Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3264377.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      How_to_Train_Your_Dragon_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Hiccup_Horrendous_Haddock_III/Astrid_Hofferson
  Character:
      Toothless_(How_to_Train_Your_Dragon), Snotlout_Jorgenson, Fishlegs
      Ingerman, Ruffnut_Thorston, Tuffnut_Thorston, Stoick_the_Vast, Gobber_the
      Belch
  Additional Tags:
      Kink_Meme, Abuse, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Loss_of_Trust
  Series:
      Part 9 of Kink_Meme_Fills
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-31 Completed: 2015-03-09 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 49457
****** Necessary Evils ******
by ParadiseAvenger
Summary
     “This is no longer my son. It is nothing but a traitor!” Stoick said
     breathlessly, “It’s just the village whore now.” With that, he turned
     away from Hiccup and left his hammer buried inside the boy’s body.
***** The Killing Arena *****
Kink meme fill. (Original prompt at the bottom.) I’ll probably update this
story once a week depending on how vicious and motivated I feel.
“The saddest thing bout betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. It
comes from friends and loved ones.” —Author Unknown
                                     X X X
In other tongues, Berk was called ‘Freezing to Death’ and ‘Misery.’ The small
village was heaped chaotically on the cliffs near the edge of the sea and
guarded by statues with fire in their mouths. The only thing that grew well
there was cabbage, the waters were frigid all year round, and the mountains
were prone to rockslides. It was densely wooded and burned easily in summer.
More sensible people would have just let the dragons and the elements have it,
but Vikings had never been accused of being rational. It was a terrible island,
but it was still home.
On a typical night, Chief Stoick the Vast was up to his elbows in dragons and
flames. He had plenty of problems on his plate already and then one more darted
through the firelight. Stoick allowed himself a moment to curse before he
hurled the net of captured Terrible Terrors into Spitelout’s hands and shouted,
“I’ll be right back!”
Spitelout spared a quick glance across the square, took in the sight of the
skinny shadow, and nodded.
Stoick barreled through the village with his shoulders hunched against snapping
dragons. Then, with one large hand, he grabbed the back of his biggest
problem’s shirt.
With a sharp yelp of surprise, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was jerked
off his feet and hung limply from Stoick’s hands like a cod caught on a line.
At nine years old, his green eyes were bright like his mother’s, his face was
already streaked with dirt and smeared with freckles, and he smiled despite the
danger. He wore no armor and carried no weapons. He might as well be carrying
around a sign that proclaimed, ‘Eat me!’
“What are you doing outside?” Stoick shouted in the boy’s face.
“Uh,” Hiccup began.
“It doesn’t matter,” Stoick roared as he heard the belch of dragon fire nearby.
“Just get inside. Don’t you think I have enough to do without worrying about
you?”
“But—” the boy protested.
“Get inside!” Stoick raged. Then, he opened the door of a nearby house and
tossed Hiccup inside with a crash. Though he heard the boy cry out in surprise
and maybe pain, he didn’t have time to worry about it. He whirled around just
in time to avoid a stream of nightmarish fire. It licked up the side of the
house hungrily. Stoick pounded his hammer into the dragon’s face and a spray of
hot blood rewarded him. “Fire!” Stoick shouted, feeling the heat sear against
his back and knowing Hiccup was inside.
“Fire!” came an answering shout.
An instant later, Astrid Hofferson ran through the fray. Though only eight, she
was laden with two buckets, carried a double-headed axe on her back, and wore
armored shoulder guards that were too big for her. The other children raced
after her, panting to keep up. She was a natural leader and a strong soul with
a body and temper to match. Stoick bit aside a bolt of jealousy for Leon the
Lionhearted’s daughter. Why couldn’t his own worthless son be even a fraction
like her?
“Fire!” Astrid shouted in a voice swallowed by the roar of battle and threw her
bucket of water on the flames. Part of them sizzled and went out, but there was
still plenty of inferno remaining. She stepped aside quickly and directed the
others to douse the blaze. The fire smoked out.
“Well done, Astrid,” Stoick commended.
Astrid froze, momentarily shocked to hear the chief’s praise. Then, she beamed,
hefted her bucket, and tossed her head so that her blonde braid flipped over
her shoulder. She opened her lips as if to speak, but there was another cry of
‘Fire!’ in the village and she whirled away instead. The other children rushed
after her, tripping over themselves and their buckets. Stoick would have gladly
traded any one of them for his useless son, if only someone would make that
trade. Hiccup couldn’t even lift a bucket of water, never mind throw it onto a
raging fire.
Stoick took a moment to appreciate Astrid’s work. It was because of her that
they didn’t lose more houses and that was a weight off his mind. Then, he eyed
the hinges of the singed door and realized they had been melted. The door would
have to be hammered open, but that meant Hiccup would be trapped inside until
someone bothered to come get him. At least that was one problem off Stoick’s
plate. Now, he could devote all his attention to the dragons.
For that, he was grateful.
…
“No, please! Don’t hurt Toothless!”
That proclamation was the final nail in the coffin that Hiccup had been
building for years. Stoick shook free of Gobber’s support, pushed aside the
proffered axe, and glared at the night-dark beast that had come to save his son
from the Monstrous Nightmare. Then, he tore his potent glare away from the
dragon and onto his pathetic child. How long had he been hiding that dragon,
feeding it, tending it, healing it, caring for it more than he did his own
village?
“No, no!” Hiccup shouted as the Vikings wrestled the dragon to the ground.
“Don’t hurt him! Please, don’t hurt him.”
Gobber’s hand closed around Hiccup’s small bicep and held him back with comical
ease as the boy struggled towards the dragon. In answer, the Night Fury moaned
as a cold axe pressed against its flank in warning. Hiccup cried out again,
pleading and begging in his small voice. The shock in Stoick’s heart began to
give way to anger.
“The dragon?” Phlegma the Fierce murmured. “He’s worried about the dragon?”
“What about the people he almost killed?” Leon the Lionhearted asked.
“You’re not a Viking… You’re not my son…” Stoick whispered.
Hot rage bubbled behind Stoick’s ribs. Hiccup had always been a disgrace, a
problem, a useless thing. He had always been weaker, smaller, less a Viking
than just a talking fishbone. Hiccup had always been a disappointment, but he
had never been a traitor—until now. He had harbored a dragon when he should
have slain it, befriended it rather than spend time in his village, and stole
food from their people’s mouths to feed it.
“Everything in the ring was a trick?” Snotlout muttered. “A lie?”
“He’s been taming that dragon,” Spitelout breathed. “It came for him.”
Stoick still couldn’t quite believe it. His own son had been sheltering their
greatest enemy. No, not his son… not anymore… He could barely hear anything
over the blood roaring in his ears. The shock stole his breath from his lungs,
but now he could see the signs glaring in his face—sneaking away at all hours
of the night and day, his improvements even over Astrid, being chosen at the
top of his class. Stoick should have known better, but he was blinded by the
joy to finally have a son he could be proud of.
“You’re not a Viking,” Stoik said, raising his voice. “You’re not my son.”
Stoick pushed Gobber away from Hiccup and fisted his hand in Hiccup’s collar.
Jerking the boy up until he was level with Stoick, the chief glared at the
useless abomination. His eyes were like twin knives, white-hot and deadly. In
that moment, he almost struck out with his axe and mace and hammer. He could
have killed the dragon being restrained by Spitelout and the others. He could
even have killed Hiccup.
Hiccup’s pale throat flashed as he swallowed nervously. “D-Dad,” he began.
“No,” Stoick cut in icily. “You are not a Viking. You are not my son!” With a
wordless sound of rage, Stoick hurled Hiccup onto the ground. His knees and
elbows hit the charred stone with painful cracks. The skin sloughed off and
blood smeared across the rough stone.
Gobber made a small sound of protest, but Stoick stopped him with a raised
hand.
“Put the beast with the others,” he shouted to Spitelout, “And get me the
stocks.”
Gobber gripped at Stoick’s elbow, but the chief brushed him off. Instead, he
handed over his hammer so he wouldn’t be tempted to use it. Gripping the weapon
cautiously, Gobber stared at Stoick with wide eyes. In fact, the entire village
stared at Stoick in mingled shock and horror. Hiccup was a thorn in everyone’s
side, but they tolerated him because he was the chief’s son. As long as the
chief loved him, they would endure him. This was…
“Stoick,” Gobber began.
“Quiet, Gobber,” Stoick snapped as he loomed over Hiccup. “Get me the stocks.”
Abruptly, Snotlout stepped to the forefront, adjusting his helmet
disbelievingly. Snotlout was Hiccup’s cousin and the comparison was a slap in
the face. A fresh wave of rage swelled in Stoick’s chest, building there like
the liquid fire dragons breathed.
“Wait,” Snotlout said nervously. “Chief, what are you—?”
“Silence!” Stoick shouted at Snotlout. “Don’t throw your lot in with him.” He
shot a disdainful look at Hiccup, who slowly scraped himself from the ground
with shaking limbs. His lip was split and the blood dripped down his chin
slowly, another scar of his frailty and worthlessness. “The stocks!” he roared.
Astrid and Fishlegs’s mothers bolted into action and scurried from the arena to
fetch the stocks from the armory.
The Monstrous Nightmare had already retreated back inside its cell, quivering
in fear of Night Fury. Spitelout and several other Vikings began dragging
Toothless into a cell. It was filthy and reeking, empty of water, food, or
bedding. Toothless howled and struggled. His soulful green eyes glanced wildly
to the small boy who had rescued and mended him. His prosthetic tail whispered
and lashed across the stone.
“Toothless,” Hiccup whispered. He staggered to his feet and tried to go to the
dragon.
In a blinding movement, Stoick closed the space between them and struck Hiccup
violently. His hand was big enough to engulf most of Hiccup’s head and face.
For an instant, he felt the fragility of those bones before the blow rang
through Hiccup’s skull like a gong. Hiccup choked on a scream of agony and
crumpled, clutching his face. Toothless roared and struggled again to break
free of the Vikings, but to no avail.
Gobber fought back the urge to intervene. His eyes darted between Hiccup,
Stoick, and the desperate dragon. Hiccup wasn’t exactly his favorite youth, but
he had always liked the boy’s spirit and ingenuity. He didn’t appreciate
cleaning up Hiccup’s constant messes and mishaps, but he had been watching over
the boy for so long. Hiccup almost felt like a son to him, albeit a distant
one. He couldn’t bear to watch as Stoick struck down and disowned him.
“Bring me the stocks!” Stoick bellowed again.
Spitelout and the others finally forced the Night Fury into the stone cell.
They slammed the door and leaned against it, panting. They watched the
spectacle unfolding before them as the strong door vibrated with the efforts of
the Night Fury at their backs.
Veena and Tarsus returned with the stocks, nearly dropping it upon their
return. Though they carried it between them, it was large and awkward. Panting,
they set it down before Stoick and backed quickly away. Everyone held their
breaths, waiting to see what the chief would do now. For a moment, he only
stared at the hideous device. Hesitation lined his eyes, but his mouth turned
down hard with wrath and shame.
“Stoick,” Gobber tried.
“Silence!” Stoick shouted. Then, he grabbed Hiccup’s arm and hauled him to his
feet. He slammed the boy against the stocks, threw the device open, and forced
Hiccup into it. Though his head fit fine, his wrists were too thin to be
contained by the wooden openings. “Chains!” Stoick demanded.
Silence stretched painfully over the arena.
Stoick whirled around to face his people and his eyes were embers of rage.
Gobber tightened his grip on Stoick’s hammer and prayed that his chief wouldn’t
ask for it.
Stoick’s eyes raked the assembly. With a grunt of disgust, he ripped off his
studded belt noisily.
Hiccup whispered softly, “Dad.”
Stoick kicked the boy this time. His heavy boot cracked hard into Hiccup’s rib
cage and he jerked hard against the stocks. Crying out, he wrapped his arms
desperately around his midsection and struggled weakly against the confines of
the stock holding his head. Stoick tore his belt in half so that he had two
pieces of spiked material. He pried Hiccup’s arm away from his stomach, jerked
the skinny wrist back through the opening of the stock, and tied the studded
leather around first one and then the other. The small armored spikes gouged
into Hiccup’s flesh and he cried out softly. He tugged at his wrists and head,
but the stocks now effectively trapped him.
Inside the stone cell, Night Fury slammed about and shrieked. The massive door
shuddered with the effort of holding back the beast. Spitelout glanced at it
nervously, tightening his fingers around the shaft of his axe.
Breathing hard, Stoick stared at his work. “You threw your lot in with the
dragons,” Stoick panted at the captured boy. “You’re no better than them.
You’re just a beast.” Then, the chief raised his voice loud enough for everyone
to hear. “This—this is no longer my son. It is nothing but a traitor!”
Snotlout’s eyes widened.
A small murmur ran through everyone assembled nearby. They didn’t know what to
make of this sudden violent change in their chief. Should they join him, follow
him like they did in anything else? Or should they protest this treatment of
the boy?
Spitelout and Gobber exchanged a glance.
“It is nothing,” Stoick repeated in a roar. Then, he turned and stared at the
figure of the immobilized boy.
Blood dripped from Hiccup’s wrists and lip, splattering lightly on the stone
floor. Slumped in the stocks, he looked even smaller than usual with his green
tunic hanging off him. His hair was mussed, his eyes were red-rimmed, and his
expression was just short of completely shattered. He breathed raggedly,
softly, as though he could disappear if he was quiet enough.
Stoick turned away and marched towards the portcullis of the arena. His hands
shook.
The Vikings murmured at his back, but no one moved.
Stoick stopped dead and slammed his fist into the wall. “What?” he demanded.
“Is this your first criminal in the stocks? Have at him!”
No one dared speak, not even Gobber. Everyone stared at him. Beneath their
horned helmets, it was like looking into the eyes of a horde of dragons. A
bubble of anger built in Stoick’s throat and he stormed over to the stocks.
With one hand, he ripped Hiccup’s tunic open and jerked the shredded fabric off
him. Hiccup cried out in shock and fear.
Stoick unfastened the boy’s belt and then tore off his pants and boots. He
tossed the clothing he had mended countless times aside like trash. Completely
bare, Hiccup stood immobilized in the stocks. His thin legs and arms trembled,
goose bumps broke out all over his pale freckled skin, and his teeth rattled
together.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup whispered, “Dad, what—?”
Stoick’s sharp blow cut Hiccup off with a yelp of pain. Blinking back tears,
Hiccup fell silent as his back stung. Stoick studied his hand as if uncertain
whether or not it belonged to him as he curled his fingers into a fist. Hitting
Hiccup had felt good, but not good enough. The welt was already fading. Hiccup
might not have been a Viking, but he was still toughened by their lifestyle.
Stoick circled the boy’s bare body, taking in the sight of his small round
bottom and virtually hairless genitals. Freckles dotted his shoulders and the
bridge of his nose, standing out as his skin paled with fear. On the cusp of
manhood, Hiccup was as slender as any woman and no less pretty. Stoick jerked
his trousers open, palmed his flaccid length, and stroked it.
“Stoick,” Gobber began.
“Silence, Gobber,” Stoick snapped, “Unless you’d like to go first.”
Snotlout made a strangled sound and stepped backwards. He bumped hard into
Gobber and the blacksmith gripped his shoulder to steady him. He didn’t know
what Snotlout was thinking. He and Hiccup had never really been close, but they
were still cousins. They had grown up together, even if the years had divided
them.
Restrained as he was, Hiccup didn’t know what was happening. He only heard his
father’s trousers fall. If he craned his neck, he could see the horrified
expressions on Gobber and Snotlout’s faces. What was going to happen to him?
Would Stoick beat him? He braced for a blow that never came.
Stoick spit into his hand and then pressed his fingers to the small opening
between Hiccup’s cheeks. Hiccup jerked against the stocks and cried out in
surprise. Stoick’s hand was a vice around his narrow hip as he worked two
slickened fingers into the tiny place. Hiccup whimpered and squirmed, but there
was nowhere to escape to and no one was coming to save him.
Within the small cell, Toothless threw himself at the door. He could smell
blood and fear, but he couldn’t get out.
“Dad, please,” Hiccup protested. “I’m sorry, I—”
Stoick rammed a third finger inside his small body, stretching the tight ring
of muscle. “You are not my son,” he growled out and punctuated each word with
another thrust of his fingers.
Hiccup whimpered and bit his lower lip. His mouth tasted of metal.
Stoick fumbled at his cock and stroked fervently, but no matter how he touched
himself he couldn’t get hard. Disgusted, he tucked his dick back into his pants
and hissed at Hiccup, “You’re not even good enough to draw a response from a
healthy man’s body.”
Hiccup shuddered. His legs trembled to support his slight weight.
Stoick stretched out a hand and said without drawing his eyes from Hiccup’s
naked body, “Hammer.”
For a moment, no one moved. No one even breathed.
Stoick turned and fixed Gobber with a glare. “Give me my hammer,” he demanded.
“Stoick,” Gobber protested, gripping Snotlout with his one good hand and the
hammer in the crook of his elbow. “Think about this.”
“I don’t need to think about it,” Stoick snapped. “This is not my son! Not
anymore.”
“C-chief,” Snotlout sputtered softly.
Without a choice, Gobber handed the hammer over. It was a broad and heavy with
a thick shaft and ornate filigree around the base and head, crafted by Gobber’s
own hands just for his old friend. It was easily as thick as Hiccup’s wrist.
Stoick stared at it for a moment and another flicker of hesitation crossed his
face.
“Stoick,” Gobber said softly. “It’s not too late. You can stop.”
“Dad,” Hiccup whispered in a small trembling voice. “Dad, please…”
Stoick shook his head firmly and turned his back on Gobber. Then, he spit onto
his hand again and slicked the wooden handle. He turned back to Hiccup and
pressed the unforgiving shaft to his vulnerable opening. Hiccup tried to squirm
away. Blood ran down his arms, dripped off his fingers, and pooled on the
stones. Panic filled his face.
“Chief,” Snotlout protested. He glanced at his father, but Spitelout had
averted his eyes from the sight before them. “Chief.”
Stoick’s eyes were twin arrows when he turned, slicing into Snotlout and
pinning him in place.
Snotlout pressed back against Gobber and felt the blacksmith’s worry and
strength. He sucked in a deep breath and protested one final time, “Uncle!”
Stoick glared at him and said icily, “Quiet, Snotlout. After this is over,
you’ll become my heir.”
The words sank deeply into Snotlout and he lost his breath. He could only
stare, caught somewhere between happiness and the iron teeth of a trap. He
started to shake his head his head in protest, but Spitelout closed the space
between them. He put his hand on Snotlout’s other shoulder. Enclosed between
his father and Gobber, Snotlout only heard Stoick’s final announcement and then
Hiccup’s scream of agony.
“You’re not my son,” Stoick said coldly. Without warning, he thrust the thick
shaft of the axe into Hiccup’s body mercilessly.
Hiccup screamed. His voice filled the air, echoed against the walls, and ripped
into everyone in its path. In answer, the caged Night Fury howled. Six powerful
blasts of fire slammed into the steel door that contained him. It rocked on its
hinges and smoke plumed from beneath it, but it remained standing. The same
could not be said for Hiccup. His legs folded beneath him so that the only
thing holding him up was the terrible handle of the hammer. Stoick pounded into
him with all his strength, sparing nothing. The expression in his eyes was
frenzied and lost.
Hiccup’s screams faded into choked whimpers of anguish. Stoick’s breath came
sharp and hard, panting, as he used the hammer on his son’s small body. In
between vicious thrusts, he struck Hiccup’s exposed back. Soon, the pale skin
was blotched with bruises and welts. Blood ran down his arms and from his torn
mouth. Slowly, tears gathered in Hiccup’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. He
couldn’t believe his father would hurt him like this. All around him, people he
had known all his lives only watched as he was violated. No one lifted a hand
to help him, but he could hear Toothless battering himself at the door of his
cage.
In that moment, he knew he had done the right thing by saving the Night Fury.
Toothless was the only one who cared what happened to him.
Stoick slammed the shaft deeper into Hiccup and he cried out sharply as
something deep inside his body gave way. His legs convulsed, trembling as they
struggled to hold him up. Stoick jerked the hammer at a new angle, pulling him
open. He cried, fighting back screams and pleas for mercy. Stoick rammed it
inside again and again, his breath rasping between his clenched teeth. Finally,
he forced the hammer in as deep as he could and let go. The weight dragged
Hiccup to his knees, spearing into his body at a sharp angle, and he whimpered
desperately.
Stoick staggered backwards, breathing hard.
For a small eternity, no one spoke.
“Well,” Stoick said breathlessly. “Have at him. That’s not my son. It’s just
the village whore now.” With that, he turned away from Hiccup and left his
hammer buried inside the boy’s body. He disappeared from the arena, his head
held high and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
In his wake, the villagers murmured. A few stepped towards Hiccup, uncertain,
while others backed away.
Snotlout craned his head, trying to get a look at his cousin. Gobber turned
away from the sight of the stocks, dragging Snotlout with him, and Spitelout
closed in behind him. Together, they left the killing arena behind. The
horrific sounds of the Night Fury trying to escape and aid Hiccup followed
them.
                                     X X X
Prompt: When Stoick captures Toothless, instead of using him to take them to
the Dragons’ Nest, he kills Toothless in front of Hiccup. Then, he disowns
Hiccup, locks him up, and makes him the town whore for anyone to use. Make it
graphic, make it hurt! (Except… I just couldn’t bring myself to kill Toothless!
I just love him too much! So, sorry to anyone who’s disappointed, but there
will be no Toothless death in this story. I just couldn’t do it.)
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review and you’ll get a band-aid for the pain!
***** The Birth of a Traitor *****
So I hope everyone checked in for the long haul. This story is going to get bad
and then worse and then terrible before it gets better so stay tuned.
                                     X X X
Veena Vanquisher was there the night Hiccup was born. It was Valka’s third
pregnancy, but the first to ever reach its final term. Valka had lost the other
babies in torrents of blood that wouldn’t stop until everything was empty.
Stoick paced the hall outside. His boots clomped heavily on the recently
repaired floorboards. Dragons shrieked outside the windows, people screamed,
catapults were fired. The wind howled like a living thing, clawing at the
window as it tried to get in. Veena tried to block those sounds from her mind.
She sat beside Valka, holding her dear friend’s hand through the pain of labor.
Veena rested her hand on the small swollen bump of her own belly. In a few more
months, her own child would be born. The midwife and Gothi remained at the foot
of the bed, trusting Veena to keep Valka calm and comfortable even if it was
the first childbirth either of them had experienced. Sweat stood out on Valka’s
brow and she groaned in pain as another contraction rocked through her body.
Veena hushed her nervously. “It’ll be alright,” she promised as the sounds of
battle outside began to diminish. “You’re doing so well.”
Valka nodded with her eyes squeezed shut.
Veena pushed her chestnut hair back and offered her a cloth to bite.
Valka shook her head and gazed blearily at Veena’s face. “If it’s a girl, I
want to name her—” A contraction ripped through Valka and the name was lost in
a stifled scream. She squeezed Veena’s hand in a vice grip. “And if it’s a boy,
I want to name him Hiccup.”
“Hiccup?” Veena repeated and glanced nervously at the midwife.
The midwife shook her head. It wasn’t time yet.
