It was rare to see the TV on without Dictatious or Nancy being its only viewers. But today, it was Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and their brood of Trollhunters.
There was a special show on today, after all.
It was Desmund's idea, initially. After the almost-disaster that was Nomura's interview, the two of them had been keeping in touch. Desmund, he wanted to give Changelings a safer platform to talk about their experiences, maybe help the general public get a deeper understanding of the struggles they faced. Surprisingly, their studio agreed to give it a shot, after receiving an unexpected amount of backlash for how the other hosts treated Nomura.
The children have been giddy about this ever since the first showing was announced for this evening.
"I just can't believe they organized a whole set thing for it already!" Toby said. "It feels like the stuff with Nomura was just, like, yesterday."
"Don't jinx this for us, T.P.." Claire teased. "This needs to become a solid thing, or I will riot."
The children have done well dealing with all the curveballs being thrown at them. Between having to make sure there wasn't a masked traitor among them, making sure their friends and family knew the precautions put in place, fretting over shadows that weren't there, painful bodily changes… Well. They deserved to have something positive to look forward to together, lest it be strange magical movies about awkward British teens, or positive Changeling representation in the media.
The program had started on a good note. Both guests Desmund had with him were good-natured and eager. They were twin women, though you wouldn't know it by looking at them. One was a young human, musn't have been any older than 25, a brown-eyed brunette with her hair tidied up in a neat little bun, donning a solid maroon midi dress. The other was a Changeling almost twice her sister's height, her skin like that of glistening emerald. She had wings, not much smaller than Strickler's, and three pairs of beige horns poked out of her dark hair.
"So let me get this straight…" Desmund said, trying to suppress the grin on his face, "Horseshoes force you to change forms…"
"We call them Gaggletacks, but yes." The Changeling confirmed.
"And you…" Desmund then pointed to the human of the pair, "only found out about your sister's, uh, other form because of a horseback-riding accident?"
At the time, it must've been scary, but neither sister could hold back their laughter at the memory.
"All that time, I thought you were just scared of horses!" The human giggled, patting the shoulder of her sibling.
"I think the horse was more scared of me, to be honest." She laughed along with her. "Thankfully, our parents weren't around at the time... That wasn't the most graceful of reveals, for sure."
"Oh, I can imagine," their host laughed too. "But you kept her secret, all that time?"
"Well, it scared me at first, of course…" The human girl's expression stayed warm as she looked to the Changeling beside her. "... but I've known her all my life. She's my sister, and some fangs and wings weren't about to change that. I'd've kept her secret forever, if I had to."
Nodding slowly, he took a moment to absorb that answer before moving onto the next question. "Now, Ms. Nomura mentioned that Changelings had to disappear from the Janus Order to fully attune to your human lives, yes?" Desmund asked, looking the Changeling's way again. "How did that transition go for you?"
"Well, I'm not sure if just disappearing would be the best choice. The easiest way-" She paused to reconsider her words. "Well, it wasn't really easy, but the most convincing way to leave the Janus Order was to fake your own death. That's what I did, though making it just convincing enough was the tricky part... but, see, Gunmar and Bular, they see- they saw us as expendable. So, when one of us 'dies', not much effort is put into investigating it, you know? Waste of time and resources, in the big boss's opinion." She shrugged slightly. "The same could be said for those who simply disappear, but those who aren't confirmed dead are usually at more risk of being discovered. Rogue Changelings can be a security risk that the Gumm-Gumms would rather not take, and…"
The TV's droning quickly became background noise to Angor. He wasn't paying much attention in the first place, to be honest. His mind was elsewhere. His gaze stayed on Dictatious's empty chair, for the most part.
It's been two days since they last spoke.
Angor Rot hadn't intended to put off their much-needed conversation for this long. But approaching Dictatious just meant scaring him all over again. He had been giving Dictatious space thus far, in some sort of attempt to not appear threatening to the Conundrum, but that line of action wasn't going to work long-term.
Taking a step away from the others to collect his wandering thoughts, Angor moved into the empty kitchen instead.
Or, he thought it was empty. He soon was proven wrong, seeing NotEnrique drag a pie larger than himself out of Nancy's fridge for snacking. He also took pause upon seeing the other troll.
"... I ain't sharin'." NotEnrique said flatly.
"I... wasn't expecting you to?" Angor said, moving past him.
"Oi. Y'ain't gonna finish watchin' the show with us, Spooks?"
