Chapter 10:

Finally finished a new chapter! Thank you for th reviews, I really appreciate them! Enjoy!

'Draal, wake up.'

Draal felt himself being pulled from his dream. A moment ago he was at trollmarket, happily sparring with his late father, cracking jokes and clashing swords, but it slowly faded away, as he suddenly felt himself lying on his back on the mattress, his blanket kicked away to the end of his bed. He lightly shivered as he felt the cold his blanket used to give him kick in, reminding him that the troll body he had a moment ago, was nothing more then a dream. Now he was a human made of flesh and bone, shivering in a loose shirt and boxers.

'Wake up, idiot!' he heard someone say, but it seemed like the person was keeping his voice down. Draal felt a hand grab his shirt and roughly shake him. He grunted at the sudden treatment, grabbing the wrist of the person disturbing his peace.

He sighed as he slowly opened his heavy eyes, still not fully awake yet. The basement was dark, the only lights to be seen were the several luminous stones on the shelves and two cold, glowing, golden irises, staring down at him from the side of his bed. A golden ring, softly illuminating a reddish glow, could be seen on the neck.

'Wha?…' Draal grumbled, slowly starting to realize it was Angor towering over him, letting go of his wrist. 'What is it?'

'There's someone in the house. We have to get upstairs.'

Draal yawned, scratching his stomach before lifted himself a bit off the mattress, leaning on his lower arms. 'Isn't it just Jim or the others?'

He could see the golden eyes move from left to right, indicating that Angor was shaking his head. 'No, I know what they sound like. This isn't any of them.'

The blue haired man sighed, before groggily getting up to sit on the side of the bed. Classic Angor Rot over analyzed every creak the residents of the Lake house made, paranoid as he is. 'Mkay.' he grunted.

He got up and walked passed Angor, navigating with his hands in the dark, feeling where he had left his sword. The big man had removed most his weapons from the basement because of the ground rules Angor had to follow, but he wasn't going to be completely armless. He didn't have to follow those rules, thank you very much. Draal felt a chill go up his spine as he searched through the dark. He would just have to fight the intruder in his boxers, if it even was an intruder in the first place, Draal was too sleepy to care. If Jim didn't get to the person first, Draal and Angor could easily win the fight. Accept if it was Gunmar, but Draal doubted he would've slept through the giant, rumbling stomps of that mad man if he ever entered the Lake house. His hand found the heft of his sword, his fingers folding around it, picking it up.

'Hurry up, I can't get there without your ring!'

'I don't get why you are so paranoid.' Draal whispered. 'We do have friends outside of this house, you know.'

'And I don't get why you are being so casual about this.' Angor shot back at him before Draal saw his lights turn and head for the stairs. 'Come on, we're wasting time, rock for brains.'

Draal grumpily followed the assassin with a sigh, trying to silently ascend the stairs. Noticing that Angor had stopped at the top of the stairs, he halted as well, trying to listen to any sound in the kitchen. He did hear some footsteps, some rumaging and did he just hear a chair scraping over the kitchen floor?

'If it's a burglar, he's not very subtle.' he remarked in a whisper.

'Shut it.' Angor seethenly whispered back, Draal heard him move closer to the door, trying to get a better range, so he followed, putting his ear against the wood.

As they silently listened in the dark, Draal suddenly noticed how close he stood behind Angor, feeling a few hairs tickling his chin. He was almost a full head taller then Angor, but as they rarely were standing so close, he never thought much about it. Somewhere he felt pleased. It made him feel strong, being able to protect him...

All of the sudden, he became very aware of his own breathing, trying to focus back towards the commotion in the kitchen, cursing at himself for losing focus. He questioned himself why he would imagine stupid things like that. Angor was perfectly capable of defending himself, Draal literally lost his life for it once. Closing his eyes, he set his focus on his senses, trying to analyze what was happening. Breathing through his nose, he caught something, once again losing focus. Damn, he smelled nice…

Angor suddenly shot back, bumping into him. 'He's coming towards us. Give me your sword.'

Draal snapped out of it, taking one step back on the stairs, looking at the golden lights piercing at him 'What? I'm not giving my sword!'

'Either give it to me or you go first!'

'Do you mean you need my help?' Draal playfully whispered.

He heard Angor make a grunt out of frustration, feeling a hand grab the collar of his shirt and roughly pulling him close to the golden lights in front of him. 'Why are you acting so foolish, you annoying little-!'