Valka nodded and loosened her grip on Veena’s hand. “Hiccup Horrendous
Haddock,” she said breathlessly, “the Third.”
Veena pressed her lips together. She couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for
Valka and Stoick to lose their babies before they were even born.
Gothi paced quieter than Stoick. The bones and teeth on her staff rattled
ominously. She went to the window and peeked out, but didn’t say anything about
whatever was outside.
Veena’s skin prickled with worry as she watched Gothi. She thought of her
husband and then forced herself to focus on Valka. Her friend’s skin was pale
and waxen. “How is she?” Veena asked the midwife, holding Valka’s hand a little
tighter.
The midwife dipped between Valka’s legs and then shook her head. Her hands were
covered in blood. Something was wrong with the birth. Gothi already knew it and
so did the midwife.
Veena bit her lip and clasped Valka’s hand firmly in both of hers. “We should
let Stoick in,” she said. “Let him be with her and give her strength.”
Gothi nodded assent.
“Chief,” the midwife called at the threshold and ushered him to his wife’s
side.
Veena stepped away and let Stoick take her place. She sat on the heavy dowry
chest near the window, one hand supporting her belly. Sympathetic pain moved
through her as another contraction speared Valka. She screamed this time and it
was a sound of deep anguish.
Stoick’s face went white behind his braided beard. “Can’t you do something?” he
pleaded with the midwife.
Gothi shook her head and gripped her staff firmly.
Stoick cradled Valka’s hand, stroked her fingers, and then touched her face.
“Valka, my beautiful wife,” he murmured.
Valka’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at Stoick hazily. “Don’t look so
sad, my love,” she whispered.
The midwife pressed on Valka’s knees, on her belly, on her hips. “I need you to
push, Valka,” she insisted. “There isn’t much time.”
Valka nodded and began to push in time with her contractions, gripping Stoick’s
hand tightly. Excruciating pain lined her pale face, twisted her lips downward,
and caught in her eyes like twin needles. Blood dripped over the end of the bed
and spread across the floorboards slowly.
Veena had never felt so helpless in her entire life. She had always been
strong. She was a fierce warrior equal to any man and had slain her share of
dragons, but there was nothing she could do to keep the life in her dearest
friend. Valka’s blood left her as quickly as her strength, but the baby came.
Horror gripped Veena’s heart when the baby was silent. The midwife lifted it
away, snipped the cord with ease, and wiped the baby’s face. A moment later,
the baby’s loud cry split through the night.
Stoick breathed out with sharp relief.
Valka smiled. She stretched out her trembling arms. “Let me hold him,” she
whispered.
The midwife tucked the baby into Valka’s arms and then crouched between her
legs. Veena joined her, desperate for some way to help. She had dressed wounds
in battle. Maybe there was something she could do— The midwife drew the sheet
down over Valka’s lower body with a shake of her head. Gothi put a hand on
Veena’s shoulder and tugged her away.
“You need to nurse him,” the midwife said gently to Valka. “There isn’t time.”
Valka nodded, lowered her tunic, and nestled the tiny babe against her breast.
Stoick touched her hair, touched the babe’s face, touched the soft swell of her
breast. Valka’s chest rose and fell slowly as the baby suckled. She smiled
beautifully, a glowing goddess lying there in the bed.
“Hiccup,” Valka whispered. “My Hiccup.” Then, she looked up at Stoick and
smiled as she caressed his face. “My loves,” she told them. Then, as quietly as
a ship passing in the night, she was gone.
Hiccup immediately began to cry. He must have sensed his mother’s spirit leave
the earth. He wailed as though his heart was breaking and clutched her tunic
with his tiny fingers. It was all the midwife could do to lift him from Valka’s
arms and rock him as he screamed.
“No,” Stoick breathed out and gripped Valka’s shoulders. “Come back,” he
begged. “Don’t leave me. Don’t go!”
Veena watched in horror as the chief crumpled over his wife. The midwife stood
aside with Gothi, holding the baby as he cried. It was a long time before
Stoick was able to step away from Valka and take his son. The child in his arms
was too small, too frail, just a wee thing that didn’t look as though it would
survive the night. As he cradled the baby, that was the one and only time Veena
saw the chief weep.
Veena left with the midwife and Gothi. Together, they stood outside the chief’s
house as the rest of the village drove off the remaining dragons. Silence
stretched over Berk like a blanket. It began to snow, soft fluffy flakes that
drifted on the dark breeze.
For her pyre, Stoick laid Valka into his favorite vessel and lit it ablaze with
his own hands, swimming back to shore through the icy winter waters. He stood
there, dripping and shivering, until Gobber managed to pull him away. Veena
held Hiccup and watched from shore, her heart aching for her friend. Valka
would never get to hold Hiccup again or breastfeed him until he fell asleep.
She would never see Hiccup grow up.
Time passed slowly in the following days. Darkness hung over the village and
heavy snowfall covered everything.
Valka had always been strange. She sympathized with dragons, never wishing to
shed blood that could be spared, and spoke softly when others yelled. Yet
everyone loved Valka. There was something special about her. Without her, the
village felt hollow and that emptiness was filled with Hiccup’s crying. Though
Stoick held him as best he could, it was no substitute for a mother. Veena and
other women in the village took turns nursing Hiccup until he could be fed
yak’s milk, but he remained small and slender. He remained a shadow of Valka.
Months later, Veena gave birth to Astrid. She never told anyone about the
nightmares she had or the dread that filled her. She didn’t want to die like
Valka had, unable to hold her baby and raise her and love her. Nevertheless,
Veena was healthy and strong. Astrid was born healthier and stronger. Unlike
Hiccup who cried at all hours, Astrid slept deep and she cooed contentedly with
her father’s helmet in her chubby hands. Veena didn’t think she could ever love
anyone more than she loved Astrid.
As the years passed, Astrid grew strong and fierce, just like Veena. Hiccup
never seemed to grow. He was weak compared to the other children, smaller and
slower, but there was the same gentle quietness about him that Veena had seen
on Valka. She watched Hiccup from afar, uncertain if there was something wrong
with him or if he was just like Valka in the same way Astrid was like Veena.
“Veena?” Stoick asked one night over sweet mead.
With Leon seated beside her and Astrid squashed between them, Veena looked up
at the chief curiously. They had hardly spoken a word to each other since the
night of Hiccup’s birth. Valka’s death hung between them, heavy and rattling.
It was a chain that kept them close, but didn’t allow them to forget. The grief
was like poison.
“Someday, Hiccup will become the Chief of Berk,” Stoick murmured into his mug.
“I want him to have someone strong at his side, someone like Astrid.”
Veena glanced at her daughter. To Stoick’s right, Hiccup sat atop the Dragon
Manual so he could reach the table. He dozed sleepily at his plate, exhausted
from a day of jumping into his father’s deep footprints. Veena saw Valka in
him, in his freckles and wild hair, in his soft excitement and the way he
chased butterflies. She nodded slowly, remembering how she and Valka had grown
up together and how each learned from the other.
“Yes,” Leon agreed and ruffled Astrid’s messy hair. To be considered for the
chief’s wife was a great honor and he was no fool. “They would be a good
match.”
Stoick nodded gratefully.
For the longest time, they didn’t speak of the betrothal. While both children
were young, it was accepted. Hiccup was still young and small. He would someday
grow into a strong boy, a powerful chief, a dragon killer, but… Hiccup never
grew into that. Even at thirteen, he couldn’t swing a hammer and he couldn’t
lift an axe. He couldn’t even throw a bola or draw a bow. Though he could read
and write easily, his only real talent seemed to be messing things up. Stoick
and Gobber were forever mending his messes, he had to be protected during every
raid, and he was nothing like a chief should be. He remained Hiccup.
As Astrid grew, she only became stronger and faster and better. She was the
ideal shield maiden, a little valkyrie running through the mud and putting out
fires, a warrior like Veena with a heart of steel. She didn’t cry when her
father scolded her or when she skinned her knees. She tried to carry Veena’s
oversized axe as soon as she could walk. By twelve, she was an expert marksman
with her own double-headed axe. She was beautiful with her pale hair and jewel-
blue eyes. She was everything necessary in a chief’s wife. Veena began to think
the betrothal was just a bad dream.
It was late when Veena met up with Stoick in the Mead Hall.
“Stoick,” she began and clenched her hands in her trousers.
The chief looked at her and there was sorrow in his eyes. He must have already
known what was coming. He wasn’t blind. He could see it too.
“We need to call off the engagement,” Veena said coldly and quickly.
Stoick nodded slowly.
The words everyone thought but no one dare speak tumbled from Veena’s mouth
like blood. “Hiccup isn’t good enough,” she said. “He isn’t good enough for my
daughter.”
Stoick did not say anything to acknowledge or refute what she said. He gazed
into the fire flickering between them in silence.
With nothing else to say, Veena walked away from the chief. For the first time
in a long while, she didn’t feel Valka’s spirit floating over the village. The
night was empty and cold, snowy, as it had been the night Valka died. Veena
wrapped her arms around herself and walked home slowly. She thought of Hiccup,
but she couldn’t find even a scrap of affection for the boy. He was a worthless
child who had stolen the life of Veena’s very best friend. He caused Valka’s
death and he wasn’t even worth having alive. Hiccup was nothing—nothing but a
mistake.
…
The metal studs of Stoick’s belt dug into Hiccup’s wrists as he struggled
weakly. Blood rolled hot down his arms. The handle of the hammer remained
inside him, shredding him in a way he had never thought possible. The pain was
so great that it brought fresh tears to his eyes. He fought back a whimper of
agony and tugged against his bonds again.
Footsteps padded on the stone behind him. A warm hand slid against his bottom,
gripped the hammer, and eased it gently from within him. He almost sobbed in
relief. His legs trembled as he stood, but they supported him. His body
clenched raggedly, trying to adjust after being brutally stretched open.
“T-thank you,” Hiccup choked out. “Thank you.”
He waited for his father to release him, to give the order to release him, or
to say how long this punishment would last. Yet Stoick’s voice did not come.
All around him, Vikings murmured. Some moved away while others pressed closer.
A hand slid across his back and then down over his chest to pinch his nipple
gently. He jolted, trying to jerk away, but the stocks held him firmly.
“Dad?” he called desperately. “Dad?”
Silence answered him and a shiver of horror moved across his skin. He knew
something was wrong. His father had struck him before, shaded his skin with
different welts and bruises, and left a few scars. Stoick occasionally handled
him roughly, tossing him into the safety of houses or into the Mead Hall or
into his bed when he snuck out. Hiccup was familiar with punishment, but it
always stopped. Stoick had never hurt him worse than he deserved.
Rough callused fingers pushed into his raw opening and stroked his walls. He
tried to squirm away, crying out, as someone else reached between his legs to
grip him where he had barely touched himself. A beard tickled his exposed back
and he felt the cold press of armor against his skin.
“Dad?” he cried. “Dad? Dad!”
“He’s not coming,” whispered a feminine voice at his back. “He gave you up to
us.”
“We haven’t had a whore in so long,” groaned a man. “I’ve missed being inside
someone warm.”
“Here, use some of this.” Something exchanged hands. “We don’t want him to
rip.”
“I want a turn,” someone else called.
Hiccup shuddered, trembling in terror as wet fingers slipped inside him and
spread his muscles open. “N-no,” he begged. “Stop, please.” He heard the clink
of belts being opened and pleased groans. The fingers inside him made sloppy
wet sounds, but the chafing pain diminished into a feeling of wrongness. His
body wasn’t meant to be used like this. “Please, stop!”
“Hush,” a woman said and pushed her fingers into his mouth. “It won’t be over
soon. You should endure, just like a woman.”
Hiccup sobbed. Then, hard hips pressed into his bottom and he felt the hot
swollen head probe into his opening. He struggled as best he could, but the
stocks were more than a prison. Easily, the man slammed into Hiccup’s soft body
with a groan of bliss that was drowned out by Hiccup’s shriek of pain.
Caged, Hiccup could hear Toothless battering himself against the walls and
door.
“Bud,” he whispered. His vision swam as the man began to buck into him,
pounding hard and fast.
Someone circled to the front of the stocks. Hiccup blearily looked up at the
face of Fishlegs’s father, Sturgeon Ingerman. For a moment, he almost smiled.
Sturgeon had always been kind to Hiccup, watching out for him as he did his own
son. However, Sturgeon began opening his pants and Hiccup’s heart crumbled. He
squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as Sturgeon hooked his fingers
beneath Hiccup’s chin and forced his head up.
Hiccup smelled the unwashed flesh even before it bumped his lips. He didn’t
open his mouth, but Sturgeon’s fingers drilled into his cheeks as sharply as
any blade. Hiccup realized that Sturgeon would break his jaw before he gave up.
Rather than be injured that terribly, Hiccup allowed his mouth to be opened.
The foul flesh forced its way past his teeth and pressed into the back of his
throat. Hiccup gagged, but Sturgeon gripped the back of his head painfully.
Grunting, Sturgeon began to thrust deliberately into Hiccup’s mouth. Hiccup
choked and coughed, but wasn’t allowed to pull away. His breath wheezed in his
throat, stifled by the cock sliding deeper and deeper. From behind, the other
Viking still plowed into his delicate body. The force of his thrusts bounced
Hiccup’s bare shoulders into the rough wood. His skin broke and tore, bleeding
freely, as he was abused from opposite sides.
Finally, Sturgeon thrust deep into his mouth and emptied with a groan. Foul
seed flooded across Hiccup’s tongue and scalded a path down his throat.
Coughing, it dripped from the corners of his lips and landed in gooey piles on
the stone. Disgusted, Hiccup could only close his eyes against the sight.
Behind him, the other man moaned and Hiccup felt the same wetness coat his
insides. He shuddered and tugged the restraints again.
“Please,” he whispered. “No more.”
Sturgeon tucked himself back into his pants and walked away. Another slid to
take his place. Then came another and another and another.
…
Astrid Hofferson looked up from her axe when her parents slammed in through the
front door. She hadn’t gone to the arena to watch Hiccup kill the Monstrous
Nightmare. She hadn’t felt like it and she was annoyed that he kept besting her
on things that she had practically claimed. How did Hiccup—useless, weakling
Hiccup—become superior to her in Dragon Training? She knew something was up
with Hiccup, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Hey,” she said conversationally. “How was it?”
Her father, Leon the Lionhearted, sat down heavily in his chair by the hearth.
There was dragon blood on his sleeves and the waistband of his pants. Astrid’s
mother, Veena Vanquisher, pushed back her tousled hair and crossed to pat
Astrid comfortingly on the shoulder.
Astrid’s stomach dropped. “Is Hiccup dead?”
“He might as well be,” Veena said evenly as she began to pull ingredients from
the icebox for supper.
“It might even be better that way,” Leon added.
Astrid put aside her axe and got to her feet. “What do you mean? What
happened?” While Hiccup certainly wasn’t her favorite person, she didn’t really
wish him dead. In certain ways, she had always liked Hiccup. While he might not
have been the strongest Vikings, he was certainly the most honest and one of
the smartest. Even if his inventions were always exploding or malfunctioning,
at least he tried to create something. No one else did that. “Dad? Tell me what
happened.”
Leon blew out a long breath.
“He’s tamed a dragon,” Veena ground out from the kitchen. “Can you believe it?
The chief’s own son has been stealing food from our children’s mouths to feed
that beast.”
Astrid’s lungs stopped dead in her chest. She had to remind herself to suck in
air. “What?” she repeated.
Veena glanced up at her daughter and said, “You heard correctly, Astrid. Not
only that, but the dragon he’s been hiding is a Night Fury—of all the foul
beasts!”
Astrid’s head rang with the memory of Hiccup’s voice. How many raids ago had he
dragged his contraption out onto the battlefield, fired at something in the
darkness, and then run screaming through the village as a Monstrous Nightmare
chased him? She remembered hearing him claim that he had shot down a Night
Fury. At the time, no one had listened to him.
“It exploded right into the arena when the Nightmare charged,” Veena continued.
“It came to protect him.”
“A Night Fury?” Astrid breathed out and found herself wondering what the dragon
looked like. She had never seen but glimpses of it against the torchlight, but
it was the deadliest and swiftest of all dragons. How had Hiccup managed to
befriend a creature like that? “What happened to it?” she asked.
“Stoick locked it up with the others,” Veena muttered. “I don’t see why he
didn’t just kill it.”
A little feather of eagerness tickled beneath Astrid’s ribcage. Maybe she could
still see it. Another thought sobered her though. “What about Hiccup?” she
asked.
Veena hesitated and Astrid’s skin prickled with worry. Her mother was never one
to hide something. Veena was brazen and outspoken, often starting fights and
using her fists to carve her opinion into someone else’s face. There wasn’t
much that Veena was afraid of.
“Dad?” Astrid asked, turning to face her father where he still slouched before
the fire.
Leon wet his lips, his mouth worked beneath his beard, and his throat flashed
behind the braids. Leon was almost the opposite of Veena. He was pensive and
cautious, kind and gentle when he tended Astrid’s skinned knees and worked the
tangles from her hair, but he had never hidden anything from her. Whatever he
was about to say was hurtful and he wanted his daughter to be prepared for his
words.
Astrid took a deep breath and then nodded to him. After all, they had already
said that Hiccup was alive. How bad could it be?
Finally, Leon admitted, “Chief Stoick disowned Hiccup.”
Astrid waited, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She knew there had to
be more than just that.
“He had stocks brought to the arena and he put Hiccup in them,” Leon continued.
Astrid bit her lower lip as she thought of all the times she had seen criminals
put in the stocks at the edge of the village. People went to beat them, taunt
them, and occasionally torture them just for the fun of it. Astrid had always
hated it, especially when she saw people she knew throwing mud and rotten food
at the person. She had always begged her parents to do something about it, but
it was the chief’s discretion to punish as he saw fit.
“Then he,” Leon hesitated, “he forced the handle of his hammer inside him.”
Astrid froze and stared at her father with wide blue eyes, certain this must be
some sort of elaborate joke. She was grateful that she had already set down her
axe or it would have dropped from her hands with shock. Her fingers and toes
went numb.
Leon only nodded to confirm her fears. “He left Hiccup in the arena for the
village to use, as is customary,” he continued.
Astrid bolted towards the door before she could stop herself.
Leon was out of his chair with his hand clasped tightly around her arm in an
instant. Astrid spun to face him, her eyes blurring as she looked into his
face. Without a word, Leon pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered into
her hair, “Don’t go, Astrid, not even to look. Anyone who helps him will be
crossing the chief. I couldn’t bear if something happened to you.”
Astrid knotted her fingers in his tunic and nodded slowly, burying her face
into his vest.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review?
***** Trolls and Stones *****
I want everyone to start thinking about whether or not they want to see Astrid
and Hiccup sleep together in the last chapter.
                                     X X X
Four was a difficult age for Astrid. It was the time when her image of herself
most clashed with what she was capable of. She stole her mother’s axe from the
hall closet even though she could barely lift it and snatched her father’s
helmet from the mantel even though it dropped over her eyes. So armed, she
darted out into Berk to slay the fiercest beast she could. Yesterday, it was
chickens, but today she would certainly take down a dragon.
Gobber shouted as she darted between his legs and he staggered on his new
prosthetic.
“Sorry, Gobber!” she called over her shoulder. She hurdled the fence separating
her house from the overflowing scrap of Gobber’s forge, but her mother’s axe
didn’t quite make it with her. The heavy iron head stuck firmly on the other
side, tipped down into the mud. Astrid planted her feet and heaved to no avail.
Gobber tottered over to her and lifted the axe over the fence. “What are you up
to this morning, lass?”
She hefted the axe onto her shoulder, staggered under its weight, and her
father’s helmet slipped over her eyes. She pushed it back and told Gobber
breathlessly, “I’m going to slay a dragon.”
Gobber chuckled and nudged the helmet down over her eyes with one finger.
“You’d better stop chasing the chickens or Silent Sven isn’t going to be so
silent anymore,” he warned.
Astrid stuck out her lip. “I can slay a dragon, you’ll see!” she protested.
“I’m sure you will,” Gobber said evenly. “Now, why don’t you let me see you
swing that axe?”
Astrid beamed, gripped the axe with both hands, and swung it rather fiercely
for a child. It crashed into the fencepost, nicked off a splinter, and sank
into the dirt. The heavy weight pulled Astrid with it and she spun all the way
around before facing Gobber with a bright smile.
“That’s the spirit,” Gobber told her joyfully. His eyes darted from her,
studied something, and then returned. “You know, I think I just saw a Night
Fury go into the forest.”
Astrid whirled around and tipped sideways with the weight of her axe. “Where?
Where?”
Gobber pointed to a small outcropping of blooming red bushes. “Just there,” he
said. “If you can slay it, I bet the chief will recognize your glory.”
Astrid’s cheeks flushed with eagerness. “I will,” she swore. “I’ll be the
bravest warrior in Berk!” She dragged her axe over her shoulder, handed Gobber
her father’s too-big helmet, and raced off.
Gobber chuckled at her retreating form, set Leon’s helmet on his workbench, and
returned to forging new weapons for the dragon raids. He thought about making a
child-sized axe for Astrid, but figured she would only be insulted.
Astrid charged through the foliage like a noisy yak. She tripped over roots and
stumbled through puddles, dragging the heavy axe with her all the while. She
could hear someone—or a dragon—moving ahead of her though they were quieter
than she was. Odd, she hadn’t thought a dragon could move through the brush so
silently. She hurried after it, but only went noisier in her haste. Finally,
she tore through a curtain of thorny brambles and jumped into a large clearing.
She swung the axe with all her strength, but there was nothing there.
Astrid whipped her head around. Her pigtails hit her cheeks as she searched for
the Night Fury. She was certain she had heard the dragon stop. It was silent in
the forest save for the twittering of birds and the faint breeze rustling the
leaves overhead. Surely she would be able to hear the dragon moving around. It
had to be here somewhere.
“Astrid?” came a small voice somewhere above her.
She froze and slowly looked up.
Much to her surprise, there wasn’t a ghost, a goddess, or a dragon towering
above her. It was the chief’s young son, Hiccup, sitting in the tree overhead
with both skinny arms wrapped around the branch. He waved down at her
nervously.
“What are you doing up there?” she demanded.
“I heard something crashing after me,” he explained. “I thought it was a dragon
so I hid.”
Astrid stamped her foot as she realized Gobber had tricked her. “Get down
here!” she shouted. “That was me. I thought you were a dragon. I was going to
slay you.”
Hiccup’s green eyes widened. “You were going to slay a dragon?”
“Of course,” Astrid said with a snort. “I’m the bravest warrior in all of
Berk.”
“My dad is braver,” Hiccup protested.
Astrid’s mouth quirked. “He is not,” she told him. “My dad is braver than
anyone.”
“Your dad is nicer than anyone,” Hiccup admitted.
Astrid couldn’t deny that. She leaned on her mother’s heavy axe. “Come down,
Hiccup,” she said. “I’m not going to slay you since you’re not a dragon.”
“Promise?”
She sighed, “Promise.”
With surprising ease and quickness, Hiccup clambered down the tall tree. There
were leaves and twigs in his hair, but he smiled brightly at Astrid. “Do you
want to hunt for trolls with me?”
Astrid’s eyes widened with excitement and then narrowed. “My mom says there’s
no such thing as trolls,” she said sternly.
