Disclaimer: Don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.

Hey, back with a new chapter. Big thanks to Charlie for beta reading and giving me some advice with Claire. Also a big thank you to Inco, who is a Toby expert, for giving me some tips on writing Toby's POV. I'm starting school soon so I may not be able to get out a chapter every week. I'll try to update when I can though. Thank you for all the views, follows, favorites, and reviews. I truly appreciate them.

Check out my tumblr tunafishprincess if you wanna see all the wonderful fanart people have made. I've tried posting on here but the links don't seem to work. Or if you just want to talk, I'm always happy to chat. Hablo Español y Francés tambien.

I hope you enjoy this new chapter! This time, it's 3 POVs: Atlas, Toby, and Strickler.


To Catch a Changeling (IV)

He was at Claire's place.

Oh sweet Pale Lady.

Atlas hiked up his sleeves. He could do this. He had faced down Bular and lived. He won against both Nomura and Draal in battle. Atlas had this.

"Hey, Jim. Glad you could come." Claire said as she opened the door. "Come in, come in!"

Atlas stepped carefully into the home as if he were traversing a bomb site. He was in Claire's home now. Dangerous foregn territory. Gunmar's gronknuts, his heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. "Nice, um, casa."

Inwardly, Atlas berated himself. Casa? Seriously?

"Thanks," she chuckled. "Make yourself at home. I'm just making a little snack."

He watched her back as she left for the kitchen. Atlas cautiously examined the home. He spotted the living room to the right, a small comfortable area with a large orange couch and other tasteful furniture. A small table at the entrance had a few burning Religious candles along with faded pictures of people Atlas suspected were long gone. The faint scent of cinnamon invaded his nose. Incense, Atlas determined. A small basket of shoes sat opposite of the table. Not wanting to be rude, he deposited his sneakers into it.

Overall, her home was just as cozy as Toby's. Sure, they were different, but the personal touches the humans made to them calmed his frantic heart. His eyes traveled over to the photos on the wall, painting a picture of Claire's childhood and family. They all looked so happy.

Atlas swallowed. A tinge of jealousy filtered through his mind. Claire and Toby had freedoms he could only dream about. He only had his weapons and the clothes on his back to call his own. Back at the Order, the room given to him by Stricklander was barren of any personal possessions. Everything was exactly the same as when he first moved in so many years ago. It felt lifeless. Of course, he could have personalized it ( and had done so in the past), but considering his previous failed attempts, he avoided doing so. Anything he liked would be exposed and stomped on, curtsey of the lower ranking changelings.

A tiny human's gurgling's interrupted his train of thought. His eyes widened at the creature, sitting nearby in its bouncing chair. Atlas came closer, awe in his expression. He had never seen a human baby this close up before.

It was…

So ugly.

Did he look like this as a child? Sweet Pale Lady, he hoped not. The baby was round and fleshy, with big eyes and a nose too tiny for its head. Sort of like one of those aliens on that one show Toby liked to watch. Well, perhaps it would get cuter as it aged. It was related to Claire after all. He angled his head from side to side, observing the child. The baby copied, even matching his expression.

"Hey there, little human," Atlas said as he crouched down. "You must be Enrique."

Claire had mentioned him a few times. Unlike Claire, Enrique was fair. The only characteristic they seemed to share was their eye color.

The baby giggled. Atlas smiled. Okay, so perhaps not so ugly.

"Hey, Enrique," he said, his hand reaching into his pocket. It couldn't hurt to show the babe, right? Atlas brought out the amulet.

Enrique's eyes grew large. His mouth dropped in amazement. He reached out, babbling in excitement. Atlas snorted. That was almost cute.

"For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to make babies ogle," Atlas cooed.

Claire appeared in the corner of his eye. He immediately stuffed the amulet back into his pocket, hoping she didn't notice.

"I hope you like guacamole. I put a little milk in it. Secret family recipe." Claire leaned over him. "Wow, he really likes you."

"Really?" He coughed. "I mean, of course. Kids love me."

"That's right, I forgot. You babysat your cousins, right?" She balanced the bowl of guacamole on her hip, her other hand scratching her chin. "Huh. How old are your cousins by the way?"

"Oh, pretty young. But I'm good with them," Atlas chuckled nervously. As good as one could be with goblins, Atlas thought.

"Well, I didn't invite you here just to play with my baby brother. Come into the living room with me. We can work on your Algebra there."

Atlas followed, his stomach beginning to flutter. Claire made him feel nervous and giddy at the same time. Even breathing was hard around her. It was as if she sucked out all of his confidence, leaving him an awkward mess.

