And another one! Let's goooo.

Chapter 5:

It had been a few days since the 'incident' in the Prison house and for the time being, it seemed to be silent. The sun was slowly setting, shining softly through the windows, while Angor kept guarding his room, trying to keep himself awake by making little wooden golem statues. Normally he would use parts of his own body, but once again, the human body had proven that it wasn't up for it. A chunk of flesh didn't suffice as something he could properly mold, so he broke off some parts of a wooden chair that stood in the corner of his room. He knew that without magic the golems were useless, but he needed something to do and this was something that passed the time.

He had barely slept since that day, wanting to be ready for any fight that could be coming his way. He guarded, trained, made some weapons, carved golems and repeated. Angor only went downstairs to get food when necessary, resulting in murderous staring contests with Gunmar whenever he came down the stairs, who never seemed to leave his spot behind the counter. Still, that was the only thing that happened. Gunmar just sat there, staring. He didn't talk, barely moved and just watched him like a hawk. It annoyed Angor greatly, because he recognized the tactic. Angor used it many times, observing your prey, searching for weak spots, habits, preferences, distastes. Anything that could be used to your advantage. Gunmar found out that he shouldn't have underestimated the assassin, so now he was trying other ways to win the next fight.

Luckily, because Angor catched on, he gave the wartroll barely any information. He'd stay in his room and when he came downstairs, he returned the death glare. He walked down the steps in the same pace, around the same time, grabbed the same foods, turned around and left met as many footsteps as he did the day before. It was impossible to give Gunmar zero information, so he tried to contain it in repeating his every move. Putting his image inside a box, Gunmar could not guess what he did outside of it.

As Angor continued carving his statue, he noticed that, even though he was ignoring his hunger, his thoughts and movement became slower. He sighed, as he laid his work down on the floor. It was time to get downstairs again. He got up from his main spot and put the knife in it's shed, hiding it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

Slowly, he walked down the steps, same pace, same position and yet again Gunmar's eye looked in his direction, following him like a search light. He returned the favor, walking towards the grocery bag that stood next to the door. He grabbed four items, mostly fruits or something he recognized and stood up, walking away. Angor almost reached the stairs, when Gunmar suddenly talked.

'Have you heard from Morgana?'

This caught him off guard, stopping in his tracks. That Gunmar tried to talk to him wasn't unheard of, but mentioning Morgana was unexpected. He tried not to think about her, as it just added to the pile of chaos he was already dealing with. But he stopped walking, breaking his routine. And Gunmar was catching on.

'I guess you haven't….Discarded you like a dog, such a surprise.' Gunmar said, chuckling lightly at the thought.

This shouldn't affect Angor the way that it did, but for some reason, it woke something up in him. Was it the lack of food? Sleep? Maybe it was being locked up for a few weeks with the other prisoner. All he knew is that if he didn't want to think about something, he would put it away, but at this moment he couldn't quite control it.

Morgana…

He remembered her face clearly. The beautiful, powerful red haired witch, who's green eyes glowed coldly behind her golden, shining armor. Flashes of her entrapping his soul, reviving him, smiling warmly at him and trying to kill him. He really did not want to think about her…

He closed his eyes and tried to discard the memories. They were useless to him now and he couldn't keep standing here in front of the stairs like the sun turned him into stone. He opened his eyes again, aiming on continuing his plan on ignoring Gunmar's insults and head up the stairs. He looked towards the kitchen counter, to start the glaring contest again, only to find out Gunmar wasn't at his usual spot.

Oh…

Before he could react, a huge hand appeared from behind him and grabbed him by the throat, shoving Angor against the wall next too the door with a loud bang. The food items fell on the floor as Gunmar's face, with a large wicked grin, appeared in front of him, pinning his arms and legs against the wall with his own body. Squeezing his hand on Angors throat, no air was coming in or out.

'Got you.' Gunmar victoriously barked.

Furious at how he could let this happen, Angor tried to free his arm to get to his knife, but Gunmar kept him tight on the spot. How the hell was this man still so strong, even in human form?! The dark spots in his visions returned with a vengeance and Angor knew he had to free himself soon. He tried to free his right leg, in the hope to kick Gunmar in the knee, but the more he struggled, the more Gunmar squeezed his throat tight. His power began to leave his body as the dark spots slowly took over the sight of a grinning Gunmar.

