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UNSPOKEN
A Dreamworks Trolls Fanfic by C. Prince

Evidence War

Down below, the marketplace thrived with activity. Trolls held leafy poles in place while a crane critter lowered roof decking back onto the coffee shop. Another group led by Smidge cleaned up scattered mushroom chunks. The small troll was having a hard time moving away from a nearby gathering of fuzzlings and crane critters, since Milton was there checking on one of the critters' stretchy necks. Harper's color-splashed hair bobbed as she added a swoop on the curling letters of a new sign for the Bead Boutique and Satin and Chenille unfolded a fresh bellflower canopy over Tug Duluth's tourist booth.

From an unobserved tree limb Poppy watched a teal troll standing in the thick of it all. Branch put a hand to his chin while he conferred with the construction foreman. Around them workers' bright hard hats covered plumes of hair, an oddity that made the group easy to spot, like hard shelled beetles amassing on the forest floor. Branch gave a curt nod and helped the foreman divide workers into groups. Each surrounded a new pod waiting to be hoisted in place of those lost during the storm.

One of the groups began to struggle with their pod's support vine and Branch dashed in to lend a hair right where it was needed.

Poppy leaned back, still watching. She'd been watching Branch ever since she'd met him, first out of curiosity and concern, now out of… a lot more than that.

When the pod was in place one of Branch's crewmates offered a high five. He hesitated. Then yellow and teal palms came together with a light clap – or so she imagined, since the noise was lost underneath all the commotion of rebuilding.

Her attention drifted to the market, half on the lookout for any low spirits or pockets of demotivation. "Biggie, do you think Branch would make a good leader?"

"But isn't he already… Oh! Ohh." Biggie tapped at his cheek and looked to the treetop. "When you put it that way, I was a bit surprised you sent Creek instead of Branch to care for Trollberg."

"You know he'd never leave his bunker behind."

"Yes, well, that," Biggie said before Mr. Dinkles interrupted with a meep. "And you."

Poppy let out a defeated chuckle. "There's something on me, isn't there?"

Biggie peeled the note off the back of her dress that explained why her morning had been especially wonderful. Hug Me scrawled in bold letters next to a colored doodle of a certain troll with his tongue sticking out, winking. She cast a fond look down at said troll, who was still oblivious to his secret admirer.

"Is Creek doing okay with that responsibility, by the way?" Biggie asked.

"You sound worried."

"It's just that I didn't expect him to end up so close to the bergens, um, as a leader."

"He volunteered, Biggie," she stressed. "He didn't have to do that. He could've stayed quiet and let my plan fall apart, but he didn't. And it's not like I put him in charge, he just… seems to be taking initiative the way he used to."

"Alright then. Do try to visit them soon, though. I know you've been a bit distracted but I'm sure Bridget and Gristle wouldn't mind an extra dose of smiles."

Biggie was right. Poppy had been delaying her plans for a visit. It wasn't anything to worry about; it would happen. As soon as Branch said he was going to be busy all day she'd use that time to take her royal flyer bug out.

But not today. Poppy bounced off to one of the swirly slides. She unfolded a strip of temporary tattoos. It would be a challenge. She started crafting a way to pull it off without getting caught.

Forty minutes later inside the leafy hiding spot Poppy checked her arms and legs for any hints. She craned her neck to see what she could of her back. All clear. Branch finished inspecting himself. They looked at each other with silly grins. How funny, to be so trusting and yet so untrusting at the same time. Branch collected one last kiss. Then he turned and sauntered out of the bushes. Two bright rainbows tattooed the backs of his ears.

Poppy nipped her bottom lip to suppress a laugh.

x x x

After a few days someone finally said something. Branch turned to leave, and Tug's voice followed. "Oh! I like the rainbows."

"What—" he looked over his shoulder.

Tug had her hands over her mouth to hold in a giggle. "I realize you aren't supposed to know," she said, "but there are two of them in a very obvious location."

