Chapter Text
“You know what?” John Dory threw his hands up in the air. It was over, he was done . The first performance of the tour was a disaster, they failed at the Perfect Family Harmony, and now he was the bad guy. He was done with the tree. He was done with the band. And he is so done with his family, buncha ingrates. “I’m done. I’m going to hike the Neverglade Trail brolone!” Gah, damn it! That was so lame. Just grab dad’s old camping gear and go.
“Bro, bro going solo. Yolo!” The cord attached to the grappling hook pulled taut and pulled him backwards, out of their grandmother's pod. He caught a final glimpse of each of his family members' faces before his head hit on an upper branch. Rosiepuff’s casual indifference. Spruce and Clay’s anger. Floyd's disappointment. And Branch’s big, sad eyes.
This was the right thing. He's doing the right thing, probably the best thing he’s ever done in his life. It's what they all want, what they need. They all have been struggling for a long time. For too long. It's time for BroZone to be a thing of the past, no matter how much it meant to the village. They can finally go their own ways. None of his brothers need him around anymore. They didn't want him around anymore.
His parents’ pod was small, hanging from a lower branch of the Tree, with two bedrooms just past the living room and a half bathroom. It was quiet in their little home aside from soft sobbing, restrained only for the sake of trollings meant to be asleep. John Dory was awake though, because he heard the crying. Spruce, however, was still asleep in his bed across their shared bedroom, snoring quietly.
Quietly, little John Dory slipped out of his bed and crept to the door, pushing it open carefully. His ears perked up when he heard his father's voice comfort the crying troll.
“Chartreuse, honey, I know you don't like the plan.”
“Am I supposed to like it?” John flinched at hearing his mother snap with hushed anger. “Saffron, you are talking about abandoning our boys with your mother.”
“It won't be for forever,” his dad spoke softly, “I promise. Mom's pod is up on the higher branches, it will be safer for them until the tunnels are finished.” John Dory heard his mom give another sniffle and his dad sigh. “I don't want to do this either, but after Bloom and Coil lost their kid…”
John gasped quietly to himself, quickly covering his mouth to hide the sound. Bloom and Coil were their neighbors. They have a trolling named Clover, or had. John Dory and Spruce were friends with them, they would walk to school together and play afterwards. Clover is gone now?
“We can't risk another year for our boys. We're too low, too close in the Bergens’ reach.” He heard his dad continue on.
“You think I don't know that!” John Dory flinched again. He heard his dad immediately shush her. John backed away from the door and scurried back to his bed. He paused just before climbing under his covers.
If his parents were going to bring him and Spruce to their grandma’s pod, when will it happen? Would they tell her their plan? Would they tell them ? And how long would they stay with her? Would they ever be able to return home? Would their parents visit them? How much longer until the tunnels were finished?
He looked over to Spruce’s bed, seeing his younger brother still peacefully asleep, unaware of the world around him. John made a quick decision and grabbed his blanket, then joined Spruce in his bed. Gently nudging the other trolling over so he could climb up. Spruce didn’t wake, giving little more than an annoyed grunt before rolling over. He hopped up and settled himself in, falling asleep to the faint sounds of sobs and whispers.
Grandma Rosiepuff welcomed them in a strong group hug and many, many affectionate kisses. She listened to Saffron and Chartreuse and accepted their request with an understanding nod. She helped the boys get set up in the spare bedroom, acting all the while as though it were just another sleepover. The first moment they were alone John Dory told Spruce what he overheard, then they confronted their grandmother. Just like with their parents, Rosiepuff listened, then she sat the boys down in the living room and told them that they were old enough to know what was happening. She explained to them what Trollstice was. John Dory tried to argue that they already knew about the Bergen holiday from school.
Rosiepuff smiled at him, giving a quiet sigh, and patted his hair. Then she explained what Trollstice meant to their fellow troll. Trollstice was the only holiday that the Bergens celebrated, yes. But it was also the one holiday that Trolls never wished to celebrate despite the inherent desire to and among all of the holidays that they do celebrate. She told them how the Bergen Chef and select others would enter the cage surrounding the Tree and take Trolls to cook and eat for their holiday. It didn't matter how old a troll was either, trolling or elder, Bergens still took them.
“That is why all the little ones are taken into the tree trunk. To keep you safe.” Is what she said to finish the horrifying explanation before offering the boys some fluffleberry cake.
Days turned to weeks turned to months. The spare bedroom had become John Dory’s and Spruce’s room, as designated with a sign on the door and the progressive change of bedroom furniture. Saffron and Chartreuse made every effort possible to visit the boys; family meals, walking with them from school, staying late enough to tuck them into bed and wish them their sweetest dreams. The new normal wasn’t so bad.