No, he could do this. Atlas sucked in his bottom lip, biting down to regain control. He would not allow this 'crush' to gain anymore foothold within his psyche. He was Atlas, assistant to the head of the Janus Order and Trollmarket's newest Trollhunter. A simple study lesson was nothing in the grand scheme of—

Her hand accidentally brushed against his knee. She picked up a chip, dunking it into the sauce, then devouring it with a satisfied smile.

"T-This is a lot of guacamole," he said, stumbling over his words. "Ha, ha. You could probably swim in it."

"Oh my gosh, I wish." Claire gushed, taking another chip and repeating the process. "I would totally take a bath in guac."

"I think I'd prefer a bath in Bouillabaisse," Atlas remarked.

Claire raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Ah, yeah." Atlas said, trying to find something to do with his hands. He settled on placing them on his thighs. "I cook for my dad mostly. But I've been cooking with Toby too. We made some Swarma tacos that weren't too bad. I'll need to adjust some of the ingredients though. The meat was a little too dry for my tastes."

"Wow, Chef Jim. You must share your secrets with me sometime." She crossed her left leg over her right, hands folded together on top of her lap. "Maybe we could cook together."

"Seriously? You would want to do it?" Atlas gestured to himself. "With me?"

"Yeah, is something wrong with that?" Claire asked.

"No, it's just…" Atlas scrambled for a chip, dipping it into the guacamole. He snarfed it down in one gulp. His eyes widened. "Oh wow, this is the best thing I've ever had."

She perked up. "You're not just saying that?"

"You know what? I hang up my chef's hat. You are the avocado master," he joked.

"Am I now?" She asked, shifting forward. He could feel her breath on his face.

Atlas could hear the pounding of his heart inside his head. He leaned closer, mere inches away. Up close, he spotted the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. "You are."

Her cheeks pinked. She pulled away, turning her head to the side. He scouted a little further down the couch. She tucked back a nonexistent strand of hair (nervous habit? Oh sweet Pale Lady, was he making her uncomfortable?) before taking out a piece of paper and pencil. "Alrighty. Now that we've got food let's start on the equation."

Atlas tried to pay attention, but the amount of numbers and letters going about made his brain hurt. The laptop was useful in finding some explanations for the problems, something he would take note of for future class assignments. The first equations were easy to understand, but the further and further they went into the book the more and more uncertain Atlas became.

"See, the equation only contains powers of X that are non-negative integers. Does that make sense?"

"Okay," Atlas pressed his hands together in a steeple then pointed it at Claire. "What the hell is a negative number? And for that matter, what is an integer?"

"Didn't they teach you this in Canada?" Claire asked.

"Eh, yeah, I probably just forgot, ha ha, ha," Atlas saidHis eyes trekked upwards to her lips. Did she wear lipstick or were they naturally that color? "Hey, thanks again for this."

Claire turned her head to the side. "What?"

"I…I feel really bad about what's happening with the play. I know it means a lot to you," Atlas admitted.

"You know, I was super made at you, but then, I realized you've got a lot more going on than people think."

Atlas paused before remarking, "That's…actually pretty accurate. How could you tell?"

"Come on, Jim." She laughed, setting down the teaching material. "You didn't think I invited you here just for algebra, did you?" She pulled out a piece of folded paper. A very familiar piece of paper. "You can't just write a letter like this and not expect a conversation."

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh.

Oh crap.

She read the letter. Atlas struggled to keep a straight face. His mind was running a mile a minute, frantically trying to figure out the right words. How was he going to explain this? Shit, he barely survived against Draal. There was also the fact that Nomura had very nearly killed him and Toby in the other boy's home.

What if he did tell her? A part of him secretly liked the idea. Having Claire at his side didn't sound so bad.

But he would also be putting her in danger. Claire was only a child. Atlas wasn't sure bringing another human into the mix was such a good idea. While Toby had lived this long, it was largely due to circumstantial luck. The longer Toby continued to live in the world of trolls, the easier it would be for trolls (especially changelings) to target him.

Not to mention, what would she do when she saw his other form? Toby had been shocked by his appearance. He had no doubt Claire would too. What if she rejected him? Atlas sucked on his inner cheek.

What if she didn't though? What if she liked his other form? His cheeks warmed. That…that wouldn't be so bad, right?

