Chapter Text

“What are you DOING?”

The voice stops you in your tracks. It’s not every day that a troll dares question your authority, so it deserves some attention. You glance at the lowblood, cornered and quivering, then turn your attention to the interloper.

It’s a young troll, probably barely even old enough for the Drones to have come the first time. She’s glaring up at you, absolutely no fear in her odd, pale eyes, and a glance at her sigil shows the same hue as your own. An up-and-comer, perhaps, to usurp your position. It’s happened before, though not recently. They learned after the first few deaths.

“Well, what do you think you’re doin’, most holy of miracle sisters? Interruptin’ my business and all?” you growl towards her, hunching over, all of your imperious height towering over even the tips of her horns.

“I think I’m intervening in a fit of minor folly,” She snaps back calmly. “What did he do to you?”

“Got in my motherfucking way.” You’ve seen trolls like this before, highbloods corrupted by the nonsensical mutterings of lowbloods, silly sayings of equality. Motherfucking blasphemous.

“Well, he’s hardly likely to do that again, now, is he?” she asks, still unflustered despite the situation.

You roll your eyes, not bothering to respond, and turn back to the lowblood. There’s a spark of hope in his eyes, one that quickly dies out once he sees that his protector has failed in her apparent task.

“You know,” she calls out as you stalk towards your prey. “The more you kill, the harder it will be to control them.”

You pause. You haven’t heard this argument before.

“The more you kill, the more they hate you. Nothing caliginous, obviously, but for every lowblood you kill, two more will vow revenge. Eventually, even Her Imperiousness won’t be able to keep them down.” You can practically hear her smirk, and what’s this, being able to sense the actions of a troll you met less than a minute ago? “The more you let live, the first offence, the more will stay out of your way, the less will vow revenge, the empire keeps turning, on and on.”

You turn towards her again, and this time the lowblood scurries away, ducking into the shadows and beyond where you care to chase him. You let him go. “And what’s to stop us from culling all the blasphemers of the mirthful motherfucking messiahs?”

She smirks again, and you can practically feel the trap of words she’s set for you closing in. “Workforce. Who else will do the menial, but necessary, tasks.”

She is an anomaly. Trolls, especially highbloods, have a tendency to use weapons before words, to try to use brute force and smash through a problem before considering another way around. This troll – this diminutive young troll with eyes older than they have any right to be – has reasoned you away from your goal. By all rights, you should be furious. She has publicly defied you, a crime which by itself can warrant death, depending on your mood. But you’re not even angry.

You relax after a moment, when you realize what this emotion you’re feeling is, and you grin, a wide, toothy one to complement her small smirk. “Well then, what’s your name, most precious sister of miracles?”

“It’s not quite conventional, by this society’s standards, but… I suppose you can call me Rose.”