Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fic Inspiration

Time Travel AU

Dream, Nightmare, Reality by Anonymous

From the heart of a Traitor by Unhinger9000

If I could turn back time, I'd give it all to you by Wondering Wind

It's Just a Jump to the Left by mrct

The More I Learn, the Less I bleed by blade_that_was_broken

Non-Time Travel Troll Fic. 

Faded by Spocketastudios

Fading Fast by LazyMe16crk.

Halo (Beyonce) by FallingAngel1814

Heavy with Grief by mcrt

I'll see you when i fall asleep by idon'tsleepidaydream 

Imperfections makes us Perfect By Bexstar

Out of the Train Wreck by Keebsification

The Eldest and the Youngest by TheMiraculousMat

The Truth about "The Old One" by CashewDFurry

Me when I need more “time travel” or “time travel fix it” Troll Fic (In especially around John Dory)

Chapter Text

If you could turn back time , wouldn’t you be willing to give it all to someone you loved? Living a life to the fullest by being there for one another, providing the best result you can help with by knowing what life would have thrown at you. 

This is where John stands, or rather lying on the harsh wood, above the grown tree, one of many others. 

John lay as he was woken by the sound of nature, bushes rustling, and the distant sound of woodling creatures but kept his eye closed, he took a breath feeling the fresh light air unrestricted as it traveled to his lungs, the breeze flowing across him. He felt an itch, instinctually he scratched finding soft skin, he searched finding no scared or hard skin where it should have been. 

This shouldn’t be biologically possible, it should have been there from his grueling days living in the woods and the time he went on his crazy trip to Mount Neverglade. It felt, untimely for it to be suddenly soft.  

Snapping his eyes open, he met the roof of the bush of leaves stamped with one of many tree branches. If it could, the leaf could have flown away if it weren't for the tree needing them for the season.

He shot up standing, examining his limb looking for any missing part of him, but finding it all fine.

Shocked at his outfit, a puff jacket that fit him right, the one he constantly during the band days. Had he been partying hard enough to request the right size of his boyband outfit, was he that desperate? He touches his face, meeting with round soft skin. Accienly poking one his eye, he wince, decided to focus on his surrounding. 

A colorful tree was found in all distance with occasional outliers, but the deeper he looked, the more his anxiety grew. There constructed wall, its surface was ugly, faded paint, with Moses slowly planting itself. Bergen Town

John stared off ghostly, baffled. 

Living around the troll tree, you are surrounded by those monsters, Bergen a creature known to eat trolls for their happiness, and lack of care outside from there. The wall wasn’t hard to miss the only thing that separated the single habitatable tree from the rest of the forest life. 

Growing up John yearns for what is behind the wall, to be free than living in one tree. 

John hurries, his unusual appearance, there are other specialisms but he has to be sure. He had to see it himself, he had to be sure. What a predicament. 

If it were to be the case of what he thought might be going on, John could kiss those tears goodbye. 

Swinging from vine to vine, branches to branches, closening to the wall finding a hole just in the corner of the wall. If what he thinks might be true, the possibility, probability, he have to find out.

Bergens revert to their sad gloomy self, walking distance from one another. Not the one John saw impossibly co-exist with trolls on the search for his brothers. He crashed a Bergen Royal Wedding and should have apologized, but back then, and right now isn’t the priority for any of that formal gestures. He was selfish he wanted to see his family more than anything in the world. 

John sprinted toward Troll Treeit was alive and colorful, it wasn’t dead, and no broken bar pry forcible open, and empty pod litter on the ground. The grass was soft and carefully trimmed, the air similar to the one outside, breathable and clean. Swiftly dodge from litter and trash left forgotten by the bergen. Walking past the cold bar, John didn’t stop running and jumping, mustering all the strength again to find the pod of his home. 

He felt a bit out of breath but the adrenaline and sinking feeling he felt physically weighed him down. He can’t feel himself going easy until his search is done. 

His grandmother Pods. 

Staring in disbelief at the pod in front of him, hesitates before knocking. 

The sound of muffle footsteps came, swinging the door open there stood his very much alive grandma staring at him surprised. He came back. This is well-timed,  

John DID come back. He did, whatever he said, whatever he had done in the past. It was just at the height of the moment.

He felt righteous frustration and desperation, he took it all on his brother. With an ugly sense of satisfaction, he ran from them, wanting something to direct his anger toward too. That is why he threw himself to Mount Neverglade, it was a childhood dream to conquer the cold misty mountain, just to be one of the trees. 

He came back quicker than he anticipated, a few months from the day he left. Usually doing things outside of chores would have been a hassle. John used to stop everything just to be there with his sibling, 

Came home accomplished, with a few gift boxes to make up his his irrational decisions.

He met with a broken sight of a Troll Tree clinging to stay alive. It was a mess and empty, pod litters on the ground, as the color starting to form looking similar to Bergen Town. Dropping down everything by the wall, ignoring the littered pod that holds nothing but memories. The grass felt sharp and the air brought no sense of calmness as it used to 

“Grandma! Spruce! Clay! Floyd - Baby Branch?! Bitty! Anyone.” He shouted names he held dear, names that used to bring a smile to his face. He didn’t stop hoping that the name would bring the dead, he called out for any response. But there was no one there to answer him back. 

Sick and alone, feeling the hot tears he only shed when his parent wasn’t there when he regretted things he had done in prep Neverglade Trail but continued onward.  

He took on what he could, memorabilia and sentimental items. He had to get out of here, there was no one waiting for him anymore. 

He felt at fault for the situation, had the Chef realized the postponement of the boyband and decided to put his family back on the menu. Had he failed to make the trolls happy, it shouldn’t have made sense, years of service shouldn’t have let a few months of silence let the Bergen give up on him easily.

Was he at fault for trusting the monster from harming his family, even an ounce to think he might protect his family from them forever? 

If he knew, if only he knew, things would have been different. He would have come here in a heartbeat if he knew, he’d be with his brothers until the end. 

The door was polished letting out a soft creek, John wanted to hear more of it. There opening is his grandma, eyes widened, mouth agape before closing, furrowing her brow before gently wrapping her arm around him. She was beautiful and very much alive. Leaning closer, feeling the warmth and safety he longs for. 

It was all true, his skepticism settled, and he could finally believe it. He travels back in time. To the day exactly after Brozone was disbanded, the day when his brothers all went separate ways leaving only Grandma RosiePuff and Branch behind. 

“John, I thought you left” She looked close to remorse but focused on what was in front of her. John felt his breathing shudder, looking at his grandma, he felt tears prickly in his eye blinking it away. John's throat tightened as does his eye. 

“I-”

“They left not long after to you”

Pretending to be shocked letting it sink in. John can only sigh, he can find a way to find all of them again. 

“John it's not too late to go back”. That was unexpected, taken back John knew what she meant but it didn’t stop him from looking confused. “You were always selfless John, I think it is nice for you to have a break from, all of this”

“I can’t Grandma, I can’t go back, and I don't think I wanted to. It was stupid of me, Im sorry I left you and everyone behind”

“John…”. Grandma Rosiepuff looks tired but focused. 

“Im sorry”. John replied with relief watching over him

John went for another hug, which his grandma didn’t shy away from. Tears building up, he wanted to disappear at the moment feeling nothing but his grandma's embrace covering him from the world. How can he do this,  he left his grandma, an old grandma to take care of the rest of the brother. If four little brothers were too much to take care of, what could she have done if the others didn’t leave leaving only Branch? 

Grandma stood back a bit, releasing the hug and a disappointed John. Cupped his cheek with another rest on his shoulder looking at him softly and giving out a warm smile. 

“I know it is a hard decision to choose, you've been there for these boys all this time. I'm so proud of you”

John was already crying what more wouldn’t hurt, he was grieving and he didn’t know why, but now he had a reason to. 

Grandma Rosiepuff continues, “I wanted to say, this isn’t any of your fault. They - we need to let things off, this has been going long enough, it's too much for you John. I am sorry for not being there as much as I should have

I hope you come back here with your own decision John, not for only Branch or Me, but for Yourself too. You’re too selfless.” her tone was earnest and sincere. 

John felt a build of confidence and reassurance, He had lived a life in isolation, with a heavy heart and endless imagination that haunted him of his dead brother's along with the troll tree. 

“I'm staying, I want to be here”. John smiles. 

Grandma Rosiepuff finally broke, shining her tears. “If only you’re mother was here, she would have been so proud”

“Me too grandma, me too”

They stood, enjoying the moment of each other. If had been a while since the last time he was left with only grandma, there was always one of his brothers there bothering him each day with their own set of problems, usually, none of them was above John's range of knowing to do with them, he was ready. 

“John?” a squeak within the house meters away from the doorway. 

Branch. 

He was not ready. 

Chapter Text

John had always been, and always will be, a selfish Troll.

Some might argue against that, considering the countless hours he sacrificed to provide for his large family. But, in a way, his selflessness masked his own needs. He was selfish for doing most of the housework when his grandmother's body could no longer bear it, taking care of everything until his brother was old enough to help. He was selfish for working odd jobs at the market, not only to treat his brother but to afford the paper and notes he needed to fuel his dreams.

Let a Troll dream a little.

No family of trolls was as large as his. John loved his brothers dearly, but there was always a lingering fear whenever they are around together, as if their very presence would invite disaster beyond John's ability to handle. 

It all started innocently enough, with the arrival of Spruce's egg. It was bought by their deadbeat father in the dead of night. 

John had been awakened by the sound of his grandmother’s door slamming shut, her muttering fading as she walked back to her room. 

He rushed toward the door, where he found his father. John couldn't recall what his father said or did, but he remembered the excitement and hope—that his father would stay, that they'd be a family again.

It was a naive thought, thinking this egg—this brother—was his father’s way of making up for lost time. 

His father had been gone for months, leaving John and his grandmother behind. John was lonely. He didn’t have any trolls his age to connect with, and finding it hard to get along with others, he’d longed for someone he could share his likes and dislikes with. 

When Spruce hatched, John was over the moon.

Then came another egg came by.

John had been playing with Spruce when his father returned, carrying another egg—this one with wild yellow hair. John stared at it, puzzled. Why wasn’t this egg purple like Spruce’s? 

He glanced at his grandmother, who wore a weary expression, and then back at his father, who was saying something to him that he couldn’t quite focus on.

“This is your brother—” his father began.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Grandma Rossiepuff interrupted, holding out her hand for the egg. “I know why you’re here—let's get it over with.”

John’s father frowned, his lips tightening as he avoided her gaze.

“I wanted to see you, John.” John's father mumbles softly. 

Grandma Rosiepuff looked exhausted, her gaze hard as she inspected the egg before placing it gently withing her hair. It was a familiar sight—another sibling. John giggled, the tension in the room loosening, but only slightly.

“John,” his father said, catching his attention again, “I’ll be back later.”

“Are you not staying?” John’s voice was full of hope. “Spruce is here—he’s so cute and, well, a little annoying. Don’t you want to see him, Dad?”

“I can’t, John. Not this time.”

John’s shoulders drooped, but he pressed on. “When will you be back?”

“Soon,” his father replied, kissing John on the crown before leaving.

John’s grandmother gently guided him back inside to finish his puzzle with Spruce.

“Who was that?” Spruce asked, not looking up from the puzzle.

“That was our dad,” John replied, 

Spruce frowned, setting the puzzle piece down. He hadn’t finished the center yet, preferring to work on the edges first—a method John had proudly taught him during their first puzzle together.

“John,” Spruce said, “can you come to my class tomorrow? The teacher wants me to do show-and-tell, and I want to show them the trick you taught me.”

“Oh, you mean this?” John asked, standing up before doing a flip. Spruce clapped bringing a smile to his face.

That night, they had freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and warm milk before bed.

This egg was bright yellow, like the sun. Spruce seemed uncertain, even scared that the egg might shatter from a single touch. 

John scoops it in as Spruce steps back. John hugs close as he whispered positive comments word to it as Spruce tilt before grew curious. Spruce mimicked his older brother, they both spent time coloring the egg and and talking with the egg which gave them a very angry grandma. 

That morning, they enjoyed pancakes with berries and chocolate chips.

Clay, their new brother, was a cheerful troll, always full of energy. He reminded John of Princess Viva, who often visited his home, escaping from her royal pod. 

There wasn’t much danger around the Troll community aside from the ever-present fear of the Bergens, but Clay brought his own whirlwind of chaos, being a few years younger and full of life. He clung to John’s back like an animal on a tree, laughing as John humored him. During those years, John had begun skipping school more often, trying to juggle family life with his studies.

One night, after everyone had fallen asleep, there was a knock on the door. John ran to answer, thinking it might be their monthly royal income support. Instead, his father stood there, another egg in his hands, and another empty word. This one had a sprout of ruby-red hair poking out. 

“Why can’t I incubate them?” John asked, frustrated. “I see you do it with Spruce and Clay all the time , lemme do this one.”

“It can be dangerous,” Grandma Rosiepuff said. “You already have your hands full with your brothers. Let me handle this, okay?”

John sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Following her to the kitchen, John asked, “What are we making tonight?”

“You get to decide,” Grandma said, smirking.

John grinned, finally getting to choose the dessert. After a moment’s thought, he decided on her signature cinnamon apple pie.

Grandma Rossiepuf look at him shared the same smirk. “ Get to learn to cook, used it all to make perfect pies”

“What can i say, your pie is out of the world. Could’t stop eating them-”

“This is why we can’t amke them all the time. You just refused to eat anything else back then” she laugh. John laugh as well. 

The smell of freshly baked apple cinnamon apply fill around the room. As john prep up the cream icing, he heard foot step walking near.

There spruce look tiredly as he rub his one eye while one looking at john curiously, with clay on his back, at daze but John know is pretty awake. 

“John, what are ou making, why night?” spruce yawm as clay mimik the same way. 

“Pies? Pie! Pie! Pie” clay shouted excitingly as he clapped around. Spruce look uncertain but he didn’t said anything.

Spruce drop Clay down as he toddler run toward john hugging him on the back. Spruce bring out the plate helping out grandma bringing in the peias and cutting it as grandma rosiepuff look grateful for it, spruce push her down sitting as he help plating. 

Spruce pulled clay out joining him to the table. As John finished up the cream.

 They ate the pies together, laughing and sharing stories.

It was another quiet night as John brought a video of the latest movie popular around the Troll Tree. The family huddled together, watching closely with their Grandma during the movie’s peak scene. Floyd, a quiet troll, didn’t particularly like loud sounds, left by the nursery room. 

There was a knock at the door, opening it and it let out familiar squeak. 

John sighed heavily, standing up despite his grandma’s protests. He opened the door and stared hard at the figure in front of him—his father. The black circles around his father’s eyes were hard to miss, and there was a hint of relief in his expression which John chose to ignore.

John held out his hand, opening and closing his palm. “Another egg,” John pointed out, his voice flat. Swiping the egg off his father's arm. John turns his back him, hand on the handle ready to close

“John,” his father started.

John glanced back at him. His father's wrinkles becoming more visible, and he looked older than his actual age, John couldn’t give himself to care at the moment or the rest of the past actions.

“I love you, son.”

John closed the door. He quietly handed the egg to his grandma, who took it with a look of recognition before placing it down. John didn’t want to deal with anything right now despite his brothers curious glance. John left for the nursery. 

He was too angry, too sad. He stared at the door, half expecting it to come crashing down on him. Retreating to the nursery room, he could hear the noises of his brothers talking about their older brother’s disappearance. 

John have to make sure Floyd was okay for the night. There his brother was sleeping, his peaceful face, John rub his eye, feeling tears starting to prickle as a single strand escape from him. He look out in the moonlight hoping it might have the answer for it all. 

“Jowney,” came Floyd’s soft voice from the crib

John sighed, turning toward him, giving the softest smile. He bring him up as he hold Floyd round face, he had hie head rest on his shoulder as John patted his back in a rythm. “I’m sorry, Little Red., let’s get you back to sleep.”

“Jowney sad,” Floyd murmured, starting to doze off as John gently swayed him much slower. “I wove you, dada,” Floyd mumbled.

John let his tears fall as he held his little brother. “I love you too.” Placing him back he went out from the nursery leaving slight ajar

“Johnny?” Grandma Rossiepuff’s voice echoed softly. She stoof by the hallway foot away from him.

“Grandma?”

“The boys are waiting for us in the kitchen. John…” She paused, noting tears strand on his face.

John finally broke. “I’m so tired, Grandma. 

Why does Dad keep leaving? Why does he keep doing this?” he cried quietly, not wanting to wake Floyd. 

“I’m here, Johnny. I’m here. Let it out. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Why he keep going this. Am I the problem, am I…?”

Grandma Rossiepuff only hummed softly, pulling John into a gentle hug. He clung to her, just wanting to rest and deal everything tomorrow. The smell of something sweet drifted from the kitchen, various sell distinct enought with one another, and John’s tired eyes lit up.

“Is that pies?”

Grandma Rossiepuff smirked. “Not just any pies. Come on.”

In the kitchen, Clay and Spruce were waiting, with Spruce trying to keep Clay from sneaking a taste of the miniature sweets. Spruce grinned proudly when he saw John. “I helped Grandma make these!”

“Me too!” Clay chimed in, pointing at a pie with a slightly uneven crust, but it was displayed with pride.

“You kids and sweets,” Grandma Rossiepuff chuckled. “I have a feeling we’ll be up much later tonight. Make sure to brush your teeth afterward boys, tomorrow we’re going out walking okay”

John rubbed his neck, a smile tugging at his lips. “Mini pies? Did you help, Spruce?”

“Of course, I did. Can’t let you have all the cooking talent,” he teased.

“I helped too!” Clay proudly pointed out again, his enthusiasm making everyone laugh. John sit as he took a bit, warm flavor bring upon inner warm tingle around his leg to head. 

That night, they ate so many sweets and pastries that they all ended up with slight stomachaches. 

Later, Branch stood conflicted, staring between Grandma Rossiepuff and John. His hands were balled into fists at his side. John eyes lingering on an overgrown vase that Floyd had cherished. It had been a hand-me-down, something they had to do in order to save money, but after BroZone’s success, none of the other brothers wanted it. Floyd had kept it for sentimental reasons.

BroZone… Branch’s first-ever performance. It had been a disaster, it’s known back at John original timeline and Branch blamed himself for breaking their family apart. 

Branch was barely a year old at the time, and John wanted to cry, to beg for his forgiveness. He had messed up so badly/ 

There was no way to justify his actions back then—leaving the family and expecting them to stay together. In his young mind, he thought they would all be fine, and maybe even better if he weren’t around. He believed BroZone’s existence was the key to keeping them safe but it also trap them. John really thought, that maybe, if he wasn’t there none of that would matter and somehow his brother would be safe. 

John sat down, resting his arms on his knees as he looked at Branch, uncertain. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Bitty B…”

Branch flinched, but John pressed on. “Im back, I change my mind, I’m rather underprepared for this trip. Can you imagine, I would have been lost”. 

Branch was silent, his eyes never leaving John’s. His lips trembled, and his eyes began to water.

“Branch?” John’s voice cracked. “I’m… I’m really sorry. I didn’t—”

Before John could finish, Branch lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around John’s neck. John instinctively held him close, feeling the wet tears soak through his shirt.

John wished he were bigger, older—just to be able to shield his little brother from the world. He wished he could protect him from everything. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” holding Branch as tightly as he could.

Afterward

John walked inside with Branch still clinging to his neck, the dried tear marks visible on the little troll’s face. John kept kissing his brother’s cheeks, trying to soothe him.

“Do you want me to take him?” Grandma Rossiepuff asked softly.

John exhaled quietly, looking at her reminding himself of her detail facial feature,  not ever wanted to forget what she looks like. After all, the last time he saw her was the day he walked out on the family. He wanted her in his life—her and all his brothers.

“Nah, Grandma. You should rest up. Don’t pretend I didn’t notice those bags under your eyes. I’ve got this.”

Grandma Rossiepuff smiled, shaking her head. “I’m here if you need me, John. And don’t think you can escape game night next time, Doriander.” She smirked, eyeing him challengingly.

John chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right…”

Chapter Text

It was late at night, the wind howling through every window of the pod. John lay comfortably, a blanket covering his chest, one hand holding his notes while his head rested on the sofa's armrest. There was a small weight on his chest as Branch lay on top of him, pie crumbs scattered across the blanket and table, though it didn’t seem to bother Branch, who was fast asleep in the center of John’s chest.

Nearby, a half-eaten slice of pie sat on a plate, along with a children’s book and scattered notes. A glass of milk stood half-empty, its remaining contents already consumed. John glanced up at the clock as it struck eleven, letting out a sigh as he stared at the ceiling. He shifted his position restlessly, mentally debating his next course of action.

John had spent the entire day scribbling down possibilities and future plans. He wasn’t worried about Branch reading his notes—his little brother was still too young to focus on them for long. Branch had insisted on staying close to him, naturally wanting to be with the only brother who had returned.

 It was quiet—too quiet for Branch, who had grown used to the lively energy of a bustling pod. While John found the silence comforting after years of solitude, he knew it unsettled Branch, this sudden shift from a lively household to a much quieter one.

Branch didn’t know that none of their brothers would be returning anytime soon—at least not for many years. Maybe John could speed up their reunion. Although he didn’t know where each of his brothers was exactly, he knew where they would eventually be. 

Letting out another soft sigh, John stared at the living room—a simple space, but now more precious than ever. How long had it been since he’d just sat here and marveled at it? Memories washed over him. Sometimes you have to lose something to truly understand its value.

Grandma Rossiepuff had long since gone to bed, leaving a blanket for him. John gently dusted off the blanket, careful not to let it touch Branch’s face. He continued scribbling notes, trying to brainstorm the right course of action for the future. Everything needed to be planned out, simple yet crucial.

• Get Branch and Grandma out of the Troll Tree.
• Make the great escape happen faster.
• Find the brothers (within 5 years, ideally sooner—what if they’re not where expected? Find them anyway).
• Spruce/Bruce? Probably on Vacay Island. No other leads.
• Find Clay, likely at a golf course. Locate him first?
• Find Floyd?? Jeans wardrobe, rock trolls?
• How to find Rhonda (Use scent again? Work on locate Clay…Unlikely; Grandma probably washed it off).
• Go camping, Evertrail Mountain—find the envelope, too confusing, uncertain date.
• Visit the Country Trolls—maybe Delta? Bring Grandma too? Perhaps they could help with the search for the brothers.
• Convince everyone I’m not suspicious. Keep my mouth shut—difficult.
• Achieve perfect family harmony. Maybe solo harmony? Great power—protect the family???
• Find Floyd before the others.
• Protect the family. Build a bunker.

John’s relationship with his brothers had always been difficult, though they tried to get along. When they shared stories about their journeys, they often avoided the events that led to their separation. It was still a sensitive topic, and none of them were ready to fully admit their mistakes. As a result, knowing their exact whereabouts was challenging. 

John couldn’t drop everything and immediately search for them, dragging his brothers back to the Troll Tree—it wasn’t practical them possble far from the tree already except for maybe Clay. But still traveling back to time, John felt fear creeping of encountering him, what if John meeting Clay would lead him to his downfall. Clay was there during the Great Escape and with Branch didn’t told much about meeting him during there even before mean the best way to reunite together is quicken the Great Escape. 

John desperately wanted to reunite with all his brothers, but with Branch clinging to him and Grandma keeping him busy with endless games of Rummy and daily chores, it seemed impossible to leave.

Not that he minded the chores—anything to keep his mind off the fear that his very existence might one day bring danger to everyone around him.

John place his notes as he carries Branch up. His baby brother shuffle around before finding a comfortable position. John walk toward ranch shared room with Flloyd. 

John avoid looking much of Floyd room he wasn’t completely ready, the only chores he avoided was looking too mch of his brothers room, he wanted to avoid it not wanting to see the ruin on that flash on his mind, the room is incomplete without the troll in it. 

He gently covered Branch with the blanket, gazing at his youngest brother’s peaceful, chubby face. He cupped Branch’s cheek, feeling the warmth of the little troll. With a soft kiss on Branch’s forehead, John quietly closed the door and stepped outside. 

The giant moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over everything. John smiled, his mind filling with memories—flashes of performances and music as the light seemed to follow him around.

He swung on a vine, weaving through the trees until a large, royal pod came into view. Straightening his posture, he knocked on the grand door. There were no guards—Trolls rarely needed them, when they have to go up againts a common monster non wanted any more danger happened to of them. 

John knocks as a moment there was a hurried doorstep echoes from within, the door swung open to reveal Princess Viva, who squealed in surprise - she shake her hand as she vibrate with excitement. She paused, furrowing her brows, unsure. John coughed awkwardly. 

John coughed awkwardly. “Hey, Princess Viva, sorry to bother you this late. Can you call King Peppy? It’s urgent—I need to speak with him.

Viva relaxed, her eyes closing briefly before nodding and leaving with a soft click. He could hear her footsteps fade away, returning a moment later with a heavier presence behind her.

King Peppy appeared, his eyes warm. “John, my boy, what brings you here at this late hour?”

“I should be asking you the same,” John replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “What’s a princess doing awake at this time? Isn’t she supposed to be getting her beauty sleep?”

King Peppy chuckled. “It’s a special night—been trying to finish another candy bracelet, but I never quite get around to it.”

John mirrored his smile but quickly turned serious. “King Peppy, there’s something I need to discuss with you. Alone.”

King Peppy gave him a curious look but nodded, gesturing for John to follow him inside. The royal pod was cozy, with golden patterns swirling along the walls and larger spaces than most Troll homes. It felt unnecessarily big, but fitting for royal discussions. Portraits hung on the walls, and John admired them as they moved to a quieter corner.

King Peppy broke the silence. “So, John, what’s on your mind? It’s odd for you to come to me, especially tonight. Are you ready to start another tour already?”

John chuckled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “A bit early for that, don’t you think?”

King Peppy nodded sympathetically. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry, John.”

A heavy feeling weighed on John’s chest. He knew his brothers were safe...well, except for Clay, him being there mean the porbability of get his hand on him is still probably and John has to be sure he live during the Great Escape. 

John sighed. Breaking this news was harder than he imagined. “King Peppy, the Bergens...”

The air grew heavy as John continued. “The Chef. Poppy is going to be chosen for the next Trollstice. We have to act. I’ve heard rumors of an underground tunnel—should we start escaping now?”

King Peppy’s expression darkened. He exhaled deeply, sinking into his chair and staring at the moon. Silence stretched between them before the King finally spoke again.

“John, you’re making dangerous assumptions without proof.”

John gulped.

“But who has that kind of time anyway?” King Peppy shook his head, rubbing his temples. “Listen, John, the tunnel is ready. We found the entrance, probably from an old animal’s den. The problem is, there are too many holes—too many to map. I haven’t sent anyone in to navigate yet...”

“I’ll do it,” John said firmly.

The King stared at him incredulously. “John, this is serious. You’re too young—”

“That’s exactly why I should go. I’m fit for this. I’ll find a way out, tonight.”

King Peppy studied John for a long moment before standing. He motioned for John to follow him down the hall. “If you’re serious about this, we need to make sure you’re properly equipped.”

The night was pitch dark, and John felt the weight of exhaustion settling in. The plan was simple: navigate the tunnels and find an exit. The issue was that some tunnels could lead to dangerous places. The Trolls had uncovered an old network, but no one knew if they all connected or if some ended in disaster.

John sight borely as King peppy explain a drawn out clueboard a visual miniature drawing of a laybrinth tunnel. John can see glimpse of viva in the corner of the room, their eye met, Viva would looking at him at a coutious excitement but give a little wave before being pulled back turning back a quiet footstep leaving the room as John shift focus on the king.

It was all dark, only lamp in hand to light up from the dark hold. A rope around his hips as he continue venture deeper, his other hand a marker, thankfully the wall was solid but his run a bit sloppy almost tripping a few uneven floor but he contineu to run. 

John had to change one thing before getting here definitely getting caffeine. The plan was simple, the king need a troll A head troll experience to navigate the tunnel safely toward the exit. During the making of tunnel they open to another tunnel that have many other tunnel from a previous animal leading to possible exit the issue it, there one of many tunnel may lead to certain doom. 

He found the way to escape, 

He quickly try leave unbothered with the dirt scrapping neither does the King care much to happy they found a way out. 

John Dory excuse himself with a gift basket in hand. King Peppy told john to give him a few day to prep the who village to start paking to leave from the tree finally. 

John covered head to toe with dirt wave in return holding the basket carefully as he run back to his pod. Thankfully it Grandma turn to make breakfast, but the thing it he didn’t come out with telling his family with his wearabout. 

Getting close he can listen to a distance sound of neighboring trolls singing their morning prayer ready for the sunshine day. 

Opening the door, the living room and kitchen was empty. Closing the door as he place the basket at clear table John lay at the sofa uncarely if it firty, it cleaning day of the week, he can excuse himself for running around the market for supplies. 

Sound of clap at the corner of the kitchen that block by the wall include the sound of tiny footstep running to him. John yelp feeling a punch as he felt a small body, Branch hugging him close as he creid out. 

“Johnny! I thought you left. I went you’re room because I’m lonely and you weren’t there” 

John gave a nervous smile, patting his brother back. 

“I came to your room and you werent there i thought you left.” Branch sniff. Hugging in close wanting to feel his brother warmth.

John grimace as his granma stood by the table there arm crossed giving him stern eye. “Bed empty, no note, out in late hours  Doriander”

“It, i had business to attend to, with Brozone being disbanded all the sudden, i thought i had to prep up to official public announce it so.” John tried to look regretful, but in his heart beat with relief that he finall save his family from a certain doom. 

“You’re going to clean thatr”  Grandma Rossiepuf smirke pointing at the sofa along the trail of foot step dirt from the door. Her hand quickly pick the basket bringing in to the kitchen as sound of pan and wooden carboard was out

John groan, hugging in close to Branch in exhaustion. 

They already had dinner as Grandma Rossiepuff announcer her playing game with her friend on other pod leaving John and Branch at the pod. Branch was running around the pod leaving John rare moment of alone. 

John hummed  laying on his bed. Humming in random tunes turning to a country tunes. 

During back his timeline John sing lot of country music, living among them the longest around his solo trip. THey had lend a helping hand teaching him malanhly song all to help him process oh what he believes the death of his brothers. He would have given up everything to spend a moment with them again.

John sing, finger twirling around immerse himself at the moment. 

Hey brother

There’s an endless road to rediscover 

Hey sister

Know the water sweet, but blood is thicker

Oh, if the sky come falling down 

For you 

There's nothing in this world i wouldn't do 

Hey brother do you still believe in one another?

Hey sister. Do you still believe in love i wonder 

Of, ther the sku comes falling down 

For you 

Theres nothing in this world i wouln’t do

Auuaaahhhhhhhhh

What if i'm far from home?

Oh brother, i will hear you call 

What if I lost it all

Oh sister, i will keep you out

Ohhhhh, if the sky comes falling down 

For you 

There’s nothing in this world I woulde- Branch , Bity. Hey, whatsapp

John yelp as he shuffle on sitting position, as he face Branch who stood there by the doorway. His chubby cheek turn up as he smile and giggle. 

Branch didn't say anything opting to listen to his brother as he bring himself to John bed struggling a bit Before John bring him up resting him beside him as Branch look upward scoot closer. Branch mouth open. 

“ Heeey brother, there's an endless road to rediscover ” Branch mimicked. John lip twitch upward it reaching to his eye.  

John continues “Hey sister, I know that water is sweet, but blood is thicker.”  

In syn “ ohhh, if the sky comes falling down. For you. There nothing in this world i wouldn't doooo”

Both of them laugh, john felt finally at peace having even with one of his brother, it was all he need to make up for the decades of wishing to be there with them during their childhood.

“Let go it again”  Branch clapped as he look up with stars on his eye. 

“Anything for you bitty” 

Chapter Text

John and Branch were getting ready for a trip to the market. As John preparing his coat adjusting it with his hand holding on a toad bag Branch play around his plushies. 

“John! Why is it biting me? AHH!” Branch yelled at the top of his lungs, as the doll he was holding pressed against his face, motion of bittimg him as Branch let out a playful scream 

John rolled his eyes now ready to leave. They were running low on groceries, and the Troll market was the best place to get everything. 

Plus, it a trip john always look forwarded to. Since he left everythign was in ruin, no stall was ever set up the week before the escape as the area of where the market place would have been was all flat and dusted on the cripling tree, the bustling market had turn to nothing more but an empty space with printed troll foot that used to walk around there every day. 

As John stood by the door, Branch, still playing with his doll, rushed past him and quickly latched onto John, climbing onto his back toward his hair.

“Aren’t you getting too old for this?” John teased, unfazed by Branch’s antics. John adjust his goggles to his head as he straighten his hair to be presentable. 

“No, I’m not!” Branch giggled. “I’m not even a year old yet.”

“Well, I am, I might get a back ache from carrying you around all day,” John joked.

Branch rolled his eyes with a grin still plastered on his face. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Now, let’s go!”  Branch swing his hand up his arm outstretched pointing onward like an explorer. 

Without further comments, John complied, setting off toward the market. They walked through center of the tree, the flattened area now a makeshift market, hidden far from the peering eyes of the Bergens. The setup created an illusion of normality amidst the ever-present danger, hoping a safe space to covered the bar that cage them their whole life.

Walking through the stalls, John kept an eye out for the groceries on their list, while Branch hummed out of boredom. John hummed as well, trying to remember where a specific stall was, occasionally waving at a somehwhat familiar face. He barely remembered anyone, but he was polide as he comply to acknowledge any greeting whether it fan or neighbor. Few times he was stop he quickly excuse himself with striking a pose with a cheering fan who went away hype and whispering of meeting one of Brozone member. 

John felt a farmiliar sense of fullfillment to make up the Troll days. It what he enjoy about music making other smile and aspire by him and his accomplish. Thought it had turn into a ugly form of it and John had a perfectly good reason, one he isn’t proud of.  

John stopped at a candy stall, making small talk with the Glitter Troll behind it. John had known his father, often stop by for a free candy given to John whenever he work around the market place. Now the son was running the stall while his dad was away, having some sort of important discussion with the king. That gave John a little spark, the possibility the king start taking action of the early escape give John hope. 

John felt Branch’s head pop out from his hair, eyeing the candy stall excitedly. With a grin, John pulled out some coins and bought the candy Branch had pointed at. The little Troll cheered, stretching out his hand as John placed the candy in it. Branch immediately retreated back into John’s hair, happily munching away.

“Trolling…” the glitter Troll vendor chuckled, and John joined in the laugh.”Say John, you think you’re other brother want some too, ill aded the usual bonus with it”

“Maybe not today, P. Got to run quickly before the vegetable turn rotten” John said, ignoring the stinging pain mention of his brothers, paying for the candy and bidding goodbye to the vendor.

Branch, still savoring the candy, popped out again and patted John’s forehead to get his attention. He offered John a piece, and John gladly took it, popping it into his mouth with a hum of satisfaction. Branch giggled before retreating back into his hair.

As they continued walking through the lively market, John admired the Trolls buzzing around. The market wasn’t as crowded as it used to be, so they were able to move freely. Somehow, John bumped into someone, and both of their items dropped, scattering groceries and books as they quickly shuffle themselves up.

“Sorry about that,” John mumbled as he bent down to gather his things. When he looked up, his eyes widened. The Troll he had bumped into was his brother, Clay.

Clay straightened up, adjusting his dark green sweater, which draped comfortably over him. His hair was still neatly kept, though shorter than before. His face, however, held a mix of shock and rage. Clay bend down taking the book from the ground, the pages was unharm but it startle Clay he flip the pages ensuring no damage done to the book. 

They both stood there in silence only sound oflipped pages and can clinging from John bag, the air between them thick and heavy to the chest. John gulp down his nervousness, well traveling back to time doenst mean you can predict everyone move, so to day this was a surprise meeting clay and should have been his top of probability of how his day living around the troll tree woudl have been. 

“Hey, sup, bro?” John said, trying to break the tension with an awkward smile.

Clay’s expression darkened as he tightened his grip on the book in his hands. “I thought you were supposed to be at Nevergalde Trail - What happened to that?” he spite, his tone cold and force.

“I... changed my mind,” John replied with a shrug giving his best JD smile.

“John Dory, changing his mind?” Clay raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it as he adjust his hold onto the book. 

John tried to shift the conversation. “So, you - reading anything today?”

Clay’s eyes flickered with annoyance. “Yeah, a book club meeting today. It’s... nothing important.”

John knew Clay had always been into reading, especially sad books genre in particular. But there was unsaid rule between John's management during Brozone and Clay active reading habit, that it shouldn't be brought up to be shown directly to the audience it would have ruin the fun boy image. John picked those quirk title because it was easy, it was one of the thing John loved about his brother all so different but perfect. But of course those fun title turn nothing more but a chain around his brothers identity, John had ruin the part that makes them perfect already. John glad his brothers persisted despite John error on rmanaging them, they were able to find themselves in the future, perhaps in here John can be the one to help them to be their better self. Who knows what the future might bring, John a passenger and a pilot all at the same time for traveling back in time. 

John smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m making lunch later. You wanna join us?”

“I can’t,” Clay muttered, standing straighter as he hugged the book to his chest. “I’ve got stuff to do. Important stuff, this is serious Clay, no Funboy operating today. ”

John’s smile faltered, is this what clay think of John view on him, it expected but it hurt, but he kept his upbeat attitude. “That’s cool. Just make sure to come back home, okay? Branch and Grandma miss you.”

Clay’s gaze shifted away, his lips pursed. He nodded but didn’t say anything.

Before John could press further, a small marble candy dropped from his hair, rolling onto the floor.

“My candy!” Branch shouted, popping out from John’s hair. When Branch’s eyes landed on Clay, he lit up with excitement. “Clay!”

“Baby Branch!” Clay’s face softened as he reached out, scooping Branch into his arms and swinging him around playfully. Branch giggled uncontrollably as Clay spun him around before pulling him in for a hug. “I missed you, Baby Branch.”

“I missed you too!” Branch beamed, snuggling into Clay’s embrace.

“You’ve been behaving, right?” Clay asked, still smiling as he ruffled Branch’s hair.

Branch nodded proudly, holding onto the remains of his candy.

“Are you coming back to the pod?” Branch asked, his puppy eyes pleading for a yes.

Clay’s smile faltered as he glanced at John and then back at Branch. “I... I’m not sure. I’ve got some things to do, but I’ll come back soon.”

“You promise, you don’t leave right?” Branch asked, his eyes wide with hope.

“I promise, Baby Branch,” Clay said, his voice softer now. He hugged Branch one last time before handing him back to John.

John could see the conflict in Clay’s eyes. “You know, we’re still a family,” John said gently. “Whatever happens, we’ll always be here.”

Clay’s face hardened again, though his voice wavered. “You should’ve thought of that before.”

John wanted to reach out, to say something more, but the moment didn’t feel right. Instead, he nodded, unease smile curve on his lip but it a smile anyway, watching as Clay turned to leave.

“I’ll tell Grandma yous said Hi,” John called out. “Take care, Clay.”

Clay paused glancing back uncertainty circle around his eye, his shoulders tensing for a moment, before he walked away without another word.

As John watched his brother disappear into the crowd, Branch, now settled back in John’s hair, sighed.

“Clay promised to comeback. Will he comeback JD?” Branch asked quietly.

John smiled conidently. “Yeah, he will be. He just needs some time alone, I know we all need it.”

“I dont” Branch hummed easily as he plot munching onto his candy. “I have you”

John nodded, “and you have me..I love you Branch, I love you and our brothers so much, always have and always will. I’ll do better”

Branch tilt but smile, “c’mon let get home, Im hungry”

John rolled his eye as he laugh, “C’mon. give me back the candy”

“NO! It mine!” Branch pulled back to this hair avoiding John hand reaching toward it, smacking it as John determindly trying to take the pouch of candy away from him.

“Branch dont make it hard than it need to be, im making lunch today” 

“No, never!” Branch yelled laughing as John hand grab the pouch playing tug of war as they John walked back to his pod. 

“Branch!”

Chapter Text

John shuffled through his bag, trying to make space for more supplies. 

The king had just announced their escape a moment ago, the air was tense and silent as all the trolls gathered at their homes, preparing for close coming departure just in the middle of the night. Trollstice was still months away but it didn’t change the thick atmosphere weighing all the troll. The possibility of them escaping after generation cage they can finally be free from the bergen hungry jaw for trolls flesh.

To make sense of it, John thought to himself: name the previous timeline as OG, as the current one he travel back in time TB, no it bad, perhaps he might be able to come up with something more fighting.

He stared at his room, feeling the weight of everything he wanted to bring. But there were some things he couldn’t carry with him—memorabilia tied to memories of his brothers, some which he manage to get them back in his OG. 

Without Rhonda by his side, he have nowhere palace to store them, and it very unlikely he’ll ever be back here, not until major event would probably occur later in the future, a deep sadness settled over him. 

Rhonda had always been there, through thick and thin, for decades when he thought his brothers were all lost, eaten at the troll tree.

Back in the OG timeline, it had taken John a full week to gather all the memorabilia. He had taken it bit by bit, always careful not to draw attention, because if Rhonda had waited by the tree for him, the Bergens would have surely noticed. 

John never told his brothers, but along the way, he'd created shrines, burning or burying items ties for his brother once he was done mourning—a practice taught to him by the Country Troll. Grief, they said, should not be prolonged, no matter how deeply tempting it is.

John finished packing his notes and tools, testing the weight of the bag. It was enough to carry through the tunnel, a journey that would take hours on foot but only about half an hour if they ran, they were quick on their feat if provoke. 

Not quick, but long enough for the Bergens to notice and prepare their took to hunt them all down without a care. John pushed the thought aside, reminding himself it wasn’t possible—they had planned to leave at night, when all the Bergens were fast asleep, escaping into their dreams to avoid the harsh reality of life without happiness, without troll; for only decades to come. John wonder if he should let Poppy let unity between bergen and troll happened. John would very much like a life for his family without a fear of Bergen ready to eat them on spot, looks like he would have have to set up a notes and board to make a perfect plan to support the future queen.

He wandered through the hallway, taking in the sight of every room one last time. From the living room came the sound of laughter and footsteps circle around. Another footstep walk away from closening their distance with John. A purple hand suddenly rested on his shoulder.

"Hey, Grandma," John said.

"John..." Grandma Rosiepuff hesitated, glancing into the room where his brothers used to sleep. "It okay John, I miss them too."

John faced her as hespoke quietly. "I don’t know what to do with this. I wish I could’ve brought them all home."

"Me too," she said. "You all grew up here. It's hard to leave it behind. But we can’t wait for them, and they’ll find their way back to us."

John nodded. He knew he would meet them again, but he still acted in the way Grandma expected him to. He had raised his brothers, whether he admitted it or not, he was almost like a….He was glad these changes happened everything seem like John expected to happened.

"What if they come back and find nothing but nothing. We won’t be there, i know we can’t stay but it hurt knowing that if they.." John trail off continuing his act of a worried brother he already is.

Grandma paused, then smiled reassuringly. "We can leave a note. Clay and Branch are in the living room. Let’s do that. It'll keep our minds occupied. Get some papers, and I'll make us some snacks."

They hugged before separating. John grabbed one of his notebooks, tearing out some pages and collecting the stationery to decorate the notes. In the living room, he found Clay and Branch running around the couch. Clay crashed into the back of the couch, while Branch cautiously approached before Clay tackled him, and the two rolled onto the floor, laughing.

John smiled at the sight. This wasn’t part of the OG timeline, and he was glad he had brought Clay home. They hadn’t gotten along right away, but it was progress—it had only been a few days, after all.

Clay stopped, noticing John, and nodded before shifting his focus elsewhere, not ready to look at his brother. It was still progress, and John was willing to wait, no matter how long it took.

John laid out the paper on the table, letting the stationery spill across it. Branch immediately jumped at the supplies, grabbing a pink pencil and looking at John expectantly for instructions. Clay sat down beside the table, confused, while John smiled, though it only made Clay more unease seen by his eye. John felt slight sadness, shouldve been expected but it still hurt. 

"Since we’re all leaving, I thought we could leave a note for our brothers in case they come back," John said, knowing full well that they wouldn’t. But he couldn’t tell Clay and Branch that outright. "Just leave whatever message you want. Make sure it’s readable, okay?"

Branch nodded eagerly and began writing. Clay stared at the blank page, deep in thought, before finally starting to write.

John knew how painful it would be if his other brothers didn’t know where they had gone. The wild imagination of trolls could lead to endless, painful possibilities. It pointless, non of the brother will come, Spruce and Flloyd is probably far away from the tree which mean there is no JD intervention torward their journey throughout life. 

John need to adapt, he have Clay and Branch, it woud be mean if John never considered idea to leave a message in case his other brothers would come and find them. John is the leader and it should be expected he be prepared for any scenario, not quite ironic unfortunately. 

Grandma came in with sliced fruit and cookies, and they all ate, trying to make the day feel as normal as possible as life change event just at the corner of the day, the last time they woudle ever be at the troll tree, being around the cage that prevent them to look at the world without fear of getting eaten by Bergen

After a while, Clay stood up, announcing he needed to visit Viva. Promised to come back an hours before the official escape, taking his supply bag with him just in case. He hugged Grandma and gave Branch a tight squeeze before awkwardly nodding at John, who nodded back. Then Clay waved and left.

Branch yawned, a cue John recognized. "I think it's nap time, B. Gotta make sure you’re full of energy before our final trip."

Branch rubbed his eyes and opened his arms toward John, wanting to be picked up. John complied, lifting him close and placing Branch's head against his chest, rocking him gently.

John closed his eyes, feeling the world around him fade as it became just him and Branch. The sound of silence filled the room, but John couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. His mind raced with thoughts of the tunnel escape, any number of things that could go wrong. His breathing grew shallow, his chest tightening, until he hugged Branch closer, feeling the warmth and soft baby skin - grounding himself with little brother content breathing fill in the noise John ears.

John wasn’t the smartest troll, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew things could spiral out of control in ways he couldn’t predict, there are just thing bound out of his control. He tried to push those thoughts away before they sent him into a panic. Carefully, he placed Branch on the couch, wanting for them to be as close to the front door as possible, then paced back and forth, gathering pillows and blankets to make Branch more comfortable.

Branch snuggled into the cushions while John sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa with the table of leftover snacks in front of him. He munched absentmindedly, finding calm in the familiar scents and Branch’s nearby presence. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing, relaxing his body and slowly distancing himself from his anxiety. There was nothing he could do for now—he just needed to relax. He felt himself growing unconscious, his body grow heavy, he felt far away from his current fears and worries. 

At some point, a blanket was draped over him, and Grandma’s voice mumbled something about him being irresponsible for napping in such an awkward spot. Thankfully, there was a rug beneath him. He drifted off, only to be woken by Grandma shaking him frantically.

"John, we need to leave now! It’s sudden—everyone’s already starting to escape. Grab your things, and let’s go. I’ll take Branch."

John blinked himself awake, full of alarm. He checked the time; the escape wasn’t supposed to happen for another next hour. He looked around for Clay but didn’t see him. There was no time to wait. Clay would have to find his way out on his own. John had to trust that he would find a way, like he always has. Withing OG time, Clay lead surviving troll creating a safe haven for the past twenty years all ultilising remaining item to something no troll would have come up on spot. 

Quickly, John grabbed his things and saw Grandma adjusting her bag, Branch already nestled safely on her hair. She nodded ready with bag behind her back

The lights in the pods were off as they stepped out into the cold air. The breeze felt sharp against John’s skin, making him even more alert. He looked around and saw that the cage surrounding the trolls was still intact, but distant banging and yelling could be heard outside.

They ran toward the center of the tree where the tunnel was. Trolls were pushing themselves forward, huddling close to the few lanterns guiding their way. He couldn’t see King Peppy, Viva, or Clay anywhere. Holding Grandma’s hand tightly, he followed the crowd, all of them pushing toward the tunnel, their only hope for freedom.

John hummed softly, trying to calm his nerves. There was movement in Grandma’s hair, and Branch popped his head out, yawning. A few trolls nearby cooed at the sight, trying to distract themselves from their current fear.

"Morning, Bitty," John said with a comforting smile. "Looks like we slept longer than we thought."

Branch blinked, confused, his voice small and sleepy. "Are we escaping already?"

"Yeah, almost," John replied, squeezing Grandma’s hand tighter. "We’re on our way. Just a little longer and we’ll be free. Why don’t you go back to sleep?"

"I can’t!" Branch grinned, looking around the tunnel, his eyes catching on the markings etched into the walls. "Are we going there?" he asked, pointing at an arrow toward the right direction.

John grinned back, proud of his work, just follow couple of those arrow toward freedom. "That’s right."

The tunnel was lit by trolls holding torches and lanterns, lighting the way for the escape. Grandma Rossiepuff gave John a comforting smile, though her eyes were full of worry as she stared off into the crowd.

"Where’s Clay?" Branch asked.

"He didn’t come back," Grandma replied with a sigh, massaging her temples. "I checked on him few hour ago. He told us he’d meet us along the tunnel, no matter what I do he wound’t budge. Stubborn, just like his brothers."

"Hey," John said playfully. "I can be as flexible as a rubber band - just so you know."

Grandma snorted, rolling her eyes with a smile. "Yeah right Doriander."

"Course im right, G-Puff," John teased back.

"Take it back, John," Grandma said, giving him a playful smack before their hand tied together not wanting to let each other go. Branch hummed looking around, his eye curiously look around the structure of the tunnel before his eye widen he shuffle crawling out from Grandma Rossiepuf hair to John Dory as he let him with ease. 

The ground rumbled in the distance, causing every troll to go silent. The once bustling crowd slowed their pace, nervously glancing around. Another tremor hit, this time closer, more intense. Panic began to spread as trolls darted in every direction. The orderly flow of trolls became chaotic, turning into a frenzied wave of bodies rushing back and forth. Items were flung from their packs, tumbling to the ground as everyone fought to push forward.

John felt like being pulled back, and before he could react, a weight landed on his head, sending an icy chill through his veins. His skin crawled with dread. His eyes darted around until he saw her—his grandma, Rosiepuff—pushing through the crowd, her arm outstretched toward him. But before he could reach her, she was swallowed by the sea of trolls pusing forward fearing for their life.

The earth above them cracked, dirt cascading down like an avalanche. Moonlight seeped through, not as a sign of hope, but of impending doom outstretch. Shovels and pickaxes pierced the ground, plunging down at random. Screams and shouts echoed all around, but John couldn't focus on the chaos. His only thought was survival as he dodged the trolls who were scattering in every direction toward the same destination, would they escape - no focus JD. His experience of running in OG helped him drudge troll through the crowd, but his body, easily tired, unable to catch up as quickly John would have like.

John's breath hitched in his throat, fear creeping in as the weight on his head grew heavier. He wanted to cry, but there was no time. He needed to run. Fewer trolls surrounded him now, a worrying sign. He focus on sound surround them, hoping to hear familiar voices. Passing by trolls too exhausted to move or unable to move at all from their ingury, his eyes searched desperately for a familiar flash of yellow hair—Clay hoping they are not apart of those who is going to be left behind. He scanned the distance and spotted what looked like a group far ahead, including a trail of yellow and pink. A voice call him out opposite of those figure. 

"JOHN! JOHN, I'M HERE! KEEP RUNNING!" His grandma's voice rang out, desperate and trembling. She was struggling, caught in the stampede, barely managing to stay on her feet as trolls shoved past her.

John's heart clenched. He slowed down for a moment, glancing back at her, her face full of horror and desperation, hand outreach for him to grab and not be separate from this chaos. 

Then he turned backward again, his mind racing. He had to catch up to Clay. He had to find his brothers. Pushing himself harder, John gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the growing ache in his legs. He hardened his hair, securing Branch on the center keeping him in place—there was no telling how bumpy the next few moments would be.

As the crowd thinned, he could see the roof of the tunnel still holding, but cracks were forming. The shouts of trolls and the ever-present rumble of the earth were constant now. John’s gaze followed the path ahead, catching sight of the two yellow-haired figures leading the way. He knew they had to be close to the troll tree. He just needed to push a little more.

Suddenly, the ground behind him gave way, and the tunnel roof caved in between them. John yanked Clay away from the group just as a shovel came crashing down. He threw Branch against his chest, shielding him as another pickage stabbed into his hair, pinning him to the ground. Blood dripped down his scalp as the shovel ripped through his hair, dirt piling up around him.

"CLAY, GET BACK!" John shouted, voice strained as the rubble built up around him.

Clay, frantic, knelt beside him, digging desperately at the earth, trying to free John. "You idiot! What were you thinking?! NO NO NO, JOHN IM SORRY!"

John’s hold onto Branch as Branch cried onto John chest not wantingto let go, his voice low but steady. "It’s too late for me. Take Branch and go."

"No! I'm not leaving you! Not again!" Clay's voice broke, tears spilling down his cheeks as he continued to pull at the dirt. 

When it didn’t work he try out to hold onto the crying Branch but he wound’t budge smacking hishand away, John remained trapped. His hands trembled as he cradled his brother comforting Brnach, John look up at clay pleading. Meeting Clay eye filled with terror and trembling form. 

"No, no, no... It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!"

John forced a weak smile. "Listen to me, Clay. I’ll meet you at the golf course, alright? Just go. Read your sad books You dork."

"JOHN, NO!" Clay cried, but before he could protest further, a massive hand reached down from the darkness, grabbing John and Branch both.

The Bergen's ugly grin filled John’s vision as it hoisted them into the air. John let out a shout, clutching Branch tight as the ground vanished beneath them. The trolls below became nothing but dots as suddenly Bergen came from the back the one hosting John and Branch; the Bergen fought to get them the push sending it stumbling throwing John and Branch. John tumbled free, crashing to the ground, Branch still in his arms shaking like a leaf as he press his head closing his vision away from the action surround them. John shuffle his jacket close wanting to covered Branch as much as possible.

Groaning, John staggered back to his feet, his legs barely holding him up. Blood trickled down his face, but he forced himself to move, his only thought now survival. The Bergens fought among themselves in the distance, their shouts shaking the very earth.

John ran, he pushes Branch onto his already damage hair harden the edge act as protection, John felt the warm blood dripping on the side on his head, but he ignore, hand free but painted by his glitter blood, his vision blurry, the trolls and the tunnel blending into one. He pushed himself harder, knowing that he and Branch had to survive, survive to the next day. Nothing else mattered.

He spotted an opening, a small clearing ahead, the tunnel narrowing as fewer trolls funneled through. The Bergens were distracted for now with the troll who was taken from the tunnel above, but they wouldn’t be for long. Ignoring the glitter of dirt and blood smeared across the ground, John sprinted toward the toward freedom, the struggle on his hair turn more franctic.

His breath ragged, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. The walls began to blur, his body giving out as exhaustion finally caught up to him. But before he could collapse, a hand reached out, strong and steady, pulling him forward as a body pressed onto him carrying him as breeze pressed to him.

John’s world faded to black as his body went limp, the last thing he saw a flash of pink as someone hoisted him onto their back.

Chapter Text

Darkness surrounded John as he lay motionless. He felt a burning sensation atop his head, as if something had stabbed onto his hairt. Hardened feeling on his skin was numbing, but the surface he rested on was unexpectedly the most comfortable surface he had been on since their escape. *Did he die?* The thought crept into his mind. He had pondered death before, but never expected it to come so soon. To John, death had always weird relationship with it, he run from bergen away from danger but venture to Neverglade Mountain with edge on each trail threatened those who attempt to tame it. Dying there was always a possibility, but with Rhonda, he had been lucky, finding a place that was both moving home and a companionship.

