Monsters
Rating: T
Pairing: Strickler/Jim
Summary: it's been two years since the fall of Gunmar. Jim has adapted to his trollhood and his leadership within the new Trollmarket. When Claire leaves him, tired of an extraordinary life, Jim returns home to find comfort in his family, and perhaps to find comfort in someone else.
Prologue
Jim was tired. It had been a long day, even for him. Colonizing a new Heartstone and reestablishing a new Trollmarket had taken its toll on the young Trollhunter. The city was flourishing, everyone was happy, finally at peace. There was no bridge to guard, no dark evil awaiting in the darkness, but in its place was a sense of paranoia, of fear. Trolls were like the rock they were from: steadfast, hard to change. For months there was a fear that something else evil was going to show its face, that somehow the newly transformed trollhunter would fail at his task to protect his people in a new place. New Jersey was different, louder with the subways, and harder to stay unnoticed. But with Blinky guiding them, the trolls flourished. New homes, new dark gardens, new colonies of gnomes to harass trollwives. But Jim was tired.
He trudged home slowly, picking at his still foreign fangs. He knew Claire wasnt happy. She had become sullen after a while in Trollmarket. She missed the sunlight. She missed her family and friends. The letters from Darci had become less frequent, the girl had afterall been accepted to her top college and didn't have the time to text constantly with Claire. Jim still talked to Toby, and his mother, but the duties of Trollhunter made it difficult.
With a sigh, Jim unlocked the front door to his and Claire's small hut, expecting the smell of troll draught, a common scent recently to Jim. Instead, he was greeted with dying embers and the stale scent of last night's supper.
"Claire?" Jim called into the darkness. He felt the amulet flicker on his chest. He turned on the lights to the living room and found an empty couch. Often Claire would sleep on the couch awaiting his return. But she was nowhere. Jim searched the hut, on edge but not surprised. Claire often went out as of late, and would stumble home drunk on troll draught in the early morning.
Jim sighed, abandoning his search for his girlfriend. He stripped from his armor, willing it into the amulet, before setting it on the bedside table and trudging to closet to put away his clothes. A strange side effect of his trollhood was his affinity for being unclothed. Much of the time of he was at home, he was naked. It felt natural somehow, however for Claire's sake he would often don boxers while at home.
He pulled open the closet doors and paused. It was half empty. All that was left was a few of Jim's articles of clothing. Taped to one of the empty hangers, however, was a slip of paper and written on it in familiar handwriting, was a letter. Jim frowned, and plucked the letter from the hanger, sat back on the bed, and read.
"My Romeo,
I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. But I'm lonely. I miss the sunlight. I miss my parents and I miss Darci. This isn't what I thought it would be. This is too much. I'm going home, and I know you can't follow. I love you, but I don't love this..."
Whatever else was written turned to dust in Jim's hand. He felt hot tears in his eyes and let them fall, steaming on the bedspread. She was gone. Claire has given up. Jim felt his fangs cut into his lip. They had been through so much and yet this is what broke her?
Jim let loose a short snarl of pain, and then swiftly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and fled from his home, one destination in mind: the slaughtered cat.
Mr. Blinky was awoken by a loud crash.
"What in the name of Merlin?!" He cried, half leaping out of bed. An enormous shape loomed in the shadows. "Oh it's just you." Mr. Blinky relaxed, recognizing Arrrrgh in the gloom. "And pray tell what incited this most auspicious midnight visit?" Mr. Blinky asked, turning on the bedside table.
The light illuminated the concerned look on the great troll's stony face. Mr. Blinky knew that expression.
Mr. Blinky sighed, getting to his feet and rubbing three of his many eyes. "Jim?" Arrrgh nodded. "Slaughtered Cat?" Another nod. "Well I suppose there's only one thing to be done."