The door got yanked open, light suddenly fell upon the stairs, momentarily blinding their sight as they quickly turned towards the entrance.

'Well, I guess the main ingredient was in the storage room after all…'

Angor let go of Draal's shirt as he warily looked towards the silhouette standing in the doorway. He would've happily traded ten burglars and Strickler for the man he saw in front of him, but unfortunately that wasn't going to happen. Merlin, wearing his usual armor, casually looked back at him.

'It's time. Follow me.'

The kitchen door swung open as Jim entered. He was attending some trollhunter business in new trollmarket, but had to cut it short after he received a call from his mother that Merlin had arrived at their house in the middle of the night.

With heavy footsteps, he went into the kitchen to find the other residents were there, all still dressed in their sleeping ware. Merlin, wearing his usual armor, stood in front of the counter, steering into a pan on the stove. He already had made some preparations in the kitchen, the boiling sound of something liquid in a pan, an unappealing reddish fume floating into the air. Merlin had brought some flasks with different ingredients with him, pouring one empty into the pan.

Draal stood next to the wizard, much to the old mans annoyance, curiously looking at all the ingredients the wizard had brought, following Merlins actions like it was a cooking lesson. When Jim came into the kitchen, Draal looked up with a smile and walked over to him, receiving a relieved sigh from Merlin, mumbling something about working in peace.

'You made it!' Draal greeted him. 'This would've been a lot harder if we have to face Morgana without you.'

Jim opened his mouth to react, but got interrupted by Strickler, standing in front of the closed basement door, next to Barbara.

'Let's just hope she doesn't show up at all…' the man worriedly said, his furrow brows lowered into a frown. His hair was a bit messy, just having jumped out of bed, wearing blue pajamas. If this wasn't a serious occasion, Jim would've laughed his ass off, seeing the perfect Strickler in his nightly glory. What didn't make him laugh was that both Strickler and Barbara's pajamas were matching. That mother fu- no wait, nope, yuck! That was the last thing he wanted to think about.

Keeping it at an awkward smile, Jim answered. 'I don't mind putting my money on that one.'

'Yes, let's hope on more work for the elderly, what more is new…' Merlin grumbled from above the fuming pan, still steering the substance with a wooden spoon. 'It would be wise to wish for her to appear as soon as possible. Soul searching is anything but pleasant.'

Hearing that, Jim couldn't help but look over to Angor, who stood in the furthest corner of the room with messy, white hair, wearing a white tank shirt and black sweat pants. He fiddled with his cast as his glowing eyes warily stared at the old man in the kitchen. Jim couldn't blame him for being cautious. If Morgana had the ability to possess and abuse himself like that, he would be too.

'Alright, all done.' Merlin announced, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan to let a few remaining drops fall into the substance. He turned around and looked over to Angor, pointing towards the chair placed behind him in the middle of the kitchen.

'Sit.' he ordered.

Angor hesitated, not leaving his corner, glaring at the chair. He had dreaded this moment for a while now and he really didn't want to find out what the old man meant by 'unpleasant.'

The old man noticed his hesitation and sighed, sassily placing his hand on his hip. 'You want to get rid of Morgana or not? I don't have all night.'

He did want that, Angor thought, but it wasn't like he voluntarily had chosen to get his soul ripped open. Before he could catch himself, he looked over towards Draal, who nodded at him, giving an assuring smile. He mentally cursed as it became clear to him he had no other choice left.

Walking over towards the wizard, he reluctantly sat in the chair, his face screaming murder. It didn't seem to faze the wizard, as he casually poured some of the substance in a white mug with the text 'World's best mom' written on it. He offered the mug in front of Angor, ordering him to drink it.

Angor gave the old man a glare before he took over the mug with his right hand, looking down at the blood red liquid inside, red fumes thickly rising. The assassin just jugged it in one go, not even wanting to know what was in it. It tasted as disgusting as it looked, as he felt the hot liquid go down his throat. Draals lasagne was definitely better then this. With some roughed out through the years discipline he clenched his jaws and swallowed, giving the mug back to Merlin. The taste lingered in his mouth, but it didn't make him feel any different, at least.

'Yuck!' Jim reacted, pulling a face. He also received a death glare from Angor, he was being very generous with those tonight. Jim laughed nervously. 'Sorry, it just looks really gross…'

Merlin put the mug back on the counter, while rumaging through a weathered, leather sack, pulling out a small, luminous emerald green stone. He walked around Angor, standing in front of him, holding the small stone between his fingers. The old man paused for a moment, looking at the cast around Angor's left arm.

