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No Strings Attached is published to Ao3 with an index page to see descriptions for all the short stories and skip/read the ones you want.
Princess Barb
"Dad," his daughter complains. "I'm a little old for bedtime stories. Geeze I'm almost 14. You haven't read to me in like, three years."
"Mmm, yes," he hums. "And when I'm old and senile you can read to me."
"You're already old," she points out.
Skulls, you'd think he didn't know that from the way she says it. Where'd she get all that sass? Certainly not from him, and he's an only father. Never had interest in a partner. She must be getting that whiplash tongue from her friends.
Thrash's thick, carefully trimmed eyebrows raise up at the comment. "Thank you Barbara. I wasn't aware of my own age."
Her eyes go wide before she scowls and folds her arms, gaze jerking to the molten lavafall on the side of the solar. The private room on the fortress' upper floor provides one of the few getaways from their genre's wild lifestyle. His daughter can probably hear clattering and laughing downstairs. He used to be able to.
A graying wisp marrs his thick black mane, all of it held up by a solid steel circlet. The silky plumes cascade from his head and reach mid-back, but they're thinning. Pity. He's gaining weight, he gets tired faster, and more things hurt than ever before. Honestly he's surprised he's still alive. He was sure somebody would've offed him by now.
If it happens he's got trolls set up to raise Barbara. She has the same perfect obsidian night hair as him, though she dyed it recently. Neon green.
What was he…? Oh yes, the story. "This is about the six strings."
Barbara flops onto the leather couch when she realizes she's not getting out of this one. "Yeah, yeah, six strings, pop trolls took all of them, we saved the world, the end."
"There's more to it than that."
"Ugh," she groans. "Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can't it just be easy?"
"What would we rock about if it was easy?"
That wins a grin. "Pff. Yeah. Okay, guess you're right. Still."
No, nothing in Volcano Rock City is easy. The size of the lava kingdom was big when he inherited the throne. By the time Barbara is crowned, it will be massive. The ore deposits required to repair older structures are dwindling, and shipments from the country troll badlands aren't enough. Worse, his advisors predict food and water scarcity in years to come due to increasing volcanic activity. The lava protects rock trolls, but it's not so kind to the farms they depend on.
Ever since disco died international relations are strained to the breaking point. Rock has the strongest economy, the most freedom, the best education system, the sickest fashions, the powerful music, and obviously the largest population. If the others truly understood this lifestyle things would be different. Everyone would get along.
Instead, last week the country trolls missed an ore delivery. An underground university building collapsed and killed several students, injuring dozens more. Trolls weren't supposed to use buildings that didn't pass inspection, but following laws wasn't exactly his subjects' strong suit.
They need a new plan.
"Do you know what happens if all the strings come together?" he asks.
"Something happens? I thought pop took every string for themselves to make… whatever… by mixing everything."
"They did. Whoever has the strings has the power to control all music. In the wrong hands it's abused."
This isn't part of the usual history curriculum. Barbara slowly sits up on the couch, now paying full attention. "What do you mean power to control music?"
"I mean, if a troll were strong enough, and if their music was strong enough, they could bring everyone together with the strings."
Then he tells her the new story, one that's started circulating around the universities.
It never made much sense how pop music held control for so long. Sure, they allied with violent creatures he'd caught glimpses of once before, getting too close to Pop Village. But that alone wouldn't have been enough. No. The ancient Emperor had done something with the combined strings. He'd somehow changed the hearts of the people. He turned them into pop trolls: a transformation so complete splitting up the strings didn't undo it.
It was a theory, but the more historians looked into it, the more it made sense. The population data lined up. It explained why so many trolls went missing centuries ago. They weren't missing; they just never came home.
The strings could unite all trolls under one music.
Barbara's tone is accusatory. It annoys her the genres are – quote unquote – too stupid to get along. "Why didn't you say anything about this before?"
"Because I don't know if it'll work."
Her fingers dig into the couch. "But it could. No more fighting. Dad, those college students would still be alive. The disco trolls would still be alive!"
She's right of course. Even if there's a chance it might work they have to try, because the bed of nails trolldom is sinking into will bleed them dry if someone doesn't do something soon.
"That's why," he says, withdrawing a slick black case from his hair, "if I don't make it, I'm entrusting this to you."
He clicks the case open. Steam hisses from the velvet lining, revealing a red glow of the royal skulled axe and its single string. The string that keeps their music alive.
Barb chuckles nervously, scuffing a hand through her green mohawk. "Don't make it? Don't be so morbid dad. Geeze."
He isn't one to sugarcoat the truth. It's a suicide mission. "The plan is to get all six strings. That includes the pop string."
That's assuming he can find all of the accursed things in the first place. If he can't do it, she'll have to. It's pathetic that he has to rely on his daughter. He'd hoped to make the world a better place for her. Shit outta luck on that one.
"The pop string," she mumbles, admiring the family axe. Its confident red glint reflects off her eyes. She's strong, even if she's being a pain in the ass lately. He's proud of her.
"Dad..." she says hesitantly. "This is about those trolls you sent to Pop Village. They didn't come back, did they?"
No. They didn't.
They never do.