The Slaughtered Cat was situated on the edge of Trollmarket, a seedy place where people went to drink, and cause trouble, and slip away unnoticed. It was an entirely worthless place, in Mr. Blinky's opinion. However Jim somehow managed to find himself there every time he was overwhelmed by his responsibilities as Trollhunter. And every single time he went, inevitably he would say the wrong thing to the wrong troll and a fight would ensue, only stopped by Arrrgh stepping in.
Tonight however, it was especially bad. Mr. Blinky could hear the commotion long before the Slaughtered Cat came into view. Screams, roars, breaking glass and crashing furniture noises filled the night air. Mr. Blinky and Arrrgh paused at the door to the bar. Mr. Blinky sighed. "Ready, friend?" He asked, glancing upwards.
Arrrgh rolled his shoulders, and nodded. They swung the wide doors open and beheld chaos.
There was not a piece of furniture not broken, not a glass uncracked. Beer stained the walls and in fact pieces of the walls were missing entirely. Trolls heaved and crashed together like great boulders. And there, in the middle of it, beer mug in one hand, eyes flashing red, and teeth bared, roaring like a beast, was Jim. He grabbed a troll by the scruff of his neck and with a snarl, threw the poor beast over his shoulder with an enormous crash.
"James Lake Junior, you stop this ridiculous behavior at once!" Roared Mr. Blinky. Jim's hazy eyes focused on Blinky for just a moment, and then another troll sent Jim flying across the bar. "Jim!" Mr. Blinky ran to where Jim had disappeared over the bar, and found the Trollhunter in an undignified pile, wiping bright red blood from his mouth and nose.
"What the devil is wrong with you, Master Jim?" Mr. Blinky asked softly, kneeling down to swipe glass from Jim's thick black hair.
"Sh'gun." Mumbled Jim.
"Pardon?" Mr. Blinky helped Jim to his feet.
Jim shoved Mr. Blinky with a snarl. "She's gone!"
Mr. Blinky stumbled back. "Who?"
Jim spat blood onto the ground, wobbling unsteadily.
"Claire!" His voice hitched, all the fight leaving him. "Claire went home." He sat down again, tears coming to his eyes.
Mr. Blinky knelt beside his pupil, placing two hands on his shoulder, "Oh Master Jim, I'm so sorry. I am so terribly sorry."
Jim looked up at him, his bluish face streaked with tears. Mr. Blinky was guilty of sometimes forgetting that despite the things that Jim had accomplished, despite all he had been through, Jim was still just a boy. Mr. Blinky sighed, and pulled the boy into an embrace. He felt Jim shake through his tears. And then his body stilled.
"Come, Master Jim." Mr. Blinky helped the lad to his feet. Jim wasn't crying anymore, in fact his face was blank and his eyes were dull. "Let's get you home." He began to lead Jim out of the Slaughtered Cat.
Right as Mr. Blinky and Arrrgh had gotten Jim out onto the street, Jim faltered. He stood poised for a moment.
"Jim?" Arrrgh asked, tilting his head.
And then Jim bolted. "Jim!" Cried Mr. Blinky, reaching out to stop the boy. He had already disappeared.
"Let him go." Rumbled Arrrgh, "Jim need time."
Mr. Blinky sighed, rubbing his forehead. "What will the boy do now?"
Jim couldn't recall how he managed to get to the surface world, or how he managed to get back to Arcadia, but somehow he found himself standing outside of the Nuñez's home. It was dark, everyone was asleep. Jim knew somewhere in that house, Claire was also sleeping soundly. Jim's eyes pricked, and he stumbled foreword. A strong clawed hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. Jim looked up and was greeted by a familiar green, behorned face.
"Strickler?!" Jim leapt away from his former nemesis, a snarl on his lips.
"Your friends said they thought I'd find you here." Strickler mused, "and as charming as your company usually is, I don't think Miss Nuñez would appreciate it in your current state." Strickler's nose crinkled. "I see youve embraced the troll pastime of drunken brawling." Strickler observed in his usual condescending baritone.