'Hmm, yes that is going to be in the way.' he sighed, holding his other hand up, a green light appearing. He snapped with his finger and Angor suddenly felt a sharp pain as something in his left armed snapped in place. The pain was short lived though, as he looked down and saw that the cast was gone. His whole left arm looked like nothing had happened to it, no cuts, no bruises, no broken bones. With a confused scowl, he bended his arm and held it with his right hand, moving his fingers and wrist, trying out the new freedom of movement.

'You could've done that much sooner.' he sneered at the man.

Merlin scoffed, his hand still glowing a radiant green light. 'Do I look like a healer? I only did it so I can do this.'

He waved with his glowing hand as Angors arms suddenly shot back, getting pulled behind the backrest, an invisible force tying his wrists together. His ankles got pulled towards the legs of the chair, the same force holding them in place. Angor's eyes widened in surprise, trying to look behind him at what held his wrists together.

'What is this madness? Untie me!' he growled, feeling the dread take over, turning back around to the wizard as he struggled to set himself free.

Merlin sternly looked down to him, his bushy eyebrows pulled into a deep frown. 'I need you to stay put for this one.'

He placed his left palm on Angor's forehead, keeping him in place, while he opened his other hand, showing the luminous emerald green stone. Merlin closed his eyes, frown still in place as he began the incantation.

'Vatum rak zu Betelem na!'

Angor's whole body tensed up, as white hot knives shot through it. He shot backwards, trying to get away from Merlin, but the bindings kept him from getting far. It felt like his whole body got ripped open, something trying to slice through to get to his soul. As that something reached it's destination, it searched, roughly pushing through, setting his soul on fire. Angor couldn't speak, his jaw tightly clenched as his eyes rolled back into his skull, taking over by the agonizing pain, paralyzing any movement he wanted to make. Momentarily all that he could see was white, before an emerald green glow took over. Slowly, flashes of visions appeared in front of his eyes. He recognized them as moments he already had experienced. His heart sank in his shoes when he realized the green light was showing him his memories. No. No no no! His memories weren't supposed to surface! He tried to resist, not wanting to re experience any of it, but the force was too great, keeping his sliced open soul in place, pulling out what it wanted to witness.

He could see himself waking up in the rubble of the Arcadia bridge, covered in dust and dirt, looking at his human hands, not believing his eyes. He saw the Prison house, how he checked every window and exit, trying to find a way to break out.

'Traitor.' Gunmar's voice echoed through his head as he saw the man walking passed him in the hallway. The thundering sound of a wooden door getting smashed open, Gunmar breaking into his room to start a fight with Angor. The floor colored red as he stabbed the giant man, while his opponent punched him right in the eye. Holding a knife to the trollhunters throat, while the boy held his hands up, an alarmed expression on his face. The blood swirling down into the shower drain, erasing all what had happened before. The sun and moon, repeatedly replacing each other in the heavens, as Angor sat on the floor, leaning against the cabinet. Holding his handmade knife while he guarded the door day and night.

The banging sound of his back colliding with the wall, Gunmar's hand around his neck, coming closer and growling in his ear.

'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…'

Flashes of the Pale lady, lying next to him on the cold, hard tiles, streams of water falling around them. Angor falling to the floor, gasping for air as Gunmar walked away.

'I want to make a truce.' Draals amber eyes stared at him, offering him a smile. Pulling him of the kitchen counter, racing towards the wall, before colliding with it. Gunmar roaring, pulling at the chains.

Draal telling him stories, showing him a device to watch movies with. A smiling Draal replaced by a wary one, as Angor held a knife on his throat, instantly letting go and falling of the bed. Draal trying to get closer to him, both now on the floor. 'Leave! I don't want you here!'

Angor tried all in his power to stop the visions. He didn't want to see or feel any of this. The damned wizard never told him this would happen. His whole being tried to reject witnessing the events, knowing what was to come. Through the agony, he had a moment he gained short control in the paralyzation, his head jerking slightly, trying to get away from Merlins hand. The hand did not budge the slightest, staying put.

Morgana's voice echoed 'I have found you. I have found you at last, my champion…'. Angor's worried look in the mirror, as he saw the bruises covering his arm and torso. How more and more appeared on his body. His footsteps as he paced around his room, trying to keep himself awake. Shadows walked around his room in the Prison house, as Angor slowly lost sense of time. Voices he couldn't comprehend, day's turning into night and all of the sudden back into days. Pain, long days of agony, confusion, fear and lost control.

