Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

      Living with the trauma of having your only family eaten by bergens can be draining. Branch would know. Sleepless nights where he either mindlessly works on improving and expanding the bunker or lay on his bed, motionless just thinking about the past is his normal. He constantly checks the numerous traps set all around Pop Village for signs of bergens or any other troll-eating beasts. Once every other week he’ll make a journey to the dark forest seeking resources not commonly found near the village to stock up in case of emergencies. He does everything he can to prepare for the day bergens return to haunt troll kind. Within the decades of pushing other trolls away and attempting to ignore their taunts, Branch can admit his sanity has been slowly slipping from him. 

      Despite his multitude of traps and weapons meant for troll-eating creatures, there has never been a moment where the survivalist has felt safe. The memory of what horrors lay some distance from the settlement of Pop Village, that took the lives of multiple trolls barely experiencing their freedom, prevents him from ever feeling at peace. He hardly spares a moment to something that isn’t training or stocking up for an emergency.

      It doesn’t help that the people in his village couldn’t care less of his warnings of bergens. They truly believed bergens to be a threat of the past. Granted, it has almost been 15 years since a bergen has been spotted—that didn’t mean those brutes wouldn’t ever find their home. With how loud the village gets due to the other Pop trolls’ unashamed, loud partying the possibility of a bergen finding them keeps increasing by the day. It’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t think of “if” a bergen will find Pop Village, but rather “when”. With that in mind, he requests a private meeting with the king. 

      “This is dangerous. We can’t keep living like this. We need to be more careful. I can hear their music for miles. Miles!”

      Now these types of meetings between him and the king weren’t uncommon. In fact, he’s actually managed to bring about changes in the villages with some of those meetings. However, they were kept a secret. Not many trolls would approve of changes being made around the village if those changes were made per the request of the village grump.

      “I know, Branch. Believe me, I know.” The king sipped some of the calming, herbal tea to soothe his anxiousness at the reminder. “I have advised Poppy to be careful with the noise. She at the very least knows not to attract much attention near the outer edges of the village. It’s just difficult to contain the urge to sing loud and proud, especially when the village seems so safe.”

      Branch shook his head in disappointment. He knew far too well how dangerous it was to underestimate your surroundings simply because you felt your environment was safe. 

      He’ll never forget her screams.

      “I have already reported that there’s been something huge stomping some hundred miles southeast of the village. I don’t doubt it’s a bergen trying to find us and, at this rate, we might as well be telling it directions on how to get here.” Branch made an effort at keeping his snarking to a minimum yet he couldn’t help but let some of it slip. “My bunker won’t be able to hold the village, King Peppy. We need another plan. We need another safe place.”

      “I understand.The problem is I’m just not the troll I once was, Branch. My youth has left me and I can’t search for a new home like before.” 

      “Then I could do it.” Branch looked sternly at the king. 

      “No. I won’t allow it. Who will protect you? Traveling as a group and traveling by yourself are two different things. If we find ourselves in trouble, I’ll let you lead the trolls to our new home, but I refuse to let you go out into the unknown by yourself or even with another troll.” The resolution in the younger troll’s eyes scared the old king. It reminded him of his mother.

      The two were in a staring match. All was silent in the few moments the two just stared at each other. Neither willing to back down. Neither wanted to let trolls be hurt if the wrong choice was made. Eventually, Branch broke eye contact first.

      “Fine,” he huffed out, annoyed at the king’s decision.

      With a sigh, King Peppy gave Branch a small smile. “I know you want what’s best for the village, but it’s too dangerous of a journey. You’ve done so much for us already.” He couldn’t let the young survivalist go on what would basically be a suicide mission. As a father and as a king, he couldn’t agree to it. 

      Branch clenched his teeth to avoid saying something to continue the argument. He simply breathed in, breathed out, and nodded in reluctant agreement. For almost an hour, the two discussed other ways to maintain the village safe. After excusing himself from the elder’s pod, Branch headed back to his bunker. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he walked. There were still hours left of daylight since he scheduled the meeting to be in the early hours of the morning.

      Guess I’ll do a bit of gathering while there’s still light out , Branch thought looking out into Troll Forest. I need to expand my garden while the plants can still be harvested in time .

      Before heading out, he planned on making a quick stop to his bunker. If he wanted to collect anything he needed to grab some jars, harvesting bags, and one of his backpacks. As he made his way to his home, Branch was spotted by some of the other trolls in the village. Seeing him, they quickly turned the other direction. Branch just rolled his eyes.

      Nothing new. Keep walking. They’re not worth the effort. Move on.

Chapter Text

      It was nearing dark by the time Branch returned from his trip. Typically, he would avoid returning so late, but the conversation with King Peppy left him stuck in his mind. If the king forbade any troll from securing a second hiding place, then he had no other choice than to expand his bunker and increase his rations and supplies. That would no doubt be a difficult task given how large the bunker already is and how much rations and supplies he had. Even so, he’s had harder challenges. 

      Branch hardly gave his surroundings much of a thought. Too engrossed in his future plans, he barely managed to spot the rowdy Snack Pack. Crap , he thought once Poppy and the others noticed him. 

      “Hey, Branch! Are you coming to the sewing class Satin and Chenille are hosting next week?” She smiled brightly hoping the usefulness of the class would increase his chance of agreeing to be around other trolls.

      Branch mulled it over. On one hand, he despised social gatherings. On the other hand, a sewing class could help him make clothes and blankets. Though he mastered other survival skills, his sewing could definitely be improved. “I’d rather not.”

      “Oh, come on, dude. You serious?” Suki groaned with Biggie and Cooper shaking their heads behind her.

      “I know you make your own clothes and, no offense, you could use a few sewing lessons.” Chenille scoffed, pointing to Branch’s amateur patch mending on his pants.

      Satin rolled her eyes at her twin’s bluntness. She had to agree though. That troll needed some teaching. 

      “As I said, I’d rather not,” he forced out. He didn’t want to deal with trolls staring at his gray skin for hours on end. “Anyways, I’m too busy. If you’d excuse me, I have work to do.”

      “You’re always working. Do you ever not work ?” Suki asked, annoyed and stepping in front of the survivalist to stop him.

      “You really need a day to just relax, Branch.” Guy Diamond said, patting Branch’s back with an expression of pity. “It’ll do you some good.” 

      “The world won’t come crashing down if you just let yourself enjoy life for a day let alone a few hours,” Poppy added, still holding out hope he would come to the twin’s sewing class.

      At this point, Branch was getting agitated. Whatever interest he had vanished at their insistence. His anger only increased when he heard a certain (in)famous village guru put in his two cents. 

      “Let’s not push his buttons too much, everyone,” the guru coolly stated, putting his hands up to ease the tension. “We all know he can’t stand when trolls try to help him with anything. Neither he nor the class will be able to learn anything if he lets his temper take a hold of him. No offense, Branch.”

      Said troll rolled his eyes and huffed out a sarcastic laugh at the barely concealed insult thrown at him. “I really don’t have time for this.”

      With that, Branch pushed past the egotistical troll and headed back to his home. Poppy tried to call out to him. As usual though, Creek stopped her before she could follow Branch. The others let him leave without any further objections. They only stared at his fleeting form with varying looks of disappointment. 

      Inside his safe, isolated bunker he let out a sigh of relief knowing no other troll would bother him there. His backpack full of herbs and seeds was laid onto a table for him to start sorting through them. For a few hours, he planned out how he would add these new plants to his garden and listed possible uses of the herbs he knew. During this, there was one thought on the forefront of his mind. 

      What else can I do to prolong their survival once we’re discovered?

      Some weeks passed since his meeting with the king. Since then, Branch worked hard to make new sleeping areas deeper in his bunker and expand any existing storage rooms for his increased resources. The twins’ sewing class had passed a few weeks back. He didn’t attend as expected, but he found some scrapbooks on how to sew on his doormat the morning after. Likely a courtesy of Poppy, the informational scrapbook was far too glittery yet it was useful for Branch’s expansion project.

      There were times where Branch couldn’t help but admire Poppy. Her kindness and perseverance knows no limits. While all other trolls hardly made an effort to include him in activities (more and more gave up on him over the years), she stayed determined to make him her friend. At the same time, she was careless and, as the future Queen of Pop Village, carelessness was dangerous. It was one thing to endanger the trolls around her allowing-no, encouraging them to sing loud and whatnot. It was another to endanger them all by doing that as their future leader. If only King Peppy allowed her to see the darker part of leading a village rather than shield her with promises of teaching her once she was “old enough”.

      Who knows how many monsters he had to fend off while waiting for that time to come. 

      “When will they learn?!” Branch gripped his hair in frustration yelling to an audience that wasn’t there. 

      Earlier that day, he had ventured further in Troll Forest to collect a specific medicinal herb he was running low on. Despite the distance he put between him and Pop Village, he overheard a chorus of loud, peppy voices singing popular pop songs. If he remembered correctly, it was Cooper’s birthday. He could only assume Poppy and the rest of the Snack Pack were responsible for the volume of their voices.

      “Damn it all. . .We’re doomed,” he whispered, trying to calm himself and rid himself of bergen related thoughts.

      The damage was done. By the time he arrived back at the village, the party was nearing its end and nightfall led each troll to bed one by one until only the Snack Pack was left. 

      There was no point in scolding them for what they could’ve caused.

Chapter Text

      The irritated survivalist didn’t stick around after seeing the close-knit group of trolls finishing up the birthday party. Arriving home, he studied the invitation to Cooper’s party he received earlier in the week. The date on the card was large and it was boldly decorated in an assortment of colorful, metallic paper bits and a bunch of golden glitter. As per usual, Branch declined the invite and instead secretly sent a small gift and went to the forest to avoid the predictably large birthday celebration.

      Every year it was the same. Loud music, glitter bombs, the occasional pyrotechnics, and all-day partying was something he, begrudgingly, expected. Cooper loved that kind of stuff so he would obviously have it in his party. This year’s party was louder though. It fell on the day of the week he was found after all. Branch shoved the invitation back in his hidden shelf the moment he composed himself. 

      He couldn’t waste any more time time.

      Knives, spears, cannons–you name it he had it. Right now, though, mobility mattered most to him. Within seconds, he strapped on his most important, agile weapons onto himself and set to roaming the perimeters of Pop Village. In a minimum 10 miles radius from Pop Village, he circled and circled on the prowl.

      Hours passed as he roamed the area with his ears perked, tuned to the smallest of sounds. He never once left his back exposed in one direction for too long from experience with monsters that would take advantage of any vulnerability shown. All potential danger was handled immediately with his spears and a couple hair whips. He encountered some sleeping tarantacapuffs, dangerous to any trolls that were in their vicinity. Not what he was looking for though. 

      In the early hours of the morning, Branch expanded his search area by a few miles. Ensuring he didn’t miss anything, he continued to guard Pop Village with little to no breaks. In an almost feral state at this point, he patrolled with quick, wide-eyed scrutiny in all directions. Loud growling was heard anytime anything dared to move.

      Eventually, he returned to the village. Not without double-checking his traps and monster alarms, of course, did he finally settle into a silent, tense state. It was midday so a bergen still had chances of arriving. Letting his guard down now would be too risky. 

      “Branch?”

      Had it not been for his still alert state, the wary troll would’ve been surprised to see Cooper. 

      “Wh-,” Branch cleared out his throat to ease his gruff voice, “What do you want?” 

      “I wanted to thank you for the chapter scrapbook, so I made some salted caramel chocolate bars.” Cooper smiled, grabbing the bookmarked scrapbook to show that he did appreciate the gift.

      Looking at him directly, Branch saw a food container on Cooper’s back. “Thanks, I guess.”

