Chapter Text
Poppy felt sick to her stomach.
Bridget’s wails grated on her ears, cutting into her soul and heart. The princess had never heard such a sound before. Her skin crawled and shivers ran up her spine and trembled in response to it. The raw agony and pain that echoed from the Bergen girl’s throat was such a foreign display. No one in the village ever dared to wail, Poppy wasn’t even sure if she had seen anyone cry in public before. The last time tears came from her own eyes she was very young and upset. Everyone surrounding her just looked at her with wide frightened eyes, as if they were watching something so disturbing it filled them with disgust.
In between the discomfort that creeped across her body, traitorous guilt clawed at her throat. She had caused this, feeling nauseous at the realization.
Poppy was the one who pushed for the date. Bridget, while it was clear she loved the king, had been ever hesitant to go through with it. Poppy thought it was like those times where her friends were nervous to try something. That the Bergen girl just needed a little push. That it would all be alright. At first it was! The date had gone well! Bridget and the king were wonderful together! She was smiling!
Where had it gone wrong?
Bridget had to understand that Poppy and the others couldn’t keep up the Lady Glitter Sparkles act up forever. She didn’t need a disguise! She could make the king happy! Why was she…
Bridget let out another wail, and someone grabbed Poppy’s arm, pulling her out of the room.
Everyone one of the princess’ instincts were scream at her to fight against the pull. She had to make this right! Figure out a way to make Bridget smile again! She had to fix it! It was her job! She’s wasn’t supposed to make things worse!
“Come on, Poppy,” Smidge said pulling at her harder, “We have to go.”
Poppy’s legs were numb, nearly stumbling over themselves as she was dragged from Bridget’s basement room.
“I made her cry,” Poppy whispered in horror.
Her friends were quick to quiet her words. Speaking in sweet tones of denial. It’s not her fault. Bridget was a Bergen. Their was nothing she could do. Bergens can only feel sadness after all. They were meant to be comforting, but they felt so hollow, so repetitive. This had worked before, when ever Poppy had messed up. Why couldn’t she believe them now?
While this vile storm of negative emotions swirled within in her, their group ascended the dull spiral stair case. Trolls were adept at climbing far steeper ledged with fewer and more random platforms to stand. It was an easy task, even if Poppy was slowed by the heavy unseen weights on her spirit. No one seemed to mind she took of the rear of the pack as they climbed.
“You didn’t hurt her.”
The words, made Poppy blink, suddenly taking in the world more clearly. The damp and dust of the drab stone steps were suddenly clinging to her. She looked towards the speaker, finding the Forest Guardian keeping her slowed pace, remaining close to her side, rather than up ahead with the others.
“You didn’t hurt her,” He repeated, “She just wasn’t ready.”
“What do you mean?” Poppy tilted her head.
“Being happy. When you live in a world of fear and pain, it can be frightening to feel joy. Sometimes you think you don’t deserve it, or you can’t have it. It can make it hard to accept that it can change,” He spoke.
Poppy’s brows furrowed, being scared of being happy? It felt so…wrong. You could feel happy from getting scared. Halloween and prank day were blatant examples, to feel a rush of surprise with a flood of laughter and glee. To be scared of the floaty warm feeling of joy…Poppy didn’t understand.
“Poppy,” He spoke again, “You didn’t hurt her, you gave her a taste of what could be better, but you can’t make it happen for her forever. If Bridget wants to feel happy again, she has to choose for herself.”
Poppy bit her lip, mulling over her knight’s words. It felt wrong to take a step back, especially when Bridget, her friend, was clearly still so upset. Poppy was always the one who rushed over if anyone needed a cheer up or a helping hand. It was her job, her duty.
“She’s crying her eyes out in a basement,” Poppy stated bluntly, “I should’ve done more to help her.”
“You did all you could. You gave her a push when she needed it. You gave her a mask to hide behind, to make it easier, but Bridget couldn’t relay on that forever. Some people need to be fall down in order to pick themselves up.”