The memories started to mix, things he didn't remember, other's he did not want to remember at all.

'It's been a while, King of the Darklands.' Angor said, his empty, black eyes smiling towards Gunmar, sitting at the kitchen counter. The big man suspiciously looking at him before being replaced with a dangerous smile. 'Morgana…'

Biting. Beating. The bone of his left arm snapped in two. A big hand grabbing his hair, Gunmar dangerously smiling down at him, his eyes filled with an ominous hunger. 'You have no idea how much I enjoy this.'

A black eyed Angor, smiling maliciously, standing behind Aaargh before smashing the big man on his skull with a wooden chair, the man falling unconscious. Angor kneeling down, his hands unchaining Gunmar before pausing, closing his eyes and suddenly looking up, his golden irises returned in his eyes. Gunmar towering above him, a wicked grin spread across his face.

Angor's head began to jerk again, this time more violently, putting all his power in resisting Merlin's grasp. A trail of blood slowly made it's way from his nostrils, down towards his mouth.

Heavy rain fell, as flashes of light blinded his eyes, thunder rumbling in his ears. A car screeching to a stop in front of him. Draal and Strickler, wide eyes staring at him. Another flash of thunder, Morgana's voice echoing once again. 'I will take care of you, my champion.' A roaring Gunmar pounding against the barrier, screaming at Morgana for the betrayal she made.

Angor falling on the ground on his stomach, Gunmar pulling him back by his ankle. Turning around to kick him, Gunmar catching his foot and pulling him closer.

'No…' Angor barely got out, tasting the blood in his mouth as he tried to get himself free from the pain.

He scrambled up, running towards the door, a big hand pulling him by the hair, smashing his skull against the kitchen counter. Lying on his stomach, blood dripping on the floor, as his whole vision turned upside down. 'Let me in.'

'No.' something inside Angor, a sizzling spark of energy, came to life.

Gunmar pushing his wrist on the floor, pinning him to the floor. His big hand squeezing Angor's broken arm, making him roar in pain. Gunmar's eyes filled with insanity, the wicked grin still on his face, as he slowly came closer.

'Stop.' The spark grew, it's pace quickening as it swirled around, shimmering a dangerous purple.

Angor's shoulder pounding on the barrier. 'Just. Open. Damn it!' Gunmar's silhoutte slowly got closer to him. 'Let me in! I can get you out!' Morgana pushed on. Angor's eyes widened, looking back at Gunmar, before he went back to pushing against the barrier. 'Fuck…'

Gunmar crept closer towards the side of his face, placing his mouth close to his ear.

'Unfortunate that Morgana couldn't stay, but you will suffice…'

Angor pounded against the barrier. 'Fuck. FUCK! FUCK IT FINE!'

A big hand grabbed his hair, roughly pulling him close as Gunmar aggressively kissed him on the mouth, pushing his entire body upon him. Nausea took over the assassin, his whole body and soul rejecting the man on top of him.

Flashes of fire, trolls turning into stone. His village burning while he tried to help his tribe to escape while Gunmar invaded with his armies, destroying whatever was insight. Purple oceans surrounding him as he stared into the abyss of the cave where he found the Pale Lady.

'I've come to trait. Gunmar's war for the surface lands has ravaged my village.'

'I said STOP!' Angor roared. The assassin's eyes shot open as he jerked back into the chair, his entire being forcing the old man in front of him away. A blinding flash of radiant, golden power pushed forward, away from Angor, towards the wizard.

The force yanked a surprised Merlin from his feet into the air, letting go of Angor. Flying backwards, the old man harshly collided with the wall, the sound of metal armor moaning, before falling down on his hands and knees.

The only sound that could be heard was the emerald stone rolling over the floor before coming to a stop when it hit the edge of the wall, as the entire kitchen stayed dead silent.

With ragging breathing, Angor looked up, still bounded to the chair. The pain had vanished, along with the visions, making place for the Lake house kitchen. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the wizard across the room, on his knees and out of breath. Slowly, his surroundings became more clear, as he saw big, fearful eyes staring back at him. Or was it something different then fright? He couldn't decipher it.

