Disclaimer: Don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.
Big thanks to Daylighteclipsed for letting me use the Morgana!Claire idea. You can find them on tumblr at Check them out!Another big thanks to my beta reader Charlie. They are awesome and helped me with my grammar and storytelling.
Chapter 1
He is sixteen when he notices it.
The changes are gradual. Falling asleep in classes, not doing her homework on time, but those are to be expected when you spend your nights preparing for Gunmar and his army. Even Jim struggles to keep his school life and Trollhunter life separate.
When she begins to forget things, however, he starts to worry.
At first, it is only the small things, like what they had for dinner the night before, or when their next Spanish test is. Later, he starts mixing up which troll is which, or not remembering her best friends' names.
Every time she uses the Skathe-Hrün she changes, bit by bit. The black veins around her eyes take longer and longer to disappear.
He should have paid more attention.
Jim chalks it up to stress when her personality begins to switch from hot to cold without warning.
Mood swings, Toby says, you know how girls are.
He is a foolish and naïve boy back hen; he still believes he can save everyone.
It is when she murders Bagdwella with the staff and disappears that he should have given up.
He doesn't.
Toby, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH! try to be there for him, try to comfort him. It's no use. The remaining Trollmarket trolls want vengeance; he just wants his girlfriend back.
Still relying on the hope that he can bring her back, he leaves his friends, believing that it will only take a while before he's back with Claire, safe and sound. How stupid of him to think so. He followed the same kind of reasoning in the Darklands and look where that led him?
History repeats itself as they say. He doesn't tell his mom and friends goodbye. It is one of his greatest regrets.
It takes days, weeks to find her, but when he does, he almost doesn't recognize her.
The black veins around her eyes are now visible and prominent, making her skin look translucent. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun, though a few ringlets have fallen out, framing her gorgeous face. The expression on her face is not a welcome one.
Even as a monster, she is beautiful.
They fight; he tries to talk to her, but she mocks hi, her words as painful as her magic. Again and again he returns to that cave, begging for her to return. It is a dance, almost—he enters her domain, she strikes at him and he avoids. Over and over, until both are left gasping for air.
It is as if his words are to no avail; nothing he says reaches her.
Regardless, Jim never hits her back. Claire is his girlfriend. Hope is still on his side.
This is long before her first followers arrive, before he understands the truth about the girl he loves.
It is only when the possessed Draal comes, knocking her to the ground, that he truly lets go. It all happens so quickly, even she is surprised at the blue troll's sudden appearance. Seeing her there, blood running down her temple, makes something in him crack. Perhaps it is stress, perhaps it is anger—either way, he unleashes hell on his former friend, the damn that holds back his emotions springing free.
The battle is intense; the longest he's ever fought thus far.
But he is the Trollhunter. He still hesitates to make the final blow. It is only when his old friend gives him no other option except death that he sinks the blade into the troll's heart.
It is traumatic. He imagines Kanjigar screaming in anguish in the back of his mind.
Jim wins and loses at the same time. It is the first of many.
Hot, wet tears stream down his face at the end. He vomits next to his friend's mangled body. Draal didn't deserve to go out like this. None of his words got to the troll. He was too far gone for Jim to save. These are the words he tells himself.
They don't stem the guilt however. It hurts like a knife to his heart. Jim has kiled one of his friends. What would Toby, AAARRRGGHH! and Blinky think of him now?
He blames Gunmar (but secretly, he blames himself).
Claire calls for him meekly, looking at him with those eyes—the kind of eyes any man would get sucked into. He is at her side in seconds, searching for injuries.
"Oh Jim," she says, and he cries harder, because it's her, it's really her. Brown and clear, like the day he first met her.
Jim strokes her cheek, "Claire."
And then she's gone, snuffed out by cold, calculating purple.
"You saved me." There is wonder in her tone. It is not Claire who is speaking.
"I saved Claire," he corrects her.
He can almost hear the gears turning in her head, face contemplative.
"Gunmar and I are in a disagreement of sorts," she says. "He'll come for me again, with more assassins next time. My children have yet to appear and I—"
"Give me back Claire," he interrupts.
"You dare—"
"Please," he begs, voice low. "I-I love her."
The words slip out on their own accord.
Her eyes widen a fraction, but that is the only reaction he receives at his declaration.
"Then prove it," she demands, pushing herself up and away, blending back into the darkness from which she came.
And he tries.
It is lonely—almost suffocating really. Days go by before another of Gunmar's men comes and he is forced to kill that one as well. On the positive side, it doesn't bother him as much as killing Draal did; it is still unpleasant and distressing to do though. His stomach curdles, however he resists throwing up.
Around this time her people arrive.
He thinks them human until they change in front of her, bent down on one knee and pledging their loyalty in Trollspeak. Changelings. He doesn't recognize any of them but they certainly know him.