"Fuck off, Strickler!" Jim snarled, ripping his shoulder away from Strickler's grip. The sudden movement made Jim's head spin, and he wobbled unsteadily, almost losing his footing. Strickler reaches out to steady his former pupil. But he was met with another low snarl.
Strickler's glowing yellow eyes narrowed, and his lip rose as he met Jim's growl with his own, baring sharp teeth. "You may be the savior of mankind," Strickler hissed, "but right now you are nothing more than an inebriated fool with no plan other than to harass and probably scar a family who's just happy to have their daughter back." He roughly grabbed Jim by both shoulders and stared directly into the trollhunter's pale blue eyes. "Come along, Trollhunter, it's time to go home."
Jim tried to wrestle himself out of Strickler's grasp, but for all his trollhood, Strickler was still stronger, partly due to his own drunken state.
"Still always one to fight." Strickler muttered, almost to himself. "You did this to yourself, boy." He hissed at Jim before rearing back his head and head butting Jim, hard.
Jim immediately went limp in Strickler's arms, head lolling to one side. Strickler adjusted his grip on his former pupil, and unfurled his large black wings. With little more sound than the rustle of wind, Strickler launched into the air, holding tightly to Jim as he flew away.
Strickler landed in the bushes near his home. Pulling a glamor from his pocket, he cast it on Jim, giving him the appearance, at least for now, of the form that had formerly been that of Jim. He shifted into his usual human form, and hoisted the lad over his shoulder. Quietly, he made his way up the walk to his front door. Thankfully it was late, and nobody was about. It would be difficult to explain why he was carrying a boy into his house in the early hours of morning.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Strickler dumped the Trollhunter onto his couch, cursing the boy and all the trolls beneath New Jersey. He removed the glamor from Jim and quickly put it back into its usual place in a box on the mantle. Strickler paused for a moment, evaluating the next step. Mr. Blinky had asked the Changeling to return him to Trollmarket at the earliest opportunity, but really, was it worth it to call the chief of trolls with sunrise a couple of hours away? He would return the troublesome boy the next night, Strickler decided. He was broken from his musing by a soft sigh and grunt from the still unconscious Trollhunter. Strickler turned his attention to the boy. Most likely he would be suffering a headache tomorrow.
Strickler fetched a blanket and spread it gently over the boy. It was the first time he was really able to examine his half troll features.
His skin was dusky blue. The spell that Merlín had given him to bring on the changes necessary to destroy Gunmar had squared and sharpened the boy's face, but it wasn't terribly unattractive, if Strickler was being blunt. His hair was thicker, and almost blue in its blackness. His horns were thick and just barely curled, like a goat's. Strickler gently touched one horn, and Jim sighed, pushing the horn into Strickler's hand.
Strickler smiled kindly, and stroked the smooth bony protuberance. Trolls enjoyed having their horns stroked, it was akin to a neck rub, something that Strickler was particularly fond of. Jim's lips parted slightly. The boy really did have lovely lips, even with the addition of his tusks. Strickler found himself leaning over Jim's face. He had the overwhelming desire to kiss those lips. Just once.
Strickler snarled at the unbidden thought and sprung away from the boy. He rubbed his forehead. Absolutely not! The fact that Jim would kill him if he woke up not withstanding, there was no way in all hells that kissing Jim was a good idea. He was thousands of years older than Jim, though not a huge deal in trollhood, it would still raise some eyebrows. He had taught Jim, watched him grow up. And Jim was certainly not into those of the same sex. No, no. It was too morally wrong, even a small kiss.
Strickler growled to himself, and turned off the lights. He crept up the stairs, pausing once only to wish the Trollhunter a hushed goodnight before retiring to his room. He would deliver the boy back to his people the following evening and forget about those lovely lips.
The Changeling's dreams were haunted by pale blue eyes and soft, fang filled kisses.
Well guys, there you have it! This will definitely develop slowly, so let me know what y'all think!