For Whom The Bell Tolls (Trollhunters continuation/Evil Jim AU)

24: An Unlikely Friend

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains rather graphic discussions of torture and hints at abuse/manipulation. Please proceed with caution.

Jim shuddered awake. He felt dreary, his head heavy. His wrists were freezing cold. He could feel thawing ice dripping down his arm like tears down someone's face. Droplets of water trickled down off his stone flesh and gathered at his feet, forming a small puddle underneath.
It was highly unpleasant.
The room he was suspended in looked vaguely familiar, but he felt too out of it to pinpoint what it was. The wirey fur on his scruff bristled from the cold. A smooth, cold hand brushed across his left cheek. Fingers like icicles almost caused instant frost bite.

"Enough poking and prodding at the creature, Skrael. He looks tired." A crisp, clear voice spoke up.

Skrael?! Jim's internal monologue panicked. Alas, he couldn't speak aloud. He felt too weak.

The hand pulled away from his face and the cold drifted away with it. Jim took a moment to try and properly clue into his surroundings, starting to recognise them as the cave that Morgana had once resided in. Then he remembered the voice. The calm clarity of that menacing tone. Morgana was here with him, also apparently Skrael.

"Bellroc will be most pleased with you witch. I will see to it they reward you handsomely when the time comes. Now, if you'll excuse me, this spell is rather exhausting so I shall release my astral form and leave you be. We await you and your prisoner in due time." Skrael's chilly tone announced.

"Do not worry Skrael, you and Bellroc shall have this...thing...to yourselves soon enough. Thank you for your assistance with capturing it." Morgana bowed her head deeply to show respect to one of her masters.

Jim weakly lifted his head and tried to pull free from his restraints. Despite his otherworldly levels of strength, the ice wouldn't even chip. Morgana floated down to where he was suspended, looking down upon him as if she viewed him as lesser. Which, if Jim was honest, seemed about right for her. He winced, bracing himself for some sort of attack.
However to his surprise, she just stood there, leaning into his face for a closer look. Her irises were full of curiosity.

"You are a most curious creature," She spoke softly, "Not like any I've encountered before. Please forgive the circumstances of your capture...those I work under can be a tad...dramatic. Bellroc has always been a bit theatrical, though they won't admit it."

Jim shifted his jaw and grunted an answer, "What the fuck do you want with me, witch? Whatever it is, just get it over and done with."

The sorceress looked taken aback. Yet, she didn't seem deterred. Instead she moved even closer and ran her fingers across the grooves that spanned the length of Jim's torso. The semi translucent stone skin allowed her to see the complicated map of webbing scars that lay under the surface. Some were deep, as if they'd been there for some time. Others were only shallow and small, little chips and cuts. Morgana was fascinated by him. She checked his aura, he was human, troll and something more. But not a changeling. He was different. It intrigued her.

"I have a question or two, if I may?" She asked, keeping her gaze trained on the scarring.

"I thought you brought me here to kill me, not reenact the Spanish Inquisition." Jim huffed in annoyance.

Morgana snapped her fingers, releasing the restraints. The toll hybrid flopped to the floor, his face smacking into a puddle in front of him. Jim groaned from the impact, rubbing his head as he staggered to his feet. He noted the woman had a slight smirk on her face. He so wanted to wipe that stupid little grin off her visage.
She brushed some of her hair from her face. Her hand reached for Jim's chest.
Upon contact, Jim felt something flare up inside him. Something similar to the feeling of the previous night, before he'd blacked out. It wasn't overly painful, but felt more like a fog that was clouding his mind. A green haze began to pulse around the edges of his field of view. His body grew warm to the touch, the cracks in his skin blaring a lurid green. Morgana seemed strangely intrigued.