Another chaptaaaa! Enjoy!

The moon was still high in the clear, starry sky, it's glow casting long, soft shadows on the streets of Arcadia. The temperature had cooled down, the chilly night air surrounding two man, walking along side on the sidewalk. A lonely car drove by from a late shift, the driver casting them a confused look, as she saw both of them were barefoot. One was a huge, broad shouldered man, with bright, blue hair and a nose ring. He walked in just a shirt and his boxers, while the other man, even though tall and strongly built, looked smaller and more slender in comparison to the other man. He had messy, white hair, his mouth, chin and white tank shirt covered in blood, his right arm was filled with stitches and faded bruises.

'Darn drug addicts…' she muttered, deciding to continue driving, leaving the two men behind for someone else to solve.

Draal and Angor didn't acknowledge the passing car, both walking through the night in silence. Occasionally Draal looked over to Angor in worry, but the white haired man kept his eyes on the side walk, a numb expression on his face. They had been walking for what Draal guessed was half an hour and one of them had yet to speak up. The assassin had regained some control after a while, the ability to walk away from the situation seemed to have had some effect.

The chill of the night started to creep into Draal's feet, while his skin continuously made contact with the cold, cemented pavement, making him regret to not bring his shoes with him. Or put on pants, that's one for a start. The cold didn't convince him to head home though, there were more important matters to attend to. Draal couldn't help but look down to the stitches on Angor's arm, as he thought back to what happened in the kitchen.

He had known in rough lines what had happened in the Prison house, the proof was covered over Angor's skin, but actually seeing it with his own eyes made his chest painfully tighten. He had experience a lot of bloodshed himself. He went through war, fought many battles, lost his father, his arm, his life and momentarily his tribe, but there was just something about the long, needless torture that made him sick. All the extra pain, not caused to reach ones goal or defeating an enemy, but just for the enjoyment of it. It was a known fact Morgana and Gunmar were evil, but it gave Draal a bitter feeling that they kept surprising him about how far they could go.

After Angor walked out of the house and tried to break the barrier, Draal could've dragged the man back into the Lake house, have him calm down and talk it out there, but when he approached the distraught assassin in the garden, there was something in his eyes that made Draal stop. He looked trapped, his eyes widened in fear, trembling on the spot and it reminded Draal of when he had found him in the woods. The hurt, the confusion that followed. Angor had gone through hell in the Prison house, just to get imprisoned again in the Lake house, thrown back into the inferno through the incantation. He wanted to break out, get away from the pain. Pain that Draal partially caused, trying to save Angor's life from Merlin, not knowing the consequences of his choice. Draal couldn't help but take the assassin along and give him some space, it was the least he could do.

Draal shifted his eyes to look in front of him, absently staring at the streets. He noticed they had ended up on the road towards where once the Arcadia bridge was. The bright street lights that survived the explosion shone down on the red and white road blocks, stopping anyone from entering the construction sight that was in the process of rebuilding the bridge. Nearly all of the rubble was removed, the missing bridge the only reminder of what had happened a few months back. Looking at it reminded him that he regained his life right under their feet, in the abandoned trollmarket. How that night every troll in Arcadia had to start a new life as humans, slowly building themselves up, finding their footing and a new home. A heavy realization sank in, pulling his shoulders down with it. They all were building their new lives, all the while, Angor had to endure it all alone. Even when Draal was with him in the Prison house, he had to deal with pain alone. Draal knew that Angor had earned his place in the Prison house, his past actions had proven he was a dangerous criminal, but what he had to go through in the prison just felt… wrong. He didn't want that for the assassin. The bigger man was aware that he should see the man as his enemy, but he realized that he hadn't for a long time now. Along the way, he kind of felt like they were getting along. It may be astonishing to admit, but Draal thought they'd actually could be friends at this point. Angor had proofed to Draal that, now that he regained his soul, he had more sides to him then mindless murder. Draal didn't know before tonight that he had reclaimed his soul back in the Prison house, but he had his suspicions. Angor seemed different then before. Hostile, wary and extremely defensive, but that former wickedness was nowhere to be found. He seemed more like an actual person then a narrow minded pawn of Morgana. Angor was more then that. Draal didn't want him to be alone, he wanted to help him.

Knowing they eventually would reach the road block, not letting them walk any further, he decided this was the right time to do so. He knew he had to start the conversation, as the assassin had yet to show any sign of opening up. Draal assumed that the man was reluctant to do so, but if they didn't talk about it now, he didn't know if he could get Angor to open up again. One thing he had learned about the assassin was that on plenty occasions, if the conversation became too personal, he'd shut the door, locked it and threw the key into another dimension. Through the months, Draal tried to get to know the assassin, but he barely could get anything out of the man. He would ignore Draal, change the conversation or simply walk away. The further Angor pushed him away, the harder it would become for Draal to reach out. The bigger man hoped that the door was open for now.

'Angor, I know you don't want to, but we really have to talk about this.' he started, looking back towards the man walking next to him.