'What the hell happened?' Strickler stammered, breaking the heavy silence. He walked over towards the wizard, offering help to get him up. The old man allowed him, as he stood up with a heavy groan. He had yet to speak, taking his time to catch up with his breath. The collision with the wall took a toll on his old bones, his magic wavering for a second.

It's waver was enough for the invisible bindings on Angor's wrists and ankles to vanish. The assassin quickly grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter with his arm, to avoid falling forward, letting his head lean down in exhaustion. His mind chaotically tried to make sense of things, as he was unable to focus. He saw his white shirt was stained with blood, as drops still fell down from his chin.

'He used Morgana's magic…' he heard Merlin croak, still catching his breath. 'The fool forced me out.'

It was hard to breath without difficulty, as Angor shut his eyes tight, trying to banish the whirling storm that was within him. He had expected physical pain, he'd gotten used to that through the centuries, but he wasn't prepared for the soul search to include his memories. Memories he tried his very best to suppress, never to see the light of day again. Now, as the l

ast months and pieces of the worst moment of his life got yanked out in the open, he couldn't control his thoughts. He didn't want to hear Morgana's voice, see Gunmar's insane eyes or his burning village. Anger, fear and emotions he couldn't decipher screamed in his head, as oxygen didn't seemed to get into his lungs very well, the walls closing in on him.

'I couldn't see her in recent events, but-' he heard Merlin say. 'the fire! I sensed something in the burning village. It is possible she is hiding in there.'

Angor felt his body run cold, his hands trembling as he heard what the wizard implied. The witch was hiding in his worst memories, the ones he pledged himself never to repeat again. He was repelled by it, loathed the idea of visiting that part of his history. Remembering the last months was enough. What the Pale lady and Gunmar did to him was enough. His lungs tightened even more, as he started to look for an exit. He needed to leave. Now.

'Angor?' he heard Draal say, his voice covered in worry.

The assassin stood up, leaning on the counter to find his balance, as his eyes found the exit door in the kitchen, leading outside. The others in the room seemed to disappear, as the door was the only thing he had his eyes on. Still trying to get more air in his lungs then it allowed, he found his footing and walked over to the door. He yanked it open, marching out bare feet into the night air.

'Angor, wait!' he heard Draal yell from inside the kitchen. The assassin ignored him, walking away, needing to get away from all of this. He couldn't get far though, as he got roughly reminded that he was bounded to the ring around Draal's finger. The invisible force pulled him back, as he took a few stumbling steps back. Another damned barrier, he thought as his trembling hands turned into fists. Another prison. Trapped, forced to give up his freedom once again. Damn Morgana. Damn Gunmar. Damn those trollhunters! This was the straw, as the assassin felt the rage inside of him take over his fear.

With all of his weight, he pulled against the barrier, trying to break it. When it didn't budge, he furiously roared, punching against it with his fists, trying a different approach. He kept punching it over and over again, refusing to believe it couldn't be broken. He didn't care that it hurt or that he damaged his hands, he needed to get out of this cursed prison. He turned and began using his shoulder, pounding into the barrier. 'Let! Me! GO!' he roared at each collision, flashes of the Prison house rushing back into his swirling mind. He couldn't get away. Why couldn't he get away?!

Suddenly, the barrier gave way, making him fall over into the grass. For a hopeful moment, he thought he had smashed through it, but when he quickly sat up, his hope got crushed when he saw Draal walking over to him, decreasing the distance between them. Cursing under his breath, he scrambled up, pacing back to create distance between them as far as the barrier let him.

The look in Draal's eyes didn't make it better, as his amber eyes were big, filled with hurt and worry. Angor despised that look in his eyes, as he tried to back up more, his back hitting the barrier. He wanted to leave. Away from this house. Away from those eyes. 'Stop looking at me like that!' he growled.

'Angor, it's okay. I'm here.' Draal tried to sound comforting, but a tremble could be heard in his voice. He took a slow step closer towards the assassin.

'No…' Angor shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole being wanted to leave. Be free from any prison and run far away from here, where he didn't have to be reminded of anything that happened to him. No Morgana, no Gunmar, no chains, no prisons, no tempering with his soul.

'Let me go…' he said, unable to avoid the trembling in his own voice, as he tried to get his body to stop shaking. The anger slowly got replaced by a heavy, sunken feeling, as he realized that there was no way out. This time he couldn't break out of his cage and it made him feel utterly powerless. There was nothing he could do. He would remained trapped forever. Pathetic and weak. With his last remaining hope for freedom, he pleaded, barely heard in a whisper. 'Please, just… let me go.'

