Disclaimer: Don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.
Hi! New chapter in! Big thanks to Vici and Charlie for helping me with this chapter. Also holy moly, thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! Also shoutout to all the fanartists who have done some seriously amazing art for the fic. I can't post here because the links don't show, but if you're interested, check my instagram or tumblr tunafishprincess. :D Seriously though, you guys are fantastic. Hope you enjoy the new chapter! :D
The Battle of Two Bridges (II)
A slamming door drew her away from slumber. Claire released a soft groan. So unfair. It had been a nice dream too; she and her family on the beach, building sand castles with Enrique, her mother brushing out her tangles after she swam in the ocean with her Papí—It was a perfect day.
"Breakfast has arrived," Papí whispered, nudging her arm.
"Five more minutes, Papí," she grumbled. It wasn't like she had school today. The play wasn't until tonight. Probably wanted her to babysit Enrique for the morning. She rolled over.
A soft chuckle resounded. "Alas, Lady Claire, I do believe you have mistaken me for someone else."
It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice over her. He was right. That wasn't Papí's voice. The words were too melodious and deep, his syllables theatrical to the utmost degree.
She twisted to one side, cheek meeting cool rock. Claire froze. She felt it move against her, like it was alive.
Dios mío. Claire struggled to breathe. She could hear her heart pounding inside her head.
It all came back to her. Last night, Atlas, the goblins—Monsters were real.
She looked up; six eyes blinked owlishly down.
Don't panic, she told herself, he's not going to eat you. He promised he won't.
"I'm awake," she croaked. Her throat was parched, though out of thirst or fear she couldn't say.
"So you are," he remarked, motioning his head towards a trey of food in front of them. "Apple?"
At first she wanted to refuse, but her stomach protested. Begrudgingly, she took the offered meal.
Trapped underneath the museum with a six-eyed "Troll" for company. If you had told her that yesterday she would have laughed.
Hell, she hadn't fully believed Atlas until he took off his hood. The touch of his horns and ears, too real to be prosthetics, had driven home the gravity of the reveal. The amulet's power had only cemented the fact.
Her lips stretched into a thin grim line.
The supernatural were real. Magic was real.
This was way too much to think about right now. She turned to her fellow prisoner.
"Blinky, right?" Claire took a bite of the apple, chewed, and then swallowed before asking, "How do you know Atlas?"
The Troll's chest puffed out, his chin tilting up. "I am the Trollhunter's trainer. My dear friend AAARRRGGHH! and I discovered him, well, perhaps 'discovered' is not quite the word for it." He laughed nervously. "You see, we tried to kidnap him in the beginning, but that attempt soon failed. It's quite a story really—"
Crack! A hoof lodged itself between them, breaking the wooden crate behind them.
Claire flinched, her eyes following the limb all the way to its terrifying owner.
Slit emerald eyes narrowed. The changeling released a fowl hiss.
Claire drew air in through clenched teeth.
"What did I say about shutting up?" The Changeling (Ms. Nomura, Claire's mind delivered) gave a grunt of disgust, retrieving her foot to stomp back to the small chair she wanted them from.
A ball of anger built within her. Blinky tried to appear comforting, but the move fell short because of his tied up limbs. His shoulders slumped.
"Many apologies, Lady Claire," Blinky whispered.
"Don't be. You really care about him, don't you?" She remarked fondly.
"Yes. Despite his touch exterior, Atlas is rather kind." Blinky's stony brows came together in a sharp peak, though all six of his eyes remained focused on the floor. "Sometimes too much so."
She wanted to ask what he meant, but nature was calling. Claire's cheeks heated up. Seriously? Right now? With a sigh she placed the partially eaten apple back on the tray. Her knees and palms ached as she picked herself up off the floor. Probably from when that monster threw me in here, she thought grimly. Her scalp burned from the memory.
Claire resisted the urge to shudder. His fiery eyes and fang ridden mouth were forever seared into her retinas, as was the way he looked at her. Like she was nothing more than food.
