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UNSPOKEN
A Dreamworks Trolls Fanfic by C. Prince

The Bunker

Branch asked her to land just outside Troll Village, at the trail to the lookoff that connected to the bunker route. He slid off his flyer bug. "Let's go for a walk," he said.

He ignored the trail, choosing instead to meander through the scenery of Troll Village. They wandered, her hand in his, down well-worn paths and around mushrooms. They stopped on the peak of one of the root bridges and looked out over the water. Orange evening sky was giving way to darkness. Tiny lantern plants at the ends of the bridge flowered awake, emitting a luminescent glow.

Branch was content to lean on the bridge rail with her, pressing close and watching the fireflies. He was thinking about something. Whatever it was, maybe a couple turns around the path and he'd say it. For now he was quiet.

They started up their walk again, towards the base of the troll tree. Branch liked to take her home if they were together at the end of the day like this. Sometimes he stayed for a little bit, drank tea, sat outside, read. He'd cooked dinner on a couple of occasions and put lots of effort into spoiling her. It made her excited to send him off with a lunch she'd put together, or to invite him over for a meal she'd made herself. It was easy to tell he loved it, as much as he loved being praised and given affections like hair brushing and cuddles.

When he came for those visits it made her realize how much she wanted him to stay, in the long run. But each trip to her pod always ended the same. He went back to the bunker.

Overhead, lights winked on as trolls settled in for the night. Rainbow pods lit the underside of the tree canopy like festival lanterns. On the other side of the trunk colored beams would be coming from the club where DJs spun songs on their wooferbugs, but here, the only sounds were muffled chatter of people walking skyward paths and clatter of dinnerware from a low hanging pod. Further up, guitar strings picked a warm tune. The troll beside her was silent.

There were some things about Branch that weren't going to change. A personality could shift a lot over the years, like a tree that grew more and more rings of complexity with age. Some parts grew fast. Others were slow, decades-long adventures. But there always seemed to be a true self at the heart of it, something that came closer to the surface the more a person was willing to embrace it. And, well, Branch, he was always going to be a quieter troll that needed space.

If she couldn't accept that, she should have ended this before it began. Because Branch wasn't flexible like a flower. He didn't bend easily to the times, or to the whims of other people. He was a tree with deep roots that grew and grew, spreading its branches to support all the leaves, blossoms, and fruit it had to offer.

She wasn't going to ask him to give up his space, because he needed it. She wasn't going to smother him. And she knew it would smother her to live the way he did in isolation. They couldn't live together.

But she also couldn't let him go. She didn't want to.

She made her decision.

Exhale.

"Well?" Branch asked.

"Huh?"

"You were thinking really hard about something. Then you sighed. I hope it's good news."

"Oh! Yeah. It is. Don't worry about it," she said.

"Me? Not worry?" He looked around, as if she might be talking to someone else. "Me?"

She smiled and nudged him. He bumped back, so she returned the favor and jumped out of reach. It escalated into a short chase around one of the lantern-lit circular paths, where he kept trying to snatch her hand for holding and she wouldn't let him, both of them laughing.

At least for the times he was in the village they'd be able to have fun together. Maybe he'd stay for a while tonight and read.

Poppy gave him her hand. They walked around the base of the troll tree on the way to her pod, the grass on her feet turning cool as the last heat of the day disappeared. Stars peeped through gaps in the leaves above.

"I've been thinking about the bunker," he said.

"Cooper said you were expanding it."

"It's not quite finished, but yes."

Poppy had a bit of a fear about why he was doing it. "You're not… hoping I'll live there, are you?"

Branch's reaction was so sudden and emotive it startled her. "Pppsssshh! Haha! Ha!" he laughed. "You? Underground? Poppy, you wouldn't last two weeks down there!"

"Well gee, thanks for the vote of confidence." Somehow this was offensive. She could totally live underground if she had to.

He was still chuckling. "Sorry. I didn't mean… no. No, I'm not hoping you'll live there. C'mon. Be reasonable. Do you really think I want the whole village at my – our – doorstep every morning?"

"Oh so now it's our doorstep," she huffed.

Branch rubbed the back of his head. "Well yeah, sure. You can come over any time you want, you know."

Oh. She didn't feel so indignant now. Actually she felt special. Ugh, Branch.