As expected, he received only silence, the other man refusing to look anywhere but the pavement. Draal decided he had to use a bit more force to get anything out of the assassin. If he had learned one thing about Angor, it was that he absolutely hated talking about himself. He took a few bigger steps, before turning around and blocking Angor's way to walk any further. The assassin stopped in front of him, still refusing to look him in the eye, before taking a step side wards and passing the bigger man. Draal sighed, the man's stubbornness could frustrate the bigger man to the bone.

Draal turned around and grabbed the assassin's arm, pulling him to a stop, looking at the back of the man with determination. 'You can continue to avoid me but I'm not going to give up.'

Angor suddenly made a noise out of frustration, roughly yanking his arm out of Draal's grasp, before angrily turning around, facing the bigger man. 'Sure, why not?! Let's talk!' he growled.

'Let's just casually talk about feelings and get all sentimental about what happened in the Prison house. It happened, get over it!'

The bigger man let his hand fall to his side, deciding to stay silent as he kept his eyes on the furious assassin, seeing his hands turn into tight fists. He didn't care if Angor chose to get angry at him, as long as the man would talk about it.

'Just accept that Gunmar is an asshole, he always has been, every damned troll on earth and it's elder knows that! I don't want to talk about him!' He yelled, flaying his arms in the air in frustration, taken over by anger. 'I don't want to talk about Gunmar or Morgana, or the fact that she has control over me. She always treated me like this. I'm strong enough to take it, I don't care about it!'

Draal let him rage on, the assassin's expression clearly telling a different story then the words he was throwing at him. If Anger didn't care, he seemed quite stressed about it, as the man put his hands in his hair, frustration written on his face.

'It doesn't matter if I talk about it, I don't even get why you care! I am just as much a monster as they are, I am not worthy of any help.' He stopped for a moment, panic coming back into his eyes as he started to breath heavily. 'It doesn't matter because I'm always going to be stuck with them, I have no choice! Even with my soul back, Morgana has power over me. Screw your second chance, things are never going to change!'

Draal had to admit that he was a bit confused about his rambling, trying to tie bits and pieces together to understand what the assassin was talking about. He wanted to the man to open up, but he realized all he had done was send the assassin straight into panic and he didn't know how to stop it.

'It's okay, let's just-' he tried to say in an attempt of comfort, but the assassin interrupted him in anger.

'Nothing is okay about this, Draal! I keep getting imprisoned, I'm an DONE with it!' he roared, letting go of his hair as he looked at the bigger man with wide, angry eyes. 'Just give me the ring!'

'I'm not giving you the ring, Angor.' Draal tried to calmly explain to him, putting his arms up, slowly approaching the assassin. 'Just calm down, we ca-'

'Give me the damned ring, guard!'

Before Draal could react, the assassin charged forward, jumping at him as he grabbed the bigger mans hand, trying to yank the ring off. Luckily, the panicked man was acting more frantic then his normal, calculative approach, giving Draal the chance to grab the man before he could actually get the ring off. Using his advantage of strength, Draal turned the man around, putting his arms around him and behind his head, locking him in place. 'Just calm down, what are you doing?!'

Angor furiously struggled against the man, fighting against the bigger mans grasp. This man may be smaller then him, but he surely wasn't weak, Draal thought, having great effort to keep the man in place. With a rough shove, Angor pushed him back, making them both fall on the cold hard pavement. With a loud grunt, Draal collided with the ground, pain shooting through his back as he still tried to keep the man in place.

'Let me go, bastard!' the assassin roared at him, still struggling against Draal's grasp. Unfortunately for the assassin, the bigger man was too strong. He wasn't going anywhere.

'Then stop acting like an idiot!' Draal shot back at him, getting pissed off with the man, his back feeling sore from the collision with the ground. Angor wasn't thinking clearly anymore. Draal tried too keep the man in place, the assassin struggling for a good few minutes before he slowly started to breath more heavily then actually try to get out of his arms.

'Let me go! Let me go! Let… me…' he objected, his breath taking up as the assassin started to struggle breathing. 'Go… fuck…what-'

Draal took that as the sign the man wasn't going to attack him anymore, slowly letting go of his grasp, pushing himself from the ground, making them both sit up. He didn't understand what was happening to the assassin, seeing him struggle to breath, but Draal didn't do anything to block him from doing so. 'Angor, what is going on?'

'Don't… know…' The assassin tried to get out through ragged breath, leaning forward as he put his head in his hands, breathing heavily as he started to shake. 'Can't… breath…'

Draal felt his concern grow, seeing the man in front of him shake uncontrollably. He never meant to get the man into a state like this, he just wanted to stop him from taking the ring. How was he supposed to know the assassin would charge at him like a wild animal? On the other hand, maybe he was supposed to know. Angor had done it plently before, but Draal guessed his judgment had been clouded by the time they had spent together.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. He remembered the first time he had met the Barbara, charging towards her with a roaring battle cry, thinking that the woman was Angor Rot. She had screamed so loudly it had hurt his ears, astonished by the fact that a big, blue troll roared in her face, that she started to breath heavily and fainted on the spot. Draal had asked the trollhunter what had happened to her, because if that was a battle strategy, it was an extremely useless one. Jim had later explained to him that she had a straight panic attack, not being able to handle the information she had received. Apparently the human brain sometimes would just shut down in certain scenario's. Was that what Angor was having right now? He didn't quite understand why the assassin was having it, Draal hadn't just screamed and startled him at the moment did he? He doubted the assassin would even by faced by things like that, but it sure looked like the man was panicking.

