind the log. John Dory snarled after it once more for good measure before letting out a nearly hysterical laugh, planting his hands on his hips.

“Hah, see? I knew I heard something! I’m not crazy!” He said in a strained voice, turning back towards Branch, the young troll giving him a weird look as he tried to smooth his bristled hair. John Dory chuckled nervously, trying not to think about that too much as he quickly turned to Rhonda. “Thanks for the backup, Rhonda.” He cooed, petting her face as she rumbled affectionately. “Aw, who’s my big scary girl?”

As he pet her, he peeked back over towards the log. Spruce continued to stare at him, arms crossed over his chest, while Clay snickered, a toothy grin on his face. Floyd had appeared too, quietly chastising his older brothers as he shot nervous glances towards Branch.

John Dory frowned, leaning his head into Rhonda as he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking them from view. That had been too close.

If Branch found out he was… Well, found out his brother saw things, heard things that weren’t there, he’d never trust him again.

He’d probably call him crazy too.

They continued to head silently through the woods, following a large cliff face that stretched several feet above them. Every once in a while, John Dory would signal for them to pause, or change directions based on remnants of other critters. He’d had enough excitement for one day.

After just a few hours of traveling, he was pretty much beat. It was another hot day, and although the trees and cliff provided shade from the unrelenting sun, they also blocked any sort of cooling breeze, making the woods feel stuffy and dry.

The heat’s better than the cold. John Dory told himself, flicking his ears to chase away a few Humsquitoes trying to nip at him. But this still sucks.

Suddenly, he heard Branch stumble, pausing for a moment to turn around. The young troll glared down at a white, bulbous plant, sticking out of the dirt. “You alright, B?”

“Fine.” Branch replied with an annoyed huff, blinking tiredly. “Just tripped.”

John Dory hummed, wiping sweat from his brow. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one the heat was getting to. In fact, the only one who seemed to be enjoying the heatwave was Rhonda, the large beast panting happily as she stared between the two exhausted trolls.

“Well, maybe we could hop inside Rhonda for a bit, or-” John Dory began, but immediately cut off as he recognized the plant Branch had tripped over. His mood instantly brightened, a grin stretching across his face. “Hah, nevermind! We’re making camp here tonight!”

“What? Why?” Branch asked, looking confused.

John Dory strode over, picking the large, soft white bulb from the plant. “Marshtatoes, Bitty!” He exclaimed excitedly. “They’re like, nature's marshmallows! And they’re super rare, so the fact that you just happened to trip over one?” He adopted a dramatic tone, gesturing with the plant in his hands. “It must be fate. We have to stop here.”

Branch gave him a withering look, unimpressed. “You just don’t want to walk anymore.” He chirped dryly.

“Yeah, that too.” John Dory chuckled. “But don’t pretend like you want to keep walking in this heat.”

Branch considered this, before seemingly making up his mind, staring at the Marshtatoe hungrily. “I suppose not.”

John Dory nodded, his grin growing wider. “It’s settled then. Let’s get set up, and I’ll make a fire. We’re roasting this bad boy.”

By the time they’d settled in by the cliff, having collected a small stack of firewood, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, bathing the forest in the soft orange glow. John Dory wasted no time in starting a fire, rubbing together two sticks to do so. They’d run out of matches months ago. The dry wood caught easily, sparking to life within seconds, the smell of cedar flooding his nose.

He then grabbed a stick, going to put the Marshtatoe on it for Branch, when the young troll snatched the bulb from his hands. He expertly ripped the puffy plant in two, giving John Dory a pointed look. John Dory just rolled his eyes, snapping the stick into two pieces as well, one for him, and one for Branch, before Branch stuck the two halves of the Marshtatoe onto them. The kid was so damn stubborn sometimes. They both leaned up against Rhonda, letting the sugary treats toast over the flames.

“You want it to be nice and golden brown.” John Dory explained, hardly able to contain his excitement. As a kid, he dreamed of camping like this with his brothers. Camping, not surviving. Not cooking critters over a fire because they had to, but roasting marshmallows because they wanted to, before curling up under the stars without a care in the world, knowing that they were safe.

This was a bit different from how he dreamed it would be. Well, maybe a lot different. But John Dory was still nearly beside himself with joy.

“I know how to do it.” Branch huffed in response, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he slowly twirled the Marshtatoe over the flames. “Grandma and I would make them sometimes, over the stove.” His face grew slightly sad, but he quickly shook it away, focusing on his task.

John Dory blinked at this, surprised. Branch didn’t often mention their Grandma, the topic still pretty sore. But even more surprising to him was the fact that their Grandma actually roasted marshmallows with the young troll in the first place. Grandma hated all that camping stuff, most likely because it reminded her too much of their Dad. Picturing their Grandma doing anything like that seemed completely strange to JD.

Branch seemed to pick up on John Dory’s surprise, flicking his eyes towards his older brother. “I asked her to show me.” He explained sheepishly. “I remembered you showing Clay and Floyd how to do it, so I wanted to do it too.”

John Dory felt thick regret wash over him. He remembered how excited he was when he found out they could make marshmallows over the stove. Between the five of them, they must have eaten the entire bag, and nearly set the stove on fire at least a dozen times. But it had been a good night. He’d set up a pillow fort for them, taping a bunch of paper with holes in them to their flashlights, so they could pretend to stargaze. He grimaced at the memory, his heart aching. God, what he would give to have his brothers here with him now…

“Aw, you hear that? He misses us.” Clay’s voice cooed sarcastically. John Dory pointedly ignored him.

“I just remember how happy we all were at that time.” Branch continued in a small voice, eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t think Grandma really wanted to do it but… she knew I missed you guys.”

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, John Dory felt a wave of gratitude for his deceased Grandmother. He smiled at Branch, happy to hear how fondly his brother spoke of her. He could almost imagine her kind smile, the way her eyes would sparkle with life when she looked at the young troll. Completely different from the way she’d look at him, gaze clouded by anger and grief.

Branch cleared his throat, voice slightly thick as he continued. “But I’ll bet these will be way better than some stupid stove marshmallows.”

John Dory shook the memories from his head, nodding as he tried to ignore the heaviness in his chest. “Agreed, way better.”

Just then, Branch’s Marshtatoe flared up, quickly charring under the flames. The young troll let out a yelp, pulling it back instantly and blowing it out, but the damage was already done, the sugary treat blackened and burned. His ears drooped, disappointment thick on his face.

“Oh…” He shakily whispered under his breath, ears drooping even further. “I ruined it.”

John Dory frowned, scooting closer to his brother. “Nah, you didn’t ruin it.” He said quickly, plastering a smile on his face. “It’s just a bit burned, that’s all.” He reached out, grabbing the stick from Branch’s hands. “Here, I’ll show you a little trick.”

With a dramatic flourish, he grabbed the outer, crispy layer of the Marshtatoe, and gently pulled it off, revealing the gooey center underneath, completely white and untouched.

“See? It’s perfect!” John Dory chirped, handing the stick back to his brother, who stared at the burn-free Marshtatoe with wide eyes. “Now you can roast it again! And if it catches fire again, well, you have at least a few more layers before it’s completely toast.”

Branch scanned his face before letting out a soft chuckle, relaxing a bit. “Sorry, I just-”

“Ah, no sorry’s.” John Dory interrupted, holding up a finger. “Your line is ‘Thank you, JD, for all your wisdom.’.”

Branch scoffed, rolling his eyes, but John Dory could see the smile playing on his lips. The older troll popped the burnt layer in his mouth, nearly gagging at the mix of sugar and char.

“Mmm, delicious!” He choked out, unable to hide his disgust. This finally drew a laugh from his younger brother, Branch sticking his new and improved Marshtatoe over the flames.

Once their treats were roasted to perfection, John Dory turned back towards his brother with a grin. “We should make a toast!” He announced, rubbing his chin. “To… uh…”

“To not dying?” Branch offered, eyes sparkling with amusement.

John Dory laughed. “Yeah, I like that one. To not dying!” He agreed, before they tapped the Marshtatoes together, almost like a promise. And with that, they started to devour the sugary treats, Branch’s eyes growing wide with delight.

John Dory, however, took about one bite and nearly choked again, the amount of sugar flooding his mouth WAY too much. “Holy troll, that’s a lot sweeter than I remember.” He laughed, shaking his head as he held the treat out towards Rhonda. “Here Rhonda, you have the rest. Shit’s gonna give me a heart attack.”

Rhonda happily obliged, eating the stick along with it as Branch let out snicker. She began to chur softly, the low rumble easing John Dory’s nerves. He felt himself relax, leaning against the critters side. And slowly, he felt himself begin to match the sound.

It was weird. It was almost like matching pitch to a note, but he wasn’t singing. It was more like a growl, but less harsh, more soft and bubbly. But in a way, he was almost harmonizing with the large critter. He could almost imagine he was singing again.

God, he missed music…

“What is that?” John Dory paused at the question, turning to see Branch staring at him curiously.

“I don’t know.” John Dory replied with a shrug. “Just making noise with Rhonda, I guess.”

Branch let out a soft hum, shoving the rest of the Marshtatoe in his mouth as he leaned back against the large critter, closing his eyes. “It sounds… nice.” He said finally, peeking one eye open to give his brother a look. “You can keep doing it, if you like.”

“Pft, thanks for the permission, Bitty.” John Dory chuckled sarcastically, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. Branch rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull away, instead leaning into his brother’s touch. John Dory rested his head on Branch’s hair, letting out a sigh, before starting to match Rhonda again, that deep rumble echoing from his chest. And together, they silently watched the flickering flames dance across the logs, letting the warmth wash over them until the fire burned out.

John Dory doused the remaining embers with some of their water, before settling in for the night, the air cooling substantially now that the sun was gone. The stars twinkled beautifully, with no moon to stifle their glow. And John Dory decided it was much too nice a night to sleep indoors. Roasting that Marshtatoe had really put him in a camping mood.

He popped in Rhonda, gathering a few pillows and blankets to bring outside, while Branch set up his usual traps around the periphery. And within minutes, they collapsed onto the ground, gazing up at the stars while Rhonda snored nearby. They didn’t speak, but right now, it didn’t feel like they needed to. Just being in each other's company was enough.

Eventually, Branch’s breathing slowed, and he drifted off, curling into John Dory’s side. The older troll tenderly pulled the blanket up to his brother’s chest, tucking him in. As he did, memories seemed to flash through his mind, of doing the same for his other brothers so long ago. He quickly pushed them from his mind, focusing instead on the one right in front of him. He couldn’t keep reminiscing like this, or his head would start to get all fuzzy again.

He gently ran his fingers through Branch’s hair, combing out a few knots as he watched a line of clouds roll in across the sky, blotting out the stars. And for the first time in a long time, a strange feeling of calm washed over him.

He truly liked this life he and Branch had. It wasn’t easy, and they were scared a lot, but moments like they had tonight made it feel worth it. It made John Dory feel like he was doing the right thing, even if he did make a lot of really stupid mistakes.

However he couldn’t help but think about his conversation with his brother a few days ago, and the idea of “settling down” somewhere. Things were good right now but… maybe it was something he should consider, regardless of his worries.

He knew Branch wanted some stability, and troll, he probably needed it too. Constantly being in fight or flight mode worked for John Dory, but it couldn’t be good for Branch. He was just a kid. It wasn’t enough for John Dory to just keep the young troll safe, he wanted Branch to feel safe too. And maybe… maybe the way to do that was to stop running.

John Dory blinked, pausing for a moment. Wait, running? Where’d that come from? It didn’t make any sense. They weren’t running, they were hiking. It was just safer to keep moving. It wasn’t like he was running away from anything… right?

He let out a tired sigh, feeling anxiety prickle through his chest. He didn’t want to worry about that now. He could think about it more tomorrow, when his brain wasn’t shorting out from exhaustion. Besides, it wasn’t like there was a rush. He had all the time in the world.

His ears pricked up as he heard a faint rumble of thunder roll across the forest, his eyes drifting back up towards the clouds. He could smell a hint of rain in the cool air, the wind picking up ever so slightly and hissing through the trees. Every so often, lighting would flicker across the sky, silhouetting the branches up on the cliff face.

It looked like the beginnings of a storm, but John Dory was too tired to duck inside, not willing to wake Branch up just yet. They were pretty well protected by the cliff. If it started to rain, they could move inside, but for now, he was just content to listen to the low rumble of thunder, the sound reminding him of Rhonda’s purr.

He hoped it was going to rain; they really needed it.

He continued to run his fingers through his brother’s hair until eventually, he also drifted into unconsciousness, the memory of him and Branch laughing by the fire repeating in his mind.

If he thought hard enough, he could almost picture his brothers laughing along with them.

.
.
.

John Dory couldn’t have been asleep for long.

It felt like he’d just closed his eyes when he was awoken by a deafening BANG, jolting to his feet instantly as adrenaline shot through his veins, blinding bright light flashing past his eyes.

He struggled to get his bearings as he watched Branch scramble to his feet as well, eyes darting around, wide with fear. With a start, his swirling mind finally made sense of what was going on around them, his head whipping up towards the cliff face.

He could hear the roaring, the snapping and popping of dry wood.

He could smell the acrid scent of smoke, burning his nose.

He could see large flames licking over the side of the cliff, the forest glowing a deep orange red as the trees were set ablaze.

Fire. The forest was on fire.

In the seconds it took for him to realize exactly what was happening, he could do nothing but watch as a large, flaming tree snapped, plummeting down the cliff face directly towards them.

He had just enough time to tackle his little brother to the ground, shielding his body with his own, before flames and red-hot embers rained down on them from above.

Chapter Text

Suddenly, the world was engulfed by flames and heat, the light blinding as fire roared in his ears like a wild beast.

John Dory rolled away from the glowing embers of the fallen branch, wincing as the coals left scorch marks on his arms. He held his brother close as he frantically scanned their surroundings, mouth curled into a panicked snarl. Fiery debris continued to rain from the sky, setting the surrounding forest ablaze, the dry trees catching in seconds. Thick smoke filled the air, making it hard to see, and even harder to breathe. John Dory scrambled to his feet, lifting Branch up along with him.

They couldn’t stay here. And whatever they were going to do, they needed to do it FAST.

He heard a yelp from off to their side, through a wall of embers and flames, followed by a panicked moan. Rhonda. It sounded like she was trying to get to them. Alarm shot through his chest, jaw clenched with fear. If she stayed here, she was going to get herself killed.

“Rhonda, run!” John Dory shouted, hoping she could hear him over the deafening flames. He coughed a bit, the smoke burning his throat. “Run Rhonda, go! We’ll find you!”

Rhonda let out a worried howl, but seemed to hear him, her heavy footsteps receding as she made her escape into the night. That was one member of their party safe; now he just had to focus on getting him and Branch out of here.

“JD!” Branch cried fearfully, clutching his brother’s arm as if it were a lifeline as more embers rained down around them. “What do we do?!”

“We run!” John Dory shouted back, yanking his goggles from his head. He quickly fit them over Branch’s eyes, before pulling the young troll’s vest up over his nose. “Hold this here!” He commanded, Branch immediately reaching up to hold his vest to his face. “And grab my tail! No matter what, don’t let go, ok?” He could faintly remember saying the same thing, during that snowstorm all those months ago…

He might even be more scared now than he was then.

Branch nodded, John Dory unable to see his eyes through the glint of the goggles, but he was sure they were wide with fear. He firmly squeezed the young troll’s shoulders, trying to provide any sense of reassurance. “We’re gonna be ok!” He choked out, the smoke getting thicker and thicker.

Branch nodded again, grabbing hold of John Dory’s tail with a deathgrip. And with that, he spun around, leading them off into the burning undergrowth.

The entire forest was up in flames, now a shifting landscape of embers and fire. The wind whipped through the trees, sending plumes of sparks and smoke billowing into the night. John Dory raced across the flickering forest floor as fast as his legs could carry him, looking for any gaps between the surging flames as he leapt over burning logs, dodging falling branches as they burst into glowing coals on the ground.

With every second that passed, the fire only seemed to grow.

John Dory pulled his hair down over his nose and mouth, panting heavily. His lungs were burning, the smoke choking him as he whipped around, faced with another dead end. He quickly shuttled Branch the other way, eyes watering like crazy as he scanned around for another opening. There, just under that log. He took off towards the gap, Branch’s hands still locked desperately on his tail.

He could barely think as they bolted through the flaming forest, fueled only by fear and adrenaline as he dodged and weaved his way through falling trees. He had no idea where they were going, only that they needed to get out, to get away. He focused on the feeling of Branch’s grip on his tail, anchoring him. He could get them out of here. He had to get them out of here. He had to…

Suddenly, he felt Branch’s grip disappear. He skittered to a stop, whipping around as pure panic jolted through his veins. Branch was on the ground, his foot caught in a small hole. The young troll quickly yanked it out, letting out a soft cry as he did. By the look of pain on his face, his ankle was probably sprained, if not broken. But that was the least of John Dory’s worries. No, his eyes were focused above his little brother, his throat seizing up in horror.

At the flaming branch crashing through the trees, falling directly towards him.

“BRANCH!” John Dory screamed, half crawling, half sprinting towards his little brother. But time almost seemed to slow down, as though he were running through molasses. Branch’s face whipped up towards the falling branch, the flames reflecting in his goggles as he did. With a panicked twist of his body, he turned towards his older brother, reaching out desperately.

“D!” He screeched, the sound so raw and terrified that it shook John Dory to his core. But he could do nothing but watch as the branch collapsed over his baby brother, blocking him from view.

No… no no no no NO!

John Dory raced towards the pile of embers, flames, and smoke, barely coherent as he screamed Branch’s name, over and over again. He frantically scanned the burning wood as he ran, looking for any sign of his baby brother. Something, anything, he had to be there. HE HAD TO BE THERE.

Finally, his eyes locked on the faintest hint of green amongst the fire and smoke. Floyd’s vest. Branch. There.

His brother was there.

A manic energy surged through him, so powerful he could barely breathe. His focus was solely on Branch, the young troll screaming his name as he cowered away from the flames.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down. And when he reached the burning branch trapping his little brother, he didn’t hesitate.

Without even a second thought, he plunged his hand into the flames.

White-hot pain erupted across his skin, and he couldn’t help but let out an agonizing shriek as the flames licked up his arm. But he didn’t care, clenching his jaw as he pushed through the pain. He thrust his hand deeper into the fire, somehow managing to grab hold of the burning wood. He cupped his hand around it, the embers hissing as they pressed against his palm, the smell of his own burning flesh nearly making him gag. But with a strength he didn’t know he had, and another deafening screech, he yanked his arm back, pulling the branch along with it.

He tossed the smoldering tree limb to the side before immediately turning back to his little brother. Branch scrambled out from the flames, coughing as he desperately brushed glowing embers from skin, leaving small scorch marks behind.

“BRANCH!” John Dory exclaimed in pure relief, scooping his baby brother into his good arm as he lifted him into his chest. He couldn’t move his other one, and right now, he didn’t dare look at the damage he’d done.

“JD!” Branch choked out, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck. “M-my leg, I can’t-”

“I know, it’s ok, I’ve got you!” John Dory shouted back, spinning around to take off once again. As he did however, his ears pricked up to an alarming sound, a growing hiss directly behind them. He turned to see a burning tree, sap and water bubbling up from cracks forming in its trunk as the flames licked at them hungrily.

He realized about half a second too late what was going to happen.

John Dory had just enough time to turn around and shield his brother before the tree burst apart, the sound loud enough to make his ears ring as scalding hot sap and debris flew through the air. Pain exploded on his back, flames burning through his jacket as he bit back a shriek. Without a second to lose, he stumbled away, nearly deaf and blind as he took off once again through the flames.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was still standing at this point. But he just kept running.

He weaved his way between the fiery tendrils, ducking and dodging and leaping to avoid the scorching heat. The fire almost seemed to reach towards him with swirling claws, trying to grab him, hissing, spitting, roaring in his ears. He didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare give himself a moment to think, or the flames would take them without mercy. He just had to run.

Finally, he pushed through a thick line of brambles into the cool night air, his smoke-filled lungs desperately sucking it in. They’d finally got ahead of the flames. But he didn’t stop running. He continued to sprint off into the night, practically able to feel the fire nipping at his heels. They weren’t out of this yet.

He could see other critters racing alongside him, predators and prey alike, eyes wide with panic. But right now, they were all the same. They were all prey to the flames.

Faster, faster… He thought frantically, pushing his aching legs to move. His vision was practically tunneling as he ran, the forest blurring around him. Faster, we have to go faster…

The voice in his head seemed to shift, becoming garbled as he ran.

“Go!" Spruce’s fearful voice shouted. “Keep going, don’t stop!"

“You have to go faster!" Clay screeched in a sharp, panicked tone.

“RUN!” Floyd screamed in a way John Dory had never heard him scream before, the sound sending shivers down his spine. “RUN!”

So he did. He ran. He sprinted with no purpose other than to get away, his heart pounding in his chest as his legs and lungs screamed in agony. But he had to keep going, he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t… His brother’s voices continued to scream at him, pushing him to go faster. He had to get them out of here, holding Branch closer to his chest.

He wouldn’t let his brother burn. He couldn’t lose him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, his mind feeling fuzzy and strange. Heck, he could barely even feel his legs hitting the ground anymore. He could faintly make out Branch yelling something, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the blood pulsing in his ears. He strained forward, jaw clenched so tight he was worried his teeth might break. He had to get them away, he had to get away.

Faster, faster, he had to run faster…

Suddenly, he felt Branch shift in his arm, the young troll roughly grabbing his face, blocking his view. “John, stop!” He screamed directly into the older troll’s face. “The fire’s gone; you have to stop!”

John Dory blinked. John… Branch called him John. Branch never called him John. It was always ‘JD’ this and ‘D’ that… Never John.

The surprise was enough to pull John Dory from the almost trance he’d been stuck in, and he staggered to a stop, nearly falling to his knees as he did. He panted heavily, coughing and gasping for air as he stumbled forward a few more steps. Branch immediately pushed himself out of John Dory’s grip, shoving the goggles up onto his forehead to reveal eyes wide with alarm, his face streaked with charcoal and ash.

“JD?” He asked fearfully, voice shaking.

“It’s ok.” John Dory croaked, coughing again as he shook his head. He forced a smile to his face, trying to move his hand into the sign for ‘ok’. “I’m ok, I-”

Just then, a wave of pain and dizziness shot through him, and this time, he did fall to his knees, his shaky legs giving out as he almost collapsed to the ground. He let out a hiss, peering down at his hand.

Big mistake.

His hand was burned. Badly burned. His skin was charred black, almost white in some places, looking as if it’d melted away. It stretched all the way from his palm up past his wrist, snaking around his fingers, angry blisters already beginning to form. The sight was nearly enough to make him sick. And it HURT, searing pain rushing up his arm in waves of agony. At least, most of it hurt. There were parts of his hand he couldn’t even feel anymore…

He heard a slight gasp from his little brother, turning to see Branch’s eyes locked in horror on his heavily burned hand. He quickly tucked it behind him, out of the young troll’s view.

“Don’t look!” He choked out, holding up his good hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine, B, we’ll figure it out, we-” He let out another hiss as pain flooded through him once again, and he began to really start panicking.

He was injured. And not in a “Ha ha, just had a little run in with a critter, no biggie” injured, but badly injured. This wasn’t something he could fix with some poultice and shoddy wraps. This was BAD. Not only was his hand charred to oblivion, but he could tell the burns on his back and shoulder were no joke either. He began to almost hyperventilate, his ragged breaths only broken up by hacking coughs.

Was he going to die?

No, this couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t die here, not now. Branch still needed him. He attempted to shake the panic from his head, trying to concentrate. He had to focus on staying alive. He thought of everything he’d read about burns, anything and everything that might help, which really wasn’t much. But there was one thing he did remember.

Shock. Bad burns can cause shock. If the burns didn’t kill him first, that would. And he was running out of time. His panic-fueled energy was fading fast, and as soon as it did, things would start to go south.

His head was swirling, his thoughts going a mile a minute as the adrenaline continued to pump through his veins, making him feel jittery and frantic. But he reached out with his good hand, desperately grabbing Branch’s shoulder.

“You have to keep me awake!” He stammered, the words feeling strange and garbled in his mouth as he tried to focus on speaking clearly. “Don’t let me pass out, ok? I don’t care if you have to slap me, you have to keep me awake!”

Branch looked terrified, but nodded quickly. Guilt settled heavily in John Dory’s chest. He hated that he was putting his brother in such a scary situation, but there was nothing he could do about it now. If he was going to survive this, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it alone. He swallowed down the lump in his burning throat, forcing himself to continue.

“Y-you can pour water on them, cool, not cold.” He explained almost incoherently. He hardly knew what he was babbling about at this point. “J-just use the water in Rhonda, she-”

He cut off with a gasp. Rhonda, he needed to call Rhonda. He needed her. If he died out here, Branch would need her… No, he wasn’t going to die out here, he couldn’t die, he…

“Rhonda?! RHONDA!” John Dory screamed desperately, his voice hoarse and breaking. He immediately started coughing again, hacking up globs of black saliva onto his arm. That probably wasn’t a great sign. But regardless, it was clear yelling wasn’t going to work.

He went to bring his hand up to his face to whistle for her, but winced as another jolt of pain shot through him. Right, wrong hand. He quickly brought up the other one, holding it to his lips, but as soon as he sucked in a breath, he started coughing again. He just couldn’t get enough air, his lungs gasping and burning.

Just then, another wave of dizziness flooded into his head, and he let out a groan, pitching forward. He caught himself with his good hand before he fell to the ground, continuing to cough so much he thought he might puke. The pain was starting to ebb a bit… That couldn’t be good.

“Rhonda!” John Dory heard Branch’s panicked voice echo across the woods as he called out for their companion. But it just wasn’t loud enough. There was no way she’d be able to hear them. John Dory closed his eyes, panting heavily as his body started to shiver.

He flinched as a different sound shot through his ears, loud enough to make them ache. He turned his head slightly, prying his eyes open to see Branch letting out a shrill whistle, the sound sharp and clear. The young troll took a deep breath, then did it again, his eyes squeezed shut, before he finally broke into a coughing fit, quickly scampering over to John Dory.

“Rhonda’s coming.” He choked out fearfully, his eyes scanning up and down John Dory’s body. “Are you ok?”

Ok? No, he was not ok. This was not ok. He was hurt, badly hurt and… and…

John Dory blinked, his mind fuzzy. Branch… He whistled. He did it, just like John Dory said he could. Pride grew in his chest as a dopey smile stretched across his face. “You… did it.” He mumbled, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Whistle… good job.”

The concern grew in Branch’s eyes, his tiny hands balling into tight fists. “JD, are you ok?” He asked again.

John Dory shook his head. No, he was not ok. He was shaking, he wasn’t supposed to be shaking. Was he cold? But that didn’t make sense, there was a heatwave right now, he shouldn’t be cold. But regardless, he was still shivering, so he must be. Or maybe that was just the shock. Crap, was he in shock?

“M’... cold.” He managed to say, his mouth not working the way he wanted it to.

Branch sucked in a sharp breath. John Dory wanted to move, to comfort his little brother, but his body wasn’t responding. It was taking everything he had just to keep from collapsing onto the ground. His muscles felt like they were locking up, his teeth chattering…

Just then, there was a loud rustling noise, and with a jolt of relief, John Dory watched as Rhonda burst into the clearing, her eyes wide with worry. Good, Rhonda was here, she was here and she was ok. And if Branch needed her, she’d be there…

“Rhonda…” He whispered hoarsely, going to reach out to her, and nearly falling over in the process.

Branch caught him, helping support his weight. Which was great, honestly. It meant John Dory could comfort him now, without having to move. “You’re ok, you’re ok…” He murmured, though he wasn’t sure if it was more directed towards Branch, or himself. Either way, it was a lie. Nothing was ok. This was bad, so bad…

“Rhonda, help, please!” Branch begged, his voice breaking. Rhonda shuffled to John Dory’s other side, and together, she and Branch helped him climb painfully to his feet.

He let out quick, shaking breaths as he stood, hardly able to feel his legs. But he bit down on his cheek, forcing himself to move as Branch led him inside, his mind swirling dangerously. There was only one thought circling around in his fuzzy head, over and over again.

I can’t die yet. Branch needs me alive.

Funnily enough, as soon as they stepped inside, it finally started to rain.

Chapter Text

John Dory made it about two steps inside the door before his legs gave out again, collapsing to the floor with a painful hiss. He didn’t really mind though; the floor was nice and cool. He lay his cheek against it, gritting his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to quell the dizziness in his mind. He had to focus now, Branch needed him…

But god, everything HURT…

Branch limped over, arms filled with several containers of water which fell unceremoniously to the ground as he kneeled by John Dory’s side. He quickly began to unscrew one of the caps, his hands shaking so much he could barely hold the container still. John Dory slowly reached out, gently touching his brother’s knee.

“Easy… s’ok.” He slurred, feeling as though he was talking with marbles in his mouth. Branch pursed his lips, nodding, before finally pulling off the lid and giving his brother a terrified look.

“It’s going to hurt.” The young troll said, his voice dripping with fear.

“Mhmm.” John Dory hummed, reaching into his jacket. Every movement sent waves of pain prickling across his skin, but everything felt strangely dulled now. He pulled out one of the wooden stakes he kept stashed in there, drawing it up towards his face and clasping it between his teeth. With a few hissing breaths, he turned back to his brother, giving him a nod. Branch clenched his jaw, but moved next to John Dory’s burned hand, his body trembling. His eyes grew wider as he looked at it, but he just swallowed, taking a deep breath. And slowly, he began to drizzle the water over it.

Searing hot pain jolted through him, and he bit down harder on the wood, holding back a scream as Branch continued to douse his wounds. His head swirled, black spots flashing at the edge of his vision as he squeezed his eyes shut. And with a brief moment of clarity, he realized this wasn’t going to work. If they kept going, he was going to pass out, and he couldn’t let that happen.

His jaw clenched tighter, the wood snapping in half in his mouth. He spit out the pieces, hardly able to think past the agonizing pain. “Stop, stop!” He choked out, practically hyperventilating. “C-can’t… too much…” He could feel his burned hand twitching uncontrollably, pain making his muscles spasm and jerk.

Branch pulled back immediately, eyes wide with panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He stammered, looking lost. “What do I do?”

I don’t know. John Dory thought, laying his head back down on the floor. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know… A soft whine escaped his lips. He had to treat the burns, but the pain was too intense. If Branch kept pouring water over them, it’d be too much, and he’d pass out, and then Branch would be on his own, and then…

“JD, what do I do?!” Branch asked again, almost hysterical as his breaths came out in harsh gasps. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help you, what do I do?!” His voice broke, tears starting to pour down his face, leaving trails in the ash. “I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t…”

John Dory’s heart ached with worry; he couldn’t remember the last time he saw Branch cry like this. He reached out once more, grabbing his brother’s shaking hand with his own.

“Breathe…” He whispered, Branch clutching his hand to his cheek as tears continued to stream down his face. “S’ok, B… Breathe.” He was reminded of all those nights spent holding his brother close, comforting him from his nightmares as the young troll sobbed and sobbed. All of this was practically a nightmare in itself.

Branch took a few deep breaths, struggling to choke back his tears. But then, he climbed to his feet, limping over to the console and hastily grabbing the speaker.

“Rhonda, go find help!” He said, voice sharp with desperation. “You have to find help, please!”

John Dory felt the large critter rumble in response, immediately taking off into the night. The cabin shifted along with her movements, enough to make him let out another soft hiss of pain, his mind swirling once more. Find… help? What was Branch talking about? There was no help out here. They were in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. Anyone who could have possibly helped them was gone. They were alone.

Another wave of dizziness washed over him as he shivered, his thoughts fuzzy and slow. What were they going to do? Go ask a critter for help? Or maybe, they could find the Bergens, ask them. He could almost imagine their bloodshot eyes and toothy grins, glaring down at him hungrily. Hell, he was already halfway roasted; he probably smelled delicious.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, his body painfully protesting the jerky movement. But he couldn’t help it; the whole situation was too funny. Didn’t he just have a whole epiphany about how he had to stay alive for his brother? Because he needed him? And now here he was, burnt to a crisp and dying, and there was no one who could help them. It was just too funny. His lungs ached as he laughed hysterically, only broken up by occasional hacking coughs. But he just couldn’t stop.

“JD?” He heard Branch ask in alarm, his voice sounding strange and garbled. John Dory turned to look at the young troll, still chuckling, but his eyes instead landed on a different brother. Floyd.

The pink haired troll was giving him a worried look, his image flickering, sometimes looking the way Floyd usually had, with his hair swooping downwards, and donning the leaf vest John Dory had made him. But other times, it was the image they presented for Brozone, his hair sculpted into a perfect point, wearing his red puffer vest.

“Calm down.” Floyd told him, his voice sharp and crisp. “You’re making Baby Branch nervous.”

John Dory paused, the laughter dying in his throat as Floyd’s words repeated in his head. Nervous? No, he couldn’t be nervous, they had a show to do, he… His thoughts trailed off as the image of Floyd disappeared, revealing Branch crawling back to his side, looking as if he were about to start crying again. Strangely, he almost appeared to be flickering too, from the troll he was now, to his younger self from back then, wearing those silly white glasses. John Dory blinked a few times, trying to fix his shifting vision.

Nervous… He was making his baby brother nervous. He had to get it together.

“...Sorry, B.” He said, his words slurring together once more. “M’sorry.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok.” Branch replied, smearing charcoal across his face as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Rhonda’s going to find help, a-and you’ll be ok.”

“I’ll be ok.” John Dory tried to smile reassuringly, but his face still wasn’t moving right. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing harsh and fast. He was so tired…

Branch suddenly grabbed his cheeks, John Dory prying his eyes back open. “No no, you can’t pass out, remember?” The young troll said quickly, fear dripping from his voice. “You told me to keep you awake.”

Ugh, did he say that? Right, right, the shock. He had to stay awake. “Yeah… ok…” He murmured, taking Branch’s hand in his own. “Ok.”

“Promise me.” Branch demanded, pressing his forehead into his brother’s. “Promise me, please.”

John Dory swallowed painfully, but nodded. “Promise.” He replied, putting as much strength as he could into that one word, squeezing his brother’s hand.

Branch squeezed him back, before turning to shout over his shoulder. “Rhonda! Go faster!” He begged, voice breaking.

Rhonda let out a worried rumble, jumping into a higher gear. John Dory could feel how hard she was working, the floor starting to heat below him. Branch grabbed a pillow from the couch, tucking it under his older brother’s head as Rhonda roughly made her way over the forest terrain.

“Just stay awake, please.” Branch said, before limping back up towards the console.

Ok, B… John Dory thought, gritting his teeth as another wave of dull pain surged through him. He promised. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

The next few hours were hazy, time slowly ticking by. John Dory wasn’t even sure how long they’d been traveling, his brain remaining fuzzy and distant. Branch kept bouncing between him and console, making sure John Dory was keeping his promise and bringing him water, before going back to scanning the landscape once more. Slowly but surely, it began to grow light outside, however this brought with it little relief. They were still in the same mess as before, and John Dory had no idea how he was supposed to fix this.

Trying to think when his brain was melting was really, really hard…

He supposed maybe they could find a stream or something, and he could tend to his burns in the cold water. That is, if he managed to do so without passing out. And if he managed to survive that, then they’d… What? Wait there for days, maybe even weeks, and hope he didn’t get an infection, or that his cries wouldn’t attract hungry critters? The more he thought about it, the more his chest filled with despair.

He wasn’t sure he was going to make it through this alive.

He was pulled from his dismal thoughts by the sound of Branch’s voice, rising over the blood pounding in his ears. “Wait, Rhonda, stop!” The young troll said quickly, limping over to the door as Rhonda grinded to a halt. He grabbed one of the sharp tusks John Dory had saved from their fight with the Tuskhog, opening the hatch.

“Don’t move.” Branch called over his shoulder, wincing a bit as he stepped down the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, he ducked outside, leaving John Dory alone in the cabin.

Fear immediately surged through John Dory’s chest. Branch shouldn’t be out there by himself, it wasn’t safe. He was hurt, his ankle swollen and bruised. If something attacked him…

John Dory tried to push himself up, but was immediately hit with another round of dizziness and nausea, that dull pain coursing across his skin. He let out a groan of frustration, his head falling back down on the pillow. God, this was pathetic, he couldn’t just lay here. He hated feeling so helpless…

Just then, the hatch opened again, and Branch came stumbling back in, dragging a large, spiky plant in with him, the frond nearly bigger than he was. The young troll was mumbling to himself, his voice barely audible, “Aloe for burns, aloe for burns, aloe for burns…”

He made his way over to John Dory as Rhonda took off again, his limp more pronounced now. Branch grimaced, but clenched his jaw in determination, kneeling next to John Dory once more. “I found aloe, JD.” He said shakily, pulling the tusk from his hair and slicing the frond open, revealing the clear, gooey inside. “It’ll help, right? It has to help.”

Pride welled up in John Dory’s chest. He remembered. God, Branch was smart. He couldn’t be more proud of his little brother. To be honest though, he wasn’t sure the aloe was going to help all that much, considering the severity of the burn, but hey, at least it couldn’t hurt.

Wrong, it was definitely going to hurt. But his heart glowed with pride regardless.

However, as Branch went to smear some of the gooey plant on his arm, John Dory stopped him, shaking his head. He slowly reached up into his hair, retrieving his First-aid kit and pushing it towards the young troll.

“You first.” He rasped, looking down at Branch’s swollen ankle. “Needs’a wrap and… and ice.”

Branch looked stunned, shaking his head as well. “No, you-” He stuttered, but John Dory shot him a look.

“You… first.” He insisted, laying his head back down, that one, simple movement taking way too much effort.

For a moment, Branch looked like he was going to fight him on it. But then, he grit his teeth, climbing to his feet and limping over to the freezer. He quickly grabbed a bag of frozen berries, hastily wrapping it around his ankle and tying it in a shoddy knot, before biting the wrap off with his teeth.

“There, all wrapped. Now you, ok?” He said, coating his hand in aloe once more.

John Dory hummed with satisfaction, feeling the slightest hint of relief. It wasn’t the best wrap job, but it was something. “M’so… proud… d’of you.” He murmured, hoping his brother understood.

“I know.” Branch replied, his voice slightly watery, but he seemed to swallow it down. “Now just shut up, and hold still, ok?”

The young troll slowly began to slather the aloe onto John Dory’s charred skin, every touch sending jolts through his body, his muscles spasming with pain. He bit down on the pillow, nearly tearing it open with his teeth as he tried not to whimper. But slowly, the agony was replaced by an aching coolness, the aloe almost sucking the heat from the burns. It still hurt, but it was a little less now. It didn’t do much to quell the way his body was shivering, his breathing still shallow and quick. But he felt slightly less like his skin was on fire, so he decided to count it as a small win.

Branch also took a moment to wrap his aching feet, as apparently running full force through the woods like he was had torn them to hell. Who knew?

John Dory made sure Branch put aloe on his burns too, the young troll mumbling something along the lines of him being “a stubborn bastard”. He’d have to chastise the kid for his language later, when he wasn’t fighting to keep from passing out. He was so tired, and Branch hardly looked any better than he did.

His younger brother looked completely strung out, exhausted, and John Dory couldn’t blame him. They’d been through a lot out here, but never anything like this. It worried him to see the young troll in such a frenzied state, unable to sit still as he kept pacing between John Dory and the console. He looked about one bit of bad news away from completely breaking down, his hands clenched to the point his knuckles were white.

So the next time Branch came over to check on him, John Dory decided to intervene.

As the young troll knelt by his side, laying more strips of aloe across his back, John Dory reached up, slowly wrapping an arm around his brother’s waist and pulling him down to the floor with him. Branch briefly hesitated, but didn’t fight it, instead just letting out a soft protest as John Dory drew him in for a hug.

“JD? What are you doing?” He asked, keeping perfectly still, as if he were scared to jostle his older brother.

“You… need this.” John Dory rasped softly, holding his brother closer. “Rest.”

“But what about Rhonda?” Branch said worriedly. “And you, you can’t fall asleep-”

“Won’t… Promised.” John Dory insisted firmly. He hugged his brother tight, as tight as he could without his body screeching with pain. He wondered if the young troll could feel how fast his heart was pounding, the way he was trembling so violently, his muscles were starting to ache. And he was starting to get cold again… Panic began to build in his chest once more, so he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his brother’s back.

Fuck. He was scared. He was so, so scared…

“Need this…” He mumbled again, unsure as to whether he was talking about Branch, or himself. His head was getting fuzzier, hardly able to form coherent thoughts anymore. But right now, he didn’t care. If this was how it ended, if he didn’t make it…

He never got the chance to make things right with his brothers. He never got the chance to tell them how much he cared about them before they were gone. They died hating him, and rightfully so.

If he died today, he at least hoped Branch knew that he loved him.

Suddenly, Rhonda let out a loud churr, her fast pace slowing. Branch gasped, pulling away from John Dory’s arm and stumbling towards the console. John Dory let out a small groan of protest, dull pain crawling across his body.

“Bitty… give it… a’rest…” He hissed, exhaustion creeping into his mind, his eyelids drooping. “Gonna… hurt y’self…”

“Rhonda might have found something!” Branch shot back, leaning on the driver’s seat as he frantically scanned their surroundings. “Someone to help!”

Despair settled heavily in his chest as he bit back another whine. How was he supposed to tell his brother that there was nothing to find? There was nobody out here. They were alone, and nobody could help them.

How was he supposed to tell him he was probably going to die?

Just then, Branch’s eyes locked on something, growing about three times wider as his jaw went slack. He blinked in shock, before breathing out one word:

“Trolls…”

John Dory shook his head, concern flickering to life in his chest. Great, now Branch was hallucinating too. That didn’t bode well for them. “No, Bitty…” He slurred, it growing harder and harder to speak through the marbles in his mouth. “Trolls’re… gone.”

Branch sucked in a sharp breath, turning back to John Dory. “No...” He said breathily, like he couldn’t believe it himself.

“There are Trolls out there.”

Chapter Text

John Dory stared back at his brother, vision blurred, before shaking his head once more, letting it fall back on the pillow as grief welled up in his gut.

The Trolls were gone. He’d seen it with his own eyes. The collapsed tunnels, the discarded clothes, the blood… He’d seen his brother’s blood, Clay’s blood. They were gone. They’d tried to escape, and they failed. The Bergens had killed them. Hell, he’d even heard the monsters admit it themselves. There were no Trolls left.

Which meant there were only two likely explanations: Branch was either mistaken, or hallucinating. John Dory really hoped it was the latter…

“No, JD, there’s Trolls out there!” Branch repeated, looking back outside. His face fell as his voice rose to a panicked shout. “No, no no, they’re scared of Rhonda! Rhonda, stop, pull over!”

Rhonda did as she was told, slowing to a stop as Branch limped over to him. “C’mon, we have to go out there! They could help!” He said quickly, pulling John Dory’s arm over his shoulder as he tried to help him stand. “Please JD, we have to move.”

“B…” John Dory murmured sadly at the young troll’s desperation. Whatever his brother was seeing out there, it wasn’t Trolls. But regardless, he grit his teeth, and slowly allowed Branch to pull him to his feet, pain shooting through his body with every movement. He couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry as his brain swam with agony, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision as he swayed dangerously, practically leaning half his weight on his brother. But Branch stubbornly led him forward, helping him stumble out of Rhonda into the early morning sun.

Nausea swirled in John Dory’s gut, barely able to lift his head enough to look around. He didn’t recognize where they were, the forest a bit more lush and bright as compared to where they were before, blending together in a shifting myriad of colors. Dang, Rhonda must have traveled far…

He turned his swirling vision towards Branch, whose face was drawn up in a desperate snarl. His little brother practically dragged him across the small clearing they were in, eyes locked on something ahead of them. And slowly, John Dory followed his gaze.

He expected to see some sort of fuzzy, colorful mushroom, or perhaps some troll look-alike critter. Hell, he even thought he might see nothing at all, making it so he’d have to have a little conversation with his brother about seeing things that weren’t real. But instead, he was surprised when his eyes landed on a few, small figures, standing near the edge of the clearing.

God, Branch was right… They almost looked like Trolls…

There were four of them, their bright colors matching the lush forest around them. His vision was still fuzzy, but man, they really did look like Trolls, down to the colorful hair sprouting from their heads. But that couldn’t be right, there was no way, the Trolls were gone, they were gone they…

John Dory sucked in a breath, so blindsided by the realization hitting his hazy brain, he could think clearly for just a moment.

They didn’t just look like Trolls. They were Trolls. They were really here.

The Trolls were alive. John Dory felt like he could barely breathe.

They all looked pretty young, around Branch’s age, their faces matching looks of terror. And with varying degrees of frightened shrieks, most of them took off into the bushes, the flowers they’d been collecting falling from their hands in a heap. However, one of them stood her ground, her arms spreading out protectively as her pink hair bristled out in fear. She looked about two seconds from taking off as well, but her eyes narrowed, jaw set in determination as she stared them down. She looked so real… No, she was real, she was really there…

“No, wait, please!” John Dory flinched as Branch practically screamed in his ear, his voice shrill and desperate. “Please don’t go, please!”

The young pink troll looked surprised, her arms falling to her side as her hair relaxed a bit. She had on a little flower crown…

“You’re… Trolls?” She asked, John Dory nearly floored as he heard the first real voice besides Branch and his own in years. He was reeling, feeling as if his already melting brain was being kicked, over and over again.

She was real. The Trolls were here.

He and Branch staggered to a halt a few feet away from her, John Dory’s body locking up on him once more as the fuzziness came back with a vengeance, washing over him in a dizzying wave.

“Please!” Branch begged, his voice breaking. “My brother’s hurt!”

The pink troll’s gaze flicked between the two of them, before locking on John Dory, her eyes growing wide with horror. She gasped, taking a shaky step back. “I’ll go get my Dad!” She said loudly, before whipping around and taking off into the woods. “Dad! Daddy, help!”

John Dory watched as her tail disappeared into the undergrowth, his hazy mind suddenly moving a million miles a minute. There were Trolls out here, they were alive! Which meant he’d been wrong. They weren’t all killed by the Bergens. Some of them must have survived, must have escaped the Tree. And they were here, they were alive, and they were all here, and if they were here…

His brother’s might be alive. They might be here too.

His head swirled dangerously, so many emotions flooding through it he felt like his brain might explode. Spruce, Clay, Floyd, they could be alive, they could be here! An overwhelming wave of dizzying, desperate hope jolted through him all at once. He had to find them, he had to tell them how sorry he was-

Just then, John Dory was hit with another wave of his pain, his legs beginning to buckle. “Bitty, m’gonna…” He mumbled just as his legs completely gave out, nearly collapsing as his vision went almost completely black. It was too much, there was too much going on. The pain, the fuzziness, the fact that the trolls were ALIVE, that his brothers might be alive? Everything was spiraling around in his mind, making him more and more dizzy.

Branch caught him before he could crash to the ground, just barely able to hold his brother's slumping body. “JD?” He yelped in a panic, but his voice sounded muffled, far away.

John Dory blinked tiredly, his head dropping onto his brother’s shoulder. He just needed to rest for a moment, give himself a second for his mind to stop swirling. He was exhausted, and everything hurt. If he could just rest, he was sure everything would be fine…

“No no no, you have to stay awake, remember?” Branch said, pushing him back a bit.

John Dory let out a groan of protest as his body twinged dully. Didn’t his brother understand? He was tired, he was hurt, he just wanted to rest for a bit.

“M… trying…” He mumbled, swaying slightly. “Tired…”

“I know, I know, just-” Branch cut off as a sob bubbled up from his throat. He held tight to his brother’s jacket, pressing his head into his chest. His teeth clenched, taking soft hiccuping breaths as he began to cry once more. “Help is coming, so you have to stay awake, keep talking, you can’t-”

Suddenly, Branch tensed a bit, looking up at him with tears in his eyes as he tried to bite back his sobs. “JD,” He started, voice cracking. “What plant is good for burns?”

John Dory blinked, his already hazy mind clouding with confusion. Why was he asking him that? Branch was smart, he knew this. And he told him just as much.

“You… know this…” He rasped, dizziness washing over him once more.

“I keep forgetting.” Branch insisted, sounding desperate as he clutched JD’s jacket tighter. “What plant is good for burns?”

John Dory was still confused, but he slowly mumbled a response. “Aloe… s’weird, spiky one…”

Branch nodded, his lips quivering. “What if I got a snakebite?” He continued, wiping tears from his eyes. “Then what?”

“Snakeroot…” John Dory hissed as another jolt of pain shot through him, his body curling in on itself.

“A-and if I was coughing?” Branch asked again, his voice strained.

John Dory hummed softly. He knew this one, he did, but he couldn’t think right now. Everything hurt too much, and his mind was blank. All he could think about was how tired he was, how nice it would be to lay down, to close his eyes…

He’d been tired for a long, long time…

“What about your favorite berries?” Branch pressed quickly, desperately pushing his brother back so he could look in his eyes. “You know that one, right? They’re small, a-and blue?”

John Dory smiled, slowly raising a shaky hand to poke his brother’s chest.

Just like you.

Branch shook his head, tears flowing once more. “N-no, you have to say it, o-or it doesn’t count.” He stammered out. John Dory could remember saying the exact same thing to the small troll, years ago now. Branch had been trying to get out of answering his repetitive questions aloud, instead writing them in the dirt, and John Dory told him that was cheating. The whole point of that exercise was to keep his brother talking.

But John Dory didn’t really feel like talking anymore. Actually, he didn’t really feel like anything anymore. Everything felt weird, and far away. He let out a soft moan, eyes rolling up in his head as it fell back on his brother’s shoulder. He just didn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore.

“No no no!” Branch cried, panic building in his voice. “You can’t pass out, you have to stay awake, please!” He sobbed again, hugging his brother close. “Y-you promised you’d stay awake, you promised you wouldn’t leave me!”

His words cut through the fogginess in John Dory’s mind, guilt surging through his veins. He promised…

“Aw, poor Bitty B.”

John Dory blinked, flicking his gaze up slightly at the sarcastic voice. There, standing behind them, was his brothers. The guilt grew heavier, making it harder to breathe than it already was. He couldn’t tell if they were really there, or if this was all in his head again. But some small part of him was still happy to see them.

Clay crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at him. “Guess baby Branch finally learned, ey Spruce?” He sneered, elbowing his older brother in the side. “JD never keeps his promises.”

Spruce just tsked, his gaze cold. “I told you so.” He growled, before turning away in disappointment. Floyd couldn’t even look at him, his eyes locked worriedly on Branch as his lips pursed tight.

John Dory let out a whine, pain clouding his every thought. Even if they weren’t real, he needed them to know…

“M’… sorry…” He whispered desperately.

Clay scoffed at this, whipping around and stalking off into the woods. Spruce just shook his head, shooting the older troll an angry, pained look before following close behind him. John Dory watched them go, the lump growing in his throat, before his eyes drifted to Floyd. The pink haired troll slowly drew his gaze away from Branch, his face sad and broken.

“You’re too late.” He said, in a tone John Dory had never heard his brother speak in before. “You failed us.” He turned his gaze back to Branch. “He needs you. Try not to fail him too.” Then, he turned around, walking off into the woods as well.

They were leaving… They were leaving him. No, no no no, why were they leaving? He wanted them to stay. He didn’t want to be alone. He was scared, and he wanted them here…

“No…” John Dory whimpered, his voice breaking as his body slumped down further. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to fail Branch, he didn’t want to leave him. He wanted to stay with him, he promised.

But he was afraid he didn’t have a choice anymore…

“D?!” Branch asked shrilly. But John Dory couldn’t answer him. He couldn’t move. “No JD, please! Please, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me! Please!” Branch’s voice rose to a scream, his voice hoarse and breaking as he held his brother tighter. “Help! Somebody help me!”

“Over here! Hold on, we’re coming!”

John Dory heard a muffled voice, his ears flicking slightly. His eyes were only open to slits, the image dark and fuzzy as someone ran towards them. For a moment, he swore he saw his Dad… But no, that couldn’t be. His Dad was gone, dead, he’d seen it…

The memory quickly slid from his mind.

The figure drew closer, several other figures appearing behind him, but John Dory couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He let them fall shut, the last of his strength giving out as he slumped forward. He could feel Branch struggling to hold him, before another set of strong hands grabbed his shoulders, a much larger body taking Branch’s place.

“Easy there, son, I’ve got you.” The voice said, sounding so incredibly familiar, though John Dory couldn’t place it through his hazy mind.

“Dad…?” He mumbled out, confused, peeking his eyes open slightly. But no, it couldn’t be. His dad didn’t have pink hair, nor orange skin. He’d never held him like this…

And he certainly never called him son.

He let his eyes fall shut once more.

“Please, you have to help him!” He heard Branch beg, sounding so incredibly scared. John Dory wanted to comfort him, but he still couldn’t move. Every breath hurt, his body aching…

“We’ll do our best, kid.” The familiar voice answered, shifting him slightly. “Good troll…” he whispered under his breath, tight with alarm, before turning his head to the side. “Birch! Run ahead to Dr. Moonbloom, tell her we have a severe burn coming in. And hurry! We’ll be right behind you.”

“Yes sir!” Came the reply, footsteps fading as who he assumed was Birch took off.

“What’s his name, kiddo?” The voice asked, apparently talking to Branch.

“JD.” Branch sobbed, the sound muffled and distorted. “John, it’s John.”

“John? Can you hear me?” The voice asked again, this time, directed at him. “Son, answer me, please.”

Son… No, John Dory wasn’t his son. This wasn’t his Dad. But a childlike fear crept into his chest, and with a sudden burst of strength, he wrapped his good arm tight around the figure’s shoulders, panic flooding his mind.

“Please… M’… Scared…” He choked out between ragged breaths, digging his nails into soft skin. “Don’t leave me, please, I don’t wanna… die…” He was begging now, tears starting to flow down his cheeks. “Don’t wanna… die, Dad… Please, don’t leave…” His voice cut off as a wave of pain shot through him, and he let out another whine.

“I’ve got you.” The figure repeated firmly, slowly pulling John Dory closer as he began to stand. He couldn’t help but let out an agonizing cry as his body shifted, his nails digging deeper into the figure’s shoulders.

“Stop! You’re hurting him!” Branch’s panicked voice piped up.

“Kid, give them some space-” A different voice began, but was cut off by a threatening snarl.

John Dory pried his eyes open, looking over the figure’s back to see Branch standing in front of him protectively, snarling as other trolls move to grab him, brandishing one of the Tuskhog’s tusks.

“Branch…” He whispered, his brother’s ears immediately flicking towards him, turning to look at him with wide eyes. John Dory slowly moved his hand into the sign for “Ok”, doing his best to smile. He was sure it came out more like a grimace, but at this point, it didn’t matter. Branch’s ears drooped, but he nodded, tucking the tusk away.

“Branch, is it?” The figure asked, his voice soft. “You can ride on my shoulders; keep an eye on him, ok?”

Branch hesitated for a moment, but nodded again, climbing up next to John Dory and holding him close. “It’s ok.” He murmured, pressing his forehead into him.

“But, King Peppy-” A voice started to protest, but was cut off as the figure spoke again.

“I’ve carried way more than two trolls on my back in my time, and these kids practically weigh nothing.” He replied, climbing to his feet. “Now let’s move! No troll left behind!”

They began to race across the forest floor, John Dory held tight in the figure’s arms. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, but he could still feel Branch hugging him, whispering muffled reassurances into his ear as tears streamed down his face.

“You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok…”

Before long, the sounds of the forest disappeared, replaced by the sound of distant chatter. It was so oddly familiar, but John Dory didn’t have the strength to wonder why. His entire body was limp, save for the trembling of his muscles. He barely even felt something sharp poke into his side, his mind swimming as the pain slowly slipped away.

The last thing he remembered before drifting into unconsciousness was Branch running his fingers through his hair.

Chapter Text

“Tell me another one, Dad!”

John Dory sat practically vibrating with excitement as his tail flicked up and down, the book he was supposed to be trying to read tossed to the side. But he couldn’t care less; he’d been at it for hours, and it wasn’t really working out anyways. Instead, his sparkling eyes were locked on his father, who’d just finished weaving another story about the Neverglade Trail.

John Dory loved those stories. He loved the adventure, the peril, the fights and the quick saves. He loved the bravery, and the freedom. He loved that no matter what happened, there was always a happy ending. But most of all…

He loved the way his father’s eyes would light up as he told them. The way his voice would become full of life and excitement, his movements comically exaggerated as he told the harrowing tails. He loved seeing the way his father smiled, something he rarely saw any other time.

And any attention from his father was enough to make his heart soar.

It was even more special now, as Spruce and Clay were already asleep, snoring away in the bed next to him, and Floyd was with their mother. Which meant he had his father’s complete and undivided attention. He wasn’t ready for that to end just yet.

However, his father just looked at him, hands falling to his side as he deflated a bit at the request. “I don’t know, John.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s getting late, and your mother-”

“C’mon, just one more?” John Dory begged, crawling closer to him. He didn’t want his Dad to leave; this was the most he’d talked to him in weeks. Well, besides from him being upset about the whole reading thing still… But John Dory was going to figure that out, and then his Dad would talk to him more. He purposely pushed the book out of sight with his foot, so his Dad wouldn’t see it. Right now, he just wanted him be happy, to stay with him a little longer.

His Dad shot a look towards the door, before turning back to John Dory. He chuckled a bit, a smile growing on his face. John Dory grinned back, excitement coursing through him. Success!

“Alright, one more.” His Dad said, lifting his hands dramatically. “It was a dark, cold night, and our hero was pinned against a cliff by a pack of critteryotes…”

John Dory leaned forward, enraptured, unable to keep his body still as he listened.

“Things looked dire, the critteryotes snapping and howling as they surrounded him, and he worried he wouldn’t make it out of this alive…” His dad continued, speaking in a hushed voice, as if he was the one who was surrounded. “Just when all seemed lost, he suddenly-”

“Pine? Honey, are you-”

John Dory perked up as his mother walked into the room, holding a young, sleeping Floyd on her hip. She rocked him gently as she looked between John Dory and his father, her smile growing strained.

“What are you two doing?” She asked, a strange tone to her voice. But John Dory was too excited to care, bouncing slightly as he grinned at her.

“Dad’s telling me a story!” He blurted out in a loud whisper. “It was just getting good!”

His mother’s face fell, turning to look at his Dad. John Dory turned towards him too, still grinning ear to ear. However, the grin quickly fell from his face as he realized something was wrong. His father wasn’t smiling anymore, instead sporting a deep frown, his eyes locked on the ground as his ears pinned against the back of his head.

“Dad?” John Dory asked, confused, reaching out to touch his father’s shoulder, but his Dad hastily stood up before he could, refusing to look at him.

“It’s late, John.” He replied, his voice no longer lively, but cold enough to send a shiver down his spine. “Go to bed.”

“But-” John Dory started to protest, but quickly thought better of it. “Ok.” He said, ears drooping as he tried to smile. “Goodnight, love you.”

His Dad finally looked back at him, his eyes strange, unfocused, as if he wasn’t even seeing him. The smile quickly fell from John Dory’s face. He hated that look…

“Goodnight.” His father replied, walking by their mother and setting a gentle hand on her shoulder, before continuing past, his tail disappearing into the dark.

His mother watched him go, looking worried, before going to tuck Floyd in. John Dory’s eyes followed her, his mind racing as he chewed absently at his nails.

Did he do something wrong? They were having such a good time…

“John baby? Don’t do that, it’s yucky, remember?”

His mother grabbed his hand, pulling it from his teeth as she sat down next to him, a soft smile on her face.

“Sorry.” John Dory mumbled, leg bouncing slightly.

“It’s ok, Guppy.” His mother cooed, the nickname bringing a smile back to his face. She gently combed her fingers through his hair, smoothing out a few knots. “Did you get any reading done?”

John Dory wilted at this, ears drooping once more. “Some.” He murmured, an icky feeling in his stomach. His mother pulled her hands from his hair, instead cupping his chin.

“Hey, ears up, baby.” She said, kissing his forehead. “I know you’re trying real hard.”

“It’s not enough…” John Dory whispered back, frustration prickling at his skin. At this point, even Clay could read better than he could.

His mother frowned, holding his hands in hers. “Are you doing your best?” She asked, gently tracing circles on his palm.

“...Yes.”

She squeezed his hands slightly, smiling. “Then that’s enough.”

John Dory relaxed a bit at her words, before crawling into bed next to Spruce. His mother tucked him in, giving him one last kiss on his nose. “Get some sleep, ok?” She said, rubbing her thumb on his cheek. “I need you to take care of your brothers tomorrow.”

A jolt of fear shot through John Dory’s chest. Right, tomorrow was Trollstice. He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, nodding.

She smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “That’s my big, brave boy.” She murmured, a slight waver in her voice. “And after tomorrow, I’ll get you a big ‘ol cake, alright? And we’ll celebrate.”

John Dory nodded again, trying to smile back at her. He didn’t really want cake; he was never hungry after Trollstice. But his mother always insisted they do something for his birthday, even if they couldn’t celebrate the day of.

As his mother got up to leave, John Dory quickly called after her, quiet as not to wake his brothers. “Mom? I love you.”

His mother smiled, that beautiful smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms. “I love you too, Guppy.” She replied, eyes sparkling. “More than anything.”

She gently closed the door behind her, leaving John Dory in darkness. He hummed, letting his head fall tiredly on the pillow, before his eyes caught on something on his dresser. Dad’s goggles… He must have forgotten them here. John Dory blinked, then crawled out of bed, grabbing them from the dresser and holding them for a moment. They were big, almost heavy in his hands…

His Dad would probably be worried if he couldn’t find them.

As quietly as he could, he tip-toed out into the hall, sneaking towards the light coming from his parents room…

.
.
.

“...move over this way, kid? I have to wrap this…”

“He’s scared, just let him stay there…”

John Dory pried his eyes open to thin slits, confusion wracking his brain as muffled voices flitted against his ears. What was going on? Where was he? He had been in his pod, no wait, the woods? Everything sounded strange, he felt strange, almost floaty…

He was laying on his stomach, the surface soft and plush. Something was touching him, shifting him, but he couldn’t tell what, his body limp, and heavy… He blinked, numbly letting his eyes drift to his side. They landed a familiar figure, sitting next to him.

Branch.

Branch’s face was curled up in a snarl, a mix of fear and pain, his hands gripping the plush surface with such force his knuckles were white. Tears streamed down his face as he let out a sharp hiss. Immediately, a powerful surge of anger and fear shot through John Dory’s hazy mind.

Branch was in pain. Something was hurting him.

No, not something. Someone.

His eyes drifted lower, where someone appeared to be messing with his brother’s foot. He couldn’t see who it was, or what they were doing, but it didn’t matter. They were hurting Branch. He had to stop them.

His hand shot out lightning fast, without him even meaning it to, latching on to the stranger’s wrist. Instant, white hot pain jolted through his body, and he had to bite back a scream. But he couldn’t think about the pain now. He had to save Branch.

The stranger struggled in his grip, trying to escape as distorted, panicked shouts started to echo around him, but John Dory just held on tighter, letting out a threatening snarl as he bared his teeth, both in anger and in pain. They were hurting Branch. He couldn’t move, he could barely think, but he knew he had to stop them, he had to do something… He felt something snap under his grip, followed by a sharp cry of pain.

“Ah! My arm!”

“Someone stop him!”

“Where’s my sedative?!”

“JD!”

John Dory locked in on his brother’s voice, the young troll leaning into his field of view, eyes wide with alarm. “I’m ok, D, it’s ok!” He said quickly, wrapping his arms around John Dory’s neck. “I’m ok.”

John Dory let out a whine, releasing the stranger’s wrist from his hand as his arm fell limply to the side. Pain crawled across his skin, making him shiver. What was happening? He didn’t like this…

Suddenly, a low, familiar rumble started to emanate from his little brother, cutting through the pain in his head. He recognized that sound. It was the one Rhonda made, the one that made everything feel ok. He closed his eyes, letting the sound bubble against his ears as something jabbed into his side, and he drifted into unconsciousness once more…

.
.
.

“Pine, we talked about this.”

John Dory paused at his parent’s door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Something in his mother’s exasperated voice made him take a step back, clutching tight to the goggles in his hands.

“I don’t like you filling his mind with these… these fantasies!” She exclaimed, John Dory moving so he could see her through the crack in the door. “The other day, he was telling Spruce and Clay about how we were all going to run away, go live in the woods together!”

“And what’s wrong with that?” His father shot back from where he was sitting on their bed, voice strained. “He makes a great point, we should do that!”

His mother drew back, pursing her lips into a tight line. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.” She said sharply, hands curled into fists.

“Why not?” His father replied, almost looking like he was pleading. “Trollstice is tomorrow! If we leave tonight, we could get out of here! I can have us packed in minutes!”

“Pine.” His mother cut in, voice wavering. “We can’t leave, you know we can’t.”

“Sunny…” His father pushed, but his mother just held up her hand, shaking her head.

“We would never get past the Bergens alive.” She explained in a low voice, tail whipping side to side. “And even if we did, then what? We wouldn’t survive out there! This isn’t like your stories, Pine. This is real. And I need you to be realistic!”

“We need to get out of here!” His father insisted, climbing to his feet. “It’s not safe here anymore! Every Trollstice, more and more of us are picked off, and those monsters are only getting greedier!” He began to pace, gesturing wildly with his hands. “And they know who we are, they know our faces! They’ve had it out for me ever since I saved Clover and her family. I’m a target, and if I’m a target, then you’re a target, and I can’t-”

“Pine…” His mother tried to interject, but his father was on a roll now, whipping around to face her.

“They’re coming for us, Sunny, I know it. They’re targeting us, watching us. They don’t like us fighting back.” He muttered feverishly, that same, unfocused look in his eyes. “They want to get rid of us, both of us, hurt us so we can’t fight back anymore, I see it all the time…”

“Honey,” His mother grabbed his father’s shoulders, forcing him to sit down as she sat next to him. “I love you, but you’re being paranoid. King Peppy’s working on a plan, remember? We just have to be patient-”

“We can’t afford to be patient!” His father exclaimed in agitation. “You don’t get it, none of you do! Not you, not King Peppy, not that crazy doctor who called me ‘delusional’. We have to get out of here now, before it’s too late.” He grabbed her hands, holding them tight. “Please Sunny, you have to believe me!”

His mom frowned, pulling her hand back. “I do.” She replied softly, her lip slightly quivering. “But I am not dragging our entire family out into the woods so you can chase this fantasy life you’ve created for us. I like our life here. The Bergens are awful, but we’re a lot safer here than we’d ever be out there.”

She turned towards the door, and John Dory crouched back, making sure he couldn’t be seen.

“We don’t belong out there, Pine.” She continued sadly, before turning to caress his cheek. “You’re in no condition to be traveling right now, and the wilderness is no place to raise a family.”

His father blinked at this, before his gaze hardened. “Then why don’t we just go?” He said, eyes scarily intense.

His mother pulled her hand back, looking shocked. “What?”

“Us! You and me! Just like we always planned!” He continued, pulling his mother to her feet. “The kids can stay here, with your mother. She loves them anyway. They’ll be safe, and we can just take off, get out of here!” He shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “And when they’re older, we can come back, help them escape too! It’s perfect!”

Leave? His father wanted to… leave? Without him? John Dory felt frozen in place, fear jolting through his veins.

“What are you talking about?” Came his mother’s furious reply. “I can’t believe you- Why would I ever- Are you cra-” She took a deep breath before continuing, her voice icy cold. “I am not leaving them.”

“They’d be fine.” His father insisted.

“No!” His mother yelled back, raising her voice in a way John Dory had never heard before. “They need us. They need their parents. They need their father. Hell, John Dory idolizes you, and you hardly ever give him the time of day! We are not leaving them!”

“Sunny…” His father pleaded, looking terrified. The look shook John Dory to his core. “I can’t lose you, I can’t. I won’t.”

“You’re losing me now.” She hissed back, tears starting to flow from her eyes. “When I said I wanted to have a family, you told me you’d try, Pine. You promised.”

“I have tried!” His father shot back. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to live my life in fear. I don’t want to be trapped anymore!”

“Trapped by the Bergens?” She asked scathingly, giving his father a heartbreaking look. “Or trapped by us?”

His father didn’t have an answer for that one.

His mother angrily wiped away her tears. “I’ve been by your side, supporting you since the day we met.” Her face grew sharp, eyes flashing. “But I will not support you on this. If you leave, I won’t follow you.”

His father deflated, looking as if he’d been slapped. Both of them went quiet for a few moments before his dad spoke up again. “We always had the same dream.” He said, hands clenched tight on his arms. “To leave here one day. To go to the Neverglade Trail, and make a life together.” He looked up, and John Dory was surprised to see tears in his eyes as well. “What changed?”

“We had John.” His mother replied coolly. “And I decided our family was more important to me than a fantasy.”

“Please, Sunny.” His father pleaded once more. “Let’s get out of here, before it’s too late. You know I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t mean it.” He reached out a hand towards her. “I love you.”

His mother pulled away, taking a few steps back. “I love you too.” She replied in a watery voice, looking up at him. “But you make it… so hard sometimes.”

With that, she whipped around, stalking towards the bedroom door. John Dory had about two seconds to jump behind a cabinet before the door swung open, and his mother stepped out.

“I’m staying at my mother’s tonight.” She said, voice breaking slightly as her hand lingered on the doorknob. “I love you, but if you don’t get this under control…” She couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, shaking her head as she walked through the pod and out into the night.

John Dory was breathing heavily, a crushing feeling in his chest. He felt like he shouldn’t have seen that. His parents, fighting… They fought every once and a while, maybe a bit more recently, but never like this.

And this fight… He knew it was his fault.

John Dory hugged the goggles to his chest, shakily climbing to his feet. He still had to give them back to his Dad. He crept towards the door slowly, his father sitting on the bed, appearing to be lost in thought, face curled into a tight grimace. His hands were buried deep in his hair, as if he were holding something. No, pulling. It looked like he was trying to pull something out.

“Dad?”

His father jumped at his voice, hands quickly falling from his hair. “John?” He said shakily. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“You forgot your goggles…” John Dory quietly replied, holding them out.

“Oh…” His father took them, staring into them for a moment before setting them aside. “Thanks.”

John Dory shuffled his feet nervously, fear growing in his chest. “Just so you know,” He blurted out, “I’m really tough, so, if you ever go anywhere…” He looked up at his Dad. “Take me with you?”

His father grimaced again, turning away. “I’m not going anywhere, John.” He replied, face tight. “I’m trapped.”

John Dory’s ears drooped, that heavy feeling in his gut again. He went to reach out, to touch his father’s shaking hand, but thought better of it, instead just heading back to his room.

He never did get any sleep that night…

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.

John Dory could hear soft murmurs, pulsing against his fuzzy mind. It was hard to tell what they were saying, but after a while, words slowly began to take form.

“...he’s going to be ok, Branch. He’s just on some pretty strong painkillers right now, so he’ll be asleep for a while.”

John Dory knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it. However, he did key in on his brother’s name…

“Why don’t you come with me for a bit? Let him sleep?” The voice continued, a forced chipperness to the sound.

Silence. No one answered.

“I could get you some food, somewhere to rest?” The voice urged, becoming more insistent.

Once again, silence.

“Alright.” The voice relented, letting out a sigh. “Alright, kiddo, alright. You just keep an eye on him, ok?”

Finally, a response. John Dory heard his brother’s soft voice, heavy with exhaustion and worry.

“Ok.”

And just like that, he drifted off once more.

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.
.

John Dory heard the door to the pod slam open, he and his Grandma immediately locking eyes with matching looks of surprise and fear.

“Stay with your brothers, Johnny.” Grandma Rosiepuff told him, climbing quickly to her feet. “I’ll be right back.” She hastily made her way down the hall, towards the front door.

John Dory stood, frozen, before turning to Spruce, who had a look of nervous confusion on his face. “It’s fine, Sprucie.” He said with forced cheerfulness, pushing Floyd into the younger troll’s arms. “I’ll go check it out, ok? Watch them for me.”

“Ok.” Spruce replied shakily, Floyd almost too heavy for him to hold. John Dory gave him a smile, reaching out to ruffle Clay’s messy hair before spinning around, racing after his Grandma. Whatever was going on, he needed to know.

It was Trollstice after all.

“Where is she?” He heard his Grandma’s voice echo down the hall, in a tone he’d never heard before. He ran into the living room, skidding to a stop as he laid eyes on the scene before him, horror building in his chest. Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong…

His father stood motionless in the doorway, covered in a bright, blue liquid. It took a few seconds for John Dory to realize what it was.

Blood. His Dad was covered with blood.

“Where is she?!” Grandma Rosiepuff screeched, grabbing his father by his shoulders. “Where is she, Pine?!”

His Dad didn’t move, his breaths coming out in short gasps as he stared unfocused at the ground. His Grandma took a step back, sucking in a sharp breath.

“No… no no no NO! SUNNY!” She screamed, the sound cutting through John Dory’s heart like a knife. His Grandma took off, out across the Tree, still desperately screaming his mother’s name. Which left John Dory alone with his father.

“Dad?” He asked, terror coursing through him. But he swallowed it down, walking up to his father. “Dad, you ok? Where’s Mom?”

His father didn’t answer him. He continued to stare at the ground, body trembling. Slowly, he reached up to his hair, pulling his blood-stained goggles from his head and letting them drop to the ground. The sound of them hitting the floor echoed in John Dory’s ears.

Then, he reached up one more time, this time into his hair. He began to pull at something, tugging as his face curled up with pain. But eventually, whatever he was pulling at gave way, and he brought it out into the light.

An egg. A tiny, blue and green egg.

John Dory gasped, his stomach turning so much he thought he might be sick. He didn’t know much about eggs, but he knew you weren’t supposed to remove them before they were ready. It wasn’t safe. What was his Dad doing?!

“Dad-” He started to say, his shrill voice breaking with fear, but before he could continue, his Dad pushed the egg into his hands. He fumbled with it for a moment, terror rushing through him, but eventually, he just held it, clutching it close to his pounding chest. It was so small…

His father remained silent, taking a few steps back. And that’s when John Dory realized what was happening.

He was leaving. His Dad was leaving.

“Wait, Dad!” John Dory yelped, moving as if to follow him. But he held back, too scared to move with such a tiny egg in his hands. He stared desperately at his father, whose expression didn’t change as he spun around, walking towards the edge of a branch. “Dad! No, come back, please, it’s not safe! Please don’t leave! Don’t leave!” He screamed, begging his Dad to listen, to turn around, to come back to him.

But he didn’t. He never looked back. He stopped at the edge of the branch and stood perfectly still, waiting, until finally a Bergen grabbed him, and he was no more.

John Dory will never forget the gut-wrenching feeling that brought him to his knees that day.

He could do nothing but sit there, helpless, that tiny blue egg in his arms, and his Dad’s bloody goggles by his side. Weirdly enough, he didn’t cry, not then. He just felt so… hollow.

He looked down at the egg he was cradling. It was small, much too small, covered in bloody fingerprints. On the bottom, where it would have been connected to his father’s head, was a tiny, little crack. Not enough to puncture the shell, but still there. And on the top, a tiny tuft of hair, a vibrant indigo. John Dory slowly traced his fingers over it, and it curled, wrapping around them.

He swore he could feel a strong heartbeat emanating from it.

Fear jolted through John Dory’s heart. On instinct, he hastily tucked the egg into his hair, locking it in place with a few tendrils. He couldn’t let it get cold, couldn’t let it freeze. It was much too small to be out here on its own. However, John Dory himself was starting to feel cold, wrapping his arms around himself as his entire body shivered, unable to pry his eyes from the empty tree branch.

“JD?” John Dory heard Spruce’s scared voice behind him. “What’s going on?” He felt a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back to reality. He turned to see his brothers’ terrified faces, staring at him with wide eyes.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to break down, to scream, to cry, to fall apart. But in that moment, looking at his brothers, he made a decision.

They needed him.

John Dory forced himself to his feet, feeling as if his world was collapsing around him. He was scared, but he knew his brother’s were scared too. And they needed him. So he swallowed down the feelings threatening to tear him apart, and took a shaky breath, trying to keep his voice level as screams rang out across the Tree. He couldn’t look back now; he had a job to do.

“We’ll be ok. I promise.” He said, quickly ushering his little brother’s back into the pod. “Now c’mon, we have to hide.”

.
.
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John Dory learned two very important things that day:

You can’t trust anyone.

And life doesn’t have happy endings.

Chapter Text

John Dory’s mind slowly swam back to consciousness, able to feel the tiredness all the way down to his bones.

He still felt hazy, confused, and there was a strange heaviness to his body that locked him in place. He didn’t like it at all, he couldn’t move... He immediately started to panic a bit, fear leaching out like ice through his veins.

What was going on? Was this real? He was awake, right? Or was he still dreaming?

He quickly tried to ground himself a bit, his senses slowly waking up. He could feel soft fabric beneath his fingertips, and pressing against his cheek. There was a faint buzzing above him, likely a fan, or a light of some sort. The sharp scent of disinfectant tickled his nose, causing it to wrinkle. He breathed it in, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart, before managing to pry his eyes open slightly.

He was still laying on his stomach, on a bed it appeared, in some sort of brightly colored room. He recognized the architecture, the intricate designs and patterns of pastel colors. He’d grown up with this architecture his whole life.

This place was made by Trolls. Foggy memories rushed through his head. That’s right… Trolls. They’d found the Trolls, they were alive…

His gaze slowly traced across the far wall, over to a dark wooden door, before landing on a small, grey troll, sat in the middle of a row of chairs. Branch… He relaxed at the sight of his little brother, feeling the fuzziness and fear dissipate a bit, but that relief was quickly replaced by worry as his eyes traced up and down his tiny frame.

The young troll was hunched over, his eyes red and downcast, with deep circles underneath them. His ears drooped, as if he didn’t have the strength to hold them up. He sat completely still, save for a single finger that scratched absently at the wrap on his foot, several bandages on his arms and legs as well.

A nauseating mix of relief and guilt churned in John Dory’s gut at the sight. He was so happy his little brother was ok, but the poor kid looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. John Dory wanted nothing more than to rush over to him, comfort him, hold him in his arms until things felt right again, but he still couldn’t move, even the thought making his head start to swim. The ache grew in his chest…

Just then, the door to the room swung open, a pink blur racing inside, before slamming it with a bang. It was… a troll. A very familiar troll. John Dory recognized her vibrant blue and green dress, the flower crown in her hair that seemed a bit too big, and the pink hue to her skin that was so bright, he almost felt like he had to squint. She stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, before a large grin stretched across her face, and she let out a giggle.

“I made it!” She chirped, turning towards Branch as her tail whipped back and forth. “I thought my Dad was gonna catch me for sure, but I’m too sneaky for him!”

John Dory blinked again, still in shock that the trolls were ALIVE. Not only alive, but here. Rhonda had found them… He was still reeling. He watched as she skipped over towards Branch, sporting a bright smile.

“You’re Branch, right? That’s what my Dad calls you.” The young troll continued, practically bouncing with excitement. “I’m Poppy. I’m the one who saved you guys, remember?”

Poppy, huh? Her name sounded so familiar…

“My Dad said you were pretty sad, and not to bother you.” She prattled on, taking a seat next to Branch, her bright pink appeared even brighter next to Branch’s dull tone. “But I thought that was kind of silly. When I’m sad, I like having people around me. It’s no fun being alone, y’know? And I thought you could use a friend!”

Branch didn’t answer her, he didn’t even look at her, keeping his gaze trained on the ground. However Poppy didn’t appear to be deterred, instead just leaning down a bit so she could look him in the eyes.

“You don’t talk much, huh? That’s ok. My Dad says I talk too much, so I can talk for both of us!” Poppy continued to babble, moving down to the floor to sit cross-legged in front of Branch. “You can just nod, or shake your head, and we can talk that way! Well, not talk, but you know what I mean.”

