There was very little to do on Dragonroost Island, at least the parts of it that were sea-level. Since most of it was vertical, the only place for the kids to go was up. A path cut into the side of the mountain wound upwards into a tunnel. Passing through it, the pair found a splendid view of the great sea, but looking up, they could see a maze of scaffolding and artificial caves. It seemed the trolls had, in fact, built piers and harbors, but ones that led out into the air. No enemy would ever be able to land easily on this isolated pillar of stone. And even if they did, the trolls were no strangers to warfare.
Another booming roar shook the air, the mountain itself. A splintering sound issued from one of the flying piers. John and Roxy looked at each other, and hurried up the path.
The trollish city was dominated by an enormous, egg-shaped chamber, a natural bubble in the volcanic rock that had been expanded and connected to other tunnels until it served as a great central hub. The space was full of movement, and the fact that trolls were fully capable of travel in three dimensions made it all the more frantic. John and Roxy spent some time just trying to take it all in and simply get oriented. The trolls, for all their seclusion, simply ignored them for the most part. As soon as the kids decided to go and ask someone for directions, who should appear but Karkat?
He swooped down from the ceiling, spots of red in his eyes and an angry crimson teardrop scar on his cheek, and hugged John tightly. "Egbert you stupid, wonderful kid!" he shouted, shaking John profusely. "I had to tell your Nana that you were killed and here you suddenly turn up with—"
Karkat looked at Roxy, who smiled and waved politely. "WITH A GIRL! Oh Nayru, you finally became a man too!" He straightened up and composed himself. "Have you eaten? How'd you even get here? Whatever, you can tell me on the way back to Outset—"
"Karkat it's nice to see you too," said John, "But we're not going back to Outset. We're going to get the pearl!"
"What pearl—" Karkat's eyes bulged out of his head as he suddenly understood what John was talking about. "You think you can just waltz in here and take Din's Pearl? Firstly, 'oh shit Karkat, what happened to your face?' Well your Nana only branded me with the rusty spoon instead of murdering me like I'd thought, thanks for asking. Secondly, you'd have to talk to the Empress about the Pearl and if she doesn't have you fed Pyralsprite you would consider yourself lucky. It'd be a goddamned miracle if she even let you see the Pearl, much less take it! And you think she'll just want to see any random country bumpkin visitors that wash up on her island? Especially a pair of stupid looking kids? You're out of your fucking mind—"
"Hey Karkat," a voice called from above, "Who's that? Visitors? Kids! I want to see them!" And with that, the troll they'd seen leaping out of the water careened down from the ceiling, golden trident in hand, huge grin revealing shark-like teeth. She squealed with delight. "They're adorable!" she said, pinching John's cheek. She saw Roxy and gasped. "This one's even cuter!" she said, ruffling her hair. Both of them were too stunned to properly react. "I love kids," she said. "I love going into the brooding caverns and picking out the runty wigglers and nursing them to health. They grow up so nice and grateful!" She turned and pinched Karkat on his unscarred cheek. "Like you Karkat! Big sweetie!"
"Your majesty," he said, turning bright red, "Stop embarrassing me in front of the other species."
The Empress giggled. "Stop with that majesty garbage; you call me Feferi. Right now." She turned to the kids and smiled, taking care to show less teeth this time. "Poor Karkrab here was so sickly that none of the lusii wanted him. All the grownups had to take turns raising him, because he was the meanest little wiggler! And now he's the meanest troll." She winked. "Or so he claims! So, what can I do for you?"
Well she seems nice enough, John thought. Maybe we can—
"Can we have Din's Pearl, your Majesty?" asked Roxy, flashing a winning smile and fluttering her eyelashes.
Feferi stood up straighter, a pensive look on her face as she rubbed her chin. "Well, I can certainly let you see it," she said tentatively, "but actually taking it? You'd have to ask the Prince."
"Um, excuse me," said John, "but I thought you guys didn't have kids, or at least not in the same way as humans? And that there weren't any male royalty ever?"