The bigger man stood up and walked around the assassin, crouching down once again to face the shaking man. He tried to look Angor in the eyes, but the man golden irises were staring into the distance, trying to get oxygen inside his lungs. 'Try to take deep breaths, alright?' Draal said to him, putting his hands on the man's shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

Angor shook his head, still not looking Draal in the eye, panic washed all over him. 'I'm… trapped...I'm… I'm…'

Draal had to admit that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He understood that the assassin was feeling trapped and would lash out in a desperate attempt to get free, but the bigger man couldn't just give the ring to him. If Morgana truly could take hold of him, he'd be a threat to Arcadia, even if Angor himself wasn't planning on causing any harm. Still, Draal had to do something. He couldn't let the man sit like this.

In a desperate attempt of at least doing something, Draal put his arms around the assassin, pulling him close to his chest. He didn't know if it would work, but his option were running low. Feeling Angor's heaving chest under his arms, he waited, holding the man close. The assassin surprisingly didn't pull away, staying in his embrace as he tried to get more air in his lungs.

'Take your time. I'm right here with you.' Draal murmured, keeping his arms around the man as he patiently waited for it to blow over. It certainly took a while, feeling the cold of the pavement creep into his legs, making him regret that he didn't put on pants before going outside, but he wasn't going to let go of Angor until he knew the man was okay. Slowly, the assassin started to breath more regularly, the tense muscles of his body relaxing as the man let his hands slide of his head, weakly leaning into Draal's chest.

'What are you doing?' Draal could hear him softly murmur, his voice muffled as he still stayed put between the bigger man's arms.

'It's called a hug, idiot.'

'Oh...'

Draal rolled his eyes, feeling a bit of astonishment by how the man didn't know what an embrace was, but suddenly he remembered what Angor had said to him.

'She always treated me like this. I'm strong enough to take it, I don't care about it!'

'I'm used to doing things alone.'

Angor had never received something like this before. A kind gesture or someone that gave him any kind of comfort. He was used to the world of Gunmar and Morgana, which meant violence and cruelty. Draal wasn't that much of a hugger himself, but he'd know kindness. His father had given him plenty of comfort, always giving him a place he could go back to. Well, before the old man got chosen to be the trollhunter that is. After that, Draal had to fend for his own for a while, but luckily, he had made new friends. Friends who had been there for him through thick and thin. Draal knew that Angor wasn't excused from what he had done, but it did sound really sad actually, having no one to fall back too. Suddenly, it wasn't that much of a surprise that Angor chose violence over communication. He'd never known anything else. The bigger man absentmindedly hugged the man tighter, leaning his chin on Angor's head, thinking off of having to go through such loneliness. It was a feeling he considered incredibly painful, choosing physical pain over it anytime.

'I don't want to keep you imprisoned either.' Draal eventually started, breaking the silence of the cool, summer night. 'But as long as that piece of Morgana stays in your soul, I can't let you go, I'm sorry…'

Draal could feel Angor's head move a bit, feeling his shoulder's sink under his arms as the realization dawned on the assassin. Draal couldn't help but feel bad for the guy.

'But-' Draal continued, putting his hands on the mans shoulder, pushing him back a bit to look the man in the eye. Angor didn't look at him, numbly staring at Draal's chest, exhaustion written on his face as his golden irises looked concernedly dim compared to their usual glow. They normally glowed so brightly, how was it possible for them to lose their light? 'That doesn't mean I won't help you. It's my responsibility to keep you safe.'

This made the assassin look up at him, his dimmed eyes not looking that convinced about his little speech, giving Draal a hollow stare. 'I'm a lost cause. Don't waste your time.'

Draal had to lightly chuckle at his response. That sounded way to melodramatic. 'Of course I'm not going to give up. You're my friend!'

Angor frowned in confusion, a bit of life returning in his eyes as he didn't seem to understand what Draal was talking about. 'Friend?'

'Yeah! Believe it or not, I like having you around.' Draal admitted to him, giving him a warm smile as he gentle shook the mans shoulders. 'Now stop thinking everything is hopeless. The fight isn't over just yet!'

The assassin just stared at him dumbfounded as if Draal just told him pigs could fly. Well, if trolls could turn in to humans, Draal wouldn't be surprised if pig actually could, but it was a bloody metaphor, who cares.

'Let's do this together, alright?' Draal continued, squeezing Angor's arms gently. 'You don't have to do this alone.'

This night Draal had seen many sides of Angor he'd never seen before, but the look he received now, wanted him to pull the man right back into his arms. The assassin expression didn't change much, but a light in his golden eyes returned ever so slightly as he stared at Draal. The bigger man couldn't help but warmly smile at the sight, as relieve washed over him, seeing that his words were having an effect on the man. Angor didn't use the words, but it was clear by the shimmers in his eyes that he wasn't ready to give up. He still held hope and Draal was prepared to give anything in his power to help him keep it. Morgana wasn't going to win, Draal was going to make sure of that. He wanted the golden light to keep shining in his eyes.