"This…I don't know how to describe it. You have to battle monsters? You're caught between two different people who hate each other? That sounds like a really difficult situation to be in. And you're afraid of abandoning one for the other? Saving the world in which we know? What kinds of monsters are you battling?" Claire brushed back her bangs, her eyes searching his own. "I mean, we all have stuff we go through in life, but are you in some kind of trouble?"

Atlas turned his gaze to his hands. They were human now, but what if—No. "It's hard to explain."

"You called yourself a monster." Claire paused, then continued, "Jim, do you mean that literally or metaphorically?"

He pulled on the collar of his jacket. Even though the house was cool he felt as if he were burning up. "Oh, yes, Metaphoric. Completely. Exactly the word I was going to say."

"You're not a monster," she affirmed. "I mean, no one's perfect, we all have our flaws, but you're not a monster and whoever has made you think that is wrong."

It was Atlas's turn to pause. He licked his lips before answering softly, "That's nice of you to say."

"It's the truth. Your words are beautiful, Jim." She said in a gentle tone, "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"It's Atlas," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Shit, ah," Atlas covered his eyes with both hands. Think, think, think, he silently chanted. "Um, so, Jim is my name, but Atlas is my nickname. Back home people used to call me Atlas. It started as a joke my Dad made and then it caught on and…I don't use it at school because people would get confused, but around friends and things is okay I think."

"Atlas," she said, as if tasting the name. It sounded wonderful from her lips. "It's very poetic. I like it.

"Seriously? Okay, wow. Thanks," Atlas responded breathlessly. "No one's ever said that before."

"It's from Greek mythology, right? The tragic titan Atlas, forsaken by his brethren, he was forced to hold up the sky."

"Dad is a bit of a myth-lover," Atlas explained. "He owns a lot of books, but Ancient Greece is his favorite I think."

Claire gestured her finger to the lower end of the letter. "There's some sentimental stuff at the end which I thought was kinda sweet too."

"Really?" Atlas scratched his neck, his other hand rubbing his leg. "I mean, of course. I wrote it that way."

Claire's eyelashes fluttered, her gaze lifting to his face. There was a warmth there, like a hearth on a cold winter's day. It made him want to know more about Claire. What were her dreams? What did she want to do in life?

Did she see him as more than a classmate?

"If you ever need someone to talk to about 'the monsters', you can talk to me," she said.

Atlas searched her eyes, trying to find a speck of falsehood. "You won't tell anyone else?"

"It can be our secret," she promised.

Atlas locked his pinky with hers. Claire blinked, one eyebrow perched higher than the other. Heart in his throat, he turned his head away, hoping she didn't see his mortified expression. "Tobes said pinky promises were the most sacred of oaths amongst humankind."

"I think Toby was exaggerating."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to realized that," Atlas chuckled nervously. "Wow, I probably look stupid then."

"Not at all," she laughed. "I pinky promise not to tell anyone if you pinky promise to be honest with me."

He released his hold on her pinky. "All I can promise is that I'll try my best. But somethings I just can't share, Claire. It's not you, in fact, I wish I could share it with you, but I can't."

"Alright, I understand," Claire said, her eyes returning back to the book. "So, on to problem forty-two?"

"That's it?"

Claire shrugged. "Well, I did promise you I would help you with Algebra."

"I'm gonna need a lot. I barely even understand problem one, let alone forty-two," Atlas confessed. He took up a pencil, twirling it from finger to finger. The pencil very nearly tumbled to the ground one the last finger, but he caught it in mid-drop.

"Has school always been this difficult for you?" Claire said.

"No, but things at home have been kind of hard, so—"

"Have you thought about telling Ms. Janeth about whatever you're going through? Maybe she'd reinstate you as Romeo if she knew about it."

Atlas paused his pencil an inch away from the notebook paper. The corners of his mouth tugged down. "I'm not so sure—"

A soft beeping noise resounded from Claire's bag. She pulled it out and placed it to her ear. Her brows came together, nose scrunched up in confusion. Finally, she handed him the cell.

"It's for you. Someone named Woby?"

"Woby?" Atlas repeated in a confused tone. He listened to the frantic caller. Though he could barely pick out the words, he knew enough to know what was happening. Shit, he'd forgotten Toby had another braces appointment today. How many times did he have to go to that doctor for his braces anyway? He groaned.

"Shit, I have to go." Atlas grumbled. "Damn it, Tobes."

"Is everything okay?" Claire asked.

"It will be." Atlas added, "Hopefully."

Atlas gathered his things and left for the door. He slipped on his sneakers, too busy to tie the laces. He could be out of them soon enough. Before he even turned the knob he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, before you go, you've got some guac on your face," Claire pointed out.