Hiccup shook his head. “They’re real,” he assured her. “Gobber told me. They
steal all the left socks in the village.”
Astrid looked down at her feet, thinking about the socks her mother had darned
just the night before. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a left sock,” she
said. “They both look the same.”
Hiccup scuffed his boots in the dirt shyly. “Not true,” he said. “The left sock
is the one on your left foot.”
Astrid opened her mouth and then closed it. She didn’t really know how to argue
this. “Alright,” she agreed finally. “But you have to help me carry my axe.”
Hiccup eyed the massive weapon nervously. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “That
looks really heavy.”
“You can carry the handle half,” Astrid said, “and I’ll carry the sharp part.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Hiccup said softly. “That’s not good.”
“I won’t hurt myself,” Astrid grumbled and grasped the axe just below the head
with one hand.
Hiccup gripped the handle in both of his and the two of them lifted the axe out
of the mud. Together, they walked down the path, stepping cautiously over
branches and puddles. Hiccup chattered aimlessly as they walked, pointing out
plants and birds that Astrid had never seen before. They found a thicket of
wildflowers near a stream. Astrid dropped her axe in her excitement and dove
into the field, burying her face in the open petals and breathing deeply.
Hiccup told her the name of each flower, but she barely listened. She picked
the prettiest flowers she could find and bundled them together in one hand.
Hiccup wandered after her, pausing occasionally to choose certain flowers.
Astrid found a bright blue lily and tucked it behind her ear, giggling. Then,
she dropped out of sight and wove a circle of daises into a crown.
“Astrid?” Hiccup called after a moment.
Giggling, she sprang out of the flowers and leaped on him. They tumbled through
the flowers together, shedding petals and disturbing butterflies. When they
came to a stop near the stream, Astrid was seated atop him and grinned
victoriously. She dropped the crown of daisies down on his head and beamed.
Hiccup touched the flowers with one hand, but didn’t brush them off immediately
as the other boys did when Ruffnut made flower crowns.
Astrid flopped down beside him the tall grass, holding the bouquet to her
chest. “I’m going to give these to my mom,” she said softly. “Do you want to
pick some for your dad?”
Hiccup showed her the small cluster he had picked. “I already did.”
She sat up and looked around for her mother’s axe. It gleamed a few feet away,
shining in the midday sunlight. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Do you think its
lunchtime yet?”
In answer, Hiccup’s stomach growled noisily.
Astrid giggled and jumped to her feet. She raced through the flowers to where
her mother’s axe lay and gripped it again. Hiccup joined her a moment later and
picked up the handle dutifully. Together, they walked back to the village.
Astrid didn’t even care that they hadn’t found one troll.
Gobber was sitting in a chair in front of his shop with his injured leg propped
up on a small stool. He waved when he saw them. “See?” he remarked affably. “I
told you they’d come back when they got hungry.”
Astrid’s mother, Veena, and Chief Stoick stood a few feet away. Stoick was busy
dealing with the latest village problem, waving his hands and tugging his
beard. Veena’s arms were folded across her large breasts, but a soft smile
broke across her face when Astrid stumbled towards her.
“These are for you, Mama,” Astrid said and held out the bouquet.
“They’re lovely,” Veena said and pressed the flowers to her nose. “Your daddy
will put them on the table for suppertime, okay?”
Astrid nodded, smiling. Veena took her axe, hefting it easily with one hand.
Hiccup, still crowned with Astrid’s daisies, approached his father with his own
bouquet. He offered it with a shy smile. Stoick peered down at him, glanced at
Veena and Gobber, and then gingerly accepted the flowers. They looked foolish
in his big hand, but Hiccup’s face transformed with a bright smile.
“Let’s go,” Stoick said and brushed the daisies from Hiccup’s wild hair. “You
should be at the forge where Gobber can keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, let the kid have some fun, Stoick,” Gobber called.
Stoick pushed Hiccup towards the forge and he bounded over to Gobber,
chattering excitedly.
Veena lifted Astrid with her free arm and brushed some petals from her blonde
hair. “You’re so filthy,” she said. “You’re going to need a bath tonight.”
Astrid nodded her agreement and watched Hiccup over her mother’s strong
shoulder. Hiccup caught her eyes, smiled again, and waved with both his arms.
Astrid’s wave was considerably smaller, but her smile was no less bright. Then,
she saw Stoick’s bouquet lying in the dirt. The fragile petals had already been
trampled into the mud.
…
The day was both easier to bear and also much harder. Exhausted and raw, Hiccup
hung from the stocks. Wetness dripped down his legs, prying little shudders
from him at the feeling. Occasionally, he tugged against his bonds, but they
showed no signs of giving way. Nothing did—nothing but him that was. Hiccup
didn’t know how much more he could take. His father would come back for him
soon, right? He had to, right? Regardless of everything Hiccup had and hadn’t
done, Stoick was still his father. He loved him, right?
Hiccup’s stomach growled loudly. Wincing, Hiccup lowered himself to his knees
and leaned as much of his weight as he could against the stocks. How long had
he been here? The hours had crawled by. Though Hiccup could tell time with the
passage of the sun, he had blacked out sometime. When he came to, all sense of
how long he had been there was gone. His stomach growled again. Hiccup squinted
at the setting sunlight and an unpleasant twinge of fear moved through his
chest.
If last night was any indication, the nights were going to be the worst for
him. So many people—men and women both—came to enact punishment on him. The
worst were the ones who used him, forced objects into his body, raped him, and
violated his mouth. The beatings were bearable compared to that, even if
drawing breath sent a spear of pain through his ribs. His wrists ached, cut
almost to the bone by his father’s studded belt and the stocks.
Gingerly, he licked his split lips, but his mouth was too dry. How long had it
been since he had water? His stomach growled as loudly as any dragon. His body
throbbed at the core, torn and tattered unlike anything he had ever felt
before. As the sun sank beyond the ocean, the cold began to press in on
Hiccup’s naked body. Ice seeped into his feet and legs from the cold ground and
the icy wind whipped at him as harshly as any blow.
Taking advantage of being alone in the arena for the moment, Hiccup croaked,
“Toothless.”
In answer, he heard the dragon warble behind the steel door. Toothless
scratched at the small space between the stone and the door, breathing smoke
from within the tiny space.
Hiccup’s lips curved in a small smile. At least Toothless was all right and he
wasn’t totally alone. When someone hurt Hiccup bad enough to make him scream,
Toothless always threw himself at the door, breathed fire, and roared. Though
it did little to discourage Hiccup’s abusers, he appreciated the sentiment.
“I’m okay, bud,” Hiccup forced out. “My dad won’t let this go on much longer.
I’m sure he won’t…”
Toothless crooned behind the door.
Footsteps echoed on the stone and Hiccup flinched without thinking. After
everything that had happened, he didn’t know what to expect anymore. Fishleg’s
father had come to abuse him repeatedly. His uncle, Spitelout, watched with
eyes like lanterns from the edge of the arena without ever lifting a finger to
help him. Gobber hadn’t come at all. Now, Hiccup heard the slosh of water and
smelled cooked meat. Maybe someone had finally come to help him. His starving
stomach growled.
Veena Vanquisher stepped into Hiccup’s line of sight. She held a large mug and
a plate balanced in one hand while gripping her axe with the other. Her blonde
hair and dark eyes gleamed in the light of the torches. Wearing her armor of
skulls and teeth, she reminded Hiccup a little of Astrid. Hiccup was grateful
that Astrid hadn’t come to the Killing Arena—yet. She hadn’t always been kind
to him, but she had never gone out of her way to hurt or make fun of him. She
was one of the few who hadn’t. Watching Hiccup, Veena lifted the meat to her
lips and took a bite.
An involuntary whimper escaped Hiccup’s lips. He forced himself to look away
from the food.
Veena continued to at quietly, sipping her drink occasionally. Each little
sound of chewing and swallowing, the faint slosh of water, and the scent of
food tortured Hiccup. On the day he was supposed to slay the Monstrous
Nightmare, he had been too nervous to eat and now he was starving. Veena took
another sip of water and then approached him with heavy footsteps. Hiccup tried
to shrink away, but the stocks held him firmly in place. Veena crouched before
him, the plate balanced tantalizingly on her knee. Hiccup’s mouth watered.
“Are you thirsty?” Veena asked. Her voice was hoarse and hard, nothing like
Astrid’s.
Hiccup could only nod. His throat was too dry to speak and his tongue was thick
with semen.
Veena lifted the cup towards him. Hiccup strained to reach it, his dry lips
cracking as they opened, but it remained just out of reach. Veena regarded him,
holding the cup at a distance she knew he couldn’t quite reach. Her lips were
pressed into a bloodless line. Hiccup stretched his neck, raw shoulders
scraping against the rough stocks.
“P-please,” he whimpered, “P-please.”
Veena let the cup touch his lips and tipped it just enough to allow him a
taste. It was water, still crisp and cool from the well. Hiccup nearly sobbed
with relief, but couldn’t draw enough into his mouth. The wood pressed into his
throat, choking him, and he drew back slightly. The cup remained where it was,
teasingly close and yet unattainable.
“Please, please,” he begged Astrid’s mother.
Veena moved the cup a little closer and Hiccup desperately reached for it with
his lips and tongue. It wasn’t close enough to make drinking easy, but it was
enough. Desperately, he drew the water into his mouth and swallowed. Some of
the pain and rawness faded from his throat and mouth. He drank until the cup
was empty. Then, Veena drew it away.
“Thank you,” he gasped breathlessly. “Thank you.”
“Hungry, too?” Veena asked. There was bite in her words.
Hiccup could only nod. His stomach growled.
She lifted the meat with her fingertips and studied it. It was mutton, slightly
crisp and burnt from the fire. Hiccup had never really cared for mutton, but he
would have eaten anything she brought to him. Veena rose to her feet with the
food and the empty cup. Without a backwards glance, she opened the tiny grate
to Toothless’s cell, threw the meat inside, and slammed it.
“That’s too bad,” Veena said coldly. “Now you know what it feels like to have
something you want fed to a dragon.”
Hiccup’s throat closed.
Veena walked away without another word and the frigid night closed in around
him.
Hiccup licked his lips and fought back the rush of tears. He knew Veena and his
mother had been friends before his birth killed her. He had always thought
Astrid’s mother tolerated him, but he had never known that she hated him enough
to leave him hungry. He supposed he deserved it. What she said was true. He had
been taking food from the village to feed Toothless.
Behind the door, Toothless crooned softly.
“Go ahead, bud,” Hiccup murmured. “You’re hungry too, right?”
Toothless warbled. If he ate the meat, it was quiet enough that Hiccup didn’t
hear it. He hung against the stocks and tried to be grateful for the water. It
was better than nothing. Besides, he could hear the clomp of heavy boots
entering the arena at the same pace as the night before.
The day had been hot and empty as everyone worked, but the nights were cold and
full. Hiccup steeled himself for what was to come. If last night had been any
indication, he wouldn’t be given any rest or remorse. If felt as if all of Berk
had come to use him, to punish him for what he had done, and his father never
came to stop them.
…
The Jorgenson home had always stood proudly on the steppe just beneath the
Haddock house. Over the years, it had been rebuilt and redecorated. A choppy
carving of a Monstrous Nightmare towered above the door, painted red with what
Snotlout insisted to be blood but was actually berry juice. A lantern burned
inside, but it was otherwise quiet when Snotlout returned home from a fruitless
day of woodcutting so he wouldn’t have to think.
“Dad?” Snotlout ventured as he nudged open the door.
Spitelout was slumped before the fireplace with a mug of mead on the floor
beside him. He had been with his half-brother all day, talking about what was
to become of Berk. Though Spitelout had always hoped that Hiccup would be
passed over for the position of chief, he didn’t want it to become Snotlout’s
like this.
“Dad?” Snotlout asked again.
Spitelout sat up sharply and turned to face his son. “You’re back,” he said
flatly.
Snotlout nodded and sat down on the roughhewn chair beside his father.
“You should eat something,” Spitelout said habitually. “You need to keep up
your strength.”
“I already did,” Snotlout assured him, “at the Mead Hall. Uncle Stoick wasn’t
there.”
Spitelout rubbed his face with both hands. “Stoick and I have been talking all
day,” he began.
“Am I really going to be his heir?” Snotlout interrupted. “Will I really be the
next chief?”
“It seems that way,” Spitelout said with a heavy sigh.
Snotlout hesitated. “What about… Hiccup?”
Spitelout rose from his chair, tossed another log on the fire, and stood
staring at the flames. “Does it matter?”
Snotlout worried his lip and then rubbed his hands on his pants. “A little,” he
murmured.
“You’ll be the chief someday, Snotlout,” Spitelout said and turned to face his
son. He settled his hands on Snotlout’s shoulder and smiled though it was
strained. “You have no idea how proud that makes me. Regardless of anything you
could ever do, I will always be proud of you.”
Snotlout thought about asking about dragons. Would his father still be proud of
him if he tamed one, like Hiccup had? But he bit back the words at the last
second. He nodded and forced a cocky smile. “I’ll be twice the chief Hiccup
ever would have been,” he told his dad.
Spitelout’s smile reached his eyes. “I know you will, son,” he said and placed
his hand on Snotlout’s head. “Wait here for your mother. She should be back
from her fishing trip soon.”
“Sure,” Snotlout agreed.
“I’m going to go out for a little while,” Spitelout said. “I’ll be back later.”
Snotlout nodded and watched his father disappear into the dark night.
Spitelout made his way down the familiar paths of Berk. He thought about going
to the Mead Hall. A little ale was just what he needed to take the edge off his
emotions. He wasn’t used to having to think so long or so deep. Snotlout might
not be the perfect person, but he had always been the perfect Viking. He was
nothing like Hiccup, but Spitelout’s mind circled to Hiccup and Stoick and the
dragon endlessly. If faced with the same decision, Spitelout didn’t think he
would be able to disown his son. He loved Snotlout, even if he didn’t know how
to show it.
Spitelout took off his helmet and pushed his hand through his hair. With a
heavy sigh, he turned away from the path to the Mead Hall. Again, his feet
carried him to the Killing Arena with minds of their own. Spitelout hesitated
beyond the circle of cold firelight that illuminated the sunken circle. The
chains cast hideous creeping shadows that slithered like snakes. Tormented,
Spitelout almost returned home to wait for his wife, but he forced himself to
walk a little closer.
The sounds reached him now. Hiccup cried out in the night. The slap-slap of wet
flesh followed, chased by pleasured groans and grunts. Beyond that, he could
hear the dragon warbling and growling. Spitelout drew a little closer until he
could see into the arena. Hiccup remained at the center, bound in a circle of
torchlight, and a line that stretched all the way out of the arena stood behind
him. Each Viking took their turn. They vented the frustrations that had pent up
for years.
The flesh of Hiccup’s back was mottled with bruises and welts. Blood and semen
spread around him, staining the stone. Occasionally, a little shriek or whimper
of pain escaped his lips. Spitelout looked away, sickened by the sight. He knew
of men who liked boys. It was nearly as common as women who liked other women,
but he had never been drawn to even try it. Now, looking down at Hiccup’s small
body, he felt nothing but disgust and sorrow.
Silent Sven came to crouch behind Hiccup now. The shepherd lived alone and
didn’t often take interest in what went on in Berk. He usually came down from
the mountains for feasts and to complain in his silent way, but now he pressed
against Hiccup hungrily. He didn’t moan as the boy’s small body enveloped him,
but the expression on his face was enough. Spitelout scanned Hiccup’s beaten
form and his eyes met Hiccup’s like an arrow sinking into its target. The boy
looked up at him pleadingly and Spitelout once again backed away into the
shadows.
…
The moon hung at the precipice. Hiccup had slipped into unconsciousness and
hung limp from the stocks. Slowly, he returned to his senses and blearily
dragged his legs underneath him. Something inside his body wrenched mercilessly
and he cried out in shock. Though no one was here with him now, the sheath of a
sword had been pushed into his body. Long and hard, it speared into him
painfully. Hiccup tried to adjust into a more comfortable position, but it was
hopeless.
“Toothless?” he whispered.
The dragon crooned softly.
Something slammed down behind Hiccup and he jolted. The sheath speared into him
and he whimpered, biting his lower lip to stop from screaming. His entire body
felt open and torn, but he was still a Viking. He strained to listen over the
sound of Toothless shuffling inside his cell. Footsteps approached but they
were uneven—step, clank, step, clank-clank. Whoever was coming towards him wore
a prosthetic. Hiccup’s heart leaped at the same time it dropped.
“Gobber?” he breathed out. If Gobber came to abuse him as everyone else did,
Hiccup knew he would break. He loved Gobber almost as much as he loved his
father, maybe even more. Ever since he was little, Gobber had watched over him
and given him things to do even if he messed them up. “Gobber?”
“No!” rasped an unfamiliar voice. “Not Gobber. Not good enough to be Gobber.
Not-not Gobber.”
Hiccup recognized the voice though only barely. He remembered his father and
every other adult in the village warning the children to stay away from Jester.
(1) He lived in the caves on the outskirts of the village for as long as anyone
could remember. Confined to the stocks and crippled by something unspeakable
years earlier, Jester was terribly unstable. Yet Berk kept him close because he
sensed things before they happened in the same way Gothi kept their traditions
and made choices the chief could not. Jester knew of rockslides and forest
fires and births before anyone else.
Jester circled Hiccup. His fingertip was as rough as a stick and his long nail
scraped Hiccup’s brutalized skin. He smelled of earth and rot, food and
whiskey, stale air and musty cloth. Clucking his tongue, Jester remarked,
“Hurt, hurt, hurt, naked, hurt, hurt, hurt,” in a hopeless chant.
Hiccup’s skin crawled as Jester poked the sheath sticking out of his body. He
wanted to plead with Jester to stop, to free him, to remove the sheath, but he
didn’t dare speak. Jester was unpredictable at the best of times and dangerous
at the worst. There was no one to protect Hiccup from him like this. In his
tiny cell, Toothless growled.
Jester paused, his head snapping around audibly. “Fire, fire,” he muttered and
slapped at his face and chest. “Hate fire, no good fire, hurt, hurt.”
Hiccup swallowed nervously. “J-Jester,” he whispered.
Jester clanked over to Hiccup and scanned his body, poking and prodding all his
bared flesh. When he slipped his hand between Hiccup’s legs and grasped his
small member, Hiccup cried out in surprise and jerked against his bonds. His
heel caught against Jester’s prosthetic leg and knocked it out from beneath
him.
With a shriek, Jester crumpled and the prosthetic rolled noisily away.
Hysterically, Jester chanted, “No, no, not again. Not foot, not again.” He
scrambled after the prosthetic and pulled it back on, hissing low in his
throat. “My foot, not your foot,” Jester snarled angrily. “My foot, mine, not
yours. My foot, my leg, mine. No, no, no.”
Hiccup’s blood froze. “Jester, wait, please.”
Jester slunk closer, keeping low to the ground like a beast. His eyes and teeth
gleamed beneath the grime covering his face. He bared his teeth and jabbed the
sharp metal tip of his prosthetic into Hiccup’s calf. Blood rolled down his leg
and pooled beneath his foot. “My foot, not yours. Mine, mine, no. Not foot, not
again.”
Hiccup cried out softly and tried to pull his leg away from Jester.
Jester crawled against the stone. He grasped Hiccup’s ankle in one hand and
produced a stone in the other. “My foot,” he said abruptly and smashed the rock
into Hiccup’s ankle once, twice, three times. “My foot, mine.”
Hiccup screamed in agony.
Jester paused and considered the foot in his hand. He scraped his nails against
the flesh, the bones, the calluses. He lifted the stone again, prepared to
strike a fourth and fifth time. With a roar, Toothless fired at the door of his
cell. Smoke and flames seeped beneath the door.
Jester scrambled away, stone in hand. “No, no fire. Bad fire, no good, hate,”
he chanted. “No fire, no fire, no…” The hysteria in his voice faded as he slunk
away. “No fire,” he muttered and his voice diminished into the night. “No more
fire. Mine, my foot, no fire.”
Hiccup tried to put weight on his left foot, but a bolt of white-hot pain
speared up his leg. His ankle throbbed horrendously and he didn’t know when he
would get medical attention, if he ever did. His father hadn’t protected him
from Jester. No one had.
Toothless chirped with concern and raked at the door with his claws.
“I’m okay, bud,” Hiccup panted. “I’m okay. I will be…”
Toothless crooned softly.
Hiccup tested his ankle again, but the results were the same. It was broken.
Cautiously, he lowered himself to the ground and knelt as best he could. Hot
blood pulsed from the cuts and scrapes on his leg and pumped fresh agony into
his ankle. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. It would be over soon,
right? It had to be. His dad would come for him.
                                     X X X
(1) The village idiot was long ago considered an acceptable social role. A
unique individual who was dependent yet contributed to the social fabric of his
community filled it. So, how many people knew that?
Questions, comments, concerns?
Should Astrid and Hiccup sleep together in the final chapter? (They’re the only
couple, so don’t try to vote for someone else.)
***** A Scary Truth *****
If there’s one thing Hiccup can do better than Astrid, it’s run.
                                     X X X
As soon as Astrid turned twelve, she grabbed the axe Gobber made especially for
her and ran out into the middle of the raid when her father wasn’t looking.
Twelve was the same age her father had been when he killed his first dragon and
she wanted to do the same. Immediately, the danger overwhelmed her. As dragons
swooped at her with claws outstretched, it was all she could do to roll out of
the way. The axe that had always felt so light weighed her down.
Breathing hard, she put her back against one of the houses and focused on the
Gronckle in front of her. It was the nearest dragon and one of the slowest
though no less deadly. It had its entire body crammed into the little shed
where the Thorstons stored their fish, gobbling noisily, and its thick tail
waggled delightedly behind it. Positioned as she was, the Gronckle wouldn’t see
her until it was already too late. She tightened her fingers around her axe and
crept forward.
The cool night air kissed against her open back as she left the shield of the
house. She shivered but kept herself focused on the Gronckle, breathing quietly
through her nose. Something thumped down behind her, but Astrid didn’t notice
until the crisp night air turned warm and smelled scorched. Her heart pounded
in her chest as she froze and slowly turned to face the dragon that now had her
unguarded back. Its bright eyes gleamed hungrily.
The Zippleback looked down at her, growling deep in its chest. The sound
attracted the Gronckle to turn from its heap of fish. Trapped between two
dragons and three toothy heads, Astrid lifted her axe. If she was going down,
it wouldn’t be without a fight. The Zippleback warbled in its throats and
Gronckle stared at her silently, but she could hear it chewing. She shifted her
gaze from one dragon to the other. Her palms began to sweat.
Then, abruptly, the door to the chief’s house crashed open. The dragons turned
to examine the sound and Astrid saw her chance. She raised her axe and was
about to bring it down on one of the Zippleback heads when something—or
someone—darted between them. Warm fingers closed around her wrist and jerked
her away with surprising strength. She staggered in surprise and fell into
step. Behind her, the dragons chirped with confusion.
The small figure pulled her quickly out of the fray, into a pocket of dark
shadows between two houses, and then stopped. Astrid doubled over, breathing
hard after the sprint. Her strange little savior’s breath remained light and
quick. Those warm fingers were still wrapped around her wrist though the grip
was looser now. She straightened and peered at him through the slant of distant
torchlight.
“Hiccup?” she asked incredulously.