      “You’re welcome,” Cooper widened his smile, handing the other troll his treats. “See you later, Branch. Try not to get worked up about bergens. Relax a little and enjoy the post-party calm.”

      Branch rolled his eyes at the taller one’s comment. Like I can relax with danger still possible, he mentally grumbled.

      The two went their own separate ways. One headed to his bunker, the other to his pod. On his way home, Branch scarfed down the chocolate. Lurking about during the night can sure work up an appetite. On Cooper’s way home, he spotted a certain king heading to an area he never noticed before.The mumbles of “Oh, Branch ” and “I wish I could ease your mind ” caught his attention. 

      “This is actually really good.”

      Branch was seated cross-legged on his living room couch. His scarfing had slowed down to nibbling as he savored the gifted chocolate. With a deep breath in, deep breath out, he sat himself in front of a large map of Pop Village and the surrounding vegetation. There were multiple areas with red circles indicating dangerous areas, green circles indicating good herbs, and black circles indicating other resources. Long ago, the red circles weren’t much of an issue with how far away they were from the village. Apparently, they weren’t far enough with Pop trolls getting braver each year the bergens didn’t discover them and new trolls, who had never experienced that trauma, were born.

      “Any day now. Any day they’ll get us. Why can’t they be more careful? Shit .”

      On the other side of the village, Cooper followed a suspicious King Peppy. Usually, if he saw trolls doing private, weird stuff he’d leave them alone. But something told him to not let King Peppy out of his sight. There was something wrong about this. It was obvious with the way the old troll tried to make sure no troll was around.

      He ended up following the king to a secluded area on the outskirts of Pop Village. There was a small cave entrance that the other troll entered after another glance at his surroundings. To avoid being caught, Cooper didn’t enter the cave. Later in the evening, when he saw King Peppy wandering the village, he went back.

      “Woah. . . What is this place?”

      The inside of the cave was beautiful. Was this why it was hidden? Cooper didn’t think that was the reason. Call it a gut feeling but he felt this place held something King Peppy didn’t want any troll to see. That being said he didn’t find much of anything out of the ordinary.

      “Here clues, come on out. Show yourself,” he called out walking around the cave with a curious gaze.

      If he remembered some of the old mystery scrapbooks Biggie would read, there could be items hidden inside of walls. The cave was tall, but it was still small. He paced around the small area looking for loose cave parts that could be hidden compartments. None of them were, so he tried to think of what else could be a secret hiding place. Eyeing the waterfall of silver streamers, Cooper thought back to another common way the secretive trolls in mystery books would hide their stuff. Behind waterfalls.

      He slowly parted the streamers and gasped at the fact that he actually found something. A chest and a harp sat elegantly in the middle of the hidden area. He opened the chest to find a single scroll. With slow, careful movements, Cooper unfurled it and gasped at its contents. 

      “That troll. . . i-it looks like me.”

Chapter Text

      Branch stared at the paper in front of him as if his glare could force it to give him answers. How was he supposed to protect Pop Village? Every passing day he regrets more and more that he didn’t push King Peppy into letting him seek a new settlement. He had half a mind to just go on his own. It was coming close to that point, if the packed bags he had in a spare room of his said anything. Sighing in defeat, he rubbed a hand down his face trying to push his anger aside. Angry thoughts only worked to muddle his mind. 

      Just as he was clearing his mind, Branch heard a knock on his decoy of a door. Great , he bitterly thought, Wonder how long it’ll take for them to go away and leave me be.  

      “I really don’t have time for this,” he growled, rising up towards his trap door entrance as the knocking loudly continued. 

      Cooper didn’t know what came over him. Following the king ? Seriously?! Not only that, but he also took a secret scroll he’s pretty sure he should definitely not take because why was it hidden otherwise? He was really panicking right now. Oh, to all that is trolly, please don’t let him be outcasted for this.

      “Branch, buddy? Open up!” He was giggling nervously hoping that King Peppy wouldn’t notice the empty chest until after his talk with Branch. 

      Suddenly, thankfully , the hatch opened up. The 4-legged Pop troll fell clumsy besides Branch though Cooper could not have cared less. Looking down at the typically chipper troll shaking his head to compose himself, Branch had a million thoughts racing through his head. Most were thoughts of the possible danger that the troll could’ve found. The urgent tone in the younger troll’s voice, the half-smile that held no joy at all, and the fact that he felt the need to go to his home at all just rang several alarm bells in the survivalist’s mind. 

      Quickly, Branch set up numerous mouse traps around them and took them downward once that task was done. Cooper watched as he did so but made no move to interrupt the anxious troll. Honestly, he figured it would be better if Branch set up traps. It would probably deter other trolls from entering the bunker and get him. It wasn’t until he was ushered into a safe room did Cooper speak up or rather was forced into speaking up with Branch’s hurriedly whispered questioning. 

      “No? No. No!” Cooper rolled his eyes at the other troll’s questions. “I didn’t come to you because I saw a bergen. I-ugh. . . Do you promise not to tell anyone about this? Seriously, Branch. I came to you because you could probably keep a secret better than any troll I know.”

      Based on Cooper’s expression, if not anything else, Branch could tell what was about to be said could shake him to his core. Or bring about an exasperated sigh. Pop trolls were much too dramatic in Branch’s eyes. Still, if Cooper came to him, he should at least hear him out seriously. 

      “What’s got you so worked up? I promise to not tell a single soul. Not until you think it’s okay.”

      Cooper bit his lip in consideration. It wasn’t too late for him to back out. He could just say it was a prank, but no. This was something he needed to tell another troll.

      “I don’t think I’m a Pop troll,” he whispered, tears building up in his eyes. Whether from joy or from sadness he wasn’t sure. 

      “. . .What?!” Cooper might’ve laughed in another situation at his intense shock, but he was just as shocked as him. “How-why do you think that?” Branch knew the other was different, but to be that different. It couldn’t be. 

      Cooper found words difficult all of a sudden. He just held out the scroll he stored in his locs. Looking back and forth to the scroll and the other, Branch hesitantly took the item. The unusual looks of the scrapbooked trolls made him scramble to keep a hold of the unrolled paper. There were trolls with four hooves and a tail, trolls with fins instead of feet, trolls with wings, and even. . . even trolls with four legs and long necks. He skimmed the rest of the scroll in wonder and shock. Branch whipped his head up when he realized something. 

      “You look exactly like one of the other trolls.” He brought the scroll up to compare Cooper and the other troll. “Y-you have their four legs and their long necks. You have their striped neck patterns too! Oh. Oh, man. . . You might have a family you don’t know about, Cooper.”

      At Branch’s last statement, Cooper’s ears perked up. He nodded furiously in agreement. “I think so too! I’ve got to meet them, Branch. I wanna go looking for them.” His hand fumbled about in his hair until he found what he was looking for. “I know exactly where to search for them too!”

      He showed off the map to Branch, pointing to the sections of presumably different troll civilizations. 

      “Do you know how dangerous it is outside the village? Do you know how many monsters there are?” Branch didn’t want him to go, but at the same time. . . “You can’t go alone. If you really want to go see them, then I’ll come too.”

      He hardly believed what just happened. For a second, Cooper was speechless though in the next moment he held Branch tightly in his arms. 

      “Thank you.”

      This would be the part where the introverted troll would squirm out of another troll’s hold. Strangely, he let himself be squeezed affectionately. This was a special moment, so he made an exception.

      “I was planning on going on an adventure of my own anyways,” Branch huffed out. Give it a few more days and he would’ve left the boisterous village by himself. “Let me just pack some stuff for you and we can leave.”

      “Okay!”

Chapter Text

      “Are you sure we’ll be able to carry all that?” Cooper said as he overlooked the mountain of items Branch had laid out in amused concern. 

      Branch nodded. “We’ll need all that we can carry if we’re going to travel beyond Troll Forest. Don’t worry though,” he smirked, “I’m not gonna make us carry all that on our backs.”

      Bit by bit, the two of them moved what the survivalist brought out to the outside of his bunker. By this time, it was reaching midnight. The two of them could hardly see a thing thanks to the lack of light around Branch’s home. Usually, Branch loved how dark it was because otherwise bergens and other predators could take advantage of how far away he was from the village. It was still useful in hiding their plans of leaving the village, but it scared Branch with how limited his vision was. 

      With a deep breath, he sent the taller troll inside his bunker while he left to grab one last item. Cooper kept himself entertained humming some songs and was starting his 3rd hummed song cover when there was a knock. For a split second, the tall troll felt his blood run cold. They found out . He stayed quiet, unmoving, and flattened as close to the floor as possible until a familiar voice broke through. 

      “You can come out now. I only wanted you inside to avoid being caught by a predator,” Branch called out, looking around to make sure there was none around before saying that. 

      Cooper poked out his head only to jump out seeing a small, camouflaged caterbus. “How did you sneak a caterbus past everyone?!” 

      The survivalist shrugged. “As I said before, I was planning my own adventure anyway. I had a bus kept nearby modified for the long trip. This baby won’t be spotted by flying predators and ground predators are less likely to think of it as a treat they can eat.” 

      Amazed at the work he did, Cooper gave Branch a friendly shoulder bump knowing he’d prefer it to another hug.Their packing was sorted within minutes due to Cooper’s excitement. The ghost of a smile appeared on Branch’s face seeing his bubbly joy. It disappeared when they finished. Cooper opened his mouth to ask more questions, but no words came out seeing the gray troll’s mournful look towards Pop Village.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “I’m just worried,” Branch blurted out after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be leaving the village with no way to properly maintain the security systems I made for them. The bunker should be fine, but the village? There’s no way for me to check up on them all without putting it into another troll’s hands,” he sighed, taking out a notebook from his hair. 

      Cooper’s ears lowered slightly. How much did Branch do around the village? It seemed all the troll did was stock up his bunker only caring about the village through his warnings. Perhaps . . .the gray troll was more important to the village than most others believed. 

      “Hopefully, they can keep up with it all.” With that, he lowered himself, notebook in hand, back into his bunker. He came out without the book and ushered Cooper inside the bus. 

      “Okay, now let’s go!”

      Branch decided to drive and let Cooper sit wherever he’d like, which led him to sit near Branch on the other side of his seat with his ears still down. A few yards away from Branch’s bunker, Cooper bounced back to his excited self, shaking off his bad mood. They made their decision in leaving the village behind. No use in worrying about the consequences of it any longer. Besides, they were going off to search for his family! How exciting was that? 

      Unfortunately, Branch didn’t seem to share Cooper’s opinion. His bouncing leg and tense posture told Cooper all he needed to know. In the only way he knew how, Cooper decided to cheer up his stressed-out buddy with a song.

      “Seek it out and ye shall find,” he began, ignoring the questioning look from Branch. “Old, but I’m not that old. Young, but I’m not that bold.”

      “Cooper,” Branch warned. As if he didn’t hear the other troll, Cooper kept singing.

      “And I don’t think the world is sold on just doing what we’re told.” He put some feeling into the next lyrics really trying to convey his message. “I feel something so right doin’ the wrong thing. I feel something so wrong doin’ the right thing.”

      He moved closer to where Branch sat at the driver's seat. The wary troll did his best to keep his eyes on the road but kept an eye on what the other was doing too. His curiosity on what the taller troll intended to do won out on his urge to stop his singing. 

      “I couldn’t lie, couldn’t lie, couldn’t lie,” Cooper met Branch’s eyes with a smirk. “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”

      Branch was shocked. He assumed the song-loving troll was singing for himself, but the song wasn’t one the other usually sang. Actually, listening to what the lyrics had to say, he realized Cooper was trying to reassure Branch through song. The urge to stop his singing was strong. They were supposed to lie low for predators to leave them be and for Pop Village to not notice their disappearance. It would stink if they were caught because of Cooper’s singing; however, the other wasn’t singing loudly.