Draal lost time of how long they sat there, feeling himself get lost in the golden light. He didn't know what it was that made him unable to look away, but the light just fascinated him. There was just something about Angor, when his true feelings shone through the cracks, that made Draal drawn to him. Even when the assassin got angry with him or started a fight, it felt different then before. Angor showed him layers beneath the cold, calculated murderer he supposedly was.

Unfortunately he knew that they couldn't stay like this forever, as the cold hard pavement started to cool him down, sending shivers along his spine. Even though he wanted to remain where he was, ignore the cold and getting lost in the golden light, Draal couldn't ignore how tired Angor looked. This night took a lot out of the assassin, let alone the last couple of weeks. He may have found new found hope, but there were bags under his eyes and he was still recovering from the Prison house incident. Not to mention the dried blood caked all over his mouth. Draal couldn't keep the man in the cold because of his own desires. He forced himself to look away, breaking himself out of the dreamlike state.

He let go of Angor's shoulders as he slowly got up to his feet, deciding it was time for them to head back. They've sat in the cold long enough. He offered his hand out towards Angor, his warm smile still holding strong.

'Let's head home. You look like crap.'

For a moment, the assassin remained on the ground, looking at the man standing in front of him, the spark in his eyes still present. He nodded, before accepting the hand, letting Draal pull him up. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, only now realizing were they were.

'How did we end up all the way here?' he muttered tiredly, appearing a bit uncomfortable after his little panic attack, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the construction sight, the pale cement of the canals reflecting the moonlight.

Draal laughed, feeling relieved that Angor seemed to have calmed down at least. 'Yeah, it's going to take some time to get back. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing!'

The assassin looked back at him, raising an eyebrow as he looked him over, remembering what Draal was wearing, or what he wasn't. 'Obviously. I'm not the one walking around without pants on.'

Angor had calmed down alright, Draal sigh fully thought, before deciding to play into it. Putting his hands on his side, he proudly posed with a big grin on his face.'Say what you want, but you can't deny I look darn good in boxers!'

The assassin stared at him for moment, trying to think of a reply. Eventually he couldn't help but slightly return a tired grin as he walked passed the posing man, heading to where they came from. 'Shut up.'

Draal laughed as he turned around to follow after the assassin. 'See! Even you think so!'

'I said shut up.'

The loud clatter of waterfalls echoed through Angor's mind, feeling the drops of water hit his face as he opened his eyes, seeing the familiar tiled floor beneath his feet. Lifting his head up from his sitting position, he found himself on the plateau once again. For the first time he could recall that he had been here before, memories drifting back of the times Morgana had visited his dreams. That must mean that he had fallen asleep while he was guarding the basement door. A tiny voice told him that he should be worried about this, but a rush of calmness came over him. His heart rate was slow, as he scanned his surroundings, expected the Pale lady to also be present, but he had yet to find her. It didn't seem to alarm him at the moment, patiently waiting for her to appear.

'I'm here, my champion.'

Angor jerked his head towards the direction the voice came from. A part of the waterfall slowly opened up like a curtain, a concerned Morgana quickly stepped through the gate and entering the plateau, wearing a flowing, golden dress, her red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, staying dry as the water didn't show to have any effect on her. As Angor watched her approach him, he stood up, letting her come closer. He felt somewhere pleased to see her, the sight of her feeling familiar, like a piece that had been missing finally found it's way back to him.

'Why am I here?' he simply ask at her. She stopped in her tracks, giving him sad smile, folding her hands graciously in front of her.

'You got hurt.' she explained him, her emerald green eyes keeping it's concern. 'I came to check on you.'

The assassin's frowned in confusion, not understanding why that would give her any concern. 'I'm alive, aren't I?

The beautiful woman in front of him lightly laughed through her sad expression, her smile making Angor feel calmer then he had been in a while.

'Yes, you are. I never doubted that you were strong enough to make it out.' she giggled, keeping her emerald eyes locked on his. Her laugh was short lived, though, a more serious look appearing on her face. 'Angor, I don't have much time.'

Angor gave her a curious look, wondering what she had to tell him. Unexpectedly, Morgana lifted her hands up and cupped his face, looking at him with big eyes. 'Now that you are free, you have to save me.'

The assassin felt concern grow inside himself. What was she getting at?

'I am in danger, you have to find me. Find me, I don't have much time.'

'Where are you?' he immediately asked her.

'I don't know.' She quickly said, looking a bit distracted as she looked around herself, as if someone was there with them. 'I can't reach further, or they'll find out.'

The assassin could only watch as she started to show signs of panic, rapidly looking around her before suddenly turning her green eyes back towards Angor.

'Listen to me. All the things you've been through, I did it for you. I never meant to hurt you.'

'How can I find you?' Angor pushed on, her quick words yet to set in.

Suddenly, the lights started to flicker, darkness slowly taking over as the waterfalls started to dissipate, slowly decreasing their giant cold streams. The plateau started to shake under their feeting, making them both look down in surprise. Morgana let go of the assassin's face, giving him a scared look.

'Find me!' she seemed to be yelling at him, but her voice started to become an echo drowning in the depths of darkness slowly surrounding them. 'Please!'

'Pale la-!'