Atlas tried to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Oh, where?"

She handed him a napkin. He cleaned his face, all the while staring at Claire, who did the same.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Finally, she turned her head towards the door, breaking eye contact.

The amulet began to buzz in his pocket. His blood rushed to his head, his face burning like a bad sunburn. "Thanks, Claire," he said in a breathless tone.

Claire smiled. "No problem, Atlas."

He mirrored her expression. He rolled the paper napkin into a ball, depositing it into the small nearby trashcan as he walked to the door.

"Thanks for the guac," he said as he was about to leave. A second later, Atlas paused, sticking his head back through the door. "Be careful out there."

"You too," She giggled.

He so badly wanted to stay. The one on one time with Claire was addictive. Despite all the nerves and awkwardness, Claire made him feel…normal, if that made any sense. She actually liked him for him. While Toby had become his best friend, Atlas reasoned that it was at least partially due to his past as Jim and not who he was today. Claire never knew Jim. She just saw him. Atlas.

It took every iota of willpower to leave.

But he did it.

Unfortunately.


Toby hated dentist appointments.

For one, they were excruciatingly long. Not awesome sauce. He didn't even get a sucker out of it like he did with his normal doctor. The other reason was the Doctor's disregard for his pain threshold. Not that he couldn't handle it or anything. Nana always said Domzalski men were strong. Therefore, in spite of the pain, he persevered through Dr. Muelas's the prodding and poking of his most sacred of orifices.

And there was that one time when Dr. Muelas had to extract his baby tooth that wouldn't fall out on its own. Super painful. Ugh, he couldn't eat nuggat nummies for a week since it was one of back teeth.

Getting his braces put in was also pretty terrible.

Fuck, and there was that one time that—

Wait, he was getting off track. Shit.

Well, this was different.

Atlas was right. Holy shit, shit, shit. He shouldn't have been playing around with the gaggletack like he did. Not that it wasn't fun—hitting Palchuk in the face had been extremely satisfying—No, wait, focus.

Damn it.

He couldn't let his mind wander, especially right now.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. But hey, on the bright side, he found a changeling. That was pretty Coolio. On the not so bright side, she was trying to murder him and his friends. Toby didn't take too kindly to that.

He eyed the dentist tools Gladys pulled out. If he weren't laughing his ass off from the happy gas, he would likely be running for his life.

This was bad.

This was very very bad.

Toby barely dodged another swipe at his person, swinging the chair around just in time. Her shrill laughter would no doubt haunt him for nights to come.

Seeing her transform by touching the gaggletack drove in how different Atlas and the rest of the changelings were. The dentist assistant's was more like, crackly electricity then poof! Atlas's was more of a crunchy body-horror transformation-thingy—kinda reminded him special effects in horror movies—that was all and all kinda uncomfortable to watch. Using the amulet made it more glowy though.

"Sit still so I can kill you," Gladys said, giggling all the while.

Holy cheese her laughter was terrifying.

"Nah whah," he responded.

His prayers were answered not a moment too soon.

Atlas kicked open the door, changeling armor and daggers at the ready.

Okay, so Toby had to give it to Atlas. His best friend had some pretty awesome sauce entrances. All they needed was some flashy lights and a few explosions and Atlas could star in one of those Michael Bay films.

Huh. Would that make Toby his agent then?

Wait, hold that thought.

The hybrid paused, his nose wrinkled up as he took in the scene. Toby could only imagine the confusion the other was experiencing. Blinky was gasping for air on the floor while AAARRRGGHH! hung halfway out from the ceiling window, both trolls desperately trying to withhold their laughter.

Oh man, this was not good.

"What in the world are you guys doing?" Atlas tensed up at the sight of the changeling. "Gladysgroe, you need to leave. Now."

"Atlas! Come and help me with these fools," she said between breathes. "We can use them to lure the Trollhunter here."

Toby tried to reach for his friend, but the numbness in his arms had yet to wear off. Instead, he watched helplessly as Atlas backed away.

Just a little more. Toby tried to move his hands, but all he could achieve was a slight twitch in his thumbs. Stupid numbing agent. Super not cool.

"Stand down, Gladys. Let's talk about this," Atlas said.

The changeling continued to gain ground, driving Atlas into a corner of the room. "Talk? Now you're sounding like one of them."

"No, I'm not," he refuted.

She drew closer, her laugher slowly dissipating. "Then help me."

Atlas shook his head. "I can't."

Screw you, lady! Toby wanted to yell the phrase, but all he could do was scream garbled noises as the changeling.