"What I was trying to say is I'm going to update the bunker's emergency shelter function. Trust me, after the couple times the village has been down there I have a lot of notes on how to improve it. Do you know how easy it is for kids to get into just about anything? Or baby birds for that matter? What a nightmare that was."

"So that's what you've been expanding for?"

"Nope, that's a future project. Right now I'm doing a security upgrade. You guys break in often enough I realized my survival bunker could be compromised at any time. What if I got a Cloud Guy infestation? What if there's a flood? What if moles tunnel through the walls, eat all my rations, and use up all my party supplies?"

"That's a little extreme."

"Is it though? Is it? My point is, it's too risky to have everything in one place."

Their walk had taken them to the building site she'd approved on the quiet side of the tree. A large leaf tarp draped off the area. Branch's hair reached up and unfastened a trick string holding it all together.

"I should have expanded a long time ago, but, well, let's just say I finally found a reason to do it."

The leaves ruffled to the ground.

There, nestled between two roots, was a little house with an arched door and circular windows and a roof. A unique house unlike any other in the village, same as the troll himself.

"Thanks for walking me home," Branch said. Then he kissed her hand.

She'd been wrong.

Nothing was more important to Branch than his bunker, the home he'd spent his life building, the place he felt safe, the place he could get away. And she was wrong. It wasn't the most important thing. Not at all.

After all those years the troll who wanted to be left alone changed his mind. For her.

It was her.

Tears welled in her eyes while she stared at the impossible house. She was crying. Branch reeled her into a hug. She sniffled, face pressed into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"You know I love you, right?" he murmured.

She squeezed against him, wishing she could melt away. He'd never said it aloud so openly.

"It's okay. You don't have to say it back. I just wanted you to know, is all."

Her heart couldn't take it. It started to beat again, after all this time.

"Do you want to see inside?"

She nodded, downy fuzz rubbing her face. She couldn't let go of him.

Branch held her and waited, brushing his hand through the back of her hair the way she loved. Roiling emotions calmed down. She relaxed. He led her to the door.

He'd stayed with her through thick and thin.

"Pass me your hair," Branch said softly. He held her strands against his and demonstrated how to make the shape. "This is the key to get in. There's a spare in the hidden panel over there." He swished his key into the door and unlocked it.

He'd sang for her, danced with her, hugged her, kissed her.

Branch flicked the glowshrooms inside, sending soft light over the living room, its fireplace and circular rug, furniture and walls stocked with books and trinkets. The kitchen overlooked a garden. A short hall on the other side of the living room led to a bathroom and bedroom. His plush crocodile was on the bed, the covers rumpled around it.

He'd given her everything he had. His loyalty, his strength, his passion, his love.

Branch showed her the nook with the coded entry and taught her the password. The steps led underground to a workshop. Tools lined the walls and work tables, some organized, others mixed in with projects in various stages of completion. Soon the pantry would be full of jams and jellies, canned fruits and veggies, pickles, preserves, and dried herbs.

He was building this to last. A life with her.

They returned to the living room. One of the shelf slots was especially colorful, full of photos of Branch and his friends. In front was an image of her together with him. The shelf below that held his card collection.

They'd been drawn to each other even then.

"What do you think?" he asked, wanting to make her happy. Wanting her to know he was always there.

"I love you, Branch," she said.

And she watched it happen. She watched his smile broaden, his ears tip up, sparkles glitter over his cheeks, his eyes lighting up with stars. "I love you too, Poppy."

They embraced before the emotion overflowed, and she took a moment to admire the steady sky blue of his gaze, no longer searching because he knew. He knew. She poured all the feelings of her heart into a firm, unbroken kiss. In return she received the devotion Branch had been waiting to give. He squeezed her back gently while they held each other, lips together, turning to a slow dance with music only they could hear. She felt the light inhale and exhale of each breath against her skin while the intimate connection lived on in the house beneath the troll tree.

When the kiss ended he rested his forehead against hers while they continued to rock together, swaying in a slow circle. Sparkles of pink and blue twinkled as they floated down from above.

"Poppy," Branch said. "Would you… stay with me tonight?"

Her heart fluttered at the thought of sharing a bed with him. "Yeah. I'll get ready and come back, okay?"

"Okay…" he said dreamily, reluctant to let her go. His hands slid along her arms as she slipped away.

