You are the youngest of House Tarron—royalty by birth, rebel by choice.
Like Aja, you never cared much for the stiff posture and ceremonial nonsense of Akiridion nobility. You preferred the wild. The thrill. The freedom. While others studied diplomacy, you watched your parents and Varvatos spar in the royal courtyard, memorizing every strike, every dodge, every roar of battle.
They never taught you.
So you taught yourself.
In secret, you trained.
In silence, you grew strong.
Then everything fell apart.
Akiridion-5 burned under Morando’s assault.
Your people scattered.
Your home reduced to ash.
You, Aja, Krel, and Varvatos fled—carrying your parents’ cores, the last remnants of their lives. You crash-landed on Earth, buried your grief, and disguised yourselves as humans.
School. Homework. Cafeteria food.
It was strange.
It was quiet.
It was survival.
And then you met Jim.
He was kind. Awkward. Brave in a way that didn’t make sense.
You didn’t know he was the Trollhunter, you didn't even know trolls existed.
He didn’t know you were an alien, he didn't know aliens were more than conspiracy.
You were both hiding.
Both pretending.
Both about to be exposed.
It happened at the park.
You, Aja, and Krel were trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace—ice cream melting too fast, Earth music playing from someone's speaker, the sun warm on your borrowed skin.
Jim, Claire, and Toby were nearby, laughing about something you didn’t catch.
Then the air shifted.
A low hum. A ripple of dread.
Three figures emerged from the treeline—tall, armored, glowing with menace.
Zeron Alpha.
Zeron Beta.
Zeron Omega.
The Zeron Brotherhood.
Galactic bounty hunters feared across star systems.
Their target?
You.
Aja.
Krel.
“Bounty hunters” you all said, instinct kicking in just before realizing your diguises are about to wear off.
Jim, Claire, and Toby froze.
“Trolls?” Jim whispered, hand already reaching for his amulet.
You stared at him.
He stared at you.
None of you knew what the other was.
But you were about to find out.