Feferi laughed it off. "It doesn't mean quite the same thing in our language," she said. "The Prince's ancestral line has been charged with the Pearl since the beginning of our civilization." She leaned in, bending slightly to look John in the eye. "He is the spiritual center of our people just as I am the political center. The Prince is our connection to the Creatrices, our source of Hope. Go and see him! I give you my permission." She sighed deeply. "Our current Prince is young, as young as you are, but he's not quite so well behaved, and he's been very troubled lately. See if you can talk a little sense into him, eh?"
"What exactly is his problem, uh, ma'am?" said John, wishing he knew how to behave in front of an Empress, even as friendly and matronly an Empress as this one.
She sniffed angrily, her first display of purely negative emotion. "He's of age to go and visit Pyralsprite on His roost, but the Prince refuses. If he doesn't do it, he'll never have his wings and he'll never be able to properly be a troll. Forget about the connection to our God or the political ramifications; how's he even going to get around for Din's sake!?" She tapped the floor with her trident, and the ground cracked underneath. "Without receiving a scale from Pyralsprite," she explained in a much calmer, almost defeated tone, "he can't grow his wings. Every one of us has to do it, or we'd die out!"
John nodded his head slowly. "Okay, we'll talk to the Prince for you."
"Oh, one more thing," said Roxy. "Can I have your autograph?"
A few minutes later John and Roxy were striding down a long, dim corridor leading deep into the mountain. Even though they knew objectively that they were far above the water, the sense of weight above them made them feel as if they were miles underground. "The Empress was, uh, surprisingly nice," said John, trying to make conversation in the gloom.
Roxy was grinning at her piece of paper, proclaiming in big, loudly pink letters "H.I.C. Feferi Peixes, Third of that Name, by the Grace of Din and of Pyralsprite, Empress of all Trolls and Queen of Dragonroost, fidei defensatrix, etc.," followed by a smiley face. She nodded enthusiastically. "Let's hope the Prince is cool too!"
"Aren't we, uh, supposed to talk some sense into him?" John asked. He was admittedly a bit off balance after having met the last bit of royalty in the world. And now he was going to meet a 'spiritual leader'. The end of the corridor had an odd door woven from thrushes and reeds, shaped vaguely like a bird's face, heavily stylized. John knocked. There was a muttered 'come in', and John and Roxy went inside.
The Prince was a young troll, as promised, with fins and gills on his face just like the Empress. His horns were sharp and crooked, shaped like thunderbolts. He had a big violet cloak with a high collar wrapped around him tightly, like a blanket. A huge white seahorse with manic eyes was resting its head on his lap, and snorted at the new-comers. Its coiled tail unwrapped for a second and thumped on the floor, then coiled again. The Prince was just as young as they, if not younger, and lacked the wings that were so characteristic of his people. John had never seen a young troll before, and noted some other, smaller differences. His eyes, obscured as they were behind thick glasses, were grey, completely lacking the usual bright colors. His skin was much lighter than an adult trolls' as well, and there were probably other differences, but more importantly was the enormous jewel that the Prince was hugging to his chest as if it were a stuffed bear.
Din's Pearl was perfectly spherical and glowed with a deep, inner light, serving to illuminate the chamber in the place of torches or candles. Cradled as it was in the Prince's arms, he cast a long shadow. The Pearl was burnt orange in color tinged with bright red, and had a dark red imperfection on the side facing John that remarkably enough resembled some obscure pattern, like a stylized wind blowing across the ball, or a rippling banner with three bars. It was beautiful, and John knew that he was looking at something truly priceless for the first time in his life.
"What do you want?" the Prince spat. His teeth were just as sharp as the Empress's, but seemed the wrong shape for his mouth; he slurred his words and stuttered just slightly on the 'w'.
"My name's John Egbert, your Grace," said John, bowing slightly from the waist.
"And I am Roxanne Lalonde," said Roxy, exhibiting a perfect curtsy, rolling her 'r' elegantly. John raised an eyebrow; something about that seemed off but there wasn't any time to think about it now.
"That doesn't explain anything," the Prince snapped.
"Forgiveness, your Grace," Roxy said smoothly. "We're here to collect the Pearl. The time has come for it to be used." John's eyebrow climbed a bit higher on his forehead.