      In fact, the other didn’t let his voice reach anywhere near the volume he typically sang in. His singing wouldn’t be heard from outside the caterbus due to its modifications. Branch huffed out a snort of amusement at the thought. I guess I could let it slide for today, he mused.

      “I feel your love and I feel it burn down this river, every turn. Hope is our four-lettered word. Make that money, watch it burn.”

      Cooper watched as the tense troll relaxed suddenly, no longer interested in giving the still singing troll an anxious look. Seeing this, the taller troll smiled and kept singing, adding smaller dance movements with his arms and upper body. 

      Take this as a thank you, Branch. I owe you big time.

Chapter Text

      It was peaceful in the caterbus. The soft purrs of the engine and the light rocking from uneven ground could almost bring Branch to sleep. He was still awake though not because he didn’t feel an urge to sleep. The survivalist drove the entire night and well into the next morning trying to put as much distance between them and Pop Village as he could. 

      Cooper spent most of the night singing to Branch, never reaching a loud volume that would scare the other. It helped in keeping the driving survivalist awake when all Branch wanted to do was sleep. The taller troll ended up falling asleep some hours ago, but Branch still appreciated the effort. It’s been a while since he hasn’t panicked over another troll’s singing.

      He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, barely even himself, but Branch missed his joy of music. The emotion he could show others through his melodies, the bonding of singing with other trolls–he wanted it back. He wished he could experience it again without feeling a sense of panic that a damned monster would come to ruin it. The survivalist shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts and keep an eye on the road.

      I wonder how long we’ll have before we’re caught.

      A few more hours of driving passed by before Branch had enough. His backside ached and he desperately needed to move. Setting the caterbus below a large leaf, the survivalist unbuckled his seatbelt. He turned the keys to turn the vehicle off but kept the keys inserted. 

      “I didn’t do it!” Cooper suddenly shrieked, whipping his head up with still sleepy eyes. 

      Branch’s heart nearly stopped with the other troll’s yell. “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said dryly. 

      The taller troll stretched out and shook his head. As if nothing happened he asked, “Are we going to stretch our legs outside? My legs are stiff. Also, I kinda need to go to the bathroom. Is there a bathroom here?”

      Branch shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not familiar with this part of the forest and we don’t know if we would be spotted by anyone from the village. I made sure to not leave anyone any notes besides the ones in the bathroom, but we’ve been gone for hours now. And. . . yes, there’s a bathroom here.” He waved a hand towards the back of the bus seeing that Cooper was barely listening to him. 

      While Cooper did his business, the survivalist took a moment to look out the windows of the bus. He covered them with leaves in the forest, but he pulled a string he attached to the covering to push the leaves on one window aside. Looking around, all he saw was green vegetation. He reached to cover the window again until something caught his eye. The dirt in one area was disturbed as if something dug into the soil. The grass around the spot was trampled too.

      It’s too risky for me to investigate. It’s best if we keep moving. 

      Branch sighed as he sat in the driver seat once more, wishing he had a chance to walk around. He started up the caterbus again just as Cooper came back from the bathroom. 

      “Are we leaving again? Damn, I really wanted to stretch my legs,” he whined, flopping onto his chair.

      The survivalist couldn’t help but agree. “Trust me, you’re not the only one. But remember, we left the village and we won’t be back until at least some days from now,” Branch pointed out. “It’ll be easy to figure out where we are when King Peppy realizes the map is missing and they decide to have Sheila help search for us.”

      “Yeah,” Cooper shrugged, “But most trolls are used to you being gone for hours on end. I don’t have any plans today either so it wouldn’t be suspicious to Poppy and them that they can’t find me.”

      “That’s good-” Branch tried to say before the other interrupted him.

      “I didn’t even leave any ‘See you later!’ notes ‘cause this trip was kind of a spontaneous decision for me. It’ll take some time ‘til they realize we’re gone,” he noted, kicking his feet with a cheeky smile. “So it won’t hurt to take a few breaks, right?”

      “I mean we’ve still got a long journey ahead of us. This map can only do so much for us when we don’t know where your family lives. The less breaks we have, the sooner we can find your family,” Branch explained.

      Cooper nodded his head as he tried to find a comfortable position in his seat in preparation of the long journey. “Makes sense, makes sense. I mean, it’s still a better lead than what I had before. I just assumed that I was a different type of Pop troll,” the fidgety troll giggled as he kept moving around, still not finding a good position. 

      “There’s some bedding towards the back of the bus. It’ll probably be more comfortable if you got some of the pillows and blankets out,” Branch said, pointing to where he left them. “But bring me a pillow would you?”

      “Sweet! Will do.” 

      Cooper saluted then ran to search for the mentioned bedding. He found it easily and chose some of the softer pillows and blankets for him and Branch. The survivalist got himself settled with the pillow he chose. Admittedly, his full attention wasn’t on the road. That’s why Cooper noticed the change in scenery before him. 

      “What’s that!” The other’s jaw dropped in awe as he also dropped the blanket he had.

      It took a moment before Branch saw a golden shine peak through the thinning tree canopy. “That must be the settlement of one of the other troll tribes.”

      Cooper rushed to the windshield of the caterbus. His face was squished on the window as he tried to get a closer look. It was barely visible with how many trees there were, yet he could still see the glittery shine from afar. He laughed loudly with unshed tears shining in his eyes. 

      “We’re going to meet new trolls! Oh, this is so exciting.” He was bouncing around at this point. “Do you think they’re nice? What will they act like? Will they know that we’re Pop trolls? What type of troll will they be? Have they-”

      “We won’t know until we meet them.”

      Cooper glanced at Branch and took note of his firm grip on the steering wheel. The gray troll looked anxious. His head was no doubt filled with possible, horrible scenarios. That’s no good.

      “I bet they’ll be welcoming,” he asserted, making himself comfortable on the floor beside the survivalist. “They’re trolls, we’re trolls. It’ll be awesome.”

      “Hopefully.” Probably not, Branch thought to himself .

      Cooper scoffed. “If not, we can always book it outta there. Come on, Branch. You’re the troll who’s always prepared for the worst. I doubt you wouldn’t be able to get us out of danger.”

      “Right,” he sighed. He was silent for a moment. “Well. . . I think we can make the most of it and at least get some info on your family.” 

      The other smiled. “That’s right!”

      “And if we don’t, we still have plenty of other tribes to get info out of. And who knows? We might end up finding your family without any other clues.”

      “Yeah!” Cooper’s smile grew wider at the optimism of the colorless troll.

      “We won’t give up until we find your family.” And find a new home for Pop Village, maybe one closer to whatever family you have.

      The beaming troll stared at the speck of glittery hope in the distance. Within a few hours, Cooper would be able to see what lay ahead. He’d be so much closer to finding his family. Just a few more hours and he could have more leads on his family.

      “Yeah. . . We won’t give up,” he murmured.

Chapter Text

      Branch thought it would only take an hour more of driving until they reached their destination, but even after 2 hours of driving they seemed to still be some ways away. The golden sparkle in the distance was more noticeable now with less and less trees blocking the view. Eventually, the woodland transitioned into a vast open area. There was no way to hide them now. They would just have to be alert and hope to find the other trolls before the other trolls find them.

      “I’ve never seen ground like that,” Cooper said, looking at the stripped patterns on the ground. “I’ve never seen plants like that either! They are plants, right?” He craned his neck to keep looking at the tall plants that seemed more like a yarn project than an actual plant.

      “They live in a completely different environment than us,” Branch noted, glancing around, “I wonder how much different their homes will be compared to Pop trolls. There doesn’t seem to be many trees around to hang any pods.”

      The land became more uneven the further they traveled. The vast open area transformed into small hills and streams came into view with some creating lakes. It was a little more than half an hour later when Branch could finally see some sign of troll life over the countless hills. Based on their floating forms they must’ve been the trolls with wings. At the sight of them, Branch sped up the caterbus until they were close enough to go on foot. To avoid suspicion, the caterbus was parked out of sight behind a hill.

      The cautious one of the two, Branch, didn't let Cooper off the bus until they had a general idea of how to peacefully approach the strangers to lessen the chances of mass hysteria. Even then, he hid some weapons in his hair and urged Cooper to do the same. The taller troll wasn’t all too keen on having sharp, whittled sticks and heavy stones on him, but he did it anyway just to ease the survivalist’s mind. Branch wasn’t the only one with nerves though. Cooper was practically shaking with a mixture of excitement and anxiousness.

      If Pop trolls freaked out over the smallest inconveniences, then how panicked would these trolls be seeing other types of trolls?

      “Are you ready? Do you need a moment?” Branch looked at the other worriedly. “We can go back to the bus and review the plan again.”

      Slapping his face a few times, Cooper looked at the shorter troll with determination. “Nah, I got this,” he said, smirking at the other and taking the lead.

      It was time. Branch’s heart felt like it was racing. He kept both of them out of sight and sneaked about. They were so close. They were some mere yards away from the closest wigged troll, hidden behind a large structure. The survivalist saw that same troll flutter away as he tried to get their attention.

      Before Branch could think of trying again with another troll, a soft yet powerful melody started to play. It came from the pair’s right. Cooper perked his ears up at the mysterious sound getting louder and louder. The two carefully took a peek of where the music was coming from. A drum roll was heard, and Cooper could barely restrain himself from shouting with glee. The source of the melody turned out to be from a group of flying trolls with instruments both familiar and not.

      The song was like no Pop song Cooper ever heard, but he could recognize some of the instruments the glittery trolls were using. It was fascinating. He was entranced with the unfamiliar music. Not many Pop songs were as calming as this song seemed to be. Suddenly, the soothing melody ascended into a powerful burst of sound and then descended into a quieter sound only to ascend again though with less of a dramatic burst. The wild, unexpected changes in tone made Cooper want to holler and prance around in laughter.

      To Branch, the song reminded him of Troll Forest. It was dramatic yet soothing in the way a trip to the dense forest was dangerous yet helped him to unwind. It was a musical inflection that kept him on his toes. The wind instruments began to sing a chorus of delicate harmony he would find in the creatures nearest to Pop Village that often joined Poppy’s loud singing routines. The song reached its loudest volume yet with all instruments joining in to create what must’ve been the climax of the song. For the rest of the wondrous song, it kept a soothing melody and finished off with a tune similar to the one in the beginning only ending with a lighter note.

      The group kept performing past the usual 2-4 minutes the two were used to. If Branch guessed correctly, it must’ve been at least 10 minutes of song. Not a single minute of that time consisted of them dancing which was practically unheard of in Pop Village. Both trolls were starstruck. Cooper was the first to get out of his stunned state. He looked at all the trolls in the group with amazement and opened his mouth before he could think twice. 

      “You were all amazing! Your music makes me wanna move my body and sing like I never have before!”

      Branch whirled his head to the other with a frightened look. “Cooper!”

      The taller troll slapped a hand to his mouth as he realized he completely abandoned the plan because of his eagerness. One of the glittery trolls took notice of them. He was the only one with clothes on in the form of a jacket with frills on the edge of his sleeves and golden accents. The troll turned to them with a surprised look though, strangely, it seemed that the other troll thought of their presence as more of a pleasant surprise than anything. If either of them knew the troll well enough, though, they’d notice his expression held a hint of sadness to it seeing Branch’s gray skin. The rest of the glittery trolls left at the flick of his hand, showing Branch that the troll held an important role in his tribe.