He heard Draal's footsteps stop for a moment, Angor's ragged breath and the wild life of the night making the only sounds that could be heard. He didn't know what Draal would do, but he dreaded that he would give to ring to Merlin after he just miserably tried to escape. He broke one of the ground rules after all. If Draal did, it meant the assassin would be a mere lab rat, where the wizard could rip open his soul whenever he pleased. Angor tried to push the fearful thought away, hoping it was just a ridiculous thought, but unfortunately he had lost all control a while ago. But in the end, it didn't matter what would happen, he didn't have a say in the matter anyway.

The shuffling in front of him indicated that Draal turned around, facing the house. 'I'm heading out. Make sure the old bastard is gone when we get back.'

Angor heard him walk passed where he stood, feeling Draal grab his arm and pull him along. The assassin absentmindedly let him, his swirling mind trying to get a grip, opening his eyes as he followed the bigger man. He didn't expect Draal to listen to him, but he wasn't going to resist his only chance to get away from the house. They left the garden and ended up on the sidewalk, leaving the Lake house behind as they walked into the cool night air.

Jim stood nailed to the ground in front of the opened door, watching the two man leave the garden. His shoulders sank, regret weighing heavily on them, as he wasn't ready to turn around and face the others yet. This was all his fault.

The moment Merlin began the incantation, the green emerald had lit up, it's energy hovering above his hand, showing Angor's memories. Merlin had casually observed it, eyes filled with intense desire to find Morgana, not faced by all the events he saw, but the others thought differently. It was like watching a horror show unfold itself, showing events that came to light, things that Jim wasn't prepared to see. The trollhunter didn't even care that the assassin broke the rules of using no magic. The look in Angor's eyes were enough for Jim to see what made him do it.

Was this what happened to Angor Rot? Did Jim lock him away, promising to figure a way out a way to help him, only to throw him into this? The Prison house was his idea. He decided to put Angor and Gunmar there to keep the rest of the troll kind safe. This was all his fault. His vision blurred, feeling tears fill in his eyes, as he vaguely heard his mother yell at Merlin.

'What the hell did you do to him?!' she yelled in anger. 'Why didn't you tell us the whole truth of this soul search thing?'

'I told you it was unpleasant.' the old man wearily replied, the incantation had took a lot out of him. 'Finding Morgana is top priority, I don't have the luxury to sympathize with the well being of her pawn.'

'You could've warned us! Warned him!' Barbara pushed on, not letting him off the hook. 'I don't care if he's the enemy or the holy ghost, I won't allow any kind of torture in my house, do you understand?'

'Barbara…' Jim heard Strickler say. His voice carried a heavy weight, trying to be the voice of reason, but showing that also he had been effected by the visions they saw. 'I know this is unethical, but if we don't find Morgana, all of Arcadia will not survive.'

Merlin grunted in agreement. 'Listen to the changeling, mother of Jim. What is the well being of one criminal, compared to all the lives of the ones you care so dearly about?'

Barbara scoffed, as Jim heard her march over towards Merlin. 'No one. NO ONE! Deserves to be treated like this! Get out of my house.'

'Mother of Ji-' the old man started.

'OUT! Before I, mother of Jim, request him to make you!' she threatened back. It was clear that she wasn't to be messed with.

Merlin could be heard grumbling, before sighing and stalking over towards the kitchen counter, the sounds of flasks and other materials getting collected and shoved into a sack. Metal footsteps approached Jim, as the old man walked passed him, exiting through the door. In the garden, the man stopped, turning around to face Jim. The trollhunter looked at him, seeing the old man look at the tears in the boy's eyes. Merlin's face fell, the same regret that filled Jim's eyes, reflecting in his own. It was rare sight to see the wizard show sympathy, but here he stood, looking towards the trollhunter.

The old man sighed deeply, throwing the sack over his shoulder. Looking down for a moment, he addressed him. 'I am aware of what the incantation does. It's not something I wish upon any being, but I need you to understand that I have to do it for the greater good. Morgana needs to be stopped. Whatever the costs.'

Jim blinked for a moment, a few tears falling down before quickly wiping them away from his cheek. He knew what Merlin meant. It was the same when he had to sacrifice his human life to safe Arcadia. It was a great loss, one he still mourned, especially when he passed Arcadia High at night. The human life he would never get to experience, never graduating, grow up, have kids. It was an awful truth that Jim understood, but there was one thing he disagreed with Merlin.