Great. He whirled around, performing a frantic visual search, unable to hold back a blush at the thought they'd be someplace embarrassing. Hesitantly he reached around back. Surely she wouldn't have, not there, she hadn't even touched—his hands swung up with realization and clapped over his ears.

"Yup!" Tug beamed, as if he'd won a prize.

Clever. Very clever, Poppy.

He wandered off, calculating what move to make next. Behind him Tug called out, "It's not a competition, Branch!"

x x x

Branch peeked an eye open to make sure he'd securely tied the pine cone ornament to Poppy's hair. One more loop and done. He went back to kissing her. By now everyone knew that pine cone was his. How long until she realized it was there?

Last week he'd managed to get a finger paint handprint on the back of her dress. He discovered heart stickers on his vest. He still wasn't sure how she'd pulled that one off. Seven on the back and one on the inside fold.

The evidence war did not go unnoticed. Later that afternoon an annoying visitor fogged up his outdoor work site.

"Say Branch, you're good with the ladies," Cloud Guy said. "But how much experience would you say you have?"

"Experience."

"You know, hokey pokey, tango for two, the horizontal bop."

Branch turned off the table saw, lest he saw something other than the stack of lumber. "Is there any way for me to not have this conversation?"

"If you're too embarrassed I'm sure Poppy wouldn't mind sharing her tips with me."

Not going to happen. "Okay, you want a tip? Here's one. Water vapor can't feel pain. But you know," he said, flipping the saw back on, "first time for everything."

The rest of the day was cloud-free.

x x x

Poppy was addicted to Branch. Knowing they were going through a phase didn't quell the obsession. It was like being a kid in the party factory for the first time, seeing a candy firework in action and racing around to catch sparkly treats.

She was the queen. She was supposed to be somewhat responsible. But… candy fireworks!

Instead of visiting Trollberg to check on everyone, the leaf curtain draped over her doorway. She'd stopped noticing the pillows, and the floor's fuzzy fibers tickling the gap between her tie-dye shirt and shorts, a long time ago. What had they been doing? Reading? It didn't matter. Branch was stretched out alongside her, his upper body brushing hers while they delighted each other with the most delicious kisses and cuddles.

During a pause in the action a sneaky idea popped into her mind, a piece of evidence she hadn't considered in years. Poppy bit her lip with a flirty smile.

"Give me a love bite!"

Branch jerked back and scrunched up his face. "Really? What are we, sixteen?"

Poppy puffed and rolled her eyes. All she wanted was to see what it was like again.

When Branch realized she was not joking his ears flattened against his head like a displeased feline. The soft glow encompassing him faded. Clearly he was not into this. "I'm not giving you a love bite. It's literally a bruise."

"Yeah but – just put it somewhere no one will see."

"I don't want to."

She squirmed underneath him, vying for his attention. "Pleeease?"

"No." A serious edge hardened the word.

His rejection stung.

The mood went stale. She deflated, fun ruined, appetite smothered. Above her, Branch's eyebrows pinched together in concern. He wanted to please her but he wasn't going to cater to her every whim, not if it meant activities he didn't agree with.

She feigned cheerfulness and tried to pass it off as no big deal. "Maybe we should stop." The hurt in her voice made her wince. Poppy shifted to get out from underneath Branch, but he didn't move his arms.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "If it matters to you that much I guess I'll do it."

"No, it's okay." She'd ruined it. If it wasn't enjoyable for him she had no intention of asking again. Forcing him into a corner made her miserable.

"Poppy," he huffed, upset.

They were both disappointed. This sucked. They stared at each other for a few moments, unsure what to do. Branch moved so she could sit up.

"Sorry for being pushy," she said. "I get excited sometimes and do that. I didn't mean to hurt you. I kinda thought it'd be a fun thing to try, that's all. Do you, um, not like trying new stuff?"

Branch's eyes went wide with a start. "No no no, that's not it at all! It's..." He rubbed a line between his brows. "I don't like that particular thing. And it's frustrating when you keep insisting. Sorry if I snapped back there."