      “Why, hello there. If I knew we’d have an audience I would have offered you a better spot to listen to our symphony,” he said, fluttering down towards where the two were. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I am Conductor Trollzart, leader of the Classical trolls. May I ask for your names?”

      Branch subtly shifted into a defensive stance, bringing himself closer to Cooper. He brought his hand to the other’s shoulder as if to allow for easier introductions rather than to ensure Cooper and him can escape if things go awry.

      “We didn’t want to interrupt your–symphony, was it? My name is Branch and my companion here is Cooper.”

      At his introduction, Cooper took his hand off his mouth and excitedly waved at Conductor Trollzart.

      “A pleasure to meet you, Branch. I am glad that you found our playing so great, Cooper.” He bowed to the two of them respectively. 

      Cooper beamed at the unknown gesture. “What’s that?”

      Conductor Trollzart’s pleasant expression turned confused. “What is it you’d like to know? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

      “The thing you just did. Th-the bending down thing.” Now that he didn’t need to be quiet, Cooper allowed his excitement to flow out of him. He was practically vibrating with how excited he felt.

      “It’s called bowing. It’s a way to express gratitude and respect to another troll. It is also often used to formally greet another troll.”

      Branch took a mental note of that. Although in any other situation he would seek more information about these different trolls, he was on a mission. He didn’t have to bring this up, though, because the conductor beat him to it.

      “Pardon me if this seems intrusive, but what brings you two to visit the Classical trolls?”

      The survivalist decided to answer him. “We are searching for my companion’s family.”

      “Oh, my. It is a tragedy to be separated from one’s loved ones. How about we discuss this over tea? I may be able to help.”

      Branch and Cooper were led to one of the smaller structures further in the Classical troll’s territory. Conductor Trollzart stated it was his home, but neither of the two could believe it with how large the home was. The outside of it resembled one of the stringed instruments the group of trolls played. The survivalist hesitated in entering. Branch knew that being inside an unknown troll’s home was dangerous and made him more vulnerable to attacks. Cooper didn’t give his decision as much thought and instantly entered behind Conductor Trollzart. 

      “Woah.” 

      The taller Pop troll took in the sight of the inside of Trollzart’s home. If the outside of the structure seemed big, it was nothing compared to the inside. Branch would bet a few pods could fit inside. It seemed the room was made with an open floor plan as there were no walls to separate what seemed to be the kitchen, living room, and dining area.  In the corner of the room, the survivalist spotted a fancy spiral staircase suggesting that there were more floors. Trollzart motioned the two trolls to sit at a round marble table while he went to prepare tea.

      “Do all classical trolls have such large homes?” Cooper asked as he sat in his seat, gasping at how soft the cushions of the chairs were. Branch sat beside him and took a moment to admire the comfortable material with as much amazement as Cooper.

      “This house is passed down from generation to generation of Classical troll leaders. Only the conductor has such a privilege to live in this home,” he explained once he returned with a tray of a pot of tea, three sets of tea cups and plates, and a bowl of sugar cubes.

      “You know, I’m curious,” the survivalist spoke up, locking eyes with Trollzart. “Why weren’t you more surprised to see us? We’re not classical trolls yet you haven’t asked us any questions other than our names and why we’re here. If you’re shocked that we’re different kinds of trolls, you sure don’t show it.”

      Conductor Trollzart carefully set down the tray in his hands, breaking eye contact to focus serving them their drinks. He poured all three of them their tea, placing a tea cup on a place in front of each troll. He set the bowl of sugar cubes in the center of the table and put the tray aside. The still silent Classical troll sat down on the opposite side of Branch and Cooper. He regained eye contact with Branch and asked him a question of his own.

      “Are you two familiar with the story of the lost prince?”

Chapter Text

      Cooper and Branch bore matching looks of confusion.

      “Lost prince?” They asked at the same time.

      “I’ll take it you haven’t. Well, I assumed as much,” Trollzart admitted. “I doubt you two would arrive here if you knew of the tale.”

      Branch took interest in his last statement. ‘I doubt you two would arrive here if you knew of the tale’? What kind of tale would prevent us from going here? He found his stomach churning at the other’s words.

      The conductor seemed to notice the survivalist’s nerves. “Don’t worry. It’s not a horrible tale. A sad one, yes, but not one to warn against travel to other troll tribes.”

      “Oh, please tell us! What’s the tale of the lost prince?!”

      Cooper was practically at the edge of his seat in anticipation. Branch sighed and nodded his head in agreement. It would be best if they heard the story now. He desperately wanted to know too.

      Trollzart chuckled in amusement. “All right. I won’t withhold the story any longer.”

      He started off with the story of 6 troll kingdoms separated by the greed of one Pop king. Cooper and Branch exchanged worried glances at that. They both had obvious questions, but the conductor decided he’d save them for after the retelling. He explained that the tribes built their respective kingdoms away from any others. They never said it aloud though all trolls knew this was with the intention of never interacting with anytroll not from their respective tribe. This lack of acknowledgment from each tribe survived for centuries; however, one fateful day broke the unsaid isolation.

      “The day the prince of the Funk kingdom was taken was the day all tribes were brought together in grief. The loss of a child was something plenty of trolls, regardless of race, could sympathize with.”

      Cooper was captivated by the story, feeling sadness for the prince and his family. It couldn’t be helped. He always was more emotional than most other trolls. Branch, on the other hand, started to connect the dots.

      6 tribes? There were 6 different trolls on the map stolen from King Peppy. Only one of those 6 trolls matched Cooper’s appearance. One of those tribes lost a prince and somehow that was relevant to Cooper trying to find his family?

      Branch had an inkling of what this story would reveal.

      “All tribes were offering their sympathies and making efforts to assist in the search for the lost prince. Well, all tribes except Pop.”

      Trollzart sipped some of his tea with a serious expression.

      “The King of Pop trolls offered his sympathies, of course, but advised against searches in Pop troll territory. He did so despite the Funk troll advisors stating that the bird likely passed through the area. Not even the desperate begging of the grieving queen persuaded him.”

      The conductor held onto his cup of tea tightly. The survivalist didn’t like how grim the other looked. Neither did Cooper, whose ears wilted in sympathy for the queen.

      “Maybe he was just worried about the bergens?” Branch offered, knowing the King confided such a fear to him and any past kings were surrounded by the troll-eating brutes.

      Conductor Trollzart paused. “Bergens? Pray tell, what are ‘bergens’?”

      Cooper spat out the tea in his mouth with his eyes comically wide in shock. Branch paled, trying to wrap his head around the fact that there were trolls ignorant of the beasts that tortured his tribe for countless generations.

      “Based on your reactions,” the conductor said, casually wiping off the hot tea that landed on him, “Bergens are not something to be taken lightly.”

      “Of course, they aren’t!” Cooper yelled out. “Man, I know Branch gets dogged on his fear of them finding us, but they really were horrible.”

      The survivalist couldn’t find it in himself to roll his eyes at the reminder of the village’s naivety. He was too lost in his mind, too lost in the memories. The memories of them.

      Of her .

      What he wouldn’t give to have lived a life without any bergens to take her away.

      “Branch, you’re kinda creeping me out. Hello?”

      Cooper tried to wave his hand in the survivalist’s face in hopes of a reaction. No reaction. The gray troll just kept staring into nothing with the most horrified look the now distressed trolls have seen. Even with Conductor Trollzart attempting to reanimate the statue-like troll.

      “Oh dear.”

      Conductor Trollzart sped to fetch a glass of cool water while Cooper tried shaking Branch. As the conductor came back with the water, the survivalist suddenly spoke.

      “How. . .”

      It took a moment for the question to register, but the other Pop troll was quick to explain once it did.

      “You see, bergens are terrifying, terrifying troll-eating monsters. I never got to see one, but from what others have said–well, what they let me know anyway–is that a bergen is a disgusting, heartless, horrific beast.”

      Cooper emphasized each word accordingly to get the point across. And it worked. Trollzart could very well imagine what sort of misery the creature caused if it made the gray troll freeze at his ignorance of such a monster.

      The conductor sighed.

      “I suppose that would explain why the king would not allow the queen’s search. It was strange to think that no reasoning was offered; however, with such a beast roaming the area then it is absolutely reasonable that his lips were sealed so tight.”

      Trollzart looked up to find a frustrated Branch with tears streaming down his face. The older troll pitied him. He took out a handkerchief from his inner coat pocket and handed it to him. At first, Branch just looked at the offered square fabric until the conductor clarified to which he gently grabbed it.

      “Thank you,” he mumbled.

      Cooper decided he’d ask for a handkerchief of his own before the two left.

      “It is no issue. I will simply ensure I avoid the topic with any other trolls I meet.”

      The survivalist shook his head. It was so strange. The other troll, without knowing what type of pain the bergens caused, just understood the fear of the Pop troll king. 

      “You are strangely level headed,” he said aloud.

      Trollzart hummed thoughtfully.

      “Is that so?”

      “Not many trolls could stay calm or have enough tact to handle an upset troll.”

      Cooper frowned, but he knew it was true. He immediately panicked seeing Branch become so still yet the conductor was barely startled.

      Of course, Trollzart was more prepared for the survivalist to not be all there. More often than not, colorless trolls experienced mood swings and were more prone to being upset than those with color. He expected Branch to lash out, fear him, or keep his mouth shut. It’s why he paid attention to his behavior and did his best to react accordingly to make him feel welcome.

      Not that he could tell him that of course. 

      “I would not be a conductor if I did not know how to stay calm in a rough situation,” he said instead.

      The survivalist nodded. But that brought up another interesting thought.

      “Makes sense. It was odd that you welcomed me the same way you did Cooper. I figured you just didn’t know, especially if you didn’t know what a bergen was, but it made sense if you did it to be diplomatic.”

      Cooper’s ears laid flat against his head. To think that Branch could have been treated any way but with respect just because of his gray skin. He knew the village didn’t have a high opinion of him. He’ll admit the other could get on his nerves, but it was never because of his colorless nature. It was usually due to how often he picked fights with Creek.

      Did the other get picked on for being gray?

      Trollzart was utterly dumbfounded. He saw very few colorless trolls in his lifetime. Each of them held heavy burdens and in a nearly constant state of listlessness or distress. Nevertheless, he treated each and everyone of them with respect. Any troll who knew what a colorless troll was, knew better to treat them differently.

      “Pardon?”

Chapter Text

      Branch knew he was different. Each troll, meaning to insult him or not, made it known to him that he was different. No other trolls but him were colorless. It seemed that was all any troll noticed when they looked at him in pity, disgust, horror, or a mixture of all three. They wanted him to be happy and normal , but that would never happen-could never happen. His paranoia and horrible memories didn’t allow him the luxury of near-constant happiness.

      It was a given that he was an outcast.

      Conductor Trollzart regarded the survivalist with a strange curiosity. Branch felt uncomfortable under his searching gaze. He didn’t understand why the classical troll was looking at him like that. 

      He should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut.

      “Pardon?”

      The gray troll winced at the question. Cooper’s unusual silence worsened the feeling of regret Branch had. What was happening?

      I guess even he thinks I shouldn’t have said that.

      “N-not to say that a troll of your status wouldn’t be wise and calm. I don’t mean any offense,” he quickly corrected himself to ease the growing tension. “I mean you didn’t really react when you saw my gray skin and then you kept a cool head when I was so upset. I just-”

      The conductor shook his head and raised his hand to silence the flustered troll.

      “That is not what concerns me, Branch,” he said calmly. “I am simply wondering what you’re referring to when saying that I welcomed you ‘the same way’ I did Cooper.”

      The older troll could guess what the other meant, but he would rather hear it from the gray troll himself. Cooper was starting to get uncomfortable himself. He looked at Branch to see what his answer would be.

