𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 | 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓼 | 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 {𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴}

❄️𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪-𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼❄️

𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥:
The Caterbus rumbles away in the opposite direction, the moment the last Troll steps outside. No one bothers to address Cloud Guy's dramatic exit. We have bigger things to focus on. With determined steps, each foot placed with purpose, we begin our approach to the towering wooden doors of the Bergen Castle. Poppy leads us at the front, her pace brisk and full of energy. Just before we reach the entrance, she spins around on her heel, her pink hair bouncing, and throws out a pointed finger without hesitation. It lands squarely on Guy Diamond. "Guy Diamond, you're on glitter!"
"Glitter at the ready!" His shimmering voice rings out in response, arms flaring wide in theatrical flair. Poppy, in turn, points straight at Cooper. "Cooper, Pyrotechnics!"
Fire!" Cooper releases a hushed breath, the kind that feels way too serious for someone currently lowering a welding mask over their face. The helmet had been resting lazily on his forehead seconds earlier, now it snaps down with finality, covering most of his long, snouty features. Behind his many legs, several boxes are stacked high, packed to bursting with fireworks and a single igniter peeking out.
"Satin, Chenille, Juniper, brought the festive Outfits?" Before I can catch the full conversation, Satin and Chenille speak in unison. "Sure did!" Then, all three of them turn their heads toward me. But I'm not fully tuned in. My neck cranes back, my attention locked on the massive shadow looming over us - the castle. Last time Branch and I snuck into BergenTown, there was no time to appreciate the structure properly. Now, standing before it, I finally take in just how enormous it truly is. The castle rises far above our heads, its highest towers piercing into the sky. My neck starts to ache just from trying to glimpse the top. Only when the conversation falls silent around me do I snap back. Poppy is still facing me, her eyes full of expectation. She's waiting on a response, probably to a question I completely missed. "Usable." I don't even know if my fumbled reply is making sense to the current topic, but I never get to find out, as Branch grabs the attention. He steps out from behind me, casually revealing himself. He's wearing the bottom half of a costume. Sun-themed pants, rays sticking out around his knees and hips, glitter threaded into the fabric. That's it. Just the pants. "Uh, Juniper. Love. No offence to the amazing work you've done on the costumes." He glances at me, then at Poppy, and finally down at his own outfit. "But, Poppy. About these costumes-" Her hands immediately rest on her hips, one brow raised. "Branch. Juniper has been over this with you. It's not a holiday without costumes! So put on your big-boy pants and let's go in there!" He sighs. She stares at the costume. I do too. My eyes trail from his face to the unfinished look. A giggle escapes my lips, uninvited. His gaze snaps to mine. He narrows his eyes, assessing me like he's debating whether being my boyfriend is worth the occasional humiliation. Deep down, he knows the answer is yes.
Still facing us, Poppy begins backing up toward the castle doors. "In three... Two.. One..." Her hands lift, fingers ticking down in a dramatic countdown. On the final breath, she pushes the massive doors open.
"STOP EVERYTHING!" Her voice cuts through the silence like a parade horn - loud, proud, and absolutely unnecessary. The sound echoes through the vast interior hall. Inside, Gristle's head flops backward, upside down across his throne. A keyboard rests across his lap. The noise yanks him out of whatever daze he was in. Bridget, alert and already halfway to standing, tosses the magazine she was reading into the air and bolts forward. "Poppy!" She doesn't hesitate, sprinting across the stone floor, her eyes locked on Poppy. "Bridget!"
She leans forward as she arrives, hands flat on the ground, palms up—waiting. But her eyes scan past Poppy, searching for someone else. Her gaze finds me. "Juniper! Of course you're here too!" Without waiting, I step into her open palms. She lifts me effortlessly, rising back to her full height with a bright grin across her face.
"Pop stars!" Her expression is pure excitement. "B-bop!" Poppy answers her greeting first, twirling on the spot. "Lolly Pop!" "Roller girl!" I follow suit, spinning around with flair. "Glitter bombs!" "Morning jogger!" "Helicopter!" Bridget twirls her neck, her pigtails swinging in graceful loops as we finish our greetings together in synchronized fashion. "Prim and-"
"Proper.." She removes one palm, cradling us both in her other hand. Then she lifts her skirt lightly between thumb and forefinger, curtseying. Poppy and I mirror her, pinching the fabric of our dresses, bending our knees in perfect unison.