Branch’s frown only seemed to deepen, his ears pinning against the back of his head. John Dory picked up on a low growl emanating from his brother’s throat, but Poppy didn’t seem to notice.

“What were you two doing out there anyways?” She asked bluntly. “It’s not safe out there y’know. There’s all sorts of scary things.”

Branch halfheartedly scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shrugged. Poppy just crossed her arms over her chest in a pout.

“Hey, that’s cheating. You’re doing this wrong; you can’t just shrug. You have to nod yes or no.” She chastised, to which Branch just gave her a withering glare. John Dory wondered if the bright young troll noticed she hadn’t asked a yes or no question…

“He’s your brother, right?” Poppy asked, instantly moving on as she cocked her head to the side. “You must be pretty worried about him.”

Branch drew back a bit at this, a flicker of fear flashing across his face. But he pursed his lips, hands tightening on his shorts as he stared back at the ground, before giving a short, almost imperceptible nod. Poppy empathetically nodded along with him.

“Yeah, I’d be worried too. I don’t have a sibling, but if I did, I’d be pretty worried if they were hurt.” She said sadly, before perking up once more. “But my Dad said he’s going to be just fine, so you don’t have to worry so much, ok?”

Just then, Poppy’s eyes brightened, and she leapt to her feet, causing Branch to almost jump out of his skin at the sudden movement, hair bristling.

“Oh! I forgot!” She said loudly, reaching into her hair and drawing out a small container. “Dad said you haven’t been eating, and I told him that’s because he’s giving you all that nasty, ‘high calorie” stuff, whatever that means.” She opened the container, bringing out what looked like a large cookie. “So I brought you this!”

John Dory tensed at Poppy’s words, a heavy feeling in his chest. Branch… hadn’t been eating? No, he had to eat, he…

“It’s my Mom’s recipe.” Poppy interrupted his hazy thoughts as she continued, gazing at the cookie fondly. “She died when I was little, so I don’t really remember her that much, or at all, really, but I think she had pretty yellow hair. Oh, and she sang to me a lot! And I know she made really good cookies!” Poppy held the sugary treat out to Branch, smiling. “So here, give it a try! They’re really good.”

Branch still looked scared, but he slowly deflated, curling in on himself as he drew his legs up to his chest, hiding his face in his knees. Poppy frowned, pulling back a bit.

“You should really eat.” She insisted, once again sitting by Branch’s side. “I know you’re worried, but you’re hurt too, and you can’t get better if you don’t eat.” She paused for a moment, biting her lips. “I bet your brother would say the same.”

Branch just curled up tighter, hissing softly. John Dory’s heart ached; he couldn’t bear to see his brother so upset and scared. Poppy was right, Branch needed to eat so he could heal, he needed someone to tell him it was ok…

He needed John Dory.

John Dory grit his teeth, and with no small amount of effort from his swirling mind, forced his lips to move, words bubbling up from his aching throat.

“Half…”

Both of the young trolls perked up at his raspy voice, heads swiveling in his direction. Branch was on his feet in seconds, stumbling into the side of the bed and quickly grabbing his brother’s hand.

“JD?” He asked in a watery voice, tears already starting to well up in his tired eyes.

“Hey Bitty B.” John Dory croaked a response, his mouth feeling as if it were full of cotton. Everything still felt strange and airy, but he tried to focus through the haze, reaching up to brush the tears from his brother’s cheeks as he smiled at him. “What ‘cha crying for?”

Branch’s face wrinkled as he let out a sob, clutching John Dory’s hand to his cheeks. John Dory just pulled his forehead into his, closing his eyes. “Sh sh sh, it’s alright, Bitty, it’s alright. I’m here.”

He noticed Poppy lingering off to the side, looking nervous. He locked eyes with her, nodding down towards the cookie in her hands. “You have to break in half.” He explained hoarsely, Poppy trotting over next to them with wide eyes. “He won’t eat it unless you break it in half. He’s weird like that.”

Poppy brightened, a smile stretching across her face. She quickly broke the cookie into two pieces, holding the bigger piece out towards Branch. However, Branch was still sobbing quietly, so John Dory gently lifted his head.

“Gotta eat, B.” He said firmly, nodding over towards the cookie.

Branch sniffled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Ok…” He murmured, holding back his sobs as he gently took the half from Poppy’s hand. “Ok, ok…” He practically shoved the cookie into his mouth, tears still streaming down his face.

“Attaboy.” John Dory whispered, giving his brother a smile. He turned his gaze back towards Poppy, the young troll’s tail wagging excitedly as she looked at them. “Thank you.” He rasped gratefully, nodding towards Branch. “From… both of us.”

Poppy let out a squeak of joy, nodding enthusiastically. Then, she gasped, tucking, the other half a cookie back in her hair. “Ah! I gotta tell my Dad you’re awake!” She exclaimed, spinning around on her heels and racing towards the door. Troll, that girl had a lot of energy…

She pulled the door open, practically jumping through it before turning around. “I’ll be right back!” She said shrilly, the sound enough to make John Dory cringe a bit, before she slammed the door behind her, her excited yells fading as she raced out of the pod.

John Dory hummed softly, turning his attention back to Branch. The young troll was still hiccuping slightly, looking as if the last of his nerves were completely frayed.

“Stupid, stupid, so stupid…” Branch muttered, pressing his face into his brother’s side. John Dory frowned, concern flowing through him once more. His brother looked absolutely exhausted.

“Sorry I scared you, B.” He murmured, grabbing his brother’s hand. “But I’m ok now, alright? We’re ok.”

“We’re ok.” Branch echoed, desperately trying and failing to stop the tears from flowing.

“C’mon.” John Dory said, wincing a bit as he lifted his arm, inviting Branch to come join him. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Branch didn’t protest, crawling into his brother’s side and burying his face in his chest, another round of sobs bubbling up from his throat. John Dory just held him close, just like he used to, murmuring reassurances to him as he combed through his hair. His head was starting to feel fuzzy again, that familiar fear prickling across his skin… He frowned, trying to focus through the haze on the young troll in his arms.

“Hey, Bitty?” He felt himself ask, without really even meaning to. He just had to be sure. “Is this… real?”

Branch tensed, going completely still, but after a few moments, he slowly nodded, curling closer to his brother.

A wave of relief washed over John Dory, his body finally relaxing once more. “Ok, good…” He breathed, kissing Branch’s forehead. “Good…”

It only took moments for Branch to drift off, tears still staining his face as he fell into some much needed sleep. Exhaustion threatened to pull John Dory down too, his eyes slowly fluttering shut as his thumb traced circles on his brother’s back.

However, his ears still flicked up as two pairs of footsteps approached their room, the door slowly swinging open. He was too tired to open his eyes, instead just half listening as his mind swam on the brink of unconsciousness.

“Well, they were awake.” The familiar voice of Poppy said, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Hmmm…” Another voice hummed, and John Dory recognized it as the voice of their rescuer.

“Are you going to wake them up?” Poppy asked curiously.

“No.” The other voice replied, letting out a sigh. “They need some rest. Those poor boys have been to hell and back.”

“Where’s hell?” Poppy asked innocently, a hint of amusement flickering to life in John Dory’s tired mind.

The other voice hastily tried to correct his mistake. “Uh, I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He replied quickly. “Now come along, Poppy, let’s let them sleep.”

“Oh, wait!” John Dory heard small footsteps run to their side, and something being set on the table next to them, before she retreated again. “That way, they’ll have something sweet to eat when they wake up!”

The voice chuckled a bit. “Good thinking, sweetheart.” He said, the door starting to creak close. “However, we need to have a talk about you sneaking off…”

The door shut with a click, leaving them in silence. John Dory sighed, holding his brother closer, before finally giving in to his exhaustion and drifting off to sleep.

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.
.

The next time John Dory came too, he felt a lot less fuzzy, his brain finally working the way it was supposed to.

He blearily blinked his eyes open, Branch still fast asleep, curled into his chest. John Dory smiled at him, pulling his arm back slowly so as not to wake him, as he started to push himself up.

Big mistake.

Pain immediately coursed through his body, and he had to bite back an agonizing cry. Instead he let out a sharp hiss, squeezing his eyes shut. Holy shit that HURT…

He looked down to see thick bandages, wrapped all the way around his chest and torso, likely for the burns he felt with every fiber of skin on his back and shoulders. They extended down his left arm towards his hand, which seemed to twitch and spasm with a mind of its own. Memories of flames danced in his head… Troll, he didn’t even want to THINK about the damage he’d done to his hand…

“Oh! You’re awake. Take it easy, kiddo…”

John Dory jumped at the voice, whipping towards it, his ears pinning back against his skull as a slight, warning growl escaped his lips. But he quickly relaxed as he lay eyes on a familiar face, recognition finally dawning on him. That voice… This was the troll who rescued them. And he knew this troll; he was their king after all.

King Peppy.

He looked a bit older than John Dory remembered, but it was obviously the king. He’d never actually talked to him before, but he’d definitely seen him around, at events and such. And hell, Clay and the king’s daughter, Viva, were practically inseparable. And his other daughter…

John Dory’s mind swirled, his thoughts going a million miles a minute. That’s why Poppy had looked so familiar, or should he say, Princess Poppy. She was his daughter. She and King Peppy had saved them. He blinked with surprise, trying to break out of his stupor. “You’re…” He started, but couldn’t finish his sentence as he stared at the troll in awe.

King Peppy smiled warmly, defensively holding up his hands. “Glad to see you awake.” He said with a chuckle, walking over to John Dory’s side. “You had us a bit worried there. You and your brother.”

John Dory couldn’t speak, still in shock as he looked King Peppy up and down. The last he’d seen of the king was his tattered cape, discarded in those collapsed tunnels. He thought for sure the old troll was dead. But no, here he was, in the flesh…

It was all so surreal.

“You’re John Dory, right?” King Peppy asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Pine’s boy?”

John Dory? Pine’s boy? Wow, he hadn’t heard his full name in years, let alone his father’s. And John Dory had never been his boy. The thought made him sick. However, he quickly realized he still hadn’t given the king an answer, hastily forcing himself to speak.

“Yeah, sorry, I…” John Dory fumbled, trying to push himself up once again, a bit slower this time. Pain still wracked his body, but he stubbornly pushed through it. He didn’t like laying down like this; it made him feel exposed.

“Woah, easy, let me help-” King Peppy said worriedly, leaning forward. But John Dory instinctually flinched away, having to bite back another warning growl. What was wrong with him? He quickly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to calm his swirling mind.

“No, I’m fine, just…” He grit his teeth as he shifted his aching body, turning so he could sit up, albeit in a bit of a hunched over position. He let out a shaky breath, pain rolling over him in waves as he trembled weakly.

“Are you alright?” King Peppy asked, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “You have to take it easy, son, those injuries-”

John Dory just shook his head again, immediately cutting him off. Right now, that was about the least of his worries. Sure, they hurt like hell, but there was something much more important on John Dory’s mind. At this exact moment, he only needed to know one thing. He forcefully brought his gaze up to meet the older troll’s, jaw tight.

“King Peppy…” He choked out, heart racing with that desperate hope he hadn't felt for a long, long time.

“Where are my brothers?”

Chapter Text

The silence that followed his question spoke volumes. But John Dory didn’t want to assume anything, not yet. He still clung on to that desperate hope, that slim chance that maybe, maybe they might be alive. Might be here. He needed to know.

And he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard the king say it.

King Peppy appeared a bit thrown off by his question, and even more so by his intensity. He took a deep breath, eyes fraught with concern. “John Dory…” He began slowly, cautiously, as if he were speaking to a wild critter. JD cringed inwardly at his full name. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days. Why don’t you rest up a bit more, and when you’re feeling better-”

“Please.” John Dory interrupted, trying to keep his voice level. “Please, I just… I need to know. Are they here? Are they…” He swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing himself to keep talking. “Are they alive?”

King Peppy grimaced, his ears drooping as he looked at the ground. “I don’t know if they’re alive.” He replied in a low voice. “But I do know they’re not here. I’m sorry, son.”

John Dory’s ears drooped as well, his hand curling into a tight fist as his eyes began to sting. They weren’t here… He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing the heavy feeling threatening to choke him back down into his stomach, before prying them open once more. “Do you know where they are?” He asked, unsure as to whether he really wanted to know the answer.

“I’m afraid not.” King Peppy replied sadly. “Your brothers Spruce and Floyd left the Troll Tree around the same time you did. No one has seen them since.”

John Dory’s eyes went wide, shocked. He’d always assumed his brothers must have just moved out of the pod or something, and maybe Branch just hadn’t seen them around much. He was only six afterall, it’d be tough to remember. John Dory never thought they would dare try and leave the Tree. And he definitely never thought they’d leave Branch. But apparently, that’s exactly what they did. Troll, what were they thinking? He shook the surprise from his head; he could spiral over this later. There was still one brother missing.

“And Clay?” He asked, dread forming a pit in his gut.

At this, a familiar expression flashed across King Peppy’s face, but before John Dory could place it, it was gone. The older troll’s shoulders sagged. “Clay… came to live with me.” He said gravely. “Rosiepuff had her hair full with young Branch, and you know how close Clay was with V-… with my daughter.” As he spoke, his voice became shaky, breaking. “They both went missing in the tunnels during the Great Escape.”

Holy… the Great Escape, huh? So the Trolls did escape the Tree, escape the Bergens, likely through those very tunnels John Dory had seen. And Clay… Viva… Images of blood and Clay’s muddy dictionary flashed through his head.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news.” King Peppy continued, eyes downcast. “To be completely candid with you, I’m honestly quite surprised to see you and Branch alive. When you left the Tree, I assumed the worst, and with Branch…” The king paused for a moment, shaking his head. “Well, I thought he died along with your Grandmother.”

“What?” John Dory exclaimed in astonishment. He turned towards his younger brother, who was still deeply asleep, curled up next to him. “No, he was just hiding, he…” Wow, so that’s why Branch was left behind? Because everyone thought he was dead? He looked back at King Peppy, bewildered, an edge growing in his voice. “You didn’t even bother to check?”

“John Dory-” King Peppy began, but JD quickly cut him off.

“John.” He insisted. Hearing his full name was weirding him out.

“John,” King Peppy continued, his voice becoming strained. “You have to understand, there was just so much happening at that time. Between finishing up the tunnels, and getting everything planned out, I hate to say your Grandmother’s death was almost… pushed to the wayside.” He frowned, grief filling his eyes. “Rosiepuff was a dear friend of mine, and between her death and the Great Escape, my mind was all over the place. And when no one saw hide nor hair of young Branch, we assumed the worst.”

“Apparently there were a lot of assumptions going around…” John Dory hissed under his breath, but King Peppy didn’t appear to hear him, continuing to speak as he nervously played with his beard.

“Everything just happened so fast. I didn’t even get a chance to tell Clay about your Grandmother’s death before, well…” He trailed off, lips pursed in a tight line.

This time, indignation flared to life in John Dory’s chest, making him sit up a bit straighter. “Wait, you didn’t tell Clay our Grandma died? That you thought his baby brother died?” He almost growled, hair bristling.

King Peppy didn’t seem put off by this, however, that expression flashing across his face once more. And this time, John Dory recognized it.

Guilt.

“No, I didn’t.” He admitted, his entire body slumping with regret. And with a start, John Dory realized the king didn’t just look older, with more smile lines and white hair. He looked tired, tired beyond his years. And slowly, that blazing anger in his chest faded to a light simmer.

“You have to understand. Clay… He was like a son to me.” King Peppy said, voice breaking. “And he already had trouble coping with the loss of most of his family. He was just so… angry. So when Rosiepuff died, and I assumed Branch did as well, I didn’t know how to tell him. And I was worried if I did, he might be too emotionally unstable to escape the Tree alive. I couldn’t risk losing him, so I decided maybe it was best to talk to him after the Escape.”

He shook his head. “I think that may be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life.” King Peppy said with a dry chuckle. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were remembering something he didn’t want to. “Apparently during the escape, when Clay noticed Branch and your Grandmother hadn’t made it to the tunnels yet, he ran back to try and find them, and… and my daughter went with him. And that was the last anyone ever saw of them. The last anyone saw of many of the trolls that night.”

King Peppy held a hand to his chest. “I searched those tunnels for hours, but they’d long since collapsed. And the Trolls were counting on me to lead them to safety, so I…” His voice broke. “I had to leave. I couldn’t risk the Bergens finding us.”

The older troll let out a sigh, straightening up a bit. “I regret many things about back then, and if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would.” He turned towards John Dory, eyes intense. “But I can’t change the past. And now, I just have to live with the choices I made.” His eyes fell to his hands, clasped over his lap. “And the regret.”

They were quiet for a moment, both lost in thought, before King Peppy spoke up again. “I’m sorry, John. I wish I had better news for you, truly I do. But… I don’t.”

John Dory nodded. This was… a lot, and he barely felt like he could process it right now. But he tried to sort his thoughts best he could. His brothers, they weren’t for sure dead. But they were missing, and they had been missing for a long time. Spruce and Floyd had run off somewhere, leaving the Tree, leaving Branch, into the deadly wilderness that even John Dory had barely managed to survive. And Clay… Who knows if he made it out of those tunnels? There was a chance they may still be alive…

But it was more likely they were gone.

Still, the tiniest flicker of hope still burned in his chest. It was almost cruel. In a way, he’d already mourned them, already accepted they were gone. But now that there was a chance they might not be, those wounds seemed to open right back up again. It hurt.

And Branch… The Trolls thought he was dead. But no, his poor little brother had just been hiding, alone and scared in that pod, trying to cope with seeing their Grandmother get eaten right in front of him. For days. Which was terrible in itself, but when you add on the fact that no one even bothered to check if he was alive? To see if he was there? The thought of his baby brother shivering, hiding under the cupboard, with no one left to even care enough to look for him made John Dory seethe with anger, towards the trolls, but more so towards himself. After all, it was his fault everyone left poor Branch in the first place.

Gosh, how different would things have been if they’d just known he was alive? If he’d escaped with the Trolls that day, instead of being stuck with his screw-up of an older brother?

He wondered if Branch’s life would have been a lot better if it didn’t have him in it.

John Dory clenched his jaw. These thoughts weren’t helpful right now. King Peppy was right, they can’t change the past. And he couldn’t exactly blame the king for the mistakes he made. Troll knows John Dory had made his fair amount as well. At least he and Branch were alive; that was the important thing.

“Thank you. For telling me. And… for saving me.” He rasped softly, pushing down the grief threatening to crawl into his throat. “For the record, I’m sorry. About your daughter.”

King Peppy gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry about your brothers.” He replied, looking over towards Branch. “I’m glad to see at least one of them is safe with you.” His face fell, shifting back towards John Dory. “Speaking of, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions as well.”

John Dory immediately tensed at the change in tone, anxiety prickling across his skin. His eyes quickly flickered around the room, making note of the two windows, and the slightly open door. If he needed to, he was sure he’d be able to grab Branch and escape through one of them…

Wait, what was he thinking? This was trolls he was talking about, not some deadly critter cornering him. He wasn’t in danger; the king was just going to ask him some questions, it was fine.

But his body remained tense anyways.

He forced a smile to his face, trying to drum up some of his usual bravado. “Sure, yeah uh, fire away.” He cringed a bit at his wording. “Aha… too soon? That seems like it was too soon, heh. Or at least in bad taste, am I right?”

King Peppy let out an uncomfortable chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeesh, awkward much?”

John Dory shivered a bit as an image of Spruce appeared behind King Peppy, looking the older troll up and down. Mixed feelings of guilt, exasperation, and even a little bit of relief bubbled to life in his chest. Guess those were still here…

“What, you thought you were rid of us just ‘cause there’s a chance we might be alive?” Spruce scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Your mind’s even more messed up than before. You’re stuck with us, Johnny boy.”

“You look like shit.” Clay’s voice snickered, appearing behind the purple-haired troll. “Hey, Floyd, did you hear? The king said I was like a son to him. That practically makes me a prince! Actually, why don’t you just call me ‘Prince’ from now on?”

An image of Floyd flickered to life beside Branch, gently stroking the sleeping troll’s hair as he rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.” He shot back, before turning towards John Dory. “JD, the king’s talking to you.”

Shit… John Dory thought, immediately drawing his attention back up to King Peppy. The older troll was looking at him expectantly. “Heh, sorry, what?” John Dory chuckled nervously.

“I asked where you’ve been all this time.” King Peppy repeated patiently, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Surely not the Troll Tree.”

“No, no.” John Dory replied, shaking his head. “We’ve just been out in the wilderness, y’know?”

“By yourselves?” King Peppy questioned, looking alarmed.

“Well, yeah.” John Dory laughed, anxiety crawling across his skin. “I mean, we thought you were all dead so… It’s nice to see you’re not.”

King Peppy blinked, shocked. “You two boys have been living in the woods, by yourselves, for five years?” He said, voice strained. “Good troll, it’s no wonder you look the way you do.”

Confusion, along with a hint of indignation, flickered through John Dory’s mind. “What do you-” He started to ask, before he paused, eyes growing wide as the king’s words finally dawned on him. “Wait, did you say five years?” He asked shrilly, now his turn to be shocked. King Peppy nodded.

John Dory’s mind began to swirl again, and he reached up to grab his hair, trying to ground himself. Five years? He and Branch had been out in the wilderness for FIVE YEARS?! Time always felt weird out on the Neverglade Trail, and it was nearly impossible to keep track of the days passing by, but FIVE YEARS?! John Dory had thought it had been around three, maybe four, but no. That meant Branch was, what, twelve? And John Dory… That would make him twenty-two or so. The thought had him reeling.

He still felt like that same, scared kid he’d been at the Tree…

King Peppy seemed to pick up on his distress, reaching out to set a hand on his knee. John Dory had to force himself not to recoil from the touch, a growl building in his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“John, it’s clear you and young Branch have been through a lot.” King Peppy said softly, a strange tone to his voice. “Perhaps it’s best we save this conversation for a later date? We can talk about what happened, and about you and your brother’s… condition.”

Condition? John Dory’s head was swirling too much to think straight. What was the king on about now? The burns? But Branch only had a few small ones so, it couldn’t be that. He supposed he and his brother were both a bit on the thin side, so maybe that’s what he was referring to?

“Dumbass.” Clay’s voice interrupted John Dory’s disorganized thoughts. His eyes flicked over to his wild-haired brother, who rolled his eyes, pointing at arm. “The grey?” Floyd held his arm up next to Branch’s dull skin to cement in the point.

Right, the grey. He’d forgotten about that. But now, he was firmly reminded just how muted he and his brother looked next to King Peppy’s vibrant hue. And a feeling he hadn’t felt for a while now settled deep in his gut.

Shame.

“What, the grey?” He replied, letting out an almost hysterical laugh. “That’s nothing, that happened before we left, I mean it’s…” His bravado began to fade, his voice growing strained. All of a sudden, he wished he had something, anything to hide himself away from the king’s prying eyes. “It’s nothing.”

King Peppy frowned, looking even more concerned. “Right…”

“John, you’re being weird.” Spruce chimed in, eyes narrowed. “If you keep acting crazy, the king might not let you stay here. So knock it off, and get it together.”

Can’t you see I’m trying? John Dory thought back, seething as he squeezed his eyes shut. But all this was getting to be too much. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, and his brothers just kept talking…

“You alright, son?” King Peppy asked worriedly, climbing to his feet. “Are you in pain? I can get Dr. Moonbloom to get you some more pain meds-”

“No!” John Dory exclaimed fearfully, before clearing his throat, adopting a much smoother tone. “No, no, I’m fine. I don’t need any meds.” He insisted, giving the king a smile. He was pretty sure those meds were what was making his head even more wonky than usual, and he couldn’t afford to be fuzzy headed, not now. He needed his wits about him. He’d put up with the pain if it meant he could keep his mind out of the clouds.

King Peppy, however, did not look convinced. “John, your wounds are quite severe. I would highly recommend you take something for the pain.”

John Dory swallowed. “How severe?” He asked, surprised by how small his voice sounded.

The king shuffled his feet nervously. “Well, I’m no doctor, but…” He let out a sigh. “They’re bad, son. The ones on your back should heal up ok, with a fair amount of scarring, but your hand…”

John Dory didn’t dare look at his left hand, and the thick bandages surrounding it. From his hazy memories of the fire, and the way King Peppy spoke about it, he knew it couldn’t be good. In fact, it was probably really, really bad. Like burned beyond repair bad. Fuck, he was left handed… How was he supposed to do anything without his hand?

His heart was beating faster…

“JD, tell him you need rest.” Floyd chirped worriedly, appearing by his side. “Then he’ll leave.”

“Heh, you know, I think you were right.” John Dory said quickly, unable to look at the king anymore. “I think I need some rest.”

King Peppy seemed to hesitate for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but eventually thought better of it. “Of course.” He replied, voice still heavy with concern. “Get some rest, and we can talk more tomorrow. Just… let me know if you need anything, alright?”

John Dory nodded, jaw too tight to speak. The king smiled reassuringly, then slipped out of the room, leaving John Dory to his thoughts.

He took a moment to try and swallow down the bile forming in his throat. This was too much, all this was too much… The trolls, his brothers, the grey, the burns, EVERYTHING. He felt like he was going to explode. His breath hissed out in tiny bursts, and he gripped his hair so tight he worried he might pull it out. What was going on? Was he having a breakdown again? But no, this felt different, familiar, but different. He wasn’t spacing out, his head wasn’t all fuzzy…

He was just so fucking scared.

He tried to slow his breathing, but it didn’t seem to be working like it used to. And his heart was beating so fast… Was he dying or something? Some weird complication from the burns? He hated it, he hated it…

His eyes flickered over to Branch, who was still sleeping by his side. He had to calm down, had to stay quiet. Branch needed rest, he needed to sleep so he could heal…

He wished Rhonda was here…

Just like that, his mind began to spiral more. God, Rhonda, he hadn’t asked about Rhonda. Was she ok? Was she hurt? Where was she? How was he not only a terrible brother, but also a terrible friend? His hand tightened on his hair, trying desperately to tear his mind away from his swirling thoughts…

“JD?”

John Dory nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, turning to see Branch blinking up at him blearily. All of a sudden, he could speak again.

“H-hey. Hey bud. Did I wake you?” He asked, prying his fingers from his hair. Troll, his whole body was shaking…

“No.” Branch replied tiredly, exhaustion still heavy in his eyes. But not enough that he couldn’t manage to give his brother a stern glare. “Why are you up? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Right, right.” John Dory laughed nervously, hoping the young troll didn’t pick up on how strained his voice was. “Good point, I’ll just…” He shifted his body, going to lay back down, but was immediately overcome with searing pain, hardly able to choke back a hiss. Branch was by his side instantly, helping him ease down onto his stomach. Guilt churned in his chest. This was pathetic. He hated feeling so helpless.

However, he didn’t have time to linger on this before Branch snuggled into his side, and his swirling mind began to still. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. It was fine.

“Your heart’s racing.” Branch murmured, looking up at John Dory. “You ok?”

“Mhm.” John Dory hummed back, letting his eyes fall shut. It was a lie, but it was fine. It didn’t matter. Everything was fine, fine, fine…

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.” Came Spruce’s scathing voice. “No one’s free from your lies; not even yourself.”

Just shut up… John Dory thought back, squeezing his eyes tighter as he hugged Branch closer to his chest.

Everything was going to be fine.

Chapter Text

“You’re not supposed to be moving!”

John Dory grit his teeth, feeling Branch’s sharp glare slicing through him as he sat on the side of the bed, trying to summon the strength to stand.

“Bitty, if I lay here any longer, I might explode.” He explained stubbornly, the pain rolling across him in waves not exactly helping.

He’d been in this bed for much too long. That is to say, a few days. And John Dory was practically crawling out of his skin. He needed to move. At least without those meds, he could actually think clearly. But the pain was excruciating, and the visions of his brothers were starting to drive him up the freaking wall. Which, in a way, was so incredibly familiar. The real ones did the exact same thing.

“Bro, he’s right.” Floyd chirped worriedly from Branch’s side. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“More.” Spruce added with a scoff from where he was lounging in one of the chairs.

“Nah, just do it.” Clay grumbled, shaking out his hands as his tail whipped back and forth in agitation. “This place sucks. I’m bored, JD.”

John Dory let out an audible groan, massaging his forehead with his good hand, his crispy one saddled in a sling. He couldn’t just sit here anymore, listening to his brothers prattle on and on, the walls of the pod closing in on him with every passing day. He needed to start figuring things out, making a plan as to what they were going to do now.

According to Branch, Rhonda was being taken care of outside the Village. Yeah, an entire Troll Village they’d built out here. He needed to go check on her, make sure she was ok. And he needed to take care of Branch, who continued to be rather insistent that he needed to stay in this stupid bed. And then, there were the big questions weighing heavily on his shoulders.

They’d found the Trolls. After all this time, they weren’t alone anymore. So did that mean… They didn’t have to survive by themselves anymore? Could they stay here? Would King Peppy even allow them to stay? John Dory was damaged goods; there’s no way he’d be able to protect Branch and Rhonda out in the woods, not like he used to. But the king already thought they were strange, and with the whole ‘being grey’ thing on top of everything else... He might not want them to stick around. There was just so much to consider, and the questions swirling around in his mind weren't exactly helping his current mental state.

He was jolted from his thoughts as Branch flicked his forehead, before sternly crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” He growled, tail flicking back and forth.

“I did rest! I rested for days.” John Dory replied in exasperation, throwing his good arm out dramatically as he shrugged. “I’m completely rested. So now, I’m just gonna-”

He started to painfully push himself to his feet, but Branch reached out and pressed a hand into his chest, easily forcing him back down.

“No.” Branch practically snarled, eyes flashing.

“C’mon, Bitty…” John Dory started to complain, frustration growing in his chest. This was ridiculous; he had shit to do!

“Why are you being so, so…” Branch struggled for a second to find the word. “Obstinate?!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, the two trolls falling silent. It swung open to reveal King Peppy, giving them a soft smile of greeting. The king had been visiting them on and off over the past few days, checking in on them. They hadn’t exactly discussed any of the more… Difficult stuff further, but that was honestly just fine. John Dory had enough going on in his brain to try and think about that stuff right now.

However, he could tell by King Peppy’s stiff stance and strained smile that perhaps this conversation was going to be more than just a friendly check-in. He tensed, ears flicking back slightly. Branch immediately picked up on this, moving to John Dory’s other side as his ears pinned back against his head in suspicion. John Dory absently brushed his tail against his brother’s side for reassurance, before giving the king an exaggerated grin.

“Hey, King Peppy!” He said a bit overenthusiastically. “What brings you here?”

The king opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, a pink blur jumped out from behind him, scampering over towards Branch. Poppy. She skidded to a stop right in front of him, his brother bristling at his side as Poppy gave him a huge smile.

“Goodmorning Branch!” She chirped loudly as she leaned in close to him, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Branch quickly took a step back, letting out a warning hiss. John Dory tensed, slapping a hand over his brother’s mouth as he let out a nervous laugh.

“Heh, morning Popstar.” He replied hastily, eyes flicking over to the king, who was staring at them curiously. He pulled his hand from his brother’s mouth, Branch immediately crawling into bed next to him, away from the young princess. John Dory gave him a pointed look, and Branch rolled his eyes.

“Hi.” He mumbled back to the bright pink troll, voice barely above a whisper. But Poppy still let out an excited squeal, practically bouncing up and down.

“See Dad? I told you he talks to me! We’re best friends!” Poppy exclaimed, her tail wagging back and forth.

“No.” Branch pointed out, eyes narrowed, but Poppy didn’t seem to pick up on this, hopping onto the bed with them.

“Hi JD!” She said, reaching up into her hair. She pulled out a cookie, breaking it in half before holding the pieces out towards him and Branch. “I brought this for you guys!”

“Aw, thanks.” John Dory replied gratefully, taking his piece. Branch, however, hesitated. John Dory elbowed him slightly, and the young troll let out a sigh, taking his piece as well and murmuring a quick ‘thanks’ before hungrily shoving it in his mouth.

“Very nice, sweetheart.” King Peppy said proudly. Then, his face grew a bit more serious. “Poppy, why don’t you take Branch to get some more blankets for the room? It’s a bit chilly in here.”

“Ok!” Poppy chirped, bouncing off the bed. “C’mon Branch!”

“No.” Branch repeated, fearfully looking back at his brother.

“It’s ok.” John Dory assured him, plastering a smile on his face. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“But-” Branch began to protest, but John Dory quickly shook his head.

“King Peppy’s right, it’s chilly in here.” He lied easily, giving his brother a wink. “I could use a blanket.”

Branch scanned his face up and down, unconvinced. But then, he slowly crawled off the bed, limping after Poppy as he shot his brother a worried look. Within seconds, the two young trolls disappeared into the pod.

John Dory turned his attention back to King Peppy, who walked over to his side. “Y’know,” He said, trying to keep his voice as cheery as possible. “As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for Branch and I, it’s completely unnecessary. We’re pretty capable.”

That was the most polite way he could say ‘Thanks, but I don’t need your help anymore. I’d like to leave now before my skin crawls off my body’.

“I don’t doubt that.” King Peppy replied with a sad chuckle. “How are you feeling, son?”

“Peachy.” John Dory replied, summoning the strength to force himself to his feet. His head swam for a second as he stood, unable to completely straighten his aching back, but it would work. He took a few deep, shaking breaths, then looked back towards the king. “I’m feeling great! That Dr. Moonbloom is a miracle worker, heh…” He trailed off, pursing his lips. “But I think it’s about time I get out of her hair. Wouldn’t want to outstay my welcome.”

Concern flickered across King Peppy’s face, his hands held up like he wanted to reach out and steady the younger troll. “You’re still healing, John; it’s only been a week.” He pointed out, John Dory’s wounds starting to twinge as if they knew they were talking about them. “If you need more time-”

“Nah.” John Dory replied flippantly, shrugging. “I’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance. Besides, ain’t no rest for the weary, amiright? I’ve got plenty of work to do that doesn’t involve lazing around in bed. Someone’s gotta look after Bitty-, er, Branch.” King Peppy looked like he was about to protest, so John Dory quickly continued. “Anyways, I should probably check in on Rhonda too. My critter.” He added.

King Peppy blinked. “Oh, the armadillo bus?” He asked curiously.

“Is that what she is?” John Dory hummed, grabbing his goggles from the bedside table and attempting to put them on with one hand. He managed it, albeit with a fair amount of difficulty. They were a bit crooked, but then again, they never really seemed to fit right anyways. “Never heard that one before.”

“Well, they’re pretty rare from what I’ve heard.” King Peppy replied, thoughtfully stroking his beard. “I don’t think anyone’s seen one alive for decades. Where’d you find her?”

“Oh, she saved us from freezing to death out on the Neverglade Trail.” John Dory said, looking around for his jacket. He found it sprawled across a chair, looking like it had seen better days. Parts of it were singed, covered in soot, and there was a large hole burned into the back. It was definitely in need of repairs. But, he threw it on anyway, biting back hisses of pain as his body shifted, making him slightly dizzy.

Once he’d put it on, he turned back to King Peppy, tensing as he noticed the stunned look on his face. Shit, did he say something wrong? Or maybe he was looking at the messed up jacket… He chuckled nervously, clearing his throat. “Anyways, could you take me to her? Gotta make sure she’s ok. She’s been through a lot, poor thing.”

King Peppy seemed to snap back to reality. “She… sure has.” He coughed uncomfortably.

“Careful, Johnny.” Spruce’s voice hissed from his side. “Don’t say anything weird. We need the king to let us stay here. Branch needs this.”

John Dory swallowed nervously. Spruce was right. Branch had been yearning for stability, for a place to stay, and now they had it. John Dory just had to make sure he didn’t screw it up… Again.

“Look, King Peppy-” He started.

Just then, Poppy came racing into the room, arms filled to the brim with blankets, with Branch in tow. His brother quickly darted to his side, looking annoyed. And his gaze only narrowed further when he noticed JD was on his feet. He scowled, pointing down at the bed, but John Dory just shook his head. He wasn’t resting anymore.

“We’ve got blankets!” Poppy chirped, dropping them in a heap on the ground. “You’ll never be cold again!”

“Thanks, Popstar.” John Dory chuckled at her enthusiasm, ruffling his disgruntled brother’s hair. “But I think we’re going to be ok. We’ve gotta get back to Rhonda.”

Poppy looked confused for a moment, before the realization dawned on her, and she brightened once more. “Oh! The critter! Yes, she’s been waiting for you! I’ve been giving her berries every day. I think she likes me!”

“Or she’s marking you as prey.” Branch grumbled, but Poppy didn’t seem to hear him. She grabbed John Dory’s good hand, dragging him towards the door where King Peppy was already waiting.

“C’mon! Everyone’s been talking about you! They’ll be so glad to see you’re ok!”

A sudden feeling of dread settled in John Dory’s gut. “Everyone?”

He slowly followed the two trolls through the pod, out into the sun, Branch trailing dutifully behind him. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a few more trolls lingering about the medical pod. Their faces brightened as they saw him, smiling wide.

“Look! It’s John Dory!” One said excitedly. “And Baby Branch!”

“From Brozone!” The other added, letting out a squeal. “They’re alive!”

John Dory felt like he’d been slapped, that dread growing even heavier. Brozone? Holy shit he hadn’t heard the name of their stupid band in so long… Memories bubbled up in his head, threatening to make an appearance, but he stubbornly swallowed them down as more and more trolls crowded around them, their loud voices making him cringe. He fought the urge to cover up his ears, eyes darting every which way.

“We thought you died!”

“Awww, little Bitty B!”

“How did you survive out there?”

“What happened to you?”

“Will you sing for us?”

“BroZone 2.0!”

“Why are you all grey?”

Fear sparked in John Dory’s mind, and he took a step back without really meaning to, nervously smoothing back his unruly hair. He felt Branch grab on to his jacket, something the young troll hadn’t done in years, practically burying his face in the filthy leather. John Dory raised a protective hand in front of him, mind racing along with his heart.

What was wrong with him? They were just trolls. It wasn’t like they were dangerous or anything. He should be happy to see them all here, alive. But the feeling he had as they crowded him was all too familiar. The feeling of being cornered, trapped under their stares. He hadn’t felt it since… Well, since the last time he’d been on stage.

Everyone’s eyes were on him, looking at him, judging him. He could feel them tracing across his skin. Looking at every scar, every flaw, every bit of grey. They could see everything. He forced a shaky smile to his face, just like he’d do back then, eyes locking on the distance, away from all those intense looks.

He never wanted to hide in his hair more than he did in that moment.

“Woah, easy everyone, give them some space.” King Peppy said, shooing back the excited trolls. “I know we’re all happy to see John Dory and young Branch, but let’s save this for later, ok?”

The trolls let out a collective spattering of complaints, but slowly dissipated, going back about their business. John Dory couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. In just a few days, he’d gone from thinking every troll was dead, to there being a whole village full of them. It was a bit surreal to see so many all at once, after it’d just been him and Branch for so long…

And he really didn’t like being reminded of his Brozone days…

In a way, the troll they knew was long gone. He was different now. And yet, as his eyes traced across the new troll village, pods hanging from the trees, swinging slightly in the breeze as trolls flitted in and out, he was struck with such a feeling of familiarity, he almost felt frozen in place. Frozen in time. He wasn’t the same troll he’d been back then, but the familiar feeling in his chest made his heart ache. He wasn’t sure he liked it…

He quickly shook his head, turning his attention back towards King Peppy. “Sorry. Lot of trolls.” He said, chuckling nervously.

“Yes, we’ve been doing well here.” King Peppy said proudly, looking around the village. “Made a nice home for ourselves. But you can see all that tonight.”

“At the party!” Poppy added excitedly. “To celebrate you coming home!”

“A small party.” King Peppy quickly interjected. “We didn’t want to overwhelm you, so it’s just a small thing, hardly even a party at all. More like a get together.”

“A party?” John Dory replied, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. Wasn’t having a party out here incredibly risky? Even ‘small’ troll parties were a lot. Peeking back at Branch, he could tell his little brother agreed, looking appalled. And troll, the last thing he wanted to do was go to some party. But then again, that’s what trolls do. They throw parties, for literally everything.

Besides, what kind of troll would say no to a party?

“Uh, sure, sounds amazing.” John Dory continued with forced enthusiasm, before gesturing for the king to continue. The party seemed like a problem for future JD. Right now, he had to make sure his best girl was ok. “Anyways, Rhonda?”

“Oh, right.” King Peppy laughed, leading him off into the woods. “This way!”

Rhonda was indeed waiting for them, the critter leaping to life as soon as she saw them. It appeared the trolls had built her a small shelter outside the village, where she couldn’t accidentally knock over pods or stands. John Dory felt a wave of relief as soon as he laid eyes on her, stumbling forwards with a joyful “Rhonda!”

Rhonda let out an enthusiastic coo, charging forward and looking as if she were about to tackle John Dory to the ground. But at the last second, she pulled up, sniffing him up and down before nuzzling gently into his side, letting out a loud chur.

“Aw, hey sweet girl! How you doing? You ok?” John Dory said, rubbing his cheek on her as he laughed softly. She cooed back, pushing her big head into him. He pet her fuzzy scales, almost melting at her touch. He’d missed her so much…

From what he could see, Rhonda had a few burns across her body, but nothing too bad. And it looked like the trolls had already started treating a few of them. John Dory could make some poultices for her later. Right now, he was just glad to see her. “I missed you, girl.” He murmured, closing his stinging eyes for just a moment. He needed this.

Branch appeared at his side, petting the large critter as well. “Good girl, Rhonda.” He said quietly. “Good girl, such a good girl.”

King Peppy smiled at them, setting a hand on Poppy’s shoulder. “I’ll let you boys catch up a bit. Just take it easy, and I’ll see you tonight.” He frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. “That is, if you want to come. I understand if it’s a bit much for you right now, and with your injuries…”

John Dory considered this, looking at the ground. On one hand, he hated this idea. It’d been a wild few days, and even the few trolls he'd seen earlier were a lot. Which was kind of pathetic. He’d been to a few parties for Brozone, but not many. It just wasn’t his scene. But they were manageable. Now however, the thought just made his skin crawl. And Bitty… A party would probably freak the poor kid out.

But on the other hand, he was a troll, as was Branch. At least, they were supposed to be. They were supposed to like parties. If they didn’t show up, what if it offended the trolls, or King Peppy? What if troll village decided they didn’t want them to stick around? No, he couldn’t let that happen, Branch needed this stability. He couldn’t let them get kicked out just because he was a little apprehensive about a party. How selfish could he be?

“Now you’re thinking.” Spruce’s voice chimed in, the purple-haired troll appearing next to Rhonda. “Don’t give the king a reason to make us leave.”

“But Spruce…” Floyd said from his other side, voice heavy with worry. “A party? JD’s still hurt, and Branch-”

“Uh oh, King Peppy’s looking at you…” Clay interrupted, snickering as John Dory immediately straightened up, smoothing his hair once more as the king gave him a worried look. “Hah, busted.”

“No no, I’ll uh… We’ll be there.” John Dory stammered, plastering on another smile. “Who doesn’t like a party?”

King Peppy seemed hesitant, but apparently decided not to push it. “Too true.” He replied with a nod. “Alright then, come along Poppy. Let’s let them have a moment.”

“Aw, I wanted to pet Rhonda!” Poppy complained, before obediently falling into step behind her father. “Dad, we should get a critter!”

Their voices faded into the distance, and John Dory couldn’t help but sigh, relieved to just be with Branch and Rhonda. He was grateful to King Peppy, and to Poppy, but they were just… a lot. Everything here felt like a lot…

He startled as something punched into his side, turning to see Branch giving him a glare.

“A party?” He hissed, eyes narrowed. “Are they crazy? They’re going to attract every critter in the forest!”

Branch had a point. The trolls didn’t seem too concerned with being quiet out here, speaking loudly and without caution. Actually, as he looked around, it didn’t look like they had anything set up to protect them. But he pushed those concerns aside, painfully crouching down to get on his brother’s level.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, B.” He said reassuringly, Branch looking unconvinced. “Look, I don’t really want to go either, but they saved our lives. We at least owe it to them to show up, don’t you think?”

“No?” Branch replied, confused. “If you don’t want to go, we shouldn’t go. They’re loud, and they’re annoying, and I don’t like the way they look at us.” Branch shook his head, kicking at the dirt. “And you’re still hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, Bitty. I always am.” John Dory said with a laugh, ruffling his brother’s hair. The young troll quickly waved him off, but he didn’t let himself be deterred, trying to drum up some enthusiasm. “Seriously, I’m fine. And c’mon, parties are fun! We’ll just go quick, flash some smiles, then leave. We don’t want the trolls thinking we’re ungrateful.”

“You already thanked King Peppy.” Branch pointed out.

“I know, I know.” John Dory sighed, running his hand through his hair. His brother was too sharp for his own good sometimes. “We just got to go, ok?”

Branch still looked worried, so John Dory thought up a different tactic. He set a hand on his shoulder, forcing the young troll to look him in the eyes. “Hey, we’ve got this, alright? It’s just like, another form of survival. Except we’re trying to survive a party.”

Branch thought about that for a moment, before letting out a huff. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah it is.” John Dory chuckled back. He squinted, spotting a bit of dirt on Branch’s cheek, licking his thumb and wiping it off, much to Branch’s protest. “Now c’mon, let’s get cleaned up a bit. We’ve got a big night tonight.” He continued, shooing Branch inside Rhonda.

It wasn’t a lie. This was super important. This could determine whether they were allowed to stay here or not.

John Dory wasn’t about to mess it up.

Not again.

Chapter Text

John Dory paced the expanse of Rhonda, his feet aching as his mind swirled a million miles a minute. He hadn’t paced like this in years, but he couldn’t help it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous.

The feeling was too familiar for his taste; he’d get the same way before every show. There were always just so many pieces, so many parts that could go wrong, and ruin everything. He had to run through every possibility, to make sure things went off without a hitch. But now, he wasn’t just worried about pleasing the crowd, or putting on a good show. If things didn’t go well tonight, he and Branch might not be allowed to stay here. And he couldn’t let that happen.

He grit his teeth, smoothing back his untameable hair. It kept bristling out, making it look messy and unkempt. What he would give for some hair gel right now… What would the trolls think if they saw him with messy hair? That he couldn’t take care of himself, let alone Branch? He hadn’t thought much about his appearance in a while, but now he felt hyper aware of every strand out of place, every scar marring his dull skin. Gosh, being back amongst the trolls was really drumming up a lot of feelings he hadn’t felt for a long, long time, and that probably wasn’t a good thing...

His hand twinged, sharply reminding John Dory it was there. But he just held it closer to his chest, trying to control its constant twitching as he feverishly continued to pace, Branch watching on with concern from the couch. He knew he was making his brother nervous, but he couldn’t help it. If he didn’t move, he was just going to feel worse.

“John, relax.” Spruce’s voice chastised from off to the side, where the purple-haired troll was leaning easily on the stove. “You’re freaking Bitty out. It’s not like you’ve never been to a party before.”

“Yeah, five years ago.” Clay argued, pacing along with John Dory. “Scratch that, six years ago. And in case you haven’t noticed, Spruce, JD’s a basket-case. He’s going to mess this up.”

“Oh, well what do you suggest Clay?” Spruce shot back sarcastically. “Not go, and piss off the entirety of Troll Village? Yeah, that’ll really help.”

“Or, he goes, has a little ‘meltdown’, and messes it up anyways!” Clay hissed, stalking over to Spruce and poking him in the chest, before gesturing towards John Dory. “Look at him! The man’s a ticking time bomb of crazy!”

“Guys, please, this isn’t helping-” Floyd tried to interject, but was promptly ignored.

“I am looking!” Spruce snarled. “He just has to suck it up, and do it. This isn’t about him, this is about Bitty B. Branch needs this to work.”

“He’s just going to mess it up again, just like he always does!” Clay snarled back, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “We’re screwed.”

John Dory let out a groan, stopping his anxious pacing and painfully flopping back on the couch by Branch, massaging his forehead. Spruce and Clay continued to argue, but he attempted to ignore their shill voices. His brothers had been getting so loud recently…

“You ok?” Branch asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Yeah.” John Dory grumbled, keeping his eyes firmly closed. “Headache.”

“All the more reason why we shouldn’t go.” Branch huffed.

John Dory sighed. “We’re going, B.” He replied, prying his eyes open. “I’m just…”

“Tired?”

John Dory peered over at him, Branch’s eyes shining with intensity, like the word had more meaning to his brother than it did to him. “Yeah.” He said, closing his eyes once more and trying to tune out his brother’s arguing voices. “Tired.”

“Then why are we doing this?” Branch pressed. “I don’t like this, JD. You’re acting weird, and those trolls look at us weird.” He fiddled with his hands. “I don’t want, I mean, this isn’t…”

“Hey.” John Dory said, pushing the fuzziness from his brain as he sat up, taking his brother’s fidgeting hand in his own. “It’s ok. I know this is kind of a lot for you right now, but this… This is a good thing!” He smiled, trying to convince himself as much as he was Branch, before comically poking his brother in the chest. “We found the trolls, we should be celebrating! Besides, we’ve handled WAY scarier things than a bunch of pushy trolls. This’ll be easy!”

Branch looked unsure, his face curling up in a grimace, so John Dory just plastered on an even bigger smile, really trying to sell it. “It’s you and me against the world, remember? There’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“If you say so.” Branch grumbled, ears drooping.

“I do say so.” John Dory grinned, slowly wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders, trying not to wince as pain radiated across his back. “We’ve got this.”

He noticed a strand of Branch’s hair sticking out, so he licked his hand, going to smooth it down. Branch immediately leapt to his feet, lips curling up in disgust.

“Ew, JD!” He complained, scowling. John Dory just smirked at him, shakily pushing himself to his feet as well.

“You’re a mess, kid.” He growled playfully, licking his hand again. “C’mere!”

“Gross, no!”

John Dory was a bit slower now, what with the burns covering half of his back, and his good hand, but he did manage to at least tame Branch’s hair a little bit, making it look presentable. He couldn’t have his brother looking like he wasn’t being taken care of. But for the record, Branch liked keeping his hair a little messy. He was so similar to Clay that way…

They made their way outside, bidding farewell to Rhonda and trekking across the well-trodden grass of Troll Village. The hanging, lit up pods were a strange sight, yet so eerily familiar. They followed bright lights, shifting the distance, and as they drew closer, a haunting sound John Dory hadn’t heard in a long time drifted across the breeze…

Music. It was music.

John Dory paused for a moment, letting the sound wash over him. He could almost feel it, swirling around him, pulsing deep within his chest. Reminding him of a different time, a different him. It was as familiar as it was painful.

Branch rubbed at his ears, his scowl growing deeper. “Too loud…” He whispered, voice slightly shaky. He peered around the woods nervously, as if at any second, something might pop out at them. John Dory wrapped a reassuring arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Easy, Bitty. It’s ok. This’ll be fun!” He said with forced cheeriness, leading them once again towards the lights.

“Liar…”

John Dory’s ears flicked at the voice, unsure if it was real or not.

Branch was right, the music was incredibly loud, enough that John Dory also wanted to rub his aching ears. It thrummed against him, the bass pounding into his skull. Lights beamed through the trees, painting the foliage a myriad of different colors. Not exactly subtle. In fact, he would go as far as to say the Trolls were practically putting up a beacon that said “This way! Come eat me!”. But the trolls had survived this long, hadn’t they? So maybe it just wasn’t such a big deal…

Or maybe, the loud noises and lights scared the critters away. John Dory sure had a strong instinct to turn and run for the hills.

It was fine though, this was fine. This is what Trolls did. They played loud music, threw parties, and were happy literally all of the time. It’s what made them Trolls. So John Dory was supposed to like this too, right? At least, he should.

Unless being out in the wilderness had changed him more than he thought…

John Dory shook his head. No no, he couldn’t think like that. He had to do this. It was just a party, and it was fine. They’d dip in quick, make a good impression, then leave, no problem. It was going to be fine, it was fine, everything was-

PERFECT PERFECT PERFECT!

…On second thought, he was in no way prepared for this.

He froze in place, his heart dropping into his churning stomach as the familiar music swirled around him, taunting him. Brozone… They were playing Brozone. It was almost cruel. He could hear his brother’s voices, their real voices, echoing off the trees and harmonizing together. He could hear his own, much younger voice, so different from how he sounded now. And he was singing. Him and his brothers, singing together…

He never thought he’d hear that again.

“Is that really what we sounded like?” Floyd’s timid voice asked, but John Dory didn’t know how to answer him. It was all so surreal. He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, laugh, be sick, or all of the above. He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He’d missed his brother’s voices, but man, he hated-

“I hate this song.”

John Dory was pulled from his frozen state at Branch’s soft mumble, the younger troll shifting closer to his older brother and grabbing his jacket. His face was stoic, almost angry, but there was a hint of something else underneath. In the way his lip trembled slightly, the hint of pain to his hard gaze. Guilt rose in John Dory’s stomach, harsh and unrelenting.

This was the song that tore them apart.

It was the final nail in the coffin that had been built over many months of arguing and frustration. John Dory could remember writing it, the frantic nights spent trying to perfect it, practicing the choreography until his body ached and he could barely breathe. And the way he’d force his brothers to do the same. All in the attempt to hit that stupid perfect family harmony. Of course his baby brother hated this song. It marked the night he was abandoned by his family. By John Dory.

John Dory immediately swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing it to settle heavily in his gut instead as he ran his fingers through Branch’s hair, slightly messing up the perfect swoop he’d modeled it into. “Yeah.” He murmured, letting out a sigh as he slowly led Branch around the periphery of the party. “Me too.”

Luckily for John Dory, he was pretty great at tuning things out, so he pushed the melody from his head as he focused his attention on King Peppy, who he spotted just ahead. He kept his gaze locked on the ground as they easily snuck past the dancing trolls, practically invisible. The barrage of lights and sounds on his senses were disorienting him, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to a bunch of trolls when his head was all fuzzy. He just had to meet with King Peppy, loiter around for a few minutes, make a good excuse, then leave. Easy, so easy…

He approached King Peppy’s side, still unnoticed, so he reached out a hesitant hand, tapping the older troll on the shoulder and clearing his throat. “Ehem, King Peppy?”

The king nearly leapt in the air, swinging around with surprise. But his face quickly melted into a smile as he chuckled joyously. “John, my boy! Glad you could make it!” He said loudly, causing nearly half the trolls to turn his way. But clearly, that wasn’t enough. The king turned out towards the trolls with a grin, addressing them with a megaphone that he pulled from who knows where. “Trolls, John Dory and young Branch have come back to us, and tonight, we celebrate their safe return!”

A chorus of cheers rose from the crowd, and John Dory fought the urge to slap his hands over his ears. Holy troll, how were they so loud? Were they always this loud? No wonder the Bergens had captured them so easily!

Branch, however, had no qualms about covering his ears, letting out a painful hiss as he ducked behind John Dory. JD had to stop himself from joining him, instead plastering on a huge grin, focusing on the distant trees, and waving out towards the masses as he wrapped his tail around his brother’s back.

King Peppy laughed, tucking the megaphone away and setting a firm hand on John Dory’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back.” He said, in a way John Dory could almost consider genuine. He shot a concerned look towards Branch, who still had his hands over his ears. “You ok, kiddo?”

“It’s just a lot.” John Dory jumped in with a forced laugh, trying to draw the king’s attention away from his little brother. “Weirdly enough, we’ve actually been out of the party scene for a little while!”

King Peppy smiled sadly. “Right, I understand. Just know, you’re safe here. Relax, try to enjoy yourselves. And let me know if you need anything!” The king squeezed his shoulder, before moving back out into the shifting mass of trolls.

John Dory waved after him, his cheeks aching. Enjoy himself? Right, that was a laugh. His body was so tense, he worried it might snap in two. But he forced himself to move, shooing Branch away from the large crowd and over towards a refreshment table, where he quickly gulped down a cup of sickly sweet punch, the taste nearly making him gag. He grabbed onto the table cloth, squeezing it tight in his hand as he leaned on the table to give himself some sense of stability.

He was starting to think he’d bit off a bit more than he could chew. His burns were aching again…

“Heh, this is fun, right B?” He choked out, giving his brother a smile. Branch just glared back at him, ears twitching. The young troll pointed at them, then mimicked an explosion by their side.

Too loud.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” John Dory agreed, taking a brief moment to massage his ears as well. “I know.”

His eyes caught on a platter of small sandwiches, stacked perfectly on the table. Almost without thinking, he grabbed a few, tucking them in his hair. No point in not taking advantage of food while it was available. Besides, this party was for them, right? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Branch doing the same with a few cookies.

He could feel eyes on him, so he slowly scanned across the droves of trolls, shrinking under their gaze. Most of them appeared happy to see him and Branch, or at least unbothered, their eyes alight with excitement. But mixed into that joyfulness, he saw looks of apprehension, distrust, even fear. Glares that seemed to cut through him like claws. He quickly looked away, unable to keep their gaze.

Looks like not everyone was keen to see them back.

“JD…” John Dory heard Branch’s small voice, barely audible over the pounding music. Branch had moved closer to him, clinging to his jacket once more as his eyes scanned across the trolls nervously. “Can we go now? I don’t like this.”

Alarm bells immediately set off in John Dory’s mind. No, they couldn’t leave yet, what would the trolls think? “Bitty-” He started, but was cut off as Branch looked up at him, a desperation in his eyes that made John Dory’s heart ache.

“Please.”

You’re making baby Branch nervous…

John Dory set his jaw. Right, alright. They’d made an appearance, and hung around for what, five minutes? That was plenty of time. He could tell by the way Branch’s breathing hitched, and the white knuckled grip he had on his jacket, that this was way too much for the young troll. All of a sudden, the situation completely changed. They’d done what they needed to do, so now, he needed to get his baby brother out of here. He’d just have to apologize to the king tomorrow.

Besides, his head was still feeling fuzzy. This was probably for the best.

“Ok bud, you’re right. Let’s get out of here.” He replied quickly, scanning the crowd for an escape. There, if he followed the refreshment tables, he should be able to sneak Branch back to Rhonda. He nodded his head in that direction, silently gesturing for Branch to follow him. The young troll looked entirely relieved, falling into step behind John Dory as they carefully weaved their way through the crowd. He almost thought they were going to escape without a hitch. But then again, things were never that easy.

“John Dory!”

JD cringed, turning towards the voice as a grin stretched painfully across his face.

“Hey!” He replied as a group of trolls trotted up, absently pushing Branch behind him, out of sight. “Great party, isn’t it?”

“They all are!” One troll said, the group laughing along with him. John Dory laughed as well. He could do this; he was a great face man! It was just like his Brozone days- Fuck, now he was thinking about Brozone again…

“I can’t believe you two survived!” Another troll gushed, leaning down so she could smile at Branch. “And Bitty B’s gotten so big! He’s so cute!”

“Yeah, not really a Branch anymore, is he? More like a trunk!” John Dory chuckled nervously, hardly even sure what he was saying at this point. “But uh, Bitty B’s pretty tired, so we’re gonna-”

“What? You’re so quiet!” One troll said, letting out a giggle as she leaned in closer, cupping a hand around her ear.

“How did you survive the critters?” Another troll interrupted, pressing in as well. “You didn’t fight them, did you? You’ve got some crazy scars, man.”

John Dory’s shoulders hunched up, painfully aware of the claw marks stretching across his face and half his body. “Heh, yeah, well-”

A glitter troll appeared about three inches from him, and John Dory took a quick step back, hair bristling. “Gosh, it must have been terrible out there! Is that why you’re all grey?”

“What? No, that’s-” God they were loud… Were they always that loud?

“Were the rest of Brozone out there with you? What happened to them?”

“No, I mean, they’re-” What were they asking? There was too much going on…

“Do you think you’ll perform together again? You and Bitty B? A Brozone comeback!”

John Dory couldn’t get a word in edgewise, the trolls pressing in closer and closer. He knew they were just talking to him, just curious, but he could feel his heart racing, his breaths growing short and fast. His eyes, his ears, his head, his entire BODY ached. Branch clung tighter to his jacket, hiding his face. And as the troll’s voices grew louder, the music still blaring as lights flashed endlessly in his eyes, John Dory no longer felt like he was at some stupid party. He felt like he was being backed into a wall, cornered…

He felt like he was being trapped.

The realization caused a shift in him, fuzziness crawling across his brain as a strange quiet washed over his thudding chest. He raised his arm protectively, pushing Branch back a bit as his eyes narrowed. A low growl began to build in his throat, trying to warn off the approaching threats, but they didn’t seem to notice, pressing in closer as they smiled, baring their shining teeth.

John Dory felt himself bump up against something hard, and he had to bite back a yelp as pain and fear jolted through him. Now he really was cornered. His tail flicked back and forth violently, his heart thrumming in his ears along with the music. If anyone took another step towards Branch, he was going to snap. His brother was scared, they were scaring him.

They needed to BACK. OFF.

Suddenly, John Dory’s ears flicked to his side, to the sound of something approaching him. Out of the corner of his eye, something reached for him, to grab him. To grab Branch. And just like that, instinct took over.

He let out a vicious snarl, baring his teeth as he whipped around, the painful movement making his head spin. Within seconds, he’d reached into his jacket and pulled out a wooden stake, expertly holding it against his enemy’s throat. He was breathing heavily, still growling as he glared into the attacker’s eyes, spots dancing across his vision.

It took only a moment for him to realize his mistake, gasps echoing across the clearing.

Staring back at him wasn’t some beast, or dangerous critter. It was a troll. But not just any troll. It was King Peppy, his eyes wide with surprise, and even a hint of fear as the tip of the stake hovered just above his skin.

And of course, the DJ decided that was a great moment to turn off the music, leaving them all locked in a deafening silence, save for the panicked pounding of John Dory’s heart.

Chapter Text

John Dory didn’t know what to do.

He stared into the king’s eyes as panic spread like wildfire through his veins. He could hear his own sharp breaths, ragged and stilted as his eyes flitted across King Peppy’s face. And with a jolt, he realized he still had the wooden stake pressed against the old troll’s throat.

He let out a fearful gasp, taking a quick stumbling step back as the stake dropped to the ground with a deafening thud. Branch grabbed his hand, pulling him back a bit, but it provided little comfort as he continued to stare at the king, feeling as if the world was caving in around him.

What had he done?

He messed up. He really messed up. This was the one chance Branch might have had at a normal life, and he blew it.

Clay was right. He ruined everything.

He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, coming out more like a muffled growl. He hastily slapped his hand over his mouth, cutting off the animalistic sound. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t speak, he could barely even breathe… Did he have to run? His eyes flicked around, looking for an escape… No no, he couldn’t run, he couldn't run from this.

Suddenly, a pink tuft of hair peeked out from behind King Peppy. Poppy… He’d attacked the sweet troll’s father right in front of Poppy. She slowly stepped out in front of King Peppy, eyes wide as she stared up at John Dory. Then, her face broke into a huge grin.

“That was so cool!” She squeaked, eyes sparkling with delight as her tail whipped back and forth. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

John Dory blinked, bewildered, before King Peppy walked over to his side as well, carefully wrapping his arm around his shoulders as he laughed. “Whoo, you got me good, son! You’re quick, that’s for sure!”

John Dory just looked at him in shock, still feeling like if at any second, he would need to bolt. Did the king realize what just happened? He’d been aiming to kill…

King Peppy’s eyes flicked towards him, causing him to stiffen. Oh yeah, he knew. But the king didn’t say anything. He just continued to smile, motioning out to the still nervous crowd, their eyes alight with alarm. And suddenly, John Dory understood.

The king was protecting him.

John Dory clenched his jaw, before pulling his hand down, forcing a smile to his face as well. Acting, they were acting, he could do that! He was a great actor! He barked out a laugh, elbowing King Peppy in the side and turning on some of that John Dory charm.

“Not quick enough!” He replied, hoping the strain in his voice wasn’t too noticeable. “You’ve still got it, ol’ timer. I guess that’s why you’re the king!” King Peppy laughed along with him, the trolls halfheartedly joining in, hesitant smiles on their faces. With that, John Dory pulled himself away, taking a few steps back and shooing Branch along behind him.

“However, I think that’s enough showin’ off for one night; poor Bitty B’s exhausted, y’know, kids, amiright? He and I are gonna go hit the hay. Killer party though, I mean, not ‘killer’, but uh…” He chuckled breathlessly, forcing himself to continue as he cleared the lump from his throat. “Ehem, it was real nice seeing you all again!” He lied through his teeth, cheeks aching. “It’s… good to be home.”

As he looked out across the crowd, he could tell something had changed, shifted. It was like a dark, ominous cloud hung over the trolls, their faces a mix of many different emotions. Some stared at him with uncertainty and confusion, some with nervousness, some even with blatant distrust, and anger. John Dory’s smile wavered, dread building in his chest. They didn’t have to say anything; the message couldn’t have been clearer if they’d shouted into his ears:

You don’t belong here.

It probably would have hurt less if they’d just stabbed him with his own stake.

King Peppy walked next to him, waving out to address the trolls. “Party on, Trolls! We’re all good! The night’s still young!” At this, the trolls looked at each other, then shrugged, the music revving back up as the party started once more. King Peppy nodded in approval, then turned his attention towards John Dory, motioning for him to follow. “Come on, son, let’s get you out of here.”

John Dory did as he was told, slinking after the king and Princess Poppy with his tail practically tucked between his legs, shame washing over him in droves. Branch stared up at him in confused concern, pointing at him and making the hand signal for “Ok”.

You ok?

But John Dory just shook his head, thoughts churning in his brain. Troll, what did he do? What was wrong with him?! He attacked the KING! The one who saved his life, who’d been checking in on them this whole time, whose decision it was as to whether he and Branch could stick around or not. Was he crazy?! Wait, stupid, that was a stupid question…

What was he supposed to say to him? Sorry for trying to kill you, but in my defense… I didn’t? Fuck, was he going to kick him out, kick Branch out? Send them both back out into the wilderness? No, no no no, he couldn’t let that happen, Branch needed this. John Dory just needed a plan, needed to fix this… His bit at his nails, staring unfocused at the ground.

This wasn’t Branch’s fault, he was innocent. King Peppy couldn’t kick Branch out for something HE’D done, right? But he could throw John Dory out, and then Branch would follow, and they’d be on their own again, and he was practically USELESS now… No, he could just explain, try to come to some sort of compromise. He couldn’t bear it if he ruined Branch’s life just because of his own stupid mistake, not again. He may be too far gone, but he wasn’t going to drag Branch down with him.

Just like that, realization dawned on him, fear catching in his throat.

Branch deserved this, deserved this life, deserved to be happy. And John Dory… He was going to make that happen. He had to make it happen.

Whatever it takes.

Once they’d reached the edge of the clearing, Branch quickly limped away, chased by Poppy, who was practically talking his ears off. John Dory took this chance to spin towards King Peppy, unable to hold back any longer.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, the king blinking at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just, I lost control, and I just reacted and I… I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to…” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to settle his swirling thoughts. The pain radiating across his body was not helping the situation. “Look, I am so, so grateful, for everything you’ve done for me, and for Branch, but I-” He bit his cheek, unable to meet the older troll’s eyes. “I understand if you don’t want me to stick around.”

“John-” The king started, but John Dory couldn’t stop. He needed to say this before it was too late.

“Please, just…” He choked out, holding up his hand. “If you want me to leave, I will, ok? I get it, I know I messed up, a-and I’m sorry. But please,” He paused for a moment, pushing through the ache in his chest. “Please let Branch stay. He’s just a kid, and he’s already been through so much. He needs this.” He clenched his jaw, his hand curling into a tight fist. “Branch is a good kid, and he’s so smart, and he needs this, so please. Please let him stay.”

“JD, what are you doing?!” Came Floyd’s panicked voice, but John Dory just squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t. But he had to, for Branch’s sake. His brother needed this, needed to stay here, where it was safe. John Dory couldn’t protect him anymore, not like he used to. And if this was the only way to guarantee his safety, to give him the life he deserved…

The trolls were right about him. He didn’t belong here. He was a lost cause, useless, messed up beyond repair, just like his stupid hand, which seemed to twinge in agreement. But just because he didn’t belong here didn’t mean Branch didn’t. This was the right thing to do.

But then why did it feel like his heart was being ripped in two?

Suddenly, two strong hands clamped down on his shoulders, and he forced himself to look up into the eyes of King Peppy. The older troll stared down at him, not in anger, but in a deep sadness.

“John,” The king began, his voice firm. “This is your home.” He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “You and Branch have been through more than any kids should have to go through, even before you left the tree.” He continued. “And I cannot even begin to imagine what you’ve been through since. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault, I should have known this would be too much.”

He looked towards Branch and Poppy, Branch’s face curled into a snarl as Poppy mimicked his hiss, joy sparkling in her eyes. “You’re right, Branch needs this.” He said, before looking back at John Dory. “But so do you. This is your home. And you’re both welcome here.”

John Dory was silent for a moment, stunned, like he was waiting for the king to say “SIKE!” and toss him out with the rest of the garbage. But no… The king looked sincere. And realization once again jolted through his body.

King Peppy was going to let them stay.

“Oh…” John Dory let out a shaky laugh. His body was trembling, both from utter relief, and the throbbing pain radiating across him. He didn’t have to leave, didn’t have to leave Branch. They could stay, stay here, stay together… Suspicion grew in his chest, and he reeled himself back a bit.

“I… I don’t understand.” He said, still chuckling nervously. “Why?” It didn’t make sense, was he missing something? He’d nearly killed him… How could the king possibly trust him after that?

King Peppy gently patted his back. “Because you’re a good kid. And everyone deserves a second chance.” John Dory stared at him with wide eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Thank you.” He whispered, afraid to speak any louder in case his voice broke. “Thank you, thank you, you won’t regret this. I promise I’ll do better.”

King Peppy gave him a sad smile. “Why don’t you just focus on getting better, ok son? Take care of yourself, and young Branch. You’re safe here.”

John Dory nodded, almost too overcome with gratitude and relief to speak. But he forced himself to spit out one last “Thank you.”.

King Peppy slightly ruffled his hair, a tender gesture that made John Dory’s heart ache as the king beamed down at him proudly. “You’re welcome, Clay.”

Just like that, it was like something shattered.

Clay… King Peppy called him Clay. John Dory slowly took a step back, eyes locked on the ground to keep his expression from revealing too much. So… that’s what this was. This wasn’t about him at all. King Peppy wasn’t doing this for him.

He was doing it for Clay.

John Dory wanted to feel more hurt, but instead, a numbness seemed to flood his chest, replacing the deep despair with a heavy hollowness. Whatever, it didn’t really matter the reason why. King Peppy was letting them stay.

It didn’t matter.

Branch scampered over to him, away from Poppy’s constant rambling and began to tug on his jacket. “Let’s go, D.” He said quietly, glaring at Poppy before looking up at his brother, a hint of worry in his eyes. “You’re tired.”

“Branch is right, John.” King Peppy agreed, apparently remembering his name this time. “Go rest, allow yourself some time to heal, to adjust. And please…” The king set his hand on his shoulder once more, John Dory unable to meet his intense gaze. “If you need anything, just let me know, alright?”

John Dory nodded again, a weak smile on his face. “Yessir.”

“Bye JD, bye Bitty B! See you later!” Poppy called as Branch began to pull John Dory back towards Rhonda, his hair bristling.

“Branch.” The younger troll hissed, ears flicking with annoyance. John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle, that hollow feeling lifting just a little bit. It was sweet to see that Branch was already making friends. He’d fit in here just fine.

John Dory would make sure of it.

Branch practically dragged his brother into Rhonda, the large critter cooing in greeting before they clambered inside. John Dory slowly lay down on the couch, his body pulsing with pain as he pulled a pillow over his head to quell the ringing in his ears. Tonight had been too much, way too much. How did he always get himself into these situations?

“You do it to yourself, you know.” Spruce’s voice chirped, John Dory just uselessly clamping the pillow tighter over his ears.

You were the one insisting we go in the first place! He thought back in irritation.

“Eh, it all worked out in the end.” Spruce replied nonchalantly. “Even though the entirety of Troll Village thinks you’re crazy. But at least you were allowed to stay. It’s not like you ever had friends here anyways.”

“Admit I was right, Spruce!” Clay sniffed haughtily. “I knew he’d mess it up. Totally called it.” Spruce just scoffed, going silent. “And hey, apparently, I’m the king’s favorite, so take that, assholes.” Clay continued, snickering.

Troll, what John Dory wouldn’t give to have the ability to throw a pillow at his brother right now…

Branch crawled up on the couch next to him, hiding under a blanket. John Dory shifted so he could look towards him, letting out a groan. “Ugh, you ok, B?”

Branch picked the edge of the blanket up an inch, glaring out from the darkness. “No.” He growled. “My ears hurt. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.” John Dory tried, but he didn’t even believe it himself. “Eh, scratch that, it was pretty bad.” He let his head fall back onto the couch. “Really, really bad.”

“You’re an idiot.” Branch huffed, letting the blanket fall back over him. John Dory sighed, closing his eyes.

“I know.”

They were both silent for a moment, John Dory just enjoying the comfort of not having his ears barraged by incredibly loud music and voices. Yeah, that party was a disaster, but it was all fine. They could stay here now, and despite the trolls thinking he was a bit… off, he could build a life for them. Give Branch the life he deserved, the one John Dory had stolen from him so many years ago. Finally, maybe, he could start to make this right.

He let out a sigh, exhaustion creeping across his aching body. He was just about to tell Branch they should go to bed, put this whole messed up, crappy day behind them, when his little brother finally spoke up, his voice small, and barely above a whisper.

“Can we go now?”

Chapter Text

John Dory’s eyes blinked open, confused as he turned towards the shape of his little brother, huddled under the blanket. “Go?” He asked, already not liking where this was going. What was his brother on about?

Branch sat up, peeking his head out, but keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he stared at the ground. “Yeah, go.” He replied, a slight edge to his voice. “We can leave now, right?”

The apprehension only grew deeper as John Dory sat up as well, trying not to wince as his body protested. “What are you talking about, B?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he gestured outwards with his hand. “We just found the Trolls again. A place we can stay without nearly dying almost every day? We’re finally home.”

Branch’s eyes grew wide, looking back at his older brother. “No we’re not.” He said quickly. “The only reason we came here was to get help, and we got it. I know you’re still hurt, but it’s ok, I can take care of you now! I’ll just get some more aloe and yarrow and stuff, and I can take care of you, so we can go now, we can leave!”

“Woah woah woah, Bitty, hold on.” John Dory interrupted, dread building in his chest. “We can’t leave.”

“Yes we can!” Branch insisted, his voice shrill with desperation as he threw the blanket off of him. “It’s not safe here! These Trolls have no idea what they’re doing! They’re too loud, and I’ll bet those ridiculous lights could be seen for miles! They don’t know a thing about surviving out here! I’m surprised they made it this long without being eaten. They’re going to get themselves killed, and us along with them!”

Branch made a fair point, John Dory had no idea how the hell the trolls had survived out here, but that was besides the point. “Bitty, we’re trolls. We’re supposed to be around other trolls. The only reason I took you out into the wilderness in the first place was because I thought they were all dead! If I’d known they were alive, I’d never have taken you away from them.”

“They left! They left me!” Branch snarled, eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and pain. “We never needed them before, and we don’t need them now. So let’s leave, we can find somewhere else to stay.”

“B, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m half cooked.” John Dory explained in exasperation, his burns twinging in response. “I’m damaged goods, useless. I can’t protect you out there anymore. We were barely getting by before I got burnt to a crisp. We almost died, hundreds of times! Don’t you get it? I’m not-” He bit his lip, that helpless feeling gnawing at him again. “If we go back out there, we won’t survive.”

I’m not strong enough.

“I can protect us!” Branch said, becoming more frantic as his hands curled into tight fists. “I know how to fight, I’ve been practicing! A-and I can hunt, and set traps, and take care of you-”

“Bitty.” John Dory spoke softly, urging his brother to understand. “You are a tough kid, there’s no doubt about that, ok? But you can have a life here, a place to call home. There’s nothing for you out in those woods but hardship and pain.” He swallowed, that hollow feeling in his chest again. “We have to stay here. You don’t belong out there.”

“We don’t belong here!” Branch cried, his hair bristling as his tail whipped back and forth. “I saw you at the party; you were scared. This place is freaking you out, the trolls stare at us like we have two heads, and it’s just-” His face hardened. “It’s just not safe here.”

John Dory’s ears drooped as he stared down at the ground. Man, it really felt like a kick to his gut to hear his own paranoid words spewed back at him. But Branch was right. It wasn’t exactly much safer here. And he couldn’t force his brother to stay, not if he didn’t want to. But if they left, if they went back to the way things were…

John Dory couldn’t help but admit it was tempting. In a strange, twisted way, he really liked their life, out in the woods. It was terrible at times, really, really terrible, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t all bad. And being back here, being forced to relive a life he was more than happy to leave behind… He could already feel memories pulsing against his brain, threatening to break through and tear him apart. But this wasn’t about him. This was about doing what was best for Branch. So he could have a normal life. The life he could have had, if John Dory hadn’t ruined it in the first place.

“John…” John Dory perked up as he heard Floyd’s voice, his brother’s face appearing directly in front of him. Floyd gazed at Branch desperately, their youngest brother’s face curled up in anger and pain, before looking over at him. “Please.” He said, his voice breaking. “Fix this.”

He let out a sigh, scooting closer to Branch, and slowly draping an arm over his shoulders. “You’re right.” He admitted, still staring at the floor. “This place… It does freak me out a bit. And I can’t say it’s the safest place for us to be.” A small smile stretched across his face as he finally turned to look at his brother. “But it’s all we’ve got. So, how do we make this work? Make it safe? A home?”

Branch met his gaze hesitantly, before his brows furrowed together in concentration. He was quiet for a moment, before finally speaking up. “We could… live away from the trolls. Outside the village. Where we can still ask for help if needed, but are far enough away from their loud parties and stuff that critters can’t find us.” He said slowly.

“Now you’re thinking.” John Dory chuckled, squeezing Branch a bit tighter. “And we’ve already got the perfect place to stay out here. Rhonda!”

“Yeah, but Rhonda’s not really a home.” Branch pointed out. “Homes aren’t supposed to move.”

“Says you.” John Dory sniffed. “But alright uh, I suppose I could try and build us, what, like a pod?”

Branch scoffed. “No, pods are the worst.”

“Yeah, fair point.” John Dory replied. He didn’t really want to live in a pod either. Those things reminded him way too much of the Troll Tree, and were much too cramped for his taste. “Maybe I could try and build us a shelter then, of some sort. Though I’ve never really tried to build one so big before…”

Just then, Branch’s eyes widened. He reached up his hair, digging around for a moment before pulling out a familiar piece of paper, staring at it intently. Then, his face broke into a huge grin, something that had become a rare sight on the young troll’s face.

“What about this?” He chirped excitedly, turning the page around towards John Dory. He had to squint as he looked at it, trying to make sense of the scrambled mess of what looked like old crayon, glitter, stickers, and charcoal.

“It’s… blueprints?” He said with uncertainty, scratching his head as he leaned in closer. “Is that a ten-story waterslide?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s an old idea, we’re not doing that anymore.” Branch replied quickly, his face flushing ever so slightly. “But yes, it’s blueprints! For a top secret, ultra-protected underground hideout!”

“An underground hideout?” John Dory repeated, bewildered. So this is what his brother had been feverishly working on for all these years? A dug out survivalist shelter? Yeesh, on second thought, John Dory might prefer the pod. The thought of being underground at all made his skin crawl.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Branch continued, practically shaking with excitement as he pointed to different parts on the page. “It’s underground, so we’ll be protected from literally everything! Critters, storms, fires, you name it! We can add water pipes, and structural support, store food away, and fortify it with traps for added defense on the surface! Not even a Bergen would be able to get us!”

A Bergen? Wow, his brother really had been planning this for a while.

As Branch continued to explain, a sinking feeling formed in his gut. He really didn’t like this plan. He hated being underground, hated knowing how much heavy, crushing earth was around him. And this was even worse than a cave. John Dory liked being able to see the sky, the stars, breathing in fresh air. Being free.

