The grub didn't have a name. This should be a surprise for absolutely no one. None of them did, even the ones with the strong blood that hid in the pools of the cavern or the ones with big fierce horns everyone knew to hide from. But this male was anything but remarkable. He was small in both body and horns and was the lowest of the lowbloods. The only mildly interesting fact was that he'd made it that far being so pathetic.

If that was by any skill or talent of his nobody noticed. For the most part the other grubs just ignored him. Maybe it was because with his weird color it was assumed he'd taste funny and he couldn't possibly be a real threat anyway. Still, sometimes he thought he might have seen pity flash across the others' faces when they looked at him, and that maybe that was why they'd leave little bits of their kills behind for him to scavenge from. Even if he could have produced words he wouldn't have dared ask, just in case they changed their minds and decided to kill him.

But they didn't. A sweep and a half passed and he kept pace with what had survived of his clutch. That was for the most part thanks to a bizarre highblood who honked instead of squeaked, would nuzzle him affectionately, and seemed to derive great joy from killing others in increasingly creative and disturbing methods (the grub didn't like how he would waste the blood and some of the guts painting himself and the walls, but the highblood let him help himself when he was finished). What had started as more than anyone could count had been narrowed down to a few dozen. And the tall adults – the ones who watched their progress and sometimes brought them rotting meat, but not enough, never enough and not as good to eat even though he couldn't bear to touch the dead unless someone else already ate the eyes and the face – had said over and over again that the real challenge would come after.

After what they'd never bothered to explain, but the grub could feel in his chitin that something was coming soon and he was scared. This wasn't like his other molts, when everything would grow gradually tighter until he couldn't stand it anymore and climbed up somewhere high and gulp enough air to split his skin open. (God did he hate that. Not only was it uncomfortable beforehand, but until his exoskeleton hardened up he lived in even greater fear than usual. He'd had several very close calls where he was sure he'd be eaten until his highblood came out of nowhere and turned the tables on his attackers). Now he was hungry all the time and could sense his highblood was too, but thankfully he never turned against him. In fact he was acting quite generous, sometimes offering him the good parts for a change. He must have felt it too. If only the grub had any clue as to what it was.

One night he woke up with the urge to climb. So he gently woke his highblood and the two of them crawled together up the side of the cavern wall and found nice solid stalactites. Once he was there he felt his saliva grow thicker. He spit up at his feet and the white – why white? – stringy substance stuck to him. He felt more and more welling up and he continued to spit, covering himself in a thick warm cocoon. It was completely exhausting. The moment he was finished and tucked safely inside he fell into a deep, still sleep.

He dreamt of a bizarre landscape. The air was hot and dry on his skin, and instead of comforting walls there was nothing but open space in every direction. He couldn't see where the ceiling started and instead of grayish it was bluish purple with tiny spots of white. Then he realized that the ground was further away too. He looked down, and instead of seeing the edge of his bright red carapace he found a four-limbed form, the same color as the other grubs' faces. Was he an adult now? Is that what happened? If so, where were those coverings the other adults used?

"You'll get them soon enough."

The grub looked up and jumped. The man in front of him was massive. The grub scarcely reached his knee. And he had cloth on: a long black tight thing covering his legs and torso with a long swooshy grey thing draped over his shoulder, both with bright red accents. The grub knew that red. It was the same that his blood and carapace were, but instead of red and yellow the adult's eyes were a wide, milky white.

He opened his mouth and found that he was somehow able to make his words come out, "Are you older me?"

The man smiled, showing off long white fangs. The grub tried not to show fear. "No."

"Who are you, then?"

"No one that matters. Not anymore."

"You sure sound like me," The grub huffed.

"I've been dead a long time, little one," He sat down so the two of them were closer to eye-level. "It's hard to stay relevant after that. You're the one that matters now."

"Me? What do I do?" The grub smiled, "D-do I grow up to be awesome?"