"I don't have the focus for that right now."
"Ahh," A wily smirk stretched across NotEnrique's face as he hopped down to the counter. "Preoccupied with yer lover's spat?"
Furrowing his brows, Angor paused, glancing down at NotEnrique. "What do you mean by that?"
"... Yer kiddin' me, right?"
A blank stare was the assassin's only response.
"... 'Course you're not." NotEnrique closed his eyes and just shrugged. He was mildly joking with that first comment, but if the guy needed it spelled out for him, whatever. "Well look, yer eye's been on Diccy aaall the time lately, and he's been bugged out for a while now. It's pretty obvious something's going on." Opening one eye, his smirk at Angor grew as he ribbed him again. "Not t' mention, ya both smile a lot more when yer on good terms~... It's hard not to notice that mood shift."
Even the little Changeling was getting on his back about this? Is he really that transparent? It's not really NotEnrique's business, nor should the Changeling have any reason to care...
… Well. Given how much time they'd been spending together, Angor supposed it must look fairly strange from an outsider's perspective.
"Just sayin'. Y'gotta rip the band-aid off eventually, y'know."
Angor didn't reply before NotEnrique dragged his winnings away and rejoined his peers. Just frowned to himself in quiet consideration.
The Changeling had a point, honestly. It was long overdue time he stopped putting off this issue. Tonight was as good a time as any to address it.
.
Dictatious hadn't really been up for "watching" anything in the living room lately. Especially not when the Trollhunters were there - Where they were, Angor usually was, and where Angor was, Dictatious didn't want to be.
Though, it was... strange, to say the least, the way he'd spoken to him last…
Dictatious didn't know what to make of Angor's hesitance in getting rid of him, but he wouldn't dare test the waters when the risk is still so high.
That's what he kept telling himself, anyway.
He shook thoughts of Angor from his head, and went back to unloading his bedding from the dryer. It was rather convenient, having their laundry machines in the same room as where he slept. There was something oddly comforting about the fabric's warmth when taking it out.
… On second thought, he supposed the garage wasn't really appropriately referred to as a 'room'.
Nancy constantly fretted about having him sleep "out here of all places", but Dictatious really didn't mind. The fact that she was offering any of her limited household space at all was generous enough on her part. He'd spent the last (almost) thousand years adjusting to sleeping in The Darkland's far harsher conditions, so much so that he sometimes couldn't even get comfortable on the mattress and opted for sleeping on the floor instead. She never seemed to understand that this was a major upgrade for him, no matter how often he'd tried to explain it. He gave up on trying to make it make sense to her after the first week.
He didn't mind when it was cold, which had seemed to be her main worry. He was used to that. That being said, the abundance of blankets was still a nice addition to have, though.
Preoccupied with balancing his pile of fabrics and getting the dryer close, he didn't notice when the side door into the garage had opened.
"Dictatious."
He jumped, dropping everything, when that voice spoke his name. Still, he did his best to compose himself, and turned to face the direction it came from.
Angor Rot raised an eyebrow. He lingered at the doorway, not coming any closer due to the other's obvious nervousness. "Can we talk?"
His gut reaction was to say no. Angor's mere presence was still setting off alarm bells in Dictatious's mind. He cursed his own stupidity for allowing himself to be cornered, and despite how futile the effort would be, his eyes instinctively tried to scan their surroundings for any sort of escape route. But, of course, it's not like he was able to see any, other than the fuzzily glowing doorway of which Angor was already in the way. Against his better judgment, Dictatious nodded slowly in response to Angor's question.
Stepping just a little bit heavier than usual, to make sure Dictatious could tell where he was, Angor Rot entered the room. He kept his distance, and made sure to leave plenty of space between himself and both Dictatious and the door, should the Conundrum want a direct path out. Blocking off Dictatious's only exit was obviously out of the question.
Stationing himself against the wall furthest away, Angor eyed Dictatious carefully, making sure not to miss any physical cues this time around. He kept his voice low, non-threatening, as he spoke his next question. "Have you... had much time to think about our last exchange?"
Time. Dictatious wished he had more time to process any of this. Or, at least, more time to devise better plans to avoid this inevitable confrontation altogether. His eyes flickered to the side, but never fully drew away from Angor. "... Somewhat." He replied in all but uncertain levels.