No, Claire resolved, I'm not going to cry. She couldn't afford to show anymore weakness here. Not now. Slowly, she walked over to Ms. Nomura's spot at the front of the room. The woman looked up from her phone, rising an annoyed brow.
Claire tucked a lock behind her ear. "Um, Ms. Nomura?"
"What," she spat.
She insisted, "I need to go to the restroom. It's urgent."
"Ugh." She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
Claire released the air she'd been holding in. Nomura grasped her by the arm, tugging her forward.
Before they left Ms. Nomura warned Blinky, "Stay here. Try to leave and the wards will burn you to a crisp. Not that it really matters." She flipped back her hair. "You'll both be dead soon anyways."
Fear spiked within her. Claire struggled to push it back down, keeping her eyes straight and steady.
Even though Death was quite possibly around the corner she couldn't help but think of her family. Did they know she was missing? Were they searching for her? She knew her Papí would. Between her two parents he was the most involved in her life, taking her to practice, meeting with her teachers—he would be the most devastated she believed.
A dark thought hit her. Was her mother worried? Did she care? Claire's nails dug into the skin of her elbows. Maybe she thought Claire snuck out again to see her friends. Oh man, Mary and Darci! She almost forgot! They must be freaking out right now.
And then there was Atlas. She hoped he was okay. Ms. Nomura really beat him up. It was fortunate she found Dr. Lake in time. Not that it helped her situation.
Claire only had her words to keep her alive now.
"Ms. Nomura," she started. "That's a very human name."
The changeling rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously trying to small talk with me?"
"I was just curious. Of all the names I've heard yesterday, only you and Mr. Strickler have human ones," Claire remarked.
"We're changelings," she answered after a pause. "We take the name of our foundling. Nothing special. It just is."
"Foundling? You mean the human babies the goblins take? Is that how you came here?"
So did that mean the changeling who replaced her brother was now Enrique? Her throat clenched. No. He would never be her baby brother. She refused to call him by that name.
"Atlas told you." She pulled harder on Claire's arm, leading her up a flight of stairs. "Figures."
Claire struggled to keep pace. "Were you the one who took my brother?"
"Save your questions for someone who gives a shit."
"I just want to know," she pressed. Anything, really. Even the scantest of information meant something.
What was he doing? Did he miss them? Did they feed him? Change him?
Claire's eyes grew wet. Poor Enrique. He must be so scared.
"Ew, are you crying? Seriously?" Ms. Nomura asked in disgust. "Do I look like I care? It's not my fault you didn't give enough of a shit to notice he was switched with one of ours. Tough luck."
Guilt crawled up from within her. If only she had paid more attention. Her little brother hadn't been the same sure, but she had chalked that up to babies being babies. She'd spent so much time focused on her social life and the play that she hadn't taken the time to really look after her fake brother and see him for what he really was.
How could she be so stupid? So naïve?
Claire tugged her arm out of Ms. Nomura's hold.
"Please," she begged, desperation riding her tone. "Anything. Is my real brother safe at least?"
The changeling swayed her hips back and forth, a distasteful scowl emerging.
She replied in a measured (if dry) manner, "Safe is relative, fleshbag. No one is ever truly safe, especially in the Darklands. He is healthy, if that's what you want to know. Now move."
It wasn't much, but the words soothed Claire's fears, if only just.
The path took them to a secluded area of the museum. Velvet ropes portioned off the area, a 'Employees Only' sign hung off one of the poles. The heavy scent of cleaning supplies permeated the area.
Claire drew air in, resisting the temptation the to run. She wouldn't get far.
A moment's spell to relieve and clean her face and hands in the sink helped clear her mind. She was fortunate Nomura left her alone. It allowed her to regather herself and her objective.
There would be no saving her baby brother here. As much as it pained her, he was out of her current reach.
Her own situation wasn't much better. Her family and friends had no idea where she was, which meant Atlas was her only hope.
Claire had never felt so helpless. But not hopeless.
Because no way was she going down without a fight.
A rush of confidence built up within her. She strode out of the bathroom, new energy within her. She straightened, looking the other woman directly in the eyes.