      Branch furrowed his brows. “I. . . You didn’t shun me for my skin,” he muttered.

      Conductor Trollzart’s eyes widened minutely and he tightened his grip on his tea cup. He took a sip to hide his anger. He regarded the other with a neutral expression.

      “Shun? Why would I?”

      It was said in such a gentle tone that Branch took a moment to actually respond. He blinked, confused about what the other meant. Cooper looked between the two, slowly starting to realize what was happening. The survivalist sighed. 

      “I’m gray. I’m not like everyone else.”

      Cooper’s brows furrowed and the conductor gripped his cup tighter. Branch looked ashamed of himself. Both he and Cooper wanted to cry-though for different reasons. 

      “How does that excuse shunning you?” Trollzart kept an air of calmness to make the gray troll feel comfortable in elaborating what he meant.

      Branch looked at him with a sorrowful expression. “I can’t be happy like everyone else. They want me to sing and dance, but I just can’t. I’m an outcast. . . a disgrace. ”

      Cooper was very close to crying now. He walked over to Branch and gave him a hug. “Dude. . . I didn’t know it was this bad. I should’ve and I didn’t. Disgrace? Oh, Branch.”

      The smaller troll let out a shaky sigh as he let the other embrace him. Conductor Trollzart looked into his tea as he breathed in and out to collect himself.

      “That does not make you a disgrace nor is it a good reason for me to shun you,” he said firmly, part of his anger showing. “Your lack of color is not something to see as a mark of shame.”

      Cooper nodded while Branch shook his head.

     “It’s been years,” he scoffed bitterly, “I should have my color back and yet I’m still gray. I’m still unhappy .”

     “That does not mean you should be ashamed of it,” Trollzart explained gently, “When a gray troll is seen, it is understood that something tragic happened. It is something to mourn not something to sneer at.”

      Branch felt a drop of something wet fall onto him. He looked up to see it was Cooper. He was letting some tears fall down his face. Branch’s ears twitched nervously.

      Trollzart’s face softened as he sighed. He fluttered closer to Branch and looked him right in the eyes. Branch kept eye contact even though he desperately wanted to look away.

      “It is saddening that you expect trolls to disregard you due to being gray,” he said softly with a hand on Branch’s shoulder. “I am sorry that your experiences have led you to believe it’s something to be ashamed of.”

      The two pop trolls held each other tighter.

      Branch didn’t quite believe Trollzart’s words. Why should he? For years, he was met with uncomfortable and scared stares from those who weren’t the Snack Pack though even then they had their moments. Any glare and sneer of his was accompanied by backhanded ‘comforting’ words by a certain village guru. This negative and self-deprecating mindset of his was all he knew. It couldn’t be changed overnight, but the conductor’s words certainly worked to shine a light on a different perspective.

      Trollzart could see that the survivalist’s inner turmoil and self-hatred were still ever present. He sighed, catching the attention of the two teary Pop trolls. 

      “I wish for you to hear my words and let them ease your mind, but I know better than anyone that such thoughts won’t magically vanish with a few reassurances.”

      He fluttered towards the two with a comforting, gentle smile on his face. Cooper looked at him with a pitiful expression while Branch avoided his gaze. Trollzart looked between the two and hovered in front of them. The quiet sounds of his wings and the breathing of the two Pop trolls were all that was heard for a few moments. Eventually, the silence was broken.

      “Perhaps you would like to hear the end of my story,” he asked softly.

      Branch looked up to meet Trollzart’s gaze. Cooper blinked before slowly nodding. The two trolls had momentarily forgotten about the story.

      Trollzart smiled as he sat to continue the tale, sitting on a chair closer to the Pop trolls rather than his original seat. The tense atmosphere slowly faded as Branch and Cooper awaited what would come next.

      “The Pop tribe was the only place the King and Queen of Funk did not search for their lost son. It was assumed the prince would never be found again, but I have come to believe otherwise.”

      Cooper let out a gasp. “How do you know where the prince is?”

      The older troll chuckled, and Branch’s eyes widened. He looked at Cooper with wonder. Just as he finished connecting the dots, Trollzart revealed the truth.

      “Because I am looking right at him.”

Chapter Text

      Trollzart smiled, his eyes crinkling in amusement. He put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder and made direct eye contact with him.

      “Because I am looking right at him.” 

      For a moment, it was silent. All three trolls let the words hang in the air for them to process. Branch stared at the taller Pop troll as the realization settled in his mind and the other troll did the same, jaw dropped as he took in what was said. Trollzart kept his cheerful smile and bemused expression, not speaking to let the other trolls think.

      The missing parents, the egg randomly found on the ground of all places–it all made sense. Branch already knew Cooper wasn’t a unique troll like Smidge or Fuzzbert and this information cemented that idea into his brain. His four-legged, tall, long-necked travel buddy wasn’t just another species of Troll. No, he was something more.

      A small smile overcame the gray troll’s face as the dots connected to reveal a beautiful picture. Cooper was the lost prince of the Funk Kingdom. He had a family of royals, a family who searched for him over the span of many years! The survivalist couldn’t help the expression of awe as he gazed at Cooper.

      “I’m a prince?!”

      The now-revealed Funk-Pop troll suddenly let out a loud squeal. He leaped off his chair and bounced in place with infectious joy. His beaming smile lightened up the room and Trollzart chuckled. The previous tension was completely gone now, replaced by pure joy.

      “Yes, you are.”

      His expression softened and he fluttered back to give Cooper room to let out his excitement.

      “I was sure of it the moment you showed yourself,” he said, voice gentle, “You look so much like your brother.” 

      Branch’s ears perked up at the new piece of information. Not only did Cooper have parents, he seemed to have a brother too. One who looked just like him at that. The poor orphaned Pop troll had always wanted siblings. There was no doubt in the survivalist’s mind that the energetic Pop troll would explode with happiness hearing he wasn’t an only child.

      And that he did.

      “My brother? I’ve got a brother too?! Oh, Branch! Do you hear this?! I’ve got a brother! And he looks like me too? Am I a twin? I hope I am! Oh, the pranks, Branch. The pranks!” Cooper shook Branch’s shoulders, yelling out in excitement with the widest smile the gray troll had ever seen.

      Happy tears gathered around the prince’s eyes thinking about what his family would be like especially once they saw him still alive and well. Since the start of this journey, Cooper had been waiting for him and Branch to find his family, to find trolls just like him. While they haven’t seen his family yet, hearing that they existed made Cooper want to go around and dance and sing like he never had before. 

      For 15 years, the Funk-Pop troll was without his biological family. His egg had fallen in front of the then-traveling Pop tribe who wished to get far away from their horrifying captors. Not a single troll came looking for the new hatchling and the Pop tribe didn’t like staying in one spot for long when the bergens could easily catch up to them with their large, booming steps. The poor hatchling was all alone in the dangerous forest and despite their fear, not a single troll in the tribe wanted to leave him behind. After a few hours, he was taken in by a female troll who recently experienced the loss of her daughter during the Great Migration. She claimed him as the son she never had and he claimed her as the mother he never met.

      If his mom was here, she would surely arrange the loudest and craziest party known to troll kind. She’d be so happy for Cooper.

      Branch let himself be shaken by the taller Pop troll. The pure, childish happiness from Cooper prevented him from expressing any displeasure he would have whenever any troll would grab him so roughly. In fact, he found himself feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long while. For once in his life, Branch felt a moment of peace. Trollzart had been such a dear host and Cooper was one step closer to meeting or at least getting to know who his family was. Bergens wouldn’t be able to get them here, if the conductor’s confusion of their mention said anything.

      That moment of peace lasted only a few seconds. Doubt and worry started to creep into Branch’s mind. It’s been over a decade since Cooper’s egg was lost. Over that large amount of time, anything could happen. Tragedy could strike. Trollzart talked about the royal family yet he didn’t mention anything about the present, only the past.

      What if they weren’t alive? What would happen if Cooper did meet his family? Trollzart was much different than Pop trolls, no doubt Funk trolls would be too. What if they couldn’t match or handle Cooper’s energetic nature? What if they take Cooper away from Pop Village because of his heritage within the Funk Kingdom?

      The survivalist kept up a neutral expression to not sour the good mood. This was the only time in his life that he desperately wanted to hide any legitimate concerns from others. On the outside, Branch seemed fine, but the inside was another story. His mind didn’t let up from the multitude of questions that formed and threatened to show in the form of anxious fidgeting.

      What if they never get to even meet the royal family or Funk Kingdom because King Peppy found them before that could happen?!

      Cooper, thankfully, was too caught in rejoicing at the news to notice. He pranced around the table much to the amusement of Trollzart who was also focused on the younger troll. Branch blinked away his worries and did his best to focus on the present. He couldn’t ruin this. It was far too special and important. Cooper deserved to relish the moment as long as he could.

      “Ooh, sometimes I get a good feeling,” Cooper sang, projecting his voice with pure, joyous passion, “Yeah!”

      The conductor and Branch were amazed by the amount of feeling the Funk-Pop prince put into the lyrics. It made the survivalist all the more determined to not let his negativity ruin the moment. Trollzart, on the other hand, listened to the first pop song he had ever had the pleasure of hearing in his entire lifetime. The projection of the song reminded the conductor of a few, more exciting pieces of classical music yet it was so different and new than anything he has ever composed. Both trolls just observed the prancing and singing of the youngest troll.

      “I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no,” he continued, shaking his head at both of them before bounding over to the entrance of Trollzart’s home.

      Cooper dramatically slammed the doors open with the other two following close behind him.

      “I get a good feeling, yeah!”

      Trollzart looked at Branch with a bemused yet curious expression. The survivalist just shrugged.

      “This is typical Pop troll behavior,” he explained to the conductor as Cooper strutted out of the home with his head held high, “Bursting into song and dance is what they do.”

      An understanding nod came from the conductor before he flew to keep watching the show. The survivalist jogged to keep up and kept an ear out for danger, staying hyper aware of his surroundings. Despite bergens not being seen in these areas, he didn’t want to risk being caught off guard if they suddenly did or if another predator came, attracted to the noise.

      Despite there being a pause in Cooper’s singing and no instrument in sight, Trollzart could hear the stuttering of lyrics and instrumentals come in. It amazed the conductor who, in all his years of living, never experienced such a thing from any other troll’s songs. The sounds of instrumentals continued as Cooper opened up his mouth to start singing again.

      “The mountain top, walk on water,” he rapped, bobbing his head as he walked with a confident pep in his step, “I got power, I feel so royal.”

      The three were walking around with other Classical trolls coming to see who was singing. Little to none of the pieces composed by the Classical trolls had lyrics, so they were startled and puzzled to hear words loudly sung and in such an unfamiliar singing style too.

      “One second,” he pointed a finger up at a few nearby Classical trolls, “I'ma strike all you. Diamond, platinum, no more for you.”

      Branch observed their reactions just in case something bad happened, but the winged trolls simply blinked in surprise with a few of them smiling in good nature. Although they may not have recognized the style of music, they seemed to enjoy it or at the very least interested in it.

      Cooper rolled and leapt up, doing a few flips in the air. Some of the Classical trolls ooo’d at the sight and were impressed. Branch was used to such occurrences that it didn’t affect him though the same could not be said for the conductor. He too was impressed with Cooper’s moves.

      “Got adrenaline, never giving in! Giving up's not an option, gotta get it in,” he smirked as he landed and posed triumphantly, “Witness, I got the heart of twenty men. No fear, go to sleep in the lion's den.”

      He switched back to the chorus and sang it with the same passion as before.

      “Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah,” he closed his eyes and brought a hand to his heart, emphasizing his emotion.