Months turned into a year and John Dory and Spruce walked into their grandmother’s house with their dad to find Rosiepuff and Chartreuse seated on the loveseat. Their mom was cradling an egg in her lap, a bright green-yellow one with a tuft of yellow fluff sticking out of the top. They were talking about potential names. The egg hatched into Clay.
It didn't take long to notice the stress in Rosiepuff's demeanor, taking care of a hatchling and two trollings would take a toll on any lone troll. Not to mention the financial strain. That isn't to say Saffron and Chartreuse didn't help provide for the boys, they always asked if there was anything they needed to bring the next time they visited and wrote down whatever Rosiepuff told them, things just did not last as long as they used to. Not to mention Clay was a fussy one and had a few tummy issues for the first few months of his life. He didn't like being held but got frustrated when he struggled to get himself around, and got even more frustrated when John Dory or Spruce tried to help or encourage him which made Rosiepuff have to tell them to just leave him alone often.
So John Dory cooked up an idea during school one day. Something that would help his grandmother and parents, and it would keep them out of trouble. It was handy that Spruce was usually easygoing, so it was easy to convince him that the idea was a good one. Once the boys got home, they immediately went into their room and grabbed their small boombox and a few CDs. Then they ran back out the door with a shout to tell Rosiepuff that they would be back by dinner.
Singing and dancing were what Trolls are best known for. That and being happy, and making Bergens feel happiness. There were even classes for these subjects if there were Trolls that wanted to be icons of the Tree – a job that was rumored to make any troll or trolls less likely to be taken by the Bergen chefs, though it has yet to be proven true. But singing and dancing, and being good at it, was also a good way for trollings to make a few coins. A small downside though, sometimes if the song was catching enough it would turn a small performance into a Tree-wide musical number. So they had to be careful.
After a bit of back and forth, the brothers agreed on “Move Your Body” by Truffle 65 and practiced a few different moves before setting up near the market stalls. Unsurprisingly, they quickly gained an audience. Members of their individual classes and parents, a couple daycare attendants with a bunch of hyperactive toddlers on leashes, and plenty of other trolls entering and leaving the market. John Dory mentally kicked himself for not thinking to grab a hat or something for their audience to drop coins in, but they did make a decent pile by the time he and Spruce were done. Afterwards, John Dory had to fight both with himself and Spruce on not spending most of their earnings on things for themselves. He reminded Spruce that the idea was meant to help their grandma and parents. Spruce didn’t argue after that, though he did pout the whole walk back home.
The boys presented their earnings to Rosiepuff with smiles, Spruce’s being a little less enthusiastic than John Dory’s. Their grandmother, however, was stunned at the sight of the coins on her dining table, then her brows pinched together.
“Boys, what is all this?” She asked, laying her hands over the back of one of the dining chairs.
“We wanted to help.” John Dory answered.
“Help?” Rosiepuff questioned, returning to her previous baffled expression. “Sweetie, help with what?”
John Dory turned and looked at Spruce who looked back at him and shrugged. He turned back to Rosiepuff. “Well, you and mom and dad talk about the things we need for school and home. And now there’s Clay and he needs a lot of things too. I heard the last time mom and dad visited say that some of the stuff for Clay is expensive and that they think me and Spruce are going to need new clothes soon…” He dropped his eyes to his hands wringing together against his belly. “I just wanted to help.”
He heard her take in a sharp breath and then he felt an arm wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. Looking up at Rosiepuff’s lavender face, she smiled down at him and down at Spruce wrapped up in her other arm. She pressed a kiss to each of their heads.
“Oh, you boys are so terribly sweet.” John Dory felt her arm tighten around him, not suffocating him but another one of her tight hugs. Then Rosiepuff released them, standing back up, her head shaking in a way that John Dory assumed meant to be disappointing but the smile on her face didn’t match it. “But you should not be worrying about us adults, either of you.” She aimed a stern finger back and forth between her grandsons, her other hand resting on her hip. “It’s the adults job to worry for the kids, the other way around.” She turned her eyes over to the table, the coin pile there, and pursed her lips.
“However, my sweet boys,” she tapped one finger against her cheek thoughtfully, “If you really want to use your money to help make things easier for your parents and I…” She looked away from the table and to the kitchen, freshly cleaned as evidenced by the mop and bucket sitting next to the fridge. “How about we set up an emergency fund jar.”
Rosiepuff moved into the kitchen and began digging through her cupboards. The two boys followed her then started searching the lower cupboards. After a few minutes the older Troll gave a soft, happy cheer, presenting the large, clear glass jar. They returned to the table to scoop the coin pile into the jar.
“I wanted to buy ice cream.” Spruce said once they were done, frowning at the jar. John Dory scowled at him but their grandma chuckled.
She reached her paw into the jar and grabbed a handful from it, then dropped a few coins into Spruce’s smaller paw. It was more than he’d need to get the ice cream he wanted but the younger trolling did not look like he was about to complain. Spruce quickly ran off and out of the pod.