Meanwhile, Branch and Gristle stare at us like they're watching an alien performance. Their expressions are nearly identical - raised brows, slightly parted lips, silent disbelief. Their eyes meet. "Sup?" Gristle bobs his head in silent greeting. Branch nods back. "Sup."
"Your hair looks amazing!" Poppy shares her thoughts on Bridget's hair. It hasn't changed dramatically - still two familiar pigtails - but it's grown longer, and a few new colourful stripes wind through the curls. Bridget leans in closer, her whisper pitched just for our ears. "It's a weave." We lean in to catch it, the mischief in her tone unmistakable. "We won't say a word."
But then, Bridget's attention shifts. "It's so good to see you guys. But, what are you doing here?" Her brows lift. She glances around, suddenly noticing just how many of us have crowded into her castle. "Funny you should ask!" Poppy lets out a nervous giggle and elbows me hard in the ribs, trying to signal that it's showtime. I lift one foot, rest my weight on the other, and point dramatically at Smidge, who has already made her way to the light switch. With perfect timing, I give the signal. "HIT IT SMIDGE!" Smidge yanks the lever, plunging the grand hall into total darkness.
A beat later, one spotlight flares on. It hits Bridget and Gristle, now seated on their thrones once again. The rest of the room remains bathed in shadows. On cue, Biggie and Cooper each pull a rope. The giant box we've somehow smuggled into the castle collapses outward, its sides dropping flat to the ground, revealing a hidden stage glittering with sparklers and an enormous "HOLIDAY" sign glowing above it. Bridget claps wildly, her excitement spilling over. Her eyes flick to Gristle, who slouches beside her, noticeably less enthused. Still, he doesn't stop her. Poppy and I step into the light, center stage. "Lady and Gentleman. We are here to solve your problems!" She begins the introduction with energy as bright as the sparklers.
"We have problems?" Bridget shouts something back, but Poppy barrels onward, ignoring the interruption. "But don't you worry. We have the solution! You guys need a new Holiday!"
"Why do we need a Holiday?" Bridget tries again, hopeful for a real answer this time, but her words fall away as Gristle pulls a crumpled slice of pizza from beneath him. My brows rise at the sight, a strange mix of confusion and amusement fluttering across my features. Bridget's question finally catches in my ears, but I'm still grinning. "How else are you gonna get presents and wear awesome costumes? And play 'how many marshmallows can you fit in your mouth'!?"
"One hundred and seventy-two. Beat that!" The crowd's attention shifts as Cooper tries to speak. His cheeks are stuffed with marshmallows, one squeezing its way out of his nose. He's down one marshmallow. No one wants to talk about it.
"My goodness. Excuse me. Have you not been getting our cards back?" Gristle sits upright now, his interest reignited by what I said aloud. Before I can process it, Branch steps forward and joins me on stage.
"Uh, yeah... I especially loved the- Wednesday one." He halts by my side, his voice steady but carrying a tightness only I notice. "You know. It really made me and Juniper appreciate the middle of the week!" He manages to finish his sentence, flashing an uncertain smile and wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. Gristle pumps a fist in approval. "Middle of the week, told ya babe!"
"Look. We care about you guys." I sigh. "And we want to make sure you have something to celebrate. You know, since 'Trollstice' got cancelled.."
"And here's the great news!" Poppy tosses in a comment that draws another smile. "Trolls have like, a Kajillion Holidays, so you can have one of ours!" Bridget, though still clearly doubtful about the whole plan, seems eager to see where this chaos might lead. "That's cool- I guess?"
"Yeah it is!" The spotlight fades, leaving only the sparklers twinkling in the dim. The three of us step down from the stage and move into the back, where our next task awaits. We pull on the prepared costumes, ready for our first act.