Thankfully, her followers ignore him, too focused on their tasks. It is, in some ways, a relief. He does not want to fight them too. Claire, or the person in Claire's body—he can never be too sure—merely watches him. An improvement from before, he tells himself.
Boredom grips him during the day, so he trains in the woodlands nearby, never leaving for more than a few hours' time to find food and drink to sustain himself.
Once, he leaves his phone in his backpack near the river to bath. Both are gone when he returns. He searches for them for days, weeks even. How else is he going to contact his friends and family?
In the end, he gives up on ever finding either again. It doesn't matter, he reasons. Once Claire is returned to her former self they can go home.
Speaking of, his girlfriend barely spares him a moment's time to talk and usually it is only in response to his questions; it agonizes him.
Jim misses home, his mom, his best friend. He misses AAARRRGGHH!'s gentle smiles and Blinky's lectures. He contemplates giving up, to return home, but his desire to save her always wins out. It is in his nature to never give up on his loved ones.
It is his greatest strength.
And later, his worst weakness.
The attacks increase in force and ferocity. He grows stronger, striking down her enemies with a flash of his blade. With every death it becomes less difficult. They were Gunmar's men, he tells himself, bad trolls he would ultimately have to kill anyways. It is much easier to deal with the devil you know than the devil you don't. He believes that with each swing of his sword he comes closer and closer to freeing his girlfriend.
He has always been good at daydreaming.
It is when she revives Angor Rot that he loses his patience. How could she? It is when he begins to doubt.
The night is dark and foggy when he starts off for the journey home. She must have noticed his silence at the resurrection, because he runs into her in the forest.
She is ethereal, the glow of her eyes and staff matched only by the shine by his amulet.
"Jim, where are you going?"
"Don't you dare," he says coldly, avoiding her gaze. "You brought him back, after all we've done? Angor Rot tried to kill me. He tried to kill my mom. Hell, he tried to kill all of us! And for what? Is Claire even in there anymore?"
Fingers weave through his hair; he startles at the sensation. It had been forever since someone touched him.
"I feel so lost, so confused," she whispers in his ear. He shudders at how close she is. "So many memories. I'm not even sure who I am anymore."
"You're Claire," he insists, "You're my girlfriend. You like Papa Skull and guacamole. A-and you have a light brother, and a mom and dad. Your best friends are—"
Her lips silence him. It is soft and hesitant, as if she would break at even the slightest of touches.
Jim melts into the kiss. It has been so long since she has last kissed him. His arms encircle her waist. Warmth fills his being. He has forgotten how nice hugs are.
"Only you. You are the only one I can't kill," she admits. "I have sent dozens of Trollhunters to their deaths and yet, when when I look at you, I cannot bring myself to even consider the notion. Why is that I wonder? Have Claire and I become so intertwined that her feelings now influence mine?"
"You..." His eyes search hers. "Who are you exactly?"
She tilts her heads to the side, lips pulled into a secretive smile. Her fingertips travel down to his face. "I'm known by many names."
A chill runs down his spine. The air becomes thick with what he will later associate as her magic. As of now, it reminds him of burning wood and incense.
"Then what would you like me to call you?" He asks.
The purple of her eyes lightens.
"Morgana," she says after a long moment.
"And who are you, Morgana?"
"I'm many things," she says wistfully.
Answers, he later learns, are never easy with Morgana.
He goes in a different direction. "Where's Claire? What have you done with her?"
Not-Claire drums her fingers across his shoulder, staring directly into his eyes. "Your girlfriend and I are one now."
"Is there any way you can just separate from her?" He asks. "I'll do anything."
"It would kill both of us."
He wants to cry. His eyes even begin to water. A black-nailed finger catches one of his stray tears. She brings it to her mouth and laps at it like a feline. Disgust blossoms in his stomach but he suppresses it. It is another stark reminder that Morgana is not Claire.
She sighs, switching her gaze to the sky. "I simply want to protect my people. I didn't mean to take over your girlfriend. It was an accident."
He laughs darkly, "An accident or a convenience?"
"Do you hate me?" Morgana says, voice wavering slightly. Her hands tighten on his shoulders.
"I," he swallows, looking away, "I don't know."
He wants to, but every time he looks at her he sees Claire. Her eyes, her nose, her smile—it's all there.
"She loves you."
The lingering hope in his chest swells.
"She does?"
"Yes, so much. I can hear her, even now." She says, and he believes her, because what else could he do?
"Tell her…tell her I love her too. That I'll never betray her. I'm hers, forever and always." And he means it.
"Then you'll stay?" She asks, and its Claire's voice, and he's the happiest he's been in weeks. "Here with me?"
"Where else would Romeo be than with his Juliet?" He jokes. Later on, he would curse how easily he falls, how gullible he is. He still thinks he could do it alone.
She emits a small laugh, light and dainty. "Thank you, my Trollhunter."
And then he is hers.