John Dory watched him go, frowning, his arms crossed. He looked up when Rosiepuff touched his shoulder. She grabbed his paw and pressed a few coins into his palm. “Go on, JD. You deserve some ice cream too.”
She ushered him out the door after his brother and waved as he began making his way up the branch.
It wasn’t the last time they performed for money. Rosiepuff and their parents did lay down rules for them since they chose to continue their performances: No performing on school nights; homework and school-related projects must be completed beforehand; while the majority of their earnings will go into the emergency jar, John Dory and Spruce will keep a percentage for themselves; and lastly, yet above all, the boys were not allowed to perform after dark.
Neither boy argued against the rules, if they did they probably wouldn’t have been allowed to perform at all. John Dory was just happy whenever he saw their fund jar after they finished a performance, seeing its contents increase. The first time they actually needed to use the money he practically glowed with pride, and lived off of that high for the rest of the week.
He and Spruce began rehearsing at home, their bedroom, the living room, or outside on the branch. They got good too. Real good. They were pretty popular by the time Clay started walking and showed interest in their rehearsals. Their parents told them to wait until Clay was in first grade before letting him properly join.
It was almost a year after he did join that the boys came home to find their parents with a new egg. A magenta one this time with purple spirals and a bright pink plume sticking out of the top. That egg hatched into Floyd. It felt like a repeat of Clay.
An unnameable discomfort curled in John's gut, even as he stared into sweet, magenta eyes when Floyd hatched. He tried to smile, tried to be happy about his new baby brother, amidst the excited coos and laughter of the adults. Apparently such discomfort didn't bother Spruce.
“Are we gonna go home with you guys now?” He asked.
The fall of joy was noticeable. Clay looked up with interest from where he was leaning over the wall of the hand-me-down playpen. Saffron and Chartreuse exchanged anxious looks, then they turned to Rosiepuff. The elder stared back at the pair evenly.
Saffron was the one to speak up, with a cough and patting Spruce’s violet hair. “Not yet buddy. But hopefully someday soon, alright?”
Spruce didn't look very happy about the answer but he nodded. Then he moved out of Saffron's reach and sat down by Clay.
John watched the adults worried as they all exchanged upset looks with each other. He didn't like that. He didn't like what it could mean.
So he focused on making sure they would be okay in Rosiepuff's pod. They, meaning his brothers. He picked up more on the housework; cleaning, laundry and a bit of cooking, under Rosiepuff's supervision of course. Floyd was a clingy baby, he always had to be held and cuddled and talked to. Whenever their grandma was too tired to hold him anymore, John was the first to volunteer. He made sure his brothers remembered to bathe, and dragged Clay into the bathroom when he felt less than willing to clean himself. He got praised for his actions, for helping, and for being a good big brother.
They still performed, John Dory, Spruce, and Clay. Fridays and Saturdays outside the market. They started to gain a following, even a few side jobs. They were pretty much doing cover songs but John wanted to start making something original. They would need a group name for that. He brought it with Spruce and Clay and they all spent the next few days coming up with different names. Somehow they ended up calling themselves BroZone, with an uppercase “z”. Well, there were groups with stranger names.
Rules got stricter when it came to their side jobs, performing at birthdays and whatnot. Take payment upfront, or at least half before the show and half after. Food and treats do not count as payment. Do not accept any manager offers without talking to their parents and/or grandma first. Be home before dark.
Their calendar soon enough was filled with events they could perform for. Of course, there was a renegotiation about performing on school nights and homework getting done. The boys were more available during the summer season when school was out.
John let Clay take over the choreography since he chose to join one of the dance classes. There he met and befriended Princess Viva. She became the troll he would bounce ideas off of that John and Bruce often got confused by, and she would help them rehearse when new moves were involved. She wasn't what John expected of the tribe princess, not in a bad way though. He and Spruce sometimes teased Clay about how close they were, Clay would get all flustered and beat them with couch cushions. Floyd laughing the whole time at how silly they were being.
When John finally started writing original songs, he thought they were corny and void of actual meaning. But it's what people liked, right?
He usually wrote when he was looking after Floyd. The trolling enjoyed being talked to even when he couldn't actually understand what was being said. But John quickly found out that Floyd could harmonize despite his age. Girl Baby Girl, his first attempt, and he was struggling to get the melody. Pacing in the living room and humming different notes but none sounding right. It wasn't until baby Floyd gave a sharp, demanding cry that John looked over at the playpen.
Tiny paws clinging to the pen wall, Floyd had his chin rest on its edge as he stared up at John. He opened his mouth and chirped repeatedly. It took John a moment but he began recognizing the different pitches in each chirp. The little guy was trying to copy him.
