Chapter Text
Claire's heart was pounding as she pushed her way through the crowd at the Spring Fling, the echo of Angor Rot's mocking laugh still ringing in her mind. The gym, with its pastel balloons and glittering streamers, felt lightyears away from the looming threat. Her eyes were already searching for a solution as her fingers gripped her staff too tightly to stop shaking. She finally spotted Jim and Toby near the exit, still stunned by Coach Lawrence's blunder.
"Jim! Toby!"
She shouted, her voice cutting through the music.
"We've got a problem. Angor Rot... he said I'm not Morgana's apprentice. And Strickler... he ran off."
Her throat tightened, a dull panic threatening to overwhelm her. What if all their efforts had been in vain... or worse?
Jim, pale, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded.
"Then we're going after him."
Toby, still red with embarrassment, frowned.
"Wait, what? He found out you're not the apprentice? Oh crap, that's really bad... Ran off? But... where?"
Claire shook her head, her eyes shining with fear.
"I don't know. But we have to find him. Now."
She raised her Shadow Staff, hands trembling but resolute. They had moved aside again, away from prying eyes.
"I can teleport us to him."
Jim nodded firmly.
"Okay. Do it. Take us there."
Claire didn't hesitate: she lifted her staff high and blindly traced a Shadow Portal that sparked with energy in the warm spring air. A swirl of violet and black shadows engulfed them without warning - and in an instant, the music and lights of the dance vanished.
They landed hard on the pavement... right in front of Jim's house.
The familiar facade, with its cozy windows and flower-filled porch, seemed strangely ominous in the dark.
Claire, the first to recover, looked around nervously.
"This is... Jim's place?"
Jim flinched, anger and fear flashing across his face.
"My mom? Of course he had to go screw things up there too."
Toby, catching his breath, blinked and pointed at the house.
"Wait... how did he get here so fast? On foot? It's across town!"
No one answered. Jim and Claire were already racing toward the front door, which they flung open. Inside, the soft lighting of the living room revealed an unexpected scene. Barbara - her red hair, for once, untied from its usual bun - stood near the staircase, a mug in hand. Just moments earlier, she had flinched so hard she nearly dropped her tea. In front of her, the young Strickler stood frozen, green eyes locked on her with a gaze almost painful in intensity.
He had come to find the only person who, in theory, would be honest with him.
The kids had lied... He couldn't go to the Changelings - they would only take advantage of his precarious state.
So that left Barbara.
He hadn't wanted her to see him like this, but he needed answers. And seeing her face stirred a strange feeling in him. Despite the turmoil inside, a stray thought whispered that she was... a beautiful human - he wasn't usually a xenophile, or attracted by human features - but her fiery hair and ocean eyes... He almost forgot why he'd come.
"Walt...?"
Barbara breathed, her voice caught between surprise and disbelief, snapping the young Changeling out of his thoughts. A twitch crossed Strickler's face.
The way she said his name... He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know what to do anymore.
Seeing the boy's obvious distress, Barbara's instinct took over and she stepped closer - like one might approach a wounded, frightened animal - slowly extending a hand toward his face. Strickler instinctively flinched back, then held his breath, as if in a surreal dream. He closed his eyes for a moment. Barbara's fingers gently brushed his cheek, as if trying to confirm it wasn't a dream too, that it was real, that she wasn't hallucinating.
A jolt - like an electric current - startled them both.
It was real.
And it jolted Strickler back to his senses.
"It's me."
He finally confirmed, voice rough.
"Angor Rot... he cursed me."
He rushed to explain his current state, battling the panic clawing inside, the fear of being seen this vulnerable. Barbara blinked and stepped back, lips trembling.
"How...? You're... You-"
She couldn't even form the question.
"He turned me- made me young... because we- I- failed to control him."
Strickler lamented, already running out of words to explain the inexplicable. Barbara pressed a hand to her temple, dizzy. She didn't question the identity of the person in front of her - even if it was impossible - she just tried to make sense of this impossible situation.
"Who? Angor Rot? Walt, what are you talking about?"
Jim burst in just then, cutting the moment short.
"Mom!?"
His eyes flicked between Barbara and Strickler, and that familiar rage rose in his chest. Strickler, stunned, didn't even react to the sudden entrance.
"You... you don't know?"
He felt dizzy again - but then the shared code name? - he turned toward Jim, disbelief and desperation in his voice:
"She doesn't know anything?"
"Doesn't know what? Jim...?"
Barbara asked, wanting to finally be let in on everything that was clearly being hidden from her.
But it was too much.
Jim finally snapped, all the tension and frustration breaking free as his voice echoed through the living room.