During his isolation, he wandered, meeting other troll tribes, but never forming lasting friendships. His longest stay had been with the Country Troll, few months, waiting for a safe passage to the Neverglade Trail but enough to develop friendship with some of the resident. He often wondered about visiting the country troll tribe again during this time. John still longed to return to the mountains, to feel refreshing cold, as selfish as it sound. But he won’t go there alone, he can bring his brother, he dream of it to show - wanting to show his family a found safe spot an experience they might never forgot. But back in OG time and their strain relationship John had with his brother, the request felt like a ticking timebomb - it should be as that was the part of the last word John said before leaving his family. 

John had all the time in the world to plan, he can do it better. Deep down, he knew something was bound to go wrong nothing he can’t be prepared of.

He tried to move, feeling his body heavy and unresponsive. The fabric around him felt strangely weighted, even though it was light to the touch. He heard footsteps approaching, followed by the sound of smaller ones stumbling toward him. He felt the fabric pull as something climbed onto his chest. John lay still, letting it be, before sleep claimed him once more.

Woken up again.  He stirred, he tried to open his eyes. John rub his eye, letting out a yawn. His vision cleared, and he became aware of a weight on his chest. Looking down, he saw Branch lying there, tear stains marking his cheeks. Though asleep, Branch had snuggled close. Gently, John moved him aside and got up, wincing from the pain on his head. He ran his hand through his hair, surprised by how much shorter it had become with a bandage warp sound his forehead to his hair.

He looked outside, observing the bustling trolls below, working with tools and fabrics, constructing pant pods in the air, mark around the tree for the position. There were only hum, no strong song as a sense of melancholy hung in the air, all of them look unfocus trying to distract themselves. 

Trolls had always been fast builders, a necessity when they lived under the constant threat of Bergens. Broken furniture and abandoned pods used to litter the ground after residents had been recklessly picked off by the Bergens.

Space was scarce, and they couldn’t be picky.

John recalled learning in school that Pop Trolls once lived across multiple trees, but that all changed when the Bergens discovered their existence and began farming them for happiness.

But on OG time, John marveled at how Pop Trolls had finally found their freedom, reclaiming what had once been taken from them. Seeing the pods spread across the trees, with lights glowing and trolls greeting each other openly, filled him with joy. It was beautiful—a newfound sense of freedom that John had never experienced, even during his own travels.

He stepped outside, feeling the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze through his hair. It was comforting, but a part of him remained troubled. He remembered the last time he had seen Grandma, running after Clay. John wasn’t quick enough to sace Clay nor Viva, the rest of the troll all their faith unknown. He felt like he owe a visit to King Peppy, would they blame him for his daughter possible death. 

John have a safe spot with Poppy. She and Branch were practically engaged at that time and they went along the wacky journey that reunite his once broken family.

He wondered if, in some way, he had influenced their relationship right when he decided to change the time, he came back the next day and change the way Branch and Gramda Rossiepuf see him, in a way. 

If he hadn’t been there, would they still have fallen in love? Was it an arranged connection, or had they naturally found each other if john know how they click each other? John can practically plan their time spending together. He wanted best for Branch.

Branch, shy and reserved, wasn’t one to initiate relationships, but he opened up in time. John believed they would have fallen for each other regardless, that a high chance possibility. He smiled, he would bet on his unborn child they can help his brother to fall in love once again.

John stood there, basking in the warmth of the sun, he heard a shuffling behind him. He glanced back to see Branch yawning, his signature one-tooth showing as he blinked away sleep, his chubby cheek shape taking another yawn. When he spotted John, Branch’s eyes widened in surprise and relief. He scrambled out of bed and launched himself into John’s arms, crying with relief.

“JD! You’re awake! You’re awake!” Branch sobbed, his small body shuddering as he clung to John tightly. “I was so scared… Cupcake… I thought…”

John lifted Branch, looking into his tear-streaked face. “I’m here, Branch,” he said softly, brushing his cheek against Branch’s, eliciting a giggle. “I won’t leave you.”

Branch looked up at him, his expression shifting from happiness to worries as he noticed the bandages around John’s head. He reached out to touch them, and John did his best not to flinch. Trying to ease the mood, John smiled and said, “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest a bit more, and then I’ll be back up there with you and Grandma.”

Branch instinctively nuzzled closer to John’s hair, a natural behavior in young trolls seeking comfort.

“I don’t like being out here. What if the Bergens find us?” Branch whispered, his voice trembling. John rubbed his brother’s hair gently, brushing through the strands to calm him.

“If they come, your big brother’s here to protect you,” John reassured him. But Branch still looked unsure, clinging to John even tighter.

“Grandma’s sad… Clay isn’t here. Do you think…” Branch’s voice broke as tears started to fall. John felt the weight of those words sink into his chest. There was a chance—no, a high chance—that Clay had caught up with Viva and the others. He had to believe it. Clay was smart. He would have made the right choice. John gulped down his fear. Clay had to survive. He had to.

John felt a heavy weight of guilt, wondering if his own selfish decisions had led to the separation Clay from the group of escape Trolls. 

Had John Dory didn’t run off trying to help his brother to catch up with them. To prevent a separation the partly stolen Poppy from growing up with a sister.

If only he hadn’t tried to carry both his grandmother and Clay—perhaps Clay wound’t have stay behind a bit just to save John.  John’s mind haunted him, thinking that his brother might now be paying the price for his reckless actions. The possibility of altering the past and unintentionally putting his loved ones in more danger gnawed at him.

John tried to ignore his own rising emotions as Branch, snuggled close to him, sobbed softly. Tears from his little brother dripped onto John's shoulder, adding to the feeling of helplessness and stress. As they lay together, John could do nothing but hold Branch and let the silence speak for itself. They were together, but Clay was missing, and that absence visible, they were only together for couple of few day before the escape, this would effect them more. They were starting to be a family again. 

Grandma soon came into the room, carrying a tray of food. Her eyes widened when she saw John awake, and she quickly set the tray down before rushing to his side, pulling him into a hug. She gently examined his injuries, her expression filled with sorrow.

"John, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there. I should have done something," she said, her voice filled with regret. But John knew it wasn’t her fault. His rash decisions had led them to this point. If he had found a way to help Clay escape with the others, they might all still be together.

"Clay’s not here," Grandma said, her voice cracking. "King Peppy couldn’t find anyone else. I’m so sorry, John." She pulled him close, her tears mixing with his as she wept. The fear of Clay’s possible demise weighed heavily on John. He hadn’t seen Clay reach the group of trolls, but he wanted to believe he would have survived with Viva. Still, the thought lingered—had John trapping during the escape had delayed Clay enough to not catch up with them other. What if the other troll didn’t escape waht so ever, was there even an escape?

"Grandma..." John choked, his voice breaking as he cried. He felt the overwhelming fear of what the future held and butterfly effect of his own actions could have potentially cause. "I just wanted to find him so we could all be together again."

"I could have lost you all," Grandma cried, though she didn’t blame John for what had happened.

Branch, his voice wavering, asked the question that hung in the air. "What’s going to happen to now?"

Grandma sighed. "We’ll stay together for now, and we’ll be okay."

Branch looked to John with hope. "Clay’s going to be okay, right? We saw him with other trolls... they were on the ground, so maybe the Bergens didn’t get them."

John couldn’t bring himself to meet Branch’s hopeful gaze. He wasn’t sure if Clay had made it or not, and the uncertainty ate at him. He didn’t want to voice his fears and crush that small glimmer of hope nor he want expectation to go high.

“We didn’t see them get caught. They were running, and I’m sure Clay caught up to them,” John said, though not entirely confident in his own words. He wanted to believe Clay had survived, but the guilt still gnawed at him.

Grandma said nothing, but the tired look on her face spoke volumes. She nodded, her shoulders slumping as she looked down at the tray of food she had brought. The exhaustion weighed heavily on her, the strain of the situation evident in the strands of hair that had come loose from her usually neat appearance.

“Eat,” Grandma said softly. “You must be hungry.”

They didn’t say much as they shared the meal. Branch remained close, snuggling against John, seeking comfort. John could feel the tension in his little brother’s grip, a quiet fear that clung to him. Grandma sat by his side, reading a book, her presence soothing but silent. The light outside turned from warm orange to deep red, and eventually to the cool blue of night. Branch, finally succumbing to exhaustion, fell asleep atop John.

Grandma gently lifted Branch and placed him in bed, kissing John’s forehead before speaking quietly. “John, there’s going to be an event tomorrow.”

“Already?” John tried to joke, managing a weak smile. But Grandma’s expression smiled slightly humouring him as she touched his bandage.

She continues her hand carries sleeping Branch close toward the doorway, “It’s something we all need. Not everyone made it out alive. As much as I’d like to believe they all escaped, I think it’s better if we’re there.”

John gave a sad, tired smile. “I’ll come. I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you too, John. Sleep well. And remember—don’t think it all your fault, okay?”

She left leaving John with his mind to keep him company.

But it felt like it was. John couldn’t shake the thought that he had played a part in Clay’s potential demise. He knew the guilt would weigh on him heavily, regardless of what anyone said.

The next day arrived with blue sky and sunshine, contrasting the somber mood of the trolls. Their brightly colored pods hung from the trees as construction tools and maps lay scattered around they were halfway done. 

Despite the beautiful day, the trolls wore grave expressions. Some cried, while others clung to each other, not wanting to be apart. The escape had taken its toll, and now, no one wanted to be alone at the moment. Among them were personal items, photos of their loved ones. Candles flickered, their soft light illuminating the ground each with it own troll gathered around. The trolls  exchanges quiet word, and comforting hugs. Their once vibrant colors had muted, other faded more than others. 

John stood by his grandmother and Branch, all three standing before a shrine to Clay. 

John had hoped to believe that Clay could have made it out alive. They had spent time together in the days leading up to the Great Escape, almost becoming a full family even thought Clay and John havent fully be able to stared each other in the eye nor together alone. 

Branch leaned into Grandma, who held him close, her solemn gaze fixed on the shrine. She looked defeated, standing still as if time had frozen. John glanced around at the trolls who had lost pieces of themselves during the escape—pieces that could never be replaced. He couldn’t help but wonder what impact his decisions had had. Had his actions saved more lives, or had they cause to a greater loss? The guilt threatened to consume him, but he pushed it down.

As John looked out, he noticed King Peppy approaching, his once bright pink now slightly muted. The king walked slowly, nodding solemnly to each troll as he passed. His eyes lingered on John as he came closer, his gaze drifting to the shrine. Beside him, little Poppy clung to his side, looking confused at all the sadness around her people. King Peppy finally reached John and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a quiet acknowledgment.

"I'm sorry, John. There wasn’t much more I could’ve done," King Peppy said, his voice heavy with regret.

“You did all you could. I just wish things had turned out differently. I don’t even know how to feel about this,” John admitted, his voice low.

King Peppy replied gently,“John, this isn’t your fault. You helped make the escape possible. Without you, we might not have had the chance we did.” 

John glanced at Branch and Grandma, who approached and sat beside him in silence. Grandma Rosiepuff gave him a small nod, holding Branch close as they closen to the shrine together

“It doesn’t feel like it,” John whispered. “I could have done something to prevent all of this.”

“What could you have done, John?” King Peppy asked softly. “We all know what the Bergens wanted. We couldn’t change that. None of us knew how things would turn out. We did what we could, and now we let us have a little peace.We have alot going on for tomorrow. But for now, let’s just rest.”

At that moment, Poppy let out a small whine from King Peppy’s arms. Her tiny hand reached out for John, and King Peppy’s eyes brightened as he brought her closer toward John. 

John hesitated, then gently took Poppy from the king. She babbled and giggled, placing her hand on John’s nose, her innocent touch breaking something inside him. Tears filled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, King Peppy,” John said, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sorry about Viva.”

King Peppy smiled sadly, wiping away his own tears as he gently stroked Poppy’s hair. “There are part of me wishing to mourn her forever. I wish I could’ve stopped her from coming last, she would have been a great queen. There’s so much thing I should be doing I wish I could’ve done more. If only then… maybe Viva would’ve made it out alive.”

He paused, glancing down at Poppy, who nestled into John chest munching on her tumb unbothered. “But Poppy needs me, and I need her.”

John looked back at his own family—Branch and Grandma, his remaining lifelines. “I need them too.”

John Dory gave Poppy one last hug as she squealed happily, then handed her back to her remaining family. “Take care, John.”

“Thank you, King Peppy,” John replied quietly.

John walked over to Grandma Rosiepuff, who looked up at him with sad eyes. She scoot as he sat beside her, and he leaned his head on her shoulder finding comfort beside her. Together, they gazed at the shrine, the picture of Clay resting beside Brozone memoribillia thunderdrawer and a book John manage to save from the pod, with a candle glowing softly between them. The flame flickered, and wax pooled beneath it, but it never went out. They stayed there for hours, silent and lost in their thoughts. Eventually, they left the shrine, retreating to their temporary pod for some much-needed rest.

They had done enough for today. Tomorrow, there would be much more to be done.

Chapter Text

Early in the morning, as the sound of distant critters filled the air and the singing of other trolls brought the village to life, there stood a pink troll darting around, giggling mischievously, few can spectate, it not uncommon for the princess to run from her royal pod. Her laughter made all the trolls glance back from what they were doing, amused at the sight of the helpless king trailing behind trying to catch his runaway princess.

Poppy dodged and greeted the trolls around her, the sun's warmth energizing her even more as she started to run for another happy day. She glanced around, searching for an escape route, and spotted a familiar sight: a navy-haired troll holding hands with his grandma as they schemed around the grocery stalls.

Poppy sprinted toward them, playfully hiding behind their them, using them as cover to hide from her father. She stare innocently at Branch, who wore a confused and annoyed expression, while his grandma merely sighed and smiled, reverting her focuse on the groceries in front of her as she discuss with the vendor.

She could hear her father calling out, and as she glanced back, she saw him searching for her. The trolls around them chuckled, giving the king friendly waves but clearly humoring the princess's little game of hide and seek. It almost felt nostalgic, like escaping duties ran in the family.

"Poppy, what are you doing?" Branch asked, unamused by Poppy’s latest attempt to escape her royal responsibilities. "Shouldn't you be busy with your tending duties?"

"Aww, Branch, it's so boring! Another lecture with trolls telling me stuff I already know! I can't stand it anymore, it's like I'm going to die from boredom!" She dramatically put her hand to her forehead and stuck her tongue out, while Branch rolled his eyes.

"Can I stay with you and JD? I might’ve done something—"

"POPPY!"

"Eep!" 

Suddenly, a glitter troll appeared next to the king, though his usual shimmer was dulled by paint and foreign-colored glitter. Branch raised an eyebrow. 

"You didn’t..." he asked, as Poppy nervously giggled.

Grandma Rossiepuff, done with her shopping, motioned for Poppy to join them with an unimpressed look. Branch followed along as they left the king and the glittery mess behind. They wandered back to the pod, which sat lower to the ground than most other high above surround the vPop Village. Its balcony and ladder on the edge were designed to help a a certain someone in the family. Normally, pods were high to avoid ground critters, but no creatures had posed a threat for years, so it was considered safe.

"I’ll make sure to tell the king where you are in a few minutes. You kids unpack," Grandma Rossiepuff instructed when they arrived. "That includes you, Poppy. My pod, my rules."

"Okay, Mrs. Rossiepuff," Poppy replied with a mischievous grin. As soon as Grandma left, Branch gave Poppy a side glance, what kind of troll can get themselves more trouble, with Poppy anything possible.

They set about unpacking the groceries. Branch took out eggs, carefully separating them from the pre-made food, while Poppy helped.

"You know," she said with a teasing smile, "I still don’t get why you don’t want to join me for royal lessons. You’re smart - we could even be study buddies!"

Branch snorted, shaking his head. "I don’t really like being far from my pod."

"Come on, Branch! You never leave unless it’s for a playdate or a village event, and even then, you only go because JD drags you out!"

"He doesn’t *drag* me out. He wants to go, so I go with him. It’s not like I don’t like playing with you. I’m just... scared."

"Scared? Of what? The Bergens?" Poppy scoffed, placing a carton of milk down. Her unimpressed look met Branch's arms crossed defensively.

"They could still be out there," Branch muttered. "If I’m not careful, we might not get to have another playdate. I... I don’t like that."

"Branch, it’s okay," Poppy said, her tone softening. "When I’m queen, I’ll make sure all the trolls are safe. No Bergen will ever get past me!" She struck a serious pose, puffing out her chest and hands making goggle eyes, which made Branch laugh as Poppy stick her tongue out continue the happy sound from Branch.

The sound of footsteps interrupted them as JD entered, yawning. Branch’s face lit up as he rushed to his older brother, giving him a tight hug. JD laughed, patting Branch’s back.

"Hi, JD!" Poppy waved enthusiastically.

JD waved back, glancing at the groceries and then flashing a sidelong smile. Poppy noticed how Branch practically beamed in his brother's presence. The closeness between them made her a little envious. She wished she had a sibling like Branch. Maybe she could convince her dad to get a date, so she could have a sibling of her own. After all, more love in the family meant an egg could pop out eventually, right?

"Hey, Popstar, did you run away again?" JD teased.

"I didn’t run away! I *escaped* another boring class! Can you imagine? Being a princess is so dull. Even the teachers sometimes  fall asleep during the lessons!"

Poppy drew a mock face on her teacher, causing JD to chuckle. "Good job, Popstar. Keep at it, and maybe I can convince your dad to let you go camping with us." 

Poppy beamed at the idea. 

"John!" Branch scolded, flustered. "Poppy has responsibilities! She can't just—it's not right!"

John smirked at his brother’s reaction. "Or maybe you're just jealous you don’t want anyone else at our secret spot."

"Grandma comes!"

"Yeah, but only because she’s family."

"That’s not true!" Branch protested, but his argument fell flat.

Poppy watched the brothers bicker, smiling but feeling a sinking sensation in her chest. It was hard to place, but she felt a little lonely more than she should. She have her friend, she have her soon to be people depending on her. Sure, she escaped from her royal duties, but it wasn’t like her father would die from the stress of worrying about her. He might lose a few more hairs, but that was it. The royal pod just felt so... empty. The long hallways, the rooms, the doors, more rooms. 

After unpacking, Poppy and Branch sat on the floor, working on their drawings, while John sketched something in his notebook on the couch. Poppy was curious about what John was always writing in that book but didn’t pry. She always sheen that book with John daily navigation around the village, it how she know the early time of the day. 

Branch showed her his sketch of a bunker. It was detailed and intricate, and she remembered how Branch had talked endlessly about bunkers to his classmates. His passion for them had earned him the nickname "Gnome-Troll," a nickname Branch had embraced with pride.

It eventually grew into a competition to see who could build the best bunker in their backyard. The school began receiving complaints about the holes and makeshift forts filling the play area, constructed from various bits of trash and random materials the trolling could find. Despite the mess, the children were fully immersed in the fun of their creations.

Poppy was always eager to help Branch with ideas for his bunker, aiming to make it not only a safe escape from Bergens but also a fun, livable space for all the trolls. At first, Branch was hesitant about the idea of other trolls sharing his bunker. He had envisioned it as his personal hideaway, but with Poppy’s encouragement, he expanded his vision. Together, they improvised and designed a larger, more complex structure, connecting the original bunker to additional spaces with beds and storage for the whole community.

Branch initially wanted to include a waterfall, but after a heated debate with his teacher during on the lesson at school about the practicality of an underground housing system with a natural water source, he reluctantly erased the waterfall from his plans. Poppy, undeterred, suggested they could install pipes for a large shower as amazing as a waterfall. It wasn’t exactly a waterfall, but it could still make Branch’s dream bunker more prominent.

Planning the bunker is fun, Poppy couldn’t help but overhear her father’s discussions with the lead construction troll responsible for the village’s housing and building. She listen how carefully the planned housing and essential buildings for all the trolls. It may not be out there, but Poppy admired her father dedication and the work he put into making their village a safe and happy place.

Poppy helped him brainstorm ideas, wanting to make the bunker more fun and huge. If a bunker was a place to hide from Bergens, why not make it livable for everyone? 

Grandma Rossiepuff returned with a basket of fruit. She smiled warmly at the sight of them working. She set thebasket down and raised an eyebrow at Poppy.

"Your father’s worried about you, Poppy," she said, gently scolding her. "Worried enough to make up a present for me for my passed birthday. You know how busy he is, but he still cares."

Poppy sighed, helping set the table with Grandma’s freshly made pies and side cupcake. 

“Can i have some” grandma rossiepuf smirk. “I don’t know are you goanna run away from this “

Poppy gasp flabber gasterd, “from cupcakes. NEVER!”

They all gathered around to eat, chatting and laughing over cupcakes.

They all snapped their heads up as they stood from their seats, abandoning their half-eaten cupcakes.

“How’s everyone doing today?” John Dory asked, a smile on his face.

“It was great,” Grandma Rossiepuff said, taking a sip of her steaming tea. She sighed in contentment, then added, “The King and I had a little chat about a certain *issue*.” She raised a brow at Poppy, who chuckled nervously. “But we came to a compromise—Poppy and us will have a weekly date, so no more escaping from boring royal lessons there.”

Branch grinned. “That’ll work. Now I won’t have to hide Poppy in the janitor’s closet every time she runs from class.”

“You *what?*” John looked shocked, a bit of frosting on the corner of his mouth as he held a half-bitten pies. Shaking his head, he sighed, taking another bite before retreating for second slice. “I thought there’d be more.”

“Hey!” Branch tried to be the reasonable one, though he was grinning.

“John,” Grandma Rossiepuff warned, though a smile crept onto her face. “Back in my day, I was quite the troublemaker at school too,” she said, her expression growing nostalgic.

John rolled his eyes, taking another bite of pies before washing it down with warm tea.

Once they finished, they quickly left the pod. Poppy jumped down, her hair breaking her fall, with Branch following close behind. Grandma Rossiepuff descended much more slowly by her hair, gracefully floating down, while John opted to climb down the ladder sliding down with experience.

“So, when do you think we can go camping? I want to join this time! I’ll talk to my dad,” Poppy jump excitedly.

“Try asking him, and then we’ll talk,” John replied with a grin.

After a while, the trio left the pod, with Poppy jumping down excitedly.

John, branch, and Grandma Rossiepuf headed to a quiet spot outside the village, where a shrine stood—a memorial for their lost brother, Clay.

It had been months, maybe even years. Branch, now three, approaching four, stood solemnly with John and Grandma Rossiepuff. The shrine centre portrait of Clay, with decaying flowers laid around it. Grandma placed fresh flowers by the shrine while Branch and John wandered off to find more.

As they picked flowers, John paused, staring at a specific red and violet bloom. Branch made a colorful flower crown and proudly handed it to John, who smiled and placed front from his bandage. The bandage on his hairline remained, a reminder of the injury he was still recovering from. It would take years for the bones to partially heal, it leave a scare aroun his crown, but John’s spirit never wavered.

"You think this is enough?" Branch asked, showing off his next flower crown.

John smiled warmly. "Clay would love it."

Branch’s face fell slightly. "I miss him."

"Me too, buddy. We’ll find him one day, I’m sure of it," John said, though he wasn’t sure who he was reassuring.

Branch gave him a confident but worried look. "Don’t be sad, John. We’re family. We’ll be okay."

John smiled uncertainly. They were all each other had left. 

"Thanks for the reminder. When did I get such a smart brother?" John said with a dramatic gasp, throwing his arms over Branch playfully.

"Dork," Branch muttered.

They returned to the shrine, sitting quietly in the soft glow of the battery-lit candle, each lost in their thoughts but comforted by each other’s presence.

Chapter Text

The sun's rays were merciless, especially to those unaccustomed to the heat. Trolls ran, led by a figure of pink and green, escaping far from the forest into a barren deserted landscape. While the flat ground gave them a sense of safety by offering a clear view of any approaching danger, it also left them exposed.

Clay's breath became more irregular with every step, his legs burning from running on the harsh ground. A cold sensation began to bloom in his chest as he gasped needing a break, but he forced himself to keep moving until they finally found a small patch of grass, but tall for the troll, between two cacti, offering a bit of shade from now setting sun..

The group of trolls collapsed to the ground, with the younger ones huddling close to the older trolls for comfort. They were all survivors, they were all in this together. Clay sat there, panting, selfishly gulping in more air as he fought the dryness in his throat. He scanned the barren prying grass that act a walla surround them, the far in landscape nothing but more desert ground.

He glanced down at his bruised and cut body, ignoring the trickle of glitter blood from a n open wounds. Then his eyes landed on Viva. She was tireless, moving from troll to troll, checking on everyone. Pride swelled in Clay as he watched his best friend, now their leader, rise to face the challenge ahead. Some trolls were more injured than others—they couldn’t keep running forever. They are in desperateneed for shelter for anything. The dessert ground for troll who lived their whole life within a tree…it was not safe. 

Clay ground himself, staring at the earth beneath him grabbing a few as he felt ot sunk between his finger. Everything had happened too fast, too little time to process, and no room for hesitation. He was tired, sad, and most of all, conflicted—emotions that only fueled his overwhelming thought to his already exhausted mental state.

He didn’t left from the tree like any of his brothers. Floyd as always ben talking about his solo career outside from the cage, Spruce need to get away from it all, but Clay. Clay wanted to stay on the tree just away from John, from his home, from a palace they all grew up on together.

Clay have his reason for staying, his grandma, his baby brother, and his best friend here. Despite everything—the annual terror of the Bergen raids that plucked trolls like apples—Clay was content. Or he had been, at least. 

Clay prefers to have an overview of progress to result, the finishing project with the labor you put into it. He loved wool and wood working, it was a habit he keep his day occupied. Helping grandma knit a new ugly christmas sweater, to his own clothing - to him it a own of a kind irreplaceable thing no one can take. He take pride onto it to hear his brother praise for his handiwork. He help John with his talent when they are in desperate need for money, he help with the dressing and few research to start of the boyband.

And one and foremost, he can make John laugh more than anyone he knows, like no brother could ever him. He was the smart one he knew to make someone smart is to know thoroughly of the topic you’re turning the joke. Then it all changed, John could’t face him longer than a few momentarily glances, the forced laugh, the lack of praise and acknowledgment that feed Clay confidence. It frustrated Clay to the point where he began avoiding John, spending most of his days outside whenever John returned home after practice. The fun-loving brother who could effortlessly make John laugh had done that same as John had to them. 

He didn’t hate being fun, but he longed for something more meaningful. It was why his friendship with Viva had blossomed—she was fun, carefree, and always cheerful, but somehow, out of all the trolls, she had chosen him to be her closest companion.

It had started with Clay helping Viva catch up on schoolwork, especially the lessons she tended to skip. Clay had a knack for teaching and could collaborate with others to break down complex topics step by step. Viva, on the other hand, found unconventional ways to solve problems, baffling Clay with her ability to come up with solutions no one else would consider. Her essays, while ridiculous at times, somehow made sense. She even came up with the idea of creating food necklaces—an absurd concept, but one that might have been useful on their current situation, would have help them, they are all in middle of nowhere and food is out the window if they could even find any. 

Viva stood in front of him, a young leader separated from her family, with her little sister missing. Clay felt the same sinking feeling—the same fear and loss that had gnawed at him since the day his brother was taken.

He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself as memories of that awful day played in his mind like a broken video reel. The image of John, stabbed with a jagged object, his glittery blood staining the ground with his baby brother hanging desperately not to be taken away from his dying brother. John and Branch both monstrously claws Clay so much familiar of, wherever it went another missing family.  

His brother was gone, and if only he had been better, if only he hadn't relied so much on John—maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe he could have saved him. Maybe...

The months of frustration, anger, fear, and guilt weighed him down. He had lost his brother to the Bergen, and with it, a part of himself. He felt like a coward, the guilt sinking deeper as tears welled in his eyes. Viva's smile faltered as she approached him, her own eyes watering. She rested her head on Clay’s shoulder, offering silent comfort. Clay didn’t cry, though—he couldn’t afford to. Not here. Not now. The tears would only dehydrate him further, and he had to stay strong for the other trolls. He had to help them survive.

As the night descended, Clay awoke to the feel of the hard ground beneath him. He rubbed his eyes and found Viva curled up beside him, hugging herself. He had been using her as a pillow, but now it was time to stand. Stretching, he looked at the sky, noting the shifting hues from orange to dark blue. The other trolls were slowly waking as well.

Clay and Viva discussed their next steps, with all the trolls focused on them

Clay and Viva stood at the center of attention as all the trolls focused on them, their eyes filled with uncertainty and hope.

"All right, operation 'Survive in the Wilderness,' with all these trolls depending on us," Viva began with determination. "What’s the first step, Clay?"

Clay smiled, attempting to ease the tension. "Well, it’s clear we’re not safe out here. With so many of us already dehydrated, we only have a few days to figure things out—or we’ll all be in serious trouble. We need to find protection from the sun, or we’ll develop Sun Toxic. We need to move quickly and maximize our chances of survival. We have to stay away from any Bergens."

At the mention of the Bergens, all the trolls flinched, some letting out nervous gasps. A scream echoed in the distance, and the trolls began chattering anxiously, though the fear in their voices was unmistakable to Clay.

Viva nodded, her expression serious. "We need shelter, food... and maybe tubs full of milkshakes."

Clay gave her an amused look before continuing, "We’ll need to find a place big enough for farming. Somewhere already built, filled with materials we can modify to suit our needs." He frowned as he glanced around, finally taking in their surroundings. The terrain was different than what he’d expected, though Viva seemed to absorb it more keenly.

The trolls in their group began to settle, finding comfort in the ground beneath them.  They weren’t completely out of breath, but they still needed to conserve energy.

"We need a place to stay," Clay said firmly.

Viva thought for a moment before an idea light up on Clay. "Hmm... I remember a road not far from here. Maybe it leads somewhere."

Viva looks worried. Her hand reached out toward Clay, but he stepped back slightly, shaking his head. He didn’t need anything to stop him. He had this. He didn’t always need to depend on his brothers. He could be the one others relied on. He would make sure they all survived—together.

Clay nodded confidently. "I think I should scout ahead. It’s better for everyone to rest up. If I find something, I’ll come back. No point in all of us walking and finding nothing."

Viva bit her lip, looking nervous she look around if trying find anything to solve their issues. "Don’t you want me to come? I can help you."

Clay glanced around at their surroundings. The flat ground made it easy to spot predators from a distance, but it also left them vulnerable. There were a few cacti scattered about, and the trolls could probably use them as weapons if necessary. While hidden on the grass, they were still exposed.

Clay inhaled deeply, forcing himself to project confidence. "Nope, the trolls need you here, Viva. This is your part... and this is mine." He looked ahead, toward the road.

The sun was setting now, offering protection from its harsh rays but also signaling the rise of nocturnal predators. Clay walked close to the road’s edge. He had never seen anything beyond the trees and the Bergen buildings. Could this be a Bergen route? Would they suddenly appear and ambush him? The fear was irrational, but it was rooted deep within him and all trolls. The Bergens were real, and their threat was no joke.

The thought made his chest tighten with a sense of dread. Being alone with his thoughts was the worst part. There was nothing to distract him now. His mind focused on the road, constantly scanning for threats while trying to find a safe place for the trolls.

He wished he was home. He wondered, if the Great Escape had never happened, would he still be resting on the couch with his brothers, reading his sad books? He could almost taste the sweet pastries Grandma made, making sure all his brothers had enough. Usually, Spruce would eat them all before Clay could even finish his first. It used to annoy him.

But after BroZone ended, Spruce barely touched the pastries anymore. That unsettled Clay—seeing so many left untouched. He often watched as Grandma Rossiepuff and John argued other side of the room, usually ending with John storming out the door. Clay might have laughed feeling it like foreshadowing something.

A justified anger stirred inside him. How could John lead his brothers into something like this? Everything was about BroZone. Clay felt like he’d been boxed into a role. He was sure the rest of his brothers felt the same. BroZone was their identity to the audience, but it never felt real to them.

Branch and Floyd had each other—closer in age—but that didn’t make things easier. Clay wished things could go back to how they were before BroZone. Before the fight. He wanted things to be normal again. But they hadn’t ended BroZone because of finances. They all had plenty of money. No, it had been personal. They didn’t mind if it made John satisfied with the boyband continuing. After all, John had given so much for them, practically raised them. They thought they were repaying him for his sacrifice. But Clay couldn’t return that kind of sacrifice, no matter how much he gave. You couldn’t repay someone for giving up their childhood to raise yours. And then, something had broken between them. They couldn’t keep up the selfless act anymore. They are still trolls with passion and identity tied to their core. 

Clay shook off the memories as he spotted something in the distance—a large wall looming ahead. Surrounding it were trees growing in a clearing. He crept closer, peering through the gate, which had a gap just wide enough for him to slip through. Clay wishes his brother was here, imagining a pep talk John and his brothers had given him to face something scary. Clay slip on. 

He froze in terror at the sight of a clown mascot standing in the middle, seemingly welcoming any intruders. Clay looked around frantically, the large scale of everything reminding him of Bergen Town. Everything was towering, oversized. He darted for cover, finding a hollow woolen shell to hide in. The area seemed empty, but he clung to the soft fabric, listening intently for any sounds.

It appeared safe enough. The space was large, big enough for the trolls to settle. There were patches of dirt nearby, and with the help of the trolls, they could remove the fake grass and plant real crops. He stared at the storage containers nearby—supplies for rhythm snacks. The menu lights flickered on, displaying milkshakes and fries. He could only hope the potatoes were fresh enough to cultivate. They would need those crops to survive.

Clay straps the woolen shell with a stick around him. Using his hair, he stitched the materials together as he climbed to a higher vantage point, giving himself a better view of the area.

It was a golf course, and from his new perch, Clay could see the entire layout it would provide them with everything they’d desperately need. A chilling thought crossed his mind:

How could John have known about this?

Chapter Text

John had a lot on his mind, as usual. If you could count on him for one thing, it was getting everything done on his own. You could say John was his boss—and his own worst enemy—fixating on the smallest details, including the book he'd been writing. Lately, he'd started to worry his family might suspect he was up to something, but his old habits from the Brozone days had stuck to always put his face to his notes book. He was always their manager, their lyricist, and yet not enough to be a brother for his family. 

On his desk lay a blueprint, red lines zigzagging across it. Notes and printed maps covered the surface, all with John's scribbled handwriting. Nearby, a second notebook sat filled with his experiences—things he’d jotted down in case he ever needed to head into the wild again. John’s ‘smart’, but that didn’t mean he could remember everything. Especially not with his past experience and memory colliding with the present. It was better to put it all in writing, to focus something more concern on the present.

He wanted to find all his brothers, but without Rhonda, his trusty companion, it would have taken years to cover all the ground he suspected them to likely settle down. The situation was complicated—back OG Spruce? Bruce sent a postcard a month before Floyd held imprisoned on a diamond. John had been on his backcountry trip in the Neverglade when a small tribe of trolls delivered him a postcard. It had no return address thus John shrugged it off nothing more than a mistaken send to him. Then, the radio message came through, suggesting his brothers might still be alive. The postcard became his most valuable clue to find them all. 

Clay would have been creating a haven space around the Golf Course, but if things changed, and John changed that - that Clay might find a new settlement or…No he have to be alive. 

If the future play out exactly one of his brother would be held imprison within a diamond, they are all talented bunch and if it weren’t them more other trolls would be capture making the future much more complicated.

John didn’t expect to find them all at once, but he knew he could track down Branch at Pop Village for sure the broadcast written down the address down for all those to hear. John can’t be there, he helped rebuild Country Troll Town, he was one of them and he would do much for them as they did for him. 

After his search for the pop troll village, he looks at the empty village with no troll in sight, John finds a royal card about a marriage happening in Bergen Town. It took him hours to sneak in, spying on the Bergens, an impossible smile on their face with troll hanging around them without a fear for thier life. This was a life-turning event, John crashed in midst of the royal wedding a petty move, but all his focus was on his youngest brother to find him and recruit him to reunite all his brothers to save Floyd and their relationship. The rest is all history. 

John sighed, rubbing his temples, frustrated. His injury had kept him from venturing out for his plan start in motion, and Branch was still too young for John to leave him behind. His goal was to raise Branch better than he can ever did making sure to give a better life for his remaining family. He can’t do much, not now - but he can at least plan it all out. 

John needed a break. He grabbed a book and headed to the living room. Grandma Rossiepuff was sewing, humming a soft tune. She acknowledged his presence with a higher note, signaling she’d seen him. John collapsed onto the couch books on his chest as he rest his head with hsi eye close. 

Sound of doors swinging open with an excited footstep enters. John open his arm, eye closed. 

Branch popped in briefly, hugging both John and Grandma before retreating to his room. John smiled at him, a small moment of happiness lighting up his face. He returned to his papers - opening his notebook, his writing messy, with words rewritten and crossed out so many times that no one could have copied his work even if they’d tried.

He began to hum quietly as he worked, the lyrics spilling out of him:

“When life leaves you high and dry”

His voice faltered, off-key. He tried again, clearing his throat.

“When life leaves you high and dry”

I'll be at your door tonight

If you need help, if you need help

John had always been a mess, even as a kid. Becoming a father figure too young, raising four little brothers—that was a big responsibility. 

I'll shut down the city lights

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe

To make you well, to make you well

He’d done whatever it took to keep them safe even when it murked his hand. 

When enemies are at your door

I'll carry you away from war

If you need help, if you need help

Every Trolltice, John make sure plugging their ears so they wouldn’t hear the screams, shouts and begging, he can hear it all. John never wore earplugs himself, making sure detect any noise the bergen close to their dangling pod. 

Your hope dangling by a string

I'll share in your suffering

To make you well, to make you well

The years passed, and his brothers grew up, becoming proud trolls. Then the band idea came. Money was tight, and John couldn’t keep juggling random jobs to support them. Grandma was getting older, and someone had to step up. He became the breadwinner of the family, doing whatever it took to keep them afloat.

Give me reasons to believe

That you would do the same for me

When John father used to be a father active in Johns Life. He and his mother had doted on John, filling him with curiosity and love for the world. Then the Trollstice came, and his mother was taken. John couldn’t even remember how young he’d been when it happened, after that day, he’d been placed in Grandma Rossiepuff’s care for the rest of his life.

And I would do it for you, for you

Baby, I'm not moving on

I'll love you long after you're gone

Grandma had tried to fill the void left by his mother, raising him with love and care but it wasn't enough. Then, one day, his father came back, bringing Spruce with him. It was one of the happiest days of John’s life.

For you, for you

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you're gone

John adored Spruce. To him, his little brother was a gift from their father, someone to fill the loneliness. The years they spent together were golden, John showing him the world, despite Spruce’s sometimes disinterest. Then his father came and leave leaving the growing family without a second thought.

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

As John continued to hum, his voice cracked. He couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in his eyes. Another voice interrupted him, singing along softly.

When you fall like a statue

I'm gon' be there to catch you

Put you on your feet, you on your feet

Grandma Rossiepuff had joined him. She sat beside him on the couch, her voice shaky but filled with warmth. 

And if your well is empty

Not a thing will prevent me

Tell me what you need

What do you need?

Soon, Branch appeared in the doorway, mischievously grinning. He started singing following them.

I surrender honestly

You've always done the same for me

So, I would do it for you, for you

 Branch voice young but earnest. 

Baby, I'm not movin' on

I'll love you long after you're gone

For you, for you

Together, their voices harmonized, filling the room with music.

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you're gone

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

John's voice rang out, “You’re my backbone,” 

Branch, grinning wide, followed with, “You’re my cornerstone.”

Grandma stood, her eyes closed, still swaying as she sang her part. “You’re my crutch when my legs stop moving.”

John repeated, “You’re my headstart,” 

Branch leaped into the air, shouting, “You’re my rugged heart!”

Grandma Rossiepuff joined Branch, her hand swinging in time with the rhythm, as she added, “You’re the pulse that I’ve always needed.”

The three of them sang in harmony, their voices blending and filling the room with warmth. As they sang the chorus together, 

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Grandma pulled Branch close, and they spun around the living room, dancing in circles.

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, my heart never stops beating

John stood, unable to resist the joy of the moment, and joined them. He laughed as Branch jumped up, mimicking John’s movements, while Grandma moved gracefully beside them, her arm wrapped around Branch’s shoulders.

For you, for you

Baby, I'm not moving on

I'll love you long after you're gone

For you, for you

This moment felt perfect to John—imperfect as incomplete not having his whole brother beside his, but perfect enough for him. The music carried them, 

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you're gone

For you, for you

Lifting the weight from his heart as John hold his family close. 

Baby, I'm not movin' on

I'll love you long after you're gone

For you, for you

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long, long after you're gone

As they sing used to each other movement, they slow with their dance move as they sing with lower tones. 

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, my heart never stops beating for you

John sang ending it. 

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

I'll love you long after you're gone, gone, gone

When they finished, Grandma Rossiepuff collapsed into her chair with a content sigh, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "I haven’t had that much fun in a long time," she said with a soft chuckle, her hand resting on her head as a smile spread across her face.

John grinned, looking at Branch, who was practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes sparkling. Without warning, Branch spun and leaped toward John, his arms outstretched. John caught him easily, laughing as Branch wrapped around him like a whirlwind.

“This is my birthday present!” Branch declared with a grin.

“Huh?” John blinked in confusion, looking down at his brother.

“I wanted you to sing for my birthday—that’s my early birthday wish!” Branch giggled, and John smirked, pulling him closer. He planted a quick kiss on Branch’s forehead before tickling him mercilessly, causing Branch to squeal with laughter as he tried to wriggle away.

“John, stop! That tickles!” Branch gasped between fits of laughter, pushing at his brother’s hands.

“Aww, Bitty B’s already turning a year older—becoming a big boy!” John teased, holding Branch by one leg, lifting him off the ground. Grandma Rossiepuff shot John a look. As Branch swung around, laughing harder, used to his brother's antics.

John pretended Branch was a fish on a line, wiggling and squirming as laughter erupted again. “I miss this. Can’t you stay small forever?” John asked, feigning sadness.

“Nooo!” Branch cried, prying John’s hands open and dropping back to his feet. He stood tall and proud, puffing out his chest. “When I’m older, I’m going to protect you and Grandma from the Bergens!” He struck a heroic pose.

John’s smile wavered slightly, but he didn’t want to dampen the happy moment. “We’d be lucky if we don’t meet them at all,” he said, ruffling Branch’s hair.

But deep down, John knew they eventually would. 

The only way to have a life free from the fear of being eaten was to confront the Bergens head-on in the future. To secure a future for Branch for any of his brothers, John would have to play his cards right. If there was a cost to pay, John was determined to make sure his little brother wouldn’t be the one to pay it.

Anything for a better life for his brothers. Anything.

Chapter Text

Branch sat at his desk, surrounded by a sea of crumpled papers, each one representing a failed attempt at his bunker design. He let out a frustrated groan, running his hands through his hair, which now stood wildly in all directions. His latest sketch sat before him, but no matter how much he worked on it, it still felt wrong.

"Ugh, why can’t I get it right?!" Branch muttered, throwing down his pencil. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His mind was blank, completely locked out from the creativity he desperately needed.

He glanced at the pile of rejected blueprints and sighed. This is what John must've felt like when he hit a block with his music. Branch had seen his brother go through it so many times, struggling with an idea that refused to come together. John would work himself into exhaustion, telling Branch that if you wanted something done right, you do it yourself . But then John would come walking out from the house wondering around much to Branch fear, John would say inspiration would struck you if you move around, the sensory would get your gears working. 

But Branch wasn’t just trying to make some random song for the trolls; this is a bunker their apogoplictic safe housing for his family. For John, for Grandma, and perhaps for all of the Troll Community. And he needed King Peppy to see how important this was. 

"I need to make it perfect," Branch whispered, feeling the pressure tighten in his chest. He had to get the trolls behind this plan. The bunker was too big of a project for him to handle on his and his family support. He needed the whole community's help, and the only way that was going to happen was if King Peppy approved the idea. 

Grandma Rossiepuff's words echoed in his mind: Work through it, Branch. Even if it feels like you’re stuck, just keep going.

Branch looked at the mess of papers around him and sighed again. "Yeah, Grandma, easier said than done." 

He tried sketching again, the pencil trembling slightly in his hand. Line start as he scramble on drawing the draft of the messed shape that closely shape of the interior underground of plan bunker it still vague. But as soon as he started, doubt crept in. He couldn’t see the design clearly in his head, couldn’t imagine how it would all come together. His mind felt like it was kicking him out, refusing to let him create.

Frustration bubbled up again, and Branch tossed the pencil aside, running his hands through his hair, hair point wildly and a mess. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him. He’s going to present this plan to King Peppy on his birthday, which was just around the corner. But here he was, stuck, unable to even finish a single drawing.

His thoughts drifted back to the Bergens, to the fear that gripped him whenever he thought about them. He could still remember that horrible night, the night that had changed everything his world view on everything. Despite John reassurance, Branch was helpless to help John in return.

“John! John!” Branch had cried out, clinging to his brother’s hair as they ran through the chaos of Trollstice. His small hands gripped tightly to the strands, the only place that felt safe.

John’s voice was barely audible, muffled but the chaos around them. Then a force tilting John head, sliding Brranch almost out from the hair as he grip trying to curl making himself as small as possible. 

Then muffle voice with a familiar high pitch voice Clay has before a yanked bringing him out from the hair as he was pressed against John chest before a force shot top of John hair. Branch look up the sheer edge of a pickage right onto John scallop, Branch eye wonder around his brother bloody face - sharp stench of blood filled Branch’s nose as bits of the glitter blood splatter at his baby face. He lay there at horror. Branch pressed himself wanting to forget from the world around them. John was trap and Brnach can’t do anything but helpless cry onto his chess, wanting to be there for his brother despite his brother attempt to pull him out, he didn’t wanna let go. 

The world around them was a blur of noise and terror. Trolls screamed and scrambled for safety as the Bergens closed in grabbing both his brother and him. Hie world turn dark as he was taken above the sky, exposed. 

He looked out, there face upclose, was the Bergen. It ugly face with it sharp teeth ready to grind them to nothing more than another sad morself unfortunate enough to have their life cut short.

Branch shook himself out of the memory, his heart pounding in his chest. Even now, the memory of that Bergen haunted him. John had fought so hard to keep them safe, but in the end, they had barely escaped with their lives. John was permanently injured and all Branch can do is being there afterward.

That was why this bunker was so important. He needed to build a place where no Bergen could ever threaten them again, where his family would be safe.

"Focus, Branch," he told himself, trying to clear his mind. He looked down at his unfinished drawing. He had to get this right. He wasn’t just doing this for himself—he was doing it for John, for Grandma, for all the trolls.

A soft knock at the door broke his concentration.

“Branch?” It was Poppy’s voice, bright and cheerful as always. “Can I come in?”

Branch hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Yeah, come in.”

Poppy entered, her usual optimistic smile lighting up the room. She took one look at the mess of papers scattered across the floor and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, rough day?"

"You could say that," Branch muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, hand trying to close in his drawing embarrassed the unfinish idea.

Poppy sat down next to him, her eyes scanning the half-finished sketches on his desk. "So, what’s going on? You’ve been working on this bunker idea for all day. I havent seen you at all!”

"I’m almost done with it," Branch said quickly. "I just… I want it to be perfect. If I don’t get this right, then the bunker - King Peppy wouldn’t hear my idea of the bunker."

Poppy frowned slightly. “Branch, no one’s expecting you to do this all by yourself, we’re a team.” 

Poppy attempt to bring laugh from him, “did you forgot you have friend, hehe you have the whole trolls ready to help you” teasing him as she poke him with every end of the word. 

Branch sighed, smiling a bit but his shoulders slumping. "I know, but it has to be perfect and me… John always said that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. And I can’t get this to work. The design, the plan, nothing’s coming together, you and mine ideas like it should. Why can't i get it perfect? this is soo annoying"

Poppy tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "John’s great and all, but he’s not perfect. You know that, right?"

Branch stayed silent, his mind swirling with memories of John always being there, always doing everything for them but he start noticing memories John having his Grandma and the rest of the brother when John needs help.

Poppy continued gently. "You can ask for help. And besides, maybe the trolls will see something in your plan that you didn’t. That’s the beauty of working together."

Branch bit his lip, unsure. He glanced at one of his sketches and sighed. "Maybe…"

Poppy grinned and nudged him playfully. "Come on, Branch. You’ve got a whole team of friends who want to help you. You don’t have to do this alone. We’re stronger together."

Branch looked at her, feeling a small spark of hope. Maybe Poppy was right. Maybe he didn’t have to carry all of this by himself.

"Alright," he said finally, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’ll ask for help."

Poppy clapped her hands. "That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get this bunker designed before you’re Happy Happiest Birthday you will never forget!”

“You said that every years” Branch rolled his eye, smiling brightly. 

Branch felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he looked at the drawings again. This time, with Poppy and his friends by his side, he knew they could make it happen. Because more than anything, Branch wanted to protect his family. And with their help, it would be possible.

Branch stood from his desk, feeling a bit lighter after talking with Poppy. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed something that had been resting there for weeks—John’s old goggles. The straps had frayed slightly from years of use, but they were still intact. The goggles, once a perfect fit for his brother, now rested snugly around Branch’s head. He adjusted them, feeling their familiar weight settle in, a reminder of the strength and protection John always gave him. It was occasional thing before Branch start wearing them whenever John wasn’t looking or napping. And John was napping all day for staying all late. Branch giggle himself, John would get into trouble with grandma on this one. 

“Goggles on. Let’s do this,” Branch whispered to himself, a grin tugging at his lips.

Poppy peeked over, noticing the familiar goggles. "John's old goggles, huh?"

"Yeah," Branch said, tightening the strap slightly. "It really old,I guess I’ve kind of kept them ever since. You know, for luck."

Poppy smiled warmly. “They look good on you, Branch.”

He nodded, feeling a rush of determination. For John, Grandma and Poppy. And For the trolls. For all of them!

As Branch finished adjusting the goggles, his stomach growled loudly, and Poppy giggled. "Before we go, snack?" she smirk, already knowing the answer.

"Sure, let’s grab something quick," Branch agreed putting all the paper into his bag placing at his bag security,, his excitement building as he followed her to the kitchen.

They darted into the kitchen, Poppy pulling out a tray of fresh cookies she and Grandma Rossiepuff had baked earlier. The sweet aroma filled the air, and Branch couldn’t help but grab a couple for himself. He grabbed a paper bag and started filling it with cookies, making sure to pack enough for all his friends who were going to help him finalize the bunker idea.

"Don’t forget Smidge likes extra chocochip," Poppy said, pointing to the growing pile in Branch’s hands.

"Got it," Branch said with a grin, stuffing a few more in the bag.

As they made their way to the door, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from upstairs, followed by a familiar voice.

“Not again! Branch! Branch, where are my goggles?!” John’s voice boomed through the house, sounding half-awake, half-annoyed.

Branch froze for a second, then looked at Poppy, who was holding back a laugh. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, *Well?*

Branch quickly pulled the goggles down over his eyes, the big lenses now sitting just above his nose. "Oh no, he noticed!" he whispered dramatically, grinning.

Poppy snorted. “Run for it!”

Without another word, Branch and Poppy sprinted out the door, laughter spilling out of them as they raced into the bright sunlight. 

"Where are my goggles?! Branch?! I know you took them!" John’s voice trailed off as the pair disappeared down the path, giggling like kids.

John’s distant yelling grew fainter as they put some distance between themselves and the house.

Branch adjusted the goggles on his forehead as they ran, the familiar weight comforting him. With his friends behind him, the cookies packed, and John’s trusty goggles resting snugly on his head, Branch knew today was going to be perfect. 

As they made their way to meet the others, Poppy elbowed him playfully. “You know, you’re gonna have to give those back eventually.”

Branch grinned. "Maybe. But not today and not tomorrow."

They laughed together, their footsteps light as they headed toward others. They would create idea for the betterment for the Troll Village - toward safety, family, and a bunker would be the one protect them all.

Chapter Text

John paced around the house, searching every nook and cranny. "Branch!" he groaned, kicking aside a stray sock. "My goggles” John grumble.

John sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had stayed up all night, this time not expanding his ever-so-mismatched cupboard but because he was fixated on two things: future plan list for a trip to Neverglade Trail and perfecting the song to sing at his brother's birthday. 

While John doesn’t mind as much as he should have, his brother ‘borrowed’ his goggle. The goggles itself was more a cover up preventing his scar from being exposed currently all his time living back with the Pop Troll Community, he adjust change to use a roll wrap around his head make it slightly more comfortable and firm but still he prefer having his goggles over it goes with his style. 

He adjusted it slightly as the scar was rubbed again, a wave of discomfort. As he instinctively brushed against his hair comforting himself, his hair became rather sensitive and not strong enough to be extended long like other pop troll initial hair abilities or hold any heavy item for a long time.

 It just hard, Pop troll hair is their support to do chores or labor tasks everyday, much less energy invested and convenient. 

The permanent damage didn’t happen in his OG timeline. Though he heard stories troll adjusting lifestyle for any damage done their hair or hairline able to overcome them just fine; he seen Mustache becoming a lasso from the country tribe, so that's something. 

John stretches up, hearing his bone crack. He needed to go to the troll market now, might as well time for him to kill time.

 John shuffled into the kitchen where Grandma was sitting, flipping through an old recipe book. "Grandma, you need anything from the store?" he asked, adding some items to a list.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," she mused, looking up. "We need more flour and eggs for cakes and cookies. Branch took the last batch of cookies again to share with his friend. That kid, he should have told me if he didn’t want it to be shared with us. I haven’t taken a single piece"

John shook his head, chuckling to himself. "First the goggles, now the cookies. What’s next?"

Grandma gave him a soft smile, her eyes crinkling. "He is a handful. Him and the rest of his friends. Can't believe it, our little boy turned to a slightly bigger boy. My beautiful grandson all grown up"

John chuckled as he lean against the counter. They shared a quiet moment, the peaceful kind of silence that felt like family. Grandma glanced at John’s list, and her eyes lit up. "Oh! since it’s going to be Branch's birthday soon.  We should probably add milk to the list too. I think this batch this time be more - more fitting with the invites trolls"

John hummed in agreement, writing it down. "Hard to believe how fast time flies."

"Well," Grandma said with a tired sigh, "time only moves one way."

"Forward," John finished the thought, speak for itself - John was thrown back in time with no explanation yet he continued on with his objective in every moment with his situation as time keep counting forward. He earn a nod from grandma with his reply. 

"What do you think I should bake?" she asked, tapping her chin.

"Well, it doesn’t have to be cake," John offered.

Grandma raised an eyebrow. "No pies, John. This isn’t your birthday."

John laughed. "What, not even as a side dish? Come on, pies at a birthday party would be revolutionary."

She shook her head. "No way. Last thing I need is a mini version of you, running around eating nothing but pies."

"Please," John retorted, "I’m the only one who loves your pies like that."

Grandma gave him a knowing look. "Speaking of which, have you thought about getting another pair of goggles? Branch seems to have taken quite a liking to them."

John laughed louder this time. "Yeah, seriously. I keep losing track of them ‘cause of him. Maybe a new pair would make a great birthday present." He smirked at Grandma. "You wanna cover that part? I’ve got the singing down."

"Oh, you’ve got it all figured out, huh?" Grandma teased. "I’ll handle the party, don’t worry. Invitations, schedules, included."

John playfully groan, “can’t you hand the birthday present? Im just so tired right now. I only have the energy to gather the ingredient no more than that”

“It not my problem your fixation got out of hand doing your little project. It be a shame if we didn’t have present, i might have forgotten about it before i could ever give it to the birthday boy ” 

John rolled his eye as he grin, “Aren’t you a bit young to have dementia right about now?”

Grandma Rossiepuff scoffs, shaking her head. “I don’t have to answer that” she flip the next page pretending the read word by word on the page.

John gave her a look before giving. “Ill do it, as long as you don’t suddenly dump all the responsibility on me during the birthday party’

“Deal”

John grinned. "We make a good team, Grandma."

"That's family," she said with a slight smug by the end of the sentence. "We divide up the work— even the stuff we don’t like ."