“Are you trying to sing?” John laughed. He approached the pen and picked up his brother. Floyd only gave him a toothless grin, seeming more happy to be held than anything. John demonstrated a two note vocalization and got excited that Floyd tried to copy him. It was a bit off, but what can you expect from a baby? They spent the whole afternoon on the living room floor working on it, then they showed off to Rosiepuff and their brothers at dinner.
Then there was another repeat. A blue egg with green and brown blotches, a rich blue tuft sticking from the top. At least they waited until Floyd was in grade seven. John didn't comment on the new egg, he didn't think he'd have anything good to say anyway, he just looked at Spruce. The younger stared back with a similar thought in his eyes. Clay was reluctant about having a new sibling but once he held the egg you could see how his mind had changed. And Floyd? He was the happiest out of all of them, maybe even happy in their steads. Every chance he got after their parents left the new egg with them, Floyd had his paws or tail wrapped around it. Reading it books or singing their songs to the egg. He would even try to carry their new sibling in his hair and give everyone a scare when he'd lose his balance.
“Stop sneaking the egg into your bed.” John told Floyd one night, one hand holding up his brother's comforter to reveal what the second lump was.
“But they'll get lonely.” Floyd whined as hugged the egg tightly. “It's not fair, you get to sleep next to them.”
Not true. John gave up his bed to Clay years ago, then they got a bunkbed once Floyd was old enough to sleep on his own. He just sleeps on a mattress on the floor now, next to the playpen with a blanket nest inside where the egg is supposed to be.
“No,” John said as he grabbed the egg and pried it from his younger brother's grasp. “We just don't want you rolling over and accidentally crushing them or dropping them on the floor. Okay?” Once he got the egg away from Floyd he gave it a look over, checking for potential cracks or soft spots. He ignored Floyd's offended huff, carrying their sibling to the playpen and setting them inside the nest, rearranging the blankets around it.
“You can sleep in my bed if you really want to sleep next to the egg.” He relented to the glare burning into his back.
“Really?” Floyd exclaimed excitedly. He didn't give John a chance to take back his offer before jumping from his own bed and onto the small, mostly bare mattress. John could only give a tired sigh. One night on the couch wouldn't hurt.
Trollstice, ever since Rosiepuff explained it to them as kids, has always been the holiday to dread. Whenever it was time to pack up the trollings into the Tree's trunk, John always made sure to grab things that would make the stays more comfortable for his brothers, he even made a list to help him remember. The books Clay was currently reading. Spruce’s favorite pillow. Floyd's headphones and music player. Of course some snacks too. Anyone with trollings too young to look after themselves, hatchlings, or even eggs were encouraged to stay within the trunk. John remembered the times his parents would hurry with him and Spruce in their arms to hide in the trunk, now here he was doing the same with his brothers. One hand dragging Clay along by the strap of his overalls, Floyd's hand in his other with Spruce on the younger troll's other side, and the egg hidden securely in his hair. A chaotic yet well practiced routine for them.
Rosiepuff would stay up in her pod where it was safe enough when the Bergens came to collect for their holiday. Saffron and Chartreuse would make their up to join her and they would all gather together after the Bergens had left. The trunk only had so much room and every year it seemed to get more crowded.
King Peppy and a few members of his Elder Circle greeted them at the primary entrance to the trunk.
“John Dory, good to see you boys made it.” The king greeted them as he scribbled something down on his clipboard. “What would we do without BroZone?”
John could only give a breathless chuckle as he pushed Clay and Floyd to follow Spruce inside. “We also have an extra this year.” He parted his hair enough to reveal their new sibling. Peppy nodded eagerly and scribbled down the new detail, letting John be to follow the others.
He hated being in the trunk. They all did, and went for everyone else that stayed there during Trollstice. Trollings complaining about how cramped and dark it was, unhappy hatchlings refusing comfort because of how loud and stressful the ordeal was, even parents and young adults like John and Spruce that were designated to take care of their younger siblings or neighbor's kids for the duration had a hard time finding any solace. But they were at least old enough to understand. Especially when there was a harsh thump from outside the Tree that shook their hiding place, making everyone clutch to someone. Then the muffled screaming, like every year. Trolls being taken.
Floyd would try to bury himself into John's fur, pressing his headphones into his ears. Spruce would keep Clay in his lap, hands over the younger's ears. Princess Viva would sit with them too, her face pressed into Clay’s stomach as he covered her ears too. And they would wait, and wait. He always hated the waiting, hated waiting to find out who was left, and who was taken. Hoping and praying that their parents were with their grandma, safe among the higher branches of the Tree. Assuring himself that they made it there before, they no doubt made it this time.
How horrifically wrong he was. After hours upon hours of waiting in the hot and cramped trunk listening to his fellow terrified troll, he and his brothers returned to Rosiepuff's pod to find only Rosiepuff, her eyes already red from crying.