"No, she doesn't know anything! And once again, you're here to ruin everything, just like always!"
He pointed an accusing finger at Strickler. Jim poured out everything he'd been holding back, voice vibrating with rage - mostly because the worst thing his worst enemy could have done was happening: putting his mom in danger all over again, dragging her fully into this nightmare, after all the effort Jim had made to keep her safe.
"You're the one who used Angor Rot to try to kill me! You lied and manipulated my mom, You linked with her just to put her in danger! This is all your fault!"
Strickler recoiled, his face twisting in pain from the verbal assault. He struggled to process the barrage.
"Linked... with a human?"
He murmured, wide-eyed.
"Why would I...?"
He stopped, his mind spinning. The phone messages, the jolt with Barbara, the feeling in his chest, the burning - it all started to make sense in a way he couldn't fully grasp. But everything else? Nothing made sense anymore.
"Why would I do that to you?"
Jim, red with fury, stepped forward.
"Because YOU'RE A MONSTER!"
He shouted, voice cracked by pain and anger. Strickler flinched as if those words had hurt him more than any physical blow. And as if to drive the point home, a huge crash made the walls shake. The basement door flew open, and Draal burst into the living room, massive and menacing, his horns gleaming.
"Trollhunter!"
He bellowed, alarmed by Jim's earlier scream.
"I smelled a filthy Changeling! Do you need help crushing this vermin?"
The cyan-blue troll growled eagerly, eyes scanning the room. Barbara screamed, snatching pepper spray from her bag on the coffee table. She aimed it at him and unleashed a furious blast directly into Draal's face. The troll roared, rubbing his eyes in agony, stepping back.
"My eyes! Human, what have you done?!"
Jim rushed between them, hands raised.
"Mom, stop! That's Draal - he's with us!"
Too late - caught in the spray's path, Jim got a full blast as well, yelping and rubbing his eyes. Barbara stopped immediately. Meanwhile, Strickler, still reeling from Jim's words, stood frozen in the chaos. A monster. Jim's voice echoed bitterly in his mind. The fury of Draal, the madness around him - it all deepened his disorientation. He should've reacted to the troll's sudden entrance - his life depended on it - but all he managed to do was remain frozen in place, paralyzed. He glanced from Jim, to Barbara, to Draal, then to Claire, who had just entered too.
Then his eyes returned to Jim - and realization hit him like a blade. A cold spark lit his pupils. He stumbled back, dizzy.
"You..."
He whispered, voice laced with accusation and dread.
"You're the Trollhunter."
Before anyone could stop him, Strickler vanished in a flash of green magic. His human form dissolved, wings burst from his back, slicing the air. With one powerful beat, he soared through the window, vanishing into the night. The shattered glass clinked to the floor, and a stunned silence followed. Toby, who had just arrived at the door, looked up at the sky where a dark shape was already vanishing. Mouth agape, he gasped:
"Wait... did he just... fly off?!"
Claire, still shaken by the confrontation, felt a heavy pressure in her chest. The truth revealed, trust shattered, Angor Rot's shadow still looming... it all tangled in her throat like a knot. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and tightened her grip on the Shadow Staff. Beside her, Jim was seething, glaring at the broken window, fists clenched. He immediately understood the look she gave him - the one that meant they had to find him... they couldn't just leave him out there like that...
"Claire, no! It's too dangerous now that he knows the truth! We can't trust him anymore, you know that-"
Barbara, still trembling, pepper spray in hand, had no idea what was going on. A giant blue monster in her living room, teenagers bursting in spouting nonsense, and Walt... Had that really been him, looking like a teenager, turning into a winged green monster?
But Claire, with a swift gesture, raised her staff and traced a violet arc through the air without even answering Jim.
"Claire!"
Jim tried to grab her wrist to stop her - but too late. The portal swallowed his protest and, with a dull thud, the living room was once again empty of their presence.
-----
Claire still felt the chaotically pulsing energy of the portal against her temple as Jim released her, barely reappearing on the cool ground of the wooded park where Strickler had evidently sheltered. In Troll form, Strickler crouched there, claws clenched, a dark silhouette with folded wings and fangs gleaming in the slivered moonlight. But above all, his yellow eyes shone in the darkness with ferocious bitterness, the blood-red slit pupil totally alert, narrowed, menacing.
He didn't growl.
He snarled-a guttural, almost animalistic sound-when he spotted Jim in armor, blade already summoned, and Claire at his side, breathless but resolute. Jim had barely reappeared before his armor erupted in a burst of blue light, the amulet shimmering-proof of the shocking truths they'd uncovered.