Looking at his brother’s blueprints, picturing the dirt walls around him, he couldn’t help but already feel trapped.

But as his eyes drifted up from the chaotic writing, they locked on the joyful expression on Branch’s face. The way his eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t in months, his tail twitching with excitement as his mouth curled into a smile, voice breathy with exhilaration. And if he looked closely, he almost thought he saw the smallest hint of blue on his brother’s ears.

Welp. Looks like he didn’t have a choice.

He felt a smile grow on his face, watching as his brother continued to babble enthusiastically. Even though the idea of living underground made him twitchy, this was worth it. Seeing this look of excitement on his brother’s face was worth it. And if this is what Branch needed to do to feel safe, to agree to live here? He had to.

“Hah! I love it, B!” He interrupted Branch’s rambling, ruffling his hair. “You and that big brain of yours, I knew you’d come up with something!” Branch beamed up at him, practically glowing with pride. John Dory nicked the page from him, looking it over carefully. It was definitely a lot… But he’d make it work. “Yeah, we can do this, no sweat. Make ourselves a real home. A…” He paused, turning the page different directions. “What is this, a burrow or something?”

“Bunker.” Branch corrected him, continuing as if he were reciting the definition by memory. “A reinforced underground shelter.”

“Hah, yeah, that!” He chirped, hugging Branch closer. “A bunker. For you and me.” He paused for a second before continuing mischievously. “And maybe Princess Poppy. Looks like you two are already becoming friends!”

Branch glared at him. “No, she’s not allowed. She’s annoying.” He grumbled, shoving the paper back in his hair. “And she’s not my friend.”

“Suit yourself.” John Dory replied with a shrug, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet, heading towards their lofted bed. This day had been way too much, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He felt like he was dying. “Now I don’t know about you, bud, but I think I’m actually going to rest for a bit. I think my body’s falling apart.”

“I told you.” Branch huffed as John Dory slowly and painfully climbed up the short ladder, crawling into the bed with another groan. “You may have super hearing, but you’re really bad at listening.”

“Heh, ain’t that the truth.” Spruce’s voice muttered from off to the side.

“Rude.” John Dory hummed as Branch crawled in next to him, snuggling into his side as John Dory carefully wrapped an arm over him. “When did you get so sassy?”

“Had a good teacher.” Branch mumbled in reply, shooting him a cheeky look.

“Oh yeah?” John Dory laughed, hugging his brother tight. Branch immediately started to struggle, voicing his complaints, but John Dory just held on tighter, letting out a playful growl.

Just then, his hand twinged, sharp pain shooting like electricity through his veins. He bit back a yelp, relaxing his grip. But he could see the small smile on Branch’s face as his brother settled in next to him, letting out a tired sigh. And suddenly, he wasn’t too worried about the pain anymore. As long as Branch was smiling, it didn’t matter.

He lay his head down too, gently petting Branch’s hair. “Thanks again for saving me.” He murmured softly. “Love you, bud. More than anything.”

“More than anything.” Branch echoed tiredly.

For the first time since the fire, John Dory felt himself relax a bit as he drifted off to sleep, the humming of Rhonda’s snores a comfort he hadn’t known he missed.

They were home. And even if it didn’t feel like it just yet, at least they were together.

He could make this work.

Chapter Text

John Dory sat in a small, dark cave, knees held tight to his chest as he stared off into the nothingness. He was tired, cold, hungry, and most of all…

He was completely and utterly broken.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out here, but it’d been at least a few months now. He thought once he reached the Neverglade Trail that things would be easier. Become more like the stories Dad told him all those years ago. He’d clung onto the hope that things would be different once he got here, that he’d be different. Better. But in hindsight, he never should have trusted his father. Those stories weren’t real. His Dad lied to him, of course he lied to him.

And he didn’t have any hope left.

“JD?” A voice asked from off to his side, and he pried his eyes open to see Floyd sitting next to him. No, not Floyd. This wasn’t real either. None of it was. But he found himself listening anyway, he couldn’t help it. He missed him.

“JD, it’s getting dark.” Floyd continued, looking out towards the mouth of the cave. He pursed his lips, worry shining in his pale eyes. “It’s cold.”

“He knows, Floyd.” Spruce chimed in, appearing on John Dory’s other side. The purple-haired troll was shivering as he glared towards the entrance as well. “Maybe the idiot wants to freeze to death.”

“He could go get some firewood-” Clay piped up, before slapping his forehead, letting out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, wait, I forgot about our dear friend waiting outside. Maybe we should ask if it can bring us some.”

John Dory grit his teeth, burying his head in his knees as he curled up a bit tighter. He was shivering, hunger gnawing at his gut. As much as he didn’t want to be alone, he knew this wasn’t good for him. They weren’t real. And the fact that he’d been seeing them a lot more lately probably wasn’t a good thing. It was getting worse.

At first, he didn’t really care. He enjoyed the company, enjoyed talking to them. But as the months went on, he began to grow… quiet. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken aloud. But it seemed like the quieter he was, the louder these… visions became. Taunting him, distracting him, reminding him of what he’d left behind, the mistakes he’d made.

It was all starting to wear on him.

These visions were the reason why he was in this mess in the first place. He’d been gathering some berries, trying to ignore his brother’s loud voices as he did. In doing so, he didn’t notice the critter stalking him until it was practically on top of him. It probably would have got him too, if it hadn’t tripped, alerting him to its presence.

John Dory wasn’t sure how far he ran, but no matter what he did, he wasn’t able to shake the relentless beast. Eventually, he’d spotted the opening to this cave, and without a second thought, ducked inside, almost immediately running into the back wall. The space was small, cramped, and there was no way out except the way he came in. He’d quickly spun around, trying to escape, but it was too late. The critter blocked his path, snarling as it reached its large paws inside, attempting to grab him. But they appeared to be at a standstill. The critter couldn’t reach, and John Dory couldn’t escape.

He was trapped.

That’d been about a week ago. And the critter still hadn’t left.

It continued to pace out front, every once in a while laying down to rest, before starting up again. John Dory could tell by the way its ribs portruded from its sides, its haunches bony, and sharp enough to match its glinting eyes that this beast was starving. It was just as desperate as he was, if not more. And it was not going to give up this chance at prey.

However if it kept this up, neither of them were going to survive this.

John Dory had run out of food a few days ago, and his water canteen was practically empty. He’d burned through the rest of his reserved kindling in an attempt to stay warm. But now, he quite literally had nothing except the backpack on his shoulders, and the mind that it seemed like he was losing more with each passing day. The cold, stone walls pressed in on him, suffocatingly close…

If the cold didn’t kill him tonight, then he’d definitely starve to death soon enough. But he almost felt past the point of being scared now; he was just too tired. He closed his eyes, listening to the beast pacing outside as the temperature continued to drop.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. So he just sat, still and unmoving, for maybe the first time in his life. He thought about a lot of things. Things he did, things he wished he’d done. He thought about his parents, his grandmother, Brozone. He thought about his brothers. He thought about home.

Huh. They’d never know what happened to him out here, would they? But then again, maybe they wouldn’t really care. After all, the last words he’d said to them were “Goodbye Forever!”

He hadn’t meant it. He hadn’t known how long forever really was. And now, he would do anything to take those words back.

“D?”

John Dory tensed at a new voice, head jerking up from where it lay on his knees.

Branch…

His baby brother stood in front of him, fidgeting nervously with his hands before pushing his too big, white glasses up into his hair. They never seemed to fit him right. John Dory just looked at him. He hardly ever saw Branch in his visions. He saw Spruce the most, followed by both Clay and Floyd. But rarely Branch. His little brother met his eyes, looking as if he were about to cry.

“Are you coming home?”

The question cut him deeper than any critter’s claw.

He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing his stiff body to move. He wanted to comfort his brother, tell him it was ok, but he couldn’t speak, the lump in his throat choking him. So instead, he leaned forward, going to wrap the small troll in a hug…

But his hands met with nothing but empty air.

Right. Branch wasn’t here. This wasn’t real.

He turned to the side, towards the cave entrance, where the critter still paced. He could see his brothers, Branch included, waiting for him, just outside, their bodies silhouetted in the fading light.

He wanted more than anything to be with them.

And just like that, he came to a decision.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t stay out here anymore. He wasn’t like his father. And he wasn’t going to just roll over and die just because things were a little hard. He never should have left in the first place.

His brothers may not need him. But he needed them.

He had to fix this. He had to go home.

He just wanted to go home.

John Dory climbed shakily to his feet, feeling that desperate hope begin to burn inside him once more. Anger flickered to life in his chest, a growl building in his throat. He was getting out of here, he was going home. His brothers were waiting for him.

And nothing was going to stop him.

Things got a little fuzzy after that…

He remembered stumbling down the cave, towards the entrance. He remembered stalking into the light from the sunset, the critter blinking at him like it couldn’t believe its luck. He remembered it snarling at him, lunging at him all claws and teeth. He remembered white-hot rage surging through him as he lunged right back at it, eyes locked on its throat. And he could remember the taste of iron on his tongue.

By the time the red faded from his vision, his breaths coming out in deep gasps as he stood, the sun had dipped below the horizon, bathing everything in a deep crimson hue. The critter lay a ways away from him, still and unmoving, its fur stained with neon pink blood. And as John Dory looked down at his hands, he could see the same blood sticking to his skin. He could taste it in his teeth, running down his throat.

He’d killed it. He did that. He was going to be sick.

He took a stumbling step back, eyes locked on his bloodied hands. They didn’t even feel like they were his. But they moved right along with him, so they must be. His face curled into a panicked snarl. No, no no no, what had he done? This wasn’t him, he wasn’t some… monster. He needed to get home.

He went to turn around when he noticed something odd, freezing him in place. The blood… The blood on his hand was… moving? No, bubbling? He watched, horrified, as the realization dawned on him.

It wasn’t bubbling. It was BOILING. It BURNED.

Just like that, the blood burst into flames, his hand engulfed in agonizing pain as the flames licked across his skin. He fell to the ground, the deceased critter in front of him bursting into flames as well, before the fire raced across the landscape, roaring in his ears until he was surrounded by flames and heat. He tried to scream, but the burning blood in his throat stopped him, trickling down into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

He was BURNING. He was burning alive.

Suddenly, he heard a crash, his eyes flicking up in terror to see a large branch, hissing as the dry wood quickly caught fire. And inside, he could see his baby brother, crouched in panic, his eyes wide and pleading. He reached out a desperate hand and let loose a cry that John Dory will never forget, so raw and full of fear that it seemed to echo down into his very soul.

“D!”

John Dory immediately lunged forward, to grab his brother and pull him to safety. But his hand… It was still burning. It locked around Branch’s arm, the young troll screaming as his skin blistered under John Dory’s touch. JD tried to pull away, but his hand wouldn’t move, it wasn’t listening. It gripped tighter to his brother’s arm, hurting him, BURNING him. Branch screeched again, his imaging flickering. For a second he was Floyd, then Clay, then Spruce, all screaming with that same pain.

He couldn’t let go. He was hurting them.

It BURNED.

John Dory tried to scream once more, and this time, the sound ripped itself from his throat as an anguished howl.

It BURNED.

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.
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John Dory woke up screaming.

He frantically pushed himself up from their lofted bed, rolling off and falling to the floor with a dizzying thud. It hurt, his body in agony, and he could hear Branch yelling at him, asking what was wrong, but his fuzzy mind was focused elsewhere.

His hand… His hand was still on fire.

He could see the flames licking across his skin, crackling as it blistered under the intense heat. He could smell his own burning flesh, the smoke choking him. And it BURNED.

IT BURNED IT BURNED IT BURNED

He let out a shriek, pushing himself back up against a wall as he desperately smacked and clawed at his hand, trying to put out the flames. But they only seemed to grow, the pain intensifying with every touch. He could barely think through the panic, his head spinning…

“JD, stop! What are you doing?!” He turned to see Branch leap down from the bed as well, rushing towards him. He shoved himself away from his brother, pressing himself into the wall of the cabin as he held up his good hand.

“Stop!” He choked out, Branch freezing in place, fear pulsing through his veins. “S-stay back, it’ll burn you!”

Branch looked shocked, confused. “W-what?” He stammered.

John Dory felt confusion wash over him as well, his mind hazy. Did his brother not see the flames devouring his hand? Whatever, it didn’t matter, he had to put them out, before he caused anymore damage. He spun around, letting out a desperate hiss as he tried again to beat at the flames, agony jolting through him once more.

“Stop, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Branch screamed, rushing forward and grabbing his arm. “What are you doing?! There’s nothing there!”

“Branch, stop! You’re gonna get-” John Dory begged, before looking back down at his hand in horror. He could see the flames licking at Branch’s leg, blisters forming on his brother’s skin, but… Branch didn’t react. He didn’t move, didn’t even look as his skin began to burn. He kept his eyes locked desperately on his brother, pushing his arm away.

That… That wasn’t right… If Branch was getting burned, he’d be in pain, he’d REACT. But there was nothing. Which meant either Branch didn’t realize, or this…

This wasn’t real.

His breathing hitched, growing faster as he stared at the flames. No, no no no this wasn’t right. They looked real, FELT real. He could hear them, smell them. But it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real…

He squeezed his eyes shut, panic flooding his fuzzy mind. It wasn’t real. He was freaking out, and his brother could see him, and it wasn’t real. Branch was going to think he was crazy, no, now he KNEW he was crazy. He’d never trust him again, he knew his older brother was losing it, and he couldn’t make it stop, he had to make it stop-

Suddenly, Branch lunged forward, wrapping his arms around John Dory’s chest. He hugged him close, John Dory able to feel his rapidly beating heart against his own. “Breathe.” Branch said, his voice shaky, but firm. “Breathe.”

John Dory tried, but he felt like he was dying. His lungs screamed for air, as if they were still full of smoke. But slowly, he reached up, gently running his fingers through Branch’s hair, the feeling almost an anchor to the whirlpool his mind seemed to be spinning in. He grit his teeth, sucking in a few trembling breaths.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry…” He hissed, his entire body tense and shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No sorry’s, it’s ok.” Branch replied, pressing his face closer into his chest. “Breathe.”

So John Dory did, taking rasping breaths, continuing to comb through Branch’s hair.

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…

Slowly, so slowly, his breathing evened out, his heart still pounding away in his chest. The panic in his mind lessened, as did the haziness, and he finally felt like he could think again. He pried his eyes open, looking back over at his hand, utterly relieved to see that the flames were gone. But the pain wasn’t. And it was obvious why. In his frenzy, he’d ripped the wraps off, the skin angry and deep blue as pain pulsed from the burn. The sight made him sick, but he swallowed down his nausea, forcing himself to speak.

“Branch.” He choked out, his voice hoarse and breaking. The young troll turned to look up at him, but John Dory couldn’t meet his eyes. “Could you go grab some water for me please?”

Branch nodded, scampering off to grab a canteen as John Dory pulled his first aid kit from his hair. He set it to the side before carefully peeling the old wrap from his hand, trying to ignore the pieces of healing skin it took with it.

Branch brought the canteen over, alarm still present across his face as he held it out. But John Dory just carefully took it from him, using his teeth to pull off the lid and taking a sip, before pouring it over his angry skin, grimacing as the pain shot across him in agonizing waves.

“JD, let me-” Branch began, but John Dory interrupted him, voice tight.

“You still got that aloe around, Bitty?”

Branch hesitated, then nodded, heading back off into the cabin and retrieving the large frond. John Dory wasted no time taking some of the remaining aloe and smearing it across his hand, before clumsily wrapping it up once more. He’d probably have to have the Doc look at it again, but he felt better now that he couldn’t see it, the nausea fading. But that left room for other feelings to rear their ugly heads. Dread, shame, guilt, and plain ol’ embarrassment.

He’d completely lost it, in front of Branch. And not only that, his brother had to draw him out of his little freak out because he couldn’t do it himself. Never had he ever felt so completely and utterly helpless, a victim to not only his own mind, but his body. He couldn’t even wrap his own stupid hand right. It twitched uncontrollably, the muscles spasming in pain.

He knew his mind was messed up. But now, it seemed like his body was messed up to match. There was nothing left of him that he hadn’t fucked up. Branch needed him now, needed his older brother. This was their chance to have a normal life, for John Dory to make things right, but now, he was practically USELESS. Branch didn’t deserve this.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better if that fire had just killed him.

“JD?”

John Dory was pulled from his dark thoughts as he felt Branch grab his good hand, still unable to meet the young troll’s eyes.

“What was that?” He asked, voice fraught with concern. “What happened?”

John Dory bit his cheek. What was he supposed to tell him? Well Bitty, the truth is, I’m actually crazy. But it’s fine, I’ve got it totally under control. Until today that is… He finally brought his eyes up to meet Branch’s fearful gaze. No, Branch didn’t need to know that. He had enough going on as it was without having to think about John Dory and his messed up mind. So instead, he made a decision, eyes dropping back to the ground.

“Nightmare.” He replied, the lie burning his throat. It wasn’t totally a lie, just not the whole truth. And right now, Branch could do without the truth, just until John Dory got himself under control again. “Sorry, bud. Just a really bad nightmare.”

Branch’s hands clenched into tight fists. “That was more than just a nightmare.” He hissed, sharp with frustration and worry.

“Branch.” John Dory pleaded. “It was nothing, ok? Let’s just drop it.” He looked back up at his little brother. “Please.”

Branch seemed taken aback, his hands relaxing by his side, and John Dory gave him a shaky smile. Thank troll… He could still feel that heavy feeling pulsing in his chest, threatening to burst, so he quickly rose to his feet, back tingling in the process.

“I’m going to go get some air.” He continued, staggering towards the front hatch. “Sorry for waking you, B. You should get some sleep.”

“What?” Branch replied, bewildered. “You’re crazy if you think I can sleep after that.”

“Try.” John Dory said, wincing a bit at his brother’s choice of words. He opened the hatch before looking back, giving him another small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, D-” Branch started, but before he could say anything else, John Dory closed the hatch, stepping into the cool night air. Branch was upset, and John Dory could feel the guilt gnawing away at him, but he needed to get out of there before he made things any worse. Branch had already seen too much tonight. John Dory just hoped he’d be able to fix this in the morning.

He stumbled up towards the front of Rhonda, who greeted him with a concerned coo. He felt like he was about to explode. Scream, throw something, hit something. But instead, he practically fell into her cheek, that heavy feeling in his chest crawling up his throat. And for the first time in a long, long time, he let loose a sob, immediately reaching up to cover his mouth, muffling the noise.

He couldn’t help it. All the pain, the fear, the guilt, and the grief flooded forth, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore, he wasn’t strong enough. He fell to his knees, curling into Rhonda’s face as she pressed against his chest, rumbling as she tried to comfort him. But it felt like his mind was fracturing into pieces, spilling out of him along with the tears.

His family was destroyed. His parents and grandmother were dead, his brothers were probably dead because of him, and he’d almost gotten his youngest brother killed several times. And for no reason. The Trolls were ALIVE. He could have found them years ago, given Branch a normal life, but no, instead he dragged him out into the wilderness to live with his screw up of an older brother. He was losing his mind, his body was burned beyond repair, and now that he finally had a chance to try and make things right again, he was falling apart.

And everything could be traced back to his own terrible decisions.

So he cried. He sobbed uncontrollably, burying his face in Rhonda as his body ached and his throat grew sore. He sobbed knowing that tomorrow, no matter what, he had to get it together. He couldn’t afford to fall apart, he never could. Especially not now, when Branch needed him more than ever.

But for now, he let the tears fall, let himself cry until he couldn’t anymore as Rhonda hummed softly in his ears.

“I can do this, I c-can do this, I can do this…”

He never was a brave troll.

But tomorrow, he’d have to be.

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Once he had no more tears left to shed, John Dory wiped his puffy eyes, stiffly climbing to his feet. He thanked Rhonda, kissing her forehead, before making his way back inside, a hollow, empty feeling in his gut. Almost immediately, he was practically tackled by a small troll, Branch wrapping his arms tight around his brother’s waist.

“Woah, hey, easy.” He rasped, his throat sore. But he cleared it, trying to speak normally. “Easy bud, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Instead, Branch just held him tighter, and John Dory could feel the faintest hint of moisture on his brother’s cheeks. He frowned, pushing the young troll back and kneeling down, despite his body’s protest. “Hey, what’s with the waterworks?”

Branch quickly wiped his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Nothing.” His lip trembled, hands curled into tight fists. “Just… Don’t leave like that again.”

Guilt surged through John Dory’s chest. “I wasn’t leaving, B, I promise, I just needed some air.” He explained hastily. “I promised I’d never leave you.”

“But you almost did.” Branch shakily replied. “You almost died, JD. You almost died, and I couldn’t…” He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t want to lose you too, ok? I can’t. And I know something’s wrong, and you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s fine, but please.” He sniffled, tears welling up once more despite him angrily wiping them away. “Don’t leave.”

John Dory’s heart ached, and he swallowed down the guilt threatening to drown him, instead reaching out and pulling his brother’s forehead into his own. “I won’t.” He said firmly. “I promise.”

They didn’t go back to bed. Instead, John Dory sat on the couch, Branch curling into his side. Rhonda must have realized they needed some comfort, that low rumble filling the cabin. John Dory gratefully rumbled along with her, eventually lulling Branch into a fitful sleep. John Dory didn’t join him, however. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that again.

Besides, he’d rather be awake, just in case Branch needed him to stop a nightmare of his own. The young troll’s mind had plenty of new content to work with.

And John Dory needed a moment to get it together. Tomorrow, they had work to do.

Chapter Text

By the time Branch finally peeked his head outside, tiredly rubbing his eyes, John Dory was already pacing around the clearing, Rhonda watching on in interest. He was trying to figure out exactly how he and his brother were supposed to build this “Underground Bunker”. Better to think about that versus… other things. Besides, despite his lack of sleep, he was practically crawling with energy.

“JD?” Branch asked with a yawn. “What’re you doing?”

“Planning!” John Dory replied, a bit too enthusiastically for how early it was. “Big day today! We gotta get this bunker of yours cooking, Bitty. Start making this place feel like a home!”

Branch trotted over him, a look of concern on his face. “D…” He started nervously. “Look, I… Just, last night-”

“Was a lot, I know.” John Dory interrupted, letting out a nervous laugh. He did NOT want to talk about last night, he didn’t even want to THINK about it. Today was a new day, and he was moving forward, not back. He’d had his moment, and now, he had to get over it. He was going to make things right. Starting by giving Branch the home he deserved. “But we’re fine now, and we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Very large, underground fish.”

He stopped his pacing, glaring down at the ground. Couldn’t his brother have thought of an ABOVE ground ultra-secret hideout? That sinking feeling was crawling into his gut again… No no, it was fine. This was his brother’s dream, his way of feeling safe. And goddammit, John Dory was going to make this work. He spun around towards Branch, grinning wide as he set his hands, well, hand, on his hip, his other twitching at his side.

“Alright B, get those blueprints out. We’ve got work to do.”

Branch’s expression became cautiously excited, his tail starting to wag as he reached up into his hair, pulling out that precious piece of paper. He stared at it, furrowing his brows, before scanning around the clearing, like he was mapping it out in his head. John Dory stepped back a bit, just letting his brother’s mind work its magic.

The young troll trotted around to different spots, tapping the ground with his foot, ears flicking as he did. John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle at his behavior, reminding him of a tiny Dustbunny. Finally, Branch made his way over to a large stone, tapping the ground once more before his face broke into a smile.

“Here!” He said, turning to face John Dory. “We’ll make the entrance here. The ground’s solid, and the rock can be our landmark!”

“Hah, perfect!” John Dory said, walking over to join him. The word echoed in his mind, that stupid song worming its way back into his brain, but he quickly pushed it away, instead reaching out with his foot and drawing an ‘X’ in the dirt. “There we go, ‘X’ marks the spot! Now we just gotta dig it out!”

They were both silent for a moment, staring at the dirt, before Branch piped up again. “We… don’t have any tools.”

“We don’t.” John Dory agreed.

“Or supplies, or anything.” Branch continued, ears drooping. “I spent so much time planning this I… I didn’t really think about actually building it.”

Guilt tried to surface in John Dory’s chest, but he quickly swallowed it down. “Hey, it’s fine!” He reassured the young troll, setting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not alone out here anymore, remember? I’m sure the trolls have some shovels and stuff we can use.”

“Yeah, but you’re still hurt.” Branch replied, biting his cheek. “You can’t do this.”

Well, if that didn’t feel like a punch to the gut. Another firm reminder of how useless he was right now…

“Correction, was hurt.” John Dory said, tucking his twitching hand out of sight. “Fine now, mostly. Healing, but fine. I can do this, no sweat.”

“Not fine.” Branch insisted. “And you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Listen, Bitty, can we focus here?” John Dory replied in exasperation. Rhonda trotted over to see what they were doing, sniffing curiously at the ‘X’. “No one said this was gonna be easy. It’s gonna take months of grueling, backbreaking labor to dig out all that dirt, let alone start doing all that cool stuff you were talking about. But in order to start doing any of it…” He pointed down at the ‘X’, “...we have to start digging first.”

As if on cue, Rhonda began pawing at the dirt, wiping the ‘X’ clean away. John Dory was just about to chastise her when her pawing became more vicious, scooping and clawing at the dirt like it was nothing. He quickly pulled Branch back, and they watched as Rhonda began to burrow under the earth, her entire body disappearing into the ground. Within a few seconds, she surfaced again, shaking the dirt and rocks from her scales as she turned towards them. She made a weird face, coughing a bit, then opened her mouth, depositing a large amount of dirt and glittery drool in a pile, before looking back up at them, panting heavily with a mud-stained tongue.

John Dory just looked at Branch, who returned his dumbstruck gaze. And together, they peeked into the hole Rhonda dug. It was as wide as her, stretching deep into the earth, the walls packed and smooth. They peered back at each other, before matching grins stretched across their faces.

So much for months of backbreaking labor.

“Rhonda you beautiful beast you!” John Dory laughed, giving the large critter a hug as she churred gleefully.

“This is perfect!” Branch exclaimed, that song once again echoing in John Dory’s mind as his brother crouched on the ground, spreading the blueprints in front of him. “Rhonda can help dig out the tunnels and rooms, and we can just add the supports and stuff!”

“Alright, B.” John Dory said, carefully squatting down next to him. “Lay it on me.”

Branch began talking him through his ideas for the Bunker, John Dory listening intently to his brother’s enthusiastic voice. His plan consisted of several levels, defenses, and storage, with different rooms for storing different things.

“We’ll have a place for food, for supplies, and bedrooms for everyone!” Branch explained, his twitching tail whipping the dirt into a dust storm.

“Everyone?” John Dory asked, confused.

“Yeah.” Branch continued, pointing out a few Brozone stickers that John Dory had seen stuck on there before. “One for you, me, and Spruce, and one for Clay and Floyd.” His ears drooped, his good mood fading a bit. “You know, if they… if they ever come back. They might need a place to stay.”

John Dory grimaced, feeling as if his heart was breaking. He’d told Branch the gist of what King Peppy had told him about their brothers. How Spruce and Floyd had left the tree, and how Clay had gone missing in the tunnels, leaving out the… darker details. Branch had seemed surprised to say the least, but hadn’t said much more about it, other than a soft “Oh”, and commenting that he didn’t even know Clay was still at the Tree, which seemed like a whole other thing… Did Clay not visit Branch at all? Why wouldn’t he-

John Dory shook his head. Wrong thing, he was focused on the wrong thing.

Branch still thought there was a chance their brothers might come back. How was John Dory supposed to tell him they probably never would? The chance was slim to none. Maybe… Maybe he just wouldn’t tell him anything. If this was how Branch was going to cope with their brothers being gone, so be it. Besides, he was right, in a way. They could come back. If they were still alive.

But John Dory didn’t want to fill his heart with hope. It hurt too much.

“Good idea, Bitty.” He said softly, looking closer at the stickers, where his own, younger face stared back at him, grinning, with Bitty B and Spruce by his side. It was kind of funny, in a sad, sad way, that Branch had grouped them together just like how they used to sleep back in their pod.

They’d only had the two bedrooms, so they always had to share, with him and Spruce in one room, with Bitty B typically tucked into his hair, and Clay and Floyd sharing a bed in their parent’s old one. Spruce had always complained about it, as did Clay, but honestly, John Dory never minded it. It was just the way things were, how they had to be. Floyd never complained about it either, but then again, the sweet young troll hardly ever complained. And Branch, apparently he liked it too. Or maybe… Maybe he didn’t even consider the fact that they didn’t all have to share rooms anymore.

“Don’t you want your own room, B?” He asked, Branch turning towards him with surprise.

“I can have my own room?” The young troll replied, bewildered at the notion. Yep, just like he thought.

“Of course!” John Dory laughed, with no small amount of guilt gnawing away at him. “You’re twelve now, I think it’s about time you had a place to yourself, don’t you think?” Branch was still speechless, so John Dory continued. “You can decorate it, have your own bed, the possibilities are endless! And as a bonus,” He elbowed his brother’s side with a grin, “you won’t have to listen to my snoring anymore.”

“You don’t snore.” Branch retorted, rolling his eyes. “If you did, we would’ve been eaten years ago.” Despite this, his brother’s tail started to twitch excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “My own room…” He whispered, a smile stretching across his face. However, it faded a bit as he looked back at John Dory, his tail becoming still once more. “But what about you?”

“Well, I’ll have my own room too.” John Dory replied easily. His own room, alone, buried deep underground… He pushed the thought from his mind.

“But what if something happens?” Branch continued, fidgeting with his hands. “What if you… have another nightmare?”

Ah yes, that’s what they were calling his little “freakout” from last night. And it was another great reason why Branch should have his own room. John Dory had a feeling that wasn’t the last “nightmare” he was going to have, and Branch… He shouldn’t have to deal with that. The young troll had enough going on, and he didn’t want to become just another thing for the kid to worry about.

“Eh, I’m pretty sure that was just a one time thing.” John Dory said flippantly, dismissively waving his hand. “Besides, I’m a grown up, B. I think I can handle a few nightmares.”

“But-” Branch started to protest, but John Dory quickly cut him off.

“Bup bup bup, enough ‘nightmare’ talk. Let's get crackin'.” He said, climbing to his feet and grinning down at his brother. “This super secret underground bunker ain't gonna build itself.”

Branch muttered something that sounded strangely like “Stupid stubborn bastard” but before John Dory could chastise him, he began to explain his plan. An elaborate plan with many parts, that ultimately ended with John Dory making his way into Troll Village, despite his vehement complaints.

Branch tasked himself and Rhonda to start collecting large sticks for support, while John Dory was sent to get tools, which was an absolute WASTE of his talents. He still had one working hand goddammit. And not to mention the fact that he had to leave Branch and Rhonda out there ALONE, which he very much did not want to do. But Branch insisted, so John Dory was sent on his way. Kid was so stubborn sometimes.

At least Troll Village was easy to find; they were the loudest thing in the forest.

He carefully made his way around the periphery, instinctually shifting into a lighter tread, his footsteps silent as he snuck through the shadows. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the Trolls, he just… didn’t really want to talk to them right now. It continued to feel so surreal, and he could still picture their glares from yesterday, absently smoothing back his hair. He was a troll, sure. But it was clear he was an outsider. He didn’t belong here. And he hated the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him; it made his skin itch.

So instead, he scooted along the edge, quickly locating a stand that had a few tools held inside it, along with a bored looking vendor. He made his way over, weaving through the scatterings of trolls like he was invisible. In a way, maybe he was. He looked so muted standing next to their bright tones. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew he was there, watching him as he passed…

He finally reached the vendor, who didn’t appear to notice him, continuing to sharpen what looked like a machete in his hand. Which was not at all intimidating. He cleared his throat, before finally speaking. “Mornin’.”

Strangely, the vendor still didn’t acknowledge him, so he tried again. “Uh, hey, hello?”

This time, the troll nearly leapt out of his seat, turning towards John Dory with wide eyes, which only seemed to grow wider as recognition flashed across his face. “Woah, hey, John Dory, right?” He said, a strained smile growing on his face.

John Dory cringed a bit, but nodded. “Yep, that’s… me.” He gave an awkward smile, before scanning over the different tools in the stand. He barely noticed as a vision of Clay appeared to do the same, tail twitching with excitement.

“Oh yeah, we need ALL of these.” He said, eyes sparkling with delight as he spun towards the vendor. “We’ll take the lot!”

Yeah, these should get the job done. But a sudden feeling of dread settled in John Dory’s gut. “Heh, I don’t see any price tags on these.” He commented lightly, hand clenching and unclenching.

“What?” The vendor asked, his ears twitching. “Sorry, man, you’re uh, really quiet.”

Huh, was he really that quiet? He was just speaking like he usually did. Geez, no one ever called him quiet. But he cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak a bit louder.

“The prices?” He replied, gesturing towards the tools. It had occurred to him that he literally had nothing to his name, not a single coin. How the hell was he supposed to afford any of this?

“Prices?” The troll repeated, confused. Then his eyes widened, and he let out a raucous laugh. “Oh, right! We don’t really do that anymore.”

John Dory blinked. “You… don’t do prices anymore?”

“Nah.” The vendor continued, leaning back in his chair. “We just kind of share everything now, y’know? Nobody really brought money from the troll tree, and we have so little as it is that it doesn’t really matter. We all just contribute, and that’s that.”

“Wow, that’s…” John Dory started, completely bewildered. His entire life, he’d been so focused on money. Being able to afford food, clothes, everything. Working several different jobs just so that they could get by. The whole reason he started Brozone in the first place was to make a bit of extra cash on the side. To hear that money wasn’t even a thing anymore… Well, it kind of made all that grueling work he put in back then feel a little pointless.

“Great, right?”

John Dory turned to see none other than King Peppy walk up behind him, a huge grin on his face. He couldn’t help but feel his heart ache a bit, his ears drooping, but he tried not to think about the whole “incident” from yesterday, quickly reminding himself that this wasn’t about him. The king nodded towards the vendor, before looking back at John Dory. “Working on a project?”

“Branch and I are building a place just outside the village.” John Dory replied nervously. For some reason, it almost felt like he needed King Peppy’s… permission? Approval? He shook his head, trying to smile. “Just need some extra tools to get us started.”

King Peppy hummed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a pod?” He suggested, to which John Dory quickly held up his hands.

“No no, we’re fine.” He insisted with a polite grin. “It’s probably better this way. Branch needs some time to get used to… all this.” He gestured around at the bustling market, the loud chatter making his ears twitch.

King Peppy nodded in understanding, before his eyes locked on John Dory’s haphazardly wrapped hand, widening with alarm. “Good troll, what happened?”

“Oh, uh…” John Dory quickly tucked his twitching hand behind his back. “Caught it on a tree branch.”

“Right…” King Peppy replied worriedly, unconvinced. “You’d better let Dr. Moonbloom rewrap that for you. That injury will never heal if you don’t let it.” He turned back to the vendor, a smile returning to his face. “See to it that young John Dory gets what he needs.” He said, before patting John Dory gently on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, son.”

John Dory nodded, deflating a bit. Geez, why did it feel as if he were being scolded? At least he didn’t call him ‘Clay’ this time…

“Yessir.” He replied quietly, the king giving him one last smile before disappearing into the crowd. He peered down at his hand, where a bit of angry, blistered skin showed through, his stomach turning as he moved the wrap to cover it up. Apparently he’d have to stop by the Doc’s after all.

“Soooo, what can I get for you?” The vendor asked, his eyes nervously tracing over John Dory’s injured hand. He let out a sigh, trying to ignore this as he shifted it out of sight.

“How ‘bout some shovels, that toolbox, and…” His face broke into a slight grin. “How ‘bout that machete?”

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John Dory stood on the doorstep of the medical pod, his entire body practically screaming at him to run the other way. He did NOT want to go back in there. But he grit his teeth, pushing the door open and forcing himself to step inside.

“Hi!” He jumped as a voice immediately greeted him, a younger troll with his arm in a sling organizing some shelves. “How can I-” He began, but as soon as his eyes locked on John Dory, they grew wide, scared. “O-oh, it’s you.”

“Hi…” John Dory replied, confused. “Uh, the Doc around?”

“Sure, sure, I’ll go… get her.” The troll replied, stepping carefully with his back against the wall, before taking off into the pod. John Dory just scratched his head. And these Trolls thought he was strange…

He perked up as Dr. Moonbloom appeared, a dark purple troll with blue hair, and a scowl on her face that he’d become quite familiar with in his few days spent here.

“John Dory.” She said flatly, looking between his shoddily wrapped hand and the nervous grin on his face. “What in troll’s name did you do?”

“Uh, got in a fight with a tree?” John Dory lied, letting out a chuckle.

Dr. Moonbloom sighed, unimpressed. “Come on in.”

She made quick work of removing his god awful wrap job, looking his injured hand up and down. “Aloe?” She asked, to which John Dory just nodded, staring at the ground. He’d already caught enough of a look at his charred skin that his stomach churned with nausea, his mouth watering as he hastily tried to swallow it down. Any glimpse of his stupid hand was enough to make him feel sick.

“Good thinking.” The Doc continued. “But I highly recommend not fighting any more trees until this is healed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grumbled, frustration building in his chest. Stupid, stupid hand… Hopefully he wouldn’t have anymore episodes like he did before, but knowing his fucked up mind, he was never that lucky.

Dr. Moonbloom cleaned it up, applying a bit more aloe from a small jug and wrapping it up once again, before doing the same to his back. He had to bite back a hiss every time her fingers traced across his skin.

“The burn on your back is doing better, so you can probably take the wraps off soon.” She said finally, handing John Dory’s jacket back to him. “With your hand, however, it’s going to take a bit longer. I would recommend taking it easy, and some physical therapy, but I get the feeling those words would be wasted on you.”

“Is that so?” John Dory replied, watching with narrowed eyes as his hand involuntarily twitched.

“You don’t seem like the type of troll to take it easy.” Dr. Moonbloom continued, crossing her arms over her chest, a hint of amusement flashing in her stern gaze. “Try not to make my job any harder, alright? I’ve got limited supplies as it is.”

John Dory heard a snort from off to the side, spying Spruce leaning on the shelves. “I like her.” He said, sporting a rare, devious grin. John Dory quickly looked away.

“Aye aye, Doc, takin’ it easy.” He chuckled, climbing to his feet. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a super secret underground bunker to build.”

Dr. Moonbloom rolled her eyes, muttering something along the lines of “adorabull-headed, hair for brains…” before disappearing back into her office. John Dory just shrugged, making his way towards the exit.

“John Dory?”

He flinched, but he turned around to see Dr. Moonbloom peeking back through the doorway. She seemed… hesitant, tense, and John Dory immediately tensed up to match her. She cleared her throat, eyes clouded with uncertainty.

“Sometimes… wounds run deeper than just the physical.” She finally said, adjusting her glasses. “Just because they’re on the inside doesn’t mean they can’t fester if not tended to.” Her face grew stern. “So if you run into any more… trees, let me know. My office is always open to those in need.” Her piercing gaze sent shivers down his spine. “Make sure you allow yourself to heal.”

John Dory grimaced, clutching his twitching hand to his chest before nodding, the Doc returning it before disappearing once more. He looked at the floor, mind racing, and quickly took his leave, the scent of disinfectant starting to make him dizzy.

He weaved his way back through the trolls with ease, with them hardly even noticing he was there, but that was fine by him. This had been enough “social interaction” for one day, maybe even for the rest of the week. He was tired, and worst of all…

He was worried the Doc was right.

Chapter Text

John Dory was getting a bit tired of waking up screaming.

It had apparently become a nightly occurrence that’d he’d dream of flames, fiery tendrils reaching out, grabbing him. The smoke and heat would crawl into his lungs, making it so he couldn’t breath, while the smell of his burning hand made his stomach churn. And almost always, he’d see Branch, reaching out for him, screaming that same god awful scream, but the moment he tried to save him, the flames from his own body would burn his baby brother.

There was probably some sort of metaphor in there, but John Dory didn’t want to look too deeply into it.

Regardless, he needed this to end. His constant nightmares were keeping both him and Branch up at night, which wasn’t ok. But he didn’t know how to make them stop. It’d gotten to the point that he’d wake up with his hand already clasped over his mouth, muffling his desperate screams as his hand burned and burned. He knew it wasn’t real, that it was all just in his head, but it was really hard to ignore as his skin blistered and burned, over and over again.

He hadn’t had any more… intense episodes, yet. Or at least, he was typically able to stop himself from clawing at his hand, most of the time. But the panic was still there, along with the pain, and the confusion. It was really starting to take a toll on him, and even worse…

It was taking a toll on Branch.

He’d wake up to the screams that John Dory couldn’t seem to silence fast enough, and do his best to try and calm his older brother’s frantic breathing. He could tell it scared the young troll, Branch’s face always fraught with fear. And John Dory couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear that he was the reason that look was on his baby brother’s face, that it was his fault those dark circles under Branch’s eyes made him look even more grey. It wasn’t right. Branch wasn’t supposed to be reassuring him, it was supposed to be the other way around. He was supposed to be better than this.

But right now, he was failing.

So he’d leave. Not “leave” leave, but remove himself from the situation. He’d quickly reassure Branch, before stumbling out of Rhonda, sitting with her heavy head on his chest until he could think clearly. Sometimes it’d take minutes, but oftentimes, it’d be hours before he felt in control of himself again. Sometimes, he’d even leave before he had a nightmare, sneaking outside after Branch had gone to sleep so he could prevent it from happening altogether. He knew Branch hated it, but what was he supposed to do? Let the poor kid watch his older brother fall apart every night? He was just a kid. And John Dory could handle it, just like he always did.

He was just… struggling to right now.

Which made it even more crucial that Branch got his own bedroom, sooner rather than later. Branch needed his sleep, to not waste his time worrying about his older brother’s crumbling mind. So making the Bunker livable became John Dory’s number one priority.

It took about a week, John Dory’s injuries making him work frustratingly slow, but before long, the Bunker consisted of one tunnel with a large hollowed out area at the bottom, a hallway, and five small rooms jutting off nearby, complete with large branches for extra support. From there, they were going to start working their way up, adding some more rooms for storage and such, but for right now, this provided them with something Branch desperately needed.

Space from his crazy older brother.

“Alright Bitty, today’s the day!”

Branch looked up from where they’d situated the last support beam, confused. John Dory walked over to him with a cheeky grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he poked him in the side. “I think it’s about time we move in, don’t ‘cha think?”

“What?” Branch exclaimed, pushing his brother’s arm off. “It’s nowhere near ready yet!”

“Well, we’ve got the structure, and the bedrooms are all set so… Why not?” John Dory shrugged.

“Why not?” Clay scoffed, peeking out nervously from one of the rooms. “I don’t like tunnels…”

“It’s definitely… something.” Floyd added, worriedly looking around from where he stood by Branch. “But this is all a little fast… don’t you think? And… isolated?”

I don’t have any other options. John Dory shot back, jaw tight. If you guys have a single, solitary, better idea, I’m all ears.

…Radio silence from his fake brothers. That’s what he thought.

He could see Spruce lingering around as well, but the purple-haired troll surprisingly had nothing to add, his brows just furrowed in deep thought as he stared absently at the floor.

“JD, we don’t have anything.” Branch said scathingly, bringing John Dory back to reality. “Nothing. We can’t ‘move in’ when we literally have nothing! Right now it’s just a hole.”

“Aha, that’s where you’re wrong.” John Dory said with a grin, leading Branch over to the room the young troll’d claimed earlier that week. “See, while you were busy snoring away in Rhonda, ‘ol John Dory was up making this place nice.” He paused in front of a few leaves that he’d draped over the entrance as a makeshift door, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother. “Why don’t you check it out?”

Branch hesitantly looked between him and the room, before slowly pushing the leaves aside, eyes widening as he peeked inside. He walked in, almost in a daze, John Dory following right behind him.

The room actually looked like a bedroom now, thanks to a few hours of work JD had put in last night. He’d managed to find a large plushroom for a bed, and some Lamb’s Ear for a blanket. A fresh moss rug lay on the floor, illuminated by a few Gloworchids he’d hung from the ceiling. It didn’t have shelves, or anything fancy yet, but hey, there was still time for that later. For now, he just wanted his brother to have somewhere safe to sleep, where he didn’t have to be so… scared.

Branch stood, speechless, so John Dory cleared his throat, unable to take the silence for much longer. “So uh, it up to the Bitty B standards?” Branch didn’t answer, instead walking across the room, slowly tracing his fingers over the bed. “I mean, it’s pretty rough right now, I know, but we can make it better. Get you some shelves that you can put books on, or cool things you find, oh! And a desk, so you can write and stuff-”

“D.”

John Dory’s ears perked up, turning to see Branch giving him a huge smile, his eyes shining with overwhelming gratitude.

“Thanks.”

John Dory grinned back at him, making his way over. “Yeah well, you deserve it, B. I told you we could make this place a home.” He grabbed Branch by the back of the vest, lifting the small troll off the ground. Branch immediately began to protest, but John Dory just continued to grin at him mischievously. “And I didn’t spend two hours dragging that plushroom here just for you to stare at it. So try it out!”

Branch barely had time to let out a yelp before John Dory tossed him onto the bed with a soft, playful growl, immediately plopping down beside him as laughter echoing off the walls.

By the time night rolled around, they’d managed to decorate the room a bit more, as well as working a bit on John Dory’s room. It wasn’t much, just a thin moss bed with a few blankets from Rhonda, but it would do for now until he could flesh it out. He wanted to hang up the pictures he had of his brothers, from that scrapbook he’d brought with him so long ago… It felt important, somehow. To be able to see his real brothers, not the ones in his head.

He tucked Branch into his new bed, trying to ignore the memories of doing the same for his brothers bubbling up in his brain. “You all comfy, Bitty? Need anymore blankets or pillows or-”

“I’m fine.” Branch replied, rolling his eyes as he sat up. “You don’t need to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” John Dory asked, scanning around the room, making sure everything was in order. This was Branch’s first time having his own room, it needed to be perfect. Huh, that feeling sure felt familiar…

“I’m not a baby anymore.” Branch grumbled. “I can take care of myself, ok?”

John Dory frowned, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Well, I know that.” He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his brother’s hair. “You’re one tough kid. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you too. That’s my job. And I LIKE my job.” Branch let out a scoff, so John Dory flicked his forehead. “Hey, you may not be a baby, but you're still an itty bitty kid, so until further notice, you’re still in my job description, got it?”

“Can I fire you?” Branch deadpanned.

“Nope!” John Dory replied with a grin, climbing to his feet. “Now get some sleep, alright? You need it.” He paused for a moment before adding. “And… if you need me, I’m right across the hall, alright?”

“I know.” Branch replied, worry flickering across his face. “If you need me, I’ll be here.”

John Dory nodded, giving his brother a halfhearted smile, before pushing through the leaves out into the hall. “Goodnight B.”

“Night.”

As the leaves shifted shut behind him, a sudden feeling of dread welled up in his gut, the hair on his neck prickling slightly. It felt… Strange. Branch and him had spent every night together since, well, since they’d left the tree. It dawned on him that this would be the first night they’d be apart. He looked back at the leaves hanging over the entrance, blocking his brother from view, as an all too familiar fear rose inside him.

“I thought you wanted this.” Floyd said, the pink-haired troll appearing at his side, giving him a worried look.

John Dory pursed his lips, before turning around, making his way inside his new bedroom, the walls feeling closer to him than they did before. It didn’t matter what he wanted, he needed to do this. It wasn’t good for Branch to be around him, not when his mind was all fuzzy like this. And Branch, hell, the kid had never had a room to himself before, never even considered it. He deserved it. This was for the best.

But that fear still lingered.

.
.
.

John Dory once again awoke with his hand clenched firmly over his mouth, muffling his screams as panic jolted through his chest.

His hand was on fire again.

He scrambled out from his bed, where his hand seemed to have ignited the moss, the flames snapping and popping as smoke crawled down his throat. He pressed himself against the dirt wall, away from the excruciating heat, trying to calm his breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut, nails digging into his cheek.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real…

Branch’s scream echoed in his ears.

He pried his eyes open, looking around frantically for his little brother. Usually, once he saw he was ok and not actively burning to death, he could relax a bit, ground himself. But his eyes met with an empty room, save for the smoldering flames. Right… Branch wasn’t here. He was in his own room, sleeping, away from all this craziness.

Despite knowing this, fear still jolted through John Dory’s veins, and he closed his eyes once more, trying to ignore what was going on around him. He was dizzy, his lungs crying out for air, as his mind swirled and swirled.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real…

After a few minutes of panic, trying to snap himself out of the madness, he was slowly able to calm himself down, at least a little bit. The flames faded, his breathing still fast, but even. He could still smell the faintest hint of smoke, Branch’s scream continuing to bounce around his dizzy mind…

And that lingering fear…

Branch was… ok, right? He was safe, in his room, sleeping soundly. He was fine. But then why was John Dory so certain something was wrong?

He took a few shaky breaths, pushing himself slowly to his feet. Branch was ok, of course he was, but… What if he wasn’t? What if he was having a nightmare, or was scared, and John Dory wasn’t there? What if something had happened to him, something John Dory couldn’t see now because he’d left him alone? The fire, it’d only been a few weeks ago. What if there was some complication from smoke inhalation, or he had some injury they hadn’t seen?

He could be dead. And John Dory wouldn’t even know.

No no no, he’s fine, he’s fine. John Dory told himself, gritting his teeth. But he still found himself walking towards Branch’s room, pausing in front of the leaves to the entrance. He knew Branch was fine, he was fine, he was just sleeping, but… Maybe he could just check. Just peek in, just make sure he was still breathing. His hand lifted to shift the leaves, but he quickly drew it back.

No, this was ridiculous. Branch was fine. This was too much, he was just being weirdly overprotective, acting crazy again, but… What if something had happened? If he could just see he was alright…

John Dory let out a hiss, frustration boiling in his chest. What the hell was he doing? This was crazy. Branch was fine, trolls don’t just drop dead out of nowhere. But that fear wouldn’t leave, his brother’s scream still circulating in his mind…

He went to turn around, head back to his room, but found he just… couldn’t. What if he left, and something really had happened? What if Branch called for him, and he couldn’t hear it from his room? He let out another hiss, dragging his hand down his face, before slowly walking over towards the wall, plopping down on the floor, and letting his head fall back in defeat.

Fuck, he never thought he’d be doing this again…

When he’d first moved Floyd and Clay into their parents room, maybe a year or two after everything that happened, he’d found himself in this exact same position. His brothers were so young at the time, and he was just so scared something would happen to them. Maybe they’d accidentally leave a candle on overnight, or get too curled up in a blanket and suffocate, or maybe, maybe they’d just stop breathing. Kids just did that sometimes, right?

Regardless, the fear was enough to keep John Dory up at all hours of the night, just… waiting. Waiting for something to happen, for a cry, or to have his name called, or god forbid even a scream. He had to be there, be awake, ready for anything. His brothers needed him, and if something happened to them, and he wasn’t there?

He’d never, ever forgive himself.

Now, more than ever, this terror churned in his gut. After all, his worst fear had come to life. He’d left. He’d left his brother’s alone, and when they needed him, he wasn’t there. And he lost them.

He couldn’t lose Branch too.

He couldn’t believe that same fear was here, all these years later, twisting around in his gut like a snake. It was so… disappointing. All this talk of change, of being different now, and yet… This lingered. In so many ways, he was just the same, scared little kid he’d always been. He was quieter now, sure. And compared to his old Brozone photos, he barely even recognized himself anymore. But deep down, he was still the same. Now he just had the scars to match.

“You’re biting your nails again.”

John Dory pulled his hand from his mouth, letting it fall limply to his side. He let out a frustrated growl, peering over to his side. Of course he’d show up now.

Spruce sat next to him, staring at Branch’s room with a blank expression. He blinked, before turning to meet his gaze. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

John Dory didn’t answer him, looking back down at the dirt floor and hunching his shoulders. Fuck, Spruce would be so disappointed in him…

“I am.” Spruce replied coldly, turning away. “I thought you were over this. You promised me.”

“I promised Spruce.” John Dory snarled, glaring at him. “Not you.”

“Yikes, you’re talking to me?” Spruce gave him a side eye. “That’s not good.”

“Yeah well, I’m already crazy, aren’t I?” John Dory shot back with a harsh laugh, hand curled into a tight fist. “Might as well play the part.”

“Don’t start.” Spruce replied, turning towards him. “You know this isn’t healthy.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” John Dory growled, anger pulsing like venom through his veins. “Besides, this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just leave me alone.”

“I can’t, remember?” Spruce snapped, his gaze burning. “I’m not real. I’m only here because YOU want me here. Or more specifically, wanted Spruce here.”

“Well, newsflash asshole, Spruce isn’t here.” John Dory replied, his anger slowly being replaced by despair. “He isn’t here.”

“I hate to sound like a broken record, but who's fault is that?”

John Dory wilted, ears drooping as he curled in on himself. He still couldn’t believe Spruce had left the Tree… Spruce, who hated the wilderness, hated the idea of camping and all that stuff. Who loved the idea of being comfortable, having everything he needed when he needed it. Who cared so much about his appearance, brushing his hair multiple times a day, working out constantly, and using at least six different products for his hour long skincare routine. He did ok in school, he had friends, he had FAMILY. He had a future.

How badly did John Dory hurt him that he felt the need to leave all that behind?

“You know what Spruce would say, right? If he was here?”

John Dory looked over at his brother, chest aching. “Remind me?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“You’re being stupid.” Spruce replied, John Dory almost able to picture his real brother saying the exact same thing. “I’m not going to sleep until you do, so if I look like crap tomorrow, it’s ‘cause you ruined my beauty sleep.”

John Dory chuckled sadly, leaning his head back up against the wall. That’s how Spruce had helped him stop doing this in the first place. Guilting him into coming back to bed. It was so stupid, really, but it worked. But now…

“Will you stay with me?” He asked in a small voice, the walls growing closer to him with every passing moment, making it harder to breathe...

“Do you want me to stay?” Spruce replied evenly. John Dory closed his eyes, frustration once again churning inside him, but he slowly felt himself nod. He didn’t want to be alone. Spruce seemed disappointed, but leaned back anyways, staring back out towards the wall. “Ok then, Johnny. I’ll stay.” He was quiet for a moment, before speaking up once more. “This isn’t good.”

John Dory nodded again, fully aware.

“Yeah, I know.” He said, gritting his teeth. “I know.”

.
.
.

“D? JD?”

John Dory jolted awake, shooting to his feet with a sharp, “I’m awake!”, raising his hands up defensively. He looked around, disoriented for a second, before his eyes landed on Branch, who was giving him a strange look. “Oh, hey Bitty.” He said, forcing a smile to his face.

“What are you doing out here?” Branch asked sternly, looking his brother up and down.

“That… is a great question.” John Dory replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back down. He could see Spruce staring at him from across the hall, so he quickly turned his gaze back towards Branch. It was still dark, but John Dory could see the young troll was trembling slightly, worry blossoming in his mind.

“What are you doing out here?” He echoed, both out of genuine concern, and to shift the attention off of him.

Branch grimaced, hugging himself tighter. “Nightmare…” He whispered in a hollow voice. “It’s… quiet. Without you. I can’t hear you breathing.”

John Dory blinked, then gave a weak smile. Looks like he wasn’t the only one struggling to adjust. “I’m sorry, B. You ok?”

Branch didn’t quite meet his gaze. “It’s just… weird.” He admitted, looking frustrated. “I haven’t slept alone since Grandma-” His face grew sad, before he quickly shook his head. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah…” John Dory replied, ears drooping with guilt. He imagined Branch was referring to his time spent hiding in the cupboard of their old pod, alone, scared, and surrounded by Bergens. And he understood the frustration of old fears resurfacing after years had gone by. He wanted to say something, to try and reassure his brother, but the words seemed to die in his throat. So instead, he just held out his arm, inviting him to sit with him, just for a moment.

Branch immediately obliged.

John Dory sighed, both relieved and frustrated that his racing heart began to calm. His eyes locked on the entrance to Branch’s room, surprised to see the leaves had been torn down. “Hey, what happened to your door?” He asked in a low whisper.

Branch looked at the entrance as well. “I… took it down.” He muttered tiredly. “Sorry…”

John Dory frowned, hugging him a bit closer. “No sorry’s necessary, B, it was just kinda for show till I can get you a real door.” He replied with a worried smile. “But… Can I ask why?”

“...No.”

“Fair enough.” John Dory chuckled, not willing to push his brother any further. The young troll gripped him tight, while he ran his fingers through his hair. And before long, Branch’s breathing slowed, starting to lull John Dory to sleep as well.

However, he forced himself to climb to his feet, carefully picking Branch up without tweaking his burns too much, before tucking him back into bed, gently brushing his hair out of his face. A part of him wanted desperately to stay here, but he knew he couldn’t. This… this was for the best. So slowly, he turned around, walking what felt like miles back to his own room, that fear tugging at his chest.

It was just better this way.

Chapter Text

It’d been about a month since John Dory and Branch had returned to Troll Village.

Well, ‘returned’ was a strong word, considering they lived completely outside the village. And they didn’t exactly make their way into the village that often either, typically only to pick up a few supplies, or for John Dory to visit Dr. Moonbloom for the umpteenth time, either to get his bandages changed, or for one of the many injuries he seemed to accrue. He figured he was just clumsy, distracted, but Branch insisted it was because he didn’t think. Which John Dory could also believe. There wasn’t much knocking around in that thick skull of his.

Luckily, he was doing a bit better, at least burn-wise. His back was pretty much fully healed, save for a nice scar spanning from his left shoulder blade, and crossing down to his ribs. His hand, however… That was another story.

He’d been doing his best to “rehabilitate” it, or at least that’s the fancy word Branch used to describe his ‘healing process’. Which in all reality, was just him stubbornly pushing himself to use it, no matter the struggle. His hand was pretty messed up. It trembled, and twitched uncontrollably, even when he was resting, and whenever he tried to move it, it was slow, and uncoordinated. And it still hurt, in a way he didn’t really know how to describe. The sharp pain was gone, but it was replaced by a deep ache he could feel deep in his bones, with every twitch, every small movement sending pins and needles up his arm. And some parts, he couldn’t even feel anymore, making it difficult to do anything with the damn thing. Dr. Moonbloom said this was likely due to the nerve damage.

John Dory just tried not to think about it.

Instead, he forced himself to continue as normal, refusing to let his janky hand slow him down. Well, tried to at least. He got some sewing supplies to fix up his jacket, and Branch’s raggedy shorts, despite it taking him about an hour just to thread the needle. He continued to help Branch flesh out the bunker, digging out some shelves for storage, decorating, and setting up support beams to keep the whole thing from collapsing down on them, something that still kept John Dory up at night.

He even tried writing with his hand, something he hadn’t done since he’d left the tree. His handwriting had always been terrible, with words misspelled and shaky letters. Clay had constantly complained about how impossible it was to read his lyrics. But now, he could barely even hold a pencil, any words he tried to write practically illegible. He would have settled for one readable letter, just one, but they all just looked like scribbles. He’d felt so frustrated, so helpless afterwards, that he went and lay in Rhonda for a good few hours, his head buried under a pillow. That had been a rough day…

But he kept himself busy, kept himself moving. He always kept himself doing… something, anything to keep his mind off how fucked things were right now. If he lingered on those thoughts for too long… Well, let’s just say it wasn’t good for anyone. Unfortunately, being cooped up here wasn’t really helping with that.

They had a home now, a real home. Which was great, really. Except for a few, teensy weensy, totally-not-a-big-deal problems.

One, it was stationary, sticking them in one place, all the time, where everyone and everything under the sun knew where they were. Not that the trolls ever came to visit them exactly, but John Dory couldn’t shake the fear that a critter was going to find them, jump them at any time. It made him feel as if he had to be constantly vigilant, unable to let his guard down for a single moment. Two, it was underground, dirt surrounding them on all sides, trapping them within the earth. So he couldn’t even relax inside his own home. These two things alone were enough to set John Dory on edge, but put them together? He was starting to go a bit stir crazy.

And speaking of crazy…

Between working himself to the ground during the day, and his insomniatic tendencies at night, either being subjected to some horrific, psychotic nightmare or unable to sleep out of fear something terrible might happen to Branch, he felt like he was burning a candle on both ends. He felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. He was no stranger to a bit of sleep deprivation. Hell, that was pretty much his normal. But now, he felt strung out, worn thin, and it was taking its toll, he could tell. He was forgetting things, his attention span slim to nil before his mind started wandering to different things. He’d zone out for who knows how long, the world growing fuzzy and distant, before something snapped him back into reality. His hair was messy, the bags under his eyes had bags…

And he was talking to his brothers again. Which really wasn’t a good sign.

But it wasn’t all bad. He and Branch were finally starting to settle into a routine. They’d hunt for most of the morning, then work in the bunker to avoid the heat, before foraging in the late afternoon/early evening. The trolls had food in the village, but Branch and him were pretty self-sufficient. And it felt weird to take food from the trolls when they could just as easily find it on their own. The trolls didn’t have much in the first place. Besides, John Dory would take any excuse he could to get out of the Bunker.

Surprisingly, the woods around here were even more plentiful than where they were before, with fruit tree groves, berries sprouting from every other bush, and practically crawling with critters. They’d already completely stocked Rhonda, and were now working on storing things away down in the Bunker, per Branch’s orders. It seemed a bit excessive, but hey, John Dory couldn’t turn down extra food, the fear of running out always lingering in his mind, and his belly. And besides, since they had plenty of critter meat, he could always bring some extra berries and such to the trolls. Maybe then they’d stop giving him that… look.

That was exactly what he was doing right now, actually, skirting around the edge of troll village with a few bags of Gigglefruits and Trollberries slung over his shoulders, Branch following sullenly behind. He’d remembered King Peppy mentioning once how much he liked the overly sugary sweets, and since they’d found such a bumper crop (and he couldn’t stand the stuff), he thought he’d share, despite his brother’s vehement protests that it was a waste. It was like the kid was planning for an apocalypse.

But he’d eventually caved, following behind his older brother with a pout, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the village. As much as John Dory was uncomfortable being in Troll Village, Branch was about ten times worse.

His brother despised the village, and John Dory couldn’t exactly blame him. The trolls were loud, reckless, and had no sense of personal space, everything the young troll hated. Branch refused to go to Troll Village without John Dory, and if the older troll forced him along, he’d spend the entire time stuck to him like glue, walking so close it was almost claustrophobic. His eyes were constantly narrowed into a suspicious glare, ears pinned back against his skull. His body language practically screamed “Go Away!”.

And don’t even get him started on the singing.

Whereas John Dory actually appreciated the Troll’s constant music, their voices drifting sweetly across the breeze, Branch hated it. It was loud, sure, and John Dory still thought it was a bit risky, but it was nice. He’d really missed music, and the way it made him feel. A part of him wished he could join in, sing along with them to ease the ache he felt pounding away in his heart.

But the other part of him knew his music probably died along with his brothers.

Branch, however, would have no part in anything music or singing related. If he heard it, he turned the other way, covering his ears, a mixed look of anger and heartbreaking guilt on his face. John Dory had asked about it once, Branch just giving him a short, vague answer:

“It’s too loud. And I don’t sing.”

Despite his better judgment, John Dory decided not to push it. Singing had always been a sore subject for Branch for some reason, even before he came back here. Ever since the troll tree really. Which was odd, as Bitty B used to love singing, always begging his brother to let him join in. It was strange for a troll to not like music, but really, who was John Dory to say what a normal troll should like? He could hardly even consider himself a troll anymore. If Branch didn’t want to sing, he didn’t have to. He just wished his brother wouldn’t look so utterly dismal every time he heard it.

But really, all of Branch’s hesitance and coldness towards Troll Village John Dory could excuse. His baby brother had been through a lot, more than any kid his age should ever have to go through. It made sense he’d be a bit wary of other trolls, especially since they’d left him behind, not even bothering to check if he was alive (John Dory was still pretty pissed about that himself). However, there was one habit of his baby brother’s that he was really trying to break…

Every time someone walked past them, whether they gave a polite greeting, or a silent, judging glare, Branch would immediately tense. His hair would bristle out, his face curling up into a snarl. And he’d growl, hiss, make some sort of animalistic sound as his eyes flashed menacingly. It wasn’t aggressive, no. But it was a warning. He was telling them to back off, to stay away and leave them alone.

John Dory understood it, hell, he had to stop himself from doing the same sometimes. But he could see the looks on the Troll’s faces when they heard it, the way they’d peer between John Dory and Branch, making him feel about two centimeters tall.

Like they were some sort of wild animals.

“Bitty, you can’t just do that to everyone who gets within three feet of us!” He’d explained one day, his voice a tight whisper as he watched a couple trolls quickly scamper away.

“Why?” His brother had asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Because, it’s…” John Dory started, but quickly stopped himself. Because it’s… what? Weird? Un-troll like? Wild? He didn’t want his brother to feel like he was… wrong. There was nothing wrong with him. It was John Dory’s fault he made those sounds in the first place; he was the one who was all messed up in the head. His brother was just copying him. He should have listened to his gut out on the Neverglade, and nipped the habit in the bud while he still could, but after a while, it just… Didn’t seem worth it. But now…

“‘Cause it’s rude.” He finally decided on, hoping that answer would suffice.

Branch blinked, looking down at the ground. “Oh.” He seemed to think for a moment before his eyes narrowed once more. “Good.”

“No, dammit.” John Dory had cursed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “B, we want them to like us.”

“No, YOU want them to like us.” Branch had replied with a huff. “I couldn’t care less.”

John Dory just let out a defeated groan, not pushing the subject any further. Branch just didn’t get it, he didn’t grow up around trolls. Appearance was everything. How you looked, how you acted, the image you presented, it was crucial to being able to survive here. Well, maybe not ‘survive’, but…

John Dory was already labeled as an outsider. He didn’t want Branch to be labeled the same. He’d adjust to what life was like here. Eventually. But till then, John Dory wouldn’t push it. His little brother just needed time. And he’d just be there to guide him along the way.

For now, however, he was reserved to skirting along the outside of the village, trying to avoid any unnecessary interactions with its inhabitants. He just wanted to drop this fruit off to King Peppy, then make his retreat. It’d been a long day, and he was about ready to collapse, almost walking in a daze as he slowly scanned their surroundings. He’d overworked his hand again, and it twitched at his side like in painful protest. But he just tried to ignore it, letting out a yawn. Hopefully, he could actually get some sleep tonight. He was genuinely considering trying to get Rhonda to just knock him out…

He didn’t even acknowledge as a vision of Clay started to walk by his side, staring at him with a huge grin on his face.

“You look like a caterbus chewed you up and spit you out.” He teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m tired.” John Dory grumbled, keeping his eyes trained forward. He wasn’t in the mood for Clay’s shit today.

“You’re tired?”

This time, John Dory did jump at the sound of Branch’s voice, turning to see the young troll giving him a strange look. Crap, did he say that out loud?

“No! I mean, yeah, I guess. A little.” John Dory fumbled, quickly looking away. Branch trotted up closer to him, hands clenched tight on his bag.

“Are you still having nightmares?” He asked hesitantly, eyes wide with worry.

“No, no.” John Dory assured him, plastering on a grin. “I’m just… We did a lot today, what with the bunker, and the hunting and all. I’m beat.” He let out an exaggerated yawn as if to cement it in.

Branch’s face clouded with an expression John Dory didn’t recognize, glaring down at the ground. John Dory’s ears drooped, and he looked down as well. He didn’t like lying to Branch but… This was for the best. He didn’t want the young troll worrying about him all the time, it wasn’t right.

He shook the fuzziness from his head, trying to concentrate. He needed to be more careful. He couldn’t risk slipping up like that.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as he watched a shadow flit across the ground, his eyes going wide as the hair stood up on his neck. Without even thinking about it, he let out a small chirp, crouching low to the ground as Branch immediately followed suit. That sound was something he’d do to warn his brother of a very specific predator, without alerting the predator itself.

A bird. That shadow definitely belonged to a bird.

John Dory scanned the sky, before flicking his ears backwards, signaling for Branch to crawl back into the bushes. Branch quickly obeyed, John Dory following right behind him as they watched the bird circle above a small clearing.

He let out a silent sigh of relief. Birds weren’t too hard to deal with, if you kept an eye out for them. But that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. Branch had almost been taken by a bird, out on the Neverglade Trail. But John Dory had managed to leap onto its back before it took off, the bird making it several feet into the air before he managed to drive a wooden stake deep into its back. It dropped them pretty quick after that, but Branch still hated birds with a passion to this day.

John Dory followed the bird’s swooping flight, before his eyes dropped down to the clearing, curious as to what it was hunting at the moment. But that curiosity quickly turned to horror as he realized what was sitting unsuspecting in the grass. Or more specifically, who.

Trolls. Two of them, to be precise. One he didn’t recognize, with purple skin and swirled blue and green hair, talking gleefully as he showed off what looked like a magnifying glass. However, the other troll he did recognize, her bright pink hue vibrant in the afternoon sun.

Poppy.

That bird was going after Princess Poppy.

His breath caught in his throat, eyes locked on the two young trolls as the bird circled above them.

No no no, what were they doing outside the village?! It wasn’t safe out here! He quickly looked back up, eyes widening more as he watched the bird begin to dive, heading right towards the two small trolls. Adrenaline shot like ice through his veins, and he was on his feet before he even knew what was happening, his mouth curling into a determined snarl as he raced forward. Surprisingly, he could sense Branch right on his tail.

“Poppy!” He shouted, no longer worried about being quiet. The two trolls swung their heads his way, shock flashing across their faces.

“Poppy, run!”

Chapter Text

It was Poppy who reacted first.

She followed John Dory’s gaze, fear flickering across her face as her eyes landed on the bird diving towards her. “Run, Creek!” She screamed, grabbing the other troll and yanking him to his feet, trying to pull him towards the trees.

However, the other troll, Creek, just froze in place, his eyes locked on the critter as it let out a menacing screech, its talons reaching out for him. John Dory recognized that stance. The kid was terrified, scared stiff, just like Branch used to get. He wasn’t moving. And the bird was going to kill him.

“Creek, c’mon!” Poppy cried, pulling at him again. Just then, Branch used his hair to propel himself in front of John Dory, grabbing Poppy’s hand and pulling her away from Creek.

“Wait, he’s-” Poppy started, but was quickly interrupted.

“D’s got him!” Branch shouted, not slowing his stride, his wide, fearful eyes locked on the bird’s claws. “Run!” Poppy relented, racing along with him as they darted into the treeline, leaving Creek standing alone in the clearing.

John Dory pushed himself to run faster, his teeth clenched tight as his feet pounded across the soft ground, eyes locked on the young troll. He didn’t dare slow down. He had to save him, HE HAD TO SAVE HIM.

I wish I could have saved them…

He lunged forward with a desperate snarl, tackling the kid to the ground, the bird’s talons close enough that they sliced a few hairs from his head. But he quickly wrapped his hair around the small troll, holding him close to his chest as they rolled several feet away, before coming to a stop as they slammed into a tree.

John Dory retracted his hair, gasping for the breath that’d been knocked out of him as he looked back at the bird. It glared at him through beady eyes, letting out another ear-piercing screech as it stalked towards them, clearly upset that John Dory had stolen its dinner. He quickly reached into his hair for the machete he had stashed away, preparing to fight. But as he pulled it out, his hand cramped, agonizing pain shooting through him. He let out a hiss, dropping it on the ground. Well, there went that idea.

So instead, he held tighter to the small troll in his arms, hair bristling as he let out a warning growl, baring his teeth. Red pulsed at the edge of his vision, eyes locked on the bird’s throat. He would not let it hurt this kid.

He was no stranger to the taste of blood.

But it turns out, he didn’t need to worry. The bird looked just about as surprised as he did as a rock bashed into the side of its skull, making it squawk in pain. John Dory quickly turned to see Branch, standing just a few feet away, another rock pulled back into his slingshot as he let out a threatening snarl. And just like that, he let another one fly.

After being beaned twice in the head, the bird decided this meal wasn’t worth it, letting out a final screech as it took off, disappearing into the sky. John Dory let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, a mix of different emotions swirling around inside him. Relief, pride, guilt. That could have gone worse…

His hand twitched painfully at his side.

But it could have gone a lot better too.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he focused his attention on the young troll in his arms. He looked to be about Branch’s age, and luckily, didn’t appear to be too hurt, besides a few scrapes, a bit of blood oozing from his chin.

“You ok, kid?” He asked breathily, still recovering from slamming into that tree. The kid, Creek, just stared at him, eyes wide with fear. He reached up a shaky hand, touching his chin, before bringing it away, bright blue blood staining his fingertips. His eyes grew even wider, before they narrowed, and he shoved his hands into John Dory’s chest.

“Let go of me!” He shouted in an accented voice, struggling away from John Dory’s grip.

“Woah, chill kid, relax-” John Dory replied, confused as he pulled his hands back, but Creek just shoved his chest again, falling backwards into the dirt, and hastily pushing himself away. He still looked scared, but more so angry, and embarrassed, his face flushed a deep purple. John Dory reached forward in an attempt to calm the kid down, but Creek just recoiled, holding up his hands defensively.

“Keep your hands off me, you monster!”

…

Monster?

Did he just call him a… Monster?

This wasn’t him, he wasn’t some… monster.

I didn’t want you to think less of me. Think I was some sort of… monster.

John Dory drew back as if he’d been slapped, that word echoing in his head as images of blood and red flashed in his mind. Monster? That… that wasn’t right, he’d just saved this kid’s life! Maybe Creek was just scared, but god, hearing that?

That stung.

John Dory didn’t have time to recover from his shock before a few trolls from the village began to file into the clearing, probably to investigate all the shouting. Immediately, John Dory was set on edge. He scrambled to his feet, Branch darting over to stand next to him, as a crowd of trolls apprehensively made their way over.

“Creek!”

A troll broke through the underbrush, racing across the clearing and falling to her knees as she cupped Creek’s face in her hands. “Are you ok, baby? No no no, your beautiful face… What happened?”

“I was just playing, and he attacked me!” Creek replied, glaring at John Dory as tears started to stream down his face. Gasps echoed across the clearing, the troll’s eyes going wide with alarm, including John Dory’s, who felt as if all the air left his lungs.

Luckily, he had the wherewithal to let out an incredibly intelligent “What?!”, feeling Branch bristle with indignation at his side.

He shook his head, holding up his hands defensively. “Woah woah woah, hold on now, I didn’t attack him!” He insisted desperately, shrinking under the many eyes now locked on him. “You don’t understand, there was a bird-”

“You!” The troll kneeling next to Creek, who John Dory assumed was his mother, rose to her feet, stalking up to him as her tail whipped back and forth. “I knew you were dangerous, I knew it!”

Dangerous…?

“Wait, please, I swear, I was just trying to protect him!” John Dory stuttered out, his entire body tense with fear. This was all just a misunderstanding, if he could just explain… But his brain seemed to be dipping out on him, his fuzzy mind too frantic to think. “I uh, you see, t-that bird was going to grab him, and I had to get him out of the way-”

“I told King Peppy it was a mistake to let you stay here!” She hissed, eyes flashing with rage. “We all saw what you did to him at that party; he should have thrown you out then and there! You’re throwing out bad vibes all over the place, basically more critter than troll!”

John Dory’s ears pinned back at her harsh words, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. And of course, Branch decided that would be a great time to tell this lady to back off, letting out a warning growl. She stared down at him, lips curling in disgust. “And that brother of yours is just like you!”

This time, John Dory felt a growl escape his lips too, a mix of anger and shame boiling in his gut. He couldn’t help it. She could say all she wanted about him, but he would not let her drag Branch into this. He didn’t do anything! He pushed Branch behind him protectively, glaring at the other troll.

“You see?!” She said, addressing the trolls as she stepped back, wrapping Creek in her arms. “He attacked our King, and he attacked my son! He’s out of control!” Murmurs began to bubble up from across the crowd, buzzing in his ears like flies…

“He does act strange…”

“...all that sneaking around…”

“And that grey…”

“He hurt Creek…”

“...acts so wild, it’s not safe…”

No… No no no, it wasn’t true! He had his quirks, sure. There were the animalistic noises, the way he chose to fight with snarls and teeth, the way he couldn’t tell what was real sometimes, the way he’d held a pointed stake to their king’s throat… Ok, maybe those were more than quirks, but he wasn’t dangerous…

Was he?

“I didn’t attack Creek.” He said in a low voice, urging the trolls to believe him. No matter what they thought about him, that part was true. They had to believe him, he didn’t do anything wrong! He was just trying to help…

“Wait!”

The eyes shifted off him as a pink blur raced into the clearing, followed by a familiar orange troll. John Dory instantly recognized Poppy, and King Peppy. The young troll must have ran to get her father after the bird attacked. John Dory couldn’t tell if he was more anxious or relieved to see the king, his stomach turning in knots.

Poppy skidded to a halt in front of John Dory, facing out towards the crowd. “John Dory didn’t attack Creek!” She said loudly, addressing the trolls without a hint of fear in her voice. “Creek and I were just playing, and a bird attacked us. But then John Dory ran in out of nowhere, and he scooped Creek up before the bird could grab him! And Branch scared it off with a bunch of rocks, it was amazing!” She whipped around, winded as she looked at Branch. “You were really brave!”

Branch looked stunned for a moment, his hard gaze softening, before moving further behind John Dory, out of sight. Poppy then turned her eyes up to the older troll, sparkling with excitement and gratitude. “And so were you! That bird woulda got us without you!”

The attention shifted back to John Dory, and he felt himself tense. King Peppy walked up behind his daughter, setting a hand on her shoulder as he gave him a worried look. “Is this true?” He asked.

John Dory didn’t feel as though he could speak anymore, so he just gave a tight nod.

“King Peppy, you can’t believe this!” Creek’s mother stalked over, pushing Creek in front of her. “Look what he did to my son! I told you he’s dangerous!”

“Brook, please. I told you before, John Dory is just as welcome here as anyone else. And I know you’re upset, but I trust my daughter’s word.” King Peppy replied sternly. He let out a sigh, before turning to Creek. “Creek, it sounds to me like John Dory was trying to rescue you. Perhaps you were mistaken?”

Creek looked up at the king, then over at John Dory, before his eyes settled on Poppy. “I… guess I don’t know.” He said finally, walking over to the small pink troll as he held his hands dramatically to his chest, his voice slow, calculated. “There was just so much happening. When I saw that bird, I knew I had to protect Princess Poppy, so I held my ground. That was when John Dory tackled me out of nowhere, and he just sounded so vicious, and I thought….” He began to sniffle, wiping his eyes. “Perhaps I was mistaken, o-or confused. I was just so scared.”

Poppy wrapped Creek in a hug, holding him close. “It’s ok to be scared, Creek.” She said, before pushing him back to smile brightly at him. “Thanks for trying to protect me.”

“Liar…” John Dory heard Branch hiss from behind him, and he couldn’t agree more. Creek hadn’t been sticking around to protect Poppy, the kid had nearly pissed himself when that bird swooped down. But things made more sense now. Creek wasn’t hurt physically, no. But his pride clearly was.

“There, you see? It was all just a misunderstanding!” King Peppy said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. “Brook, why don’t you take Creek to Dr. Moonbloom, let her take a look.”

Brook still seemed pretty peeved, her lips pursed into a tight line. She strode over to King Peppy, before pointing a finger towards John Dory. “He doesn’t belong here.” She spat, before spinning around, heading back towards the village. “Come on, Creek. Let’s go. I have to realign my chakras all over again.”

Creek smiled at Poppy before trotting after his mother, shooting a quick look back at John Dory. Strangely, JD felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the kid looked at him. There was just something in that gaze, something off. An almost apathetic amusement, glinting in his eyes. And John Dory decided he didn’t like that kid at all. He shifted his gaze over to where he and Poppy had been playing, where the magnifying glass lay discarded next to a small ant-critter hill. John Dory didn’t have to be a genius to know what Creek had been doing with it. A slight chill traveled up his spine.