The troll smiled back. "In this and every universe. You are more important than you could possibly imagine."

"Woah. But I- I'm a rustblood. We're never important."

"Actually, you're not."

The grub squeaked and tipped his head to the side.

"You and I are outside of the hemospectrum all together. They're going to call you a mutant, a mistake, everything they called me and worse. If they find out they'll cull you because they'd think you're an abomination. But they're wrong. You're a miracle. And we have a power the highbloods fear."

"So… was my highblood afraid of me, then?"

"No. He has a role to play in what is to come as well. Perhaps he senses your importance. Or perhaps he remembers…"

"Remembers what?"

"It's hard to say. You didn't hatch like the others, so it's possible subconsciously he can recall that. But more likely, I think, it's from you're last life. You've lived once before, you know. In another world, another time. So did I, and I remember clearly that once we were in opposite places before the birth of this universe."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

He laughed. "'heck' sounds so weird coming from you."

"Am I that polite when I grow up?"

The troll bent over laughing for way too long. The grub wondered what he said that was so gosh darn funny. Eventually the man sat back up and shook his head.

"It's not important. What is important is that you know that you need to survive. Giving up isn't an option."

"Why would it be? I don't wanna die!"

"I know you don't. But things will become more difficult as time passes. But I shall remain here, and I shall care for you."

"What about my lusus? Won't I get one of them?"

"Don't worry, you'll have one. My followers made sure of that. I shall protect and guide you in your dreams. I'll keep out the monsters that will plague your fellows as long as you'll have me."

"You are making no stinking sense."

"I'm a seer. We tend not to."

"Well that's just silly!"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Light flashed across the sky. The troll looked up, eyes wide.

"Fuck!"

"Ooh, what's that word mean? I like it!"

The man looked back down at the grub. "Oh, what have I done?"

"Fuck!" the grub said, clapping his hands and smiling, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-"

"Hush!"

The grub hushed.

"We don't have much more time here. I have something important to tell you before I leave. They're the same words you told me a long, long time ago."

The grub nodded and stood up straight and tall. The troll leaned forward and whispered in his ear, and the troll tried to commit it to memory. As the color bleached from the world, the troll stood back up.

"Whenever you dream, say my name and I shall appear."

"But I don't know your name!"

The troll smiled and for just a moment his eyes seemed to fill back in, red irises burning into the grub's mind. "Kankri."

And then everything was white.

After a few moments, the world refocused itself with little lines and deviations in the white. The grub had to blink two or three times before he realized he was awake. It was done. He'd pupated. With a smile he knocked his head against the weak point of the cocoon. It didn't move. He headbutted it again. It still didn't move.

He growled. Come the fuck on. Hadn't he just had a dream about not dying? And starving to death in your own cocoon was a fucking dumb way to go.

But wow, that word made him feel better!

He kept struggling and struggling. He even tried using his teeth, but his mouth couldn't open wide enough. Then right in front of his face slid a long, beautifully curved, harshly serrated horn that pulled the entire front off of his cocoon. There, clinging to the ceiling, was his highblood, strands of cocoon stuck in his horns and hair. The grub reached out and pulled it away.

"G'morning, brother," His highblood said. "You have a nice nap?"

The grub ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth, trying to find the words that had come so easily in the dream. "Yeah. T-thanks for that."

"Huh? Couldn't make that out, best friend!"

The grub shouted, "I FUCKING SAID THANKS!"

"Oh! Well, you're welcome! That's a nice word. I like that word. Needs a little more. Maybe 'mother'? Motherfucking? Oh hell yes."

"What's a mother?" He had to repeat himself louder, but eventually it got through.

The highblood grinned widely, "Well, if you're going to be asking things like that you gotta ask why we know how to talk, or why we dream. It's all motherfucking miracles."

The grub looked around, seeing nothing but empty cocoons. "W-where is everyone?"

"Oh, man they already left! I thought I'd stay 'round for you."