John sighed, his thoughts drifting pretending to not know. "Should I be the one dealing with the present, I don’t know what I should get him"

"Don’t act so clueless, you already know what Branch wants for his birthday," Grandma said with a wink.

“What all singing and dancing.” John playfully mocked, but he did know what Branch wanted. Adventure Goggles, gosh he’s going to steal John style with those goggles

John gathered his list and set off toward the Troll Market, the hustle and bustle of the colorful streets a comforting chaos to him. Trolls zipped by on tiny carts, trading fruits, crafts, and, of course, vibrant party decorations. He glanced at his list: flour, eggs, milk...and a birthday present for Branch.

He couldn’t help but smile. The goggles. They’d be the perfect gift, especially after Branch had taken such a liking to the pair he always ‘borrowed’. John’s hand instinctively brushed the scar on his scalp, now hidden behind the bandage wrapped around his head. 

The goggles meant more than just fashion or function—they were a reminder of something bigger. A connection to survival, adventure, and the idea that, despite everything, he could face whatever lay ahead.

As John wandered past stalls overflowing with bright fruits and quirky troll-made trinkets, he spotted the familiar glint of lenses in one of the booths. 

The goggles, hanging in neat rows, were all different styles—some sleek and modern, others rugged and designed for more intense activities. His fingers ran over one pair that caught his eye—just the right balance of sturdy and simple, the lenses were pinkish as the wrapper is on greenish color, it similar to the goggle he wore back in OG. it was like an exact replication, it was rather unnerving - john couldn't help but wore around his head feeling a familiarity with them, though John much preferred having a bandage underneath it he gotten liking to it over the year. 

He picked them up, inspecting the fine craftsmanship. 

Goggle have a special love in his heart. His mind drifted back to the daydreams he used to have as a kid, imagining himself and his brothers exploring far-off places like the Neverglade Trail Mountains, where legends said lost trolls and hidden treasures lay. 

The thought of taking Branch there someday brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Maybe, just maybe, they’d find Rhonda there too, he might even find clue for location of his brothers currently at. 

He turned the goggles adjusting over his head as he nodded at the vendor, he will pay em back he will just hold onto itt by wearing around his head as now he try to find the perfect one for branch. 

He caught sight of another pair, similar to the ones he currently wore but with extra enhancements and distinguishment. The goggle isn’t connected as the one he wore they have their separate lenses but the shape similar to his but slimer and less broad when worn on a troll head.

This would help Branch stand out from his brother, it function all the same, wasteland or forestland, these goggles make anyone feel equipped for the unknown or at least that what John said to himself. He hope branch felt the same way as e does of wanting to see the world even when he revert back in time, the changes he make already he wondered if there is any changes to nature, not big but beig that he going to find his brother earlier than one his OG, he wonder how nature itself would take for his little time travel troll who would search the sky and open jus tto reunite with the rest of his brothers. 

After purchasing both pairs, John continued gathering groceries, tossing flour, eggs, and milk into his basket as he walked, but his mind stayed on the adventure he dreamed of sharing with Branch. 

Neverglade Mountain had always been on the horizon, a place filled with mystery and danger. His goggles had always been his reliable companion on those imagined journeys, making him feel braver, smarter, and more prepared for whatever challenges they might face. Now, maybe they could give that same feeling to Branch. 

As John headed to the checkout, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. Branch deserved more than a simple birthday gift—he deserved the adventure, the excitement, the discovery of the unknown. With these goggles, maybe they'd get a step closer to finding Rhonda. And if not, at least they’d face the journey together.

Chapter Text

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the yard as laughter and playful shrieks filled the air. 

Trolling from Branch’s class were darting about, engaged in an intense game of tag. 

In the center of the commotion, Branch stood proudly at the top of the slide, farmiliar orange goggles perched confidently on his face, their lenses catching the sunlight reflecting off a glow surrounding him. With a mischievous smirk, he let out a war cry, launching himself down the slide. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he bolted after the nearest troll, the game intensifying as his classmates scattered, giggling and dodging his pursuit.

In the yard, a stack of presents sat in one corner, brightly wrapped and adorned with ribbons, all gifts from Branch's classmates within it all unique designs suits on the giver. 

The long table nearby was filled with food, including an enormous cake covered in vibrant frosting and decorations, at the center a navy blye frosting stood. Among the spread of varion of food, John spotted a familiar sight—pies. He shot a look at Grandma Rossepuff, who was graciously accepting another batch from the neighbors as she narrows her eye ever so often. John simply shrugged with an innocent grin. Who can deny neighbor gift to help fill in the table.  

John Dory hold guita on his hand and another sheetf of paper with written lyrics. 

Today wasn’t just about the presents or the games—it was about the song. The one he’d stayed up all night perfecting. His fingers ran nervously over the strings of his guitar as he took a deep breath., Grandma Rossepuff stood, clinking a glass to get everyone’s attention.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down!" she called out, ushering the kids to gather around, trolling spiral on the floor and those running away coming back close together. The yard fell into a hushed anticipation, all eyes turning toward John as he stepped out, guitar in both hand. Branch sat eagerly in the front, his legs swinging as he clapped his hands in excitement as the audeince follow.

John cleared his throat and strummed the first few chords. The familiar sound of the guitar rang out, gentle at first, as John began to sing:

You and me  

We found adventure  

I never dreamed that you would change my world forever.

His eyes met Branch's, who was smiling so wide it made John’s heart ache with joy. He could feel the emotion swelling in his chest as he poured his thoughts into the music.

But here we are (But here we are)  

I'm ready to conquer  

Ready to fight injustice like I'm fighting monsters.

The memories came flooding back—memories of uncertainty, of that terrifying day when everything changed. He wasn’t just singing for Branch. He was singing for Clay, for his brothers. Somewhere out there, Clay was waiting, John believed that with all his heart he survive The Great Escape.

Life is black and blue  

Happy, then it's sad  

Just call it an adventure  

Then it ain't so bad.

John’s voice cracked slightly on the last word, but he kept going, letting the rhythm guide him. His thoughts drifted to Clay again, to the grief his family had quietly carried. They had learned to live with it, to move forward, but the uncertainty gnawed at him more than the rest—wondering if Clay had truly escaped, or if he had been lost like so many others. 

Together we touch the sky  

Wherever we go we fly  

Forever we know adventure's in the air tonight.

As John sang, the trolls formed a circle around Branch as he start drooving, posing, spinning and twirling with an infectious energy that made everyone laugh. John couldn’t help but smile, feeling a wave of pride watching his little brother shine. Looks like he didn’t screw up with his brother childhood this time, John sadded, the future wouldn’t be so kind to his brother.

Together we touch the sky  

Wherever we go we fly  

Forever we know adventure's in the air tonight.

The kids clapped and swayed to the beat, some even joining Branch in his stage dance. John felt a swell of emotions rise up—pride, joy, but also a fierce determinatio. He sang for the hope of finding Rhonda, of reuniting his family, of finally setting things right.John let the crowd join in. The kids mimicked the "al-al-al-live," their voices bright and without a care for the world. 

Our dreams will come alive  

Our dreams will come aliv-al-al-al-live  

Al-al-al-al-live

The chorus rang out again, filling the air with a contagious energy. 

You and me  

We found adventure  

In a land of buried mines and buried treasure.

John's voice grew stronger as he continued, feeling his resolve deepen with each note. Dreams of adventure, of discovering the unknown, of conquering the fears that tried to hold them back.

This could be-ee-eee  

My last adventure  

But I will take it  

Whether it be pain or pleasure.

Branch danced wildly, his little feet kicking up dust as he twirled in circles, his laughter ringing out. John felt his heart swell, every insecurity and uncertainty would just hold for a bit, he need to stay where he is right now, being there for his family.

Life is black and blue  

Happy, then it's sad  

But if you call it an adventure  

Then it ain't so bad.

The trolls followed Branch’s lead. The air was electric with excitement, the simple joy of being together and celebrating.

Together we touch the sky  

Wherever we go we fly  

Forever we know adventure's in the air tonight.

John’s voice was strong now, his emotions flowing freely. He thought of his plan, of Rhonda, of the adventure that lay ahead. It was more than just a song—it was a promise to himself, a reminder that no matter what, he would keep moving forward.

Our dreams will come aliv-al-al-al-live  

Al-al-al-al-live.

He finished the last chord with a flourish, the final notes ringing out into the bright afternoon. Branch squealed with delight, clapping his hands furiously as the rest of the crowd followed suit, cheering and calling out for more.

John scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the attention. "Thanks, guys," he said, breathless but smiling. He sometimes play out wandering sometimes he’ll attract a small crowd the other time he stays aside enjoying time alone. 

"Play another song!" a troll shouted from the crowd.

John blink, smirking a bit. catching his breath. “Alright, alright. I’ll play another one, but only if my little brother here helps me out. My throat’s getting a little funny.”

Branch, giddy from the excitement, stood next to John, his orange goggles perched crookedly on his head. John felt excitement for his brother to open his present soon enough. The crowd was buzzing ready to another performance from the duos. 

Branch blinked up at John, excitement bubbling in his eyes, though there was a hint of hesitation. John leaned down and whispered, “Your pick, birthday boy.”

Branch paused, thinking hard, and then his face lit up. “How about… ‘Brozone Back’?”

John’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by this. “You sure?”

Branch nodded eagerly, and before John could react, Branch was already tugging at his hand, pulling him toward the center of the yard. The crowd hushed, eyes glued to the brothers as John strummed his guitar, launching into the familiar tune.

John began the song with a smirk, his voice smooth as he led the first verse:

My girl’s like candy, a candy treat  

She knocks me right off my feet

Branch’s nerves melted away as he followed John’s lead, his voice timid at first, but he quickly gained confidence as the crowd cheered.

She’s so fine, as can be  

John grinned at Branch, nodding encouragingly.

"It’s like a perfect harmony," they sang together, moving in unison. Trolls are tapping their feet and clapping along.

Branch’s enthusiasm grew with each line, and his moves became bolder, copying John’s every step.

Candy girl, you are my world  

You look so sweet, come back to me!

Branch belted out his lines, his voice a little louder now, as he moved closer to John. He spun around, matching John’s pace, his small hands mimicking the older troll’s motions

All I know is when I’m with you (Ohh-ohh),  

You got the right stuff, baby!

John laughed at how seriously Branch was taking it, but the little troll was keeping up. His steps mirrored John’s, their movements synchronized as they danced and sang through the yard.

John leaned into the next line, his voice filled with a bit of mischief:

Love the way you turn me on (Ooh-ooh),  

You got the right stuff, baby!"

You're the reason why i sing this song.

Branch jumped with the beat, his goggles bouncing up and down on his head, singing with all the energy his young voice could muster:

You’re all I ever wanted,  

You’re all I ever needed, yeah.

So tell me what to do now,  

When I want (I want you) you back!

John slung an arm around Branch’s shoulder, and they leaned into each other, belting out the chorus together, their voices blending perfectly despite the difference in age:

Doom, doom, da-dab,  

Yeah-yeah-yeah, ya-rap!

The energy surged as the music picked up, they stood tall hands separate. Together, they shouted into the crowd:

"Dab-da-dab, Brozone back, alright!" John and Branch shouted in unison, their voices triumphant.

The two of them danced side to side, bumping shoulders and laughing as they continued to sing:

Whether you’re a mother or whether you’re a brother,  

You’re staying alive (Ohh-ohh), staying alive (Ohh-ohh)!

Listening as the crowd cheers too. Branch, now fully in the groove, twirled around. 

Feel the city breakin' and everyone shakin',  

And we’re staying alive (Ohh-ohh), staying alive (Ohh-ohh)!

John couldn’t help but grin, watching his little brother flourish under the spotlight.  John took over the next verse with passion, his voice booming:

Ah-ah-ah-ah (Brozone really back again),  

Staying alive, staying alive!

The crowd erupted into cheers as the brothers leaned into each other again, bumping shoulders before shouting together, their arms dramatically extended:

Doom, doom, da-dab!  

Doom, doom, da-dab!

Branch was giggling by now, his voice still strong as he followed John’s lead:

"I want you back!"

The final note hung in the air as John strummed his guitar one last time. The crowd went wild, clapping and chanting “Brozone! Brozone!” as John lifted Branch onto his shoulders, the birthday boy beaming from ear to ear.

"Brozone!" they chanted, over and over.

John shook his head, laughing. “Nope, not Brozone. This is Brozilla!”

"Brozilla! Brozilla!" the crowd echoed, fueling the excitement.

Amid the chaos, a troll from the crowd shouted, “Does this mean Brozo - I mean Brozilla’s back?”

John raised an eyebrow, glancing at Branch who was still bouncing with excitement. He hadn’t exactly planned to start another band, but the idea didn’t seem so bad, especially seeing how much fun Branch was having. He wouldn’t mind it—as long as Branch was comfortable.

John leaned down to Branch. “What do you think, Bitty B? Should we make Brozilla a real thing?”

Branch’s eyes sparkled, and he bounced on John’s shoulders. “Let’s do it again! Let’s do it again!”

John laughed, setting Branch down. "Maybe later. We’ve got presents to open first!"

The crowd groaned and whined playfully, but everyone began to settle back into their seats. Branch rushed off toward the presents, his current orange goggles still perched on his head like a crown. As John stood there, catching his breath, he couldn’t help but feel proud. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all. Maybe this was the start of something even bigger.

With a soft sigh, John followed Branch back toward the presents, a smile tugging at his lips.

Branch stood at the head of a mountain of presents, eyes wide and eager, while John watched from a short distance, catching his breath with slice of pies on his hand given reluctantly by his Grandma

"Alright, alright! Birthday boy's about to open his gifts!" John called, clapping his hands to gather everyone’s attention. The trolls cheered as they scrambled to their seats, eager to see what Branch would get.

Branch bounced in place, his hands practically twitching in excitement. His orange goggles sat slightly askew on his head. He reached for the gift box in the center, a shape box wrapped with a handwritten note stood out. His eyes darted from the card to John and Grandma Rossiepuff, who was sitting nearby with a knowing smile on her face. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"From Grandma Rossiepuff and... the best brother in the world, John?" Branch read aloud, his tone half-joking. "I don't know about the 'best brother in the world' part, JD."

The crowd chuckled, and John gave an innocent shrug, trying to stifle his laughter. "Hey, I didn’t write that! Must've been Grandma."

Grandma Rossiepuff waved her hand dismissively, but the twinkle in her eye suggested otherwise, raising a brow at John Dory. Branch rolled his eyes, a grin breaking across his face as he began tearing into the wrapping paper.

Bits of paper flew in every direction, revealing a sleek, white box beneath. 

He lifted the lid carefully, revealing a brand-new pair of goggles nestled inside. They gleamed under the sunlight, polished to perfection, with reinforced lenses and sturdy straps—the kind meant for serious adventurers. Branch’s breath hitched as he lifted them out, his fingers brushing the edges of the smooth frame.

"They're just like yours, JD!" Branch exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and excitement removing the orange one as he wore the new one. 

It looks comfortable, John knew this as he tried many time to make sure it to Branch liking. John saw the vendor that sold the goggle giving him a thumbs up as John gave an awkward wave. 

John watched as Branch wore the goggles up to the light, his heart swelling with both pride and bittersweet emotions. "Nah, you look better than me in them," John said with a wink.

Branch shot him a skeptical look. "Really?"

John leaned in, pretending to inspect the goggles closely and his brother face. "Nah, I take it back. I think I look better on this"

"Hey! Take that back. You already have yours, this is mine!" Branch pouted, smacking John playfully on the arm as laughter rippled through the crowd. The trolls around him cheered, including Poppy, who giggled with excitement, clapping her hands. 

Poppy's voice rang out from the crowd. "Branch, you look awesome!" as a cheers from group trolling probably from Branch school. 

"Yeah, I know!" Branch said, puffing out his chest, but his beaming smile betrayed just how touched he was. He darted over to John and Grandma, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug. "Thanks, guys! These are the best!"

John squeezed him back, a warmth filling his chest. "You're welcome, Bitty B. Happy birthday."

Branch pulled back slightly, his goggles perched proudly on his head as he grinned up at his family. For a brief moment, everything felt right in the world. Branch was happy, Grandma was smiling, and the future—no matter how uncertain—didn't feel as heavy as it had before.

"Alright, alright!" John said, standing up straight. "I did promise another song, didn’t I?"

The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting "Brozilla! Brozilla!" as John grabbed his guitar once more. Branch practically bounced in excitement, adjusting his goggles before taking his place beside John.

John smirked, strumming the opening chords. "Alright, Brozilla 2.0—let's hit 'em with it."

Time Skip 

Together, they launched into another song, their voices harmonizing effortlessly, the lyrics filled with energy and hope. As they sang, the party atmosphere grew even more vibrant, with trolls dancing and clapping along, everyone fully immersed in the music. 

Branch belted out the chorus with all the enthusiasm his little body could muster, his voice ringing out with a mix of joy and pride. As the song reached its final notes, Branch jumped up, throwing his hands in the air while John finished with a powerful strum of his guitar.

The crowd went wild, and John couldn’t help but laugh as he ruffled Branch’s hair. "Happy birthday, Branch."

Branch grinned up at him, his goggles slightly askew again. "Best birthday ever!"

Chapter Text

Branch went to King Peppy for an update. It had been a couple of months since his birthday, and since he’d shared the proposal for the bunker, King Peppy had gladly accepted. Construction had started a few weeks later, celebrated with Grandma’s famous pies and a potluck with the rest of his friends.

Now, Branch stood outside, looking at the sky. The usual sounds of Trolls singing was also included the hum of construction work. The sky was clear as cloud chase with one another in their slow race. 

Branch’s gaze wandered down below, lost in thought. John had fallen asleep again, probably from staying up late reading geography books. The books were old and outdated, but given that they were the first generation in a long time to be free from the Bergens, it make sense.

Bunker would be located a few Troll-yards away, hidden deep enough that no one would find it but close enough for Trolls to run to it quickly. Sure, there were changes to the plan that stung a bit—like how it had to be built underneath a tree, connecting to a hollow trunk for a quick escape—but he was willing to accept it.

Standing at the top of the tree, Branch imagined what it would be like once the bunker was finished. Would Grandma and John like it? Would Poppy come for sleepovers? Would it even work?

He opened his notebook and flipped through the pages. Over the years, he’d collected an ever-growing stack of ideas, plans, and inventions. He grinned, remembering how John always took the tools away from him, worried he’d hurt himself. It wasn’t Branch’s fault that his invention—a wooden machete—had caused such a fuss. He’d seen other Trolls use similar tools to clear space around the Troll Tree when plan construction.

The Troll population was flourishing now, free and safe. It felt like a dream.

As Branch skimmed through an old notebook from when he was barely a year old, he rolled his eyes at his younger self’s lack of taste. The cover was embarrassing, the drawings inside even worse. Each page was filled with unclear sketches and words that he had probably made up as a kid. But then, something caught his eye—a folded piece of paper slipped out from between the pages.

Curious, Branch opened it. He froze feeling his air escape his lung. It was a rough drawing of the bunker. There weren’t many details, just a basic shape with rooms hollowed out. There were pictures of Trolls—Trolls that looked like him, with different colored hair.

Branch’s heart raced. The bunker he’d drawn was meant for all his brothers. He could barely remember what they looked like now, though every time he tried, anger followed close behind. He felt a deep frustration with them, especially Floyd—the one he had been closest to, the one who had promised to always be there for him. But they had all left. One by one, they’d gone off to start their lives, and Branch had been left behind.

He remembered that night clearly. The fear. The disappointment. Floyd had promised he’d come back, but five years had passed, and there had been no postcard, no apology. Branch had started to believe that Floyd had forgotten him. None of his brothers had come back except for John. Clay can be an exception for reason.

A mix of relief and anger stirred within Branch. Maybe if John hadn’t started the band, they would’ve stayed together as a family. Branch hadn’t wanted his brothers to leave. As a baby, he had clung to John like a lifeline when he came back the next day. Now, though, he chuckled at his younger self’s silliness. It was hard to hate someone who had taken care of you, who had owned up to their mistakes and tried to get better.

Branch couldn’t hate John. Hating him left a bitter taste in his mouth. Branch love his brother John. Epecially when John had come back the day after their fight, arms open, spending the day with him like making up loss time. And then, Clay had shown up too and he played with Branch some of the time. Branch had been overjoyed. Maybe that an omen the rest of his brothers were out there in the Troll Tree too. But that hope had died a long time ago.

Branch sighed. He understood now the tension between John and Clay. They still tried to get along, but it was slow. Time hadn’t been kind to their relationship, they were separate.

Would John have been caught by the Bergens if he hadn’t followed Clay? Would they have survived the Great Escape together? Would John still survive if Branch follow Clay out? It was a dumb question. Branch would rather be separated from his brothers if it meant John survived.

He carefully tucked the paper back into the notebook, not wanting to think too much about Clay’s fate and the rest of deadbeat brothers. 

Clay had to survive right? John had said it himself—Clay had to have survived. There was no proof he hadn’t.

Branch thought about Poppy and how King Peppy hadn’t told her about her sister, Viva. He wondered if keeping that secret was a kindness, sparing Poppy the pain of loss. But family should mean something, right?

He lay back on the tree branch, letting the warmth of the sun relax him.

In the distance, he heard shouts and saw two Trolls running, their hair tangled together. It was the twins. Branch smiled wistfully. Could he have a brother as his birthday wish? Sure, he’d already wished for the bunker, but why not use his other wish when he was a baby? He never wished for much and often forgot about it in the excitement of his birthday cake.

He wanted a brother. John had Spruce, Spruce had Clay, and Clay had Floyd. And Floyd had him.

Branch swung down to the ground, he look around finding two familiar troll,  heading toward his friends, Trickee and Boom, who were playing with their action figures and doll. As soon as they saw him, they squealed and hugged him in a circle, jumping up and down.

“Trickee! Boom!” Branch grinned.

“GB!” they both shouted back.

“Hey, what did I say about calling me that?” Branch rolled his eyes.

“It fits you. JD and GB—Goggle Branch,” Trickee said smugly.

“You only say that because you’re jealous of my cool goggles,” Branch teased.

“That’s not true!” Trickee protested, though it was half-hearted.

Boom just rolled his eyes, focusing on Branch. “So, Branch, wanna join us? We’re about to do this cool scene where the hero finds his long-lost sibling.”

Branch perked up. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys. I have a birthday wish i wanted to come true - I want a brother.”

Boom tilted his head. “Huh why would you want that? You could have wish for a giant Troll Race Car for the tonermanet”

Branch reply with a grin, “Because all my brothers have a baby brother with them, so then maybe I can have a baby brother too”

Trickee chuckled. “Well, if you want a brother, you need a mommy hair and a daddy hair to make an egg. Then, you keep it warm and safe.”

Branch frowned. “I don’t have a mommy or a daddy. I have JD and Grandma, but Grandma’s too old.”

“JD could be a daddy, but…” Boom trailed off, looking serious.

“But JD’s hair is too short for that,” Trickee finished.

Boom question .“Does JD have an egg in his belly? Because he looks round!” Branch giggled. 

They all laughed, but as the laughter died down, Branch grew thoughtful. “Maybe... but how would an egg even get in his belly?”

“When a Troll loves another Troll so much, an egg forms,” Boom explained. “So, maybe JD has an egg because you and Grandma love him so much.”

Branch grinned. “Yeah, maybe my wish already came true! I gotta tell JD!”

“Don’t forget about us! Let’s play first!” Trickee insisted.

“Okay!” Branch agreed.

Later that day, Branch returned home, newly gifted action figures in his bag, ready to share the news with Grandma Rosiepuff.

“Grandma! Grandma!” Branch burst through the door, shouting.

“Quiet down, you little rascal. I’m here,” Grandma called in the coach close to the door as she flipped the next page of her book. There at the table is a tea gone cold with stack of book beside it. .

“Grandma, I think I’m going to have a little brother soon!”

Grandma Rosiepuff gave him a surprise and puzzled look. “Did you steal someone—”

“What? No! JD has my baby brother!” Branch beamed.

Grandma’s eyes widened, placing her book down not moving her spot. “John? DORIANDER, YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!”

There was a commotion in the hallway before John stumbled in, his hair tied back and bandages wrapped around him. He looked confused and slightly annoyed.

“I didn’t do anything, Grandma,” John protested.

“Doriander, sit down,” Grandma ordered.

John shot Branch a questioning look before plopping onto the couch.

“John,” Grandma said sternly, “where’s the baby?”

John blinked, bewildered looking around frantically around the room and beside him. “Baby? What baby!?”

Branch rolled his eyes and pointed to John’s belly. “The baby in your belly!”

There was a long silence before Grandma burst out laughing. John looked utterly betrayed, poking his stomach with a confused expression.

“I don’t—there’s no—” John stammered.

Branch huffed and patted John’s belly. “Yeah, there is. So I can have a baby brother!”

John groaned, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “I don’t have baby here, Branch.”

“The baby’s still developing!” Branch insisted. “When it’s ready, I’ll have a brother!”

Grandma, still chuckling, wiped tears from her eyes. “Branch, sweetie, I don’t think there’s an egg in John’s belly.”

John let out a confused, “Uh…” as Grandma continued to laugh, her chuckles filling the room. He shot her a glare before replying, "I'm not having a baby. It's just me, the same ole John."

Branch rolled his eyes, undeterred. "The baby's still growing. Maybe when it's ready, I'll have a baby brother!"

Grandma gently placed her hand on John's shoulder, trying to stifle her laughter. "Branch, I don’t think there’s an egg in John’s belly."

“There is! Otherwise, why is his stomach round? There should be an egg there,” Branch insisted, his little brow furrowing with determination. Grandma let out another hearty laugh, while John, sitting beside her, looked more flustered by the second.

“Trickee and Boom said so,” Branch continued, “when a troll loves someone a lot, then an egg pops out.”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Grandma Rossiepuff leaned down, her tone gentle but amused. “If that were true, we’d have a massive troll going around, but we don’t see any around, do we?”

Branch hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. “Yeah… I guess otherwise my school would be full of them.”

“Atta boy,” Grandma chuckled, patting his head. “I don’t think there’s an egg in John’s belly at all.”

“But you have to be pregnant!” Branch insisted, his tiny fists balling up in frustration.

John groaned, leaning back into the couch and covering his eyes with his arm. “Nope. Not me. No babies here.”

“But I wanted a brother,” Branch said, his voice now soft and tinged with sadness. John, sensing the shift in his tone, peeked out from behind his arm, his heart felt conflicted.

John hadn’t known Branch this well back in his OG time, until ‘recently’—raising him, in many ways, many responsibility, but one he took on with care. You learn a thing or two living someone under the same roof but there is always a layer within layers of those individual you can never figure it out. 

“Why, Branch?” Grandma Rossiepuff asked gently.

“Because John has Spruce, and Spruce has Clay, and Clay has Floyd… and Floyd has me,” Branch explained, his voice trailing off.

John felt his heart twist at Branch’s words. It had been a long time since Branch had spoken about their brothers, and the memories stirred up a mix of bittersweet emotions.

Branch stared down at his small hands. “So, I should have a brother. I want a brother.”

“Branch, we can’t exactly… well, it doesn’t work like that,” John frown, giving Grandma a look as if asking for help. She only shrugged, leaving him to figure it out on his own.

“Why not?” Branch insisted, his face scrunched up in confusion. “I have lots of brothers. Shouldn’t I get a one more brothers too?”

John couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the idea. He shook his head. “I can’t get pregnant, Branch.”

“But then what should I do?” Branch’s voice cracked, his sadness now evident. “I wanted a brother.”

John thought for a moment, then, with a mischievous smile, said, “Maybe go look for one. It’s still sunny outside. Just make sure you’re home in time for dinner.”

Branch’s eyes brightened, and with newfound determination, he puffed out his chest. “Then maybe I will!” With that, he marched out of the pod, his steps firm, his hair bouncing as he went as the door closed.

“Doriander,” Grandma Rossiepuff said, her tone suddenly more stern, watching him closely.

John let out a deep breath and sank back into the couch, his earlier amusement giving way to tiredness. “It’ll give me a quiet moment around the pod. We need that more often. Besides, we’ve got an escape princess and a pack of trolls turning this place into a mess every time Branch invites them over. He’ll drop the idea in a few days, and things will go back to normal.”

Grandma Rossiepuff sighed, walking to the counter to grab a jar filled with dried leaves as she set the kettle to boil. “I need a drink for this. Tea or coffee?”

John perked up slightly, “Tea, with a slice of your finest—”

“Don’t,” Grandma cut him off.

Chapter Text

As Branch marched out the door, only one thought consumed his mind: finding his brother, one way or another. The sun still hung in the sky but had tilted at a different angle, casting long shadows across the ground as nightfall crept closer. Sound of quieten tune hung around the air as Trolls ready to rest on their home from their great day at work. 

He had to find the egg before dinner. His determination grew with every step—he was going to find a brother and then Branch, Branch wasn’t really sure but he was sure he is going to love it no matter what. He ran toward the two familiar figure as they wait him on the spot as the action figure it hold trap within a bowl with the doll arm swaying side to side. When they notice they quickly got up wanting to hear the news. 

“JD isn’t pregnant at all!” Branch blurted out, catching his friends off guard.

“Are you sure?” Trickee asked, raising an eyebrow. “My mom thought JD was pregnant with all those weird cravings and stuff!”

“That’s what I said—he’s just really, really round! I won’t find a brother here,” Branch huffed, glancing around as his friend ponder around, Branch eye linger around the village. Pod lighting up as the forest surround them nothing but wall of protection with a distance of forest each with their own varian layers by layers. Branch eye brigten with a realization pointing to the thick woods in the distance. “I’ll just have to find the egg... somewhere out there!”

Boom hesitated, shifting nervously on his feet, but Trickee smirked, eyes gleaming excited at the thought of an adventure in the woods.

“We’ll go look for one,” Trickee said with a grin, stepping closer to Branch.

Boom furrowed his brow. “Do you think that’ll work? I mean, aren’t mommy or daddy supposed to have the egg?”

“We can try, can’t we?” Branch said, determination clear in his voice. “There’s no harm in trying!”

“Yeah, we’ll help,” Boom shrugged, glancing around as if looking for a reason not to. “I got nothing else to do. Let’s do it.”

The three trolls made their way to the outskirts of the village, careful not to wander too far. Wooden markers stood along the dirt path, etched with symbols indicating their distance from the village. The markers reassured them that they hadn’t ventured into dangerous territory, but their eyes remained sharp, scanning the woods for any sign of an egg.

Around them, life in the village continued as usual. Trolls bustled about, their hair humming with the sounds of distant construction. In perfect harmony, workers sang while finishing their daily tasks, and preparing to return home for the evening. The faint scent of freshly baked troll treats wafted through the air, adding a touch of sweetness to the busy scene.Sound of distance yelping as the trolls walk further away from the village. 

The deeper they went into the woods, the wilder the surroundings became. Overgrown branches twisted overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground, while the bushes thickened, bursting with vibrant colors. The deeper they ventured, the more untamed it felt. Boom flinched with every snap of a twig or flutter of wings that starting to be more audible within troll hearing range, sticking close between Branch and Trickee. He missed the safety of civilizaton, but Branch was undeterred, leading them forward with a sturdy stick in hand, cutting through the wild undergrowth.

Boom, on the other hand, would have preferred more preparation than just his friend's reckless courage and single sticks to face whatever awaited them. Trickee, ever alert, glanced back at Boom every now and then, making sure he didn’t fall behind. Branch marched ahead, swinging his stick to clear the path. The stick grew more fragile with each swipe, but Branch’s resolve never wavered.

Suddenly, the gentle murmur of flowing water reached their ears. Branch perked up, pulling Boom forward with renewed energy, while Trickee jogged to keep up. As they approached the river, Boom’s eyes widened. The edge of the lack was flat and clear, with lake water shimmering reflecting the closing day, sound of birds swooping overhead despite loudness of the lake as water push ahead.

Boom flinched again when he heard a sudden swoosh beside him. He turned to see Trickee slingshot something toward direction of the flight creature. Branch’s face was obscured by his goggles, but the wide grin stretched across his face was unmistakable.

A splash in the river grabbed their attention as the sound of flutter quickly retreat. Something floated lazily along the surface, bobbing in the current. It wasn’t a stick or debris—it was an odd, oval shape with purple waves, a pink base, and shimmering yellow sparkles. Boom’s eyes widened in realization.

“Look!” Boom shouted, pointing to the object. Trickee and Branch whipped their heads around, following his gaze.

Branch acted quickly, using his stick to stop the moving egg from drifting further downstream. The current wasn’t strong, but it could still carry the egg away. Trickee sprang into action, and with Boom’s help, they fashioned a makeshift rope from vines and branches. They tied it securely around Branch’s waist, without hesitation, Branch jumped into the water.

Boom yelped, gripping the rope tightly as he and Trickee held on, making sure Branch didn’t get swept away. Branch splashed through the water, reaching out to grab the egg. His fingers brushed against the smooth, glittering surface, and with a final lunge, he scooped it up. The boys pulled Branch back to shore, where he emerged, soaking wet but triumphant, cradling the egg in his arms.

Water dripped from Branch’s clothes as Boom helped him to his feet. Branch, however, was completely focused on the egg, staring at it with wide eyes. Boom and Trickee gathered around him, inspecting the unusual object. The egg was larger than any troll egg they had ever seen. A tuft of cheeky blue hair sprouted from the top, making it even stranger.

“We should head back,” Boom finally said, his voice quieter now. “We need help.”

Branch and Trickee nodded, their earlier excitement tempered by the situation they are in. They have to make sure the egg is safe. 

Back at the village, Doctor Moonbloom examined the egg, her brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, she straightened up, adjusting her glasses. “Congratulations. This baby is as healthy as can be. Though... it’s oddly larger than usual. And I must say, it doesn’t appear to be a Pop Troll egg.”

“Not Pop? What does that mean?” Branch asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Hrrmm, I’ll need to speak to King Peppy about this, don’t worry too much about it boys; you'll know about it soon ahead” Doctor Moonbloom wave it off, her tone thoughtful. “You kids should take this egg to a responsible adult. I have other patients to attend to. Take care!”

“Thank you, Doctor Moonbloom!” Boom called as she left.

“Bye, boys!” she waved as she hurried off working on her stacking paper at her desk.

“Let’s go, Branch!” Trickee shouted, his excitement returning now that they had a plan.

Boom grinned at his friend. “Congratulations, Branch! You’re a big brother now.”

“Yeah GB, welcome to brotherhood” Trickee jumped. 

“Hooray!” they cheered together. 

As they celebrated, Branch held the egg tightly, a soft smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to tell JD. What would JD think about all this?

John strummed his guitar, his voice rising as he sang with a sense of longing and nostalgia, the familiar chords echoing through the room.

“Don’t close your eyes, 'cause your future’s ready to shine.  

It’s just a matter of time before we learn how to fly!”

His voice was strong, but his heart was heavy. He had left to Neverglade trail leaving his brothers and family without thinking ahead of the consequences it might impact, without a concrete deadline to come back. He didn’t make any of brother aware he might be back, wound’t think his brother might take his word to heart, it just the heat of the moment. 

“Welcome to the rhythm of the night.  

There’s something in the air you can’t deny (Deny).”

John’s voice broke a little, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the guilt creeping in. He had left without a word, no mail or postcards, no communication. It was selfish. His journey had taken him far, but at what cost? 

“It's been fun, but now I've got to go.  

Life is way too short to take it slow.  

But before I go and hit the road,  

I got to know, 'til then, when can we do this again?”

The music pulsed through the air, the energy of the song contrasting sharply with the ache in his chest. He was singing about moving forward, but deep down, he was thinking about the times he wished he could go back. The memories of his brothers kept playing in his mind, the times they were all together, and now... he was unsure if he’d ever have that complete moment.

Sound of  door creak open and the sound of tiny feet pattering down the hallway. Sighing, John gently placed his guitar on the bed. His instincts kicked in—he always checked on the kids when things felt too quiet. Despite his grandma being more than capable, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed his there.

Walking out into the hall, John found Branch, Poppy, and their friends crowded around something. His heart leaped when he saw it—an egg, nestled safely in a soft spot on the floor. They were all cooing over it, excited by it.

“JD Look I got a New baby Brother” 

JD makes a noise as his brain turn static unable to comprehend the situation around him, he walk to the egg as he bring the egg up much to Branch and his four friend surround him yelping and yelling. John took on a blanket carefuly wrap around it as he place on the coach which the troll quickly surround them. 

He could’t focus much on Branch rambles but he smile without a thought, “and i think when the egg your hair is better I can put it there just like how you used to put me in your hair JD!...JD?”

“Oh-erm, right. Course, just give me a sec I need to called Docter Moonbloom” John said. He scratch at his chin as if thinking as his heartbeat quicken with each second passing. Just where is Grandma when he needs her. 

Right Elders Game Night Holding. John wanted to smach himself on the head. 

“Oh we already call her” Boom answered looking quite concern. 

“Huh” John hummed racing half realising where he is at, he felt fainted at the moment. John shook out of it, he walk close to Branch hugging him. 

“Watch our brother a minutes. JD just a need a little bit of time alone”

Branch beaming at him nodding as he continue to look at the egg with such love and care, it sicken John. John Dory felt a frown to think of that to the egg, it wasn’t the egg. It never was. 

JD had already called the doctor, standing off to the side with a book in his hands, flipping through old records. His brow furrowed as he searched for information.

“It’s familiar,” JD murmured, his finger tracing over a faded entry. “This pattern… it’s similar to something I’ve seen before.”

John leaned closer, curious but unsure. He glanced at the old book JD held. The existence of other troll tribes was something he was vaguely aware of, though it had never been taught in school. 

“It a funk troll, likely…I never thought Id be able to see one”

“You knew about it?” John said unsure to himself, so far living among the pop troll never been mention any of other tribe existence.

“Course I do, need to make sure everyone in good health regardless their…difference. No one wanted to hold history books very long, not that the king is against it.” There was a sigh audible on the other side. John felt the doctor pinch their nose as they continues. “I have more paper work to do. Keep tab at it for me John, this is going to be a funky ride for you”

John close the communicator faster than he should have. 

It irked him that so much about their history was left unsaid, only to be uncovered personally through travels and side jobs outside in the troll territory. JD always took job to care around the tribe children, he is really good at his job keeping eye at the young one, as raising bunch of brothers since he was young, you could say he knows a things or two. 

Branch, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, imagining what it would be like to have a unique brother. He spoke excitedly about all the things he would do—showing him battle strategies and sharing adventures with their friends. The trolling would have so many friend it would never be alone. 

John, standing quietly to the side, couldn’t share their excitement. He felt a knot of tension growing in his chest. The only funk troll that grown in the Pop Tribe is Cooper, a weird troll walk on all four; not that it stop anyone from befriending him. John only seen Cooper far distance, a royal bloodline of the funk tribe, with a family who probably serach for him right now. 

Now, he found himself faced with something similar—an egg, and the question of responsibility. What would he do with it?

He knew the Funk trolls lived differently spots, always on the move, their kingdom held within a spaceship that traversed along the land. Tracking them down to return the currently egg prince would be nearly impossible. The best he could do was care for the egg as if it were his own. And yet…

An ugly feeling stirred inside him. A flashback from his past. His father—dropping egg after egg, leaving them all behind. It had aggravated John to no end. He had taken care of each egg at first, enthusiastically, but the reasoning behind each one’s arrival gnawed at him. His father hadn’t cared for his children, not really. John could never blame the eggs, though. He loved his brothers. But the thought egg being on itself with no one but always John and his aging grandma - it sickened him.

Now, looking at the egg and seeing Branch’s hopeful, determined face, John felt conflicted. His friends wanted the egg to be part of the family, to raise it as one of their own. But John couldn’t shake the parallels to his own past, the ironic of it really.

His thoughts wandered further—what had become of his father? So far, their travels hadn’t brought them face to face with him. John barely remembered his father’s face other than being told by those surround him being close identical, and the idea of meeting him now felt distant, almost impossible. As the years had passed, the memories of his father had faded, replaced with a growing realization: John might outlive him. He might outlive his mother, too. And his brothers would do the same where they would outlive John.

It was a painful, existential thought. The idea that he would one day be older than the people who had raised him, they couldnt be possible left alone. The best they can do is now. So now what does John wanted to do. 

John stared at the egg resting on the couch. He could never blame it for its circumstances, just as he couldn’t blame his brothers existence, they are blessing in disguise.

But the circumstances… they haunted him. He couldn’t stand against the way life had unfolded for him. He hope this doen’st change his plan. He have his prioritise and he will be willing to jungle it all up just to keep it forward. Be it raising another family member or facing another distance family who is looking at the egg just at his younger brother arm. 

John sigh, at this point he can’t really deny the egg not being part of the family. Just how many more changes does John have to get around with his plan. 

Chapter Text

Grandma Rossipuff had always been the strong-willed one in the family. Some trolls might argue she would end up living alone all her life, given how stubborn she was about doing things her way, often facing the consequences over her fixation. But things became more manageable when she met him—the love of her life.

One day, she was on another one of her streaks, betting a large amount of coin that she eventually won. Being so fixated on things meant she learned a thing or two about method on winning. She faced off against another troll, one who wasn’t particularly impressive at first, but the way he looked at her intrigued her. She challenged him to a game, and to her surprise, she lost. Despite betting the entire pot only to be return, the troll simply smiled and offered to play another round. Rossipuff was impressed and, not wanting to remain in debt, continued playing. Before long, it turned into something more. They got married and had their little darling baby girl.

Her daughter grew into a strong, independent troll who fell in love just like any other. Rossipuff was happy and always supported her, even though her spouse had a personality that clashed with her daughter’s at times they loved with each other regardless. Then, her first grandson was born, John Dory, a fish name but the one choosen by her daughter learning about the ocean outside from their impresonment. Those were the best few years of her life. But then, she lost her husband—and later her daughter—to a troll she had trusted, one who had vowed to protect them just pack up and leave from what kept them dormant on spot.

Rossipuff liked to think she’d taken care of John Dory like her own son, but she knew deep down that he didn’t see her the same way as he did with her daugther, nor can Rossiepuff can see him the same way. Nothing could ever replace what was lost.

But now, it didn’t matter. No matter how much you wanted to hold onto the anger and pain, the only thing left to do was find a way to process it, to let it flow and move on. She still had her grandsons, and she had the whole village counting on each other to carry on and preserve what remained on their lifelihood.

Night starting to become more visible, with a brealy ending light that shine and pod starting to become their own stares aas they hang around by the tree surrounding their village. As she shuffled the cards she kept in her pocket with plastic bag in hand some extra food she manage to took for her grandson to enjoy, she glanced at the door, noticing it was slightly ajar. Grandma Rossipuff rolled her eyes with a smile. Branch had invited another friend over. As she approached the door, it let out a soft squeak. In the corner, she saw a little bundle of trolls stacked on top of one another, their backs turned toward her as they circled around the center of the couch.

Her brow furrowed as she carefully approached, not wanting to disturb them. When she peered over, her eyes widened in shock. There, nestled in the center, was an egg.

Branch scrambled out from the group, hugging Grandma Rossipuff tightly, pressing his face against her middle. In a hushed tone, he whispered, “Hi, Grandma. My wish came true—I got a little brother!”

He looked up at her, his face glowing with pride. “I went to the doctor, and she said it was fine. What do you think, Grandma?”

Grandma Rossipuff, still a little dazed, gently patted his shoulder before snapping out of her trance with a smile. “That’s wonderful, Branch. Now, why don’t you help Grandma with her things?”

“Okay!” Branch took off with the bag as he went to the other side of the living room. 

Grandma Rossipuff never minded caring for her growing family, despite her income struggling to meet the demands to handle what was necessary for her large family. Now, with a new life and better resources to support her family, it wasn’t an issue to welcome another member. However, one concern weighed on her mind.

“Where’s John Dory?” she asked.

“Oh, John’s in his room,” Branch replied. “Can you call him out? I want to show him our new baby brother!” Branch beamed and dashed back to his friends, who huddled together, whispering excitedly.

Grandma Rossipuff shook her head, smiling as she made her way to John’s room. She knocked softly on the door, hearing a faint shuffle inside, but the door didn’t open.

“John, I’m coming in,” she called gently.

As she entered, she noticed John’s room wasn’t exactly bare. Shelves and a desk were cluttered with various items, and music sheets and posters hung from the walls. The floor was mostly clear, and the desk was a chaotic mess of pens and scribbles—something Grandma Rossipuff never bothered to clean up. She didn’t want to disturb an artist in the middle of creation.

John lay face down on the bed, and she sat beside him, gently stroking his hair. “Oh, my sweet Dorian…”

A small whimper escaped his throat as he turned to face her, his eyes wet with tears, staining the fabric beneath him. John sat up and leaned forward, burying his face in her shoulder as she hugged him tightly. His cries were muffled, and his words were jumbled, barely coherent.

“My sweet, sweet Dorian,” she whispered soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here. Let it all out, deary.”

“I know,” John choked out, his voice trembling. “I didn’t need to keep it. I didn’t need to... I can’t…”

“Branch wanted a brother,” Grandma Rossipuff said, completing his thought. John let out a weary, weak laugh.

“It’s stupid,” John muttered. “HE always gave me the egg after egg after egg….I thought it would be over soon.Why am I even crying about it now? This is so stupid”

Grandma Rossipuff held his face gently, looking at him with a seriousness that made him pause. “There is nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. It’s hard to feel these things sometimes, and it’s never wrong to feel them, even at the strangest times. It’s just your body’s way of telling you to rest for being strong for too long. Too long John…”

John looked up at her, guilt evident in his tear-brimmed eyes. He tried to stifle his sobs, his fists clenching.

“I was fine before,” he said shakily. “I was fine with it. Everything would be peachy. I just need to raise another brother, and everything will be alright.” His face scrunched up, his fists tightening further. “I want to punch HIM in the face.”

It had been an unspoken rule in their house to avoid talking about the troll who kept dropping off eggs and disappearing without a word. Spruce had always been cautious, Clay more curious, and Floyd was too young to remember. Branch, well, last egg and the last time their biological father set foot near their home was a distant memory.

“How long have you been crying about this?” Grandma Rossipuff asked, trying not to sound mocking. John had always been the type to push things down until they exploded. While things around the house had been relatively peaceful, there wasn’t much that couldn’t be solved with a simple intervention, thanks to John’s older brother instincts and experience.

“About half an hour, I think,” John admitted, wiping his face. “Branch kept knocking at the door, but I didn’t want to deal with it. I’ve been so busy with everything. It just hit me, and I… I’m sorry.”

Grandma Rossipuff sighed softly. “It’s alright, John. But next time, call me. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. I’m here for you.”

John leaned against her, closing his eyes. They sat in silence for a while, simply sharing each other’s presence. Grandma Rossipuff knew that ever since they’d come to the village, John had been looking out for her, checking on her constantly to make sure she was alright.

When Clay had gone missing, Grandma Rossipuff had tried not to let it affect her too much. She felt guilty for not stopping any of them that night, especially Clay. But John Dory had always reassured her that there was still hope. Even if she wasn’t sure, she would support her grandson, just as they had always supported her.

“Do you need more time?” Grandma Rossipuff asked softly.

“No, I’m fine,” John replied, though his voice was uncertain. He stood up, wobbling slightly before steadying himself. He faced her and smiled. “Let’s go.”

“I love you, John, Im here for you,” she said, standing.

“As long as you don’t push yourself, Grandma,” John teased with a smirk. “three little brothers are a lot of responsibility for an old lady.”

“Im much older than you Doriander”

”Sure thing, G-Puff”

Grandma Rossipuff pushed him playfully as she marched out of the room. She could hear laughter coming from behind her, and she was grateful for the closeness she shared with her grandson. She would continue to support him in any way she could.

Branch looked up as John stepped out of the room, his face showing concern. He hugged John tightly, and the other trolls gathered around, whispering before rushing forward to embrace him too.

John laughed, placing his hands on their heads, feeling the comforting warmth of their embrace. He blinked back tears, closing his eyes as the little trolls snuggled against him.

Grandma Rossipuff watched with a smile, capturing the moment in camera she took out from her hair.

John eventually stood and approached the egg, with Grandma Rossipuff following closely behind. He stared at the egg, waiting for something to happen, then sighed as he gently touched it.

“It’s funny, really,” he said, looking at Branch, who gazed at him curiously. “How did you find your brother?”

When their father had left them with more eggs, John had no choice but to help Grandma take care of them. At first, it was all happiness, but the more eggs that came, the more tired he became. He worried that having such a large family would put them in danger. And it did, John was too confident it just the bergen blind spot or overlooking their family. He should have known the Chef would have known about it all along. 

Maybe it was a troll thing—or maybe it was just him.

There were times when John wished he wasn’t like this. Moments of realization would flash through his mind, reminding him just how much of an impact he had on his brothers. But he couldn’t lose control; he couldn’t risk losing what he held dear.

Troll life revolved around the Bergen hunger for happiness, once every years the Troll will give bergen happiness. Only trolls could provide that joy, but at the cost of their lives. Each year, unwilling trolls were served up to the ever-hungry Bergen, who fed off their happiness. That was the grim reality. Family members, ripe for the picking, were taken to sustain that fleeting happiness. Troll was a community-based, depending on each other.

Trolls, in desperation, would volunteer or intentionally get caught to protect their pod from the calculated gaze of the Bergen. It was all decided by the Chef, who routinely checked the Troll Tree to ensure no major shortage occurred, maintaining the balance for all Bergen-kind. 

Perhaps it was during one of her rounds that the deal between BroZone and the Bergen was struck. The Chef knew of their performances, knew how the number of troll children in their family exceeded the average. 

John had chosen to ignore it, hoping by some miracle that this might be the Chef’s blind spot. Maybe their large family would somehow go unnoticed.

It happened one early morning. John had gone to the tree's outer branch, hoping to find inspiration for their next album. The pod was too loud with his brothers running around, and today was his day off—a chance to write the next week’s script for BroZone’s performance. He sat on the rough wooden ground, trying to block out the rumblings below, too focused on his writing. Then, a shadow passed over him. Narrowing his eyes, he looked up, only for them to widen in terror.

Before he could react, he was held captiv.

Seeing a Bergen from a distance was terrifying enough. Seeing one up close made John’s soul leaving his body. The Bergen’s wild, animalistic eyes and jagged, rotten teeth—teeth that had likely gnawed on many trolls—sent a shiver down his spine.

John gulped, but he maintained eye contact. If he was going down, he wasn’t going to give the monster the satisfaction of seeing him run.

Then came the deal.

A simple arrangement: their performances would give better experince for the bergen. After all, a happy troll is a tasty troll. The Chef’s warning echoed in John’s mind: "Play as much as you can, make sure to keep the trolls happy." That threat lingered, and it was the beginning of the end for his perfect family.

John had tried to ignore the weight of the deal, but he couldn't escape it. The agreement just for his family’s protection. Their performances brought joy and kept more other trolls for being chosen during Trollstice. In a twisted way, their songs kept they themselves safe—at least that’s what it seem for john during the time. 

But it was never guaranteed safely completely.

The rogue Bergen, unchecked by law, still lurked. They were impatient, unwilling to wait for the annual Trollstice. John knew it was only a matter of time before their performances no longer mattered and his family would end up back on the menu. 

John felt his hands grow dirty with every note he played, knowing that his family's happiness was tied to a cruel trade-off of another troll. How could he look at the other trolls, knowing he was complicit? The BroZone performances had become something he couldn't bear to look the same way as it did before.

The guilt gnawed at him, even as he sat surrounded by his brothers. Their smiles and laughter should have comforted him, but the knowledge of the deal weighed heavily. The decision to prioritize his family over the lives of other trolls had been easy but unbearable. 

In the end, when thing becomes too much. John’s selfishness came through. He left, hoping isolation would free him from the burden of his choices. Maybe, in the solitude of the living bus, he could finally escape.

But John often wondered: if he had never been caught, if he hadn’t made the deal, would the Bergen have taken one of his brothers instead, years before they could have grown old enough to start their life? Would it have been him first to be…?

It was a question that would never be answered.

As he sat there, watching the world pass by, he hoped—just maybe—for a second chance at family.

Branch looked at John, a beaming smile lighting up his face. At least here, they were free. no outside forces shaped their lives. It was just him—family. Things were different here; everything was.

**Time Skip**

Around dinnertime, Grandma Rossipuff had cooked extra for the kids who had chosen to stay.

“And I was like *bam*! I shot for the first time, hit the bird, and saved GB’s baby brother!” Trike exclaimed, animatedly reenacting his moment of glory.

“GB?” John echoed, chuckling at Trike’s wild story. Trickee only giggles as Boom held his laughter. 

“I helped too!” Branch chimed in, pouting as Boom nodded in agreement beside him.

Poppy stood nearby, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she listened to her friends.

“I should be the adventurer! Give me the goggles!” Trike said, raising his hand with a grabby motion toward Branch’s goggles.

Branch immediately clutched them close, shooting Trike a glare as Poppy and Boom giggled at the playful scene. 

“I’m not giving you my goggles for my brother,” Branch shot back. “I just need your help.”

Branch stood up, and Trike followed his hand on the table ready to chase Branch, both ready to bolt. Grandma's voice rang out behind them, "Sit down, you two!"

John couldn’t help but laugh. This house was a chaotic mess, but it didn’t matter. Here, they were free. For now and John Knows it.

Chapter Text

JD walked slowly back home, the cradle handle of the egg resting on his chest, and Branch cradled on his back, sound asleep. It was another quiet night as they returned from a long day of rehearsing on the stage. The anniversary of their freedom from the Bergens was just a few weeks away, and they needed to be ready for the big performance.

As he reached their pod, JD shifted Branch in his arms, gently placing him in his room. Branch stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed as JD carefully changed his clothes, sliding off the day’s outfit and tucking him into bed. JD knelt down, brushing a soft kiss on Branch’s crown before leaving the room.

With a tired sigh, JD headed for the couch, carefully lifting the egg from its cradle and placing it on his lap. He winced slightly, adjusting to the weight before settling in with a blanket draped over his shoulders. His body ached from a day of non-stop practice, but there was a comfort in the exhaustion—a sense of accomplishment. They were getting closer to being ready.

As JD’s eyes fluttered shut, a familiar weight settled on the couch near his feet. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.

"Doriander," came the soft voice of Grandma Rosiepuff, her weight causing the couch to dip. 

JD only hummed in acknowledgment, too tired to respond fully. He could feel his legs being gently nudged as she made space for herself.

"Hey, G-Puff," he muttered sleepily.

“Tired?” she asked, her voice laced with concern but not so much for anything serious, just asking John have energy to move out from the coach.

“Really tired.” John glued with the coach, john already aching begging to leave it alone with it comfortable spot. 

“Want me to take the egg for the night?”

JD nodded, making a low hum of agreement. He felt her lift the egg off his lap, and he flinched slightly at the loss of its warmth shell,  he quickly relaxed into the couch again, knowing it was safe in her hands.

“Want me to read you a story?” Grandma asked, settling in beside him.

“Yes, please,” John mumbled, his voice muffled by the blanket he’d pulled up to his chin. He was too old to ask for a bedtime story, but there was something about Grandma’s voice that calmed him, that made the worries of the world melt away—at least for a little while.

“You know, you really should be sleeping in your own bed,” Grandma mused as she shifted the egg in her lap. “The couch isn’t good for your back.”

John smirked, eyes still closed. “Just need to make sure everything’s safe.”

“It’s all safe, sweetheart,” she reassured him, flipping through the pages of the book she’d picked up. “The bunker isn’t going anywhere, and we’re not getting any news in the middle of the night.”

John remained silent for a moment, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “I just… want to make sure everything’s clear.”

He could almost feel Grandma rolling her eyes, even without looking. He heard the familiar sound of pages flipping as she pulled out a book. She muttered the word audible for him to hear, but his mind coulnd’ hodl the word long enough just enjoying her smooth tone. Suddenly midst of the reading Grandma spoke

“You know, Branch’s bunker won’t have any flaws because he’s got a good brother looking out for him.”

