#toa reader insert

A steady breath left your stony lips, mixing with the frigid air surrounding you. You were still and quiet – unmoving as if frozen in place. A lesser being might have very well been if they were in your position. The north was a cold and unforgiving home, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The scarcity of food and the harsh environment – learning not only how to survive here but to thrive made you strong. You lived for the challenge.

You waited patiently; eyes laser-focused on the beast circling the precarious pile of fish you’d left. It was cautious, but ultimately – like many others before it – would no doubt take the obvious bait. It was too easy, really.

For a moment while you waited for its guard to lower, your mind wandered back to your youth; back to the days when you could hardly carry a weapon let alone feed yourself. So weak, you were. So pathetic. You’d almost lost yourself completely wallowing in shame of the troll you used to be, but a subtle movement from your prey quickly brought you from your thoughts. Its head sunk down into the easy meal, allowing just enough of an opening for you to strike. The past could wait. Dinner was now.

You were quick and careful, mindful of the icy surface you were running on. The beast roared once it noticed your presence, but you roared louder. It fought for its life, but you fought harder, overpowering it, and securing another meal. You loaded it onto your sleigh and started for the mountains you called home.

In the dead quiet that surrounded you as you moved, your mind began to wander once again. You remembered back to when you were but a hatchling, small and fragile. So much so, that many believed you wouldn't even make it to adulthood, but you were nothing if not stubborn. You grew stronger with every passing day, fighting for your very life as if any day could have been your last.

Left without a home after humans raided your village, you wandered right into the arms of the Gumm-Gumms. You’d heard terrible rumors of them and their tribes, but the other trolls weren’t doing much against the fleshbags – a few had even turned you away, fearing that you’d just bring trouble with you. The Gumm-Gumms, however, were strong, they were proud, they were fierce, and they needed fighters. If anyone or anything could mold you into a warrior, it was them. If not? Well, you’d take that chance.

 -CLANG-

You had just barely managed to draw your weapon in time to stop the blade coming for your neck. A second sword came close to your abdomen, but, with a bit of help from your tail, you’d managed to push yourself backwards, sliding away just enough to put some distance between yourself and your attacker. You both hunched over on all fours, patiently waiting for the other to make the first move. Yellow and red eyes were locked with your own, fangs bared and body tense. Your opponent charged first, head and horns ramming directly into yours. You took the hit head-on, only sliding back a little due to the force. Your claws dug into the dense ice to keep you from moving back any further as the two of you locked eyes once more, pushing up against one another in a battle of dominance.

A beat of silence and then you laughed.

“You know, most trolls just say ‘hi’ when greeting an old friend.” You joked before dislodging yourself from the troll before you.

He stood up as well, a satisfied smirk on his face as he sheathed his twin blades.

“You were distracted. Seemed like the best way to get your attention.”

Bular the Butcher, slayer of Trollhunters, son of Gunmar, and warlord in his own right. Most others wouldn’t dare to so much as speak OF him, let alone to him. Yet, here you were, ushering the Dark Prince to your home for dinner with a smile on your face.

Bular followed you to your den deep underneath the nearby mountains. He never understood why chose such a wasteland for a home. The snow and ice were hell to traverse without practice – not that he would ever show his discomfort – and the cold could take its toll on even the hardiest of trolls. But, you always were a survivor. A fighter. Even in your youth, you always had to take on the biggest fights, no matter how outmatched you were. And you always came out on top.

It’s why he respected you. You were a true warrior in every sense of the word, and he enjoyed your company more than he’d care to admit.

“It’s been – what? – 3 decades? Four, now, since your last visit?” You noted, trying to strike up some casual conversation to fill the empty silence for the time being. “You been well?”

A frustrated groan at your last question gave you a good idea of what the answer was.

“I’d be better if the changelings weren’t taking their sweet time,” he huffed. “Having to work with those impures is-" Bular stopped himself, unable to find the right word for how utterly irritated he was at having to partner with lesser beings.

“Stricklander giving you a hard time, again?”

“He knows nothing of respect! Always undermining me and my word. When my father returns…” Bular let out another frustrated growl. Nothing could draw his ire like the uptight changeling did. He felt ready to tear the head off the nearest living being. Probably would have, too, if anyone but you were nearby.

You stopped walking to put a hand on his shoulder. His mood eased a bit at the reassuring gesture “He’ll get what’s coming to him when the time’s right.” You assured him. “For now, at least he’s being useful.”

Bular hesitated for a moment as your hand made contact with his arm, but he eventually shrugged you off and continued onward into your den.

Dinner was just as every other time Bular appeared; you fought over the largest pieces of meat even though it was your kill, reminisced on your days training together, shared stories of combat, and pondered the fate of the rest of the Gumm-Gumms who'd just barely escaped Killahead and the Darklands.

Originally, you and the others had stuck together, but as time ticked on, some got bored of waiting for their "eternal night" and moved on. A few had remained loyal, but laid low to avoid any suspicion. You'd love to say you, too, had gotten on with your life, but time and time again, you and Bular crossed paths even before you settled down. You had no partner or whelps to call your own, but you had a home and were happy and alive.

Bular had stayed with the Janus Order, ensuring they never strayed from their mission of reassembling Killahead and bringing back the King and your allies. He hated working with the "impures," as he called them - something he made sure to tell you every single time you met. Stickler, especially, as the changeling had a tendency to forget who was serving whom. You’d only ever met him once and could tell he had quite the high opinion of himself. Too high, according to Bular.

"If he wasn't so vital to father’s return, I would rend his head from his shoulders the next time he dares opens his mouth."

"Better not let him hear that. Doubt he'd ever stop reminding you."

"He knows it already! That's why he purposely pushes me! Every turn and corner, I know he’s plotting something behind my back. He thinks too highly of himself.” Another roar of frustration as Bular tore into his meat as if it had been the one who personally wronged him.

