I'm just trying to protect you
"Please?" Rosiepuff's voice was soft, her wide eyes shimmering with the innocent hope of youth.
"No," Branch replied firmly, the weight of his protective instincts anchoring his resolve.
"Please, Daddy," she persisted, the title still tugging at Branch's heartstrings even after all these years, a reminder of the unexpected role he had found himself in.
"No, Rosiepuff," he said again, a touch more gently this time. The dangers of the Bergens were all too real for him, and while his heart ached to grant her this simple joy, his mind was fraught with visions of what could go wrong. Branch knew all too well; his life had been a testament to caution, a constant vigil against the darkness that threatened their colorful world. He couldn't lose her too.
Rosiepuff's eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and pleading as she faced her father. "But aunt Poppy invited us, can't we spend a few minutes there? Just a little?" she implored, her voice tinged with hope.
Branch's expression softened for a moment, his heart wrenched by her request, but his voice remained steady. "It's not safe, Rosiepuff. The Bergens could be anywhere, and it's my job to keep you safe," he explained, his words firm.
Rosiepuff's shoulders slumped, a groan escaping her lips. "You worry too much, Daddy, I can watch out for Bergens," she offered bravely, trying to negotiate her way to the festivities by showcasing her karate moves. "Hii-ya!" she exclaimed, chopping the air with an adorable ferocity. Branch watched, an amused yet wistful smile tugging at his lips.
"Very impressive," he muttered, "but karate chops won't stop a Bergen."
Rosiepuff pouted, her hands on her hips. "But I'm strong! I can fight them off if they do show up!" she insisted.
Branch sighed. "I know you're strong, Rosiepuff, and I believe in you. But I have to make sure nothing bad happens to you," he said, his voice laced with protectiveness.
Rosiepuff's enthusiasm dimmed, but she wasn't ready to give up. "I can be really quiet, like a ninja! They won't even see me!" she whispered conspiratorially.
Branch chuckled softly. "Even the quietest ninjas need to stay hidden sometimes."
Rosiepuff felt a whirlwind of emotions as her father stood firm in his refusal. Disappointment washed over her like a cold rain, dousing the fiery excitement she had felt at the thought of joining the festivities. She felt trapped, caged by an invisible barrier of overprotection, her wings clipped just as she was ready to fly. Confusion crept in, mingling with her frustration— why couldn't he see that she was no longer a tiny sprout, but a blossoming flower aching for sunlight? The silence of the room mocked her, a reminder of the joy she was barred from experiencing.
And finally, her frustration bubbled to the surface, her tiny fists clenching as she glared up at Branch. "It's not fair! Everyone else gets to have fun and be normal!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word.
Branch's heart sank at her words, knowing too well the pain of isolation he had endured. "Rosiepuff, I understand you're upset, but it's my responsibility-," he tried to explain, his voice calm and steady.
But Rosiepuff stomped her foot, the spark of rebellion igniting within her. "You're just scared! Scared of everything!" she accused, her anger a mirror of Branch's own hidden anxieties.
Branch knelt down, trying to meet her at eye level, to bridge the gap between protector and the longing for freedom. "I am scared, Rosiepuff, because I care about you. The world isn't always a safe place, and sometimes, we have to make hard choices," he said, his words tinged with a sadness only the weight of the past could bring.
"You're always saying this! I just want to live!" Tears were streaming down the girl's face now. Branch looked away, trying to hide his own.
"I'm doing what I should do to protect you-"
"I don't want you to protect me!"
The tension in the room had been building, a silent crescendo that finally broke with Branch's sudden outburst. "Enough, Rosiepuff!" he snapped, his voice echoing against the walls, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor.
Rosiepuff recoiled, her eyes wide with shock, the air around them charged with the raw intensity of Branch's rare display of anger. "You don't understand, it's not about freedom, it's about survival!" Branch continued, his words laced with a mix of fear and frustration.
Rosiepuff, trembling slightly, could only muster a small whisper, "Daddy?" Her voice was full of confusion and fear, seeking the comfort of the father figure she knew, not this stranger before her. Branch's expression softened as he realized the impact of his words, the sight of Rosiepuff's scared face acting as a sobering reminder of the weight of his guardianship.
"Just go to your room..." he murmured, the words heavy with unspoken emotion.