JD cracked one eye open, watching as Grandma cradled the egg in her lap. A tiny pang of jealousy stirred inside him, he always wanted to do the rest of incubating the egg himself but he knew it be hard, he was too tired to hold the egg properly after caring it the whole day, it was quickly washed away by contentment. The reassurance wasn’t bad it always drop out of the blue, he thought, just a bit corny.

“He’s just smart for a kid,” JD muttered, downplaying Grandma’s compliment.

“But it’s true,” she replied, her voice warm.

JD shifted again, his eyes drifting from the egg to Grandma’s calm expression. After a moment, he spoke, almost hesitantly. “I wanna go to the Neverglade Trail.”

The thought had been nagging at him for days. He’d done his research, mapped out the route—it would take about a week and a half, give or take. It was the perfect season to travel, with the summer ice melting just enough to make the trek safer. But with the baby—Cooper—on the way, things had become more complicated.

Grandma paused, her eyes softening as she looked at him. “But you can’t,” she said, not as a question, but as a simple truth.

There was sympathy in her gaze, a gentle understanding of the burden JD carried.

“You could go now,” she offered, though both of them knew it wasn’t the right time.

JD shook his head, offering a small, confident smile. “I can’t. And I don’t think I want to. Not now—not with Branch and the egg. And… for me, too.”

The weight of his responsibility hung heavy in the air. JD had always been the protector, the one to guide those he loved. But now, with the egg in their care, it wasn’t just about him and Branch and Grandma Rossiepuff anymore. A new life was coming into their family—one that depended on them for everything. It was a responsibility that both comforted and overwhelmed him.

This wasn’t like before, sure John expected to only living his early livelihood in time with Only Branch and Grandma to be taken account to his plan to tackle the future but this one he have another troll it being out from JD known for personal understanding of the individual troll, it takes time to know someone truly to predict their next move, it be challenging for this one. 

It remind him of time - back when JD wandered alone with Rhonda, his trusted animal companion, through different lands and tribes. Rhonda had been his closest friend, always by his side in the thick of his isolation. She had gotten him through so many tough times, understanding him better than most of course within different intelligence ranks but the bar is high in Johns's opinion. Now, things were different. He couldn’t just go off to Neverglade on a solo adventure anymore. He wanted to do it with Branch but now he had to taken account of his new brother. He’s not sure how it will go, but he’ll figure it out soon, guess it just have to delay a few more months. 

Grandma hummed thoughtfully, breaking JD’s reverie. “I’ll make sure to pack soon an extra supplies… just in case this little one decides to come looking for you on your next camping trip.”

JD rolled his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You know he’s way too young for that.”

“I know, I know,” Grandma chuckled, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “But they grow up so fast, my babies”  

she gave off a fake sniff. Flipping pages but not much reading sd the conversation continues. 

She trailed off, her voice quieter now, as if reflecting on all the years that had passed. “Just a few more months, and you’ll have a ‘Branch baby,’ as I like to call it.”

JD snorted softly, knowing how true it was. Trolls matured quickly, becoming more aware of the world around them in just a matter of months. Branch had grown few years older into such an independent little troll, capable of handling himself unsupervise for certain thing Still, having a new baby would bring about a whole new set of challenges—and changes to JD’s carefully laid-out plans.

“We’ll have to go our favorite spot,” JD said, shifting his thoughts to the future. “A perfect for the baby to start exploring. And you’ve gotta come, too. Free grandchild, right?”

Grandma chuckled, flipping another page in her book. “Free grandchild? I already have five. But, sure, I can always add one more.”

Oh Trolls the rest of his brother, John haven’t forgotten about them. John remeber the road that lead to one of vacay island. He just good excuse to find a great transport to go to the island, so far as John remember there werent cruise to transport any troll to there. 

The conversation lulled, and JD felt the familiar comfort of his family’s presence as his eyelids grew heavier.

“You know,” Grandma said, her voice quiet now, “you’ve made it a habit, sleeping on this couch on a certain occasion day.”

JD grinned, his eyes still closed. “I’m just here for the water… and maybe the midnight snack.”

Grandma raised an eyebrow, though JD couldn’t see it. “You’re not trying denying, huh?”

He chuckled. “Not really.”

“Thought so,” she said with a knowing smile. “But you should get some proper sleep, John. Branch’s friends are visiting tomorrow, remember?”

JD groaned, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “I’m glad he’s getting along with the other trolls, ei just can’t stand it being messy and loud.”

“I do too, but I guess that just a quirk for having kids around the pods”

Back in his original world, Branch opened up about the isolation he had lived through and how his trauma had affected his ability to connect with other trolls. The constant fear of the Bergens had created an impenetrable barrier around him, making it seem impossible for anyone to get close. The only exception was Poppy—a persistent pink ball of energy who had stuck by him for the past two decades, never giving up on him. JD respected Poppy’s stubbornness, even admired it.

But despite that, it pained JD to think about how Branch had been alienated for so long. His childhood had been stolen from him—not just because of the Bergens, but because his brothers, and JD himself, had left him behind. The guilt of abandoning him still lingered. Yet, despite everything, JD felt a sense of relief now. Branch had found his community—a group of trolls who truly cared for him, who could support him in ways JD hadn't been able to before. It was a comfort to know Branch wasn’t alone anymore.

Morning light crept through the window as shouts echoed from the next room. JD stirred at the sound of scattered papers and the clatter of cardboard. Branch and his friends had decided that today was the perfect day for an impromptu puppet show, and the pod had been transformed into a miniature theater, complete with cardboard cutouts and props strewn across the floor. The drama show about a brave troll knight with colourful elemental crystal and his trusty steed going against two twin alien antagonists.

There was yelling as the doll came out the cardboard when the fight sene taken out the cardboard layout with it being branch running chased by trickee and poppy who hold onto the twin antagonist. 

“Sit down, you two!” Grandma’s voice cut through the commotion as she caught Branch and Trike preparing to dash out of the room, with poopy there hitting them playfully as they scrabble trying pry off their shirt being old by grandma.

JD shook his head with a fond smile. "This house is going to be a mess," he muttered to himself, amused.

"Yeah, but it’s *our* mess," Branch chimed in, walking back from the suddent end of their performance, nudging John playfully.

But as the laughter continued around him, John’s eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room, where something else quietly awaited them—the egg. It sat nestled in a soft blanket, still and unassuming, but it radiated a quiet energy that John couldn’t ignore. The egg is an unexpected result from John carelessness, but there is a unshalen worrinesss if john didn’t ask branch to find. What would have happened to the egg, it should have just stumbel upon the village without hsi family intervention, just hwo mnay more change john existence affect the world outside from the pop village.

Branch noticed John’s gaze drifting. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” he asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

John blinked, snapping back to the moment. “Yeah, it’s hard not to,” he admitted, his eyes still lingering on the egg. “ abrother almost a perfect present for my perfect brother”

“Dork” Branch rolled his eye. 

Branch’s expression softened. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, held a rare moment of calm. “Don’t worry john, you’re always be my favorite older brothers.”

John smiled, a bittseet feeling like he stolen soemthing from Fllod. Shoudl he even have the right to have that tittle, it felt undeserving as he did com ack to change everything because he has the memory of the future but the real normal joh with no knowledge future woudl ahve left and come too late. It debateable to waht extend you are responsible to a conflict and isue that never existence in the present time. John had raise branch to make sure he had the childhood his baby brother always deserve. 

Across the room, Trike bounded over between John and Branch conversation, followed by Boom and Poppy. “So what’s the deal with the egg, anyway?” Trike asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “You think it’s gonna hatch soon?”

John shrugged, though he couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Could be any day now,” he said, glancing at the egg.

Poppy’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Maybe we should do something special when it hatches!” she suggested, her voice bright with excitement. “Like a big party! It’d be the perfect way to celebrate freedom and family. And our new little brother!”

Branch immediately perked up at the idea. “Yeah! We could make it into a whole celebration!.”

“Just not too big, we already have too many holiday to count on,” Boom added, grinning widely.

“I like it,” John said finally, his voice thoughtful but resolute. “We’ll do it.”

The room buzzed with excitement as the conversation turned to party planning. But beneath the surface, John felt a quiet weight. His gaze returned to the egg, and his mind wandered to everything it symbolized. It wasn’t just about celebrating a new life—it was about the fragile balance they had struck. The egg represented the future, yes, but it also reminded him of their responsibility, of the fragility of the peace they now enjoyed.

Poppy’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Do you think…” she started, her tone more serious now, “Do you think it’ll be hard? Raising new brother, I mean, is it hard to have more than one sibling. What will happened to branch?”

John turned to face her, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind her question. “It won’t be easy, brothers tend to fight. I wonder forget about Branch don’y you worry, ill just need to be more smart to love by two brothers equally ,” he admitted, his voice steady as he scoop Branch as Branch smile laughing as john smuggle kisses on his cheek as branch try to puss him. John continues . “But it’ll be worth it. We’ve been through enough to know that the things you fight for—the things you protect—are the ones that matter most.”

Branch nodded in agreement, his face set with determination. “And ill protect you,” he said firmly. “My bunke will be the best home ever fro you, grandma, baby brother,  poppy, trickee, and Boom and the whole village. .”

Trikee puffed up his chest dramatically. “I’ll protect him too! I’ll teach him all about adventure and surviving the wild!”

Boom snickered, giving Trike a playful nudge. “Maybe let him hatch first before you start teaching him survival skills.”

Laughter rippled through the group, lightening the mood once more. John chuckled along with them, but the seriousness of the moment still lingered in his heart. 

But for now, it was enough to focus on the good. The warmth of his family, the joy in their voices, and the promise of something new. As the house slowly quieted down and the others began to drift off, John found himself drawn back to the egg one last time.

He stood over it, his fingers brushing lightly over its speckled surface. There was a warmth there, a quiet energy that seemed to hum beneath the shell. “You have alot of people can’t wait to meet yooy. And it okay if you’re differnet. We’ll promise to protect and love you. I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet determination. 

Chapter Text

Branch stood there, nervous, peeking through the curtain at the trolls gathering in front of the stage. Trolls were walking in, talking to each other, gathering around in front of the stage, excited for the Brozilla performance. Branch wore a sleeveless jacket that hung on his chest, tied with musical notes for buttons. His trusty goggles—now with a bit more shine and accessories glued on with a glue gun, plus some extra glitter—sat on his head. He wasn’t about to swap them out, not even for the performance. He claimed it was something to remember, but John had a feeling it was something deeper. Not that he blamed him; John did the same. The goggles were part of their look, their trademark. They’d even joked about naming themselves "The Goggles Bro," but that idea was way too ridiculous, and they figured it’d ruin their reputation.

Branch bit his lip, shuffling his legs with every second. He was nervous—more nervous than he had ever been. Sure, they’d performed before, but that was usually at birthday parties or other occasional event. This time, they were performing in front of the whole village. To say Branch was nervous was an understatement; he felt ready to explode. This wasn’t like those birthday gigs—they’d gotten popular enough to be asked to perform on stage but certain amount trolls, and now they were the big, the whole village there to watching them. Watching them perform. 

Branch jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to find JD smiling at him. Branch gave a nervous smile back as JD patted his shoulder, guiding him to the center of the backroom. In the corner, Poppy was reciting her lines and striking poses.

“You excited, Bitty?” JD asked, his voice gentle.

“Nervous…” Branch could barely stay still, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he practically bounced. The light from the stage glimmered off his goggles, peeking through the curtain. He glanced back out at the crowd, and JD followed his gaze, letting out a small laugh.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it…” JD trailed off, lost in his thoughts for a moment.

Branch huffed, trying to pump himself up. He crossed his arms tightly, trying to stop himself from shaking. “I don’t like this. I feel like I’m going to puke all over the floor. AND Im going to perform with Poppy.”

JD gave him a funny look but squeezed his shoulder firmly. “I won’t say you shouldn’t worry, but you know what? They’re all out there, waiting to see you have fun and dance. And Cooper and Grandma will be waiting for you too.”

Branch grinned, shaking his head as he looked a bit more reassured. “I can’t believe you already named our baby brother. Looks like I’m not the only one excited to see him,” he teased.

“I can’t believe you named him before the Name-Chosen-for-baby-branch-brother-BROelebration!” Poppy gasped, pretending to be hurt. She skipped over, her colorful dress bouncing with her, heart-shaped glasses perched on her nose. She stood beside Branch, who rolled his eyes at her exaggerated surprise. Thanks to Branch's insistence and Poppy's puppy eyes, they’d convinced John to let Poppy join the performance for this one.

John gave a toothy grin. “What can I say? I’ve got a feeling he’s a Cooper kind of troll.”

“That’s weird,” Branch said, while Poppy nodded in agreement. “You could’ve at least talked to us about the name! He could’ve been Mini-Branch-Baby-Egg-Muffin-Cupcake-Dove!”

John burst out laughing. “Now that’s too long, Popstar.”

Branch and Poppy giggled, their playful banter easing the tension. Just then, a loud voice boomed from the other side of the curtain, announcing the next act.

“STAND UP AND MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THE LAST, BUT NOT LEAST, PERFORMANCE OF OUR GREAT CELEBRATION… GIVE A BIG HAND FOR… BROOOOZILLA!”

The crowd claps their hand, immediately began chanting, “Brozilla! Brozilla! Brozilla!” Their voices grew louder and louder, the energy from the audience filling the backstage area.

John turned to Branch and Poppy, his grin softening. “Alright, Bitty B. Popstar. Just remember—”

“Let’s bro!” Branch and Poppy said in sync, raising their fists as they jumped toward the curtain. Poppy hopped behind Branch, and John smiled, following them. Branch slowed as the crowd’s cheers grew deafening, before gradually dying down, everyone waiting eagerly in their seats.

John, Poppy, and Branch stood with their backs to the crowd, the music starting to play. The energy in the room buzzed with anticipation. 

Poppy was the first to turn around, her hips swinging rhythmically with the beat as she kicked off the performance.

Poppy sang, her voice light and playful:

Uh, let's go to the beach-each

Let's go get a wave

They say what they gonna say

Have a drink, clink, found the Bud Light

Bad Trolls like me is hard to come by

She jumped, lifting one leg high as she spun, her left arm shooting forward, her movements swift and acrobatic. Poppy moved with infectious enthusiasm, spinning into the next lines:

The Patrón-ón? Let's go get it on

The zone-one? Yes, I'm in the zone

Is it two, three? Leave a good tip

She winked, spinning on her toes as Branch and John turned around slowly, walking with a more relaxed pace beside her. The three of them moved in unison, their chemistry palpable as Poppy finished her line:

I'ma blow all of my money and don't give two sh—, uh.

Branch joined in, his pose rougher and more grounded compared to Poppy’s fluid movements, providing a stark contrast to her bubbly, acrobatic style.

I'm on the floor, floor

I love to dance

So give me more, more, 'til I can't stand

Get on the floor, floor

Poppy and Branch danced in sync, their contrasting styles blending as they sang:

Like it's your last chance

If you want more, more

Then here I am

Starships were meant to fly

Hands up and touch the sky

They struck a pose, pulling John to the center, framing him with their movements. The crowd cheered, and John, more reserved, followed their lead with tighter, more experience moves. He didn’t mainly do the dance, focusing more on his voice as he sang in the background:

Ooohooooohhh.

Poppy took the lead again, her voice filled with brightness:

Can't stop 'cause we're so high

Branch followed up, his voice a bit grittier:

Let's do this one more time, oh

Oooohhhhooohh, John echoed in the background.

Poppy repeated, playful and free:

Starships were meant to fly

Branch chimed in:

Hands up and touch the sky

Ooohoooooo , John added, his voice still carrying that restrained edge.

As the song hit the next section, Poppy sang, her energy never faltering:

Let's do this one last time  

Hand up one more time

After dancing throught the midst of the rhythm on start of the lyrics John took over, his voice smoother but slower, more deliberate as he sang:

Jump in my hoopty, hoopty, hoop, I own that

Branch added his line with a slight grin, singing with a bit more bite:

And I ain't paying my rent this month, I owe that

John slowed down for his next line, his voice dropping into a lower, almost mischievous tone:

But f— who you want and f— who you like  

Dancehall life, there's no end in sight  

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Now everyone let me hear you say ray ray ray 

Now spend all your money case they pay pay pay

They moved as a trio again, John pointing at himself, Branch, and Poppy as the focus shifted to Grandma Rosiepuff, cheering in the crowd with the egg in her hair. John continues his solo.

And if you're a G, you a G, G, G, John sang, a playful wink in his eyes as he pointed back to Branch and Poppy . My name is Onika, you can call me Nicki (woo).

As John solo over, Branch and Poppy danced in front of the crowd, their moves synchronized, playful, and full of life, occasionally blowing kisses to the cheering audience.

Get on the floor, floor

Like it's your last chance

If you want more, more

Then here I am

Branch and Poppy parted, scattering to opposite sides of the stage, creating their own wild energy as they danced. John followed up with a slick move, swinging his body confidently, striking a pose of his own.

Poppy took the lead again, her voice soaring:

Starships were meant to fly

Hands up and touch the sky

Can't stop 'cause we're so high

Let's do this one more time

Branch jumped in, his voice rougher but just as powerful:

Starships were meant to fly

Hands up and touch the sky

Let's do this one last time

Can't stop, one more time.

John, now slowing down, brought a softer, more melancholic tone to the final lines of the song as the crowd swayed with the rhythm:

Starships were meant to fly  

Hands up and touch the sky  

Can't stop 'cause we're so high  

Let's do this one more time.

As the song drew to a close, Branch and Poppy moved forward, standing side by side with John. Their hands intertwined, standing proud as the light shone down on them, casting dramatic shadows under the moonlight.

Together, they sang in sync, their voices united:

Starships were meant to fly  

Hands up and touch the sky.

With one final pose, they bowed down, the crowd roaring as the last note rang out:

Let's do this one last time  

Can't stop just one more time

The performance ended with thunderous applause as they smiled, triumphant under the glow of the stage.

The crowd cheered wildly, throwing glitter and blowing kisses toward the trio on stage. As the DJ started a remix of their song, blending parts of their performance into a new rhythm, the excitement only grew. Poppy leapt into action, swinging her hands in the air, her energy never wavering. Branch gave a hesitant wave at first, but Poppy pulled him into the moment. He let out a small laugh, his body relaxing as he placed a hand on his chest and gave a slow, respectful bow.

John watched them with pride in his eyes. He never thought he'd see his younger brother, Branch, standing in front of a stage, singing fearlessly in front of everyone. His gaze shifted upwards, landing on the full moon shining above. What would happen now? His eyes settled on the egg resting on Grandma Rosiepuff's head. It was almost fully covered by her hair, except for the front part. He chuckled internally—maybe the baby inside could already hear the music through the hard shell.

Typically, baby trolls would start singing just a few months after hatching. They were active listeners in the egg, absorbing the sounds around them and learning from them. That’s how they adopted the musical styles of the trolls in their family. Every Pop Troll family had its subtle differences in how they sang, and it was all influenced by the trolls surrounding them during the longest period of time in the egg. Despite these outside influences, each baby troll retained their core personality deep within, their identity shaped not just by their surroundings but by their unique troll DNA.

John knew this all too well, having raised four little brothers, each with their own personalities and quirks. It took effort to truly get to know someone, especially when you practically raised them through most of your own childhood. He chuckled at the memory of Spruce—no, maybe it was Bruce; it was hard to tell sometimes. Spruce had tried to mimic John's morning routine, waking up early and walking out of the pod before breakfast.

This had gone on for months before Spruce finally gave up, deciding he preferred to sleep in on his own terms. John had laughed back then, though he had enjoyed the company during those early morning walks. Spruce, however, was far too young to keep up with such a routine. The baby troll would often fall asleep mid-walk, the cold morning air making it hard to stay awake. Eventually, Spruce returned to his own sleep schedule. Each of John's brothers had tried copying something from their older siblings at some point, but they always ended up finding their own ways, discovering what worked best for them.

John's thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Branch heading backstage, while Poppy stayed out front, waving excitedly to the crowd, especially to her dad. King Peppy’s hair was starting to grow wild again, white strands poking out of his hair ties, and his familiar deep voice could be heard cheering loudly from the background, mixing in with the shouts and excitement of the other trolls. John waved back as the crowd’s cheers grew louder. 

He hurried backstage, but not before turning back one last time, raising his fist high in the air.

"Brozilla!" John shouted.

The crowd erupted, chanting the name with growing enthusiasm:

"BROZILLA! BROZILLA! BROZILLA! BROZILLA! BROZILLA! BROZILLA!"

Backstage, Poppy and Branch spun around, jumping up and down, giddy with excitement. They had just finished their performance, but the end of their song only marked the beginning of the celebration. It was a party for their freedom, a day of joy and relief. John stood a little apart, feeling a tinge of hesitation despite the festive atmosphere. Sure, it was a celebration, but he couldn’t shake the sense of looming inevitability. He needed the future event to go perfectly. He needed Poppy to reconnect with the Bergens, to ensure a world where his brothers didn’t have to live in fear of being eaten by those monster.

John sighed, his thoughts clouded with uncertainty. It wasn’t clear when it would all start, somewhere around Poppy and Branch teen, but he had to stay prepared for anything. The monster could appear at any moment, tumbling into the village, picking off trolls - feast for its eye, driven by a hunger for happiness. He shuddered at the thought. A part of him wished there was another way—a different solution to make peace with the Bergens. But that was impossible without proof. They needed to see the next generation Bergen king experience happiness without devouring a troll, maybe through that bride-to-be John probably seen during the wedding.

OG Poppy had rambled about it often, recounting troll history while John listened attentively. OG Branch had sat beside her, head resting on his arms, lovesick and enchanted by his fiancée’s stories. John had always wanted to tease him, but he restrain himself, feeling it more important to be polite to someone who had been there for Branch when none of John’s brothers would.

John stretched with a groan. "Phew, that was amazing," he grinned, turning to Branch and Poppy, who were still bouncing with energy. They both ran at him, tackling him in a joyful hug, sending him stumbling backward and landing on the floor.

"You were amazing!" John shouted, wrapping his arms around them, grinning widely.

"This was the biggest one yet. I’m really proud of us... and proud of you too." His goggles slipped down slightly as he closed one eye in a wink. Branch and Poppy looked at him, laughing, their happiness contagious.

After resting for a bit, they changed into more comfortable clothes and left the stage. As they stepped outside, they could hear the lively chatter of trolls and the hum of the celebration in full swing. The square they lived in had transformed into a vibrant festival of attractions, stalls, and brightly lit pathways. King Peppy had gone all out, expanding the event with food vendors, game booths, and even beach play areas.

It was a holiday, the biggest they’d ever had. Thought Poppy had said it might have been easier to great even bigger one than last year, if they focused on just one area to add more shine and glitter, but for this occasion, it was about family bonding. Their performance had kicked off the party, and now the Brozilla finale left the trolls in the perfect mood to explore and enjoy the festivities that would last through the night.

"Ooooo, we need to go there! No, wait, there!" Poppy squealed, pointing from one vendor to another. Her excitement grew as they approached a particularly colorful stall, glowing with bright lights. 

Branch, ever patient, followed as Poppy dragged him from stall to stall. His hand clutched his coin bag, ready to spend the money they’d earned over months of performing. Money wasn’t an issue anymore, and even Grandma Rosiepuff had slowed down a bit, though she still insisted on working to keep her mind sharp. John trailed behind, amused, exchanging glances with Grandma, who laughed, instinctively patting the egg nestled in her hair.

"This is wonderful," John said, looking around at the decorations. Strings of fairy lights twinkled above them, almost like stars in the sky. He raised his hand toward them, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "It’s a starry night. I just wanna bathe in them."

"But you can’t really go out into the stars," Grandma Rosiepuff said with a laugh. "You’d get lost in black holes or whatever Clay used to explain to me. I never really understood it."

John chuckled, "I remember when Clay begged for a telescope. We could never afford one… until, well, you know."

"He loved it so much. I remember him crying when he couldn’t see the stars some nights. I wonder if he’d still be gazing at them if he were here."

"Me too, Grandma. Me too."

"C’mon, let’s not weep all night—it’s a celebration!" Grandma Rosiepuff remind, John gently taking the egg from Grandma’s hair and carefully placing it atop his own. He’d gotten used to having more thing on his hair (scars still visible etch on his forehead and within his hairs) and no longer flinched at the smallest touch. They all laughed as they rejoined the fun, moving from vendor to vendor.

The night was filled with laughter and sweets, with Poppy and Branch eating so much junk food  and sweets that Grandma had to cut them off, leading to a playful chase around the arcade with Poppy and Branc hundling all the food and prize along. John, meanwhile, enjoyed trying his hand at the game booths, his sharp reflexes earning him a few prizes. All those years traveling in his OG world had taught him to make every shot count, and tonight was no exception.

At one point, Poppy ran into her dad, King Peppy, who was busy talking to the event organizers. She proudly showed him a prize she’d won, though she pouted a bit when he couldn’t give her his full attention. Still, she handed him the a bright spiral hair plushies, and Peppy, surprised, smiled and thanked her before Poppy dashed back to join the group.

Poppy and Branch eventually reunited with their classmates at the playground, which was decorated with even more fairy lights creating even more stars in the night sky. Grandma and John finally got a chance to rest, sitting down as the pile of prizes grew around them. The night wore on, but the trolls were still celebrating, their joy lighting up the sky as they remembered *The Great Escape*. It was a moment to honor their ancestors’ dream of freedom, community, and family.

Eventually, the doors to the pods creaked open, and the warm glow of the lights inside welcomed them back. Grandma, still holding Branch and a basket, led the way while John carried the heavy bags of gifts they’d received, there’s a humorous basket from King Peppy for looking out for Poppy. 

As Grandma headed to the hall, John dropped the bags onto the table before collapsing onto the couch. His stomach was full, and his mind was heavy with sleepiness. The scent of warm, leafy cider filled the room. John opened his eyes to see a cup of tea being offered to him by a purple hand. He took the cup, feeling the warmth radiate from it, and blew on the steam before taking a sip. The strong taste of cider with a hint of honey calmed him, rejuvenating his body as Grandma sat beside him, sipping her own tea.

"This is great," John commented, trailing off into silence as his head sank into the couch. After all the preparations and performances, even the ordinary fabric felt luxurious.

"You tell me, I feel like I'm back in my twenties," Grandma said with a wistful smile, her mind drifting to memories of her younger days. John glanced away, offering a small, amused smile, humoring his grandmother's nostalgia.

A cracking sound from above within his hair made John’s eyes fly open. He reached up, feeling the egg in his hair begin to shake. A soft, quiet scream escaped him as the cracks spread faster and faster across the shell. Before he knew it, a tiny foot popped out, followed by more cracks as more foot spurs up until John hold nothing more than a crack egg shells and a fuzzball on both his palm.

The sound of a camera shutter clicked as John looked at Grandma Rosiepuff in disbelief.

Chapter Text

Light illuminated the walls in different shades, casting a soft glow that originated from various sources. Above, the sky wasn’t as full of stars as Clay remembered. He stood at the edge of the golf course, staring at the few scattered stars that clung to the night. The moonlight bathed everything in a pale hue, but it wasn’t the same sky he once knew. Perhaps he had moved too far from home, or maybe time had simply shifted the stars’ positions. 

Clay stood there with a grim expression, lost in thought, fiddling with his cape. The fake grass from the golf course had been transformed into a cape and hood, keeping him warm beneath the night sky.

Tonight was a celebration for the trolls who called this place home—the "putt-putt trolls," as they were known. A time for a friendly competition to strengthen themselves from what they might go up againts, it was also a time to mourn the loss of their troll family. No one was sure how many had escaped, or how many had been lost to the Bergen. Clay held onto hope that some had made it. Part of him was relieved that half of his brothers had escaped before the Great Escape, but the other part of them—the part of him that worried endlessly—couldn’t help but fear for John and Bitty possible faith during that day.

He deluded himself into believing that they had somehow escaped the Bergen’s grasp—the hideous, sharp-nailed hands that snatched them away from the ground beneath. He tried to forget the screams, he can’t tell was it him or them, but they still echoed in his mind, growing quieter with time more vague but never truly disappearing bringing the familiar fear deep inside himself. Viva had helped him get through those terrifying nights, helped him keep his thoughts from spiraling into despair over his brothers’ unknown fate.

Clay had to believe. He had to believe John had escaped. John was too stubborn to be eaten, too agile to be caught out of all the brothers, especially after years of practicing those extraordinary acrobatic moves during their boyband days. And Branch—oh, Branch had been just a kid, he can’t die, he was practically a baby. Clay refused to entertain the idea. 

The golf course they had come to live on had been integrated into their lives. They had tilled the earth, planting potatoes in the patches of exposed soil at the corner of the area, and built a memorial by the used large shed empty on the inside. Inside, candles flickered, illuminating crudely drawn portraits of trolls with their distinct hair colors and accessories while other an actually picture. Some of the drawings were propped up in homemade picture frames, crafted from popsicle sticks, accompanied by sentimental objects.

The sudden sound of yelling and commotion broke Clay’s focus. A troll had accidentally damaged one of the obstacle courses meant for today’s event—the Great Race. Trolls were competing in a race to test their agility, rolling themselves along the course using their hair. The fastest troll would win. It was a tradition that had started after their escape, a way to stay sharp in case the Bergens ever returned but also lifting their motivation with a fun game.

Viva and Clay had come up with the idea of turning the fear of the Bergens into something productive—training the trolls in strategy, offense, and defense. Their fear ran deep, especially for those who had lost loved ones. But this race, and the training that came with it, kept their spirits alive. The trolls had even mastered using their hair to transport themselves across the golf course, making travel easier and faster.

The Great Race had become an annual event, declared by Viva herself, and it now symbolized their resilience and happy like nature . Winning the race was a mark of pride, a reminder that they could still be strong and funly creative in the face of danger.

The night wore on, filled with laughter, fried food, and milkshakes. The trolls celebrated their survival, decorating the golf course with bright colors, fluff, and glitter. The stage was a makeshift table, where Viva now stood, pulling Clay towards the performance. Together, they will sing a song to honor their journey, their voices carrying the weight of everything they had been through.

Preparing, Clay took a deep breath, feeling the pressure but finding comfort in Viva’s presence. She smiled nervously at him, and he gave her a reassuring nod. Her smile brightened, radiating warmth, and the crowd’s cheers grew louder before finally quieting down. The lights dimmed, focusing on the two of them, leaving only the soft glow of LED lights in the corners to set the mood. The atmosphere became somber yet comforting, a fitting backdrop for their melancholic song beneath the starlit sky.

Clay began to sing, his voice low and somber, carrying the weight of years of memories.

“Here's to the ones that we got,  

Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not,  

'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  

Of everything we've been through.”

Viva joined in, her voice harmonizing softly with his. The two of them stood close, and Clay felt the warmth of her hand slipping into his, grounding him. 

“Toast to the ones here today,  

Toast to the ones that we lost on the way,  

'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  

And the memories bring back, memories bring back you.”

Clay squeezed Viva’s hand as he sang the next line, his voice growing lower, reflecting the deep sadness in his heart. They began swaying, a slow dance side to side, almost instinctively, as the weight of the lyrics settled between them.

“There’s a time that I remember, when I did not know no pain,  

When I believed in forever, and everything would stay the same.”

Viva’s voice rose slightly, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips as her thoughts drifted, her heart heavy.

“Now my heart feels like December when somebody says your name,  

'Cause I can't reach out to call you, but I know I will one day, yeah.”

As the melody filled the air, Clay and Viva’s hands separated, spreading out toward the crowd, symbolizing the shared grief and hope they all carried. The trolls began humming softly, creating a background chorus, their voices rising like a wave of quiet strength.

Together, Viva and Clay sang, their voices blending into one as they moved in unison.

“Everybody hurts sometimes,  

Everybody hurts someday, ayy-ayy.”

The trolls joined in, their voices echoing.

“But everything gon' be alright,  

Go and raise a glass and say, ayy. ”

Viva and Clay sang together, their movements becoming a slow rhythm as they swayed to the song. Viva lifted an empty glass, toasting the air, toasting the memories who had loss in the way. 

“Here's to the ones that we got,  

Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not,  

'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  

Of everything we've been through.”

Viva’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she raised her glass higher, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Toast to the ones here today,  

Toast to the ones that we lost on the way,  

'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  

And the memories bring back, memories bring back you.”

For a moment, Viva's gaze seemed far away, lost in thoughts of her family, imagining them alive somewhere, waiting for her. Clay knew she was hurting, just as much as he was. He could see it in the way her hand trembled slightly in his grasp, the way her smile faltered before regaining its composure.

The crowd sang in soft unison, their voices lifting the melody higher, filling the night with their shared memories.

“Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo,  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo,  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo.”

As the trolls swayed, their voices blended into one. . He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the song wash over him.

“Memories bring back, memories bring back you.”

The night air grew still, save for the sounds of the soft singing. Clay opened his eyes again, glancing at Viva as she sang. The stars above seemed fewer tonight, but they stood under the same sky, together, as they mourned and celebrated at once.

“There’s a time that I remember when I never felt so lost,  

When I felt all of the hatred was too powerful to stop.”

Clay’s voice wavered, but he pushed through, knowing the words meant everything to everyone here.

“Now my heart feels like an ember, and it's lighting up the dark,  

I'll carry these torches for ya, and you know I'll never drop, yeah.”

Together, Clay and Viva moved slowly, their movements in sync with the beat of the song, their voices stronger now, the crowd’s soft hum continuing to guide them.

“Everybody hurts sometimes,  

Everybody hurts someday, ayy-ayy.”

The crowd chimed in once more, their energy growing as the shared emotion spread through the group, binding them together.

“But everything gon' be alright,  

Go and raise a glass and say, ayy.”

Viva's voice rang out through the night, her tone bittersweet, as she began the next verse. Clay stood beside her, quietly harmonizing with soft “oh-oh” and “no-no” refrains that echoed in the melancholy melody.

“Here's to the ones that we got (oh-oh),” she sang, her eyes filled with memories of faces she would never see again. As she sang, her hand lifted, holding an empty glass toward the night sky, her smile sad but filled with warmth, as though she were toasting to ghosts.

“Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not,  

'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  

Of everything we've been through (no, no).”

Clay followed suit, raising his own glass to the air, though there was nothing inside. The action felt symbolic, a way to honor those who had not made it, those whose absence weighed heavily on their hearts.

“Toast to the ones here today (ayy),  

Toast to the ones that we lost on the way.”

The night seemed to hold its breath as the song lingered, the sound of Viva’s voice mingling with the soft murmurs of the crowd, trolls swaying gently in the moonlight.

“'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories (ayy),  

And the memories bring back, memories bring back you.”

As Viva's voice grew softer, Clay joined her fully, their hands brushing as they sang together. The crowd began to sing as well, their voices rising gently into the sky, the melody carrying their grief and celebration.

“Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo.”

The air was filled with the sound of their voices, a chorus of shared memories. It was more than just a song; it was a moment to acknowledge all they had survived, the people they had lost, and the future they still had together.

Clay sang, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Memories bring back, memories bring back you,” he continued, his eyes scanning the faces of those gathered. Trolls stood arm in arm, some with tears in their eyes, others swaying to the rhythm of the song.

“Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo  

Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo (ooh, yeah).”

The crowd joined in, the harmonies blending beautifully with the night. For a moment, it felt like the past was alive again — as though, through the song, they could reach out and touch those they had lost, if only for an instant.

Clay sang again, his voice growing steadier as the crowd held onto each note.

“Memories bring back, memories bring back you,  

Yeah, yeah, yeah  

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no.”

His final words hung in the air as the melody began to fade, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the gathering. Viva placed a hand on Clay's shoulder, and together they sang the last line in unison.

“Memories bring back, memories bring back you.”

The moment held, suspended in the quiet night, before the crowd of trolls erupted into quiet cheers and hugs, leaning on each other for comfort. They celebrated their survival, their resilience, and the hope that those they had lost were still watching over them. As trolls embraced, some whispered words of encouragement, others simply stood together, their hearts heavy but united.

In the midst of it all, Clay and Viva shared a look of mutual understanding. The pain was still there, but so was the strength to keep moving forward, knowing that they had each other.

"Alright, everyone! Time for preparation—go have fun!" Viva’s voice rang out with energy, her hand raised high in the air. The trolls cheered wildly, their excitement palpable as they rolled around on their hair, darting toward the game. The long-awaited tournament was finally starting, and every troll was eager to compete against one another as the rest cheers rooting for them.

Viva looked out over her people, pride swelling in her heart. But her eyes held a deep sadness, one that was only truly visible to those who knew her well. Clay, standing beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The two of them exchanged a bittersweet glance, their smiles not enough to hide the shared sorrow beneath.

Clay, though keeping up a strong front, was shaking inside. He struggled to hold himself together, though Viva didn’t seem to notice as she continued to gaze out at her people with a quiet pride. She exhaled, her hand slowly opening toward the light that filtered over the arena. Glittering reflections shimmered across the golden course, casting beautiful, dancing colors across the area.

"I can’t believe how far we’ve come," she murmured, her voice soft but filled with emotion. Her hand gestured toward the sparkling scene, the colors dancing around them.

Clay stayed silent, his eyes closed as he focused on his breathing, trying to steady himself. Viva noticed the tension in him and gave his shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Do you want to go to the shed? I can come with you."

Clay nodded quietly. Without a word, Viva made her way to a troll wearing a bottle cap helmet and holding a clipboard, giving instructions about where she was going. The troll nodded, taking over the responsibility of the tournament as Viva and Clay slipped away. Nearby, brightly colored trolls lined the road, standing at the edge of a small block that separated them from the track. The area was already packed with eager, cheering trolls waiting for the race to start.

As they walked, Clay’s thoughts drifted back to the shrine he had made for his brothers. His face tightened into a grim mix guilt expression. He hadn’t placed a tribute to their grandmother yet—he wasn’t sure if she was really gone. He didn’t want to believe it. He wished desperately that she wasn’t just another of the many missing trolls lost during the tunnel escape, he didn’t saw her so perhaps... But his brother—he had seen that with his own eyes. He had watched as the monster took him away. The memory haunted him, leaving him torn between mourning and clinging to the faint hope that somehow, his brother was still alive.

Every time he visited the shrine, Clay found himself in the same conflict. During his breaks, he would sit there, talking to the shrine in an attempt to cope, to keep his sanity in check. He needed something, anything, to hold on to.

Even though they had everything now—food, safety, fun to fill their days with—nothing could mask the loss. That absence lingered, a shadow over their lives. There were days when Clay would see trolls mourning together, holding onto each other like branches of the same tree, lifting each other up from their shared grief. He had Viva, of course—she was the only one he had felt truly close to, even before the escape. But he found it hard to open up to others, hesitant to let anyone else in.

Viva, despite being the strong leader everyone looked up to, suffered too. She carried her own burdens, leaving behind things that could never be replaced. The fear of the Bergens coming back to finish what they started never fully went away. There were times when Viva had tried to run off in search of her family, only for her sense of responsibility—and her fear—to hold her back. 

She would freeze at the entrance, staring out at the flat ground that stretched toward the Bergen lands. It was Clay who always had to bring her back from the brink, leading her back to her pod or to some familiar place. They never spoke about it afterward, just quietly moved on with the day.

As they reached the shrine, Clay knelt down, holding a small candle. He lit it carefully, placing it in front of a large picture of his brother, John, and their baby brother, Bitty. A smaller frame held a picture of newly born Branch, nestled within John’s hair. The baby troll’s wide, innocent eyes peered out from behind John’s, a tiny smile hinting at the corner of John’s lips as his gaze focused lovingly on his youngest sibling. 

Clay’s eyes lingered on the larger photo of him and John—a rare image of just the two of them, taken when Clay was still young and had insisted on a picture without Spruce at the time. He had always wanted one with just him and John, without Spruce in every frame. That day, he had convinced Grandma to take the picture, and although John had been confused at first, he’d gone along with it. 

In the photo, John was holding Clay, the two of them laughing as Clay stuck his tongue out, making a goofy face. It was one of the few memories Clay held onto with such intensity, a reminder of the bond only they shared. Clay had been the one to make John laugh the most, something he had always taken pride in. But now that laughter was gone.

Clay’s breath hitched as he stared at the picture. His hand trembled slightly as he set the candle down. He had to believe that John was still alive, somewhere out there. He had to hope. 

Tears began to stream down his face, and he shook his head, his fist clenching as if to force the grief away. But it was too much, too heavy. Suddenly, he felt an arm wrap around him, pulling him close. He choked back a sob, letting the tears fall as he leaned into the comfort, unable to hold it all inside anymore.

Clay had always loved his brother John. Being able to ride on John's back as they raced through the house, pretending to fly, was one of his favorite things. John would stretch his arms out, making it seem like they were moving impossibly fast, soaring from room to room. Meanwhile, Spruce, would always whine and complain, forced to play the role of the monster in their game. He’d run after Clay, protesting loudly as Clay darted with his ride doing most the running, "prize" in his hands, laughing as he managed to stay just out of reach. The game would always end the same way—with John’s experience giving him wining result, and the chase last longer than Spruce could handle. But in the end, the brothers’ playful banter always turned into an argument over fairness of the game. John, in the background, looking annoyed and tired, only stepped in when things went too far.

Clay loved Spruce—he really did—but when they were younger, he and Spruce constantly vied for John’s attention. John had always been their rock, juggling both brothers' needs and somehow keeping things balanced between them. The three of them did everything together, often because it was easier for John and Grandma Rosiepuff to manage that way. Even at a young age, raising two younger brothers was starting to weigh on older one, and Clay could see that sometimes, but he was too young to do anything and his brother insistence…

Back then, family photos were everything—precious reminders of the moments they spent together. John made sure Spruce was in every single one, probably to avoid leaving anyone out and time saving. It was easier that way—two birds with one stone. But Clay didn’t want Spruce in every photo. He wanted at least a few pictures with just him and John, without his brother tagging along. So, one day, when Spruce was playing with his friends on a playdate, Clay convinced their grandma to take a picture of just him and John.

John had been confused at first, but he went along with it, lifting Clay up and holding him in his arms. Clay, always the joker, stretched his mouth wide and let his tongue hang out in a goofy face, while John, caught off guard, burst into laughter. That was Clay’s gift—he could make John laugh like no one else could. It was something he took pride in, something that made him feel special.

But that laughter was gone now.

They were all gone.

No. NO

Clay shook his head, his fist tightening as he looked at the shrine before him. He had to believe they were still alive. He had to hold on to hope. But as the tears welled up and began streaming down his face, he felt an arm wrap around him. Choking back a sob, he let himself lean into the comfort, unable to stop the flood of emotion.

“Erm, sorry,” Clay muttered, hastily wiping the tears from his face. “Sorry, I’m such a downer. I think you should go, Viva.”

“No, it’s okay, Clay. Really, it’s okay,” she replied gently, her eyes full of understanding.

“I don’t think I want to watch the race. I think you should go and have fun. I just wanna… I just wanna get away from this for a bit,” he confessed, his voice shaky.

Viva shook her head firmly. “No. Wherever you go, I go.” A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “Besides, I heard there might be some shooting stars a couple of hours later.”

Clay couldn’t help but smile at that. He remembered himself mentioning the stars a few days ago, excited about the prospect of seeing them. But with everything happening, it was easy to forget the simple joys, the tasks at hand managing the Putt Putt - overshadowing the enjoyment in life.

Viva took Clay by the hand and pulled him along. “C’mon, let’s get some grub first! We can create our own private party.”

“Thanks, Viva. You really don’t have to do this,” he said, though he felt a warmth in his chest as she stuck close to him, their shoulders bumping together as they marched toward the vendor. A short line of trolls stood in front of them, eagerly awaiting their turn to grab food before the night got busier.

“I don’t mind! I’m just looking out for my trusted friend,” she said in a sing-song tone, a playful smile lighting up her face.

Clay rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile of his own. He looked up at the night sky, where the moon illuminated everything with a soft glow. There were no clouds in sight, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they would catch sight of a racing star to fill the quietness of the night, adding a little spark to their evening.

Chapter Text

If John had a nickel for every time he had to raise a brother, he'd have six nickels—while it’s not enough to buy anything, but strange it happened six times. He was pretty sure this last possible nickel, it should be, an eggdroppedg into his life unexpectedly by his younger brother, would be the final one. Or at least, that's what he told himself for reassurance.

It happened so suddenly, that an egg turned trolling open for the world to see.  John shed quiet tears—whether from joy or sadness, he couldn’t quite tell—while Grandma Rossipuff, stronger than ever, only let a few tears escape before putting on a brave face her hand holding a camera as she shot many pictures of this particular moment. Thankfully, the baby didn’t make a sound as it was born, not a cry. It was the middle of the night, and Branch had already fallen asleep. The last thing anyone wanted was for Branch to barge in and cause a commotion, making it impossible to get him back to sleep before tomorrow.

John let out a shaky sigh as he gently brushed the hair from Cooper’s little face. The small fluffball nestled closer to him, practically half the size of Branch’s five-year-old body, larger than the newly born pop troll but still small. He felt his body tremble, but he held on. His arms wrapped around the warm little body, a soft sheet covering the baby. Cooper’s tiny head, with its long neck, poked out from the blanket and rested against John's chest.

"I... I can’t believe it," John stammered, sniffing as he rocked the baby slowly. He glanced up at Grandma, whose eyes were misty with the same emotions. The beauty of a hatching always brought tears to both of them.

"I-I… do you want to hold him?" John offered, his voice trembling.

Grandma Rossipuff, still holding her camera tucked in her hair, nodded and stretched out her hands. John carefully, almost reverently, passed the bundle of joy into her arms. The baby whimpered softly as it shifted positions, settling comfortably in Grandma’s hands.

“My grandson…” she croaked, wiping away more tears. “I thought I’d gotten over this part, but it’s just so precious.” She brought the baby close, planting a tender kiss on its chubby cheek as it squirmed, instinctively seeking warmth.

They stood there in silence, neither willing to make any sudden movements that might disturb the peaceful little fluffball just born for few hours.

Finally, Grandma Rossipuff broke the silence. “I think you should sleep, Doriander.” She smiled gently, her tired eyes filled with energy to care for the little one throughout the night.

“Huh?” John blinked at her, then hesitantly nodded. His eyes lingered on the baby as he made his way to his room. Opening the door, the room was messy on the other side and thankfuly it has a clear floor, a bit of a preference he had for living with a brother, can’t leave dangerous item on the floor no matter how secure your room might be. He flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. His heart ached from being away from the baby, a feeling both familiar and old. He snuggled into his blanket, still in disbelief. It had all happened so fast, but thankfully, Grandma Rossipuff had been quicker—cleaning the baby, wrapping him in a blanket while John sat on the couch, trying to process the surprise hatch just on his hand. 

John’s thoughts drifted back to the baby—its sleepy, yawning face and those big, curious eyes that looked at him with such wonder before closing it - it being depending on the two care giver on the room. A warm feeling spread through his chest. He would sleep it off, though. Tomorrow, there would be a lot of explaining to do with Branch. 

He shifted in bed as morning light crept through the window, the sound of footsteps rushing down the hall.The door slammed open, startling him. Branch stood there, his iconic goggles resting on his messy hair and on his teel colored pajamas, his face beaming with excitement. He lunged onto John’s bed, patting him restlessly.

“Wake up, John! Wake up! Up! UP!” Branch tugged on his jacket, practically dragging him out of bed. “JOHN, WAKE UP!”

John groaned, rubbing his eyes as he looked at Branch, annoyed but smiling. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“My baby brother’s here! He’s here! Come on, let’s meet him! John! Get up!”

John slowly stood, feeling Branch's eager hands pushing him toward the door. He brushed his hair back and noticed the bandage he'd been wearing was gone. Huh, must’ve taken it off. He glanced at the drawer where his goggles sat, but there was no time—Branch was already pulling him down the hall toward the living room. The smell of sizzling breakfast and humming filled the air.

Grandma Rossipuff, her back to them, turned around with a warm smile as they entered the room. Branch ran to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and jumping with excitement. She smiled, returning the hug, and set the pan down, turning off the heat as they gathered in the living room.

Grandma reached into her hair and gently brought out Cooper, showing him to both Branch and John. Branch could only coo at the baby’s doe-like eyes and toothy smile, already strangely present despite being newly hatched. Cooper’s hair puffed out wildly, surrounding his head like a fluffy crown.

“I tried to condition it, but no matter what I do, it just puffs back up. So much like Clay,” Grandma Rossipuff chuckled, brushing Cooper’s neck as the baby leaned into the touch, letting out a chirp-like giggle.

Branch stood in front of the baby, his eyes locked with Cooper’s. They stared at each other for a long moment before Branch laughed softly, gently wrapping his arms around his baby brother.

“Gentle, Branch,” John reminded him.

Branch brought Cooper close, finally getting to meet his brother. Cooper snuggled into him, his long neck curling as he nestled against Branch’s shoulder, giggling. Branch giggled back, overjoyed to meet his new sibling.

“Hi, Cooper. I’m Branch, your new brother, and this is our big brother, JD.” Branch softly whispered point at himself and John. 

“Hey there, little guy. Nice to finally meet you—nice and awake this time,” John smiled giving a small wave, his eyes soft and loving, to the unexpected new addition of the family. Cooper wobbled a bit, staring at Branch before looking intently at John. The baby tried to stand, jumping off gGrandma Rosiepuff lap, his legs wobbly but determined, taking a few unsteady steps forward.

Grandma and Branch cheered in amazement as John knelt down, opening his arms to welcome the little one.

“Hey, you wanna come to your brother JD—AAH! He’s a biter!”

Cooper lunged at John’s hair, biting onto a tuft and hanging off the side of John’s face as it leg scrabble hitting John face reaching top of the hair curling, leaving John and those around the stun and surprise. Before Branch laugh following by grandma to John flustered facial.

Breakfast that morning was bright and peaceful, the earlier sun subside. Cooper clung stubbornly to John’s hair, refusing to let go, munching onto it as he had breakfast before any of the brothers had awaken.

“I couldn’t have felt it, honestly,” Grandma Rossipuff teased, sipping her tea with a hum.

“That’s because you’ve got thick hair. It runs in the family, but mine’s… problematic.” John winced slightly, feeling the pull. Ever since an old injury, his hair had become overly sensitive to touch, though it didn’t hurt outright—Cooper’s playful tugging just happened to hit the wrong spot.

Cooper eventually settled, perched comfortably in John’s hair, which stood upright thanks to the cream Dr. Moonbloom had prescribed. The baby, now snuggled up, began to snooze.

John bit into his breakfast, occasionally glancing up at Cooper as he slept with a tuft of hair still in his mouth. Grandma Rossipuff clicked her camera, snapping a picture of the moment much to John's embarrassed. Branch isn’t helping to engross staring at his baby brother resting on John hair, leg dancing excited to start the day with a new baby at the house. By the time breakfast was halfway done, Branch had disappeared into his room, gathering toys and books for his newly hatched brother.

John smiled as he felt the new weight on his head, his senses heightened. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he thought about his growing family.

“So, a new grandson, huh?” John said, smirking.

Grandma Rossipuff looked at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “New grandson”” She chuckled softly.

John finished his breakfast just as Branch returned, his small arms full of toys. He set them on the living room table with a determined expression, eager to play. John nodded to Grandma Rossipuff, who nodded back in approval moving onward to clean up breakfast.

John sat on the couch, watching as Branch excitedly presented his brother with the toys, only to look disappointed when Cooper remained asleep, nestled in John’s hair. John could only smile as Branch pouted.

“Sorry, Bitty,” John explained gently. “Cooper’s just born. He needs as much rest as possible.”

Branch looked uncertain, glaring slightly and pounting. “Are you sure?”

John nodded, still smiling. Just then, Cooper let out a cute little yawn, drawing Branch’s attention. His annoyance melted away as he cooed over the baby’s sleepy expression. Branch leaned against John, gazing at his brother with love and excitement. 

Leaning in close, Branch whispered, “Happy birthday, Baby Coopy. I love you. I’ll wait as long as possible so we can go out and play. I have lots of friends for you to meet—Poppy, Trickee, Boom, DJ Suki, Biggie, Smidge, Fuzzbert, and more. I can’t wait for you to meet them all.” he continued to list off before moving to another topic his young mind branches off to. 

Branch’s whispers filled the room, a comforting background noise as Grandma Rossipuff sat beside them, bringing over a book and a pot of tea, sound of page flipping and teas boiling filled the air. It was going to be a long, peaceful morning.

John leaned back on the couch, smiling as Branch's quiet voice drifted in and out of his thoughts. His mind wandered, thinking of the new family member, and what will Baby Cooper might bring to the family. John smiled in relief as today schedule’s empty no playdate plan or any surprise well perhaps tomorrow there will be, Branches class mate and a few troll wanted to meet the egg that finally hatch. He fiddled with the baby’s fluffy hair, feeling the warmth of his family surrounding him.

Chapter Text

John wrapped a scarf snugly around Cooper’s neck, smiling as the young troll bounced with excitement. The winter air was crisp, and frost coated the ground of the playground, where Branch and his friends darted around, their laughter echoing through the trees. Cooper, just a few months old, had grown rapidly—now standing as tall as John’s chest, even though he was younger than Branch by a few years. His four-legged frame made him look like a miniature giant compared to his peers, and his fluffy body was bristling with energy. The green grass scarf he wore matched the colors of his hat, giving him comfort as he prepared to join his friend.

“Ready, Coop?” John asked, crouching down and adjusting the scarf one last time.

“Im ready Daddy!” John felt a guilty warmth on his chest, all his brother before him had slip up on occasion calling him that, they usually got over it most time just calling him by his name.

Cooper chirped happily in response, began to trot around the snowy playground. Despite his growing size, Cooper aware much of his difference from other troll kids. In a game of the tag, often the trolling would used their hair to swing around, it strengthened and also make the game much more fun while cooper. His four legs gave him a unique advantage, allowing him to run faster and chase his friends more easily just when the moment struck to the ground.

Branch and his friends were engaged in a mock hero battle on the other side of the playground. Beforehand Cooper put down offer to join their little adventure.

Branch, in his signature goggles resting on his forehead place down covering his eye, struck a hero pose, standing proudly on a rock with Boom and Trickee flanking him.

“For Trollkind!” Branch yelled with enthusiasm, raising a stick in the air as if it were a sword. His friends, Boom and Trickee, echoed his cry with their own triumphant shouts. 

John watched the scene with a warm smile as Cooper, now wrapped up against the winter chill, dashed around the snow-covered ground, trying to catch up with his classmate. His clumsy attempts at chasing them only made the others laugh more as they swung effortlessly from the monkey bar around the playground Every time Cooper tried to leap after them, his legs tangled beneath him, sending him tumbling into the snow in a flurry of fluff and giggles, he needed practice, but it wasn’t much worry, we all need practice to be best at something.

“Careful, Cooper!” John called out, amused but slightly worried as the young troll scrambled back up and resumed his pursuit.

John sat back on a bench, humming a gentle tune as he watched the children play. Though Cooper struggled to catch up, his determination never wavered. His fluffy body bounced and wiggled as he ran, the scarf flapping behind him like a cape. Even though his movements were a little ungainly compared to the others, the sheer joy on his face made John’s heart swell.

As John’s eyes drifted away from the playground, his mind wandered to the bigger picture. Ever since Cooper had been born, the world around them had started to feel… different - bigger to the pop troll, John feel like he can relax at that prospect. The secret of the Troll tribes, once kept so carefully hidden, had slowly begun to unravel. 

King Peppy had been the first to announce it, standing still alongside Dr. Moon Bloom pestering him before the announcement but John isn’t about to tattletail on the king timid reaction when chastised by the docter. They acknowledge and explained that Cooper’s unusual nature growth and his distinct way of singing had raised questions among the older trolls—questions that could no longer be ignored. The existence of other Troll tribes was no longer just a myth or a bedtime story. It was becoming a reality that they could no longer avoid.