Embarrassed, he smiled at her.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Well, I saw you facing off those two dragons and I knew you couldn’t take them
both,” he said.
Astrid didn’t argue and leaned her axe in the dirt.
“I thought it best to run, but I knew you’d never do it so I just pulled you
out of there,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
She began to cross her arms over her chest, but Hiccup’s grip on her wrist
prevented her. Blushing, he quickly let go and put his hands behind his back.
She regarded him without blinking. Sometimes, she looked at Hiccup and saw just
the scrawniest weakest Viking in Berk. Other times, he did things like this
with total disregard for his own safety and that was pretty brave.
“So,” Hiccup murmured, “maybe you should get back to the Mead Hall with the
others.”
Astrid nodded, hefted her axe onto her shoulder, and turned to exit the
shadowed corridor. Hiccup followed her cautiously, peeking around for dragons
before stepping out. His shoulder bumped hers occasionally as they walked
quickly towards the Mead Hall. Behind them, they heard the victory shouts as
the dragons were driven off for the night. Pounding footsteps rushed up the
path behind them, probably one of the fathers come to check on his children.
Astrid didn’t pay it any mind until Hiccup was sharply jerked away from her
with a yelp of surprise. She whirled around, axe drawn.
Chief Stoick had snatched Hiccup in one hand, shaking him angrily. “What are
you doing out here?” he demanded. “I told you to stay inside.”
Hiccup protested, “But Astrid was—”
“Just because Astrid is out in the raid doesn’t mean you can be,” Stoick
snapped. “Astrid can take care of herself, unlike you.”
Hiccup’s arms dropped to his sides and he stopped trying to explain.
Stoick dropped him back on his feet and shoved him forward. “Go home and stay
there,” he ordered. “If you come out again…” The threat hung in the air like
smoke.
“Right,” Hiccup said softly and turned away.
Stoick snorted and continued up the stairs to the ornate doors of the hall.
Astrid watched Hiccup leave, wondering why Stoick hadn’t hugged or kissed him.
Wasn’t he happy Hiccup was okay?
At the foot of the steps, Hiccup paused, turned, and waved at her with a
brilliant smile on his face. “Happy Birthday,” he called to her.
Astrid flushed at the reminder. She returned the gesture and watched him run
past her father on his way home.
Leon climbed the stairs and stopped beside Astrid with his hand on her
shoulder. “What are you doing out here, honey?” he asked and pressed a kiss to
her forehead.
Astrid had never lied to her father and she wasn’t about to start now. “I
turned twelve today,” she told him. “I wanted to kill a dragon, just like you.”
Leon stiffened beside her and then knelt down to look into her eyes. “Astrid,
that was very dangerous of you. Do you know how sad I would be if you had
gotten hurt?”
Astrid picked at the end of her braid nervously.
Leon hugged her close and then said softly, “Let me tell you a little secret,
but you have to promise never to tell anyone.”
Nodding eagerly, Astrid turned her attention to him.
“The dragon I killed when I was your age,” Leon looked around surreptitiously
and then drew Astrid a little closer, “was a… Terrible Terror.”
Astrid stared at him, shocked. Then, her lips pulled into a little smile as she
imagined her father at her age, toting an oversized mace, and ferociously
slaying the tiny Terrible Terrors that Veena swept off the porch with a broom
when they dared show their faces. Finally, she caved in and giggled at the
thought
Leon smiled at her and then pressed more kisses to her cheeks, forehead, and
nose. “Now, promise me you won’t run out into the raids anymore. I don’t want
to lose you, Astrid,” he said, “and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I promise,” she agreed.
“Good,” Leon said. He placed one final kiss on her cheek, took her hand, and
led her up the stairs.
Astrid trailed with him. Her hand was dwarfed within the shelter of her
father’s and she found herself thinking of how small Hiccup looked when Stoick
hoisted him into the air by his tunic. Somehow, it didn’t look the same as her
tiny fingers did in her father’s hand. When Stoick picked up Hiccup, it felt…
scary.
“There you two are,” Veena called when they entered the Mead Hall. “I was
getting worried.”
“We’re fine, dear,” Leon said and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
Astrid made a face.
“Oh, stop,” Veena told her daughter and ruffled her hair. “I’m glad you two are
okay. Stoick told me Astrid was out in the raid.”
Leon nodded and then gestured to Veena that he had already spoken to her and
everything was under control.
Veena smiled and then her eyes darkened. “He said Hiccup was out in the raid,
too.”
Leon’s brow furrowed. “Hiccup was?”
“Was he with you, Astrid?” Veena asked.
Astrid nodded and opened her mouth to speak.
Veena quickly scooped her into her arms and hugged her tightly. “You have to be
careful, baby,” she crooned and stroked Astrid’s tangled braid. “Being out
there with Hiccup could get you killed. He’s such a mess. Promise me you won’t
play around with him during the raids.”
“I promise,” Astrid agreed.
“Good,” Veena said and slipped Astrid into her seat at the long bench. Veena
had already put out three plates of food with mead for herself and her husband
and yak’s milk for Astrid. Leon and Veena settled in on either side of Astrid.
She felt safe and warm between their strong bodies.
All around her, Vikings were laughing and telling stories about the night’s
raid. Someone had seen a Night Fury. Silent Sven had felled a Hideous
Zippleback. Phlegma the Fierce and Gertrude Great Arms brought down two
Monstrous Nightmares. Only a few houses had burned and only a little food had
been stolen. They still had all their livestock, but a few chickens had flown
away or been eaten. Best of all, no one had had to save Hiccup from anything
stupid.
As she picked at her meal, Astrid thought about how the two dragons had
cornered her. She looked at her wrist, tracing her fingers over the woven
armguards that her mother had made for her, and remembered Hiccup’s warm grip
pulling her to safety. Though she looked up at her parents with the words
burning on her tongue several times, Astrid never got the chance to explain
that Hiccup had saved her and maybe he wasn’t as useless as everyone thought.
…
When Hiccup passed out, there were always dreams of flying.
He imagined his life differently when he dreamed. The night before he was to
slay the Monstrous Nightmare, he had thought about leaving with Toothless.
There was nothing keeping him here. He knew his father would never understand
how he had befriended a dragon and he didn’t think anyone would see Toothless
the way he did. He could have just flown away and never looked back. But
Astrid—ever suspicious, watchful, beautiful Astrid—had followed him from Dragon
Training.
With the sound of her soft footsteps following beneath his breathing, Hiccup
didn’t dare go to Toothless right away. He returned to his empty house and
began to pack his few belongings. He wrapped some fish, filled his canteen, and
sharpened his charcoal pencil. Then, he sat down on his bed and stared at the
floorboards he had known all his life. The thought of leaving Berk sent a
quiver of fear through his heart. He could leave behind everyone and everything
he had ever loved.
He wasn’t brave enough.
With a shaky sigh, Hiccup pushed open the window. Astrid loitered outside,
miming sharpening her axe even though she came to Gobber’s forge once a week to
have it professionally sharpened on the grindstone. The sunlight caught on her
braid, making it look like spun gold. She was beautiful. Though she surely
hated him as everyone else did, she never went out of her way to be cruel to
him. She stood back and watched with her bright blue eyes. Stunned, Astrid
stared up at him with her hand poised on her axe.
Hiccup waved at her and she rushed off, embarrassed to have been caught. With a
soft breath, Hiccup leaned against the sill and looked out over Berk. He could
hear Gobber singing in the forge. Someone was yodeling on the outskirts, maybe
Jester, and his voice bounced off the mountains. The Ingermans were baking
bread and the delicious smell danced on the breeze. The Thorston twins were up
to no good. Hiccup couln’t see them, but he could hear them cackling somewhere.
He knew he couldn’t leave Berk. This was his home.
Maybe he could change their minds about dragons. If he could only show them
that they weren’t dangerous… Tomorrow, he would stand before the entire village
and his father. He would have their undeniable attention. He already knew he
wouldn’t be able to kill the dragon, even if he wanted to, but maybe he could
show them. If he could only make them listen… Hiccup groaned and pushed his
hand through his hair. It was worth a shot since he didn’t have any better
ideas.
He unpacked his bags, put the fish back in the icebox, and emptied his canteen.
Exhausted, he crawled into bed, but he was too nervous to sleep. He lay awake
long after his father came home from the Mead Hall, stumbling drunk from
celebrating his son’s achievements. If only he knew the truth… For a moment,
Hiccup thought about going downstairs and telling Stoick everything. He could
tell his father the truth and maybe he would listen. Maybe he would understand.
Stoick dropped into bed and his snoring rattled the beams.
Hiccup dismissed the idea. Stoick had never listened to Hiccup and he wouldn’t
start now. Hiccup buried his face in the pillow and tried to will himself to
sleep. He thought of Toothless, of the dragon’s gummy smile, and of how cute he
could be. Hiccup’s mind drifted to flight. There was nothing quite like the
feeling of the wind in his hair and the lift of the wind. He imagined the
clouds, the bright sun, the endless ocean stretching in all directions. He
could fly away. He didn’t have to stay here.
Tears prickled behind Hiccup’s closed eyes. Despite everything, despite how he
had been treated over the years, Berk was his home. His father was here, his
uncle was here, Astrid was here. He could just leave it behind. If he tried and
failed to change their minds, he would leave, he promised himself. If he tried
and failed, there would be nothing here for him. Then, he would leave. Sleep
finally pressed around Hiccup as coolly as clouds. He drifted away, borne by
wings of his very own.
There were always dreams of flying.
Then, as rough fingers pushed into his vulnerable body, the wings crumpled and
Hiccup crashed down to earth.
With a jolt, Hiccup’s eyes snapped open and he cried out in pain.
“Shut up,” Sturgeon muttered and clasped his hand over Hiccup’s mouth to muffle
the sounds. “It’s late. You’re going to wake everyone up.”
Hiccup struggled to breathe through the tight fingers. His ribs constricted
painfully as Fishlegs’s father pushed into him sharply. Sturgeon began to
thrust hard and fast without a care for the way Hiccup’s broken ankle gave out
beneath him. When Hiccup’s knees hit the stone, Sturgeon continued to rut into
him even as his skin was scraped raw. With a deep groan, he finished and the
wet seed filled Hiccup’s body. He choked, disgust welling in his chest like too
much blood. When Sturgeon pulled out, the seed followed and splattered on the
ground noisily.
“Can’t you hold it in?” Sturgeon demanded. “You’re wasting it.”
Hiccup shook his head weakly. Though his body tried its best to close after
each intrusion, it was getting harder and harder each time. His body was torn
at the seams.
Sturgeon made a disgusted sound deep in his throat and punched Hiccup hard in
the side. He cried out in agony as his broken ribs ground together. Bruises and
welts covered his back, circled his wrists and neck, and more were developing
every time someone touched him. Sturgeon snorted and kicked Hiccup in the
stomach. Hiccup doubled over even further, staggering against the support of
the stocks. Blood oozed down his arms and dripped off his elbows.
“You’re a disgrace,” Sturgeon muttered. Then, without another word, he turned
and walked away.
Hiccup slumped to his knees, breathing hard. His eyes streamed and blurred from
the pain. He tried to breathe deeply, but the pain in his chest was unbearable.
His breath stuttered and skipped, rattling brokenly in his lungs. His mouth
tasted of blood and seed as he gasped. Finally, the agony diminished enough to
allow him to focus on his position. He adjusted himself and knelt cautiously
with his ankle stretched out as best he could.
He closed his eyes, but was unable to rest. Every sound was some new violator
coming to use and abuse him and his eyes always snapped open. When a bat
swooped overhead, he jerked in surprise and sent a stab of pain through his
body. Whimpering, he hunkered against the stocks.
Within his cell, Toothless crooned softly and breathed fire against the door
again and again.
…
The chief’s house was dark and empty. There was no wife and no son. Valka was
dead and Hiccup may as well have been. Stoick the Vast sat in the dark at the
roughhewn kitchen table. All around him were the little fingerprints his
son—no, not his son—had left behind. There was a smudge of charcoal here, a
sketch there, a half-eaten cod placed back in the icebox, an axe gathering dust
in the corner.
Stoick turned his mug of mead over in his hands and then took a drink. The mead
made him numb. So long as he was drinking, he didn’t have to feel anything. He
didn’t have to think about Valka, about Hiccup, about the dragon, about
anything. Sometimes, someone came to knock on the door, but Stoick ignored
them. He didn’t want to see anyone.
“Stoick!” came Gobber’s voice. Persistent as ever, Gobber went on pounding at
the front door for an eternity.
Stoick ignored him, drinking more and more even if it just increased the
knocking inside his skull. He put his head down on the table and covered his
ears with his hands. As such, he didn’t noticed when Gobber finally pushed open
the door and clomped noisily inside. Gobber didn’t go right to the chief.
Instead, he built a fire in the hearth, lit candles, and replaced the mead with
water. Then, he sat down across from Stoick in silence.
Only when Stoick sat up to take another drink did he realize Gobber was there.
He nearly fell out of his chair with surprise. He couldn’t believe anyone would
dare cross their chief, but Gobber had always been different. Gobber was never
afraid to question him, to tell him quietly that he was wrong, or ask him the
hardest questions. Gobber pushed him forward and held him back. Gobber was his
dearest friend and had been for many years.
In all those years, Stoick had never seen such an expression on Gobber’s face.
Behind his patchy beard, Gobber’s skin was pale and his eyes were shadowed. He
looked at Stoick with disappointment and worry. He carried a mace on his back
and wore his hammer-hand as a prosthetic. The firelight flickered in his hard
eyes.
Stoick gripped his mug and took a long draught, coughing as he realized it was
water.
“Stoick,” Gobber said firmly. “Things can’t go on like this any longer. This is
wrong and you know it.”
“No,” Stoick slurred. “He betrayed us! He betrayed me!”
“And what is this, then? Vengeance, punishment, his just desserts?”
Stoick swayed on his feet, nauseated.
Gobber pushed the mug of water closer to him. “Sit down,” he said. “Before you
hurt yourself.”
Stoick refused. He staggered to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel,
breathing hard.
Gobber didn’t say anything for the longest time. Only the crackle and pop of
the fire split the quiet. Through the ringing in his ears, Stoick imagined he
could hear Hiccup crying out. He clasped his hands over his ears and shook his
head to clear it. Nothing helped. He could still hear Hiccup crying.
“What are you going to do, Stoick?” Gobber asked.
Stoick grabbed blindly for his helmet and slammed it on over his head. “Destroy
the nest, destroy all the dragons,” he muttered. That had always been his goal
before he had been distracted by his son—no, not his son. He fell back to it
now like a soldier retreating from a stronger foe.
Gobber pressed his lips together. “I won’t follow you this time, Stoick,” he
said. “The moment you’re gone, I will let Hiccup go.”
“No!” Stoick growled. “That thing isn’t Hiccup anymore! It never was! That
monster killed Valka! It killed my Valka!”
Gobber shook his head. “You’re drunk,” he said.
Stoick snatched at Gobber, but the table got in his way.
Gobber didn’t even move. He looked up at Stoick with hard cold eyes. “Go hunt
the dragons, Stoick,” he said. “We’ll see what’s waiting for you when you come
back.” Gobber rose from the table and limped away. When he opened the front
door, the shaft of bright midday sunlight speared into Stoick as sharply as any
blade.
…
Astrid’s parents told her strictly not to go near the Dragon Killing Arena,
especially at night when Hiccup would be at the peak of use. In the three days
that followed, she honored their wishes, even if she didn’t like them. She
wandered the village aimlessly, forcing her feet not to stray towards where
they most wanted to go. She wondered what had become of Hiccup.
“Astrid,” Fishlegs called breathlessly and jogged over to her with one hand
holding down his helmet.
“Hey,” she greeted and realized that night was almost upon them. Had she really
spent the whole day just wandering around, thinking? Her stomach growled in
agreement.
Fishlegs stopped in front of her and panted to catch his breath. Then, he asked
the question that had been chewing on her mind for three days. “Did you hear
about Hiccup?”
She nodded. “Have you seen him?”
He shook his head. “My parents asked me not to go near the arena,” he said.
“They’re worried.”
“Mine too.”
“Too bad,” Tuffnut put in from nowhere.
“It’s a real sight,” Ruffnut added.
Astrid and Fishlegs looked around, but they couldn’t spot the twins.
“Up here,” Tuffnut called.
Together, they looked up. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were crouched on the apex of the
highest house in Berk, standing with their hands shading their eyes. The cold
sunlight glinted on their blonde hair, the teeth around their necks, and their
metal helmets. The colored sunset streamed at their backs.
“You went to the arena?” Fishlegs asked incredulously. “Didn’t your mom tell
you not to?”
“No, well maybe,” Tuffnut muttered and turned to Ruffnut. “Did she?”
Ruffnut shrugged, hooked her elbow with his, and leaned dangerously far over
the roof to peer down at Astrid.
Astrid beckoned them down and asked, “Did you see Hiccup?”
“He’s okay,” Ruffnut said as she slid to the edge of the roof and hooked her
boots in the gutter.
Tuffnut rubbed the back of his neck and looked away as he moved after her.
“Maybe okay isn’t the best word for it,” he said.
“He’s not dead,” Ruffnut supplied helpfully.
Ruffnut gripped the edge of the roof, dangled for a moment, and then dropped
down. The mud squelched noisily around her boots as she wavered and then
straightened proudly. Tuffnut hung above her for a moment, let go, and landed
directly on top of her. They landed hard in the mud, helmets clattering. The
twins immediately rousted into a loud argument that Fishlegs hurried to amend.
Astrid stood back, watching her friends with a sigh.
Abruptly, a warm hand closed around Astrid’s elbow and pulled her away from the
others. She was about to jerk away when she recognized Snotlout’s helmet with
its curved horns. She let him tow her away. Once they had stepped into the
shadowed safety of the alley behind Gobber’s forge, he let go and turned to
face her. There was something different about him. His shoulders slumped, his
face was pale, and his eyes were ringed with dark circles.
“Snotlout?” Astrid asked softly.
“Did you hear?” he murmured.
She nodded.
“Have you seen?” he asked.
Astrid wet her lips. Snotlout had never bothered to hide how he felt about
Hiccup. He constantly picked on him, called him names, and had even taken a
swing at him a few times. Now, he looked ready to throw up. Even though
Snotlout wasn’t Astrid’s favorite person, she didn’t like seeing him like this.
She touched his shoulder and he looked at her mournfully.
“Uncle—I mean, the chief made me his heir, Astrid,” Snotlout said finally.
Astrid’s fingers curled against his tunic. “What?”
Snotlout’s throat flashed as he swallowed. “He made me heir,” he repeated.
Astrid’s breath rattled in her lungs. “What about Hiccup?” she asked.
Snotlout shook his head and his eyes slid across the ground.
Astrid couldn’t stand it any longer. She turned away from Snotlout and took off
running through the village. She darted through alleys, between houses, and
hurdled stray sheep. Finally, she saw the caged ceiling of the Killing Arena
and slowed her pace. A few people glanced her way, but most ignored her. The
entire area felt as if it had been enclosed in a soundless envelope of secrecy.
Astrid’s heart pounded against her ribs as she approached. Her palms began to
sweat and she rubbed them against her leggings. Swallowing, she crouched at the
edge of the arena and peered through the bars. Her breath caught in her throat
and she folded a hand over her mouth.
There was a line to use him.
At the center of the arena, Hiccup was shackled to the stocks. His pale skin
gleamed in the fading sunlight, but even from where she hid, Astrid could see
the welts and bruises that peppered his flesh. His thighs were streaked with
wetness, blood ran down his arms and hands, and he was barely standing. His
left foot was curled awkwardly at the ankle beneath him. It was swollen and
bruised and his entire leg trembled with the effort to support his meager
weight.
Even as Astrid watched, Silent Sven stepped up behind Hiccup, dipped his
fingers into a bucket that had been placed nearby, pushed his fingers into
Hiccup, and then began to rut like a beast. Hiccup cried out in pain as his
body was wrenched. From within one of the cells, the Night Fury threw itself at
the door and breathed fire desperately. Smoke oozed beneath the door and blood
ran down Hiccup’s arms. Astrid pressed her lips together, stricken.
“Terrible, isn’t it?” Snotlout asked from behind her.
She jerked to her feet. “We have to do something,” she told him.
Snotlout shook his head. “The chief wants it this way.”
Astrid’s throat worked around protests, but her father told her that Stoick had
forced his hammer into Hiccup’s body. He had to know how Hiccup was being
treated in the stocks. He had disowned Hiccup, he had made Snotlout his heir,
and he had let this happen. It was hard to believe. Astrid had admired Stoick
for so much of her young life. Had he always been this dark, this cruel, this
bitter?
She shook her head and brushed aside her fringe. “We have to do something,” she
repeated.
“The chief made him the town whore,” Snotlout murmured. He looked down into the
arena, his hands clenched together. “If you do anything to help him, you’ll
join him.”
Astrid turned away and clasped her hand over her mouth. She grit her teeth.
Snotlout touched her arm. “Astrid, please,” he begged. “Don’t do anything
stupid.”
She jerked away from his hand. Without a word, she walked hastily home. The
last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the sea and Berk fell into a cloak of
cool darkness. Astrid rubbed her cold hands together, breathed out to warm
them, and then stopped.
                                     X X X
Well, my life pretty much sucks right now. The job that I had slaved over for
the past three years of my life decided to fire me yesterday for ‘gossiping,’
because I talk to my coworkers about their problems and encourage them to solve
them and that is apparently a crime. (And there was some other backstabbing
nonsense involved from someone I thought was my friend so…) It sucks. PLEASE
lift my spirits by sending me lots of lovely REVIEWS.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Rain and the Plan *****
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! (Enjoy yet more torment of Hiccup.)
You know, I’ve seen the pairing of Stoick an Valka reffered to as ‘Stalka.’
That is obviously something no one took a good look at.
                                     X X X
The day Stoick met Valka, it was raining.
The first time he saw her through the mist, he thought she was a goddess that
had accidentally fallen from Valhalla. As he drew closer, he realized that was
true. There was a basket balanced against her hip and it was filled to bursting
with wild mushrooms, herbs, berries, and apples. She carried a tall staff that
had a circlet of dried flowers, fangs, and feathers at the top. The mist beaded
on her long auburn hair and plastered her clothes to her shapely body though
her breasts were small and her waist was narrow.
Stoick loved her immediately, without reason or rhyme, but he supposed that was
what love was like.
He whistled as he approached her. She paused in the act of using her staff to
push aside a wet branch and pluck the mushrooms that hid beneath. She glanced
over her shoulder at him, decided he wasn’t worth her time, and returned her
attention to the mushrooms. She tucked them into her overflowing basket and
walked forward with her head held high. Stoick followed her for half a mile
before she whirled on him and jabbed her stick into his stomach hard.
“What do you want?” she demanded and her jade eyes were the most beautiful
things he had ever seen.
“Just endeavoring to meet a beautiful lady,” he said sweetly.
She withdrew her staff and regarded him. At a glance, he was exactly the type
of man she didn’t like. He was too big although his voice was soft and he was
strong enough to slay all manner of monsters. At his side, he carried a massive
hammer and his belt buckle was decorated with a roaring dragon. Wet and sodden
as they were, she didn’t recognize him as her chief and turned away.
“Well, now you’ve met her,” she said coldly, “and I’ll be on my way.”