"You won't win, you know," she said in a haughtily tone, pulling on all her acting powers at her disposal. She flicked imaginary dust from her fingernails. "I called my parents while in the bathroom. My mother is the councilwoman. They know I'm here. The police have been notified."
"You're bluffing," Ms. Nomura said, walking around her. "You don't think we checked you earlier? What do you take us for?"
A thick tension overtook the air. Claire pressed on.
She cocked her head to the side. "Am I? Check the toilet. Unless you're chicken."
"Are you mocking me, fleshbag?" Ms. Nomura snarled. She grabbed her shirt, lifting Claire up off the floor. "Do you take me for a fool? Do you seriously believe that I'll—"
A pale human hand caught Ms. Nomura's wrist.
"Now, now, Nomura," Mr. Strickler tutted, the normal green of his eyes overtaken by an eerie golden glow. "Let's not damage one of my students. We've more important matters to attend to today. Check the toilets. I'll take over your watch."
"Get someone else to do it," she growled.
"Don't try my patience," he remarked, voice as cold as frozen tundra. "Between us who do you think is more useful to our lord? Focus on the matter at hand. Freedom is within our grasp. Don't spoil it."
Despite their size difference, Ms. Nomura struggled to hold her up. Mr. Strickler's hand tightened. With a grunt the other changeling released her. Claire fell to her knees.
Ms. Nomura glared venomously before shooting off towards the bathrooms, muttering what Claire guessed to be their kind's curses.
Mr. Strickler shot her an unimpressed tilt of his brow. The familiar, fatherly smile he used with his students surfaced on his lips. Her stomach flip-flopped. Every moment, every gesture he'd shown her and her classmates was now tainted beyond repair. This wasn't the AP history professor who quipped in class and gave extra credit on the fly; this was a monster. One who would kill her if it meant he achieved his goal.
No, scratch that. He will kill her if everything went to his plan.
Claire was beginning to regret egging Ms. Nomura on.
"Would you like a hand, Ms. Nuñez?" He asked pleasantly, motioning one in front of her.
Claire glared, pushing the offered limb away. "I can get up myself thank you."
"Of course," he replied as she rose from the floor, hands behind his back like he were giving a lecture and not keeping her hostage.
As soon as she got her bearings she recoiled. His hand was pressed against her back Yuck. It was impersonal, but there was a sliminess to it all that made her want to vomit. Most likely it was due to his outright betrayal and involvement in her baby brother's kidnapping. He guided her down the hallway, directing her to where he wanted her to walk. His pace matched hers.
Instead of taking a left down to the basement however he steered her right, towards another area of the museum.
Claire turned her head to the side, brows beginning to intersect.
"We aren't going back to the room?" She asked.
Mr. Strickler chuckled in a lighthearted way, as though this were a field trip. "I have a better place in mind."
The destination was unlike the rest of the museum. What she thought was the janitor's closet opened up into a semi-circular office. Mr. Strickler walked around the desk, tapping his fingers across the wooden frame.
"Please, sit," he said, pulling out a chair. "I trust you slept well?"
How dare he. She couldn't help but reach up to her hair, smoothing over the new bald spot she now sported. Rage churned within her. It hummed underneath her skin, muscles growing tense. What she wouldn't give to throw a fist through that asshole's smug mug. "You're disgusting."
"I'm the only reason you're alive right now, Ms. Nuñez. I suggest you keep your words pleasant," he replied in a bored tone, tapping a finger on the top of one of the seats. "Now, sit."
Reluctantly, she got into the offered chair.
"You're nothing like how Atlas described you."
That got his attention. His eyes widened. He took a pen out of his breast pocket, balancing it to and fro on his indexes.
"Oh? Care to share our resident traitor's words?"
She answered his question with a blank stare.
"Did he derail me? Disparage me?" He released a dry laugh. "Drag my image through the mud like a boar's belly?"
"No." She left it at that.
He settled into the armchair behind the desk, crossing his legs. "I'm curious. How about we play a game. To pass the time, so to speak."