“John,” King Peppy had said during one of their private talks after the Great Accouncement. “With Cooper growing up. The world outside our tribe is larger, I know you probably already noticed when raising Cooper and Im sorry I didnt tell you sooner. But I hope you understand why I did what i did, we can’t let anything hinder out tribe survival, I just wanted to protect everyone. I am a king and you are my people”

The idea of other tribes existing and known by all pop troll. He heard from his OG world non of the troll havent known not until the announcement ‘World Tour’ start of the by the Queen Rock, Queen Barb. with everyone knowing about the existence of troll tribe. It would be much easier an excuse for him to visit them, he would be able to have excuse to meet them up without raising suspicious or explanation of searching for the tribe. He just need Rhonda, his dear ole girl. 

There was moment he stop and his mind wanderers back at Rhonda, he hope to find her soon outside from the tribe. 

Today was for play. For now, the world outside their tribe could wait. John shuffling pack of bag with warm water bottles rested, John had promise to Branch, Poppy and Cooper to their family camp, it was almost a tradition started of with John wanting to go camping more often which create an arrangement for once every few month. As John watched Cooper chasing after his friends, Grandma Rossipuff bustled nearby, preparing for their upcoming camping trip. Her hands were deft as she packed supplies into her satchel—snacks, blankets, and a collection of pots and pans that jingled lightly with each movement.

“Are we ready, Grandma?” John asked, standing up and brushing off some snow from his jacket. 

“Almost, my dear,” Grandma Rossipuff replied, adjusting her glasses as she looked over her packing. “Our Dorian Spot would still be there when we arrive, thought considering how far it is. I doubt there would be any snowbed, colder air yes, but nothing a hot meal and rest can’t fix.” She smiled warmly at John, her eyes twinkling with the excitement of the upcoming camping trip with their small family.

John chuckled, his eyes flickering back to the playground where Cooper had finally managed to tag one of his friends. With a triumphant squeal, Cooper plopped down into the snow, his fur blending into the white landscape as his friends laughed around him.

Branch stood at the edge of the playground, continue playing their roleplay striking another dramatic hero pose as his friends gathered around him, mimicking his stance. “For Trollkind!” he declared once more, the snow crunching beneath his boots as he pointed toward the horizon as the rest of the friend cheers throwing as far as possible of a snowball on the horizon - practicing like a trained army.

John chuckled at his younger brother’s antics. Branch had always had a flair for the dramatic, especially when it came to playing the hero. He often roped his friends, Boom and Trickee, into these elaborate imaginary battles, complete with daring rescues and epic sword fights.

“We’re going to save the Troll Kingdom!” Branch shouted, his goggles sliding down his nose slightly as he swung his stick-sword in a wide arc. “Boom, Trickee, you’re with me!”

Boom and Trickee saluted in response, their faces filled with determination as they prepared for their imaginary mission. John smiled fondly at the sight, remembering a time when he and his brothers had been the same—innocent, carefree, and filled with dreams of adventure.

As noon struck, it was time for John’s family to get ready, John stood up and called to the kids. “Alright, everyone! Time to head back. We’ve got a camping trip to prepare for.”

Branch groaned in protest, promise of coming back to the play as the trio cheers hugging each other before part way, they wouldn’t meet each other for a few days during the Winter Holiday.

”alright hero protect your family and trollkind” Tricker saluted followed by Boom. Branch Saluted to that 

Cooper trotted over, his fur dusted with snowflakes, his breath coming in short puffs of excitement.

As they began to cary their things, John couldn’t help but glance on the flat ground, he knw the location of the camping ground it just excited. John is excited to have this small holiday with his family. As they prepared for a simple camping trip, John felt content. He would need to face many obstacle especially when it comes to Cooper and bergen. He have to bring Cooper home somehow it was only right even when his heart ache. And the bergen, he would just need to be much more conscious whenever the Great Celebration - celebrating the Great Escape that still stand to party for Pop Troll another year living. 

Branch walk beside Grandma jumping as his hand waving up and down demosntracting what he had been playing with Grandma nodding along listening as bringing in her part of the packs as they started walking toward their journey. There was a shout as a pink figure running to them with full speed there Poppy make it to their camping sight. Poppy manage to convince to join another of their family camp not that any of the Doriander Family mind, even whil Cooper was born - Poppy was there helping around a bit with the family much to the king stress. Looks like she manage got out early from her weekly lesson. As she get close stopping following pace of Branch as she wave front of her John and Cooper as they both wave back leading forward of the ground toward the camping ground. 

Cooper, now by his side, tugged at his scarf and looked up at John with a bright smile. “Let’s go, Coop time for you to introduce the Dorian Spots,” John whispered, ruffling the young troll’s fluffy head as they all made their way out of the village, ready for the next camping trip.

The late afternoon had deepened into evening as John, Cooper, Grandma Rossipuff, Branch, and Poppy arrived at the camping spot. The cold air carried a biting edge, but the sky remained clear with no snow in sight, just the sharp crispness of cold air settling around them. The forest around them hummed quietly, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees and the soft gurgling of the waterfall providing a peaceful backdrop.

John breathed in deeply as they reached the top of the hill, where the sound of water grew louder. The area around the waterfall was open, with flat rocks and soft moss-covered ground creating a perfect spot to set up camp.

“Looks like we made it,” John said with a satisfied smile, looking over at Cooper. His younger brother’s fluffy form was bounding ahead, full of energy despite the cold. His four-legged gait made it easy for him to run, his scarf bouncing along behind him as he hopped over rocks with ease.

“I’m going to go check out the waterfall!” Cooper called back, excitement clear in his voice.

“Stay close!” John replied, knowing Cooper could easily get lost in his explorations.

Branch, who had been trailing behind with Poppy, pulled his goggles down over his eyes, ready to jump into action. “Let’s get this camp set up!” he declared, his heroic tone filling the air as he struck a pose, pretending to be on some grand adventure it might have been John fault for narrating a heroes journey during their nightly reading - stories about heroes in different senery. “Tonight, we camp under the stars!”

Poppy chuckled softly, adjusting her own scarf as she glanced around the forest admiring it. “It’s as beautiful as we visited last time,” she said, she lightly shive hand wrapping attempt for warmth. “A little cold still”

Grandma Rossipuff, always prepared, had already begun to unpack their supplies, her aged hands moving with practiced ease as she laid out blankets and pulled out cooking utensils. “Now, now, let’s not dilly-dally,” she said, her tone warm but firm. “It’s going to get colder once the sun goes down, so we’d better get a fire going.”

John nodded, already gathering some of the dry wood Cooper had managed to drag over. “I’ll get the fire started,” he said, crouching down near the firepit they had chosen—a spot near the base of a large rock, close enough to the waterfall to hear its soothing sound, but far enough to keep the chill of the water at bay.

Cooper was still bouncing around near the water, his four legs giving him an advantage as he zipped back and forth, testing out the speed he could gain on the uneven terrain. His scarf fluttered behind him like a cape, and he giggled each time his feet slipped on the mossy rocks, catching himself before he could tumble. The cold air didn’t seem to bother him, his fluffy coat offering plenty of warmth.

“Look at me!” Cooper shouted, running in a wide circle before jumping over a small rock. He landed gracefully, his balance impeccable, then did it again, as if he was trying to show off his skills to anyone who would watch.

John chuckled as he started to arrange the firewood. “Careful there, Cooper. We don’t need you tumbling into the water.”

“I’m fine!” Cooper replied with a grin, trotting back toward John and the others. “I’m faster than anyone! Even faster than Branch!”

Branch, overhearing this, raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, feigning offense. “Faster than me?” he repeated, his voice full of mock disbelief. “No way, Coop. I’ve got hero speed  Im like that Blue Hedgehog . You just wait till tomorrow—I’ll show you who’s faster.”

Cooper giggled again, his eyes gleaming with playful competition, but instead of responding, he plopped down next to John by the firepit. “Can I help with the fire?” he asked eagerly.

John smiled, shaking his head. “Not this time, buddy. Just make sure collect enough stick for us to last the day.”

Grandma Rossipuff had already begun to arrange their cooking supplies, her movements steady and sure despite her age. She had been through countless camping trips with them, and nothing seemed to faze her anymore, not even the cold air. “I’ve got a nice pot of soup to warm us all up,” she announced. “This’ll keep the chill away tonight.”

Poppy knelt down beside Grandma, helping her unpack the food and blankets. “It’s such a peaceful spot,” she said softly, glancing around the hilltop before squeeling. “I could scrapbook all this”

As the fire crackled to life, its warmth spreading through the camp, the family settled into their spots around the fire. Cooper, still full of energy, circled the group a few times before finally curling up near John, his fluffy body pressed against John’s side for warmth. His scarf, now slightly askew, added a playful splash of color to the otherwise muted tones of the evening.

Branch, ever the adventurer, had climbed onto a nearby rock and struck another pose. “Tomorrow, we explore the wilds!” he declared dramatically, holding a stick like a sword pointing forest surround them. “And conquer the wilderness!”

Poppy rolled her eyes but smiled, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “We’re here to relax, Branch, not conquer anything.”

Branch shrugged jumping onto his sleeping bag, a grin spreading across his face. “Relax, conquer… same thing.”

John leaned back, watching the flames dance in the firepit as the warmth spread through his body. The peacefulness of the moment settled over him like a blanket, and for a while, the world outside their small campsite seemed to fade away. The waterfall continued its steady rhythm, a calming backdrop to their laughter and conversation.

As the night deepened, John’s thoughts drifted to Cooper’s rapid growth. It had only been a few years since he was born, but already, he was taller than Branch, even, despite being the youngest of them all. Cooper’s unique nature—his four legs, his boundless energy, his rapid growth—was a quiet reminder that there was more to the world than just their small tribe. For now, though, those thoughts could wait. Tonight was about the stars, the fire, and the quiet joy of being with family.

“John?” Cooper’s voice broke through his thoughts.

John looked down, seeing his younger brother’s bright eyes staring up at him. “Yeah, Coop?”

“I love you bro-bro”

John smiled softly at the nickname, ruffling Cooper’s fluffy head. “I love you too, make sure to sleep tight tomorrow Bitty going to drag us all out to the forest” John chuckles at the last part. 

Cooper nodded, satisfied, then curled back up against John’s side, his breathing slowing as he began to drift off to sleep. The fire continued to crackle, casting a warm glow over the campsite as the cold night air wrapped around them. As they sleep  in comfortable silence, the stars began to twinkle above them, their light reflecting off the waterfall in a shimmering dance. The quiet peace of Dorian's spot embraced them all, a perfect start for their camping adventure.

Chapter Text

The early morning light filtered through the trees, soft and silvery, as the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon. The sky above the forest had just begun to warm, shifting from deep blue to a faint pink and orange. 

John was the first to wake. He stretched under the blanket, blinking away the remnants of sleep as the soft hum of the nearby waterfall filled the air. Cooper lay curled up next to him, his scarf act an extra blanket as he sleep on his sleeping bag, he tongue let out as he snore, his breathing soft and steady. 

John smiled at the sight of his younger brother. If you told john he would have another brother in another life ? He would call you insace and he is sure in the future it woud never occur such a phenomenon. But here it is, more responsibility, more plan to evade factors that might stop this time-traveler world changing plan with an addition brother he find himself desire to protect as well. 

John stretch up as he look around, the rest of the troll sleeping, it was too early in the morning. John stand up he walk out leaving a note as he walk out from nature, he knew about the route and overall it was safe for a troll like them to wondering around the already created path that had been made years ago by them. With having an active bundle of trolling, Johna nd Grandma Rossipuff had both create a route and arrow to make any of them would ind themselve back to camping ground. 

John walk back to the campsite satisfied, thought he hears rustling in the distance but shrug it off probably wild animal waking to the day. The fire had long since died out, but the lingering warmth of the embers still radiated faintly. Grandma Rossipuff was stirring in her sleeping bag, her eyes fluttering open as she sniffed the cool morning air.

“Good morning, dear,” she said softly, her voice filled with the gentle warmth that always seemed to follow her. She pushed herself up, stretching her arms overhead. “Im going to wash my face for a bit, John can you…”

John nodded in agreement, standing up and tugging his jacket tighter around him. The morning chill was sharp, but invigorating, waking him fully as he started to gather their things for breakfast. “I’ll get the fire going,” he said, kneeling by the ashes and grabbing a few sticks Cooper had collected the day before.

One by one, the others began to stir. Poppy emerged from her blanket cocoon, blinking groggily as she fumbled for her scarf. “Mmm… morning,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes and shivering as the cold air hit her. “Branch’s idea to sleep outside sounded way better yesterday.”

Branch, ever the early riser, was already awake, perched on a rock with his goggles strapped securely over his eyes. “Natural air’s good for the lungs!” he declared with enthusiasm, striking his signature pose, as if the entire forest were his audience. “A true hero wakes with the dawn, ready to tackle the wild!” He pointed dramatically toward the tree line, where the wilderness stretched before them, unexplored and mysterious.

Poppy gave him a half-amused glance, shaking her head as she stood up. “Or they just sleep in like normal trolls.”

Cooper, hearing the noise, stirred from his spot and stretched his four legs with a yawn, his fluffy form bouncing slightly as he shook off the last remnants of sleep. “Is it time to explore already?” he asked excitedly, eyes bright as he bounded up to John’s side.

“Not just yet, Coop,” John said with a grin, lighting the fire once again and feeling its warmth spread through the campsite. “First, we’ve got to eat breakfast, then we’ll head out. Grandma, what’s on the menu?”

Grandma Rossipuff, finish up with the fabric wrap hanging off her shoulder, face ever refresh from a good ole washing, pulled out a small pot and began heating the soup from the night with a few jammed toast. “This’ll warm us up nicely,” she said. “We’ll need all the energy we can get for whatever adventure Branch so volunteer to lead to”

As they ate around the fire, the excitement for the day ahead began to build. The forest around them felt full of possibility—untouched trails, hidden clearings, maybe even creatures they hadn’t yet met. There was something about being out in the wilderness that made each moment feel new and alive.

“I’ve been thinking,” John said as they finished breakfast, standing up and brushing the crumbs from his pants. “We’re close to the waterfall ridge, right? What if we hike up that way, see what’s beyond it?”

Branch, who had already been pacing in anticipation, immediately brightened. “That’s exactly the kind of adventure I was hoping for! A quest beyond the waterfall? Sounds perfect!” He tightened his goggles, glancing at Cooper with a competitive glint in his eyes. “And Coop, I’ll show you what real speed looks like when we get to the top.”

Cooper giggled, his tail wagging with excitement. “You’re on!”

Poppy stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m just looking forward to seeing the views. The last time we were here, we didn’t go far enough to get the full view of the valley cuz ole gramp decided it too dangerous for us baby troll to explore.” She tick her tongue out playfully to John who rolled his eye. 

The trees where the sun was now breaking through in bright shafts of light. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds or the distant rustle of wind through the leaves. “Alright, let’s pack up and head out. We’ll take it slow and see what we find.”

With their things packed, they set off, following a faint trail that wound deeper into the woods. Cooper bounced ahead, leaping over rocks and fallen branches with ease, while John and Poppy walked side by side, taking in the sights around them. Branch, of course, took the lead, narrating their journey with grand flair.

“The heroes embark on a journey into the unknown,” Branch said, his voice deep and dramatic. “Danger lurks at every corner, but they press on, determined to uncover the secrets of the wild!”

Poppy rolled her eyes playfully, but smiled nonetheless. “You really do live for this, don’t you?”

“Every day’s an adventure,” Branch replied with a grin, pointing toward a particularly dense patch of trees. “And today, we find out what lies beyond that ridge!”

The group continued to hike, the path growing steeper as they neared the ridge above the waterfall. The sound of rushing water grew louder, its powerful roar echoing through the trees. Cooper ran ahead, reaching the ridge first and peering over the edge with wide eyes.

“Wow!” Cooper shouted, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve got to see this!”

The others quickly caught up, and as they reached the top of the ridge, they were greeted with a breathtaking view. Below them, the waterfall cascaded down into a shimmering pool, its mist rising like a veil into the sky. Beyond the falls, the valley stretched out, filled with trees, rivers, and rolling hills that seemed to go on forever.

John stood in silence for a moment, taking it all in. The view was even more beautiful than he had imagined, the vastness of the wilderness spreading out before them like a painting.

“This is incredible,” Poppy whispered, her voice filled with awe as she gazed out over the valley. She reached for her backpack, pulling out her scrapbook. “I’m going to scrapbook this forever.”

Branch, who had been quiet for once, stood at the edge of the ridge, his eyes scanning the horizon. “It’s… beautiful,” he admitted softly, his usual bravado tempered by the sheer majesty of the scene before him.

Grandma Rossipuff, bringing up the rear, smiled knowingly as she approached. “There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” she said. “The wild has a way of reminding you how small you are in the grand scheme of things.”

John cringe as the rest of the kid smile to each other about it. They stood there for a while, just taking in the view. The sound of the top of the waterfall, the cool breeze, the scent of pine and earth—it all blended into one perfect moment. For John, it was a reminder of why they ventured out here in the first place: not just for adventure, but to feel connected to the world around them.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the valley, John turned to the others. “Alright, heroes,” he said with a grin, “I think it for such heroes to replensive with a nice pastries”

Branch stood in the clearing, gripping a stick in his hand. He had wandered off a little too far from the group, but the faint sound of snuffling caught his attention. He froze, ears straining as he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps—soft, yet large, like something heavy moving through the underbrush. His heart quickened, but curiosity got the better of him. Slowly, he crept closer, his goggles pulled down tight over his eyes, until he saw it: a caterpillar.

But not just any caterpillar. It was huge—just as tall as Branch himself—and it looked lost, wandering and snuffling around the bushes that had once been full of berries. The bushes were picked clean from their earlier snack, leaving the creature nosing around with soft, high-pitched whines. Branch’s gaze softened, and his hand reached for the cloth tied to his side, the one holding a stash of bloomberries. They had gathered enough for tarts, surely he could spare his right? Heroes always help those in need.

Carefully, Branch untied the cloth and emptied its contents into his hand. He threw the blueberries toward the creature, making sure they landed a short distance away from him. The big bug’s face perked up immediately.

Branch quickly ducked behind a nearby bush, peeking out just in time to watch the caterpillar lumber over to the small pile of bloomberries. Its large, round eyes blinked curiously before it began rolling the berries with its nose, chirping excitedly. Branch couldn’t help but smile as the creature began to gobble up the fruit, its chirps turning into happy squeaks.

He stepped back, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves. He'd done something good. Quietly, he made his way back toward the campsite, but before he could reach it, Grandma Rossipuff's voice cut through the trees.

“Branch, where have you been?” Grandma asked, her brow furrowed. “Whatever you were doing, do you have the berries? You’’re running behind. Help the others wash them by the lake.”

Branch nodded quickly and hurried over to Poppy and Cooper, who were already by the water, happily washing their share of berries. Branch gives a quick glance back at the trees where the caterpillar still snuffled around. Poppy and Cooper, who were busy rinsing the rest of the berries they had gathered. Both greeted him with wide smiles, but their expressions quickly turned curious when they noticed the missing cloth.

"Where’s you’s the bloomberries, Branch?" Poppy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“I gave it away,” Branch said quickly.

“What?!” Poppy and Cooper exclaimed in unison, though they quickly quieted down under Grandma's sharp glance from across the camp.

“Shhh, keep it down!” Branch hissed, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Grandma and John were preparing the dough for the tarts. “I had to,” he explained, lowering his voice. “I saw a baby bug...it was hungry, and...well, what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t help it?”

“A baby bug?” Cooper’s face lit up with curiosity as he scrubbed the last of the berries in the bowl, while Poppy cooed in delight at the thought.

"Oh my gosh, a baby bug!" Poppy's hands clapped together in excitement. She was already imagining the scene, no doubt eager to add it to her scrapbook. "That’s so cute! What did it look like?”

Branch glanced around nervously, feeling the weight of his secret but excited by their reactions. “It was...big. Really big. I think it was a caterpillar, caterbuss i think? And it ate all the bloomberries I left”

Poppy's eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, I hope I get to see it! We could find out what berries it likes best. Maybe it prefers fluffleberries or bloomberries—or plushrooms even!”

“Nah,” Cooper said confidently. “Fluffleberries sound right.”

“Well, maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll see it again,” Branch whispered. “But we need to hurry. Grandma’s going to notice if we take too long.”

As they finished washing the berries, they carried the bowls back to Grandma, who was stirring the ingredients for the tarts. John was close by, kneading the dough while keeping a watchful eye on them.

Branch tried to act nonchalant, but his nervousness seeped through. “I, uh, I think I lost it while picking berries.”

John sighed, but his expression remained calm. “Just make sure not to lose anything next time, okay? We can’t come out here with different cloth again and again.”

Before Branch could respond, Poppy jumped in. “We totally can! I know a troll who has all kinds of cloth—big cloth, weird cloth, colorful cloth…”

John let her continue as he focus on his boys who is listening, his voice patient. “We have go around throwing item left and right. What if some poor animal thinks it’s food and eats it? We don’t want that, do we?”

Both Branch and Cooper nodded, feeling a bit guilty as they helped stir the berries into the sugar mixture. Poppy squeezed lemon into the bubbling jam, and soon, the rich aroma of berries filled the air. They were back to playing afterward, racing leaf boats down the stream. Cooper won a few rounds, while Branch lost yet again. Poppy’s brightly colored boat tore ahead before being swept away by the current, earning her a triumphant cheer.

As the afternoon sun rose higher in the sky, the smell of berries and sugar began to fill the air. The sweet, rich aroma of the tart spread through the camp, as Poppy, Branch, and Cooper spent the next hour playing with makeshift leaf boats, racing them down the stream that ran alongside their campsite. Cooper’s boat held up the best, while Branch’s sank early on, prompting a series of groans. Poppy’s colorful boat took the lead, sailing further downstream until the current tore it apart.

The three friends laughed and played, their voices echoing through the woods, as Grandma Rossipuff and John watched from the blankets spread out on the mossy ground. John, worn out from the morning’s activities, had dozed off, his soft snoring blending with the peaceful rustling of the trees. Grandma Rossipuff, on the other hand, kept a close eye on them, though she glanced down at her book every now and then, her glasses slipping down her nose.

But then, just as Branch was about to challenge Poppy to another boat race, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. His ears perked up, and his hand shot out to motion to the others. 

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

They all fell silent, and the rustling grew louder. Slowly, the three of them crept closer, making sure to stay hidden from Grandma’s watchful eye. As they parted the bushes, a familiar face popped out. It was the caterpillar.

“It’s a...caterbuss,” Branch whispered in awe, finally recognizing what the creature really was.

“Oh my gosh!” Cooper gasped, and Poppy let out a squeal of excitement before quickly covering her mouth, glancing nervously at Grandma Rossipuff. They went toward the rustling bush as a head pop out the kids step back before moving forward curiously. 

The caterbus stepped forward, opening its mouth. Branch blinked, realizing it was holding something—it was his cloth. The creature nudged it towards him with a soft chirp, and Branch retrieved it with a mixture of relief and mild disgust. The cloth was soggy with glittering saliva, but at least he had it back.

Branch stared, both disgusted and amused, as the creature licked his cheek. “Ew!” he groaned, wiping the glittery saliva off his face.

Poppy and Cooper burst into laughter, and before long, the caterbuss was licking them too, leaving behind sticky patches of glittery saliva.

"Are we being marked for prey or something?" Branch muttered, unsure whether the licking was friendly or not.

“Hi there, little guy,” Poppy cooed, stepping closer. “Are you hungry again?”

Cooper, always prepared, reached into the bag slung over his back and pulled out another small stash of berries, carefully placing them on the ground. The caterbuss eagerly leaned down to eat, but before it could take a bite, the sharp voice of Grandma Rossipuff rang through the air.

Suddenly, a sharp screech split the air. Grandma Rossipuff had spotted them.

“What are you kids doing?” she demanded, her voice laced with urgency as she hurried towards them. “Step away from it, all of you!”

The caterbus, startled by the noise, scuttled behind the kids, its large body hiding behind their much smaller forms. Its large body quivering in fear as Grandma Rossipuff and John approached, stern looks on their faces. The children frantically tried to reason with Grandma, speaking all at once.

“Grandma, wait! It’s just a baby!” Poppy pleaded.

“It’s not dangerous!” Cooper chimed in, stepping protectively in front of the caterbus.

Branch added quickly, “I fed it earlier—it’s just looking for more food, that’s all!”

Grandma’s eyes widened as she approached, her hands outstretched in a protective gesture. “You don’t know what kind of danger you’re in! “You know better than to approach wild creatures without telling me or John! Step away from that creature now!”

But before she could get any closer, the caterbus turned and darted into the bushes, disappearing into the forest in the blink of an eye. The kids stood frozen, their hearts pounding as they processed what had just happened.

Grandma Rossipuff let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You can’t go near strange creatures like that. It could’ve been dangerous! You need to let me or John know right away if you see something.”

The children looked down, their earlier excitement replaced with guilt. Branch glanced at John, who had been silent throughout the ordeal. His brother’s expression was thoughtful, almost curious.

John’s gaze lingered on the spot where the caterbus had vanished, a distant look in his eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen that creature before. Branch noticed the strange look on John’s face but said nothing.

“Come on,” Grandma Rossipuff said, her tone softening as she turned back toward the camp. “Let’s get back. We still have the rest of tarts to bake.”

As they began to prepare the pies, the kids moved a little slower, the weight of the day’s events hanging over them. Even as they helped stir the filling and roll the dough, their thoughts lingered on the caterbus. John remained quiet, lost in his own thoughts, but there was a small, secret hope in his heart. If that creature was what he thought it was... perhaps…his best companion in the world…He have to search for it. 

As the night deepened, the stars twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow on the campsite. The air was filled with the gentle crackle of the dying fire, and one by one, the others had fallen asleep. Grandma Rossipuff had retreated to her own blanket, snoring lightly with her book laid across her chest. Branch, Poppy, and Cooper were huddled together inbetween Grandma Rosiepuff and John, the kids  wrapped in their warmth as the day’s excitement drifted into dreams.

But John couldn’t sleep.

Something tugged at him, a feeling he couldn’t shake. He lay on his back, staring up at the dark sky, his mind restless. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees seemed louder in the stillness of the night. At first, it was comforting, like nature’s lullaby. But soon, another sound broke through — a faint rustling in the bushes.

Curiosity and a strange pull compelled him to stand. Quietly, so as not to wake the others, he slipped from his blanket, barefoot on the cool earth, and made his way toward the edge of the camp. His heart beat faster with every step as the rustling continued.

He reached the bush, and the sound stopped.

John hesitated, glancing back at the campfire where his friends and grandma slept peacefully. For a moment, he thought about waking them, he push down the thought as he continue his investigation alone. 

He pushed aside the thick branches, stepping carefully into the shadows. And there it was.

A large caterpillar-like creature, it farmiliar color palette struck hope toward John heart. Its wide green pupil eyes stared directly at John, unblinking, curious but caution infront of him. 

John’s breath caught in his throat as a spark lit up inside him. He knew this creature — no, more than that. His heart raced. A warm rush of emotion filled him as he realized why the creature had seem so familiar when Branch encountered it earlier. It moved closer, sniffing at him cautiously, just like it had done before with the others. But this time, it was different. This time, it was here for him.

John knelt down slowly, extending his hand as the creature approached. It gently nudged his palm with its snout, a low, comforting hum vibrating from its body. John smiled, his heart swelling with emotion. He whispered, barely loud enough for anyone but the creature to hear. 

"Rhonda?"

Chapter Text

The sun hung high above them as John and Grandma Rosiepuff sat side by side, watching the kids play with Rhonda. The gentle breeze carried the rustle of the nearby forest and the distant lapping of the lake's water. They had moved campsites for the final time before heading back to Troll Village, now with a new addition to their little family. The caterbus — Rhonda — well the kids are playing with it as the adult sat at the distance

Grandma Rossipuff broke the silence, her tone both amused and curious. “So, you’re adopting another kid again?”

John’s eyes widened in surprise, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head as he shuffled his feet awkwardly. He tried to smile, but it faltered when he realized Grandma wasn't looking at him; her gaze remained on the scene unfolding before them. Rhonda, towering over the children, moved with the utmost care, her large form carefully nudging and playing with the young trolls as they squealed in delight.

“I guess…” John finally replied, his voice uncertain but fond. 

Grandma Rossipuff glanced at him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

"Nah," John said, standing up and walking over. "She’s friendly. See?" He extended his hand toward Rhonda, who immediately nuzzled him with the same warmth she had shown the night before. Grandma Rosiepuff put herself before the kids. The kids watched in awe as the massive creature lowered its head, inviting them to pet her.

Cooper was the first to rush forward, laughing as Rhonda gently nudged him with her snout. Poppy and Branch followed, their initial hesitation melting away as they stroked her soft, shell body. Rhonda purred, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated the ground beneath their feet.

John smiled, watching them all bond. It was good to see the kids so happy. But he couldn’t shake the deeper thoughts that had been swirling in his mind all morning.

"So," Grandma’s voice cut through his thoughts, her arms crossed as she regarded him with that same amused, yet sharp look she always gave when she knew John was overthinking, "this caterbus, I hear this bug can grow larger than a pod itself."

John nodded slowly, still looking at Rhonda but now lowering his gaze slightly. "I’ve been thinking… maybe we could build a barn for her, somewhere on the outskirts of Pop Village. Don’t need the neighbor coming to the door. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve read about caterbuses. They can be trained, you know? They’re used for transportation in other troll tribes."

“Make sense with the weird grown equipment behind her”

He paused, unsure whether to continue, but something pushed him forward. He needed to tell her.

"I’m thinking of finding the bros… it’s been years. I feel like it’s time to bring them home. And with Rhonda, she’s still young to protect herself, she can help us. It could make it easier to find them. And maybe even…find Cooper’s people" His voice trailed off.

“The Funk Tribe” 

Grandma’s expression softened as she looked out at the kids, a small smile playing on her lips. She let out a quiet hum before replying, “I think that’d be a great distraction for the kids. Doriander. And maybe a little peace and quiet time for us later at home.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, I might finally finish the album I’ve been working on without all the interruptions.”

As they spoke, Rhonda was now fully engaged in playing with the kids. Branch had managed to climb on top of her back, trying to balance himself, while Poppy draped a necklace of flowers around one of her large feet. Cooper, ever competitive, was attempting to stand on tiptoe to be taller than Branch, but his efforts only resulted in both of them tumbling down into a fit of laughter. Rhonda chirped happily, her large body moving in circles around them as she playfully hopped from one side to the other.

John’s heart swelled with pride and a sense of belonging as he watched them. "See? They’re already getting along."

"She’s awesome!" Branch exclaimed, hugging Rhonda’s face. "Can we keep her?" he asked, his wide grin directed at John.

John let out a short, happy laugh, though his mind briefly wandered back to memories of Rhonda from long ago. There was a bittersweetness to it — the Rhonda he knew back then had seen him through countless close call, always there, helping him out. But this Rhonda, here now with the kids, was different. She was still his Rhonda, but there was something fresh, something new about their connection. Maybe this was their chance to rebuild what was lost.

“Of course,” John grinned back, "Grandma even agreed."

The kids cheered loudly, their laughter filling the air as they continued playing with Rhonda. John, unable to resist, joined in, patting Rhonda’s head as she stretched her long neck toward him, her tongue lolling out playfully. He hugged her, feeling a surge of emotions as he held onto her. Tears pricked his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away, brushing them off before anyone could notice. 

As the night approached, the group gathered around the fire that Grandma Rossipuff had started. The kids were more interested in feeding Rhonda berries than eating their own dinner, and Rhonda, much to everyone’s amazement, devoured each offering with delicate precision. Despite her enormous size, she moved with a grace that belied her appearance, careful not to hurt anyone, especially the tiny hands feeding her.

John chewed thoughtfully on a leftover tart, the sweet berry filling tingling his tongue. His mind wandered once again, this time to his brothers. He had found Rhonda. The thought of reuniting with them — and possibly even returning Cooper to his rightful family — stirred a deep mix of emotions within him. 

It had been years. Four long years since Branch had brought Cooper home, nine since the last time since he seen any of his bros. 

John still remembered the shock - eating his own word as Branch and his littler trouble maker of a group bring back his new brother . He can laught at his pastself over his reaction, he didn’t predict it - have no plan to apporah this surprise miracle. And yet, Cooper had become family. It was odd to think that someone who was once barely interaction become a part of his family. But that didn't change the reality — Cooper wasn’t a Pop Troll. He had a family out there somewhere searching for their son, and loved him as much John loved him. John knew, deep down, that finding them was the right thing to do - for both of them.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Grandma Rossipuff placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re thinking again,” she said softly, her eyes filled with concern.

John looked up at her sadly, nodding. “Yeah… thinking about the boys.”

Grandma sat beside him, the warmth of the fire casting soft shadows on her face. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “Everything will be alright, John. When it all comes down to it, you know I’m here for you.”

A warmth spread through John’s chest. He glanced down at the tart in his hand, then smiled faintly. “I know. I’m grateful for that. I just… what if they don’t want to see me again? What if they think, im the reason they left I push them too hard.”

Grandma pulled him close, resting his head on her shoulder. “Clay came back,” she reminded him, her voice gentle but firm. "He didn’t stay for long, but he came to visit. That means something. They are your brothers, John. We’re family. And whatever we face, we’ll face it together. You just have to believe on the good thing much more as you think the bad.”

John closed his eyes, taking in the comforting silence of the night. "It’s just… stressful. It’s been years."

"I know," Grandma said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. 

John let the silence wash over him, the fire crackling as the night deepened. With Rhonda by their side, the journey ahead didn’t seem as impossible. Finding his brothers, maybe even Cooper’s family, seemed just a little closer than it had before. He wasn’t ready for it all yet, but for now, he was content just being in this moment.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Rhonda rolled onto her back, her enormous belly exposed as the kids rubbed it, laughter filling the air. Cooper ran up to him, tugging on his leather jacket.

“John! John!” Cooper exclaimed, jumping excitedly. 

John chuckled, ruffling his hair. “What is it, Coop?”

“Can you tell us a story? Branch keeps talking about it, and I wanna hear it!”

John laughed as Cooper bit playfully at his jacket, tugging him toward the fire. Poppy waved at him from beside Branch, who twirled a stick in the air — cueing John to start up already. 

John grabbed his guitar, sitting back by the fire as the kids huddled close. Grandma Rossipuff settled nearby, watching the scene with a fond smile. The trolls eagerly leaned against Rhonda’s large, warm body, who chirped excitedly, clearly enjoying the attention and happy to be part of their little group.

John smiled, his guitar in hand. “Alright, alright. This story is called The Girls and the Clockwork Dragon .”

The kids leaned in, their eyes wide with anticipation, and John began to strum a gentle tune, ready to bring the story to life.

As John began his story, his voice softened, creating a spell over the group. The flickering firelight danced across their faces, casting shadows that made the scene feel alive. 

In a kingdom high upon the hill , in a land of long ago

Sat a woeful king waiting for the sting of death 's impending blow

John’s voice held a melodic rhythm as he spoke. The kids were captivated, leaning in closer, hanging on every word already.

For a clockwork dragon to the West burned a village all away

Breathing fire and steam, it had now been seen heading in the kingdom's way

He continued, now acting as a fearsome dragon, his face contorted into a snarling expression. John bent low, his arms spread wide like wings, his hands curling into claws. Straightening up, John transformed into the regal king, standing tall and proud, guitar both his hand playing the song.

Protective of his subjects , this king issued a decree

He stood before his kingdom and cried, "This is what we neeeeeed "

Men of valor who will fight the dragon to the death!

Warriors to go extinguish fierce and fiery breath

Selfless knights to fight in battle, man against machine

Heroes who will give their lives for king and queen

The children gasped when John depicted the fierce battle between the dragon and the king’s knights. John re-enacted the clash dramatically, stomping his feet as if soldiers were falling around him. 

The dragon got the king's best men, they were no match for the beast

To the fire they'd run , and yet one by one , every knight wound up deceased

Now a wee young girl named Valerie with an artificial heart

To the king did speak and though small and meek

She was kind and she was smart

His voice softened, 

She asked the king, "Why don't we try approaching peacefully ?"

The king, he laughed and said, "Dear girl, I'll tell you what we need "  

His laughter was booming and exaggerated. 

Men of valor who will fight the dragon to the death

Warriors to go extinguish fierce and fiery breath

Selfless knights to fight in battle, man against machine

Heroes who will give their lives for king and queen

John continues, 

But Valerie was strong of heart

And she knew what she must do

Her clockwork heart was guiding her

And she had to follow through

The campfire’s glow illuminated his face. His voice, though gentle, carried the strength.

And so she travelled to the fields, and she called the dragon near

As it flew on down, it could hear a sound quite familiar to its ears

John hands cupped his ears as though hearing renact the scene stoping his instrument for the dramatic scene. 

The ticking of her clockwork heart sounded so much like its own

And the calming tick had reminded it of its maker way back home

The group was utterly silent, Branch look worried, Poppy look excited bouncing from her sit as Cooper tilt his head his smile uncertain. John dropped to one knee, his head bowed low, mimicking the massive creature in submission. The children gasped in awe, quietly clap. 

The dragon bowed to Valerie to willingly concede

Then, as John jumped back into the role of the humbled king, his voice boomed once again, 

The humbled king then proudly shouted, "She's the one we need"

We need Valerie to tame the dragon for us all

Who'd have ever thought our hero would have been so small ?

John’s eyes gleamed with triumph

She has soothed the savage beast , so sound your horn and drum

We shall sing her praises now for years to come

He lifted his fist high into the sky, his expression fierce and proud, as if rallying the entire group into a moment of celebration. His voice rang out in victory, 

Long live, long live, Valerie

His voice crescendoed, and he stood tall with his fist still in the air, breathing heavily. The kids erupted in applause, their eyes shining another great end of a heroes journey.

Rhonda chirped happily, seemingly joining in with the applause, as the kids and even Grandma Rossipuff gave John a round of cheers. John smiled, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over him. 

John sweated, they were done with the song. He look up the moon, as stars began to twinkly above them, he smiled, he felt content, content with what happening to him right now

The cheers from the kids rang out into the night as John’s story ended, their excitement infectious. Rhonda, the caterpillar-like creature, chirped happily, its many legs tapping in rhythm with the clapping. The group around the campfire erupted into chatter, voices overlapping as they shared their favorite parts of the story.

“That part where the dragon bowed to Valerie—wow!” Cooper exclaimed, bouncing off with his ears flicker. “I did not expect that”

“And when she used her clockwork heart to calm it down? Thst just straight up stupid, she could have gotten herself killed” Branch mentioned. “But i think it cool she willing to do that despite what everyone ssid”

“I bet I could be just like Valerie,” a Poppy said proudly, puffing out their chest. “I’d face a dragon too!”

Rhonda, sensing the children's joy, nudged one of them gently with its head, making a soft trilling noise. The kids giggled, patting the creature in return as if it, too, was part of the story. John smiled at the scene, resting his hand briefly on Rhonda’s head, giving the gentle creature a reassuring pat. 

“You did great too, Rhonda,” John whispered quietly. The creature looked up at him with wide, knowing eyes to her sudden caretaker. 

As the kids continued their discussion, Rhonda nudged them forward, playfully guiding them toward their sleeping bags by Grandma Rosiepuff apparent telling it beforehand after finding it safe to be around the kids. The fire crackled softly in the background, the atmosphere shifting into a calmer, more introspective mood.

John, taking one last look at the kids, made his way toward Grandma Rossipuff, who was sitting a little distance away, watching over the scene with a cup of tea in hand. She had been quiet during the story. As John approached, she glanced up, offering him a soft smile.

“Good Bed time story, Doriander,” she said, patting the spot beside her. “Keep it up and i think we might face another hero phrase coming from others than Branch”

John chuckled as he sat down, his fingers brushing through his hair, he took off his goggles as he took off the wrap, his thoughts far away despite the lightness of the moment. He stared into the flames, the crackling light. He wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure where to begin. His shoulder tense and Grandma Rosiepuff cough the subtle 

“Something on your mind.”

John sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. “Sorry, i guess the song kinda bring up. IT again.”

Rossipuff raised an eyebrow. “Finding your brother?”

John hesitated, his eyes fixed on the flames, “yeah that and…the bergens”. John admitted he knows the answer that eventually they would need to face a certain ‘Chef’, it a part of his plan to pursue safe world for his family, he’s just not ready to face em later in the future. “What if I bring them all home, when they are already safe and happy where they are.” 

Johns’ brother lives to be left off just fine without John being there in their life. Moreover, can Poppy repeat what she did in the OG world, she create a peaceful relationship between Troll and Bergen, it was unbelievable, risky or even stupid but it happened. But john wasnt there to see it, he wasnt there when Poppy grow up to a Queen who trive to lead more than just Pop Tribe to reunite back in harmony. 

John muttered. “Not just that.” He glanced at her, searching her face for understanding, but knew he couldn’t reveal too much. “I mean the future... everything that's coming. There’s going to be something big—me searching for the bros, and Cooper... And I have to make sure it all goes the way it needs to. So... everything need to be perfectly right”

Grandma Rossipuff looked at him quizzically but trying to understand her grandson.

He could already feel the weight of future inevitable approach, the danger lurking just beyond the horizon, just waiting for the right moment to start what John had plan around, the Chef Bergen, the other troll tribe, then the crazy twin teen (if they have possibility to face them). And Poppy... she was still so young, so full of hope and innocence. He remembered the older Poppy from his timeline—how much she grew after the great disaster he knew was coming. He had iintentionally set her on that path by not stopping completely what was to come. He had let it happen because he knew, deep down, that she needed to face it to become the queen she was destined to be. To protect everyone, to protect his family.

“Safe from... everything,” John finally said, his voice strained. “ Grandma. Im not ready what to come, no matter what I do. I can’t stop whatever that coming. Im scared if things turns to worst. Gosh grandma what if it all my fault.”

Grandma Rossipuff gave a sympathetic look, she gave her arm to his shoulder. John felt overwhelm at the moment. As they sat in silence, John’s eyes drifted back to the campfire, watching the flames dance and flicker. In the distance, he could hear the kids laughing and talking with Rhonda. They were safe for now. But soon, the real challenge would come. And when it did, John had to face it, ready or not ready.

Chapter Text

The distant roaring of machinery echoed through the air before a vibrant Caterbus appeared, zipping from place to place, circling around a tree, and scraping against bushes and plants as it navigated its newfound, unmarked path. The creature’s tongue lolled out in excitement, panting as it powered through the underbrush. The bug yelped, leaping over the low-hanging wooden logs covered in moss, stirring up dirt as it dashed toward the lively sounds of clattering, laughter, and singing that filled the air.

In Pop Village, the cheerful pop trolls were singing their hearts out, greeting one another in the warm embrace of the morning sun. The perfect temperature set the stage for the biggest, loudest, craziest party in honor of their 15th anniversary of escaping from the Bergen.

John stirred carefully with Rhonda, dodging the yelping trolls who were carrying boxes, laughter spilling from their lips as some half-rolled in mock annoyance, clearly caught up in the joyous chaos of the preparations. 

Making his way into Pop Village, John spotted a low-hanging pod with a conveniently placed ladder. He climbed up, opening the door to find Grandma Rossipuff patiently listening on the couch, while Cooper was lost in his own world, singing.

“Hey, all!” John called out, a smile spreading across his face.

Cooper, distracted from his practice, leapt up, arms outstretched for a hug from his oldest brother. Grandma Rossipuff smirked at the playful antics, relaxing as she looked fondly at the two of them.

John enveloped Cooper in a warm embrace before pulling back, scanning the room with a questioning look. “Where’s Bitty? I thought he’d be practicing with you. You know how he is about preparing for the biggest performance yet.”

“Oh, he’s in the bunker,” Grandma Rossipuff replied nonchalantly. Cooper nodded in acknowledgment.

“Again?” John raised an eyebrow. Grandma Rossipuff sighed, her lips curving up in a knowing smile.

“You know how he is. The bunker is done, but he can never really stop admiring it.”

John felt a wistful grin spread across his face as Rhonda’s tail shook beside him. It had been six years since they adopted Rhonda, and now she was fully grown. The design of her elongated body included a fully developed steal athena back, now complete access to her hollow interior, complete with wheels and buttons connected to her biological part, ready for John to relearn how to drive a Caterbus. He was grateful to have one of his best friends by his side. Though it was a bumpy ride, John would say he had made quite a bit of improvement navigating with her. With a few more months of practice, he’d be good to go outside Pop Troll territory.

Jumping down from Rhonda’s maw, John rolled onto the decorated carpet floor before making his way to the driver’s seat, pushing down on the brake. They moved forward, but a sudden screech forced them to stop, courtesy of Rhonda herself. John cringed at the abrupt stop before a familiar, repetitive knock echoed on the vehicle door. He sighed and rolled his eyes, adjusting his sided goggles, already knowing who was at the door.

“Popstar, what do I owe the pleasure, Majesty?” he said, opening the door to reveal a jumping, excited princess, her hands on her hips and a bright aura surrounding her. Poppy beamed, unable to suppress the squeal bubbling up from her throat.

“Morning, John! Just stopping by to say hi! Have you seen Branch anywhere? I couldn’t find him in the village!”

John nodded, settling back into his seat beside the pink figure. “He’s in the bunker. Let’s get there; it’s about time for him to get out and breathe some fresh air—”

“Yeah, I mean, today’s the biggest party yet, led by yours truly!” Poppy declared, gesturing dramatically to herself.

“Don’t you think it might be too big? It’s already two times larger with the fireworks. You know how much it stresses Branch,” John pointed out, focusing on the road ahead, he haven’t seen exactly what Poppy plan, he try his best to support the young princess. It was a clear path, well-maintained by the trolls months ago, with only a few occasional bumps, but overall, it was a proper road.

“I know, but he’s being paranoid! We haven’t seen any Bergens for fifteen years. What’s the worst that could happen?” Poppy countered, her excitement undeterred.

John raised an eyebrow, shrugging it off. There was no stopping Poppy, that just who she is. Few more years from now one she would be declared queen, she was eager to prove herself by helping however she could for her people. She had even started volunteering at daycare for trollince once every week, much to King Peppy’s approval. John smiled, knowing Poppy would one day make a great queen.

They stopped by the giant tree, the clearing on the ground illuminated by the sun’s rays. The roof, adorned with giant leaves, shielded the inconspicuous troll-sized carpet and trapdoor below. Poppy knocked before the door swung open, both of them descending into the elevator, with Poppy pushing the lever. 

The room illuminated as they descended to the lower floor, revealing a decorative entrance spacious enough to accommodate almost all the trolls in the village. Occasionally, they would catch sight of decorative items and shelves filled with glowing plants and mushrooms. Three hallways branched out: one leading to a bunker space for the whole village, another leading to an elevator toward the upper tree structure, and the last boarded up with a wooden barrier marked with a sign indicating it was for Branch’s family, a request made by Branch himself.

Opening the barrier, they stepped into a cozy room adorned with personal touches, entering a larger living area surrounded by shelves filled with jugs of water and dried food. A collection of books adorned the shelves, all of which belonged to Branch. As they turned, they heard Branch humming, blissfully unaware of the visitors behind him.

Both John and Poppy shared a knowing smile, the familiar warmth of their camaraderie surrounding them. They stayed quiet for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere as Branch’s music echoes the room. 

 …about to take flight ‘Cause the night is young 

And the music’s on And we got love on sight 

Sky was the limit 

Now the stars Where we livin’ 

It’s the vibe When we’re in it 

It’ll blow your mind 

It’s so perfect, Perfect, perfect 

A hundred percent 

"Branch?" Poppy was the first to interrupt.

Branch jumped, quickly turning off the device before pushing it to the back of the table, hiding it from Poppy and John’s view. Poppy continued, while John gave a concerned look, recognizing the song. "You're smiling and crying at the same time. It's kinda hurting your face," she remarked.

"It's nothing, really nothing," Branch brushed it off. Poppy frowned, looking at John for answers. John shrugged, sighing, knowing this stuff had never really been brought up before.

"Oh, wow, BroZone! I’ve heard about them before. Some of my friends have pieces of their old memorabilia. Heard most of it got trashed during the escape," Poppy chimed in, glancing around.

"Erm—yeah, yeah, that… happened," Branch replied nervously.

"Oh my gosh, John, Branch! Aww, look at this, it's young you!" Poppy giggled, eyeing the clear old memorabilia scattered across the room. "Oh wow, this one's kept in good condition. Branch, did you keep all this?"

"Got some help," Branch admitted. "John mainly did everything. I’m just using it for—uh—for research. Gotta learn the moves from the rest of the bros, you know, with the disbandment and stuff. Just gotta make sure today’s performance is perfect." He gave a nervous side smile. "Yup, gotta make sure tonight’s show is perfect."

"Aww, Branch, you're already perfect. It'll be fine, just like years before," Poppy reassured him, shrugging playfully as she stepped closer, adjusting the tie around his neck. Both blushed as she stepped back, tucking her hair behind her ear, embarrassed while Branch tug his hand to his pocket looking away.

"Well, shall we go?" Poppy said, breaking the tension. "I think it's about time you got some fresh air. Cooper and Grandma have been looking for you."

Branch jumped, swerving around the shelf as John and Poppy waited for him. He was done packing, bringing along a bag wrapped in a box, ribbon maticulously place on top.

"Can’t forget about this!" he said.

"Can’t believe it, ten years already past," Poppy whispered in awe, staring at the present. "I’m sure Cooper will love it."

"You think so?" Branch asked, looking at Poppy hopefully.

John Dory rolled his eyes, smirking as he pulled his younger brother into a playful headlock, being careful around the goggles perched on Branch’s head. "You really stealing my style this time huh?" John teased, rubbing his knuckles lightly against Branch’s head. Branch tried, and failed, to pry him off as laughter erupted from both of them, with Poppy joining in.

"Alright, alright," John finally let go, looking at the two with his signature JD smile, ready for whatever came next. "Let’s go, you two lovebirds, before you start smooching."

John walked out, leaving both Branch and Poppy stammering, gagging and yelling that fell on deaf ears. Branch went up to Rhonda froont, giving the caterpillar-like creature a few pets while avoiding a lick, not wanting to get dirt on his suits. Soon enough, they made their way to the village.

Arriving there, Poppy and Branch latched onto the pod with their hair, swinging forward, while John climbed the ladder. He smiled sadly at the sight. He was glad the permanent damage to his hair hadn't worsened over the years, though it was inconvenient not to be able to use it for more than simpler tasks. Heading through the open door, they were greeted by Cooper, who looked ecstatic to see his family and friends around him. The party was already in full swing, and everyone was helping to prepare for the celebration.

Cooper didn’t seem to mind the early start. He went up to John, now standing as tall as John’s hair. John couldn’t believe how much the baby of the family had grown. Pride swelled in his chest as they hugged, and John led him over to the couch.

"Is the birthday boy excited?" John teased.

Cooper giggled, bouncing on his seat. "I'm so happy! I'm finally a grown-up now!"

"Not so fast," John winked, teasingly tugging off Cooper's cap before ruffling his hair a bit. "All I see is a kid playing pretend."

Cooper groaned but smiled, as Poppy and Branch placed their gifts by the kitchen table and helped Grandma Rossipuff with the rest of the preparations.

"You ready to blow out your candles, birthday boy?" John asked, as Branch excitedly sat beside Cooper, wrapping an arm around his back and giving him a light shake, thrilled for his brother’s celebration. Poppy jumped in beside Branch, looking just as excited for her best friend, Cooper.

"Always!" Cooper replied enthusiastically.

John took out the present from his hair, placing it on the table. It was a large, brightly colored pink box with a dark blue ribbon, while another was a military-green pattern. Grandma Rossipuff brought in a two-tiered cake, casting John a knowing glance. John simply shrugged, knowing he hadn't planned anything too extravagant for this small family gathering. They’d celebrate Cooper again later that night with the rest of the village after the anniversary events.

"Happy Birthday, Cooper!" everyone cheered as Cooper blew out the candles. The room filled with joy as presents were brought to him.

Cooper first opened Grandma Rossipuff’s gift: a newly knitted green scarf with pixelated patterns tracing the edges, particles woven into the fabric. It was a design Cooper had requested months ago, probably forgetting about it. Branch helped wrap the scarf around Cooper, giving him a proud smile.

Next was Poppy’s present, a large scrapbook decorated with a forest aesthetic. The cover featured an engraving of Cooper’s iconic cap. Inside, it held pictures from Cooper’s past birthdays, with many empty pages waiting to be filled. Poppy and Cooper bumped heads playfully, laughing together.

Branch’s gift came next—a survival toolkit. Cooper looked a bit confused but still happy. Branch explained how it would be useful in the future, handing over a miniature box, inside, revealing multiple handmade small pins Cooper could wear on his clothing. Cooper accepted it with a hug, proudly pinning it to his cap and scarf.

Finally, it was time for John’s present. He was nervous, feeling like it was a lazy gift, considering he had worked on it with Branch. It was a pair of goggles, but different this time—large, round lenses with an adjustable nose piece to fit Cooper’s head. It felt like history repeating itself. When Cooper was younger, he’d run around with either John’s or Branch’s goggles, eventually being given John’s old pair, which he had lost during a camping trip, much to everyone’s dismay. John wasn’t too upset, but he knew how much it meant to his brothers. Cooper opened the box, and both Branch and Poppy cheered, while Grandma Rossipuff smiled from her seat, letting the younger blood enjoy the birthday boy’s excitement. Cooper was afraid to use it place into the box for tomorrow use, eventually they got over it being new before using more openly.

They celebrated for hours, playing board games. A fun, heated debate arose when John had to defend himself against accusations of cheating during a game of Remmy. He was tired of losing to his grandma and brothers, which led to a burst of laughter. Poppy joined halfway through, before heading outside to help with the anniversary preparations.

As the day turned into night, the atmosphere shifted to a festive tone. The stage was set, illuminated by vibrant colors, and the pods surrounding them were decorated to match. A party atmosphere filled the village.

John and his brothers stood behind the stage. John peeked out from behind the curtain, watching the next performance come to an end. Poppy stood with a script in hand, ready to speak about the purpose of the anniversary before BroZone’s next performance.

The lights cast shadows that played tricks on John's mind, creating familiar shapes out of the wood. A worried feeling settled deep in his chest, one that had lingered around the anniversary every year. He’d never know the exact time the Bergen would show up to crash their celebration, but he knew it was inevitable. The Great Escape had taken place on this very day, and it scared him. The danger was necessary, but it was always looming. Poppy had grown more over the years, becoming the great queen he always knew she could be, and for that, he was grateful.

When Poppy finished her speech, the anniversary celebration picked up pace. Glitter trolls hung from the branches, using their hair to create a living disco ball, casting sparkles and shine across the crowd. The excitement grew.

"WITH THAT BEAUTIFUL SPEECH FROM OUR SOON-TO-BE QUEEN, POPPY, GET READY TO HAVE YOUR MINDS BLOWN BY OUR VILLAGE’S FAVORITE BOY BAND, BROOOOOZILLLAAAAAA!" the announcer shouted.

The crowd erupted in cheers as John felt both his hands pulled by Cooper and Branch. A few years ago, they had decided to add Cooper to the band, as he had been copying their moves during every practice. Now, he fit right in.

Branch stood still for a moment, locking eyes with John and Cooper. The music thumped, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation. Then, without warning, Branch broke into the dance, his body snapping to the rhythm with precision. His arms cut through the air, his feet gliding across the stage as the lyrics filled the space:

"Let's make tonight the weekend
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wait..."