“I could carry your basket,” he offered.
“I can carry my own basket,” she told him curtly.
“I might carry your stick—”
She jabbed the point of it into his ribs sharply. “My staff,” she emphasized as
he wheezed, “is again something I can carry myself.”
Stoick trailed after her though the mist and whistled one of his favorite
songs.
Valka might have ignored him until the end of the earth if she hadn’t
recognized the tune. Despite herself and her dislike for most love songs, this
was her only favorite. She whispered the words under her breath as she trudged
back to the healer’s house where she stayed. She didn’t know how Stoick managed
to hear her singing over the rain and their loud wet footsteps, but he did.
“You know this song, do you?” he asked.
“So what if I do?”
Stoick laughed deeply. “You might sing it with me or it is also something you
can do yourself?”
Valka snorted and set her mind to ignoring him no matter what he did. He went
on whistling merrily, following her through the rain and the mud until they
returned to Berk. Valka opened the door of the healer’s house and slammed it at
her back. She put the encounter out of her mind as she unpacked her wet basket
and ignore Gothi’s questioning eyes. She saw fit to never think about Stoick
again until he returned the next day and the next.
He was difficult to resist even though he brought her dragons’ teeth and skins
and regaled her with stories of his most vicious kills. It was a long time
before Valka trusted him enough to admit that she liked him, but his tales
sickened her.
“I don’t want to spill blood if I can help it,” she told him as they sat
together in the empty Mead Hall. She said those words with conviction and
strength and without fear of his reaction. Her jade eyes stared into his
unblinkingly and her breasts swelled over the hem of her tunic as she breathed.
Though Stoick had been in love with her before, that was the moment he knew it
was true. He tenderly took her face in his hands and kissed her. His beautiful
benevolent Valka, the healer and warrior who could love and be loved in return.
…
In between dreams of flying, there were nightmares of the Nest. It appeared in
Hiccup’s nightmares exactly as it had when he and Toothless stumbled across it
after a long night of flying.
It was red-tinged, as though stained with old blood, and vibrated with
malignant intent. Toothless’s fear of the Queen seared against Hiccup’s skin
and rattled in his mind. They landed shakily, drawn forcibly there by the will
of the monstrous dragon and the malfunction in Toothless’s prosthetic tail.
Hiccup scrambled from the saddle and knelt at Toothless’s tail. He fumbled with
it, his hands trembling, and Toothless warbled with worry.
“It’s okay, bud,” Hiccup whispered. “It’s okay.”
Toothless’s entire body shivered beneath Hiccup’s hands as he quickly untangled
the twisted line that stretched between the pedal and the tail rig. It snapped
at his fingers, drawing a long line of blood across his palm, but he barely
noticed in his hurry. The stone beneath his feet rumbled and a waft of hot
stinking air blew across the back of his neck. Hiccup shuddered, finished
adjusting the tail, and clambered back into the saddle. Toothless lifted his
wings, prepared to take off as soon as possible. Hiccup’s foot missed the
stirrup.
A terrible roar rumbled through the entire hot mountain. Little stones and
stalactites rained down from the ceiling. Dust clouded the air, thickening the
dense fiery air. Hiccup coughed and folded his sleeve over his nose and mouth.
His eyes stung as he struggled to fit his foot into the stirrup. Toothless
thrummed beneath him and Hiccup put his hand on the dragon’s head. Finally, he
pushed his toes under the strap and opened the prosthetic tail with a snap. All
around him, the other dragons began to chirp and cry.
“Let’s get out of here, bud,” Hiccup urged Toothless.
Whatever lurked down there in the red light and overpowering heat, Hiccup
didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to know what could frighten a Night Fury.
Toothless’s wings bunched in the familiar motion of taking flight. Then,
something tangible moved through the air. Hiccup felt it press in on his lungs,
on his heart, on every primal instinct in his body. Fear iced his veins.
Toothless froze and Hiccup couldn’t breathe. A horrendous rumble shook the
entire mountain.
Then, from the depths of the volcanic pit, a monstrous head emerged. Three
pairs of bright hungry eyes slid around the chamber, blinking slowly, and its
large nostrils flared as it scented out its meal. Hiccup’s eyes were drawn to
its horrific mouth. Its teeth were easily four times the size of Hiccup’s body
and twice as thick. That maw could swallow a Monstrous Nightmare whole. He
couldn’t imagine the size of the body that went with that head.
“Toothless,” Hiccup whispered and his fingers knotted against the dry soft
scales. “Toothless, we have to get out of here, bud.”
Toothless shifted, crooning with worry and fear.
The eyes of the massive Queen fell on Hiccup like a physical touch. It reminded
him of his father’s hands closing around his throat, squeezing off all his air
when Stoick was drunk and he had screwed up again. The dragon inhaled and
growled and everything around them vibrated with the force.
“Now,” Hiccup pleaded with Toothless, panic soaking into his voice. “Now,
please, Toothless. Now!”
With a ferocious roar, the Queen snapped in their direction, but the ledge of
rocks prevented her from getting to them. Toothless’s wings surged downwards
and the air was sucked from Hiccup’s lungs as they took off. The other dragons
followed their lead and the entire mountain came alive with their fleeing. The
night opened, vast and perfect and precious.
Hiccup was aware of every breath he drew in, just like he had been after
Stoick’s hands loosened from around his neck and he backed away with horror in
his eyes. Toothless crooned worriedly and Hiccup scratched behind his earflaps.
They flew for a long time before Hiccup’s hands stopped trembling.
“The Nest,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it.”
Toothless warbled softly.
“What is that thing?” he whispered and rubbed his cold hands together. “My
father will never be able to destroy that monster, even if he finds it.”
Toothless banked low over the ocean and Hiccup looked at the glistening water.
Ahead of them, Berk drew into view. It glowed in the darkness, a beacon that
called him home to its safety and comfort. Hiccup adjusted the prosthetic tail
gingerly and Toothless circled the island just beyond the range of their
sentries.
“Astrid’s been watching me, bud,” Hiccup murmured. “I think she suspects
something.”
Toothless chuffed.
Hiccup smiled and looked down at the haphazardly heaped houses where he had
lived all his life. It looked better from up here. He could see the Thorston
twins sneaking out to tip yaks. Phlegma the Fierce crept to her lover’s house
with her boots in her hand. Gobber was awake and puttering away at something in
his shop. Hiccup sighed warmly and leaned back in the saddle. The cold ocean
spray reached his face, landing icy and sharp on his skin.
When he woke with a start from his nightmares of the Queen and the Nest,
reality was icy water on his face.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut’s mother leered at him, the bucket dangling from her hand.
Naked and drenched, he shivered painfully in the sights of Gertrude Great Arms.
She pushed back her wild blonde hair, looked around, and then smashed the
bucket into his face with a crack. Hiccup cried out in pain as the wood split
the flesh over his cheekbone. Blood dripped off his jaw.
Gertrude Great Arms grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. She
raised the bucket and hit him again. His teeth snapped together sharply and his
mouth filled with fresh blood. He grit his teeth to keep from crying out, but
Gertrude was as strong as any man. Another blow would probably break his jaw.
He flinched against the stocks when she lifted the bucket.
Gertrude chuckled under her breath, dumped a second bucket of frigid water on
Hiccup, picked up both in one hand, and walked away. Hiccup slumped against his
bonds, shivering. Though it was almost noon, it was still cold on Berk and the
midday sun did little to warm his naked skin. His teeth chattered noisily.
In his tiny cell, Toothless breathed sympathetic fire under the door, but it
didn’t reach Hiccup enough to warm or dry him.
…
Astrid waited until the sun was directly overhead before she slipped away from
her task of chopping wood. She grasped Ruffnut by her sleeve and drew her
behind the Thorston house to whisper in secrecy. Concern lined Ruffnut’s face,
but she didn’t try to stop Astrid. All she said was, “You’re really doing this,
aren’t you?”
Astrid nodded and took the small dagger from Ruffnut’s waist. She tested its
weight in her hand, slipped it into her belt, and handed Ruffnut her axe in
exchange. “You’ll watch out for me, right?” she asked quietly. She glanced
around, but no one was nearby and certainly no one was listening. Berk was too
tired. It spent its night torturing Hiccup and its days working hard.
Ruffnut nodded and ran her hand along the handle of Astrid’s heavy axe. “If
anything goes wrong, Tuff will run to the arena and start squawking like a
chicken,” she promised.
Astrid didn’t question the intricacies of their plan. All that mattered was the
twins had her back. Unlike Fishlegs and Snotlout, the twins were simple-minded.
Unburdened by the morality and dangers of any situation, they merely did what
felt right to them. Right now, they didn’t really care what happened to Hiccup.
The chief’s disowned son didn’t matter to them, but Astrid did. They would have
her back until the world collapsed. Though they were foolish, she could trust
them without question.
Tuffnut came around the corner of the house with a shovel slung across his
shoulders. “Here, take my emergency chicken leg,” he said and handed it to
Astrid.
She nodded, wrapped it in the small handkerchief she carried, and told Ruffnut,
“I won’t be long.”
Ruffnut pushed Tuffnut out of her way and said, “Astrid, be careful.”
“I will,” Astrid assured her. “Just keep an eye out for Fishlegs and Snotlout.
Don’t tell them I’m doing this.”
Tuffnut adjusted his helmet. “We’ve got your back,” he said.
Without further ado, Astrid hurried away from the Thorston house. She slowed
herself to a languid pace as she walked through the village. All around her,
people she had known all her life were exhausted from abusing Hiccup into the
night. Blood was smeared on their clothes and they hadn’t bothered to wash up.
They moved through their work aimlessly and didn’t spare Astrid a glance. She
let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
Astrid peeked over her shoulder, but the chief’s house was dark and still. No
one had seen Stoick since he had publically disowned Hiccup. A few brave souls
had knocked on his door, but no one knew what had become of him. Astrid kept
waiting for him to emerge, realize his error, and go rescue Hiccup, but four
days had passed without sign of him. She scurried past Gobber’s forge and tried
not to think about how empty it looked without Hiccup inside.
Gobber looked up and called her name when he spotted her, but she pretended not
to hear.
Astrid hugged the little bundle close to her chest. She glanced quickly around
the square, ducked under a line of clean laundry, and slipped down the back
alley the lead to the arena. Astrid had always looked forward to Dragon
Training and once she finally came of age, she had never been so happy to be
allowed into its confines. Now, the sight of it had never bothered her so much.
Her skin crawled with just the thought of what lay behind those chains and
stone walls.
She looked around again, but the area was deserted. Everyone was working busily
so that they could get off early and come to torment Hiccup. For now, she
wasn’t at risk. Helping someone in the stocks was similar to treason and she
didn’t want to think about the consequences of what would happen if she was
caught. Stoick wasn’t thinking straight and her parents wouldn’t be able to
protect her from his judgment. It was better that no one saw her here.
Astrid sucked in a deep breath and circled to the furthest edge of the arena.
She crouched in some bushes and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. Then, she
peeked out of the foliage and into the arena. The sight was even worse than it
had been the day before, but at least Hiccup was alone now. Clutching the
little bundle tightly, Astrid slipped between the bars and chains and dropped
down onto the stone in a crouch. Hiccup jolted immediately, his nerves drawn to
tight, but she was behind him and he couldn’t see her yet.
Astrid approached slowly, her lips too dry to speak. Her hands shook and she
forced them steady.
Hiccup flinched with each step. He drew himself onto trembling legs and pressed
against the stocks. “Please,” he begged after a moment. “I can’t take anymore.
Please, no more.”
Astrid stopped dead. Hiccup had always seemed like he could take anything Berk
threw at him, facing it head on with wit and sarcasm since he couldn’t lift a
shield or sword. Now, she had never heard his voice so broken. “H-Hiccup,” she
ventured.
He recognized her voice and shuddered. “Astrid,” he murmured. “Please, not you
too.”
She circled around so that he could see her. His face looked terrible. His lips
were cracked and bleeding, bruises crept up his throat, and there were
fingerprints on his cheeks and jaw. His green eyes, usually so bright and
vibrant, were like glass. His hair hung limp and greasy across his forehead,
streaked with blood in places.
“Sweet Thor,” she whispered.
Hiccup closed his eyes and turned his face away from her. Gingerly, Astrid
reached to touch him, but he whimpered when she drew near. She pulled her hand
back and hugged it between her breasts. Hiccup sagged into a kneeling position
and breathed out heavily.
Astrid set the cloth she carried down on the stone and opened it slowly. She
had brought a canteen filled with fresh water, some sweetbread, and Tuffnut’s
emergency chicken leg. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she unscrewed the
lid on the canteen. “I brought some water,” she told Hiccup. “Do you want
some?”
His throat flashed as he tried to swallow. He opened his eyes and stared at her
with terrible hurt in his expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and took a quick sip. “It’s not poisoned or
anything.”
Hiccup nodded slowly, but he looked as though he expected some cruelty from
her.
Without pause, Astrid cupped his chin and pressed the canteen to his lips. He
drank gratefully. She could feel him trembling. Before he could make himself
sick, she tugged the canteen away, tore a piece of chicken from the bone, and
offered it to him. Hiccup opened his mouth nervously and Astrid fed him. She
looked around again, but there was no sign of anyone. She tore little pieces of
bread off, gave them to him, and offered him more water. Hiccup accepted
everything ravenously.
When it was gone, Astrid hastily folded up the cloth and tucked it into her
pouch. She tipped the last of the water into his mouth, turned to leave, and
then hesitated. She knelt in front of Hiccup and gingerly touched his bloodied
hands. He hissed in pain, but didn’t protest as she loosened the studded
leather belts from around his wrists. Though she didn’t dare take them off,
Hiccup was grateful for any kindness he could garner.
Then, Astrid’s eyes strayed to the cell where scorch marks fanned beneath the
door. Inside, she heard a dragon croon softly.
“Is that…?” she breathed.
Hiccup nodded.
“The Night Fury,” Astrid murmured in awe. She was about to ask him more, but
then she heard an outrageous amount squawking coming from the direction of the
village. She tripped over herself in her haste to scramble away. “I have to
go,” she told Hiccup urgently. She jumped to reach the top of the stone circle,
grabbed the edge, and heaved herself out through the bars and chains. Rolling
into the foliage nearby, she lay panting for a moment before she pushed the
branches aside and peeked out. Horror gripped her stomach in a vice.
Fishlegs’s parents stood on either side of Hiccup. His mother, Tarsus, carried
a blunted wooden sword and Sturgeon cracked his knuckles. Astrid could see
Hiccup trembling from where she hid. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to
keep silent. No wonder Fishlegs’s parents didn’t want him to go near the arena.
They didn’t want him to see them beat and rape Hiccup.
Panting, Tuffnut crested the hill nearby and looked around hastily. Astrid
angled Ruffnut’s little knife to catch the sunlight, blinded him to let him
know she was all right, and had gotten out of the way soon enough. She could
only imagine what would have happened if Fishlegs’s parents had found her
feeding Hiccup. She wondered how they would have explained being there.
Astrid didn’t want to look, but she was effectively trapped in the shrub until
Tarsus and Sturgeon left. She kept her eyes closed for as long as possible, but
the sounds still reached her. Tarsus hit Hiccup solidly with the wooden sword,
cracking it into his back and sides and prying little whimpers of agony from
him. Sturgeon rutted into him like an animal and the sloppy wet slap-slap of
flesh on flesh mingled hideously with the strikes.
Astrid’s eyes opened almost of their own accord. She couldn’t help but watch as
Tarsus and Sturgeon violated every inch of Hiccup’s body. Then, they left as
though nothing was wrong, as though they weren’t leaving Hiccup bleeding and
struggling to breathe behind them. Astrid could see the horns of Tuffnut’s
helmet hidden just beyond the crest of the hill. He was waiting for her and
there was nothing she could do for Hiccup now. Others were coming.
Astrid rolled out of the bush, jumped to her feet, and raced to where Tuffnut
was waiting. She pulled him to his feet and the two of them walked back to
where Ruffnut was waiting. No one spared them a passing glance. Vikings were
beginning to finish their tasks and began to head off towards Hiccup. Astrid
felt sick to her stomach.
“Well?” Ruffnut asked once the three of them were safely hunkered behind the
Thorston house.
Astrid shook her head and rubbed her face. “I saw Fishlegs’s parents there,
using Hiccup,” she murmured.
“Gross,” Tuffnut ground out and chewed his thumb.
Ruffnut nodded mournfully. “We saw our mom there too. She kicked the shit out
of him, screaming something crazy.”
Astrid handed Ruffnut her tiny knife and accepted her axe back. “I can’t
believe it,” she muttered. “I can’t believe people are doing this to him.”
Tuffnut shrugged and said, “It’s customary for the stocks, right? Or is it the
noose?”
Astrid swallowed thickly, but her throat felt full of stones.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut looked at her, waiting for her to say something, but Astrid
didn’t know what to say. She wanted to get Hiccup out of there, but she didn’t
know where to begin. Everything she had ever known to be true was breaking
apart around her. Their chief had condemned his own son, dragons might not be
monsters, and the parents of her friends were going to rape Hiccup. Hiccup was
the same age as they were. What if Astrid had befriended a dragon like he had?
Would she be in the same place he was?
“Astrid?” Ruffnut asked.
Astrid shook free of those thoughts and said, “I need to think. I’ll meet you
at the Mead Hall later, okay? This is still our secret.”
The twins nodded.
Astrid turned away and headed home. She didn’t know what to do. She needed to
talk to someone she could trust. When she pushed open the door, her father was
seated at the table with a plate of untouched fish lying out before him. Veena
was nowhere to be seen, but her axe was leaned up in the corner.
“Dad?” Astrid ventured.
He started and turned slowly to face her. Though Leon looked more rested than
the other adults in Berk, he still didn’t look like he had been sleeping well.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I wasn’t expecting you home for lunch. Do you want some
cod?”
Astrid shook her head and sat down beside him at the table. “Can we talk, Dad?”
she asked quietly. “Just the two of us? Our little secret?”
Leon nodded and pushed away his plate. “This is about Hiccup, isn’t it?”
Astrid nodded and hoped her thoughts weren’t as apparent on her face as they
felt. “Do you think it’s… right? What’s happening to him?”
“It’s the chief’s decision,” Leon said habitually. “It’s not my place to
question Stoick.”
Astrid bit her lip. “No, Dad,” she insisted. “I just want to know what you
think. Do you think it’s right how he’s being treated? I mean, he’s one of us.
He’s my age.” She clenched her hands into fists. “And I always thought the
stocks were for murders and rapists, so that the village’s revenge could be
taken.”
Leon breathed out heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Astrid,” he
began and then hesitated. Finally, he admitted, “No, I don’t think it’s right,
but there isn’t anything I can do. Crossing the chief is treason.”
Astrid’s heart pounded against her ribs. “What if it was me, Dad? What if I was
in his place?”
Leon’s eyes flashed gold and hard like precious metal. “I would never have let
that happen. I would have taken you away and damn the consequences.”
The vehemence in his voice surprised and relieved Astrid. She threw her arms
around his neck and hugged him tightly, inhaling the scent of his clothing and
skin. Leon embraced her tightly and she had never felt as safe as she did in
her father’s strong arms.
“Even if I befriended a dragon?” she asked.
“Even if,” he promised.
Tears burned in Astrid’s eyes as she imagined how Hiccup must be feeling. She
couldn’t imagine the betrayal and pain. “Why would Stoick disown Hiccup like
this?” she asked. “How can he just stand back and watch as his son is hurt like
this?”
Leon stroked her braid. “I don’t want to know that, Astrid,” he said softly. “I
really don’t.”
Astrid sucked in a shuddering breath and stepped away from her father. “Where’s
Mom?” she asked and surreptitiously wiped her eyes.
Leon looked away.
Astrid felt a bolt of pain go through her chest. She knew without him even
saying it. “No,” she whispered.
Leon nodded to confirm her suspicions. Veena had gone to the Killing Arena to
torment Hiccup.
Astrid sank down in a chair and put her head between her knees. Nausea chewed
at her stomach. She couldn’t believe her own mother had gone to hurt a boy her
own age. She wondered how Veena would hurt him and then forced those thoughts
away. She couldn’t bear to even imagine the answers.
There was a light knock at the Hofferson’s door.
“Come in,” Leon called.
Gobber entered. “Leon, can I have a word with you? In private?”
Leon patted Astrid on the back and then rubbed her shoulders. “You’re okay,
honey,” he consoled his daughter. “Can you give us a minute?”
Astrid scraped herself to her feet and stumbled past Gobber.
The blacksmith put a hand to her shoulder and asked, “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Astrid choked out. “Just fine.” She closed the door behind herself and
sat down heavily on the front steps. Breathing deeply, she realized that she
could hear her father and Gobber talking inside. Just for something to occupy
her mind, she listened absently until she heard Hiccup’s name. Then, she
snapped to attention and listened raptly.
“We have to get him out of here, Leon,” Gobber said. “You know this is wrong
just as much as I do.”
“But how?” Leon asked. “We can’t just put in him a boat and send him off. He’ll
die in two days.”
Gobber groaned. “There has to be something.”
“Does Stoick realize that his actions are tearing apart the village?”
“Stoick doesn’t realize anything,” Gobber muttered. “He’s drowning himself,
just like he did when Valka died, but it’s worse now because he had nothing to
come back to.”
“Can’t you pull him out of it?”
“I tried,” Gobber said, “But he just slipped in deeper. He’s going to take half
the village on another hunt for the Nest.”
“That might be the time we need to get Hiccup out of here,” Leon said and began
to pace noisily. “If Stoick leaves and Hiccup is gone before he returns, he
never has to know what happened.”
“Hiccup has that dragon of his,” Gobber said. “Maybe all we need to do is let
them go together. The dragon can fly him out of here.”
Leon was quiet, but Astrid imagined him nodding in agreement. Then, he asked,
“Who is staying while Stoick leads the hunt?”
“I wasn’t going to,” Gobber murmured and rubbed his good hand over his
prosthetic, “But I have to. I owe it to Valka.” He paused. “Stoick will expect
you to follow him. I’m not sure you can deny him when he’s like this.”
“Odin’s Beard,” Leon cursed. “Who would be willing to free Hiccup?”
Astrid pushed the door open, unable to just listen quietly any longer. “I
will,” she told their shocked faces. “I’ll get Hiccup out.” She turned to her
father. “If Stoick isn’t here, I won’t be in danger. And I want to get Hiccup
out. I don’t want to watch the people I love kill him.”
“Then it’s settled,” Gobber said in the silence that followed. He rubbed just
above his missing hand. “Stoick plans to leave in two days time. Provided
Hiccup is strong enough to leave, I suggest you get him out of here as soon as
possible, Astrid.”
                                     X X X
Well, I managed to score a little part time job at a tiny restaurant not far
from where I live. I was there last night and I'll be going in tonight, too.
It's not much, but it's something. Thanks for everyone's concern.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Betrayal and Destruction *****
I’d like to thank everyone for sticking with this story and cheering me on in
my time of strife.
                                     X X X
The night Hiccup was finally born should had been the best of Stoick’s life,
but it wasn’t. It was the worst. He and Valka had been trying to have children
for so long, but each pregnancy ended in tears and blood. Stoick wanted to give
up. He would rather let his half-brother’s son lead the tribe than risk losing
Valka, but she was adamant. Together, they would bring a beautiful precious
child into the world. That was all she wanted.