🎵You're looking for a Holiday. And there's a million things to celebrate. Your life is bland right now, but that's okay. Prepare your minds to get blown away!🎵 A thin cord tugs gently at the back of Poppy's costume, lifting her off the ground as the stage lights begin to rise. She hangs there momentarily, swaying ever so slightly as she descends toward the stage floor. Her rainbow costume sparkles under the glow, the word "Holla." stretched across her stomach in shimmering letters. As her feet touch the ground, Branch and I emerge from backstage, stepping confidently into the spotlight. Our costumes are oversized and ridiculous in the best way. Mine wraps around me in a puffy golden star, while Branch's entire body is swallowed by a round, glowing sun suit. The word "Day." is emblazoned across his stomach in bold yellow letters.
🎵Holla!🎵 I yell upward, my arms stretching wide, voice bright and dramatic as i declare the first part of our holiday word, which is also spelled out across my torso, a star framing the letters - which is my costume. 🎵Day!🎵 Branch slides forward on cue, skimming across the floor until he lands beside me, extending an arm and finishing my shout in perfect timing. 🎵Holla!🎵 I repeat the line with exaggerated flair. 🎵Day!🎵 Poppy slides in from the other side, her glittering rainbow costume bouncing with each motion. Her stomach reads the full word: "Holla-day."
🎵Holla-day!🎵 The three of us sing in unison, our voices harmonising as we dance in place, striking dramatic poses and pointing excitedly at the words spelled across our chests. "Poppy, break it down!"
🎵The first Holiday we're presenting to ya, sparkly shiny day called "Glitterpalooza!"🎵 Poppy pulls her arms back into her costume like a turtle, disappearing for just a second. When her arms shoot back out, both fists are overflowing with glitter scooped from the bag hidden inside her rainbow suit. She flings it with gusto, scattering it in wide arcs across the stage like she's casting sparkly spells.
🎵Homie Guy Diamond, take the mic. And give the Bergens something they're gonna like!🎵
🎵When you wake up in the morning! Whether it's sunny or whether it's stormy, Open the door for a big surprise! A blast of glitter shoots in your eyessss!🎵 Guy Diamond jumps into his verse, belting out the lyrics with surprising power, his voice echoing through the hall. His part of the song explains exactly what this brand-new holiday is all about - celebration, togetherness, and over-the-top sparkle. As his voice crescendos, a glitter cannon goes off behind us with a BLAST. A huge cloud of glitter explodes from the center of the hovering "Holiday" sign.
Unfortunately, the glitter cloud finds one very specific target: Gristle. The King reels back with a surprised grunt, a jet of sparkle dust smacking him square in the eye. He claps a palm over his face, groaning loudly as he presses his fingers into his closed eyelid, trying to rub out the stinging glitter. "Oh yeah. That got in there-" When he finally peels his hand away, the eye is red and watery. Definitely irritated. I wince, guilt settling in my chest. That glitter cannon? Yeah... that one was my idea. "Oh, it's in my eye.."
"Maybe that holiday is not really cool for us.." Bridget watches him suffer with a sympathetic shrug, gently rubbing slow circles into his back with one hand. She doesn't seem too alarmed. Just... used to this kind of thing. "That's okay, we got tons of holidays!" Unbothered, Poppy twirls and continues the performance like a pro. "Biggie tell them about tickle day!" The music picks up again. I exchange a quick look with Branch. Then Biggie steps forward from the wings, Mr. Dinkles perched proudly on his bicep.
🎵We celebrate with giggles!🎵 Biggie steps forward holding a single feather between his fingers. With a careful touch, he brushes it across Mr. Dinkles' tiny belly, eliciting a high-pitched mew of delight from the little critter. 🎵Get tickled, get tickled, get tickled by Spiders!🎵 The crowd coos, until the next part of the show takes a hard left. A cannon goes off with a thunderous blast. But instead of confetti or sparkles, it erupts in a horrifying flurry of spiders. Hundreds of them. Crawling, skittering, flipping through the air as they rain down directly onto poor Gristle. A scream begins to build in his throat. It climbs slowly at first - an ominous rasp - before erupting into a full-volume wail. His pupils dart in every direction, his body flailing as spiders crawl up his arms, across his crown, and into his sleeves.
🎵Clearly not your idea of fun!🎵 Branch immediately jumps in front of Poppy, arms raised in panic, trying to intercept the madness unfolding onstage. His voice rises in protest, attempting to call the performance to a halt before more chaos strikes. But instead of joining Branch in his concern, I close my ears with both hands and carry on. 🎵Yo, Satin, Chenille. Show another one!🎵 It's too late to turn back. Besides... maybe this part's a hit?