Squinting slightly, Angor Rot looked away himself, though not for long. When his gaze eventually fell back to the smaller troll, Angor found himself asking a question he never thought he'd have to ask anyone, albeit for different reasons than this... "Why are you so afraid of me?"
There was no point in beating around the bush, now that the problem was this apparent.
Words escaped him. Dictatious opened his mouth, closed it, fidgeted with his hands, repeat. He eventually averted his gaze, not replying at all.
Tilting his head slightly, Angor stayed quiet for some time, thinking back on the things Dictatious had said beforehand. "... You had spoken as though you thought I'd..." He paused, taking a moment to try and remember the wording Dictatious used, "... 'do away with you'?" His neutral look shifted to more of a frown as he asked, "Do you really think I'd do that to you?"
Dictatious seemed to shrink ever so slightly, his ears falling lower with each word. He wished he could judge this situation without feeling so damned awful. Something about Angor's voice made him doubt the fear he'd been feeling towards him even more, but that didn't make the fear go away.
Not that it should. Dictatious has let himself be tricked before. Caution is a virtue when it comes to those who could crush you at a moment's notice.
With great hesitance, he gambled his luck with a tentatively-asked question in return. "Are you… saying that you wouldn't…?"
The fact that Dictatious even had to ask was enough to sting. Angor's teeth made an audible click as his jaw clenched. He couldn't even ask himself why Dictatious would fear such a thing from him - not only was he a highly experienced killer himself, but Dictatious's last point of reference for any sort of consistent "relationship" was Gunmar, of all trolls.
"Of course I wouldn't." He answered, making a conscious effort to quash any personal offense that might've been taken at the Conundrum's inquiry. "Why do you think otherwise?"
Despite Angor's attempts, Dictatious had become acutely aware of tonal shifts over the years, and he hesitated again when he noticed Angor's voice become just slightly harsher. His eyes darted away again, and he shook his head, unable to answer.
"Dictatious." Angor addressed him again, a slightly sterner note to his voice. "Tell me why."
"I-I don't- I'm not-" Under the pressure of Angor's gaze, the Conundrum shuddered. But what he blurted out next, even if it was merely out of trepidation, Angor was definitely not expecting it. "I'm not useless, I swear I'm not-!"
"When have I ever called you useless?!"
Angor hadn't realized how suddenly he'd raised his voice until he noticed how Dictatious had flinched back in response to it. Sighing in frustration, he stepped back himself, and spoke again with his calmer tone. "... You were limiting yourself. That was something that bothered me when we met, yes. But useless?" He shook his head. "I have never thought of you as useless. Not once."
To Dictatious, it almost sounded like Angor was offended that he would think that of him… and, to his credit, it's true that Angor's never really… outwardly expressed such a sentiment. In fact, it could probably be argued that he's implied the opposite on some occasions.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he might've mistaken Angor's thoughts about him…
Angor, on the other hand, was still slightly baffled as to how Dictatious was so convinced that such an extreme action would pass.
"Even if I did want to kill you - which I don't…" Angor continued, making sure to put emphasis on that clarification, "... do you really think the Trollhunters would let me get away with that? I'd never hear the end of it from Blinky, for one thing…"
Dictatious laughed nervously. "Oh please, you'd be doing them all a favour…"
"... You don't really believe that, do you?"
There was hesitance, and that hesitance turned into the lack of an answer altogether. Dictatious wrung his hands together, saying nothing, looking away.
Angor Rot could only stare a bit longer, a tiny pang of guilt gnawing at him. Just seeing Dictatious that terrified of him, so certain that Angor would do something horrible to him and thinking that nobody would even…
It was... mildly, mildly painful. He looked away, sighing under his breath, but he knew what should be done.
"I'm sorry."
"... What?" Dictatious's ears perked up, unsure of what they just heard, and he looked Angor's way with an expression of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "You… You're apologizing to me...? Whatever for?"
"For the way I handled our first spar, for one thing. My intention was to test your capabilities, but I shouldn't have attacked you without prior training or warning." Angor answered. He crossed his arms, his eye glancing away from Dictatious for a moment. "I didn't realize how much stress I'd caused you this past week. I don't know how I didn't see your fear sooner." With another quiet sigh, Angor shook his head. "... I know you don't have much trust in me, and I don't blame you for that. But... please, believe me when I say that, whatever it is you're afraid of me doing, I don't want to bring you harm. I'm sorry for ever making you think otherwise."