      “I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no,” he shook his head and then looked back at the crowd of trolls that surrounded him. “I get a good feeling, yeah.”

Chapter Text

      Cooper reached into his hair and took out a party popper. With his large smile that would no doubt last a few hours, the Funk-Pop prince pointed it upwards and pulled the string. Confetti erupted everywhere.

      “My family are royals! My family missed me!” He yelled out, laughing gleefully at the shower of colorful pieces of scrapbook paper. “I’m going to see my family soon!”

      Branch hated confetti almost as much as he hated glitter. He rolled out of the way the moment he saw the party popper though not everyone was lucky enough to do the same. Some of the Classical trolls closest to Cooper now had confetti in their hair. They let out surprised gasps hearing the loud pop and the sight of colorful bits in their hair but didn’t know what the item in the funk troll’s hand was. It was hard to guess if it was something good or bad because of the different reactions from either troll.

      One loved it, the other avoided it like it was a disease.

      Seeing their shared looks of confusion, Branch bore his own look of confusion. Did they not know what a party popper was? Their home was all glittery and sparkly. He knew there were things the Pop and Classical tribe didn’t share or use the same, considering he saw them using instruments he didn’t recognize and they weren’t surrounded by forest like the Pop trolls, but surely they knew what confetti was? It was one of the most important inventions in Pop history. The survivalist hated it but even he couldn’t deny that it held a sacred significance to the trolls who were once caged by the ber–by troll eating monsters.

      Of course Classical trolls should recognize it.

      “Oh, now what is this?” Conductor Trollzart asked, fluttering down to pick up some of the color pieces scattered on the ground.

      Apparently not.

      Off to the side, Cooper, who had been vacuuming the confetti with a hand-held vacuum and humming the song from before, comically whipped his head to the conductor.

      “You don’t know what confetti is?” He gasped dramatically before giggling, “Oh, we are so gonna fix that after I find my family.”

      While Cooper bounced in place, riding the high of having another clue as to where his family is, Branch turned to Trollzart. He almost forgot they didn’t have the privilege to take their time with the journey. At any moment, King Peppy could come find them and take them back to the village, forcing them to stay or even forcing all of Pop Village to move away from the other tribes. As he went to talk with Trollzart, he didn’t notice the looks of surprise and awe of the Classical trolls realizing just who was in front of them.

      “Do you know where we can find his family? Or tell us which tribe they are?”

      He took out a map from his hair, the map that they stole from King Peppy. It was a risk to show that they had it and Branch knew this. He knew it, but he also knew that the less time he wasted roaming in an attempt to hopefully find Cooper’s family the better. 

      The older troll fluttered to be at Branch’s side, looking over at the map. He hummed seeing the simpleness of it. There was a general layout of the land; however, there was hardly any markings of current cities, landmarks, or anything that would prevent the two Pop trolls from just wandering around in hopes they were going in the right direction. There wasn’t even names to determine which tribe was which other than vague logos and none of the current subtribes were even featured on the older piece of felt paper.

      It was an old, outdated map to put it simply and that just would not do.

      “The King and Queen of Funk are located in this area,” Trollzart said, pointing to the purple section with the scrapbooked Funk ship floating in the middle, “But, and forgive me for saying this, it would be better if I give you one of our own maps to assist your journey. This map is not quite updated to the current troll population.”

      He waved for Branch to follow him. Looking down at the map, Branch realized he was right. Cooper trotted towards the survivalist, smiling gratefully and horribly bowing back to the Classical trolls who bowed elegantly as he passed.

      The younger troll overheard what Trollzart had said and looked over the gray troll’s shoulders to study the map.

      “Oh, he’s right. Would you look at that? It still has disco,” he snorted, tapping on the tiny disco logo near Pop Village before going to follow Trollzart with a pep in his step.

      “Huh, yeah.”

      Branch put the map back into his hair for safe keeping and trailed behind the two trolls. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a few Classical trolls talking amongst themselves in hushed yet excited whispers. His ears discreetly tuned into the conversation to hear what they were discussing.

      “ The lost prince has been found! ”

      “ Oh, their majesties will be so pleased. The prince will no doubt be happy as well. ”

      “ Thank the heavens! ”

      “ After so long, the royal family will all be reunited. ”

      “ The Funk prince will go back home. ”

      An ear twitched as Branch processed what was heard. His heart tightened with an indescribable emotion that made him think back to the ‘What if?’s regarding what would happen as they continued their journey. Knowing he had more important things to worry about, he ignored that feeling. . . whatever it was. Neither him or Cooper had the time to stop and think. They’ve spent enough time talking with Trollzart and letting the Funk-Pop troll celebrate his heritage. They didn’t have time for Branch to freak out about the unknown.

      He simply took a breath and picked up his pace.

      Trollzart’s eyes flicked to the gray troll as he rejoined the two. Once again, the wise conductor had no issue in reading Branch’s inner turmoil. For the time being, he fluttered closer to Branch and patted the younger troll’s shoulder with a gentle smile. It was a reassuring touch that needed no words to help ease the survivalist’s stress. Trollzart looked back up to see they were where they needed to be.

      The three trolls stood in front of a smaller building than the conductor’s home and when the conductor opened the doors of the building, the two Pop trolls could tell that it was a library of sorts. Branch always enjoyed reading, more specifically reading to learn. He scanned the room with the strong desire to read all the different, new books that would no doubt help him learn more about Classical troll society.

      “Stay here for a moment. I shall retrieve the map,” he told the two before disappearing.

      Cooper went to a bookshelf titled “Mystery” and read through the titles of each book, neck bent sideways so he could read them without having to take each book off the shelf. Branch had one ear to him, listening to the different titles though he was more focused on another section further down. There was a book that caught his eye. He took it off the shelf. Unlike the scrapbooks back home, these books were thinner and the inside of them didn’t have any pictures. Only words.

      “Last Troll Standing,” he muttered, reading the title aloud.

      The cover had a drawing of a lone Classical troll with a torn wing, looking ahead forlorn at his situation yet determined to get up and move along. The introduction of the book made it clear it wasn’t going to be a lighthearted tale. According to the preface, murder, betrayal, and fleeing to escape death were key elements of the story.

      Branch gently closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

      It was strange. No book in Pop Village would have such dark topics. Sometimes the mystery books would have some form of betrayal, but not one so harsh that the main character was almost killed and certainly not one that would end up killing any of the characters in the story. At most, a Pop mystery book would have a troll upset about their items being stolen. . . not . . . not mourning a troll’s death. They wouldn’t have been able to handle a book that was so depressing.

      His thoughts on what the book implied about how the Classical trolls lived was interrupted by Trollzart’s return.

      “This should make it easier for you and your companion to reach the Funk Kingdom,” he said, holding out a map to Branch.

      Cooper straightened up his neck and walked to see their new map. Branch still felt troubled about what he found but he composed himself enough to take a hold of the rolled up paper.

      “Thank you,” the two trolls said, one more enthusiastically than the other.

      Branch opened up the map to see a much more detailed map and his eyes widened at the different places that were now identified.

      “Funk, Classical, Pop, Country, Rock, Techno,” he listed off in amazement, now able to put a name to each main tribe.

      His eyes widened as he saw that there more tribes than the ones seen on King Peppy’s map.

      “Yodeler, Smooth Jazz, and–”

      “K-pop?!” Cooper interrupted Branch.

      His jaw dropped seeing the subtribe with a name similar to their own tribe’s. Trollzart nodded and Branch made a mental note to do intensive research after they found Cooper’s family. With so many different tribes, he would need to be more conscious of what territories they had and where those territories were located before he could find another home for Pop.

      “This will be a great help,” he said, still in awe as he looked up at the conductor, “Seriously. Thank you.”

      Trollzart smiled at Branch, voice full of warmth “Of course.”

      He led the two of them out of the library and the survivalist carefully placed the map in his hair, right beside King Peppy’s map. Because both trolls wanted to head off as soon as possible, the conductor decided to lead them back to where he found them. Any passing Classical trolls joined them and a whole crowd of them were there to wish the two travelers a safe journey.

      “Farewell, Branch and farewell, Cooper. I hope you two find what you are looking for.”

      Cooper jumped in place, waving his hand high in the air as he waved all of the trolls goodbye. Branch gave a smaller yet still grateful wave to all of the trolls wishing them farewell. Before the duo left, the conductor suggested the best route for getting to the Funk Kingdom.

      “Travel straight west from our settlement to pass through Lonesome Flats. The mayor, Delta Dawn, is a kind and understanding troll. I have no doubt that she will direct you in the safest path to your destination so long as you explain the circumstances.”

      The two Pop trolls once again thanked him and with that, they were off.

      “Lonesome flats, here we come!”

Chapter Text

      “My harmonica skills are pretty crazy,” Cooper bragged, puffing out his chest as he trotted ahead of Branch, “If I had my harmonica, phew, you’d almost want to start singing and dancing to the sound.”

      “Yeah, almost,” the survivalist scoffed.

      The two trolls walked towards the hidden caterbus getting further from the Classical trolls. Branch followed right behind Cooper just listening to him talk and laugh with the occasional response here and there. Truth be told, Branch was only half-listening. The survivalist was more focused on how they should approach the mayor of Lonesome Flats. Trollzart’s description of Delta Dawn was promising, but who knew if that personality would hold up with the two Pop trolls. 

      The way a troll acted around one troll could be completely different from the way they acted around another troll. Creek was one example of that. He was charismatic and charming around Poppy and the rest of the Snack Pack, but around Branch he was different. The village guru could be quite the asshole when he and the gray troll weren’t around anyone else.

      Branch hoped that the mayor of Lonesome Flats was better than Pop Village’s stuck-up guru.

      “Do you think they all look like cowboys? I feel like they would,” Cooper mused, Branch fully tuning back into what he was saying.

      The two reached the hidden caterbus which opened its mouth seeing its two passengers arrive. Branch settled into the driver’s seat of the bus and pulled Trollzart’s map back out of his hair. Cooper sat next to him on the floor and started talking about what he knew about country music which Branch was secretly thankful for. He didn’t have much knowledge on country music as Cooper said he did. He could tell you over 100 ways a troll could get hurt in the forest but could hardly count on one hand the different types of music. Rap, disco, and of course Pop, were the only genres of music he actually knew. Any other genre he could name only because of the map in front of him.

      The more we know about what we’re dealing with, the better , he thought to himself as he started up the bus.

      “What are cowboys?” Branch asked, glancing at Cooper who whipped his head at the survivalist’s question.

      “You don’t know cowboys? Man, when this is all over we will have to really inform you of the amazing literature tropes you’ve been missing,” he giggled, settling into the pillow he was sitting on, “Cowboys are trolls with uh-well, cowboy hats, vests, lassos, and they’re really badass. They wrestle big animals like it’s nothing!”

      Branch raised an eyebrow at the description, glancing back at Cooper before focusing on the road again. It was mainly just a vast landscape of glittery yellow fabric with a few yarn vegetation here and there. They were past the hills with the land flattening out. There were hardly any animals around and the caterbus stuck out like a sore thumb in the barren land.

      “And cowboys are country?”

      He couldn’t imagine any country trolls being able to round up large animals if there weren’t any animals around to begin with.

      Cooper nodded. He squealed in excitement.

      For a few hours, the Funk-Pop troll went on a long and surprisingly educational rant about cowboys, and anything related to country only taking a break to chow down on some of the rations Branch brought. The loner knew Cooper loved books, but he never really knew how much until now. Cooper was practically a book himself with how much information he could had on hand. 