Slowly, Gunmar moved his face to the side of Angors.

'Let me make some things clear.' he growled closely in the assassins ear. 'I am the great Gunmar. I have conquered endless kingdoms and ended more lives before you were even carved out of the rocks by your elders. Don't-' closing his hand even more tightly 'even think that you will be able to win from me, with your little knives and cheap fighting tricks.'

Gunmar's voice started to sound like he was underwater, echoing through the assassin's skull. Angor struggled less and less, feeling he was reaching his limit. Damn it, he needed to get some air!

'If you ever cut me again, I will break you and leave you on the floor to die like a dog, just like your owner did…'

After this, Gunmar abruptly let go of Angor, stepping back. Angor instantly dropped, hitting the floor hard, falling forward on his hands and knees. His throat and lungs were burning and all he could do was gasp for air, as he tried in all of his power to not loose consciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gain some clarity in his mind.

Angor heard Gunmar walk away from him, his footsteps slowly fading from the room, finally leaving the kitchen. Angor didn't know how long he stayed in that position, but slowly he started to regain his sight, as his ragged breath became more and more steady. As soon as he could see again, he yanked his head up, checking to see if Gunmar was somewhere still lurking in sight. Relieved to see that he was alone, he tried to stand up. It went alright, his knees felt sore after catching his entire weight when he hit the floor, but he still took a moment to sit on the steps of the staircase. He assumed he had to wait until he was breathing normally before he tried to climb the it.

While he waited a bit on the stairs, it started to sink in what just happened. Breathing hurt. His throat felt sore, the spot where Gunmars hand hold him tight, still burning his skin. He tried touching it, but as it only increased the pain, he angrily put his hand back on the stairs.

That bastard...

How could he let this happen? He was trained to sense if someone was behind him, how on earth did he not notice this? Why did he suddenly get all those visions of the Pale lady, distracting him? Was it not only his human body that's pathetic but also his brain?

Many questions raced through his mind as he stared across the room, trying to make sense of it. His knife found it's way back in his hand, held steadily, guarding it's owner. He reminded himself once again he had to keep his guard up at all times in this house. Whatever Gunmar was trying to do, he refused to be his punching bag.

He looked up to the grocery bag next to the main entrance, hidden in the shadows, while the last rays of sunshine shone between the houses. The bag reminded him he still had to eat. Deciding to just take the whole bag, he could stock some food up in his room, reducing the times he had to go downstairs.

Angor stood up, ignoring the pain and walked over to the bag, bending his knees to pick it up. The moment he reached the bag, the sound of the entrance door opening made him immediately jump in action and face the one entering the door. Knife still in hand, he pulled the person in with his other hand. Forcing the knees of the intruder to buckle by a kick of Angors foot, the person dropped loudly on the floor. He had the upper hand in this fight, Angor thought. It was about damn time.

'What the hell?!'

Angor ignored the person's protests and quickly climbed over him, aiming for his neck with the knife. Before he could though, the person quickly rolled on his back, a big iron sword suddenly colliding with Angors knife, stopping him from reaching the neck. The echo of metal on metal colliding filled the room, followed by a tense silence.

Both men held there weapon strong, waiting for the other to make a move. Angor coldly observed the eyes of the intruder, which could be seen just above the big sword he was holding. Big, intense, fiery eyes stared back at him, burning in unusual yellow and red colors. Bits of wild, blue hair fell before them, as the person did it's best to keep his sword in place.

Angor recognized this eyes somewhere… He knew this person, but couldn't quite place it.

'Angor! Get off of him!' Jim's voice came from outside the entrance, his footsteps telling Angor that he was approaching fast, probably to attack him from the back. Not making the same mistake twice, Angor jumped away, creating distance between him and the two visitors. Holding his knife ready, he observed the man Jim was helping up.

'Are you ok, Draal?' Jim ask in worry. 'I didn't expect Angor to come at you, sorry. Normally it's more Gunmars style.'

Angor's eyes widened in surprise. Draal. This blue haired human is the troll Gunmar possessed to do their bidding and he also personally killed. Great. This day did not go in his favor, Angor tiredly thought.

Draal had a hard time adjusting to things getting back to normal.