He continued ahead…and Poppy was left to wonder just how her knight became so wise.
“Is this going to work?” DJ asked.
“I hope so…” Branch muttered as he tied one of his heavy-duty ropes to the shaft of an arrow.
Bow in hand, he positioned the projectile between his nimble clawed fingers. The string growing tighter and tighter as he drew it.
The Bergen king’s room wasn’t hard to find. Bergens were apparently really big fans of crown molding in their halls. It practically formed a network of secret troll sized roads around the castle. Taking note of where the guards were posted, Branch quickly deduced where the king might be judging by how densely the security was stationed. Going by the logic that creatures of sorrow and misery actually gave a damn about their royalty, it was likely that there would be more people posted around his quarters…
...unless they were guarding something equally important…like the treasury, or oddly enough the kitchens…actually Branch wasn’t going to think about the implications of that last one…
Sneaking into the king’s bedroom was trolling’s play. There was a hole in the top of the waxed wood door, likely where a knot hole had once been. Just big enough for a troll to slip through if they wanted too.
The bedroom was large and grand, perfect for a king in a story book. A giant (even for Bergen standards) bed in the back with lavish rugs underneath and sheets atop. There was a large collection of books and a work desk to the right. Though for all of its wealth and stateliness there was just enough clutter and nick-nacks to make it appear lived in, like a real bedroom rather than a mere gold gilded chamber with a bed.
Through the amber of his mask, Branch found the medallion holding Creek resting on the bed far from the bookshelf they were currently hiding on top of, the kings fur lined cape crumpled underneath it. The Bergen must have tossed it carelessly onto the bedding when he changed into his…less then flattering…workout clothes. Some quiet voice in the back of his mind was running through the possible injuries Creek might have sustained while in captivity. Dehydration, bruising and likely a concussion was on the table if he had been tossed about. Branch wanted to be annoyed at the voice, tell it not to waste much breath on the jerk, but then the memory of him getting trapped in an acorn shell and rolling down a cliff in the middle summer decided to chime in.
“Okay here’s the plan,” He whispered, pulling out an arrow from his quiver and a line form his belt, “I’m going to shoot a line, and then me and Smidge will go out and snag the medallion from above.”
“Me?” The teacup troll pointed to herself in surprise.
Branch nodded, “I’ve seen your workouts, you are by far the strongest one here. I don’t want to take a risk dropping that medallion while lifting by myself.”
“Why not bring all of us?” Poppy said.
“Two reasons,” Branch held up two clawed fingers, “One, I don’t know if the rope would be able to hold all of us. Two a smaller team will attract the least amount of attention. I really don’t want to be noticed by whatever that is,” Branch nodded towards the king’s slumbering pet, while finishing the knot on his arrow.
“Couldn’t we crawl down onto the bed?” Biggie whispered, peering over the edge with a very nervous expression.
Branch shook his head, “Not a good idea, too slow and no clear escape route if something goes wrong.”
He drew his bow, the string going taunt in his grasp. Branch eyed a portrait, the frame of poorly craved wood, resting on the far opposite wall. His target. Taking a breath, he let the air go as they arrow flew. Whistling as it cut through the atmosphere, and landing with a thud as it embedded its head in the wooden frame. Branch pulled the rope tight, yanking on it to ensure it’s security. Once satisfied, he nodded, and handing off the other end to Poppy.
“Don’t drop us,” He said to her.
Poppy nodded in turn.
Using their hair, Branch and Smidge, slipped down the rope like a zip line. Branch was in the lead, Smidge following close behind. Tightening the grip on his rope, they slid to a stop, hovering just over where the medallion lay.
“Okay how do you want to do this?” Branch asked turning around to face Smidge.
“You’re asking me?” Smidge almost gawked, “You’re the hero, shouldn’t you know?”