"What?! They've all started?! We'll never make it!"

"Ah, you just gotta believe in –"

"If you say miracles I am going to cull you with my bare hands!" Shit, fuck, why did he say that?!

The highblood laughed. "I like you more that we you can talk, brother!"

The grub let out a sigh of relief and the two of them dropped. By the time they reached the weapons storage, as suspected, there was almost nothing left. The highblood picked up- were those juggling clubs? But the grub laid eyes on something more elegant.

He wrapped his new hands around the sickles. He whispered to himself the words Kankri had said, hoping for reassurance.

And he repeated them over and over and over again, becoming a prayer, then a charm, and finally a mantra. The highblood made it through every trial with a sleepy sort of grin on his face, but the grub felt like he was going to pass out. There was blood everywhere, corpses of beasts and trolls alike strewn about. It took a herculean effort to ignore the macabre rainbow at his feet and continue forward. The rhythm of the words and thoughts carried him forward until finally he was confronted with a giant white crab monster, behaving nothing like the other things he'd fought in his trials.

It lowered its head so he was looking straight into his eyes. The grub swallowed, feeling the same fear as when he first laid eyes on Kankri. It reached forward and touched his face with one of the feelers near its mandibles. The grub gripped his sickles more tightly. Fuck, it was going to snap his head off between his giant pincers and he couldn't even move. Then the crab pulled the grub towards him gently, churring out something that sounded like "Krrk't"

It was official then. Karkat embraced his lusus and allowed it to guide him up and away. A tall, radiant female jadeblood met him there. He was treated to a warm bath to wash away the blood and given clothes with a gray mark – his caste's symbol, she said – stitched onto the chest. She gave him a look he could only describe as bittersweet and told him what he already knew.

"Your name is Karkat Vantas now," she said. "You shan't have an easy life, my child. Keep yourself secret. K-keep yourself safe."

He nodded like she'd told him some deep secret and she left him to dress himself. The clothes felt weird, rough and a little constricting. But they were warm and it was what the adults did, so he dealt with it. By the time he entered the final chamber the others were standing and staring at the matron. With a jolt he recognized her as the same jadeblood that had waited on him. Were they really that short staffed? Good thing there was one of them in this clutch.

She started to address them, but it was the glory of the empire stuff they'd all heard before, so Karkat started to count and take stock of the survivors. There were twelve of them total from just about the entire length of the spectrum. Some he recognized, some, including the seadwellers, he didn't. His highblood stood on the other side of the room, shoulders rolled forward and eyes blank.

Eventually she started talking about what would be happening next so he had to listen and take close mental notes. When she finished the stone doors were opened. The night sky beckoned. Karkat wanted to go to his district, build his hive, and begin. But his highblood stopped him first.

"So, what's your name?"

"Karkat Vantas. You?"

"Gamzee Makara. I like your name, brother. We've gotta keep in touch."

Karkat blinked at him. "But you're-"

"I know. But blood don't mean nothing. I been talking to all of these motherfuckers, and we're gonna keep talking. It's gonna be a motherfucking multicultural miracle. So many ms."

"Uh-huh. Okay. I- I guess I'll talk to you on that trollian thing?"

"Sounds like a motherfucking plan. But before you head off with your crabdad, I gotta know: what were you saying that whole time?"

"It's not important."

"Come on, best friend."

Well, he supposed he owed it to him. Karkat pulled out his sickles and turned them so they reflected the green moonlight onto his face. He stared down at his reflection before turning back to Gamzee and smiling.

"My name is Karkat Vantas, and I am going to save the fucking world."

THIS STORY MADE ME SO ANGRY!
SO VERY ANGRY!
I WANTED MORE ON METAMORPHOSIS
MY BIOLOGY PROFESSOR DID NOT GIVE ME MUCH ABOUT METAMORPHOSIS!
AHHHHHHHH

Anyway, I hoped you liked my brooding cavern headcanon.