The prince scoffed. "At least you're not here to try to talk me into goin' up there," he pointed vaguely upwards. "I mean, I know I have to do it someday. But for the love of Din, why all this pressure now, when Pyralsprite is goin' fuckin' insane?!" As if to punctuate his remark, the mountain shook and rang like a great stone bell. Streams of dust fell from the ceiling. The Prince clenched his teeth so hard that a little trickle of violet dripped down his chin. John however, couldn't help but chuckle. Here was Roxy putting on airs to talk to royalty, while the Prince did his absolute best to sound like any street urchin.
"Don't laugh at me!" he snapped. "It's not like you have to go up there! Look that thing in the eyes and ask Him for a piece of Himself! And it's not like she ever did it either, not like this! Not while He's tryin' to bring the whole mountain down on top of us!" The Prince shook his head vigorously, trembling with anger now. "Let me tell you what," he said, "You go on up there! Yeah, you with your fragile Hylian bodies; if you can pull it off then I know there's nothin' for me to fear. I'll admit I'm bein' a wiggler then and I'll march on up with my head held high!" He held up the Pearl with one hand. "And I'll give you this too. And that's the only way you'll ever get to touch it, that's for sure." He pointed out the door. "Now get out." The seahorse burbled menacingly.
"Well that was a disaster," said John as they walked out the door. "I don't think that guy has his head on straight. Like he's liable to snap and go on a killing spree if someone doesn't give him a good ass-kicking to teach him that other people matter."
Roxy nodded. "It's too bad too. He's probably a nice guy under all the bullshit. He just deals with his problems in the worst way possible. I don't even want his autograph. Yet."
As they emerged from the tunnel, they were greeted by another young troll, though her wings were fully visible; light red tinged with pink in the shape of a monarch butterfly's. She had a bright smile with refreshingly human teeth, and might have been human in appearance if not for her long, deep red eyelashes and the horns that curled almost all the way around like a ram's, emerging from appropriately shaggy head of black hair. "Wow," she said, looking intently at John, "you really do wear a bright blue sock on your head!"
John pulled on his hood self-consciously. "It's not a sock," he muttered, ears drooping. "And I wouldn't even call this color 'bright'."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Roxy defensively, stepping in front of John, ears lying flat in hostility.
"Oh, Karkat told me a little about you," said the troll with a dismissive gesture. "You're John Egbert and you went on an adventure to rescue your…sister?" She cocked her head to the side, dense locks of hair bouncing. "I guess that's sort of like a mandatory Moirail for life? We thought you were dead, but you're clearly not! Let me guess, Eridan told you to go climb the mountain for him?"
"Does he do that to everybody?" John asked.
The girl laughed. "No, just me. I was going to do it, but he's right about one thing, actually." The mountain rang again, louder than before. A few small rocks tumbled down from the ceiling along with the streams of dust. "It's way too dangerous. The Empress is wonderful and progressive, but progress takes a long time and she still doesn't quite understand when something might be too much."
She took a step forward and John felt himself shrinking back a bit. "Don't tell anyone this," she said, "because the Empress and I are the only ones who know, but Pyralsprite is holding his handmaid captive. The Empress thinks He might even have eaten her by now but I don't think so," she didn't seem particularly concerned. In fact, her smile widened. "I'm her apprentice, and now it's my duty to go and rescue her, and calm Him down if she's not alive. I think we can help each other!" She extended a hand. "My name's Aradia Megido by the way. What do you say?"
"Um," said John. There was something unnerving about the girl, to be sure, but come to think of it all the trolls here were somewhat odd. Maybe Karkat and the other mailmen were just more used to humans and suchlike. "Well, I don't know—"
"You can't get up there without me," she said, expression becoming quite a bit more serious. "The Empress let you see the Pearl and that's one thing, but going to see Pyralsprite is another thing entirely. The only way up the mountain without wings is from the inside, and outsiders aren't allowed in there at all! I know a secret way in, and I know my way through the caverns. You need me."
"But why do you need us?" asked Roxy, squinting appraisingly at the troll. "You can just fly up there, can't you? What's in it for you?"
Aradia grinned and flapped her wings. They rippled and swayed arrhythmically, rather than the strong, steady fluttering beat that John had grown accustomed to seeing on trolls. "It takes a while for the wings to grow in properly," Aradia explained. "And it's taking me longer than it should. I can't fly up there any more than you can, and it's too dangerous for either of us to go alone!"