The night Hiccup was born, there was a raid outside, but Stoick didn’t go to
it. It was more important for him to be with Valka, to be at her side, even
though the midwife and Gothi wouldn’t allow him into the room. He paced in the
hallway, content with the knowledge that Veena was inside with Valka. He
listened to their muffled voices, Valka’s stifled screams, and the distant rage
of battle with the dragons.
The night Hiccup was born was the night Valka died. Words did not express the
despair that filled his chest like a spear as he watched the light leave
Valka’s beautiful eyes. Then, the midwife handed him his son and he just stared
at the tiny thing that was dwarfed by his hand. This minuscule wailing child
had torn the life from his wife. As he stared down at the child, he didn’t
think it was worth it. He wanted to demand that the gods rescind this exchange
of life. He would rather have Valka.
But the baby pulled his beard and cried and his wide green eyes were the same
shade as Valka’s. Stoick held the baby as best he could and promised Valka that
he would raise their child as best he could on his own. He sent Valka to
Valhalla and Veena held his son and Gobber pulled him away from the ocean.
Stoick looked down at the child, at Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and
told himself that this was worth it. This was what Valka had wanted. She had
wanted this baby enough to sacrifice her life.
“Hiccup,” Stoick consoled himself. Valka might be gone, but he still had
Hiccup. “My son…”
The night Hiccup was born stretched into years and each came with its
tribulations. Stoick tried to understand his child that ran off hunting for
trolls when he was supposed to be fishing. He tried to understand the boy that
brought back flowers and left behind axes. He tried to understand the youth
that struggled to lift a hammer, struggled to forge swords, struggled with
everything a Viking should have been good at. He tried to understand the teen
that still hadn’t been able to kill a dragon and still couldn’t even heft a
bucket of water to put out fires. He tried to understand, but he could not.
At night, he spoke to Valka in a hushed voice and asked what he should do with
their strange child. Valka never answered him and Stocik grew more frustrated
by the month. He tried to teach Hiccup how to handle a dagger, how to string a
bow, how to carry a sword. Hiccup didn’t listen. He tried to explain what being
a Viking was, how it felt to slay a dragon, what it was like to sail on the
open sea. Hiccup ignored him. He tried to show Hiccup how to become chief, how
to lead, how to be everything he was. Hiccup answered with wit and sarcasm, but
didn’t heed his words.
Then, Hiccup committed the ultimate betrayal of all Stoick had tried to teach
him. He betrayed his mother’s memory. He trampled her sacrifice and all her
dreams.
He befriended a dragon. He fed it the food that Stoick caught to feed his
village. He snuck away to be with it and ignored his lessons. He tricked
everyone. He let them think he was capable of killing a dragon, let them
believe he could best Astrid in the arena, and let them all assemble to watch
as he tore apart everything they knew to be true. The image of Hiccup throwing
aside the helmet made from all that was left of Valka’s breastplate boiled
Stoick’s blood.
Again, Stoick wished that Valka had lived the night Hiccup was born. He wished
Hiccup had died in her place.
That day in the arena, he wished the Monstrous Nightmare had just eaten Hiccup.
He wished the Night Fury hadn’t come to save that worthless child.
Stoick was sick of it. He was sick of a son that didn’t listen, that didn’t
obey, that didn’t fit in. He was sick of a son that would never make him proud,
never be anything but a burden, never become a worthy chief. He was sick of
Hiccup being Hiccup.
It was time the boy was taught a lesson.
Stoick knew when he chained Hiccup to the stocks he was letting the floodgates
open. How many years had the people of Berk spent protecting and tolerating
Hiccup, just because he was the chief’s son? Stoick didn’t care anymore. Let
them take their pounds of flesh. As far as he was concerned, Hiccup should have
died with Valka that night.
Stoick staggered home in a daze without his hammer, without his son, without
the glory he thought this day was going to bring him. He thought Hiccup would
finally prove himself as a child of Stoick the Vast and slay his first dragon
before the entire village. Instead, he revealed his traitorous truth. Thinking
about it again only deepened the wound. He still couldn’t believe it. Stoick
pushed open the door of his empty house and fell inside. It was dark and quiet
without Valka’s singing or Hiccup’s light footsteps.
Stoick took off his helmet, held it in his hands, and put it back on. He sat
down in front of the dark hearth, stared at the empty grate, and stood up. He
went to his own room, still fitted with a large bed as though Valka slept
there, and turned away. Nothing felt right. It wasn’t home. Stoick looked at
the thick steps that led to Hiccup’s loft. He couldn’t remember the last time
he had climbed those stairs. As if drawn by an invisible string, he did so now.
Hiccup’s room was what Stoick assumed it always had been. His small bed was
pushed against the wall, neatly made with the blankets smoothed flat and the
carved dragon heads growling ferociously to keep away nightly demons. A desk
was position beneath the window, scattered with papers and charcoals. Stoick
smiled faintly at the memory of Hiccup begging for it and the smile on his face
when Stoick carried it upstairs. Then, he sharply pushed those thoughts away.
Looking down at the desk, Stoick saw a myriad of designs for some new
contraption of Hiccup’s and a few blurred sketches of a girl though she was
unrecognizable through the smudges. He brushed one onto the floor and stared at
it. Then, he brushed them all into a heap and looked down at the ruin of
Hiccup’s plans. Charcoal rolled everywhere, blackening the floorboards. Rage
bubbled in Stoick’s stomach again. He overturned the desk with a crash and
kicked the stool against the wall.
His hands shook with emotion. Had Hiccup sat up here, thinking about his
dragon, stewing in his treachery? Had Stoick sat downstairs, oblivious to all
of it until it was too late? He whirled to face Hiccup’s bed and hurled it as
well. It broke against the wall, the headboard separating like bones as it
tumbled end over end. Beneath the bed, a small square journal lay on the floor.
Stoick stared at it for a long moment. He thought about ripping it to pieces,
burning it to ashes, and throwing it into the sea.
Instead, he picked it up and could only stare at it. It was handmade, lovingly
crafted with neatly cut paper and bound with twine. Stoick’s hands shook as he
opened it. What horrors and detailed plans of betrayal lay inside its pages?
The first few pages were maps of the village and smudged paragraphs of Hiccup’s
thoughts. Most were simple and hurt, wishes that he could make his father
proud, and dreams of being a better Viking. Somewhere in the middle, the
journal became plans to kill a dragon and make Stoick happy. Then, there was a
map of Raven Point that had been scribbled over and marked with countless Xs.
Beyond that was a drawing of the Night Fury, its tail smudged and redrawn.
Stoick stared at the dragon. This was where it all began.
The pages beyond that were plans to craft a replacement tailfin for the foul
beast coupled with a sheet of positions to help it fly. Hiccup had written
notes about how the dragon didn’t like eels and loved cod, how he loved his
chin scratched, and how smooth his scales were. Then, there were pages upon
pages of details images and musings about how great it was to fly. Hiccup wrote
that he wished he could show his father the clouds and that they were wet.
Stoick stared at the pages and his heart throbbed painfully. Then, as he was
about to close the journal and put Hiccup’s room back the way it had been, the
last page fell open. There was a map of the archipelago drawn in surprising
detail, unlike the map Stoick had in the Mead Hall. Hiccup must have been
exploring with that dragon all this time, writing down his findings. Stoick
scanned the islands absently. Some he didn’t know even existed and others were
larger than he had thought.
In the corner, there was a mazelike image of Helheim’s Gate. Stoick stared down
at the shape of the cliffs that always tore his boats to pieces. There was a
way through them it seemed, if Hiccup’s map was to be believed. Then, he saw
it. There, at the center of the ruinous crags, there was a large mountain. Just
beneath it, Hiccup had hastily written ‘Nest.’
Stoick’s vision went white with rage and horror. Hiccup had been to the Nest.
He really had thrown in his soul with the dragons. He was a deserter to
everything and everyone Stoick loved. He deserved to pay for his crimes. He
might even deserve to die for it. Stoick dropped the journal and staggered to
lean against the wall. His mind reeled, tortured by all the signs he never
noticed and Valka’s soft smile. She had given her life to bring this wretch
into the world.
Stoick stumbled down the stairs and wrenched open the icebox. Amidst the salmon
and chicken and few vegetables that Hiccup had been planning to prepare for
their supper was a keg of mead. Stoick jerked the entire thing out of the chest
and slammed it down on the kitchen table. He grabbed a mug, filled it, and
drained it without stopping for breath. He drank another and another and
another until the pain was dull in the back of his head.
…
It was too noisy in the Mead Hall for Astrid to think clearly. She clenched her
fingers around her knife and considered driving it into the forehead of the
person nearest to her just to shut them up. How are they all carry on like
nothing was wrong while Hiccup was being raped and tortured in the Killing
Arena? How dare they all pretend nothing was wrong? Her eyes slid across
everyone’s faces and she wondered how many of them had already satisfied
themselves with Hiccup’s body tonight. She clenched the knife in her fist.
Snotlout slid into place beside her with a plate of food and cup of mead. “You
look like you’re planning something stupid,” he said.
Astrid glowered at him, but her expression softened when she saw the exhaustion
in his face. “Are you okay?”
Snotlout shrugged his shoulders. “I guess,” he said. “My dad’s trying to groom
me to become Chief, but I… I just can’t think about that now.” He shook his
head so hard that his helmet nearly tumbled off. “I’m not sure I want to be
Chief.”
Astrid pushed away her plate. She wanted to say something comforting to
Snotlout, but she wasn’t sure there were any words for a situation like this.
She thought about telling him that she was going to rescue Hiccup, but she
wasn’t certain he was ready to hear that.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut slid into the bench across from them, snickering. “Just so
you know,” Ruffnut said, “Fishlegs is going to come screaming over any moment
now.”
Astrid eyed Ruffnut. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
Before Ruffnut could answer, Fishlegs barreled up to the table. He was
breathing hard, but he sat down beside Astrid and didn’t speak for a long
moment. His pudgy face grew redder and redder until Astrid was worried he was
going to explode like an overheated egg. Just as she was about to call his
name, Fishlegs grabbed her shoulder and asked desperately, “Do you think my
parents really went to hurt Hiccup in the arena?”
Astrid shot the twins a cold glare, but they looked away innocently.
Apparently, they could be trusted to keep Astrid’s secret, but anything
surrounding it was fair game for telling. She should have known they would do
something as stupid as that. Then again, she couldn’t deny that Fishlegs
deserved to know.
Snotlout’s eyes widened. “What? Your parents did?”
Astrid shook off Fishlegs’s clammy hand, elbowed Snotlout to silence him, and
asked, “What makes you think that, Fishlegs?”
Fishlegs pressed his fingertips together nervously and his eyes darted from the
twins to Astrid and back again. “Well…”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “I know Ruff and Tuff told you,” she said, “but why do
you believe it?”
Fishlegs bit his lip. “Well, today I was going to bring Hiccup some water. I
mean, I know the chief doesn’t care about him anymore now that he disowned him
and I know that helping him is treasonous, but I don’t want him to die or
anything so I just thought I’d bring him some water. It’s been so hot and all.”
He seemed in danger of going on forever so Astrid elbowed him lightly. Fishlegs
took a hasty sip of Tuffnut’s mead and set it down with a clang. His hands
shook. “I told my dad that I was going to bring Hiccup some water and he got
really nervous. He yelled at me. My father never yells at me. He warned me not
to go towards the arena, especially at night. Then, my mom came home and I
tried to tell her what I wanted to do, but she reacted the same way.”
Fishlegs knotted his shaking hands together on the tabletop. “Then, I ran into
the twins,” he continued. “I asked if they had heard anything about Hiccup and
they told me that someone had seen my parents in the arena.” He took a
tremulous breath and looked at Astrid. “Do you think it could be true? I mean,
I always thought my parents were the nicest.”
“Hey, our mom is nice,” Tuffnut protested.
“No offense,” Fishlegs said quickly, “but your mom can be kind of scary.”
“Are you kidding me?” Snotlout put in. “Calling Gertrude Great Arms ‘kind of
scary’ has to be the understatement of the year.”
“It’s true,” Ruffnut agreed and punched her brother in the helmet. “Remember
when you started a fire in the kitchen?”
Tuffnut rubbed the bruises on his arms. “Oh yeah, right,” he muttered.
Fishlegs turned back to Astrid and his eyes were like open lanterns. The
slightest breeze could snuff out his faith in his parents and Astrid knew what
that felt like. She still couldn’t believe that Stoick had disowned Hiccup and
abandoned him like this. She still couldn’t believe that she had seen the
Ingermans in the Killing Arena. She still couldn’t believe her own mother had
gone to hurt Hiccup.
“Do you think it’s true, Astrid?” Fishlegs asked uneasily.
Astrid took a deep breath and then nodded slowly. “I saw them,” she admitted.
Fishlegs’s expression shattered like crockery breaking on the stone. He looked
away sharply and his lower lip quivered as he fought back tears.
Snotlout gripped Astrid’s shoulder and she turned to face him. His eyes were
wide, his face was pale, and she felt his hand tremble. “You went to the
arena?” he breathed out.
Astrid brushed off his hand. “I brought him some food. Don’t worry, Snotlout. I
got out of there before anyone saw me or what I had done,” she said.
“We helped her,” Tuffnut put in proudly.
“I hid in some bushes until Fishlegs’s parents left,” she continued. “I was
careful.” She almost told them about her plan to free Hiccup when the chief
left the village to hunt the Dragons’ Nest, but she still didn’t know how her
friends would react to that.
Fishlegs took off his helmet and set it on the table. “I can’t believe it…” he
whispered. “My parents… Hiccup is younger than I am… and they’re…”
Astrid wet her lips and reached for her mug of mead.
“We have to get him out of there,” Snotlout said abruptly.
Astrid froze and turned to look at him.
Snotlout met her eyes firmly. “What?” he asked. “I know you’re thinking it too.
You can’t keep sneaking there to bring him food and water forever. If Hiccup
stays there, he’s just going to die.”
“Right,” Fishlegs said shakily. “I agree.”
The twins knocked their helmets together with a clang. “Alright,” they cheered.
“Let’s do it! With fire!”
Snotlout rose from the table as if to put his plan into action immediately.
“Wait!” Astrid shouted. A few heads turned in their direction. She quickly
grasped Snotlout’s elbow and pulled him back into his seat. “Wait, wait,” she
said. “You can’t just rush into this. You’re going to get yourselves in deep
trouble. We have to wait.”
“Wait for what?” Snotlout demanded. “For someone to flay all the skin off him
or break all his bones? Hiccup is still my cousin.”
Astrid hushed him and gestured for everyone to lean in closer. “Gobber, my
father, and I already formulated a plan to get Hiccup out of there, but we have
to wait two days until the chief leaves to hunt the Nest. If we get Hiccup out
of there while he’s gone, he’ll never know who’s responsible for it. We need to
keep ourselves safe, too.”
Fishlegs nodded in understanding.
“Boring,” Tuffnut said shortly. “Why can’t we do it now?”
Astrid glared at him. “There isn’t enough firewood. We have to stock some up,”
she told him sarcastically.
“Right,” he said.
Astrid shook her head and turned back to her friends. “If you guys are with me,
it will be a lot easier,” she said.
Snotlout dipped his head. “Yeah,” he agreed. “So, in two days, we’ll get Hiccup
out.”
“There are some things we have to do before that though,” Astrid explained. She
grabbed her mead and took a drink to steady her nerves. “For this to work,
Gobber wants to cut loose both Hiccup and his dragon. He hopes that they’ll go
somewhere together and keep each other safe, but both will have to be strong
enough to travel.”
“I’m as strong as a dragon,” Tuffnut interjected.
Ruffnut shoved him off the bench with a crash.
“Guys, could you draw a little less attention to us?” Fishlegs asked them
nervously. “We are talking about committing treason here.”
Astrid handed Tuffnut her mug to keep his hands and mouth busy and hoped
Ruffnut could keep her mouth shut. “So, what we need to do is sneak down to the
arena to feed Hiccup and his dragon. It should be much easier now that there
are more of us,” she continued.
“What about the whole—?” Snotlout gestured helplessly with his hands for a
moment as though trying to encompass everything they knew but didn’t want to
talk about. Finally, he said hopelessly, “—yuck?”
Astrid pressed her lips together. She really didn’t want to think about what
was happening to Hiccup, what their parents and the rest of Berk was doing to
him now that night had fallen, or how his body would look tomorrow, but she
supposed Snotlout had a valid concern. “He’s going to need some clothes and
some bandages for sure,” she said, “and we can get those. Snotlout, that can be
your job.”
Snotlout floundered beside her for a moment before he visibly pulled himself
together and nodded. In that moment, Astrid saw the potential for chief in him
and smiled slightly. It would be good to have her friends on her side, helping
her in this impossible mission to free Hiccup from Berk.
“What can I do?” Fishlegs asked, eager to have a solid task to put his mind to.
“You’ll take care of the dragon after I find out from Hiccup what it needs,”
Astrid told him.
“What about us?” Ruffnut put in, twisting her braid as she did when she was
worried or hungry.
“You two will be my lookouts when I’m in the arena with Hiccup,” Astrid said.
“Remember, this is still our secret. Ours and Gobber’s and my father’s. Don’t
tell anyone about it. We could get in trouble or worse if Chief Stoick finds
out.”
Everyone nodded gravely.
“Um,” Fishlegs ventured, “can I spend the night at anyone’s house? I don’t
think I can sleep at home… knowing that my parents are…”
Much to Astrid’s surprise, Snotlout put his hand consolingly on Fishlegs’s big
shoulder. “You can’t do things like that. You’ll blow our cover and this has to
stay a secret. No one can know what we’re planning,” he explained. His eyes
darted across the hall to where Spitelout sat beside Stoick’s empty chair.
“Okay?”
Fishlegs nodded slowly and sought out his parents in the hall. They weren’t
there, just like Astrid’s mother.
Astrid leaned back in her seat and her eyes strayed over the busy hall. She
tried not to think about how many people she knew and loved would be going to
see Hiccup tonight. She thought about trying to sneak in to see him, but it was
too much of a risk. Tomorrow, they would put their plan into action and the day
after that, Stoick would leave to destroy the Nest and their chance would be
upon them. She breathed out in relief.
…
It was after midnight and the full moon hung high in the sky. The silvery light
fell on everything like something out of a dream and the edges blurred as
Stoick approached the Dragon Killing Arena. There was no more mead at his
house. He had lost track of how many days had passed since his son—not his
son—had shamed him and turned his back traitorously on everything Stoick loved.
Stoick leaved against the stone wall at the mouth of the arena.
One of his brother’s in arms stood at the stocks, rutting into Hiccup like a
beast. He grunted and groaned with animal passion. Beneath him, Hiccup was
silent save his occasional harsh breaths and tiny cries. The slap-slap of flesh
echoed in the dark, twisting nightmarishly through Stoick’s mind. Since Valka’s
death, he hadn’t been with anyone. His hand had always satisfied him. On
unsteady feet, Stoick approached the stocks and put his hand on the man’s
shoulder.
Sturgeon turned sharply to glare at him and then immediately sobered when he
saw Stoick. “Chief,” he said and awkwardly looked down at where he was still
connected to Hiccup’s small body. “I was just…”
Without speaking, Stoick looked down at Hiccup. He was so small compared to
Sturgeon, compared to the stocks, compared to a dragon. How had this happened?
Bruises and welts, scrapes and handprints covered his pale body. His ankle
curled beneath his weight, broken. His hands and arms were a mess of cuts
created by the studded belt Stoick had bound him with. Slowly, Stoick circled
the stocks and looked into Hiccup’s face. The hope in those green eyes, so much
like Valka’s, should have broken his heart, but he felt nothing but disdain.
Stoick gestured for Sturgeon to finish up, still looking at Hiccup’s face.
Hiccup’s eyes darted to Stoick’s hand and his face crumpled despite knowing
nothing of military signals. Hiccup had always been smart, had always been
stupid, had always somehow known what he shouldn’t have.
Stoick watched stonily as Sturgeon bucked into Hiccup’s body. Each thrust
jarred the boy against the stocks. The skin of his shoulders tore, fresh blood
dripped from his hands, and the fleshy wet sounds increased at Sturgeon thrust
mercilessly. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, as though he would
be forgiven if he was quiet enough. There were times when that would have
placated Stoick, but not tonight.
Sturgeon finished with a groan and hastily tucked his soft cock back into his
trousers. “Chief?” he asked.
“Go,” Stoick said.
Hiccup and Stoick listened to his retreating footsteps. Hiccup kept his eyes
closed, his face turned to the ground, and he barely breathed. Stoick stared at
the top of his head. His auburn hair was tangled where too many hands had
gripped it. There were bruises ringing his neck from the stocks. His body had
been demolished. Hiccup didn’t dare speak, even though he desperately wanted
to. His body trembled with the urge to beg his father to end this, to let him
go, to forgive him.
Stoick reached out and slipped his fingers beneath Hiccup’s chin. Hiccup
flinched against the touch and then leaned hungrily into it when Stoick didn’t
hurt him. His pulse fluttered in his neck, weak and light against Stoick’s
rough fingers. He wet his lips, but still didn’t speak.
“Are you enjoying your time here?” Stoick asked finally.
“N-no,” Hiccup whispered. “Please, I—”
Stoick’s thumb pressed into his mouth, cutting off his words. “Can you prove
that you’re not?”
Hiccup nodded jerkily. What did his father need to see to believe? His broken
ankle, his bruised ribcage, his scraped face? How could anyone enjoy this?
Stoick pressed down on Hiccup’s tongue, gagging him indifferently. “If you can
resist, I’ll let you go,” he continued. “If you can resist, I know there’s a
little of myself in you. If you can resist, I’ll know you’re my son and I’ll
let you go.”
Hiccup wanted to ask about Toothless, but he didn’t dare. He nodded again.
Stoick withdrew his fingers from Hiccup’s mouth.
The boy coughed and his breath wheezed in his throat.
Stoick moved away from Hiccup’s face, his footsteps echoing loudly on the
stone. The large jar of butter that had been placed nearby was nearly gone.
Stoick scooped some onto his fingers and gently trailed his fingers through the
cleft of Hiccup’s cheeks. He trembled, fighting back little whimpers as
Stoick’s rough finger rasped over the swollen entrance to his body. He felt so
raw, so torn, and the butter smoothed softly over his brutalized skin. Stoick
spread his cheeks and the cool night air kissed his aching muscles. Positioning
his thumbs on either side of the ravaged hole, he pulled it open slightly and
semen began to drip out. Hiccup whimpered and Stoick drew away, disgusted.
“You’ve been used by everyone, haven’t you?” he asked frostily. “Did you like
it?”
Hiccup shook his head. “N-no,” he whispered. “It hurt.”
Stoick knelt down behind Hiccup and pushed his thick fingers inside. Hiccup
cried out in pain and strained against the stocks. His ankle couldn’t support
him and he nearly fell, supported only by Stoick’s fingers deep inside. Stoick
thrust them wetly and then curled them. Hiccup fought not to cry out as those
fingers opened and sought inside his violated body. He could feel semen sliding
out of him and landing wetly on the stone. Shame welled in his throat,
smothering everything else.