At the same time, this whole situation was everything accept normal. Draal being alife, is one for example. He still couldn't quite comprehend how and why. One moment he was just floating in some weird plain of nothing, having no actual senses or concept of time and the other moment he got yanked back into existence with a vengeance. It wasn't a pleasant experience to first be in total everlasting peace and then, in one short second, suddenly feel shock of your lungs get filled with air and the agony of hitting the cold, hard ground.

Draal didn't know how long he just laid there, shivering and shaking from the shock and cold, but when he finally stood up, he found out he was in a entirely destroyed and abandonment Trollmarket. His still felt a sharp pain in his heart, thinking about the shattered heart stone, standing there, tall, ruined and without it's powerful shining source of life. Because of this, Draal stayed in the ruins for a long time, thinking all of his friends were dead, along with the heart of Trollmarket. Realizing that he failed to protect his kin, he just numbly walked among the ruins, mourning his loved ones, feeling worthless and not finding any motivation on what to do next. Seeing himself in a dusty mirror, it didn't even face him that a human was staring back to him. His heart was too empty to actually care, but after some days of just wandering and occasionally finding some water to drink, he noticed that his hunger became bigger then his self pity. Slowly he started to climb out of the ruins, finding his way out of Trollmarket, heading into the woods.

After feeling the fresh air, drinking from fresh streams and hunting down what he thought was what humans ate, he slowly started to feel better. He still mourned, but at least he found his strength back to continue living. He didn't know if the pain would ever go away, but he assumed he had to try to move forward, how hard it may be. That was, until one day, he heard two loud voices in the distance, arguing about something. Draal hid behind the a big tree, keeping an eye out to the mysterious figures, approaching in his direction. When Steve and Eli stumbled through some prickly bushes, branches and leaves sticking out of their hair, Draal immediately recognized them as friends of Jim. He appeared from behind the tree, walking towards them, feeling a wave of relieve come over him, knowing some others had survived. What he did not realize was that he looked like a huge, barely clothed, wildly blue haired mad man, approaching two minors deep in the woods of Arcadia. Steve and Eli immediately screamed their lungs out, running in the opposite direction. Draal chased them, not making the situation any better, yelling for them to stop and trying to convince them he was a troll. The two boys tried to hide behind a boulder, what could have worked if the bigger, blonde one didn't yell so loudly for help.

'JIM!' Draal heard the boy scream in pure fear. Draal stopped for a moment, feeling the name of his deceased friend hit him right in the face. Did he say Jim? Is he… is he alife?! Draal run around the big rock, shoving the screaming skinny one aside, who tried bravely but miserably to attack him. Draal headed towards the blond boy, taking the little device out of his hand, receiving the highest yelp he had heard in centuries. He ignored it, holding the device towards his ear.

'Who is this?' he heard through the box.

Draal couldn't believe it. It felt like a huge weight suddenly felt of his chest, finally making him breath easier in weeks. He closed his eyes, feeling his shoulders drop from the invisible load he was carrying. It was Jim. Thank all his ancestors, one of his friends was alive.

'Jim, can you hear me? It's me.'

Reuniting with his friends was one of the best moments Draal would remember for the rest of his life. There was a lot of embracing, smiles, cheering and maybe a bit of crying, but Draal wouldn't add that one to the tale if he would ever tell someone how he once again reunited with his beloved friends.

In a couple of days, Draal learned about what had happened after he had died. The fight against Gunmar and Morgana, the human transformation and what followed after. He was still trying to adjust to all the changes, not feeling at home in his human body at all. Everyone suddenly looked different and needed different things. Especially the fact that the trollhunter now was turned into a troll hybrid, which made Draal proud and a bit jealous at the same time. What he would do, just to be a troll again.

Draal once again offered his services, wanting to be useful in the times of need. He pledged his loyalty to the trollhunter after all. Apparently he came just in time, as he was told Gunmar and Angor Rot were imprisoned and they were in great need of someone keeping them in line. This wasn't Draals dream job, after being possessed by one and murdered by the other, but at the same time he knew that he was one of the few who could succeed in this job. Draal was big, strong and a skilled fighter. So he agreed to it, hoping he eventually would find some peace with what had happened to him and protect the humanized trolls of Arcadia in any way possible. He just got all of his friends back, he would not loose them again. If he needed to keep the prisoners in line, he would.

