HOME | DD

Description
-New Troll’s POV-

It was strange, being here. Your name is (*New* First) (*New* Last) and you seemed to be of great importance to the Grand Highblood. Which is very worrying. When he first saw you, you were quite certain something about yourself had made him angry and would be culled quickly for sure. Instead, he ordered the guards to take you back. Then, not too many nights later, you were moved into a new cell, this one newly built, furnished, and in his throne room.

Other then a persistent chill, there was surprisingly nothing you could ask for. Food was provided, the bed was comfy and retained your body heat well, and there were other things, like books and plush toys, to hold your amusement. At the same time, it was utterly terrifying. This was the Grand Highblood! Your blood should have been on his walls the minute you entered the room.

But thinking back on it... The blood on his walls looked old and faded. Like he could no longer bring himself to decorate his hive with the various blood colors of each troll unfortunate enough to land here. Yet here you were, treated like a troll princess, while still being a captive.

Time passed and with it, a few sweeps too. You’d had begun to learn more about him and even, surprise!, could barely find reason to fear him. The fear never completely left, of course. He was still a subjuggulator and often enjoyed watching trolls suffer or even give them a beat down of his own. These violent actives always reminded you of who you were flushed with (it certainly was embarrassing to admit, yet the red feels were there) and how dangerous he was. Yet, even with all that culling, it was hard to hate him when he clung to you and nuzzled his face in your hair while you listened to his heartbeat.

It wasn’t long before the Summoner appeared in the throne room. For whatever reason, GHB wanted you to ignore the chatter that was bound to happen and read instead, but curiosity peaked your interest and you sat beneath the door instead, listening to the shuffle of feet, the cling of chains, and murmuring of a small crowd that had come to witness the event.

“So,” you heard the Summoner remark (eyes shifting around the room, though you didn’t know). “Where’s (Name)? Did she ditch this filth already?” You looked up at the small window, as if to see what was going on. (Name)? Who was that? An old flame of some sort? The question was unanswered, instead the sound of club hitting face (and was that the crack of bone?) shot through the air.

“Shut up, motherfucker.” Highblood said quietly, voice burning with a rage that made even your skin crawl. Hearing him yell was terrifying, but somehow, him talking in softer tones made him even more of a threat.

“Oh? You never answered my question... Where is (Name)?!” The Summoner certainly had some bravery, to yell at the Grand Highblood like that. Another smack, now with a sicken crunch as something broke (probably the ribs or a leg).

“SHE’S DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER.” You covered your ears in a rush, cringing at his loudest bout of rage yet (it wasn’t on that line of screaming) yet. “STAY UP WITH THE FUCKING PROGRAM YOU PIECE OF LOWBLOOD SHIT.” Another crack, this time, it had to be the ribs, most likely with his foot. The crunch was rather muted. Gaining a little handful of courage, you slid up the door and peered out through the window-bars to look.

You’d never seen the Summoner before, just was told of him as a child by your lusus and heard plenty about him. His once beautiful wings were tattered and oozed brown blood, as did his swollen face-flesh and probably his ribs, if one cared to look. Without the injuries, he might have been rather handsome. Though it was a well known fact Marquise had his flushed quadrant filled.

Much to your shock, his eyes rolled up and locked with yours. He grinned and took his gaze back up to the Highblood. Oh fuck- “So, what’s she then? A little plaything? Replacement for (Name)?” GHB spun around and caught sight of you before you had the chance to drop down. It was no use doing so now, he’d be angry anyways. He did indeed give a soft glare (*WHY DID YOU NOT FOLLOW MY SIMPLE ORDERS?*) and turned back to the lowblood.

“That is NONE of your motherfucking concern. Let’s get you half dead and over with.” With that, you watched the spectacle, for the first time without once looking away. They ended up not killing him and tossed him a good length outside for Marquise to come fetch later like a bag of trash (so you heard, anyways) and you were left to sit on your bed and simply wonder, “Why? Who was (Name) anyways? Why would they not fully kill him?”

Time ticked on, however. You aged, a bit more quickly then the Grand Highblood, of course but nothing really changed. There was the slightly embarrassing topic of your pailings together and the movement of your room to his, but life remained quiet and peaceful. Well, as close as one could get with the GHB being a matesprite, anyways. Since the attack on the Summoner, you found it no longer hard to watch the beatings of other trolls, as long as the blood never got on you. He was pleased to keep it this way.

Then, the Vast Glub happened. Caste by caste, trolls all over fell. You almost wished you had been in the lower sections of rust blood. The dramatics of waiting for the Glub were almost as painful as when the wave finally did hit your caste. It was what you imagined your matesprite’s club to be like. Only if it hit your body all at once. Like slamming into a wall that forced your spirit out of your body, it was easy as that, and you fell, (blood color) dripping from your mouth as you lay face down on the floor.

The GHB knew the Glub was happening and was in a shrieking mess of rage when he found your body on the floor and bleeding out. At least this time, there would be no loneliness. He picked up your body and went over to his throne room chair. With your body laid out in his lap, he awaited his final hour with a strange fierceness no troll could understand. When the Glub finally got to the highblood, he died with his old matesprite under him and her reincarnation in his lap.