Each of the boys had a different reaction to the realization. Spruce went and collapsed on the sofa, burying his head in his hands. Floyd ran to hug their grandmother and sob into her robe. Clay started shouting incoherently and John had to restrain him from leaving the pod to chase down the Bergens. He ended up having to tie Clay to one of the dining chairs until he wore himself out.
John gave the egg to Floyd for him to cuddle with while John and Rosiepuff went through the pod picking up toppled furniture and broken items from when the Bergen Chef kicked the Tree. Then he took over to prepare a dinner that none of them really wanted to eat.
That night, long after everyone had fallen into uncomfortable sleep. John snuck out of the pod and crept around the Tree to his parents' pod. He found every bit of furniture tossed around and knocked over, far worse than Rosiepuff’s things were. He moved carefully though his childhood home to his parents’ bedroom, passing the shut door of his and Spruce’s old bedroom. The bed was spilling off its frame, both bedside tables were tossed to different parts of the room, the standing wardrobe had broken through the wall separating their room from the other. John noted much of his mother's jewelry strewn across the soft carpet floor, glinting in the dim moonlight.
He started collecting things: the jewelry, a few articles of clothing, his dad's camping equipment, pictures from broken frames, scattered journals and other books from the bookshelf. Under their bed, John dug out a few photo albums and flipped through them before sticking them in his hair. He took the blankets from each of the beds but left the rest that were in the linens closet, the next family that moved in would need them, then he left. He didn't hide the things he took and none of his family asked any questions.
A few months later they all were getting worried. The egg was supposed to hatch a few weeks ago but there weren't any cracks, it hadn't even begun wiggling.
Clay theorized it might be a dud, not something that was unheard of but it was unusual when a couple already had children before. Not to mention there was a heartbeat, they all would hear it when they pressed an ear to the egg’s shell, and shining a light through it did show a body in there. Floyd asked if they might need help getting out, Rosiepuff assured him that the hatchling inside was big enough to get themselves out and that if anyone tried to crack the egg from the outside it would risk hurting the baby. They would just have to wait, no way around it.
John had just gotten out of the shower, hearing Spruce and Clay trying to help Floyd with his homework but mostly bickering with each other. He stepped into the main room to find Rosiepuff quietly working on a puzzle atop the folding table, the egg sitting beside her on the sofa in a nest of crocheted blankets. He looked around the surprisingly domestic situation, after Trollstice it had been hard returning to their normal routines, and smiled, walking towards the bookshelf on the other side of the room. Fingers skimmed over the spines of different books and albums until John found the one he wanted, a simple brown one made from softened tree bark, and pulled it out.
He whistled to get his brothers’ attention and waved them over. As they left the dining room, abandoning Floyd's homework, John moved around Rosiepuff's puzzle table and handed her the photo album. She looked at him curiously then sighed, a gentle smile gracing her sweet features. John and Spruce moved her table out of the way while she settled the book in her lap. Floyd tucked himself into her side, holding the egg in his lap like usual. Spruce took the mostly empty seat beside him and Clay climbed up on the back of the sofa. John sat on the arm of the sofa on Rosiepuff's other side, getting as comfortable as he could as their grandma opened the album.
It was their parents’ wedding album, as Rosiepuff would explain when Floyd asked. There were pictures of family and friends not even John had the chance to properly know: Chartreuse's younger sister and parents, a few friends; Saffron's old crew that somehow survived to adulthood according to Rosiepuff's funny side-stories, and Rosiepuff's deceased husband, the boys’ grandfather, Garf. One thing that John's brothers were shocked about was the sight of Baby John Dory in the family photos. Their parents, both sets of grandparents, and their lost aunt; John was there either looking confused or laughing.
“How come I never saw this?” Spruce demanded with offense.
John cackled. “You did when we were little, but you didn't understand that you weren't even an egg yet. You were so upset you weren't in any of the pictures.”
The rest of them giggled as Spruce flushed an indigo color and they continued going through the album, finding the written vows that Saffron and Chartreuse exchanged and a string of yarn that held their rings at the end. Then Clay jumped from his perch and ran to get the next album. They went through this one and saw more of John as a trolling and then Spruce. There were others that held the two in the pictures but slowly, almost unnoticeable the photos became solely of the two boys and family. Living family, that is.
The next one showed Clay's beginnings, school events and the like, Princess Viva in a couple. Then Floyd's appearance, some decent concert shots and a few taken backstage.
They were laughing at one freeze frame of Spruce losing balance and dropping Clay during a rehearsal when Floyd gave a shout.
“It's shaking!” He held out the egg, his grip looking unsteady. It looked like Floyd was the one shaking it, then they heard the crisp sound of a crunch, like stepping on a dead leaf in autumn.