This brought him back to the fact that he was standing in the kitchen of the Prisoner House. Or what was left of it, as most of the floor was covered in broken furniture, rubble and splinters. Jim just helped him up after he suddenly got attacked by Angor.

'I'm alright, Jim.' Draal said with a scowl, trying to hide the embarrassment of eating dust the moment he opened the door. This job was going to be a challenge. Putting his sword back in the shed behind his back. he dusted himself off and turned his attention back to the assassin, who now stood on the other side of the room.

Folding his arms, he observed the man who just attacked him. Clearly, Angor was also victim to the curse of Morgana, but Draal found it hard to see him as a human at the moment. Lurking in the shadows, glowing, yellow eyes shone brightly towards him, eyeing him more like prey then an actual person. He still hold his fighting stance, crouching closely to the ground, one hand on the floor and the other holding his knife ready. The only thing making him a bit more human were his simple, gray tank shirt, black sweat pants and messy white hair. No golden bracelets, Uraeus shaped horns, chunks of stone missing over his body, glowing a luminious purple. Just, plain human, which also felt… weird.

'Angor Rot…' Draal started, already feeling a rising hatred towards the man, as only saying his name reminded him of the fact that he got murdered by the assassin. He knew he couldn't let his emotions take the best of him. He did not have to like the prisoners, just keeping an eye on them was enough.

'I've arrived here to guard your prison.' Draal stated, showing his authority. 'From now on, you and Gunmar will listen to me. There will be no more violence in this house, or you'll have to deal with me, Aaargh or Nomura when they take over my shift.'

The speech was simple, clear, without flaw and Draal totally did not practice this in front of the mirror beforehand to make a powerful first impression.

Angor still stood steady, not moving an inch, observing Draal and the trollhunter from the shadows. The sun had fully set, filling the kitchen in total darkness, accept for some streetlights, casting a faint light through the windows.

'I guess you have me convinced.' he growled lowly, grinning in response. 'Especially after you let me tackle you so easily…'

Draal swallowed uncomfortably, but tried to keep his posture high and strong. 'That won't happen again, I assure you.' he responded, hoping he sounded more convincing then he felt.

Angor kept his gaze locked on the two, not wanting to leave his spot, but after having to fight twice in less then half an hour without food or sleep, he knew he had to retreat. If Gunmar showed up in the kitchen again, it would surely end up in a third one and Angor was not looking forward to it. His neck probably showed the events beforehand, but luckily the nightfall kept the hunters from seeing the damage. He slowly stood up, walking past them towards the stairs, but keeping his distance in the shadows, trying to keep his state hidden from view.

'We'll see about that, guard…' he sarcastically sneered at Draal, exaggerating his last word, showing the blue haired man he saw through his little strong man act. Not that Angor wasn't putting up his own little performance at the moment, but he surely was a lot better in faking it. He had a lot of practice after all. He went up the stairs, leaving the other two alone in the kitchen.

The kitchen was silent for a moment. Jim sighed, rubbing his neck.

'See what I have to deal with?' he tiredly said. 'Just wait until Gunmar comes running around the corner.'

'Yeah…' Draal sighed, being reminded of the second prisoner he still had to deal with.

'If things go wrong, call me right away.' Jim said, heading towards the exit. 'I really appreciate you doing this, Draal, but don't push yourself to far. They are a hand full.'

Draal nodded, giving Jim an assuring smile. 'I will, trollhunter, don't you worry about me.'

Jim gave him one last look of concern, before opening the door and shutting it behind him, leaving Draal alone in the house. Draal looked around the kitchen, he should find Gunmar and inform him about the new situation.

Right on cue, the former king of the Darklands entered the kitchen, charging towards Draal. He had heard the conversation from the other room, but knowing the trollhunter was there, he decided not to make his move yet. What could he say? When Jim's away, Gunmar will play. Now that the trollhunter left, Gunmar could have his fun. First succeeding in harming Angor and now his little former puppet showed up out of nowhere for dessert. This must be Gunmars lucky day!