Cooper followed suit, his movements a bit more hurried, but full of excitement. He’d been practicing the choreography all morning, and now his feet were light on the stage, matching Branch’s every move. The crowd roared in as they moved in sync. Cooper grinned, his voice blending with Branch’s.

"Got no reason not to celebra-ate
Baby, I just don't wanna wait..."

"Swimmin' in the deep blue
Got me thinkin' 'bout you
I'm just tryin' to dive right in..."

John stood off to the side, watching them. His heart beat faster. He wasn’t sure if it was the music, the lights, or the fact that he was supposed to be up there with them. For a second, everything around him felt too much. But then, the crowd’s energy surged, calling him forward. He stepped in, his movements following his brother, joining his brothers as the cheers grew louder. 

"Wanna spend tonight like
The last night of our lives
Chasin' all the love we can..."

"And now, oh, I'm in a sea of lights
And all that I can see is you..."

"And now I'm dyin' to feel alive
So baby, let's try somethin' new..."

As they danced, John's mind wandered. He couldn't stop the creeping thoughts. He was supposed to be paranoid today, wasn’t he? Every year, the anniversary felt like a ticking clock. He glanced toward the back of the stage. The glowing colors were too bright, too loud, as glitter rained down, showering them all. 

"Let's make tonight the weekend
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wait..."

"Got no reason not to celebra-ate
Baby, I just don't wanna wait..."

They sang in unison, their voices rising together, filling the air as if nothing else mattered but this moment. Together, the three of them moved as one, the audience losing themselves in the moment.

"Let's make tonight the weekend
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wait..."

"Got no reason not to celebra-ate
Baby, I just don't wanna wait..."

The crowd screamed in delight as Poppy’s shout rang out, "More glitter!"—and suddenly, a massive glitter ball rocketed into the sky. Higher than it had ever gone before, it shot past the treetops, shimmering and crackling like a firework. But as the light caught John’s eyes, something cold settled in his chest.

“I've been chasin' so long

Every right that feels wrong

Rather be with you instead

There's somethin' 'bout it right here

Got me seein' so clear

Rainbow-colored skies ahead…”

The music roared. The trolls danced. But John was slipping out of it, even as his body moved to the beat. His gaze flickered. Branch spun, his smile wide and real, as he danced without a care. Cooper followed, laughing as the glitter fell like rain, coating everything in a blinding shimmer.  Branch, then Cooper—both lost in the celebration. But John? The glitter crashed against the treetops, a brilliant flash illuminating the sky.

"And now, oh, I'm in a sea of lights
And all that I can see is you..."

"And now I'm dyin' to feel alive
So baby, let's try somethin' new..."

The trolls shouted, clapping, their excitement growing with each beat. John too aware Too high. Too Bright. John gut churned, too aware of everything going on

"Let's make tonight the weekend
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wait..."

"Got no reason not to celebra-ate
Baby, I just don't wanna wait..."

He wanted to yell, to stop everything, but his voice felt caught in his throat.

"Tonight's the weekend
I don't wanna wai-ait
I don't wanna wai-ait..."

"Got no reason not to celebra -”

The last notes hung in the air, as everyone stop.  Giant earthquake too consistent and growing more and more as it coming closer to them. 

The sound of the music slowly faded, an abrupt halt filling the air as Poppy shouted from the front of the stage. She stood there, with Cooper and Branch behind her, both of them stopping what they were doing, confusion etched across their faces. John’s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest tight as if he couldn’t catch enough air. Branch’s expression shifted to concern, and he moved toward John, followed closely by Cooper. 

A tall shadow loomed over them, and the rumbling beneath the ground didn’t cease. Branch’s instincts kicked in—he grabbed both Cooper and John, pulling them toward the back of the stage. Desperately, he tried to pull Poppy too, but she resisted, her focus elsewhere.

Shouts echoed from outside as trolls scattered in all directions, fear spreading like wildfire. John was yanked forward, despite Branch’s frantic attempts to hold him back. Branch’s voice shouted after him, but John ran, his thoughts a blur only one thing on his mind. Poppy. She can’t get caught, not like the others. His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the rumble beneath the earth. 

He tore through the crowd, trying to find Poppy, praying she hadn’t been captured. He knew her well—years might have passed, and they might been different in a way John can’t predict, but there was one thing about Poppy that remained constant. When she set her mind on something, nothing could stop her. She would risk anything,even if it meant saving even a few of her captured people. But if that meant she was in danger, that she might get captured herself already... John's entire plan would crumble. He had to be sure she was safe from the clamps of chaos.

Suddenly, he felt a harsh shove against his side. He stumbled, crashing to the ground with a pained groan. John pushed himself to his knees, scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of Poppy. His name echoed in the distance, familiar voices filled with desperation. He looked up to see Branch and Cooper, both searching for him, their faces frantic with fear and desperation. The sight of his brothers, so scared. He wanted to reach out to them, to reassure them, to tell them everything would be alright.

Then, the ground seemed to tremble with heavy footsteps, and John’s surroundings grew darker. His pulse quickened, a familiar panic clawing at the edges of his mind. It was happening again. Everything around him felt smaller, trapped between enormous fingers as though he were a child again. Desperate, he reached out for his brothers, his hand trembling in the air. 

“JD!”  

“JOHN!”

Their voices cut through the haze, but John’s mind was spinning. His breath caught in his throat as he was shoved back against a wall, a rough bag thrown over his head. In the distance, he could see Poppy's friends, huddled together, fear written across their faces. John try his hardess not to spiral out of helplessness. 

The sound of a zipper closing was cold and final, like a sharp shock to his system. His body went numb, his mind reeling as the trolls around him screamed and cried, their voices blending into one frantic chorus. He prayed silently, his heart begging for mercy. John dependent on Poppy and Branch to possible save them, hopefully not—Cooper. Cooper is already part of his family long before, John loved him just as much, Poppy and Branch. John just hope Cooper…John cursed his own parenting.

Branch stood frozen as the massive figure disappeared into the dark forest, blending into the shadows. His insides burned like molten lava, tears welling in his eyes, but he fought them back, the heat unbearable as they dripped down his face. Somewhere in the distance, the soft sounds of crying could be heard, but Branch’s focus was solely on where the Bergen had vanished, taking his brother with it. 

A scream ripped from his throat, raw and anguished, echoing into the silence.

Chapter Text

Branch stared off into the distance, his throat tightening as his eyes burned with unshed tears. He couldn’t stop gazing back to where the Bergen had left, and as the other trolls started emerging from their hiding places, the grip around him faltered. Branch collapsed onto the ground, his tears falling like drops into the dirt, gasping for air. His eyes widened as panic seized him again.

"Grandma! Grandma!"

“Grandma!” Cooper echoed, his voice filled with sudden hope. He darted after Branch, leaving Poppy to deal with the chaos as she searched for her father, King Peppy.

Branch frantically searched, calling out with his baby brother by his side. His hand gripped Cooper's scarff, feeling every detail of the last thing their grandma had given them—his heart pounded in fear, dreading the worst. Could Grandma Rosiepuff...?

“Branch! Cooper!” came a frantic shout in the distance. A silhouette appeared through the gloom, and the brothers sprinted toward it.

Branch’s heart lifted at the sight of their grandmother, unharmed. He lunged forward, closely followed by Cooper, who ran straight into her arms.

“Grandma!” Branch cried, holding onto her tightly, while Cooper clung to her other shoulder, Cooper larger frame trembling. His cries echoed Branch recognize like the ones when he’d lost his goggles, or his first plush toy Branch and his family spend all day looking for before deciding to replace it with a newly bought one. Back then, Branch had always been there to comfort his baby brother—but not this time. This time, they had lost something they couldn’t replace, Branch had to deal with his own bubbling emotion.

For a moment, they just sat there, huddled together, before Grandma Rosiepuff gently pulled away. Branch shed more tears his handle wipe it away, and Grandma wiped away Cooper’s, her voice soft but shaken. 

“Branch, Cooper, where...” Her voice trailed off, and as realization hit her, her lips trembled, she stared both of of her grandson desperately, silently begging it wasn’t true.

Branch gulped, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m sorry, Grandma…”

Cooper, voice cracking, added, “He... He didn’t make it. Grandma, I couldn’t help him. We... we lost him, I…” His words crumbled as more tears welled up, and he tried to hold them back.

They stayed at the edge of the mushroom by the base of the hanging tree, the rest of the troll gathers around the crack stage, there stood King Peppy, he spoke to the crowd all troll there listen to the king speech. Branch, Cooper, Granda weren’t focused on the speech too deep into their world; all that mattered was that soon they’d be evacuated to the bunker. But the world felt so much emptier, knowing they wouldn't all be going together. Branch, Cooper, and Grandma Rosiepuff clung to each other, unwilling to let go. 

After a while, trolls began to disperse, gathering their personal belongings as quickly as possible, preparing to leave their homeland for safer ground. Branch, Cooper, and Grandma Rosiepuff returned to their pod following the others. The hanging ladder served as a grim reminder of who was it conturctued for. 

Before they could climb up, Poppy rushed toward them.

“Poppy?” Branch asked, confused.

She was panting, trying to catch her breath. “Branch, we need to go. Get Rhonda. We need to save them. I know they’re still alive, I can feel it!”

Everyone looked bewildered, but Branch quickly regained his composure, anger and fear boiling beneath his surface. The Bergen had taken so much from them, and now they had taken his brother—the brother who had fought his way back to him. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t do the same?

Looking at Cooper, Branch knew he couldn’t let his baby brother grow up without one of them gone. Not again. Not ever. 

“I’ll get Rhonda. Cooper, help Grandma pack. I’m going to save that idiot,” Branch muttered before running off, leaving no room for protest. Poppy nodded in agreement and followed.

Cooper stood there with Grandma, his heart aching. He looked up at her, pleading for answers. Her lips tightened, and she nodded, the fire in her eyes too familiar—the same look she had every time they played Remy during game night.

They quickly gathered what they could from the pod. Cooper understood now that Branch and Poppy were heading off to rescue his brother and other captured trolls. There was separated bags, mostly packed with food and supplies, lacked personal items, this bag was for different purpose than bringing to the bunker. Cooper realized with a pang of knowing that he is the baby of the family, the one raised in the safety of Pop Village but he was raise by his family. And it should matter, that he should help with the rescue mission. 

Cooper had never seen a Bergen up close. The stories his classmates shared had terrified him—stories of hungry monsters who ate trolls every year. The Bergen had become like a boogeyman to him, lurking in the shadows, claws outstretched. He had often run to Branch, and later to John, for comfort. But that had stopped years ago. He had his brothers—what could harm them? 

But now, one of those brothers was gone, taken by the same monster from those tales. Cooper had seen it—a glimpse of the Bergen snatching trolls like berries from a bush, and now he understood the fear that the older trolls spoke of.

Standing on the soft, mocking grass, Cooper realized they might never return here again. Rhonda appeared in the distance, her expression hurried and confused as she searched for her caretaker, whining about but stay still having a troll within she should focus on. The door to the vehicle swung open, and Branch jumped down, Poppy still hanging from the frame.

Branch hugged Grandma tightly, ruffled Cooper’s hair, swinging around the bag and another placed a hand on Cooper shoulder, looking at him with a fond yet sad expression.

“I want to help,” Cooper interrupted, his voice resolute.

Branch stopped, his eyes widening. “Cooper, no,” he said sharply, his gaze hardening. “This isn’t a place for kids—”

“You’re a kid too!” Cooper shot back, baring his teeth in frustration. “JD is my brother! I can’t just leave him too!” His voice cracked with desperation. “Please, Branch!”

“It’s not safe, Cooper. You’re my baby brother. I have to take responsibility for this. I can’t lose another—” Branch gritted his teeth, staring at the ground in anguish, then turned to Cooper, his voice almost pleading. “Don’t, please. Grandma, help me.”

Grandma Rosiepuff remained silent, handing the bag to Poppy as she stood by Branch. Poppy took it and placed it inside the vehicle. Grandma Rosiepuff close side of Branch head, she whispered something to Branch’s ear. Branch paused, thinking deeply, Grandma Rosiepuff returning to Cooper’s side.

Grandma looked sadly at Cooper. “I’ve never stopped your brother from anything. It wouldn’t be right for me to stop you.” She pulled out a pair of goggles, the one during their morning birthday celebration and placed them around Cooper’s hat, tears brimming in her eyes. “Please stay safe. Branch, take care of Cooper for me. Bring back my boy.”

Branch, hiding his trembling lips, nodded, then pulled the goggles over his eyes and climbed inside. The door stayed open. Cooper hugged Grandma Rosiepuff tightly, his arms wrapped around her neck. Before they parted ways, he whispered a tearful goodbye. Inside the vehicle, Branch was already seated in the driver's seat, focused and tense. Poppy sat on the center couch, while Cooper stood by the window, watching as Grandma Rosiepuff waved to them, her figure growing smaller as the village faded further and further into the distance.

They all sat in silence, feeling the gentle rumble of the vehicle beneath them as Rhonda thankfully began tracking the scent of their target. Branch engaged the auto-pilot but remained in the seat, gripping the steering wheel, trying to process the events that had just unfolded alone. Poppy moved to the small kitchen, setting the pod for tea, her hands methodically placing a tea bag beside an empty mug on a tray. It was clear she needed something to keep herself busy.

Cooper glanced at his two closest friends as he absentmindedly shuffled through his bag, making sure everything was in order. He climbed up to the upper bunk, the bed etched into the wall, and lay down in the shadows. He slowly took off his cap, spinning it in his hands before setting it aside and adjusting his goggles. The reflection in the lenses showed his somber face, emotions swirling behind his wide eyes.

Everything felt surreal. Just hours ago, they had been dancing and celebrating like any other year, but now, here he was, caught up in a rescue mission to save his brothers and the other captured trolls. The weight of it pressed down on him. He trembled as the image of the gigantic Bergen flashed in his mind—a creature so large it could swallow them whole without hesitation. His earlier excitement now seemed like a distant, almost meaningless emotion in the face of this terror.

Cooper shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, refocusing on the present. He climbed back down, leaving his things behind, and moved toward the tray of tea. Poppy brought the tray over with an apologetic smile as she carefully set it on the bunker’s side table. The table had been installed by a mechanic at Branch's request—another one of John's practical ideas for their long journeys. 

As the warm steam from the tea rose, Cooper wrapped his hands around the mug, sipping carefully, letting the heat calm him. The warmth spread through his body, a small comfort as they prepared for the journey ahead.

The large, old vehicle rumbled down the wide road, its worn engine echoing through the eerie, gloomy town ahead. The town was separated from the sprawling urban buildings by a wall, which also marked the boundary of the natural ecosystem beyond. Inside the vehicle, a Bergen sat with a manic grin, clearly thrilled with her catch.

John sat trembling, but he tried to ground himself, using his voice as an anchor. His hands shook slightly as he attempted to retell a story from a camping trip, his expression grave. 

“And then there I was, scared out of my mind as I saw—” Suddenly, a jarring bump sent them all rattling around the compartment, forcing the trolls to tumble against each other. They screamed, their panicked voices piercing the air, while John winced as a sharp headache formed from all the unnecessary shouting. When the chaos finally settled, John glanced around at the others—Biggie, Smidge, Guy Diamond, Satin and Chenille (the troll twins), Fuzzbert, DJ Suki, and Creek. He had seen these trolls playing with his brothers, and now, as the only older adult among them, he felt a heavy sense of responsibility.

“We’re going to die!” Biggie wailed, clutching his caterpillar pet, Mr. Dinkles, whose tiny top hat remained upright despite the commotion.

“Try quiet down, mate. Take a deep breath and settle your aura,” Creek said, trying to soothe his friend, though his own fear was evident. His eyes darted toward John, silently begging for help.

The twins huddled together, while Guy Diamond and the others tried to cluster for comfort. None of them dared to move as the sound of the zipper slowly being undone sent shivers down their spines.

“How can we be quiet if we’re about to get eaten?!” Guy Diamond’s voice cracked with panic as he shrunk closer to the others.

“I can’t believe this... We’re going to die, and I haven’t even graduated yet,” Satin cried, her voice quivering with fear.

“Or kissed my high school sweetheart... I’ll never see Mom and Dad again,” Chenille whimpered, hiding her face in her twin's shoulder as she wept.

DJ Suki remained silent, placing her headphones over her ears in an attempt to block out the noise around her, huddling under her hoodie. Fuzzbert, the quietest of them all, allowed DJ to rest her head on his furry body as a makeshift pillow.

John sighed heavily, his stress and fatigue weighing him down. Mentally drained, he felt utterly helpless. He had run out of stories to distract them from this nightmare. His fingers fidgeted with his performance outfit, trying to smooth out the wrinkles, he wish he was wearing something different in this situation. The vehicle continued to jolt along the road, each bump accompanied by fearful shouts from the trolls. They were shaken with every rough turn, their bodies swinging painfully with the motion, until the vehicle came to a sudden halt. The engine cut off abruptly, leaving only the ominous sound of much larger footsteps approaching outside.

Gruff voices and heavy grunts filled the air, signaling that the Bergen captors were moving. The familiar motion of walking sent a cold chill through John’s body. His skin prickled as his fingers instinctively brushed over the scar shielded by his goggles. He sighed deeply, his heart heavy with dread. He had never been ready for this part of the plan.

Chapter Text

When they finally arrived, the group stepped out of the vehicle, each carrying a small bag filled with emergency rations and items, all carefully organized by Branch in case the worst did happened Rhonda stopped near a large hole in the ground.

The group fanned out, inspecting each hole in turn.

"I don’t remember there being this many holes," Poppy said aloud, looking over at Branch and Cooper as they examined the largest one. Branch remained silent, his posture tense as Poppy placed a hand on his shoulder, her unease mirroring his.

The whole idea of the party had been hers, leading to all their friend captured. She felt partially responsible for her friends’ capture, including her best friend brothers, John. She couldn’t leave anyone behind. How could she look at herself as queen if she failed her friends?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt tugging at her voice.

Cooper glanced up at her as Branch adjusted his goggles, focusing on the hole in front of them with a determined concentration. Cooper, in turn, moved to examine the hole beside Poppy, casting a quick glance at her before shifting his attention to the task.

After a moment of inspecting, Cooper straightened up and met Poppy’s eyes. "Sorry," he muttered quietly. "For Branch... He's always been scared for John long as I remember."

"Huh?" Poppy looked at him, her curiosity piqued.

"I don’t know much about the Great Escape. Branch doesn’t like talking about it, and John... well, John’s got his own scars."

"I thought it happening back in Pop Village," Poppy mused.

Before Cooper could respond, Branch interjected from behind them. "Anyway," he said, stepping forward, "one thing’s for sure—these are the right holes. They definitely lead toward Bergen Town. But which one...?"

"Indeed. Only one leads to Bergen Town and OTHERS TO CERTAIN DEATH DEATH DEATH," an unfamiliar voice echoed around them.

The group tensed, instinctively backing up until their shoulders pressed together, forming a protective circle. Rhonda let out a low growl of warning, her eyes scanning the woods.

"Who said that? Show yourself!" Branch shouted, his ears flicking in irritation. The others followed his lead, their eyes darting around, scanning the dense trees and underbrush. Nothing but clouds overhead and the rustling of leaves—until, suddenly, a fluffy white cloud with feet appeared out of nowhere.

"It was me!" The cloud drifted down slowly in front of them, its casual descent only making Branch’s hair bristle with growing agitation. Poppy clung protective to Cooper's side, despite being taller—he was still the youngest of the group.

"Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’m Cloud Boy, nice to meet ya!" The propeller-capped cloud extended a hand toward them, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

"Who wears socks without shoes?" Branch sneered. "What kind of weirdo are you?"

"Ouch, Pop!" Cloud Boy said with a dramatic sigh. "Funny, coming from you. What’s with all this funk troll business? Just kidding, I already know. I wish you luck finding your home tribe little dude."

Cloud Boy pointing toward Cooper a wink at the end of the sentence

"Uh, thanks?" Cooper responded, thoroughly confused, trying to muster a glare but only receiving an amused smile in return.

“You mentioned that one of the holes might lead to Bergen Town. Would you happen to know which one?” Poppy asked hopefully, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“You bet I do,” Cloud Boy replied smugly.

“Are you going to tell us?” Branch crossed his arms, his voice edged with irritation.

“I might tell you... or I might not,” Cloud Boy teased, dragging out the pause, “for... maybe those cool goggles you’ve got.”

“What?” Branch snapped, his hand instinctively gripping the goggles tightly. “Never in your wildest dreams.”

Cloud Boy then turned to Cooper, raising an eyebrow. “What about you, my tall fellow?”

Cooper shook his head immediately. He had just gotten his goggles today—there was no way he was giving them up. Poppy stepped in front of them, offering her signature smile. “How about a different trade? How about... a high five? I know tons of high fives!”

Cloud Boy smirked, clearly entertained. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, Pop-head.”

“Oh, hey! Back off!” Branch’s hair began to bristle, growing wary of the cloud’s presence. This wasn’t in any of the textbooks—talking clouds showing up out of nowhere. 

“Well, if it’s not a clever choice you make…” Cloud Boy said, his tone becoming more ominous. “One hole leads to Bergen Town, and the others? CERTAIN DEATH, DEATH, DEATH!” he shouted dramatically, his voice echoing through the woods. Pleased with himself, he chuckled. “Hey, I like it. Might use it later.”

“We don’t need your help,” Branch said coldly, turning away from the group and approaching Rhonda, approaching close to hole, who was sniffing intently at one of the tunnel entrances. Her excitement grew as she picked up a scent, and suddenly the ground beneath them trembled, causing everyone to stumble.

Branch sighed in relief. “Looks like she found the right one.”

“Well, I guess my fun’s over,” Cloud Boy shrugged, floating lazily away. “Have fun, guys. Maybe I’ll see you again—unless you DIE, DIE, DIE—nope, still too long. Doesn’t fit.” With that, he drifted off, leaving the group to their task.

Branch rubbed his face, exhausted. “Sorry, girl. This is a stealth mission. Stay here and be our driver later, okay? We’ll be back with my brother.” 

Rhonda purred sadly, licking his face before giving the others the same treatment. They groaned and yelped in protest, but the affection was well-received.

With a deep breath, they readied themselves in front of the hole. Poppy looked at Branch and Cooper, guilt heavy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Branch. Cooper, I’m really, really sorry about all this.”

Branch looked at Poppy, his expression softening. “I’m sorry too, Poppy. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m scared... the Bergen’s back, and it’s taking my brother again. You can’t just do that. I—Let’s save them all.”

Cooper nodded, his determination clear. He glanced at Branch and Poppy, his brother and his best friend, before running into the tunnel, he hears yelling - it was taking too long. He knew they would follow him. They just needed to start talking again.

---

Back in the back, and although none of them were particularly claustrophobic, the cramped space was uncomfortable. Their bags swayed as they moved, and before long, the rhythmic bumping of the path began to jostle them.

As the tunnel opened up, they found themselves facing the towering structure of the Bergen castle. The massive building loomed over the trees, its ominous presence casting long shadows across the surrounding landscape.

John’s heart raced. He could barely hear over the sound of his own breathing, but faint voices echoed in the distance, sending chills down his spine. 

“Never say never,” the voice from their captor, fear creeping in to all them more to John. The group huddled closer as John did his best to wrap himself protectively around them. 

"Ah, but dear King, I endured the wilderness,” the voice came again, more distinct now. “I couldn’t help but think I let you down... I let you and your father down."

Another muffled voice responded, but it was too far to make out. The heavy breathing in the bag intensified as John tried to calm the group.

“I just want to go home,” someone whimpered quietly.

"But now, with you as the newly crowned king, you can bring a new era for all of Bergen by bringing the Trolls back."

The air felt thick with dread as John and the others strained to hear what was happening outside the bag. 

Suddenly, the zipper of the bag was yanked open, and a blinding green light flooded in. John scrambled to the front, instinctively shielding the others from whatever danger awaited. They found themselves in the throne room, beneath an enormous painting of the old king holding a baby looked alike who seem to be…. The new King of the Bergen, Gristle, sat on the throne.

King Gristle's eyes lit up with curiosity as he spotted them, but his enthusiasm was quickly dampened by a sharp slap on the hand from the chef standing beside him. He slumped back into his throne, frustrated, before perking up again, his eyes wide with hope. "So, does that mean I can have my first-ever Troll? I can finally be happy, like Father said?"

“That’s right,” the chef replied with a twisted smile, zipping the bag back up. The group tumbled over each other, trying to stay as quiet as possible, listening to the world outside. 

“Well, they don’t seem very cheery”

“But of course, sire, these Trolls have been through a lot. They’ll be back on their feet in no time. After all, a tasty Troll is a happy Troll! The best for you... and for EVERYONE IN BERGEN TOWN!”

Cheers erupted from outside, but all John could do was murmur to himself, “Please, Branch, Poppy… save us.”

The bag was abruptly yanked again and flung to the ground, sending them sprawling once more. They groaned in pain before realizing the bag had opened. They tumbled out into a silver cage, the door slamming shut behind them. John felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, and immediately checked to see if everyone was alright. 

"Shh, shh! Guys, Mr. Dinkles is freaking out!" Biggie whispered, though the others were too busy nursing their own discomfort from the rough landing.

John stood up, his eyes narrowing as the Bergen chef loomed closer, her gaze scanning them hungrily. Her calculated eyes lingered on each Troll, sending shivers down their spines as they huddled closer together.

“You,” she said suddenly, pointing straight at John.

He froze, her red irises like blood smeared across the forest floor from a predator’s latest catch. His breath caught in his throat, fear gripping him. Was this the end?

"Oh yes, you, the goggled troll. I must say..." Chef chuckled darkly, returning to her original stance as she opened a large, ominous book, laying out illustrations of trolls sliced and prepared in a variety of gruesome dishes. The thickness of the book alone made the group shudder, their minds racing with the worst possibilities where they would end up. The trolls cried out in fear, but John remained silent, refusing to give the Chef the satisfaction. His eyes were locked on her, unwavering.

"You've done well up until now. A happy troll is a tasty troll, isn’t that right... goggles?" Chef sneered, spitting the words as she laughed maniacally. She slammed the book shut with a deafening thud, causing the trolls to flinch in unison. Without another word, she left the kitchen, heading toward a much larger dining hall as her voice echoed, calling out to the attending Bergens.

John felt his blood run cold. He caught sight of bergan—a familiar one. A small, purple-skinned bergen with two stubby pigtails stood awkwardly by the door where the Chef had exited. She looked as nervous as a mouse, clutching a sheet in her trembling hands. The other trolls stayed silent, not daring to make a sound, as a chilling darkness seemed to settle over the room.

---

Meanwhile, Branch led the way, with Cooper and Poppy close behind, slipping through a small hole and climbing onto a chandelier. Poppy and Cooper perched precariously, watching Branch survey the banquet hall below. The room was adorned with grand tiles, ornate cutlery, and plates set for a royal feast. What caught their attention, however, was the Bergen King—much younger than they remembered—sitting at the head of the long table. This was the monster who had destroyed everything, the one who had stolen all of Branch's friends and taken his brother.

Branch gritted his teeth, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of containers holding their friends. But nothing seemed to fit the description, which made him hopeful. Maybe the trolls hadn’t been eaten yet. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a smaller Bergen exit the room, and with a quick adjustment of his goggles, he telescoped toward the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat. There, amidst the dim light, were his friends—and his brother.

Poppy gasped, nudging Cooper. Up at the wooden edges near the ceiling, Poppy pointed at the kitchen door, her eyes wide with hope. Cooper leaned in for a better look, his heart lifting. The two exchanged a glance, silently hugging each other in relief. Branch allowed a brief smile to cross his face, but his mind was already working on their next move. The trolls weren’t out of danger yet, but knowing they were still alive was enough to fuel his determination.

As nightfall approached, the group waited in hiding, overhearing rumors that "Trollstice" would take place the next night. It gave them a glimmer of hope. The rescue mission was urgent, but they had a little time but hopefully just enough.

Branch returned to the group, and without warning, Poppy and Cooper embraced him tightly. He allowed himself a moment of comfort before pulling away, his resolve hardening. He looked at his two friends with a lopsided smile. "Let’s save them."

They descended carefully, Poppy and Branch holding tight to Cooper as they made their way down. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, and they slipped inside. Group going up down the same ways hiding by the wall finding the lone Bergen. A Bergen maid, unaware of their presence, wheeled a cart across the room, then collapsed onto her bed with a sob. Her back was turned, clutching a large pair of scissors, and she looked despondent as she stared at a curtain-covered wall. The room was dim, light coming from a small window that overlooked Bergen Town.

The trolls moved cautiously, their feet silent against the floor. Branch’s heart raced as he approached the cage where his brother was held. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met his brother's. The recognition and relief were instant. Tears pricked at Branch’s eyes, but he quickly wiped them away, fumbling for the lockpick hidden in his bag.

As he worked on the cage, Poppy and Cooper stood watch, keeping an eye on the maid, who seemed too lost in her own world to notice them. But then, just as Branch was about to spring the lock, a loud clang echoed through the room as Poppy accidentally knocked into something.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" Branch hissed, his eyes wide with panic. Poppy shrugged apologetically, while Cooper gave a sheepish smile, one eye twitching with nervousness. The maid's hand shot out, grasping for the nearest troll-like object, but she missed as Branch shouted.

"RUN! RUN, RUN!" Branch yelled, grabbing his brother's hand as the trolls scattered in all directions, making it harder for the maid to catch them.

"No! Come back!" the maid—Bridget—cried out in despair, chasing after them in a panic. "Please, the Chef is going to be so mad! Stop—stop it now!"

Poppy run by the wall. Poppy darted into hiding but couldn't help her curiosity. She peeked behind the curtain, gasping at what she saw. The wall was covered in cut-out pictures of the Bergen King. More than that, it was a shrine. Photos of the King, drawings surrounded by hearts, and various little knick-knacks filled the space. Poppy's grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

With a sly smirk, she shouted, "You're in love with King Gristle!"

Bridget gasped, her face turning beet red. She quickly covered her face with her hands, leaving only one eye peeking out. "I—I don’t know what you're talking about... Girl Friend," she stammered, attempting an intimidating hiss but failing miserably.

Poppy raised an eyebrow, her grin widening even more as she yanked open another curtain, revealing more of Bridget's secret. "Oh yes you are! Look at this shrine!" she teased, pointing at the wall filled with love-struck imagery of the King.

"No! Ahh! Excuse me!" Bridget shrieked, scrambling to close the curtains and hide her embarrassing secret. "This... this is private! It's not mine!" she protested, flailing her arms wildly in a futile attempt to cover up the evidence, her blush deepening with every second.

Poppy stood back, amused by the distraction, but the tension in the air remained thick as the situation, though humorous, still felt dangerous.

The trolls slowly emerged from their hiding spots, eyes wide with fear as Poppy stood mere inches away from the Bergen. Too close for comfort. They knew the stories, they knew the nature of the Bergens. But they were unwilling to let any of their friends be taken. No troll left behind.

A sigh escaped the Bergen as all eyes focused on her. The trolls were ready to run at any moment.

"It doesn’t matter," Bridget muttered, her voice low and defeated. "Why should it? He doesn’t even know I’m alive. I’m just a maid in the castle."

Poppy tilted her head, one hand on her hip, her expression unreadable. A thoughtful smile slowly crept across her face. "Well, I think—no, WE can help you!"

“What?!” Branch’s voice came from behind, loud and incredulous. He, John, and Cooper crouched behind the corner of the only window, Branch pulling his hand away from the ledge as if it burned him. John leaned in closer, with Cooper following suit, and eventually, Branch reluctantly joined them, peering through the opening. His hand rested firmly on John and Cooper’s shoulders, as if grounding himself, unwilling to let go of either brother.

"We know a way to make King Gristle notice you!" Poppy exclaimed.

The other trolls hesitantly emerged, one by one. They were reluctant, but they trusted Poppy. They gathered around the base of the bed, watching the conversation unfold, their curiosity piqued despite their wariness.

“This is stupid,” Branch groaned, knocking his head lightly with his fist in frustration. His agitation was clear. “This is so, so stupid. Poppy, why?”

John grinned, trying to lighten the mood, sensing an opportunity for peace between trolls and Bergens. "You know how Poppyseed is," he began, his voice calm yet hopeful. They needed to reach the king’s heart, not his stomach. And Bridget, the familiar Bergen John had seen during the disastrous party back in OG timeline, might just be their key.

"How can you say that when you just got kidnapped?" Branch shot back, exasperation lacing his voice. "We’re here to save you, not—" he gestured wildly toward Bridget, "—this!"

Cooper glanced at the scene, his gaze softening. “I don’t know, Branch... maybe Poppy’s onto something,” he said with a small, shy smile.

Branch looked at them, bewildered, feeling like the only rational one in the room. His heart raced, the thought of leaving without his brother or any of his friends gnawing at him. John stood, and Cooper quickly moved beside Branch, leaning close as Branch mumbled something incoherent. Cooper hummed softly in response, offering a quiet comfort.

“This is stupid,” Branch repeated with a groan, but he didn’t move.

“I know,” Cooper admitted, his voice low, eyes cast downward. “I’m scared too. But we have to do this. We have to help our friends. I trust Poppy, and I think—well, I don’t know exactly…”

“I think we might’ve found a way for Bergens to find happiness without eating troll,” John finished, his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Branch stared hard at them, standing tall beside Cooper, then looking at John with uncertainty. “How?” he finally asked.

“Royal politics. King to King. Or maybe Princess to King.” John’s words carefully, body dance trying to ease the tension but his eyes met Branch’s with determination. Branch raised his hand, as if to signal he understood, though fear for their safety was still etched across his face.

“Branch! BRANCH!” Poppy’s voice called from the other side of the room.

Branch ran to the edge, his shoulders falter down remingly relax with no danger, for now. He shot an annoyed look back at John and Cooper, grabbing both their hands as they quickly made their way down to join Poppy. They ran toward her, breathless.

"I think with a little makeup, great hair, and some practice," Poppy said, pulling Branch in closer to her side. The group of trolls now gathered on top of the bed, watching her with interest. "We can turn you into a total babe! Come on, don’t you want a date with the king?"

Branch blinked, staring at Poppy as the absurdity of her words sunk in. He groaned again, louder this time. "This is so, so stupid."

Chapter Text

Alright, guys! Hair, we go!

With a little makeup and the right outfit, anyone could look stunning. Poppy expertly wielded a hairbrush over Bridget’s now rainbow-colored hair. The vibrant hues weren’t natural; they’d convinced Bridget to let them create a fabulous wig, which hung playfully from her hair. As Poppy looked up at Bridget, her face lit with an encouraging smile. But when Bridget glanced back at her reflection in the mirror, Poppy could see the nervousness etched on her features.

“Are these heels really necessary?” Bridget asked, shifting her weight as she looked down at the precarious footwear. They looked difficult to walk in, but she knew they were supposed to make her appear taller and more attractive.

“You’ll do just fine, Bridget!” Poppy chirped, popping up from behind Bridget’s hair and giving a reassuring pat atop her massive waves. As usual, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy working alongside her friends on this makeup project. The Bergen didn’t seem nearly as scary as she had imagined; Bridget was just like a lost teen trying to find her place in the world. Poppy wondered if she could learn a thing or two about dating in the process. A blush crept onto her cheeks at the thought as she scanned the room for Branch, who stood off to the side with John. His hair remained intact same goes with John and Cooper while the other trolls had wild strands of rainbow colors, all working together to create Bridget's show-stopping wig.

The trolls stood proudly atop Bridget’s head, their hair weaving around each other, forming an enchanting halo of colors. 

You gotta let it show!

They set out into the Bergen town, the air filled with their harmonious singing, calming their nerves and igniting excitement for the moment ahead. As they sang together, their voices blended beautifully:

I'm comin'! Yay!  

I'm comin'!

Bridget slipped slightly as Poppy peeked out from the mass of hair, watching her carefully navigate the town. It was a sight to behold—Bridget used her white, high-heeled shoes, taking hesitant steps as she maneuvered the cobblestone path. The other Bergens stared in awe, and Poppy admired how brightly Bridget’s dress contrasted against the dull colors surrounding them. With a surge of confidence, Bridget began to dance and sing:

All right, out I'm comin', out I'm comin'!  

Yo! I'm coming out like the sun after rain.  

Ready to shine, no time to be playin', feelin' good!

Bridget stood tall, her confidence building as she took center stage, bringing her joy into the world around her.

Gonna get what I, what I want!  

Gonna show everybody!

She tossed her head back, laughing as a Bergen child gawked at her, clearly bewildered by the display of unrestrained energy. The laws of physics seemed to bend as she twirled and leaped with abandon.

How I, how I flaunt! Look at me now, my confidence is soaring!

With a burst of enthusiasm, she dunked a basketball in a nearby court, the Bergen onlookers nodding in approval, impressed by her carefree spirit.

Dudes be impressed with the points I’m scoring!  

That ain’t boring, and it just don’t quit!  

Watch the king drop his jaw when I’m shaking my hips!

The trolls cheered for her, chanting for Lady Glitter Sparkles to hear their encouragement.

She's coming out!  

She's coming out!

Bridget stood at the edge of the crowd, embracing her new persona, feeling the power of her transformation. She grabbed a sandwich from a bystander, energy radiating from her as she made her way to the center, where Lady Glitter Sparkles stood holding a microphone.

It's time to take a stand!

Bridget danced freely, unaware of her surroundings, lost in the music and the moment. As she poured her heart into the performance, she raised her finger high, sharing a small high five with Poppy, whose arm was already stretched toward her in encouragement.

And show the world that I'm coming out!  

She's coming out!

“Alright, Operation Date Commence!” Poppy said playfully, a twinkle in her eye.

Branch glanced up at her, a smile that flickered with uncertainty, before he turned to speak with John. Poppy sighed contentedly, peering out from behind her cascade of colorful hair as they stepped away from the palace. She looked around, soaking in the sights of Bergen town. It felt strange; she didn’t remember much about living here, only that it had been a few weeks before they all escaped. The only memories that lingered were of a pink room and a pink bed. Her father had deep pink hair, which stood out in her mind, alongside the memory of a yellow squash that would go around her room, whispering secrets. Poppy wondered if that squash might have been her mother. Her dad rarely talked about her, and Poppy never bothered to ask. King Peppy was already busy leading the village that would soon be hers, and it was probably best for him to have the peace he deserved, without the added stress of overworking himself.

Poppy leaned in closer to Bridget’s ear, her voice soft and encouraging. “It’s going to be fine, Bridget. Trust us—you look gorgeous. Just trust the process, and we’ll get you your soon-to-be -furute-husband.”

Bridget flushed, fidgeting nervously as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to soothe herself. “I—I mean, we still have to get to know each other first,” she stammered, her words shaky as she fiddle around her hand.

Poppy laughed, her infectious joy making the other trolls chuckle amongst themselves, all rooting for Bridget. The nerves swirling inside Bridget seemed to ease a bit as she glanced around at the sea of Bergens, still thankful that she remained mostly hidden in the crowd.

Suddenly, a frustrated voice boomed from within “Bibbly’s,” the shop they were passing by. 

“No! This is all wrong!” Bridget’s gaze was immediately drawn to the window, her singing voice trailing off as she walked closer, her breath catching when she saw King Gristle inside. Her heart melted at the sight, and a wishful smile spread across her face.

“I’m the king who’s bringing back Trollstice! I need a bib to match! Something not too flashy, but sophisticated—something that says, ‘I’m a grown man!’” King Gristle exclaimed, tossing away yet another bib, much to the shopkeeper’s dismay. The poor Bergen merchant looked more and more distraught, struggling to find anything that would satisfy the king’s exacting standards. 

“Oh, sire…” the shopkeeper sighed, clearly at his wit’s end.

“Find me another!” King Gristle demanded, pacing across the store as the shopkeeper hurried to search for something else worthy of royal approval.

Bridget pressed herself close to the glass, her eyes following every movement of the king. “Oh, he’s so beautiful up close!” she whispered, then quickly blushed, realizing how odd that might sound. “I-I didn’t mean in a weird way! Oh my gosh, what if he thinks I’m a creep? I—I need to get out of here!” she panicked, her voice rising with anxiety.

“No, no, no!” Poppy quickly soothed, her eyes wide with concern. “It’s okay, Bridget. Blink and breathe.”

Bridget bit her lip, blinking at Poppy, still unsure. “But he might know I’m just a scullery maid! This isn’t going to work, Poppy,” she mumbled in a shaky voice, wringing her hands.

From the corner, a mumble rose from where Branch sat beside John and Cooper which spreat amongs the group. Poppy shot a quick glance at Branch, who rolled his eyes, while John and Cooper exchanged apologetic looks.

“Can you tell me what to do? I don’t even know what I’m doing!” Bridget chuckled nervously, her voice breaking with uncertainty.

“Don’t worry,” Poppy said with a playful grin, “I’m good with ‘words.’”

Branch groaned softly, casting a long-suffering look at the group who gave their own reaction, while John blinked, and Cooper sighed. This was definitely going to be an interesting start.

“Go help him decide on a bib,” Poppy whispered urgently. “Your first interaction should be subtle, helpful. Go inside now!”

Bridget gulped, her heart pounding as she rushed inside, the door swinging open with a gentle chime. 

“It’s gotta be perfect!” King Gristle exclaimed in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “Trollstice is tomorrow night! How am I supposed to present myself as king if I don’t even look like one?!”

“Sire, you’re still but a child—uh, I mean, a teen!” the shopkeeper stammered, trying to regain composure. “Be patient. I do think everyone in Bergen Town appreciates your efforts to restore Trollstice. Oh, look! I found another marvelous bib! Fitting?”

The shopkeeper held up a bib with a sigil of a troll head being served on a silver platter. Bridget’s face twitched slightly at the sight. King Gristle waved it away, still unsatisfied, while the shopkeeper frantically searched for another option going from the otherside of the store.

Bridget moved closer to the king, trying to blend into the background as she pretended to browse the bibs, all while sneaking glances at him every so often. Her heart raced, barely containing the butterflies fluttering inside her. 

Oh, I’m so close to him! she thought, gushing inwardly. Poppy, watching from outside, smirked knowingly. Love at first sight all over again.

Poppy’s voice echoed in Bridget’s ear. “Say something!”

“I can’t! I can’t!” Bridget murmured, her panic setting in once again.

Suddenly, King Gristle turned toward her, a surprise look something glimmer in his eyes, his voice polite but curious. “Uh, is there something I can help you with, miss…?”

The trolls huddled together outside, quickly trying to come up with a title for Bridget. Biggie shouted out, “Lady!”

“Glitter?” Guy Diamond added, his voice excited.

“Sparkles!” Cooper finished, the group nodding in agreement.

John blinked, incredulous. “Seriously?” he asked, as Branch stared at them hard John wondering how Branch ’d dealt with their antics for two decades back in OG timeline.

Bridget hesitated, then repeated awkwardly but hopefully, “Lady Glittersparkles Seriously.”

King Gristle’s eyes widened for a moment, a dreamy look flickering across his face before he composed himself, smiling nervously. “Well, Lady Glittersparkles, I don’t suppose you’re too busy this evening? All this bib shopping has left me famished. Would Captain Starfunnel’s Roller Rink and Arcade be good for a—”

“A date with you?” Bridget blurted, her heart hammering in her chest. The King laugh before fiddling his finger feeling suddenly sweaty. 

“I mean, if you wanted,” the king chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“Would I! Would I?” Bridget nearly shouted, her excitement bubbling over. Looking over to poppy hidden among the wave layer of hair. 

“Yes, you’ll be delighted!” Poppy whispered.

“Yes! You’ll be delighted,” Bridget echoed, her voice certain

King Gristle looked a bit confused by her sudden enthusiasm, but his smile grew wider. “Well then, it’s a date! I’m glad to have found someone outside the court to join me.”

Bridget beamed, barely able to contain her joy. Bridget carefully take a look to the confused king she went to shelf of bib, deciding and taking in the chosen bib, presenting it to the king. He looked it over curiously before his face lit up with approval.

“Guard! Time to go!” King Gristle declared, his voice full of excitement. “I think Miss Glittersparkles has found me the perfect bib for tomorrow night!”

A cheer erupted from the Bergen crowd, and the shopkeeper clapped in delight. With the perfect bib purchased, chosen by a head over heel Scullery Maid.

“Enjoy your pizza... here’s your token,” grunted a deep, sagging voice. The Bergen employee tossed a token onto the table with a careless clink as it skidded across the surface, barely paying attention before walking away. Lady Glittersparkles and King Gristle, however, were far too focused on each other to notice. Their eyes locked, lost in a trance, the warmth of their connection undeniable. Love at first sight, as they say.

The pizza sat between them, its steam curling into the air, highlighted by the soft glow of the dim lighting in the arcade. They broke their gaze briefly, the delicious aroma wafting into their nostrils, and a shared, awkward smile appeared on their faces.

“Thankfully, I brought my appetite with me,” King Gristle said, his hand reaching for a slice of pizza. At the same time, Bridget—Lady Glittersparkles—moved to do the same. Their fingers touched briefly as they reached for the same slice. In a flash, Bridget slapped his hand away playfully before grabbing the slice and devouring it herself. 

King Gristle blinked, startled, and the trolls—Poppy, Branch, John, and Cooper—who were watching from the shadows, stifled their laughter. John exchanged a glance with Cooper as they peered out from their hiding spot, relieved that things seemed to be going well despite the minor mishap. 

King Gristle’s face softened, utterly smitten.

“Oh, you’re fantastic!” King Gristle exclaimed, settling back into his seat with a more relaxed posture. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had dinner with someone—like, really enjoyed their company.”

“Quick, compliment him back!” Poppy whispered urgently from her hiding spot, looking hopeful for this promising new start. She could barely contain her excitement.

“I like your back,” Lady Glittersparkles blurted out, her face turning bright red as she flared into a nervous, flirtatious smile, taking another slice of pizza. 

Poppy nearly face-palmed. “No! I mean, say something nice about him!” she whispered frantically, a quiet snicker escaping her as the others exchanged amused glances. John tried to suppress his laughter while Branch simply shook his head in disbelief.

“But I do like his back,” Bridget muttered shyly, her voice barely audible. 

King Gristle froze momentarily, confused, his brow furrowing slightly as he paused mid-bite, still holding his slice of pizza. He gave her a hesitant smile, a bit weird out. 

Branch gently nudged Poppy aside, stepping in with a calm voice. “Just be yourself, Bridget. Say something real. I know you’ve got something genuine to say about him.” He leaned in closer, offering her a reassuring nod.

“No, it has to be perfect!” Poppy shot back, shoving Branch lightly as she tried to regain control of the situation. “Alright, let’s see… compliment his eyes, maybe? Or his—uh—ears? No, wait, his… uh…” she stammered, panic flickering in her voice as she fumbled for the right words.

The other trolls began throwing out random suggestions, each one more ridiculous than the last.

“hair?” Guy Diamond called out.

“face!” Biggie chimed in.

“You’re teeeeeeth!” someone else suggested.

John quickly shushed them, raising his hand to silence the chaos. He had been in this situation too many times before—raising a brother and leading a boyband to sway any troll to happiness.

“Bridget,” John said softly, leaning toward her, “you’ve got this. Just tell him what you really think. Be honest. Be the you that you’ve always wanted to be.”

Bridget hesitated, but something in John’s words gave her courage. She glanced nervously at King Gristle, hand on his shoulder almost going out from their seet. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

“I think you’re… well, I think you’re great, King Gristle. I’ve always seen you around town, and every time I look at you, I can’t help but feel like I’m falling head over heels for you.” She paused, her voice trembling, but then she continued, finding her strength. “Your smile—it’s contagious. Whenever I see it, I can’t help but smile too. You’re eye is so loving and caring - I think you’re doing an amazing job as king, even in such a short time. I can see it deep within those sea of gaze, you really care about your people.”

Her voice softened, and she nervously fiddled with her hands as she spoke. “I’ve always been too scared to approach you because I’m just scullary -… I’m just an everday Bergen. Nothing special. I’m not someone important like you.”

A quiet moment passed. The soft hum of the arcade machines filled the space, mingling with the gentle whir of the air conditioning. The trolls huddled closer, anxiously awaiting the king’s reaction.

King Gristle’s expression shifted. Back to his seat. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on Bridget’s shoulder. His touch was gentle, his smile sincere. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’m just as nervous as you are.”

Bridget’s eyes lit up, hope flickering in them, though still uncertain.

“But… you’re the king,” she stammered, her gaze faltering. “You’re confident and so much bettter. I’m just—just a nobody.”

King Gristle shook his head, moving closer to her. He took her hand in his, holding it tenderly. “You’re wrong about that, Lady Glittersparkles,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not a nobody. In fact, you’re one hot lunch!” He smiled warmly at her, his words light but genuine, slightly flustered to his word catching up to his wondering mind. “I’m scared too. Scared I might mess up this date. But honestly? I’d really like to get to know you more.”

Bridget smiled, her heart swelling with relief and happiness. Their eyes met again, and in that moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. They were completely captivated by each other.

“Me too,” Bridget whispered softly. She glanced down at the table and gasped. “Oh my gosh—the pizza! We’d better eat before it gets cold!”

With that, they both burst into laughter, their shared joy breaking the last of the awkward tension. They reached for the pizza together, taking slices and enjoying the moment, the beginning of something truly special.

They munched on the pizza, enjoying the growing closeness and the comfortable silence between them. Without King Gristle noticing, Bridget casually snagged a slice of pizza. The trolls gathered carefully, taking special care not to make a mess—it was, after all, sitting on someone’s hair. Dividing it evenly, John grabbed one piece while Branch helped Cooper hold out another slice.

“Mmm, this is really good,” Biggie said, savoring the bite. Mr. Dinkles nibbled on his tiny portion, adding to the chorus of hums and groans of agreement. For the kidnapped trolls, it had been far too long since they had a decent meal. Branch, however, stared down at his slice uncertainly. Part of him wanted nothing to do with anything connected to the Bergens, even if it was just a slice of pizza. But the smell was undeniably tempting.

“You gonna eat that?” Cooper asked, eyeing the untouched slice in Branch’s hand. 

Branch rolled his eyes playfully and handed over his slice, which Cooper eagerly munching it, relishing the flavors. Branch, brushing crumbs off his hands, reached into his bag and pulled out a protein bar, munching on it instead. John glanced at Branch, curious but shrugged it off, figuring his brother wasn’t in the mood for pizza. 

John's gaze wandered, taking in the giant surroundings—the enormity of everything, clearly designed for Bergens, not trolls. He couldn’t help but compare this world to the one he had left behind. Back in his OG world, he hadn’t explored every nook and cranny of Bergen Town, but he could imagine how it might look if Trolls had a say in the decor—more vibrant, more colorful. He hoped that the peace between Bergens and Trolls was already in place.

Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath them, sending a surprised yelp through the group. The breeze tousled their hair as they were moved—now toward what seemed like a skating rink. Poppy peered out, seeing the vast ice surface stretch before them. 

As they skated around, holding hands and twirling their fingers together, enjoying the smooth motions of skating, Bridget finally spoke up.

“Being here today… it feels weird,” she said, a little unsure. “It might be the pizza, but I feel… jolly?”

“Hmm, me too,” King Gristle mused for a moment, smiling. “Would you do me the honor of making this experience out of this world?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bridget replied, her voice sound warm and happy.

Poppy watched curiously as Branch walked closer, both of them peering at the scene in front of them. Could it be possible? Were Bergens… happy? Branch’s body was still tense, his instincts on alert, ready to bail if anything went wrong. His eyes shifted back to his family and friends, silently reassuring them that if trouble arose, he would be ready. John look back at branch returning with a confident smirk confident this plan would work..

Bridget and King Gristle swirled together on the ice, their movements becoming faster and faster. The trolls struggled to hold on, clinging to each other as they were pulled into the momentum. Bridget spun around the king, until they finally stopped, Lady Glitter Sparkles' hair miraculously still intact. The trolls let out a collective sigh of relief.

The glittering disco lights sparkled around them, casting an ethereal glow, as if they had been transported to another world. The shimmering reflections floated in the air, creating an almost magical atmosphere for Bridget and King Gristle as they drew closer together, leaning in for what looked like a kiss.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the moment. “Your Majesty…” came a familiar voice, dripping with authority.

The two jerked apart, blushing furiously. They looked up to see the Chef, gliding across the rink toward them, her brow raised in disbelief.

“You two seem to be having… fun?,” she said, her tone laced with suspicion.

“Oh, I am!” King Gristle said with a carefree bounce. He confidently took Lady Glitter Sparkles’ hand, unaware of the tremble that ran through her as the Chef’s calculating gaze bore down on them.

“Hmmm.” The Chef pressed a hand to her chin, leaning closer to Bridget, her eyes narrowing. “You remind me of someone,” she mused, her voice a sinister hiss.

Poppy and the other trolls, hiding in Bridget's hair, trembled in fear. Branch squeezed Poppy’s hand, his face turning red, but he held on. The group clung closer together, terrified of being exposed.

“She’s going to be my plus one,” King Gristle announced with a wink, his obliviousness contrasting with the growing fear in Bridget’s eyes as she continued to avoid the Chef’s gaze.

“Oh, I see…” The Chef clasped her hands together, offering an unreadable look. “For a moment there, I was concerned you were… changing the plan.”

She straightened up, her grin wide and unsettling. “Well, this won’t be a problem, Your Highness. I’ll just have my worthless scullery maid get another set of hair for the… lowly Lady Glitter Sparkles.” Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “The trolls won’t cook themselves, after all. I’ll be getting on with it.”

King Gristle remained oblivious as Bridget skated frantically away from the rink. The Chef, not caring, gave a final glance back at the Lady Glittersparkels, already thinking of the preparations for the return of Trollstice. King Gristle, however, called after Lady Glittersparkles, noticing a single skate she had left behind. He delicately picked it up, fiddling dreamily with the wheel.

“I’ll wait for you,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the skate, only to pull back with a hiss as the cold metal burned his lips.

Bridget slammed into her bedroom, flopping onto the bed. The trolls tumbled out onto the pillows, their hair quickly retracting back to its normal colors. They all burst into laughter, giddy with relief and accomplishment.

“I can’t believe something like this actually happened to me!” Bridget rolled over, clutching a heart-shaped pillow, her face dreamy as she replayed the events of the day in her mind.

“This is fantastic! You’ve got yourself a boyfriend! You two looked like you were having so much fun together. Almost like… you’re happy!” Poppy exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.

Bridget turned over, her expression thoughtful for a moment before a genuine smile spread across her face. “Yeah… I think I was having fun. But… Bergens can’t feel happiness.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Poppy waggled her finger playfully, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t you feel that thing? That big, warm feeling in your chest that makes you just want to scream with joy?”

“Eh… I think I just ate too much pizza,” Bridget mumbled, looking away.

“That is happiness!” Poppy insisted.

Bridget blinked at Poppy in disbelief but began to consider it. “Yeah… I think you might be right. It weird, but i don’t hate it”

Poppy, sensing her moment, smiled warmly. “Now that we’ve helped you, we need your help,” she said. This was their chance. If a Bergen could truly feel happiness, then no Bergen would need a troll to make them happy. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Chapter Text

John stood in the kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee in his hand. He tried to keep his caffeine intake low, but the rich aroma was tempting especially the progress he’d done. As he looked up, he spotted Poppy entering, her face brightening the dimly lit room. She greeted him with a toothy smile, her hands playfully shushing him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, despite his tiredness.

Sighing softly, he opened the fridge, the cool air rushing out as he rummaged for a snack. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching. He pulled out a plate, placing a cupcake on it, along with a slice of pie. He blew on his steaming coffee as he leaned against the counter, trying to mask his fatigue. Poppy, ever the optimist, smiled brightly as she dove into the cupcake, savoring every bite.

There were times when Poppy had noticed John up late, especially during her hide-and-seek games. She often snuck into his room to find him hunched over a cluttered blueboard, scribbling on papers with messy handwriting. It always puzzled her—the landmarks he drew seemed so unfamiliar, far removed from her own experiences outside of the Pop Tree. 

