Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve’s head lolled back, eyes rolling as his body finally gave in.

Blinky caught him before he could fully slump, hands fluttering with frantic energy. “Master Steve? Master Steve!” he gasped, lifting Steve’s head gently. “Are you hurt?! Can you hear me?!”

The armor was gone now, reduced to a flickering shimmer that faded into the air. Only the amulet remained—dormant, but pulsing softly in Steve’s hand. Blinky hovered over him, scanning for wounds, for any sign of serious damage.

Then—relief. A faint breath. A steady rise and fall of his chest.

“He’s... merely unconscious,” Blinky whispered, sagging slightly with a shaky exhale. “Oh, by the Heartstone, I thought—” He broke off, a hysterical little laugh catching in his throat. His hands trembled as he pulled them back, unsure whether to fuss or fall apart.

Aaarghh crouched beside them, brow furrowed. “He did well.”

“He did more than well,” Blinky said, his voice thick with awe, disbelief flickering in his many eyes. “He stood against Bular. A human—he stood his ground. He called the armor."

Aaarghh, holding Steve with careful hands, gave a low, thoughtful grunt. “He is… stronger than he looks.”

Blinky took a moment, just staring at Steve. The boy looked small now, peaceful in the crook of Aaarghh’s arms.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Blinky said softly. “When the amulet chose him, I thought—no, knew—it had to be a mistake. A human? A loud, brash, unwilling human?” He shook his head at the memory. “He tried to give it back. Practically shoved it at me.”

Aaarghh nodded. “He screamed. A lot.”

“He still does,” Blinky murmured, but this time, the edge of his mouth twitched upward. “But he faced Bular. He stood his ground. And when it mattered most… he called the armor. He answered.”

He touched the edge of the amulet still clutched in Steve’s hand with quiet reverence. “I was wrong. The amulet knew better than I did.”

Aaarghh carefully shifted Steve into his arms, cradling him close with the quiet respect of one carrying something fragile and fiercely important.

“How comes a human was chosen?” Aaarghh rumbled at last, glancing down at Steve with a puzzled frown.

Blinky’s brows knitted in thought. “I have pondered the same question,” he admitted. “Perhaps... perhaps the amulet sees something we cannot. Or perhaps, in times of great change, it seeks something unexpected.”

Together, they turned toward the gleaming crystal stairs that led downward — to the Trollmarket, the beginning of a path none could yet see.

Aaarghh’s heavy footsteps were careful as he carried Steve, while Blinky kept pace beside him, glancing over his shoulder every few steps, as if half-expecting another ambush from the shadows.

“Do you think Vendel will approve?” Aaarghh asked after a long moment, his voice low but curious.

Blinky gave a strained laugh, rubbing his temple.

“Approve? I suspect he will object most strongly. Loudly, and at great length.”He sighed, then added with quiet humour, “Then he’ll do what he always does. He will listen to the amulet's choice, whether he likes it or not.”

Aaarghh grunted in agreement.

“Trollmarket needs a Trollhunter. Even a strange one.”

“Especially a strange one,” Blinky said with a hint of a smile. “Master Steve may lack training, but he has spirit. Enough to challenge Bular head-on, even without understanding the weight he carries.”

They descended deeper into the cool glow of the underground, the faint sound of Trollmarket life beginning to hum in the distance — a distant, living heartbeat of their hidden world.

Blinky’s eyes fell again to the boy cradled in Aaarghh’s arms. His voice dropped softer.

“We will teach him. Protect him. Shape him into what he must become."

A pause. Then a fierce glint sparked in Blinky’s gaze.

“For the amulet chose him — and we will not let it regret its choice.”

And with that, the great stone doors of the Trollmarket loomed ahead, ready to receive them — and the future they carried.

Far above, beyond the tunnels where the Trollmarket slumbered in crystal-lit peace, a very different storm was brewing.

Bular's fury seethed beneath his thick, armored skin; a fire hotter than magma. His claws tore deep gouges into the stone ledge where he crouched, the crumbling shards scattering at his feet. His heavy breath steamed in the cold air, each exhale a promise of violence.

He had failed.

Failed.

The amulet had slipped through his grasp—again. That miserable human whelp, fragile and soft, had dared to call the armor.

Bular snarled aloud, the sound echoing off the cavern walls. His fists pounded into the rock again and again until the ledge cracked, sending fractures skittering out like a spiderweb.

It wasn’t just his pride that was wounded. It was his future. His father’s future. Without the amulet, the chains that bound his father in the Darklands would hold fast. Freedom—true freedom—was still maddeningly out of reach.

And the worst insult of all? It was a human.

A human had been chosen.

He had crushed Trollhunters before, scattered their broken bodies across battlefield after battlefield. Trained warriors, steeped in magic and skill—and yet this mewling, shrieking boy had survived him.

Unacceptable.

A voice slid from the shadows, smooth as silk and twice as cutting.

"My, my. All that rage, and still empty-handed."

Bular whipped around with a snarl, but he already knew the scent and sound of the one approaching. Strickler—always annoyingly composed—emerged from the shadows, his dark gaze fixed on him without a hint of fear. The Changeling’s posture was relaxed, his hands folded behind his back, but there was no mistaking the purpose in his cold eyes.

Bular’s claws dug deeper into the stone, frustration building. "You failed," Strickler said evenly, his voice clipped, though his expression remained unbothered. "I provided you with the information, and yet... here we are."

Bular's jaw tightened, fury bubbling to the surface. He was so close. So close to ending this charade. But the amulet had slipped away again, and the boy was safe, retreating to the Trollmarket.

“Next time, I’ll rip him apart,” Bular growled, his voice laced with venom. “I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of him to mourn.”

Strickler's eyes remained cold, his voice calm and calculating. "You had your chance, Bular. And you failed. This isn’t just any troll. This is a human. And humans—they don’t fade into the shadows the way we do. They draw attention."

Bular’s eyes flashed, impatience creeping through his frustration. "What do you mean? He’s a human! Just a boy. I’ve crushed Trollhunters before—"

"But this is different," Strickler interjected, his calm tone cutting through Bular’s mounting fury. "You can’t just eliminate a human the same way. Kill him now, and you draw attention. Humans have allies. They will come for you. The boy is only part of the game."

Bular’s chest heaved with barely contained rage. "Then what do you suggest? That I just wait?"

Strickler's smile was faint, but it carried the weight of something far darker. "Yes, you wait. But in the meantime, we watch. We plan. You don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do you?"

Bular growled low in his throat, claws flexing, but his desire for action was being overruled by Strickler’s pointed logic. "Next time, I will end him. I’ll make sure of it."

Strickler gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Of course. But trust me, Bular—when the time comes, you’ll have a far better advantage. Things are in motion now. All in good time."

Bular's mind churned with unanswered questions, frustration still simmering beneath his skin. "What kind of plan are you talking about?"

Strickler turned, his shadow stretching long and dark behind him. "Don’t worry. I’ve already set things in motion. You’ll see. Everything is falling into place."

As Strickler disappeared into the shadows, Bular stood there, still seething with the need for retribution. His claws flexed at his sides, his eyes glinting with the promise of what was to come. He would have his revenge, and next time, he would make sure the boy would not escape.

But for now, the game had changed. And he would play by Strickler’s rules—for now.