She closed the door and stepped out into the night as a glowing, sparkling beacon. Was this real? It felt so impossibly strong. She couldn't believe this was happening. Soon she would wake up, the lovely dream fading away as she began her day.

Her feet carried her over treetop paths, the smooth feeling of hardwood floors. The softness of her pod echoed the rug in his living room. She had her pajamas on now, and this was still real, it was still happening. Cut tiles of acorn cap as a roof. Her imagination couldn't make that up; only one troll thought that way, and it wasn't her.

Light flowed into the night through circular windows. The doorknob turned easily, still unlocked.

Branch lounged in the chair beside the sofa with his feet up, reading a thin purple book with no title. When he stood to reshelve it she admired his long sleeved, button down blue and white striped pajamas. He looked both dapper and adorable.

She had a permanent blush at this point, but then, so did he. She looked at the floor and noticed what else he was wearing.

"Are those bunny slippers?"

His gaze flicked down to the white loafers with long ears and cute curly smile faces. "Nope. Look like normal slippers to me."

She laughed and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom. "C'mon, you."

"I do have a name. Have we met yet?"

She stole a kiss. "Does that ring any bells?"

"Hm. I think I might be starting to remember something. Better do that again." This time he kissed her, warm and soft.

"Ohhh, right," Poppy said. "Bark, was it?"

Branch's eyes sparkled at the memory. "Gee, you haven't called me that in ages."

She bopped his nose with a finger. "Because somebody wouldn't tell me his name. Just be glad my dad didn't go with his other guess."

"What?"

"Bite."

"Pff," Branch said. "Who would name their kid Bite?"

"Exactly. Bark it is." Poppy bounced onto the now made-up bed, laughing. She folded back the covers and scuttled under.

Branch shuffled off his bunny slippers. "Good thing we're going to sleep or you'd be calling me that all night."

The weight of the bed shifted when he climbed in. Poppy watched him lie down beside her. "Who says we're going to sleep?" she joked, still feeling silly.

Branch wore a big grin. "Bark. If he lets any rambunctious princesses in here it'll be the death of him."

"The little death, maybe," she said. Poetic and naughty.

His eyebrows shot up. "You're sharp tonight."

"I've had a lot of practice with a certain witty troll."

He wiggled closer. "You should introduce us sometime."

"One of you is enough. I don't know what I'd do with two."

Branch's voice dropped low and suggestive. "Think of all the fun we could have."

Feisty! Poppy gasped at the outlandish innuendo and tried to push away, but it was too late. Branch had his arm over her. He pulled her against his chest. She squeaked with giggles and wiggled, but he held her fast.

"Nope," Branch said. "You're not going anywhere. It's rude to leave a sleepover before the sleep is over."

"Haha! Branch!" She resisted, but the flannel against her face and the heart beating beyond it were calling. Slowly she relaxed. The arm over her loosened and Branch tucked his head above hers. She cozied up to his warm, solid body. Tranquility draped over her. For a while they lay together, calm and restive.

"I never knew life could be this good," he whispered.

"I knew there was someone special under all those layers. I didn't know it would be you."

Poppy rolled over so her back was against him, and he hummed happily, melding himself around her. Sleepy kisses trailed along the side of her face where he nuzzled in for the night. His arm came to rest over her belly and she was blanketed with a sensation of pure serenity, safety, and love. Awareness of everything but that feeling faded. Branch fell asleep and took her with him.

When she woke the dream was still going.

Dawn filtered through partially drawn curtains in Branch's bedroom. The door was closed, muting the sizzling and hum-singing beyond. A mellow, savory aroma announced she was in for more special treatment.

She was in love with Branch.

Her heart pulsed its quiet rhythm. Even a lost heart could be regained; sometimes it just took the right person to find it. All she had to do was plant her troll gem and it would manifest as crystallized love, proof that she could share with Branch so that he knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to be with him.

She got up and stretched, today's responsibilities far, far beyond the soothing layers of fuzzy pajamas, breakfast smell, and song.

The kitchen was full of an energetic, overjoyed Branch.

"I see the sun's finally up," he said with a quick peck to her cheek before sweeping back to the stovetop, dancing in place while he poured chopped veggies and a handful of cheese over two omelettes, folding them over.

His happiness was infectious. She couldn't stop saying it. They would be saying it all the time from now on. "I love you!"