Strickler rose, his wings flicking, unable to stop the bitter sneer curling his lips.
"Oh?"
He hissed, venomous sarcasm heavy in his voice.
"Were you afraid your pet monster would run away?"
The word Jim had used against him seemed to tear at the Changeling's throat as painfully as it offended human ears. The Trollhunter nearly regretted his choice of word amid the fury of their earlier confrontation.
But it was too late now.
Too late as always.
Claire dared to step forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace, voice trembling with hope:
"Wally... listen to me... you are not-"
His wings snapped behind him with a brittle crack, cutting her off mid‑phrase, his yellow eyes snapping at her, a growl rising in the back of his throat:
"Don't call me that! Of course, what an idiot I was to believe your sweet lies... But you know what? Naive little Wally won't be fooled a second time."
Strickler spat. Jim tightened his grip on his blade, his armor crackling under tense muscles. A harsh laugh, laced with disbelief and contempt, escaped the Changeling:
"You must be so pleased, yes? You've confirmed the truth: Changelings are traitors. Isn't that what I am? Helping the Trollhunter..."
Claire gripped her staff, eyes pleading.
"Strickler, listen to me. We never meant to betray you. We-"
"Liar!"
Strickler roared, claws extending, wings snapping again. Jim instinctively stepped between them to protect her.
"Isn't that right, Lady Claire, Apprentice of the Pale Lady?"
He sneered at the title, mocking his own gullibility.
"You played me-every one of you. Pretending to be my allies... my friends... You criticize our masks, but you're hypocrites!"
His words poured out, unleashing all the prejudices repressed against his kind-now his curse freed him to speak, pain pulsing just beneath the surface. He let out a slight, hysterical laugh:
"I don't even know if I should be angry or impressed. Your performance-worthy of a Changeling..."
Claire felt ill. But he wasn't done. He pointed a taloned finger at Jim.
"And you, Trollhunter-so honorable, so righteous... I didn't know you could stoop so low to such lies... But maybe a human changes the rules after all..."
Strickler himself seemed to have trouble assimilating the truth of such a fact. Yet the shining armor on the teenager didn't lie about his role. He resumed his raging with sarcastic venom:
"How noble of you, Trollhunter!"
Jim, sword Daylight glowing in hand, gritted his teeth. That title had been spat tersely as an insult. Still, he couldn't shake the tremor of hatred and fear that his role seemed to arouse in the young Changeling - the same one they'd heard during the story about Voltar.
"You who dare speak of honor?"
Jim couldn't help but respond. But Strickler didn't finished his accusatory monologue, asking them:
"And when I'd no longer been useful-once you got the info you sought-you would throw me away, yes?"
Strickler assumed a more aggressive stance, a dagger appearing between his fingers they hadn't noticed. Claire tried to intercede more firmly:
"That's not true!"
But the Changeling ignored her. His tone darkened further.
"Now that I know, I'm no longer useful to you..."
He glanced at the magical sword-bringer of death for him-concluding with venomous finality:
"So time for you to finish the job..."
Before anyone could deny it, the humans were blinded by an electric green flash. Strickler shifted: wings became a leather cloak. With that distraction, he roared:
"I won't let it happen!"
His dagger whirled through the air with lightning speed. Jim barely parried-blade sparkling at impact. As he lowered Daylight, Strickler lunged with lethal precision-fangs bared, claws whistling through the air. Claire stepped back from the fight, shaken. Jim tried to reason with the Changeling as he dodged a frustrated claw:
"Strickler... I don't want to kill you."
A cold laugh-
"That's good. Neither do I."
He had no intention of dying tonight. A barrage of precise slashes followed: not truly lethal, but definitely damaging-wounds to weaken, maim, exhaust. Jim barely guarded, armor tinkling under the strikes. The Changeling moved like a predator-every dodge measured, each movement a test of Jim's style. A claw brushed Jim's throat. He staggered, breathing ragged. Jim was in a defensive posture the whole time. He didn't really want to return the blows, even though there was no lack of desire to do so. Anger and adrenalin had something to do with it, but he simply couldn't. This fight wasn't equal. Strickler had noticed this, as if his first attacks had served to analyze his fighting style. He decided to unbalance his opponent by using an unconventional method: talking to him, in order to make him make a mistake in his defense:
"I was nothing but a pawn to you... like for everyone else."
Neither of them really knew if this accusation had been a decoy or if it really came from the heart. The Changeling took the opportunity to retrieve the blades he had thrown. His offensives were accompanied by verbal attacks:
"Pretending to be kind..."
"To care about me..."
"What a fool..."