"So, is that what brought you here? Just needed a break from Mr. High ‘n Mighty?”

There was a pause before Bular spoke again. "I needed to be around someone who knows respect." Another silent pause. For a moment it seemed like there was more to say but Bular just dug back into his meal.

"Enough talk. I'm still eating."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head but honored his request.

You did respect your Prince, naturally, but you also knew him so much better than any other underling probably should. You grew up together. Trained together. You could almost match him in a test of raw strength; you even bested him a time or two in the ring when you got lucky. When Bular was given his first solo mission, you were made his second in command on his squad. You knew Bular and quiet wasn't exactly his style. You considered bringing that up, but you learned a long time ago to never bother The Butcher when he was eating. It was a good way to lose a limb. So, you sat quietly and finished then cleaned up while Bular was still sulking. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he mulled over whatever was eating at him. You could only stand so much of your closest companion's brooding. 

You stood in front of Bular with your weapon pointed directly at him. He looked at you with a curious expression on his face for a few moments then narrowed his bright eyes. A hand reached behind him and grabbed one of his swords and you led him out to the training ring.

There were no words exchanged, just blows. Metal scraped against metal. Stone against stone as you clashed. You'd almost always been just shy of beating Bular, but, this time, he was being sloppy. You'd been able to pin him down twice, but he refused to yield, only getting angrier the longer the fight went on.

"This is getting a little too easy, Bular,” you teased. “Have you been slacking?” You normally knew better than to prod the bull, but something really was bothering him, and this was the only way you knew would get him to talk. Bular let out a low growl as your blades clashed and you pushed against one another.

“Or are you just distracted?”

No response. He glared you down and huffed hot air from his nose into your face. You both pulled back and clashed once again. And again. And again. At some point, you’d both lost your weapons and were grappling, hands interlocked, and horns pressed firmly into one another. So focused he was on you, that he hadn’t noticed your tail slithering to his ankle until you’d already gripped it and was flipping him over onto his back.

You pressed your knee to his chest and kept him pinned down against the snow until he stopped struggling.

“Hrmph. Yield.” Bular forced out quietly, head turning away from you. Not once had he ever uttered that word. Not to you. Not to anyone, even when he was beaten. He’d just growl and pout. Your eyes narrowed.

“All right, now I definitely know something’s wrong.”

You removed yourself from on top of him and held out your hand to help him up, but he didn’t accept it. He stood on his own and shook the snow from his mane and shoulders while you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“Come on, spill it. What’s on your mind?”

Bular was hesitant. He looked back and forth between you and the ground, still glowering. Even he wasn’t sure how to process all those pesky… feelings… going through his head. If there was anyone he felt he could trust, though, it was you. The only troll left in this realm he felt comfortable, almost safe with.

Bular looked to you. You stood quiet as the snow gathered around you, waiting patiently for his response. He turned his back to you, facing his swords gleaming in the snow.

“I don’t… hmmm… I just want my father to be proud of me.” He forced out.

You kept quiet, allowing him to continue at his own pace. He could see your face behind him, though, clearly caught off guard by the admission. Bular’s shoulder sunk as he picked his blades up.

“I failed him at Killahead. I let what was left of his army fall apart. It’s been almost 1000 years and I still haven’t brought him back. I’m not even the one calling the shots, the impure is. I haven’t even conquered my own land all because it might interfere with his plans.” You could hear the awful, unfamiliar mix of shame and regret in his voice.

This was all the impure’s fault. He was too mouthy. Bular knew he shouldn’t let anything the disrespectful stooge said get to him, but his mind had been reeling since their last conversation. What HAS Bular done in all these years, exactly? What does he have to show for himself when Gunmar returns?

It was a rare, honest moment of weakness. You hadn’t seen him so… low… so sullen and introspective in almost a millennium. You should feel honored he would let his guard down so much with you and be so open, but something just didn’t feel… right. Unsure of what else to do, you punched his arm, earning an angry grunt from him.

“Oh, come on. You really think your father wouldn’t be proud of you, right now?” When he didn’t respond, you continued. “Who’s was it that took down every troll hunter unfortunate enough to cross his path? Who’s been keeping the changelings from straying away from their mission, making sure Killahead is reassembled? Who reminds everyone that the legacy of Gunmar the Black still lives on with his very presence?”

You gripped his shoulders, a proud smile on your face as you looked him dead in his eyes. “You’ve been nothing but loyal and have done everything in your power to ensure that not only will the king return, but that he has an army at the ready.

Plus, he’s your dad, of course, he’s gonna be proud of you. I know I am.”

That last bit is what really caught his attention. Now, it was your turn to avoid his gaze. You released his shoulders and turned to pick up your weapon.

“I, uh-, I just mean. Well, I’ve known you for a long time. I’ve seen the warrior and leader you’ve become.” You felt your face warm despite the cold. You kept your smile up, only now you felt just a bit more awkward. You grabbed your weapon from the ground and bowed to your dark prince. “It’s been an honor serving you all these centuries, my liege, and when the time comes, it’ll be an honor to fight by your side once again.”

Bular stared at his reflection a little longer before sheathing his swords and turning to you. He stood upright with puffed his chest out and a fierce expression on his face. Now, that looked more like the Bular you knew.

“Right! I am the heir to the great Skullcrusher, carved from his very own living stone! What have I to fear? We will reunite and take this world over together!”

You weren’t sure who this declaration was for – him or you. In any case, you were glad your little pep talk worked. And just in time, too; the snow was starting to pick up. Even you weren’t stubborn enough to stay out in a blizzard.

“We should head inside. I doubt defrosting his spawn is all that high on the list of things the king wants to do when he gets out.”