With mistakes and hurt feelings out in the open the tension between them eased. Branch looked thoughtful. A shy finger brushed the back of her hand. When she didn't pull away it became a warm palm encompassing hers. "Do you, ah…" Branch looked away. "Do you like hickeys? Because I will, if..."

Poppy choked on a snort. "No! I mean, I haven't had one in so long I don't even remember if it hurt or not."

Branch winced.

"What?" she asked.

"That. Hurting you. I can't stand seeing you in any kind of pain."

The sweet admission hit a soft spot. Branch had never been able to tolerate when she was hurting. A rush of compassion for her tenderhearted suitor thudded in her chest, once. Surprise must've registered on her face because Branch looked stupefied.

"Poppy, you can't honestly be surprised by that! When have I ever—"

"I felt something."

His mouth clapped shut and he noted where she'd positioned her hand. She had felt it. She wasn't crazy. Branch's eyes were still round when he puffed a half-laugh. Disbelief, wonder, and dry humor mixed in a weird harmony. "You felt something over an argument about hickeys."

She grinned. "It's not an argument."

"Well, it was." A fuzzy blue eyebrow quirked up, part amused and part confused. "What am I doing right here? Should we fight more?"

She caressed a finger along his jawline. "If it means you spend more time with me."

The lure worked. Poppy wound up where she was before, reclined on floor pillows with Branch at her side, partly over her. A mischievous glint sparked in his crystal blue gaze. "If you want my attention that much I know of a few other things we could try."

Puckered lips pressed a slow kiss at her collar bone. Sky irises flicked up to catch the silly smile taking over her face. He kissed a bit lower. Fingers teased the bottom hem of her shirt upward. The tantalizing new exploration triggered heat, but her muscles tensed at the gleam in his eye. What was he—

Fabric flipped up and Branch slammed a raspberry onto her stomach. Tickling vibrations erupted across her exposed belly. She squeaked with uncontrollable laughter, thrashing, afraid she'd kick him on accident. "Ahahah, Branch! No!" she gasped through giggles.

He tugged her shirt down and loomed over her with a feisty grin. "Okay," he said. "How about a love bite?"

"N—"

Branch rapidly nibbled along her shoulders and neck with ridiculous noises that tickled. He scattered kisses everywhere, some of them purposefully sloppy and wet. Poppy writhed; she couldn't stop laughing. The cold, damp spots left sitting on bare skin were awful. Branch buried his face in the crook of her neck and nipped before plastering his tongue down and sliding the hot, wet surface upward like a cuddlepup. It was gross. Caught in the silly play she squealed and tried to roll away but he had her wrists lightly pinned. The slick purple slug kept moving upward. "Stop! Stop!" she heaved, breathless.

Her treacherous lover sat up with the most victorious grin she'd ever seen. The soggy trail on the side of her neck chilled in the open air. He rubbed a hand over the mess to dry it off while she glared at him with a vengeance. This man had earned a tickle attack when he least expected it.

Poppy massaged the damp spot, trying and failing to hide a smile. "So much for that romantic moment. You couldn't take it seriously?"

"Me. Serious. Hm, I'll think about it."

Branch stood up and stretched before moving to the other end of the room. He lifted the curtain off the doorway, rolled it up, then stashed it in the closet. She sagged further into the pillows. He never stayed.

A few years ago she'd tried every trick in the scrapbook to get him to move into a pod. Despite progress in other areas back then, he never budged on the bunker. It got to the point where even mentioning a pod would trigger an argument.

She picked at an aquamarine fiber in the floor and wondered if they'd survive a squabble over it today.

"Poppy? Is something wrong? I know you want me to stay…"

She offered a weak smile. "I do want you to stay."

"We'd never get anything done. You know that."

She sighed. It was hopeless.

She was left alone with a kiss on the cheek as consolation.

x x x

Poppy hummed, picking up a white sitting puff between the table and blackboard in the community pod. A beam of sunlight stretching through a window warmed the fluffy cushion. She placed the puff at the fore of the wide open gathering space. Then she turned to the scrapbooks stored in wall cubbies. The kids would begin arriving soon. What kind of story was she in the mood for?