He knew Creek was just a troll, just a kid, but something deep in the back of his mind screamed ‘Danger’.

“Alright Trolls, let’s head back into town. It’s not safe out here.” King Peppy announced, the trolls beginning to disperse, disappearing into the undergrowth. The king nodded approvingly, before turning over his shoulder, face unreadable. “Oh, and John? A word, please.”

John Dory wilted, feeling as if he were about to get the scolding of his life. He was grateful to the king for sticking up for him, but at the same time, he knew this wasn’t about him at all. King Peppy wasn’t doing this because he cared about John Dory, it was because he felt guilty about what happened to Clay, and was apparently trying to make up for it by letting both him and Branch stay here, despite their… quirks. Although the effort was appreciated, John Dory couldn’t get rid of the ache that built in his chest everytime he was around him. That was something he didn’t really care to unpack right now.

He begrudgingly began to follow behind King Peppy as the older troll led them into town, walking in apprehensive silence as Branch and Poppy trotted along by his side.

“Where’d you learn to use a slingshot like that?” Poppy asked the young troll, eyes shining as she tried to start a conversation.

Branch seemed hesitant, but began to speak softly, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. “JD. For hunting, mostly.”

“Hunting? Trolls don’t hunt.” Poppy said, looking confused.

“We do.” Branch replied tightly. John Dory pursed his lips, that shame welling up in his chest once more.

Poppy seemed to consider this, before speaking again. “Well, it was really cool. My dad doesn’t let me do cool stuff like that. He says it’s dangerous or whatever, and that he doesn’t want me to get hurt. But I want to learn all that cool defensive, fighting stuff, so I can protect my kingdom from anything!” She punched the air a few times, as if to cement in her point. For just a moment, John Dory could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile on Branch’s face.

Poppy blinked, somehow brightening even more as she whipped around to face Branch, the grey troll bristling slightly. “Maybe you could teach me! You teach me how to do cool stuff like slingshotting, and then I could teach you something too! Like how to scrapbook, or talk to people! Friends always help each other out!”

Branch almost looked like he had whiplash, but he quickly shook his head, eyes narrowing. “We’re not friends.” He growled. “And I know how to talk to people, I’m not an idiot. I sure as hell don’t need your help.”

“Well, if you can talk to people, why don’t you?” Poppy asked pointedly.

“‘Cause I don’t want to.” Branch huffed, looking back at the ground. “I don’t like them.”

Poppy frowned, staring at the ground as well, before she perked up again. “But you talk to me!” She said with a grin, turning to face him again with an excited squeal. “So that means you must like me! We are friends, I knew it!”

“We are not friends!” Branch replied in exasperation, his tail lashing side to side as his face flushed. John Dory finally broke out of his stupor, cuffing his little brother over the head.

“Be nice.” He chastised halfheartedly, his eyes locked on the pod they were approaching. King Peppy’s pod, to be precise. He could about feel his heart beating in his throat.

King Peppy led them inside, the well-furnished pod homely and spacious. John Dory stuck his hands in his pockets, not willing to touch anything. Just his luck, he’d manage to knock something over while he was here. He could feel his hand twitching at his side…

Poppy scampered in behind him, followed by Branch, who eyed the pod suspiciously, mumbling to himself. Most likely he was complaining about how much he hated them.

“This is our pod!” Poppy announced, grinning ear to ear. “It’s really big, but I can give you the tour if you like! We have the kitchen over here, and over here is a HUGE scrapbooking room-”

“No no, Poppy.” King Peppy interrupted, his face stern. “You can go to your room. You’re grounded young lady.”

“What?!” Poppy exclaimed in indignation, her hair bristling. “Why?!”

“I told you if you snuck off again, there would be consequences.” King Peppy replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “And not only did you sneak off, you left the village! You could’ve been hurt, and young Creek was hurt! If it wasn’t for John Dory…” The king’s voice caught, his resolve wavering. But then he shook his head, doubling down. “I need to trust that you’ll listen to me, for your own safety. It’s not safe for you out there on your own.”

Poppy bristled even more, her eyes flashing. “You never let me do anything!” She said loudly, her hands balled into little fists. “I’m not fragile! I want to protect people, like JD does!”

Please don’t bring me into this… John Dory thought, whistling innocently as he stared at a really interesting scratch on their floor. The last thing he needed was another kid trying to be just like him.

King Peppy didn’t falter, pointing deeper into the pod. “Now, Poppy.”

Poppy almost looked like she was going to say something else, passion burning in her eyes, before she wilted, her entire body drooping. “Sorry, Dad.” She said softly, softer than John Dory had ever heard her speak before, then slowly walked down the hall into a room, her tail dragging. She disappeared into a far room, closing the door behind her.

King Peppy sighed, massaging his forehead. “I apologize for all that. Poppy’s just… strong-willed. Which is a wonderful trait for a leader, but quite the difficult trait when raising a daughter. She can just be so stubborn sometimes.”

“I know what you mean.” John Dory grumbled back, shooting a look over at Branch. The young troll had watched Poppy go, before his eyes locked on a large bookshelf in the corner of the pod, widening in awe. He walked over as if in a trance, tracing across the many books. It occurred to John Dory that this might be the first time in a long, long time he’d seen that many books in one place. They really just had the one, Clay’s dictionary, which was so annotated and used by both Clay and Branch, that it was really beginning to weather.

“You like to read, Branch?” King Peppy asked, a soft smile on his face as Branch turned towards him, face curled into a suspicious scowl. “You’re welcome to read for a bit while I talk to your brother, if you’d like.”

Branch’s face softened, and he looked between the bookcase, and John Dory. JD just gave a nod, grinning as well. “Go on. Anything’s gotta be better than that dictionary, right?”

Branch’s expression didn’t change, but his tail started to wag slightly. He gave King Peppy a small nod, then grabbed an armful of books, walking unsteadily to the far wall and plopping down on the floor, immediately burying his nose in the pages. A sense of pride welled up in John Dory’s chest. Branch could read, and he could read well. That was at least one thing he hadn’t managed to fuck up.

But… speaking up fuck ups…

King Peppy motioned for him to follow to their kitchen table, and he plopped down uncomfortably in his seat, digging his nails into the side of the chair as his ears pinned against the side of his head.

“This doesn’t seem good…” An image of Floyd appeared next to him, his brows furrowed with worry. “Do you think he’s mad at us?”

John Dory’s grip only tightened.

“Lemonade?”

John Dory perked up at King Peppy’s voice, the king holding out a small cup to him. “Oh, sure uh, thanks…” He mumbled, prying his fingers from the chair to grab it. The king sat down, taking a sip, so John Dory did the same. However, he just as quickly spat it out, coughing as it burned his throat.

That shit was STRONG.

King Peppy laughed, before pushing a glass of water over to him, which John Dory gladly accepted. “Perhaps water will suffice.” He said with a wink, John Dory just nodded along with him. King Peppy took another sip, before his face grew serious, setting his drink down. “Now John, I think we need to have a conversation about what happened today.”

John Dory winced, the events playing in his head on repeat. “I didn’t attack that kid.” He insisted quickly.

“I know, I know.” King Peppy replied, holding up a hand. “I’m not talking about that.”

Maybe the king meant that to be reassuring, but it instead just set off alarm bells in John Dory’s head. His eyes briefly flicked to Branch, then the door, as if his body were preparing to bolt.

“No, there’s a bigger problem here.” King Peppy continued, folding his hands over his lap. “Something I’ve become even more aware of over these past weeks…”

His mind was racing too much to listen anymore. Right, if he was quick, he could grab Branch, and they could probably make it out that window by the bookshelf. He’d just have to use his hair, and then-

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

Chapter Text

John Dory blinked, breaking out of his swirling head as he looked back at the king.

“Heh, what?” He asked, a nervous smile stretching across his face. “Sorry, I think I missed that…”

“I’d like to offer you a job.” King Peppy repeated patiently. “To be a sort of… scout. To protect our village, and make it safe. You clearly know what it takes to survive out here, more than any other troll. We could really use your expertise.”

John Dory felt shocked, as if his brain short circuited, slowly prying his clenched fingers from the edge of his seat. After everything, King Peppy was… offering him a job? He actually WANTED John Dory’s weird survival skills?

“Wow.” Spruce’s voice said, the purple haired troll appearing by John Dory’s other side, looking about as shocked as he did. “That’s a first.” John Dory almost shushed him before he caught himself.

Not only was King Peppy offering him a job, but to be a scout? Just like his… Well, that brought up some confusing emotions. He quickly swallowed them down, focusing his attention on the king.

“It’s been difficult, these past few years.” King Peppy continued, his face curling into a grimace. “All of our scouts were killed during the Great Escape, and they were the only ones who knew anything about survival. After suffering for so many decades at the hands of the Bergens, I wanted to create a place where my people could feel safe, but I just don’t have the knowledge to do so. We’ve done the best we could out here, but we struggle to find food, and supplies. Critters don’t typically stray into the village, but the moment anyone steps foot outside… Well, you’ve seen what happens.” His frown deepened. “We’ve lost too many good trolls to the forest.”

His jaw tightened, before looking back up at John Dory. “But you know these woods. And not only did you survive out there, you managed to protect your brother too. I know this is a lot to ask of a young troll like you, and I wouldn’t in any other circumstance, but I feel as though I have no other choice.” He stared down the hallway, towards Poppy’s room. “I don’t want to lose anyone else due to my own ineptness.” He said in a low voice, before his eyes flicked back. “And a good leader knows when to ask for help. So I’m asking you to help us, help me protect my people. Please.”

Jonn Dory was speechless, utterly unsure of what to say. He wasn’t even certain he could talk. But he tried to clear the lump in his throat, forcing himself to answer.

“King Peppy, I’d love to help, but…” He bit his cheek, his hand clenching tight. “We both know the trolls don’t trust me, and honestly, I don’t blame them. How am I supposed to protect them if they think I’m…” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. “Look, the point is, they don’t like me. They don’t want me around.”

“Yes, they are a bit wary of your more… unorthodox methods.” King Peppy admitted. “But I think you’re exactly what we need, even if they don’t know it. The trolls are a positive, lively bunch, and they don’t quite understand the gravity of the situation we’re in.” He nervously played with his beard. “And well, my more optimistic reassurances probably haven’t helped.”

King Peppy looked back at him, eyes intense. “But I’ve seen you in action, son. You know how to fight, how to find food. You can walk through the village completely unnoticed, which is no easy feat in a village full of ‘hello’ happy trolls mind you. And I’ve nearly been caught in those traps around your burrow a couple times now.”

Yeesh, John Dory might have to have a talk with his ‘trap-happy’ little brother…

“Regardless,” King Peppy continued, “The point is you know your stuff. And even if the trolls don’t trust you yet, they need you.” His gaze grew intense once more. “Remember, trust isn’t given easily. It’s earned.”

John Dory’s ears pinned back against his head, his shoulders hunching up. King Peppy had a point. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky, arrogant, boy band star, leader of Brozone they once knew. Since he’d come back, the trolls had only seen him at his worst. It was no wonder they thought he was a monster. But if he did this, if he could protect them…

It was a lot. He’d barely managed to protect Branch from the terrors nature seemed to love throwing at him, and that was before he’d been burned to a crisp. How the hell was he supposed to protect an entire VILLAGE? That was a lot of responsibility to drop on a half-baked, crazy person.

But deep down, he already knew what his answer was going to be. King Peppy was right, they needed him.

He couldn’t bear to let them down.

“I’ll do it.” He murmured, barely above a whisper, before clearing his throat, speaking a bit louder. “I’ll do it, I’ll… I’ll be a scout.”

King Peppy’s face broke into a grin. “Brilliant!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling in a way that was so similar to Poppy. He climbed to his feet, John Dory doing the same. “You just tell me what you need, anything at all, and I will make it happen, alright?”

John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle at the old king’s enthusiasm, despite his own doubts churning in his gut. “You’ve got a deal.” He replied, reaching out to shake the king’s hand.

King Peppy obliged, grabbing his hand firmly, before pulling him in for a tight hug. John Dory immediately tensed with surprise and fear, fighting the urge to pull away. This hug… It felt so genuine, so real… But it wasn’t, was it? This wasn’t about him, this was about protecting troll village, about the king’s guilt regarding his wild-haired younger brother. He wondered for a moment if the king was imagining it was Clay in his arms, instead of the husk of a troll that’d returned to him. But just then, King Peppy reached up, gently petting his hair.

“Thank you, John.” King Peppy said, his voice heavy. “You’re a good kid, don’t forget that.”

Fuck.

John Dory couldn’t help it. His hands slowly rose, wrapping around the king as well, as his head fell softly on his shoulders, his heart swelling with pain. This wasn’t about him, no, but maybe just for a second…

He could pretend it was.

After a moment, King Peppy pulled back, clearing his throat as he reached up in his hair. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He said hoarsely, retrieving what looked like a small picture. King Peppy smiled at it fondly, before his expression grew clouded. He sighed, then held it out towards John Dory. “I’d like you to have this. I meant to give it to you a few days ago, but well, one of those clever traps going off near your burrow was enough to make me reconsider.”

John Dory made another mental note to talk to Branch about that, before he slowly took the picture, tracing his hand over the figures as his chest seemed to tighten.

It was Clay. Clay and Viva, standing together on the Troll Tree. It must have been closer to Trollstice, and the Great Escape, as Clay looked a bit older than the last time John Dory had seen him. His hair was wild in a way John Dory hadn’t seen in years, matching perfectly with Viva’s curly yellow hair. He grinned at the camera, that familiar mischief glinting in his eyes as he appeared to pinch Viva in the side, the young princess’ face frozen mid laugh as she pushed him away. It was such a sweet scene, and John Dory could feel his eyes starting to sting, but he quickly bit his cheek, pushing down the grief threatening to burst forward. Instead, he focused on something that felt… off about the picture.

Clay looked… Different. Older slightly, yes, but there was something else too. He looked… muted. His usually bright yellow hair had darkened, becoming more green, and his skin seemed a few shades dimmer. And with a jolt, John Dory realized what it was. Clay wasn’t grey, no, at least not completely like Branch and him were. But he’d lost a bit of his color. John Dory felt his mouth go dry. When did that happen?

His thoughts were interrupted as King Peppy spoke again, his voice shaking slightly.

“This was the last picture I had of them before… before I lost them.” The older troll said softly.

John Dory pried his gaze up from the photo. “King Peppy, I can’t take this-” He started, but the king quickly held up his hand.

“Please.” He said, his face fraught with pain. He took a shaky breath before continuing. “After I lost my daughter, and your brother, I nearly fell apart. My heart was broken. Her, Clay, and Poppy, they were everything to me, especially after losing my wife.” He clenched his jaw. “But I have a kingdom to run, trolls who are looking to me during this hard time, who’ve lost friends and family as well. And if I let this consume me… I will only lose more.”

The King couldn’t meet his eyes, staring down at the ground. “Poppy was too young to remember what happened, and I… I haven’t told her. She doesn’t know anything about it, or anything about Viv- Her sister. And I forbid the other trolls from talking about her as well. I know it’s wrong, but it’s just too painful, and I can’t-” His voice broke, before he pushed the photo closer to John Dory’s chest. “I want you to have this.” He repeated, his voice hollow. “You deserve it more than I do.”

John Dory looked back down at the photo, his mind reeling. King Peppy hadn’t told Poppy about her sister? No wonder he didn’t want any photos around. John Dory may lie about many things, but he would never lie about something like that. The thought made his chest burn with anger. First King Peppy didn’t tell Clay about what happened to their Grandma and Branch, and now he was pretending Viva never existed? Who does that?

But as he looked at the old king, his anger slowly fizzled out. He didn’t see a vengeful troll, keeping secrets just for the heck of it. He just saw a broken man, unable to cope with the death of his daughter, and trying desperately to keep it together to protect what he had left.

That was something John Dory could understand.

He carefully tucked the photo into his coat pocket, before looking back up at the king. “Thank you.”

King Peppy just smiled sadly back at him. “No, thank you, son.” He cleared his throat once more, straightening up. “I’m sorry, I… No matter how many years go by, something like that…” He clutched a hand to his chest. “It still hurts.”

“Yeah.” John Dory replied, seeing images of Clay, Floyd, and Spruce appear behind King Peppy, staring at him blankly. “It does.”

“Now,” The king said, shaking his head and adopting an almost overly enthusiastic tone as he clapped his hands together. “We can discuss the details of the job later, but I think this is a good thing. For the trolls,” He gave John Dory a knowing look, “And for you.” He then peered to John Dory’s side. “Before you head home, however, you should probably stop by Dr. Moonbloom to get that looked at.” King Peppy held up his arm, revealing a small smear of blood on it.

John Dory blinked, confused, before turning to his side. There was a small scrape on his shoulder, slightly oozing that bright blue blood. That bird must have clipped him a bit closer than he’d thought. Ew. John Dory grimaced, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Oh that’s nothing.” He said with a shrug. “I didn’t even know it was there.”

King Peppy’s eyes narrowed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well then, go as a favor to me. It couldn’t hurt anything.”

“It might.” John Dory replied, shivering as he pictured Dr. Moonbloom’s piercing glare. However, now that he thought about it, he had run out of bandages in his First Aid kit. Maybe he could ask the Doc for some extras. “But alright.” He said, groaning as he stretched out his aching back. “Guess I can make one last stop.”

He paused for a moment, before looking back at King Peppy. “Thank you, by the way.” He said, hoping he didn’t sound too awkward. “For… I don’t know, believing me?” He let out a nervous laugh, before it fizzled out in his throat. “I really was just trying to protect that kid.”

“I know.” King Peppy replied in a low voice. “Creek can be… difficult sometimes, and his mother Brook has a tendency to blow things out of proportion. But I trust my daughter.” His gaze grew intense. “You saved her life. And for that, I should be thanking you. Thank you for protecting her. I won’t forget that.”

John Dory didn’t know what to say, but in all honesty, he didn’t really have to say anything. Something unsaid passed between him and King Peppy. An understanding.

A trust.

He gave the king a nod, then turned towards the corner wall, where Branch still had his face buried in a book. “Bitty, it’s time.”

Branch didn’t seem to hear him, so John Dory walked up to where he was sitting, crouching down in front of him. Branch still didn’t acknowledge him, so he reached out, poking him in the forehead. “Bitty B, hello?”

That finally got Branch’s attention, the young troll looking up in surprise, before his face narrowed into a scowl. “What?” He huffed, ears flicking in annoyance.

“Time to go.” John Dory chuckled in reply. “What, that book a little more interesting than Clay’s stupid dictionary?”

“It’s about architecture.” Branch said, unable to hide his excitement as his tail twitched. “It gave me some ideas for the Bunker.”

“Attaboy.” John Dory replied proudly, ruffling his hair. God his brother was smart. “Now c’mon, I think the King’s seen enough of my ugly mug for one day.”

“You can take that book with you if you’d like, Branch.” King Peppy chimed it, a smile on his face. “Poppy and I prefer the ones with pictures in them.”

Branch looked between the King and the book suspiciously, before quickly tucking it up in his hair, as if any second the old troll might take it back from him. But after a moment, he mumbled out a small “Thanks.”, staring at the floor. That was about all the king was going to get out of John Dory’s talkative younger brother.

Just then, the door to Poppy’s room slammed open, and a pink blur raced out. She sprinted over to Branch, and without slowing down, practically tackled him with a hug. “Bye Branch!” She said loudly, leaving the young troll dazed, before doing the same to John Dory, almost knocking him over. “And bye JD! Thanks for saving me!”

Without a second to lose, she sprinted back to her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Poppy!” King Peppy shouted after her in exasperation, before shaking his head. “That girl is going to give me more grey hair.” He muttered, turning back to the brothers. “I’ll see you boys around. We’ll talk soon. But first, I need to go have a little chat with my daughter.” He locked eyes with John Dory, giving him a stern look. “Get that arm checked out.” He said firmly, before his expression softened. “And please, take care of yourself. You look tired, son.”

“Yessir.” John Dory replied in a low voice. Ah yes, there was the scolding he was waiting for.

The king nodded, then headed off towards Poppy’s room, while JD and Branch showed themselves out, making their way over to the medicine pod.

“What did he want?” Branch asked, glaring at a few trolls passing by.

John Dory smiled sadly, thinking about the picture in his pocket. “We just talked.” He replied. “Found a job for me to do.” He gave his little brother a side eye. “Have you been setting traps around the Bunker?”

Branch tensed, not meeting his gaze. “No.”

Off to his side, an image of Clay appeared, chuckling to himself. “Looks like you need to have a little chat with Bitty as well, ey JD?” He said with a shit-eating grin.

John Dory didn’t reply, instead just staring at him for a moment. He couldn’t help but notice the image of his brother had changed.

Now, he looked just like he did in that photo.

.
.
.

John Dory stepped into the medicine pod, Branch trailing slowly behind him. His younger brother seemed to despise this place even more than John Dory did, and that was saying something. But at the same time, JD had been here so much lately, it didn’t fill him with quite as much dread as it used to.

The nurse, who John Dory now knew was called Birch, peeked up from his desk, his eyes immediately widening like they did every time he saw John Dory. “Dr. Moonbloom’s in her office, you can go right in.” He said hastily, before quickly darting away, disappearing into the back of the pod.

John Dory scratched his head. “Yeesh, that guy does not like me.” He mumbled to himself as he began to walk towards Doc’s office.

“Probably ‘cause you broke his arm.” Branch replied, his nose already buried deep in that book again.

“I did what now?”

He didn’t get his answer before they stopped in the doorway to Dr. Moonbloom’s office, the older troll sorting through different supplies on her shelf. She paused her work, letting out a deep sigh. “John Dory, that better not be you.” She chirped, before spinning around, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her hands over her chest.

“Heyyyy Doc.” John Dory said with a nervous grin. “How’d you know it was me?”

“You’re the only one who walks into this office quietly, without dramatics.” She replied in a clipping tone, before looking down at his side. “Hello, Branch.”

Branch just hummed, not looking up from his book as he walked inside, plopping down on a chair. John Dory huffed, but followed him inside.

“Still not talking, I see.” Dr. Moonbloom commented as John Dory took a seat as well.

“We’re working on it.” He replied defensively. “And to be fair, he talks to me. And Poppy. And King Peppy. Sometimes.”

“And your hand?”

John Dory quickly tucked said, twitching hand behind his back. “Doing great.” He lied through gritted teeth. “Practically brand new.”

Dr. Moonbloom let out an unconvinced sigh, cleaning off her glasses. “Right. Now tell me, what was it this time? Did you cut yourself with that machete again?”

“That was one time!” John Dory insisted, his face going flush. “And no, I got clipped by a bird. Just a scratch, really. But King Peppy insisted I let you look at it.”

Dr. Moonbloom leaned it, looking the scratch up and down. “It’s not deep, but birds do carry all sorts of nasty things. Riddled with diseases, practically flying infections.”

John Dory couldn’t help but let out a snort.

“I’d like to treat it with something, just to be safe.” Dr. Moonbloom said, pulling a jar off the shelf and popping the lid. John Dory’s face immediately scrunched up at the strong scent of yarrow, sneezing as the smell tickled his nose.

“Sorry. Yarrow.” He apologized as the Doc began to smear the poultice on his shoulder. She paused mid application, looking at him.

“You know this plant?” She asked curiously.

“Well yeah.” John Dory laughed softly. “Wouldn’t have survived without it. You gotta know your plants out there, y’know?”

Dr. Moonbloom blinked, then finished applying the poultice without another word, before reaching towards the shelf for some bandages. However, her hand landed on empty wood, frustration flickering across her face.

“Sorry, but we’ll just have to leave it at that.” She said, irritation creeping into her voice. “I used the last of my bandages patching up young Creek. He didn’t really need them, but Brook insisted.” She let out a sigh, massaging her forehead. “I’m running low on supplies again. I send trolls out to collect them, but so many come back injured from trying that I just use them all up again.”

John Dory frowned, his hands tightening on his pants. Man, the trolls really did need something to protect them. Or… someone.

“Regardless,” Dr. Moonbloom continued. “You should be fine. I would say take it easy, but I know you won’t, so I won’t bother.” She pulled out a large stack of paper from her drawer, setting it on her desk with a thud. “Your file keeps getting larger. For the sake of my back, I ask that you kindly try and refrain from getting injured.”

“You have me on file?” John Dory asked, bewildered.

“I have everyone on file.” Dr. Moonbloom replied easily, scribbling within the pages. “Nearly lost my life dragging them from the troll tree.”

“She risked her life for some stupid papers?” Spruce’s voice said with surprise.

“Wow.” Clay’s voice popped up, peeking over the Doc’s shoulder. “She’s crazier than you.” An image of Floyd appeared, shushing them both.

“Why?” John Dory said, pointedly ignoring his brothers.

“Because I’m a doctor.” She replied, not looking up at him. “It’s what I do.”

Well, he couldn’t help but respect her for that. He leaned forward, trying to read the Doc’s scribbles, but he couldn’t make sense of any of it. “Can I see it?” He asked, straining to get a better look of the shifting letters. What all did she have written about him in there…?

“Absolutely not.” Dr. Moonbloom chirped, slamming the file shut. “That’s confidential.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means no.” She replied with a smirk, peering over her glasses.

John Dory rolled his eyes, climbing to his feet. “You’re funny, Doc. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“No. They usually say I’ve got terrible bedside manner. Too intense.” Dr. Moonbloom shrugged. “But I don’t care much. I’m not here to make them happy, I’m here to get them healthy. The happy part they gotta do on their own.”

“Riiiight.” John Dory replied. “Well anyways, thanks for the touch up.” He paused for a moment, before continuing. “And… if I see any plants you might need while I’m out, I’ll grab them for you.”

“Thank you.” The Doc said, staring back at her shelves. “I can’t protect my patients if I don’t have the tools.” She gave him a side eye, that intensity once again freezing him in place. “Take it easy, John Dory.”

John Dory gulped, nodding back at her. “You know me. Taking it easy.”

Dr. Moonbloom turned to Branch, who was tucking the book back up in his hair. “Keep an eye on him, Branch.” She said firmly. “Your brother’s quite the handful.”

Branch scoffed, glaring at John Dory with an expression that said ‘You don’t even know the half of it’. He grabbed his older brother’s hand, dragging him towards the door, while John Dory gave the Doc a small wave.

“Thanks Doc, see you later!”

“Please don’t.”

As they made their way back to Rhonda, John Dory was lost in thought, brainstorming some ideas for how he could set up protective measures for the village. King Peppy was right, they needed him, now more than ever. If he wanted the trolls to trust him, he’d have to prove himself to be someone worth trusting.

For once in his pathetic, screw up of a life, maybe he could finally be useful.

Chapter Text

A few months following his chat with King Peppy, and starting his job as Troll Village’s one and only, glorified scout, John Dory was actually pretty proud of the work he’d done.

Along with a little help from Branch, he’d managed to set up a pretty good perimeter stretching past the village borders in which the trolls could wander without worry of being eaten, or worse. He’d dragged a fair amount of brambles to block openings in the dense underbrush where large critters could slip through, tied branches to block the view of the forest floor from birds flying above, and even spent a good week cutting down a patch of aggressive Tiger Lilies. He did have a couple run-ins with some beasts that weren’t too happy about the new rules of the forest, but a few scraps with him, and they decided it wasn’t worth it (They weren’t too bad; the look Dr. Moonbloom gave him as he came limping into her office was much, much worse).

He and Branch also set up a slew of different traps and alarms around the perimeter, to ensure the villager’s safety. The young troll grumbled about wasting their time protecting a bunch of loud, naive trolls, but John Dory could tell he was also proud of the work they did. He took great care in setting the traps, constantly coming up with new ideas and sketching out elaborate rigs both for the village, and for the bunker, which was becoming more and more livable each day. Despite the hang-ups John Dory still had about the Bunker, unable to shake the lingering fear in his chest about being trapped within the heavy earth walls, he couldn’t help but watch on with pride. His little brother was growing up, really coming into his own. And he couldn’t be more proud.

There were perks that came with making Troll Village safer, and the surrounding forest more accessible to the villagers. Now that they could trapeze around the woods without fear, they were finally able to collect more food, supplies, anything they needed. Which made John Dory’s life easier too.

When he and Branch needed lumber for furniture, he made a safe path for the construction trolls to follow to a grove of dead trees. And suddenly, there was plenty of wood to go around. When he overheard a troll complaining about how he couldn’t harvest coffee beans due to a tarantulacapuff problem, John Dory went and chased the large critters away. And the next day, he was able to get several bags of fresh, roasted coffee beans, the perfect fix for his sleep-deprived mind.

It was a good trade; he protected the trolls, and they provided him with things he couldn’t get himself. Not that they really knew it was him… He didn’t exactly go around talking to people much, so he doubted they even knew what he was doing out there. Their eyes continued to nervously follow him every time he set foot in the village. But it didn’t matter. They were safe, Branch was safe. He was doing a good thing. They needed him. So what if they didn’t necessarily like him? It wasn’t like he ever really had friends anyways.

And he got coffee out of it so… Who cares?

Slowly but surely, he and Branch were settling into what life was like in Troll Village. Well, ish… They still didn’t visit the village much, spending most of their time either working in the Bunker, or patrolling the perimeter they’d set up. Once in a while, John Dory would take them both out for a drive in Rhonda, escaping the village for a bit and letting the large beast gallop through the forest without a care in the world, while Branch added to a growing map he was working on. He even discovered that Rhonda had a form of fast travel. But this wasn’t exactly a great discovery. He’d made the terrible mistake one day of pressing the Hustle button instead of the Go button, Branch and him learning a very important lesson:

Interdimensional travel sucks.

They’d ended up miles from Troll Village, and it took nearly half a day to get back. John Dory was puking rainbows for the entirety of the trip, while Branch stared silently at his hands, his pupils completely blown. Turns out, too much hustle was a thing. Who knew?

However, John Dory was actually enjoying his pseudo “job”. It provided a much needed distraction from… Other things. Sleepless nights from horrifying nightmares? He could just go do an extra patrol of the perimeter. Visions of his brothers driving him up the walls? He could go fight off a Growlbeast or something. Thoughts of being useless, or his own inadequacy due to his injured hand? He could throw himself into his work, protect the village, protect Branch, MAKE himself useful.

There was always something to do, something to keep him away from all that… other stuff. And between patrolling the village, foraging, working on the bunker, and making sure Branch was taken care of, he was too damn tired to be anxious. Well, mostly. But whatever works, he supposed.

He was so, so tired…

There was one big thing still bothering him though, and it stemmed from a conversation he’d had with King Peppy a couple weeks ago. He and Branch had been setting up some traps, the king looking on and making small talk, before jokingly commenting:

“I doubt even a Bergen could get past these defenses of yours!”

John Dory had chuckled along with him, despite the word sending a jolt of fear through his veins. “Yeah, good thing they’re far, far away from here.” He’d replied, continuing to fiddle with the trap. However, he noticed King Peppy had gone strangely silent, so he peeked back at the old troll. The king looked almost… nervous, stroking absently at his beard.

“They are far away from here…” John Dory continued, that fear in his chest growing. “Right?”

“They’re… far enough.” King Peppy replied briskly, not looking John Dory in the eyes.

John Dory’s eyes flitted over to Branch, who was crouched several feet away, fully immersed in setting another trap, before he turned them back to King Peppy. “How far?” He hissed, low enough his brother wouldn’t hear.

“About… a two day hike.” King Peppy answered, dread fully filling John Dory’s already churning gut. Two days? THAT’S how far they were from the monsters who’d trapped them, killed them, ATE them, for DECADES?! TWO DAYS?! A Bergen could make it here in half that time! John Dory could have snapped right there, his fragile mind already cracked and frayed. But he took a deep breath, trying to speak clearly.

“What in troll’s name were you thinking?” He asked haltingly, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tight as he felt.

“Don’t worry!” King Peppy said with forced confidence. “We’re safe here. The Bergens never leave Bergentown.”

John Dory shook his head, incredulous. “That doesn’t mean they never will!” He replied in a hushed voice, biting back a growl. “With all due respect, King Peppy, I’ve seen Bergen-prints outside Bergentown. They’re probably desperate for a “happy fix”. Who knows what those monsters are capable of?”

“John, you have to understand.” King Peppy continued quickly. “We weren’t in good shape after escaping Bergentown. We lost many, many trolls, and some were injured, unable to travel. We didn’t know how to survive out here. So when I found this grove, where we were even the slightest bit protected, I couldn’t justify pushing my people any further. We only would have lost more.”

You could lose everything if the Bergens find us again. John Dory thought, gritting his teeth, but he decided to keep that one to himself. He understood what the king was saying, but he hadn’t been this close to the Bergens in years. His head was swirling with awful memories, of screams and teeth and his father’s silhouette against large, yellow eyes. And if HE was freaking out… His eyes drifted back over to Branch, who continued to tinker with the trap, oblivious to the bombshell King Peppy had just dropped.

The young troll would absolutely lose it.

John Dory’s jaw tightened. For years, Branch had nightmares about Bergens, waking up screaming and panicking. He still had them sometimes, and it was clear he was in no way over what happened to their Grandmother. This could break him. He was at such a delicate part in his life right now, trying to adjust to living around Trolls again.

Maybe, just for right now-

“You’re not going to tell him?!”

John Dory nearly jumped out of his skin as Floyd appeared right in front of his face, his eyes flashing with intensity.

“Why would he?” Spruce chimed in, voice with disappointment. “He lies about everything else.”

It’s not a lie! John Dory thought, his ears flicking in irritation. I’ll tell him, eventually, once he’s more… adjusted.

“Oho, and when will that be?” Clay replied snarkily. “Last time I checked, BItty still doesn’t even TALK to other trolls. Nice going, JD.”

“John, are you alright?”

John Dory jolted at King Peppy’s voice, the old troll giving him a worried look.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said hastily, massaging his forehead. “Headache.” He flicked his eyes over to his brothers, who glared right back at him. “A really annoying headache.” He let out a sigh, before climbing to his feet and making his way over to Branch.

“We gotta install more of those bigger traps, B.” He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

Branch paused, giving him an apprehensive look. “Why?”

“King Peppy just warned me.” John Dory continued, looking out into the woods as a chill crawled up his spine. “There’s monsters nearby.”

John Dory replayed that conversation over and over in his head as he walked though troll village, a large crate of Gigglefruits in hand. Besides foraging plenty of food and supplies for the Bunker, he still made a few personal deliveries to the village. Namely, to King Peppy and Dr. Moonbloom. He used enough of the Doc’s supplies that he felt obligated to at least contribute to helping restore them afterwards. And King Peppy?

He felt like he’d never be able to pay the older troll back for everything he’d done for him and Branch.

Images of Spruce and Clay trotted alongside him, arguing about something or other, but John Dory just tried to tune them out, locking his drooping eyes forward. Floyd was strangely absent, the young troll usually trying to get between his arguing brothers nowhere to be found. He was pretty sure the pink-haired troll was still pretty pissed that he hadn’t told Branch about the Bergens.

But what did he know? He wasn’t real.

John Dory strode across the branch towards King Peppy’s pod, where typically the king would be loitering about outside. However, he instead found Princess Poppy, along with several other young trolls, her friends he assumed, including that kid Creek. As soon as Poppy noticed him, she brightened considerably, a grin stretching across her face as John Dory gave her a small smile.

“JD!” She exclaimed, tail twitching with excitement as she waved at him. Her friends, however, did not share in her enthusiasm, their faces melting into looks of fear.

“Run!” A small, silver glitter troll shouted, racing down the other end of the branch. The other trolls yelped, following after him. Except for Creek, who gave him a look of cold amusement, his pale eyes sparkling with malice, before trotting after them. John Dory felt another chill travel up his spine. What was with that kid?

“Guys, stop!” Poppy yelled after them, stomping her foot in clear frustration. John Dory just walked up next to her, watching as her friends disappeared into the foliage.

“What was that all about?” He asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.

Poppy’s face puckered into a pout, crossing her arms over her chest as her hair bristled. “They think you’re scary ‘cause you got all those scars and stuff. And Creek keeps joking that it’s ‘cause you attack and eat trolls, but they don’t think it’s a joke!”

“Oh, that’s…” John Dory winced, feeling his ears droop. He couldn’t help but admit that stung a bit, thinking about the Growlbeast scars stretching across his face, the scratches and nicks dotting his body, and the burn scars on his hand that HE couldn’t even look at without feeling nauseous. Maybe he did look kind of scary… “Unfortunate.” He grumbled, staring down at the ground.

“I told them!” Poppy said angrily, pacing back and forth as her tail whipped side to side. “If they just got to know you, they’d see that you’re not scary at all!”

“What, you don’t think I’m scary?” John Dory chuckled, watching her pace with amusement. It was kind of touching, seeing how passionate the young princess was getting on his behalf.

“No.” Poppy scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning back to him with a grin. “You’re like, a super troll! You can fight, and you keep everyone safe like-” She cut off, punching at the air while letting out some of her own sound effects, “And your stories are the best!”

John Dory laughed at this. Everytime the young princess saw him in the village, she’d practically corner him, begging for another story about his time out in the woods. He thought it was sweet. Branch said it was because she was “an annoyingly persistent stickleburr of a troll”.

Suddenly, he was nearly knocked over as the small pink troll leapt up onto his shoulders, leaning through his hair and over his goggles so she could look him in the eyes. “Is it today?” She asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Nope.” He chirped back with a smile, Poppy letting out a groan as she hopped back down, reaching up into her hair to mark something in a small notebook.

A good while back, she’d asked him when Branch’s birthday was, and he immediately told her, the pink troll enthusiastically scribbling it down, and nearly jumping Branch on the day of his thirteenth birthday. The young troll had just barely escaped with a bunch of glitter shimmering brightly in his dull grey hair. (Branch had been pissed at him for revealing what he called “Classified Information” to the young princess. But once John Dory promised to make him a real Fluffleberry Cake to celebrate, he got over it pretty fast).

However, when she’d asked about John Dory’s birthday as well… He wasn’t sure what to say.

Of course he knew what day it was, everyone knew what day it was. But he never celebrated it, ever. Weirdly enough, he was never really in the mood to celebrate on that day. However, he didn’t want to LIE to the young princess. He’d been doing enough of that lately to make his stomach tie in knots. So instead, he’d just shrugged, refusing to give an answer. But Branch was right about one thing: Poppy was persistent. Almost every day since then, she’d ask if it was his birthday. It was kind of endearing, in a stubborn sort of way. She and Branch were very similar in that aspect.

Poppy tucked the notebook back in her hair, perking up once more. “Is Branch here?” She asked, peeking around John Dory’s sides as if his grey little brother was hiding somewhere.

“Nah, he stayed back today.” He replied, readjusting the heavy fruits in his hands and carrying them closer to King Peppy’s pod, Poppy falling to step beside him.

“He never comes to the village anymore.” Poppy complained, pouting once again. “How are we supposed to become best friends if I don’t see him?”

“Well, you know Bitty, er, Branch, he’s…” John Dory paused, looking for the right word. Prickly? Unapproachable? Paranoid? “Shy.” He settled on, sliding the bag off his shoulders onto the ground. Poppy had a point though, how long had it been since Branch had actually accompanied him to the village? It had to be at least a month…

“Really helping Bitty B adjust back to being in the village.” Spruce’s snide comment hissed in his ears, John Dory just rubbing at them in irritation. He was trying dammit. Branch just needed more time.

“Maybe I could come visit him!” Poppy exclaimed, pulling John Dory back to reality as she practically bounced with excitement. He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. And he could picture the look of rage and indignation on his little brother’s face when she showed up.

“Oh, you should definitely come visit him.” He said slyly, Poppy beaming up at him. “You can visit anytime you like, Popstar.” Speaking of Branch, he should probably head back to the Bunker soon. The kid got a bit twitchy when he was gone for too long. “Anyways, get these Gigglefruits to your dad for me, ok? And make sure you warn him if he eats too much, his skin will turn orange.”

Poppy let out an exaggerated gasp, amusement playing in her eyes. “But he’s already orange!”

“Gasp!” John Dory replied, clutching a hand to his chest solemnly. “Then he’s already too far gone.”

Poppy let out a squeal of laughter, before a small bracelet on her wrist went off, letting out a soft musical note. “Hug time!” She shouted, before pouncing at John Dory, nearly knocking him over once more as she wrapped in a hug. Man, she was STRONG. John Dory smiled, giving her a hug back. Poppy was a good kid. She’d make a great leader someday.

Just then, he felt the hair on his neck stand slightly on edge, and his eyes shot open, scanning his surroundings. He couldn’t see any threats, any danger, but his instincts were still warning him of… something. And as he looked closer, he could see what.

Trolls, staring at him from different tree branches and pods, their faces mixed expressions of protective fear, worry, and anger. They were watching him, glaring at him, and he felt himself shrink under their gaze.

Did they think he was going to hurt Poppy?

He quickly pulled back, giving the young princess a pat on the shoulder.

“Right, uh, nice to see you, Popstar.” He said hastily, his eyes scanning the trees as he backed up, Poppy giving him a strange look. But he was too focused on the troll’s harsh, judging glares to pay attention, feeling their eyes boring into him, just like they used to on stage, making his skin crawl… He had to get out of here.

It was obvious they still didn’t trust him yet. Hell, some of them were even scared of him. Was he doing something wrong? He wished someone would just tell him, so he could fix it.

Maybe he just wasn’t doing enough.

You don’t belong here.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he backed into something, whipping around with a warning growl. But instead, his eyes locked with King Peppy, who gave him a curious look. He quickly recovered, turning the growl into words.

“-rrrr Hi! Hey, King Peppy, hey!” He said, a nervous laugh crawling into his voice.“What are you doing here?”

“I… live here?” King Peppy replied, confused.

Fuck, maybe John Dory hadn’t been getting as good of sleep as he thought. He was too damn tired for this…

“Right, right, sorry.” He laughed again, adjusting his goggles and smoothing back his bristled hair. “Sorry, I uh, haven’t been sleeping well.” Oh my troll, why did he say that?!

“I can tell.” King Peppy said, eyes fraught with concern.

“I brought you some sweets!” John Dory chirped, trying to change the subject. “A-and scout duty’s been going well, real well. The North entrance is now completely secure, and those Kittycritters will think twice before trying to come back here-”

“I know, I know, John; the village is thriving now, thanks to you. You’ve helped us a lot, truly.” King Peppy replied, the praise making John Dory’s heart do little flips. But the worry in the king’s eyes continued to set off alarm bells in his head. “But… how are you doing, son?” The king continued slowly, as if he were speaking to a frightened child. “You and Branch? I hardly see your brother around anymore.”

“Me? I’m fine. Keeping busy with scout duties.” John Dory said briskly, dismissively waving his hand. “And you know, Bitty he… He just needs some more time.”

“Sure, sure.” King Peppy said, jaw tight. He cleared his throat, adopting a more chipper tone. “Do you know Aspen Heitz?”

Aspen? Huh, that was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. They were friends, back in school, a long, long time ago. Before, well, everything. They’d kind of grown apart once John Dory had dropped out, and he’d just been so busy with his brothers and Brozone…

“Yeah, yeah, I know him.” He replied, cocking his to the side. “Why?”

“Well, I just thought maybe you’d want to catch up with him a bit.” King Peppy continued gently, as if he was being very careful about his words. “Seeing as you’re around his age. He’s a good kid, has an egg on the way. I bet you two could find something to do, something fun.”

Wow, Aspen had an egg? Good for him. He had to admit, it could be nice, seeing Aspen again. They’d always gotten along pretty well. But a hollow feeling formed in his gut, drowning out any enthusiasm he might have had.

“I’m… pretty busy right now.” He replied, unable to meet the king’s eyes as he rubbed his neck. “You know, I’ve got Branch to look after, and the bunker still needs a lot of work, and the perimeter, it isn’t perfect yet. I mean, someone’s gotta protect the village, right? I can’t afford any…” His voice trailed off. Distractions? Mistakes? They’d all work in this case. He wasn’t just protecting Branch anymore, but everyone in troll village. A mistake on his end could cost someone their life.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Well, what about Birch? Dr. Moonbloom’s nurse?” King Peppy pressed. “He’s your age as well, and kid is quite knowledgeable on medicinal plants-”

“I appreciate the effort, King Peppy,” John Dory interrupted, holding up his hand. “But I’m just… too busy. Lotta work to be done.” He gave the king a forced smile. “I’ve gotta get back to Branch, the kid worries when I’m gone.”

He tried to ignore the look on King Peppy’s face as he walked past, making his way back towards the Bunker.

It just… wasn’t worth it. There was too much on his plate right now, and in all honesty, Aspen and Birch were likely better off without him and all his… issues. Besides, he liked being on his own. And he had Branch. Things were just fine.

It wasn’t worth it.

When he reached the trapdoor he and Branch had built on top of the entrance to the bunker, he knocked a few times in quick succession, a small slot opening to reveal his baby brother’s narrowed blue eyes.

“You’re late.” He said stonily, the darkness making his eyes practically glow. “And you didn’t do the secret knock.”

“That knock is too damn complicated.” John Dory huffed. “And besides, what do you think is gonna try to break in here, but stop to knock first?”

“Poppy.” Branch replied easily, causing John Dory to roll his eyes, before a grin stretched across his face.

“She was asking about you today.” He said slyly. “Why you won’t come to the village. And I told her she was welcome here any time.”

The trapdoor swung open to reveal Branch, his hair bristling with rage and indignation just the way John Dory had pictured it. “Why would you tell her that?!”

“‘Cause she’s your friend.” John Dory replied simply, hopping inside and ruffling his brother’s messy hair. “You’re welcome.” He adopted a goofy, high-pitched tone as he continued, “Oh, thank you JD for saving me from a life of boring solitude, you’re the bestest, handsomest, most amazing older brother ever!”

Branch quickly waved him off, slamming the trapdoor shut. “She’s not my friend!” He snapped, climbing down the ladder and mumbling obscenities that would make their Grandma turn in her grave.

John Dory laughed while following behind him, ignoring the feeling of dread that always crawled into his chest when he went into the bunker. Branch would come around, eventually. He just needed more time.

And he had a feeling that Poppy would be a great friend to help him with that.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, there was a knock on the Bunker door, both John Dory and Branch looking up in surprise. No one ever knocked on the door, hell, no one ever VISITED. Ever. Curiosity got the best of him, John Dory scratching his head, and leaving the cupboards he was installing in their new kitchen, making his way over to the ladder before feeling someone grab his jacket.

“No.” Branch hissed, eyes flashing suspiciously. “They didn’t do the knock. It could be anyone out there.”

“Bitty, only two trolls know that knock, and they’re both down here.” John Dory replied, pointing at Branch, then at himself, raising his eyebrows. “Chillax. It’s probably just King Peppy or something.”

Branch scowled, but let his brother go, mumbling sarcastically to himself as he walked deeper into the bunker. “Oh yeah, just let every troll from troll village in here. What’s the point of a secret knock if we don’t use it?!”

John Dory rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his growing concern at Branch’s increasingly paranoid behavior, before climbing up the ladder. They were working on installing an elevator, but it was nowhere near ready yet. So for now, the ladder it was.

He pushed the trapdoor open, expecting to see King Peppy, or maybe even Poppy, but he was instead greeted by an empty clearing. Well, empty except for Rhonda, who gave him a soft coo of greeting. He waved back at her, making a kissy face, before his eyes caught on a small letter, laying in front of the door. He blinked with surprise, picking it up to look it over curiously, the words “You’re Invited” written skillfully on the outside. And without a second thought, he opened it, slowly reading it through.

“Honor those we’ve lost at the annual Trollstice Memoriam

Tonight at the Village Center

Flowers will be provided.”

John Dory blinked again, his surprise growing. It was an invitation. The trolls hadn’t invited them to anything since the whole “Welcome Back” party disaster. And of all things, they were inviting him to a Trollstice Memoriam? Did that mean… A heavy feeling filled his gut, his ears pinning back against his head.

Today was Trollstice, wasn’t it? Or at least, the day Trollstice was, all those years ago. A day he’d dreaded, full of fear and pain and loss. He could almost hear the screams, both of trolls and his own, echoing in his ears. He closed his eyes, remembering the feeling of clutching Branch’s tiny egg to his chest, feeling the young troll’s heart beat along with his own as his Dad disappeared forever. Forcing his brothers to hide with him in their closet, terrified they’d be next.

Oh, and that also meant it was his birthday. He was twenty-three now. Yippee.

John Dory forced himself to duck back inside, making his way down into the Bunker with his eyes practically glued to the card in his hand.

“Who was it?” Branch called from the other room, but John Dory didn’t answer. It felt like all the air had been sucker-punched out of his lungs. “D.” Branch huffed in annoyance, peeking through the doorway. But he must have seen the expression on his brother’s face, ears drooping with worry. “What is it?” He asked, his voice significantly softer.

“An invitation.” John Dory replied slowly, finally having found his voice, yet unable to meet his brother’s eyes. “To a Trollstice Memoriam.”

Branch stiffened, eyes going wide. He seemed to get a far-away look for a moment, before blinking a few times, wilting as he let out a soft “Oh”, his hands clenched at his side.

“I think… I think I’m going to go.” John Dory continued, surprising even himself. But for some reason, he felt like he had to. No, he wanted to. It felt important. “You wanna come?” He asked, though he was pretty sure what his brother’s answer was going to be.

“N-no.” Branch replied in a shaky voice, before clearing his throat. “No, I’m… I’m busy. Working.” He spun around on his heels, heading off towards his room. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Branch.”

The young troll looked back at him, body trembling.

“You gonna be ok?” John Dory asked worriedly. He knew what this day meant to his little brother.

Branch bit his lip. “Just… be safe.” He mumbled, before disappearing into his room without another word.

John Dory lingered for a moment, guilt churning in his gut, before tucking the invitation up into his hair, and slowly making his way back up to the surface. He hated leaving his brother like this, but he’d make it quick. He had to do this, for… closure? Maybe? So he could finally move on from everything like he was supposed to? Who knows, but whatever the reason, he set his jaw tight, and made his way out into the woods.

The walk to troll village was eerily quiet, the visions of his brothers present, but uncharacteristically silent, trailing along beside him. He followed the path he’d trekked many times, now well worn by his own feet on the soft earth. After all these months, it still felt strange, walking into Troll Village. After everything he’d done to try and protect them, to keep them safe, he still felt like an outsider, resigned to patrolling the perimeter, but never welcome inside. He still wasn’t used to it yet, the press of trolls around him, the hissing of their voices worming into his ears, the constant feeling that he was being watched, their eyes following his every move...

Part of him worried he never would be.

A sudden scent drifted through the air, causing the hair on his neck to stand on end. Smoke. In normal circumstances, this would set off major alarm bells in John Dory’s head. But when was anything ever “normal” for him?

These past few months, ever since he started having his “nightmares” and such, about flames and heat, and his hand burning in a fiery inferno, they’d sometimes… leak into real life. For example, smelling smoke when there was nothing there, thinking he could see flames flickering in the trees out of the corner of his eyes, or hear the snapping and popping of dry wood down in the bunker, that sort of thing. It’d freaked him out a bit at first, but over time, he’d gotten used to tuning them out, just like he did with most things in his life. After all, all this stuff wasn’t exactly new, just a different flavor of crazy. It was just a little concerning how much more it was happening lately…

Likely a side effect of the continued lack of sleep. He’d been spending a lot more time camped out in the hallway. And the hard dirt floor wasn’t helping his aching back…

Regardless, John Dory ignored the scent, focusing instead on a small spattering of trolls surrounding a tiny flower stand, just outside the village center. He could see an array of brightly colored Trollilies, a plant whose flowers appeared almost identical to troll hair, laid out in a vibrant display. The trolls would collect maybe one or two, before solemnly making their way into the village center. John Dory couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the Trolls looking so… dismal. Well, actually, he could. It had to have been at the Queen’s funeral.

He slowly walked up to the stand, trying to ignore the way the trolls parted around him, giving him a wide berth. He didn’t take it personally; if he saw his slate grey, scarred up self, he’d probably walk the other way too. On habit, he tucked his injured hand into his pocket. It was healed now, at least, on the outside, but it wasn’t pretty. He still kept it wrapped most of the time, so trolls didn’t have to see it in all its horrific glory. To be fair, he didn’t really want to see it either.

“Hey.” He greeted the florist in the stand with an exaggerated grin, leaning on the stand. He was pretty sure her name was Meadow.

She perked up, her eyes scanning him up and down in surprise, before returning his smile. “Hello.” She replied gently, clasping her hands in front of her. “How many?”

“Uh…” John Dory faltered for a second, scratching nervously at his head. Well, he definitely had three dead family members he could commemorate, possibly more. His brothers weren’t for sure dead, but… His eyes drifted over to where the visions of Spruce, Floyd, and Clay looked at him, with mixed expressions on their faces. He was supposed to be trying to move forward, right? Not allowing the past to… linger. Might as well cover all his bases. “Six?” He finished, before smiling once more. “Please.”

Meadow’s eyes went wide, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Oh…” She breathed, her eyes glistening with sadness and pity, a look John Dory really hadn’t missed. “I see… Please, take what you need.”

John Dory gave her a curt nod, before doing just that, collecting six flowers in total, one for each family member he'd lost, to Bergens or... Otherwise. He held them delicately in his hand, as if they were made of glass. They felt so… fragile, as if any small move would cause them to break. He took a deep breath, then made his way around the corner to the village center.

He had to do this. This was the right thing to do. This would help him… right?

John Dory weaved his way around the roots of one of the many large trees, surprised that he could still smell smoke. It was stronger now, his mind filling with confusion as he sniffed nervously at the air. He was pretty sure it wasn’t real, and that his mind was playing tricks on him again, but then why was it still happening? Sure, maybe he was a bit tired, and maybe a bit overwhelmed by today being Trollstice of all days, and the memories associated. But the smell usually faded after a bit, so why…?

As soon as he had a view of the village center, he got his answer.

Surrounded by a large semi-circle of trolls, roared a giant bonfire, the flames reaching several feet into the air, sparks drifting across the air like shooting stars. He could see the trolls feeding it, kneeling by its side before tossing in their flowers into its clutches, the flames eagerly devouring the brightly colored blossoms, shifting hues as it did. John Dory could practically feel the heat from here.

But it did nothing to quell the way his body froze in abject terror at the sight.

His muscles locked, the air rushing out of his lungs in a sharp gasp. He clutched the flowers tight to his chest, feeling the stems snap in his hand. He couldn’t bring his eyes away from the flames, as if at any moment, they might leap towards him, and finish what they started so many months ago.

Fuck, he was terrified.

It was kind of sad, in a way. He never used to look at fire like this. It used to be a comfort, a welcoming presence to a cold, dark night, where he and Branch could curl up next to it, safe and warm. But now, all he saw when he looked at it was a wild, unpredictable beast, burning and destroying everything in its path until there was nothing left. His hand burned, itched, but he resisted the urge to scratch at it. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he even could, his muscles completely stiff as the flames roared deafeningly in his ears.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just staring at the fire as it twisted in a wild dance. But he couldn’t move, he could barely think. His breaths came out in short gasps, his entire body shaking… When did he start shaking? He wasn’t cold. He could feel the heat pulsing against his skin, sending shivers up his spine. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. He was frozen, trapped…

Just move one foot… He told himself, gritting his teeth. C’mon, move, do something, anything, MOVE! He suddenly had a greater understanding of Branch’s own frustration of freezing in total, unbridled fear. Dammit, couldn’t he do this one thing? He needed to move on, to move forward. He had to.

But he just couldn’t do it.

Suddenly, he felt someone grab his injured hand, his swirling mind calming ever so slightly as he was pulled back down to earth. His eyes flicked to his side to see a small pink troll standing next to him, also staring at the flames.

Poppy.

She held tight to his hand, apparently unbothered by the scars peeking out from the wraps. Her face was curled into a grimace, the flames reflecting in her bright pink eyes as her body trembled ever so slightly.

John Dory didn’t say anything. Neither did Poppy for the matter, the bright young troll uncharacteristically silent. They just watched for a moment, as the flames popped and hissed, painful memories spreading like wildfire through John Dory’s brain.

But the burning feeling in his hand seemed to fade, just a little bit…

Chapter Text

It was a few minutes before Poppy finally spoke, her voice cutting through the roar of the fire.

“I think they’re for my Mom.” She said softly, John Dory following her line of sight. He could see King Peppy kneeling by the flames, his head bowed over three flowers in his hands. One yellow, one lime, and one light purple. Yeah, at least one was for the Queen. And John Dory didn’t have to guess who the other two were for.

“It’s… weird.” Poppy continued, her face scrunching up with frustration. “I didn’t really know my Mom, I was so little when she died… And I can’t really miss her, ‘cause I didn’t even know her. I’m sad, but I’m only sad because Dad is so sad, and he misses her so much. I want to miss her too, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be missing.” Poppy bit her lip, turning up towards John Dory. “Does that make me a bad person?”

John Dory felt a pang of sadness jolt through his chest, before taking a few, labored breaths, trying to keep his voice level. “No, Popstar.” He said gently, giving her a small, albeit probably strained, smile. “It doesn’t.”

Relief flashed across the young troll’s face, her body relaxing. “Ok, good.” She replied, looking back out towards her dad. Together, they watched as King Peppy gingerly set the flowers into the flames, staring at them for a moment and watching as sparks drifted into the air, before climbing to his feet, going to comfort another troll who appeared to be having a hard time. Man, for all his faults, John Dory had to admit. Peppy was a good leader.

“You have a lot of flowers.” John Dory turned his attention back to Poppy, who was giving him a sad look. “Are they for your family?”

A painful lump formed in John Dory’s throat, so he tried to clear it, before letting out a raspy “Yeah.”

Poppy nodded, her eyes shimmering not with pity, but with understanding. “That must be hard.” She replied, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” John Dory said with a breathy laugh, his eyes locking once again on the flames.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet it still hurts. Y’know, inside.” Poppy replied, staring up at him.

Ok, now John Dory really couldn’t speak. He tried to smile, but was pretty sure it turned out more like a grimace. The fire was too loud, and the smell was choking him along with the grief building in his throat. His head was getting fuzzy again…

“Aren’t you going to toss them in?” Poppy asked curiously. “The flowers, I mean.”

“I’m… working on it.” He choked out through gritted teeth, his breathing shallow as he gripped the flowers closer to his chest. “I’m trying, I just, I can’t-” His jaw snapped shut, and he had to stop himself from letting out a frustrated growl. Why couldn’t he just do this?

Poppy looked at him in confusion, following his gaze out towards the fire, and back again, before realization flickered across her face. She set her jaw, then turned to face him, gripping his hand with her other one as well. “It’s ok.” She said firmly. “I can do it for you, if you want.”

John Dory squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his breathing. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine… He chanted in his head like a mantra. He could do this, he could do this, he could…

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t walk up to the flames, and he couldn’t let them go. He couldn’t put them in that inferno, watch them burn and drift away forever, he couldn’t. At least, not all of them…

He pried his eyes open, peeking at the flowers clutched tight to his chest. His brothers… They were probably gone. There was no point in believing anything else, of hoping for anything else. He had to be realistic. Clay was likely killed by the Bergens, and Spruce and Floyd likely succumbed to the terrors of the woods. The chance they might have survived was slim to nil.

But… there was a chance.

And if he and Branch could survive against all odds… Maybe they did too. Maybe they were still out there.

He couldn’t let them go yet.

He could feel their burning gaze on the back of his neck.

Slowly, he let go of Poppy’s hand, splitting the flowers. He placed three up into his hair, before holding the others out towards the small, pink troll. He still couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. Poppy understood, taking the flowers into her arms, and cradling them as if they were some precious gift.

She trotted over the flames, kneeling down for just a moment, appearing to whisper to the flower buds. Then she gently laid them within the flickering tendrils, the fire eager for more fuel. John Dory found he couldn’t watch as the flowers burned away, instead just closing his eyes once more.

He pried them open when he heard Poppy making her way back to him, standing once again by his side. She was silent for a moment, before she started to speak.

“Y’know, I don’t have many memories of my Mom, just a few, very fuzzy ones.” She chirped, playing with her hugtime bracelet. “But I remember when I was scared, she would sing to me, and braid my hair. She was really good at it. And she told me ‘It’s ok to be afraid’.” She looked up at John Dory, her gaze piercing. “It’s ok.”

“Heh…” John Dory breathed, giving the princess a small smile. “Thanks, Popstar.” He cleared his throat, feeling his body loosen up just enough that he could take a few steps back, starting to make his retreat. His skin was crawling, his brain screaming at him to run, far and fast, to escape the heat, the trolls, the memories, all of it. He had to get out of here, before his brain got any more fuzzy. “I’m uh, I’m gonna go now, I think I-”

Before he could finish, Poppy lunged forward, wrapping him in a hug. He stiffened, hands held awkwardly in the air as his eyes flicked around worriedly. He knew the trolls didn’t like having him around in the first place, let alone this close to their precious princess. But… Ever so slowly, he let his guard down, wrapping his arms tight around the young princess, hugging her back. He couldn’t bear seeing the sweet, happy young troll so upset.

And maybe, he could kinda use a hug too.

After a few seconds, he pushed her back, smiling at her once more. He patted her gently on the back, then spun around, making his way towards the edge of town. As he did, however, he heard Poppy call after him.

“JD?”

He looked back at her, her face having shifted to a look of almost horrified realization. He almost asked what was wrong, before she spoke again. “Is it… today?” She asked, hugging her arms around her chest as if she were trying to comfort herself.

He could have lied. He could’ve just shook his head, and it would have been fine. But he just… didn’t have the strength. He continued to smile sadly, before giving a soft nod, Poppy’s entire body drooping as her tail hung limply on the ground. Part of him wanted to stick around, to try and cheer the happy young troll up again, but he had to get out of here, right now. All of this was just… too much. And besides, Branch was at the Bunker alone. He needed him.

“I’ll see you later, Poppyseed.” He said in a low voice, giving her one final salute, before making his way back off towards the Bunker. As he passed by the flower stand, however, he paused for a moment, reaching into his hair, and putting the three, unused flowers back.

He wasn’t giving up on them yet.

As he strode along the well worn path once more, an image of Floyd appeared by his side, trotting to keep up.

“You really think we’re still out there somewhere?” He asked curiously, sounding almost excited.

“Dunno.” John Dory mumbled, shaking his head to try and clear the fuzziness. The scent of smoke was still tickling his nose, and he hated it.

“He could just be delusional.” Clay chimed in, not bothering to walk as he pretty much floated by John Dory’s head.

John Dory rolled his eyes, focusing his attention on Spruce, who was silently trailing along a few feet behind him. “What, nothing to add?” He snapped, grief still heavy in his chest.

Spruce just shrugged, his face unreadable. “Not really. I knew you couldn’t do it.” He said simply. “If you could, we wouldn’t still be here.”

“You’re not here.” John Dory muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stared off towards the setting sun. His brothers weren’t here, not really. But they might be out there somewhere. And maybe, someday, he’d go out and find them.

But for now, he had to focus on the brother who was actually here.

As soon as he made it back to the Bunker, he made a beeline for Branch’s room, finding the young troll exactly where he thought he’d be: Hiding under his blankets.

“B?” He called gently, taking a seat on the side of his brother’s bed. He couldn’t help but feel utter relief to see his brother’s eyes peek out from a small hole beneath the heavy blanket, his racing heart slowing. “You ok, bud?”

“I hate Trollstice.” Branch replied in a husky tone, his voice breaking slightly.

John Dory sighed, mixed feelings of fear, guilt, and despair welling up in his chest as he gently rubbed his brother’s back. “Yeah.” He replied. “Me too.”

He was just about to get up to leave, when Branch grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly.

“Can you… stay? Just for a minute.” The young troll said quietly, the tremor clear in his voice.

John Dory pursed his lips, conflicted. Of course he wanted to stay here; he felt most comfortable when he could see Branch was ok. But John Dory’s “nightmares” hadn’t really let up yet. If he fell asleep…

But Branch needed him right now. How could he say no?

He sighed, but relented, laying down next to his brother. “Yeah…” He replied, the young troll just holding his hand tight as John Dory traced circles with his thumb. “Just for a minute.”

He couldn’t help it. He was selfish. He wanted to hold Branch close where he could protect him. He didn’t want to let his brother’s go. He was a selfish, selfish troll… But he had to admit, he felt so much better just being able to hear his brother’s strong heartbeat by his side, exhaustion flooding through his body.

If he thought hard enough, he could almost imagine his other brothers curling up next to them as well.

Later that night, John Dory was awoken by a knock on the Bunker once more. This time, he was a bit more cautious, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Who would be here so late?

He crawled from Branch’s bed, careful not to wake the young troll, then climbed quietly up the ladder. He held a wooden stake clenched tight in his hand, just in case, before slowly pushing the trapdoor open to reveal…

A cupcake. Just… a single cupcake, sitting on Branch’s classy “Go Away” mat. John Dory blinked, pushing the door entirely open

Alongside the sweet treat lay a card, and small, meticulously wrapped package. John Dory focused his attention on the latter, curiosity getting the best of him as he opened it.

In large print, it read “Celebrating You on this Special Day!”, with the word “you” purposely underlined and covered in glitter. Below, written in loopy writing that John Dory almost couldn’t make sense of, were the words “Happy Birthday! Love, Poppy and King Peppy.”

He was… stunned, to say the least, his brain feeling as if it short circuited. He hadn’t received a birthday card since… Well, since the year before his mother died. He slowly pried his eyes away from the card, looking at the small gift.

He peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal dark leather, soft and malleable in his hands. And once again, he was struck speechless. Gloves. A set of sturdy, leather work gloves. He looked at them in awe, before his eyes drifted over to his shoddily wrapped hand. Without a moment to lose, he carefully pulled the wraps off, doing his best not to look at the stomach-turning scars, before easing one of the gloves on.

It fit, well, like a glove, the pressure from the tight leather somehow soothing the twitchiness of his hand. And it hid the disgusting scars from sight, at least mostly. It was perfect. Despite himself, he felt a smile grow on his face.

He hated his birthday. But for the first time in a long, long time… It didn’t feel so terrible.

.
.
.

A week or so passed before he and Branch were once again distracted from their work down in the Bunker. This time, it wasn’t by a knock, but an alarm, the sound of the Siren Orchid audible from all the way down in the dirt. John Dory’s ears twitched, confused at first, before Branch exclaimed with a bit too much enthusiasm, “We caught something!”

They raced out of the Bunker, across the clearing to where the sound was blaring. John Dory immediately ripped up the flower, the noise enough to make his ears ring, before he actually looked at what his brother had caught in his trap. He was entirely surprised to see a slightly disgruntled orange and pink troll, hanging in a net from the trees.

“King Peppy?!” John Dory squeaked, horrified, as the king gave him a small wave.

“You!?” Branch exclaimed, eyes narrowed, before they grew wide with panic. “Then where’s-”

“MORNING BRANCH!”

“FUCK!”

“Branch!”

John Dory cuffed his brother over the head for his language, though he couldn’t exactly blame him for his surprise. Poppy had basically appeared right behind him, her face split with a wide grin.

“We came to visit!” Poppy said excitedly, her tail waving back and forth. “But Dad got caught in one of your traps. You couldn’t catch me though!”

“How did you get past them?” Branch sputtered, his hair bristled out.

Poppy just shrugged. “Well, it’s kinda easy, if you think about it.”

Branch blinked, bewildered. “What?!”

“May I be freed now?” King Peppy called from the net, face drawn up in a strained grin.

John Dory quickly cut him down, frantically apologizing for his trap-happy brother, as Branch just sulked unhappily off to the side.

“Easy, John, it’s fine.” King Peppy just laughed, brushing the net fibers off his chest. “I should have been a bit more vigilant, considering.” His face fell a bit as he brought his gaze up to meet him. “I was just wondering if we could talk for a minute.”

Uh oh…

John Dory stiffened, pulling his hands back as anxiety flooded through his body. But he felt himself nod, also forcing a strained smile to his face. “Sure, sure, uh… What’s up?”

King Peppy glanced over at Branch, who was currently trying to keep Poppy from giving him a hug. “Actually, I was hoping we could do this a bit more… privately.” He continued, John Dory’s eyes also flicking towards Branch.

Double uh oh

“Y-yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat, trying to drum up some of that John Dory bravado as he turned towards his brother. “B, go give Poppy a tour of the Bunker.”

“What?!” Branch exclaimed in indignation, his hands still held up defensively as said pink troll perked up with glee. “No!”

John Dory rolled his eyes, before he looked over at Poppy, who was practically bursting with excitement. “Go ahead.” He said, the young pink troll letting out a squeal of delight, before she sprinted towards the trapdoor to the Bunker, disappearing down it without another word.

“Wait, no! Don’t!” Branch called after her, sprinting her way and flinging open the door as well. He shot one last glare at John Dory, before dipping into the Bunker, leaving him alone with the King. Well, John Dory had at least bought them five minutes. Hopefully, whatever this was would be quick.

But from the tenseness in King Peppy’s stance, he wasn’t so sure.

“So… How can I help you?” John Dory continued with an exaggerated grin, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible as he played with his new glove. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. And every fiber in his being was telling him to run. He thought things were going well now… What did he do wrong?

“Well, that’s sort of the thing, son.” King Peppy said, stroking his beard. “You’ve helped me a lot, you’ve helped all of us a lot, more than you know.” He paused, grimacing, as if he were choosing his words very carefully. “I’d… just like to return the favor.”

“Oh, I see.” John Dory laughed nervously, feeling the slightest hint of relief. “That’s very kind of you, King Peppy, but Branch and I are doing just fine-”

“How are you adjusting?” King Peppy interrupted, his face deathly serious. “To being back in Troll Village?”

“I’m…” John Dory started, the words dying in his throat. Short answer? He wasn’t. But he forced himself to continue. “I’m fine, you know? A-and Branch, he’s doing much better. The Bunker’s coming along great, and we keep ourselves busy… We’re fine.”

King Peppy gave him a worried look, “You don’t seem fine, John. I saw you, at the Memoriam, you… You look exhausted, son, jumpy, thin, you’re…” He bit his lip, “You look unwell. You seem unwell, and I’m… I’m worried about you.”

Fuck… John Dory thought, his jaw clenching tight. I messed up.

“Not only have you been helping me, helping the village,” King Peppy continued, “But you’ve been building this home of yours, recovering from your injuries, raising young Branch.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Look, it’s almost been a year now, and I feel like all this may have been too much for you. I think I asked too much of you, and I’m sorry. You’re a strong kid, but this… I was a fool. I should have done something sooner, I-”

“Peppy.” John Dory interrupted, fear pulsing in his chest as he took a step back, increasing the distance between them. “What is this?”

This was bad, this was really bad. Was the king going to take him off scout duty? Or maybe force them to live in a pod? Or maybe… Maybe he was finally kicking them out. Each outcome he thought of was worse than the last, his mind spiraling.

King Peppy met his gaze, his eyes sad, but firm. “I want to help.” He said softly. “I want to help you, son.” He took a deep breath, John Dory feeling like he was trapped under the king’s gaze, dreading the next words to come out of his mouth.

“I think, perhaps, just for a little while… Branch should come live with me.”

Chapter Text

John Dory could remember the first time he learned that his brothers could be taken away from him.

It was a couple months after Branch had hatched, almost a year since his parents had been… Gone. And his Grandma had been practically MIA, sending them a bit of money each week, but refusing to be anymore present in their lives. Which John Dory understood. She was grieving, and he… He looked too much like his Dad. He didn’t really like seeing himself either, it hurt too much.

He was at the market, buying some supplies for the rest of the week. They were running a bit low on food again, and formula for Branch, and they were almost out of shampoo. He slowly counted through the coins he had, but to his increasing annoyance, he kept losing count.

He was just so exhausted.

He stood blearily in line, blinking his blurry eyes as he slowly swayed. It was as if the whole world was grooving along to music, shifting to the beat. He’d been doing his best to take care of his brothers, just like Mom and Dad used to, but it was a lot harder than it looked. They were A LOT sometimes, and tack a trolling on top of his three already busy younger bros? He had to admit, he was struggling.

Baby Branch had been keeping him up at night, the young troll bawling his poor eyes out whenever John Dory tried to lay him down in his nest. So he was resigned to rocking the trolling in his Dad’s chair to try and lull him to sleep. He’d sing to him softly, until his own eyes started to flutter, barely able to form the lyrics anymore, before tucking him safely up in his hair. It was the only way he could get his baby bro to stop crying; the tiny trolling was a bit… clingy.

Currently, Branch was chilling in his gnarled hair (he didn’t bother brushing it anymore, Branch would just mess it up again), babbling to himself as he reached out and played with John Dory’s twitching ears. Floyd was strapped to his shoulders, sucking on his thumb as he looked curiously around the store. He was getting a bit too big for this, John Dory’s back protesting from the strain, but at least it was an easy way to keep track of the young troll.

Clay was actively pulling against the rope John Dory had tied around his waist, about on the verge of a tantrum. But what was he supposed to do?! His wild-haired brother would run off any chance he got, easily distracted by anything and everything in the market. John Dory didn’t have time to be chasing him around right now, he was busy counting these stupid coins! Wait, what number was he on again?

“Ugh…” He groaned, drawing a hand down his face in frustration. There was too much going on, he couldn’t focus. Just then, Spruce stomped over, snatching the coins from his hand and slamming them on the vendor’s stand.

“Is t-this enou- enou-...? Ugh, just take it!” The purple-haired troll squeaked, looking annoyed when his sentence didn’t come out right. Spruce hadn’t been getting much sleep either, either woken up by Branch, or by Clay or Floyd while John Dory was out soothing the small trolling. It made him grouchy, snappy, and his stutter much worse, which could be hard to deal with, but right now, John Dory appreciated his snappy behavior. If he had to count those things again, he might have actually lost his mind.

The vendor quickly counted them out, before her face curled into a look John Dory recognized immediately. He’d come to despise seeing it on the troll’s faces as they walked through town.

Pity.

“Sorry… You’re two short.” She said softly. “Maybe I could just-”

“No, just, hold on.” John Dory chirped, scanning the items with narrowed eyes. After a second, he grabbed a bottle of shampoo, pushing it to the side. They could make do without it, somehow. They still had a little left, and maybe if he mixed it with some water, it would be fine, at least ‘til next week. “How ‘bout now?”

“JD! I wanted Trollio’s.” Clay complained, placing his hands up on the stand so he could peek over the counter, his tail twitching in irritation.

“No, it was Floyd’s turn to pick.” John Dory explained in exasperation, grabbing his brother’s shirt and pulling him back. “You get to pick next week.”

Clay stomped his foot, John Dory practically able to see the smoke coming out of his ears. He did not want to deal with another one of Clay’s tantrums right now, so he quickly found a distraction.

“Hey, hold this for me.” He said, shoving a loaf of bread in Clay’s surprised hands. “Don’t let it get smushed, I’m counting on you.”

Clay’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the bread, setting his tiny jaw in determination at this newfound responsibility. “Got it.” He said firmly, glaring over at Spruce as he hid the loaf behind his back protectively. “Stay back!”

“I’m n-not touching it!” Spruce snapped, jaw tight with frustration.

John Dory yawned, grabbing the things off the counter. “Here’s your Lucky Trolls, Flower Boy.” He said, handing the small box of cereal back to his younger bro. “Carry it for me, will ya?”

Floyd beamed with joy, hugging the box close. “Thanks JD.” He squeaked, wrapping his other arm around his brother’s neck in a hug.

“D D D!” Branch babbled from atop his hair, smacking a hand into his Dad’s… HIS goggles, which fell haphazardly down over his eyes.

“Heh, no problem.” He replied with a tired laugh, pushing the goggles back up as he smiled. Yeah, this was worth it, just to see that smile on his brother’s face.

“John Dory?”

John Dory perked up as he heard a different voice from across the market, turning to see a familiar troll walking towards him. Aspen Heitz. The troll gave him a wave, his younger sister Ivy trotting along behind him.

“Hey!” He replied with a grin, joy flooding his chest. Man, he hadn’t seen Aspen in forever! He would have given him a hug, but his arms were filled with groceries at the moment, so instead he just gave an awkward wave. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing his buddy. It had to have been months now…

“Where’ve you been, JD?” Aspen laughed, reaching out and doing their special handshake, which was a bit difficult with his arms so full, but they made it work. Aspen gave a tiny wave to Floyd, who waved back enthusiastically as he continued. “You never come to school anymore; it’s no fun without you.”

“Oh, well…” John Dory’s ears drooped a bit, but he shook his head, perking back up and puffing out his chest. “It was boring, and stupid, so I just stopped going. Besides, all the teachers did was holler at me all the time. I’m doing them a favor, letting them save their voices.”

That… wasn’t exactly true. Well, the second part, yes, his teachers were constantly on his case for being too loud, not sitting still, and oh yeah, the whole “reading” thing. But in reality… He liked school. He actually missed it. He liked learning, like hanging with his friends, with Aspen. But he just didn’t have time anymore. Someone had to take care of Baby Branch, and if anyone was going to miss school, it had to be the one who had rocks for brains. At least his brothers could actually read.

Besides, if he kept telling himself school was stupid and he was better off without it, maybe he’d start to actually believe it.

“You just… quit school?” Ivy asked, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could do that! Don’t your parents make you go?”

“Ivy!” Aspen squeaked, fear flashing across his face.

“What?” Ivy replied, clearly confused by her brother’s reaction. Aspen shot John Dory a quick glance, before leaning down by his sister, whispering in her ear. Her eyes shot open, her ears pinning against the side of her head as she wilted. “Oh…” She breathed, looking back up at John Dory. “I-I’m sorry.” She quickly scampered across the market to her mother’s side, wrapping the older troll in a hug as she started to bawl.

“Sorry, JD, she didn’t know.” Aspen said quickly, that look of pity in his eyes. John Dory ignored it, forcing a smile to his face.

“It’s fine.” He said, barking out a laugh, before it turned into a large yawn. Man, he needed a nap or something…

“Aw, is that your new baby brother?” Aspen asked, eyes sparkling as he looked at John Dory’s hair.

“Branch.” John Dory replied, reaching up in his hair to bring the young trolling down into his arms. Branch looked up at him, confused, but his face quickly broke into a giggle as he reached out with grabby hands towards his face. “I named him.” He continued, puffing out his chest with pride.

Aspen’s tail twitched with excitement. “He’s so cute! Can I hold him?” He asked.

“Uh, well…” John Dory said reluctantly. He didn’t really feel comfortable letting anyone else hold Branch yet; he was still so tiny. But Aspen was his friend, so… “You can try, but-” He started, holding Branch out towards the other troll. But as soon as Branch realized what was going on, he twisted in John Dory’s hands, letting out a wail as he reached back towards him. He immediately brought him back, hugging the now sobbing trolling to his chest as Floyd reached over his shoulder, also trying to comfort his baby brother.

“He’s clingy.” John Dory finished with a sigh, gently rubbing Branch’s back. “Sorry, Aspen.”

“It’s ok.” Aspen replied, only looking a tad disappointed. He looked at Branch, then at Floyd, then behind John Dory where Clay and Spruce were currently arguing about different types of cereal. “It must be hard, taking care of all your brothers on your own.”

“Well, Grandma helps.” John Dory replied defensively. But he felt his ears droop, exhaustion washing over his body as he started to sway again. “But yeah, it’s… It’s kinda hard.”

Aspen nodded sadly, before perking up a bit. “Well, at least you won’t have to do it for too much longer.”

John Dory’s hand froze from where it was rubbing Branch’s back, a sour feeling building in his gut. “What?” He asked, a strained smile on his face. What did Aspen mean by that?

“My Mom said that if something happens to a troll’s parents, and they’re not being taken care of, that other troll families will take them in.” Aspen continued. “So I’m sure King Peppy is already looking for different places to put you and your brothers. Then you can come back to school again!”

“W-what?” John Dory stammered out, his eyes growing wide as his heart thudded in his chest. His brothers… They could be taken away? Separated? No, no no no, that couldn’t be true! King Peppy wouldn’t do that… Would he? “But I’m taking care of them!” John Dory insisted, an almost hysterical laugh escaping his lips.