'When I had to sacrifice my human life for the greater good, you gave me the choice to do so.' he started, facing Merlin. 'If we continue on with this, it will be his choice to make from now on.'

Merlin wearily looked at him for a moment, before nodding, accepting Jim's demand. He turned around and walked away from the Lake house, disappearing in a green flash of light, leaving the garden empty. The trollhunter stared at the empty space where the man was a moment ago, before taking a deep breath, entering the kitchen and closing the door behind him. Inside, he saw Barbara continuing her argument, this time with Strickler. Jim hesitated, as he kept his distance, not knowing how to approach them.

'I can't believe you Walt!' she said with a scowl, her voice filled with disappointment. 'How can you agree to this?'

Strickler had his hands up, clearly knowing he was walking on thin water. Still, he tried to reason with her. 'Ofcourse I don't agree with the method, but you have to understand that there is no other way!'

'So we just willfully throw him back into reliving torture? I don't know what you saw, but it looked pretty darn traumatic!'

'I know it is awful. It is unfair, maybe even to someone like him.' The changeling his face fell in regret, painfully looking down to his feet. 'Gunmar and the Pale lady have caused uncountable suffering and deaths. The war went on for centuries, many lost their homes, their loved ones. Many were enslaved. Even after the battle at Killahead bridge, the war never fully ended.'

He sighed, forcing himself to look back into his lover's hurt eyes. 'I understand that what you saw was shocking to watch, but a lot of us, changelings and trolls alike, walk with memories like that. If we don't stop Morgana, the suffering will only continue. It will not only stay at terrifying memories that keep many of us awake at night.'

Barbara's expression changed into a painful understanding of where Walter had come from, closing her eyes in an ached expression, rubbing her hand on her forehead. 'Yeah… I guess you are right on that one. I just wished we didn't have to put him through that. I'm a doctor. I want to help people, not hurt them…'

'I know you do.' Strickler gave her a sad smile, putting his arms around her, pulling her close. 'You have a kind heart, it's one of the many things I love about you.'

Barbara sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment, letting herself calm down in his embrace. It seemed to be working for a moment, but the moment she opened her eyes and looked over to her son, the worry came right back again. She pulled herself out of Strickler's arms, walking over towards the trollhunter.

'Honey what is wrong?'

Jim stood there, tears streaming down his face. He tried to refrain himself from crying while they were arguing, but it didn't have that much of an effect. 'I'm sorry, I don't want to interrupt.'

Barbara lifted her hands, wiping the tears of his cheeks, giving him a comforting smile. 'You're interrupted nothing, kiddo. I know what we saw was a lot to take in.'

'Kind off, I guess. It's just…' Jim stammered, his eyes filled with regret. 'I put him in there. I decided to lock him away and I let it all happen. I should've put a stop on this after the first fight they had!'

'Oh Jim…' Barbara replied sorrowfully, putting her arms around her son. Now that he was a troll, he may be a whole lot taller and continuously wearing metal armor that coldly pricked into her skin, but that didn't stop her from hugging him. 'You couldn't have known. The world is full of wicked people. You just tried to help.'

'She's right, young Atlas.' Strickler put his hand on his shoulder, his smile still sad but assuring. 'You can't hold yourself responsible for everything that goes wrong in a centuries old war.'

Jim wanted to believe them, but found that he couldn't, as the tears still kept streaming down his face. He regretted his decision, calling himself a failure at being the trollhunter. He was meant to save human and troll kind, whatever the costs, but because he held on to his morals, he let Gunmar live. He decided to keep him around and now, once again, the wartroll had harmed another being. It was Jim's choice that lead to this, he had to make this right.

Standing still in his mothers embrace, his calmed himself, a sudden determination coming over him. The tears stopped, as he sniffed and wiped the remaining drops of his face. He didn't reply to their comfort, letting Barbara and Strickler try to talk his guilt away, but he had made his decision. Silently, he stared into the distance, his eyes slowly filling with rage. Maybe his choice to let Gunmar live was part of his humanity, but now he reminded himself that he wasn't anymore. He was a troll. He was the trollhunter. Only he could put a stop to this and he had to do it the troll way. He had to follow rule number two of being a trollhunter: Always finish the fight.

Another one! Bit melodramatic, but what can I say, I love the drama hahaha

Hope you liked it. Until the next one!