"I knew you were too human to be one of us. Always so sentimental," she snarled. She was laughing less, the gas slowly dispersing from the room.

"That's not true."

"They hate us and you're helping them? What hogwash. And where's the Trollhunter? The fat one called for him earlier, surely—"

"Gladysgroe. You need to leave." Atlas insisted, "Please."

"Leave? Or what? You'll go crying to Stricklander?" She spat on the ground. "No, I've worked too far for this. I spent years slaving in this stupid office with that imbecile. The bridge will be opened. It has to. Gunmar will bring us into a golden age. Then we'll finally be free."

Atlas's features became clouded, the glow of his eyes almost haunting. Toby wouldn't say he was spooked by his friend's expression, but he was damn near so.

It was times like these Toby remembered—Atlas wasn't human. He observed the teen's hunched back and curled toes. Toby had enough experience with cats to know his friend was reaching his breaking point. Crap.

"How can you believe such bullshit?" Atlas growled, his voice rough. "What has Gunmar or Bular ever done for us?"

"You could never understand, half-breed," she taunted.

Atlas moved into a defensive stance, his eyes not once leaving the changeling. "No, I do understand, and that's the problem. You're better than this. We're all better than this. We don't need Gunmar. We can rule ourselves."

"Only a child could believe such drivel," she mocked, "They've corrupted you."

"No, they opened my eyes to the truth. We can be better than what they think we are. This war, it's meaningless. The trolls aren't our enemies. Peace isn't impossible," Atlas stressed. Even though his body language appeared standoffish, his eyes were pleading, almost begging her to step down. "Please. Just listen. You don't have to agree, but if we can come to a compromise between our races then—"

"Peace is Gunmar," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. "And my peace will be slitting your friend's throat."

As if in slow-motion, he watched the changeling turn towards him.

Toby balked. Her glowing red eyes were much more terrifying now that they were locked onto him. Shit—where was a knife or something? Damn it, did Gladys take all the pointy stuff away?

Atlas jumped the changeling immediately. They rolled around on the floor, hissing and growling beneath Toby's seat. Blinky tried to intervene but was quickly swept back to the wall.

Gladys knocked Atlas against the moving table, several dentist tools falling to the floor. She dragged herself over to Toby's position, her mouth wide and fanged.

Toby forgot to breath.

As the numbness in his limbs faded, a feverish chill ran down his back. He could feel her hot breath on his skin, the odor nearly as hideous as she was.

He was going to die.

Not good, not good, not good!

"Don't you touch him!" Atlas roared.

A flash of light blinded him from the rest of the scene. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He lifted his numb arm, rubbing his eyes against it. As his eyes cleared, he spotted Atlas. Or rather, Jim. Even through the blurry aftereffects he could see the Trollhunter's armor, amulet blazing brightly against his chest. Both boys looked at each other, shocked by the sudden transformation. It was like the locker-room accident all over again.

Gladysgroe stared, her eyes so large Toby thought they would fall out. "You." Toby could hear the disbelief in her tone. Her right hand inched toward one of the sharper tools.

"Jimbo!" Toby cried out. "Look out!"

No—Atlas, not Jimbo. Crap, he was on a roll today. He wanted to bang his head against something, but all he could do was wiggle.

Gladysgroe swerved the chair around, hitting Blinky (who tried and failed to capture the changeling) right in the forehead. It was only AAARRRGGHH!'s meaty paw that saved the other troll from slamming backwards against the floor.

Atlas brought Daylight up in defense, driving the changeling into a corner.

She made a dash for the exit, but Atlas reached it first. It took Toby a second too late to realize her plan. She tripped Atlas, using her weight to grapple him onto the floor. She grabbed tight to his sword hand. Toby, no longer so numb, frantically searched for something to distract her.

"What is this? No, it all makes sense now." Her breathing was choppy, but it didn't detract from the rage in it. "How the Trollhunter found the bridge. You've been fooling us all this time."

"Not on purpose," Atlas admitted. "I was just trying to—"

She scowled. "Traitor. Wait until Stricklander hears about this."

Atlas locked eyes with Toby. Anger, shock, fear—Toby couldn't say what exactly Atlas was thinking, but he could guess. This wasn't like the fight with Draal or even Nomura. This was the real deal.

Toby continued his search. He rummaged through the items near him.

"He won't," Atlas said, his gaze flickering back to the changeling's. The amulet glowed, reflecting the stormy look on his friend's face. "because you're not going to be able to tell him."

"Accept your death, Trollhunter. I promise I'll make it quick."