“Put them on the floor! Carefully!” John shouted, somehow panicking. He snatched the decorative blanket from the back of the sofa, accidentally knocking Clay off in the process, and spreading it out on the carpet.
Floyd whined nervously so Spruce took the egg from him and set it down atop the soft fabric. The brothers all gathered around on the floor, their grandmother slinking down from the sofa to sit with them as the boys watched in awe. The tuft of blue fluff sticking out from the top trembled as the egg itself shuddered. There was another crunch sound, a crack spiderwebbed along its base. The egg toppled over and a tiny, slimy blue foot launched out of the crack, the boys began to cheer excitedly, encouraging their sibling to come out and meet everyone.
“Come on, little buddy,” John crept forward a bit, fighting back the urge to try helping them. “You can do it.”
The egg rolled over and a wet, tiny fist punched through the other side, they all cheered again.
“Almost there, baby,” Rosiepuff cooed. She had one hand on John's back as though she was also trying to stop him. “You're almost there.”
Another fist burst out of the egg and the entire shell fell apart, leaving a squirming infant bare to the world around them, light blue fur dampened by mucus. Their tiny face was scrunched with discomfort from the different temperature but slowly they blinked open their eyes. Big and blue, and quickly watering before giving a very high-pitched wail, the poor creature curling in on themself.
“Oh, oh, okay,” John picked up the hatchling, not bothered by the mucus matting their fur, and held them against his chest. He shushed and cooed at the tiny thing, letting a soothing purr rumble from within, something he didn't do often. John heard Rosiepuff tell one of the others to get a bowl of warm water and a clean rag.
Their new sibling calmed down once the mucus was cleaned away and they had been wrapped up in a warm blanket. During the cleaning process, John figured out the sex of the baby.
“Another brother, guys.” He announced to the rest. A brow raised when John saw Spruce begrudgingly drop a handful of coins into a smug Clay’s paw.
Floyd was sitting in front of John on the floor, staring at the now sleeping infant with awe. His eyes were practically sparkling.
“He's so small.” The young troll commented.
“Yup,” John agreed, opening up the overlap of the blanket a bit for him to see better. “You were that small too, once upon a time.”
“Can… Can I hold him?” Floyd looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.
“Not tonight, honeydew.” Rosiepuff strolled into the room from the kitchen, baby bottle in hand “Baby's gonna need his first feeding here real quick and it's gotten late. You and Clay need to get ready and go to bed, it's a school night.”
Both boys groaned their objections but Rosiepuff waved them off.
“None of that now. The next few months are going to be filled with sleepless nights, go get some while you can.” She passed the bottle to Spruce and began showing the two down the hall.
Spruce sat down beside John on the sofa and handed him the bottle. They stared quietly at the snoozing boy, peaceful for the moment.
“So… another one huh?” Spruce spoke, a blandness in his voice that hid the similar thoughts he and John shared since they were kids. John could only nod.
“Yup.” He sighed.
“Did mom and dad ever mention any names?” Spruce asked. “For when he hatched.”
John shrugged. He was often more focused on setting up concerts, writing songs, and making sure their brothers’ schoolwork was completed. He had no idea what their parents wanted to name their newest child.
“What do you think?” He asked Spruce. “It seems like the choice is up to us this time.”
“That's not a terrifying thought.” His brother snorted darkly, then he hummed with thought. “You were named after a fish; I got named after a tree; Clay is a material to make things… Floyd is, ah…”
“Some singer dad was a fan of way back when, I think,” John supplied. He gently pressed the nipple of the bottle to the baby's mouth, carefully encouraging him to take hold and drink.
“So Floyd is Floyd,” Spruce said with a settled nod. “I'm not sure what name would be good enough.”
John Dory leaned back, resting his head on the back of the sofa. Feeling the steady twitch of the bottle in his hand as the baby suckled on it, he let his eyelids fall shut. Names were a weird thing, now that he thought about it. Names were given to everything around them. Tree, rock, grass, root. Names were given to others too, those that were sentient. But those names are different, given a different meaning.
John Dory is fish but before it was the name of a fish there was a ballad of some hero in some distant land named John Dory. Spruce is a type of tree but also a term to redecorate or add a decoration(i.e. to spruce up a specific area). Clay is something that can be molded and shaped to create something different. And Floyd is someone soulful, thoughtful. Names gave a purpose and a destiny.
Purpose and a destiny. Living the life Trolls live in the Tree, in a cage, you need to be steady and strong like the Tree. Or at least like the branches of it that held everyone's homes where it is difficult to reach. It's been a good few generations since the last time a branch broke.
“How about Branch?” John opened his eyes and turned to look at Spruce.
The other troll sat upright, blinking rapidly, he must've been in deep thought too. “Branch?” He asked. “Just Branch?”