🎵Everyone will scream "Hooray" in the electric foam parade! We got lasers that sparkle and glow! So everyone enjoys the show!🎵 And strangely enough, both Gristle and Bridget's attention returns to us. Their startled panic fades just enough to watch, to try and make sense of what we're doing. Gristle manages to brush off most of the spiders, shaking his limbs like wet noodles. 🎵And there will be flowers shooting bubbles in the air🎵 Satin steps up for her solo, her voice crisp and smooth, floating into the space left behind by Branch's retreat. 🎵You'll be blinded by the lights, but you just won't care!🎵 Chenille follows, matching the tone in perfect harmony. 🎵Flip a little switch, get a bubble bomb-bomb! Because a party ain't a party without lasers and foam!🎵 Their duet ends with a sudden, thunderous poof. Another cannon goes off, this time blasting a thick cloud of white foam straight at Gristle's chair. It coats him like whipped cream on a sundae. He blinks - he doesn't feel any pain, the foam is not painful. Then, the lasers start. A bright beam zips through the air, targeting the other side of Gristle's face. The sting is immediate, and he groans, clutching his second eye. "Ah! It stings!" he cries, voice echoing through the hall. Bridget nerves spill into every word as she tries to get through to us. "These don't seem like Bergen things!" She's pleading now, trying to find the emergency brake before this glitter-powered train completely derails. Bridget's hand moves to Gristle's back, tracing slow circles in a soothing rhythm. Her brows are drawn tight with concern. But Gristle isn't looking at her. He can't. Both of his eyes are sore, his vision likely still blurred from the glitter and laser blast. He reaches out blindly, one palm landing squarely over Bridget's face as he fumbles to orient himself.
🎵Okay, not a Holiday for you?🎵 Sensing the tension, I spread my arms wide in a grand gesture, breaking the rhythm only to amplify it with exaggerated enthusiasm. 🎵It's all good, we're only half way through!🎵 Poppy slides in next to me, carefree and oblivious, continuing the number without missing a beat.
"What!"
"What?!" Branch and I exchange a look, his eyes are wide - uncertain - but I'm already too far in. "You gotta be kidding me..." Another groan sounds from Gristle as he continues wiping glitter from one eye and shielding the other with the back of his hand. Then, from beneath the stage, a hidden platform rises.
🎵All your family and friends will gather around, to enjoy the majestic sounds.🎵 Cooper reappears dramatically, bouncing with excitement, lifted up into full view. Every Troll scrambles into position, each one holding a different-coloured balloon. 🎵A chorus you'll hear from miles away, for 24 hours, it's Balloon Squeal Day!🎵 With perfect comedic timing, all pull the balloon necks wide open, letting the air wheeze out. The room fills with an unbearable high-pitched squealing as dozens of balloons let loose in unison. Branch is the only one not having one of his own. He tenses immediately. Shoulders rise to his ears, face scrunching in discomfort as the room fills with the chaotic screeching. The Royal Couple wince too, expression tight and strained, heads tilted from the sound. Then, finally, Branch snaps. "Hey everybody! Why don't we just take a cool five?" He lifts his hands like he's surrendering, motioning for peace. Everyone freezes. The balloons are sealed quickly with two fingers over the necks. Silence. Trying to lighten the mood, Branch forces a smile. It's tight-lipped. And that's when I catch it - his very badly attempted smile. It's that same awkward one from earlier. Something about the strain in his face - the way it twitches instead of softens - makes my own expression twist. My lips part, eyes widen. I can't hide the fact that I'm currently staring.
I don't even realise I've lost my grip on my balloon until it zips free from my hand, whistling wildly through the air like a rogue comet. His expression shifts instantly as he catches on to the screaming balloon. Noticing my shocked gaze and realises what I'm reacting to - his strained expression. "Not working?" Through gritted teeth, he mutters his question. "Nope. Still- still super weird, Love.." I blink out of it and answer honestly. My voice low, my tone apologetic. His shoulders drop. The tension melts away from his face, leaving only that flicker of disappointment in his eyes. Not at me. Just at the moment.