John looked at Roxy. She frowned slightly, but shrugged. It was all up to him. Aradia's eager grin had not faded, but there was a strong sense of manic determination burning behind her eyes. John took a deep breath and extended his hand. "Okay!" he said, shaking Aradia's hand. She shook it enthusiastically, squeezing John's hand so hard the bones ached. John felt, once again, the approval of some invisible presence. Maybe there really was some higher power on his side.
"This is great," she said. Whispering, she added, "You won't regret it. Meet me by the spring in one hour, okay?"
High above, the angry grey sky surged and swirled like the ocean in a storm. The wind howled over the top of the little circular valley, likely as not a crater from an ancient eruption; the whole thing was like a gigantic stone flute, and the sound fluctuated from a deep, surging roar to a high keening cry that hurt the children's sensitive Hylian ears. There was a deluge not of water, but ashes and embers that settled on the ground like snowflakes, sizzling for a second and the fizzling out. The ground below their feet was ruddy-brown and cracked, with occasional spots of colored dust. To John's right was a sickly grey looking puddle of steaming water, an enormous pillar of rock rising up out of its center. It smelled vaguely of sulfur and minerals. This was the spring, or rather where the spring came up to the surface. The trolls siphoned hot water right out of the ground through a complex series of pipes and pumps; the fact that Pyralsprite's fury had stopped up the spring's only natural outlet had not impeded them much.
Aradia was running late, and John and Roxy were bored. There were no interesting shops in the troll city, surprisingly enough, and they'd merely had to ask directions to get here. The entrance was a carved doorway on a ledge ten feet above them with a ladder down to the valley floor, and it seemed there had once been a bridge to another ledge directly across from it. Other than the spring itself, now blocked off, there was little of interest in the valley. Brightly colored plants grew around the edge of the spring, John noticed; neon green leaves tipped with brightest red, huge, succulent looking fruit, luminescent blue, ringed with tiny white flowers, grew in the center of each plant.
"Those look kind of tasty," said Roxy, eyeing the fruits greedily.
"Do you want me to cut some for us?" John asked. He stood up, stretching, and produced a pocket knife before Roxy could even voice her emphatic 'yes'. He approached, knife in hand, and selected the fattest, juiciest looking fruit. John bent down, raised the knife, and—
There was a resounding crack as something sinuous and metallic smacked the knife out of his hand. John turned and saw Aradia, looking both terrified and exhilarated. She was now wearing a baggy red outfit under a brown leather coat and a wide-brimmed hat, and was holding a bullwhip woven out of steel cables, currently spanning the distance between herself and John. "I just saved your life," she said. "Awesome!"
John pointed at the glistening fruits. "So, I take it these are poisonous?" he asked.
Aradia shook her head. "They're explosive!"
"Bullshit," Roxy accused, "that'd be pretty neat though. But sadly impossible in this world of talking boats and flying people with candy-horns."
Aradia unconsciously touched one of her horns, looking sad. "They're not candy. They taste like sulfur." She assumed a more authoritative stance. "John, move out of the way," she said, pulling hard on the whip. John ran back over to Roxy as Aradia brought the weapon crashing down onto the fruit. It seemed to flash white for a second before blossoming into fireball as wide around as John was tall. An instant later, the other three nearby fruits likewise erupted into a fiery holocaust. When the smoke cleared, the stone pillar in the center of the pool was considerably thinner and covered in scorch marks. A stiff gale managed to blow itself into the little valley just then, buffeting the kids, spraying droplets of warm water into the air, and knocking over the stone. A huge gout of steaming grey water burst into the air, pressure having been building up for weeks now, and the pool quickly began to expand.
Roxy whooped with joy and clapped. John rubbed his chin. "How high did the water level used to be?" he asked.
"A few inches below the bridge," said Aradia. "It's not really a problem though, we can just walk back to the door."
"That's true," said John, "but people are going to get suspicious, aren't they?"
She nodded. "I have a plan."