If it was possible for Branch to beam any brighter in his striped pajamas, he did. "I love you too." He plated the omelettes, drizzled creamy sauce over top, and added a sprig of parsley. He served them up and lifted the acorn cap on the table to reveal cute little hotcakes, singing while he did.

I love you too
I love you too
Oh through and through
Everything you do

I'll be your tight squeeze
You'll be my queen bee
I'll make you honey
All golden sunny

He poured honey over the hotcakes.

I'll bring you flowers
And dance for hours
Because I'm buzzin'
For extra lovin'
Oh yes I'm buzzin'
For extra lovin'

Branch pulled his chair back with swagger and sat. The black and yellow bands striped over his hair gradually faded back to normal.

What a playful showoff. She couldn't keep the mirth out of her voice. "Nobody will believe me if I tell them you did that." She stretched her hair around the side of the table and Branch accepted the invitation. Blue and pink wrapped around each other.

"You should try telling everyone," he said. "I wouldn't mind sharing my role as the village crazy."

She smiled through a mouthful of honey and hotcake. "You're not crazy."

"Oh I'm definitely crazy." Branch lifted a piece of omelette to his mouth. "Crazy in love."

x x x

It was late into the morning when she got back to her pod. For the final time she cut a strand of hair, tied it around her gem, and planted it, eager to see the seedling sprout and flourish. It was a slow and patient thing, but at this point she'd waited so long and made so many attempts it was hard not to get jazzed up and continuously check for a sprout.

Bedtime cuddles and kisses (often fiery ones) continued, sometimes at his place and sometimes at hers, yet still her gem grew nothing. That made her nervous. She knew her feelings were real. They were definitely there, so what was going on?

She started to sense something was wrong. Something was wrong with her. Like maybe she was…

Broken.

No, that was silly. Everything was amazing. It was incredibly frustrating this was still a problem. That's all.

The next time she was in the Bergentown castle throne room, Poppy couldn't sit still. Bridget was talking about – something – and Poppy switched the order of the colored cushions again. Pink on the left, then two blue, then white, and… or maybe… she started stacking them into a pyramid.

"Hey Bridge, how do bergen couples prove they love each other?"

"Um, well, they buy gifts, spend time together, say 'I love you.' Is that not what you guys do?"

"No we do that too. But when trolls plan to commit they exchange pieces of their hearts."

Bridget's eyes widened. "Literally?"

"I take it you don't have that tradition."

"That's not even possible for a bergen. You'd die."

"Wha? How do you have kids then?"

Poppy returned to Trollberg with loads of horrible revelations about bergen relationships. Well, in a way they were beautiful because they relied purely on trust. Poppy trusted her love was true, so she could be like a bergen and love Branch without proof. He'd said that was fine, before, and he wasn't desperate for a proposal now. She felt way better when she considered it that way.

But bergen reproduction? Sex was required, which was weird. After that the process was as bizarre as their economy. And here she'd thought the rare bergen or two was just fat in an unusual way. Good thing she'd never said anything.

That did mean Melissa and Gurble were having a baby, though. Fun!

Or maybe not…

Yikes.

Perhaps the rising numbers of new bergen babies was the reason for Bridget's leadership stress. Bridget hadn't improved since last time. Her hair was as frazzled as her nerves.

Poppy recounted the money at the base of the Trollberg tree. The math didn't add up. There should be more than this.

"Creek, have the trolls been sharing the money?"

"Not that I know of, why?"

"How many bergen students have you taught so far?"

Creek rubbed the back of his neck and cast his gaze to the floor. "Can't rightly say I kept track of that."

He wouldn't have. This was Creek.

Ripple and Creek weren't together anymore, so Poppy asked a different troll to tally the accounts from now on. It was fine if the trolls shared money, but she was curious to see where it went. In this case there could even be too much sharing if all the money disappeared before they could pay for the fence.

Poppy spent the night in Trollberg and wished Branch was there. The trolls didn't sense it, but she did: there was unease and tension among her bergen friends. Family issues, they said, relatives coming to stay in town. Poppy saw newcomers on occasion in the streets, well-dressed, colorful bergens with nice teeth and friendly dispositions. They all spoke the language but once or twice she'd heard unrecognizable conversations.

Maybe there were more bergens than usual.