“You’re the one with the most experience lifting heavy things. I could probably figure it out on my own, but it’s more risky for us and Creek. What do you think is the best play?”
Smidge hummed, “We should lock our legs around the rope to hold ourselves.”
“You mean hang upside down?”
She nodded, “That way our hair will have the most mobility, and we can focus all our strength into it.”
“Both of which we’ll need if we need to undo the clasps that holds it on to the cape. Good thinking,” Branch said already twisting his legs upward towards the rope.
Once anchored in, both trolls stretched their hair out, straining towards the medallion. Unfortunately, Branch was right, they had to unclasp the medallion from the cape. It took careful and delicate movements. Smidge honestly had a much easier time with it, her hair was far stronger then his and she didn’t have to worry about getting her makeup ruined. Last thing Branch needed right now was for the maroon coloring fading to his cursed black hue.
It was barely a minute until they were pulling the medallion up. Trying to keep a steady rate, as to not jostle themselves or the troll inside.
“I know I probably shouldn’t be talking right now, but is this what you do every day?” Smidge suddenly asked.
“Uh…not exactly, why?”
“It’s just. This is thrilling. Don’t get me wrong living in the village is never with out excitement, but…this is different.”
“Well I guess you don’t risk your life on the daily in the village.”
“No, no not like that. It’s…I’ve always been strong. Maybe I started to prove that my size wasn’t a weakness, but I do like working out for the sake of working out, and then there is the stoutberry business…but I’ve never used it to help someone like this. It’s cool.”
Branch wasn’t sure how to reply. Sure, he knew that village now hailed him a hero, but he never really thought anything he might do, could be considered cool by them. Patrols weren’t a playful nature walk, setting up traps wasn’t decorating, nothing he did they would think of as fun. If anything, they would call Branch a buzzkill…have called Branch a buzzkill…
A very bad sound suddenly cut off Branch’s pondering. The low grumbling noise, sent chills and shivers down his back. It was cold, hungry, predatory.
Both him and Smidge froze. Keeping his breath calm in contrast to his rapid heartbeat, Branch slowly twisted around, only to find a set of large eyes trained on them. The kings pet was creeping closer, licking it’s lips and drawing attention to its mouthful of teeth.
Oh…Sh-
The best snarled and leaped towards them with ferocious snap of its jaws. Branch reacted on instinct, his own flight or fight kicking in.
“Left!” He snapped, and thankfully Smidge caught on quickly helping him yank the medallion out of reach of those jaws.
Depending on how high that thing could jump, changed who was in the most danger. Creek was lower, but Branch doubted that the beast would be able to break through the brass metal in order to get to him. Both he and Smidge were higher up but exposed, literally hanging on a wire. A wire that was now dangerously swinging back and forth.
“Right!” Smidge nearly shouted and Branch reacted with her.
Thank Madonna the king was dead to the world with those head phones.
Branch latched onto the rope with his hands, and clenched harder on the medallion with his hair and the beast took another leap. He knew the limits of this high wire they were clinging too, having made it. It would hold. It wouldn’t snap, but as it trembled and shook in his hands and he and Smidge desperately held on for dear life, he couldn’t help but fear. Fear about the twists of dried vine and fibers snapping, fear about the beast leaping higher than before, fear about the supports…
Shame that Branch always seemed to jinx himself, when it came to things like this.
The tension in the rope suddenly gave way, going slack in his hands. Branch heard Poppy scream and looked over to see the princess dangling from the edge of the shelve she had been previously standing on. The others had grabbed onto her, stopping her from falling to the floor, but the end of the rope was another story. Branch watched in horror as it flittered downward, taking him and Smidge with it.
The swing itself was rapid, dragging them both into the wall. Branch felt the slam rattle his very bones and jaw. Loosening his grip, both his hands and hair, before he tumbled onto the grungy carpet. Branch coughed once, before dizzily getting to his feet. Adrenaline pumping hard through his veins as it always did when a predator was around. He met the eyes of the king’s beast from where it was still perched on the king’s bed. It snarled once more and Branch drew his bow.