A big hand gently shook him away, making Angor snap back to reality as he jerked his head up once again, finding himself sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the wall of the Lake house basement. Moments of his dream flashed through his mind as he felt his heart rate beat heavily in his chest. After a few seconds, his gaze found Draal hovering over him, a confused look on his face.

'Why are you on the floor?' the bigger man asked him, letting go of the mans shoulder once he noticed that Angor was awake. The assassin tried to get his breath under control as he sat up a bit more straight, remembering the fact he was guarding the door the previous night, now hearing the morning birds sing through the tiny window. His back felt sore from sitting on the cold floor for hours on end, but he pushed it away.

'I couldn't sleep.' he vaguely replied, avoiding Draal's gaze as he slowly got up. It wasn't a total lie, if he didn't want Morgana to join the party, he couldn't sleep, but he had miserably failed last night it seemed. He cursed himself for being so careless. It was going well for a while, being able to stay up at night. There weren't any escalations since the soul search and it had been calm in the Lake house, but the assassin started to notice that the exhaustion had one again taken a toll on him.

After the night of the soul search, the mood had somewhat changed in the lake house. The hostile looks he kept receiving from the other residents had visibly decreased, accept for Stricklers, but Angor wasn't so surprised about that one. The assassin had to admit that the impure was the only one left with a brain, as the trollhunter and his mother started to act more casual around him, which Angor had no idea what to do with, not really understanding why they suddenly decided to not be fearful of him. In his opinion, it was bad. This meant they weren't going to leave him alone like before.

The trollhunter's mother would now give him warm smiles and wish him good mornings or whatever the time of the day was. The assassin would mostly just stare back at her, trying to figure out what she wanted from him, but he had yet to find out. After Draal and he had gotten home from walking all the way towards the Arcadia bridge that night, she had ushered them inside, pushing warm tea into their hands (which tasted awful. Wasn't it just water with leaves?) and explained them what happened when they had left. Apparently, it was now up to Angor if he wanted to continue the soul search. Luckily, he didn't have to decide right away, because he had yet to make a decision. He wasn't that experienced in having all this choices anyways. Obviously he didn't want to go through it again, it was anything but pleasant, but at the same time he did want to find Morgana. What was momentarily pain and dysfunctional lungs compared to actually reaching the task at hand? He had to think about it with his tired brain and in the meanwhile he just had to endure the weird behavior of the Lake house residents.

The trollhunter frequently would check in on Draal and him, as he always did, but he stayed around longer now, starting conversations and making new attempts on talking to the assassin. The boy had given up after a while when Angor gave them the silent treatment when he first arrived at the lake house, but the trollhunter had decided to try once again. The assassin wasn't exactly happy with it, but the exhaustion was getting a challenge, making him frustratingly realize he sometimes answered back without thinking, something he absolutely didn't want. It mostly were innocent questions about how their morning was going or if they were planning on doing anything interesting, but Angor knew better then to casually tell someone what his plans were. They mostly involved escape plans and possible murder when he finally stopped acting like a weakling and it would be extremely inconvenient if he just blurted it out in front of his enemies. For once, he appreciated Draal's ability to keep yapping, mostly answering before Angor could make a mistake.

The assassin would mostly just listen, but for now he decided to stop ignoring the residents, as his brain was having trouble keeping up at times. Better to safe his energy for when they started to ask difficult questions.

They had yet to do so after what happened at the soul search. The assassin had expected them to force answers out of him or use the information against him, but the last couple of days the other residents only started simple conversations with him. Mostly the 'How are you?' question, which he just answered with a simple fine. He wanted them to stop asking how he was doing, it felt weird. He was alive, there wasn't a lot more they needed to know. He wasn't going to share his own information with his enemies.

Although, Draal apparently promoted his status towards friend, which Angor had yet to accept. After the soul search night, Angor hadn't answered any of Draal's further questions. He had a moment of weakness, but he wasn't going to let that happen again. He couldn't have friends. The assassin had only been a nuisance towards him, why would the man want to be his friend. It could be some tactic to gain Angor's trust, make him let go of information, but at the same time, it didn't really feel like something Draal would do. It had been months and the bigger man had yet to show any signs of betraying him. Plently of times Draal had assisted him, even when he didn't ask for it. It did make Angor see him less like an enemy, but to see him as a friend… He wasn't quite sure what it even meant to be one.

If Angor would hypothetically consider having a friend, he wasn't being a great one at the moment, as he just lied at Draal's question, avoiding him as the assassin started to walk up the stairs, heading towards their morning routine.

'You're not sleeping much lately, are you?' he heard Draal asked behind him, still standing on the same spot he found the man when he woke up.

The assassin halted in his steps, not expecting Draal to go straight to the point. He could've sworn that Draal wasn't aware of it at all, sleeping through the night like a log. He kept his back towards the guard, not answering his question.

'Ango-'

'I'm fine. Let's head towards the shower, yeah?' Angor interrupted him, turning around, pulling the most awake expression he could as he stared at the man. Draal had to stop asking questions like this, it was better this way. The guard gave him an odd look, frowning a bit before nodding with a sigh, grabbing some fresh clothes from the clothing rack. With a bit of relieve, the assassin turned around and continued walking upstairs. He had to get himself together, Draal was starting to catch on.

You have to help me!