All of the Trollberg residents were happy, though, so she returned to Troll Village and shifted her focus to friendship matching villagers with bergens. Life partied on.

x x x

She was sound asleep in her pod when something settled on her shoulder and the words "Poppy hey" blearily stumbled through fuzzed consciousness. "Hey, Poppy. Poppy."

His voice.

"Mmmnh. Branch? What's wrong?"

The shoulder touch went away and the bed shifted. Branch's familiar snuggle wrapped her up from behind, but it was desperate and he kept pawing at her, trying to get as close as possible. She was awake now. He was trembling. Her stomach turned.

"Nightmare. Had to make sure you were okay," he said, face mashed into the back of her neck.

She took the large hand wrapped around hers and held it to her lips, hoping to calm him down. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

The shaking stopped and Branch quit trying to burrow himself against her. Eventually he heaved a big exhale. "Sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He was silent. Well, that was okay too. Poppy closed her eyes and waited for the dip in breathing that came when he got sleepy. Then she'd wiggle to get him to scooch to his side of the bed.

He didn't fall asleep, though. He held her for a while before his soft night voice picked up. "It's rare but I still get nightmares about then. They take grandma, my family, and everyone. They take you—" he choked off.

"Is that… what happened to your parents? I never did ask if your crocodile was from them."

Branch stiffened. Then he said, "Please don't be mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"My brother made Crocko for me."

She could hear the wedge crickets trilling far, far below. A brother. He'd never told anyone. Would he even be willing to discuss it?

"Did you have any other siblings?" she asked, quiet into the dark.

"No. Just the one."

"What was his name?"

"Gary."

This whole time...

Poppy rolled over and sought out Branch's features with her hand. She felt her way up to his hair and stroked it the way he found relaxing. Branch pressed his face to her chest. "He would've had a family by now, Poppy, he...

"We used to play together. He'd sketch out the craziest ideas for toys, and we'd try to build them. He always talked about how he wanted to make others happy, how important it was to create happiness. He was so sure we could invent something that would bring joy to even the bergens. I… I really believed him."

"Oh, Branch." She kept stroking his hair. "I'm so sorry. I thought..." that he'd gone crazy from solitude. "You used to call him your son. Do you remember that?"

"I built the remote. It felt like the closet thing to a family I'd ever have."

Lonely. She hoped to cotton candy clouds he no longer felt that way. She nuzzled what she could reach of the troll cuddled tight against her, planting little kisses of comfort on his ear and forehead. "But you have us now. The village is your family. And you have me."

"I'm glad I do."

He knew he wasn't alone.

"That's why you don't talk to Gary anymore," she realized. In fact, the last time Branch had gone on patrol all he'd said was he needed to get his 'remote.'

Gary was gone.

Poppy felt like crying. If Branch wasn't going to, she would for him. All of the village defenses and fun gizmos that had come in handy – the whole time they'd been named in honor of a brother long gone.

"When you first started talking to me, it was hard to face my own colors again. I needed someone to be there, someone who understood. And to make sure no one else would get taken. That was Gary."

x x x

Branch wasn't done dropping shockers on her.

A few days later she was in the middle of a ribbon cutting when Cooper came tearing through the leaves. "Poppy, come quick! Hurry!"

On scene the first thing she saw was the fearful crowd and a large mound of black feathers. The royal flyer bug and her mate huddled nearby, accompanied by a brilliant adult Bird of Paradise. All three creatures had their attention turned to the main event.

Within the crowd a wide band of Branch's hair cordoned off a circle. There, in the center of the grass, a small body lay motionless.

x x x

Branch recklessly jumped off Lifesaver midair, using his hair to catch the ground before he slammed into it. He rushed a wall around the fallen figure. "Guy! Get Dr. Moonbloom!"

Black and yellow feathers littered the ground from the fight. The dark thing that attacked his bird wasn't moving anymore.

Poppy outran the doctor. He lifted the wall to let her in.

"Don't move him," Branch said.

She knelt by the body and looked at the golden glitter skin, the gem embedded on its stomach, and the wings.

"Branch, this is a troll."

There are no music strings in this world. World Tour canon doesn't apply.

I am taking a hiatus on UNSPOKEN for a few weeks so I can work out the story's conclusion. The end scene here is the beginning of the next chapter; I'll move it there when I start posting again. In the meantime I'll be publishing Trolls doodles on my Tumblr.