A few minutes later John was standing on top of an unstable pile of rubble holding Aradia above his head. She was crouching on his shoulders with her knees next to his ears and had her arms forward and wings outstretched. "I strongly disapprove of what I'm seeing here," said Roxy. John's face burned as she shifted slightly and her legs pressed into the sides of his head.
"When the wind picks up," Aradia said, ignoring her or perhaps simply not caring, "throw me!" At that moment the gale caught her wings and nearly wrenched her out of John's grasp. Aradia shouted "go!" and John threw her. She gave a few unsteady beats to gain a smidgen of height and settled into a clumsy glide. She was a third of the way there when the wind shifted and slammed her into the side of the valley headfirst with a nasty crack.
John and Roxy rushed down off the ledge, splashing across the valley floor, now ankle deep with water. John noted the splashes of dark red blood on the wall as they reached Aradia. "Look at all the pretty stars," she said, snickering as she pointed to some space right in front of her face. She made a swiping motion. "Why can't I grab you? Cheep cheep…." Aradia turned her head and John saw that she'd broken two inches off her horn and the stump was bleeding. It was only a trickle compared to ugly gash just above her ear.
"Roxy, do something!" John said.
"Er," she muttered. "Like what?"
"You healed me right?" John asked. "I remember you saying that you did, you used your magic on me! Fix her!"
"Okay," said Roxy, sitting down cross-legged. She cleared her throat. "I neglected to mention that I couldn't get it to work for a whole day. Healing isn't really my thing." But she sat, concentrating. The wind roared and whistled. The lukewarm water rose. The geyser steamed. Embers fell into the rising pool, then sizzled and disappeared into nothingness. The shadows lengthened, stretching out like crooked fingers towards Roxy. Subtly, imperceptibly, she redirected them, and the shadows wrapped themselves around Aradia. She giggled, reaching for one, falling still as soon as she touched it.
John was feeling apprehensive. This was how Roxy had allegedly saved his life? Aradia looked more dead now then alive. But he found that he trusted Roxy a great deal. She wouldn't try to hurt someone without cause or lead them astray. The look on her face was something like someone trying to solve a very difficult puzzle, and then there was a slight twitch of her lip as the last piece clicked into place and the shadows burst apart into a cascade of colored squares and returned to their proper places.
Aradia sat up and looked around, confused. "Why am I all wet?" She asked, splashing the spring water with her hands. She then touched her face, experimentally, patting around for something. She touched the base of her broken horn and nervously followed the spiral of it with her fingers until she found the rough break. It was no longer jagged, as if smoothed with age. She screamed.
A little while later once Aradia had calmed down, the three of them were preparing once again to throw Aradia. The water was not quite knee-deep, yet. "Let's just wait and swim across," said Roxy, sounding apprehensive. "I don't want Rae-Rae to get hurt again."
John chuckled. "Is that what we're calling her? Also, you like her now?"
"uh-huh!" she said nonchalantly.
"I can do it!" Aradia said, fluttering her winds indignantly. "I swear! The winds seem random, but there's a pattern. We just need to go at the exact time they start blowing in the right direction and I'll make it across." She seemed so certain that John was likely to believe her, but an idea suddenly struck.
He drew the Breath Waker. "Okay thing," he said to it, "I know a little bit about music. Conducting the wind shouldn't be too hard." He raised it high, point down, holding the hilt not like a dagger but like a pencil.
Aradia leaned towards Roxy. She and John were standing on their pile of rubble, but Roxy was standing in the water, as there was no room left on top of the crude platform, so Aradia was bent almost double and her hair got in Roxy's eyes. "Do you think John might be crazy? He's talking to a stick."
Roxy brushed Aradia's hair out of her face, expression first annoyed and then delighted. "OMDNF, your hair feels like a sheep! That's adorbs! But no, John's got a magic stick. Wow, that sounded dirty," she snickered.
John tried to ignore the two girls laughing about him. Dear gods, he'd gone from not knowing any girls his age to traveling with two of them, and they were both very pretty and didn't seem to know about personal space and now they were talking about him—breathe. Conduct. Play the wind.