"I should say the same, Gladys."

" Over my dead body, whelp."

Toby yelled, "Eat paste, bitch!"

The toothpaste hit her eyes. Yes! Score one for the Tobes! She roared, rubbing at her irritated eyes.

The sword disappeared from Atlas's dominant hand. He tilted his head up, enough for Toby to capture the boy's gutted stare. "Then so be it."

A glow overtook the other hand, transforming into a sword. Gladys was too slow to escape. Daylight sank into her flesh like a sheath, as morbid as that sounded. Outside the goblins, Toby had never seen someone die before. It felt wrong, like catching someone naked in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry. I really am," Atlas whispered. The sword vanished, but the wound was still there. Toby could see the cracks along her skin from the injury, glowing much like the amulet itself.

"Stricklander will kill you when he finds out," she said.

Atlas visibly swallowed. "You're wrong."

"Am I?" She coughed, her voice raspy and failing. Soon, she was all aglow. It was a terrifying sight, especially since Toby knew what was about to happen. "The Bridge will be opened. Hail Gunmar and the Eternal Night! Death to the traitor!"

Toby flinched as her body exploded. A moment later, the room and its remaining occupants were covered in her dusty remains.

Suffice to say, neither Atlas nor Toby took it all that well.

Toby blinked, trying to process what just happened.

"Oh my god, she's in my mouth," Toby finally said, trying to find a place to clean his tongue. He entered up running his mouth through the tiny sink the dentist used to clean his tools.

It tasted exactly as it looked. It reminded him of elementary school, when someone dared him to eat dirt. Bleh.

Atlas powered down, amulet in hand. His chest began to increasingly rise and fall with each breath. Without warning, he lobbed the device at the wall, creating a small dent. It dropped to the floor for a moment, only to return to the boy's hand, no worse for the wear.

Toby felt his stomach drop. He'd fucked up. Badly.

"What were you thinking, Tobes?" Atlas finally snapped. He turned to the other two. "And why the hell are you two here?"

Tears threatened to escape his eyes. His hands slightly shook. He had messed up big time.

"We, well," Blinky cleared his throat. "I thought it was possible that danger may come to either of you should you cross paths with the wrong changeling, so we followed Tobias as a precaution. We were also curious—"

"I don't care. Look at this!" He motioned to the room. "How can two trolls not take down a single changeling?"

Atlas's shoulders slumped forward. He leaned against the wall. "I killed someone. Oh sweet Pale Lady, I murdered one of my people."

A soft whine escaped his friend's mouth. Toby's heart shook at the sound. Atlas had killed someone for him. He had made his friend kill someone.

Damn it. All he wanted was to be useful and now look at him.

Blinky came closer, he head bowed while all four hands locked together behind his back. "Master Atlas, I'm so sorry. It was my mistake. I never should have given Tobias the gaggletack."

"Sorry," AAARRRGGHH! added in a soft manner, his eyes lowered. "Not protect Wingman. My fault."

"No, they're covering for me," Toby said. "It was mine."

Atlas turned to him. He stalked over to the teen, lording his height over the other boy. Atlas slammed his fist down next to Toby. A week ago, he would have flinched. But not now. Well, no, that was a lie. But only a little.

"I told you. I told you and you still did it," Atlas stressed, his voice straining. "She would've killed you."

Toby looked up. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. His face burned with shame. He fumbled over his next words. "I just…I was…I was just trying to help."

Atlas moved the hand off. Toby cast his gaze downwards, afraid to meet his friend's eyes.

"But you didn't and now I've had to kill someone." Atlas said, his volume rising. "Tobes, seriously, what the fuck were you thinking? Did you even think about your safety? You're not like Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!. You're breakable."

"I…I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Toby apologized dolefully.

"You keep acting like this is all a game. It's not. I'm…" Atlas paused. "This isn't one of those superhero movies you like. We are fighting in a war. Do you understand what that means?"

"I do. I'll be better. I promise," Toby said.

Oh god, had he broken their friendship? No, no, no—he barely even had his best friend back and he'd already fucked everything up.

"Just like you promised to be careful with the gaggletack?" Atlas let out a deep sigh. "How can I trust you?"

"It was a mistake. Please," Toby pleaded, the water in his eyes beginning to overflow. "I'll take this more seriously. I won't seek out changelings anymore."

"You say that, but how can I believe you now?" Atlas said.

"Because I'm your best friend."

Atlas squinted, his shoulders raised. There was a tightness in his brow. "Are you?"