John nodded his head slowly, watching as Spruce tapped a finger to his chin in contemplation.
“I guess it's not the most out-there name I've heard. Simple, single vowel.”
“Easy to yell if he starts getting into trouble?”
Spruce laughed, lightly punching John's shoulder. “What do you mean “if”? You do remember who he's related to, right?”
John chuckled with him, trying not to disturb the hatchling in his arms. “How could I? Should of had leashes for you guys.”
Spruce scoffed and rolled his eyes. Yea, John knew he wasn't any better but he's not about to admit it to any of his brothers.
The younger troll leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at their baby brother. “Branch, huh? Sounds good. His egg did have brown blotches. Makes sense.”
John nudged him with his foot, not a kick but a touch. “You should get some sleep too. You still need to graduate sometime this year.”
Spruce scoffed again yet didn't argue, getting up and brushing the invisible dust from his sweats. He turned one final time to John. “You want me to do the morning feeding?”
“If you beat Floyd to it, Branch is all yours.” John answered with a smile.
Spruce grinned back then followed after the others down the hall, leaving John to watch over the small being in his grasp. He pulled away the emptied bottle and lifted Branch up to his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. He was still purring, he realized. That was probably why Branch had been so calm since being cleaned, his own tiny purrs barely audible over John's. At least he was comfortable.
John pressed his nose to Branch’s head, taking in the weirdly nice smell that hatchlings always seemed to have and relaxing further into the sofa.
“You're safe, Branch, and I'll always make sure of that.” He promised softly. “For you and our brothers.”
John Dory awoke to a freezing cold splash. Launching upward, his first instinct was to yell at Clay for throwing the water balloon, then he noticed his surroundings. He wasn't in Rosiepuff's pod anymore, and hasn't been for the whole night judging by the rising dawn. His previous night's actions coming to haunt him with it.
He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, letting the ache clear away any lingering tiredness, and groaned. His body ached, probably from getting caught up in that stupid vine but sleeping outside on another branch certainly did not help. Rubbing his hands down his face, John looked around at his makeshift campsite. Not that it was much of a campsite at all, since you can't exactly start a fire on a bare branch, it was just the bag of camping equipment and the worn out, old sleep bag he had pulled out of it. The branch he took over was small enough that there weren't any pods hanging from it, which was good. He didn't want to have to explain what he was doing there so early to any residents.
John stared at the bag placed near his feet, thinking. Thinking of his and his brothers’ fight last night, thinking of everything over the years that had led up to it. It all began because he wanted to help his family, because he wanted to make sure that they would be okay. But he lost sight of that. It was because of him that they failed at Harmony.
Pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, resting his head atop those. His tail lashed back and forth behind him as his agitation grew, he’s pretty sure he knocked his pillow off of the branch. Until finally he couldn't stop himself.
“Ugh, fine. Fine!” John shoved himself out of the sleeping and started rolling it up. All the while scowling at the bag like it insulted him. “I'm going back. F*#$ing cupcakes and rainbows.” He strapped the old bag to the pack and pulled the bag onto his back, then he started his way up the branch towards the Tree, grumbling the whole time to himself. Somewhere farther below some one cheered about pillows falling from the sky.
The pod was quiet, almost silent, when he walked in, there was the smell of hot tea brewing, blueberry and lemon. John found his grandma in the kitchen, standing at the stove stirring something in a pot as she hummed softly to herself. He watched her for a movement before clearing his throat, seeing the old woman jump with surprise.
“Oh frosting, Dory!” She exclaimed in a hushed voice, glaring at him affectionately as she pressed a hand over her chest. “You shouldn't scare me like that. I'm old, it isn't good for my heart.”
John chuckled, stepping closer towards her and hugging her side. “Sorry, Grandma.”
Rosiepuff hummed calmly, resting her head on top of his and patting his cheek. They stood like that for a moment, then she straightened up and moved the pot from the hot burner to one that wasn't one. John saw that she was making oatmeal. “I thought you were going to hike the Neverglade Trail, sweetie.”
His ear twitched at her teasing, as if she knew there was a chance he would come back. “Yea, well,” he sighed, one hand rising to scratch his ear. “I guess I changed my mind.”
Rosiepuff sent a look in his direction, a specific look that he couldn’t put an exact name to but understood deep in his gut. He decided to pretend that he didn't see it. Turning around and returning to the dining area, he shrugged off his pack then set it down in one of the chairs.
“Grandma?” John perked up at the small voice. Branch was awake already?
“In the kitchen, baby.” Rosiepuff answered the call. A few moments later the small trolling round the corner, one hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped in the doorway when he noticed John standing by the table, he tried a weak smile. The little guy blinked and the waterworks started instantaneously.
“JOHNNY!” Branch wailed as he ran towards John, wrapping his short arms around one of John's legs.