Morgana's call for help kept echoing through his mind as he dried himself off with the towel, trying to get the water out of his messy hair. He couldn't remember much about the dream, but after the soul search it seemed that he could at least keep some parts of it intact. The woman seemed panicked and worried, something he had never seen her express before. Was it even real? She had visited his dream before, but he had forgotten them right after, not even knowing if it were just dreams or something more to begin with. This one seemed more serious, it's echoes lingering as he remembered her scared emerald eyes looking at him. It was a strange look and it didn't suit the woman at all. Angor didn't know what she was up to, but in the end, the dreams didn't matter. He wanted to find her anyway, get that part of her soul out of him and get out of this prison. The thing that did get to him was the worry he had felt in the dream. Sure, she had been the main subject of his worries for centuries, but he didn't care about her safety. She was always able to handle herself, why would anything be any different now. He had been in her service to kill the trollhunters, not to protect the woman. He didn't care about her well being… right?

He lowered the towel with a sigh, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as he tiredly looked up towards the mirror, shoving the thought aside. The glass was slightly fogged by the steam of his previous shower session, but he could still make out the flesh bag in front of him, damp white hair sticking out everywhere, looking back at him with dimmed, golden eyes. It took him by surprise for a moment, seeing his human form. He hadn't looked in the mirror since that night, not really feeling the need to see the damage. Most of it had faded, his left arm completely healed from any scars or broken bones thanks for Merlin, but the rest of his body could still tell the story. The stitched had been removed, but some of the cuts and bite marks were going to leave scars. The assassin never cared for scars, he had walked around with pieces of his missing stone living for as long as he could remember, but this scars felt different. There was no pride in it. No battle. No sacrifice. Just… Gunmar.

'Tsk.' he looked away from the mirror in frustration. His thoughts must be getting scrambled again, it wasn't his intention to think about this. It wasn't going to be useful to linger on things that had already happened. He had to find a way to escape this place, not dwell on Morgana or Gunmar. He quickly pulled on his sweatpants, intending to grab his white shirt when a new flash of the dream came back to him.

Listen to me.

He quickly stood up again, tiredly he rubbed his eyes, not liking where his mind was going. The sleep deprivation was back at it again, thought popping up that he didn't want to be a part of. He walked towards the sink, opening the faucet, cold water falling down as he splashed it in his face, trying to wake himself up.

You have to save me!

Angor grabbed the edge of the sink, keeping his head low as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He had been in this place before. He hated that voice. He wanted nothing to do with her. Why was he remembering this?

'Shut up.' he murmured to himself, feeling the cold drops of water fall of his face as he tried to keep his focus.

All the things you've been through, I did it for you.

Angor looked up, staring at the mirror once again. The bags under his eyes clear as day as he saw a worried man look back at him, scars tracking down his chest. He clenched his jaw, his eyes trailing down the scars on his skin, this time not looking away. He felt his heart speed up, dread rising in his chest as his grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles turning white.

'You're lying…' he growled.

I never meant to hurt you.

If she didn't want to hurt him, why was he still locked up? If she called him his champion, why did he had to go through all of that?

Because I know that you are strong enough. Please… I care for you.

It was getting hard to breath again, making Angor squeeze his eyes shut, grabbing his hair with his hands, taking a step back from the mirror. She didn't care. She was lying. He didn't need anybody.

'Shut up.' he dangerously growled, trying to shut the voice out, looking back at the mirror, this time seeing the Pale Lady give him a pleading look through the glass, golden light surrounding her physique. Seeing the Eldritch Queen look back at him didn't make it better, feeling his lungs tightened even more.

We are connected. You can find me. You can help me!

'No…' he breathed.

You couldn't safe them, but you can still safe me!

'I said SHUT UP!' Angor roared, anger rising up at him as he let go of his hair and punched his fist straight into the mirror, the glass breaking on impact. Morgana's image immediately disappeared as pieces of shattered glass fell down in the sink and on the floor, deafening the bathroom with it's crash. Angor kept his tightly balled fist against the remains of the mirror, staring through the shards at his own reflection with hateful eyes and heavy breaths. He hated the sight of himself. He hated what she was doing to him. It was clear as day that she was manipulating him, but he hated the fact that for some reason she was getting to him. Why was this stupid act working? Why was he so fucking weak?!

He didn't care about the roaring pain he felt in his hand, the anger taking him over. He lifted his fist before punching the mirror once again and again and again until he couldn't see his own reflection anymore. He wanted it to go away. He wanted her to go away.

'What the hell is going on in there?!'

The assassin immediately stopped, the realization now sinking in about what he was doing, hearing Draal pound heavily on the locked door. Trying to keep his breath under control, he slowly pulled away from the mirror, his hand trembling as blood trickled down his skin. Pain started to seep into it, the stinging pieces of glass slicing through his knuckles. Angor tensely stared at it, his brain fully working on how to convince Draal nothing was going on, the bigger man turning the handle to try and get into the locked door. One of the many house rules was that Angor wasn't allowed to lock the door, but the assassin had chosen to not comply with that one. Locking the door wasn't a death sentence, so they could eat it. Draal didn't sound to happy with it, the assassin hearing him sigh heavily as the doorknob stopped moving. For a moment there was a tense silence, Angor staring at the doorframe, still pondering on what to do.