Rosiepuff, her spirit dampened and her heart aching from the exchange, turned without a word. Her small feet carried her away to her room, each step echoing the silent sorrow of their fractured connection. The door to her room closed with a soft click, sealing away the bright colors of her presence. Branch stood alone, the silence enveloping him like a thick fog, filled with the echoes of what had just transpired. He sat there, rubbing his temples, enveloped in the quiet, the echoes of Rosiepuff's footsteps still lingering in his head. He was alone with his thoughts, a sea of emotions churning within. He pondered over the events that had unfolded, the sharpness of his tone with Rosiepuff, the fear that gripped his heart, the overwhelming desire to protect her from the world's unseen dangers.
Branch's gaze fell upon the colorful decorations that adorned his bunker ever since Rosiepuff joined his life. The other Trolls were living their best lives, no fear, just open arms. And he? Well, a little green with envy. They danced under the glittering lights, sang with voices clear and free, and celebrated life in a way he had long forgotten.
Why was he like this?
Branch's mind wandered back in time, to a memory he kept locked away in the deepest corners of his heart. "I was only seven," he whispered to the emptiness around him, his voice a ghostly echo in the silent room. "The day the Bergen came..." His words trailed off as the scene unfolded in his mind's eye, as vivid as if it were happening all over again.
He could see his younger self, a bright-eyed troll with a zest for life. And his grandma was there too. His rock, his source of endless stories and laughter. But that fateful day, the sky had darkened, and fear had gripped his heart. "Branch, watch out!" his grandmother had shouted. But he had been lost in his own world.
Then, in a minute, chaos had erupted, a blur of colors and screams. Branch remembered looking up, seeing the looming shadow of a Bergen, its eyes cold and empty. "Watch out, Branch!" she had shouted again, pushing him away, her face etched with a fear that betrayed her trembling form.
And he was never the same again.
Now, sitting in the quiet of his bunker, Branch allowed himself to feel the full weight of that loss. "She was gone... because of a Bergen," he whispered, the pain in his voice raw and unguarded. "And I couldn't... I couldn't save her."
The memory was a stark reminder of why he lived the way he did, why he built walls, why he couldn't let Rosiepuff go to the party. It wasn't just fear; it was a vow, a silent promise to himself his grandma that he would never let such a tragedy befall another soul under his care.
He glanced towards the girl's room. He should make this right.
—--
Branch cleared his throat, "Hey, Rosiepuff," he began, his voice softer than before. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to snap; I just got angry."
He paused, waiting for a sign that she was listening. "You know, the world out there can be scary, but I never want to be the reason you're afraid." He leaned against the door, hoping she could feel his sincerity. "Can we talk? I promise to listen, sweetheart."
Branch held his breath, hoping for a chance to make things right with his little Rosiepuff.
Until a soft mumble of "Come in" allowed him to enter.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting beside her. The bed dipped, but Rosiepuff's back remained facing him.
"Hey."
Branch sighed. "Rosiepuff, I'm truly sorry," he said, his voice a soft murmur against the stillness. "I never meant to raise my voice at you. It's just that, the world out there can be a dangerous place, and I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."
He waited for a sign, any indication that his words were reaching her, but Rosiepuff remained motionless, her gaze fixed on a distant point, perhaps a world away from the fears and dangers that so consumed her father's thoughts.
The quiet between them stretched on, filled with all the things Branch wished he could shield her from. "I know you're upset," he continued, each word deliberate, an attempt to bridge the gap his outburst had created. "But please, understand that every 'no', every caution, it's all because I love you more than anything."
"I know," came the soft acknowledgement, her back still turned to him.
Branch moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Do you forgive me?" he asked, hope flickering in his voice.
"Maybe," Rosiepuff murmured, the single word carrying the weight of her hurt.
"Look," Branch began, already regretting the next words, "how about we go to the party together? Just for a little while."
Rosiepuff's eyes lit up, her earlier resolve melting into a burst of joy. "Really? Do you mean it, Daddy?" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her earlier anger was forgotten, replaced by the thrilling prospect of joining the festivities she had only ever heard from afar.
"Yes, I mean it. But we stick together, okay? And at the first sign of trouble, we leave. Deal?" Branch extended his hand, a silent vow to protect her at all costs.
"Deal!" Rosiepuff squealed, her small arms wrapping around her guardian's neck with trust and anticipation. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy! I love you!"
He smiled faintly. "Now go get ready-"
But a loud banging from outside interrupted him. "Branch, Branch, Branch!"