She turned her head to the side. Dangerous, she thought, but what did she have to lose?
Your life, the more sensible part of her reasoned.
"I overheard what you and Nomura were saying earlier. I'll ask a question and you will answer it with a yes or a no, and vice versa."
Claire's interest grew. Information was what she wanted after all.
"You were spying on us?" She asked.
"I was merely in the right place at the right time. Yes or no."
"Yes." She started, "Was it you who kidnapped my brother?"
"No." He smiled. "My turn. Did you know about trolls before last night?"
"No. Are you going to kill me when this is all over?"
"Yes. Oh, don't look at me like that. It will be a merciful death. Better quick and painless by my hand then Bular's or Gunmar. They like to play with their food unfortunately. Now, did Atlas ever talk about me in a negative manner?"
"No. Is my brother safe, wherever he is?" Her fingers clenched the sides of the chair.
"Yes. So it was something pleasant then?"
"Yes. He spoke highly of you. Not that you deserve it. Is it possible to rescue my brother from the Darklands?"
"Doubtful."
She leaned forward. "That's not a no."
Mr. Strickler swerved around in his chair, looking at the ceiling. "It would be a death wish to try and rescue your baby brother, Ms. Nuñez. Not that any of that matters anymore. Gunmar will soon be here." His chair came to a stop. He twirled the pen, stopping every moment or two to click the top. "Did he talk about me often? Did he reveal my identity to you as well?"
"Yes to the first, no to the second. He never said your name. I found that out myself. Since you asked two, I have two of my own: if this evil leader comes back will my baby brother still be safe? Also, will Atlas be safe? Are you going to kill him?"
Claire watched as Mr. Strickler got up from his seat, the friendly teacher mask he'd been using from earlier gone, replaced with a more calculating one.
"I have a meeting to get to. I'm afraid our game is at an end."
"But you didn't' answer my questions."
"You asked three, not two. Therefore, you lose."
What the hell? Claire smacked her hands against the desk.
"But you asked two yourself!"
"I'm the game maker. It is I who make the rules, not you."
She shook her head. "That isn't a fair game at all."
"All is vanity, nothing is fair," he remarked dramatically, rolling his hand in the air in a what-can-you-do manner. "All of this was only at my behest, Ms. Nuñez. We are done. Now, let us return to your quarters. The main event approaches."
"But—"
His eyes flashed. "Now."
The majority of the way back to her cell was silent. He had played her like a fiddle and she fell for it.
She tucked her hands underneath her armpits to stop them from shaking. As much as she didn't' want to show them her fear, she knew her situation's likelihood. Atlas barely kept up with Ms. Nomura. What chance would he have against all of them together?
Behind that fear however, was frustration. This never would have happened if she were stronger. She hated being this weak and helpless, unable to fight back or escape their grasp. She didn't have the power to save herself and it was humiliating and distressing. It was like she was Juliet herself, unable to escape her deadly ending.
No. She wasn't going to go down that route. If Mr. Strickler had his games, then Claire had her words.
"Atlas is going to defeat you," she spoke, looking Mr. Strickler head on. "You won't get away with this."
"Atlas will face his fate in due time, as will you."
"Are you so sure about that?"
His hold on her arm tightened. "A lone Trollhunter is nothing," he answered.
Claire pressed him. "And yet you're scared, aren't you?"
He threw her a glare. "I'm beginning to think we should have gagged you the moment you came."
"I hope he kicks your ass first."
"Do you ever—" He paused, stopping Claire with his arm. His gaze locked on a corner of the hallway, half-hidden by shadows. "Otto, I know you're there. Show yourself."
Short repetitious claps answered him. Claire stepped back as a stout balding man in a trench coat emerged from the shadows. It was a stark contrast to his friendly expression.
"Such astuteness," the man named Otto cheerfully remarked. "I'm impressed, Strickler."
"Talk the prisoner back to her cell. Keep them under guard until I get back," Mr. Strickler said, pushing her forward.
He bowed dramatically. "Of course, sir."