But Strickler was not cutting to kill-he aimed to rend flesh, snap tendons, drain strength. Each move-feint, sidestep, rotation-a cutting flourish of arrogant agility.
The witch hesitated to intervene - not from doubt of the side - but because the fight was too fluid not to risk randomly injuring one of the two opponents.
Jim, stifling an expletive, took a slash to the shoulder, then another to the flank. The blades slid between the plates of his armor, finding the cracks. His breathing became wheezy.
"It's almost logical, Trollhunter."
Strickler spat between feline leaps. A swipe at Jim's wrist disarmed him-Daylight fell to the ground.
"Deep down, the only one who'd been even remotely honest with me-"
Hissed Strickler, mixing accusation and a certain recognition...
"-without hiding his hatred... was you, Jim— or rather, Trollhunter. At least something worthy of your rank."
With Jim defenseless, Claire wept-tears at the edge of her lashes:
"Strickler, stop!"
But he ignored her. He flung a knife toward Jim's face. Jim barely dodged. A second flicked past. A third-
An echo of violet shadow portal fractures the blade's path just in time.
"I don't want to fight you!"
Claire cried out, voice quivering with frustration. Strickler turned to her, yellow eyes burning with fury.
"Then why are you here, Apprentice of the Pale Lady?"
He repeated the false title, fangs bared. Claire gritted her teeth, her hand trembling on the handle.
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
She murmured, unsure of herself, just loud enough for him to hear.
But Jim did not hesitate.
He surged forward-fist aimed at Strickler's chin. Sorry Mom, thought Jim, but that punch really feeled good. A dull crack, air snapping-and Strickler recoiled. His wings reappeared in a flash of light and opened wide. Jim was propelled back to the ground. The twin blades of his thighs blocked the dagger that had gone straight for his throat. An intrusive thought assailed Jim, despite the gravity of his situation and imminent death if he hadn't blocked this attack - how many Strickler knives did he own? He didn't even have his blade collar on his cape, like his adult version...
Before Strickler could press the dagger further, he retreated, avoiding a baton strike Claire lofted in rage mixed with despair-finally stepping into battle to save her boyfriend. Wings had flung him out of range-but then he stumbled, pressing a hand to his chest.
Suddenly, his body convulsed-an uncanny pulse coursing through veins. He staggered-talons gouging the earth, a strangled moan escaping his troll-throat. A wave of vertigo swept over him, and he too collapsed to the ground.
Jim, panting, straightened up, his armor glinting in the moonlight. He summoned Daylight, the blade hovering over Strickler's exposed throat, exchanging positions from seconds ago. The Changeling, on the ground, gave him an evil look.
"Try anything again... and I swear to you that-"
But Jim's voice broke when Strickler almost rolled his eyes, glassy, struggling to breathe, a sneer twisting his mouth.
"What are you waiting for, Lake?"
He finally rasped, voice hoarse, struggling to remain apparently conscious. He squeaked, as a challenge, more out of bravado to hide his current state of weakness:
"Kill me. Finish the job."
Jim, short of breath, stared at his enemy. He swallowed, burning anger colliding with an even older wall: the fear of losing his mother.
He made the sword disappear, his hand trembling.
"No."
He whispered. Exhaustion from the fight— clearly meant to wear him down, a typical Changeling tactic, compared to the brute strength of the Troll— hit him hard. He sighed:
"You're tied to my mother. I can't kill you."
The boy didn't even have the strength to be vindictive anymore. Strickler, still on the ground, blinked— another wave of pain coursed through his body. Strickler, still on the ground, blinked, a new wave of pain coursing. A sudden anxiety invaded him, like an echo in his chest. His wings trembled before folding against his back. Claire approached cautiously. She knelt down in turn, her eyebrows furrowed at his reactions.
"It has to be your mother, Jim... Something's wrong."
She deduced, breathing ragged. Strickler's eyes flickered-comprehending now the extent of that bond Jim had mentioned. The terror that his life would be endangered by another - beyond his control - overwhelmed him. By all the faces of Janus, why would he inflict this on himself, was he so unconscious? Did he no longer have any instinct for survival?
He didn't answer Claire-they both knew. His inhuman gaze fixed on Jim-tired hatred steeped in silent despair. Jim inhaled deeply, then hammered the final of his words like a stake:
"You're coming with us. Prisoner or not... but under my watch. I won't let you risk my mother's life."
His decision was resolute-no room for argument. Strickler laughed, but it lacked conviction.
"Charming..."
It wasn't as if he had many other choices... He was in a weak position right now. Claire, without giving him time to protest, raised her staff, Shadow's energy rippled, and all three were swallowed up by the black spiral.