“Get to the medallion!” Branch yelled to Smidge, never taking his eyes off of the beast.
With one mighty leap the beast was flying off the bedspread and towards Branch. He didn’t even have the time to aim, much less shoot. The grey troll could only dash to the right, and hoped it wasn’t all the coordinated. His gamble paid off, those stubby legs might have been fast but they were not made for agility, the beast rammed itself into the wall. The portrait practically jumping from the wall and falling onto its head.
It would’ve been funny if Branch wasn’t freaking terrified.
“Guardian!”
Hearing his princess’ call, Branch took a risk and turned, only to get snagged by a tendril of hot pink hair. The fibers hooking on his middle and yanking him away. He barely had the time to blink before he was pulled onto a roller skate of all things. Poppy’s hands on his shoulders, bracing him. Taking a harsh breath, he looked from her to the rest of the snack pack, bravely piloting a Bergen roller skate out of the King’s bedroom, and into the hall, medallion and all.
“Nice save,” He said.
Poppy smiled.
A snarl echoed from the hall, as the Kings beast burst forth from the bedchamber door, and gave chase.
“Speed up and keep steady!” Branch snapped, drawing his bow once more.
The guards were noticeably absent, must have been in the middle of a shift change. Branch was thankful for it though; they didn’t need anymore un-wanted attention.
Branch let his arrows fly. He wasn’t familiar with the species, meaning he wasn’t sure of any weak spots if it even had those. Still the eyes and the feet were likely good bets. It was hard to get a good shot in though. The halls were practically spinning with the type of chaotic driving that one could only achieve when riding on a shoe. Many of his arrows either missed the mark or struck scales that were far thicker then they first appeared.
“Satin! Chellie!” Poppy screamed, “Sharp right.”
Branch gripped the worn leather of the skate just in time to not be flung off. Once the ride was in a semi-stable state, he went to draw another shot, only to find his quiver empty.
Branch cursed, “I’m out!”
Poppy’s magenta eyes looked ahead with determination, and they gained the manic glint of someone who was about to do something dangerously stupid.
“Speed up!” Poppy screamed.
Where the wet floor sign came from, or why Poppy thought to ride up it, Branch didn’t care. A reasonable reaction considering that they were suddenly flying out of the window!
“Duck!” Guy Diamond squeaked, and then the medallion was flying over their heads.
Oh…Fiddlesticks! NO!
Branch did not go through, infiltrating the place of his literal nightmares, sneaking into a king’s bedroom and fighting off his pet, and whatever in Madonna’s good name what a Bergen date was only to trip at the end and loose the asshole Poppy insisted he save.
Branch leaped from his spot on the skate, sling shooting forward with great grace and speed. His body slammed into the medallion, the gold metal smooth and slick against his armor plating.
“Poppy!” He called out and shot his hair back towards the others.
The hot pink threads twisting with his own powdered maroon, and he was pulled forward. His talons almost sparking as they held tight to the medallion. Many hands grabbed at him once he landed, and for once Branch didn’t dare jerk away from the sudden contact. If flying through the air wasn’t enough, now they were falling through multiple walls and through rooms that just became weirder and weirder the further they went.
Who built such a shotty castle?
Eventually they came to a rough stop, the skate finally hitting something solid and knocking everyone off. Branch lost his grip on the medallion when his chin struck the hard table top, making his head click, gums bleed and ears ring. There was a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced back to see Smidge looking over him with a worried face. Branch waved her off, and continued to struggle to his feet.
“No…”
Poppy’s words were quiet, almost whispered. It was how dry they were that felt wrong. Her voice was meant to saturated with some form of emotion. Some form of joy.
But the medallion was empty…and so were the princess’ hopes.
Branch stumbled over, kneeling at her side, “I’m sorry princess, We were too late.”
“Actually your timing is perfect.”