She released a shuddering sigh once she stepped back into the cell. Despite its dingy appearance she felt safer here than she had with Ms. Nomura and Mr. Strickler. When Blinky came to greet her Claire's legs gave out beneath her.
This was too much. No matter where she looked there was no escape route. Her trip to the bathroom had been all for naught.
Blinky sat down next to her, concern in his inhuman features. "Are you alright, Lady Claire?"
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"Fear is but the precursor to valor."
Claire wiped away the wetness in her eyes. "I don't feel very courageous."
Blinky's shoulders lowered. "I wish I could be of more help."
She brushed her bangs back. Everything today had been more than she'd ever handled in her entire life. If Atlas didn't save—
Claire pushed the thoughts back once more. There was still a chance. She needed to be strong, if not for herself, then for her baby brother.
But she couldn't stop the thoughts from emerging every few minutes. Not without help. She needed a distraction.
She sniffed, brushing her watery nose with a sleeve. "Can you tell me more about Trollmarket?"
"Of course," he answered, huddling close. "As much as you'd like."
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded, eyes gleaming in delight. "Now, where do we start?"
The half-breed was insane.
"And that's it?" Draal said.
Atlas nodded curtly. "Yep."
By the void. Draal clenched his teeth. How could he not? Of all the stupid things the changeling boy had done, this one was by far the worst. "That's barely even a strategy. Where are the tactics? I do not like this at all."
"I'll be sure to tell my H.R. department your concerns."
"H.R.? Are those the initials of the fool who sold you this plan of yours?"
The boy ran a hand down his face. "Sarcasm, Draal. Sarcasm."
"Your humor fails to amuse me, changeling."
"Oh, trust me, I know," Atlas deadpanned.
Did the teen not understand the severity of this? Bular was no run-of-the-cave troll. He was a Gumm-Gumm warrior, murderer of his father and several of his predecessors.
And now he had cornered them. Draal should have foreseen this. Bular would kill everyone the boy loved to get the amulet.
They couldn't afford to lose this battle.
"It just doesn't make sense," he stressed. "Why not bring in Vendel and the rest of our warriors?"
"Bringing a bunch of trolls out of Trollmarket to go halfway across town would be impossible to keep quiet," he explained. "We would be immediately discovered. No, we can't allow humanity to learn about us. That's why it has to be me alone."
Draal resisted the urge to throw something.
If he were the Trollhunter, he would have taken an army to face the bastard and his impure followers. Fought them tooth and horn, then disposed of their corpses into the nearby rivers.
But he was not one, Draal thought solemnly.
So he kept his words to himself.
Nevertheless, he couldn't help but comment, "You are an idiot."
"Gee, thanks," Atlas replied dryly.
"You're welcome."
"That wasn't…" Atlas waved his hand in the air. "Never mind."
The garage may have muffled the rain, but it did not prevent thunder. The walls shook as a particularly large one rolled passed. Draal tensed.
Though he would never admit it, being topside made him…uncomfortable. As a denizen of the night, he spent most of his life beneath the surface, where walls of rock protected him and his brethren from the elements.
As a child he had been fascinated by rain and indeed, the curiosity still lay beneath the surface, but the loudness and ferocity stifled anything more. There was more than one kind of storm in their midst, and Draal didn't like it. There was too much uncertainty to his liking.
"Are you sure you can do this?" He questioned, motioning to the boy's bandage. "You appear injured. Bular will take advantage of that."
Atlas rolled his eyes, pulling off the material with a flick of his wrist. "Look, it's fine. I'm healed—Ow! Stop that! No touching!"
"Not so healed it appears," he remarked, removing his hand from the teen's injury.
Atlas eyed him spitefully, baring his fangs. Draal growled in response. Though he may be Trollhunter, Draal still had enough pride as a full grown troll not to back down from a bloody whelp's threats.
"Dick," the boy hissed.
He crossed his arms, not budging from his spot. "Idiot."
Atlas flicked his tongue against his tusk."Andrake."
"Bushmalgi," Draal retorted.