A cleared throat from behind interrupted her selection. She looked to see Branch peeping around the doorway. When he had her attention he stepped into full view, hair shining with the luster of a fresh wash. A rainbow crazy daisy twirled between his fingers.

"Tug said I should make a peace offering," he said, tucking the daisy in the gap between her ear and the crown. "Before this escalates into a full blown pillow war like last time."

"Or like prank day?"

Branch stared at her for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Heh heh.

Poppy was going to ask what brought him around early since their date wasn't until tonight, but she got that answer when Branch turned to pod entrance. Even in the sunlight Poppy could spot Amethyst's purple glow and Layla's pink. Sparkles flecked their hair.

"They asked if I knew where you were," he said. Fingers that had somehow twined with hers unraveled. Branch stood quietly beside her.

The parents were radiant. Poppy squeaked with excitement, causing Amethyst to laugh. "We thought you might want to see," Amethyst said.

Layla reached into her orange hair and removed the egg. Poppy fawned over it. Trollings showing up for story time gathered around with curiosity; they were young enough many had never seen an egg before. It was rounder than most. Thin silvery streaks crackled over the shell pattern, glittering like tinsel. The odd markings were entirely new to Poppy.

"When do you think they'll hatch?" she asked, eager to see the newest member of the village.

Branch hissed under his breath, "Poppy you can't just ask that!"

"Sure I can!" she said happily, giving herself a gold star for the couple's light blush. Intimacy made the heart grow fonder. It also made eggs hatch quicker. If not for the kids in the room she'd slip in a sly remark about the reason it's called 'making love' just to watch Branch sputter.

"Probably not that long," Amethyst said with a sidelong grin at Poppy, earning a jab from Layla's elbow and an embarrassed puff out of Branch. He rammed hands under folded arms and looked away, pretending to ignore everyone.

After the parents left Poppy sensed the shift in atmosphere around him. He relaxed but wouldn't face her. Then he said quietly, "The pattern was backwards."

So he'd noticed the direction of the eggshell's design. She put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. I promise. And if they need any special accommodations, I'll make it happen."

He didn't respond, but he looked at her, his eyes searching hers for something. He did that sometimes. What was he hoping to see?

In the background kids played with building blocks they'd dumped out of a bin. Branch turned his attention to the children for a little bit before going to the bookshelves and browsing the spines. The excitement of the egg and a surprise guest poking through scrapbooks brought a wave of small hair tufts around Branch. He wound up in a sea of pleas for a story and a kid fiercely latched to each leg.

"Woah, easy there guys. Not a toy. Also you're making it kinda hard to walk."

Branch's leg cuffs loosened but didn't let go. "Read us the one about Icarus and the Seventh Skill! Pleeeaaase."

"Well, I, uh." Branch shot her a questioning look and she nodded. "Sure. But you're gonna have to let go of my legs."

Branch picked out Keith's book from the shelf and settled down on the white puff. The kids gathered around. Branch got into the story, adding the intensity of his voice to the script and animated hand gestures to the scrapbook popups. The audience drank it up.

Poppy sat back and let Branch be in charge. Once he was finished the pack of youngsters burst out of the pod, reenacting scenes from the tale. Branch shelved the book and shoveled building blocks back into the bin with his hair. He hummed while he tidied up the shared space. A good mood, not in a hurry, free of plans until this evening. He picked up the puff and placed it between the table and blackboard.

Branch peered out the window over the village, sun casting a highlight over his freshly pressed outfit. The tailored green vest and dark spruce shorts complimented his skin. His majesty was a simple one: cool, calm and confident under a ray of light.

Poppy approached the table between them. Trolls weren't like bergens. Leadership wasn't inherited. It was a choice. She needed to ask, one more time.

"Would you consider becoming king?"

Branch closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. "Do you want me to?"

"This isn't about me. What do you want?"