A few brief passes. In his head, it sounded like a simple, sad tune, the beginning of a requiem. The sounds progressed from high, to medium, to low. He imagined a chorus of altos and tenors following along, and he could swear he actually heard them, voices carried on the wind. There was a feeling of uncertainty in the air, as if he'd started doing what he was supposed to, but not finished. He jabbed the Breath Waker at the far ledge as if it were a sword, and was nearly blown off the pillar by the resultant gale.
John laughed at his success. "See, Aradia," he said, turning to the girl, "it really is a—"
Aradia was not there standing next to him. Instead, there was a huge, fat blue-green frog with a curling flange on his head, sitting on an acid green cloud. "That's a mighty fine wind you've got there," he said, voice high and aristocratic, not at all what John would have expected coming from a frog. "The finest I've seen a human make in ages. Well, done, Breath Waker!"
"Um," said John, looking at the silvery-blue tool in his hand. "This thing is a breath waker, I'm—"
"Oh, it's all one," said the frog, gesturing dismissively with a huge, webbed hand. "The wielder of a breath waker is a Breath Waker himself. It is your instrument and your office." There was a high whistling noise in John's ears and suddenly the frog was behind him.
"Where are my manners?" asked the frog. "I am Zephos, god of the wind. Charmed, I'm sure." John could only nod in agreeance. "I suppose I'm here to give my blessing on your first successful Breath Waking," he said, looking off into the distance, which was not actually quite far. "The power you wield is a great one child, make no mistake. The wind can be a good thing or a very bad thing, based on how it's used. You want an example of it being a bad thing, ask my brother."
The wind whistled again and Zephos was suddenly floating behind John. "Cyclos, the storm god, that is. He's a bit miffed that the people don't worship him anymore, at least not as much as me. But well, things tend to change. Before the cataclysm, he brought life-giving rains at the end of the dry season, and flooded the Zora River to fertilize the fields. Now all he does is sink ships and kill fish." The wind whistled. John was read this time and turned around, but there was nothing there. A throat cleared itself.
John looked up and saw the bulbous, emerald eyes of the god-frog staring down at him, hanging upside-down from his cloud. John yelped and fell off the rubble pile, landing in water high enough to float in. Zephos continued. "Next time you see my brother," he said, whispering jocularly, "chastise him for me, eh? He'll be sitting in the eye of the hurricane and laughing like a lunatic, hurling thunderbolts like some menstrual prima donna. Ciao!" And with a veritable explosion of wind, tinted with emerald light, the frog, Zephos, flew off into the sky, cutting a temporary swath through the clouds and letting the sun and the blue sky shine in. His laughter echoed in the little valley.
"Whoa," said Roxy, looking up at the gash of azure. "Did you do that?"
Aradia smiled to herself. "It was so strong it knocked him off his feet!"
"Yes," John said tentatively, "that's exactly what happened. Now help me up!" He decided that divine visitations no one else remembered were either meant for him alone or a sign that he was going crazy. Both were good reasons not to mention anything.
Author's Note:
There's nobody who doesn't love Aradia. Even people who hate Aradia love Aradia. Fuck you. *sigh* Now that there's two female protagonists interacting with each other I have to worry about the Bechdel test. I'll make them talk about basketball or something.
I recall having a billion things to say. I suppose you can ask me questions. Do it. Ask me questions. I fucking dare you.
'Why'd this take so long?' Look at my profile. Look at all the on-going fics I'm working on. If I update a different one each week, it will take a month to get them all. Luckily I update a smidge faster than that.
Why am I so angry? I'm actually quite happy, who knows why my notes are so surly today.
Eridan. I usually write him pre-going fucking nuts, but this time I wanted him just there at the breaking point, at his whiniest, and not quite dangerous. Those of you who've played WW of course will know he's going to be fixed instead of going on a killing spree. OR WILL HE?
The trolls' ages are pretty variable in this story. Eridan is actually younger than John whereas Feferi has been Empress longer than John has been alive. Karkat's about twentyish.
*Ahem* Aradia joined your party! Middle range fighter. Her whip can strike multiple targets, but is a very slow weapon otherwise. She has limited flight capabilities, and being a troll, is generally tougher than Hylians. She is a TECHNICAL PACIFIST and will generally not finish off opponents, MAIMING them instead. Hearts: 4. Magic: 5. Is subject to BERSERKER RAGE. She enjoys PUDDING.