Are you?

John Dory wasn’t sure where that voice came from, frantically looking around, before his eyes landed on his brothers. Clay’s hair was a tangled mess, shouting angrily at Spruce, who was still wearing pajama pants, Floyd had the morning’s breakfast smudged on his rosy cheeks, and Bitty B… He was only in a diaper for troll’s sake! John Dory felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, his eyes landing on his own reflection in a puddle below him. His hair looked wild, eyes wide and frantic, with deep circles underneath them. His shirt had formula stains on it, how long had those been there?! He sucked in a sharp breath, his ears suddenly pricking up to a hum of noise around him.

Trolls leaned close to each other, whispering, their eyes locked on him and his brothers as Branch cried and cried, Spruce and Clay’s argument now turning to a full on screaming match, as Floyd tried to sing softly to Branch. John Dory could practically feel himself shrink under their gaze, in a way he’d never felt before. They were watching them, judging them, they saw EVERYTHING. John Dory’s hair bristled up, and he had to hold himself back from just surrounding his family with it, shielding them from the trolls' prying eyes. Because his family looked like a mess, HE looked like a mess. He’d been trying so hard to take care of them, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. He was failing.

And they could see EVERYTHING.

They thought he couldn’t take care of his brothers. And if they thought he couldn’t take care of his brothers, they’d take them away from him. John Dory felt like he couldn’t breathe, his arms wrapping tighter around the trolling cradled to his chest. His heart was beating so fast, fluttering in his chest like it was trapped. No no no, he couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t lose them, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t let the last of his family fall apart.

He had to fix this.

“JD?”

John Dory pried his eyes up from the ground, where Aspen was giving him a worried look. “You went kinda quiet, you ok?”

“We’re fine!” John Dory snapped, a bit too loudly. But he wanted those whispering trolls to hear it. They were fine, his family was just fine. He was taking care of them.

They were fine.

“Uh, ok…” Aspen continued, fidgeting with his hands and apparently unaware of the total bomb he’d delivered in John Dory’s brain. “Y’know, JD, maybe when you have time and come back to school, we could hang out again. I miss y-”

“We have to go.” He quickly interrupted, tucking Branch back up in his hair, and turning towards the still arguing Spruce and Clay. “Guys, knock it off, we’re leaving.” His brothers went silent, but not without giving each other some crude gestures.

John Dory shot them a warning glare, before he turned back to Aspen, who looked completely hurt. “Look, I’m sorry, Aspen, it was nice to see you, really, I’m… I’m just too busy, ok?” His jaw set in determination. “And I’m not going back to school. My brothers need me.”

With that, he stalked out of the market, his brothers in tow, trying to get back to their pod as soon as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rusty metal spires enclosing the troll tree start to curl in towards him, making him feel even smaller, even more trapped. He wasn’t going to let them take his brothers away, he couldn’t let that happen. He’d make sure of it. He could take care of his brothers, and he was going to prove it. He never wanted to see the trolls give him that pitiful look, ever again.

They were going to the perfect family, even if it killed him.

From that moment forth, whenever they left the pod, he and his brothers would be looking their best. He’d make them wear their nicest clothes (a few matching bubble-vests their Grandmother had bought them a year ago), constantly fuss and clean them so their skin and clothes were spotless, and he’d style their hair into perfect points, not a strand out of place. They needed to look perfect; he couldn’t allow for any flaws, any hint that they weren’t doing as well as they seemed.

But his brothers never seemed to share in his vision. They just didn’t understand.

He could remember one specific morning, brushing Clay’s wild hair for the fifth time, and using a handful of hair gel to mold it into place. But just like he’d done the last four times, Clay jumped down from the stool John Dory had him up on, purposely rubbing his hands through his stiff hair, and messing it up once more.

“Clay!” John Dory barked in exasperation. At this rate, his brothers were going to be late for school! What would the teachers think of him if they were late? “Get over here, you-!” He said, grabbing at the young troll. But Clay just masterfully evaded his reach, scampering off with a giggle as Spruce and Floyd also picked at their perfectly shaped hair.

“Dammit Clay, knock it off!” John Dory snarled, chasing after his younger brother as Clay laughed and laughed. Usually, the sound would make John Dory laugh as well, bring a smile to his face. But right now, it just seemed to fuel the building anger and fear in his gut. With a surge of panic, he lunged forward, grabbing Clay’s arm. Not hard, but enough that Clay’s laughter died in his throat, his eyes growing wide.

“This isn’t a game!” John Dory shouted, his voice breaking slightly as his breaths came out in short gasps. He was shaking, frantic fear pulsing through him like ice… “Do you want to be taken away?! Do you?!”

“W-what?” Clay replied, trembling, his wide eyes fraught with confusion. Silence fell across the pod, his brothers wearing matching looks on their faces. John Dory took a quick step back, his breathing still raspy, and shallow.

Clay just stared at him, his hands clutched tight to his chest. But then, he slinked past his brother, grabbing the brush from the counter, and using it to mold his wild hair back into the perfect point. Spruce and Floyd did the same, silently smoothing their hair back. John Dory stared down at the floor, trying to slow his breathing, as he also ran his fingers through his now bristled hair.

There. Perfect. Just like it was supposed to be.

This was the only way he could keep his family safe, together.

If they weren’t perfect, he’d lose them.

And he refused to let that happen.

Chapter Text

“John?”

John Dory blinked, wide eyes locked on the ground as his body trembled against his will, heart sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his churning stomach. He felt as if his world had just been flipped upside down, and now, he wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out, throw up, or both.

From the way his head was swimming, probably both.

“He’s going to take Branch away?!” Floyd gasped from his side, tearful eyes wide with panic. “No, no JD, you have to stop him! Do something!”

“John?” King Peppy repeated, a bit more insistantly, reaching out a worried hand. “Easy, son, perhaps you should sit down-”

Just like that, John Dory came back to his senses, recoiling from the king’s touch. His mouth curled into a snarl as he stood protectively between King Peppy and the Bunker door, as if the King might just run down and take Branch then and there. He hardly noticed the word pass his lips, his voice small and breaking.

“No.”

King Peppy blinked with concern, holding up a calming hand. “John, please, I-”

“No.” John Dory repeated, a little stronger this time. “No, no, this isn’t, you can’t-” He sucked in a deep breath; it was nearly impossible to form words from his racing thoughts. “You can’t do this. Branch is my brother, he’s my responsibility. I’ve been raising him since he was an egg!”

“I know.” King Peppy continued slowly. “I know that, and you’ve done an amazing job. Not just with Branch, but with your brothers as well. You raised them the best you could, and at such a young age, after losing…” He trailed off, shame clouding his vision. “But that’s the thing, John. You’ve been taking care of Branch your entire life, since you were just a kid yourself. I should have done something back then, but your Grandmother assured me she was handling it.” He sighed, stroking his beard. “I know now that her grief ran deeper than she chose to let on.”

He looked back up at John Dory, eyes intense. “Son, I need you to know I’m not asking you this because I think you’re incapable of taking care of your brother. You’ve proven time and time again how important he is to you, and how much you care about him. But you’ve both been through so much, more than another troll your age ever should. I can see you struggling, and… You don’t have to do this on your own. I want to help you.”

“We don’t want your help!” Clay screeched in his ear, face curled into an angry snarl.

“I don’t want your-” John Dory started before thinking better of it, taking another breath as he continued with an almost hysterical laugh, his voice almost a whole octave higher than normal. “I don’t need your help, ok? We’re fine.” He could feel a flicker of anger boiling in his chest, but that was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear pulsing through his veins.

“John.” King Peppy continued softly. “You’re still grey.”

John Dory winced, hugging his arms over his chest as if it would do anything to hide the rampant grey spanning his body. “I told you, it’s nothing.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“It’s not.” King Peppy insisted firmly. “I’ve seen Trolls lose their colors before, but never to the extent of you and your brother.” He ran his hand through his hair, lips pursed into a tight line. “I cannot imagine what’s happened in your life that your colors have faded so drastically, but whatever it is, it’s not nothing. When you returned to Troll Village, I thought perhaps it would help. Having that stability, protection, purpose, community, friends…” He trailed off, looking up at John Dory sadly. “But it hasn’t.”

John Dory felt backed into a corner, the hair on his neck bristling as wild thoughts swirled around in his head, each one each one more frantic than the next. Was this the King’s plan all along? From the moment they stumbled into society? To coddle up next to John Dory, lure him into this sense of security, then take Branch away from him? All the kindness, the generosity the King had shown him, was it all a lie? All part of some convoluted plan? Troll… Was Branch just some sort of twisted replacement for Clay? But no, no no, the king wasn’t like that, right? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t… John Dory’s mind was too worked up, he couldn’t think straight anymore. He didn’t know what to believe. What was real, and what was in his head.

“Look, John, I’ve been a fool. I should have never asked so much of you when you’re clearly still struggling. I was just desperate. But it’s clear to me that all this? It’s just too much for you to handle on your own.” King Peppy continued, his bright pink eyes heavy with guilt. “You're exhausted, son. And you and your brother, you’re isolated out here. I hardly see you come into the village anymore, and each time I do, you have a new scar, or darker circles under your eyes. I’m worried about you. You need to step back a bit, give yourself some time to rest, to heal.”

King Peppy took a step closer, John Dory having to bite back a warning growl. His head felt fuzzy, fear so sharp he could taste it. “I know you care about Branch, and I know you would do anything for him. But I think it would be best for him, and for you, if he came to live with me for a while. Just until you can get your feet back under you.”

“Do something, John!” Spruce hissed, though there was a hint of fear in his voice as well. “Don’t just stand there! You’re losing him, you have to do something!”

John Dory wanted to be angry, indignant. He wanted to scream at the king, yell at him until his throat was raw, to have any sort of that fight that he felt when faced with a dangerous critter. But instead, the anger fizzled out, replaced by heavy guilt that churned beneath his growing panic.

“No.” He choked out, unable to keep it together any longer. “You can’t, you can’t take Branch away, please.” He could barely breathe, but he forced himself to continue talking, pleading. “Please, he’s all I have left, I can do this.”

“I know you can.” King Peppy replied reassuringly, holding up his hands once more. “I know, ok? But John, you’re… what, twenty-five now?”

“Twenty-three…” John Dory whispered.

“Twenty-three.” King Peppy repeated, a deep sadness in his eyes. “You’ve been raising Branch for over half your life, for most of your childhood. And you’re still so young. I’m not trying to take your brother away from you, I’m trying to give you a chance to take care of yourself for once. Branch will be safe with me, I promise.”

“I don’t trust you!” John Dory snapped, his hands curling into fists. “In case you’ve forgotten, you left him behind!” He tried not to think about the hypocritical irony in that.

“Son…” King Peppy said softly, but John Dory immediately cut him off.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that.” He replied shakily, trying to keep his voice from breaking. His mouth curled into a panicked snarl, his gloved hand throbbing painfully as he held it to his chest. “You can’t take him, I am the only one who understands him, who understands anything he’s been through! He’ll be lost without me, he needs me!”

“John.” The king’s face was sad, but firm. “With all due respect, it seems to me like you need him a lot more than he needs you.”

John Dory pulled back like he’d been slapped, ears pinning against the side of his skull.

“It wouldn’t be forever.” King Peppy insisted. “It’s just to give you some time to allow yourself to heal. I know you’re trying to take care of Branch, to protect him, but…” The king sighed, massaging his forehead. “It’s been months, and Branch hasn’t made a single friend his age. He hides in that Bunker of yours, refuses to talk to other trolls, refuses to even come to the village anymore.” He looked back up at John Dory. “I know he’s been through a lot, but he’s still just a kid. He needs that social interaction, but I think he’s too scared to even try.” King Peppy’s gaze grew intense. “And I think you are too.”

Fuck… John Dory thought, running a trembling hand through his hair, smoothing it down. As much as he hated to admit it, King Peppy had a point. Branch has shown no interest in interacting with the trolls again. His brother had made it clear he despises them. The only troll he tolerates is John Dory, and he… He hasn’t pushed it. He never pushed Branch to talk to the trolls, or to join him in town. The young troll was content to be on his own, and John Dory assumed, over time, he might branch out more.

But he hadn’t.

Branch was thirteen. They’d been back in troll village for almost a year. And nothing had changed. In fact, things had only gotten worse. John Dory let Branch stay in the Bunker, hiding from the trolls, becoming more and more isolated, more and more paranoid. It was his fault. If he’d just been more firm, more active in helping Branch adjust to living amongst the trolls again, his brother might actually be thriving. But instead, he allowed this to happen, and for what? Because he thought Branch couldn’t do it? Because he thought the young troll might give up, or become an outsider like he was? Or maybe…

Maybe he was just too afraid to push it.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about Branch at all, it was about him. John Dory had fought with his brothers his whole life, and in the end, it’s what tore them apart. So he was afraid. He was too afraid to be firm, to actually give his brother what he needed: A strong nudge in the right direction. He let Branch get away with all this hiding, this fear, this isolation from the trolls who’d left him behind, when really, he should have been helping his brother face his fears, rather than hide from them. Another huge mistake he could add to the list of things he’s done to mess up Branch’s life.

It was all his fault.

King Peppy was right, he was failing Branch. He needed to fix this, now.

Before he lost him too.

“You’re right. You’re right, ok, you’re…” John Dory took a deep breath, trying to keep it together. “I messed up, I know I did, but I… I can do better, I can be better, I can do this! I’ll take him into town more, I-I’ll help him find some friends-” Just then, an idea popped into John Dory’s cobwebbed mind, and he looked up at the King with what he was sure was a wild looking, forced grin. “I can enroll him in school! That way, he’ll meet plenty of other trolls! He’ll be social, a-and you won’t have to worry about him anymore!”

“That’s your big plan? To send him to school?!” Clay snapped in exasperation, tugging at his hair.

“Yeah, that’ll go over like a lead balloon.” Spruce muttered.

King Peppy looked conflicted, his bushy brows furrowed tight. “That’s… a great idea, I agree, but what about you? You’re unwell, John, I’m really worried about you.”

Dammit, why were they talking about him again?! “Like I said,” John Dory continued, “I’ll do better, ok? I promise, just-” Desperation pulled at his chest, making it ache. “Please.”

King Peppy’s frown grew deeper, but it was clear he’d come to a resigned decision, letting out a soft sigh. “Ok, John, ok.” He said reluctantly. “I was never going to force Branch to come live with me, I just… wanted to help you. You’re a good kid, you’re brother’s lucky to have you. I just wish you’d take care of yourself the same way you do him.”

John Dory nodded, the lump in his throat much too big now for him to speak.

“I’ll speak to Ms. Fern tomorrow about getting Branch enrolled.” King Peppy continued. “He’s a bright young kid, and I’m sure, after time, he’ll flourish.” His face grew serious again, reaching out to touch John Dory’s shoulder. “And maybe, you can take this extra time to allow yourself to start healing as well.”

As King Peppy’s fingers grazed his shoulder, he felt himself take a step back, away from the touch like he’d been burned. He couldn’t meet the old troll’s eyes. Whatever trust he’d had with King Peppy had been shattered, replaced by a numbness that seemed to crawl across his entire body. He felt so stupidly hurt. How had he forgotten one of his most important rules?

You can’t trust anyone.

“Yessir.” He mumbled, the sound barely audible to even him. King Peppy drew his hand back, the concern on his face only growing deeper, before they were interrupted by a loud clang, a chunk of ground flying into the air and landing a ways off, revealing a small entrance. Out from it raced a small pink troll, followed by another, darker grey one.

“JD!” Poppy exclaimed, skidding to a stop right in front of him with sparkling eyes. “Your Bunker is amazing! That was the best thing ever!”

“It wasn’t!” Branch snapped, his tail twitching in annoyance as he glared in Poppy's direction. “She disorganized the rations, and now she knows where all the secret exits are-” His voice cut off as he looked up at John Dory, his face becoming worried, before he bristled with anger. “What?” He asked, before turning to look at King Peppy, letting out a small warning growl.

“Come along, Poppy.” King Peppy said, his face still fraught with concern. “John Dory and Branch have hosted us for long enough.”

“Oh, ok.” Poppy replied, looking disappointed. But she spun around with a smile, giving John Dory a hug. It took all he had to pat her gently on the back.

“Bye JD!” She said cheerily, before doing the same to Branch, cutting off the grey trolls growl as she hugged him tight. “And bye Branch! Thanks for showing me your Bunker!” She then skipped over to her father’s side, leaving Branch looking flabbergasted, before both the king and the princess made their way back to Troll Village, King Peppy flashing one last worried glance over his shoulder.

Branch shook the bewildered expression off his face, eyes narrowing as he looked up at John Dory. “What did he say to you?” He demanded, his hands curled into little fists.

John Dory swallowed, forcing the lump in his throat down towards the pit in his stomach as his eyes drifted to just behind Branch. The images of his brothers just… stared back at him. Like they were waiting. A chill traveled up John Dory’s spine, and he quickly looked away.

“I’ll tell you later, alright B? Let’s just… go.” He said, hoping his voice didn’t give away too much. “Don’t worry about it.”

Branch looked as though he was going to push it, but after a moment, he relented, letting out an irritated huff before pushing the escape hatch back into place with his foot. “Fine.” He said, stalking off towards the Bunker. “I gotta go clean up Poppy’s mess.”

Before he could, however, John Dory felt his body move without him meaning it to. He lunged forward, wrapping his baby brother in a tight, desperate hug. It was stupid, but he felt like he needed that assurance that Branch was still there. He held him tight, the solid feeling of his brother anchoring his dizzying thoughts, keeping him from being swept away.

“D, leggo!”

John Dory didn’t want to let go. He wanted to hold on, to just stay in this moment a few seconds longer, but he knew he couldn’t. The King was right about him. Maybe he needed Branch a lot more than his brother needed him.

Pathetic.

He quickly pulled back, clearing his throat. “Sorry for uh… Letting Poppy into the Bunker.” He lied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Branch just gave him a look, a mix of confusion and concern. “It’s fine.” He replied, cocking his head to the side. “You’re being weird.”

John Dory laughed a little too loudly. “I hate to break it to you, Bitty, but I am weird.”

Branch still looked worried, but he gave a shrug, crawling back into the Bunker. John Dory watched him disappear into the depths, the smile falling from his face. He grit his teeth, his muscles locking up on him as he stared down at the entrance. He did not want to go in there right now, into that deep, dark bunker, where the crushing weight of the world seemed to press in on him like a vice. Especially not now, when he knew what he had to do. But he forced his feet to move, forced himself to grab hold of the ladder and lower himself in.

He had to do this, for Branch. But troll… He was terrified.

As he slowly closed the hatch, locking out the world, he could have sworn he could smell the scent of smoke, crawling into his lungs like a warning.

Chapter Text

John Dory stood silently in the doorway, absently watching Branch reorganize his rations as the young troll irritably mumbled to himself.

He felt like absolute scum.

How could he have let this happen? Let Branch fall deeper and deeper into this self-isolation, and not do anything, just because… What? He was scared his brother might be upset with him? That was ridiculous, stupid…

But then why was he still so scared?

“I mean, I guess it kind of makes sense, right?”

John Dory’s eyes followed the voice over to where Floyd was sitting by the wall, deep in thought as he played with his tail. “You’re scared of pushing Bitty ‘cause it might make him hate you like your real brothers did. That seems pretty rational to me.” Floyd’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t want Branch to be upset at us…”

“We don’t have a choice.” Clay’s voice popped up from across the room where he was pacing, pausing for a moment to gesture down at Branch’s crouched body. “If JD allows this to continue, B’s always going to be an outsider, just like him. And troll knows we don’t need another mini-JD running around. One is bad enough.”

“John.” John Dory blinked, Spruce appearing right in front of his face, arms crossed over his chest as he scowled. “You know this isn’t good for Branch. You’ve known for a while. So do us all a favor, and fix it before he’s messed up beyond repair like you.”

John Dory bit his cheek, his brother’s harsh words like a stab to the heart. He hadn’t been trying to hurt Branch, he just wanted to give the young troll time to heal on his own, he didn’t want to push it. But clearly, that wasn’t working. He should have supported his brother, helped him. But instead, all he did was sit idly by as Branch settled into this life of isolation and fear.

And maybe, he had too.

He’d also grown comfortable here, away from everyone. It just felt safer. They’d found such a small, fragile moment of peace after everything that happened, and John Dory was too scared to shatter that. But now, he’d have to, for Branch’s sake.

He just hoped the jagged pieces left wouldn’t tear him apart.

“D, that’s gross.”

John Dory perked up to Branch’s voice, the young troll not looking up from his task. He quickly realized he’d been gnawing at his nails again, letting his hand fall to his side as he let out a sigh. Right, he was doing this, he had to do this…

“Hey, B?” He said slowly, unsure how exactly he was even supposed to start. “You ever feel… lonely out here?”

“No.” Branch replied easily, still not looking up. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” John Dory mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just, don’t you want… friends? People to talk to?”

Branch scoffed, sticking his tongue out as he placed a jar of jam on the shelf. “Not really. The trolls are all too loud, and they’d rather throw glitter at each other than actually try to protect themselves. They’re probably going to get themselves killed eventually anyways, so what’s the point?” Branch pushed the jar a millimeter to the left. “They’re also really annoying.”

Holy troll that was dark… John Dory shook the shock of his brother’s morbid outlook from his mind, pushing himself to continue as he forced a strained smile to his face.

“Sure, but everyone needs friends.” He said, trying to keep his voice light.

“You don’t.” Branch bluntly pointed out, scowling as he picked up a tuft of pink hair, rolling his eyes.

“Hooo, he got you there.” Clay snickered.

John Dory winced, letting out a dry laugh. “Yeah well, that’s ‘cause I’m…” He searched for the right word, but came up with nothing. No single word could describe ‘a whirlwind of crazy that no troll should have to put up with’. “Different.” He finished weakly.

“Okay. Then I’m different too.” Branch chirped, tossing the hair off to the side. “Besides, what would I need friends for? I’ve got you.”

And there was another knife to the chest. John Dory ran a hand through his hair, kicking himself. He took his brother away from the trolls, he forced him into years of isolation, this was his fault, his fault, his fault…

“I’m your brother, B.” He continued, crossing his arms over his chest and digging his nails into his skin. “I don’t count. You should be friends with kids your age, out there, having fun, getting into stupid trouble.”

“You do so count.” Branch replied stubbornly, setting the remaining rations in their place. “I don’t need friends. I don’t want friends. There’s no point. I have everything I need right here.”

“But, Poppy’s your friend, right? At least a little bit?” John Dory asked desperately. Please… He thought, gritting his teeth. Please tell me you at least have someone besides me you care about. Please tell me I didn’t mess up that badly.

Branch was quiet, his eyes flickering briefly over to the pink tuft of hair on the floor. His face grew sad for a moment, wistful, before it hardened, and he turned back to his task, ears drooping. “She’s not my friend.” He said firmly, sounding more so like he was trying to convince himself.

John Dory wilted, crushing guilt weighing him down like lead. Images of his brother as a trolling flashed in his mind. His bright smile, his contagious giggles, the way his eyes sparkled like diamonds when he got excited. How had John Dory taken a perfectly happy young troll, and turned him into this? He looked at the grey on his hands, before his gaze flitted over to the same grey covering his little brother’s body.

All this time, he’d tried to keep his brother from becoming like him. And somehow, he’d managed to completely fuck that up. It was all his fault…

And now Branch was paying the price.

King Peppy was right. Branch needed to get out, to socialize, to be amongst the trolls. He needed to get away from his mess of an older brother; he was a bad influence. They’d become almost completely dependent on each other. For friendship, for safety, for everything. It wasn’t right. Branch deserved so much more, so much more than John Dory was, than what he could give him. He deserved friends, to have fun, to have a life outside these stupid tunnels he’d built to hide in.

He deserved happiness.

How could John Dory have so selfishly kept that away from him?

For some reason, John Dory’s mind shifted to the constant nightmares he had at night, of him reaching out to save his brother, only to burn him instead. And finally, they made sense. Because that’s what he did, wasn’t it? He lured Branch in with the promise of warmth, and safety. But at the end of the day, he was wild, out of control, and dangerous, just like those damn flames. And the closer he held Branch to him, the more likely it was his brother would get burned.

He had to fix this.

“Careful, JD…” Floyd warned, looking worried.

“Branch, I…” He began, voice slightly shaky. But he quickly cleared his throat, continuing in a steadier tone. “I’m enrolling you in school. You start next week.”

Branch barked out a harsh laugh, still not looking up from his task. “Yeah right.”

“Branch, I’m serious.” John Dory insisted, adrenaline starting to pulse in his chest along with his heart. “You’re going to school.”

Finally, Branch looked up, whipping around to face him. His eyes flickered across John Dory’s face, as if he were looking for any inkling of a lie, but after a few seconds, they widened with realization. “N-no…” He stammered, ears pinned back with shock. “You’re joking, right? This isn’t funny.”

“Two more hours? You’re just joking, right JD?”

“Sorry, Flower Boy. You want this to be perfect, don’t you?”

John Dory clenched his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might break, Floyd’s voice echoing in his ears. That look of hurt on Branch’s face was so similar to his pink-haired brother, enough to make his stomach churn with guilt. But he pressed on, refusing to give up.

“You need friends, B.” He said, walking into the room. “You need to be around trolls your age. Staying here, alone, trapped in this, this… Fear bunker all the time? It’s not good for you!”

“I’m not alone!” Branch replied frantically, climbing to his feet. “I have you!”

“I’m not enough!” John Dory shot back, before reeling himself in a bit, running his hand through his hair. “Look, Branch, I’m not, I just, I can’t…” He sucked in a breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “It’s better this way, ok? You need to get out, go to school, meet new people, learn new things. I mean…” He stomped his foot, gesturing out dramatically. “Dammit, Branch, you’re too damn smart to be stuck down here with a rock for brains troll like me all the time, letting that big brain of yours go to waste! You’re gonna go to school, and you're gonna make friends, and you're gonna learn a ton cause you’re a smart kid, and I know you can!”

“I don’t want to!” Branch yelled, his hands curling into tight fists.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Clay.”

John Dory stared into Branch’s piercing gaze, that intensity, that anger so familiar. However, after a few moments, the young troll’s shoulders slumped, his ears drooping as he pleaded. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

John Dory looked away. He couldn’t bear to see that expression on his brother’s face. But this… This was the right thing to do. King Peppy was right, Branch needed this. And if he didn’t do this…

He was sure there was still a chance King Peppy could take Branch away from him.

His silence spoke volumes, Branch’s face twisting in anger once more. “Why are you doing this?!” He demanded, his hair bristling with rage. “Is this because of King Peppy? What did he say to you?!”

Ever the observant young troll… “No.” John Dory replied, shaking his head. “This is my decision. I’m sorry, B, but this isn’t up for debate. You need this. You’re going, and that’s final.”

Branch drew back, a myriad of different expressions flashing across his face. Anger, fear, indignation, hurt… Finally, he balled his hands into fists again, angry tears welling up in his eyes.

“You said it was ‘You and me against the world’, you promised!” He shouted, rubbing at his face in frustration. “You promised!”

“I’ve got it handled, Spruce, I promise.”

“You promise? You always break your promises! I don’t trust you!”

John Dory closed his eyes for a moment, his head growing fuzzier by the second. “The world’s a lot bigger than just us, Branch.” He said softly. “I don’t want you to miss out on it because of me.”

John Dory waited for his brother’s biting words. For him to scream, yell, cry. For the inevitable “I hate you!” he was sure he’d earned. But instead, Branch did something much, much worse.

He went quiet.

The young troll stared up at him in betrayal, before his face curled up into a look of anger, frustration, even fear. He quickly wiped his tears, and without another word, stalked past John Dory into the hallway.

“Wait, Bitty, please.” John Dory started, following after him, but Branch didn’t look back. He ducked into his room, and with a final, deafening bang, slammed the door behind him, leaving John Dory breathless, staring at the twisting wood.

He wished Branch had just screamed at him.

The sound of the door slamming shut shot through him, knocking all the air from his lungs. John Dory had had the door slammed on him many times in their old pod, by all three of his brothers. The final, harsh ending that marked the end of an argument, leaving both parties angry and hurt. He could remember slamming the door behind him the day he left, shutting himself out of his brother’s lives forever. The final nail in the coffin, closing the door on what was left of his family.

Branch had never slammed the door on him. He always kept it open, at least a little bit. But now, he’d completely shut John Dory out.

And for some reason, that one small, insignificant thing, was enough to knock John Dory over the edge.

Something just broke.

He took a step back from the door, eyes tracing across it frantically as his mind started to race. Branch was mad at him, he shut him out. The sound of the door slamming echoed in his mind, over and over and over again, like a record stuck on repeat. No, no no no, this was silly, it was just a stupid argument, everyone has stupid arguments…

So why did it feel like the world was ending?

He could barely breathe, the sound of his heartbeat growing faster and faster, pounding in his ears like a drum. His vision seemed to tunnel, his eyes locked on that closed door. And as the stifling dirt walls started to close in around him, suffocating him, he did what he did best.

He ran.

He barely even acknowledged as he turned tail, sprinting down the hall, almost able to see the walls growing closer and closer to him, pressing against him. He could hear his brothers’ voices reverberating around him, screaming in his ears. Telling him to run, to get out of there, to escape. He knew he grabbed the rungs of the ladder, but he couldn’t remember climbing it, only the dizzying sense of relief as he pushed the trapdoor open, stumbling into the fresh air with a gasp.

But that relief was short lived, the crushing guilt and panic starting to suffocate him once more.

And his brother’s voices only seemed to grow louder…

“YOU MESSED UP”

“YOU ALWAYS DO THIS, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!”

“HEHATESYOUHEHATESYOUHEHATESYOU”

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. He pushed too hard, just like he did with his brothers. And now Branch hated him, just like they did. It didn’t matter what he did, he just couldn’t do anything right. He kept making the same mistakes, the same horrible decisions, over and over and over again. He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t fix anything, and the more he tried, the worse things got.

He could hear his Dad’s emotionless voice rise over the others in his head…

“Don’t try. Do.”

But he couldn’t, he never could. He was just the same stupid little kid, pretending he knew what he was doing. And it wasn’t enough, no matter what he did, it was never enough.

He could smell smoke again…

Somehow, he must have made his way over to Rhonda, hearing her let out a worried chirp as his legs seemed to give way underneath him. He fell to his hands, stomach turning as he retched, spitting the taste of bile from his throat, before he shifted himself, leaning with his back up against Rhonda’s large face. She let out a concerned coo as he tried to pet her, but he couldn’t unclench his hands, his nails digging painfully into his palms. So instead, he just brought them up to his hair, grabbing the messy tendrils firmly in an attempt to ground his dizzy mind. His heart only seemed to beat faster, pounding against his ribs, trying to escape.

He felt lost, confused. He couldn’t tell what was going on anymore, the world around him feeling strange, and wrong. Distant, blurred, fuzzy… He recognized this feeling, of course he did. But for some reason, this one felt so much worse. He felt like he was going to pass out, blackness pulsing at the edge of his vision. His heart, it was too loud… Too loud, too fast, and he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t breathe…

Was he having a heart attack?

“Wait, he’s too young to have a heart attack…” Floyd’s loud, distorted voice chirped from off to the side. “Right?”

“Pretty sure they can happen at any age.” Clay chimed in, his voice like grating metal in his brain. “Sucks for you, JD. You’re dying! YOU'RE DYING YOU’RE DYING YOU’RE DYING!”

“Quiet, just be quiet!” John Dory hissed, grabbing at his ears. They were too loud, they were too loud, and everything was wrong, and… Was he dying? He barely noticed as his goggles slid off his head, falling heavily to the ground. King Peppy was right about him, he couldn't do this, he never could. He'd failed Branch. This wasn’t happening, this couldn't be happening…

“Johnny.”

John Dory pried his eyes open to small slits, Spruce standing at his side. “You have to go. You have to suck it up, and go find help. Branch may be mad at you, but he’s all alone down there, and he needs you.”

Find… help? No, he didn’t need help, he was John Dory. He always managed things on his own, and it was fine, he was fine…

“No, you’re not!” Spruce shouted at him, his voice slicing through his swirling head. “You’re no use to him like this. Get it together. For Branch’s sake, remember?”

John Dory let out a soft whine. Fuck, Spruce was right. Even if Branch shut him out, even if he hated him, the kid still needed him. So if John Dory couldn’t fix this…

He needed to find someone who could.

“Rhonda…” He croaked, hardly able to speak anymore. “Help…” His voice cut off with a whimper, nausea welling up in his gut. He curled in tighter on himself, unable to curb the neverending panic pulsing through his body. “Please… the Doc…”

Rhonda let out a worried whimper as well, nuzzling into his side. But then, she ever so gently grabbed him with her teeth, carrying him like she would a small pup. John Dory didn’t even have the wherewithal to complain as she started to make her way around the edge of town, praying she knew what he meant as his entire body prickled with adrenaline. His hand felt as though it were burning once more, clutching it tight to his chest.

He couldn’t fix this. He didn’t know why he was falling apart, but he couldn’t fix it, and Branch needed him.

He was desperate, terrified, and in order to be there for Branch, he’d have to do something he’d never done before.

He was going to get help.

Chapter Text

John Dory wasn’t sure how long it took for them to get to the medical pod, but it felt like Rhonda carried him for a long, long time. He kept his eyes firmly shut, jaw clenched so tight he worried his teeth might break, as his breaths hissed out in sharp gasps.

After what felt like forever, Rhonda gently lay him down on the soft ground, rumbling worriedly as she sniffed him all over, letting out a whine.

“S’ok, girl… M’ok…” He mumbled through the marbles in his mouth, both trying to comfort her, and convince himself as well. But they both knew it was a lie. Everything was wrong, everything felt wrong, and it took all he had not to just curl into a ball by her side until things felt right again. Instead, he used her massive head to pull himself to his feet, his breathing still harsh and stilted as the world spun around him, his heart thrumming loud in his ears. He hated this feeling… It should’ve stopped by now, right? Why hadn’t it stopped? He just wanted it to stop.

He pried himself from Rhonda’s side, stumbling over to the pod as if his limbs were filled with concrete. The wood on the familiar porch creaked loudly in his ears as he desperately reached for the door. Moonbloom was a doctor, she’d know what to do, right? She could make this stop. But just as he was about to grab the doorknob, he paused, jerking his hand back as dread filled his already heavy chest.

What was he doing? This was so stupid, so so stupid… He could fix this himself, he always did. He shouldn’t bother the Doc with a silly problem like this. His heart only seemed to grow louder, faster, as he took a shaky step back, his vision tunneling again.

But what if this wasn’t a silly problem? What if something was really, really wrong? It’d never felt this bad before… Or maybe it had, he couldn’t remember. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, but everything just felt like it was falling apart. His mind, his body, the world around him. He could barely feel his feet on the worn wood anymore, grabbing at his hand as it twitched and burned.

No, he should just leave. This was ridiculous. He could fix this, he could. He’d just lay down for a while, and wait for it to go away, just like it always did.

But what if it didn’t? What if he was stuck like this, and it just got worse, and he couldn’t fix it and Branch would be all alone-

Turns out, he didn’t get to make a decision.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the door swung open to reveal Dr. Moonbloom’s nurse, Birch, looking as if he were just about to leave for the day. His eyes immediately locked on John Dory, freezing in the doorway, the smile on his face falling as fear darted across his face.

“John Dory?” He asked shakily, scanning him up and down as he practically hid behind the door.

Fuck… John Dory cursed, eyes locked on the ground as his face curled into a snarl. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want anyone seeing this, he wasn’t supposed to be like this. His mind screamed at him to run, while he resisted wrapping his hair around himself to hide. It didn’t matter now. Birch saw, John Dory could feel his eyes on him. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him for his fearful reaction. According to Branch, he’d broken the poor troll’s arm! And now, he showed up here looking like this?

Without meaning too, almost as if he were compelled, he felt his lips form breathy, stilted words, so quiet he could barely even hear them over the pounding of his heart.

“S-sorry for… hurting ya…” He choked out through gritted teeth, hands held so stiffly at his side it felt like his bones might break. “Didn’t mean t’a… M’sorry…” The words felt weird in his mouth, slurring together as his lips refused to work properly.

Birch’s eyes went wide, but something flickered in his eyes, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. After a moment, he shook his head, as if he were coming out of a trance.

“It’s… It’s fine, it’s ok.” He said quickly, and just like that, something shifted. He pushed the door open further, face fraught with concern. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I don’t… know…” John Dory forced out, shame welling up so painfully inside him he thought he might throw up. He just wanted to disappear. This was so pathetic, he should leave, he needed to leave. He went to take a step back, but his body wasn’t responding, so it was more of a stumble. “No… No no, I’m fine, I-”

He was just about to make up some stupid excuse and make his escape, when Birch’s eyes narrowed with determination, and despite the obvious shaking in his hands, swung the door open wide. He reached out, as if to steady the troll in front of him, but John Dory felt himself instinctually flinch away, a weak growl escaping his lips. Birch paused, eyes scanning over John Dory’s bristled hair and shaking body before retracting his hands, instead just gesturing for him to come inside.

“Don’t be silly, you need help.” Birch said firmly, before turning towards the back of the pod, gesturing for John Dory to follow him once more. “C’mon, it’s ok, Dr. Moonbloom will know what to do.”

John Dory wanted to run. He wanted so much to just turn around and leave, run back to Rhonda and hide until this all went away. But he could see Spruce hovering just inside the pod, glaring at him sternly, while a smirking Clay stood by his side, mouthing the words “Don’t be a baby”. And despite himself, he slowly walked inside with his arms wrapped protectively around his trembling body, hardly even aware he was moving anymore. He just felt so… detached from everything. He closed his eyes tight, trying to focus his mind on something other than the panic flooding through him.

For Branch, I’m doing this for Branch…

But Branch was mad at him, he shut him out, he hated him…

“John?”

Dr. Moonbloom’s worried voice drifted past the sound of his heart pounding away in his ears. He slowly peeked an eye open, shame once again making his skin prickle, but he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of relief. She firmly grabbed his shoulders, her intense gaze tracing across his face. And weirdly, he didn’t feel the need to pull away from the touch. It was heavy, real, grounding him from the swirling fuzziness of his mind. He choked out a soft, “Hey.”, but it might have come out more like a whimper before he shut his eyes once again.

“Injuries?” Dr. Moonbloom stated, apparently talking to Birch.

“None visible.”

“Observations?”

“Hyperventilation and trembling, but cognisant, able to speak.”

Dr. Moonbloom hummed, her grip growing tighter. John Dory felt her grab his wrist, holding it for a few moments, before she continued. “Thank you, Birch. Why don’t you go home? I can handle this.”

Birch must have nodded, his footsteps receding as he made his way out of the pod, the door slamming shut behind him. John Dory couldn’t help but flinch, his entire body tensing up once more as the sound clanged around in his ears like it was mocking him.

“You need to sit down.” Dr. Moonbloom said sternly, her voice sounding slightly garbled. John Dory shook his head, taking a step back. He couldn’t sit down, this was a mistake, he had to get out of here.

“Can’t… I have to…” He tried to sputter out, but his breathing was getting worse, his head swimming. Fear surged through him once more, and he had to bite back a whine, clutching at his chest as if he could somehow make his lungs work the way they were supposed to, force his heart to stop pounding so loud. “S-something’s… wrong… I can’t… breathe…”

“Sit.” Dr. Moonbloom commanded, louder now. And this time, John Dory listened. As soon as he unlocked his legs, falling clumsily into a chair, a sense of relief flowed over him. He hadn’t realized how unsteady he’d felt, standing up like that. The world seemed to stop spinning, just a little bit.

But he still couldn’t breathe, his heart palpitating in his chest. And despite the way he seemed to shiver, a chill crawling up and down his spine, sweat dripped down his face. He squeezed his eyes tighter, nails ripping into the soft fabric of the chair to keep from pulling at his hair.

“John.”

Dr. Moonbloom’s voice surfaced again, but he couldn’t open his eyes. Instead, he just forced himself to speak.

“S-sorry, sorry…” He hissed, struggling to speak through labored breaths. “I think I’m having… A heart attack.”

“You’re not.” Dr. Moonbloom replied firmly. “It’s a panic attack, John. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s your mind that’s causing all this.”

John Dory couldn’t help but let out a growl, his hands clenching tighter on the chair. So it wasn’t even a real problem? He was just freaking out, acting crazy like he always did. But now, it was even worse, because he was wasting the Doc’s time over nothing. How stupid could he be?

“Sorry…” He choked out, going to push himself to his feet, but he felt Dr. Moonbloom press two fingers into his chest, forcing him back down.

“Absolutely not.” She chirped, John Dory able to feel her intense gaze, even if he couldn’t see it. “You are not leaving my sight until this passes.” He flinched as something touched his shoulder, prying his eyes open to see Dr. Moonbloom by his side. “And this will pass. It’s only temporary.”

“Can’t you… make it stop?” John Dory pleaded, disgusted by how small his voice sounded.

“No.” Dr. Moonbloom replied bluntly. “But I promise, I won’t leave your side. You’ll be ok, just breathe.”

Yeah, easy for her to say, her heart wasn’t trying to crawl out of her throat. His eyes flicked to just behind Dr. Moonbloom, where an image of Floyd had appeared.

“Bro, you look stressed.” The pink-haired troll said, closing his eyes. “Breathe.” Floyd took a deep breath in, and out, and strangely enough, John Dory felt himself copy him, the air hissing past his teeth as he closed his eyes once more.

He could remember Branch saying the exact same thing, when John Dory had first dreamed of smoke and flames, his voice shaky and scared…

Breathe…

He could remember all those terrifying nights, whispering to his baby brother as he cried, gasping for air, as they both desperately tried to keep quiet.

Breathe…

He could remember his mother holding him close as he bawled, wondering why he could never do anything right.

Breathe, baby, breathe…

It took a while. But he eventually got there.

He forced his breathing to slow, gulping in deep breaths of air, his brain still fuzzy, and lightheaded. His heart stopped trying to beat out of his chest, the pounding in his ears and his brother’s voices going eerily quiet. He was still shaking, his muscles aching from the strain, but at least he felt in control of his body again, not floating away outside it. And as the panic ebbed, he was left feeling exhausted, and numb…

But anything was better than that overwhelming, unstoppable fear.

He unclenched his hands from where they were locked on a soft blanket, his fingers practically stiff from holding onto it so tightly. Actually, where did the blanket come from? Dr. Moonbloom must have draped over his shoulders at some point without him noticing. John Dory stiffened once more. Shit, Moonbloom…

The relief he’d felt at feeling more in control again was immediately shattered by a surge of shame, and just plain ‘ol embarrassment, as he looked up to see Dr. Moonbloom sitting directly across from him, two cups of tea in her hands. His ears pinned back against his head, slumping down in his seat as he let out a groan, running a hand down his face. Troll, why couldn’t he just disappear?

“Better now?” Dr. Moonbloom asked, John Dory unable to meet her analytical gaze.

He swallowed, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, ehem, yeah. Good. Great.” He mumbled, sure if his face had any color, it would be completely flushed right now. “Just great. Perfect now, so, I’m just gonna-” He went to stand up, but the glare from Dr. Moonbloom was enough to make him think twice. He flopped back down, nervously smoothing his bristled hair. “Sor-”

“The next word out of your mouth better not be ‘sorry’.” Dr. Moonbloom interrupted sternly. “You needed help, and I helped you. That’s my job.”

“Your job is to help people with real problems.” John Dory grumbled back.

“A panic attack is a real problem.” Dr. Moonbloom replied, climbing to her feet as John Dory let out a disbelieving huff. “Just because it isn’t physical doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” She set a cup of tea by his side, the steam curling gently in the air. “Here, drink this. For the nerves.”

John Dory hesitated for a moment, before taking the mug in his hands, the warmth pulling him further back into reality. “Thank you.” He murmured, letting out a soft sigh.

“That’s better.” Dr. Moonbloom replied, sitting back down and taking a sip of her tea. John Dory went to do the same, the smell of chamomile and honey tickling his nose. And… something else…

“Lavender.” Dr. Moonbloom said easily, as if she were reading his mind. “Uncommon to find growing out in the woods, but I grow some myself.”

John Dory hummed, taking a sip. It was nice, soothing, even if it did just taste like leaf water. But he still felt like utter garbage. He set the tea off to the side, fidgeting with his glove. “Look, Doc, I-”

“Has this ever happened before?”

John Dory peeked back up, meeting Dr. Moonbloom’s piercing gaze once again. “No.” He replied quickly, before thinking better of it. “Well, yes, but… Not like that. I mean, when… ‘that’ happens, it’s usually not that bad, and I can make it stop. But this time, I just…” He trailed off, slumping down in his chair again. “It felt like too much.”

Dr. Moonbloom cocked her head to the side. “How do you usually make them stop?”

“Well…” John Dory replied, his voice about an octave higher than it usually is as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Y’know, it just… stops. After a while.”

“So you do nothing until it goes away.”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

“How about triggers?” Dr. Moonbloom continued, stirring absently at her tea. “Did something cause this to happen?”

Memories from before bubbled against John Dory’s mind. “It was so stupid.” He grumbled, his tail twitching in annoyance. Dr. Moonbloom remained quiet, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. So with a sigh, he did.

“I… had a bit of a rough day.” He admitted, playing with his glove again. Yeah, that was the understatement of the season. “Then Branch and I got into an argument, and he slammed a door in my face, and I just... It was stupid, so stupid…” He trailed off again, that heavy feeling rising in his gut. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

Dr. Moonbloom hummed, setting her tea down. “I see.” She said softly, crossing her hands over her lap. “Does this happen a lot?”

John Dory closed his eyes, replaying the nights spent curled up in the bunker, trying desperately to convince himself his hand wasn’t on fire as the room burned around him. “Not to this extent…” He replied vaguely, staring at the ground.

Dr. Moonbloom nodded, apparently deep in thought.

“But you can make them stop, right?” John Dory asked, an almost hysterical laugh escaping his lips. “I mean, there’s gotta be something you can do. Something to fix all… this.”

Something to fix me.

The doctor sighed, taking off her glasses. “That isn’t exactly how this works.” She replied, her face losing some of that hard edge, replaced instead by concern. “Panic attacks are brought on by severe mental strain. It’s like a wound, John, physical or otherwise. I can’t just fix it, just like that. It takes time to heal.”

She met his eyes, intensity growing once more. “But what I can do is try and help make things a little easier.” She grabbed a notebook from her hair, scribbling down in it. “Once a week, you can come meet with me.”

“Wha… Why?” John Dory asked, confused.

“To talk.” Dr. Moonbloom replied easily, tucking the book back up into her hair. “You want this to stop? That’s how you do it. You talk.”

She must have seen the unconvinced look on John Dory’s face, so she continued. “Look, I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing. It’s uncommon for trolls to be pushed to a state where something like this can occur. But like I said before, let’s think of this like a physical wound. Something hurt you, maybe multiple things. I don’t know what, but whatever it was, it left its mark.”

John Dory absently rubbed at his twitching hand.

“Left alone, that wound will fester and grow infected, becoming more and more painful and difficult to manage until…” She mimicked an explosion by her side. “It explodes out in a nasty mess of fear and hurt. A panic attack.” She sighed, putting her glasses back on. “The only way to fix something like that is to lance it open, let all the pus and infection pour out, so the body can finally start to heal again. You know, talking. Does that make sense?”

“Uh…” John Dory deadpanned, rubbing his neck. Kinda? It was a bit hard to focus right now.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dr. Moonbloom said, shaking her head. “The point is, every week, you’re going to meet with me. We’ll have tea, and we’ll just… talk. About anything you desire. Understood?”

This time, John Dory felt himself nod. Talking once a week? He could do that. He didn’t see how it was going to help anything, but at least it’d give him something to do, something else to think about besides… Everything that's happened. Especially now that Branch was apparently going to be at school during the day…

Suddenly, John Dory leapt to his feet, panic surging through him once more. Branch… He’d left his brother alone after that fight! What was he thinking? His poor little brother was all alone down in that stupid, suffocating Bunker! What if he needed him?

“Ah!” He yelped, spinning around on his heels. “Thanks, Doc, but I’ve gotta-” Before he could take off, Dr. Moonbloom grabbed him firmly on the shoulder. He paused for a moment, turning around to face her.

“You need to take it easy.” She said levelly. “I mean it. Talk with your brother, and for troll’s sake, sit down, eat something, and relax.” Her gaze was almost too piercing to look at. “Doctor’s orders.”

John Dory bit his lip, but nodded. Seemingly satisfied, Dr. Moonbloom let her hand fall back down to her side. “Good. I’ll see you later this week.” Her face grew stern. “Take care of yourself, John.”

John Dory nodded again, before practically sprinting towards the door. However, at the last second, he paused, an icky feeling clawing at his gut.

“You’re… not going to tell anyone about this, are you?” He asked, his face heating up once more. The townsfolk, and likely King Peppy, already thought he was mentally unstable. He didn’t need them to have more fuel for the fire, per se.

Dr. Moonbloom smiled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “Confidential, remember?” She said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.” John Dory couldn’t help but feel a slight hint of relief at that. It was nice to have someone on his side for once.

“Are you going to tell her about us?” Floyd asked curiously as John Dory backed out of the door, racing towards Rhonda. But he didn’t answer. He waved Rhonda down, the large critter immediately trotting to his side as he made his way towards the Bunker. All that didn’t matter right now. He had to get home, he should have never left Branch like that.

His brother needed him.

He made sure to stop and pick his goggles off the ground outside the Bunker, fitting them uncomfortably on his head, before he finally made his way inside.

And found himself stood once again in front of Branch’s closed door.

He hesitated for a moment, then knocked, calling his brother’s name softly. “Branch?”

…No answer. But he did hear the shifting of movement inside, the sound of footsteps approaching the door. That was a good sign. The door didn’t open, no, but John Dory could tell Branch was standing, listening, just on the other side. Thank goodness. He couldn’t imagine how his brother might have freaked if he’d realized John Dory had left him here.

He let out a sigh, turning around and sitting stiffly with his back against the door. It was… ok. This was ok. Branch was there, and he was fine. And if the door was closed, if he didn’t want to let John Dory in… That was ok too. As long as he was there…

What had the Doc said? Talking helps? Unlikely, but at this point, at least it wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry, Bitty.” He started slowly, trying to find the right words to say. “I didn’t mean to spring that on you all at once. I know it was a lot, and I just…” He faltered, taking a deep breath as he smoothed back his hair. “You’re a good kid, B. A smart kid. And I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy, and I… I don’t want anything to get in the way of that. Not this bunker, not fear… Not me.” He lay his head back against the wood, staring up at the dimly lit dirt ceiling. “Look, I didn’t really get to go to school, or have friends, or do any of that stuff. And that was fine, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.” He pursed his lips, forcing himself to continue. “But you have a chance to do those things. I don’t want you to miss out on that just ‘cause you’re scared.”

Suddenly, he thought back to the Troll Memoriam, a small smile growing on his face. “It’s ok to be scared.” He said, rubbing at his glove. “And even if this seems scary right now, you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there with you, every step of the way. I promised. It may not be you and me against the world anymore, but it’s still you and me. Nothing will ever change that.”

His words were met with silence, and John Dory felt his resolve wavering. “Bitty-”

Just then, the door swung open, and John Dory fell back onto the floor with a loud “Oof!”. When he blinked the dust from his eyes, he found himself looking up at Branch, the young troll giving him a stern glare, arms crossed over his chest.

“That was incredibly sappy.” Branch said, looking unamused at John Dory’s plight.

“Are you still mad at me?” John Dory asked, not moving from the ground.

Branch’s shoulders hunched, looking off to the side. “Kinda.” He muttered, ears flicking. But then his gaze softened, a flicker of fear crossing his face. “I just… don’t want to do this.”

John Dory nodded empathetically. “I know, bud.” He replied. “But it’s important. And who knows? I’ll bet you’ll actually like school! I mean, you’re kind of a genius, kid. Might as well put that brain of yours to good use.”

“Maybe…” Branch murmured, fidgeting with his hands. “It’s just… Complicated. So many things could go wrong.”

“True.” John Dory agreed. “But things could also go right, couldn’t they?”

Branch scoffed. “Where’d you get that logic?”

“You know me, Captain Optimism.” John Dory replied, beaming up at his brother. “So… You’ll give it a try?”

Branch grimaced, ears drooping. “I guess…”

“Attaboy.” John Dory said, a huge wave of relief rushing through him. Thank goodness. Branch would go to school, he’d make some friends, and King Peppy would see that John Dory could take care of him, just like he always had.

And he supposed he could try taking care of himself as well. On the side.

Branch sighed in annoyance, crossing his arms once again. “Are you going to get off my floor?”

“I suppose.” John Dory huffed, climbing to his feet with a groan, stretching out his aching back. “I’m going to start up some dinner.” He paused, worry churning in his gut. “You… still gonna eat with me?”

Branch rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.” He grumbled, heading back into his room. “I'll be out in a minute.”

As much as he hated to admit it, just hearing that brought him so much relief. And what’s more, as he turned to leave…

He noticed Branch kept the door cracked, ever so slightly.

Chapter Text

“You got your lunch and everything? Pencils? Paper? Did I pack your water canteen? Dammit, hold still, let me check-”

“Touch me again, and I’m going to hit you.”

John Dory drew back from his brother with a pout. “You wouldn’t.” He grumbled, eyes locking on a tuft of Branch’s hair sticking out from his head. He licked his hand, reaching out to smooth it, but Branch just smacked it away with a scowl.

“I don’t need you fussing over me. I’m not a child!” Branch snapped, tail flicking in irritation.

“I know, I know.” John Dory replied, rolling his eyes as he held up his hands defensively. “I just… Want this to be perfect, y’know?” His eyes drifted behind Branch, to where several younger trolls were ducking inside a huge pod. “Big day.”

“Saying stuff like that just makes it worse.” Branch mumbled, his shoulders hunching up further as he peered nervously at the school. John Dory could tell he was trying to keep a brave face, but his hands were shaking slightly, apprehension flickering in his eyes. “Do I really have to do this?” Branch asked for about the hundredth time that week, voice significantly smaller than it was before.

John Dory grimaced, thinking about his baby brother down in the bunker, and the looming threat of King Peppy taking him away a heavy weight on his shoulders. But he forced a smile to his face, adopting a chipper tone as he clapped Branch on the back.

“Yep. And it’s gonna go great!” He chirped, trying as much to convince himself as he was Branch. “Trust me, B, this is a good thing! Just think about how much you’ll learn now that you’re not cooped up with my dumbass all the time.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “Don’t say that word in school, alright? Actually, don’t say anything I say. Or anything Clay highlighted in his dictionary.”

“Hey!” Clay’s voice piped up, appearing behind Branch with a pout. John Dory purposely ignored him.

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” Branch replied, eyes nervously flickering across the trolls making their way into the school like a frightened critter. John Dory didn’t even flinch as Branch spun around without warning, turning to bolt. He just nonchalantly grabbed his brother by the vest, setting him back down in front of him. “Worth a shot.” Branch grumbled, hands tightening on his bag.

“C’mon, Bitty.” John Dory smiled, punching his brother in the shoulder. “You’ve got this. You’re an expert survivalist, remember? This’ll be easy.”

“Can’t I just come with you?” Branch pleaded. “I’ll be more helpful to you out there then stuck here with a bunch of silly trolls.”

“You are a troll, B.” John Dory sighed, massaging his forehead. “And the answer’s no. You’re going to school.” Branch mumbled a bunch of big words John Dory had never heard before, but was sure were insulting. He crossed his arms over his chest sternly. “Your insults don’t work on me when I don’t know what they mean.”

Branch just scoffed, rolling his eyes, before looking over towards the school once more. John Dory set a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve got this, alright? I’ll be right here when you get out, promise.”

Branch was quiet for a moment, before he set his jaw tight. “Ok, ok.” He took a shaky breath, then began making his way over towards the school, tail dragging in the dirt. John Dory looked on, unsure if he felt more pride or guilt, as images of his brothers flickered to life around him.

“You think he’ll be ok?” Floyd asked nervously, fiddling with his tail. “What if something goes wrong, or he needs us? Or what if the other kids are mean to him?”

Clay stood off to the side, writing feverishly in a notebook. “We packed everything, right? Lunch, did we pack his lunch!?”

“He’ll be fine.” Spruce snapped, also watching as Branch walked away. “This is for the best.”

“Branch!”

Both the grey trolls nearly jumped out of their skin at the high-pitched squeal of joy behind them, turning to see Poppy racing over, practically bursting with excitement. “You’re coming to school!? Eeeeee! Oh my troll, I have to show you EVERYTHING!”

Branch let out a frightened yelp, immediately darting the other way, and ducking inside the school before Poppy could grab him. John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, giving his brother a small wave despite the fact that the young troll was long gone.

After a few moments, the smile fell from his face, his hand dropping limply to his side. Ok, right. Branch was in school now. This was good. Now, he just had to leave him here. Which he was totally fine with doing, and not freaking out about at all.

“Isn’t that John Dory? What’s he doing here?”

John Dory’s ears flicked up to the sound of whispers, absently tucking his hand in his pocket as he stole a quick glance to his side to see a few trolls chatting quietly. Not quietly enough, however…

“King Peppy’s letting his brother go to school here now.”

“Really?”

“I suppose that’s for the best. There’s no way Branch ever got a proper education, living out in the woods like he was.”

John Dory tensed, guilt clawing its way up his chest.

“This is ridiculous. It’s dangerous, letting a troll like that be around our kids.”

Ugh, he recognized that voice. Brook.

“I’ve already told Creek to keep his distance, and I suggest you tell your kids to do the same.” Brook sniffed, her voice like venom. “King Peppy is a sentimental old fool; he hasn’t been the same since his daughter. Let’s just hope Princess Poppy doesn’t turn out like him.”

John Dory felt a growl building in his throat, but he quickly turned away. Right, time for him to go. There were too many eyes on him. He was just about to make his escape when his gaze locked with another troll, standing several feet away from him.

King Peppy.

The king peered sadly at the group of gossiping trolls, clearly able to hear them, but not saying anything, before turning to look back at John Dory. The older troll gave him a small smile, eyes heavy with a mix of worry and guilt. John Dory didn’t return it.

Instead, he gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, before slinking into the undergrowth, trying to ignore the way the king’s face fell. He felt for the old king, he did, but he was still pretty upset about the whole ‘taking Branch away from him’ thing. It felt like he couldn’t trust him anymore.

And looking at him just made his chest hurt.

As he made his way back towards the Bunker, a vision of Floyd fell into step beside him, trotting along quickly to keep up.

“So what are you going to do now?” The pink-haired troll asked curiously.

“Gotta clean up the bunker a bit.” John Dory replied, waving off a few humsquitoes as he traipsed through the woods.

“Okay… And after that?”

“Patrol.”

“And then?”

“Then…” John Dory paused, thinking for a moment. What was he supposed to do with all this spare time now? “I don’t know. Something, I guess.” He continued after a moment, shaking his head as he walked into the clearing. “I’ll figure it out when I get to it.”

“Ah, avoidance. How original.” Spruce’s unimpressed voice drawled from where he appeared to be sunbathing in the grass. “Pick a new schtick, Johnny. This one’s getting old.” John Dory replied with a crude gesture, ignoring Floyd’s chastising as he ducked underground.

He spent a little time tidying up the Bunker, but really, there wasn’t much to clean down there. He and Branch kept it pretty well organized. Terrifying underground bunker aside, he was kind of proud of how far the place had come since they’d first moved it. But at the end of the day, it was made of dirt, so John Dory took a few minutes just to dust off the fine layer of grit that formed in the kitchen, along with cleaning up the bedrooms. Including his brothers’, whose beds lay empty and untouched. He made quick work of it, and before long, he was sat in a perfectly clean Bunker, sipping absently on some coffee to calm his nerves before he went on patrol.

All of a sudden, this place felt so much… smaller.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the chair, leg bouncing as his skin crawled. Without Branch down here with him, the Bunker felt much more stifling, and quiet. Empty. He chugged the rest of his coffee, before very calmly racing out of the dark place. And by the time he crawled back up to the surface, he felt almost out of breath, but utterly relieved to be above ground.

He spent a few minutes coddling Rhonda, scratching her chin as he cooed sweet nothings into her ear, the critter purring with joy. He rumbled right back at her, rubbing his cheek on hers until she started trying to lick him, to which he quickly protested, pushing her head back with a laugh as he made his escape into the woods. Time to put himself to use.

He fell easily into step on the now well-worn path he and Branch had created around the village, cutting down some of the overgrown plants with his machete. He’d often patrol the village at least twice during the day, maybe three or four times if he couldn’t sleep. Typically, he’d entertain himself by bantering with Branch. But now…

The forest just felt too quiet.

It wasn’t like he and Branch talked too much out here, they didn’t want to alert any critters to their presence. But there was just something… missing. Branch’s footfalls on the ground, his soft breaths, his tail flicking absently against foliage as they passed. It was a quiet John Dory wasn’t used to yet. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Do you think Branch is doing ok?” Floyd’s voice piped up, John Dory turning to see the young troll walking beside him once again.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” John Dory replied, cutting down another branch. “He’s a tough kid.”

“But are you sure you’re sure?” Clay chimed in, John Dory shooting him a glare.

“Yes.” He snapped, trying to walk faster. But now all he could think about was Branch. Was he doing ok? He hadn’t been away from John Dory like this in a long time… What if something at the school freaked him out? Or what if the kids were being assholes? His head was spinning so much, he didn’t even notice the small critter in his path until he practically stepped on it, leaping back with a yelp as he pointed his machete at it with a threatening snarl.

“Whoo, you’re really off your game.” Spruce said smugly from his side, causing John Dory to let out another growl. He sheathed the machete in his hair, looking the critter up and down.

It was a worm… thing. Multicolored, with a little top hat resting on its head. Actually, John Dory was pretty sure this thing belonged to one of Poppy’s friends. He tilted his head to the side, scratching at it as he looked around.

“Uh, are you supposed to be out here?” He asked, not really sure why he was asking a worm, but oh well.

The critter just looked at him without blinking, its pitch black eyes wide and expressionless. And John Dory decided he really did not like this thing.

“Okay… Creepy.” He mumbled, reaching out his foot, and gently moving the critter to the side. “As you were.” The critter continued to stare at him, letting out a small squeak, before it fell backwards, looking up at the sky. “Yeesh…” John Dory shuddered, quickly making his escape.

By the time John Dory was done with his patrol, he still had no idea what he was supposed to do with his extra time. He looked up at the sun with a frown. There was still at least a couple hours before Branch was done with school. He let out a sigh, checking over the last trap on his stop.

“Didn’t Dr. Moonbloom say you should try to find a hobby?” Floyd suggested, the young troll hanging upside down on the trap, swaying in the wind.

Yeah, she did mention that, at their last ‘talking session’. John Dory had told her about Branch going to school, and she’d actually seemed pretty supportive of the idea.

“This is a great opportunity.” She’d said, sipping at her tea. “Both for Branch, and for you. I would recommend taking this time to learn who you are when you’re not working or taking care of your brother. Find a hobby, do something fun. Something for you. And preferably something that doesn’t land you in my office more than you already are.”

John Dory groaned, stepping back from the trap. “Something for me?” He muttered to himself, trying to think. What did he even do for fun nowadays? Actually, what did he ever do for fun? Well, he liked writing songs, but that was kinda out of the question, considering he couldn’t sing, or write really. He didn’t even have a damn instrument. He’d liked hanging out with his brothers, talking to Branch…

“That’s sad.” Clay smirked, jumping up by where Floyd was still hanging as he tapped his chin. “No, not sad… Oh! Pathetic!”

“Stuff it, Clay.” John Dory snarled, rolling his eyes. It didn’t escape his notice how much he was talking to his not-Bros at the moment. But without Branch around, it was a lot harder to just ignore them. “I’ll find something to do, alright? Just…”

His eyes scanned the ground, before landing on a rather wide stick. He quickly scooped it up, plopping down on the ground and pulling his machete from his hair. With long, careful strokes, he began to sharpen the end into a point. There, see? He could do stuff without his brothers, it was fine. He was having a great time.

“I don’t think that counts.” Floyd chirped, hopping down so he could watch. “You’re just doing work again.”

“I’m being useful.” John Dory retorted. “You can never have too many wooden stakes.”

“And you called me a ‘safety fanatic’.” Clay scoffed, pouting a bit.

John Dory ignored him, sticking his tongue out as he tried to concentrate. His injured hand was twitching again, making this a lot more difficult than it needed to be. He struggled to keep it steady, but the more he thought about it, the worse it got, until with a spasm that felt rather personal, he accidentally snapped off the point he’d been trying so hard to craft.

“Dammit!” He cursed, glaring at his twitching hand, and the now jagged edge of the stick. But as he did, he blinked a bit, Floyd leaning in closer as they both looked at it.

“Huh.” The pink-haired troll said, tilting his head to the side. “Doesn’t that kinda look like troll hair?”

“It kinda does…” John Dory murmured, tilting his head as well. He set down his machete, reaching into his hair to instead grab the Tuskhog tusk he kept on hand, for more of the intricate chopping of food and such. He went to cut into the wood again, but his hand was still twitching, making the tusk tremble. Irritation flooded his chest, but he took a deep breath, trying to focus as he touched the sharp edge to the wood, drawing it along the ridges.

And for the first time in a long, long time… His head went quiet.

He silently carved into the wood, a figure slowly taking shape. An ear here, and arm there, jagged sculpting of a tail… It didn’t exactly work out perfectly, his hand still spasming like it had a mind of its own. But John Dory continued to breathe, each exhale bringing with it another chip of wood. He went slow, trying not to get frustrated when he sliced off too much, or a twitch made the edges look rough and jagged. ‘Cause he was just messing around, right? Making something stupid. It didn’t matter.

Finally, he sawed the figure from the end of the stick, tossing the remains to the side as he looked it up and down. Of course at that moment, his mind decided to perk back up again, his brothers appearing in front of him, also scrutinizing the misshapen hunk of wood.

“What is it?” Floyd asked, confused.

“S’posed to be a troll.” John Dory replied with a shrug. There was a moment of silence, before all four of them broke into raucous laughter.

“That’s a troll?!” Spruce cackled, trying and failing to hide the smile on his face. “What happened to it?!”

“It looks like it was chewed up by a Bergen!” Clay howled, falling back on the ground.

“It’s art!” Floyd grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re an artist!”

“This is not art.” John Dory giggled, wiping at his eyes. “This is a crime against nature.”

“You gotta show Branch!” Floyd squealed with joy, his tail twitching back and forth. “He’s gonna love it!”

“Hah! Yeah…” John Dory replied, his voice trailing off, before he jumped to his feet with a start. “Ah! Branch!” He looked up towards the sky, Branch was going to get out soon! He had to be there! He quickly shoved the figure in his pocket, taking off towards the school.

How had the time gotten away from him like that?!

He skidded to a stop in front of the large pod, looking up at the sun once more. Good, he was an hour early, perfect! Now he’d for sure be here when Branch got out! He just… had to wait an hour.

John Dory spent the rest of his time apprehensively pacing near the treeline, absently rubbing at the wooden figure in his pocket. Hopefully, today went off without a hitch for his little brother. It had to. If Branch had a terrible day at school and refused to go anymore… Then what would he do? No, no, everything was fine. Branch was fine, and he was going to like school, and-

John Dory jumped as a small critter near the school pod let out a screech, signaling the end of the day. He hadn’t even noticed the crowd of trolls that’d gathered around. But his focus wasn’t on them, instead where the young trolls began filing out of the school, stomach churning with a mix of excitement and dread.

His eyes immediately locked on his brother’s dull figure, slinking away from the group of trolls. However, he didn’t seem to escape Poppy’s notice, the young princess letting out a loud, “Bye Branch! See you tomorrow!”, as several of her friends chorused the same. Branch just ignored them, making a beeline towards his brother.

John Dory couldn’t help but grin, relief flooding his chest. “Bitty B!” He called excitedly, going in for a hug, which Branch masterfully evaded. John Dory didn’t let that deter him, instead just clapping his hands on the young troll’s shoulders. “How’d it go, kid?”

“It was…” Branch hesitated, and John Dory felt his spirits fall. But then, Branch just shrugged, looking indifferent. “Fine.”

John Dory inwardly cheered. It went fine! He let out a relieved laugh, wrapping an arm around Branch’s shoulders and ruffing up his hair. “See?! I knew you could do itI!”

Branch waved him off with a scowl, but John Dory could see the slight hint of pride in his eyes. “The trolls were still really annoying.” He said, fixing his hair. “But there were a lot of cool books and such.” He reached into his hair, pulling one out as if to prove his point.

“And you just… took ‘em?” John Dory asked, scratching at his head.

“I’ll give them back.” Branch replied, tucking it away. “Eventually.”

“Heh, attaboy.” John Dory said, practically glowing with pride.

“Excuse me, you’re John Dory, correct?”

John Dory turned to see an older female troll standing in front of him, pushing her glasses up on her nose. He immediately plastered a smile on his face, arms stiffening by his side. Teachers always made him a bit… Nervous.

“Yep, that’s me.” He replied quickly, clearing his throat as he reached out a hand. The troll hesitated for a moment, and John Dory realized he’d outstretched his scarred hand, hastily switching them and letting out another nervous laugh. “You must be Ms. Fern. Hope my brother didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Quite the opposite, in fact.” Ms. Fern said, giving his hand a firm shake. “I must admit, I was a tad concerned about what level young Branch might be at, considering.” She smiled at John Dory, her gaze warm. “But I must say, he’s exceeded my expectations in every way. He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much in class, or at all, and his penmanship needs some work, but I can tell he’s very bright. He’s an excellent reader, his recall is unmatched, and he’s passed all my competency quizzes with high remarks.”

She gave Branch a smile, to which the young troll just flushed a bit, shrugging as he turned away. She looked back up at John Dory, and he was surprised to see genuine kindness in her eyes. “I just wanted you to know you’ve done a wonderful job teaching him, despite everything you two have been through. You should be very proud.”

John Dory really hoped he didn’t look as completely dumbfounded as he felt. He hadn’t received a compliment from a teacher… Well, ever. He shook the shock from his head, grinning. “Yeah well, it’s easy when your kid brother’s a genius.” He chuckled, ruffling Branch’s hair once again.

Ms. Fern nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Branch. Take care, both of you.” As she walked away, heading back towards the school, John Dory couldn’t help but shoot Branch a smug grin. Branch just huffed, flushing even more as he rolled his eyes.

“So what’d you do today?” The young troll asked tightly, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Oh, uh…” John Dory started, eyes flitting to the side as an image of Floyd appeared.

“Show him!” Floyd chirped excitedly, his tail wagging back and forth.

John Dory coughed, embarrassed, but pulled the misshapen wooden troll from his pocket, tossing it over to his brother.

“Made that.” He said, trying to act nonchalant as Branch looked it over, his face unreadable “I got kind of distracted, while whittling some stakes. I don’t know, it's kind of silly heh…”

“...Can I have it?”

John Dory blinked, looking up. “What?”

Branch tore his gaze away from the wooden figure, looking completely serious. “I mean, you’re going to make more, right? So can I have this one?”

“You don’t want that.” John Dory laughed. “It’s terrible. Give me a few more tries, and I make one much better-”

“Look, can I have it or not?” Branch interrupted, John Dory letting his exaggerated smile fall. But he was surprised as a genuine one took its place.

“Well, sure B.” He replied with a goofy grin. “If you really want it, it’s all yours.”

Branch smiled back at him, gazing down at the figure once more. Then he coughed, tucking it in his vest. “Anyways, can we go check the traps? I have a few new ideas for the pitfalls…”

John Dory grinned proudly at the young troll, motioning into the woods.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

It took several months to settle into the new swing of things.

Every morning, John Dory would wake up before the sun to go out and patrol, typically with Branch by his side. Despite going to school now, the young troll was insistent that he couldn’t slack on his duties as a “Scout in Training”. John Dory assumed it was Branch’s way of still feeling in control of things, so he, albeit a bit begrudgingly, continued to let the small grey troll tag along. The whole point of school was to put some distance between his brother and all this crazy survival stuff. Between… them. But everything in small steps, he supposed.

Besides, it was always nice to have real company to talk to.

The rest of the morning was spent getting Branch to school. Packing his lunch, making sure his vest was clean, attempting to brush Branch’s messy hair, and almost always being thwarted. John Dory actually settled back into this routine a lot easier than he expected. He did the same things for his brothers all those years ago, day in and day out. The familiarity was actually a bit of a comfort, his body going through the motions with him hardly even aware he was doing it. And he had to admit, mornings were a lot less chaotic with only one brother to wrangle.

It took Branch a bit longer to get used to the ways things were now. Almost every day for the first few weeks, the young troll would come up with some new, convoluted excuse as to why he couldn’t go to school. Either he was sick, or the traps needed quadruple checking, so on and so forth. But unfortunately for him, John Dory could easily call his bluffs. Branch never was a great liar.

When the constant excuses didn’t work, the presentations started. Branch would spend a good hour or so every few days explaining in detail why school was pointless through a series of posters and bulletin boards. He made charts, graphs, elaborate cut-out scenes… To be fair, they were actually really well made, with a lot of time and effort put into constructing the colorful figures, but John Dory firmly held his ground. Branch may be stubborn, but John Dory was nothing if not the most stubborn bastard this side of Troll Village. He wasn’t about to be “out stubborned” by his baby brother. And when Branch eventually realized he wasn’t going to budge, the young troll sullenly relented, obediently going to school each day, albeit with some choice grumbling under his breath.

As much as Branch despised school, he was amazing at it. The young troll constantly brought back tests and papers with perfect scores (Which John Dory always pinned on the fridge, despite Branch’s complaints). And Branch genuinely seemed to enjoy learning everything he could, soaking in knowledge like a sponge, just like he always did. He was still in the habit of “borrowing” books, oftentimes reading them aloud after dinner while John Dory intently listened on, just like he used to with Clay. It’d just become part of their ritual. The sound of his brother’s voice was almost a reassurance, and whether it was a fictional story, or some complex book about architecture, he found himself becoming lost in the words. Besides, they’d bring the books back. Eventually. Probably. Maybe.

The young troll still wasn’t great at the other side of things. That is to say, being social with his fellow classmates. But that wasn’t exactly something John Dory could do anything about. Branch just… didn’t talk to other trolls. He either remained silent, letting out the occasional hiss or growl, or gave them one word answers. There were only two trolls he would ever actually talk to, and that was John Dory, and for some reason, Poppy. However when John Dory questioned him about it, Branch would immediately clam up, turning away. The best answer he could get was “She’s just different, ok?”.

Regardless, John Dory assumed the whole “talking to trolls” thing would improve with time. After all, it had only been a few months. And he didn’t exactly have the greatest role model on social interactions. It wasn’t like John Dory went out to talk to trolls much either, besides Dr. Moonbloom. It just felt safer at home, away from all those watchful eyes. Most days, he kept to himself, kept himself busy.

It was hard at first, getting used to Branch not being around as much. He much preferred to have Branch in his sights, where he could make sure he was safe. Leaving him at a random pod all day with trolls he didn’t know or trust? He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t freaked him out a little bit. But over time, this fear faded a bit, and although he still missed his brother during the day, he knew he’d always be there when John Dory went to pick him up.

And weirdly enough, he was actually starting to feel better than he had in a long, long time.

Now that Branch was at school for most of the day, John Dory had a lot more time to himself. To do things for himself, not just for Branch. He hadn’t realized how much he’d thrown himself into his brother’s life, worrying about anything and everything about him. He still worried, but it was less now. It didn’t take up his entire life. He spent a lot less time camped out in the hallway at night, and his mind wasn’t constantly screaming at him that Branch was on the verge of death every second. It was so much easier to focus without all that noise in his head.

The visions of his brothers were still there, but it wasn’t like that was going to change any time soon.

He kept up with patrols, kept the bunker clean, often went foraging either by himself, or hunting with Branch by his side. And he found himself continuing his whole “wood-carving” spree, now that he had some extra time. It was just… relaxing, in a way. Made his mind go quiet, just for a little bit. And maybe, just maybe, he was kind of proud of the work too.

He started off just continuing to carve those little figurines, experimenting with different kinds of wood before attempting bigger projects. It was tough, his charred hand a constant hindrance to the smooth strokes he desired. It easily got overworked, twitching and spasming to the point John Dory had to take a break. But he didn’t let this deter him. He’d take his break, then get right back to it, spending hours on end carving outside next to Rhonda, who licked up the shavings like there were some sweet treat. And the Bunker began to fill with hand-carved furniture.

He was most proud of his brothers’ rooms. He’d come up with a theme for each of them, carving intricate patterns into their bed frames and doors. For Floyd, a nice cherry wood, detailed with every flower John Dory could think of. He used a lighter oak for Spruce’s room, doing his best to carve images of the sea, with palm trees and sandy beaches. The guy had always said he wanted to go to the ocean one day. Clay was a bit trickier, but he used a nice walnut to create the night sky, complete with constellations, embellished planets, and using the woodgrain to portray the Northern Lights. Maybe it was a bit silly, spending all this time on bedrooms his brothers would likely never see. But it felt better to do something like this than just drown himself in guilt all the time.

Branch seemed rather impressed with his woodworking skills, often asking him to build extra shelves, or other furniture for the Bunker, which John Dory happily obliged. He even started teaching Branch a bit, the two brothers working together to carve Branch’s own bed frame into a landscape of evergreens. Although the underground tunnels and rooms still set him on edge, and he much preferred spending his time outdoors or in Rhonda, the Bunker was becoming more and more like a home.

He continued to meet up with Dr. Moonbloom each week, just to talk. Oftentimes he’d walk in, and she’d have tea already set out for him, sipping silently from her own mug. And he’d just… start speaking. About his day, his week, things that might have happened, the good and the… less good. Other than prompting a few questions, or offering a bit of advice, the Doc remained mostly quiet, just listening to him speak. He still wasn’t completely convinced that this was helping anything, but he had to admit it was kind of nice, talking to someone who wasn’t his brothers.

He was still having those “panic attacks”, typically following a rather horrific dream, or if he got a bit too inside his own head. Sometimes, they’d just happen out of nowhere, with no explanation. And they always sucked. But Dr. Moonbloom had given him some tips to help ground himself, bring himself back to reality. They didn’t exactly fix anything, but it did make them more bearable, made him feel a bit more in control. Typically he’d just find his way to Rhonda, and the large critter would lay her head on his chest until he could breathe again. He could sometimes even fall back asleep after they happened, which did wonders for his terrible sleep schedule.

He still hadn’t told Moonbloom about the whole “seeing things that weren’t there” part. That was a piece of his crazy, crumbling mind he decided to keep to himself.

But overall, it seemed like things were actually going better. Branch was in school, he was learning, putting his mind to good use. His social life was still nonexistent, but Branch wasn’t exactly the friendliest troll. That would take some time.

And John Dory wasn’t waking up filled with dread everyday, so he decided to count that as a win.

He felt… better. Hell, he thought he looked better too. The deep circles that had become so prevalent on his face had faded a bit. He remembered to brush his hair more often, keeping it less frenzied and frayed. He’d even gained a little weight, surprised he hadn’t noticed how sickly he’d started to look, how often he’d be so caught up in taking care of Branch, he’d often forget to eat himself. He was still that dull grey, but what else was new? It was so much a part of him at this point. But really, other than that, he just… felt better.

Not good, but better.

As much as he was still pretty peeved at King Peppy for threatening to take Branch away from him, a tiny part of him was almost grateful for that reality check. If things had continued as they were, it probably wouldn’t have ended well, for either of them. The king had been right, in a way. He finally felt like he was healing a bit. Maybe at some point, he’d go talk to the old troll again. There was a part of him that really missed their chats.