      Cooper knew what little information Pop Village’s main library had on anything that wasn’t specific to Pop trolls. Unlike with the Classical trolls, there was more information about Country trolls, or at least about their genre of music and supposed way of living. No one in the village, not even Cooper, had known that other musical genres belonged to other trolls so there wasn’t any scrapbooked information regarding Country trolls. Because of that, the two of them could only make vague guesses as to what Country trolls looked like.

      Branch mentally face-palmed when he realized they did have an idea of how other trolls looked.

      The caterbus slowed to a stop to the confusion of Cooper.

      “Are we going to stretch our legs now?” he asked, getting up from his spot.

      Branch shook his head. The survivalist still wasn’t keen on getting out of the bus unless they reached other trolls especially not in such an open area where birds could easily pick them off. He just wanted to look at the scroll Cooper had. With everything that was revealed, he hadn’t studied the scroll as long as he would have liked. 

      “No. It’s too dangerous,” he replied, holding out a hand, “I just wanted to look at the scroll you had.”

      Honestly, he had completely forgotten about it until now.

      Cooper pouted as he sat back down on his pillow, but took the scroll out of his hair to hand it to the other troll.

      “Man, I wish we could explore,” he whined, looking out of the front windows of the bus.

      Branch ignored him in favor of looking over the contents of the scroll. This time around he took a bit more time to study the drawings of the ancestors of all trolls. Still, he wouldn’t be able to properly take in all the information with King Poppy possibly tracking them down.

      Thinking about it. . . would he try to find them? 

      Before the spontaneous trip he and Cooper went on, Branch had urged King Peppy to allow him to travel further into the wild to try and find a new home. The older troll adamantly refused. If he didn’t want to send out any trolls to find a new Pop settlement, which was very needed with the possibility of a bergen nearby, who’s to say he would send out trolls to find Cooper and Branch? King Peppy was one of the few trolls that Branch could say truly cared about him, but the king was getting older and why would he risk sending unqualified trolls out to find the two of them? Then again, perhaps he’d take the chance just to get back the scroll and map Cooper had stolen.

      Just a quick look and we’ll keep going .

      “There,” he muttered to himself.

Small scrapbooked versions of the old troll leaders stood together. With the knowledge of what Classical trolls looked like and what cowboy hats were, Branch could assume which leader was the leader of the Country trolls. Four legs, a trail, and, of course, a tall cowboy hat.

      “They’ve got four legs just like me,” Cooper beamed.

      Branch nodded, a small ‘huh’ escaping him. He handed the scroll back to Cooper. As Branch started up the caterbus again, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why were the troll tribes were kept a secret from the people in Pop Village? Pop trolls had only recently escaped generations long torture which made sense as to why they hadn’t been with the other tribes for so long yet Trollzart had told them that there had been a time the other tribes had been able to come together. There was a time where King Peppy had the chance to reveal everything to his people. More importantly, there was a chance for him to seek help.

      Branch sighed. The topic was too heavy for him to think about while he had a mission for him to focus on. Once it was over, he would get his answers. For now, all he needed to focus on was finding Lonesome Flats.

      A strange glint in the land ahead of them made Branch narrow his eyes. Cooper looked up from the scroll in his lap to jump up and point at the scene.

      “Is that glitter?!”

      “Glitter?”

      Branch slowed down the caterbus as they got closer to the large amount of glitter. It reminded him of quickglitter, but the glitter was a golden color instead of a bright pink. Despite the differences, the survivalist knew he had to tread carefully.

      “Let’s hope it’s just glittery sand because I do not want to travel on foot because that ends up being quickglitter and our bus sinks with us inside,” Cooper snorted, eyeing the glitter with skepticism.

      “. . . And I thought I was the pessimistic one.”

      Cooper just shrugged with an innocent smile and sat back down.

      The glitter shone brightly against the sun, annoying the survivalist who wished to know what it was. Even if he wanted to, and Branch did want to, he couldn’t drive around the possibly glittery deathtrap. The gray troll took a deep breath.

      “Well, let’s hope it is sand,” Branch agreed.

      He held onto the steering wheel tightly as the mini caterbus slowly moved towards the mysterious terrain. Cooper put his hands over his eyes to avoid seeing the outcome. Surprisingly, nothing happened. The bus dipped for a moment causing the survivalist to tighten his grip on the steering wheel, but it kept moving smoothly afterwards. The survivalist scowled and didn’t loosen his grip on the steering wheel. Cooper, on the other hand, peeked through his fingers and smiled seeing that they were okay.

      "We didn't die!"

      The gray troll blinked at the cheery statement, staring at Cooper in disbelief before looking back at the road.

      “It’s not too late for that to happen,” Branch scoffed jokingly.

      The taller Pop troll just shook his head in amusement and admired the sparkling scenery around them.

      “Oh, hush.”

Chapter Text

     There were so many things that could go wrong. With the long hours of driving ahead of him, Branch could think of each and every single one of them. It didn’t help that the survivalist was tired. He was so, so tired. The last time he slept had been the night before Cooper told him about not being a Pop troll. He’s been awake for a day and a half so far and there were still a few miles left until they reached Lonesome Flats. With the speed the caterbus was moving, they’d get to the Country tribe early in the night.

     With everything going on, Branch had sleep low on the list of priorities he had. He couldn’t sleep the night before because of them being so close to Pop Village and it was the same deal with the Classical trolls. When they arrived at Lonesome Flats, then Branch would finally be able to sleep.

     Would he?

     Would we be able to sleep in the caterbus? It sticks out so much outside of Troll Forest. Maybe I should modify it. But how long will that take? I should’ve really came up with a plan on how we’re going to find Cooper’s parents. Would Lonesome Flats have any spaces to hide the caterbus like the hills near the Classical troll tribe? Damn it. How did I think I could find us a new home not having a single clue that the forest would end and turn into an open, treeless land?!

     While Branch was worried about the continuation of their journey, Cooper had been buzzing with energy, brimming with wonder and awe about the world around them. Currently, he was staring out of the front windows of the caterbus, head swiveling back and forth at each sparkle of the glittery sand with a boyish smile. The younger troll turned his head to Branch about to giggle over how shiny the sand was only for his smile to fall at the stressful state the survivalist was in.

     “What’s up, Branch?” He asked, grin smaller than before.

     It didn’t take a genius to know the gray troll wouldn’t be as excited for the whole trip as Cooper would be. Neither of the two had been this far from home in. . . ever! Even the more upbeat troll had been nervous at the thought of going on an adventure into the unknown. He didn’t have any kind of plan on how he would find his family and mostly relied on Branch’s experience from exploring the Troll Forest. The gray troll knew so much about survival and didn’t hesitate to start their journey the very night Cooper revealed what he knew to the other.

     But just as Branch was an amazing survivalist, he was an incredible overthinker who assumed the worst of anything and everything.

     Branch didn’t answer at first. He was too caught up in his mind to do so. It wasn’t until Cooper nudged him with his nose that he blinked and looked at his travel companion.

     “What’s up?” Cooper repeated, “We’re in this together, you know? If something’s wrong, then lay it on me. I can take it!”

     Branch continued his silence, thinking of what to say. In the past, negative words and anxious ramblings spewed from his mouth with a highly disliked ease. Part of the reason most of the village hated him was because of his warnings about the bergens and other predators in Troll Forest that would gladly feast on loud, easily distracted trolls. Now? He looked at the innocent face of his travel companion and felt his stomach churning at truly saying what he was thinking. He didn’t know why.

     Actually, he did.

     Cooper was one of the few trolls who rarely made fun of him for his gray skin.

     Only he and, surprisingly, Guy Diamond never commented on Branch’s gray skin as something he needed to work on. Poppy, while always inviting the loner and greeting him, hated that he wasn’t able to sing and dance and ‘be normal’ like all the others. She’d place the blame on his colorless skin and each invitation she gave the recluse featured him with different colors that she could only guess his true colors were. Branch figured her line of thought was thanks to a certain yoga teaching asshole. Creek always encouraged Poppy’s pushiness and other bad habits Branch hated.

     “. . .I’m just tired,” he settled on.

     Cooper brightened up. There was a moment of suspenseful worry that whatever the other would say would be something he couldn’t help with. Branch was a resourceful, quick-thinking and independent troll who hardly ever asked for help. Cooper was not. But the survivalist being tired? That was something he could totally help with!

     “Let me take over the driving! I’m no professional, but it’s just driving in a straight line, right? I totally got this. Move, move!”

     There was hardly any time for Branch to argue against the idea before Cooper unbuckled his seatbelt and switched their spots. The caterbus swayed slightly because of Branch’s grip on the steering wheel until Cooper swatted his hands away to hold it himself.

     “W-what? Cooper!” Branch huffed out indignantly. 

     “Chill, chill. I’ve got this. Take a nap. We’ll be fine! Won’t we, girl?”

     The caterbus chirped in agreement much to Branch’s dismay. And here he thought his mini caterbus buddy was the silent, strong type who would never accept being driven by another troll except Branch.

     “Traitor,” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

     Cooper giggled and patted the side of the bus.

     This isn’t the first time trolls have offered to help him out. The Snack Pack always offered to ‘help’ him de-stress and sometimes even ask if there’s anything they can do to lessen his workload. Whenever he got behind on important work, then he’d accept their offers. It was a rather uncommon occurrence yet it wasn’t rare. So, no, it’s not strange that Cooper wanted to help him out. What was strange was that he didn’t even give him the chance to say no.

     At least it worked out. Branch sighed before heading towards the back to grab some blankets and a few pillows. He set them on the seats to make them softer and laid down face first.

     That sewing scrapbook Poppy gifted him certainly came in handy. The pillows were so comfortable.

     “Just keep going straight and wake me the moment, the very second, you see something other than sand. Okay?” He told Cooper sternly, making it clear he didn’t want any funny business happening while he was asleep.

     Letting Cooper stay awake by himself unnerved Branch. The peppy troll had a very limited knowledge on how to survive on his own that wasn’t from fictional scrapbooks. Still, it was better he slept now where they were by themselves and with no troll able to hide in the sands than near a town of strangers.

     It took some time until the survivalist finally fell asleep. Traveling far from Pop Village was one thing, but doing so with another troll he knew didn’t have much survivalist skills was another.

     Cooper looked at Branch through the rear view mirror. His sleeping form was as tense as when he would be awake.

     Man, I really should have noticed more. Poor guy needs a vacation .

     For a little while it was silence and just focusing on driving straight. Branch was relying on him to not mess up and he was determined to not let him down.

     Three minutes passed before Cooper got bored.

     “It. . . should be fine,” he murmured, looking back at his sleeping friend.

     The last few times Cooper sang, Branch didn’t make him stop. A huge smile came over his face. 

     Hey, that’s right !

     The last few times Cooper sang, Branch didn’t make him stop!

     Poppy would explode if he told her that. The whole Snack Pack would. Honestly, every single troll in Pop Village would.

     Maybe this journey was good for the paranoid introvert? This had been the longest him and Cooper have been together. Their bond was getting stronger and stronger each passing hour. Once they found Cooper’s royal family, Cooper would personally make sure Branch would get a break from worrying about the village or him or anything else. It shouldn’t take too long for them to find where his family lived. Based on the map, they just needed to pass Lonesome Flats and the Funk Kingdom would be there waiting for them.

     His mom and dad were just a few days away.

     “I can’t believe it,” Cooper whispered to himself, wiping a happy tear away.

     They were so close.

     40 miles away. Cooper was 40 miles away from his family and he’d finally be able to put faces to his parents. He squealed at the thought, feeling the need to sing.

     Here I come !

     “Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I’m homebound,” he began, smiling widely as he swayed to the music.

     Just a few more days and he’d be in the arms of his mother at last. Hopefully, some trolls in the Funk Kingdom had cameras to capture the moment.