A sudden wave of nausea rolled through him. His hands became clammy and cold, all the while his face was on fire.

He had broken their trust.

He—he just wanted to be useful. Atlas was the Trollhunter and this super important guy now and Toby…wasn't. Hell, half the time it appeared he was the cause of their issues.

And now he'd ruined their friendship forever.

Toby clenched his hands against his sweater as tightly as he could. Anything to distract himself from the wave of guilt and fear invading his mind.

This was all his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault.

Atlas had been hanging out with Claire and had to come save Toby's pathetic self. Because Toby was weak and stupid. He had forced his best friend to kill someone.

He was the worst.

"We should reconvene at Trollmarket," Blinky interrupted. "Perhaps Vendel may be of some help."

"No, not today. I need," Atlas brushed his bangs back, eyes closed. "I need some time alone."

Toby looked up through the tears, struggling to form words. "Atlas, I'm sorry. Really."

"I know but sorry doesn't always cut it, Tobes." Atlas placed a hand over his eyes. "I can't…I can't do this right now."

Atlas pulled up the hood of his cloak, leaving before Toby could say anything else. An uncomfortable silence settled between those who remained.

Toby's stomach twisted into knots. He had failed to do the one thing he promised not to do and now Atlas hated him.

He likely caused the end of the friendship too.

Toby hid his face between two hands. Even though he had the two trolls nearby, he felt more lonely than any other time in his life.


Stricklander prided himself in his steadfast calm demeanor. Whereas other changelings might panic in the face of death, Stricklander always kept an ace up his sleeve, using whatever means necessary to achieve victory, or at the very least his survival.

Atlas chundering inside his private toilet was not one of those things.

After a moment of hesitation, he entered the room. Normally, he would have scolded the boy. This was his private loo. It had taken a lot of clout (and a good deal of favors) to get his own private toilet and shower away from the rest of the changelings. It was by no means lavish, but it had all the necessities one might come to use whilst living amongst humans.

As he watched Atlas hurl his out heart into the porcelain bowl, his mind raced through different scenarios.

Was the boy sick? Stricklander tried to think of anytime Atlas had been under the weather, but found none. Morose, perhaps, but what teenager wasn't? Nevertheless, should Atlas have caught something from the fleshbags he associated with it would be quite troublesome. Cross-species contamination could prove deadly. Trolls and changelings had hearty bodies. Even if the boy were sick, it would not have advanced to this degree, right?

Perhaps he was pissed. Now there, that was something he could chide the boy for. Stricklander suspected one of those Trollmarket trolls had given the boy alcohol a week prior, if the glassy eyes and smell after his early morning return wasn't evidence enough. Atlas tried to hide it of course, but Stricklander knew enough about hangovers to see the signs.

Atlas must have noticed his presence, his head slowly rising. Wiping the leftover saliva and vomit off his face with the back of his hand, he shifted around until he caught sight of Strickler.

"Hey," Atlas croaked.

Stricklander sniffed the area. Whilst the boy's eyes were red and puffy, he smelled no sign of alcohol. Crouching down to the boy's level, he brushed the teen's bangs back. Atlas leaned into the touch. Hmm. No fever either.

"Is everything alright, Atlas?" He finally asked.

"No," Atlas muttered under his breath.

Stricklander lowered his hand to the boy's chin, raising his head up with an index finger. "Would you like to talk about it?"

It was as if the boy were made of paper; Atlas crumpled, his eyes starting to glisten.

"I fucked up," Atlas stated. "I'm a murderer."

"A murderer?"

Stricklander stroked his jaw. Atlas continued to look to him for guidance. Surprisingly, he actually felt a tad relieved. This was his area of expertise. It was something he had long prepared for.

"Tell me," Stricklander said.

"I told Toby not to do it. That bringing the gaggletack around in the open could get him killed. Then one of the others found out he had one and targeted him. She came at me and," Atlas stopped. He took a deep breath, shuddering all the while. "I killed her."

Stricklander leaned forward. "Who did you kill, Atlas?"

Atlas shifted his head closer to Strickler, his forehead coming into contact with the changeling's chest.

"Gladys. I killed Gladysgroe," Atlas confessed.

"No, you didn't."

It was Atlas's turn to be surprised. He snapped his head up, nearly nicking Stricklander with his horn. "What?"

"You didn't kill Gladysgroe." Stricklander pulled out his phone, writing up a small message he would send out to the rest of the Order. No one would suspect a thing. "The Trollhunter did. At least, that will be the official story."