These thoughts absently swirled around in John Dory’s brain as he waited patiently for school to get out, sat in the shade of a nearby root as he carefully carved what was supposed to be Rhonda out of a block of hickory (The hardwood was a bit difficult to work with, but John Dory liked the challenge, and the results were entirely worth it). He allowed the tusk he used to smoothly follow the grain, adding in some of the finer details. He was planning to stain this one, and stick it to Rhonda’s dash. His best girl deserved to look stunning, even in wood form. And doing this while he waited for Branch helped distract him from the feeling of trolls watching him from afar.

Finally, the school critter rang, and John Dory immediately perked up, shoving the carving supplies back up in his hair. Maybe it was a bit silly, how excited he got to see his baby bro after a long day of school. But what could he say? He missed the kid.

Usually, he’d have to wait a moment for Branch to come out, the young troll slinking out the door after the first wave of trolls burst through. But to his surprise, Branch was one of the first trolls to come stumbling through the door, walking quick enough that it was more of a sprint. John Dory shook the surprise from his face, grinning as he gave his brother a wave. “Hey Bitty! How was-”

He didn’t get to finish, however, as Branch didn’t slow down. The young troll grabbed his arm, pulling him along with him.

“Whoa, slow down, B, what’re you…?” John Dory began, but trailed off as his eyes scanned up and down his brother’s body. He looked… ruffled, his hair a bit messed up, his jaw tight. And he was holding his hand weirdly, as if it hurt. John Dory immediately planted his feet, pulling his arm back. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” He asked quickly, feeling that familiar anxiety blossom to life in his chest.

Branch didn’t look at him, instead shooting a nervous glance towards the school, before shaking his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” He replied hastily, going to grab John Dory’s arm again. “I have a lot of work to do, so let’s go, right now.”

“B-” John Dory started to protest, but was interrupted once more as he heard his name called from across the clearing.

“John Dory?”

He turned to see Ms. Fern standing near the entrance of the school, a serious look on her face. Branch cursed under his breath at his side, kicking at the dirt. John Dory unconsciously moved in front of his brother, plastering on a grin.

“Ms. Fern! Pleasure, as always.” He drawled, trying to keep the edge from his voice as he turned on the charm.

“Yes, quite.” Ms. Fern smiled back at him politely, before her expression grew stern. “Would you mind stepping inside for a moment? I need to have a word with you.”

John Dory’s smile fell, tensing up as he let out a nervous laugh. “Is this about the books? ‘Cause I swear we were going to give them back.”

Ms. Fern cocked her head to the side, looking confused. “What?”

“Heh, what?” John Dory echoed, coughing as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Sure, sure, we can chat. But uh, what are we chatting about?”

Ms. Fern pursed her lips, John Dory feeling Branch tense at his side.

“Branch got in a fight today.”

Chapter Text

He what?!

John Dory followed Ms. Fern into the school pod in disbelief, as Branch plodded sullenly along behind him.

This didn’t make any sense. Sure, John Dory had gotten into plenty of scraps when he was Branch’s age. Troll kids could be cruel sometimes, and despite John Dory’s obsession with maintaining the ‘perfect family’ image, when it came to his brothers, he had no qualms about teaching someone a lesson if they decided to run their mouth. The few times Clay and Floyd had come home looking scuffed up, John Dory made sure the culprit understood in no uncertain terms that his family was off limits. And usually one tussle with him was enough to make any kid think twice about messing with them again.

But Branch? This wasn’t like him. Unlike John Dory, who was all brawn and no brains, Branch typically thought through a situation, rather than just jumping right in. And when he was angry, he’d fight with his words, not fists. John Dory felt completely at a loss, stealing a quick peek over at his younger brother, who was rubbing at his hand with a grimace.

What the hell had pushed Branch to get into a fight?

“It’s our fault.” Floyd’s voice piped up from his side, voice wavering slightly. “We shouldn’t have forced him to come here, we can’t protect him!”

“Oh, so he’s safer cooped up at the Bunker with JD?” Clay snapped. “This is all his fault! If he’d just sent Branch to school right away, or hadn’t taken him away from the trolls in the first place, then maybe the poor kid would actually fit in!”

“Who did this to him?” Spruce’s sharp voice cut through their bickering, John Dory glancing over to see a familiar rage burning in his brother’s piercing blue eyes, the same rage igniting in his chest. He was wondering the exact same thing.

As Ms. Fern led them into what John Dory assumed was her office, they got their answer. Sitting on her desk with a stained towel held to his bloodied nose was Creek, sporting a rather nasty looking black eye, and the same sullen, pouty face that Branch had.

Right. Of course it was this kid.

John Dory took a seat, quickly making note of the door, and the two windows in the office, just in case. Then, he turned his gaze over to Creek, who was glaring daggers at Branch as he slunk into the seat by his brother. Creek’s eyes then drifted up to John Dory, the glare melting as a flicker of fear darted across his face, hastily looking away.

John Dory never liked knowing that there were trolls out there who were afraid of him, but in Creek’s case, he’d make an exception.

“Alright, boys.” Ms. Fern sighed, taking a seat as well. “Would you like to explain to us what happened?”

“I don’t know what happened!” Creek replied, his voice sounding a bit more nasally than usual. “We were just chatting together after class, when out of nowhere Branch tackled me to the ground and started hitting me!”

“Branch, is this true?” Ms. Fern asked, her lips pursed into a tight line.

Branch was silent, staring at the ground, gripping his stitched shorts like an anchor. But after a moment, he gave a single nod, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Why?” John Dory asked, without really meaning to. But that was the real question here. Something had to have set his brother off. As much as he despised the guy, Branch would never just attack Creek for no reason.

Branch sank deeper into his chair, clearly not willing to say anything, so John Dory leaned down, meeting his eyes. “B.” He said softly, as if there were no one else in this room but them. “Why?”

Branch shot a nervous glance over to Ms. Fern, then to Creek, before his eyes landed on John Dory again. Finally, he looked back down at the floor, speaking just barely above a whisper.

“He… said I have hair lice.” He admitted, the venom clear in his voice. John Dory blinked, different emotions blossoming in his chest. Anger, indignation, worry…

Was Creek giving Branch a hard time at school? How long had that been going on? He had to bite back a growl, that familiar heat sparking to life even more in his chest. But he was also a bit confused… Sure, Creek was a jerk, and what he said was definitely an insult, but it didn’t seem like the type of thing to send Branch over the edge. His eyes flicked between his brother, and the other young troll. What was really going on here?

“Wow, Branch. I didn’t know you could speak.” Creek said with feigned surprise, before he looked back at Ms. Fern. “And I didn’t say he had hair lice, I asked if he had them. We just learned about them in class, and I was concerned, since he lives out in the woods and all.” He glanced back over at Branch, eyes wide. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Branch. I was just worried about my friend.”

“Liar.” Clay’s voice snarled from behind John Dory, and he couldn’t agree more. The inferno growing in his chest became more intense at the way Creek’s voice dripped with false remorse, but Ms. Fern seemed to eat it up, nodding in understanding.

“I see.” She said, folding her hands on her desk. “Creek, next time, you need to think about how your words affect other people.” Creek nodded solemnly, but John Dory didn’t miss the small smirk playing across his lips. “And Branch?” Branch tensed at his side, still staring at the floor. “Don’t you think you owe Creek an apology as well?”

“If it helps, Branch, I drafted up an apology song.” Creek said chipperly, amusement shining in his eyes, and John Dory had to bite back another growl. This conniving little…

Ms. Fern shook her head, holding up a hand. “That won’t be necessary, Creek.” She turned her attention back to the small grey troll in front of her, frowning. “Branch?”

Branch looked like he wanted to curl into a ball, glancing up at John Dory. And as much as it pained him to do so, he gave his brother an encouraging nod. The young troll wilted, letting out a hiss as his hands tightened on his shorts.

“Sorry.”

“What? Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you…” Creek drawled, and John Dory felt his own hands clench into fists.

“I’m. Sorry.” Branch repeated through gritted teeth.

Ms. Fern nodded in approval, turning back towards John Dory. “Thank you for coming, John Dory. Branch is a good kid, but I cannot tolerate violence in the classroom.”

“Of course.” John Dory replied, swallowing down the anger boiling in his stomach as forced a polite smile to his face, resting his hand on her desk in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “We'll have a talk when we get home.”

Ms. Fern smiled warmly back at him, turning to write something, as Branch snuck another guilt-ridden look up at his older brother. But John Dory just continued to smile, giving the young troll a wink. Branch seemed confused for a moment, before his face brightened ever so slightly.

Creek picked up on this, tensing in his seat as John Dory turned his attention towards him. Images of his brothers flickered to life behind the young troll, their faces curled into matching snarls, eyes burning with anger. John Dory’s hand twitched, fingers curling on their own as his chewed-on nails dug into the desk, scratching at the soft wood. He continued to grin, but it was less of a smile, and more of a warning, baring his teeth as fear darted across Creek’s face once more. And John Dory couldn’t help but feel the smallest hint of satisfaction, cocking his eyebrows in amusement. Good.

“Alright, well I’m glad we got that taken care of.” Ms. Fern said, tucking everything back in her desk. “You’re all free to go.”

Creek smiled nervously at her, before practically dashing out the door, clearly trying to get as much distance as he could away from the two grey trolls. He was likely about to go bawling to his mother about how the wild trolls attacked him again. John Dory couldn’t wait to deal with that whole mess, but for now, he had more important things to worry about. He gave Ms. Fern a polite nod, before he and Branch also made their escape, walking in silence back towards the Bunker.

As they made their way through the outskirts of Troll Village, John Dory’s eyes traced across his brother’s disheveled figure in concern, confusion welling up in his mind once more. It was obvious Creek had said something to Branch, but what? It couldn’t just be that hair comment. Maybe it was several things? A built up anger from the past few months? But no, that still didn’t explain why Branch would actually hit Creek. The kid was a thinker, not a fighter. None of this made sense. And he needed some answers.

“He’s hurting, JD.” Floyd commented, trotting next to Branch with a worried look on his face. “He’ll never tell you if you don’t ask him.”

“Alright, B, spill it.” John Dory finally said, breaking the silence they’d settled into.

“Spill what?” Branch grumbled back, feigning ignorance.

“You know what.” John Dory sighed, rubbing at his face. “I know you. And I know you wouldn’t just hit that kid over some stupid ‘hair lice’ comment.”

Branch seemed to clam up, hunching his shoulders.

“C’mon, B.” John Dory coaxed, taking on a lighter tone. “Talk to me. Has he…” He trailed off, anger flaring to life once more. “Has he been giving you a hard time?”

Branch rolled his eyes. “No.” He replied, an edge to his voice. “He just says stupid things. Like asking if I have hair lice, or if I like smelling like dirt, or ‘Oh Branch, have you grown since I last saw you?’.” Branch mimicked Creek’s nasally accent before his jaw tightened. “But it doesn’t bother me. I don’t care what he says about me, I don’t care what anyone says about me.”

So Creek was being a jerk to his baby brother. Nice to know his initial suspicions about him were correct. John Dory took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach churned with rage. It would be wrong to punch a child… He reminded himself.

“If you don’t care what he says about you, why’d you punch him?” He asked, looking back at Branch. The young troll hesitated again, ears drooping, so John Dory leaned forward to meet his eyes expectantly. “B.”

Anger flickered to life in Branch’s eyes as well, John Dory practically able to feel the tension rolling off his brother in waves. “Because he didn’t say something about me.” He finally hissed, looking up at John Dory. “He said something about you.”

John Dory blinked in surprise. “Oh.” He breathed, his turn to look down at the forest floor. “...I see.” He paused, thinking for a moment, then continued. “...What’d he say?”

Branch was quiet before he began to speak again, slowly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “He was just saying stuff like he always does, and Poppy told him to stop. So he got all fake apologetic and said she was right.” Branch’s face grew stormy, hands clenching like he wanted to punch something again. “He said it wasn’t my fault I was raised by a monster.”

Monster… There was that word again, memories of blood and snarls flashing across John Dory’s mind. Despite the fact that he’d been feeling much better lately, hearing that still stung. His ears drooped as he grimaced, his body all of a sudden feeling a bit heavier.

“Ugh, see? This is why I didn’t want to tell you!” Branch growled, stopping to turn and face his brother. “Whenever someone says something about you, you always get that look on your face, like you believe them!” John Dory drew back a bit, surprised by the intensity in his brother’s voice. “We both know Creek is nothing but a filthy liar! Why should you care what he, or anyone else says about you?!”

John Dory paused, unsure how to answer that. So he didn’t. “Why do you?” He shot back instead.

Now it was Branch’s turn to be stumped, faltering. “I… I don’t.” He replied sullenly. “But I know you do. He shouldn’t be saying that stuff.”

Branch grew more agitated, eyes flashing angrily as he gestured wildly with his hands. “He just lies all the time, but for some reason, people always believe him! It’s like he’s got them eating out of his hand! Someone had to shut him up, so I punched him.” Branch’s gaze hardened. “He can say whatever he wants about me, I don’t care. But I won’t have him walking around calling you a monster. He doesn’t know anything about you. And you saved his stupid life!” Branch kicked at the dirt, rubbing at his hand again. “I should’ve punched him harder.”

John Dory thought for a moment. So Branch was just… defending him. A small part of him couldn’t help but be proud, a warm feeling growing in his chest. But the other part of him locked worriedly on Branch’s injured hand. He let out a sigh, leading Branch into the clearing above the Bunker. “C’mon B, let’s get you fixed up.”

Branch was quiet as John Dory sat him on a rock, gently wrapping up his hand. Rhonda trotted over, nuzzling Branch’s face despite his protest, though his eyes shone with endearment as he patted the large beast. John Dory smiled at the sweet moment, but as he focused on the task at hand, his face curled once again into a frown. Branch definitely caused a fair amount of damage to Creek’s face, but he didn’t come out unscathed. The young troll’s knuckles were already bruising slightly, and it looked like he’d tweaked his thumb. That anger burned in his chest once more.

John Dory had always tried to keep Branch away from fighting. Out in the wilderness, it was just too dangerous for the small troll to get in a tussle with a critter, especially one that was ten times the size of him. And besides, John Dory was always there to protect him. But now, they weren't exactly under the threat of dangerous critters, but of bratty little trolls with a god-complex. And Branch didn’t know how to defend himself.

He couldn’t be having that.

He finished wrapping Branch’s hand, then pushed himself to his feet with a groan.

“Alright, Bitty.” He started. “As your sort of primary caregiver, I feel it’s my duty to tell you that violence is never the answer.”

Branch seemed to wilt at his words, staring at the ground.

“But…” John Dory continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “As your brother, it’s also my duty to tell you that sometimes, people deserve a good punch. Especially when it involves loud-mouthed creeps like Creek.” John Dory smirked at the bewildered look on Branch’s face as his brother looked up at him. “And if you’re gonna be punching someone, it’s my duty as your big bro to make sure you do it right.”

He gestured for Branch to stand up, and the young troll immediately obliged, albeit still with shock on his face. “Alright.” He said, beckoning his brother closer. “Show me how you punched him.”

Branch’s shock melted into a look of confusion. “What?”

“Show me how you punched him.” John Dory repeated, his smirk breaking into a grin. “C’mon, just pretend I’m Creek.” He stretched out his hair a bit, molding it into a familiar curl as he adopted an exaggerated mimic of Creek’s accent. “My name’s Creek, and I think I’m a blessing to troll-kind. What are you going to do about it, Branch?”

Branch looked stunned, before he began to smile as well, letting out a snort of laughter. He rolled his eyes, curling his hand into a fist with a slight wince.

“There, you see? That’s your problem.” John Dory said, dropping the accent as he moved to Branch’s side, gently grabbing his hand. “You can’t trap your thumb in there, or you’re setting yourself up for a world of pain. Fingers first, then thumb off to the side.” He molded Branch’s hand into the proper form, before circling around him. “And don’t face him head on; you ain’t got balance here.”

As if to prove his point, he jabbed his hand into Branch’s squared chest, the young troll letting out a yelp as he nearly tumbled backwards. But John Dory easily caught him by the vest, pulling him back up with a wink. Branch tried to glare at him, but the excitement sparkling in his eyes ruined the effect.

“You want to stand like this.” John Dory continued, shifting his body sideways, one foot in front of the other, as he positioned his tail. “More balance, more strength behind your punch.”

Branch nodded, moving until his body mirrored his brother. John Dory flicked Branch’s twitching tail with his own, causing it to still, before shifting to his brother’s side. “And when you do finally punch ‘em, make it count. You don’t want to hit them in anger, or with everything flying everywhere. Don’t throw your whole body into it, or you’ll throw your own balance off. It’s like with your slingshot. Calm, and calculated.”

He realized the irony in him saying this, considering his wild, bordering on feral fighting style, but hey, that worked for him. This is what would work for Branch.

He stood by Branch’s side, bringing his hands up in front of him as Branch did the same. “You breathe…” John Dory said, taking a deep breath in tandem with his brother. “And you strike. Once, hard and fast, before snapping back to this position.”

He threw a solid punch forward, and by his side watched as Branch did the same, the young troll’s face deathly serious. John Dory couldn’t help but chuckle, letting his body relax.

“Attaboy. One good punch is all you need to shut up jerks like Creek.” He said, nodding down to Branch’s hand. “Without hurting yourself in the process.”

Branch let out a breath, eyes wide. “Huh…” He breathed in exhilaration, looking up at John Dory. “Where did you even learn how to do that?”

“Trial and error, Bitty B. I got into a fair amount of scraps at the Troll Tree.” John Dory drawled, stretching out his arms. “And when you’re an expert survivalist like me, you learn how to throw a good punch.”

Branch hummed, focusing his attention forward as he punched at the air a few times, his form stiff, but pretty good for a first go. John Dory nodded in approval before he picked up on movement behind him, where images of his brothers seemed to be trying their own hand at fighting.

“Stay still, Floyd!” Clay complained, chasing after the pink-haired troll.

“I don’t like this game!” Floyd yelped back, darting to hide behind Spruce. Clay skidded to a stop in front of his purple-haired brother, who smirked down at him.

“No no, c’mon Clay, go ahead, hit me.” He taunted, stalking forward as Clay backed away.

“Game’s over!” Clay squeaked, before turning tail, Spruce chasing after him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

John Dory almost chuckled at their antics, but stopped himself, narrowed eyes locking on movement further in the bushes. Wait, was that…

Suddenly, there was a soft chime, and the bushes lit up with a bright pink hue. Branch whipped around towards the noise, pulling out a wooden stake as he snarled in a mix of surprise and anger. But John Dory didn’t bother; he knew exactly who was in those bushes.

“Poppy?”

Chapter Text

The young pink troll sheepishly stepped out from the bushes, plucking a few leaves from her hair, before immediately perking up, shooting them both a blinding grin.

“Hi!”

“Poppy?!” Branch exclaimed, before his eyes narrowed, clutching tighter to the stake in his hands. “What are you doing here?! Are you spying on us?”

“B-” John Dory started to say in an exasperated tone, but was quickly cut off.

“I’m not spying!” Poppy retorted, hair bristling as her face went a bit flush. She crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her nose up in the air. “As future Queen, I need to make sure to check up on all the trolls in the village, and that includes you.”

“By spying?”

“I’m not spying!”

“Alright, cool it you two.” John Dory interrupted their bickering, rubbing at his face. “Bitty, put that away.” Branch grumbled, but did as he was told, tucking the stake back in his vest as John Dory turned his attention towards Poppy. “Although I appreciate the sentiment, Popstar, Branch and I are fine. Besides, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. You and I both know your old man doesn’t like you leaving the village on your own.”

“I’m not on my own, I’m with you guys.” Poppy replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Dad just worries too much, and besides, he already said it was fine! The only things out here that could actually be considered ‘dangerous’ are Branch’s little traps, and they’re easy enough to avoid.” Branch bristled at this, clearly about to snap back at her, but she didn’t let him, whipping around to face him, brows furrowed in concern. “And I… I wanted to make sure you were ok. It looked like you hurt your hand.”

Branch drew back a bit, surprised, before cupping his wrapped hand to his chest. “It’s fine.” He mumbled, ears turning slightly flush.

Poppy looked relieved, relaxing a bit. Then, her expression hardened, gaze dropping to the ground. “Y’know, I know you were upset, but you shouldn’t have hit Creek like that.”

“What? Poppy, you heard what he said!” Branch snapped, tail lashing side to side.

Poppy’s eyes flicked over to John Dory. “I did.” She replied softly, before shaking her head. “But we all know it’s not true. Biggie even said that Mr. Dinkles likes JD!”

Mr. Dinkles? Wasn’t that the creepy worm thing he’d seen a while back? So at least that thing was on his side. Yippee. John Dory shuddered inwardly.

“Creek just says things without thinking sometimes.” Poppy continued, eyes downcast. “He didn’t mean it.”

“He knew exactly what he was saying!” Branch shot back with a growl. “He’s a jerk! He’s nothing but a mendacious, egocentric megalomaniac who gets away with everything because trolls like you think he’s a saint!”

“Yeesh, Bitty’s pulling out the big words.” Clay whispered in John Dory’s ear.

“I don’t think that!” Poppy snapped, balling her hands into fists. “He shouldn’t have that stuff about you, or JD, but that doesn’t mean you should beat him up! You should’ve just let me talk to him!”

Branch scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “That wouldn’t have done anything, it never does. He never shuts up.” Branch’s eyes smoldered with anger. “He deserved it.”

John Dory had to side with Branch on this one. There was no doubt in his mind that Creek knew exactly what he was doing when he said these things, despite his fake apologies. There was just something… off about that kid. And from what he’d seen, and what Branch had told him, he definitely deserved that punch.

“I know he can be a jerk sometimes, but so can you, Branch.” Poppy retorted, crossing her arms over her chest as Branch rolled his eyes. “Everyone makes mistakes. And unlike you, I try to see the good in people.” Her eyes narrowed, looking back at the ground. “If I didn’t, we would never have been friends.”

This caused Branch to pause for a moment, scowling, before he continued. “Yeah well, that’s because you're delusional. You want to see good in people even when it isn’t there.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible!” Poppy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Fine, if you want to be a grouchy pants, then I’m not going to talk to you.” She spun around with a huff, facing John Dory as her face broke into a smile. “For the record, I wasn’t spying on you, but… Could you teach me how to punch like that?” She asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I thought you were just preaching about not hitting people.” Branch snapped, but Poppy purposefully ignored him.

“Uhhhh…” John Dory replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Poppyseed.”

“Please? My dad won’t teach me any cool fighting things.” Poppy begged, tail twitching.

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about.” John Dory mumbled. He and the king already weren’t on the best of terms. And he likely wouldn’t be too thrilled if his daughter came home spouting off about how John Dory had taught her how to beat the crap out of someone.

“Please? Pretty please?” Poppy asked again, folding her hands in front of her as she gave him her best puppy eyes, or ‘Poppy eyes’ if you will. John Dory tried to stay strong, he really did, but he was always weak to his brothers’ puppy eyes as well. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. Yeesh.” He relented, Poppy grinning up at him. “You’re scarily good at that.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Just… don’t tell your dad, ok?” John Dory said, a hesitant smile growing on his face. “He’d have my tail for this.”

Poppy nodded enthusiastically, drawing her fingers across her mouth like a zipper, and flicking it away.

John Dory chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “Alright, show me your fighting stance.”

“This should be good.” Branch muttered, still pouting off to the side.

Poppy immediately obliged, jumping into the exact stance John Dory had modeled earlier, save for a few key differences. Her tail whipped side to side in excitement, and she shifted on her feet, as if she couldn’t stand being still. Her entire body was bursting with energy, which was pretty common for the bright young troll. He was just about to gently correct her, but surprisingly, Branch beat him to it.

“You’re facing the wrong way.” Branch said as he walked over, face no longer curled into a scowl. “You’re right handed. JD uses his left, so you can’t stand the same way he does.” Branch stopped by Poppy’s side, showing her the proper, right-handed stance. The young pink troll nodded enthusiastically, shifting her stance with a little bounce as she copied him.

“And cool it with that tail of yours. You're going to throw off your balance.” John Dory added, smirking. “Bitty’s got a twitchy tail too.”

Branch rolled his eyes as Poppy giggled, but she let her tail relax, though it still twitched slightly. “You need to be calm, calculated. You can’t let your guard down, even a second.” Branch continued sternly, shooting Poppy a side eye. “So basically, be the opposite of you.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at him, the childish action causing John Dory to chuckle. But then, she took a deep breath. As she did, her body seemed to still, her bright eyes locked intensely forward as if she were staring down some imaginary foe. It was strange, seeing Poppy like that, so still, so serious. Branch seemed to think the same, struck speechless by the sudden shift.

John Dory shook the surprise from his head, moving to stand by her side. “Then you punch.” He practically whispered. “One quick jab, then snap back to this position. Make it count.”

Poppy gave a single nod, eyes flashing, before she did just that, punching the air with all her might. If there’d been someone on the other end, it definitely would have done some damage. Poppy let out another breath, before shuddering, the energy from before appearing to shoot through her like electricity, the intensity in her eyes melting into sparkles as she let out an excited squeal. She spun around to face John Dory, her tail whipping back and forth once more.

“Was that right?!”

John Dory was once again floored by the sudden shift, but he let out a laugh, setting his hands on his hips. “Sure was! Attagirl, Popstar, you’re a natural!”

Poppy glowed with pride, dancing on her feet as she threw a few ‘less than perfect’ punches. “Argh that was cool!” She squeaked, before shooting a sly look over at Branch, who still appeared stunned. “But just so you know, my point still stands. Violence never solves a problem, Branch.”

This finally seemed to break Branch from his stupor, the young troll shaking his head. “Oh yeah? Solved my problem pretty quick today.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “What would you have me do? Give him a hug and tell him his actions have consequences?”

“A hug would have solved a lot more problems than a fist to the face did.” Poppy shot back.

Branch scoffed. “Yeah, the next time a hug solves my problems, I’ll let you know.”

Poppy bristled, her bright eyes flashing once more, before she blinked, a grin stretching across her face. “Ok, Branch.” She chirped, mischief playing across her lips. “Since you think violence can solve all your problems, I’ll make a bet with you.”

“A bet?” Branch echoed, looking over at John Dory in confusion, but he just shrugged. He didn’t know what the princess was on about either.

“Sure.” Poppy replied. “You want me to leave you alone, right?”

“I never said-” Branch started, but Poppy didn’t let him finish.

“If you can punch me before I give you a big ‘ol hug, then I’ll leave you alone.” Poppy said smugly, moving close enough that Branch nearly stumbled back, jabbing a finger into his chest. “But if I hug you first, you have to admit we’re friends.”

Branch’s face was flushed as he tried to stammar out, “We’re not-”

“Bup bup bup.” Poppy interrupted, reaching out a hand. “Deal?”

Branch hesitated, before his eyes narrowed, grabbing Poppy’s hand firmly. “Fine.”

“Guys, c’mon…” John Dory tried to say, nervousness building in his chest as the young trolls pretended they couldn’t hear him. This seemed like the type of thing a responsible caregiver wouldn’t allow. But it was a battle between Poppy persistence, and Branch’s stubbornness. There was no getting in the middle of that.

“You're the referee, JD!” Poppy exclaimed, waving over at him, while Branch huffed in annoyance, getting into his stance.

“Wait, are we really about to let Branch fight the princess?” Floyd chirped from off to the side, looking appalled.

“Kick her ass, Bitty B!” Clay whooped, punching a fist in the air.

“Clay!” Floyd snapped, eyes smoldering. But then he spun around, cupping his hands over his mouth. “C’mon Poppy! Give Branch the hug he deserves!”

“This should be entertaining.” Spruce smirked in amusement, and John Dory couldn’t help but grin along with him. This was going to be something alright.

“Alright, let’s have a clean game here.” He said, allowing himself to get caught up in the thrill of it. “Let’s not actually hurt anyone, alright? Looking at you, B.”

“Please.” Branch deadpanned, rolling his eyes once more. “I’m not an idiot.”

“He won’t be able to land a hit on me anyways.” Poppy taunted, shooting him a cheeky grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Ready?” John Dory said, raising a hand above his head. Both the young trolls tensed, Poppy with a determined grin, and Branch with his brows furrowed in concentration. “Go!”

Poppy immediately darted forward, leaping to tackle Branch to the ground, but the small grey troll had experience with this, quickly dodging to the side. He threw a punch in her direction, but Poppy was already long gone, using her momentum to somersault, before bouncing upright again. Poppy may not be a fighter, but she was quick, and light on her feet, something that John Dory’s uptight younger brother always struggled with.

“Too slow, Bitty B!” Poppy taunted, amusement flashing in her eyes, as Branch let out a frustrated growl.

Poppy lunged towards him once more, but this time, Branch was ready. He slid his feet around in dirt, and punched directly at her. Poppy ducked just in time, Branch’s fist just nearly missing her. Branch quickly went to grab her, likely to try and keep the sporadic pink troll in one place, but she popped up before he could, with so much speed that Branch had to lean back to avoid being clocked in the chin with her head. He stumbled back, clearly thrown off balance, and Poppy took that as the perfect invitation to go in for the kill, arms outstretched.

Before she could wrap her arms around him, Branch caught her wrists, but couldn’t stop the momentum that pulled them both towards the ground, the grey troll falling back into the dirt with a “Oof!” He was pinned, the only thing keeping Poppy from hugging him was his shaky grip on her wrists, which he was slowly losing.

“Admit it, Branch!” Poppy said with a grin, struggling to free her hands. “Admit I was right!”

Branch let out another frustrated snarl, squeezing his eyes shut. “No!” With that, he curled his legs up underneath Poppy, and kicked out, launching the pink troll over his head and into the dirt behind him, Poppy letting out a soft yelp. He quickly scrambled to his feet, panting heavily as he prepared for another attack, but…

It never came.

Poppy sat up in the dirt, rubbing at her arm as she winced in pain. Branch’s face dropped, and John Dory could feel his heart sink into his stomach too. Oh god, what was he thinking?! Was she hurt?! A mix of heavy fear and guilt churned in his gut, and he immediately started to rush over, but Branch beat him to it.

“Poppy!” Branch exclaimed, his voice laced with fear. He fell to his knees by her side, as he held his hands up in front of him, like he was unsure what to do. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Before he could finish, however, Poppy lunged forward at alarming speed. And without a moment of hesitation, wrapped Branch in a huge hug.

John Dory skidded to a halt, as Branch sat practically frozen, his hands still held midair. Poppy gave him a tight squeeze, before pushing him back, her eyes glowing with mischief.

“Aw Bitty, didn’t you know?” She said slyly, face breaking into a smirk as she held up her arm, which other than a few dirt marks, looked completely unscathed. “You should never let your guard down.”

Huh. She got him.

Branch just looked at her, bewildered. “You…” He breathed, before his face went completely flush, pushing himself back as his eyes narrowed. “You cheated!”

“What?! I did not!” Poppy retorted, bristling as she jumped to her feet. She whipped around to face John Dory, who was still recovering from the scare that the princess had gotten hurt on his watch, and dizzy from the relief that she was just fine. He felt like his heart was going to explode. “JD, tell him! I won, right?”

“Well…” John Dory said, still slightly out of breath as both the young troll’s eyes locked on him. “I mean, I guess there’s nothing in the rules against it so… Yeah. You won.”

“Yes!” Poppy squealed, dancing on her feet, as Branch leapt up as well.

“What?!” He replied, shaking with indignation. “What rules?! There were no rules!”

“Exactly.” John Dory replied, finally feeling recovered enough to let a grin form on his face as he shrugged. “There were no rules, so technically, Poppy didn’t break any. Sorry B, she won.”

“Which means you have to admit we’re friends!” Poppy chirped, bouncing over to Branch, her eyes sparkling.

“We are not-” Branch began, but he paused, squeezing his eyes shut as he let out a growl. “This is dumb.”

Poppy plastered on a pout, crossing her hands over her chest. “You made a deal, Branch.” She retorted, before smiling once more, reaching out her hand. “Friends?”

Branch glared at her hand as if it were going to bite him, but after a moment, he let out a groan. “Fine.” He growled, shaking her hand, but refusing to look her in the eyes. “We’re… associates.”

“I’ll take what I can get!” Poppy squeaked, pulling him in for another hug. But Branch just squirmed out of it, racing over to John Dory’s side and hiding behind him. John Dory couldn’t help but laugh.

He reached down, patting Branch on the back as the young troll let out an irritated huff. “Proud of you, kid.”

Branch’s face just seemed to grow even more flush, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. “Whatever.”

“Branch’s first friend!” Floyd cheered, his eyes growing slightly teary.

“And it’s the princess!” Clay added, smirking as he held his hand over his chest. “I always knew Bitty would take after me.”

“Now at least one of you can have a social life.” Spruce drawled, giving John Dory a look.

“Poppy? Poppy!”

John Dory perked up as he heard a familiar voice, quickly approaching. The bushes rustled, and with a lurch, an orange and pink troll stumbled through, a few wooden stakes sticking haphazardly out of his hair. King Peppy. The old king shook his head, the stakes clattering to the ground, as he frantically looked around the clearing, before his eyes locked on Poppy, face melting into a look of utter relief. “Poppy!”

“Dad!” Poppy replied cheerily, giving her father a wave as he hastily made his way towards her. “You’ll never guess what just happened! Branch finally admitted he’s my-”

“Where have you been?!” King Peppy wrapped Poppy in a hug, squeezing her tight. “I’ve been worried sick! You were supposed to meet me after school!”

“But I-” Poppy tried to say, but King Peppy didn’t let her finish.

“You can’t just leave without telling me! I thought I…” King Peppy trailed off, his voice breaking as he held Poppy tighter.

“Dad!” Poppy exclaimed, pushing her father back, looking confused. “I did meet you after school, remember? I told you I was going to make sure Branch was ok.”

King Peppy blinked at her, a strange look on his face. “You… You did?”

“Yeah.” Poppy replied, looking worried.

King Peppy scratched at his head. “I don’t…” He then shook his head once more. “Sorry, sweetheart, I must have forgotten.”

Poppy smiled at him, but there was still worry present on her face. “It’s ok, Dad. You’ve had a lot going on.”

King Peppy gave her a weak smile in return, still looking a bit dazed. Then, his eyes flicked out towards John Dory, becoming slightly sad. “Hello, John. Branch.” He said softly. “Thanks for looking out for Poppy.”

Mixed feelings churned in John Dory’s gut as he stared at the king, but slowly, he felt himself return the smile. “No problem.” He replied, planting his hands on his hips. “She and Bitty are friends, after all.”

Branch gave a low hiss from behind him, but didn’t say anything.

King Peppy smiled at him. “That’s great to hear.”

John Dory nodded, feeling his stomach start to twist even more. But he clenched his hands tight, coming to a decision. “Hey, B, give us a second, will ya?” He said to his brother, nodding towards the king.

“Why?” Branch replied suspiciously.

“Just go.” John Dory huffed, giving his brother a gentle shove. “Maybe you can have Poppy show you how she’s been getting past all your traps.”

Branch let out a scoff, but Poppy just grabbed him excitedly by the hands, pulling him away. “C’mon! I’m telling you, it’s a dead give away…”

The two of them disappeared into the bushes, and John Dory was left standing next to King Peppy, absently rubbing at the glove the king had gifted to him. Crap, now what? He pursed his lips, trying to think about how he would even begin, when the King started to speak.

“I’m sorry, John.”

John Dory turned to face him, the King’s eyes locked on the ground, teeming with regret. “I never meant to try and split you and your brother apart.” He continued, running his hand through his hair, where thin streaks of white were becoming more visible. “I knew you were struggling, trying to take care of your brother, and yourself at the same time, and I… I just wanted to help. You’re such a good kid, and I care about you, and seeing you put so much responsibility on yourself… I couldn’t bear it. But I know now that I went about it completely the wrong way. And I’m sorry, son- …John. I’m so sorry.” He frowned, his shoulders dropping as if some heavy weight rested on them. “It seems I haven’t learned from my mistakes.”

John Dory was quiet for a moment, letting the old king’s words sink in. He could still feel the pain, the betrayal he’d felt at the King’s harsh words all those months ago. But…

“Yeah, there probably was a better way to go about that.” John Dory said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I can’t exactly say I wanted to hear all that stuff.”

King Peppy wilted, his ears dropping further.

“But… I think I needed to.” John Dory continued, grimacing slightly. “You know, you get stuck living a certain way for so long, it just starts to feel… normal. Even when it’s not.” A sad smile grew on his face. “And sometimes you need a little push in the right direction.”

King Peppy chuckled sadly, looking up at him. “You seem… better.” He said slowly.

“I feel better.” John Dory replied, letting out a sigh as he looked up towards the sky, the wind curling around him like an old friend.

“Good…” King Peppy breathed, frowning once more. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, John. Can you ever forgive me?”

John Dory looked at him, the king’s eyes shining with a pain that he recognized so clearly. He saw it on his own scarred face, every time he looked in the mirror. A regret that cut so deeply that everything you did, every choice you made seemed to tear it open again. And with another decision, he smiled, slowly extending his hand. “Well, everyone deserves a second chance, right?”

King Peppy’s eyes became teary. “Right.” He choked out, practically stumbling forward to shake John Dory’s hand.

This felt… right. He still hadn’t exactly forgiven the king. The hurt was still there, and it would take time to rebuild any sort of trust, but… This was at least a start. A step in the right direction.

King Peppy sniffled a bit, then pulled John Dory closer, wrapping him in a hug. And this time, John Dory didn’t hesitate, melting into the touch like a moth to a flame. “You’re a good kid, John.” King Peppy murmured, patting his back. “Don’t forget that.”

He wasn’t sure that was true. But maybe just for a moment, he could believe it.

“You know…” King Peppy said as he pulled back with a chuckle. “I don’t know what I was thinking, having Branch come live with me. He never would have stayed. He would have taken any chance he got to make his way back to you.” The king’s eyes shone with pride. “You mean the world to that boy. Nothing could ever get in the way of that.”

John Dory felt his eyes start to sting a bit, so he let out a laugh to distract himself, placing his hands on his hips. “Yeah, well, what can I say? He’s clingy like that.”

Just then, John Dory’s ears perked up to the sound of Branch and Poppy returning, Branch writing feverishly in a notebook as Poppy trotted along looking extremely pleased with herself. King Peppy gave him one last smile, squeezing his shoulder, before turning towards his daughter.

“Alright Poppy, let’s head home. I think I need a bit of a break.”

“Ok!” Poppy chirped, waving as Branch continued walking to John Dory’s side, not looking up from his writing. “Bye Branch, bye JD! Thanks for the ‘fun’ today!” She gave John Dory a wink, which John Dory playfully returned.

“I’ll see you around.” King Peppy said, turning back to John Dory. “Take care of yourself, Clay.”

John Dory froze, a heavy feeling forming in his chest. Clay…? The king didn’t appear to notice the slip, just continuing to smile at him.

“Dad?” Poppy asked, looking worried once more. “That’s John Dory.”

“Hm?” King Peppy replied, getting that strange, confused look on his face. “What did I call him?”

Poppy shot a concerned glance over at John Dory, hesitating. He shook the shock from his head, pushing the heavy feeling down into his gut. “Nothing, it’s fine.” He replied with an exaggerated grin. “No worries, King Peppy. I’ll… see you around.”

King Peppy smiled back at him. “See you around, John.”

With that, he and Poppy headed off into the bushes, Poppy giving him one last worried look, before following after her father. John Dory’s grin became more of a grimace, worry flooding his chest as well. The old king seemed to be getting a lot more forgetful lately…

“C’mon, JD.” Branch interrupted his thoughts, striding towards the bunker. “Thanks to Poppy, I have to rework my entire system.”

“Sure thing, B.” John Dory replied, staring at the spot King Peppy had disappeared once more, before shaking his head, turning around and giving Branch a soft cuff over the head. “And hey, Poppy came all this way to make sure you were ok. You could stand to be a bit nicer to her.”

Branch frowned, rubbing the back of his head, but not tearing his eyes away from his notebook as he held tight to his pencil. “I know.” He admitted, looking almost a bit ashamed. But then he shook his head, irritation flaring in his eyes. “I just don’t understand her! She’s right, I’m a jerk sometimes, so why is she so… She’s just, she’s so…” he seemed to struggle to find the word, before letting out an exasperated “Poppy!”.

John Dory laughed. He knew exactly what Branch meant. “She sure is.” He then perked up a bit. “But congrats on your first friend! We gotta celebrate!”

“Ugh, she’s not…” Branch trailed off, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he kicked open the door to the Bunker. “Whatever, just, I don’t want to think about today anymore.” He grumbled, ducking below ground.

John Dory laughed again, following after him.

“Proud of you.”

“Shut it!!!”

Chapter Text

“Y’know, you don’t have to walk me here every day.”

“I beg to differ, Bitty B.”

John Dory gave his little brother a teasing glare, dramatically gesturing out with his hands. “Who knows what could happen if I let you travel here all on your lonesome? You could get lost! Likely on purpose, knowing your track record.” He let out a faux huff of irritation, purposely throwing his arm over his brother’s shoulders so he could ruffle his hair. “No sir, gotta make sure you get where you’re supposed to be.”

Branch scoffed, shrugging him off as he readjusted the bag on his shoulders, which John Dory knew was chock-full of a new set of books for the week. The young troll smoothed his hair, trying to look annoyed, but John Dory could see the faintest hint of a smile playing across his lips. He started to smile as well, practically glowing with pride.

It’d been a few years, and Branch had really grown. Maybe he was a bit smaller than he was probably supposed to be, and still that dark grey, but the kid was growing up, right before his eyes. It was crazy to think that Branch was about the age John Dory was when… Everything had fallen apart.

Fuck, he felt old.

John Dory jumped as Branch snapped in front of his eyes, giving him a scowl. “You’ve got that stupid smile on your face.” The young troll commented, causing John Dory’s grin to grow even wider. “Ugh, I’m going now.” Branch groaned, spinning around towards the school. “I’ll see you later, be safe.”

“Please, when am I not safe?” John Dory chirped, letting out a laugh, before he realized Branch had paused, ears twitching slightly. John Dory followed his gaze to see a certain pink troll. Poppy. She was doubled over with laughter along with several of her friends, Creek included, unfortunately, her giggles carrying brightly across the clearing. His eyes drifted back to Branch, who watched on with an unreadable expression on his face, hands tight on the straps of his bag.

Huh. What was that all about?

Ever since that pseudo ‘fight’ between the two of them, Branch had become a lot more… tolerant of Poppy’s bubbly shenanigans. Then again, he kind of had to. At least once a week, sometimes more, Poppy would show up at their door, babbling about this and that. She had a knack for getting past any defenses Branch set up, which he knew drove his little brother crazy. But, they’d often invite her in, the pink troll trailing behind Branch as he worked, the two of them arguing back and forth.

Sometimes, she’d bring King Peppy along with her, and John Dory would take time to talk with the old king. Or specifically, just to listen to him. The king was continuing to become more forgetful, mixing up memories, messing up names and such. But he always seemed the most sharp when telling stories, talking through the memories. So, JD let him, even if he did call him ‘Clay’ sometimes. He always did like listening to stories.

John Dory shook the distracting thoughts from his head, turning his attention back to Branch. He watched his brother curiously, before the school bell rang, and Poppy and her friends raced inside, Branch’s eyes following them. John Dory waited a beat, then leaned forward. “Aren’t you going to be late, Bitty?”

Branch blinked, breaking out of his stupor as his face seemed to flush slightly. “R-right, I’m going.” He said hastily, trotting off towards the school.

John Dory let out a chuckle, giving his brother one last wave as he disappeared into the pod. After a second, he let his hand fall, eyes lingering on the doorway for just a moment. And like he did everyday, he reminded himself that Branch would be fine. It was ok, and he was ok, and this was fine. He took a deep breath, then turned to head back to the Bunker, skin prickling as eyes seemed to follow his every move, absently shoving his hand into his pocket.

One gaze in particular caused his hair to stand on end, and he glanced to his side to see Brook, glaring at him from across the clearing. That wasn’t exactly anything out of the ordinary, she always did that. She’d been absolutely livid about Branch beating up her “perfect baby boy” a few years ago, and had spent months advocating for Branch to be kicked out of school. However, King Peppy and Ms. Fern both firmly stood their ground, insisting that the young troll had just as much right to be there as anyone else, and that one mistake wouldn’t change that.

John Dory had nearly broke out laughing at the furious look on her face, but had thankfully held it in.

Brook’s eyes flashed with anger as he briefly met them, her tail lashing side to side as her face curled into a disgusted snarl. So John Dory just shot her a cheeky grin back, reveling in the way her face seemed to wrinkle even more. She whipped around, turning to hiss some scathing words to the trolls next to her, but John Dory just kept on walking. She could say whatever she wanted. The trolls never talked to him anyways, and he was used to it at this point. As long as they allowed Branch in, he didn’t care if he was an outsider.

He made his way back to the Bunker, taking a minute to feed and cuddle Rhonda, before ducking inside, downing another cup of coffee in a quick gulp. He had a few things he wanted to do today, and unfortunately, he’d been up a bit last night, unable to shake a feeling of dread from his chest, the smell of smoke lingering at the edge of his senses. At this point, when stuff like that happened, it was more of an annoyance than anything, his mind making him feel on edge when nothing was happening. Like it was so used to being that way, it couldn’t be anything else. In one of their now monthly meetings, Dr. Moonbloom had said he needed to be patient with himself. But it had been YEARS. And John Dory was just irritated that his stupid self wouldn’t let him sleep.

He fell easily into his routine, cleaning up from breakfast (some Bitty Berry pancakes, and critter jerky he’d made last week), tidying up the rooms (including his own, which was slowly becoming more and more cluttered with carving projects he was working on), and taking a moment to slightly organize what he jokingly liked to call “Bitty’s Nerd Wall”, a large area behind the elevator they’d installed, which held hundreds of hand-drawn ideas, notes, and blueprints, pinned into the packed dirt.

Branch had really taken off with some of his designs, both for the bunker, and for things around the village. The wall was littered with pages upon pages of traps, weapons, and complex machinery, and the young troll was always adding to them, constantly coming up with improvements. John Dory didn’t dare actually touch anything on the wall; he didn’t pretend to understand his brother’s frenzied organization of the pages, but he did at least pick a few up off the floor, setting them on the desk he’d recently made where he wouldn’t lose them. He also took a moment to sharpen the kid’s pencils; Branch always forgot, and he’d probably need them later.

Once he was satisfied, he dragged one of the projects he was working on outside, setting up near Rhonda. Branch had asked if he’d make a couple more shelves for his room, and he was hoping to get some of it taken care of before he went out patrolling again. And carving in the morning always helped him reset his mind a bit, especially after a long night of his thoughts going a million miles per minute. Typically on nice mornings like this, he could hear the sound of music from Troll Village, drifting across the breeze. A sound that reminded him of home.

Like it always did as soon as he pressed his sharpened tusk against the wood, he felt his mind go quiet, save for the bright musical notes, the shifting of the leaves above him, and Rhonda’s gentle breaths by his side. He savored these moments, the early morning sun warming his skin, as the earthy smell of the woods mixed with the sugary sweet scent of Troll Village. And just for a second, he looked up, watching the sunlight sparkle through the leaves, painting the ground with its light.

Yeah. Home.

He jumped as a sharp pain jolted through him, looking down with a frown to see in his distraction, the sharp tusk had slipped and cut his thumb. He stared at it in irritation, a small pinprick of dark blue blood beginning to ooze from the wound. Rolling his eyes, he brought his thumb up to his mouth, licking it clean, ignoring the memories that threatened to appear at the taste of iron on his tongue. He really couldn’t have a moment, could he?

Rhonda bumped into his side, letting out a rumble as she looked worriedly at his hand. John Dory chuckled, rumbling back at her as he leaned into her side.

“C’mon girl, it’s just a scratch. We both know I’ve dealt with way worse. This is nothing.” He said reassuringly. Rhonda cooed at him, nuzzling him with her cheek. “D’aw, you big ‘ol worry-wart you.” John Dory teased, poking her between her eyes. “All that worrying isn’t good for you, y’know.” Rhonda just let out a huff, and for the life of him, John Dory could swear she was saying ‘Right back at you’.

Just then, Rhonda perked up, just as John Dory’s ears also flicked up to attention, his head snapping to the side. Footsteps… Rapidly approaching footsteps, small feet pounding on the soft earth and growing louder with each step. John Dory frowned, shifting into a defensive stance, his hand hovering over the stake in his jacket as he stared at the bushes. But as he listened, his apprehension turned to recognition…

The pounding grew closer, and with an explosion of leaves, a small grey blur burst from the bushes, sprinting past John Dory so fast he couldn’t even react. He whipped around with a sharp intake of breath, but the door to the bunker had already opened, and slammed shut, leaving John Dory alone in the clearing, his heart beating out of his chest. He just stared at the door for a moment, frozen with shock.

“...Branch?”

His ears pricked up once more as another set of footsteps approached, and this time, he watched as the familiar bright pink of Poppy stumbled through the leaves as well, looking uncharacteristically terrified. “Branch!” She called, her voice slightly strained, before her eyes locked on John Dory, who felt his own chest clench tight with fear.

“Poppy? Wha-” John Dory began, about two seconds from just turning tail and darting after his brother, when Poppy began to speak, the words tumbling breathlessly from her lips.

“I don’t know what happened!” She started to ramble, hands clutched nervously to her chest. “W-we just had a guest speaker come and talk about the Great Escape in class, ‘cause Dad says it’s important we remember our history and a lot of us are too young to remember what happened, a-and he talked about the tunnels, and the Bergens chasing us, and the journey to get here, and all of a sudden, Branch just ran out, and he looked so scared, so I just chased after him!”

John Dory felt his heart sink into his stomach at the pink troll’s words, his eyes going wide with realization.

They are far away from here… Right?

They’re… far enough.

How far?

About… a two day hike.

They’d been learning about the Great Escape from Bergentown. And if they’d been learning about the Great Escape, and the journey here… That meant the bright young troll had likely put together just how close they were to the creatures who tortured them for years, the things that took their parents…

The monsters who killed their Grandma, right in front of him.

For years, John Dory had kept this information to himself. He never brought up the Great Escape, and Branch never asked. Maybe the young troll had just assumed they were far enough away from the Bergens. Or maybe, that was just what he wanted to believe. Regardless, John Dory was going to tell him, someday, once he had settled into the village more. The Bergens had constantly plagued his brother’s mind, giving him horrific nightmares, the mere mention of their name causing him to tremble. It was likely if he’d just told Branch the truth right then and there, the young troll would have freaked, insisting they leave and find somewhere much further away, and John Dory couldn’t allow that to happen.

But he waited too long. Branch had found out on his own.

And now, he was absolutely freaking out.

Shit… John Dory thought, his head whipping around frantically towards the entrance to the Bunker.

“I told you to tell him!” Floyd’s shrill voice sliced painfully through his ears, sounding more angry than John Dory had ever heard him. “I told you, but you didn’t listen to me, why didn’t you listen?!”

John Dory grit his teeth, adrenaline racing through his veins like ice. He had to get down there, now.

“JD? Is he going to be ok?”

He turned to see Poppy had grabbed his jacket, worry glistening in her eyes. John Dory just swallowed, then forced a smile to his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He replied, hoping the young troll couldn’t hear the strain in his voice. “Don’t you worry, Poppy, he’ll be ok.” He patted her hair, before taking a few quick steps back. “But I should go check on him, just in case. Get back to the village, ok?”

Poppy nodded, her expression unchanging. “Ok.” She replied in a small voice.

John Dory nodded at her, then spun around, taking off towards the Bunker. He practically threw open the trapdoor, and nearly yanked the lever to the elevator off its hinges as he urged the machinery to work faster.

This was his fault. Branch was freaking out, and it was all his fault.

I’m coming, Branch, I’m coming…

He leapt off the elevator before it even docked, fully intending to sprint towards the young troll’s room. Before he could, however, he heard the sound of muttering from behind him, whipping around towards Branch’s idea wall…

Or, what was left of it.

Pages upon pages lay torn and discarded on the floor, as if they’d been ripped down in a hurry. In their place, carved into the hard dirt, were several hastily etched designs, each only half-done, and sporting a large, jagged hash mark through them, coupled with a flurry of words that shook John Dory to his core.

TOO SMALL

NO

WON’T WORK

GET US

KILL US

EAT US

THEY’RE COMING

BERGENSBERGENSBERGENS

And in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by shredded pages, broken pencils, and his hands smudged with dirt, was Branch. He held a sharp rock in his hand, using it to carve another design into the wall as he muttered feverishly to himself, his pupils blown wide with terror. His mouth quickly curled into a snarl as he roughly scribbled out the unfinished design, shaking his head, before immediately moving onto the next one, dragging his hand across the rough dirt in a desperate, frantic fashion.

John Dory could already see where the dirt was starting to scratch his skin raw.

“Branch!” He said sharply, rushing towards his brother, but Branch made no sign that he’d heard him, continuing his panicked etching. John Dory firmly grabbed his shoulder, stomach turning with fear. “Branch, hey, you gotta stop, you’re hurting-”

But Branch just joltingly shrugged him off, not pausing for a moment as he continued to mumble, scratching out this design as well and writing a quick “KILL US” before moving on to the next one.

John Dory was starting to panic now too, his breath starting to catch as guilt threatened to drown him. This was his fault…

“You’re fault, you’re fault, you’re fault…” His brothers’ voices echoed in his ears.

Quiet! John Dory shook his head, trying to focus. He couldn’t think like that right now, he had to help Branch. And in order to do that, he had to stop him. He pushed down the overwhelming fear in his chest, then lunged forward, wrapping his arms tight around his brother’s, pinning them to his side as he lifted him into the air, pulling him away from the disturbing wall.

Branch’s reaction was immediate.

“No!” He shrieked desperately, kicking his legs in the air as he struggled to free himself. “Let me go, let me go!”

“Branch, you have to calm down, please!” John Dory begged. Despite the fact that he outmatched Branch in size and strength, he could barely keep the writhing troll contained. He fell back on the floor, unable to stand any longer, but kept his tight grip on his flailing brother.

“They’re coming for us! They’re going to find us, and we have to be prepared!” Branch screeched through ragged breaths, his voice raw and breaking. “They’re going to kill us all!”

Suddenly, Branch’s face went very pale, much paler than it usually was, as his body became eerily still. His breaths came out in short gasps, his eyes growing slightly unfocused. And with a start, John Dory realized if he didn’t do something now, his brother was going to pass out.

“No no no, Branch, c’mon.” John Dory pleaded, pulling his brother closer as memories of terrifying nights in the woods flashed through his mind. “Breathe, bud, deep breaths, c’mon.” But it didn’t appear like Branch could hear him, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he were seeing something entirely different that what was around him.

“DO SOMETHING!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

“HELP HIM!”

John Dory wracked his panicked brain, trying to think of anything that might help, but he kept coming up blank, unable to think past the screaming in his head. Luckily for his swirling mind, his body seemed to react without him. On pure instinct, he stretched out his hair, wrapping it around him and Branch in a tight cocoon, blocking out the rest of the world.

John Dory immediately felt fear fill his mind, the pressing weight on him at all sides causing him to almost panic even more. But this finally seemed to garner a reaction from Branch, who reached out desperately, grabbing onto the hair like a trolling might, and pulling it close to his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. John Dory bit his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as well as he tried to ignore the panic threatening to overwhelm him as he wrapped his hair tighter around the two of them. He gently pet Branch’s hair, running his fingers through it, just like he used to, as he murmured soft reassurances into his ears.

“Easy, B, it’s ok, you’re ok, I’ve got you…”

After what seemed like forever, Branch’s breathing started to even out, his body becoming less tense as he shivered in John Dory’s arms. John Dory took a few deep breaths, both to help his brother out, and to calm his own breathing, his heart continuing to pound away in his chest. And it wasn’t until Branch pried his stiff fingers from their grip on John Dory’s hair that he finally retracted it, the chill of the bunker a rude awakening from the warmth that’d surrounded them.

John Dory sucked in a few breaths, finally feeling as though he were able to breathe, as Branch sat completely quiet in his grasp. He slowly pulled his arms back, as if at any moment Branch might leap up and start carving into the wall again, but Branch didn’t move. He was still, eyes locked on the ground, as he continued to take a few shaky breaths.

“Two days.”

John Dory’s ears flicked up at Branch’s voice, the young troll slowly wrapping his arms around himself, right where John Dory had been holding him.

“That’s how far the Trolls traveled from Bergentown before they felt safe enough to settle down.” Branch continued, his voice cracking slightly. “Two. Days.”

He pursed his lips, curling in on himself. “Out on the Neverglade Trail, we were miles away from them, and I still never felt completely safe. And now, we’re practically on their back doorstep. And no one seems to care.” Branch let out a shaky breath, his eyes growing wide again. “They’re going to find us someday.”

They’re coming for us, Sunny. I know it.

John Dory tensed as a shiver ran up his spine, thoroughly disturbed by how familiar Branch’s voice sounded to his Dad’s haunting words the night before he... He shook the thought from his head, going to set a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Branch…”

“Did you know?”

He paused, pulling his hand back a bit, as Branch refused to look at him.

“Tell him.” Clay hissed in his ear. “Tell him how you’ve been lying to him.”

Guilt churned in his gut, threatening to choke him. He didn’t think he would be able to speak, but he tried. “I… I just…”

“Did you. Know.” Branch repeated, an edge to his voice.

“Look what you did, Johnny.” Spruce snarled. “Tell him the truth. This is your fault. You did this.”

“Tell him.” Floyd echoed, his voice watery and hollow.

John Dory closed his eyes, feeling that panic grow in his chest once more. He could just lie. Say he had no idea, that this was a shock to him as well. But he found he just… couldn’t. What’d happened today was his fault. And Branch deserved the truth.

“Yes.” He admitted in a low tone, letting his hand fall back to the ground. “I knew.”

Branch seemed to wince at his words, as if they physically hurt. “For how long?” He asked, his voice incredibly small.

“Since a few months after we got here.”

Branch’s hands curled into fists, his shoulders hunching up. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He spat, but there was no anger behind his words. Only pain.

John Dory grimaced, but forced himself to continue. “Because I knew if you found out, you’d want to leave, and I… I couldn’t let that happen. You belong here, B. And I didn’t want fear to take that away from you, I didn’t want you to be scared.”

“I am scared.” Branch replied harshly, his tail wrapping around his legs. “You lied to me, and now I’m trapped next to those… monsters who took everything from me.” His voice became shaky. “And you didn’t even give me a choice.”

“Well.” Spruce said with a growl. “Isn’t that familiar?”

“Branch, I’m…” John Dory started, his voice breaking as guilt crawled up his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I was just trying to protect y-”

“I think I want to be alone right now.”

John Dory froze, that pit in his stomach so heavy he thought he might puke. He hesitated a moment, as if Branch might change his mind. But Branch didn’t move, his hands gripping his arms so tight they were white. An image of Floyd curled up next to him, refusing to look at John Dory, as Clay glared daggers at him, face curled into a snarl.

“You should go.” Spruce snapped, eyes flashing. “Get out of here, before you make things worse.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay, say something, anything. Fix this. But right now… He couldn’t. He’d hurt Branch, badly.

He needed to go.

He slowly climbed to his feet, and despite the way his body, his mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around, he forced himself to move, walking back to the elevator, and setting his hand on the lever.

“I’ll… be by Rhonda, i-if you need me.” He said slowly, not daring to look back at his brother. “I’m sorry.”

With a click, the elevator began to rise, lifting John Dory to the surface, away from his baby brother. And the last thing he heard was a muffled sob, before Branch disappeared from his sight.

Chapter Text

John Dory crawled out of the Bunker, slowly closing the trapdoor behind him. Then he just… stood for a moment, staring at the ground, completely frozen in place.

What was he supposed to do now?

On one hand, he desperately wanted to turn around and go right back down there. Branch may be mad at him, he might even hate him, but he just had a major freak-out. He was scared, and he shouldn’t be alone right now, even if he wanted to be. But on the other hand…

This was all John Dory’s fault. Branch was right, about everything. He’d lied to him. He broke his trust. And yeah, maybe it was for a good reason, but he still lied. He could have told Branch about this years ago, talked him through it, helped him. But he didn’t. And like always, Branch was paying the price for his mistakes.

“That always seems to happen, doesn’t it?”

Spruce’s sharp voice hissed in his ear, the purple-haired troll stalking around his side. “You never seem to pay for your own stupid decisions, do you? It’s always someone else getting hurt.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before Bitty realizes that?” Clay’s voice chimed in, dripping with venom. “That there was a reason all of us left? That there’s a reason why anyone who ever gets close to you ends lost, or hurt, or DEAD.” He snarled the last word, tail lashing side to side. “And yet you always seem to come crawling back, too stupid to learn from your own mistakes, just to do the same shit all over again.”

“Branch doesn’t deserve this.” Floyd added, his voice hollow as he wrapped his tail tight around his legs. “Why? Why do you always do this?”

John Dory squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a growl as he rubbed at his ears. Too loud… He needed to think, to try and figure this out, but they were too loud… Different emotions boiled in his chest, threatening to burst. Anger, frustration, guilt, regret, fear… His hands curled into tight fists as he forced himself to walk towards the edge of the clearing, his left hand burning, itching under his glove.

“Oh, sorry, was that not what you wanted to hear?” Spruce continued sarcastically. “The truth hurts sometimes, doesn’t it Johnny? Is that why you continue to lie to yourself? Lie to him? It’s all you know how to do!”

“Branch is finally starting to see who you really are.” Clay snapped. “One of these days, he’s going to hate you too.”

“You have to do better, JD.” Floyd whispered, a slight edge to his voice. “I don’t want Branch to end up like we did.”

The feeling in his chest seemed to flare up, and in a flash of overwhelming emotion, John Dory let out a snarl, lashing out and driving his fist into a nearby root. The force sent a shockwave of electric pain through his hand and up his arm, sparks flashing behind his eyelids as he let out a soft whine. After a moment, it slowly faded into a tingling numbness as he panted heavily, wild eyes locked on the gnarled wood, blue oozing slightly from his knuckles. He drew it back, before plunging it into the root a few more times for good measure, leaving a smear of blood against the grain. He closed his eyes, reveling in the brief moment of quiet the pain seemed to bring him, before he heard Spruce’s voice pipe up again.

“Well that was just stupid.”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” John Dory snapped, spinning around to face his brothers as a desperate anger flooded his chest. “I’m trying, ok?! I know I messed up, I know that, you don’t have to keep reminding me every time I fuck up, alright?”

The looks on his brothers’ faces only seemed to fuel his frustration, his gestures becoming even more frantic. “I know I failed you. I know I drove you away, I know it’s my fault that you might be gone forever, and I know I can never go back and fix that! And I HATE myself for that.” His voice broke slightly, his breaths deep and ragged as he pointed back towards the Bunker door. “But I am trying to do better. For him. And you’re right, I’m stupid, and I make stupid mistakes, but goddammit, I’m trying to fix them, and I can’t do that when you’re all constantly screaming in my ears!”

“Oh, so it’s our fault?” Spruce hissed, bristling as his hands curled into fists at his side. “We’re not real, John. We’re YOU. Put two and two together, brainiac.”

John Dory let out an exasperated growl, drawing his hands down his face. He really was just arguing with no one right now, wasn’t he? “If you’d let me just think for a moment down there, maybe I could have explained-”

“Explained what?” Clay exclaimed angrily. “There’s nothing to explain! You lied to him, simple as that.”

“I know!” John Dory snapped back. “I know, I know, I know dammit! But I can’t help him if I’m too busy listening to you all the time!”

“We’re. Not. REAL!” Spruce shot back, each word like a dagger in John Dory’s heart. “If you don’t want to listen to us, then don’t! Make us go away!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t!”

“Why?!”

“Because I don’t want to do this ALONE!”

The clearing went quiet as the anger that flared to life so quickly slowly began to die, replaced by a hollow feeling that seemed to spread across his entire body. He almost seemed to deflate, ears drooping as his tail dropped to the ground, his shoulders sagging. That was it, wasn’t it? “I don’t want to do this alone. I can't do this alone. I… need you.” He murmured, his chest aching.

“You should have thought of that before you left us.”

John Dory flinched at Spruce’s cutting words, the longing and regret that filled his heart so heavy he could barely breathe. Because he so desperately wished that they were really here. But they weren’t. He couldn’t change that. He just had to live with it.

And he had more important things to worry about right now.

He closed his eyes, not daring to look at his brothers as he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “You’re right, I messed up. It was my fault all of this happened, that I lost y-... Them.” He sucked another breath in, letting it out slowly. “And I’m sorry.”

“You saying that to us doesn’t mean anything.” Spruce said, his voice devoid of emotion. “We’re not here.”

“I know.” John Dory replied, hugging his arms to his chest. “But Branch is. And I’m trying to do right by him, but it’s hard enough without you guys constantly reminding me of what a screw up I am.” He finally looked up, meeting his brothers’ eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you all needed me to be. I know I hurt you, and I would do anything to take it back.” He set his jaw tight, though his resolve began to waver along with his voice. “But this isn’t about me right now, it isn’t about us. It’s about Branch. He needs me. And if I’m going to fix things with him, I can’t just be thinking about you all the time.” He rubbed at his hand, which stung and twitched by his side. “You can all hate me later, alright? Just… give me a moment to make this right.”

His brothers just looked at him, quiet, their faces unreadable. Then, Floyd spoke up, his voice trembling.

“I don’t understand.” He said softly. “What do you want from us?”

…He didn’t know. He looked at his brothers, the ache so painful in his chest he thought it might explode. As much as he wanted them here, as much as he didn’t want to be alone… They were distracting him. Taking his attention away from what really matters.

What’s actually real.

Clay scoffed, face curling into a snarl.

“He doesn’t know what he wants.” He sneered, spinning around with a flick of his tail and striding off towards the woods. Before he reached the underbrush however, he paused for a moment. “Do better.” He hissed, before turning away, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the leaves. “I never wanted to hate you.”

Floyd winced, not making eye contact as he played nervously with his tail. “I’m sorry, I…” He stammered, his jaw growing tight as he wiped a few tears starting to build in his eyes. “I just want Branch to be happy.” He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else. But instead, he just shook his head, following after Clay.

“We’re not leaving, you know.”

John Dory peered to his side to see Spruce, his brother’s face stormy as he stared after where Clay and Floyd had disappeared. “Ignoring us again isn’t going to help anything. It never worked before, and it won’t work now. We’re not going away.”

John Dory opened his mouth to reply, before slowly closing it again. Mixed feelings of relief and frustration churned in his stomach. He should have never let this go on for so long. He’d started slipping up more once they reached Troll Village because his mind had been in the tank. But now…

He had to focus on what’s real.

He shook his head, walking over towards Rhonda, purposely avoiding looking at Spruce. He needed to think now, Branch needed him…

“Sure, keep avoiding the problem.” Spruce continued, his voice rising to an angry shout as he followed after him. “Another short term fix. What are you going to do when you can’t ignore us anymore? There’s going to come a day when you can’t run away from this, and you’ll fall apart!” Spruce appeared directly in front of him, stopping him in his tracks, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Then what?”

John Dory stared at him, his heart aching. Spruce had a point, he couldn’t do this forever… Could he? His jaw locked stubbornly, hands clenching at his side.

That’s exactly what he was going to do.

With a flick of his tail, he walked right through Spruce, keeping his eyes locked on Rhonda.

He reached her side, reaching out his hands to pet her fuzzy cheeks, as she nuzzled nervously into his chest, clearly a bit worried after seeing John Dory arguing with himself for a good few minutes. He couldn’t help but sneak a look back to see that Spruce had disappeared as well, the clearing now empty. And suddenly, a wave of loneliness settled heavily in his gut.

It was so stupid, they weren’t his real brothers, they never were. And if he wanted to take care of Branch, he couldn’t have them constantly whispering in his ears, distracting him from what was really important. But he couldn’t make them go away, he couldn’t lose them again. So he’d just… go back to ignoring them. He wouldn’t talk to them, wouldn’t listen to them, wouldn’t humor this… fantasy anymore. They weren’t here, not really.

But troll, he hated being alone.

Rhonda let out a coo, bumping into his side. “Yeah, I know, sweetheart, I know.” He sighed, patting her cheek as he looked towards the Bunker. “Don’t worry, I can fix this.”

“Can you?” Clay’s voice hissed in his ear, but John Dory didn’t acknowledge it, walking towards the Bunker door. He wasn’t real. But Branch was. And he needed to make this right.

Before he could open the trapdoor, fully prepared to go beg for his brother’s forgiveness, it swung open, causing John Dory to stumble back in surprise. Branch popped his head up, eyes slightly puffy and red, and his face curled into a frown.

“Branch!” John Dory yelped, before clearing his throat, forcing a smile to his face. “H-hey, hey, I was just coming down to check on you-”

Branch held up a hand, the words dying in John Dory’s throat as the smile dropped from his face, guilt returning ten-fold. “Branch, I’m sor-”

“You lied to me.”

John Dory swallowed, drawing back a bit.

“You may not have lied directly, but you withheld crucial information from me, and I have every right to be extremely pissed about it.” Branch rambled, eyes snapping up to meet John Dory’s. “And for the record, I am.”

John Dory nodded, Branch’s piercing gaze burning into his skin. But then, it softened, and he looked back towards the ground. “But that’s… not important right now.” He mumbled, crawling out from the Bunker to his feet. “What’s important is that the Bergens have had several years to be out looking for us, and we’re in no way prepared for when they find us.”

‘When’. John Dory noted. Not ‘if’, ‘when’.

“The best thing for us to do would be to take off and put as much distance as we can between us and Bergentown.” Branch continued, beginning to pace. His eyes flicked in John Dory’s direction, intense once more. “But thanks to you, I’ve… grown attached. We can’t leave all these idiots here to die.”

“They wouldn’t make it out there.” John Dory agreed, rubbing at his aching hand. “They barely made it here in the first place. King Peppy won’t take that risk again.”

“He’s taking more of a risk by staring here!” Branch hissed, but he shook his head, continuing to pace as he gestured dramatically with his arms. “We have to increase our defenses, Bergen-proof the Bunker. I’ll start making some new designs, alarms, weapons…” He paused for a moment, gritting his teeth. “But nothing I make will hold them back for long. Our best bet is to keep a low profile, but that’s basically impossible with a bunch of glitter-happy trolls.” His face grew scared again, eyes wide. “They’re going to find us.”

“Well…” John Dory said, rubbing the back of his neck as he forced a careful smile to his face. “They haven’t found us yet, right? Maybe they gave up.”

Branch whipped around to face him, eyes narrowed. “You really believe that?” He snapped.

John Dory hesitated. Because no, he didn’t. Branch was right. And if those monsters found them…

They’d be helpless against them.

Branch sighed, massaging his forehead. “I am still… astronomically pissed at you.” He growled, running a hand through his bristled hair.

“I know.” John Dory replied, deflating. “And I know it doesn’t mean much, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Branch.”

“Then prove it.” Branch retorted, stalking over to him and jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to make this up to me? Then you’ll help me prepare. Make up for the years I lost thinking we were free from those monsters.” His anger faltered, ears drooping. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll help me protect us. It’s not safe, and I know no one will listen or believe me, and I… I can’t do this on my own.” Branch was trembling slightly, that fear flickering once again in his eyes. “I just… need someone who’ll actually believe me.”

Guilt crawled up John Dory’s throat, threatening to choke him, but he quickly swallowed it down. “Of course I’ll help you, B. Whatever you need, I’m… I’m here.” He replied, trying to smile.

Please, Sunny, you have to believe me!

John Dory shuddered, the memory of his father’s voice chilling him to the bone. He could picture him pacing around his parents room, so overwhelmed by fear and paranoia that he couldn’t even think straight anymore. Then, his mind shifted to Branch, feverishly carving into the walls of the Bunker, so blinded by fear he didn’t notice his hands becoming more and more raw. Then back to his father, sitting on the edge of his bed, hands buried in his hair as his face curled with pain… John Dory shook his head, panic darting through his chest. He couldn’t let Branch end up like that.

“But you have to promise me that you won’t let this take over your entire life.” He said quickly, hoping Branch couldn’t hear the slight tremor to his voice as he tried to push the unwanted memory from his head.

Branch scoffed, turning away, but John Dory stopped him, grabbing his shoulder to face him back towards him. “I mean it.” He continued, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. “I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I didn’t do it for no reason. The Bergens scare the hell out of you, and you and I both know you can get… obsessive about things.”

Branch immediately went to protest, but John Dory continued before he could. “I’ll help you build whatever you want, collect supplies, everything. But you have to promise me you won’t drive yourself up a wall trying to prevent something that’s, let’s face it, out of your control.”

Branch scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, so John Dory leaned down to meet his eyes, forcing a lighter tone. “I don’t want you to live your life terrified all the time. We’ve had enough of that already, don’t cha think?”

“Ugh, fine!” Branch snapped, looking up to face him. “But then you have to promise you don’t have any more life-changing secrets that you’ve just conveniently decided not to tell me.”

John Dory thought for a moment. Did he? Well, he had plenty of secrets… But none that directly affected Branch, right? The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he noticed images of his brothers appear out of the corner of his eye, staring at him. He bit his cheek, then forced a smile to his face. “Alright.” He said, extending his hand, the lie falling a little too easily past his lips, but leaving a sour taste on his tongue. “I promise.”

Behind his back, his fingers curled into a guilty cross.

Branch’s eyes narrowed, before he also reached out his hand, gripping John Dory’s firmly. “Promise.” He muttered, eyes locked on the ground. John Dory couldn’t help but note Branch’s hand was behind his back as well.

“What’d you do?” Branch asked, turning his grip so John Dory’s bloodied knuckles were exposed.

“Eh, scraped it.” John Dory replied flippantly, before flipping his hand around so the raw scratches on the meat of Branch’s palm were visible. “You taken care of these yet?”

Branch let his grip go, coughing a bit as he spun around. “C’mon. We have a lot of work to do.” He said, an edge to his voice.

John Dory nodded, letting his arm fall back limply to his side. He saw Spruce appear next to him, keeping his eyes locked forward as they both stared after Branch, who disappeared back down into the depths of the Bunker.

“You’re a bad person.” Spruce said, his voice devoid of any emotion. It wasn’t an insult, nor an accusation. Just a statement.

John Dory pursed his lips, hands curling painfully into fists, before he slowly followed after Branch, pushing the ache in his chest deeper.

I know.

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John Dory spent the rest of the day helping Branch move things around in the Bunker, making extra room for storage and such. According to Branch’s plans, the Bunker needed to be completely stocked with enough food, water, and weapons to last them for weeks, months even, in case a Bergen attack forced them underground, an idea that John Dory completely despised, but didn’t dispute, as Branch still looked like he was about one flippant comment away from tearing John Dory a new one. He felt as if he’d been screamed at enough today. Any more, and he might lose it.

So he obediently, and silently, followed Branch’s lead, worry curling in his gut like a snake. If he’d thought Branch was paranoid before, this was a whole other level. So much for ‘sending Branch to school’ helping the young troll move past this. Maybe, he was just a paranoid kid. And John Dory really wasn’t sure how to help him fix that.

He was so lost in his tumultuous thoughts that he nearly ran into his younger brother, the small grey troll pausing near Floyd’s room, staring inside. John Dory shifted the heavy crate in his hands, following Branch’s gaze to the eerily still room, where Floyd’s bed lay untouched, carved flowers curling around the posts, and a soft Lamb’s Ear leaf draped across it. Empty, just like it always was.

“They’re never coming back, are they?”

John Dory blinked in surprise at Branch’s comment, the young troll’s voice bitter in a way he’d never heard it before. That ache in his chest grew stronger, as he tried to force himself to sound hopeful.

“T-they might.” He tried weakly. “You never know.”

Branch’s grip tightened on the notebook in his hands, his face curling into a grimace. “It’s just taking up space.” He muttered, his gaze becoming like ice before he looked up once more. “Floyd’s- ...THIS room will be for extra ration storage.” He turned to point at Spruce’s room, then Clay’s. “That one will be for weapons, and this one for extra building supplies.” He jotted something down, practically ripping into the paper with the force. “We’ll just move the beds out of the way.” He slammed his notebook shut, then briskly walked away, not looking back at the empty rooms.

John Dory just stood there for a moment, like his veins were filled with lead. Branch…

“He… gave up on us.”

Floyd had appeared at John Dory’s side, eyes wide with fear and pain. He looked up, tears starting to streak down his face. “John…” He choked out, voice breaking.

John Dory felt his own eyes start to sting, but he squeezed them shut, forcing the feeling back down. And by the time he’d opened them again, Floyd had disappeared, leaving him alone, surrounded by empty rooms. With a lot of effort, he forced himself to move.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

Instead, he paced around the living room until his feet grew sore, before sitting on the couch, tapping out a beat on his mug as he slowly sipped at a cup of coffee, not bothering to even try and close his eyes as the hours slipped by. His mind was too alight with worry, with guilt, regret… And if he tried to sleep now, he knew he’d only be awoken by nightmares. Best not.

Typically on nights like this, he’d make his way out of the Bunker, do an extra patrol, or hang with Rhonda. Something to get him moving, calm his nerves. But he didn’t dare leave now. He had a feeling…

As if to confirm his thoughts, he heard a door slam open, and quick footsteps padding down the hall. Within moments, Branch stumbled into the kitchen, eyes wide with panic, as he sucked in deep, ragged breaths. He stood for a moment, shaking, before his eyes landed on John Dory, the fear fading ever so slightly as he straightened up.

“D…?” Branch asked, his voice still breathy. “Why are you up?”

John Dory shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” He replied. “You?”

Branch’s gaze fell to the ground, hands curling into fists. “Couldn’t sleep.” He echoed, closing his eyes.

John Dory hummed, taking another sip of his coffee, and patting the spot next to him on the couch. Branch hesitated for a moment, but to John Dory’s utter relief, he slowly made his way over, stiffly taking a seat. His body shivered, and he fidgeted with his hands, as if desperately wishing he had something to do with them. So John Dory offered him his mug, the warm coffee steam curling gently in the air.

Branch blinked in surprise at the offer, but took the mug into his hands, taking a deep breath, and letting the warm steam tickle his nose. He visibly seemed to relax a bit, taking a tiny sip as he leaned back on the couch. John Dory resisted wrapping an arm around him, sure his brother would just firmly protest the gesture. He missed when a simple touch was enough to put Branch’s mind at ease. Things were so much more complicated now.

Instead, he leaned back as well, staring up at the dimly lit dirt above them, that crushing, panicked feeling fluttering in his heart. He wondered if his brother could feel it too, the way they were both stuck in place, too scared to let go.

Trapped.

John Dory let out a sigh, eyes trailing across the dirt, and desperately wishing it was stars.

Chapter Text

Over the next few years, John Dory followed Branch’s lead as they took their survivalist tendencies to a whole new level, bordering on paranoid recluses.

The Bunker filled with supplies and weapons, their brother’s rooms now packed to the brim with anything and everything they might possibly need in the case of a Bergen attack, the beds empty and pushed up against the back walls. They carved out extra rooms for food storage, even starting to grow their own to ensure they had enough to last them through anything.

Their defenses around the village became more complex, with traps set to target creatures bigger than anything they’d ever gone up against before. They’d taken Branch forever to design, and even longer for John Dory to build, but they were slowly coming together. And Branch kept coming up with new ideas, cranking out blueprints as if the Bergens would attack tomorrow. Which, maybe they would. Who knows? Branch’s paranoia was a little bit… contagious.

Despite Branch’s ‘promise’ that he wouldn’t let this fear dictate his entire life… It kind of did, much to John Dory’s dismay. But nothing he said or did could dissuade his little brother from the certainty that the Bergens would find them one day. So, he did what he could to try and make Branch’s life easier. He built whatever he asked, helped out where he could. Kept his door open so if Branch had a nightmare, he could hear it, comfort him, try and coax him through the panic like Moonbloom had taught him, and bring his brother back to reality.

What John Dory didn’t do is let him isolate himself completely.

As much as Branch would have been perfectly content to just hide away in the Bunker every day, burying himself in blueprints and defensive strategies, John Dory insisted he still go to school. He’d drag his brother out with him on patrols, to go foraging, or hunting, to sit with him while he wrestled with the plants in his overgrown garden. Make sure the kid remembered to eat when he got so locked into a project, he tuned out the entire world.