Stoick twisted his fingers and pressed against something that sent an explosion
of white through Hiccup’s vision. He cried out and it had nothing to do with
pain. Desperately, he tried to wriggle away from his father’s fingers, away
from the strange sensations, away from the stocks.
“That was it,” Stoick murmured.
“W-what?” Hiccup whispered.
Stoick didn’t answer him. His other hand slipped between Hiccup’s thighs and
wrapped around his small member. It was engulfed in Stoick’s larger hand and
the sensations overwhelmed Hiccup. He had barely ever touched himself and now
every ounce of virginity was being forced from his body. Stoick stroked him
with the expertise of age, once, twice, three times, and Hiccup hardened in his
hand. The fingers inside his body twisted and rubbed against that bundle of
nerves he hadn’t know existed. Bolting hot pleasure coursed into his stomach
and curled there, tingling.
“W-wait,” Hiccup pleaded. In all the times he had been taken, it had never felt
like this. “S-something is w-wrong.”
“Is it?” Stoick asked emotionlessly.
Hiccup tried to turn his hips away and hide from this new assault of feelings.
Stoick tightened his grip to the point of pain and then stroked again, his
thumb rasping roughly over Hiccup’s sensitive head. He cried out and his hips
bucked helplessly. Stoick’s fingers twisted a little deeper and rubbed firmly
against the bundle of warmth inside Hiccup’s violated passage. The place that
had been nothing but pain blossomed with heat and pleasure.
Tormented, Hiccup begged, “Please, stop.”
Stoick ignored his son—no, not his son.
The heat coiled familiarly in Hiccup’s lower belly, building there like water
pressing against the dam. Stoick squeezed and stroked, his calluses rough
against the pulsing vein and aching skin. He rubbed his thumb over the head and
swept away the bead of moisture that gathered there like a tear. He added
another finger, stretching Hiccup wider, and though the pain should have
followed, it didn’t. Hiccup’s body sucked it in deeper, greedily, and that
little place inside him throbbed in time with his heartbeat as it was touched.
“No,” Hiccup pleaded. Tears gathered in his eyes as his body spiraled out of
his control. “No, please.”
Stoick said nothing. He concentrated on his hands and fingers, on the way
Hiccup’s tiny body twitched and convulsed, on how everything broke into pieces.
With only a few more strokes, a few more caresses, and one tight squeeze,
Hiccup shattered. His release tore through him like a flood, pouring out along
with his tears. The hot seed spilled over Stoick’s fingers and he pulled away,
disgusted. Hiccup slumped spiritlessly against the stocks, broken.
“You’re not a Viking,” Stoick hissed and wiped the seed on Hiccup’s back. His
voice cracked and he whispered, “You’re not my son.”
“No,” Hiccup pleaded. “I didn’t…”
Stoick kicked him. His boot landed hard and heavy between Hiccup’s legs,
crushing away all remnants of pleasure as he screamed in agony. Hiccup curled
helplessly against the stocks and curled his legs tightly against himself.
Stoick’s cloak whipped out behind him as he stalked away. In his cell,
Toothless crooned comfortingly, but nothing could comfort Hiccup now.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Heat of Emotions *****
I just bought Tales of Xillia. It is so much fun. I’m having a hard time
scraping myself away to do anything else.
                                     X X X
Berk’s weather never did anything by halves. In the winter, the entire island
was covered in six feet of snow. In the summer, the heat rolled over Berk like
a forge. Sweating and frustrated, Astrid tried to use her dull knife to slice
meat and vegetables for supper. Groaning, she hacked at the mutton and peppers
and nearly took off the tip of her finger. She yelped and dropped the knife,
sending coins of carrots rolling everywhere.
“Great Odin’s Ghost—”
“Language, young lady,” Veena chastised. “What’s wrong?”
“Something’s wrong with the knife,” Astrid grumbled and pushed back her frizzy
hair.
Veena took the knife from Astrid and ran her thumb against the edge. “Oh,
Thor,” she said. “This knife is as dull as a spoon.”
“Dull?” Astrid repeated. “How did that happen?”
“Just from use,” Veena explained. “Why don’t you take it to Gobber’s and have
him sharpen it?”
“Okay.”
Veena loaded a few other knives into a small leather bag and handed it to
Astrid. Shouldering it, Astrid headed out into the blistering heat. She hurried
quickly to Gobber’s shop and saw that the forge had been extinguished. It was
probably too hot to deal with it today. She peeked inside and looked around,
but she didn’t see Gobber.
“Can I help you?” came Hiccup’s voice.
She hadn’t noticed him. He was seated at a small workbench in the rear of
Gobber’s shop, looking over an assortment of papers and books. There was
charcoal smudged on his cheeks and fingers. In the heat, most of Berk’s men had
left their shirts at home and put on a sickening display of chest hair. Unlike
them, Hiccup wore his leather vest with the laces cinched together so there
wasn’t much to see except his freckled shoulders and long arms.
“We can’t cook lunch,” Astrid told him. “Our knives are too dull. Mom told me
to have Gobber sharpen them.”
“Gobber’s not here right now, but I can sharpen them for you,” Hiccup
hesitated, “if you don’t mind.”
Astrid shrugged.
Hiccup crossed the dimly lit shop, took the satchel from her, and dumped the
contents out on Gobber’s workbench. He picked up each knife and tested it
against his finger, murmuring under his breath as he did so. Then, he got out a
small whetstone and sat down at the bench with his back to Astrid. He kept his
face and eyes focused on his work and his auburn hair curtained his face. A
moment later, his hands began to move in practiced strokes and a strange
unpleasant scraping filled the hot air. Sunlight glinted off the blades, off
his long thin fingers, off the dark charcoal and marks on his wrists.
Curious, Astrid crept a little closer to watch him work. She could use any one
of those knives in combat, but she wouldn’t know a whetstone from a block of
cheese without tasting it. She stood at Hiccup’s shoulder and watched as he
sharpened each blade on both sides. She could smell the soap in his hair, feel
the heat of his skin, and his elbow occasionally brushed her belly when he
moved. She looked a little closer at his hands and her eyes moved up his bare
arms. Bruises circled his wrists, elbows, and biceps in uneven globes as though
someone’s fingertips had gouged into him.
Hiccup finished the final knife, tucked it back into the bag, and turned
towards Astrid. He jolted when he realized she was standing so close. Astrid
peered down at him curiously, her blue eyes like a physical touch. He folded
his hand over a bruise on his forearm and said, “H-here you are.”
Astrid took the bag and slung it over her shoulder noisily. “Did you get in a
fight with Snotlout?” she asked.
“No,” Hiccup answered swiftly. “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” she remarked.
Hiccup kept his eyes on Gobber’s messy workbench and his body turned awkwardly
away from her.
It was close and dim in the forge. Astrid perched on the edge of the bench and
her knee brushed his elbow. A rare moment of peace descended on Astrid. This
reminded her of the times she and Hiccup had snuck away to hunt for trolls in
the woods, the one time he had rescued her from dragons during a raid, and the
occasions she wished they could be like when they were younger. She missed
hanging out with him. Despite his flaws, Hiccup had always made her feel like
anything was possible, even the existence of trolls or the possibility of
flight. Hiccup was a pariah now, too slender and gentle compared to what was
expected of them in their society.
Hiccup didn’t look at her and began straightening the scattered objects on the
workbench. Astrid stretched out her hand and traced the ring of bruises around
his bicep with her fingertip. Examining it a little closer proved it to look
exactly like a large strong fist had wrapped around his thin arm and squeezed
until the bones were about to break. Hiccup shied away from her touch, wincing.
“Does it hurt?” Astrid asked.
“No,” Hiccup said too quickly.
Astrid gingerly wrapped her hand around his arm and rubbed her thumb over the
dark marks.
Hiccup’s head turned in slow motion and his hair slipped back along his
cheekbone. The sunlight fell warm and buttery across his face and Astrid’s
breath caught in her throat like a spark of fire. A ring of dark purple bruises
surrounded his eye and spread into his hairline. The white of his eye was
streaked with blood and broken veins. With a gasp, he whipped his head away
from her and his breath broke sharply. He lifted a hand to his throat and
Astrid saw yet more bruises. A necklace of blackness circled his thin throat as
though someone had choked him.
“Oh, Thor,” Astrid whispered. “What happened?”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” Hiccup told her.
Astrid gently slid her palm against his cheek and curled her fingers into his
soft hair. Despite the hot day, his skin was cool. “Sweet Odin,” Astrid
muttered and examined his face a little closer.
Hiccup leaned into her touch with a tremulous breath that fluttered across her
wrist. Then, he looked up into her face. His green eyes were like two open
windows and Astrid looked into him. Pain pinched the corners of his mouth and
he trembled as she gently stroked his cheek with her thumb. He looked as though
he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but didn’t quite dare. Astrid felt
Hiccup’s breath on her lips, moist and warm and sweet. It would have been easy
to lean in and kiss him, but it was easier to pull away.
The forge was open and the day was hot. Anyone could walk by and see her with
Hiccup the Useless.
“Be careful,” Astrid said finally. With one final gentle touch, she removed her
hand from his cheek.
Hiccup nodded with slow understanding.
Astrid hefted the bag a little higher on her shoulder, turned to leave the
forge, and headed home. She nudged the door open and stepped inside out of the
hot sunlight. Veena was waiting, staring at the uncut vegetables and meat with
her axe in her hand.
“I’m back,” Astrid called. “Are you considering chopping those with your axe?”
“No,” Veena said in a tone that suggested she very much had been.
Astrid giggled and set the bag on the counter.
“What took you so long?” Veena began removing the knives and examined each one.
“Wow, Gobber did a very good job.”
Astrid didn’t mention that Hiccup was the one who had sharpened the knives. For
some reason, she had a feeling her mother wouldn’t appreciate that knowledge.
Veena handed Astrid a knife and put the others away.
Astrid stepped back up to the cutting board and began to slice. It was
remarkably easy compared to before and she made quick work of everything. Each
cut reminded her of the slide of Hiccup’s hands, the grace and efficiency as he
sharpened, and the great job he had done with the knives. Astrid’s fingers
tingled with the memory of his soft battered skin beneath her hand.
“Hey Mom?” she asked suddenly.
“Hmm?”
“How did you know when… you and dad were in love?”
Veena chuckled. “Well, I was about your age when I met him,” she explained.
“Believe it or not, you father wasn’t always Lionhearted. He used to be
terrified of chickens.”
“Really?” Astrid asked with a giggle.
“Indeed,” Veena said. “He actually ran right into me in his haste to get away
from one. I was carrying a bucket of apples at the time and they went
positively everywhere. We picked most of them up, but I still found a couple as
the week went on.” She sighed in bliss at the memory. “It must have been love
at first sight. After that, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. He came by
to apologize for the incident and we got to talking.”
“But how did you know?” Astrid asked.
Veena ran her hand over her hair. “You just know,” she said finally. “Being
with your father makes me happy.
A moment of silence stretched between them as Astrid finished slicing the meat
and vegetables. “How old were you when you got married?” she asked.
Veena blushed as though remembering something, but she didn’t share it with
Astrid. “Well, I think I was twenty when I married your father. I was a late
bloomer, but there were a few… unexpected circumstances involved.”
Astrid lifted a brow at her mother’s circumlocution. She wasn’t ten anymore.
She heard about lots of unexpected circumstances leading up to hasty weddings.
Veena changed the subject. “You know, you were actually betrothed shortly after
you were born.”
Astrid wrinkled her nose. “To who?”
Veena hesitated and abruptly looked like she wanted to change the subject
again.
“To who, Mom?” Astrid asked.
“Well, to… um, Hiccup,” she admitted.
Astrid stared at her mother with the freshly sharpened knife poised in her
hand.
Hurriedly, Veena continued, “But I called it off as soon as Hiccup proved
himself to be a… well, um, a hiccup…”
“Oh,” Astrid said and handed her mother the cutting board covered in sliced
foodstuffs.
Veena dumped the slices into the pot bubbling over the fireplace and gratefully
let the subject drop.
A few moments later, Leon returned home. He was sweating and shirtless, but he
walked right up to his wife, wrapped his arms around her tightly, and kissed
her deeply. Veena squealed before melting into him like butter. Astrid groaned
and made a show of turning away from them.
“Hey, pumpkin,” Leon said when he finished and dropped a quick kiss on the top
of Astrid’s head.
“Do you always have to do that?” Astrid asked him irritably.
“You’ll understand when you’re in love,” Leon told her and splashed some water
on his face.
Astrid groaned again, but paused to think about it. Would she ever be
nauseatingly in love like her parents were? She rolled over the feeling of
Hiccup’s skin beneath her hand, the closeness of his lips, and the moment she
had thought about kissing him. Another thought abruptly niggled in the back of
her brain. If Hiccup hadn’t been a hiccup, if he had been better, faster,
stronger—a Dragon Killer—would he be someone worthy of her? Would he be someone
she could love?
…
Toothless had never known weakness until the tiny wingless creature shot him
down. Then, for days as he lay in that forest as cold and unmoving as the
corpses of his parents, he knew it as well as he knew his own broken body. When
the wingless beast came, bearing a tiny iron knife that nonetheless could kill,
Toothless felt weakness tremble in all his bound limbs. He closed his eyes
against the void of death and waited, weak, but it never fell upon him. Maybe
that was because the little wingless being was weak too.
When Toothless was cut free from the ropes that had shortened his world, he
knew strength again. He surged from his confinement and had all intents to kill
the creature that had ensnared him. He bared his teeth and scented the blood of
the tiny monster and prepared to unleash all the fire he could garner. Yet as
he looked down at the pale small face, he felt the weakness again. He did not
kill it, but warned it of a thousand plagues if it dared to trap him again.
Then, he rushed away through the hateful grounded forest.
It wasn’t until he was struggling to fly and landing harshly in the steep cove
that he realized the weakness had followed him. The weakness clung to him with
both clawed hands, pulling away his pride and his strength. He couldn’t fly. He
was broken, trapped here on the earth until the end of his days, just like his
mother. Mournful, Toothless lay in the grass for a long time. Then, he drew
himself up with his father’s determination and tried and tried and tried to
fly. The weakness stayed. The strength did not return.
However, the wingless frail beast did. Toothless had nothing to express what he
felt, seeing it looking down at him with curiosity like a newborn as it tried
to understand why a dragon laid on the ground. He thought about killing it,
entertained the fantasy of taking his punishment from the little creature’s
bones, but he did not. It scurried away and returned with all the strength
Toothless had lost. To feel the leather taking the place of his ruined tail was
like a dream come true. All the dreams of flying pressed in on him and he
surged up. The strength was there.
It took a long time for Toothless to accept the wingless creature and longer to
realize he would need it if he ever wanted to fly again. Though it occasionally
tried to bring weapons that it couldn’t lift, the wingless thing was kind.
After a while, it stopped bringing those pointed things and came with paper and
charcoal and ideas that blossomed like flowers. Toothless watched, amused, and
Toothless learned. He learned the wingless youngling called itself Hiccup. He
learned that they could fly together and the boy learned too. The strength
returned and stayed, kindled warm in Toothless’s belly.
Toothless had never known fear until he heard Hiccup crying out, followed by
the roar of another dragon and the shouting of countless other wingless humans.
He felt the weakness of being unable to fly without Hiccup, but there was
strength in his heart regardless. He fought off that Nightmare and he turned to
see the boy, strewn horrified on the stone. He crooned and then everything
happened too fast to be reacted to. Toothless knew fear as he was wrestled to
the ground. Hiccup begged and pleaded, screamed and cried. The cell yawned open
and dark.
Inside that cell, Toothless knew fear. He couldn’t see anything, but he could
smell and he could hear. He smelled Hiccup’s blood, potent and spreading, fresh
as it was drawn by cruelty. He heard Hiccup pleading for understanding, trying
to explain, and he heard Hiccup speak his name. Toothless threw himself at the
walls, at the iron door, and breathed all the fire he could. The cell remained.
Hiccup’s blood spilled on the other side. His tears followed.
Toothless pressed at the door with all his strength. He smelled arousal and
seed, but there was wrongness to it. It didn’t smell right and Hiccup was
crying out in pain. He heard sounds that were like battle, but he knew they
were not. Toothless clawed the door, breathed fire when he could, and hurled
himself at the walls. Fear suffocated him and swallowed Hiccup. Occasionally,
the boy spoke his name and empty consolations. Toothless crooned back,
promising all the strength and fire in his body.
Toothless never knew despair until the night he heard Hiccup crying and warbled
to the boy as gently as he could and the boy did not answer. For the longest
time, there was only silence on the other side of the cell. Toothless ripped at
the door and the stone until his claws bled and his paws were raw. He breathed
fire until there was nothing left inside him. When he had no strength left,
only weakness, he lay against the door and whispered. Still, Hiccup did not
answer and Toothless knew despair.
…
Waiting until high noon was perhaps the hardest part of their plan. Astrid
couldn’t focus on her work and the food she had stolen from the Mead Hall hung
heavy in the bag against her side. She needed to fill the canteen before
heading to the arena, but it wasn’t even noon yet. She turned her frustrations
on the wood she was chopping. Pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow, she
looked over at Gobber’s forge. Gobber was working easily, whistling as he did
so, and she envied him. How could he just pretend nothing was wrong, that they
weren’t planning treason, that Hiccup wasn’t chained in the arena as a whore?
Heavy footsteps approached behind her. She suspected it was one of the twins,
bored with waiting. With a fierce yell, Astrid swung around with her axe and
jerked the heavy weapon back at the last second. It crashed down inches from
her foot, but the chief hardly spared her a glance even though she had nearly
attacked him. His face was drawn and pale behind his beard. Dark circles hung
beneath his eyes and his hands trembled at his sides. Even his footsteps were
unsteady. Astrid would have thought he had reconsidered what he had done to
Hiccup if not for the blood on his fingers.
“C-chief?” she whispered.
As if she hadn’t spoken, Stoick walked past her.
Astrid turned hastily and saw that Gobber stood at the threshold of his shop. A
hammer had dropped from his hand and lay in the dirt. He glanced over at her
and Astrid turned to look after the chief again. Stoick staggered up the path
and disappeared from her line of sight. Hastily, Gobber limped out of his shop
and hurried after Stoick.
Astrid stood in the mess of her chopped firewood for a moment longer before she
dropped her axe and darted to the Thorston house. Gertrude Great Arms was
sleeping in after a long night of beating Hiccup. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were
sitting on the steps, cracking walnuts against each other’s helmets. When they
saw Astrid running down the path, they jumped to their feet.
“Now?” Tuffnut asked eagerly.
“I don’t know,” Astrid said breathlessly. “I just want to check.”
Ruffnut nodded.
The trio leisurely walked through the village, trying not to draw attention to
themselves. Near the arena, they split up. Ruffnut and Tuffnut stayed behind to
watch Astrid’s back, especially since Stoick was somewhere in the village.
Astrid paused only to fill her canteen, stuffed it into her bag, and hustled
off to the arena. As before, she slipped into the bushes, peered into the arena
to make sure it was empty, and then dropped down through the bars.
Hiccup didn’t stir from his slumped position. Worried that he was unconscious,
Astrid scurried over to him and lifted his face in her hands, but his eyes were
open though unfocused. In his cell, the Night Fury crooned and warbled softly.
“Hiccup?” she whispered hoarsely.
His eyes flicked to her face and then away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and searched his body quickly for serious wounds. He
was more battered than the last time she had seen him, but not by much. She
couldn’t see what was wrong. Maybe it was something inside him, since men
weren’t built to receive sex the way he was being forced to. “Are you hurt
badly?”
He didn’t answer.
“Hiccup?” she asked again.
She pulled the canteen from her bag, unscrewed the lid, and pressed it to his
chapped lips. “Here, drink,” she said gently. “Maybe you’ll feel better.”
Hiccup pulled away from it, even though he was undoubtedly thirsty.
“What is it?” Astrid asked and looked around nervously in case he saw someone
she didn’t. The arena was empty and quiet, broken only by the soft sounds the
Night Fury made. “It’s not poisoned.”
“Just…” he croaked quietly.
Astrid crouched down to hear him better.
“Just… let me die,” he murmured.
Astrid nearly dropped the canteen and her eyes widened. “What?”
The necklace of bruises on his throat shifted as he swallowed. “I’m not worth
saving,” he told her. “Just let me die here.”
“No,” Astrid said firmly and rummaged through her bag. “Here, eat something.”
Hiccup turned away from the sight of food, his stomach twisting like an eel.
“No,” he whispered, “Just let me die. I’m not worth it.”
Astrid stared at him, shocked, and set down her bag. “Hiccup,” she asked
softly, “What happened to you in the night? You know that… you don’t deserve
what they’re doing to you, right?”
Behind her, the Night Fury crooned as if in agreement.
Hiccup pressed his cheek into the stock to avoid looking at her. “Maybe I do,”
he whispered.
“Hiccup,” she said softly, but didn’t know what to say.
He stared at the filthy ground for a long moment, green eyes roving the blood
and patches of seed at Astrid’s feet. Suddenly, as if something within him had
snapped, he shouted, “Let me die! I don’t deserve to be alive anyway—”
Astrid slapped him, cutting off his words.
Hiccup fell silent, stunned, and a single tear slipped down his cheek.
“Tell me what this is all about,” Astrid demanded. “Don’t you dare try to lie
either. Tell me the truth. Tell me everything.”
His lips trembled and tears welled in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. His eyes
slid away, ashamed, and he stared at the ground near her feet.
Astrid gripped his chin firmly and forced him to look at her. “You don’t
deserve this,” she said. “Why are you thinking that? Is it because you tamed a
dragon?”
Hiccup shook his head and his eyes darted to the cell where the Night Fury was
caged. “No, Toothless is—”
An involuntary snort escaped Astrid’s lips. “Toothless?” she repeated.
Hiccup’s cheeks colored. “I thought he didn’t have any,” he protested.
Astrid giggled, but at least Hiccup was looking at her now. She removed the
canteen from her bag and pressed it to his lips again. Hiccup resisted at
first, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. Finally, he took a
tiny sip and then his will crumbled. He drank desperately and Astrid took the
food out as well. She tore tiny pieces of meat and bread with her fingers and
Hiccup accepted them with timid gentleness.
Astrid stared at the scorch marks fanning beneath the door of the Night Fury’s
cell so she wouldn’t have to look at his beaten face. “Toothless, huh?” she
asked softly. “When I get you out of here, will you take me for a flight?”
Though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt Hiccup’s surprise like a brand on
her shoulder.
Before he could ask her anything, she continued, “How do you fly with him?”
“He was injured,” Hiccup whispered, “and I made him a prosthetic tailfin.”
“Is it still on him?”
“I think so,” Hiccup murmured, “but I’m not sure.”
“I haven’t seen it lying around anywhere,” Astrid murmured thoughtfully and
smiled faintly as Hiccup accepted a piece of chicken from her. “Something like
that would certainly be a trophy.”
From beyond the bars of the arena, Tuffnut began to cluck outrageously.
“What is your problem, son?” shouted a loud voice in response.
Tuffnut’s signal went quiet as he probably tried to explain his bout of chicken
fever.
“I have to go,” Astrid told Hiccup and quickly bundled everything into her bag.
“Stoick is leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll come for you then.”
“Astrid, no, wait—”
“I will,” she said and stuffed a final piece of chicken in his open mouth. “So
you’d better be ready. I won’t stand for any of this tomorrow.”