'Open the door.' the assassin heard Draal say through the wood, his voice stern. 'I want to know what's going on.'

The assassin kept his eyes on the door, deciding to stay silent. If the guard found out he wrecked the mirror, it would probably result in prosecution. Unfortunately he had no way of hiding the evidence, the locked door the only thing from keeping eyes off the scene of the crime. He couldn't magically conjure a fixed mirror, the shards scattered on the bathroom floor, blood dropping on the ground as the assassin started to look around.

'Come on!'

The assassin scowled at the door. The bigger man had been to show that he was on the assassin's side, but Angor had yet to find out if that truly was what he meant. He wouldn't surprised if the guard just ratted him out and it was back to the prison house again. He had to find a way out of this.

Draal spoke up again, this times sounding a bit more worried. 'Angor, I can't help you if you don't let me in.'

Angor looked back at the door, the raising thoughts of searching for a solution stopping for a moment. He wondered if Draal was telling the truth. He knew it was stupid to take the risk of just believing the man, but Angor couldn't shove the things Draal had said to him a while back.

'It's okay to ask for my help. You're safe with me.'

Angor cursed mentally. Was Draal telling the truth or not? The consequences could be a real head ache if the bigger man was lying. But if it was the truth, he could at least focus on what just happened. For a moment, he took the time to relax his shoulders, trying to keep his shaking hand under control. It was staying locked up in in here or opening the door and the first option seemed very useless. With a sigh, he walked over towards the door, unlocking the door with his good hand before pulling the door open, not looking Draal in the eyes.

Draal hastily walked inside, immediately seeing the bloodied hand of Angor. Grabbing his arm he quickly lifted it up, his expression turning serious as he looked at all the small pieces of glass in his skin. The injuries wasn't so severe in Angor's opinion, only the blood made it look more dramatic then it was, but the guard didn't show to share the same opinion. 'How did you hurt your hand?'

'I…' Angor began, suddenly finding it a bit hard to explain what happened, not expecting Draal to show concern. 'I broke the mirror.'

The guard looked behind him, letting go of Angor's injured arm. The bigger man took a moment to take the damage in before walking towards the mirror. He squatted down to open the small closet beneath the sink, rumaging through some objects. The assassin eyed him cautiously, not being able to predict what the man was doing, seeing Draal stand up and turn back towards Angor, holding a roll of white bandage in his hand.

'Guess I have to give the Barbara a call again.' Draal lowly muttered, rolling out some of the bandage. He lifted his hand to take the assassin's arm, but Angor pulled back, giving him a wary look. Letting his hands lower a bit, Draal sighed deeply, giving the assassin a somewhat tired but heavy look.

'Angor, stop this.' he breathed, his amber eyes locked with Angor's, addressing him with a low voice. 'You're looking at me as if I'm going to stab you.'

Angor looked back at him with a confused scowl. He obviously looked like that, he didn't know what the guard was up to and if it was going to be a threat. The concerned amber eyes staring at him seemed to tell a different story, the bigger man showing a more gentle approach, not showing any signs of anger. There was a flash of hurt in his eyes though, that foreign feeling rising in Angor's chest when he saw that he once again made the man look like that. Draal tried to reach for his arm again, this time approaching the assassin at a slower pace, giving Angor some time to understand that he didn't mean any harm. The assassin didn't move this time, the feeling telling him to take the risk. Slowly, he felt the bigger man's hand gently wrap around his skin, gently pulling his arm up as Draal broke eye contact, lowering his gaze to focus on wrapping the bandage around the wound.

The assassin just numbly stared at the man tending to his wound, a frown on the guards face as he concentrated on his work. Angor wanted to kept his guard up, but the exhaustion started to sink in again, the adrenaline of the Pale ladies wicked visit leaving his body. He had been careful to conserve his energy, but now it was all used up on some stupid hallucination in the mirror. He was starting to loose his focus and from all the people surrounding him, he'd rather take the chance with Draal to let it. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, feeling his heart rate slow down until a balanced rhythm, his eyes absently staring at the bandage getting wrapped around his hand, Draal's hands careful not to touch the pieces of glass.

'What happened?' Draal tried once again, this time calmly approaching the question.

The assassin took a moment to react, considering if he should tell the truth, but as the last bit of energy left his body, so did his resistance. He was too tired. If this was going to get him killed, screw it. Draal wasn't going to give up asking anyways. He closed his heavy eyes, letting out a slow sigh.

'Morgana.' the assassin quietly muttered.

The guard's eyes shot up to look at the assassin for a second, the mentioning of the Pale lady making him lose his focus on the wound. Quickly, Draal looked down again, not wanting to hurt the wound. 'How?'

'My mind.' Angor answered, already cursing himself for telling Draal the truth. Still, he pushed through, too exhausted to care anymore. 'And dreams, I guess.'

'Is that why you are not sleeping?' Draal pushed on, eager to keep the conversation going now that Angor was actually talking about it.

The assassin slowly nodded, opening his eyes, slowly looking at the shattered mirror across the bathroom. 'I can't let her get close.'