Draal immediately drew his sword, getting ready to defend himself from Gunmar, who quickly closed the distance between them. This was going to be a long night…

The sound of falling water filled the room, echoing through Angor's mind. The streams fell into a deep pond, hitting it with a heavy weight, filling the entirety of his hearing with the noise of just moving water. It was loud, not allowing him to hear anything else, but felt strangely soothing. He laid on his back, eyes closed, feeling a flat, cold surface beneath him. Not knowing where he was, nor could he remember where he was supposed to be, he just laid still, feeling tiny drops of water hit his face. The slow thumb of his heart, calmly beated in his chest, as he just enjoyed the warm, damp space that surrounded him. It was a pleasant feeling, this moment of tranquility, something rare he didn't get to experience often.

'My champion…'

A soothing, warm voice appeared next to him. It was a voice he knew too well, hearing it often in the past, but he had a hard time recalling the events. Angor slowly opened his eyes as he turned his head to look at her.

Morgana laid on her side, her arm tucked under her head, looking at him with a warm, welcoming smile, reaching her emerald green eyes. Her golden armor was replaced by a dark, indigo, long sleeved dress, contrasting her bright, red hair. Behind her, Angor could see that they were surrounded by a curtain of waterfalls, falling behind the edge of the round, white tiled floor they were laying on. Soft, blue light shone through the water, dancing around them as the water continued to fall. He had never seen such a structure before.

'We meet at last.' Morgana continued, still smiling at him. It felt comforting, having her by his side. Like a piece of him, that silently lingered in the back of his soul, found it's way home.

Angor blinked slowly, his mind taking an awfully long time to find what words to say. Was he always this slow?

'How?' was the only thing his mind seemed to come up with.

She eyes lit up, as she laughed softly. 'Don't you worry about that, my faithful companion. I am just glad to see you again.'

Faithfull… Somewhere in his mind, he knew that was not true. But why?

'I had lost you, you see.' Morgana mused, placing her hand at the side of his face, softly caressing his cheek. His questions seemed to ebb away with the water, just feeling the soft touch on his skin. 'I've searched far and neigh, hoping you would call for me, but it had been silent for weeks on end.'

Placing her hand on his chest, she moved to face him from above, closing the distance between them. Her beauty shone down on him, long, red locks falling to the sides of his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this wasn't right, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her, mesmerized by the enchanting, green emeralds looking back at him.

'But then I heard you! Softly, in the back of your mind, you've called upon me.' her eyes filled with joy, recalling the memory. 'I have found you. I have found you at last, my champion…'

All Angor could do was stare at the beautiful woman smiling down at him, the soft, blue light faintly shining through the red locks of her hair. His mind was blank and at peace. He did not know what was happening, or why, but he didn't mind. This felt pleasant. This felt safe. This felt-

Loud, harsh banging on the door vibrated through the room as Angor felt his bed shake by the mere force of it. Flashes of emerald dissapeared from his memory as his eyes immediately shot open and he rolled of the mattress, pulling out his knife and creating distance between himself and the door in mere seconds. Sunshine shone through the windows, casting his shadow on the closed door in front of him.

Taking a second to realize where he was, he saw the bed he'd put in front of the door. He remembered hearing a brawl downstairs yesterday night, assuming Gunmar was testing out their new babysitter. Not having any intentions to join the party, taken over by hunger and exhaustion, he decided to just drag the bed in front of the door, having some kind of blockade. He didn't even remember lying down, the light just went off. Now that he thought of it, he didn't even remember what happened after that. One moment he walked towards the bed, the next someone was aggressively pounding on the bedroom door. He vaguely remembered dreaming about something, but what it was, he couldn't recall.

'Angor, open the door.' a voice demanded behind the door.

Angor's attention snapped back to the door. It was Draal. Apparently he survived the night, which surprised the assassin abit. He expected the guard to not even last an hour, after hearing the commotion downstairs. That didn't mean Angor was going to open the door, though.

'No.' he simple stated.

'What?… Why-' Draal stumbled, catching himself on getting worked up by it. 'Just open the door. I have no intention of fighting you.'

'How kind…' Angor growled. 'But still a no.'

He heard Draal let out a sigh. For a moment it was silent on the other side. Angor tightened the grip on his weapon, not knowing precisely what the blue haired man was planning. The silence continued until suddenly the door got opened by force. The bed got pushed aside, while the wood moaned and creaked in the process. Draal didn't get the door fully open, but it was enough to peek his head through the crack. He got one full second to observe the room, before having to quickly retreat, as a knife hit the wall at the exact spot his face had been before.