     “Staring blankly ahead, just making my way, making a way through the cro-o-owd.”

     Cooper tapped the steering wheel along to the guitar playing in the background.

     “And I need you! And I miss you,” he never stopped thinking of his parents, “And I wonder, if I could fall into the sky, do you think think time would pass me by?”

     It’s been a long 15 years. His mom back in Pop Village was the one who raised him and he loved her for that, but with the knowledge his family had been looking for him, he desperately wanted to meet them and rekindle that family bond.

     “‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight .”

     Cooper found himself sniffling. No matter what, he’d find his parents, his brother, his family . He wouldn’t travel miles away from Pop Village to not find them. No, he was going to find them one way or another.

     “It’s always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me?”

     Despite the years passing and going without any word of his biological family, he never stopped wondering if they knew he was still alive and thriving.

     “‘Cause everything’s so wrong, and I don’t belong living in your precious memory.”

     His egg had been missing, not abandoned. Cooper should’ve been with his family not labeled as ‘the missing prince’.

     “‘Cause I need you. . . I miss you . . .now I wonder, if I could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by?”

     He was on a mission.

     “Oh, ‘cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight.”

     And he was going to complete it.

     The sun lowered across the horizon making the sky a beautiful orange. Cooper paused his soft humming to take in the sight.

     That’s when he saw it.

     A town !

     “Branch! Branch, wake up!”

     A soft ‘wha?’ was heard before the survivalist shot up and looked out of the front windows.

     “ We’re here .”

Chapter Text

     Tiny blobs of light gleamed in the distance indicating a town. They were miles away from it so while they could see the town, with the darkness and distance, the town couldn’t see them. That’s what Branch hoped anyway. He was nervous. The survivalist went up to the front windows of the caterbus, a hand coming up to touch where the light shone far from them.

     “What’s our plan?” Cooper asked.

     With the years that he knew the gray troll, Cooper had come to understand that Branch was incredibly prone to losing himself in his mind, drowning in the fears of ‘What if?’s and the like. To keep him calm, a plan needed to be made. This was a bit difficult for the Funk-Pop troll. He did things in the spur of the moment, like this trip for example, rather than prepare for what he wanted to do. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

     The survivalist took a calming breath and turned to face his companion.

     “Same as before. Stick close to me, stay cautious, and make sure they know why we’re here. You still have the whittled sticks and sharp rocks in your hair, right?”

     As much as he hated the weapons, Cooper knew better than to take them out when Branch was so scared of how other trolls would behave. If he pretended that he was just like those characters in action books, then the weapons in his hair didn’t seem so intimidating.

     Cooper nodded and pulled out one of the sticks the gray troll handed him earlier before placing it back in his hair at Branch’s nod.

     “Good.”

     Branch handed the other a backpack of basic supplies and put one on himself. It confused Cooper. Last time, the only things Branch had given him were the weapons. To the further surprise of his travel buddy, Branch got out of the caterbus with yards still left to reach the town of Country Trolls. His feet stepped on softer, more sturdy ground and he sighed in relief. He didn’t want to worry about stepping and falling into a hole in the glittersand.

     “Wait, what? Do we have to walk all the way over there?” Cooper asked, following Branch’s lead despite his confusion of leaving the bus so far from the town.

     “There’s no place to hide the caterbus. It’s best if we leave her here to roam until we can be sure her presence won’t cause any issues.”

     “Oh, okay,” he nodded not really understanding but letting the other take the lead.

     Cooper turned to the caterbus and cheerily waved her goodbye. The bus chirped happily making Branch grumble his own goodbye. He had known the mini caterbus for longer, yet he acted more awkwardly around her than his companion did.

     “Bye, girl! See you soon! We’ll come back to get you later,” Cooper reassured with a grand smile, petting her before turning to the other who had his back to the two, “Hey, wait up!”

     Branch had started walking leaving a flustered Cooper to stumble and gallop after him. The two walked silently. Or at least mostly silent. Cooper decided to softly hum as they headed toward the town. The younger troll desperately wanted to sing, but for the sake of his already tense buddy, he stuck to just humming.

     As much as the gray troll fussed about plans and expecting the unexpected, he did not have a clear plan on what he would do after seeing a Country troll. Branch could maybe get over their physical differences, he was traveling with Cooper after all and he was way different than the gray troll, but he wasn’t as confident for social differences. The cowboys in Pop stories could be widely different than the Country trolls in Lonesome Flats. They were tough survivalists which made a small part of Branch excited to meet them though it was overwhelmed by the frightened and unsure part of him who feared how they would react to a gray Pop troll in their territory.

     ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us’ was one book quote Cooper had offhandedly mentioned to better describe how the Country trolls could act. It was something he brushed over before going deeper into how strong and resilient they were though Branch’s mind stuck to it and repeated it in his mind over and over again.

     He wanted to have a plan–really! But if he did, he feared he might back out of it and try to get to the Funk Kingdom without the Country troll’s help. That was something he couldn’t do if he wanted to.

     Branch had heard the underlying warning in Trollzart’s words about the danger in Country troll territory.

     It frightened him.

     The duo was getting closer to the town and could make out some of the buildings which made them pick up their pace. Interestingly enough, those Western books Cooper had been reading weren’t too far from how the home of the Country trolls looked.

     “Look, Branch! They even have a saloon! Biggie’s going to be excited when I tell him about this,” Cooper giggled before slapping a hand over his mouth and trying to become serious again.

     The survivalist rolled his eyes at the Funk-Pop’s troll attempt though there was no real feelings of anger or annoyance in the gesture. Honestly, throughout this whole trip, he expected Cooper to act out more considering the type of people the Snack Pack tends to be. It took effort to get them to be serious and calm unless it was yoga, but immediately after Creek’s yoga classes, they’d go back to being the famously rowdy group in Pop Village.

     Branch simply kept walking with his gaze laser focused on the town and his ears perked up for any other sound not made by them.

     “There’s not many trolls,” Cooper noted with a curious hum, “Do you think they’re sleeping or something? It’s kind of early to be in bed.”

     Branch glanced at the other to see him staring at the town warily. Pop trolls tended to stay up later doing some stargazing or singing and dancing under the moonlight. The survivalist adopted an earlier bedtime due to all the responsibilities he had, but he knew how well the other trolls in the village liked the night as they did the day. There had been many times when he had been woken up because of intense partying during the night for the after-birthday parties of well-known trolls like King Peppy or Princess Poppy or Cooper and the rest of the Snack Pack.

     It was strange that the town would be so quiet this early into the night.

     “We’ll see when we get there,” the survivalist mumbled, staring intensely at the town.

     After half an hour later, they were walking on a road.

     “Branch, look. There was a road we could’ve driven on,” Cooper noted cheerfully, pointing at the large lane of carpet ahead of them, “Wow, if we saw that earlier we wouldn’t have had to worry about the glittersand sinking us.”

     The gray troll felt an eye twitch but nodded.

     “Yeah, this would’ve been so useful earlier,” he grumbled.

     His ear twitched at the sound of a door creaking open and he quickly turned his head at the source. Branch felt his eyes widen as he saw a half-horse, half-troll woman with an incredibly large hairdo partially illuminated by the light leaking out of what was likely her home.

     “Now what in tarnation are you two doing out so late at night?”

     She crossed her arms and did not seem impressed by their presence. Her accent held a stern tone to it and it was obvious she was like none of the Pop trolls back home who would trust anyone and everyone that came by.

     Cooper looked at Branch to see who of the two would do the talking. The survivalist took a breath and took a step forward. This seemed to not be the best choice as the Country woman narrowed her eyes at the action. That made Branch not take any step further.

     “Ah, we’re trying to get to Funk Kingdom,” the gray troll explained, nerves clear in his words, “Trollzart sent us here. He said you would know the safest route to the Funk trolls?”

     The last sentence was framed more like a question than a statement. Branch was very intimidated by the woman. She was larger than the survivalist and seemed tougher too. While Branch warded off big predators, he had a feeling that woman did the same and more.

     Thankfully, the mention of the Classical conductor made her ease up.

     “Trollzart? As in Conductor Trollzart? And you want to get to the Funk trolls, huh?”

     Cooper nodded furiously with Branch nodding more calmly.

     She looked the two of them up and down making them uneasy. Cooper stood upright as still as a statue without even taking a breath, clearly exaggerating to bring about a chuckle or two. Branch stood still as well holding his breath more so because of the anticipation of how she would react. Her examination took a few seconds yet it felt like an eternity with her harsh scrutiny.

     Whatever it was she was looking for, she found it.

     “Well then come on in! Don’t think you two are all that familiar with these parts if you’re roaming ‘round at night like it’s nothin’,” she snorted, stepping to the side of the door to let them in.

     The two blinked at the sudden change in demeanor. Cooper recovered faster than Branch and giggled.

     “Nope!” He admitted earning him an unimpressed look from his gray companion and an amused shake of her head from the Country troll.

     Despite his trusting nature, Cooper waited for Branch to make the first move. It was in his plan after all. Cooper would follow the survivalist’s lead and be cautious. He might’ve not been doing the best job, but he was trying.

     The survivalist hesitated on entering the Country troll’s home though if it was dangerous to roam around at night, he didn’t want to stay out any longer.

     He entered the Country troll’s home to see the walls more like wool of a thick blanket rather than felt of a Pop pod. It had multiple floors if the stairs ahead at the back of the room said anything. Unlike with pods and Trollzart’s home, there were walls up to separate different rooms. Cooper and Branch soaked up the differences of the Country home.

     With the lights, they could see the Country troll had a tail with a different color than her extravagant hair and her lower horse half was a beautiful white that rivaled Guy Diamond’s glimmering silver.

     “I can’t just call you stranger 1 and stranger 2,” the Country woman chuckled, grabbing the attention of the two Pop trolls again, “What are your names?”

     “Mine’s Cooper,” the Funk-Pop troll said, smiling widely.

     “Branch,” the other replied flatly.

     The Country woman nodded and lead them to a room with multiple couches and a coffee table with a hot drink already on it.

     “My name is Delta Dawn. I’m the mayor of this here town.”

     Branch internally sighed in relief. He wouldn’t have to ask around and be all suspicious to find where she was.

     Delta Dawn sat in one of the large couches and gestured for the two other trolls to sit as well. Again, they hesitated to listen to the Country woman.

     “Don’t act all uptight,” she huffed teasingly, “Sit, sit. You’re guests.”

     Cooper sat immediately on the mayor’s far right while Branch sat on an armchair nearby.

     Delta looked between the two of them again and raised a questioning eyebrow.

     “Now, as I said earlier, you two don’t seem like you know your way ‘round these parts. So why exactly are you here? What business do you two have being so far from the Funk Kingdom and traveling together?”

     The two boys shared a look and Branch’s face got serious.

     “We’re looking for Cooper’s family,” he said firmly, “He and I were born and raised in Pop Village. That’s why we’re together. Trollzart told us that he was a part of the royal Funk family, so we’re trying to head over there.”

     “I’m just trying to be back with my mom and dad–and brother,” Cooper added, tone uncharacteristically grim.

     “Sweet baby troll,” she muttered in disbelief, squinting her eyes at the pink and blue troll.

     Cooper had a striking resemblance to the prince she was asked to look for all those years ago, but she wasn’t sure if it truly was him. There were trolls out in the world who wouldn’t hesitate to play with other’s feelings and steal another’s identity if it meant they could get away with their crimes or take advantage of others. With the blatant admittance and the near identical look combined with the lack of traditional Funk jewelry and a pure wholesome look in his eyes, she knew the boy wasn’t lying.

     “ You really are the prince. ”