He turned to the window while he gathered his words. Then, he said, "If you ask me to fill the role I will, even though it's not what I want. I don't want to be responsible for coordinating all of the festivals and parties and being the fountain of positivity everyone looks to. I'd rather stick with defense. I'd rather support you. I'm happy where I am now."

Such honesty. Poppy smiled because it was cute Branch didn't realize his leadership style was his own, although, yes, there was a ton of event planning involved and he'd never been a keen party host. But what really made her smile was that he knew what made him happy. "That's good," she said. "Because the village needs a strong Head of Security and Defense."

He brightened.

"I'm glad you know what you want," she laughed.

"What I really want is you."

The bold comment startled her for a second before playfulness kicked in. "Oh?" She tensed at the sight of him slowly edging his way around the table, trying to sneak up. "Then you'll have to catch me!"

Poppy bolted before Branch could get a hold of her. Thrill screamed inside her chest. He was close and if he reached her there was no telling what would happen. Thudding steps threatened to cut her mad dash to safety short.

Thank goodness everyone was used to these hot pursuits by now. Trolls moved aside like confetti in a breeze, leaving a clear path. Poppy slung her hair over a bough to take an unexpected hard right and flew out of the tree. The trick gained just enough of a gap to race over the lawn and under a mushroom cap into the dense undergrowth of the forest.

Poppy scudded behind a thick trunk and waited. No way was Branch going to catch her in here, and he knew it. Footsteps prowled back and forth along the forest edge. He didn't bother to follow her into the woods these days. She kinda missed hearing his grumbly stomping while he searched.

She shouted around the trunk. "Nice try Branch!"

He harrumphed.

"Dinner's at six. Don't be late!"

While she waited for the steps to recede back into the village she planned a meal that would take some extra effort. It'd be worth it to see him enjoy it.

Poppy leaned against the bark and looked up at blue sky peeking through leaves. It didn't matter that Branch chose to not have an official title. Whether he knew it or not, he was already a leader. A future king in everything but name, willing to support her but not be swayed, wanting to protect their people, and, she imagined, happy to teach whoever jumped up as the next princess or prince. She smiled. Branch wouldn't stand idly by while she filled a new heir's head with cotton candy and gumdrops.

The king of her heart was like that.

x x x

On an otherwise ordinary evening, a fuzzling bumbled under the rain repellent leaf tarp over Branch's work site to deliver news that Poppy was looking for him. She wanted to put the final touches on one of her friendly schemes. He put safety guards back on the tools and cleaned himself up. Then he headed to her pod.

At the kitchen counter he diced up fruit, seeing if it was possible to slice tango melon into heart-shaped pieces. The failures ended up in his mouth. Poppy organized cut fruit into fancy stackable containers. Besides explaining what to do, she hadn't said much.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"I tried to grow a new heart again. Still nothing."

"Does it feel broken?"

"I feel like a totally normal troll."

He bit back a remark about normalcy. "Well," he said, scrounging around for a toothpick. "I'm sure whichever lucky troll you were thinking of sharing it with wouldn't mind if you presented a ring instead. Or a flower." He inserted the pick into a tango melon heart. "You could propose with a piece of fruit and they wouldn't care."

He set the plate of hearts on the table for packing and gave Poppy the speared one. Cupcakes, her smile was amazing.

"How are you so good at cheering me up?" Poppy asked.

"Hit my head on that bergen pot. Scrambled my brains a bit."

"I'll believe it as soon as the sender of that get-well-soon bouquet three years ago steps forward."

"You knew that was me?"

"I do now."

Frosting.

Poppy had not returned Smidge's picnic set. Branch spread the blanket under the starry sky of Black Rock's butterfly garden. After dark the garden was a whole new world illuminated by glowshrooms. Night air brought the clear, fresh scent of sweet moss flowers. Wedge crickets played their songs.

While he poured molten chocolate into the fondue fountain his one-track mind kept going back to the bedlike moss and Poppy.