'Wow! Ok, Angor, I just said-' Draal said, appearing again, eyes a bit widened by the surprise attack. He had a bit of trouble keeping one eye open, as it appeared blue and swollen. He had not come out of the fight unscathed.

'What do you not understand about NO?!' Angor shot back. This man was testing his ever so crumbling patience. What was it with people just marching in all the time? First Gunmar, then Jim and now this idiot. He really should find a better way to block the door, Angor scolded to himself.

'Look, I-' Draal grunted, giving the door one more good push, making enough space for him to enter the room. '-just came to check on you. This house doesn't have any bars, you know.'

Angor looked at him dumbfounded. The audacity of this man was beyond him. He expected that an average person wouldn't try a second time to get in after almost getting a knife in it's skull. Gunmar would, but the wartroll was anything but average.

Having just thrown his only knife that he had in reach away, he decided to straightened his back, folding his arms, not showing his next move. If he could slowly get to the nightstand in the corner of the room without Draal's notice, he could grab another one.

'Clearly, I'm still alive. Now go.' he dryly stated.

Draal kept his place next to the door, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He tried to take his task seriously, keeping his authority as guard up, but it wasn't easy. Yesterday already showed to be a challenge, when it was clear that both of the prisoners didn't even see him as an equal fight. Luckily, he got out of the fight with Gunmar mostly unharmed. Draal had the upperhand, carrying a sword, but if he hadn't gotten Gunmar of balance in time, he doubted he would've survived. They may almost share the same size, but one look at Gunmar made it clear that he carried a lot more strength. Draal knew he had to do something about this soon. He doubted he or the other guards could live long on luck alone. He decided, when his shift was over, he would pay a visit to Merlin, to see if there were some solutions.

Draal brought his attention back to the room. A bed stood in front of him, used to block the entrance. Little golems were placed upon the drawer behind Angor, woodchips scattered around the floor. A chair laid broken and in pieces in the corner, showing to be the source Angor used to make the little statues. Draal recognized them as similar onces like the golems the assassin had used as his army to attack the old Trollmarket. There were so many. How long did he work on those?

Draal had to adjust to the fact that he was guarding his former murderer. After he arrived in New trollmarket, Draal got informed about all the events that happened after his own demise. That included about Angor Rot, joining their side at the last moment, sacrificing himself in the process. It was an unexpected turn of events, for sure, but it didn't make Draal have a change of heart about trusting the assassin. When he looked at the man in front of him, he still saw a murderer, a killing machine who took many lives, including the souls of trollhunters. One sudden choice that worked in the favor of saving everyone, didn't make this man trustworthy.

But, Draal painfully had to admit, he already noticed that Gunmar was enough of a challenge after just one night. He used to be a proud, stubborn troll back in the day, but after many mistakes, defeats and even his own death, Draal had to face the stone hard truth: He was not strong enough. Not on his own, at least. He appreciated the fact that Jim and the others thought he was up for this task, but yesterday night gave him his proof once again.

Sighing at the thought, his eyes fell on Angor again. The man in front of him, as unwavered as he tried to show, looked tired. He had bags under his eyes, his white hair a mess and his arms and entire neck showed dark, purple marks on them. Draal had seen those on Jim as well, when he was still a human. When he came back from rough battles, he used to be covered in them, calling them 'bruises.' The trollhunters armor protected him a lot, but certainly not from everything.

Draal assumed he earned one on his eye as well, not having looked in a mirror yet. The frustrating thing about those bruises was that it took time for them too heal, while the pain would slowly fade in the process. It was also quite a sight to see, raising questions in others, which Draal didn't want. Yes, he got hurt, big deal.

Catching himself on feeling too much pride once again, old habits die hard sometimes, he corrected his thought patterns. His friends were just concerned about him, that's all. Wounds will heal, mistakes will be learned from. So, learning from yesterdays mistake, he faced Angor Rot with his new found plan.

'I have also come for another reason.' Draal announced, copying Angors stand, folding his arms, standing up straight. 'I… want a truce.'

Angor reacted with a frown, turning his head slightly in confusion. He stayed silent, his glowing eyes still locked on the blue haired man, waiting for him to proceed.