Poppy sometimes found it hard to sleep at night, especially with the unsettling emptiness surrounding her. She was used to the sounds of her village—the occasional troll servant checking in on her as a child, the laughter of friends echoing through the streets. But at night, everything felt eerily quiet, and she missed the vibrant life that usually surrounded her.

During the day, Poppy would run around, full of energy and life. But when night fell, she found herself lacking the strength to do much of anything, exhausted from her daytime adventures.

“So, staging up late again, J-D?” Poppy teased, biting into the icy part of her cake. John looked at her, his expression tired but he managed a small, weary smile.

“Just working on a project,” he replied, trying to downplay it.

“For Brozilla?” she prodded, curious.

“No, no. Just personal stuff,” he insisted, a hint of a secret lingering in his voice.

They sat in silence for a moment, the comforting sound of chewing filling the air. John eventually took the milk from the fridge and set it to boil, pouring it into a mug before handing it to Poppy when she was finished with her cupcake. It wasn’t about Brozone, but she couldn’t shake the memories of the band that had once captivated the trolls back in the Troll Tree. She’d heard whispers of the band’s disband and recognized the member. JD with his iconic green hair and goggles and well Branch is a baby and his nickname. Had to be a member of Brozone. As much as she wanted to ask about the other bandmates, the end of Brozone had left every fan with a bitter taste, and Poppy preferred to leave that topic in the past. At least there was the sequel band, Brozilla. What more could she ask for?

Lost in her thoughts, Poppy suddenly asked, “Why are the Bergens Town marked?”

“Huh?” John looked at her, surprised by the sudden question.

“I saw the Bergen town drawing, it look scary. Is it really that scary?” 

“Hmmm,” John mused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts while Poppy drank her warm milk. A gentle wave of sleepiness washed over her, but her curiosity kept her wide awake. She had heard that her birth was a miracle—the last remnant of the late queen, no longer there to stand and lead Pop Troll leaving it all hand to the King. Poppy didn’t remember her mother, which felt strange. It was sad to miss someone she had no memories of. All she had was a picture of her father and her — there were only a few of those lesser than what normal troll family average would have collected, and she wished there could have been more. 

“Are Bergens really that scary?” Poppy asked again, her voice laced with child concern.

“Worse than ever. They’re like scary giant beasts just keep taking and taking…you know the rest,” John replied, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter.

“Why can’t they be happy?” she wondered aloud. “Like a birthday party or a slumber party? Those always cheer me up. Why can’t they just do that?”

“I don’t think the Bergens know how to do that, Poppyseed,” John explained, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“Why not?” she pressed, her pink eyes wide with curiosity.

“Because there isn’t anyone to teach them,” he replied thoughtfully.

“So if the Bergens had someone—someone who’s brave with a big heart…” Poppy's voice trailed off, her mind race but tired. Mumble along word mush together in a sing along tone. “Girl name vaweri shy and smart. Clockwork dragon throught west and burn all away”

“Off to bed Poppyseed” John finished, unreadable thing flicker onto his eye. He picked her up, cradling her gently. She was growing, few more years he could’t carry he anymore.

John moved to the living room, Poppy snuggled close against him, feeling safe and warm. As the milk began to settle in her stomach, she could feel her eyelids growing heavier. The room was filled with the sounds of their friends settling in, and John expertly avoided the remnants of the evening’s chaos—a new troll he hadn’t met yet and the chatter of Branch's growing friend group.

He carefully placed Poppy in one of the sleeping bags, tucking her in gently. Before long, she watched as John left the kitchen, heading toward his own resting spot, leaving her to succumb to the comforting embrace of sleep. The world outside faded away, but in her dreams, she was surrounded by laughter and happiness, a place where everyone—troll and Bergen alike—could learn to celebrate together.

Poppy paced back and forth, deep in thought. "Okay, your majesty, King Gristle... I, Poppy, am a troll—" She stopped, facepalming herself. "No, of course he knows that already." She sighed, frustration creeping in as she tried to work out her plan. "Maybe I can use more glitter? Even more—yes, the more, the better. Then all the Bergens can just... focus!" She emphasized the last part to herself, trying to psych herself up.

“Poppy i don’t think you can do thing for long” Branch groan, this had been going one for hours. While they are in a time crunch now the party is tomorrow and the weight of it is shared to all them. But it middle of the night, they are all tired to think straight. Bergen could be happy, trolls will be known tomorrow and there be no stopping it. And Bridget life could be ruin. 

John Dory and the others had been watching her practice proposal for some time now. It’s getting late. Most of their group had already dozed off, sprawled across the spare pillows Bridget had kindly allowed them to use. They were worn out from the events of the day, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the mounting tension. Even Bridget had quietly gone out to finish cleaning up the plates from tomorrow’s dinner preparations. Despite everything, despite knowing that the future might not unfold as other Bergens expected, she still had a job to do. It was her duty, after all.

Poppy sat down for a moment, her confidence wavering. "Am I doing this right, or am I just crazy?" She stared at the ground, her heart heavy with doubt.

John, sensing her sadness, came over to her side. He didn’t like seeing her this way. "Well, you’re as crazy as you are passionate, Poppyseed," he said with a soft smile. “That’s what makes you - well you.”

"‘Poppyseed’? What’s with the nickname change?" she asked, raising an eyebrow but feeling a little lighter inside.

"Poppyseed, Popstar. You know me with nickname. Oh, and you know, since you're planning to heal an entire generation from centuries of trauma and suffering, I figured you needed something fitting. You’re making a whole new path for all of us." He grinned, his words carrying both sincerity and light humor.

Poppy chuckled softly, her spirits lifted a little. "Thanks, JD. You really do know what needs to be said, don’t you?"

John shrugged playfully. "What can I say? It's a gift."

“Funny it like that night all over again” Poppy trailed off sleeping with the others, laying in getting comfortable. John sat close next to Poppy he look back. “You give me cupcake and everything, it feel like it was only yesturday”

With a yawn, Poppy dream off. The others continue to snooze from exhaustion. Yet, as the room quieted down, John couldn’t sleep. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. It wasn’t just the mission; something else was on his mind.

Feeling a soft nudge at his side, John turned his head to see his brothers, Branch off close his back leaning with cooper whose back turn. Branch, stirring awake. Branch’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and he blinked a few times before meeting John’s gaze. A sleepy smile crept up on his face, and John couldn’t help but return it. 

Branch yawned and groaned a little, stretching out. "Couldn’t sleep, huh?" he asked quietly, careful not to wake the others.

John shook his head. "Too much on my mind."

Branch nodded knowingly. "Yeah... me too."

John brush his brother hair, Cooper close to em shiften feeling in somehow thing settle down for now. 

“Sleep” John mumbled. With that John follow him suit, today has it own worries already, they just need to wait for tomorrow. 

The decision was made. If they were going to make an announcement and show the Bergens that happiness didn’t come from eating trolls, they’d need to get closer to King Gristle. And fast. The trolls scrambled onto Bridget’s hair, making themselves presentable as they prepared for the upcoming confrontation.Bridget sat close to King Grisle who look each other smillingly contrast to the rest of the invited town people who shared an equal gloom atmosphere surround them staring at the couple out of the blue like a strange phenomenon, weird occurrence to anything that happened to Bergentown.  

Meanwhile, Chef, always looming nearby, had seized the opportunity to gather a crowd. She stood proudly before a growing assembly of Bergens, all of them eager. The trolls could feel the intensity of the stares, the hunger that these creatures believed would soon be sated. The room filled with shouts and cheers as the Bergens’ excitement rose.

“I found All of Them ,” Chef announced dramatically, her voice cutting through the crowd’s noise. Poppy can heard other gasp, worries whispered surround them. John look closely at the Chef. Branch gasp fearing for what might to come, he close in between his brothers holding them close. “Just searching about, leading a whole group of them. Our hard work. MY hard work to dig you all up Trolls serve up to fill your appetites... to bring you true happiness!” Her fist shot into the air, and the crowd roared. There reveal a cauldron shout and yell, all different but happened in the same time. Their family, their friend, the bunker it didn’t stop the Bergen. 

Poppy felt her blood run cold. She, John, Branch, and Cooper exchanged panicked looks. Their hearts sank as they realized what was happening. The Bergens believed that capturing the trolls was the only way to bring joy to their lives, and now their entire community was in danger of being served up as the main course. They had to act fast. Bridget might have felt the panic as she stood up. 

“You okay, Lady Glitter Sparkles?” King Gristle asked Bridget, noticing her anxious expression. He looked concerned, but before she could respond, Bridget excused herself, hurrying out of the room, her hair trembling slightly from the fear coursing through her.

The trolls huddled together, terrified, knowing they were moments away from being discovered. If things went wrong now, it could spell disaster for everyone.

Chef raised a glass, two of them, one for the king, the liquid inside sparkling with an odd shimmer than any of serve to other bergen. “Before we begin the feast, I’d like to offer a toast,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “To our king—restorer of Trollstice!” She lifted her champagne glass high, but no one seemed to notice that the king’s glass had a different color, bubbling more furiously than the others. The trolls, perched atop Bridget’s head, eyed the scene nervously.

“I-I need a bathroom break,” Bridget stammered, fleeing toward the door as quickly as she could. The trolls clung to her hair, hearts pounding in their chests.

King Gristle, however, didn’t seem ready to let the moment slip away. “Wait!” he called, halting Chef’s speech. 

Chef’s eye twitched at the interruption, her frustration barely hidden. “Your Highness, the ceremony—”

“The ceremony can wait,” King Gristle said, a determined look in his eyes. "Bridget—Lady Glitter Sparkles—going. We’re not starting without her."

Chef’s smile faltered, and for a moment, her eye twitched. The tension between them was palpable, and she grumbled under her breath as she stepped back from the center of attention. But the Bergens, restless and unfamiliar with celebrations of any kind, began to chatter among themselves. The silence that followed was too much for them to bear, they were too excited, the day they would all be happy.

The trolls, still hidden on Bridget’s head, couldn’t believe how close they were to disaster. Close door, they all jump surrounding Bridget. As their eye panic dart to each other. 

Poppy’s breath came out in short, panicked bursts as she scanned the room. This situation had spiraled far beyond anything they had prepared for. She and John exchanged a glance, her eyes wide with anxiety, his expression more controlled, but there was a glimmer of concern behind the calm exterior.

“Poppy, what are we going to do?” John’s voice cut through the tension, and she bit her lip, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The situation was bad, teetering on the edge of disaster. This wasn’t how they had planned it, not even close. For a fleeting moment, John felt panic bubble inside him, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now. The lives of the entire Pop Trolls rested in their hands.

Poppy’s gaze darted between John and the others. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke, 

“JD... it has to be you.”

John’s eyes widened in shock. “What?” 

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest, the weight of responsibility pressing down hard. This wasn’t part of his plan. 

“I can’t, Poppy. It has to be you. You’re the princess. You’re the one who did the impossible—you made a Bergen happy.” He gestured towards Bridget, who stood nearby, offering them an encouraging smile.

Bridget stepped forward, her voice warm with gratitude. “I never thought I could feel that way. But you... you all helped me. You showed me a world I didn’t think was possible. You all did”

Poppy hesitated, her fingers twisting anxiously. “But what if I fail, JD? I lead the Bergen right to us in the first place, and they—" Her voice cracked. "They could die... all of them. And it’d be my fault.”

John’s expression softened, his voice becoming gentle. “Oh, Poppy, my little Poppyseed. You were the one who made the first Bergen smile. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Branch, who had been watching with a concerned frown, suddenly lit up, as if a spark of hope ignited within him. “There’s a possibility, right? We should take it. I mean, after everything… even with the odds against us, there should always be hope.” He paused, his eyes darkening for a moment as thoughts of his lost brother surfaced. 

“Even when it seems impossible…”

Bridget spoke up,“When worst comes to worst, I’ll release all the trolls, you and you’re people must run. Far away from here”

Poppy shook her head in disbelief. “We can’t let you ruin your life for us, Bridget. You and King Gristle, you… have chemistry together, you have to be together.”

All said and done, all the troll run back to Bridget hair, running back their cues, wash down bright hair. Bridget open the door, her confident she pick up like a rewriting tapes player. Walking in close with a swing around her hair. The cauldron in the center of the room remained untouched, as guards poured in, surrounding the table, their watchful eyes scanning every corner for the slightest movement. 

They hadn’t anticipated Bridget being there up close to it. She was with the king so she could’t possible…

Swig of a hair, Bridget stepped forward, breaking the tense situation. She reached the cauldron and, without hesitation, opened it. A swirl of color erupted from the pot, spiraling into the air, vibrant hues dancing climbing up. Troll ascending up all fearful won’t let chance of escape go in a second. The guards stumbled back, momentarily frozen by the action. Shout and yell surround them. 

Bridget stood tall beside King Gristle, her heart racing as the Bergens around them gasped in shock. The king, equally stunned, watched as the Pop Trolls leaped out of the pot and scampered up the wooden beams of the structure, climbing toward the roof, opportunity ran farthest away from the bergen.

King Gristle’s voice trembled with disbelief as he looked at Bridget, his eyes filled with confusion and something deeper. “Lady Glitter Sparkle... why?”

Bridget met his gaze, her hands trembling as her hair shimmered, transforming back to its natural color. The guards and Bergens all gasped in unison, their disbelief palpable as they watched her reveal herself.

“Why would you do this? What is the meaning of all this?” King Gristle’s voice cracked as he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto her. His hand reached for hers as if afraid she might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

The Snack Pack, along with Brozzila, jumped onto the table, but none of the Bergens dared to touch them. They were with the king technically, no one should disobey the kings order.

King Gristle’s grip tightened on Bridget’s hand, his eyes searching her face for answers.  Bridget tried to meet his face. She spoke “ Hello ?” her voice was soft, almost pleading. “ Is it me you’ve been looking for. No i think, so?”

Bridget’s heart sank, guilt tugging at her as she averted her eyes. “I’m sorry... I lied to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again when you see the real me. I just wanna keep the good memories - good”

King Gristle shook his head, his voice raw with emotion. “Memories. Yesterday, that date... it was the first time my life felt… different.”

“Fuzzy,” Bridget whispered.

“It was beautiful” King Gristle hand side of her face in same adoration. 

Poppy stepped forward, her voice ringing out as she addressed the room, catching the attention of both Trolls and Bergens alike. “That was happiness, your majesty,” she said, her voice gaining strength. 

“True happiness isn’t something you take. It’s something you already have. Sometimes you just need someone to help you find it.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the Bergens glancing at one another, confused but intrigued. One Bergen, the same one from the store yesterday, stepped forward cautiously. 

“But… but Bergens have to eat Trolls to be happy. Don’t they? Isn’t that the way it’s always been?”

Poppy shook her head, gesturing toward King Gristle and Bridget. “King Gristle has never eaten a Troll in his life. And yet, during your pizza date, he felt something, didn’t he? If Trolls are known for their happiness, then we know what it looks like. And King Gristle, you were as happy as any Trolls I’ve ever seen.”

King Gristle’s eyes widened, something clicking inside him. He turned to Bridget, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand, Bridget face melted hopeful within her, the kings expression soft and filled with admiration. “And yet here I am… my belly empty, but my heart full.”

The room erupted into louder murmurs, a wave of realization spreading among the Bergens. The Pop Trolls, perched on the edge of the table, slowly began to descend, curiosity and hope flickering in their eyes as they watched the Bergens closely.

John stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise. “We can do this through a song!” he shouted, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. He glanced at Branch, who came to stand beside him, his face nervous but determined. Cooper nodded confidently from the other side, and John winked at his brother. It was all falling into place—just as he had planned.

“Continuing where we are after the RUDE disruption. BROOOZILAA”  

Branch took a deep breath and started singing, his voice filling the room with a contagious energy:

"I got this feeling inside my bones  

It goes electric, wavey when I turn it on..."

The music coursed through him, a pulse of life and rhythm. Poppy, who had been standing a few feet away, caught the energy like it was sparking through the air. She smiled, then leaped toward Branch, joining in on the song without missing a beat, her joy lifting snack pack spirits back at them joininn in which caught all the troll who look down curious. 

"And if you want it, inside your soul  

Just open up your heart, let music take control..."

John and Cooper, caught in, started singing along, their voices

"I got that sunshine in my pocket  

Got that good soul in my feet  

I feel that hot blood in my body when it drops, ooh..."

Their movements became lighter, their steps synchronized with the beat. As they sang, their eyes gleamed with excitement, feeling the music vibrate through the room. The Bergen and the Trolls watching from the shadows began to stir, some blinking in surprise as they felt an undeniable rhythm take over their body. 

"I can't take my eyes up off it, moving so phenomenally  

The room on lock, the way we rock it, so don't stop..."

The melody built, filling the room. The Pop Trolls began to dance, each movement crisp and joyful, the glittering light from their bodies casting sparkling reflections all over the room. The Bergen stood uncertain at first, their bodies stiff and unfamiliar with the idea of dancing. But slowly, their feet tapped to the beat, shoulders twitching as they began to sway, their hesitance melting away bit by bit.

"Under the lights when everything goes  

Nowhere to hide when I'm getting you close..."

Pop Trolls danced freely, moving with perfect, carefree fluidity. The Glitter Trolls joined in, jumping into the center of the room, their sparkling bodies twinkling like disco lights. Giant flashlights from above began to sweep the room, flashing brilliantly across the walls, atmosphere shifted. The once tense and dim space transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, pulsing with life.

"When we move, well, you already know  

So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine..."

The Bergen movements were slow at first, awkward in the beginning, but the rhythm caught them like a wave, and soon even their hesitant steps became part of the dance.

"Nothing I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance..."

Branch, Poppy, John, and Cooper were lost in the rhythm, smiling wide as they sang, moving effortlessly to the beat. 

"A feeling good, good, creeping up on you  

So just dance, dance, dance, come on..."

"All those things I shouldn't do  

But you dance, dance, dance..."

"And ain't nobody leaving soon, so keep dancing..."

Branch stare all around him hopeful with Poppy on his side holding his hand. He flet heated going up his neck toward his face continue onward. Everyone singing roaring louder than what start in performance. They all still wanted to resumethe party.  Around him, everyone—Trolls and Bergens alike—danced, the music bringing them together in a way nothing else ever could.

"I can't stop the feeling  

So just dance, dance, dance..."

"I can't stop the feeling  

So just dance, dance, dance, come on..."

And in that moment, it didn’t matter who they were or where they came from. All that mattered was the shared joy, the music, and the way it brought them all together.

The music pulsed through the air, a vibrant tapestry of rhythm and energy that enveloped everyone in the room. As the last notes of the song echoed, the Snack Pack and their friends remained close together, moving in sync with one another, lost in the joyous celebration. Branch and Poppy danced together, their bodies gliding as if they were one. The chemistry between them was palpable, their movements flowing effortlessly to the beat. 

John joined in, dancing nearby with Cooper, who bounced energetically along with the Snack Pack. They felt safe in this moment, surrounded by friends and the shared warmth of camaraderie. It felt like an anniversary all over again, but this time, something felt different, as if a shift in their collective history was about to occur.

“Popstar!” John exclaimed, his smile widening as he stepped forward, pulling his brother into the lively circle. Branch and Poppy, surrounded by their friends, radiated a joyful energy that made everyone feel hopeful. “Poppyseed, we did it! This will actually work!”

But then, the cheerful atmosphere took a sudden turn. 

“Grrm! Don’t listen to her!” a harsh voice sliced through the jubilant sounds of laughter and song. It was the Chef, her eyes scanning the crowd with a fierce intensity. The trolls around her flinched and scurried away, instinctively sensing the danger she posed all the bergen town folk looking carefully at the Bergen who won’t join in with the found changes.

The cheerful melody began to fade, replaced by a tension that wrapped around the room. Eyes shifted nervously from the Chef to the dancing Trolls, the shock settling in as the reality of her presence set in. The once-happy gathering now felt charged with anxiety, as if the very air had thickened with fear. 

“There’s only one way to be happy! My way!” the Chef bellowed, her voice booming through the hall, demanding attention. She grabbed John, pulling him close to the exit door leading into the hallway, her grip like iron. There were no guards in sight outside.

“NO! JD!” John gasped, the words torn from his throat. Panic surged within him as he instinctively reached for Branch, his heart racing. It felt like a nightmare returning to haunt him, the memories of that day flooding back with chilling clarity—a cold shower of fear running down his spine. In that moment, he caught a glimpse of desperation and fear in Cooper and Branch’s eyes, and despair washed over him. Could this be the last time he saw his family? 

“There is only my way! I’ll show you—all of you—there’s only one way to retrieve TRUE HAPPINESS!” she shouted, her voice echoing ominously through the hall. John felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him, the weight of dread pressing down as he stared into the dark maw of uncertainty, knowing all too well what might come next. A small spark of hope flickered within, tonight he make something. He had his family on his side, he created a possibility of bergen and troll coming together, making some part safe world for all pop troll. 

Just then, a sudden force hit them both, grip loosen, and John felt himself flying through the air, the world spinning around him. He was enveloped in a warm hug as Branch’s arms wrapped tightly around him followed by Cooper start whimpering wrapping his head around his family all together. 

“Guard, seize her!” King Gristle shouted, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. The guards sprang into action, charging toward the Chef. The Snack Pack stood, circle around Brozilla around looking around incase any crack that might endanger them. Poppy gasp, she look over to her people. 

As the dust settled from the earlier chaos, the Bergen began to filter out of the grand dining hall, they wave at the trolls. A few of the Pop Trolls waved goodbye, their smiles tentative but genuine, acknowledging the fragile truce that hung in the air. Tonight had the potential to make history, and all eyes were turned toward King Gristle, flanked by two guards stationed at the edge of the room.

Bridget stood at one end of the long table, surrounded by the Snack Pack and their friends, a united front ready to face the issues at hand. The remnants of the banquet were spread before them: colorful platters of fruits and snacks that had been hastily assembled, now providing for Trolls as earlier guest had to leave for this understandable circumstances. 

King Peppy stood resolutely among his people, age etched into the lines of his face, but his presence still commanded respect. This was not just another day for him, it felt like a dream. He felt a swell of pride for his daughter, Poppy. She had always been full of surprises, a trait that ran in the family—perhaps a little too much like his other daughter. If only Viva get to see all of this.

John glanced around, taking in the various expressions on the faces of the gathered trolls and few Bergens alike. The discussion is happening. John smiled at the king, seeing nodded and cheered from the crowd of trolls, some had ran distance away from them trying to find their family.  His brother stood silently beside him, the tension of the earlier events still clinging to them both like a heavy cloak. Branch was worn out, the worry etched across his features evident while Cooper face hidden from cap, his lips weaver. The bond between the two brothers was unshakeable, and in that moment, John felt the warmth of family wrapping around him. The rest of the Snack Pack busied themselves, searching for their families.

In the distance, John spotted a familiar figure rushing toward them, moving with all the speed she could muster despite her age. 

“John!” her voice wove through the throng, tired but filled with love and relief. Her eyes, soft and knowing, rested on him with a sense of recognition that made his heart swell.

“Grandma!” Both brothers rushed forward, meeting her embrace with open arms. They huddled close, the warmth of her presence illuminating the tension a little bit. Branch and Cooper nestled between John and their grandmother, forming a protective cocoon. John felt a pang of guilt for allowing this situation getting out of hand.

The room felt too large, too much danger around them. John's family stay close seeing as the group of trolls gathering around following with two of the king as they wait a chamber readied where they would all be sharing due to their size, it not hard filling them in one royal guest room. Branch’s protective instincts kicked in; he wanted nothing more than to shield his family from the world, to hide them away from any potential danger, from any lurking threats that could tear his family. Tonight had the potential to be life-changing, for better or for worse. Could Bergens and Trolls truly become friends? It was a question that lingered in Branch optimism part of the brain. But the others—he could have lost his brothers tonight, and to a Bergen no less. They hurt his brother, threatening to tear his family. The very idea chilled him. If something like that had happened, Branch knew he would never forgive himself. He couldn’t forgive, the Bergens.

Chapter Text

John stared at the dirt ceiling as he lay in his temporary living space. Branch had insisted they stay in the bunker for a few weeks while their pod was repaired. Though the time being stay here been different, something off with Branch. For every half an hour Branch be there around John just a simple check on. John felt sure this wasn’t Branch wanting to show off their bunker capabilities, the broken ceiling during the digging was quickly fix up with all the troll village contribution when they used the funker a few days to rest up before prepping to fix their pods within the village. They didn’t felt trap, it just felt like Branch want to hold them close, to not be apart too long, to keep everything in order. Even though John wasn’t restricted from going out, he wanted to go back to the tree pod, he felt more used to the pod after spending the last few years there. It had become home, in a way. 

John also had Rhonda, apparently that little girl found herself toward the Bergen Castle when they saw the group of bergen holding captive of the whole Troll village. The overwhelming scent of the village just bring idea of posible danger to it careetaker after long wait of their escape. With the free time they had, John been focusing on placing furniture and item within Rhonda. 

Still, he was concerned about Branch’s obsessive need to over-organize, to recheck the weapons, and to slowly refill the bunker’s food stores bit by bit, as if preparing for the worst. Branch thought it was some trolls had even begun moving back to the troll tree, determined to restore it to its former glory. After all, it was their tree— what had been left behind of the parent before them.

John looked around one of the room, filled with bronze items. It wasn’t too small, just enough to fit three book shelves on each wall, all packed to the brim with Brozone old memorabilia. In the middle of the room stood an old record player. He stared down at it, thinking of how outdated the device was compared to the modern merchandise sold in Brozone stores.

Speaking of Brozone, they had decided to take a break after everything that had happened. John hadn’t expected his middle brother to be shaken up so much by the recent events. His eyes wandered to the posters on the walls, lingering on Bruce—now Spruce. 

He and Bruce had known each other longer than anyone, since travel back in time it didn’t feel like that counted. He had spent more time with Branch, Grandma, and Cooper. The sadness weighed on him as he shuffled in corner coach, feeling the ache of missing his brother. Years of research had made it clear that finding Bruce was possible, even more so now. Vacay Island seemed like the best lead, and John had all the records and maps he needed to make it happen. 

They were on a break, so why not use the time for a vacation? Rhonda, now fully grown, was capable of traveling far distances. It felt like the perfect opportunity.

John got up, looking for his brothers. He knocked on Grandma’s door, a lush purple door with green swirls that indicated her room. Footsteps approached, and Grandma Rossiepuff opened the door with a warm smile, knitting an unfinished sweater, already preparing for Christmas few months in advance.

"Branch is out of it again," John said, leaning against the doorway.

Grandma sighed, continuing to knit. "You know how he is. He loves you too much, John. He’s scared. We all are. Can’t blame us."

"I know. I’m sorry... again. I just wanted to make sure—"

"That Poppy was safe?" Grandma cut him off, her tone gentle but firm. "John, be a little more aware of yourself. You know that girl is capable of handle of herself."

Yeah, but not when everything depended on her to make the choice. The treaty between trolls and Bergens... it all started with her. John couldn’t shake the weight of that responsibility. Sure John played some part toward making that goal, some error of him getting caught that was on his part of being reckless however it somehow resolve all better in the end. 

"I care about her," he replied instead.

"We all do."

John shifted, hesitant, then said, “It a nice weather we’re having, Rhonda all grown up. I think it should we good we have a vacation. Finding Bros and Cooper…Cooper’s Parents”

Grandma Rossiepuff looked up at him, smiling sadly. John wished, sometimes, that she didn’t always smile at his decisions, as if everything he did was perfectly fine. He longed for her to be disappointed in him, to break the suspense just when will she just be disappointed at him. Cooper mean alot to them as much he is to john. Why didn’t she blame him for losing his brothers? Why didn’t she ever make him feel at fault?

"I’m going to miss Cooper," she said softly.

Before John could respond, Cooper came bounding into the room, jumping on both Grandma and John with his usual exuberance. "Did someone call me?"

"We’re thinking of going on vacation," Grandma Rosiepuff said, pushing Cooper off with a grin continue with her craft.

"Vacation? Oh, finally! Branch has been clingy, I need something new. Where are we going?" Cooper’s excitement was infectious, and John chuckled.

"Vacay Island," he replied. "I read about it. Every day’s a vacation there. It’s run by Vacationers, who are supposedly as big as Bergens, but they don’t eat trolls. I also plan to travel around meeting with other Tribe Troll"

Cooper’s eyes widened. "Oh, thank goodness. Branch can finally chill out. Are we leaving now?"

"Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll need to get everything ready. Let Branch know if you see him."

With a nod, Cooper dashed off, ready to start packing. John and Grandma Rosiepuff stare to each other before John offt with a wave, evelating up toward the surface to check on Rhonda. John sighed as he looked up at the moonlit sky, Rhonda by his side. She was a calm presence, and with her by his side, John felt like he could go anywhere—and the best part was that he could bring his family along for the adventure. 

“Just you and me now Rhonda, we’re going out soon. I just hope you’re ready. I love you Bug” He pat one more time as Rhonda smiled, rumble before entering into her makeshift barn created just for her to live on. John stare back before going back into the Bunker. 

"Branch," John called out as he made his way through the bunker, finding his brother hunched over some scattered parts.

Branch glanced up, kneeling on the ground, his face worn from the stress of the past few days. The floor was a mess with bit of mechanic pieces, look like he accidentally spills on it

"John."

John crouched to help him pick up the spare pieces of whatever contraption Branch was working on. He admired how much his brother had grown, a fine troll he become. John felt a pang of guilt, remembering the days when he thought he wouldn’t survive, when his life had been full of close calls. Living in the Troll Village had once seemed like a safe haven, but it wasn’t as idyllic as he had imagined.

"I talked to Cooper and Grandma," John said, watching Branch carefully as he continued working. "I thought we could go on vacation with all the free time we have."

"A camping trip?" Branch teased. "You’ve got a weird sense of timing, John."

John smiled, but his tone grew more serious. "Not a camping trip... I was thinking about going out OUT of the village land."

Branch paused, his expression tense. John knew his brother had been shaken since the incident. Branch had always been the protective one, watching over them, making sure nothing bad ever happened again. 

"I don’t like being too far away from the village," Branch muttered, shaking his head. "Especially not after what happened."

John tried to lighten the mood. "Well, it was a ‘surprise’. Without it, we wouldn’t have realized that Bergens can be happy without eating trolls. That’s a life-changing discovery, you know. We don’t have to fear them anymore."

"You could’ve died, John," Branch replied, his voice sharp with emotion. He reached out, gently brushing John’s forehead where a scar remained—a reminder of how close they had come to losing everything.

"Branch, you need to let go a little," John said softly. "Maybe going somewhere new will help you recharge. If you agree, I’ll stay another week in the bunker. We can finally work on that puzzle you’ve been eyeing."

Branch smiled slightly, giving John a playful shove. "Dork. You always know what to say to get me into these messes."

"I just really want to go on vacation," John laughed.

"Alright, alright," Branch agreed. "We’ll leave tomorrow right? Where are we going"

John grinned, feeling lighter. "First destination: Vacay Island."

Chapter Text

John sat by the door of the vehicle, his eyes following Rhonda as she busied herself eating berries, while the village trolls cooed at her giving few of their berries. Over time, they had grown accustomed to her presence, especially since John often rode around town with her. They had learned to navigate her movements, ensuring that she avoided tight spots and potential collisions. 

He leaned back, waiting for his brother, who was still up at the Pod. John had to applaud himself for orchestrating this trip. It was genius: a vacation that also served as a reunion with one of his brothers. There was no need for suspicion. Of course, he knew he'd have to handle Branch’s slight aversion to “new” things, but that was a small price to pay.

Branch emerged from the Pod, wearing his button out shirt branches spurting leaf design with his goggle on his head, a glint of something sharp peeking out from beneath it. John sighed inwardly, recognizing the shape of the hidden machete. He couldn’t exactly fault Branch for bringing it—it had been his idea to gift it for last year’s birthday. Branch had begged for one since their bunker was completed, and after enough nagging (and pressure from Branch’s friends), John had finally relented.

Cooper was next, bouncing out of the Pod with a summer straw hat perched on his head and goggle around his neck like a swimming goggle underneath a handkerchief. His usual scarf was absent, replaced by a handkerchief with a floral design, borrowed from dear ole Grandma Rosiepuff vast collection. Grandma Rossiepuff followed closely behind him helping carrying extra luggage.. 

As Branch helped Cooper load their gear into the bushes nearby, John turned his attention to Grandma Rossiepuff, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You’re not coming with us?” he asked.

Grandma Rossiepuff shook her head with a smile. “I’m too old for this kind of thing. Besides, I think it’ll be nice for you boys to have some time alone together. I’m not going anywhere.”

John’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He had expected her to join them, though he realized the plan involved more walking than Grandma would probably care for.

"Think of it as you boys checking if the area’s safe enough for a sweet old lady like me," she added, teasingly.

John chuckled. “I think you’re leaning a little too much into that excuse, but you’re not wrong.”

Grandma Rossiepuff hummed thoughtfully, glancing towards the door where the sound of laughter echoed. Branch and Cooper were already bantering like usual. John couldn’t help but smile fondly at the scene. He was grateful that Cooper and Branch had such a solid relationship. As he turned back to Grandma, his arms opened for a hug. They embraced warmly before parting ways, and John gave her one final wave before shutting the door behind him.

Once inside, he noticed Branch had already climbed into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle. As they began moving, Cooper looked around expectantly, his eyes searching for Grandma.

“Grandma didn’t want to come for this one, Coops,” John reassured him with a soft smile.

Cooper nodded, adjusting the straps on his bag, making himself comfortable. They had a long journey ahead—off to new lands, new adventures.

For a while, the hum of the vehicle filled the air as Branch pressed the autodriver, allowing Rhonda to take the weal to navigate to their destination, he sat beside Cooper. John, sitting across from them, kept his focus on the road. With a map sprawled out before him, he scribbled notes and compared landmarks as they passed. Branch, having settled into the back of the vehicle, stretched out on a makeshift mattress, occasionally mumbling about possible dangers while flipping through a book. Cooper hummed a cheerful tune, flipping through a magazine filled with images of tropical paradises, his eyes wide with excitement.

John allowed himself a moment to wonder how Bruce might react when they arrived. Meeting him earlier than expected would likely throw him off guard. John pictured Cooper’s inevitable squeaks of excitement, before John recount stories of their childhood there always left off detail he might have missed. It had been years, after all. Cooper was still enthralled with anything new, while Branch remained quieter on the topic of their brothers. He had never been one to reminisce, only answering what was necessary when old fans asked about BroZone. John didn’t miss how Branch’s lips would tighten, avoiding eye contact whenever the topic arose. Branch wasn’t one to forgive easily, even if John had raised him to let go of grudges, it’s just who Branches is.

Trying to break the silence, John grinned and dramatically exclaimed, “So, you ready for the vacation of your life?”

Cooper cheered, clearly eager for the adventure, while Branch simply narrowed his eyes, giving a small smile before returning to his book Survival With The Dummies . Despite his reserved reaction, John could tell they were all excited. Who wouldn’t be? A habitable environment with giants that didn’t eat them, paradise-like landscapes, and endless possibilities for relaxation—it was a dream come true.

John glanced back at his map one more time. The red line he had drawn led directly to Vacay Island. Feeling confident, he moved toward the cupboard, grabbing a snack before lying down in one of the lower bunks. The rhythmic hum of the vehicle soon lulled him into a light sleep.

Suddenly, a loud shout and a high-pitched squeal jolted John awake. His eyes flew open, scanning the room for any immediate threat. A glow of red and orange caught his attention. He hurried to the window and stared at the vivid sunset sky, a smile creeping across his face. There it was, Vacay Island—an oasis shimmering in the distance. Its inhabitants were already throwing enormous colorful orbs into the air.

Quickly, John ran to the driver’s seat, smirking as he accelerated the vehicle. “Hold on to your breath!”

“Wha—John, no!” Branch shouted, but it was too late. Hand close to Cooper making sure the youngest of the family is safe.

The vehicle plunged headfirst into a massive watery orb. A wave of orbiest water engulfed them, filling the compartment. Branch yelled, clutching Cooper as they hurriedly retreated to the top bunk bed area, closing the hatch behind them (Branch proud install). John glanced back to see Branch glaring at him, while Cooper, thrilled by the bizarre turn of events, was grinning from ear to ear before trapdoor sut.

For a moment, all they could hear was the distant sound of waves sloshing through the orb before the vehicle began to rise. John clung to the driver’s seat, watching as they swirled upward. Slowly, the water receded, and as soon as the orb released them, John swam to the door, flinging it open. The three of them spilled out onto the island, coughing and some laughing.

John grinned. “Now that is how you make an entrance to Vacay Island!”

“Welcome, boys, to Vacay Island, the best place to put down your feet and relax under the sun!”

Branch stumbled on the sand, his footing unsteady. He shot an annoyed glare at John, but the irritation melted away as he gazed around, eyes wide with amazement. His mouth hung open in awe. Cooper, on the other hand, twirled in circles, eventually plopping down on the sand, eyes twinkling with wonder. The island was a far cry from the familiar, rugged terrain near their village—it was an entirely different world.

"Woah…" Branch breathed, still transfixed by the sight before him. “JD, this is amazing!” His voice sounded almost dreamlike, especially as he caught sight of the sun setting on the horizon, a glow that shifted from gold to a muted, calming blue. "I could take Poppy here someday."

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there. Aren’t you a bit ahead of yourself?” John teased, striding forward, Rhonda trailing behind the trio with a watchful eye. She ensured her brothers didn’t wander off too far. John felt a swell of pride as he glanced back at her. He’d trained her well during her growth phase—raising her again, in a way. Technically, he had, but that was beside the point.

"That's not what I meant!" Branch shouted, clutching the bag strapped across his chest. His goggles, full of small trinkets and tools, jostled as he hurried to catch up with John. Cooper followed, adjusting his cap and trying his best to navigate the uneven, sandy ground beneath him.

"Branch and Poppy sittin' in a tree—" Cooper sang cheekily.

"Really, Cooper?" Branch groaned, though the edges of his lips twitched upward. Cooper, ever the ball of energy, beamed, pleased with himself. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G” 

Branch quickly lunges chasing as Cooper ran ahead as they ran in circle before Branch going opposite cutting him before tacklin him down both of them laughing. 

“Hope you two packed enough for three days, 'cause this is just the beginning,” John called over his shoulder, adjusting his own goggles as they approached the entrance to a bustling hub.

Once inside, the air filled with the sound of splashing water, lively chatter, and the clinking of dishes. The hub was built into the ground, with pools of water scattered throughout. Vacationers lounged in the pools, unwinding beneath the tropical sun while colorful plates of food made their way across the area, served by restaurants nearby. The atmosphere was laid-back, relaxed—a stark contrast to the Bergen lands, where everything had felt murky, heavy, and grim.

Branch's cautious gaze scanned the vibrant scene. The Vacationer here were nothing like the gloomy Bergen—they seemed carefree, bathed in sunlight, their laughter and smiles easy and genuine. Cooper, bouncing with excitement, twirled around once more, his eyes darting from one sight to the next. For him, this was paradise—a chance to explore a new place with his brothers. What more could he ask for?

Meanwhile, John had other plans. Though he wanted his brothers to enjoy the island together, a part of him felt the pull of a solo search. He couldn't help it; he wanted to keep an eye out for any sign of his other brothers—particularly the one with purple hair. The idea of disrupting his brothers' fun nagged at him, it was John’s solo plan not his family responsibility.

“You think I can leave you with Cooper for a while?” John asked, glancing sideways at Branch, who looked a bit uncertain but gave a firm nod. Continue with their inspection onto the giant menu that convinienctly hold by the vacationer happy to help the new visitor. 

"Thanks, Branch." John sighed in relief, setting off on his quiet search. He scanned the neon-lit landscape of the island, his mind wandering. There were so many memories tied to his brothers. Some parts of the island seemed unfamiliar—had certain landmarks been taken down since the last time he’d been here? He understood, though. Things changed. Objects could be replaced, but famiy, they—

“Hey man, what can I get for ya?” a deep, familiar voice interrupted John’s thoughts. His ears perked up.

Turning, he spotted a server with a smooth head of purple hair tied into a bun, hair larger than what any troll normally had thought it only grown half of his body height, his eyes focused on a notepad as he jotted something down. John's breath hitched.

"Hey man, don’t take too long. I can assure you, with my taste buds and my wife's cooking, everything on this menu is delicious—except the clams. Don’t ask why."

"Bruce?" John’s voice cracked slightly.

"Wha—?" The server’s deep purple eyes shot up, locking onto John’s face. Recognition flooded his expression.

“John?” 

Bruce stepped back, eyes widening as his arms instinctively spread out. His face reflected shock. John could only smile in response, letting out a soft laugh. He’d made the right decision coming here after all, but Bruce seemed to be on the verge of discomfort. John overlook, he was waiting years for this.

“Hey, Bruce. You okay, man?” John waved lightly, trying to break the awkward tension that had settled in the air.

Bruce blinked, shaking his head as if trying to snap out of a daze. “Sorry—I just... you’re here.” He hesitated, his smile strained, awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Yeah, I’m here,” John replied softly. A surge of warmth filled him. This moment—it felt like fireworks. Bruce had always been the closest of all his brothers, especially growing up. They’d been tight-knit, inseparable at times. Bruce had known him best, had been by his side through so much. John didn’t want to ruin this reunion.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture a clear sign of nervousness. “So… what are you doing here?”

John raised a brow, playfully. “Here for a vacation, Bruce. Unless I somehow got lost and this isn’t the right spot.”

Bruce huffed a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still wearing the goggles, I see.”

John chuckled, instinctively reaching up to adjust them. “Yep.”

He preferred keeping his scar hidden beneath the goggles—it made him feel less conspicuous. He didn’t want to bring up the past, the reason for the scar, not now. This was supposed to be about reconnecting, not reopening old wounds.

Bruce’s gaze lingered on John’s shorter hair, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your hair’s gotten shorter”

John choose to igore that. “Just got here. I think I could go for a tropical drink... and maybe some nachos. The boys must be starving.” John’s tone was light, but Bruce seemed distracted, his gaze distant.

"Uhh... Bruce?"

“Sorry, it’s just—I’m not used to seeing you here. On this island. With me.”

John looked ahead before nodding, his expression shifting as he absorbed the moment.

"What happened to Neverglade Trail?" he asked quietly, though the weight of his voice hinting unfarmiliar tone.

John could only manage a small, sad smile. “As I said, I’m here on vacation with the boys.”

“Boys?” Bruce raised a brow, but before John could explain, he noticed two small figures darting toward them, their laughter carrying through the air. Cooper sprinted ahead, leaping onto John with so much force that John stumbled backward, laughing heartily.

"Sugar and Cupcake," John chuckled, steadying himself. "What did I say about running near the pool?"

He shook his head with amusement. “I’ve got nachos for you two. Want anything else?”

Cooper pressed a finger to his chin, deep in thought, while John grinned. Bruce, standing nearby, watched the scene unfold with an odd mixture of bewilderment and... something else. A strange tightness crept into Bruce throat, an unfamiliar sensation he tried to swallow down.

“Bruce?” John called out, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Spruce?” 

Bruce's face brightened at the sound of his known baby brother. His eyes lit up as he strode past John, slipping his notepad into his pocket. Before Branch could react, Bruce grabbed him by the arms and tossed him into the air, easily lifting him despite the years of relaxation. It genetic really, John wasn’t like Bruce.

Still got it, John thought with a smirk, watching Branch flail in surprise, yelling, “No tossing! NO TOSSING!” His voice was tinged with frustration as he was caught off guard. John narrow his eye while Cooper focus on his apparent estrange purple brother. 

When Branch’s feet finally touched the ground again, he bolted toward John’s side, glaring daggers at Bruce. “Spruce,” Branch said sternly, his voice low as if warning him not to try that again. Bruce, unfazed, just grinned wider, the joy of seeing his brothers overriding Branch’s irritation.

“Aww, little itty-bitty Branch,” Bruce said fondly, his tone playful. “The last time I saw you, you were in diapers.”

Branch’s face flattened, the deadpan expression masking the embarrassment. “Very funny,” he grumbled, clearly less than thrilled with the reminder. He turned to John and Cooper, signaling he was ready to leave. But just as he moved to step away, Bruce jabbed him playfully in the side.

"Wee Willy!" Bruce cheered, sticking a finger into his mouth and giving Branch a classic wet willy. Branch recoiled with a yelp, rubbing his ear furiously while John and Cooper doubled over laughing.

"Stop it! That’s disgusting!" Branch snapped, wiping his ear and scowling at Bruce, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, sorry. A Wet William,” Bruce corrected himself with a goofy grin. His eyes sparkled mischievously, clearly enjoying teasing his little brother. After all, how long had it been since he’d seen them? He wasn’t done playing around just yet.

Branch crossed his arms, glaring at Bruce. “I think it’s time for us to go. C’mon, let’s go. Bye, Spruce.”

Bruce held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ah ah ah, come on, lemme treat you all to something. You must be starving.”

“We’re not!” Branch insisted, though the timing couldn’t have been worse. A loud growl erupted from both John’s and Cooper’s stomachs. John blushed, shrugging, while Cooper offered an awkward grin.

Bruce chuckled. “Uh-huh, sure. Okay, fine. C’mon let get you’re order ready. Just let me—”

“Fine, Spruce, just… get out of the way.” Branch’s voice was tight, frustration brewing as Bruce continued his antics.

“Actually, it’s Bruce now,” he corrected, his playful demeanor softening as he tapped the name tag on his chest. “I don’t go by Spruce anymore. Long story. Don’t wanna get the boy band vibes mixed up with my personal life.”

Branches scoff, hand crossed, looking away, “yeah personal life”

Branch clenched his fists, looking like he was on the verge of snapping. Sensing the tension, John stepped forward, nudging Branch toward Cooper. Cooper caught the cue, understanding, and gently guided Branch away, leaving John and Bruce standing face to face.

“So… uh, Bruce,” John began awkwardly, trying to defuse the situation. “How about those nachos?” He offered a nervous smile, reminding himself that this was supposed to be a vacation—a time to relax, reunion and bond. Well, more effort on the bond part , he thought.

Chapter Text

The vibrant streets of the Funk Troll kingdom pulsed with color and music, a living, breathing entity of its own. The hum of life reverberated in every corner, yet within the royal quarters, King Quincy and Queen Essence lay their son to rest. They huddled together, singing a soft lullaby to their son, Prince Darnell, though he preferred to be called Prince D. 

Prince D let out a soft yawn, his small head nodding as sleep pulled at him. His parents exchanged loving glances, their hearts full, yet tinged with a quiet sadness that always lingered just beneath the surface. With a sigh, they each kissed their now only son goodnight and quietly slipped out of his room, careful not to disturb him. 

The hallway was quiet, illuminated by soft lighting that contrasted sharply with the bustling, lively backdrop of the kingdom they ruled. The Funk Trolls lived aboard a massive spaceship, their city divided into distinct sections: the vibrant urban center, peaceful suburbs, and the tranquil nature reserve. Even in the sprawling city, the trolls made sure to maintain a connection to nature, employing those with a natural green thumb to care for the flora that thrived under their watchful care. Prince D often escaped to these natural areas whenever his royal lessons became too overwhelming. His parents allowed him that freedom, knowing how important it was for their son to explore the kingdom he would one day rule. They wanted him to understand the world around him, to be curious and independent.

Yet, there was always something missing from their lives—a palpable absence that neither King Quincy nor Queen Essence could ignore. Their hearts still ached for what had been lost. Once, the kingdom had celebrated with joyous fanfare when the queen had birth two twin eggs, their future rulers. But that joy had been short-lived. One of the eggs had been stolen in an unfortunate incident, disappearing without a trace. It shattered the royal family. They grieved deeply, their pain mirrored in their son, who would grow up without the brother he was meant to share his childhood and eventual reign with.

Prince D would never know the bond of a twin. He would never create a secret language shared only between twin or embark on mischievous adventures around the castle, filling it with laughter and life. He would never have that close confidant, someone who understood him completely, who shared his burdens and joys. Though Prince D had friends within the court, the knowledge of his missing brother weighed on him, a constant, invisible presence that was hard to shake. His parents had told him about his twin when he was old enough to understand, deserving to know his brothers existence.

There were times when King Quincy and Queen Essence would find Prince D speaking to his toys, engaging in deep, imaginary conversations that felt oddly connected to his lost brother. Though it was natural for a child to play this way, it pained them to see him reach out for a bond that was lost before it could even begin. The king and queen had never stopped searching for their missing son. Scouts and search parties had been sent out time and time again, but to no avail. The whereabouts of their lost child remained a mystery, a wound that time could not heal.

Every family portrait felt incomplete, a glaring reminder of what was missing. The royal family, as whole as they appeared to the outside world, was forever fractured by the abs ence of one. The missing son hung in the air like a ghost, present even in his absence. Though they clung to hope, the fear of the worst haunted their every thought unknown of their son faith.

For Prince D. He often asked his parents if he could truly call himself a brother when he had never met his twin. Seeing the other Funk Troll siblings running around the city, laughing and playing together, only deepened his sadness. It was a grief he shared with his parents, though his was laced with confusion as well as loss. His heart longed for a connection that had been cruelly stolen from him.

Queen Essence, in particular, struggled with the grief. There were nights when she wept in the solitude of her chambers, mourning the son she had carried for months, only to lose him before he ever had the chance to be born into the world. King Quincy, always by her side, tried his best to comfort her, offering his unwavering support, but even he could not fully heal the ache in her heart. The loss of their son before he could take his first breath was a wound that would never truly healed.

And so, the royal family moved forward as best they could, carrying the weight of their grief with them. They clung to the hope that one day, perhaps, they might be reunited with their lost son, even though the odds seemed impossible. Until then, they continued with their royal duties, ruling their kingdom with grace and strength, knowing that even in their sorrow, they had to lead their people.Together, they would move forward—an incomplete family, but a loving one nonetheless.

Bruce, John’s first brother, and people often assumed he looked up to his oldest brother, which he did. He admired his brother for many things: waking up earlier than any other kid they knew, his ability to cook, and how John’s love for food brought them all together. Bruce cherished his brothers deeply. Growing but, there was something missing hung in the air. 

Bruce never had a father, at least not one who was present and his mom is out of the question. It was always Grandma Rossiepuff and John who raised him and his brothers. His memories of early childhood were blurry, just flashes of toys and familiar family faces. His grandma warm smile and the strange faces his brothers would make. Those memories were hazy but full of joy and laughter. 

At many moon,, John would sit with him, showing him projects he was passionate about, talking about plans for the future, and sharing dreams of escaping the Troll Tree together. John was always so full of life, always in tune with nature and bursting with ideas. But underneath all that carefree energy, Bruce could see the weight John carried—the responsibility that came from having to grow up too fast, to take care of four younger brothers. That weight was heavy, and Bruce, as a kid, couldn’t fully comprehend the sacrifices John made. 

John tried to be both a brother and a father figure, especially with another sibling on the way, brought in by a troll supposedly a father that bought him into the world. He’d hear the other trolls talk about their parents with love and warmth, but Bruce never had that. Bruce never wanted to meet him and he was content with that. What he had was John—John, who he turned to for everything, especially when their youngest brother, Clay, was born.

Bruce loved Clay, John showed him how to love a brother. Bruce even helped raise Clay, though he was mostly a bratty middle child having now his attention being divided. There were countless moments when Bruce would run to John, feeling the injustice of being overlooked while Clay got away with things. John did his best, making sure Bruce and Clay’s wishes were heard, trying his hardest when juggling the responsibility of raising two more brothers who came along later. 

As the years passed, Bruce gotten older, a distance grew between Bruce and John. Bruce started searching for himself, drifting further from the family. The differences between their lifestyles became more apparent, and they stopped keeping up with each other as much. John became more focused on the home, while Bruce ventured out to explore the world.

Then came the boyband. If there was one thing that still connected Bruce and his brothers, it was their shared love for performing. They were all talented, able to sing, dance, and perform in front of the trolls, but it was usually John who directed everything. The rest of them just followed along, doing their parts as instructed. At first, Bruce played along. It was fun, it help with them financially for their larges families. But then something started to feel off.

John became stricter, more obsessed with perfection, to mold them up fit within the boyband image. As their manager and director, he demanded execution perfection slowly seeping into their personal life. Bruce noticed how much it meant to John and how that need for perfection started to consume him. It blinded him to the toll it was taking on his brothers. Bruce felt isolated. He struggled to connect with anyone outside of the boyband, overlooking who he is with the Brozone facade, he couldn’t feel the closeness he once did with his older brother. Something felt wrong.

Then, everything happened so quickly. One by one, they all left, and Bruce didn’t try to stop it. He had seen John change too much—his brother, who had once been full of life and dreams, now seemed distant and consumed by something Bruce didn’t understand. Bruce left, too. There were moments when he wanted to return, but going back home to a place where the trolls didn’t know him, bergen hanging around that would eat him without hesitation, and where John wasn’t the same person anymore—it just didn’t feel like home.

Bruce left angry. Angry at his brother, angry at the trolls, angry at the so-called "Perfect Family Harmony" that had changed John so much. He couldn’t understand him anymore. And so, he moved on.

He found himself on Vacay Island, arriving by cruise. It seemed like the perfect place to unwind, a chance to relax after years of tension. Working out daily had left his body and mind strained, and he needed the rest. He was thankful for all those camping trips John had taken them on over the years—those experiences helped him feel at ease in the island’s lush, peaceful environment. He planned to stay there for a couple of months, just to catch his breath.

While on the island, Bruce met other vacationers, giants who didn’t eat troll. He listened to their stories, make friends, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a connection. Then he met Brandy, and something clicked. It had been so long since Bruce felt this kind of connection with someone. She pulled him in, and it felt right. Going back to the Troll Tree, with the looming threat of the Bergens and the absence of his brother, seemed like a death sentence. He couldn’t face any of it. Memories of his old life were easier to bury beneath the rhythm of daily life on the island.

Bruce found a job, spent time with Brandy, and let himself relax for the first time in ages. Every day, he was greeted by the beautiful horizon, no walls or bars holding him back, just endless sky and freedom. For the first time, Bruce felt like he could move on. Move on from the boyband, from his brothers, from John, and from the life he once knew. He didn’t know what the future held, but here, on Vacay Island, he was ready to embrace it.

In the present moment, while working as a server and sometimes cook, Bruce felt self-conscious about his culinary skills. He was used to serving vacationers of all kind, but this meal was for his brothers—a brothers he hadn’t seen in fifteen years.

“Bruce, dear, focus!” his fiancée said, gently pushing him aside as she expertly handled the cooking. The rhythmic sound of her knife slicing through vegetables created a familiar melody that relaxed him. He looked at her lovingly before snapping back to reality. “How about you let me take care of this while you talk to your brother?”

Bruce shook his head, glancing at her. “It’s just... we haven’t seen each other for fifteen years. I—I don’t know where to start,” he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

He remembered how John had changed—bulkier, older, with shorter hair, and those ever-present goggles that had been a part of him since Bruce was just a kid. Branch had grown up too, wearing glasses similar to John’s, and Bruce wasn’t sure how he felt about the similarities between them but he’ll always see him as his baby brother. There was also another troll following them around, adding to the overwhelming confusion of the reunion. 

Brandy hummed, deep in thought as she sought to help Bruce out of his predicament. He had talked about his brothers so often though it lessen over the years.

“How about you recommend some activities we have around here? It seems like where you’re from, you didn’t have any ocean nearby. Really,” Brandy suggested, giving him an encouraging wink as she continued with the food. Bruce felt himself blush but nodded, feeling a bit more confident as he moved closer to his brothers, who were gathered and deep in conversation.

Branch was the first to notice him, scoffing as he focused on the ongoing discussion. Cooper seem curious giving him a polite wave, and John was just nodding along until Branch’s expression changed. John looked up, happily, and patted spot, encouraging him to join them.