Atlas's shoulders tensed, his ears shifting backwards. Stricklander sighed. So emotional. Still, he tried to appear at least empathetic to the boy's feelings. It was his first kill after all.

"You're covering for me?" He said, his eyes searching for an answer in his own.

Stricklander clicked the phone off, dispensing it back into his pocket. "Gladysgroe was only supposed to spy on the boy. The moment she decided to act she officially disobeyed my direct orders. You were within your rights as a changeling to dispose of her.'

"But she didn't deserve to die," Atlas reasoned.

Stricklander pressed forward. "Did she attack you?"

The boy's mouth thinned. He answered in a subdued tone, "Yes."

Stricklander tucked a wild hair back behind Atlas's ear. It was getting a tad longer than Stricklander liked. They would need to cut it soon. "Did you defend yourself?"

"Yes, but still I—"

"Then there is nothing to worry about." Stricklander remarked in a friendly tone, patting down the boy's unruly hair. "She strayed outside of the parameters of her mission while you stayed in yours."

Alas, his words only seemed to make the boy feel even worse. He tried to hide his eyes, but Stricklander could see a few tears trying to escape.

Oh dear.

Stricklander closed his eyes, breathing through his nose. The first death was always the hardest. It was something one never forgets, troll or not.

"It hurts, dad. Is this how it always is?" Atlas said in a hushed voice.

Stricklander began rubbing circles into his charge's back. His turtleneck was beginning to get wet, but he had a spare in the office. "No, but our race does not have it easy, Atlas. You know this. Death is a constant reality we must face."

"I'm afraid. I'm so afraid that whatever I do will hurt even more people," he admitted.

"That, young Atlas, is something we must all face in our lives. As a famous philosopher once said 'Fear? What has a man to do with fear? Chance rules our lives, and the future is all unknown. Best live as we may, from day to day'," Stricklander said. "You will have to battle your fears. All changelings must. But once Gunmar is freed and our Lady returns we will finally be safe. No more hiding. It was through our fears that we found our greatest of strengths after all. The Trolls of Trollmarket and the rest of the world will rue the day they spurned us."

Atlas pulled his head away, giving him a long stare. His eyes were beginning to drop, his breathing much calmer now. Had the boy been getting any sleep lately? Well, he was juggling a lot these days.

"You sound so certain," Atlas said. "What proof do you have that they'll really help us?"

"Belief," Stricklander admitted.

"Belief?"

"Sometimes, even in the most desperate of times, I have held onto the belief for a better tomorrow for our kind. It may not be tomorrow or the day after that, but we are edging ever closer to our destiny," Stricklander said, his excitement overflowing.

Every day he drew closer to the completion. Soon, Gunmar would return and Stricklander would be free to do what he pleased, instead of what he had to do.

Atlas nodded, though he didn't appear to be listening as actively anymore. "That's…rather optimistic of you."

Stricklander brought the boy's head back to his chest, the rest of his body falling to the side. Atlas slumped into his lap, not unlike his first few months in the Order. He smiled. Despite the teen's large size, he was still young to their ways, as evidenced by his actions.

Yes, everything would go just as planned. A new changeling to the Order was just what they needed. Atlas would finally have a friend (outside of the Trollhunter and his group) and Stricklander would finally regain control.

It was unfortunate Gladysgroe perished, but that was the risk in these sorts of situations. He would report it to Bular later, though he suspected the brute would care less.

"There is much you do not know about me, Atlas." Stricklander said. "I have been around for centuries. In the blink of an eye I have seen kingdoms flourish and perish. Some of them I even had a hand in. And throughout all my years, I have found belief to be the strongest motivator. I believe in a better tomorrow for us. What do you believe in, Atlas?"

Atlas startled. He looked up, eyes half-lidded. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I—"

"I believe you are in need of sleep," Stricklander joked. "Come. I will walk you back to your room."

Atlas's claws tightened their hold on his jacket.

"Can…can we just sit here for a bit, dad?"

It was rare to see Atlas so vulnerable. Normally, he would have brush off such affection, especially since the teen had taken to overstepping his bounds as of late.

Atlas dozed off before he could give an answer. Of course. Cheeky brat. His breathing slowed down into a rhythmic pattern.

"Alright," Stricklander sighed. "But only for a little while."

That little while ended up being quite a few hours. But just as well. Atlas needed the sleep, especially for the road ahead. Gladysgroe's death, while disappointing, would be a stepping stone to obtaining the Amulet. His young charge had confirmed his loyalty and likely won over the Trollhunter and his friend.

Excellent.

Now onto his next plan of action.