Draal grunted in acknowledgment, securing the bandage around his hand before grabbing a towel off a rack on the wall, wiping away the remaining blood off his arm with the fuzzy fabric. 'You do know that not sleeping can get you killed, right?'

Angor didn't reply at his rhetoric question. Of course he knew that, but it was staying awake or throw him or Draal in the claws of the Pale lady. The bigger man let go of his arm, having finished his improvised medical care. With a stern look, he pushed on. 'I'm serious! We're not trolls anymore. If you keep doing this-'

'If I don't, bad things happen.' The assassin tiredly replied, looking back up at the guard. Draal didn't seem to fully understand what he was referring too, confused eyes staring back at him. Angor looked away again, not wanting to get to far into it. He was too exhausted to keep away the storm if it decided to stir up again. Keeping his mouth shut, he eyed the bandage around his hand. The guard did kind of a shit job on it, but it'll do for the time being. Probably had to get the glass removed soon.

'What kind of things?' he heard the guard ask once again.

Maybe he could get the glass out himself. It shouldn't be that hard to do, he had a steady hand. Just had to make sure he didn't damage it any further, but it should be alright. It wasn't damaged enough to refrain him from fighting at least.

'Angor.'

The assassin felt a hand under his chin, lifting his head up to look at a concerned Draal staring back at him. The amber eyes refusing the assassin to block his thoughts, demanding him to keep on talking. The guard wasn't giving up, letting go of his chin, still keeping his gaze locked with the assassin.

The assassin felt himself tense up again. He didn't give others information about himself. He had made sure for centuries no one knew his weaknesses, but now he found himself giving in to Draal, feeling his wall crumble a bit, not being able to hide the worry in his own eyes. 'If I fall asleep, she is able to possess me and I…'

Looking into the concerned amber eyes staring back at him, he felt the storm slowly stir up again, getting stuck on what to say. He didn't like to linger on how he felt about something, especially Morgana related issues. Angor wanted to focus on putting a stop on it, but as he looked at Draal he couldn't fight the scenario's of what could happen if Morgana did succeed in possessing him. There was a high possibility that Draal would end up dead the moment it did. The rest of the lake house next, if Jim didn't stop Angor. Then it was straight towards his own death when he wakes up in front of the witch. He could deal with dying, but the thought of taking Draal with him to the grave felt… wrong.

'I really don't want to know what happens the next time I fall asleep.' Angor confessed, feeling his chest uncomfortably tighten as he brought it up but refusing to give up now, balling his fist as he kept talking, ignoring the sting in his wounded hand, staring at the big man in front of him.

Draal took a moment to take in the assassin's words, understanding the importance of the situation, but eventually his eyes softened, a small smile appeared on his face as he placed his hands on the assassin's bare shoulders. 'I'll help you out. Last time there was no one keeping watch, so let's try that this time. It's risky, but it's that or you'll eventually die of exhaustion.'

Angor opened his mouth to disagree but Draal stopped him, already ahead of what the assassin was thinking.

'No, dying isn't the better option here.' he deadpanned, giving the man a stern look. 'and yes, thinking that is madly concerning, so I advice you to consider the other option.'

The assassin shut his mouth again, taken aback by Draal's lecture, realizing the bigger man knew more about him then Angor had expected. The guard's plan did have some potential. If Draal kept watch over him sleeping, he could wake the assassin up if things went sideways. If that worked, that is. This did mean that Angor had to put his trust in the bigger man, which set off all the sirens in his head, but what choice did he have? Although, he did have a choice. It was Morgana or Draal. He knew the Pale lady for a long time, making her action more predictable, but that mostly included murder. Draal he knew less, but from the way the guard treated him, it looked like a far lesser threat. It was a risk, but Angor wanted to take it. It was probably too good to be true, but he was getting too tired to care. He might as well try it.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes once more, before nodding in agreement. He had to focus on keeping himself standing, the relieve he felt that he possibly didn't have to stay awake much longer eating at his will power. Luckily the warm hands on his shoulders kept him steady, the guard noticing that Angor was starting to shut down. With a gentle shake, Draal brought him back to reality, the assassin snapping out of it as he stared at the guard in confusion. Draal chuckled, his smile growing through his sad eyes, finding a bit of humor in the dire situation.

'Let's fix this up first and get the Barbara to take a look at your hand.' he proposed, letting go of the assassin, turning around and crouching down to carefully pick up some of the bigger pieces of broken glass. 'Then we're going to get you some sleep.'

For a moment the assassin observed the guard gathered pieces of the mirror, before eventually walking over and lowering himself to the ground as well, using the towel he had dried himself off with to gather shards. He wasn't the cleaning type, but it felt off to passively stand by while Draal cleaned up the wreck he made. Besides, doing nothing only made him drowsier and that would have to wait. He might as well join in.

The two men continued in silence, gathering the pieces, cleaning up the blood and removing the last parts of glass from the cabinet that once was a mirror, leaving an empty frame behind. Not all the evidence could be removed, but it would do, as they declared it clean enough, walking through the door with the remains of the mirror, closing the door behind them.

Hope you liked it!

Now I'm out of writer's ammo, so I am going to have to think of more ideas of what is going to happen next. Plan are brewing, but the writersblock is pretty real hahah.