Bruce felt a nervous flutter rise in his chest. What would it take to move on and reconnect with his brothers after so many years?

"So, you guys got anything planned ahead?" he asked, trying to ease into the conversation.

"Well, I think we’re heading out for some surfing," the troll with four legs said. Bruce hadn’t even caught his name yet and wondered about his connection with Branch and John. "Do you know any good spots?"

"I’ve got a handful of places I could show you," Bruce offered, scratching the back of his neck. "I can probably get Brandy to cover for me for a few hours. Though I guess I’ll owe her a favor later this week."

"Thanks, Bruce." John grinned, but it only made Bruce’s stomach twist with discomfort. There was never a perfect moment to prepare for reuniting with his brothers, but this felt like a start. Having them here, on Vacay Island, was both overwhelming and exciting.

"I think we’ve got this, Bruce," Branch interjected with a sharp look. "Don’t you have work right now?" He then turned to Cooper, brow raise, which Cooper return with innocent look. 

"Coop, if you really want to surf, you’ll need some serious training. I don’t need another John on this vacation."

The irony wasn’t lost on Bruce. He chuckled to himself, then shook his head. "Nah, Brandy gave me a break for the moment. I’ve got time. Cooper, right? I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves. I’m Bruce—Branch and John’s brother."

Cooper opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Branch, who crossed his arms and said, "And this is Cooper, our brother." Cooper gave a nervous nod, sensing the tension in the air.

"Erm, funny story, really," John began with an awkward smile, trying to break the ice. Bruce blinked as he sat down across from them, with Branch and Cooper leaning in, clearly invested in the story.

"Here we go again," Branch muttered smiling proud, leaning in even closer as Cooper followed suit.

"Well, Branch always wanted a little brother, for some reason," John said, throwing a playful glare at Branch, who simply rolled his eyes while Cooper giggled. "Then, there it was—an egg on the couch, bigger than any of the others. Almost fainted, I won’t lie. But when I saw how much it meant to Branch, we just loved him all the same. It happened so fast. During our anniversary of the Great Escape, our little Coop was born—cute and all bundled up. They grow up so fast." John pretended to wipe a tear as Cooper, grinning, jumped in to finish the story.

"And then I just fit right in! Are you going to visit us after this? The Pop Village might have a spare pod, or you could even live with us too."

"Uh, Pop Village?" Bruce asked, confused.

"We escaped from the Troll Tree fifteen years ago," Branch explained, crossing his arms. "We settled down, and boom, Pop Village. Not that you’d know about it," he added pointedly, while Cooper gave Bruce an apologetic look.

"I guess that makes sense..." Bruce mumbled. "I sent postcards to the village in Troll Tree, but I never heard back."

John was the first to respond. "It’s fine, really. I don’t think any of us knew where to find each other. It’s honestly a SURPRISE to see you HERE."

Bruce nodded, giving an awkward smile. An ugly feeling settled in him; he didn’t have plans to visit the Troll Tree. He had thought about it, but he never actually started to plan. If his family coincidentally came here, he doubted he would ever know about any of this outside of Vacay Island.

“Look! Nachos!” Cooper exclaimed excitedly as a large bowl of nachos slid toward them. Branch and Cooper eagerly grabbed some. John turned to Bruce, giving him a sincere smile as his lips pressed together, touching his eye.

“It’s really great seeing you again, Bruce.” John picked up a nacho and offered it to Bruce before getting one for himself.

“Yeah.” Watching as his family enjoyed the moment, Bruce glanced down at the nachos, not feeling particularly hungry. He looked out at the sunset slowly disappearing as night began to set in.

“You guys got any place to sleep? My fiancé and I have a spare room.”

Branch and Cooper looked shocked, while John smirked.

“FIANCE?!”

Chapter Text

“Soo, Cooper, right?” Bruce asked, glancing at his new-found brother.

“Yup,” Cooper replied, trying to balance on a surfboard near the beach. The sea waves were just a short distance away, and vacationers were showing off their moves, clearly seasoned surfers.

“Make sure when you lay down, you quickly get up. Gotta have strong muscles for that part,” Bruce said, pointing to one of Cooper's four legs. Cooper nodded, concentrating hard hopping on the board trying to make a move during this imaginary wave. He looked at Bruce with a smile. Trolls, he’s tall. Bruce thought. Cooper didn’t look like any of them, and it been years since his..father came back, unlikely he would ever bring another tribe eggs but it been years and Bruce have much to catch up with his brothers.  

“Since we came from the same brothers, I guess we’re brothers too, right?” Cooper asked, looking hopeful.

Bruce chuckled softly. “I guess we’re brothers. Welcome to the family.” He ruffled Cooper’s hair, lifting him up with ease, the two of them sharing a small laugh.

They heard shouting in the distance. John Dory was running along the surf, balancing on his board, with Branch rolling his eyes as he rode beside him. John struck a pose, clearly showing off.

“Hey, look at this!” John shouted, trying to balance on one hand before the wave grew too strong, throwing him off balance. He tumbled into the sea, while Branch skillfully rode the calmer part of the wave. A vacationer approached, and Branch, cautious as ever, held something shiny behind his back. As the vacationer reached John, he sputtered, water spraying from his mouth and hair as he surfaced, grinning despite the wipeout. Careful puting him back before swining off finding their group to spend their own time of vacation.

John tried again going back into the slightly smaller incoming wave, Branch joining him, rode the waves with ease. Bruce watched them, the discomfort he had been feeling gradually melting away. This was what he had always wanted—a family. He and Brandy had talked about it before, future plans for a family of their own. He hoped one day all his brothers could be there for the wedding. With John here, maybe that dream wasn’t so far off.

Cooper, determined, huffed and tried again, practicing the basics of surfing. He managed to balance on the board this time, cheering when he finally got it right. Bruce clapped from the shore. If Cooper considered himself part of the family, Bruce thought, then he might as well fully embrace that fact.

“Way to go, Surfboy!” Bruce smiled, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. It felt like he was raising his brothers all over again.

Cooper looked proud of himself, but seeing his joy stirred something bittersweet in Bruce. He felt a pang of sadness, guilt even. He had missed out on Branch’s childhood. He knew Branch was angry with him, but it was hard to take it seriously when he looked at him—his once youngest brother, now all grown up. It was a sibling thing, Bruce thought, to care for the younger ones, whether by biology or simply the dynamic of family.

“How about we give it a try? I’ll be here to watch you,” Bruce offered. Cooper nodded, the leash of the surfboard secured in his mouth as he pulled it closer to the ocean. Bruce moved to help him, but Cooper shook his head, determined to prove he could do it on his own.

A bitter feeling rose in Bruce’s chest. It was so much like his other brothers—too young to leave the Troll Tree, but he let them go anyway. He let them leave the family without thinking enough what comes next. Bruce pressed his lips together, trying to push away the emotions and focus on the present.

Bruce grabbed his own surfboard, ready to float nearby, just in case any of them needed him. 

Leaving Branch and Cooper to their own devices, Bruce listened to the sound of his brothers' laughter and cheers as they encouraged each other. A lifeguard in the distance occasionally glanced their way, keeping a careful eye on them. The ocean wasn’t always kind to smaller beings, and supervision was essential, with no exceptions.

John appeared from sea,  giant umbrella that seemed large enough to cover twenty trolls or more. The blanket beneath was equally massive, and Rhonda had settled comfortably on the hot sand, which filtered through the fabric, creating a soft, warm surface. John cooed as his little armadillo-bus shifted, moving to the other side with an animalistic yawn. Bruce felt a bit tense at the sight of the armadillo-bus. Living here for so long had made him forget about some of the creatures inhabiting the forest.

John plopped down next to Bruce, who couldn’t help but glance at him. John's tired face was so familiar, a look Bruce knew well—one John wore after a hard day’s effort. John let out a sigh.

“I think you should take off your goggles,” Bruce suggested, his focus entirely on his brother—his oldest brother, whom he hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Guilt gnawed at Bruce. John had done so much, taking care of them all those years. He’d been a kid forced to grow up too quickly, not knowing what to do but managing somehow. John came back, but Bruce hadn’t been there waiting for him. Bruce wondered how John felt about that.

John opened one eye, his signature smile creeping across his face, but he shook his head. After a moment, he sat up, removed his goggles, and looked away as he carefully cleaned them. The sound of falling sand drifted around them. Bruce felt a sinking sensation—did John not want to look at him while taking them off? Sure, people had their privacy, but they were brothers. It shouldn’t matter, yet it felt like an unspoken slight toward Bruce.

“Aww, much better,” John said, adjusting his goggles. Bruce blinked, noticing the pair of goggles lying in the corner of their bag—the ones belonging to Branch.

“Did you give Branch his goggles?” Bruce asked, curiosity overtaking his thoughts.

“Yeah, I did. I think I gave them to him when he was five, I think. He kept stealing mine, so I figured it was easier just to give him his own. Don’t ask where they are now—we lost them during one of our camping trips.”

“Camping trip?”

“Yeah, we did a lot of them back in the Pop Village. Got ourselves the best family spots—no one could find us. I’ll take you to one...” John paused, grinning at Bruce, who raised a brow. “If you ever need a vacation.”

John laughed at his own joke, and Bruce offered an awkward chuckle. His shoulders gradually eased, but something in him felt off. Not wrong, just... different.

“How was it? Raising Branch?” Bruce couldn’t help but ask, the question slipping out.

John let out an "oof," thinking for a moment before giving a small smile. His gaze drifted to where Branch and Cooper were now in line together, as a vacationer used their giant arms to create waves of their own, carrying the two brothers along. Branch and Cooper cheered, Cooper wobbling a bit but managing to stay upright. Branch laughed, throwing his hands up, clearly at ease.

“It was... well, raising two little brothers isn’t too hard, unless you’ve got a bunch of trolling constantly coming back home. I swear, that kid's going to be a great leader one day,” John said, a touch of pride in his voice.

Bruce nodded, swallowing down the emotions rising in his throat as they both watched their brothers playing around. Silence hung between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sound of waves crashing gently in the distance created a calming effect for any vacationer sitting on the shore, simply enjoying the serenity of nature.

“I’m thinking of doing some rock climbing. Been wanting to climb in a while,” John said, breaking the silence.

“To Everglade Trail?” Bruce's eyes widened. He still couldn’t believe John hadn’t set foot on Everglade Trail in so many years. Bruce knew how much exploration the world meant to John, and it was surprising that he had come back the next day without pursuing it. It was typical of John, yet somehow uncharacteristic at the same time. John could be selfish—Bruce could vouch for that. Selfish enough to quit school to take care of them. Despite Grandma pushing him to have the least amount of chores dividing between his brothers, John had somehow taken on the most responsibility in case any of them need help, especially as Grandma's age began to catch up with her. He had always been there, covering for her when she struggled to manage the house and the family.

“To Neverglade Trail,” John confirmed, his expression briefly dreamy before shaking his head. 

“Can’t do it now, though. Too much on hand. Have you seen any the bros?” he asked, his tone more serious.

It was a far-off question, especially considering John’s original timeline. Bruce hadn’t had any contact with their other brothers, but you never knew how much things could change. John Dory might overthink every decision, wondering if his choices could alter the world, the molecules in the air, or even someone else’s life. You never knew for sure, but it was always a good question to ask.

“No, I haven’t exactly stayed in contact with everyone,” Bruce muttered, scratching the back of his head. “I just left… like the others.”

John nodded, sipping his vacation juice, served by one of the strange, beach ball bird, native birds that flitted around the beach. The bird let out a chirp before fluttering away. Bruce watched John, noticing the quiet, almost unspoken weight in the way his brother’s shoulders shifted ever so slightly.

“Are you looking for them?” Bruce asked.

John glanced at him, a small tension at the corner of his shoulder. He nodded with a smile, but Bruce furrowed his brow. 

“Is that how you found me?”

“No.” The answer was simple, but it hung in the air. It was a vacation spot, after all—a place where all kinds of people were welcome. But his brother? That was hard to believe. John had never been one for vacations. They were always trapped in the Troll Tree, chained up. Bruce wondered how he had left his brother so easily. If they had been captured again, chosen for Trollstice, would Bruce have been able to live with that knowledge? No… it was easy to forget how fragile a troll’s life could be.

“They all left, like we did. I came back, of course. King Peppy decided it was over—escape through the tunnels.” John’s voice softened, and he looked into the distance. “I… saw the last of Clay.”

Bruce’s heart sank. He could feel his ears droop, his face going numb. Clay. As far as Bruce knew, back in the Troll Tree, Clay hadn’t expressed much interest in escaping. Not without his family. And from what John was saying, it sounded like the escape through the tunnel had been dangerous.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I don’t know how to tell you this.” John’s voice cracked ever so slightly, and he hesitated. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. But I plan to find him. He’s out there somewhere. I just know it. And I—I’ll bring him home. Heck, I’ll make sure we all meet even if it the last thing I do.”

John’s attempt at a joke came, chucking at it, Bruce with a nervous laugh, trying to ease the heavy atmosphere. But Bruce only stared at the ground, running a hand through one of his loose strands of hair. His hair had grown larger and stronger over the years, a necessity for manual labor when everything around him was so much bigger than him.

“You’re overworking yourself again, John. Don’t…” Bruce trailed off, giving John a soft, earnest smile. “This time, I’ll make sure you relax enough that you’ll never want to leave.”

John smirked, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “It is a nice place to live, I’ll give you that… but I’d like to see you try.”

Night had fallen as most vacationers headed off to distant cabins or returned to the cruise, going back to their regular lives—perhaps hoping to return one day. The sunset had given way to the moon, and now trails of soft light illuminated the dark blue sky, stars twinkling in their places. It was nighttime, and the boys had spent the entire day out on the sea. Now, they were settling in with Bruce and Brandy, while Rhonda, the large armadillo bug, was sound asleep at the couch. During the day, John and Bruce had ridden around Vacay Island, with Bruce still surprised at the sight of Rhonda, though John wore his usual proud smirk as he showed off his unique companion.

Cooper and Branch, on the other hand, were still abuzz with excitement. They swore they had seen something glowing beneath the water earlier.

“I swear, I saw something glowing down there. It was moving, I think. It looked like a troll,” Cooper insisted, his eyes wide.

“Nah, it can’t be. Well, maybe… I feel like they’re just messing with us. Do you think we might meet the Electro Trolls, John?” Branch asked, glancing at his older brother.

John thought for a moment, leaning back with a casual grin. “Hmm, well, it’s our first time here. If we do meet them, we’ll have to behave ourselves, boys. Might be the first contact we ever make with them.”

“You make it sound like we’re the aliens,” Branch snorted, while Cooper remained deep in thought, imagining what it might be like to meet a completely different kind of troll.

Suddenly, Brandy’s voice rang out from the nearby kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!” She appeared, with Bruce close behind, casually draping his arm across her shoulders as they made their way to the table. They carried two large platters—one filled with a vibrant salad mixed with tropical fruits and grilled meat, while the other held juicy burgers and crispy fries, topped off with what looked like a pineapple-like fruit.

“Oh, sweet! Burgers!” Cooper exclaimed, making a beeline for the table, with Branch following at a slower pace. Brandy took a burger, carefully slicing it into smaller pieces. Bruce jumped down beside the table, eager to be closer to his family.

“Hope you’re all hungry, boys, because this meal is going to knock your taste buds out!” Brandy grinned, setting down the platters.

“Hey, Bruce,”  Cooper began, biting into his burger, “I was wondering about those glowing trolls we saw in the ocean earlier. The Electro Trolls—do you see them often?”

Bruce chuckled, already expecting the question. “Oh yeah, they come around from time to time, but they usually stay deeper in the ocean. I heard they’re planning a rave sometime soon, but with those guys, you never really know when or where. They’re spontaneous like that,” he explained, his chest puffing up with pride. “They’re great business partners, though. They bring in some of the best catches, and that’s part of why this hub has the best restaurant on Vacay Island.”

Branch gave a small, hesitant smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was there. Cooper, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in his seat, firing off question after question, and Bruce did his best to answer every one.

Meanwhile, John made his way over to Brandy, who was watching her fiancé with an affectionate smile. She caught John’s eye and gave him a warm nod.

“Bruce talks about you guys a lot,” she said, her voice soft and genuine.

“Good things, I hope?” John teased lightly, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

Brandy chuckled. “Some good sibling moments. Sounds seems like you all love each other.”

“Yeah,” John replied, his gaze drifting over to where his brothers sat, laughing and enjoying the meal. “I hope so.”

Chapter Text

The sound of distant clapping rose through the early morning air, stirring John from his sleep. The large hammock the brothers had chosen to sleep in sagged slightly, the weight of their closeness pulling the fabric taut. He stretched and quietly slipped out, careful not to wake Branch, who still slept soundly beside him, with Cooper spiral open drip of saliva from his snore.

John began his morning walk, the salty sea breeze washing over him as he greeted Rhonda, his steadfast companion. He couldn’t help but reflect on how vital she had been to his survival—without her, he was certain he’d be long dead, both in his original timeline and this one. His dear Rhonda. It was she who had managed to push the chef back when it all went wrong, freeing him from her clutches. He remembered how Branch had insisted he sleep whitin Rhonda's a day more despite being by Pop Village. Before living within the bunker for the weeks to come reason for the construction of the pods.

Branch has been, particular of handling the situation, hovering around John day in and out. As sweet as it was, it had become mildly irritating. John needed space, especially when he was trying to write new lyrics for their band, which he hoped would recover after the Bergen incident. Couldn’t he at least enjoy a peaceful walk? The thought lingered, though he knew it was unkind. Branch was only worried about him, and this wasn’t about survival anymore.

As the sun began to rise, casting warm hues over the horizon, John sat atop Rhonda, watching the sky light up in shades of orange and pink. He patted her back gently, and she rumbled in response, a soft vibration that felt comforting. He lay back, staring up at the slowly moving clouds, watching as they drifted, carried by the wind toward some unknown destination. It reminded him of the water cycle—how the clouds would absorb moisture, only to release it again as rain before being carried off once more. It was a cycle, much like life itself.

John’s mind wandered. Being older in a much younger body was something he’d grown accustomed to, but it often led to moments of existential musing. Did his age, locked away in this young form, make him truly older? And if the world didn’t treat him as such, did it even matter would he consider his current age as his real age? Sometimes, these thoughts were oddly comforting, while other times, they felt like a trap. If he were to die, would the timeline reset and live all over where he had started? Would he carry these memories forward in some eternal loop, what if he actually forget about his ‘first’ run, would he say ‘this' time travel as his first one? Would that make him the master of time, and if so, did he even want that?

No. The idea unsettled him. He preferred to focus on the here and now—on this life he was living, however paradoxical it might be.

He jumped down from Rhonda, sitting beside her for a moment as she shifted closer, her head resting near him with a soft purring rumble. John closed his eyes, sinking into the sensation. The feel of the sand beneath his hands, the grains slipping through his fingers, and the ever-present sound of waves gently lapping against the shore created a peaceful symphony. He breathed in deeply, the salty air filling his lungs, centering him.

A shift in the sand and the sound of approaching footsteps broke the calm. John glanced over his shoulder to find Branch walking toward them. Branch’s face lit up meeting his eye with john as Branch jogged the rest of the way over, Rhonda maneuvering her large body around to greet him first. She let out a playful whine and licked Branch's face.

“Ack! Rhonda! I just cleaned this!” Branch protested, laughing as he wiped his cheek. “Hey, John.”

“Morning, Bitty. Looks like someone woke up on the right side of the bed,” John teased with a smirk.

“Har har har, very funny,” Branch shot back, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, breakfast is ready. You coming?”

John looked at Branch’s outstretched hand before meeting his gaze. Branch’s brow was slightly furrowed, and his lips twitched as if he were fighting the urge to frown. John stood up with a soft whistle, and Rhonda, sensing his signal, got up and started to move off. She needed her morning jog few times in a week, and Vacay Island wasn’t large—she’d find her way back when she was ready.

“Yeah, let’s go,” John said, patting Branch on the shoulder as they walked toward breakfast together.

Walking side by side toward the backside of the hub where Brandy and Bruce’s house resided, the bamboo walls and wooden floor giving it a warm, earthy feel. John broke the comfortable silence.

“So, what is it this time?”

“What? What do you mean?” Branch replied, sounding almost defensive.

“C’mon, Branch. Don’t tell me you’re worried again. I thought you’d gotten over being so overprotective.”

“I’m not being overprotective,” Branch grumbled. 

“...Not that muh”

John shot him a knowing look, his hand on his hip, a teasing side-smile spreading across his face. “Not that much, huh? Just whatever it is this time.” 

“I just… don’t wanna be alone around him.” Branch admitted.

“Cooper seems to like him.” John pointes it out,

“That’s because Cooper didn’t know him back then. I don’t know… We’re brothers, we’re supposed to be family, but he never came back… neither did Floyd...”

John walked on in silence, guilt tugging at him. He knew how much it hurt Branch to talk about their brothers who never returned, and it had always been an unspoken rule not to bring them up. Despite John’s reassurances, Branch chose to avoid the subject most of the time. The vase  Floyd given him when he was barely a year old, sat in the storage area, untouched since Branch had removed it when he was seven. John wasn’t sure how he felt about those changes—after all, the vase had always been a part Branches faith his brothers will come back to him. There were times he tried to convince Branch to put it back, he never wanted to push his brother further into resenting their missing family. 

Sure, Branch had started talking about Clay more often, usually after their visit to the shrine, but that was different. Circumstances had kept them apart, and even at a young age, Branch understood that. Deep down, Branch was sure Clay was trying to come back to them as much as they wanted him to.

“I’m sorry,” John said, the words slipping out quietly. “I know… I know it’s not all my fault. I just don’t want you resent them forever. It’s not healthy.”

Branch rolled his eyes, staring ahead, his expression hardening—not at John. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m just so angry at them. At least you came back. Why didn’t they? They could’ve at least sent a better postcard, check the address, or—I don’t know—actually tried harder to contact us.”

“I know,” John replied, his voice heavy with sadness. It was true. Neither of the brothers had made a real effort to contact one another after the disbandment of BroZone back in John’s original world. He had hoped that somehow, this timeline would be different, that Branch would be more open now that John was around to help raise him. And hey, Grandma Rossipuff wasn’t gone, that counts a point on John making the right choices this time around.

“When we meet them, try to ease up on the teen angst, okay? I already had my hands full taking care Cooper and the GB Armies,” John teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, can’t help it, JD. You’ll just have to deal with it,” Branch smirked, picking up the pace as John chuckled behind him, trying to keep up. As they neared the table, Branch extended his hand, and John reached out, placing his hand on Branch’s shoulder as Branch’s hair lifted them slightly off the ground, elevating them to the perfect view of the table below. There, he could see Bruce, Brandy, and their youngest, a bright pink-skinned troll with darker stripes, bouncing around enthusiastically, doing his best to help.

“So, what do you think they’re making?” John asked.

“Heard they’re making avocado toast or something,” Branch said, scrunching his nose. “I don’t know. I find it weird.”

John feigned a gasp, placing a hand dramatically over his chest, his expression one of exaggerated shock. “How dare you! You just need a more sophisticated palate, that’s all.”

Branch rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as they approached the table.

“Right, unless you add anchovies to it, I swear Bruce just has a weird craving from working in this restaurant.”

“Remember the time when Clay was obsessed with honey?”

Branch gasped, placing a hand on his forehead as he laughed at the memory. “I was like a few months old, and all I saw was him adding honey to everything, even steak!.”

John laughed along with him, recalling how Clay had discovered honey and went on a spree, putting it on every possible dish. There was one time when a jar of honey went missing, and John found Clay in his room, honey spilled all around him as he bounced up and down, making buzzing sounds like a bee. John had laughed so hard, his face turned redder than any other troll. Those were the days.

“Don’t even get me started on the goggles,” John teased looking at Branches goggle resting around his neck.

Branch raised his hands in mock surrender, but a smile crept onto his face. “I was, like, five, John. You just had cool stuff.”

“So much so that you tried to impersonate me.” John raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“The goggles were cool, alright? And you have to admit, I looked good in them.”

“Highly subjective,” John quipped, as Branch shot him a mock glare, but still smiled. Branch’s eyes then narrowed as he seemed to notice something. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to John. John looked down, confused—it was an exercise band, troll-sized.

“Wear this around for a while, will you? You’ve been wearing those goggles too much, and I think your skin there is getting dehydrated from all the muted air.”

John smiled, glancing around to make sure the chefs were still focused on their masterpiece before removing the goggles. The cold air touched his exposed skin, and he reflexively ran his hand over the scars there, feeling self-conscious for a moment. He knew Branch had noticed them too, but instead of saying anything, he simply slid the headband on, the soft cotton-like fabric resting comfortably against his skin.

“Ahh, much better. Thanks, Branch. I should probably wear this more often.”

“You’re the one with the scars,” Branch replied, jumping down from the table. “Gimme those goggles. I’ll keep them safe for you.” Putting on the goggles ready himself. He swung around the coat hanger before disappearing into the room. Show-off, John thought, smiling to himself. He touched the headband again, grateful. He sure have a loving brother—that for sure.

Bruce suddenly jumped down, with Cooper rushing toward John, giving him a tight hug. John returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Cooper’s neck as he ruffled his hair.

“Stop! I just brushed it,” Cooper whined.

“Nah, nope, never, baby bro,” John teased, playfully pushing him away as Cooper stuck out his tongue. They all began setting up for the meal, sitting down at the table. A thud echoed through the room as Branch returned, walking over with a slight smile, though it faltered when he saw Bruce.

“Oh, Bruce,” Branch muttered,  his lips tightening into a thin line.

“Morning, Branch. Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Bruce teased.

Branch scoffed but said nothing, sitting closer to his brothers as Bruce handed them their sandwiches. The table was laden with a mix of minced vegetables tossed in a tangy sour sauce with olive oil, avocado toast, sunny-side-up eggs, and an assortment of open-faced jam sandwiches for those with a sweeter preference in the morning.

“Ooh, so good,” Cooper mumbled between bites of his tropical fruit spread on bread.

“All handmade,” Bruce said proudly. “We got the ingredients from our business partners—vacationers. If there’s one thing they do right, it’s making the best fruit-based food materials.”

“What do you think, Bitty?” John asked, finishing his second avocado toast.

“I think I’m digging it,” Branch replied, happily munching on his avocado toast.

“I can show you how to make it. Cooking’s an art, really. Best way to learn is by starting with your favorite foods,” Bruce offered.

John laughed quietly, and Bruce shot him an amused look. They were both thinking the same thing. Branch gave Bruce a subtle stink-eye before softening his expression, clearly thinking similar known knowledge around the family before nodding and focusing more on his food. John smiled at the small sign of progress, while Bruce let out a relieved sigh.

They all ate in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company. After a while, Brandy excused herself to go clean the hub, needing to start early in the morning. Bruce began brushing crumbs off his face. “So, I was thinking that today we’re going to—what the C—!”

Rhonda quickly shuffling in before jumping on the chair then the table around them as he start coughing, they all gathered around. 

“Rhonda, down, girl!” John shouted concern, what got this girl to just….

Everyone’s mouths dropped open as they instinctively turned toward her mouth. Rhonda, the large caterbus, was coughing violently. Glittery saliva sprayed everywhere until something dropped from her mouth—a disgusting, shimmering glob of glitter-coated slime. Within the goo, a figure began to emerge, coated in the slimy mess but slowly becoming visible as the glittery saliva dripped off their neon purple skin.

“It’s a Techno Troll!” Cooper exclaimed, eyes wide with awe.

“Is he dead?” Branch asked, stepping forward and holding his hand out to stop anyone from getting closer. He hesitantly poked the Techno Troll’s cheek.

The Techno Troll shot up suddenly, causing the group of Pop Trolls to cry out in surprise. Branch jumped back, startled. It took only a few seconds for the Techno Troll to calm down, his eyes darting around the room before settling on Bruce. A green stripe ran down his arm, and a heart-shaped square adorned his chest. He seemed to take in the situation for a brief moment, and then his expression twisted into panic.

“THERE ARE MORE OF YOU?!” he screamed.

Chapter Text

As the group strolled along the sandy path toward Vacay Island, Cooper bounded ahead with his usual enthusiasm, occasionally glancing back at his brothers. Branch trudged alongside, his shoulders tense, clearly less enthusiastic about the mission at hand. John, however, kept his notebook tucked under his arm, taking in the surroundings with a thoughtful gaze, while Synth continued to lead them with his confident stride—searching for the pride of his tribe, finding a spot for their rave plan tonight.

"Why are we doing this again?" Branch muttered, half under his breath.

John caught the grumbling and couldn’t help but respond with a smirk. "Because it's the right thing to do. And I could use some inspiration for our next album."

"You're continuing Brozone?"

Branch groaned, unwilling to engage in the conversation any further, but feeling the pressure to clarify, he added, "No, not anymore. Brozilla. It OUR band."

Bruce, who had been trailing behind them, suddenly perked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "You started a band?"

"It's no big deal," Branch mumbled, trying to downplay it.

But before the conversation could go deeper, John chimed in, walking slightly ahead. "You might catch our next performance when you visit Pop Village," he teased, turning his head just enough to catch Branch's exasperated expression. Branch waved it off, his grumbling too low for anyone to hear.

Synth, unaware of the family banter, rambled on about the upcoming rave on Vacay Island. With Cooper eagerly listening, he got the feeling Branch wanted to hear about it afterward. "It's going to be epic! I just need to find the perfect spot for it—good acoustics, plenty of room for the crowd—I mean, of course, we’re just swimming around the sea, and you know, a place where the vibe is just right."

The back group caught up to them all.

"Why not just ask me?" Bruce asked, still processing his little brother’s earlier band revelation. 

"You know I’d always be happy to help."

"Oh, erm, you always help us, Bruce. I'm just thinking I wanted to do this on my own. Without your help," Syth replied, glancing up, unsure.

Bruce gave him a look but waved him to go on. "You know how much I wanted to help the tribe too."

"It’s nothing wrong to ask for help. I was there when you grew up. I know the village already appreciates what you’ve done so far."

Before Synth could answer he gotten distracted by a particular giant boulder all circular and smooth with a strange starfish and sponge scriblle side of it, it stand unmoving on the sandy beach, he ran to it with John catching up waving back at the group to catch up. Tiny crab running away from them, one in particular holding gold painted cap. 

Cooper popped up beside Bruce as they stood still, his usual boundless energy radiating through his steps happy spending time with his family. .

"I'm going with John," Branch announced before jogging a bit, catching up with the trolls in front of them.

Bruce let out a sigh, placing a hand on Cooper's back. His gaze grew distant as he murmured to himself, "So much has happened since I’ve been gone..."

Cooper hesitated, worried by Bruce’s tone. "What was that?"

Bruce glanced down at him, surprised. "Nothing. Just... a lot’s happened while I was away, huh?"

"Yup. Even the scary one too," Cooper admitted, wincing as he spoke.

"Scary? What was scary?" Bruce’s voice sharpened, his concern evident.

Cooper bit his lip, unsure how to explain everything during what was supposed to be a relaxing holiday. 

"Nothing," he muttered, trying to brush it off.

"Cooper, come on," Bruce pressed gently, leaning in. 

"I don’t want to miss out on any more of my brothers' lives. I’d like to be there with them. Please tell me, if you’re comfortable."

Cooper paused before speaking quietly, “I guess, since we’re here…”

Meanwhile, Branch marched down the path next to John and Synth. John was scribbling notes, glancing back at the rambling techno troll every so often as he cataloged ideas for future songs. Branch, noticing the change in the air, joined their conversation, his brow furrowed with lingering curiosity.

"So, what exactly are you planning for the rave, Synth?" Branch asked as John tucked his notebook away.

Synth beamed, his excitement bubbling over. "Oh, you’ll love it! We’ve got lights, beats, everything. Vacay Island's gonna be the spot. But... I just need to find the perfect place to set up."

"Perfect place, huh?" Branch chimed in. "What’s wrong with any ol' beach?"

Synth gave a small shrug. "It's more than just the location, man. It's about finding the right vibe. You know, something that fits the rhythm, the energy. A place that makes the music come alive."

John nodded thoughtfully. "You guys ever see other troll tribes around here?"

Synth furrowed his brow. "Well, we see the Funk Trolls every once in a while passing by, and the Rock Trolls… well, they’re always scouting the shores for resources or deep water near out kingdom. We have trade deals or two, never make an official stuff. We all kind of keep to ourselves."

"Rock Trolls, huh? I heard they live near an active volcano," John mused aloud, while information unknown by the Pop knowledge it can be seen as flown by the wind.

"Yeah, explains their ashy skin," Branch remarked, intrigued by how evolution shaped troll features. For the Pop Trolls, it was their hair—strong enough to carry their body weight and additional which help them climb trees, minimizing encounters with ground predators. Even with newer generations, the Pop Trolls' hair remained versatile, though the younger ones seemed to be finding more creative uses for it.

"Really? Oh, it should've been obvious. Of course," Synth said, rubbing his chin. "Guess we never really engage much with them."

Branch shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts wandering into darker territory. "It’s because of the old history between the tribes. The whole thing with the Pop Trolls trying to steal the strings…" His voice trailed off, the weight of that ancient conflict still hanging in the air.

The group fell into a momentary silence, the significance of their past echoing between them. Sensing the shift in Branch's mood, John decided to change the subject. 

"Anyway, let’s focus on finding this perfect spot for the rave."

"Right. You guys are all brothers, huh?" Synth asked, peering curiously at them. "Even him?" He pointed to Cooper, who was deep in a serious conversation with Bruce.

John smiled and threw an arm around Branch, pulling him closer. "Yup, found him, raised him, and now he’s part of our family."

Branch gave a nervous smile, he know John proud showing them they’re brother but this is still a stranger who he slowly warming up.

"Wooow, I’ve never heard of one tribe raising a member from another tribe. There must’ve been search parties for him. Never heard of a Funk Troll leaving anyone behind... or any troll, really."

"You sure know a lot about troll tribe, huh?" John commented.

Synth scratched his head, looking flustered. "Guess I’m just interested in how we relate to other tribes. If you wanna become an ambassador. Which definetly be an open option for me in the future, you’ve gotta learn a thing or two, right?"

"Yup, couldn’t agree more," Branch chimed in. 

"So how do you usually lead on?"

"Well, let’s see. When you make a first impression, you gotta be confident—open, neon lights, woop woop!" Synth laughed, throwing his hands in the air.

Branch chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You and Poppy would get along just fine."

"Poppy? Who’s that?"

"Princess of the Pop Tribe," Branch answered with a smirk.

They continued talking as John smiled at the sight, taking in the quieter part of Vacay Island. 

The scene before them was breathtaking. The blue of the ocean blended seamlessly with the golden glow of the setting sun, while waves lapped rhythmically against the shore, providing a natural soundtrack to Synth’s growing excitement.

"This is it!" Synth exclaimed again, clapping his hands and bouncing slightly on his toes.

 "This is the perfect spot! Just imagine it—the ocean right here, the trees off in the distance to help with the sound system, and all this open space for the crowd. The rave’s gonna be legendary!"

John knelt next to the Techno Troll, taking in the scene with an appreciative nod. 

"Looks good to me. But hey, why didn’t you ask Bruce for help earlier? He’d have been more than happy to lend a hand."

Synth fidgeted nervously, kicking at the sand beneath his feet. "I just... I didn’t want to bother him. Last year’s rave didn’t go as planned, and this time, I wanted to prove I could pull it off. You know, show everyone that I’m capable on my own."

Before John could respond, Bruce, who had been keeping a close eye on the conversation, stepped forward. His brow furrowed with concern. "Synth, do your tribe even know you’re out here?" he asked, his voice firm but kind.

"Uhhhh..." Synth's gaze darted away, and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Branch, sensing the tension, placed a hand on Synth's shoulder to steady him.

Bruce crossed his arms, his expression softening just a little. 

"You ran off alone, didn’t you? Do you know how dangerous that could’ve been? You’re lucky nothing happened! I should be telling your parents right now."

The Techno Troll flinched at Bruce’s words, guilt written across his face. "I know," Synth sighed. 

"I just wanted to handle this on my own, Bruce. Last year, we had a bit issue doing it underwater that why this year we MUST CHANGE it where we do it. And I’m helping.”

John glanced at Branch, who gave a small, understanding nod. "It’s alright, Synth. We get it," John said. 

"Just take on consideration of your safety okay"

Synth nodded as he and the brothers parted ways, having delivered the directions for the rave setup in the newly found spot. Bruce lingered behind as the others waved their goodbyes. Branch approached him cautiously, reaching out. Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I, erm..." Branch hesitated, retracting his hand and gripping his shoulder for comfort. "Promise you’ll come to the party?"

"Oh, uh..." Bruce thought for a moment but then smiled warmly. "The night’s still young, so why not? I'll see you later, Bitty."

"It’s Branch," he corrected with a small grin. "But yeah, bye, Bruce."

Hours passed, and as the group reconvened, the blue hues of the water rippled and shimmered beneath the fading sunlight. Gentle waves cascaded toward the shore, casting a serene atmosphere over Vacay Island. Synth stood beside John, Branch, and the rest, staring out at the horizon, waiting for the Techno Trolls to emerge.

As the moon replaced the sun in the sky, the brothers stood expectantly. Branch, John, and Cooper were all gathered, though Bruce had to leave to help his fiancée, promising to return for the rave. Synth bounced over first, greeting the brothers with a wide smile before they lined up, eyes fixed on the water as they awaited the arrival of the aquatic techno army.

Suddenly, the surface of the water began to break. Techno Trolls poured out, their luminescent bodies reflecting the ocean's glow as they stepped onto the beach. Neon patterns blinked and shimmered in sync with an unheard electric rhythm that followed them, pulsing through the air like a heartbeat.

One by one, they rose from the depths, each troll adorned with intricate, glowing designs unique to their tribe. There was a tangible sense of excitement among them, like they were on the brink of something big—something they had been eagerly preparing for. Yet, the moment they spotted the Pop Trolls on the beach, the atmosphere shifted. Their gazes were cautious, some filled with curiosity, but many held a hint of wariness. Techno Trolls weren’t used to mingling with other tribes, especially not here on Vacay Island.

Synth, still brimming with enthusiasm from finding the perfect rave location, rushed over to them. "Guys! Over here! This is where we’re setting up the Rave!"

The Techno Trolls exchanged uncertain glances, looking from Synth to the Pop Trolls and back again. Some whispered quietly among themselves, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar faces on their territory.

Branch noticed one of the Techno Trolls staring at him, confusion and wariness written all over their face. He waved awkwardly, attempting to appear friendly, but the troll quickly looked away, clearly unsure of how to react to the presence of outsiders.

"They don’t exactly look thrilled to see us," Branch muttered to John, who stood beside him with his notebook tucked under his arm.

John nodded. "Yeah, we’re definitely the outsiders here. They probably weren’t expecting more Pop Trolls to show up."

"Synth could’ve at least given them a heads-up. It’s not like we’re crashing their party—that’s a Bergen job," Branch grumbled. 

"We’re just trying to help."

John gave him a stern look, but Branch could only shrug.

Just then, Prince Trollex, the leader of the Techno Trolls, emerged from the water. His head held high, his eyes gleamed with vibrant energy. The neon patterns on his body were more elaborate and vivid than the others, flashing brightly in rhythmic pulses as he surveyed the scene. His arrival immediately commanded attention, and the crowd of Techno Trolls parted to make way for their prince.

As Trollex approached, his neon patterns glowing brighter than those of the others, it was clear he commanded respect. The Techno Trolls instinctively parted to give him space as he made his way toward the Pop Troll group. His eyes flickered with curiosity as he surveyed the newcomers, pausing on John and Branch before turning to Synth.

“Synth, friends of yours? Wasn’t expecting more Pop Trolls to be here,” Trollex said, his tone laced with curiosity but a touch of coution.

Synth fidgeted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, well, you see... they helped me. Without them, I’d never have found this place. They’re good people.”

Trollex raised an eyebrow, still intrigued but cautious. “Is that so?” His gaze shifted to John and Branch. “This isn’t something we see every day.”

Prince Trollex greeted them formally. “Let’s make this quick we have a Rave to start up. Greetings, Name’s Prince Trollex, leader of the Techno Trolls.”

“Branch,” he replied, giving a small nod.

“Cooper,” the Funk Troll added, drawing curious glances from the surrounding Techno Trolls. They had never seen a Funk Troll up close, especially one not flying among the stars but instead grounded like the rest.

“John Dory,” John introduced himself.

“Like the fish,” Prince Trollex commented with a grin. John chuckled, nodding in amusement as Trollex and the others began settling down to get ready.

As the Techno Trolls started setting up for the rave, John and Branch pitched in wherever they could, helping to position sound equipment, adjust lighting, and make sure everything was perfectly in sync. Despite the awkward stares and lingering looks from the Techno Trolls, who weren’t used to outsiders assisting, they worked side by side.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Trollex said, adjusting his headphones, his neon-hooded cloak glowing in the dimming light.

John stepped forward with a warm smile. “We don’t want to overstep. But we’re here to help, however we can. Synth’s been really excited about this, and we couldn’t just let him handle it all alone.”

Branch, sensing the tension, crossed his arms and added, “We’re not here to cause trouble. If you want us gone, just say the word and we’ll leave. But we’re staying to see the rave. If you need an extra set of hands—or voices—we’re ready to help.”

Trollex considered their words, his glowing eyes studying them thoughtfully. After a moment, he smiled. “Alright. If Synth trusts you, why not give it a shot. Besides, we’re all Trolls, right? Music’s in our blood.” His grin widened.

 “And if you’re offering to sing at the rave, I’m not gonna say no to that.”

John turn to Branch with a smirk, Branch only rolled his eye, both sharing the same idea. 

As preparations continued and the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, the stage was nearly complete. The soft sound of waves lapping against the shore blended with the faint hum of neon lights and the steady beat of the Techno Trolls’ music. The energy of the beach was electric, and as nightfall crept closer, anticipation for the rave swelled.

The atmosphere lightened instantly. The tension that had loomed over the beach seemed to melt away as the Techno Trolls relaxed, exchanging nods as if silently agreeing to accept their Pop Troll guests on their prince’s orders. Some of the Techno Trolls who had been keeping their distance now approached cautiously, their curiosity overcoming their wariness. They exchanged glances with John and Branch—some offering tentative waves, others merely observing but with less suspicion than before.

“See? It’s going to be fine,” John whispered to Branch with a wink.

Branch rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“So, any questions?” John broke the silence, hoping to ease the tension further with the group of techno troll surround them. Synth come up running fron them giving a high-five with Branch ready one. 

Meanwhile, Cooper, who had been exploring the beach in his usual enthusiastic manner, caught sight of the neon lights being set up. He ran over to Prince Trollex, eyes wide with excitement. “Hey, Prince Trollex! This looks awesome! Can I help with the lights?”

Prince Trollex grinned, handing him a bundle of neon tubes. “Go for it, buddy. Just don’t mix the red and blue wires unless you want a light show no one’s ready for.”

Cooper giggled, eager to jump in and help.

In the distance, the moon hung high, casting shadows across the beach. Among the shadows, movement stirred beneath the now-calm waves. Silent figures, their sharp red color cloth and rippled fabrics catching the faint light, watched the rave from afar. Their vibe, unlike the glowing designs of the Techno Trolls, remained hidden beneath the surface, sharp eyes locked on the gathering prep of the rave.

“Send a message to Princess Barb,” one of them whispered, their voice barely audible over the soft lapping of the waves. “Looks like the Techno Trolls have gotten a bit braver…”

With the sound of rapid flapping wings, the observers retreated, leaving only the ripple of the water behind.

Back at the beach, the final touches were in place. Trollex stepped up to the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers. 

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! GET READY BECAUSE TONIGHT’S GOING TO BE NIGHT TO REMEBER. WELCOME RAVE OF THE YEARS, THIS TIME ON VACAY ISLAND!”

Lights shot up toward the clouds, casting a colorful glow across the sky. The Techno Trolls’ high-tech setup was in full force, their once-a-year rave ready to begin. The performances kicked off with an electrifying jolt, each act more energetic than the last. The final beat hit, the crowd roared with applause, and the night was alive with music and cheers.

John, Branch, Cooper, and Bruce stood together. John had convinced Branch to let Bruce join, insisting it was a chance for brotherly bonding.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, CLAP YOUR FINS AND STAY HYPE! HERE COMES OUR HONORY GUEST - POP GROUP, BROOOOZILLLAAAAAA!”

John stepped confidently to the front of the crowd, the energy shifting as everyone grew quiet, waiting for the music to start. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he sang the first verse, a playful grin on his face:

“Oh, no  

See you walkin' 'round like it's a funeral  

Not so serious, girl, why those feet cold?  

We just gettin' started, don't you tiptoe, tiptoe (ah)”  

As he finished the line, he struck a bold dance pose, bending one knee while lifting his arms outward, inviting the crowd to loosen up. His movements were light but precise, exuding confidence. Bruce casually stepped up beside him, smoothly taking over the next part. His voice was deep and steady, contrasting John's playful tone:

“Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece (huh)  

You should be rollin' with me, you should be rollin' with me (ah-ah-ah)  

You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy (huh)”  

Bruce moved in closer to the crowd as he sang, giving them a sly smile before nodding to John, signaling for him to take the next line. John, his expression more confident now, took the lead again, his voice rising with energy:  

“But you're movin' so carefully, let's start livin' dangerously”  

All jumped in unison, their arms shooting upward as they hit a dynamic pose, each of them smiling broadly as the music surged.

“Talk to me, baby  

I'm goin' blind from this sweet-sweet cravin', whoa-oh  

Let's lose our minds and go fuckin' crazy”  

Their movements were synchronized, their feet bouncing to the beat, before they all thrust one hand into the air as if grabbing hold of the energy around them.

“I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (uh)”  

John and Bruce locked eyes and danced side by side, walking toward the audience playfully as the music picked up. They mimed a runway walk, adding swagger to their steps.

“Walk for me, baby  

I'll be Diddy, you'll be Naomi, whoa-oh  

Let's lose our minds and go fuckin' crazy  

I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (uh)”  

As they sang, Branch stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Branch's movements were fluid, and he mimed licking frosting off his hand, giving a cheeky smile to the crowd as they cheered in response.

“Goddamn  

See you lickin' frostin' from your own hands  

Want another taste, I'm beggin', ‘Yes, ma'am’”  

Suddenly, Cooper spun onto the stage, his arms out like airplane wings as he danced in wide, spiraling circles. His energy was infectious, drawing excited cheers from the audience as he sang:

“I'm tired of all this candy on the dry land, dry land, ooh”  

Without missing a beat, Cooper continued to twirl and jump around the stage, tossing glowing sticks into the crowd with every movement, his voice staying perfectly steady as he danced:

“Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece (huh)  

You should be rollin' with me, you should be rollin' with me (ah-ah-ah)”  

The lights dimmed for a moment, leaving only the glowsticks that were tossed around by the excited crowd. As the lights came back up, Branch returned to the front, his voice taking on a carefree tone as he joined in:

“But you're movin' so carefully, let's start livin' dangerously (whoa-oh)”  

In the background, Synth appeared high above, swinging and spinning on a rope, holding a bucket filled with glowsticks. With a theatrical swing, he tossed the glowsticks into the air, scattering them across the stage and into the crowd. The Techno Trolls reached out eagerly, waving their hands in the air, glowing even brighter as they caught the lightsticks.

The band didn't miss a beat as the glowsticks rained down, lighting up the stage with a neon rainbow. Brozilla with additional special guest Bruce sang in perfect harmony, their movements sharp and synchronized:

“Talk to me, baby  

I'm goin' blind from this sweet-sweet cravin', whoa-oh  

Let's lose our minds and go fuckin' crazy (ah)”  

They danced forward, jumping in unison once more, before stopping to point dramatically at the cheering crowd.

“I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (uh)”  

John and Bruce did a playful side-step, gesturing for the crowd to walk with them as they all continued to sing.

“Walk for me, baby (walk for me now)  

I'll be Diddy, you'll be Naomi, whoa-oh  

Let's lose our minds and go fuckin' crazy  

I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean”  

Branch and Bruce exchanged glances, surprised at how well everything was flowing, but the joy of the moment crept onto their faces as they couldn’t help but smile singing in together.

“Hey, you're funkin delicious”  

They both laughed mid-performance, their voices still steady despite the excitement, while the glowsticks continued to swirl around them.

“Talk to me, girl  

Talk to me, baby (talk to me, baby)”  

The crowd's energy seemed to rise with every note as the band reached the final stretch. John led the group forward once more, their steps synced and their voices blending effortlessly.

All sing in the following.

“I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (hey) (uh)  

Walk for me, baby (walk for me now)  

I'll be Diddy, you'll be Naomi, whoa-oh  

Let's lose our minds and go (and go what?), fuckin' crazy (that's right)”  

The final chorus boomed as they hit the peak of their performance, glowsticks raining down like fireworks, casting neon colors across the stage.

“I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (ah, yeah)”  

As they wrapped up the song, John, Bruce, Branch, and Cooper all struck one final pose, arms in the air, wide smiles plastered across their faces as the crowd erupted in cheers.

Branch singing the last part, as they all slowly part wave pose for this is end of their song

“Red velvet, vanilla, chocolate in my life  

Funfetti, I'm ready, I need it every night  

Red velvet, vanilla, chocolate in my life  

I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean (uh)”  

Everyone cheered as they trolled with their glow sticks. The brothers stood hand in hand in a line, staring out at the cheering, unique crowd. It wasn’t every day they got to perform with a different tribe by their side.

Branch huffed, looking around at his brothers. He held onto the Cooper’s scarf, which acted like a hand with John at the end of the line, where he saw Cooper and John exchanging glances before laughing. Branch turned his gaze to the beginning of the line, spotting Bruce, who was at the edge of his vision. Bruce glanced at Branch, turned slightly, then smiled brightly. Branch couldn’t help but smile at Bruce's expression. They held their hands up as the crowd continued to cheer.

The brothers danced on the floor, with Cooper and Branch accompanying Bruce, who was showing off some moves he had learned from the actioner. This was much to Branch’s embarrassment, but Cooper encouraged him.

As the rave continued, Trollex stepped away from the DJ booth, making room for someone to take over and keep the party moving.

Meanwhile, Trollex approached John, who was kneeling by one of the speakers, checking the sound levels to ensure a good flow for the party. “You know,” Trollex began, 

“I wasn’t sure about this at first. Mixing our tribes... it’s not something we’ve done before… in a centuries.”

John glanced up at him. “Yeah, I figured. We Pop Trolls have had our fair share of, uh, isolation, but we still got it.”

Trollex nodded and sat beside him, looking at him hesitantly. “Exactly. But I’m glad you’re here. I can tell you’re passionate about music, and that’s something I respect.” He paused, his eyes bright with excitement. 

“Think you’d be up for performing with us for the next round? I’ve heard good things about the Pop Tribe’s harmonies with other genre, you think you can live up to that textbook.”

John stood, brushing the sand off his hands. “We’d love to. Just let us know when to jump in again.”

Branch walked over to them, trying to hide the embarrassment from his brothers’ dance moves while catching some strange glances from the techno trolls around them. Some shot familiar looks at Bruce, and John overheard their conversation, groaning, “Great. More singing.”

John elbowed him playfully. “Come on, Branch. You know you love it.”

Branch smirked but didn’t argue.

The techno trolls, once wary of their Pop Tribe guests, were now mingling freely, exchanging ideas and jokes as they worked together to bring the rave to life. The contrast between the neon glow of the Techno Tribe and the vibrant colors of the Pop Tribe created a unique and beautiful blend, symbolizing the unlikely but growing connection between the two groups.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the first beat dropped, and the rave began in full force, with the Techno and Pop Trolls united under the pulsing lights and the rhythm of the music, proving that even the most different of tribes could come together for one epic night.

“So, the Popes,” one of the trolls said, glancing over.

“It seems, they’re singing together,” another replied, hissing in shock.

“Yeah, no kidding dingus! 

But I must say, it looks like we’re not too far off from being united.” A smile crept onto the princess's face. 

“But it’s going to take a lot of work, trust, and effort. I’m sure we can all catch melodies all UNITED under ONE rule. ROCK!”

Cheers, growls, and roars echoed in the air.

“ROCK  ROCK ROCK!” The crowd cheered and whistled, rallying for their princess. The king within the crowd could only nod; his daughter always had the fire to lead the trolls. He might as well give her the opportunity to experience it.

“ROCK WILL RULE THE WORLD!” she shouted, her voice rising above the ocean of cheers as they rode back toward their base. The world tour was inevitable; they were all destined to come together as ONE.

As the party continued, the moon began to hang high in the sky. The brothers made their way back to their hut, the youngest already drooping with sleep, while the eldest helped him along, navigating their way home. The familiar scents of floral and burnt wood welcomed them, bringing comfort to them all. John nodded, bringing in Cooper, who was helping him up toward their shared room, leaving Branch and Bruce in the living room.

“Man, I feel famished. What do you say if I make some snacks?” Bruce suggested.

Branch nodded as they both climbed up toward the counter. They shuffled around the equipment, seemingly putting together a cheese platter with fruit on the side. They grabbed some leftover bread and mashed avocado, bringing it all up on a plate. Both snatched snacks and headed toward the kitchen table, where they took a seat.

“You still got it,” Branch commented, munching on a cheese cracker with a generous dollop of jam. It might have been him or his home, but sometimes living among the Pop Village made him crave something sweet on occasion.

“Looks like those boy band practices are still embedded in me. Or... I’m just naturally gifted,” Bruce replied, making a funny face that caused Branch to laugh.

“I’m glad you’re here. I just wish John would have extended the stay just a bit longer; we could have really done some rock climbing.” Bruce said.

“John wanted to rock climb?” Branch ask.

“Yeah, he didn’t ever tell you?”

“No.”

They all stayed quiet in the kitchen, munching on their snacks. Bruce glanced back at Branch and saw a Branch much younger, the last time he ever see him. A twinge of guilt built up inside him as he reflected on their past.

“I’m sorry, Branch,” Bruce muttered, looking away.

“What?” Branch asked, looking up from grabbing another slice.

“No, it’s nothing.” Bruce shrugged, but Branch gave him a sidelong glance before continuing to munch on his food.

They heard footsteps, and Branch stood up quickly, glancing toward the edge of the table, nodding as Bruce looked at him curiously. Branch jumped down, and for a moment, it was still before a familiar figure, John, appeared at the edge of the table, approaching the food platter.

Bruce gave him a curious look as he noted that Branch and John were wearing identical goggles while they all sat close together.

“Finally, I’m starving!” John announced, helping himself to a makeshift sandwich with questionable ingredients, but who was going to stop him?

“Why did Branch have to help you? Did age finally catch up to you, Doriander?” Bruce teased.

John let out a nervous chuckle, only humming as he munched on his sandwich. Branch leaned slightly closer to John, but still positioned himself between Bruce and John as they all enjoyed the nourishment at hand. The party had taken a toll on them.

“John, if you’re hurt, I can let you borrow some cream if you want. It’s so good it’ll make your skin feel like baby skin,” Bruce offered.

“Oh, um, thanks,” John replied, a bit surprised.

Bruce nodded, moving down the table as Branch looked worriedly toward John.

“Did you finally tell him about the incident?” Branch asked.

“No, I don’t think so, and I doubt Cooper knows anything about it either. I guess he just knows about the scars. I mean he grown up with it, but it not hard to connect the dotes,” John replied quietly.

“I wish that never happened,” Branch said softly.

“I know,” John echoed.

“I wish I could have done...” Branch looked away, legs crossed together, as John scooted closer. Branch leaned in toward his brother. 

“We done all we could, it’s just out of our hands.”

They felt safe under the kitchen light illuminating above them, creating a cozy atmosphere that made them forget about the world outside, their focus entirely on each other.