Dictatious blinked a few times, still not sure if he was hearing correctly. Even from someone like Blinky, he hadn't fully expected an apology, but when he gave one, it didn't catch Dictatious as off-guard as this. Aside from his brother, he honestly couldn't remember the last time he's ever been apologized to for, well… anything, let alone something like this. And from a troll like Angor…?
He's heard Angor express guilt. More than once, surprisingly. And this really did seem to mimic the same amount of genuinity as those other times...
... This was a trap of some sort, right? He was being set up somehow, he had to be. Angor was baiting him, wasn't he? Lulling him into a false sense of security, waiting for Dictatious to let his guard down, or... or tricking him into saying something fallacious, or something worth sucker-punching him for...
But it didn't feel like that. Not even slightly.
"I… er…" Drawling his words, it took the usually quick-tongued Dictatious a long time to come up with even the simplest of responses through his confusion. "... I… accept your apology…?"
The other troll was quiet for a long moment, almost as if he were expecting something more to be said… Dictatious considered speaking again, but Angor beat him to it.
"Good." Angor Rot eventually said, nodding slowly. "That's all I wanted to say."
... Just like that? All the terror he'd been holding onto, all the fear that Angor was going to do something terrible to him, it had been refuted just like that?
This didn't make any sense. Where did Angor's rage go? Why didn't he do anything? He was supposed to react differently than this, it's the only thing that would've made sense, it's the only thing that Dictatious could logistically anticipate, so why, why didn't Angor do anything?
He was so caught up in his own confusion, Dictatious almost didn't notice that Angor's footsteps were leaving the room.
"Wait…"
Angor slowed to a stop, once more giving Dictatious his attention.
It took Dictatious a second to realize that the voice that had just spoken was his own. His hands had again started to fidget with each other, and his eyes turned off to the side as he tried to come up with the proper words for this. "... You... you once asked me why I agreed to watch over you…"
Angor Rot stared at him a moment, then turned around and took a step back inside. "That I did."
"It's... I just…" The words felt like they'd just catch in his throat and never come out. Dictatious's eyes flicked from side to side, never looking directly Angor's way as he tried to vocalize whatever was going through his head. "To be honest, at first, I... I wasn't really sure why, myself. There wasn't really a logical reason to agree to such an unpleasant arrangemen-" He cut himself off, biting his tongue at the poor choice of words he just used. But it was too late to backtrack, and besides, Dictatious was fairly sure Angor hadn't been pleased with it at first, either. Clearing his throat, he continued. "But, I think…over time, I started to realize that I... I wanted to have some sort of purpose again. You gave me that, in more ways than I initially thought."
Wringing his many hands like he was trying to physically squash out any nervousness, Dictatious's eyes had pointed to the ground again. "I, erm... I'm not exactly… good at expressing it, but…" Sighing, he internally scolded himself to just spit it out already. "I am grateful for the things you did for me. You've helped me improve with so many things, and you…" He trailed off for a few moments, a glimpse of pain showing in his features for that short time, "You... you made me feel like I could do something more than just... sit around, hiding behind others, being useless... Like I could be something more than just a waste of space, and I just..."
I threw that away.
For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to finish that thought out loud. Clearing his throat, he tried to get to the point instead of rambling on like he had been. "... Well, I'm…" His gaze eventually made its way back to Angor's general direction, a look of hesitation and perhaps a touch of embarrassment on his face. "I'm sorry, too…? For, er... belittling you, I suppose..."
To a stranger, that last part may have sounded disingenuous. But Angor knows him well enough at this point that he's started to recognize when this strange little troll is being sincere… or, at the very least, when he's trying to be. That was a true effort on his part, one that Angor could greatly appreciate, and by the Gods was he relieved that Dictatious was finally being open with him.
"Thank you for telling me that." Angor replied, his voice honest with gratitude. "That means very much to me."
Dictatious again turned his gaze away, just nodding slightly in response.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "Does this mean we can go back to training together?"
Angor hummed quietly in thought, eventually replying, "I will consider it."
Even from this distance, Angor could see Dictatious finally let go of some of the tension he'd been carrying. For a split second, he was sure he saw a look of relief cross the Conundrum's face before he turned away, going back to shuffling his bedding.
Satisfied with this outcome, Angor Rot finally took his leave.
Apologizing doesn't seem like something he's good at, by any means, but Dictatious was... trying, in his own right. This was a good start.
Angor would definitely take that.