Because at the end of the day, this was his fault. All of it. The least he could do is try and make it right.

He didn’t get to chat with Dr. Moonbloom much anymore, besides when he’d drag himself to her office with another wound to add to his collection. He missed talking with her, and the comfort it brought, but helping Branch was more important right now. The kid needed him. And besides, he was doing just fine. Just… fine.

Poppy still came by to visit every so often, her presence a welcome brightness to how dreary and suffocating the Bunker had become. John Dory could tell she didn’t exactly understand Branch’s paranoia, but how could she? She barely remembered what life at the Troll Tree was like, let alone the Bergens. But to her credit, she never interrupted Branch’s fearful rambling as he paced back and forth, shuffling through the multitude of papers in his hands. Instead, she’d just look on with the same concern John Dory had, mouth curled into a small frown.

“He does know the Bergens won’t find us, right?” She’d asked John Dory one day, after Branch had gone to retrieve some new weapon prototypes he’d been working on. “Dad said we’re safe here, that there’s nothing to worry about. He’s just stressing himself out over something that’ll never happen.”

John Dory had just looked at her, her eyes fraught with confusion. She wasn’t being rude, or ignorant. She just… didn’t get it. Many of the younger Trolls didn’t, and the older ones who did either purposely put the fear behind them, or chose to believe they were safe here.

Poppy had never known what it was like to constantly fear for your life. To be trapped, with no hope of escape, knowing one wrong move could be the death of you. Or worse, someone you care about. How could he even begin to explain something like this to her?

“He just wants to be prepared.” John Dory had replied weakly, knowing that Poppy didn’t, and likely would never understand. “Fear is a heck of a motivator.”

It was. For nearly two years, protecting them from the Bergens was all Branch could think about. But as time went on, it faded from a constant, driving panic, to more of a smoldering fear in the background of everything they did. One can only prepare for something so much before it just becomes upkeep. And by the time Branch was eighteen, that’s where they were. Maintaining the traps and alarms, keeping their supplies stocked, and patrolling every day to ensure nothing was creeping around nearby.

John Dory had actually just finished a patrol, casually waiting outside the school for his brother, just like he always did. He stared absently at the school pod, letting his eyes drift in and out of focus as he tried to ignore Clay, who seemed hellbent on getting his attention at this current moment.

Yep. Of course those were still here.

“JD, look, no hands!” He chirped from off to the side, John Dory refusing to turn his way. He was still on his whole ‘if I pretend they’re not there, then it’s fine’ spree, but without Branch around, it was always harder to ignore them. And some days were worse than others. “JD! Look! You’re not looking!”

He pursed his lips, locking his gaze forward, when Clay popped up right in front of his face, letting out a loud, “John!”.

It took all he had not to let out a yelp, biting his cheek as he flinched, inhaling sharply. Clay just cackled with laughter. “Got cha! Serves you right, asshole!”

John Dory let out a low growl, before he noticed a group of trolls nearby, staring at him curiously. The growl quickly turned into a cough as he forced a grin, giving them a wave. They hesitantly waved back, the same awkward smiles on their faces.

“Yeesh, embarrassing.” Spruce’s voice commented from off to the side, John Dory just letting out an exasperated sigh.

The school critter rang, and young trolls began to file out, John Dory keeping his eyes peeled for a certain grey troll. That was when he suddenly got an odd feeling, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He froze, quickly scanning his surroundings, wondering what was causing it, his hand twitching as it hovered over the stake in his vest. Finally his eyes landed on a familiar troll, standing just a few feet away from him.

Brook.

His apprehension melted away to irritation. He hadn’t seen Brook around the village in a while, which was just fine with him, but the sight of her was enough to make his stomach start to boil. Despite Branch’s insistence that he didn’t care about Creek’s targeted comments, the fact that Creek was still tormenting Branch at school after all these years was enough to make him furious, especially because there wasn’t anything he could do about it. And he had a pretty good suspicion that Brook only served to egg on her son’s shitty behavior, fueling his mind with more venom to spit.

He rolled his eyes, going to to shift his gaze back towards the school, when he noticed something… Off about Brook. He stared at her curiously, that apprehension beginning to build once more. She wasn’t glaring at him like she normally did, no. In fact, she wasn’t looking at him at all. She stared blankly at the school, her eyes dull, and listless, swaying slightly on her feet. And as much as John Dory despised her, he couldn’t stop the concern that flickered to life in his chest. Concern that quickly turned to panic as her eyes seemed to roll up into her head, her legs buckling beneath her.

He moved before he even realized what was happening, catching the light pink troll in his arms before she hit the ground. “Woah, hey, Brook?” He stammered, shifting her back up to her feet as her head lolled slightly. “Brook?”

“What’s… what’s going on?” She murmured, looking back up towards the school, before turning her attention to John Dory, squinting her eyes.

“Easy…” John Dory said as Brook attempted to regain her footing, still swaying slightly as she used his arm to steady herself. “You ok?”

Brook just… looked at him, that same blank expression on her face. “Am I?” She replied, in a tone that sent shivers down John Dory’s spine.

“Brook?”

“Is she ok?”

“What happened?”

“John Dory saved her…”

Trolls crowded around them, matching expressions of worry on their faces. John Dory pushed down his feelings of unease as they drew closer, trying instead to just focus on Brook.

“Anyone got water or something?” He asked quietly, to which most of the trolls just shook their heads.

“I’ve got some sparkleberry juice.” A young troll contributed, trotting over with a deep purple drink and offering it to him. “Will that help?”

“Eh, probably.” John Dory replied, smiling gratefully at the kid beaming up at him, before taking the cup from her and handing it to Brook, who obediently began sipping it. Part of him pressed that Brook would be just fine now, and to just leave her be, but the other, more annoying part insisted he had to make sure she was ok, and helping her was the right thing to do. So he, albeit a bit begrudgingly, began to lead her over to the school steps so she could sit down for a moment.

Brook let herself be led without another word, which disturbed John Dory even further. He sat her down on the steps, her blank eyes staring listlessly at the colorful bangles decorating her wrists, her ombre green and blue hair ragged, and unkempt. John Dory pursed his lips, then leaned down, for once trying to get her attention.

“Hey, uh, Brook? Maybe I should take you to see Dr. Moonbloom. You don’t look so good.” He tried, prepared for the snippy troll to reply with every cutting insult under the sun.

Instead, she just blinked a few times, shaking her head. “No, I can’t leave. I have to pick up Creek from school.” She murmured, smiling dreamily. “My beautiful baby boy.”

“Mother?”

John Dory turned to see Creek standing behind them, his face a mix of worry and fear. The purple troll walked to his mother’s side, John Dory taking a step back to give them some space. Creek grabbed her arm, his usually smug face looking uncharacteristically concerned. “What are you doing here?”

Brook just smiled at him, her gaze still unfocused. John Dory coughed, grabbing Creek’s attention.

“She about passed out.” He explained, Creek’s expression unchanging.

“I see…” The young troll replied, looking back at Brook. “She… hasn’t been feeling well lately.” He shook his head, a tight smile growing on his face as he gently helped Brook to her feet. “Let’s go home, shall we? I’ll make you some tea, and we can meditate for a while. Your poor aura’s been all over the place.”

Brook continued to smile, reaching up to touch Creek’s cheek. “Such a good boy, my beautiful boy…” She murmured.

John Dory nodded, going to make his escape, when Brook’s hand shot out suddenly, clamping around his arm in a tight grip. His body tensed as he recoiled, going to yank his arm from her hand, when he hesitated, Brook’s sharp, fearful gaze locking with his own.

“He’s a monster.” She hissed, her nails digging into his skin. “A monster.”

Anger flared to life in John Dory’s chest, face curling into a snarl as he ripped his arm from her grip. Of course. Still a monster, huh? That word was like a jab to the heart. He should have known better, why’d he even bother helping her?

Creek pulled his mother back, lips pursed into a tight line. “My apologies, John Dory.” He said, though there was no hint of remorse in his voice. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” He began to gently lead her away, staring at her worriedly as that blank look returned to her face.

John Dory watched them go, that anger burning in his chest fading slightly to just tired resignation. It didn’t matter. No matter what he did, to some, he’d always be a monster.

But troll, the look on her face…

John Dory was interrupted as a familiar voice piped up by his side, turning to see Branch striding out of the pod, Poppy trailing along behind him.

“Just think about it, ok? I mean, c’mon! It’s perfect for you!” Poppy said chipperly, jumping in front of Branch’s path.

Branch just pursed his lips, looking to the side, before his eyes landed on John Dory. Poppy followed his gaze, her expression brightening as she recognized him.

“JD!” She chirped, letting out a bubbly laugh as she gave him a hug.

“Hey Poppyseed.” John Dory chuckled back, his mood growing considerably brighter. He ruffled her hair a bit, the young pink troll continuing to giggle. However, his joy grew a bit bittersweet as he placed his hands on his hips. “How’s your old man doing?”

Poppy’s face grew slightly sad as well, but she didn’t let it show for long. “He has his good and bad days.” She replied, continuing to smile. “Mostly good though!”

“Good.” John Dory said, smiling warmly. “He’s lucky to have you, Popstar. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, you let ‘ol JD know, ok? I mean it.”

“I know, I know.” Poppy laughed, grinning at him before she began to scamper off. “I gotta go, it’s Cooper’s ¾ birthday, and there’s a banquet I have to put together tonight…” She pulled out an impossibly long list, giving it a good look-over. She’d been taking over a lot more of King Peppy’s responsibilities lately to give the old King some rest. “I’ll see you tomorrow! And Branch…” She pointed at Branch, smiling impossibly bright. “Think about it!”

John Dory gave her a wave, before he and Branch both headed off towards the Bunker.

As they walked, John Dory immediately picked up on a tenseness to his brother, Branch’s hands tight on the straps to his bag, his tail twitching back and forth as his brows furrowed tightly. An image of Floyd appeared next to him, giving the young troll a worried look.

“Is he ok?”

John Dory had the same question. So he reached over, poking his brother right in his wrinkled brow, causing Branch to jump.

“Heh.” John Dory chuckled in amusement, Branch giving him a scowl. “What’s on your mind, Bitty?”

Branch hesitated for a moment, before letting out a sigh. “Poppy, well, I guess King Peppy, offered me a job. Through Poppy.” He mumbled, his shoulders hunching up a bit. “They want to improve the village infrastructure and design… And they want me to do it.”

Y’know, I was going to be an architect.

Branch’s squeaky, younger voice rang clearly in his head, John Dory’s face breaking into a wide grin. Branch looked up at him, his face growing flush. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’, that’s amazing, B! It’s perfect!” He exclaimed, clapping a hand over his brother’s back as he laughed. “You said yes, right?!”

“I… didn’t give an answer yet.” Branch replied, ears drooping slightly.

“What?! Bitty, c’mon!” John Dory said, so overcome with excitement he was basically dancing along the path. “This is like, your dream come true! You have to say yes!”

“D, I’m busy enough as it is!” Branch retorted, not looking him in the eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have important work to do. And if I don’t do it, no one else will.” Branch hunched up further. “They all think I’m crazy.”

John Dory flinched, a sudden panic growing in his chest as his body went tense. “Don’t say that. You’re not crazy.” He insisted sharply, ignoring the way his brother’s voices seemed to whisper the word back to him, buzzing in his ears. “Just ‘cause you think a little differently doesn’t mean you're crazy.”

Branch grimaced. “Look, it… It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m going to be a scout, remember? With you.”

John Dory’s mood deflated, that panic giving way to a heavy feeling in his gut. “B…” He started, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “You’re so smart, kid. And yeah, you’d make a great scout, and of course I wouldn’t mind having you along with me.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “But you’re capable of so much more. This is a great opportunity!”

“Yeah, to design stupid pods for the rest of my life.” Branch grumbled.

“Who said you have to design pods?” John Dory exclaimed, letting out a laugh. “B, you’d be an architect! You could make anything you wanted! Hell, you could even redesign the pods! Make them safer, more… durable, y’know?”

Branch considered this for a moment, John Dory practically able to see the cogs turning in his mind. “Yeah…” He whispered, eyes widening, before his face broke into a grin as well. “Yeah! Forget the border, I could Bergen-proof all of Troll Village!” He pulled his notebook from his hair, beginning to write frantically. “Stronger pods, innate defenses…” His voice trailed off as he began to walk faster towards the Bunker.

John Dory trotted after him, with the tiniest flicker of concern at Branch’s insistence to ‘Bergen-proof’ the town, but it was completely overrun by his excitement for his brother. After everything that’d happened, everything John Dory had done to ruin his brother’s life, the kid finally had a chance to have the life he deserved.

His brother had finally found his place in Troll Village.

Where he belonged.

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The next day, John Dory paced apprehensively outside the school as he waited for Branch, his skin prickling with excitement.

Branch had worked most of the afternoon and evening coming up with some new designs for Troll Village, and likely would have worked through the night if John Dory hadn’t confiscated his pencils and sent him off to bed. This morning, he showed off his ideas to John Dory, and though he didn’t understand much of the mechanical bits, he knew they were impressive.

“They’re going to love them!” He’d exclaimed, ruffling Branch’s hair. Branch had of course waved him off, but couldn’t hide his own excitement as his tail twitched, gripping tight to the blueprints in his hands.

“This’ll change everything.” Branch had said, a determined gleam in his eyes.

Now, John Dory was stuck waiting to hear how it’d gone, he’d been waiting for the past hour. He already had plans for how they could celebrate. He could make a big ‘ol dinner for him and Rhonda, and he had some Fluffleberry preserves stored away, maybe he could make a cake! And as the school critter rang, he turned around with a grin, tail practically wagging with excitement as he anxiously waited to see his brother’s smiling face.

Instead, he was greeted with an extremely pissed looking Poppy.

The pink troll stomped away from the school, towards where King Peppy was waiting for her. She didn’t say anything to him, however, just stalking past, her tail flicking in irritation. John Dory blinked, confused, before his eyes caught on Branch, who had the same look of stormy anger on his face.

“Bitty, what the hell-” He started, but Branch pushed right past him, face curled into a frustrated snarl as he headed off towards the Bunker. John Dory just looked at him, then back at King Peppy, who’s face mirrored his own confused concern. King Peppy raised an eyebrow, clearly asking if John Dory had any idea what was going on. In reply, John Dory just shrugged. He was completely at a loss.

King Peppy pursed his lips, then spun around, trailing after his daughter as John Dory did the same, heading off to the Bunker.

What just happened?

Branch had apparently already beaten him back, so he quickly rode the elevator down into the depths, just in time to hear his brother’s door slam shut. The sound sent a jolt of familiar fear down John Dory’s spine, but he pushed it away, instead striding to his brother’s room and knocking loudly.

“Hey, we don’t slam doors.” He chastised, before his voice grew softer. “What’s up, B?”

Branch didn’t answer, John Dory’s anxiety spiking even more. “C’mon, talk to me.” He said, trying not to sound like he was begging. “Did something go wrong? Poppy not like your ideas?”

The door ripped open, John Dory jumping back with surprise. Branch stood in the doorway, eyes flashing with anger, bits of his now ripped up blueprints laying scattered across the floor.

“No, she didn’t like them!” He snapped, spinning around as he kicked at the shredded paper, mumbling profanities under his breath.

“Bitty…” John Dory began, but Branch quickly cut him off.

“I showed her everything, explained how it could help the town, PROTECT people, make it so there’s no way the Bergens could hurt us ever again, and you know what she said to me!?” Branch was breathing heavily, shaking with rage. “‘I thought you were over this, Branch. I thought you were doing better’. Like this hasn’t been my entire life!”

John Dory winced. Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best thing for the young princess to say…

“But you know what?” Branch let out a dry, barking laugh, turning to John Dory with wild gleam in his eyes. “I finally get it now! I understand why she was so damn insistent to ‘be my friend’.” He grabbed at his bristling hair. “She only thought of me as a project. Some sad, unfortunate grey troll that she could fix so she could feel good about herself. And now, she’s so disappointed that her little project didn’t work out the way she wanted it to!”

“Branch, c’mon, Poppy’s not like that!” John Dory interrupted. “She’s your friend!”

“She’s not my friend! She never was!” Branch snapped back. “She only wanted to fix me! Well guess what? I don’t need anyone to fix me! I like myself just the way I am, and I’m not going to change just because it aligns with her idea of who I should be!” He scowled, staring at the ground. “I can’t believe I ever thought she might actually care enough to help me.” He shook his head, spinning around. “She’ll never listen to me. None of them will. No stupid job will ever change that.” He was quiet for a moment, before continuing. “I turned her down. I’m going to be a scout.”

John Dory tensed, dread filling his chest. “What?! No, B, you don’t want this…”

“You don’t know what I want!” Branch snarled, that anger flaring to life once more as he glared at John Dory.

“I know that you’re better than this!” John Dory retorted, feeling his own anger ignite, not particularly aimed at Branch, but just in growing frustration. This was Branch’s dream! He ran a hand through his bristling hair, shaking his head. “You were just offered an amazing opportunity, a chance to do something you’re incredibly good at! You can’t just give up!”

“The hell I can’t!” Branch spat bitterly. “I don’t want to, so I’m not going to, end of story.”

“No, no no no, not end of anything!” John Dory growled, taking a step out of the room. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Branch replied darkly.

“To talk with King Peppy! To tell him you changed your mind!” John Dory exclaimed in exasperation. “I’m not letting you throw away this chance just because you’re pissed off!”

Branch bristled, his bright eyes burning with rage. “That’s not your decision to make!”

“Well clearly I can’t trust you to make good decisions right now!” John Dory shot back, that desperation pulsing in his chest once more. Branch just wasn’t thinking, he didn’t understand, didn’t get how important this was!

“No!” Branch shouted, balling his hands into fists. “I’m not doing it, and you can’t make me!” He stalked over to John Dory, getting right up close to his face, close enough that John Dory took a step back, his face curling into a warning snarl. “All my life, people have decided what’s best for me! I’ve never gotten a choice! You decided we would stay here in Troll Village, you decided I had to go to school, you decided that I didn’t need to know that the Bergens were so close by they could practically taste us! Not once in my life have I ever gotten to decide what I wanted!” Branch’s face grew icy, his gaze dropping to the ground. “When our family broke apart, no one even asked me if I wanted to come with them. I never got a choice.”

Branch’s words were like daggers, shredding though John Dory’s chest like razor blades. But he tried to stay strong, shaking his head. “Branch, you just, you don’t understand. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you-”

“I don’t want you to! I never asked you to do that!” Branch snarled, that iciness melting as his eyes burned once more, John Dory practically able to feel the heat and anger exploding out of him. “You’re not my dad, John, so quit fucking acting like it!”

John Dory drew back as if he’d been slapped. Actually, he might have preferred it if Branch did slap him. This hurt much more. He stared at Branch in shock, both trolls breathing heavily.

Branch seemed to realize what he’d said, his anger faltering for a moment. “I…” He started, before his face hardened. He shook his head, spinning around on his heels and disappeared into his room without another word, not slamming the door shut, but he might as well.

This conversation was over.

Branch’s words continued to ring in John Dory’s ears as he stood motionless in the hallway, before slowly turning to walk away, feeling as if his breath had been sucked out of him.

Yep. That one hurt.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t the first time John Dory had heard those words.

It was about a couple weeks before their big tour debut, where they’d promised (or more specifically, he’d promised) the fans they’d hit the ‘Perfect Family Harmony’, a harmony so powerful, it was rumored to shatter diamonds. It was quite the lofty goal, but go big, or go home, right? Or, go back to just barely scraping by, barely able to make ends meet, the threat of losing what’s left of his family hanging over his head like a…

No, don’t think about that. His mind always got fuzzy when he thought about that.

John Dory knew they could do it. No, they had to do it, they had no choice. Things were going well with the band, but they could change anytime. The fans could lose interest, get bored, and then what? No, they wanted to be entertained.

And John Dory refused to let them down.

Despite this, however, they were actually having a chiller night. John Dory had spent the past week figuring out some important things, talking with venues, arguing with stage crews, writing songs and choreography until his hands ached. They were in the final throes of planning, and everything had to be perfect. After a long week of feeling like his hair was being pulled in fifteen different directions at once, he desperately wanted, no, needed, one night, just one night, where he didn’t have to do anything. Well, besides taking care of his family. But he’d been doing that for so long already, it just felt like second nature. It’d just become a tad more… difficult lately. If he’d thought taking care of a bunch of kids was a lot of work, try a house full of surly teenagers and a toddler.

Maybe they wouldn’t argue tonight. But he doubted it. At this point, that felt like hopeful thinking.

He was just finishing up some dinner, tiredly humming ‘Perfect’ to himself as he cooked, playing through the choreography in his mind. However, his hazy brain kept skipping over moves, so he’d have to backtrack, becoming irritated as he divided out the plates. If his mind could just stay on track for one second…

… And he just put a spoonful of potatoes on the counter. Perfect, perfect, perfect…

He huffed, cleaning up the mess as he listened to Floyd quietly playing with Branch beneath the table, teaching the trolling some nursery rhymes as they made elaborate hand motions to go along with them. Clay sat with his feet up on the table, intently reading a book as he gnawed on his pencil, every so often taking a moment to scribble a note into the pages before continuing on. John Dory tried to ignore the way the sounds seemed to grate into his ears, causing that growing irritation to boil. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Still, part of him wished they would be quiet, just for a moment so he could think… Instead, he rubbed at his ears, hoping the prickles of irritation would dissipate.

There was one brother who was missing from this picture he noticed. And the worry that’d been stewing in John Dory’s gut for the past few days reared its ugly head, his lips pursing into a tight line.

He clumsily gathered the plates into his hands, setting them on the table, before smacking Clay’s feet, knocking them back onto the floor where they belonged. The yellow-haired troll glared at him, so John Dory glared right back, before turning to call across the pod.

“Sprucie, dinner! Let’s go!”

With that, Spruce came stumbling down the hall, hastily pulling his vest on. “Just put it in the fridge.” He clipped, making his way towards the door. “I’m going to workout with some friends; I’ll eat when I get back.”

That worry in his stomach twinged, and despite his better judgement, John Dory reached out a hand, stopping the purple-haired troll. “Just eat before you go.” He said with forced lightness, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “It’ll take two seconds.”

Spruce paused, briefly glancing at the plates on the table. John Dory didn’t miss the way a flicker of what almost looked like fear dance through his eyes. But Spruce just smacked his hand away. “Can’t, I’m already late. “ He said dismissively, once again making his way towards the door. However this time, John Dory moved in front of him.

“Spruce.” He said, in a tone that said he wasn’t about to budge on this particular topic. Spruce just paused again, glancing up at him icily as the pod went eerily silent, all attention now on the tension flashing between the two oldest brothers.

Great. Arguing it was.

John Dory pursed his lips, before turning to Clay, who was now peering over the top of his book in interest. “Clay, take Floyd and Bitty for a walk.” He said firmly, Clay bristling as he leapt to his feet.

“What?! No!” He snapped, tail lashing in irritation.

“I’m not asking.” John Dory snapped back, glaring at the young troll. “Go.”

Clay let out growl, muttering profanities under his breath as he scooped up a confused looking Branch and made his way out the door, Floyd nervously slinking after him as he peered between his older brothers. As soon as they were gone, John Dory turned his attention back to Spruce, whose icy gaze had dropped to the floor.

“Ok, spill it.” He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Spill what?” Spruce shot back snidely, rubbing at his arms.

“What is this?” John Dory continued in exasperation, running his hand through his hair. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Spruce replied, hands curling into fists. “I’m trying to go hang out with some friends, something you wouldn’t understand. At least one of us should have a social life outside the band!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it!” John Dory snarled, bristling as well. Spruce had become a lot more snippy lately, constantly trying to goad someone into an argument. John Dory took a deep breath, trying not to fall for it. “And I told you, you can go.” He gestured out to the table. “But you gotta eat.”

Spruce’s eyes flashed with anger. “I said I will when I get back.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“You won’t! You haven’t been!” John Dory exclaimed, that worry twisting in his gut erupting out of him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this stops now.”

“Is this about yesterday?” Spruce retorted, rolling his eyes. “I told you, I was just tired, and I tripped-”

“You nearly passed out on stage!” John Dory interrupted, gesturing wildly with his hands. He sighed, massaging his forehead. “Look, I thought you were just trying to be healthy, eating better, and working out and all that, and it was fine. But you’ve taken it too far. You don’t look healthy, Spruce, you look sick, and people are starting to notice…”

Spruce’s nostrils flared as he reeled back in indignation. “Oh, so it’s about the fans now, isn’t it?” He sneered, gesturing down to himself. “I thought you wanted this! Spruce, the heartthrob, with his rock hard chiseled abs. You don’t get this with putting in the work!”

“You’re not putting in the work, you’re starving yourself!” John Dory snarled, jabbing him in his chest. “And don’t shove this off on me! I never said I wanted this!”

“You might as well have!” Spruce yelled back, smacking his hand away. “You j-just love bossing us around, don’t you? Just admit it! And besides, it’s n-none of your business what I do anyways! You’re not the boss of me!”

“Oh I beg to differ.” John Dory growled, pointing back at the table. “You’re not going anywhere until you eat something.”

Spruce’s anger faltered as he followed John Dory’s finger, fear flickering across his eyes once more, before it returned with a stormy vengeance. “No.” He said firmly, hands curling into fists.

“Spruce, I swear to Troll, I will sit here all freakin’ night if I have to!” John Dory snapped, fury and desperation swirling around in his mind like a whirlwind. “You have to eat!”

“No! Y-you don’t- don’t- d-” Spruce seemed to trip up on the words, snarling in frustration as his stutter made an untimely appearance, something that only happened when he was really upset. John Dory drew back a bit… Did he go too far?

“Spruce…” He started, but Spruce didn’t let him finish.

“No! I’m n-not doing it, and you- you- you can’t make me!” Spruce stammered out, his bright blue eyes flashing with rage. “You d-don’t get to- to tell me what to do! You’re not Dad, so quit f-fucking acting like it!”

Silence fell across the pod as both trolls stood frozen in shock, one at what was said, and one like he couldn’t believe what he just said. Then, Spruce’s face became icy once more as he turned away.

“You control everything else about our lives, but you can’t control this. I do. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He said coolly, reaching for the doorknob. “So drop it.”

John Dory couldn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say. “Spruce-” He tried, but was immediately cut off again.

“You bring this up again, I’ll quit.” Spruce said, refusing to turn around. “I mean it.” And with that, he walked out the door, slamming it loudly behind him, leaving John Dory alone in the quiet of the pod.

John Dory stared at the door for a moment, before he slumped back down into his chair, letting his fuzzy head fall onto the table with a loud thump. Just for good measure, he did it a few more times, trying to focus. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Whatever Spruce was doing, it wasn’t good. He wasn’t kidding when he said his brother looked sick. The troll was rail thin, with tired eyes and goosebumps that never seemed to leave his arms. But if Spruce wouldn’t listen to him, what was he supposed to do about it? And to say he’d quit the band? He couldn’t quit, they couldn’t do this without him. The band needed him, HE needed him, he…

…Was he really acting like his dad?

John Dory let out a growl, pulling at his hair. He hated this. He was so tired. He was in over his head, and he just wanted it to stop…

Voices seemed to hiss in his ears, slicing through his mind…

“You’re not Dad, so quit fucking acting like it!”

“You bring this up again, I’ll quit.”

“You know, John? Sometimes, you look just like HIM.”

He yanked his hair further down, wincing, stretching it over his ears as if it could block out the noise…

Why wouldn’t it just stop?

Just then, the door opened, and Clay walked back inside, Floyd trotting after him with baby Branch in his arms. Considering the timing, John Dory assumed Clay did not in fact listen to him, and was likely just loitering around outside the pod with the young trolls, where they could hear everything. He quickly released his hair, glaring at his brother.

“I told you to take them for a walk.” John Dory hissed, though there was no strength behind his words.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Clay snapped back, echoing Spruce’s words and confirming John Dory’s suspicions. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Wrong.” John Dory growled, pointing up at the ceiling. “As long as you’re under this roof, you have to do what I say.”

Clay followed his gaze upwards, then smirked, taking a step back so he was outside the pod. “Whoops.” He said with a shrug, spinning around on his heels. “I’m going to see Viva. Don’t wait up.”

“Clay!” John Dory snarled, but the yellow-haired troll just slammed the door behind him, the sound making John Dory flinch. He growled again, running his hand through his hair in exasperation as his eyes landed on Floyd, who was still clutching Branch to his chest.

“What, you going to leave now too?” John Dory snapped, Floyd tensing at the tone.

“No…” Floyd replied quietly, looking down at the ground. John Dory immediately wilted, guilt washing over him.

“Ugh, sorry. I’m sorry, Flower boy.” He mumbled, walking over to take Branch from the young troll. He gently ruffled Floyd’s hair before setting Branch in his highchair. “Just… eat your dinner, ok?”

Floyd nodded, his ears drooping as he slowly began to eat, looking as if he’d rather be doing anything else. John Dory just silently sat, words continuing to echo around in his mind, hissing in his ears like snakes. Baby Branch was the only one who seemed to be in a chatty mood, piping up with a mouth full of potatoes.

“How come everyone’s so mad?” He asked, looking worried.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Bitty.” John Dory replied, forcing a smile to his face as he went to set Spruce’s plate in the fridge, taking out the untouched plate he’d put in there last night and tossing it. “You’re getting potatoes everywhere.”

Funnily enough, John Dory’s dinner ended up in the trash too. He didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

.
.
.

John Dory paced in the living room, trying to shake the memory from his head.

He hated that fight. It was the one that really tore Spruce and his relationship apart. It’s probably what led to Spruce quitting after the perfect family harmony fell through, and snowballed into their entire family falling apart. He wished he’d done something different, said something different… He could fill an entire library of things he should have done. It doesn’t change the fact that he could never fix them.

But Branch was right, just like Spruce was back then. In the same way John Dory had tried to control every aspect of their lives back at the Troll Tree, he was doing the exact thing now. How many times did he need to be reminded that he was the same, shitty troll he was back then?

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Spruce’s voice piped up from his side, John Dory trying desperately to ignore him. “You haven’t changed.

“Ooh, I’ve got a creative note for you.” Clay said with faux chipperness before his face curled into a sneer. “Stop being bossy, asshole!”

John Dory let out a groan, falling back on the couch and running a hand through his hair as his leg bounced up and down. He noticed Spruce sit by his side, lazily leaning back. “So how are you going to ‘fix’ this one, huh? Your nails can’t take much more abuse.”

John Dory pulled his hand from his mouth in disgust, the skin around his nails stinging, and inflamed. He didn’t know. But he did know sitting out here, stewing about it wasn’t going to help anything. And Branch was likely doing the same thing, sat in his room, letting anger and bitterness churn in his gut. John Dory had to do something, but what? What would he say? He should definitely apologize for being so… overbearing, but dammit it was for good reason! Is it so bad that he wants his brother to have the best life he could possibly have?!

But… that’s what he wanted for his brothers too. That’s why he worked so hard, did the things he did… He wanted their lives to be perfect. But it was too much. He was being too much.

He pictured his baby brother, the way his bright eyes had flashed with anger the same way Spruce’s did, the way his tail lashed back and forth in a way so similar to Clay, the way his voice shook like Floyd’s when he was really upset… He’d tried so hard to do things better, to be a better brother for Branch, but it all just led to the same outcome. Because all of his brothers had the same problem.

Him.

John Dory shook his head. No, this… This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be focusing on these memories right now, he had to be here. And at some point in his life, he needed to stop comparing Branch to their brothers.

He couldn’t fix things with them. He couldn’t change the past. But Branch was here, and he could at least make things right with him.

And he sure as hell couldn’t do that hiding out here.

So, what are you going to do?” Spruce drawled, before John Dory leapt to his feet, the purple-haired troll jumping slightly as he clutched his chest. “Sheesh…”

John Dory strode towards Branch’s door, rapping on the door in quick succession as it swung open on its hinges. Branch lay in his bed, face buried in his pillow. He turned slightly so he could glare at John Dory, not moving from his spot.

“I’m not in the mood to argue.” He muttered. “Just leave me alone.”

John Dory hesitated. He didn’t want to argue either, he didn’t even really want to talk right now; he had no idea what he was supposed to say, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. But he couldn’t just leave Branch here, stewing in his own negative thoughts. So he reached into his hair, grabbing a wooden stake and tossing it towards his brother. Branch caught it with ease, his face curling up in confusion.

“We’re going hunting.” John Dory said bluntly, spinning around on his heels and marching down the hall, relieved to hear as Branch’s scuffling feet followed after him.

“Hunting?” Floyd asked, falling into step beside him. “How is hunting going to help anything right now?”

Great question. It probably wouldn’t. He needed to fix this, but he just… Didn’t know how yet. Hunting always seemed to help clear his mind, and it was a quiet activity, meaning John Dory’s stupid mouth wouldn’t get in the way.

And maybe by the end of it, he’ll have found a way to make this right.

They quickly made their way to the border, slipping out through the thick wall of brambles and into the woods beyond. John Dory took a second to smear some mud across his skin and hair, Branch silently following suit. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Branch, keeping his mouth shut as he gestured out to the forest.

Your lead.

Branch seemed surprised, before his face hardened, and he silently began to trek out into the trees, John Dory following carefully behind him. They didn’t have to say anything, communicating by only small twitches of their ears and tail, or a subtle hand gesture. All these years later, it was still like second nature.

The young troll led them to a common hunting spot, a large Gigglefruit tree that Swag Stags tended to collect around. And by some strange luck, there actually was one there, the critter feasting on the fallen fruits below. They paused in the underbrush, Branch’s analytical eyes surveying the clearing as he came up with a plan. Finally, he turned towards John Dory, making a series of motions with his hands. He pointed at the older troll, then the Stag, then made a flicking motion before pointing to a specific area in the clearing.

You chase it here.

Then, he jabbed a thumb towards himself, and pointed up into the branches above, before pulling out one of his new weapons, a machine that could shoot wooden stakes with crazy precision, quite an upgrade from his old slingshot.

I’ll shoot it from up there.

John Dory nodded in understanding, tucking his own wooden stake away as he slunk off into the woods, stalking quietly around the clearing. He kept his eyes focused on the Stag, which continued to gorge itself, blissfully unaware. He settled into position behind the critter, muscles taut as he waited for Branch’s signal. And with a series of clicks, it came, John Dory’s face curling into a snarl as he let instinct take over.

He burst from the bushes, letting out a shout as the Stag reared up in fear, taking off in the opposite direction. John Dory immediately gave chase, staying just close enough that he could herd the beast where he needed it to go. His breaths panted out in exhilaration, his muscles aching as he pushed himself to run faster, fueled by the thrill of the hunt. It took only seconds for them to cross the clearing.

There, the Stag was in position, now all Branch had to do was shoot…

John Dory watched as a wooden stake shot from the branches, and buried itself in the dirt a few feet away. Shit, Branch must have miscalculated his aim. The Stag sprinted past it, pounding towards the safety of the underbrush. John Dory gritted his teeth, determination pulsing through him. Dammit, Branch needed a win right now. He wasn’t about to let this thing escape.

He stretched out his hair, using it to wrap around the Stag’s neck and pull himself onto its back. Without pausing for a moment, he grabbed onto its antlers, using his momentum to swing his body around in front of its face and wrench the critter’s neck to the side, forcing it to turn. There, now it was running back in the direction he wanted. But it didn’t look too happy with him.

The Stag let out a bellow of panicked rage, rearing up and kicking its sharp hooves at John Dory, trying to remove him from its face. He just held tight to its antlers, curling his body to avoid being pummeled. But luckily for him, Branch didn’t miss this time. There was a quiet twang, a wooden stake once again shooting from the trees, and embedding itself deep in the critter’s ribs. The Stag’s eyes lost its fire, becoming dark and distant, before it toppled to the ground and didn’t move again.

John Dory rolled to the side, laying in the grass for a moment to try and catch his breath. Maybe not their cleanest hunt, but it all worked out in the end. Rhonda would eat good tonight. He let out a groan, then leapt to his feet, stretching out his aching back.

His ears perked up as Branch made his way over, face curled into a scowl. John Dory pursed his lips, but tried to smile as the young troll approached.

“Nice shot.”

Branch scoffed, eyes narrowing further. “I missed.” He hissed, anger smoldering in his eyes.

“It happens. You got it eventually.” John Dory shrugged. “That’s all that matters.”

The two of them went silent, staring at the deceased critter. Man, John Dory was really hoping by the end of this, he’d have some sort of idea of how to apologize to Branch. But his head felt just as blank as before. He nervously massaged his hand, which twinged in protest.

“You… feel any better?” He tried, hoping the young troll wouldn’t just snap back at him.

Branch’s shoulders hunched. “Not really.” He replied darkly, John Dory taking the hint and shutting up.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

John Dory perked up again as Branch continued, the young troll fidgeting with his hands. “At least, not all of it.” He said, not meeting John Dory’s eyes. “I was just upset, and wanted to say something to hurt you.”

John Dory was quiet for a moment, before he forced himself to speak. “Nah, you… You were right.” He said softly. “I know I can be a bit overbearing at times.” He squeezed his hand tighter, feeling shivers of electric pain travel up his arm. “I never meant to make you feel like your life wasn’t yours. I’m sorry.”

When he finally glanced over at Branch, he could see images of his brothers standing behind him, their faces unreadable. But he tried to ignore them, forcing himself instead to meet Branch’s eyes. “I just wanted what was best for you.” He continued. “For you to be happy.” He paused for a moment, trying to make sure he had the right words. “But you’re right, it’s not my decision to make.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, you… You’re not a kid anymore, you’re eighteen. You should be allowed to make your own decisions. And even if I maybe, don't exactly agree with them… That’s fine.” He gazed back up at Branch intensely. “Whatever you choose, Branch, I promise, I will support you one-thousand percent.”

“That’s… not mathematically feasible.” Branch muttered, looking uncomfortable. So John Dory grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

“Who cares?” He laughed, plastering a grin on his face. “I want you to do what you want, Branch. And I don’t want anyone to tell you what you can and can’t do. Not Poppy, not the Trolls… Not me. I want you to do what makes you happy. So…” His smile faltered a bit. “What do you want to do?”

Branch hesitated for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the ground. Of course, there was a certain decision John Dory wanted his brother to make. But if there was one thing John Dory had learned from his joke of a life, it was that you can’t force anyone to be something they weren’t. And for once, he was going to let his brother decide.

“I… want to be a scout.” Branch said finally, pulling away from John Dory’s grip. “It’s just better that way.”

John Dory’s chest deflated slightly, but he refused to let it show, instead just slapping his brother on the back. “Alright then!” He said chipperly, pulling him into a side hug. “Scout bros! The dream team!”

Branch seemed almost relieved. “You’re… not mad?” He asked carefully.

“Bitty, I told you, you have one-thousand percent of my support, no matter what!” John Dory quipped. “You wanna be a scout? Then we’re going to be the best scouts in all of Troll Village!”

“The only scouts in Troll Village.” Branch corrected him.

“Exactly!” John Dory laughed, shoving his brother playfully. “Now c’mon, we’ve got work to do. First step to being a scout: Your kill means you have to drag it back. Might wanna stretch a bit before trying to lift it…” Branch looked the large critter up and down, eyes wide. “Oh, and for the record…” John Dory continued, giving his brother a stern look. “This doesn’t mean you’re getting out of school. You’re graduating if I have to drag you there by the tail.”

Branch huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever…” He said, before his face softened a bit. “Thanks, D.”

John Dory’s heart swelled with different feelings. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure how to feel right now. He just really hoped he was doing the right thing. “Hey, no problem Bitty B.” He replied, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Now c’mon, let’s get home. I’m making a feast for us tonight!”

.
.
.

A few days later, John Dory was stopped in town by Poppy, the young pink troll looking practically distraught.

“Hey Pop-” John Dory started, but he was immediately interrupted.

“Branch is avoiding me!” She exclaimed, her tail twitching in frustration as she threw her arms out dramatically, pacing back and forth. “We had a silly fight, and I said some really stupid things in the heat of the moment, and I’m TRYING to apologize, but he won’t give me the time of day!” She huffed, her face clouding over. “If he’d just listen to me for one minute, let me explain…”

“Well, you did kind of hurt him, Poppy…” John Dory attempted to say, Poppy wincing slightly.

“I know! I know, but I didn’t mean to!” She insisted, whipping around to face him. “He has good ideas! But I can’t just-” She drew back a bit, taking a deep breath. “The trolls are scared enough, and with Dad not feeling well, they’re looking to me for reassurance. They just want to feel safe, and if I start going along with all of Branch’s doomsday preparations, it’s going to cause a panic. I’m not going to let all of Troll Village live in fear just because of the obsessiveness of one troll over something that will probably never happen!” Her body trembled slightly before she wilted, ears drooping. “Even if he is my best friend.”

Poppy shook her head, frustration flashing across her face once more. “Ugh, I just don’t get him! He’s so, so…”

“Branch?” John Dory offered, trying not to smirk.

“Yes!” Poppy exclaimed in exasperation. She let out a groan, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “How am I supposed to make things up to him if he won’t listen?” She muttered, face growing sad, lost.

John Dory pursed his lips, then set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t… Don’t give up on him, ok?” He said, the princess looking up at him with wide eyes. “He’s going through a hard time right now, and even if he doesn’t realize it… You’re good for him. And, in a way, I think he’s good for you too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ground. “Don’t let one argument ruin everything you guys have, alright?”

Poppy seemed to consider this for a moment, before that persistent look sparkled in her eyes, her jaw tightening. “Got it.” She said chipperly, before giving John Dory a tight hug. “I won’t.”

John Dory hugged her back, unable to hold back a relieved sigh.

.
.
.

The world kept turning. And the next several years seemed to flash by in a blur.

Branch graduated school with high remarks, no surprise there. Then, he and John Dory threw themselves into scout work. It just became their life. It wasn’t a bad life, by any means. Maybe it wasn’t exactly good, but it wasn’t bad. John Dory wouldn’t say he was happy, but he and Branch were safe. They were together. They were surviving. And for now, that’s all that mattered.

Seven years. For seven years, life was eerily… normal, and uneventful. And despite himself, John Dory found he was content to settle into a familiar routine, content with the life he and Branch had carved out for one another. He liked the normalcy, liked the predictability of it all. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was just calm before… something. He didn’t know what, but the thought of everything coming crashing down lay heavy in his gut like a warning, like a constant itch he just couldn’t scratch.

Nothing good could last forever. John Dory had never been that lucky. Something was bound to break.

And one fateful night, it did.

It all started with an invitation, and a knock on the Bunker door.

Chapter Text

John Dory sipped on a large cup of coffee, absently stirring at a pot of stew.

He was currently waiting for Branch to get home, the young troll insisting he needed to stock up on a few more wooden stakes for tonight, just in case.

After all, it was the 18th anniversary of Trollstice.

Most years when Trollstice rolled around, or he supposed, the day Trollstice was back at the Troll Tree, he and Branch would find things to do to keep themselves busy. Branch despised the day with a passion, and would often spend it buried in his room, distracting himself with projects. And John Dory would make his way out into the woods, unnecessarily patrolling the border to keep his mind from focusing on more… Unpleasant things.

He didn’t attend the Trollstice Memoriams after that first one. Too many flames. Besides, he and Branch didn’t get into town too often anymore.

However, this year was slightly different. And it was all due to Poppy. The young princess had been steadily taking over more and more of her father’s responsibilities, and this year, King Peppy made the decision that she would coordinate the Trollstice Memoriam. However, she was giving it her own ‘Poppy flair’ per se…

A few days ago, she’d announced that instead of ‘remembering those we’ve lost’, they were going to ‘celebrate their lives’ instead, and throw a gigantic party in their memory. Many trolls were, of course, elated about this. John Dory… wasn’t too sure. It felt to him like Poppy was trying to put a positive spin on the whole Trollstice thing, and move past all the pain and heartache behind it. As much as Poppy was willing to harp on Branch for hiding away in the Bunker, she seemed all too keen to hide behind a bright smile, and a peppy song and dance number. But he was at least grateful that the town wouldn’t smell like smoke for the next few days.

Branch, however, was completely against the idea, no surprise there. Branch was decidedly against ANYTHING that involved the enthusiastic pink troll. That kid could hold a grudge like nobody's business.

Right on cue, John Dory heard the Bunker door slam shut, and the elevator whir to life. He set his stirring spoon aside, pouring himself another cup of coffee, despite the way his hands were already trembling, eyelid twitching slightly. He was going to need all the energy he could get; he had the feeling it was going to be a long night. Besides, he didn’t plan on sleeping anyways. Trollstice always brought with it too many nightmares.

“That can’t be good for you.” A voice piped up from his side, John Dory just barely able to see a bit of purple hair out of the corner of his eye. But he ignored it, stubbornly taking a large swig.

The elevator docked with a loud clunk, and after a few seconds, Branch stalked into the kitchen with a huff. John Dory could tell right away something had rubbed his hair the wrong way, his jaw tight, tail flicking in irritation. He immediately clocked a scuffed up invitation in the young troll’s hand.

Ah. That explains it.

Branch didn’t acknowledge John Dory much, instead just reaching into his hair and pulling out a cupcake and a small card, slamming them on the table.

“From Poppy.” He grumbled through clenched teeth, before spinning back around and disappearing into the Bunker. John Dory stared after him for a moment, eyebrow raised, before setting his coffee down, eyeing the gifts fondly.

He never did anything for his birthday; it just never really felt worth celebrating, and he and Branch were never in the mood (though Branch did always seem to find a way to sneak him gifts. This year, he’d stolen John Dory’s glove while he was taking a nap, and added retractable spikes to it, something John Dory had never even considered, but nearly squealed with delight when he saw). Plus, it was just a reminder of how old he was getting. Fucking thirty-five… Goddamn, he never thought he’d make it this long. He never thought he’d make it past seventeen, let alone to his thirties. But here he was.

Regardless, Poppy insisted on at least doing something for him every year. And he had to admit, they were always an appreciated upside to an otherwise abysmal day.

He set the cupcake in the fridge so he could split it with Branch later, before taking a quick peek at the card, which was clearly crafted by Poppy herself. It read “Happy Birthday JD!” in big text, with a scrap-book version of his grey self grinning next to a cupcake. John Dory chuckled, quickly closing it before it inevitably sprayed him with glitter, a common occurrence with all of Poppy’s cards. He’d have to thank the sweet troll tomorrow.

John Dory tucked the card into his hair, then scooped up his coffee cup, heading towards Branch’s room. Contrary to what Branch led them to believe in Troll Village, the young troll was actually quite the chatterbox. He just didn’t talk to other trolls. But that meant he’d spend the entire day trapping his words inside, and when he finally got home, he’d spew them out to John Dory in a giant rambling rant that could last from ten minutes, to almost a full hour. So the fact that Branch came home all ruffled and didn’t immediately start going off about something or other was enough to peak John Dory’s interest.

He reached Branch’s door, peeking inside to see the young troll sat on his bed, staring at the invitation in his hands with a strange look on his face. It seemed a bit less scuffed now, and John Dory could see a roll of tape by Branch’s side. The card was clearly Poppy’s, it was exactly her style. And as Branch opened it up, a small scrapbooked version of himself popped up, singing a little ditty:

“Celebrate Freedom from the Bergens!”

Branch pursed his lips, closing it, then opening it again, the same ditty ringing out.

John Dory sighed, before pushing the door open with his foot, leaning against the doorframe. He didn’t say anything, sipping absently at his coffee. Just… waiting.

Branch slammed the card closed, looking up at him with a glare. “What?” He snapped defensively, to which John Dory just responded with a shrug.

“Nothing.”

Wait for it…

“I mean, what does she think is going to happen?!”

And… there it is.

Branch leapt up from his bed, beginning to pace around the room as he gestured wildly with his hands. “I have never gone to one of her ridiculous parties, not once! And yet every time I see her, she has an invitation in her hand! When is she going to get it through that sparkling head of hers that I’m not interested!?”

John Dory opened his mouth to say something, but was immediately cut off as Branch continued to rant, instead just rolling his eyes and taking another sip of coffee.

“I catch her and half of Troll Village doing a musical number like, five feet from the border, as if critters couldn’t hear their voices from a mile away, and then she has the gall to come up to me with that smile on her face and give me ANOTHER invitation!” Branch fell back on his bed with a huff, running an exasperated hand down his face. “I just don’t get it.”

“So… she gave you an invite to the party tonight.” John Dory said, just confirming.

“Yep.”

“And what’d you say?”

Branch’s face scrunched up, almost looking a bit guilty. “I threw it on the ground and stomped on it.”

“Yeesh.” John Dory cringed, staring down at his coffee, twirling it gently. “Real classy, B. Tragic.”

“I needed to do something so she understands!” Branch retorted defensively, sitting back up. “Because clearly, she isn’t getting the message. She’s so unbearably persistent, it’s infuriating!” Branch scowled, looking at the ground. “Then all her friends start complaining that I’m ruining their fun, when I was just out collecting things to PROTECT their sorry tails, yeah, no appreciation there, and of course Creek comes in all zen and positivity, spouting off about how I’m ‘toxic’ and ‘Some folks just don’t want to be happy’.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, face curling into a snarl. “He’s such an ass, and Poppy hangs on to his every word. I know he’s ‘going through a tough time’ right now or whatever, but he was a jerk before his mom got sick.”

John Dory nodded in agreement. After the whole thing that’d happened with Brook, he’d started seeing her less and less. Until he just… didn’t see her at all anymore. According to Creek, she’d gotten very ill and was bedbound, unable to leave her pod or even receive visitors. As much as John Dory despised the cruel troll, it still made him at least a little sympathetic. And he knew Poppy felt the same way, often bringing meals for Creek to try and help, just a little. She knew what it was like to look after an ailing parent.

But Branch had a point. Creek was, and still is, a jerk.

“Whatever.” Branch grumbled, flopping back down on his bed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at that party, but they keep this up, and they will be. Caught, and dead. It’s all fun and games and hugs and singing until a Bergen shows up and eats everyone.”

John Dory let out an exasperated groan, leaning his head back against the doorframe before walking into Branch’s room. “Ok, just, hear me out here. What if you just… Go?”

Branch immediately sat up, shooting him a glare. “What?” He deadpanned, eyes flashing. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you moping around here is making me depressed.” John Dory countered, to which Branch just rolled his eyes. “Besides, don’t think I didn’t notice how that card looks a lot less stepped on than it did when you brought it down here.” This got Branch’s attention, the young troll going completely flush as he turned away. “C’mon, Bitty.” he coaxed. “Really, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Branch glanced back, raising an eyebrow. John Dory let out a sigh, holding up a hand. “Right, right, Bergen shows up, eats everyone. Got it. Ok then, what’s the best thing that could happen?”

This time Branch paused for a moment, thinking about it. “I go…” He said hesitantly. “And it’s… fine.”

John Dory blinked, unimpressed. “Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I’m still heavily leaning towards the Bergens showing up and eating everyone.”

“Ugh, B…” John Dory massaged his forehead, setting his mug down on Branch’s nightstand as he sat next to him.

“Why don’t you go to the party if you care about it so bad?” Branch retorted scornfully.

“I’m…” John Dory choked out, giving a sheepish cough as his ears burned. “I’m busy. Someone’s gotta patrol the border tonight.” He didn’t bother to add that parties tended to freak him out, the loud music and lights messing with his head, and the press of so many trolls making him feel like he was suffocating, their eyes following his every move…

Branch let out a scoff, turning away. “Look, we both know this party is a bad idea.” He said firmly. “In Poppy’s own words, it’s going to be the biggest, loudest, craziest party ever.”

Just then, the ground seemed to shake slightly, small whispers of dirt falling from the ceiling. John Dory’s body immediately tensed, his heart starting to thud in his chest as his eyes flicked across the ceiling. Branch however just looked up in annoyance. “See? We can hear the bass from here! And if we can hear it, who’s to say the Bergens won’t?”

“B, I’m more worried about critters hearing it than the Bergens.” John Dory replied cautiously, prying his eyes away from the ceiling. “Which is why I’m on border patrol tonight. You and I both know Darryl’s been getting a little too cocky lately.”

Branch rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you named a vicious Growlbeast ‘Darryl’.” He muttered.

“Take one look at that bastard and tell me he doesn’t look like a ‘Darryl’.” John Dory retorted. “Besides, he’s not vicious, he just likes pushing his boundaries. It’s Myrtle you gotta look out for.” He shuttered slightly, a large claw mark on his side twinging at the memory. “She’s vicious.”

Branch stayed quiet, his face unreadable. So John Dory pursed his lips, forcing a nonchalant tone as he continued. “It could be smart to have a scout posted at the party.” He said slowly, looking at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “Just in case something happens.”

Branch glared at him. He knew exactly what John Dory was doing. But… Technically he wasn’t wrong. And he could see Branch thought that too, his brows furrowing together as he thought about it. John Dory perked up a bit, a fluttering of hope in his chest. Branch was ACTUALLY considering it. That was a huge win in his book!

Turns out though, Branch didn’t get to make a decision. They were both interrupted by a loud knock echoing throughout the Bunker, followed by a muffled voice:

“Branch! Branch, are you in there?!”

Poppy.

Branch let out a yelp, leaping from his bed and racing towards his cabinets, Poppy’s invite clutched in his hands. As he swung open the cabinet door, however, several similar invitations fell out of it, popping open as little voices sang from them. Branch scooped them into his arms, and unceremoniously shoved them back inside, slamming the door closed and pressing his back against it, flushed once again as he panted. “They just make good kindling, ok?” Branch choked out in a very sad attempt at a coverup.

John Dory couldn’t help but give him a smirk. “Sure, kindling.”

“Ugh, just, tell her I’m not here.” Branch squeaked, going to scamper off. Before he could however, John Dory rolled his eyes, grabbing him by the tail and dragging him out of his room. Branch protested, but he couldn’t do anything as John Dory pulled him down the hall and onto the elevator, giving his brother a shit-eating grin as he shifted the lever into place. Branch just glared back at him, yanking his tail away. “You are insufferable.” He hissed, to which John Dory just stuck his tongue out at him.

Once the platform was in place, John Dory immediately reached up to open the door, just to have his hand smacked away by Branch. He rubbed it, pouting, giving Branch a small growl, which his little brother quickly returned. Branch finally reached up and slid open a tiny slot in the door, John Dory just barely able to make out a bit of pink through it.

“I’m not going to your stupid party.” Branch snapped, ears pinned back against his head. John Dory frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly, but Branch ignored him, continuing to glare out of the door.

Finally, John Dory got a look at Poppy’s face as she leaned down close, his breath catching in his throat. The pink troll’s eyes were wide with panic, her hair bristled, and mud smeared on her cheek. He felt Branch tense by his side as well.

“The party’s over!” Poppy said breathlessly, clutching a shaking hand to her chest. “We were just attacked by a Bergen!”

Chapter Text

A Bergen…

Images flashed through John Dory’s head so quickly he almost felt dizzy, memories he tried desperately not to think of painfully pulsing in his brain like a migraine. The sickly glow of Bergentown, jagged spires stretching over the leaves of the Troll Tree, blocking out the stars. The sound of heart wrenching cries, of loud, manic laughter echoing across the cobbled streets, his Grandma screaming his mother’s name… And his father’s figure silhouetted against yellow, glowing eyes.

Nights spent huddled in their closet, holding his brothers close, trying to distract them with a story, a game, anything he could, knowing that tomorrow, anyone they knew could be gone. The fear that always lingered with him on Trollstice, now roaring back with a frightening vengeance…

John Dory felt his heart sink into his stomach, icy adrenaline creeping through his veins like a chill, his body starting to shiver. This… this couldn’t be happening…

They’d found them. The Bergens found them.

He glanced over at Branch, who wore the same look of panicked, abject horror, his body frozen, trembling.

“I knew it…” The young troll whispered, eyes wide, and distant. Then, he shook his head. In one quick move, he threw the trapdoor open, grabbed Poppy, and pulled her inside, before spinning around and slamming his fist into a giant button titled ‘Lockdown’, the elevator immediately starting to drop back into the Bunker.

“Branch, wait-” Poppy started, but was interrupted as Branch let out a dry, hysterical laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I knew it, I knew it!” He said, body shaking as his face curled into a wry grin. “You all said I was crazy! Well, who’s crazy now?!” The elevator docked, Branch spinning, jabbing a thumb into his chest. “Me. Crazy prepared!”

John Dory still felt like he was in shock, gnawing absently at his nails as he started to pace, more mechanical sounds whirring to life as the Bunker shifted into full lockdown mode. There was a loud clicking sound as a giant platform descended into the Bunker, carrying a ruffled looking Rhonda, the poor critter looking thoroughly disturbed that the ground beneath her was moving. But she relaxed as she laid her eyes on John Dory, letting out a confused coo.

“I just… I don’t understand.” He said finally, turning to face the distraught looking princess. “The traps, the alarms, how did it get past the border?!”

Poppy looked up at him, hugging herself tightly. “I don’t know.” She replied, voice shaking. “We were all so caught up in the music and everything, and then she was just THERE, and-”

“Your ‘music’ was probably too loud to hear the alarms!” Branch snapped, tail lashing side to side. “And those defenses were rudimentary at best! The Bergen likely just kicked them down without a second thought!”

John Dory grabbed at his hair, his gut churning. He should have been out there, why wasn’t he out there? It was his job to protect the Village, to keep everyone safe, that was the ONE THING he was supposed to do, and now… Images of empty pods and bloodied tunnels twisted in his brain. He sucked in a sharp breath, turning back towards Poppy. “Where is everyone?” He asked, heart beating out of his chest. “Where are they? Are they hurt?”

“No, most everyone’s safe, we hid.” Poppy stammered, shaking her head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, the Bergen’s gone.”

“You don’t know that; it could still be out there!” Branch hissed. “Waiting for us to let our guard down…” He began to pace, muttering to himself. “We have to get everyone underground, Rhonda can help burrow out some tunnels…”

“No, she left!” Poppy insisted, her eyes starting to tear up. She quickly wiped them away, jaw tightening. “She left, and she took them with her! Cooper, Smidge, Satin and Chenille, Fuzzbert, Biggie, Guy Diamond… And Creek!”

At Creek’s name, Branch let out a quiet scoff, rolling his eyes. John Dory clenched his jaw, cuffing his brother over the back of his head. Branch immediately retaliated by punching him in the side, both brothers letting out a growl as they glared at each other…

“Guys!” Poppy pleaded, her face growing hard, determined. “Look, I know I messed up, but my friends are in danger and it’s all my fault-” Her breath hitched a bit, but she bit her cheek, forging ahead as she looked them both in the eyes. “I need your help, we have to save them!”

John Dory was quiet, stunned into silence by Poppy’s proposition. Branch was quiet for a moment too, before he shook his head in disbelief. “Save them? Poppy, they were scooped up by a Bergen, there’s no saving them! They're dead, probably digesting as we speak.”

“Branch!” John Dory snapped, pinching his brow at his brother’s bluntness. But… he had to agree there. He softened his voice, looking at the trembling princess. “Poppy, if they were taken by a Bergen… That’s it. They’re gone.”

“No!” Poppy retorted, gesturing dramatically with her hands as she rambled, the words spewing forward like she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “They’re not! The Bergen grabbed them, and put them in a bag over her apron, she didn’t eat them! She’s taking them somewhere, probably Bergentown, and we have to get them back!”

“Poppy…” John Dory strained, before realization washed over him, his body tensing. “Wait, apron?”

“Chef…” Branch whispered, eyes wide with panic.

Horror bubbled to life in John Dory’s brain as he thought of the gruesome, merciless Bergen that struck fear into every Troll at the Troll Tree, the one who’d, according to Branch, EATEN their Grandma. John Dory sat down on the couch, suddenly feeling nauseous, rubbing a hand through his hair. Fuck, they were in trouble. How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?

“Please, you’re the only Trolls who can help me!” Poppy begged.

“What?! No. Absolutely not.” Branch said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Poppy deflated a bit, before she bristled back up, jaw locking stubbornly. “You can’t just say no, they’re your friends!”

“Ah ah, they’re YOUR friends.” Branch retorted, equally as stubborn. “And they would’ve been just fine if you’d just listened to me!”

“You were right, ok? Is that what you want?!” Poppy snapped, gritting her teeth. “Congratulations, you were right, and you can say ‘I told you so’ all you want, but my friends are in danger because of me, and I can’t do this on my own!” Her voice broke slightly. “Please, Branch.”

Branch hesitated, looking away, eyes wide and fearful. Then, his gaze darkened, growing hard. “Going to Bergentown isn’t a rescue mission, it’s a suicide mission.” He replied harshly. “If you want to go get yourself killed, then be my guest, but keep me out of it. Unlike you, I don’t have a deathwish. The Bunker is the safest place on Earth for a troll to be, and that’s exactly where I intend to stay.” He paused for a moment, looking as if he wanted to add something else, but his mouth stayed closed.

“So you’re just going to hide down here forever?” Poppy said, hands clenched at her side.

“Forever?” Branch scoffed. “No, we’ve only got supplies for about ten years. But it’ll give us time to come up with a REAL plan.”

“Branch…” John Dory groaned in exasperation, climbing to his feet and walking over to Poppy. Her pained eyes met his, and a lump formed in his throat. There was no easy way to say this… but he had to.

“Look, Poppy, even if there’s a chance your friends might still be alive, B’s right. If they’re being taken to Bergentown, they're as good as gone. And if we follow them… We’re next.” He pursed his lips, the look on Poppy’s face enough to make his heart ache. He recognized it all too clearly. Guilt. The kind of guilt that made you do stupid things. He reached out, setting a hand on her shoulder. “We should focus on protecting everyone else.” He insisted, begging her to listen. “So we don’t lose them too.”

Poppy looked down at the ground, conflicted, before her gaze hardened as well. “Fine.” She said, shrugging off his hand as she spun around on her heels. “Don’t help me. I’ll go to Bergentown on my own, and I’ll bring them back.”

“Poppy, please-” John Dory started, but Branch quickly interrupted him.

“Great plan, Poppy.” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What are you going to do? Scrapbook them to freedom?”

Poppy whipped around with a glare, eyes blazing, before she straightened up. “Solid burn, Branch.” Branch just smiled at her smugly as she spun back around.

“Dammit, Branch.” John Dory hissed, glaring at his younger brother. “You’re better than this, she’s going to get herself killed!”

“She’s bluffing.” Branch retorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s just trying to manipulate us into coming with, and it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, Branch?” Poppy said, pausing near Rhonda’s platform, where the critter was staring worriedly between the three trolls. “Mind if I borrow something?”

“What?” Branch deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Poppy’s face broke into a grin, her eyes glittering deviously. “Your Bunker.” She said cooly, before slamming her fist onto a button on the wall labeled ‘Hanger Door’, machinery whirring to life as light began to pour into the dark room. “It’s ok, everyone!” She called upwards. “Branch said we’re welcome here, come on in!”

Just like that, trolls began to drop in from the surface, looking around the Bunker curiously. Rhonda stared up at the raining trolls, letting out a confused chur as they landed on and around her, but relaxed as a few of them stopped to hesitantly pet her face. Poppy cocked her eyebrows, still grinning as she turned away, making her way towards the elevator as what looked like all of Troll Village made their way inside.

Branch let out a strangled sound, looking around in a panic as more and more trolls appeared. John Dory couldn’t help but take a step back as well, pressing his back against the wall at the influx of people now in their home. Branch growled, scampering towards Poppy, John Dory following suit as his skin prickled uncomfortably.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Branch hissed quietly at the young troll, eyes burning with anger.

“You said it yourself. The Bunker is the safest place on Earth for a troll to be.” Poppy replied easily. “And if you think I was just going to leave my people with nothing to protect them, then you really are crazy.” The mischief dropped from her eyes, expression growing serious. “I know they’ll be safe here. Besides, you said you had enough supplies to last ten years.”

“To last US ten years!” Branch growled, gesturing to him and John Dory. “It’ll last THEM two weeks!”

“Hm.” Poppy shrugged, the devious look returning to her eyes. “Guess I’d better hurry then.”

“Poppy, wait!” John Dory begged, apprehension churning in his chest. “It’s not safe!”

“You can’t do this!” Branch snapped, John Dory able to see the fear in his eyes as well. “You won’t last a day out there!”

“And you won’t last a day in here.” Poppy retorted, smirking. “Solid burn, returned.”

“Poppy!”

John Dory turned to see the familiar face of King Peppy, the old King hobbling over on a small, intricately carved cane. This finally caused Poppy to pause, her face growing sad as she stepped off the platform, wrapping her father in a hug.

“Please.” The King begged, his voice breaking as he held her, desperately combing his fingers through her hair. “Please, sweetheart, don’t go. I can’t lose you, I can’t.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I can do this. I’ll be back before you know it, ok?” Poppy replied, squeezing him tight. “I love you.” She drew back, kissing his forehead, before hopping back on the platform, waving out to the multitude of Trolls now inhabiting the Bunker. “Bye everyone!”

“Bye Poppy!”

“Be safe!”

“See you soon!”

“I love you…” King Peppy whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at his daughter.

Poppy looked down at her wrist, smiling. “Three, two, one…” Just then, the bracelet dinged, along with several others around the bunker, painting the dreary dirt walls with bright colored light.

“Hugtime!”

Branch’s face went pale, hands raising defensively as he looked around, before his eyes locked on Poppy. She smirked back at him, shifting the lever to the elevator, which slowly began to rise. And within seconds, she was gone.

John Dory stared after her in disbelief. He then spun around to look at Branch, but his brother had already made a tactical escape, his tail disappearing around the corner of the hallway, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. John Dory immediately tensed even further, his eyes darting around the Bunker at the multitude of Trolls within it. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on a group of trollings, playing around with Branch’s weapons.

“Woah!” One of them said, pointing a crossbow directly at himself, while another one stood in a snap trap, tracing her fingers along the teeth.

“What do you think this does?”

John Dory let out a yelp, racing over and scooping the trollings into his arms, shoving the deathly traps into the closet with his foot before kicking the door closed. “Let’s not play with those, alright?” He said, voice slightly strained.

One of the trollings grabbed his cheeks, leaning in close. “Why do you look like that?”

“Heh heh, aren’t you cute?” John Dory replied through gritted teeth, setting them down and shooing them away. “Go find your parents, will ya?” Just then, his ears perked up, and he whipped around to see the stew he’d been making earlier boiling over. He sprinted into the kitchen, quickly turning off the burner and pulling the pot off the heat, blowing on it slightly.

“Wow, that smells amazing!” John Dory turned to see a group of trolls smiling at him, eyes sparkling with intrigue. “What’s in it?”

“Uh…” John Dory replied, smiling uncomfortably. Now did not seem like the right time to explain it was full of critter meat. “Nothing you’d like, trust me.” He mumbled finally, slinking away. He hastily made his way around the periphery of the Bunker, practically hugging the dirt as he snuck past several trolls who’s eyes were locked on some of Branch’s manic writing and blueprints on the wall, thoughtfully rubbing their chins…

“Mmm, I don’t get it. What is all this stuff?”

“Eh, I think it’s a Banksy…”

John Dory ignored them, sneaking behind as he tried to find an opening. But he couldn’t escape the press of Trolls against him, the tight, suffocating walls of the Bunker feeling even smaller. He was used to walking through Troll Village, but this was something else entirely. They were everywhere! And although he was glad they were safe, that familiar fuzziness began to build in his head, his eyes darting around frantically…

It was too much. Too many people, too loud, too many eyes following him as he tried to sneak through them. Too much, in the tight, enclosed space of the bunker, voices echoing off the walls… He needed to get out of here-

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a hand grab his shoulder, whipping around with a snarl to find himself face to face with Dr. Moonbloom. The tenseness in his body dissipated slightly as he met her eyes.

“Doc!” He exclaimed in relief, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Gosh, he hadn’t realized how out of breath he’d been getting.

“Easy, John.” She said, nodding over to the hallway. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, shall we?”

“Heh, yeah.” John Dory replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he followed her. “Is everyone from Troll Village down here?”

“Most everyone. Some who are too old, or too sick have remained in their pods until we can retrieve them. But mostly everyone, yes.” Dr. Moonbloom replied, turning into the hallway where another troll was waiting. “Including an old, stubborn King.”

“Hey now, I may be old, and my memory is, well, bad, but I must be here for my people.” King Peppy replied, walking into the light. Despite his age, streaks of white racing through his ruffled hair, he still held himself with a sort of power that John Dory couldn’t help but respect. But it didn’t last long, the King curling slightly in on himself as his face grew sad. “Though today, I failed them.”

“You didn’t fail them.” John Dory insisted, guilt gnawing away at his stomach. “It’s my job to keep the village safe. If I’d just been there-”

“You have done more than enough for this town, son.” King Peppy replied firmly. “You cannot be everywhere at once. I am their King, I should have-”

“I am not going to sit here and listen to you two argue about who’s more at fault.” Dr. Moonbloom interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “A Bergen attacked, it happened. What matters now is what we do about it.”

“Yes, yes… Quite right.” King Peppy said, face growing dark. “We’re not safe here anymore. This Bunker can protect us for a few weeks at most, but the Bergens know where we are now. We must leave.”

John Dory nodded. “That’s probably for the best.” He said, ears drooping, the sounds of the trolls murmuring to each other pulsing against his ears. They weren’t safe here, but out there, trying to get all these happy-go-lucky trolls through the wilderness…

They were going to lose people.

“John…”

John Dory perked up at his name, turning to King Peppy. It was always about a fifty percent chance that the King would get his name right these days, so the fact that he did… King Peppy looked more lucid than he’d seen him in weeks, his pink eyes bearing a startling resemblance to his daughter’s. “I have to ask something of you.” He said, hands tightening on his cane. John Dory pursed his lips, before nodding.

“It’s Poppy.” King Peppy said, his voice breaking slightly. “You and I both know how stubborn she is, and… I know she blames herself for this.” He grimaced, jaw tight. “She wouldn’t listen to me, I couldn’t stop her from leaving. And she doesn’t understand what she’s up against out there.” He looked up, pleading. “But you do. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but… I can’t lose her.” He set a hand on John Dory’s shoulder. “Please, please go after her. Bring her home.”

The king drew his hand back, tail flicking in frustration. “As much as it pains me to admit, I’m not the same troll I once was. Even at my best, I wasn’t enough to protect Viv-” He closed his eyes, wincing. “I can’t keep her safe, I can’t protect her. You’re the only troll I know who could survive out there, that she might listen to-”

“I’ll do it.”

King Peppy looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes. “You… what?”

John Dory smiled at the King, shrugging. “C’mon, you didn’t think I was just going to let her leave, did you? She’s practically family.” He chuckled, before looking back at King Peppy. “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her home.”

King Peppy let out a relieved sigh, a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob escaping his lips. “Thank you…”

John Dory nodded nonchalantly, as if he was just agreeing to pick some fruit up for the king, and not traveling through the deathly wilderness right into a Bergen’s crooked teeth. “No biggie. Just give me a second to grab my things.” He said, going to turn around, before King Peppy wrapped him in a tight hug.

“I mean it, son.” He said, voice shaking. “Thank you.”

John Dory froze, faltering, before slowly giving in, hugging the King back. “I’ll bring her home.” He repeated firmly, determination in his voice. “I promise.”

King Peppy nodded, pulling back a bit. “Please be safe.” He said, wiping his eyes. “I can’t lose you either.”

“Please, safe is my middle name.” John Dory replied with false bravado, trying at a joke. His eyes were starting to sting as well, and that wasn’t good for anybody. Just then, he felt something smack against the back of his head, and he turned around, rubbing the aching spot to see Dr. Moonbloom giving him a sharp look, a first aid kit in her hands.

“I beg to differ.” She said coolly, holding the kit out towards him. “Be smart, use your head, and for troll’s sake, THINK before you act.” John Dory nodded, obediently taking the kit, Dr. Moonbloom crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him intently. “I swear, if you come back all beat up from some ridiculous, risky nonsense, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t, am I clear?”

John Dory swallowed. “Crystal.”

Moonbloom’s face softened, reaching out to gently brush his cheek. John Dory was surprised by the tender gesture, but couldn’t help but lean into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “Be careful.” She murmured, before stepping back, the hard look returning to her face. “We will retrieve the rest of the trolls from Troll Village, and remain here until your return.”

“Right.” John Dory replied, taking a breath. “You’ll be safe here. There’s food stored away for weeks, water…” He smiled at the two trolls, setting his hands on his hips. “I’ll have her back before you know it. Scout’s honor.”

He gave them one last nod, then strode off towards his room, jaw set tight. Even before King Peppy had asked, he’d been planning to go after Poppy. The King was right, she had no idea what she was getting into out there, let alone what she’d face once she reached Bergentown. IF she reached Bergentown. No, he cared way too much about the sweet pink troll. And he’d seen the look on her face.

Poppy blamed herself for all of this. And yes, she made a mistake, but she was going to kill herself trying to make it right. John Dory refused to let that happen. He promised he’d bring her home.

And he’d keep that promise if it killed him.

He hastily packed his bag, already pretty set with everything he’d need for a journey like this. He cinched it up tight, throwing it over his shoulders as the weight of what he was doing really hit him. He was going back into the forest. That endless, unforgiving wilderness that had almost taken his life so many times. Hell, he was heading back to Bergentown. And if he knew both those places, which he did, there was a fair chance he wouldn’t make it back. He wasn’t the same troll he was when he’d left.

John Dory looked down at his gloved hand, trembling and twitching uncontrollably, before he clenched it tight, closing his eyes as electric pain shot up his arm. It didn’t matter. Poppy needed him, the trolls needed him. But… there was still one troll he needed to talk to:

Branch.

As if on cue, there was a loud thunk by John Dory’s wall, and he nearly jumped out of skin as a panel he hadn’t noticed before flew into his room, and a disgruntled Branch came tumbling out of what looked like a small tunnel.

“Wha- Branch?!” He yelped as the young troll stood up, dusting himself off. “You put an escape hatch in my room? When the hell did you install that?!”

“Please. I’ve got escape routes everywhere.” Branch grumbled, kicking the hatch back into place as his eyes narrowed. “Apparently, it’s not safe to walk around inside MY Bunker anymore.”

John Dory shifted the bag on his shoulder, noticing that Branch had the same bag strapped over his back. “Going somewhere?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“After Poppy.” Branch growled, tail lashing in irritation. “She got us into this mess, now she’s got to come back and fix it. And get all these trolls out of here!” He stared at the ground, hands tightening on his bag. “She’s going to get herself killed out there.” Branch shook his head, peering over at John Dory. “Where are you going?”

“After Poppy.” John Dory replied with a smirk, puffing out his chest. “Peppy could think of no one better to brave the dangers of the woods and bring his daughter home safely.” He lost a bit of his bravado. “You’re right. She needs us.”

Branch took a deep breath, clenching his jaw. “Ok.” He said tightly. “Let’s get out of here before the next hugtime. I don’t even want to think about the mess they’ve made of everything, it’s going to freak me out.” The small troll pulled the hatch off the wall once more, going to crawl inside. “You coming?”

“Absolutely not.” John Dory huffed, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at the thought of crawling through that small, cramped tunnel. “With my robust figure? You couldn’t pay me to squeeze in there. I’ll meet you outside.”

Branch shrugged, shuffling his way back into the tunnel. John Dory took one last look around his room, at the multitude of old carving projects, and the pictures of his brother’s he’d hung on the wall, drinking it all in for just a moment. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, one that seemed to seep out into his bones like lead.

“You don’t think your going to make it back, do you?”

John Dory ignored the voice that piped up off to the side. He knew it, of course. He knew if he turned that way he’d see Spruce, his purple-haired brother staring at him sternly. He sighed, spinning around and making his way back out into the Bunker, slowly closing the door behind him..

This wasn’t about him.

Chapter Text

It was probably for the best Branch didn’t follow him back out into the Bunker. The trolls had already stuck their hands on practically everything, making themselves right at home.

He would have absolutely freaked.

As John Dory skirted around the outside, he made quick notes of the trolls he could see. The trollings had found other things besides deadly weapons to entertain themselves, loudly weaving stories as they darted around with a bunch of John Dory’s carved figurines. He couldn’t help but smile a bit, remembering how he and his brothers used to do the same thing, before quickly pushing the thought from his head.

Several trolls had commendered the kitchen, cooking food they must have gathered from Branch’s stores, while others sang and danced around the living room, having their own mini party. To be fair, they looked pretty chipper for a bunch of creatures who’d just had their home smashed, friends taken away, and were now hiding to avoid a similar fate.

But then again, they were trolls. Maybe this was just how they coped.

John Dory hastily slipped over to Rhonda, giving her a quick farewell. This plan was risky enough, and if Poppy was going to make them sneak into Bergentown… No, his best girl needed to stay here, where she was safe. He rumbled quietly, pressing his forehead between her eyes.

“You're in charge, sweet girl.” He said softly, a hint of bittersweet amusement playing across his lips as she rumbled back at him. “Keep ‘em out of trouble, ok?”

Rhonda whined, nuzzling him so deeply he almost toppled over. He pursed his lips, a pang of sadness jabbing into his heart as he held her for a moment. Then he patted her cheeks, giving her a quick kiss, before trotting off towards the elevator. Just as he was about to hit the lever, however, he was stopped by a small, worried voice.

“Clay?”

He paused, turning to see King Peppy, with a collection of Trollings gathered around him, including a few nestled in his wild hair, babbling to each other. The King blinked up at him, confusion clouding his eyes. “Where… where are you going, son? It’s not safe out there.”

“He’s going to find Princess Poppy, ‘member?” One of the trollings said, leaning down from the King’s frazzled hair so he could look into his eyes.

“Oh, right.” King Peppy chuckled, reaching up to bring the trolling into his arms, before looking back up at John Dory with a distant smile. “I swear, that girl is always running off somewhere. She’s quite the handful. Stubborn, like me I suppose. I don’t know what I’d do without you two helping me…” He trailed off a bit, confusion flashing across his face one again, before that smile returned to his face. “Alright, well, have fun then. Be back by dinner, ok?”

John Dory grimaced, but forced a small smile to his face as well. “Ok.” He said softly, the old King beaming up at him before slowly making his way back over to the living room, the spattering of trollings following behind him. And with a soundless sigh, John Dory shifted the lever into place, making his way up to the surface.

As soon as he stepped outside, stretching out a bit in relief to finally be out of that stifling Bunker, he was greeted by Branch’s scowling face, the young troll tapping his foot impatiently.

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled, spinning on his heels. “C’mon. The faster we find Poppy, the faster we can get back and start actually making a plan.” He paused for a moment, peering back at John Dory. “No Rhonda?”

“Nah.” He shrugged, walking up next to his brother. “She’s in charge of making sure the trolls don’t blow up the bunker. ‘Sides, this is a stealth mission. I love the girl, but Rhonda isn’t exactly the stealthiest critter.”

Branch hummed, both trolls beginning to make their way towards the border. “There goes Plan A.” he mumbled.

“What was Plan A?”

“Push Poppy into the pocket dimension in Rhonda’s mouth and bring her back like that.” Branch replied, rolling his eyes. “Now we actually have to convince her she’s being crazy.”

John Dory chuckled a bit, but the laughter immediately died in his throat as he turned a corner, freezing in place as his eyes landed on the destruction before him.

Troll Village lay in shambles, a few pods knocked onto the ground, Spotlight Flowers whose stems had snapped fizzling weakly, casting flickering shadows across the discarded streamers and confetti blowing eerily in the wind. The ground was scuffed, covered in the frenzied, frantic footsteps of Trolls fleeing in fear. One of Poppy’s invitations lay trampled off to the side, that little ditty playing out every few seconds, the music distorted and warped:

“Celebrate Freedom from the Bergens!”

John Dory swallowed, images of fallen pods and ripped up ground flashing through his mind. He pried his eyes away from the horrific scene, turning towards the border, just to see he and Branch’s traps laying twisted and broken, looking by all accounts as if someone sliced through them with a large knife. Brambles were kicked aside like they were nothing, leaving a large gaping hole facing out into the forest. And in the middle of it all, a few large, distinct Bergen tracks, deeply set into the soft dirt.