Instead of rising to the challenge, Atlas's shoulders sank, expression closed off. Draal looked away.
"Okay, let's not fight," Atlas said. " I already have enough on my mind as it is and I don't need to start another conflict."
Draal bent his head. Shame bled through his core. His father would be humiliated by how easily he'd been riled up by a child. By the Void, no wonder he lost.
Merlin had chosen Atlas for a reason. Perhaps it was because the boy could walk both sides.
Or perhaps because Draal had not been good enough.
His fists clenched. He would recover his honor one way or another. As long as he lived he would do better—be better—than the Troll he was before.
He swallowed, unable to leave the conversation without saying, "I believe in your strength, but this plan of yours is suicide."
"Only partially."
"Do not joke about this, Trollhunter," he stated roughly. "Your mother will be worried. She already is."
And, of course, it was her who decided to call him right in the middle of their argument. Draal wished to groan. The device buzzed in the hidden pocket underneath his faulds. Carefully, he withdrew the tiny rectangle piece out of it.
"Whoa!" Atlas drew close, mouth dropping. "No way! Is that what I think it is?"
"She calls it a Galaxy, though I do not know why." He tilted his head to one side. "How can you fit a universe into a tiny plastic device?" He asked.
Atlas took the phone from his palm, flipping through the screen in a way Draal had yet to master.
The teen released a low whistle. "She got you a cell phone? Sweet Pale Lady, it's brand new too."
"I tried to refuse, but she insisted. Your mother is very stubborn."
"No kidding," he said, a rare genuine smile spreading across his face. How strange. Draal wasn't sure he'd ever seen the changeling with such an expression. "She took on Nomura with a shotgun last night."
Draal scoffed. "Bushigal."
"It's true. She's pretty tough for a human. I don't think I've ever met anyone as courageous as her before." His eyes dimmed as realization hit. He handed the phone back to Draal. "But I can't let her get involved. Not like this. I can't risk her."
"She will be angry."
"Which is why," he began, pressing his forefinger into Draal's chest. "She's not going to find out."
Draal frowned. "You expect me to lie?"
"I expect you to follow the plan."
"But I don't understand. Why do you need to go it alone? There are other ways, other methods—"
"Because this is the only way it will work," Atlas interrupted, voice strained. "You have to trust me on this, Draal."
Ah yes, trust. By the void, it took all of his strength to put such a precious belief in the Trollhunter, but he did, despite his reservations.
"I trust you, but I also fear for you. This isn't like with Nomura or I. Bular is desperate. He will do whatever it takes to win," he answered, closing his eyes. "You are walking into a den of death. For what? Blinky?"
"And Claire." He added, "I'd do the same for you."
Draal blinked. He struggled to control his surprise, choosing instead to focus on the ground beneath him.
"I do not need protecting," he said in a gruff manner.
"Maybe," Atlas laughed, knocking his knuckles against Draal's chest before drifting away. "but I'd still do it for you."
"You confuse me, changeling. You're either very brave, or very foolish."
Atlas lifted a brow then shrugged. "Well, can't say you're wrong there. Now, do you remember what you're gonna tell Toby and AAARRRGGHH! when they start to wonder where I am?"
He grumbled out the words.
"Perfect." Atlas smirked, throwing him a thumbs up. "Make sure mom gets home safely first, okay?"
"On my honor, I swear it." He motioned a fist to his opposite breast, like his father used to do.
The garage door creaked open. Atlas threw up his head, stepping halfway outside. A gust of wind bellowed his cape underneath him.
Atlas looked back at Draal over his shoulder.
"And, uh," he scratched his check, leaning his head back. "If anything goes wrong, if it means anything, I hope you're the next Trollhunter. You'd be good at it."
Draal released a tired sigh.
"And I hope it won't come to that," he said as Atlas disappeared into the rain once more. "Try and stay alive, young Trollhunter."
The teen threw him a half-hearted nod. Within seconds he was gone, hopping between rooftops until he disappeared over the horizon.
Draal adjusted his stance.
Time to get to work.