John scooped the trolling up into his arms beforere the tears and snot could soak into his cargo shorts. He hugged Branch in a tight grip, cooing, “Hey Bitty B, I'm here. I'm here.”
Branch buried his face into John's neck, whimpering and sniffling, his little claws jabbing through the thin t-shirt John wore. John gently patted his back to help soothe him. He carried Branch into the living room and sat down on the sofa, keeping him snug in his arms. His ear twitched hearing the trolling whimper something more coherent but he couldn't quite catch the words.
“What was that Bitty?” He asked, loosening his grip.
Branch pushed himself off of John's shoulder, kind of sitting on the arms that held him, and wiped his nose with the back of his paw, his ears drooping sadly. “I'm sorry for ruining the concert.”
John frowned, confused by the trolling that was refusing to look at him now. What in the world would make him think that the disaster was his fault?
“B- no, Bitty that wasn't your fault,” John pulled up his legs and crossed them over each other on the cushion beneath the pair, letting Branch sit in his lap. He kept one paw on his baby brother as his other paw went to comb through Branch’s hair. “Why do you think that it was?”
John watched as Branch pushed his head into his palm. Branch’s paws grabbed onto his forearm as stared at their matching light blue fur, his brows furrowed in thought. Then, after a moment, he looked up with those heartbreakingly sad eyes. “It was my first time, no one was used to dancing with me.”
Poor John just about broke down right there, almost sobbing out his apologies that not only Branch deserved but the rest of their brothers too. Instead he pulled Branch into another tight hug, tight enough that he heard him give a small squeak of discomfort before releasing him again.
“Branch, listen to me,” he held the trolling's face in his palms, speaking in a firmer voice to hold Branch’s attention. “What happened last night was not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong and your performance was perfect. Okay?”
Despite the hands holding his head in place Branch nodded, but he still had an upset expression. “But what went wrong? Why were you and Clay and Spruce fighting?”
“That…” John sighed, letting his paws fall from Branch’s face to his sides. Was he wearing Floyd's vest? “That was my fault. I messed up the show and I took it out on you guys. I shouldn't have done that.”
Branch tilted his head in confusion. At least he wasn't close to crying anymore. “How did you mess up?” He asked curiously.
John coughed, clearing his throat, to hide his embarrassment. He is such a hypocrite. But that face was adorable despite how it was demanding answers and John is having a hard time trying to resist. He sighed again.
“You remember all the times I would tell Clay to stop improvising his choreography during performances?” Branch nodded. “What would I say?”
“If we didn't do it in rehearsal, don't do it in a show.” Branch echoed the specific phrase John had to create to get it through Clay’s thick hair and skull.
“And do you know what I did last night?” John asked, smirking a little as the realization dawned on Branch’s face. He was so smart for a two-year-old. They should probably enroll him into the early-age classes after they all had a sit down and talked things out.
“You did something we didn't do in rehearsal!” The trolling exclaimed. Then he beat his little paws on John's chest. “Bad Johnny, bad!”
He feigned pain at the beating but ended up laughing, hearing Branch start giggling too. “I know, I know. I'm sorry, Bitty B.” He gently headbutted the trolling and gave him a mock pleading look. “Can you forgive me?”
Branch acted as though he considered John's request then nodded. “Okay, but only if you can bring the others back.”
John had to pause at that. Bring them back? What did he mean “bring them back”? Did Spruce, Clay, and Floyd leave too? They weren't supposed to do that! When John left that was supposed to make things better for them! Is that why the pod was so quiet?!
John practically leapt up from the sofa, startling Branch with the movement as he immediately grabbed onto John's shoulder and climbed into his hair. John sped into the kitchen where Rosiepuff was putting the finishing touches on three bowls of oatmeal.
“They left?” He questioned incredulously. She just let three of her grandsons leave without protest? Two of them still being underage?
His grandmother hummed thoughtfully much to his rising irritation. “Yes, they did. Not long after you did, I suppose.”
“And you just let them go?!”
Rosiepuff raised an authoritative brow at him. “Spruce is an adult, he can come and go as he pleases. Clay is good friends with the princess, I figured he went to stay there for the night. And Floyd has a few friends that live near the Roots so I assumed the same for him. They will come back in their own time.”
“And if they don't?” John countered, his tail lashing out behind him.
“They will.” Rosiepuff said, speaking with all the confidence in the world as she carried two of the bowls to the table and set them down. “You came back after all. Now, sit down and eat. Branch come out of your brother's hair.”
John obeyed the elder troll, biting back his argument, taking the chair closest to him, and Branch jumped down into the chair beside him, accepting the bowl that was placed before him happily. Rosiepuff returned into the kitchen and came back with the third bowl, sitting down at the head of the table. They ate together in silence.