'I have accepted the position as prison guard.' Draal continued. 'I wish to see no harm fallen to the ones that have come to be my responsibility. So, I want a truce. I won't harm you, as long as you won't do the same to me.'

'Hmm… I see how it is.' Angor grunted, turning and taking a few slow steps towards the nightstand, acting like he was contemplating about the offer. 'And what makes you think I would trust you on just your word, prison guard.'

'I know you won't right away, but I can proof it to you that, in time, you will find out I always keep my word.' Draal determinedly stated.

Angor rolled his eyes at that statement. This buffoon really thought he would just accept the offer, by making him believe that his intentions were 'pure'? The assassin had almost reached the nightstand, his hands itching for the knifes. He'd show that fool his own intentions soon…

'That would be quite honorable of you, if that was your true motivation.' he replied in a low voice.

Draal squinted his eyes in suspicion, not liking where this was going.

'You say that we are your responsibility, but I think you came to realize after yesterday, that you can't handle it.' Angor mused, standing in front of the nightstand, blocking Draal's view from seeing his hand reaching out for the handle. 'Gunmar is too much for you and if I were to be added to that problem…'

Draal mentally cursed, frustrated by the fact that Angor caught on in a blink of an eye. Well, screw the high road then, honesty it is.

'Alright…' he sighed. 'You've got me, I can't. But I'm not doing this only for myself. By the look of your neck, you can't handle very well Gunmar either.'

Angor pulled his hand of the handle, quickly turning around after hearing that. How did he know about that? Angor knew he didn't loose blood or broken any bones yesterday. Sure, his neck still felt sore, but any evidence should be gone by now.

'You don't know, do you.' Draal realized after seeing Angor's confusion. 'Human skin is brittle. Small bloodvessels under the skin can break on hard impact, creating dark marks. It takes time for the blood to be reabsorbed.' repeating what the trollhunters once had taught him about human bodies.

'Just like my eye.' Draal added, pointing towards the swollen side of his face.

Angor avoided looking him in the eye, cursing himself for not making the connection sooner. Human bodies were so disgustingly fragile, he loathed it. Rubbing his neck lightly, he contemplated his next move. It frustrated him that a mistake like that exposed his situation. He could just grab a blade and end the guard's life, covering up his moment of weakness. It was very tempting, but the fact still remained that Gunmar was becoming a problem for him too. Adding the fact that if he killed Draal, he would have to deal with a lot more enemies, who he had to face in this damned house, because he got magically locked away in it. If Angor accepted the truce, he would only have to deal with Gunmar, but that would mean he would have to trust Draal. He really didn't want to trust someone, he'd made that mistake enough in the past.

He folded his arms again, trying to look unfazed, but this time he failed to fully hide his expression. The lingering feeling of being trapped, slowly creeping up to the surface.

'Angor…' Draal carefully continued, noticing that he was coming through to the prisoner. He was almost there. 'Nobody has to know. It doesn't have to be harder then it already is and that counts for the both of us.'

The assassin still looked into the distance for a while, trying to find a way out of it, but eventually sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Headaches were pretty common, these days.

'Fine.' he tiredly said, still avoiding eye contact, already regretting his decision. 'Truce it is…'

Draal smiled in relieve, feeling it wash over him. He unfolded his arms, letting his hands rest on his side.

'Thank you. I appreciate this.' he said in all honesty.

All he received was a stubborn grunt in return, but he didn't care. This agreement would make things a lot easier. Before he could add anything else, the phone in his pocket went off. Draal took it out, seeing that it was his alarm.

'Oh, my shift is over for now, but I'll be back tomorrow!' he said. He didn't want to leave their conversation that abruptly, but he had to admit that staying up this whole night, made him exhausted.

Angor didn't seem to show any sign of caring, so Draal decided to take his leave. Before he left the room, he remembered something.

'Oh, I almost forgot.' Draal grabbed a grocery bag he had put in the hallway, placing it on the bed. 'Thought you could use some food. This way you can skip going downstairs at least for today.'

Draal left after that, leaving Angor behind in his room.

'Bastard…' he murmered, furious about that fact that Draal apparently figured that one out too. His anger didn't stay for long though, once he took a bite from the piece of bread he took out of the bag. He almost forgotten how vamished he was and he had to admit, he was relieved he at least didn't have to be hungry for a while.

Hope you enjoyed it! Until next time~!