They just stared at the destruction for a few moments, before Branch finally spoke up, his voice soft, and hollow.

“We never stood a chance.”

John Dory glanced over at him, the young troll’s face set tight, fear flickering across his eyes as he held tight to the straps of his back, trembling ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but share the feeling, that churning fear in his chest coupled along with a guilt he couldn’t quite shake. All the work they’d put in to keep Troll Village safe, destroyed in seconds. Branch was right. They never stood a chance.

He pursed his lips, flicking his tail against Branch’s back in a comforting motion as he strode past him. “C’mon.” He chirped, trying to keep his voice light. “Poppy’s got a head start. We’d better get her before something else does.”

He heard Branch let out a soft, shaky breath, before falling into step behind him.

Luckily, Bergens are rather easy to track. All one has to do is follow the large, unmistakable footprints trampling across the forest, leaving broken branches in their wake. Poppy’s tracks, however, were a bit more difficult, but they were definitely still there. The pink troll’s footprints stretched forward at a brisk rate, ever so often shifting or disappearing, before starting up again. John Dory followed them with narrowed eyes. It was almost like she was-

“Is she dancing?!”

Branch’s voice hissed from where he was staring at the footprints, which were scuffed and circling in the dirt, like Poppy had done some elaborate twirl. The young troll let out a groan, drawing an exasperated hand down his face. “If she’s dancing, she’s probably singing too! Forget bringing her back; we’re going to have to rescue her sparkly corpse from a critter’s mouth!”

“C’mon, she’s not helpless.” John Dory huffed, giving his brother a sly look. “I seem to remember her besting you.”

“That was years ago!” Branch retorted, face going slightly flush. “We were kids! And need I remind you, she cheated!”

“Still beat you.” John Dory smirked, Branch pushing past him, tail lashing in irritation. He took that as a win, surveying the forest as they continued on their way.

The further they got from Troll Village, the less familiar the woods became, and John Dory felt himself shift deeper into survival mode, eyes flicking across the trees, ears pricking at every sound and whisper through the leaves. He hadn’t forgotten how dangerous it was out here, and the further they went, the more that familiar feeling rose in his chest. Memories of endless forests, cold nights, mountains stretching into the sky, and constant, unwavering terror that traveled with them everywhere they went. He and Branch absently pressed closer to each other as they trekked carefully along the destructive path of the Bergen, keeping their ears peeled for any signs of danger.

Unfortunately, John Dory was already finding himself a bit… distracted.

“Wow, isn’t this great JD? You and Bitty B, back out in the wild again. I wonder how you’ll almost get him killed this time?”

John Dory closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before pressing onwards, trying to ignore the image of Clay trotting by his side. His fake brothers didn’t harass him nearly as much as they used to, which made tuning them out a lot easier. But they weren’t gone. They always liked to show up at the most inopportune times, just visible out of the corner of his eyes, or whispering in his ears. When his mind went all… fuzzy.

So of course they were here now.

“Obviously.” Spruce chimed in from his side, rubbing his arms as he glared at John Dory. “You realize this is a terrible idea, right? If Poppy makes you go to Bergentown, all three of you are as good as dead.”

“Branch is already scared enough.” Floyd added, a nervous look on his face. “What if this is too much for him? What if he freaks out? Or freezes? If he does, there’s no guarantee we can protect him. And with Poppy there too…” Floyd grabbed at his hair, looking panicked. “What if we can’t protect them both?”

“‘If’?” Clay scoffed. “There is no ‘if’, he CAN’T. He could barely protect Branch before he was a useless cripple. He’s going to get them killed.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?!”

John Dory shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he stared ahead, absently massaging his gloved hand, the tingling pain jolting up his arm giving him something else to focus on. Hopefully, the stubborn pink troll would come back with them to Troll Village. But that chance seemed… slim at best. If she refused…

They’d just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

A couple hours into their journey, Poppy’s footprints took a sudden turn from the Bergen’s path, off into the nearby brush. John Dory immediately went to follow them, but quickly stopped just past the bushes, where there was a sudden drop-off into a deep valley. He blinked down at the ledge, confused, as Branch walked up beside him.

“Uh… You don’t think she jumped, do you?” John Dory asked, turning to look at the young troll.

Branch opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, an eerie, chattering sound echoed up the cliff, causing both of them to stiffen. John Dory felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, breath catching in his throat. He knew that sound, the unmistakable clicking of sharp, venomous teeth.

Tarantacapuffs.

He and Branch hastily peered over the edge to see several destroyed webs, looking as if something had torn through the middle of them. Below them stood about five of the large, spider-like critters, slowly closing in on the culprit, who lay prone and fully encased in webbing. But there was no mistaking the small tuft of pink hair, sticking out from the mass of spindly silk.

“Poppy!” Branch gasped in sharp panic, John Dory feeling adrenaline shoot through him like ice. Poppy… They were going after Poppy! Without a second to lose, they both leapt into action, scaling down the side of the cliff with practiced ease, before landing just a few feet away from the beasts. However, the Tarantacapuffs didn’t seem to notice them, too engrossed on their prey, bright purple venom dripping from their mouths as they leaned in closer to the young troll…

John Dory let out a warning snarl, just about to throw himself at the beasts, when he felt a tug on his bag, Branch ripping off a pan he’d had strapped to the side. His brother reeled back, letting out a shout as he chucked it at the closest critter, the pan hitting the side of the creature's head with a hollow ‘Thunk’. It didn’t appear to hurt the beast, but it did garner it, and its friends' attention, at least ten sets of eyes flicking their way. The Tarantacapuff blinked at Branch in disbelief, looking by all accounts as if it were saying ‘Did that tiny thing just throw a pan at my head?’, before its four eyes narrowed in anger. John Dory couldn’t help but shoot his brother an incredulous look, Branch giving him a quick glance back.

“I thought that would do more.”

“...That was my favorite pan.”

The Tarantacapuff let out a shriek of rage, barrelling towards them with anger blazing in its eyes, the rest following suit. John Dory’s face immediately curled into a snarl, pulling his machete from his hair.

“Get Poppy!” He snapped, darting off to the side, the Tarantacapuffs following after him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Branch sprint the other way, reaching out his hair to pull the unmoving pink troll towards him, before he focused his eyes back on his attackers.

Tarantacapuffs were territorial, and aggressive. There was no way they were going to let them go. So, fighting it was. He held tight to the machete, feeling his hand twitch and scream in protest as he did, before spinning around to face the incoming beasts, his heart thudding deafeningly in his chest. He growled, baring his teeth at them as they drew closer, clacking their teeth ominously. And with a snarl, he lunged forward, letting instinct take over.

It’d been a hot minute since John Dory had actually fought anything. Most of the critters around Troll Village had developed a healthy respect for him over the years. They knew if they stayed away from the border, John Dory would let them be. So for the most part, they did. But these critters didn’t know him, or what he was capable of.

Time for them to learn.

As the first Tarantacapuff lunged for him, he dropped to his side, using his momentum to slide underneath it and all the others, their bodies thundering over him. At the last second, he popped back up, swinging his machete with him, slicing cleanly through two of one of the critter’s back legs, blood painting the ground a bright pink as he positioned himself, preparing for another attack. The creature let out a howl, stumbling back towards its buddies as they seemed to falter, uncertainty flashing in their eyes as they appeared to weigh the options of continuing their attack, or keeping all their legs. John Dory just snarled at them, daring them to try.

One of the critters peered off to the side, John Dory following its gaze to see where Branch was ripping the webs off Poppy. It growled, turning to move towards them, but John Dory beat it to it, stalking closer so he stood between the beasts and the young trolls, tail whipping back and forth. He glared into the creature’s eyes, spinning the machete in his hand, drops of thick blood dripping from it.

If anything took a step towards Branch or Poppy, they were going to lose more than just a leg.

The Tarantacapuff stepped back, clearly unsure of what to do. John Dory decided to use this uncertainty to his advantage, bristling up his hair and stalking forward, continuing to twirl the machete threateningly, his hand twinging as he did. He could feel his grip starting to loosen, that tingling electric sensation creeping up his arm, so he stretched a bundle of his hair down, using it to help maneuver the spinning machete in his hand. He didn’t need to fight them, he just had to scare them. Make sure they knew he wasn’t to be messed with.

The closer he got, the more the creatures retreated, and John Dory could see the fear flickering in their eyes. He grinned, flashing his teeth at them, as they pulled back into some sort of cave, disappearing into the depths. A wave of gentle relief washed over him. Good.

He paused at the mouth of the cave, eyes locked menacingly on the critters. He’d just keep them in here until Branch managed to free Poppy, then they could run for the hills. He went to look back and check on his brother, when the ground suddenly shook, his attention whipping back towards the cave. And he watched in utter horror as the opening suddenly snapped shut, fully trapping the beasts inside.

John Dory looked up, stunned, as two eyes glared down at him. Ah. So, not the mouth of a cave. Mouth of a big, big critter. He stifled a yelp, sheathing his machete in his hair, and holding up his hands innocently.

The critter just stared down at him lazily, before its eyes slowly blinked shut, and it settled back down into the ground with a huff. John Dory let out a relieved breath, before quickly turning tail and racing back towards Branch. It was about time they got out of here.

It appeared that Branch had managed to free Poppy from the webs, but to John Dory’s horror, the young princess still didn’t appear to be moving. He fell to his knees by Branch’s side, scanning her up and down, while his brother held tight to her wrist.

“She’s alive.” Branch said quickly, the panic clear in his voice. “But she’s unconscious. I didn’t see any head wounds, o-or bites marks, nothing, I don’t…” His voice trailed off, clearly distraught.

“Ok, ok…” John Dory muttered, confirming the exact same thing with his hasty examination of the princess. “So… we just have to wake her up then.”

“I already tried that-”

John Dory hummed, eyes flicking the clearing, before they landed on two bug critters, crawling across a branch. “Then we need something more.” He said, scampering over and grabbing the two critters, who squealed in protest as he ran them back to Poppy. “Take your hands off for a second.”

“What?! Why?” Branch yelped, obediently pulling his hands back.

“‘Cause I’m about to zap her.” John Dory replied, bracing himself as he rubbed the critters together, then pressed them against Poppy’s chest. The bugs let out a fearful shriek, emitting a defensive electric pulse that sent sharp tingles up John Dory’s arms, making his hair stand on end. It wasn’t that strong, but it just might be enough to-

“Get back up again!”

Poppy sat up suddenly, eyes wide as prickles of electricity zipped through her hair. She blinked a few times, getting her bearings, before her eyes locked on Branch, her face cracking into a smile.

“Branch, my man, you are right on time!” She chirped, before noticing John Dory, giving him a cheery wave. “Hi JD!”

“Hey Popstar.” He replied, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, tossing the squeaking critters behind him.

“Oh, right, like you knew I was coming.” Branch muttered, but there was a hint of relief in his voice as well.

“Well, I figured after about the third hugtime, getting eaten by a Bergen wouldn’t seem so bad.” Poppy replied, popping up to her feet and brushing off her dress.

Branch bristled. “That is not what happened.” He snapped, tail lashing side to side.

John Dory nodded, climbing to his feet as well. “It’s true.” He said, shooting Branch a sly look. “He didn’t even make it to two.” Poppy let out a giggle as Branch glared at him, repositioning his bag on his shoulders.

“Yeah, well I figured there was no way you could do this by yourself.” He retorted, a smug smile on his face as Poppy bristled as well. “So I guess we were both right.”

“Hey, I was doing just fine!” Poppy replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just stopped to grab a snack, and I…” She trailed off, looking confused. “Um, actually, I don’t know what happened after that…”

“Uh, you fell off a cliff? Almost got eaten by a bunch of Tarantacapuffs?” Branch said, tilting his head to the side. “Any of this ringing a bell?”

“I… what?!” Poppy squeaked, looking appalled. “No!” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a handful of berries. Immediately, John Dory stiffened, the faint scent of cotton candy wafting towards him. “I’d just tried one of the these and-”

Branch let out a yelp, smacking the berries from Poppy’s hand. “Are you crazy?!” John Dory immediately crouched down, getting a closer look at the things. And with dizzying relief, he recognized them.

“It’s ok.” He breathed, relief hitting him like a caterbus for about the fifth time today.

“They’re ‘Light’s Out’ berries.” Branch hissed, looking at the fruits as if they might come to life and jump him.

“Nah, just their cousins.” John Dory replied, standing back up. “See? They’re more blue, and their stems are orange. They’re ‘Knock Out’ berries.”

“What?” Came Poppy’s confused response.

“These guys will knock a troll out for a few minutes.” John Dory explained, kicking some dirt over the berries. “Their cousins can put you out for days, or for the rest of your life, depending on how much you eat.”

Realization dawned on Poppy’s face. “Oh…”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Branch snapped, massaging his brow. “What makes you think you can just go around eating random berries?”

“They smelled like cotton candy.” Poppy said weakly, before shaking her head. “Besides, poison berries don’t grow around here…” She trailed off, blinking a few times. “Do they?”

“No, they don’t grow in Troll Village.” Branch replied coldly, jabbing a thumb towards his brother. “Because JD went on a rampage and pulled them all out. He’s practically baby-proofed everything inside the border!”

John Dory winced. Yeah… He did kind of do that. Some of the nights when he couldn’t sleep, he needed to do more than just patrol to keep his head from going all weird. So, he’d give himself tasks. Like spending two weeks tearing up any poisonous/dangerous plants around or near Troll Village (He’d gotten an earful from Moonbloom after he’d accidentally fallen into a patch of stinging nettles), or the elaborate bait and trap system he’d set up outside the border to keep Humsquitoes from venturing in. Maybe he got a little carried away…

“Ok, so, I made a mistake, it happens.” Poppy said with a shrug, though by the way her tail twitched, John Dory could tell this bothered her a bit more than she was letting on. She adjusted a strap across her shoulders that didn’t carry a backpack full of supplies, but instead a ukulele, something the pink troll was hardly ever seen without. She then spun around on her heels, heading back off towards the Bergen trail with a chipper tone. “Alrighty, let’s do this! The sooner we get to Bergentown, the sooner we can rescue everyone and make it home safely!”

“Look, Poppy, you clearly have no idea what you’re doing.” Branch continued, losing the edge to his voice as he trotted after her, John Dory close on his heels. “What exactly is your plan here?”

“I just told you.” Poppy replied, spinning around and walking backwards. “Rescue everyone and make it home safely.”

“What?” Branch said, bewildered. “Uh, that’s not a plan, that’s a wishlist.”

“Oh, and I suppose you have a plan?” Poppy shot back, pausing as she crossed her hands over his chest.

“Yeah. Go home.” Branch said bluntly.

Poppy let out a scoff, rolling her eyes. “That’s not helpful.”

“That’s not a plan!”

John Dory peered around apprehensively, Branch and Poppy’s bickering rising in volume. “Guys, cool it.” He said quickly, stepping between the two bristling trolls. He looked over at Poppy, who deflated under his gaze. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, Popstar, but now you know how dangerous it is out here. And we’re not even in Bergentown yet!” He met her eyes, willing her to listen. “If we go there… We might not make it back.”

Poppy’s lip trembled slightly, her hands tight fists at her side. “My friends need me.” She replied firmly, eyes blazing. “They’re alive, I know it. And I’m not leaving them.”

John Dory’s eyes flicked across her face. That guilt was still there, along with a dangerous mix of determination, and misguided hopefulness. Yeah… That’s what he’d been afraid of. Troll… He didn’t want to do this. But he didn’t have much of a choice. He’d promised. John Dory sighed in resignation, closing his eyes. “...Ok.”

“Ok?!”

Branch’s appalled voice piped up next to him, the young troll gesturing wildly with his hands. “You’re just going along with this?! What happened to convincing her she’s being crazy?!”

“Pretty sure the only way we could stop her from going to Bergentown would be tying her up and dragging her back to Troll Village.” John Dory replied, planting his hands on his hips to try and drum up any bravado he could. “And even then she’d be fighting us the whole way. Better to just go along with it.”

She’ll die if we don’t. He thought, but he decided to keep that one to himself.

Branch blinked, dumbfounded, eyes flicking between him and Poppy, before letting out a growl. “I can’t believe this!” He said in exasperation, before whipping around to face Poppy, anger burning in his eyes. “You are going to get us all killed.” He snapped, before looking back at John Dory. “And you’re enabling her!” He let out a hiss, pushing past Poppy and stomping off into the woods, muttering to himself. “Of all the obstinate, idiotic…”

Poppy’s gaze followed after him. “So… He’s coming with?”

“Obviously!” Branch’s annoyed voice shouted out from the bushes. “Because apparently neither of you are capable of rational thought! Now let’s move before anything else decides to eat us!”

John Dory gave Poppy a side eye, before shrugging with an amused smile. “Guess so.” He said, walking forward as well. “You coming?”

He heard Poppy trot up behind him, letting out an excited squeal as she skipped after Branch. “Ok! Let’s go save our friends!”

“Your friends!”

John Dory smiled softly, but couldn’t help but feel fear blossom in his chest, weighing heavy in his gut like lead.

“This is a terrible, terrible plan.” Spruce said by his side.

Yeah. John Dory agreed, following after the two trolls. It really, really is.

Chapter Text

John Dory kept his eyes suspiciously peeled towards the brightening sky as they made their way across a fallen log, the open blue showing through a gap in the trees making him… antsy to say the least. To be fair, they were actually making good time, and hadn’t had any more run-ins with critters.

At least, not yet.

He refused to let his guard down, however, feeling more on edge than he had in a while. Not only did he have one troll under his care out here in this death trap of a forest, but two. And one of those trolls was currently cheerily singing to herself, dancing along the rough bark.

Poppy scampered up a nearby root, hopping off it without a moment of hesitation, and using her hair to swing around it a few times before daintily landing on the ground, continuing her elaborate dance. She hummed to herself quietly, some jaunty, upbeat tune, smiling as she spun around seamlessly. It wasn’t like she was being that loud, but John Dory could still feel that nagging fear in his throat, reminding him that the only good sound out here was no sound.

And even that was debatable.

“Poppy!”

Branch's exasperated snap came from his side, the young troll clearly reaching his limit. “Need I remind you we’re trying NOT to be eaten? You really think singing is a good idea right now?”

“I always sing when I’m in a good mood!” Poppy replied brightly, though her voice took on a softer tone.

“Do you have to be in a good mood?” Branch hissed back as Poppy skipped over, John Dory rolling his eyes as he tried to focus on their surroundings.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She hummed, smiling at him, that determination flashing in her eyes. “With all three of us, we’ll be able to save everyone! And this time tomorrow, we’ll all be home safe again.”

“What world do you live in?” Branch retorted, letting out a scoff. “This time tomorrow, we’re all going to be digesting in a Bergen’s stomach.”

Poppy’s skipping stopped, her face growing hard. “You don’t know that.” She said sharply. John Dory flinched a bit at the tone, taking out his machete and chopping absently at some low-hanging branches in an attempt to keep himself busy. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see images of Clay and Floyd appear, looking curiously at the young trolls.

“Oooo, things are getting intense.” Clay smirked, leaning in close to Branch as he bristled. “Poppy really knows how to push his buttons, doesn’t she?”

“He looks stressed…” Floyd added, nervously ringing his tail in his hands. “John, tell him it’s ok, remind him to breathe.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll definitely help.”

“Well I don’t see you suggesting anything!”

“Really, Poppy?” Branch snapped, his voice rising slightly. “You think I don’t know what Bergens do to trolls?”

“I didn’t say that!” Poppy shot back, her voice rising as well. “I’m saying you shouldn’t immediately jump to worst case scenario! Maybe if you’d actually listen to me for once-”

“Listen to you?! Oh that’s rich.” Branch laughed dryly. “If you had listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

“I told you I was sorry!” Poppy said, her voice trembling slightly, but still blazing with anger.

John Dory gritted his teeth, his skin prickling with apprehension. Too loud… Too loud, and too… Something. He didn’t like it at all. For some reason, John Dory could feel himself almost getting out of breath, agitated as he rubbed absently at his ears, an icy feeling creeping through his veins. Floyd appeared by his side, giving him a worried look, as Clay smirked next to him.

“You ok?”

“Careful, JD. Wouldn’t want to go all fuzzy headed, would you?”

“I don’t want an apology.” Branch said harshly, cutting through his brothers’ voices.

“Then what do you want?!” Poppy exclaimed in exasperation. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop acting like the world is all cupcakes and rainbows!”

“I don’t think that! But I’d rather go through life believing it mostly is!”

“Then you’re delusional!”

“What, like you?!”

“John?”

“Argh!”

Poppy and Branch went quiet as John Dory whipped around with a growl, glaring at both of them. “Will you two knock it off already?!” He snapped, not loudly, but enough that they knew he meant business. To their credit, both young trolls deflated under his stern gaze, Poppy shooting him a guilty look as Branch pouted off to the side.

He took a moment to collect himself, body trembling against his will as he pinched his brow, trying to hide it. Too many damn voices right now…

“You’re giving me a headache.” He said finally, eyes briefly flicking over to the visions of Floyd and Clay, before landing back on Branch and Poppy, hoping that was reason enough to get them to stop bickering. “And I swear to troll, if you don’t stop, I will turn this party around, you got it?”

Branch let out a scoff, spinning back the way they came. “Perfect. Let’s do that.”

John Dory just rolled his eyes, grabbing the top of Branch’s head, and spinning him back around. “You wish.” He said, pushing his brother towards the front of the group so he could stand as a buffer between the two bullheaded young trolls. “Your lead, Bitty B.”

Branch glared back at him, looking like he was about to protest, when suddenly his ears pricked up, mouth snapping shut. John Dory’s ears did the same, picking up on the shifting of nearby leaves. He flattened them against his skull and signaled for his brother to get down, quickly dropping to the ground as Branch instantly followed suit. Poppy, however, just looked at them, confused.

“Wha-” She started to say, before Branch pulled her down as well, slapping a hand over her mouth. She glared at him for a moment, but Branch just held a finger to his lips, slowly pulling away from her. Just then, Poppy picked up on it too.

Something was nearby.

Poppy’s eyes went wide, and with a soft whoosh, her hair instinctually flared out, completely engulfing her, and turning a bright green to match with the nearby foliage. To most critters walking by, they wouldn’t think twice about the small, green mound. Troll camouflage was one of their best defenses.

Too bad John Dory and Branch couldn’t afford that luxury.

Instead, they remained low, John Dory hearing his heart thud in his ears as he reached into his jacket, fingers brushing against the stake he kept tucked in there. He couldn’t see where, or what the thing was from this position, but apparently, Branch could. The young troll’s eyes followed something through the leaves, his tail twitching slightly. And with a slow, nearly imperceptible movement, he plucked a stone from the ground, shifting his body slightly so he had a better angle.

With a quick motion, he chucked it off into the trees, the stone tumbling loudly over the ground as it rolled downhill. There was a soft pause, before whatever it was darted past them, its heavy footsteps fading as it disappeared after the sound.

John Dory waited a moment, ears swiveling to guarantee that the creature was for sure gone, before grinning over at his brother. “Good thinking, B.”

Branch looked uncomfortable with the praise, climbing to his feet. “Oldest trick in the book.” He mumbled sheepishly. “Archaic, really.”

“I don’t know what that means.” John Dory replied with a huff, suppressing a groan as he pushed himself up as well. Man, was he old. This adventure was destroying his back.

“Ok, question for you.”

John Dory turned to see Poppy retracting her hair, which shifted back to its normal pink as she stared at them curiously. “Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just… hide? Blend in?”

“Oh, uh…” John Dory fumbled, before Branch immediately cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Wow, why didn’t we think of that?” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I forgot we just stayed grey because we wanted to be.”

Poppy scanned his face with narrowed eyes, like she was trying to tell if he was joking or not. “Don’t you?”

“What? No!” Branch replied, gesturing down at himself. “You think we want to look like this?!”

“I just- I thought it was for camouflage or something!” Poppy stammered, flushing bright pink.

“To what, rocks?!”

“I don’t know! You never tell me these things!”

“Guys…” John Dory interrupted, massaging his forehead once again as he walked between the bickering trolls, looking over at Poppy. “We’re just kind of… Stuck like this.” He tried to explain in a light voice, while also keeping it incredibly vague. He stretched out his hair a bit, holding it in his hands as he tried to shift it, but of course, nothing happened. If anything, the dull grey just became even darker. “Unless you want a different shade of nothing.” He chuckled, attempting a joke. But it fell flat, a deafening quiet between the three trolls.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Poppy muttered finally, looking distraught. “I asked my dad about it once, but he just kind of dodged the question, so I thought…” She trailed off, worry shimmering in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Branch replied darkly, a stormy look on his face as he brushed past the bright troll, walking towards a nearby stream.

Poppy watched him go, before looking up at John Dory, that question still hanging in her gaze. He just pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. To be fair, he couldn’t exactly give her an answer; he honestly had no idea what this whole ‘being grey’ thing was about. As far as he knew, nobody did. Considering when it happened though, he’d always figured it had something to do with him being the reason his entire family was gone. Like a punishment, a sadness, guilt so painful and deep it sucked the color right out of him. But that didn’t exactly make sense, considering Branch was grey too, and that poor kid had nothing to feel guilty about. Of course, Branch blamed himself for their Grandma’s death, so maybe that had something to do with it, but then again, their Grandma never would have died if John Dory had never left in the first place. So maybe it just meant they were... sad? But it wasn't like John Dory felt sad all the time, he could still smile...

Ugh, it was too confusing. Thinking about all this made his brain hurt. Best not.

John Dory shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, before forcing a smile to his face, shrugging nonchalantly. “Like he said. It’s nothing.”

Because it was nothing, right? It wasn’t like it ever hurt them, besides the whole ‘being unable to camouflage’ bit. It wasn’t a big deal, and it didn’t matter. He turned around, following after Branch and hoping Poppy would just drop it.

“Uh, when has Poppy ever dropped… anything?” Spruce’s scornful voice piped up by his side. Right… Yeah, there was no way she was going to drop it.

“It’s not nothing!” She insisted, racing up in front of Branch, walking backwards as the small troll refused to slow down, staring at the ground. “This is a big deal! How long has this been going on? Did something happen out on the Neverglade? Or is it because you don’t sing? Did you talk to Dr. Moonbloom about it?” She stopped suddenly, Branch nearly running into her, his eyes going wide as she leaned in just a few inches from his face. “Are you… ok?” Poppy asked softly, that concern continuing to sparkle in her eyes.

Branch’s face seemed to flush ever so slightly, looking at an uncharacteristic loss for words. “You…” He stammered breathlessly, before he pressed his hand into Poppy’s chest, gently pushing her back. “You smell.”

Poppy blinked at him, dumbfounded, before bristling back up. “No I don’t!” She snapped, sounding absolutely offended. John Dory was confused as well, before he picked up on it, the sugary sweet smell wafting towards him as the breeze shifted.

“Actually, Popstar, you do.” He agreed, hands shooting up innocently as Poppy turned her piercing gaze towards him. “Not bad! Just… like a troll.”

“I AM a troll.” Poppy replied, offense being replaced by confusion.

“Yeah. And to a critter, you smell like an appetizer.” Branch took a step back, still a bit flush. “We’re trying to keep a low profile. And we can’t do that if you’re walking around smelling like fresh-baked sugar cookies.”

“That’s… oddly specific.” Poppy replied, Branch’s face returning to its flushed state. But Poppy didn’t seem to notice, letting out a sigh. “Ok, well, how do I fix it then? Go roll in the dirt?”

Branch peered up at her, then behind her, a smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve got a better idea.” He said coyly, sauntering close to the pink troll once more, before giving her a sudden shove. Not hard, but enough that Poppy stumbled backwards. Right into the deep part of the stream. “Oops.” He said as an afterthought, amusement playing across his lips.

“Branch!” John Dory snapped, shooting his little brother a glare.

“What?” Branch replied innocently. “We needed to wash off the scent! Believe me, I find no satisfaction in this.”

Poppy surfaced with a gasp, glaring at Branch as well. “You did that on purpose!” She sputtered, shaking water droplets from her hair. “It’s freezing!”

“See? Problem solved.” Branch said, looking extremely proud of himself. John Dory opened his mouth to tear him a new one, but was interrupted as pink hair wrapped around him and Branch’s waists. With a sudden jerk, they were both yanked into the stream, surfacing in seconds with matching gasps as the cold stole their breath away.

“W-what the hell?” Branch stammered, shivering in a mix of cold and anger. “We smelled fine!”

“I beg to differ.” Poppy retorted, giggling as Branch pouted, shaking water from his hair. “I could smell your bad attitude from here!”

John Dory couldn’t help but laugh, grinning mischievously as he let out a playful growl reaching over and dunking his brother under the water again. Branch surfaced with an annoyed hiss, splashing him as he muttered profanities under his breath, paddling towards the rocks. Poppy stuck her tongue out at the retreating troll, before swimming around a bit, clearly enjoying herself.

John Dory also took a second to just float, closing his eyes for a moment, and taking advantage of the brief calm in what had been a wild several hours. But only for a second. They’d already been here too long, and he could feel that familiar itch, telling him to get moving. He fought it as long as he could, then with a weary sigh, opened his eyes back up, starting to make his way towards the bank.

“C’mon Poppyseed. Before the leeches get you.”

“LEECHES?!”

As the day went on, they continued following Chef’s trail, Branch leading the charge as John Dory brought up the rear, keeping a watchful eye out for any trouble. However, he was drawn out of his bordering-on-obsessive scanning of the trees as Poppy dropped back to walk next to him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

“So… ‘Knock-Out’ berries?” She asked, not really a question, but more like she was confirming.

“Yep.” John Dory replied, eyes following a leaf as it drifted past. “Nasty things.”

“I’ve never heard of them before.” Poppy said, tilting her head. “Is that really what they’re called?”

John Dory paused for a moment, the familiar question causing memories to surface in the back of his mind, of a certain, chatty young troll. He let out a chuckle, pushing them away. “Uh, no. Probably not. Plants just have so many fancy names, I can’t keep track of them all.”

Or read them. But that's besides the point.

“So I give them better ones.” He finished, puffing out his chest proudly. “Much easier to remember that way, and they have the added bonus of not being stupid.”

He heard a small scoff from Branch, who continued to silently pad along the path. “Hey, don’t forget I named you, Bitty B.” John Dory retorted in mock offense. “You could’ve been walking around with a name like ‘Turbo’.”

“Do you have names for all the plants out here?” Poppy interjected, eyes wide with intrigue.

“Some.” John Dory said, drawing his attention back to her. “Some I actually do remember the names to, but most I just name myself.”

“So… what are these called?” Poppy asked, squatting next to a few clustered, bulbous mushrooms.

“Puffballs.” John Dory replied easily, crouching next to her and reaching out to poke them, a puff of spores spewing out as soon as his finger touched their flesh. “See?”

“Cool… but ew…” Poppy’s face curled into a grimace, but still watched on curiously.

“They’re actually pretty good for eating.” John Dory continued, standing back up. “Before they get all old and puffy.”

Poppy nodded, trotting a few feet ahead. “And what about these?” She asked, pointing at a few feathery yellow flowers.

“Sparkflowers.” John Dory said, reaching out to touch the soft petals. “Kinda look like a spark, don’t you think?” That wasn’t the whole reason John Dory called them that. In all honesty, these flowers always reminded him of Clay, with the wild tangles of yellow petals that stuck out in all directions like they’d just had an unfortunate encounter with a Lightning Bug. And Clay’s nickname was ‘Sparky’ so… It just kinda worked that way.

Poppy grinned, darting over to another cluster of flowers, these ones an ashy grey with a yellow center. “And these?”

John Dory smiled back at her, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Poppy reminded him a lot of Branch when they first started their journey into the wilderness, curious about anything and everything out here. When the world was sparkling and new, without the heavy fear of what lurked amongst the trees. It was… refreshing. And John Dory was more than happy to teach her if it brought a smile to her face.

“Actually, these are actually a perfect example of why you have to be real careful with identifying things.” He explained, crouching down next to the flowers. Poppy did the same, her tail twitching enthusiastically. “You know that tea Moonbloom gives your dad? To help with his memory?” Poppy nodded, hanging on to his every word.

“It’s made of ‘Forget-Me-Nots’.” He continued. “Tiny little blue flowers that can help sharpen your memory a bit.” He pointed down at the flowers below them, face growing serious. “These are not that. They look like ‘em, close cousins probably, but they’re not the same.”

Poppy’s eyes followed his finger, staring down at the flowers. “They probably have some real name, but I just call them ‘Forget-Me-Lots’.” John Dory said, a bit embarrassed by the silly name, but hey, they can’t all be winners. “Make a tea out of these bad boys, and they’ll mess with your memories. Make you forget. Depending on how much you take, you could be looking at a few hours, to a few days, to years of memories going down the drain. Take too much, and you might even forget how to breathe.”

Poppy sucked in a sharp breath, as if she was feeling the effects herself. John Dory immediately backtracked, guilt washing over him. “But they’re not super common.” He assured her, hastily getting up with an indifferent shrug. “And now you know how to tell them apart, so…”

“Great going, Johnny. Way to scare the shit out of her.” Spruce’s voice piped up from his side.

“Huh…” Poppy said, standing up as well. “I never knew plants could be so… dangerous.” She pried her eyes away from the flowers to look at John Dory, perking up once more. “How do you remember all this stuff?”

“D’s like a walking survival encyclopedia.” Branch interjected, appearing by John Dory’s side. “You could probably plop him anywhere in the woods, and within thirty seconds, he’ll be able to name ten things that can kill you, and at least three different food sources.” He shot a hard look at his brother. “If you’re done with show and tell, we should keep moving.”

“Right, right.” John Dory waved him off, rolling his eyes, before giving Poppy an amused look as they trotted up behind Branch once more.

“You have to show me more sometime!” Poppy chirped, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Actually, you should show all of Troll Village! All this stuff would be good to know.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know about that.” John Dory said, skin starting to prickle as he imagined trying to explain survival junk to Troll Village, all their eyes on him…

Poppy seemed to pick up on his hesitance, backtracking a bit. “Maybe not all of Troll Village. But at least to me and my friends! I know Guy has been wanting to try cooking with some new ingredients, and Creek is constantly talking about plants and their edible properties-”

“That’s considering any of us actually make it back. Which is highly unlikely.”

Poppy paused as Branch’s cutting voice broke through her rambling, her hair already beginning to bristle. John Dory stifled an exasperated groan. Not again…

“Of course we’re going to make it back.” Poppy replied sharply, a tight, forced smile on her face. “Your negativity isn’t helping anything.”

“Uh, last I checked, we’re walking into a deathtrap.” Branch retorted, turning towards her. “To ‘rescue’ your dead friends. I don’t think I’m being negative, all things considered.”

“They’re not dead!” Poppy snapped, hands curling into fists. “They’re alive, Branch, I know it!”

“You don’t know anything, Poppy.” Branch replied coldly, walking up close to her. “And I can’t wait to see your face when you finally realize you can’t fix everything with smiles and hugging. Bad things happen. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Poppy’s jaw tightened, eyes smoldering with anger. But she didn’t say anything, instead just pushing past the small troll, stomping ahead. “They’re alive.” She practically growled, refusing to look back.

As soon as she was out of earshot, John Dory cuffed his brother over the head. “What the hell, B?” He said harshly as Branch shot him a glare, rubbing his skull. “Why are you being such an ass?”

“I’m being realistic!” Branch insisted, gesturing dramatically with his hands.

“Being realistic is not the same as being a jerk.” John Dory retorted, anger stewing in his gut.

“C’mon, D!” Branch said, rolling his eyes. “We both know her friends are dead by now. We’re risking our lives to go save a bunch of corpses!”

John Dory looked at the ground, pursing his lips as the familiar feeling of painful hope flickered in his chest. “...We don’t know they’re dead.”

Branch was quiet for a moment, looking bewildered, before his gaze hardened again. “Not you too!” He snapped, tail lashing side to side.

“Look, they were taken by Chef, right?” John Dory replied, finally meeting his brother’s gaze. “She’s a showboater, dramatic, always putting on some crazy performance at Trollstice. If she took them back to Bergentown, then there’s a chance she’s showing them off a bit, bragging about how she found them. They could still be alive.”

“They could just as easily be dead!” Branch retorted stubbornly. “Poppy doesn’t seem to be fully grasping that concept. And you’re enabling her!”

“I’m not enabling her!” John Dory replied in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t actually know if they’re alive or not. But if they are, we should at least try to help them, don’t you think?” He sighed, looking back up at his brother. “Besides, it’s Poppy. She’s not just going to give up on them, no matter what I say.”

“Yeah, I know.” Branch huffed. “She won’t accept they’re gone until she sees the Bergens picking her friends out of their teeth.”

John Dory cringed at the gruesome image, trying not to picture that. “So can’t you just lay off her a bit? She’s having a hard enough time as it is.”

“She’s having a hard time?!” Branch snapped, gesturing out towards the pink troll. “She did this! It was her fault this happened in the first place!”

“She’s hurting!” John Dory hissed, bristling a bit at his brother’s coldness. “She just lost her home, and the people she cares about.” He took a breath, drawing back a bit. “You of all people should understand what that feels like.”

Branch face darkened, shoulders hunching. But John Dory swore he could see the tiniest hint of guilt flash across his eyes. “Of course I understand.” He said softly, jaw tight. “But you don’t see me walking around pretending Grandma’s still alive, do you?”

John Dory’s jaw snapped shut as Branch turned around, walking back to the trail without another word.

“Oh, shit…” Clay’s voice popped up by his side, letting out a cruel laugh. “That’s exactly what you do, isn’t it? That’s gotta sting!”

“He’s not talking about us!” Floyd snapped, before wilting a bit. “But he does have a point…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Spruce said, splayed out next to a tree. “John can’t do anything about it. He can’t let us go.” He leveled his eyes with his, John Dory unable to escape his gaze. “Can you?”

No, he couldn’t. So, he’d focus on the stuff he could do. Namely, saving Poppy’s friends. He pried his eyes away from Spruce, walking towards Branch and Poppy.

“Oh, so it’s like, a guilt thing?” Clay asked, floating lazily by his side. “You couldn’t save us, so now you’re saving Poppy and her friends to try and fill that hollow hole deep inside you?”

John Dory paused, feeling his breath catch. Clay immediately picked up on this, letting out another laugh. “Wow, really? I was just spitballing!”

“Pathetic.” Spruce hissed by his side. “This won’t fix anything. Saving them won’t bring us back.”

John Dory gritted his teeth, trying to tune them out. He needed to focus right now, they were distracting him…

“John? Something doesn’t feel right…”

Just like that, it was like a switch flipped. John Dory’s entire body tensed, a feeling of foreboding crashing so heavily against him he could feel it weighing on his bones. His hair stood on end, ears pricking up as his skin practically crawled.

Something was watching him.

He briefly allowed his eyes to flick across the trees, before hastily sprinting up to Branch and Poppy. He kept his tread quiet as he slid in front of them, stopping them in their tracks and holding a protective hand out in front of them. “D-” Branch started to question, but his voice immediately cut off as he picked up on how tense his brother was, silently shifting closer to his side. Poppy did the same without being told, like she could sense that something was very, very wrong.

And something was definitely wrong.

John Dory slowly scanned their surroundings, which seemed perfectly normal. But something was off, he knew it, he could FEEL it watching them, his heart pounding in his chest as his ears twisted every which way. His eyes paused on a large tree, narrowing as he looked closer.

There was something… wrong with part of the bark. He didn’t know how to explain it, but it just looked wrong, FELT wrong. He wanted to move closer, but he didn’t dare, his instincts screaming that something was there.

“I don’t see anything…” He heard Floyd’s confused voice whisper from his side.

“Maybe JD’s finally losing it.” Clay sneered in response.

John Dory was breathing heavily, eyes locked on the tree. He felt Branch tap his side, probably wondering what he was freaking out about, but he ignored him, eyes narrowing further. Was he losing it? No, he wasn’t, he couldn’t be, there was something there…

Like a scene from some horror story, the bark shifted ever so slightly, and two spots on it flicked open, revealing large, amber eyes. John Dory stiffened even further as they locked on him, pupils dilating as they focused in hungrily.

In a strange way, John Dory was almost a bit relieved. There was something there; he wasn’t crazy!

But that relief didn’t last long as the critter started to move.

…Sometimes he hated being right.

Chapter Text

The creature practically slithered down the tree, a mix of scales and coarse fur shifting as it did, turning from the color of the ashen bark to a bright, lime green. Giant, clawed paws pressed into the soft dirt, long tail curling as its wide, unblinking eyes remained locked on the three trolls. The mane of thick fur around its neck bristled, trembling in anticipation as a low hiss started to build in its throat. Despite the fear coursing through John Dory’s veins, he returned it with a growl, lips curling into a snarl as he pushed Branch and Poppy further behind him, muscles coiling like a snake ready to strike.

“Oh shit… I think that’s a Chamelion.” Clay’s voice piped up, letting out a nervous laugh. “The real Clay used to have nightmares about these, remember? Ha ha… We’re fucked.”

Yep. They were really in trouble now.

“M-maybe it’s just scared?” Came Poppy’s trembling voice, sounding like she was trying really, really hard to stay positive. “Aren’t critters more scared of us than we are of them?”

In response, the creature’s face curled into a snarl that very much outmatched John Dory’s own, revealing several sharpened teeth. Hunger flashed in its eyes as it took a single, menacing step closer, licking the drool starting to drip from its jowls. No, this thing was far from scared. It was elated.

It’d just found its next meal.

John Dory’s breaths hissed through his teeth as he pushed the young trolls back again. Branch started to growl as well, the threatening sound harmonizing with his own. He wanted to look for an escape, something to distract the critter so they could run. But he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare take his eyes off the thing. He let out another warning snarl as it stepped closer, a jolt of fear shooting through him as it dawned on him what he was going to have to do.

The creature had them pinned. And if he wanted to give Branch and Poppy any chance of escape, he’d have to fight it off. His hand twitched at the thought, the muscles already feeling overworked from his tussle this morning.

But he had no choice.

It was kill, or be killed.

Like something snapped, the beast suddenly lunged towards them, letting out a vicious roar. John Dory immediately followed suit, pulling his machete from his hair as he charged forward, giving Branch a signal with the flick of his tail, one he only used in emergencies:

RUN

“Poppy, run! Hide!” He heard Branch shout from behind him, but he didn’t get a chance to look back before the creature was right on top of him, claws outstretched.

John Dory sliced upwards, directing the deadly claws away from him, and hoping to do some damage as well. However, the machete bounced harmlessly off the critter’s scales, doing nothing more than buying John Dory a second before the creature turned on him once more. From the look of annoyance in its eyes, John Dory guessed it didn’t exactly appreciate that its prey was fighting back. As he darted forward, going to try another blow, its body shimmered, disappearing into the background.

John Dory reeled back, whipping around to look for the same strange shimmer he saw on the bark earlier, ears twitching as he tried to follow its steps. But the critter was too fast for him, and with a painful smack, the machete was wrenched from his hands, clattering to the ground a few feet away. In the same second, a heavy paw knocked him off balance, causing him to fall back into the dirt before it pressed into his chest, pinning him to the ground.

John Dory hissed and spat, clawing uselessly at the paw, able to feel the critter's hot breath against his cheeks, but unable to see it. It drove him further into the dirt, needle-sharp claws pricking into his skin as they curled slightly. The critter was obviously just toying with him at this point, John Dory struggling to breathe past the increasing weight on his chest. With a desperate twist, he wrenched his arm up, reaching into his hair. Fine, this thing wanted to play hide and seek?

Let's see how good it was without its disappearing act.

His fingers curled around his target, and with another twist of his body, he tossed a few flower bombs in the direction he knew the critter must be. They froze, seemingly in mid-air, but based on the way they started to swell and the confused growl, he knew he hit his mark. He quickly shielded himself with his hair before the explosions went off, the pressure from his chest disappearing as the creature let out a howl of pain, retreating back a bit. He hastily climbed to his feet, watching as the critter took shape once more, this time with several large burns mottled against the side of its face and neck, a gruesome mix of melted scales, charred fur, and glitter.

John Dory nearly gagged at the smell of burnt flesh hitting his nostrils, memories pulsing against the back of his mind, but he quickly swallowed it down as the creature turned towards him, hatred smoldering in its eyes. It shimmered again, trying to disappear, but the raw burns remained visible, giving away its location. John Dory felt something halfway between a snarl and a grin stretch across his face.

Gotcha

“Ha!” The barking laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. Probably best not to taunt the murderous beast at this exact moment. But the damage was already done, the critter’s eyes flashing with pure rage. Before John Dory could even think about dodging, it lashed out with its long tail, whipping into his chest. Hard. He practically flew across the forest, before smacking into a tree with enough force his teeth rattled in his head, the breath knocked from his lungs.

He crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, immediately going to climb to his feet again, but that was a lot easier said than done when he couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air, his lungs refusing to cooperate as panic pulsed on the edge of his mind. With a lot of effort, he managed to push himself to his hands and knees, chest heaving as he frantically looked up, the critter still a ways away from him, eyes flashing murderously.

“John, get up!” Spruce snapped at him. “You have to get up!”

He tried. He took deep, gulping breaths, but he couldn’t get enough air, could feel his body shaking. He had to get up, he HAD to, but he COULDN’T BREATHE, he-

“John.” Floyd’s voice this time, the young troll crouched by his side, his voice a strange calm in the terror swirling around his brain. “Breathe.”

The critter took a step towards him, growling menacingly. But before it could take another one, something shot out from the side, slicing across its face. The creature let out a squeal of pain as bright pink blood dripped from a cut right above its eye, whatever it was just barely missing taking it out completely. John Dory followed the firing path to see Branch, crouched by the roots of a tree, aiming his crossbow directly at the beast. But instead of feeling relief, a cold feeling of dread and panic jolted through him as the creature rounded towards his baby brother, letting out a hiss

That got him moving.

John Dory stumbled to his feet, racing forwards, his brother’s name ripping itself from his lips. But it barely made a sound, more of a rasping wheeze. Branch fired his crossbow again and again as the creature stalked towards him, but its scales were just too thick, the wooden stakes doing nothing but bouncing off, leaving miniscule cuts. When he realized his weapon was doing nothing, Branch dropped it, and with a scrambling motion, ripped his bag from his shoulders, digging through it for something to protect him. John Dory pushed himself to run faster, lungs screaming for air…

But he wasn’t going to make it in time.

“BRANCH!”

This time, the desperate, ragged plea tore from his chest, and Branch’s eyes flicked up to meet his, before darting back over to the creature that now stood only a few feet from him, growing wide with fear. With one swift motion, the creature crouched down, tail whipping side to side as it prepared to pounce. But it didn’t get a chance.

Suddenly, pink hair whipped out from the brush, smacking the beast across the face. It reeled back in surprise, letting out a pained squeak as its attacker made her appearance.

Poppy.

The pink troll leapt out from the bushes, landing briefly on the critter’s face, right between its eyes. She then kicked off it, sending it stumbling back a few steps as she flipped backwards, landing flawlessly in front of Branch. Poppy’s hair was bristled, arms spread out protectively. Her face curled into an uncharacteristic snarl, eyes flashing with determination, as either via mimicry or instinct, a warning growl bubbled from her chest. An image flashed across John Dory’s memories, of the same pink troll so many years ago standing the exact same way, trying to protect her friends. But he didn’t let it linger, his desperation only growing as he continued his mad dash towards them.

Too slow, he was going too slow… He promised he’d bring her home…

The creature’s eyes narrowed, and with an irritated hiss, it lashed out at the two trolls, claws outstretched. Poppy’s eyes went wide, crossing her arms protectively over her face, as Branch let out a strangled “POPPY!”, wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her into his chest, both trolls falling back against the roots as the creature’s claws flew by them. But they didn’t miss.

Poppy let out a soft squeak of pain as the sharp claws grazed her arm, dark blue blood immediately starting to well up from the wound. The creature’s nostrils flared at the smell, hunger flickering in its eyes as it went in for another blow. But it didn’t get a chance before John Dory barreled into its side, sending them both tumbling across the ground.

A rage he hadn’t experienced in so long exploded to life in his chest, mind roaring with fury as the image of Poppy’s bloody arm flashed in his head. He didn’t care how dangerous this thing was.

He was going to kill it.

Red pulsed on the edge of his vision as he let out a roar, flicking out his hand so spikes jutted from his glove, before he drove his fist into the splotchy burns marring the creature's neck, the spikes sinking easily into the exposed flesh. He drew back, then did it again, and again, letting the spikes tear into the raw muscle and sinew like it was nothing, warm neon blood beginning to pour from the wound, splashing across his face. His hand screamed at him, electric shocks of pain traveling up his arm with each punch, but John Dory could barely feel it, he could barely feel anything past the fiery anger screaming inside him.

The creature let out a howl of agony, leaping to its feet and trying to claw John Dory from its side, but he’d learned his lesson about that long ago. He ducked out of its reach, continuing to dig into its neck, more and more blood spewing from the tattered flesh as pure rage pulsed from his chest. This thing hurt Poppy, it nearly KILLED Branch, and he was going to make it pay, make it suffer, make it HURT.

The critter let out another strangled cry, bucking and shaking its head, before it finally managed to dislodge him, John Dory thrown from its thrashing body. But he was ready for this, landing on all fours, fingers digging into the soft earth to stop his momentum. He immediately let out another vicious roar, going to lunge forward once more, this time, his eyes locked on its throat, teeth bared in anticipation. That was when something wrapped around his waist, yanking him back into the shadows.

John Dory whipped around with a snarl, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins as he prepared to face whatever had grabbed him. But instead, his eyes met with Branch and Poppy, their faces fraught with fear. Poppy had her hair stretched out around them, colored a dark green, while Branch made a calming motion with his hand, using the other to hold a trembling finger to his lips. John Dory’s breath caught in his throat, body tensing; they looked terrified…

Are they scared of the critter…

Or of me?

Immediately, the fire inside him died, John Dory slapping a hand over his still snarling mouth, stifling his ragged breathing. He took a staggering step back from them, before turning to fearfully peer back out at the critter.

The creature’s terror-filled eyes darted around frantically, clearly not pleased that the tables had been turned, its prey disappearing while it remained visible and prone. Blood gushed from the wound on its neck, its already melted flesh now mangled, shredded by John Dory’s hand. He felt sick, looking at the damage he’d done, nausea churning in his gut. The beast’s sticky blood began to grow cold on his skin, chilling him to the bone.

Finally, the creature took a few steps back, before turning and stumbling off into the woods, leaving a large trail of neon pink splattered on the ground behind it. Likely to go lick its wounds, or more likely, to find a place to curl up and die. The wound on its neck did not look like something it could bounce back from.

It took a minute before John Dory felt safe enough to pry his fingers from his lips.

Poppy slowly retracted her hair, all three trolls letting out a collective breath they hadn’t known they’d been holding, gasps filling the relieved silence. John Dory fell back against a tree root, absently wiping the sweat pouring down his face. When he drew his hand back, however, his gaze locked on the sticky blood coating his skin, and further realized he likely wasn’t wiping away sweat, but more of the critter’s blood. He felt bile build in his throat, stomach turning at the sight as he tried not to gag at the heavy metallic smell. Now he really felt sick. He hadn’t felt that out of control, that… Wild, in a while. He’d completely lost it at the sight of Poppy’s bloodied-

John Dory suddenly tensed, whipping around to look at the pink troll. Poppy delicately held her arm, three large claw marks slicing across her skin, blood slowly oozing from them. He was relieved to see they didn’t look deep, but that didn’t stop him from rushing to her side. Branch did the same, eyes wide with panic as they locked on Poppy’s arm, his hands hovering uselessly in the air.

“You alright?” John Dory asked breathlessly, already reaching into his hair to grab his first-aid kit. However, he quickly set it down as he realized his hands were still drenched in the critter’s blood, his face curling up in disgust as he hastily wiped them on his shorts.

“Monster…” Clay’s voice hissed, John Dory’s ear twitching as he tried to focus.

“I’m fine.” Poppy replied, voice trembling slightly, but she smiled all the same. “It’s just a scratch. It doesn’t hurt too bad, just stings a bit. It’s fine.” She looked over at Branch, taking on a chipper tone as she pointed at the jagged cuts. “Besides, look! We’re matching now! Kinda cool, right?”

Branch sucked in a breath, absently grabbing the scars marking his own arm, before his eyes flashed dangerously, face curling into a snarl.

“Are you crazy?!” He snapped, anger exploding out of him as he leapt to his feet, body so tense he was shaking. Poppy froze, taken aback by Branch’s furious tone, as John Dory tensed as well.

“I told you to hide!” Branch continued to shout, his voice wicked sharp. “I told you, and you didn’t listen! This isn’t a game, Poppy! When I tell you to hide, you hide!”

Poppy seemed to collect herself, hair bristling. “That thing was going to kill you! I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing!”

“I had it completely under control!”

“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing!”

“Guys…” John Dory tried to interject, but it was like getting between two raging growlbeasts.

“That thing could have killed you, do you get that?!” Branch snarled, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Gone, dead, no more Poppy!”

“I was just trying to help!” Poppy shot back.

“I don’t need your help!” Branch snapped, tail whipping back and forth. “You would have been just fine if you’d just listened to me!”

“You were in trouble!” Poppy exclaimed, her face growing bright pink. “I wasn’t going to just let you get hurt!”

“Life hurts!” Branch hissed, pointing at her injured arm. “You feel that, Poppy?! That pain?! THAT’S real, not this happy little fantasy world you live in. The real world HURTS.”

He spat the last word, voice breaking, but there was no more anger behind it. Instead, there was a desperate fear, one that John Dory felt resonate deep in his chest. He quickly stood up, pushing his brother back a bit.

“Branch, enough.” He said firmly, grabbing his brother’s shoulder and moving him away from Poppy, who let out an exasperated shout, turning her back to them. He could feel Branch shaking, his breaths coming out in short gasps. “Go cool off, ok? Find me some yarrow or something.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice and tightening his grip. “She’s ok. Breathe.”

Branch shrugged him off, muttering to himself as he stalked over to the nearby brush, starting to rummage through it. John Dory’s eyes followed him for a moment before he let out a sigh, turning back to Poppy, who was stewing silently. He retrieved his first aid kit from the ground, crouching by her side.

“Let me see your arm, Poppyseed.” He said gently, grabbing a canteen from his bag and rinsing the sticky blood off his hand, before extending it out to her. Poppy just looked at it for a moment, before her eyes drifted upwards, tracing across his blood-spattered face. After a moment, she let her gaze fall back to the ground, expression still stormy, but she obediently held her arm out, allowing John Dory to take a closer look at it. Again, it didn’t look deep, but the blood made it appear much worse than it was.

“I’m gonna rinse this off, ok? It’s gonna sting.” He warned her, Poppy giving a tight nod, closing her eyes tight.

John Dory made quick work of cleaning the wound, Poppy staying quiet the entire time, save for a few soft hisses of pain. He finally dabbed it dry with a few pieces of gauze, the bleeding already coming to a stop.

“They’re not deep.” He said chipperly, mostly to just fill the uncomfortable silence. “I mean, they’re definitely going to scar, but you’ll be just fine. I’m still going to put some yarrow on them, and wrap ‘em up, just in case. Wouldn’t want them to get infected or anything, heh…” He trailed off, stealing a peek at the young pink troll, who was still uncharacteristically quiet. “You ok?” He asked softly, worry heavy in his chest.

“Does Branch… hate me?”

John Dory blinked, shocked, his hands freezing mid-task. Poppy let out a sad laugh, a shaky smile on her face as she continued. “It just… It seems like everything I do upsets him. I know I can be stubborn, and selfish sometimes, and I don’t know what I’m doing out here, and I make really stupid mistakes, but I…” Her voice broke off a bit, bottom lip trembling. “I consider him my friend, but I don’t even think he likes me.”

She shook her head, face growing hard. “I don’t live in a fantasy world, I know what’s real. Just because I try to look on the bright side doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I was only trying to help him, to save his sorry tail, and even after that, all he can do is scream at me!” She wilted, pulling her legs into her chest. “So… he hates me, right?”

John Dory’s ears drooped as he looked down at the ground, a flurry of different emotions fluttering through him all at once. He took a deep breath, then let out a soft “No.”

“Really? Look at him!” Poppy insisted, John Dory peering up as she gestured out at the grey troll, who had apparently found some yarrow and was currently ripping it up by its roots. At first glance, he could agree. Branch looked like he was entirely pissed off, his eyes narrowed, jaw set tight, grabbing the yarrow by the stalk like it’d committed some personal attack against him. But the closer he looked, the more his brother’s true feelings showed through.

The way his hands shook, despite the way he clenched them tight, trying to stop them. The way his chest heaved, like he couldn’t get enough air. The way his eyes looked distant, clouded, like he was replaying some sort of event over and over again. This wasn’t anger.

It was fear.

“You really think he doesn’t hate me?” Poppy continued, voice trembling slightly.

John Dory pursed his lips, then after a moment, just shrugged. “Maybe he’s just scared.”

“Scared?” Poppy practically laughed, before she drew back a bit. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed back out at Branch, watching him.

“Of losing someone he cares about.” John Dory continued, Poppy’s eyes growing wide as she whipped around to look at him once more.

“He… cares about me?”

“Of course he does!” Now it was John Dory’s turn to chuckle. “C’mon, Popstar, you think he’d be out here, doing all this for any other troll? Hell, even if I asked him to go to Bergentown, he’d tell me exactly where I could shove it.” He smiled softly, massaging his aching hand, the movement sending pins and needles up his arm. “Fear makes people do stupid things. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t bother making such a fuss.”

John Dory peeked back up again, meeting Poppy’s gaze. “I’m not saying he’s right, and I’m definitely going to smack him for being such a jerk to you, but I promise, he doesn’t hate you. That stunt you pulled just scared the living bejeezus out of him.”

A heavy feeling of guilt squirmed in his gut. It scared the hell out of him too. If he’d just been faster, if he’d just taken care of that stupid critter like he was supposed to, Branch would have never even been in that situation. Poppy wouldn’t have had to save him, and she would have never gotten hurt. But no, he’d just been knocked aside like he was nothing, too pathetic to be there for them when they needed him. It was exactly what he’d been afraid of; he was supposed to protect them.

What good was he if he couldn’t keep them safe?

“I called it. You almost got Bitty killed. Again.” Clay hissed from his side, voice worming into his ears like a snake. “Bonus points for almost getting Poppy killed too. You’re on a roll.”

“JD?”

“Thank you.” John Dory said gruffly, trying to swallow down the guilt clawing up his throat. “For saving him when I… When I couldn’t.” He clenched his hands, trying to stop them from shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Poppy gave him a curious look, mouth opening like she was going to ask something, but just then, Branch made his way back, throwing down a pile yarrow enough to last at least several trolls a few weeks.

John Dory coughed, welcoming the interruption. “Thanks, B.” He said quickly, grabbing a rock and starting to grind the stalks into a poultice. Branch just nodded stiffly, his eyes locked on Poppy’s arm.

“You ok?” He asked finally, voice almost imperceptible, just barely above a whisper.

Poppy blinked, surprised, before a smile crept across her face. “Yep.” She said brightly. “I told you, it’s just a scratch.”

Branch stared at her for a moment, before shifting his gaze over to John Dory, as if looking for confirmation.

“She’s right.” He said, spreading the poultice on Poppy’s arm before starting to wrap it, hands still trembling slightly. “They’re not deep. Looked a lot worse than they were.”

Branch’s entire body seemed to relax, the tenseness seeping from his muscles as a soft breath escaped his lips. His gaze dropped to the ground, growing hard as he started to mutter, words spilling out as if he couldn’t say them fast enough. “We’ll have to change the bandages in a few days and monitor for infection; who knows what that thing had on its claws? The yarrow will help, but we should still get Dr. Moonbloom to look at it right away, considering we even survive long enough to see her again. Maybe some comfrey, or even aloe for the pain, and-”

Branch was suddenly cut off as Poppy leapt to her feet, immediately wrapping him in a hug. He stiffened, eyes going wide with shock as Poppy just held him for a moment, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Sorry I scared you.” She said softly, seriously, squeezing him tight.

Branch’s face went completely flush, his hands hovering as he began to sputter. “You didn’t- I wasn’t-” His eyes flicked over to John Dory, who just raised an eyebrow at him, smiling smugly as he motioned for him to continue. His brother’s eyes narrowed, reaching up to grab Poppy’s shoulders and push her back. Not hard, but just enough he could hold her at arms length, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m… sorry. For yelling at you.” He mumbled, pulling back and crossing his arms tight over his chest as his voice dropped once more. “Glad you’re ok.”

“That’s probably the closest thing Poppy’ll get to a ‘thank you’.” Spruce commented from off to the side, John Dory nodding in agreement.

Poppy grinned, before skipping past him, twirling on her feet. “Well c’mon! The sun’s going down, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I’ve had enough fun for today.” She hummed to herself as she trotted towards the Bergen trail, back to her chipper self again.

Branch watched her go, his face unreadable. John Dory smiled, elbowing his brother in the side, garnering his attention. “She’s something else, huh?” He said, Branch letting out a huff.

“She’s something alright.” He murmured, gaze dropping back to the ground.

The smile fell from John Dory’s face, worry blossoming in his chest. “You ok?” He asked, leaning to meet his brother’s eyes.

Branch pursed his lips. “Yeah, I just…” He trailed off, looking like he wanted to say more, before shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He peered over at John Dory, looking him up and down. “Any of that blood yours?”

“Heh, no.” John Dory replied with a forced laugh, suddenly reminded of the feeling of the critter’s cold, sticky blood on his skin. He could almost taste the iron on his tongue, the memory enough to almost make him gag, stomach turning ominously. But he smiled past it, swallowing down the bile starting to burn his throat. “That thing couldn’t touch me. I’ll wash all this gunk off at the next stream I find.”

Branch just looked at him, John Dory’s bravado faltering at his piercing gaze. “Are you ok?” The young troll asked, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a weight behind his words, one that John Dory chose to ignore as he rolled out his shoulders.

“Back’s a little worse for wear, but that’s what happens when you get older.” He joked, brushing past his brother. “Now c’mon, Poppy’s right. We’d better find a place to camp before nightfall.”

Branch said nothing, but he could hear the small troll fall into step behind him as they both made their way back to the trail, following after Poppy’s cheerful song.

Chapter Text

By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, they’d found a spot to camp for the night, nestled between the roots of a tree.

John Dory much would have preferred bedding down up in the treetops, away from the dangers of the forest floor, but as much as he hated to admit it, the two tussels today had taken a bit more out of him than he’d expected. His back genuinely ached, protesting any quick movement, and his hand was practically unusable at this point. He doubted he could even muster the strength to climb right now, exhaustion starting to hit him like a stampeding puffalo. He’d plopped down earlier to rest for just a minute, but now, he felt like he could barely move. What he’d do for a cup of warm coffee right about now…

Unfortunately, despite his efforts to hide it, he was shivering, his dip in freezing cold spring water to wash off the critter’s blood not helping him as night fell, the temps beginning to drop. It wasn’t cold by any means, but it was chilly, and John Dory had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, tucking his chin down in his jacket.

Poppy, who’d plopped down on a log a few feet from him, was not as subtle. She wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, legs crossed and tail wrapped around her feet as she tried to conserve body heat, eyes flicking nervously across the darkened forest. They were pretty protected inside Troll Village, with the border blocking out most of the biting winds. But out here, exposed like they were, it could be a shock to anyone how brutal the nights could get. Not cold enough to be dangerous, but plenty enough to chill you to the bone.

Branch returned from setting a few precautionary traps around their campsite, wiping his hands on his shorts as he looked up. His eyes briefly flicked between Poppy and John Dory, the gears churning in his brain practically audible. The young troll tightened his jaw, then turned towards his brother.

“I’m going to build a fire.” He announced, though made no moves to do so, like he was waiting for permission.

A familiar, panicked fear fluttered to life in John Dory’s chest, the smell of acrid smoke starting to invade his senses. Just the thought of seeing those hungry, flickering flames made him want to run for the hills, his hand already starting to itch and burn... But Branch was right, there was no point in letting Poppy freeze just because of John Dory’s little… issue with fire. He’d just keep his distance. A lot of distance.

“Good idea.” He said, forcing a smile to his face as he leaned back in feigned disinterest. He reached into his hair, grabbing a box of matches that he never used and tossed them to his brother. “Need some help with firewood?”

“No.” Branch replied immediately, giving him a stern glare. John Dory just held up his hands innocently as Branch spun back around. He couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved; he really didn’t want to move right now.

Branch made quick work of starting a small fire, John Dory trying to keep his senses focused anywhere else other than on the flames, sitting far enough away he couldn’t feel the blistering heat. Though the snapping and popping of the wood still wormed into his ears, making them twitch slightly as he massaged absently at his hand.

Poppy on the other hand leaned right up close to it, the glow of the fire bright on her face as she warmed her hands over the flickering tendrils, humming to herself, and seeming significantly more cheerful now that she wasn’t cold. She jumped, however, as Branch tossed a Lamb’s Ear over her, the fuzzy leaf draping across her shoulders.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you didn’t pack a sleeping bag. Or anything else useful.” Branch said coolly, giving Poppy a pointed look.

“I really didn’t think it was going to get this cold!” Poppy retorted, but there was none of the snappy anger from before. Instead, she smirked at Branch, eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Guess I’m pretty lucky you came along, huh?” She prodded coyly.

Branch blinked, before letting out a scoff. “Yeah, I guess.” He mumbled, plopping down as well. But not before reaching behind him and tossing another leaf John Dory’s way. He caught it easily, quickly wrapping it around himself.

“Thanks, Bitty.” He said gratefully, reveling in the warmth for a moment. “But for the record, I actually did pack a sleeping bag.”

“Then use it, dumbass.”

“B!”

“Ooo, you know what though? I did pack something!” Poppy interrupted, sticking out her tongue as she excitedly reached into her hair. After a few moments, she pulled out a couple familiar looking shapes, spreading them like a deck of cards. “Tada! Dinner! Granola bars! The perfect adventuring snack!”

At the sight of the bars, John Dory let out a disgusted sound, Branch doing the same. “What? They’re good!” Poppy insisted, pouting a bit that her idea wasn’t being met with open arms. Or, mouths, he supposed.

“Not after eating them for weeks on end.” John Dory said, reaching into his own pack. “You knock yourself out, Poppyseed.” He grabbed a bag full of critter jerky, taking a few pieces for himself before tossing the bag to Branch, who caught it easily. He’d promised himself he was never going to eat another granola bar again, and he wasn’t planning to start now. He leaned back against the roots, suppressing a groan as his back ached in protest.

“Is that… critter meat?”

John Dory paused, freezing as a sudden flushed feeling of shame and embarrassment washed over him. Right, he’d kind of… forgotten. Poppy just fit in so easily with them, it hadn’t even crossed his mind to watch what he was doing, to keep his guard up. He curled up a bit, hunching his shoulders as his burning ears pinned against his skull.

“Nice going.” He heard Spruce hiss by his side.

“Uh, yeah, it… It stores well, more filling.” He mumbled, staring at the ground. Geez, the young princess was really seeing him in all his messed up glory out here, wasn’t she? His weirdly feral fighting, blood spattered on his snarling face, his less-than-troll-like habits… A part of himself he hated anyone to see, even himself. Poppy had never seemed to judge him for any of it, but she’d never seen him like this before. After all this time, after everything…

Would she start thinking he’s a monster too?

“...Can I try it?”

John Dory blinked, looking at Poppy in surprise, wondering if she was pulling his tail. But no, the young troll looked genuine, eyes intense, and serious. Even Branch looked a bit surprised, glancing at his brother briefly, before silently offering the bag out towards her.

“Wait, Poppy, you don’t have to.” John Dory sputtered, letting out a nervous chuckle as that shame burned inside him. “It’s just what Branch and I do, y’know? Rhonda needs to eat, and we-”

“Well, I’m not going to make a habit of it.” Poppy gave a bubbly laugh as she babbled. “But when we make it to Bergentown, I need to be at my full strength, and considering the day we had today, I don’t think these granola bars are going to cut it.”

A flicker of something crossed her face, but it was too quick for John Dory to recognize before she smiled again, shrugging. “Besides, Dad says it’s important to try new things, and I’ve always been curious, and really, it’d be rude not to, so…” She plucked a piece from the bag, giving in a cursory sniff. Her nose twitched slightly, but she didn’t hesitate before closing her eyes, taking a small bite. After a few quiet moments, John Dory holding his breath, she opened them again, blinking in surprise.

“It’s good!” She chirped, a smile stretching across her face. “Honestly, I thought I was going to hate it, and I mean, it is strange, but not bad!” She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Although I still think I’m more of a cupcakes and berries troll.”

“Heh…” John Dory breathed, that nervousness starting to drain from his body. Maybe he’d been overthinking it… “Glad you like it.”

Branch looked genuinely surprised now, cocking his head to the side. Poppy met his gaze, tensing up a bit. “What?”

Branch blinked a few times. “Nothing, I…” He stammered, before clearing his throat. “Just… I didn’t think you’d actually try it.”

Poppy let out a scoff, pushing the bag back towards him. “Maybe there’s more to me than you think, Bitty B.” She replied coolly, before a toothy, playful smile broke across her face. Branch just rolled his eyes, huffing as he turned away and ripped into a piece of jerky.

John Dory did the same, leaning back a bit so he could look up at the stars, and trying to avoid the smell of smoke drifting around him.

After a while, the fire died down to just a few smoldering coals. He and Branch rolled out their sleeping bags, while John Dory gave Poppy his Lamb’s Ear as well, the two leaves making a perfect makeshift sleeping bag. Then they all settled in. Mostly. Much to Branch’s protest, John Dory already volunteered to take the first watch.

“You’re exhausted.” Branch had insisted, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. “You’ve been practically falling asleep all night.”

“So have you.” John Dory pointed out, equally as stubborn. There was no way he was backing down on this one. He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight anyways, so he might as well be useful, considering how absolutely worthless he’d been earlier.

It’d taken some back and forth, but finally Branch had relented, under the ruse that John Dory would wake him up at some point so he could take second watch. John Dory had absolutely no plans to do so, but Branch didn’t need to know that.

The young troll was already curled into a tight ball in his sleeping bag, ears still twitching in irritation. Poppy was as well, but she had propped herself up a bit, setting up some sort of elaborate, homemade picture frame, her friends' faces peering out from it. John Dory felt his heart pang sadly as Poppy reached out a soft hand, gently touching them.

“Goodnight Biggie.” She whispered, her voice cheerful, as if they were just on holiday. “Goodnight Smidge, goodnight Satin, goodnight Chenille, goodnight Fuzzbert, goodnight DJ, goodnight Guy, goodnight Cooper…” She trailed off, voice growing slightly strained. “Goodnight Creek.”

From Branch’s direction, there was a small scoff, Poppy immediately whipping around to glare at him with narrowed eyes. John Dory let out an exasperated huff. This again…

“Look, I know you don’t like him, Branch, but he’s still in trouble.” She said harshly, Branch letting out an annoyed groan.

“He didn’t like me first.” The small troll grumbled, propping himself up with his elbows. “And besides, need I remind you he’s a jerk?”

“He’s been having a hard time!” Poppy replied, a sharp edge to her voice. “You have no idea what he’s going through.”

“He’s still an ass.” Branch snapped, his gaze cold. “I’m not going to excuse his shitty behavior just because he's ‘having a hard time’. And I don’t get why you do.”

Poppy looked down, anger dancing in her eyes. “I do the same for you.” She said tightly, ears pinned against the back of her skull. This caused Branch to falter, the young troll looking away.

“Besides,” Poppy continued, taking on a lighter tone. “Creek and I… We’re partners. We help each other be better. It’s hard, y’know, trying to take care of all Troll Village, and he… He helps. We have the same goal: For everyone to be happy. So he helps me come up with ideas, things to boost everyone’s morale. Like throwing a party every day of the week, coming up with more holidays, or changing the memoriam to a celebration.”

John Dory perked up at this. “Wait, that was Creek’s idea?” He asked, confused.

“Well, everyone was always so sad at the memoriam.” Poppy explained, eyes dropping to the ground. “We thought if we switched it up a bit, it could help people.” She let out a dismal laugh. “But it didn’t really work out the way we’d hoped.”

Poppy was shaking slightly, eyes drifting up to the night sky. And with a sigh, she began to sing, her voice quiet, and soft.

Stars shining bright above you…

“Seriously?” Branch interrupted, whipping around to face her again. “More singing?”

“Yes, seriously! Singing helps me relax.” Poppy sniffed, giving Branch a pointed look. “Maybe you should try it.”

“I don’t sing, and I don’t relax.” Branch hissed, eyes blazing. “Notice how I’m still alive? Singing is a great way to find yourself in the mouth of some hungry critter, or better yet, a Bergen. This is the way I am, and I like it. And while we’re at it, I also like a little silence.”

John Dory let out a groan, about to tell the two trolls to just knock it off and get some sleep when Poppy jolted to her feet, determination flashing in her eyes. She swung her ukelele around to her front, and began to strum a light tune, leaning close to Branch with a smirk as she began to sing.

Hello Darkness, my old friend…

I’ve come to talk with you again…

HELLO~

John Dory jumped as a spider critter whispered into his ear, quickly batting the thing away. The critter landed on Branch’s shoulder, but Branch didn’t take his sharp gaze from Poppy, instead just flicking the thing off him. Poppy spun around her heels as she walked a few feet away, leaving Branch and John Dory to themselves, their eyes locked on the pink troll.

As she continued to sing, the notes dancing through the breeze, John Dory could feel the pull in his chest, begging to join in. But he knew he couldn’t, the feeling just settling into a dull ache in his heart. He watched in awe as the forest almost came to life around them, small critters drawn to the call of Poppy’s music. They joined her song, harmonizing with her voice in their own clicks and growls and hums, as the pink troll practically glowed. John Dory had never seen anything like it. He knew their music was powerful, but he’d’ never seen it like this before.

Well, maybe once…

It was beautiful.

Within the sound…

The music suddenly reached a climax, before dropping off to a soft whisper, the last lyrics barely audible as the creatures disappeared as suddenly as they arrived, leaving Poppy alone in the darkness, playing the last few notes on her ukelele.

Of silence…

And it was silent, as if the forest was holding its breath. Poppy gave Branch a smirk, the young troll’s face unreadable as he stared at her, as if at a loss for words. After a moment though, he shook his head, climbing to his feet, and giving Poppy a small smile as he held out a hand.

“May I?”

Poppy brightened, nodding enthusiastically as she handed her ukelele over. John Dory immediately picked up on what was about to happen, leaping to his feet just in time to snatch the intricately carved wooden instrument seconds before Branch tossed it into the smoldering coals.

Branch rolled his eyes, John Dory giving him a firm rap on the head with said instrument, before handing it back to Poppy. “Both of you, bed.” He said, heading back over to his spot. “We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”

Both Branch and Poppy grumbled, but did as they were told, leaving John Dory to his thoughts as the coals slowly fizzled out, smoke disappearing into the blackened sky.

By some stroke of luck, it was actually a quiet night. John Dory just sat, haphazardly carving another wooden stake, his overworked hand making this simple task incredibly more difficult. But it gave him something to do, other than listening to the visions of his brothers arguing in the background over something or other, their voices hissing into his ears.

It wasn’t until a few hours had passed that the quiet of the forest was broken. And it wasn’t by some critter, or rattling of the leaves, but a soft whimper, coming from his side.

John Dory froze, eyes locking on his little brother. Branch had curled up further inside his sleeping bag, as if he were trying to hide. His breathing hitched slightly, coming out a bit faster than it should. John Dory knew the signs like the back of his hand.

Nightmare.

He grimaced, setting his things to the side and scooting closer to his younger brother, who continued to let out soft whines, mouth curling into a snarl. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he was dreaming about. John Dory hesitated for a moment, fully aware that Branch wasn’t a kid anymore, that he liked his space. But he couldn’t just watch his baby brother suffer like this. So he pursed his lips, and slowly reached out towards him. And just like he used to, all those years ago, he carefully ran his hand through his brother’s bristled hair, gently smoothing it down.

“Easy, B. It’s ok…” He murmured, continuing to trace through the dark grey tendrils. They curled around his fingers, reminding John Dory of a little blue egg in his hands, so long ago. “You’re ok.”

Slowly but surely, Branch seemed to relax, his breathing evening out as the tenseness fell from his face. John Dory smiled softly, glad that after all this time, after everything, he could still at least put his baby brother at ease.

That was when he heard another whimper, his ears perking up as he looked over at Poppy, the princess’ sleeping figure trembling slightly. Oh… The sound drove right into his heart. With one last glance to make sure Branch would be alright, he shifted over towards the young troll, sitting by her side.

She was curled up in a similar way to Branch, arms wrapped around herself in a desperate hug. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her soft cries grew louder, mumbling quietly to herself.

“I’m sorry, m’so sorry… S’my fault…”

Well if that didn’t just rip John Dory’s heart in two. Without even a second thought, he reached out, almost on instinct, ever so slightly brushing her tear-soaked hair from her face. He gently smoothed down it as well, hoping it might help in any way.

“It’s going to be ok…” He murmured, his voice hoarse, and breaking. Because he understood. That pain, knowing the mistakes you made, and knowing you can never take them back. He just sat there for a few minutes as Poppy cried softly, a sound John Dory never wished to hear from the cheerful pink troll.

Thankfully, the nightmare seemed to pass after a while, Poppy curling into a deeper sleep, her cheeks still slightly wet. John Dory sighed, pulling his hand back and just sitting there for a moment, that hollow feeling thick in his chest. These poor kids… No one should ever have to go through what they have at their age.

What he wouldn’t give to take that pain away from them.

“Are they going to be ok?”

He couldn’t help it, gaze shifting to his side to see Floyd sitting next to him, staring at the ground. His lips were pursed into a shaky line, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t want to lose them.”

John Dory could feel his chest growing slightly tight, his hands curling into fists as he closed his eyes, trying to block Floyd from his sight. Because they’d be fine, it was fine. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths.

“They’ll be fine.” He murmured quietly, to himself, not anything else. As a reassurance.

He wasn’t going to lose them.

Just then, his ears flicked briefly over to Branch, a rustling sound coming from the young troll’s direction. But after a few seconds of silence, John Dory decided it was nothing. He moved so he sat equidistant between the two trolls, in case either of them needed him again, fighting against his own exhaustion, and the sounds of the forest try to lull him to sleep. And he continued to carve aimlessly until the sun began to rise, chasing away the darkness with its golden hue.

Chapter Text

Their second day of traveling wasn’t nearly as bad as the first. But honestly, the bar was so low at this point.

Save for Branch tearing him a new one after waking up to a sunny sky and realizing his brother did not in fact wake him up for a second watch, the woods were quiet, as if it thought they deserved a moment after all the craziness yesterday. John Dory was apprehensive, but welcomed the peacefulness of an un-murderous forest, the effects of his lack of sleep really starting to wear on him.

How did he ever do this without coffee?

They made good progress, Poppy and Branch’s bickering filling John Dory’s head, and thankfully blocking out any other unhelpful voices that wanted to contribute. Though their arguing still seemed to set him on edge for some reason that he did not exactly want to psychoanalyze at this point, it was better than Clay or Spruce shouting in his ears. And honestly, it didn’t feel as… intense anymore. They were still arguing, sure, but it felt less angry, more… Playful. As if they just enjoyed getting on each other’s nerves. That he could understand; he was basically a pro at that.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that something caused him to pause, stopping him dead in his tracks. Poppy ran into him, followed by another push that suggested Branch had subsequently run into her.

“D-” Branch started, irritation flooding his voice, but immediately cut off as he must have picked up on what John Dory had, the words dying in his throat.

“Wait, what? What am I missing?” Poppy whispered, shifting closer to him nervously. John Dory didn’t answer, just sniffing the air again.