A light blinked up above the clearing once, twice, three times. He flicked the mushroom centerpiece with a finger to wake up its mellow glow and then snuck over the stones, past the forest curtain to the black rock cliffs surrounding the enclave. A pink stream ending in a spiral circle platform waited to lift him up. Once he was on board Poppy reeled in her hair.

Together they peered over the cliff edge.

Milton was the first to arrive in his white critternarian coat. He blew on a silent whistle and all the wedge crickets circled around. He knelt and examined each one.

Branch didn't know what Poppy told Smidge, but the yellow troll burst into the garden bristling. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Milton. The all too familiar scene of confusion unfolded until the pair of trolls below lapsed into an entranced stare, their hands linked.

"Hoo boy, they've got it bad," Poppy whispered beside him. "How good is your aim?" She passed him a peashooter.

"Which one do you want me to hit?"

"The rocks, not them!" she hissed.

He grinned at the fact he could still rile her. "I was kidding," he said, bringing the peashooter to his mouth and lining up the shot. The sharp crack against the stones behind the fondue jolted Smidge and Milton back to reality.

"Nice shot Branch."

The couple in the garden curled up close together on the blanket and explored the treats. Body language made it clear things were about to get sappy.

"We better give them some privacy," Poppy said.

Doing something nice for others together felt like one of Poppy's hugs wrapped up in a blanket around his heart. He liked anonymity; she liked surprises. It was a good combination.

Poppy was full of energy after that, bounding around out of reach on their way back. She kept looking at him, long and thoughtful. He didn't know what that meant.

"What?" he asked.

She twirled and walked backwards with her hands behind her back. "I love spending time with you," she said. "You make me happy."

The wonderful warmth filling him up crept onto his face. "I love… spending time with you too. In case it wasn't obvious."

He'd almost said it on accident. Any other troll would've probably just said it. How would she react? It would be good for her to know, but he didn't want her to feel pressured.

Poppy quit skipping around and stood in his path. He stopped. She smirked, her eyes turning hot. Branch felt her evaluate him from his toes up as she closed the distance, hips swaying. Her gaze landed on his. He didn't dare move.

She gave him a low-burning kiss that had him leaning in. She took his hands and slipped something rectangular in. A gift box.

"Goodnight Branch," she purred.

At some point she'd found time to make chocolate covered strawberries. He took them back to the bunker. Gary sat in his usual spot on the shelf by the elevator shaft.

"Look, I know it's troll custom to exchange heart pieces, but you're the only one who's going to understand me when I say this: I can live without the tradition. If Poppy ever says she loves me, that's all the proof I need."

"I'm not being romantic, I'm being serious."

Gary was silent for a long while. He didn't say much these days. Less and less as time went on.

"I know our conversations are coming to an end. I'm... not ready to let go just yet. Okay? I'll be in the library."

Branch sat at his table, deep in thought, eating the strawberries. They were juicy, encased in a shell of sweetness that melted in his mouth.

He had a theory about what was happening. Two, actually. The first was a defensive mechanism. Poppy's heart could be protecting itself from ending up in the wrong hands again. No matter how much she wanted to rush it, the heart flower wouldn't bloom unless it felt safe.

The second theory was it had become part of the forest and she'd never see it again. She'd have to cope with not having one. Knowing Poppy it would be a long struggle to accept that reality and he was signing up to be there every step of the way, including if she didn't want kids because of it. Even though a troll could wish for a child on their own, couples always put their hearts together. He'd have to find out how important that was to her.

But he really hoped…

Branch folded an empty strawberry wrapper in half repeatedly, creasing it, unfolding, refolding. The thought of raising trollings, their trollings, together in a home that was happy and safe and colorful, that they could create life like that and watch it grow, that the lives of his grandparents and parents and brother and all the generations before that could go on through him, that all those sacrifices had been for something; everything that had happened so he could be alive here, in this moment, in this dream with her, a dream that could go on and on and on long after they were gone; it was too much.

He almost didn't feel worthy.

A tear splattered on the hardwood table.

If Poppy wanted that with him someday, he couldn't think of a love greater than that.