Hiccup’s wide eyes gazed after her as she scrambled up the arena wall, ducked
into the bushes for a moment, and then rushed away. She met up with Tuffnut and
Ruffnut in the square and told them, “Have Fishlegs make sure there isn’t a
prosthetic tailfin lying about somewhere. The dragon needs it to fly. Remind
Snotlout that we need clothes and bandages for Hiccup. We can all meet at the
Mead Hall later, alright?”
They nodded and scurried off, arguing in their typical manner.
Only once they were out of sight did Astrid allow the worry to take up root in
her chest. She didn’t know what had happened to Hiccup in the night. Why did he
believe he wasn’t worth saving, that he should be left to suffer and die? She
thought of Stoick, stumbling through the village with his eyes like
gravestones, but consoled herself with the knowledge that tomorrow it would all
be over. She and the others would get Hiccup and his dragon out of here.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** It's Not a Game *****
Man, I went and saw Jupiter Rising expecting it to be a weird space alien movie
(and in some ways it was), but it was so great!
                                     X X X
Snotlout Jorgenson had always been good at the Thawfest games. Year after year,
he was the irrefutable champion and managed to beat even Astrid. There was
nothing quite like his father’s proud smile and the weight of the medal as it
dropped around his neck. Beaming with pride, Snotlout liked nothing better than
to stand on the pedestal and look down at everyone.
Yet, he hated to look down at his cousin.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, heir to the chiefdom despite being the
worst Viking in history even at their young ages. Hiccup was too small and
slender, too weak and mild. He never won any of the Thawfest games. He never
even came close, but every year when Snotlout won, Hiccup stood down there
amidst the other beaten children and smiled. His smile was always so genuine
and happy. Snotlout hated it. Somehow, he felt that no matter how many times he
won the games or how good he was at them, he would never be better than Hiccup.
It was a cold day with patches of half-melted snow and sheets of ice lingered
everywhere. Snotlout couldn’t stand to be in his house anymore. It was stifling
hot as his mother baked bread and his father boasted about all the years they
had spent beating everyone at the games. Spitelout liked nothing better than to
best his half-brother, Chief Stoick.
Snotlout adjusted his overlarge helmet on his head and headed for the forest,
kicking pebbles as he went. He felt at peace among the dense pines and inhaled
deeply. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could, which was pretty
far for his age. He could even throw father than Astrid even though her aim was
better.
He jumped over a fallen log and pushed through the thick foliage to his
favorite place in the woods. There was circle of large rocks that made him feel
like king of a distant castle. Much to his astonishment, he discovered Hiccup
sitting there with a small fire burning neatly. Hiccup was drowning in a fur
vest and tunic that was too long on him.
“What are you doing here?” Snotlout demanded.
Hiccup bolted to his feet, but relaxed with an easy smile when he recognized
his cousin. “Hi Snotlout,” he said with the slight lisp of missing his front
teeth.
“This is my place,” Snotlout told Hiccup.
Hiccup looked around at the ruined castle of stones. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t
know,” he said.
“Well, now you do,” Snotlout snapped. He kicked a stone at Hiccup’s fire, but
it continued burning strongly.
Hiccup lingered, looking at Snotlout with a toothy smile.
“What?” Snotlout grumbled.
“I just wanted to say, I thought you were really great in the Thawfest games,”
Hiccup said cheerfully.
Snotlout’s chest filled with pride and a tendril of resentment. “Yeah, well,
you weren’t,” he said bitterly.
Hiccup’s freckled face fell a little, but his smile came back a moment later.
“Yeah, my dad was pretty mad,” he admitted. “I couldn’t even do as well as
Astrid.”
Snotlout didn’t answer and stared at the little flickering fire.
Hiccup shuffled towards him awkwardly. “Can I ask you something?”
“No,” Snotlout said.
Hiccup kicked the toes of his boots into some snow. Then, he crouched down and
began busily sculpting it into the shape of a castle. Snotlout stared in awe as
Hiccup fashioned turrets and carved out a arch with a drawbridge of bark and
little flags made of leaves. He sat back to admire his handiwork and then
looked at Snotlout with his big green eyes.
“Fine,” Snotlout muttered. “What?”
Hiccup smiled broadly and it lit up his face. “Do you think we could play
sometimes?”
Snotlout wet his lips and glanced around. It was no secret among the adults in
the village that Hiccup wasn’t good at anything. With the worry of a young
child, Snotlout worried that he might catch that from Hiccup if he spent too
much time with him. “We shouldn’t,” Snotlout said finally.
Hiccup cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Because we’re cousins,” Snotlout explained. “We’re supposed to be rivals.”
“Rivals,” Hiccup tested the word. “So we can’t play together?”
Snotlout shook his head fiercely.
“Oh, okay,” Hiccup said and he smiled graciously. “At least we’re still
cousins.”
Snotlout stared at him, shocked by how easily he accepted rejection. With one
final smile, Hiccup walked away from the circle of stones. Snotlout jumped onto
the tallest stone and towered there, leering down at the ground, but he still
couldn’t help feeling that Hiccup had bested him again.
After that, every Thawfest become more than just a contest. Snotlout tried to
be mean and he must have been good at it. One word could rile Astrid, could
send Fishlegs off crying, could confuse the twins into an argument, or could
earn him a smack from the chief. Snotlout wanted to see how far he could push
Hiccup before he snapped like the others. Yet Hiccup never did. He was always
there, firmly in last place and still smiling genuinely.
…
Early the next morning, Astrid woke to the sound of her father packing for his
voyage to the Dragons’ Nest. With a groan, she sat up, tamed her sleep-mussed
hair into a braid, and slogged downstairs to press a kiss to his cheek. Since
Veena was still sleeping in their bedroom, Astrid didn’t say anything about
their plan to free Hiccup as soon at the ships departed. Leon pressed a kiss to
the top of Astrid’s head, shouldered his pack, and left into the early dawn.
Astrid stood at the threshold, watching him go.
Across the wide street, the Ingermans’ front door swung open with a creak.
Sturgeon and Tarsus headed out, each carrying luggage and weapons. Fishlegs
wasn’t there to see them off, which would have been strange under normal
circumstances, but Astrid understood that he couldn’t look at his parents right
now. Hugging them goodbye would have been downright impossible for him, knowing
what he knew about them and Hiccup.
Further up the street, the Thorston house was quiet. Gertrude Great Arms was
never one to leave Berk. She remained as constant as the earth, always watching
over her rambunctious children lest they burn the entire world to the ground.
If they did, she would dig them from the ashes, scold them fiercely, and
occasionally land a few hits. Then, she would start to work rebuilding. This
was where she had buried her husband so Gertrude always stayed.
Snotlout’s house was out of Astrid’s line of sight, along with the Chief’s, but
Spitelout had always gone with Stoick into battle. She figured this would be no
exception. She imagined Stoick leaving for the docks in the early sunlight. Was
he hung over, squinting against the light, or still drunk enough not to care?
She sent a quick prayer to any god that might be listening that the chief
wouldn’t make any terrible decisions and get the people she loved killed.
If Astrid stood on the roof of her house, she could see into Gobber’s forge
which she had discovered by accident when the wind blew her mother’s washing
into the eaves. She would never admit that she had taken advantage of her
vantage point a few times to spy on Hiccup over the past few months. She had
wanted to know his secret, how he had suddenly gotten so good at Dragon
Training, but all her spying revealed nothing.
Now, Astrid didn’t bother to climb onto the roof and look down at the forge.
She knew Gobber was leaving with the others. He would stop there to stock up on
weapons before he left. He was counting on her to free Hiccup while they were
gone and she wasn’t going to let him down no matter what. With most of the
adults in the village leaving with Stoick, only a few warriors would remain to
protect the village in case of attack. It should be easy to accomplish what she
set out to do.
Ducking back into the house, Astrid tiptoed upstairs and dressed quickly. She
shrugged into her armor, pulled her axe through the strap on her back, and
filled her shoulder bag with enough food and water to last a week. Then, she
checked to make sure Veena was still asleep and headed for the Mead Hall. There
were still a few hours to go before the ships left port and it would be
relatively safe to sneak to the arena, but Astrid knew she wouldn’t be able to
rest. She hoped that maybe Fishlegs was waiting in the Mead Hall, unable to
sleep, but it was virtually empty.
Seated at their usual table with an untouched plate of food before him was
Snotlout. There was a bag beside him on the bench though it was substantially
smaller than the one Astrid carried. She sat down across from him and snitched
a piece of bacon from his ignored plate.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
Snotlout glanced at her and his face was pale and drawn with exhaustion. “A
while,” he admitted. “I couldn’t sleep. My dad was up all night talking with my
mom. They’re busy planning how I’ll take over the chiefdom when they get back
with Stoick. It makes me sick, you know? I just… I had to get out of there.”
Astrid nodded her understanding and said, “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.
We’ll free Hiccup and—”
“And you think that means it’ll be over?” Snotlout asked sharply.
Astrid froze with the bacon halfway to her mouth, shocked by the intensity in
his voice.
“Do you think just because Hiccup isn’t here for them to kick around anymore
that it will all just go back to normal? Will you be able to just forget that
your mother went to beat the shit out him? Fishlegs won’t be able to forget
that his father raped Hiccup,” Snotlout snapped.
Astrid looked away from his hard eyes.
“You weren’t there when it happened, Astrid,” Snotlout continued. “You just
heard about it later, but I was there. I saw my uncle—I saw Stoick tie him to
the stocks. Odin’s Beard, Astrid, Hiccup’s wrists were too skinny to even fit
in the stocks. Stoick had to use his belt.” His voice rose like a wave crashing
over sharp rocks. “I was there. I heard Hiccup beg for forgiveness and Stoick
didn’t care. I watched Stoick put his hammer inside Hiccup’s body. Hiccup
screamed, Astrid.” Snotlout looked down at his hands, his voice breaking. “I’ve
never heard him scream before.”
Astrid wet her lips nervously as she absorbed Snotlout’s words.
“And my dad is Hiccup’s uncle. I kept waiting for him to do something to save
him, but he never did. He just looked away. He was too happy that I’d become
heir in Hiccup’s place. That was all he cared about. To him, me becoming the
next chief is worth Hiccup’s life,” Snotlout continued tremulously. “My dad
didn’t do anything to protect Hiccup. Only Gobber and your father cared enough
to get him out. My father, his uncle, doesn’t care. That’s the kind of man my
father is. Do you know how that feels? Do you think I can just forget that?”
“I’m sorry,” Astrid said finally.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment.
Then, Astrid asked, “After we free Hiccup, what do you want to do? You could
leave too. You could leave with him if you wanted.”
Snotlout breathed out hard and pushed his palms against his eyes. “I don’t
know. Part of me wants to leave and never look back, but Berk is where I grew
up. It’s my home. Despite everything, I… I still love my parents. I just want
to forget all this ever happened,” he murmured. “I wish it had never happened.”
Astrid put aside the half-eaten bacon. Her appetite was gone now.
At her back, the door to the Mead Hall swung open and Fishlegs came in. He
looked like Snotlout, drawn and pale and tired. He had both arms wrapped around
a large basket of fish for the dragon. He sat down beside Astrid and picked at
Snotlout’s plate halfheartedly. He finished the piece of bacon Astrid had
started and just stared at the rest.
“I looked around for the prosthetic,” Fishlegs said finally. “It must still be
on the dragon. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
That was a small weight off Astrid’s shoulders. She asked softly, “Are you
okay, Legs?”
He glanced at her and his green eyes were despairing and glassy. They reminded
her of Hiccup’s eyes. “My parents didn’t come home until late last night. I
think they were at the arena,” he murmured and the edges of his expression went
sick. “I still can’t believe it.”
Astrid put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed firmly.
Fishlegs winced under her fingers.
The doors banged open with a crash, shattering the piece of the morning.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut tripped inside, breathless and red-faced. They had a bunch
of weapons as though they were going to war rather than just freeing Hiccup
from the arena.
“The ships left,” Ruffnut shouted.
Tuffnut shoved her into a table. “You said I could tell them!”
“You didn’t tell them fast enough,” she told him angrily and kicked him
backwards.
Astrid, Fishlegs, and Snotlout joined the twins at the threshold. Astrid
reached into the brawl and extracted Ruttnut. Snotlout did the same with
Tuffnut. Fishlegs looked them over, his face lit with worry and determination.
Together, they headed nonchalantly for the arena, but they needn’t have
worried. The village was half-empty and mostly asleep, the harbor was empty of
vessels, and there was no one to stop them.
…
Ruffnut and Tuffnut stationed themselves between Berk and the arena as watch
guards. Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Astrid hurried beyond them to the arena laden
with their packages. The Dragon Killing Arena was as it had been for nearly the
past week. Hiccup remained cruelly shackled, naked and beaten, and the Night
Fury paced noisily inside his cell. The scorch marks spread wider than before
and the stone beneath the door was beginning to crumble.
Fishlegs had never seen how it looked and froze in the threshold, his fingers
going white around his basket. Snotlout hadn’t been there since the day it
happened and he stopped in shock at the sight of his cousin’s abused body.
Astrid rushed directly to Hiccup and began unfastening the blood-encrusted
belts from around his thin wrists. He eased his hand out of the stocks with a
soft cry and leaned against it as Astrid opened the stocks with a creak of aged
wood. She caught Hiccup beneath his arms and lowered him carefully to the cold
stone. His skin was icy and his entire body trembled.
“Snotlout,” she called and produced a canteen from her bag. She pressed it to
Hiccup’s lips and let him take it when his hands closed over hers. “Can I have
those clothes?”
“Sweet Thor,” Snotlout muttered, but hurried over regardless.
Astrid rummaged through the bag and found that Snotlout had packed well. He had
a warm cloak, some loose-fitting pants, an oversized tunic, and some fur-lined
boots. Beneath the clothing was a small satchel filled with medicinal herbs and
bandages. Astrid swathed Hiccup in the cloak and took his hand gently. She
poured some water over his torn wrist and he didn’t make a sound of pain as she
smeared on the herbs and wrapped it deftly. It would need more than that, but
she was worried about time. They had come too far to be caught by one of the
remaining adults now.
“Does anything else hurt terribly?” she asked.
Hiccup shook his head.
She caught his chin and turned his face towards the light. There was a horrific
gash above his eye, the swelling looked incredibly painful, and blood still
oozed from the wound. She dabbed at it quickly and Hiccup winced. She handed
him the clothes Snotlout had brought so he could dress and then turned her
attention to his ankle. Astrid could dress cuts and scrapes, but she wasn’t a
healer. She didn’t know how to deal with his shattered ankle. Gingerly, she
took it in her hands and tugged it straight. Hiccup cried out sharply and
grasped her hands.
“Hurts,” he choked out.
“It’s okay,” Astrid consoled him. “I’m sorry.”
She pressed a splint along his ankle and then wrapped it as best she could. She
helped Hiccup ease the trousers over his foot and gently slipped the boot over
his ankle. Hiccup hissed in pain, but didn’t protest again. He tugged the tunic
down over his head and Astrid fastened the cloak around his throat since his
hands were shaking too bad from cold.
“Fishlegs,” she called. “I need those fish for the dragon. Snotlout, you help
Hiccup stand.”
Tenderly, Snotlout pulled Hiccup to his feet and looped his arm around Hiccup’s
shoulders to support him. Standing beside Snotlout, Hiccup looked small and
slender. He didn’t put any weight on his ankle and his body trembled as it
adjusted to standing after so long in the stocks.
Astrid took the fish from Fishlegs and approached the scorched door. Inside,
the dragon was eerily silent and she hesitated. “Hiccup?”
“Let me,” he offered and took a hopping step forward.
Snotlout dug in his heels. “I’m not going near a Night Fury,” he hissed. “Are
you insane?”
“Hiccup?” Astrid asked. “Is is safe?”
Hiccup hesitated, uncertain, and Snotlout pulled him backwards a step.
“He won’t hurt me,” Hiccup assured them, “but I don’t know how he’ll react to
you.”
“I’ll do it, Snotlout,” Astrid said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. Awkwardly, Snotlout shifted Hiccup against her shoulder, took the
basket of fish, and scurried backwards to stand with Fishlegs. Astrid pulled
Hiccup tight against her side and coiled her arm around his narrow waist. He
was lighter than she expected, but he clung to her strongly.
“Toothless, bud,” Hiccup said to the closed door. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Still holding him awkwardly, Astrid heaved back the heavy latch and tugged the
door open a few feet. Behind her, she heard Snotlout’s sharp intake of breath.
Her own lungs froze in her chest. Slowly, the deadly Night Fury nosed open the
door and slipped out. It was smaller than the other dragons and as black at the
night with sharp teeth and powerful claws. Astrid would have been terrified if
not for its deep soulful eyes. It approached Hiccup slowly, warbling deep in
its chest.
Hiccup smiled and stretched out his hand. “I’m okay, bud,” he assured the
dragon.
Toothless pushed his nose against Hiccup’s outstretched hand and then turned
his gaze to Astrid. His upper lip curled just slightly as if considered whether
she was a friend or foe. A little tremor of fear ran through her belly and she
tightened her grip on Hiccup’s body.
“It’s okay, bud,” Hiccup told the dragon. “She helped me. They all helped me.
It’s okay.”
Toothless crooned and retracted his sharp teeth. He nudged his face against
Hiccup’s belly and his breath ghosted warmly over Astrid. Hiccup put his hand
on the dragon’s head and rubbed the scales affectionately. Astrid’s heart
fluttered, but she didn’t dare reach out. She knew the dragon could take her
hand off, teeth or not.
“Can I…?” she breathed.
Hiccup glanced at her and nodded. “He won’t hurt you.”
Astrid bit her lip and stretched her hand out shakily. Toothless regarded her
fingers, warbled softly, and then pushed his nose gently against her palm. His
scales were sleek warm, surprisingly soft and yet hard at the same time.
Beneath his muscles, she felt the power of this great dragon and her heart
soared. She scratched behind his earflap as she had seen Hiccup do and
Toothless crooned delightedly.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Out of sight, Tuffnut crowed loudly as a warning that people were beginning to
stir.
“Come closer, guys, it’s alright,” Astrid called hastily to Snotlout and
Fishlegs.
Fishlegs dumped the basket of fish at Toothless’s feet and the dragon fell upon
them ravenously. Snotlout examined the saddle Hiccup had created and anchored
Astrid’s bag of supplies to it. Then, he added the bag he had brought and
tugged it experimentally. It held strong.
“Okay,” Astrid said and eased Hiccup closer to the dragon. “You have to get out
of here before Stoick gets back.”
“Gets back?” Hiccup asked as he gripped the saddle and tried to pull himself
up. His body was still too weak and cold.
Astrid anchored his shoulders and rubbed firmly. She looked around, but there
was no sign of anyone yet. Tuffnut was silent over the crest. There was still
time. She explained, “He and the other warriors left to destroy the Nest this
morning—”
Beneath her hands, Hiccup stiffened.
Her eyes moved back to his face.
“No!” Hiccup shouted so abruptly that it startled her backwards. “No, he
can’t!” Without Astrid’s support, he staggered against Toothless’s flank. He
whimpered as he put his weight on his shattered ankle and clutched the saddle
with both hands. He tried to pull himself up and tears sprang to his eyes.
“Stop, stop! What is it?” Astrid asked and gripped his face to stop him.
Fishlegs and Snotlout stopped what they were doing and stared.
“He can’t go to the Nest!” Hiccup told her urgently. “You have to stop him.”
“Why?” Astrid asked. “What is it?”
Hiccup tried to pull free of her grip, but it was too strong. “I’ve been to the
Nest,” he admitted softly.
Astrid felt as if she had been punched in the chest. For as long as she could
remember, her parents and her entire village had sought to destroy the Dragons’
Nest. It was a battle that had always been in her life and goal that would
someday become hers. She couldn’t believe that Hiccup had been there and kept
it a secret. Her grip slackened and she stepped backwards.
Hiccup clutched her wrist. “No, no,” he said desperately. “You don’t understand
what’s there.”
“What is there?” Fishlegs asked when Astrid couldn’t find her voice.
Hiccup’s fingers trembled against her skin. “An enormous dragon like you
wouldn’t believe,” he said. “They will never be able to kill it. It’s just too
big.”
Astrid’s eyes widened. “Oh, Great Odin’s Ghost, my father,” she whispered.
“Stop,” Fishlegs interrupted calmly. “The chief has gone looking for the Nest
time and again. He’s never found it. What makes you think he’ll find it this
time?”
Hiccup bit his lip. “After I found it, I… I wrote its location on a map.”
“We don’t know that the chief found that map,” Astrid insisted, clinging to the
hope that had been proffered. “Maybe he’ll come back empty-handed, just like
all the other times.”
“You don’t know my dad,” Hiccup whispered. “When he’s mad, he tears apart
everything in his path. I know after,” he hesitated, unsure what to call his
disownment and defilement at the hands of his father, “this, he went back and
destroyed my room. My journal wasn’t hidden well and I know he must have found
my map. If he’s going after the Nest now, he must know where it is.”
Astrid’s heart stuttered to a stop in her chest. “We have to do something to
stop them,” she whispered. “They’ll all be killed.” She grabbed the axe from
her back and Toothless snarled at her, but she didn’t notice. She whirled
towards Snotlout and Fishlegs desperately. “We have to do something!”
Snotlout grabbed her armor and jerked her back. “What are you going to do? Swim
after them? All the ships are gone.”
Astrid stumbled.
“There’s another option,” Hiccup offered quietly as Toothless finished off the
fish he had been given. Affectionately, he scratched under Toothless’s chin.
Astrid looked at all the cells in the arena. Behind each of them, there was a
dragon. She grabbed Hiccup’s hand, pulled him against her hastily, and
supported his weight. “Teach me to ride one,” she demanded pleadingly. “Teach
me.”
Hiccup nodded.
“Fishlegs, open one of the doors,” Astrid ordered.
Fishlegs did as she asked and the heavy door that contained the Monstrous
Nightmare creaked open.
For a moment, Snotlout’s mind went white with terror as he recalled the beast
bursting from its cage the day Hiccup was due to kill it, ablaze with flames
and roaring. “Astrid, Hiccup,” he called worriedly.
“Hush,” Astrid said and her voice was like iron. “While we’re gone, get Ruff
and Tuff.”
Fishlegs hurried away.
Together, she and Hiccup eased the door open and disappeared inside. For a
moment, all was quiet. Snotlout didn’t remember breathing and Fishlegs looked
about to pass out any minute. The door eased open a few more feet and then
swung open the rest of the way. Snotlout gripped his dagger tightly, but Astrid
and Hiccup emerged unharmed. Hiccup’s hand was extended over the beast’s
muzzle. Beneath his thin fingers, it looked surprisingly docile. Anchored at
the hip, they led the dragon backwards until they stood beside Snotlout.
“Put away the dagger and give him your hand,” Astrid said.
Snotlout hesitated only a moment before dropping his dagger and reaching out.
Hiccup’s fingers were soft and sure as he led Snotlout to rest his hand on the
Nightmare’s warm muzzle. The dragon warbled softly and Snotlout looked into its
golden eyes. It stared back at him with hurt and trust. Gently, he rubbed the
small horn on the tip of its nose and smiled.
“Whoa,” Ruffnut breathed as the trio returned to the arena. “That’s a—”
“Snotlout,” Tuffnut whispered. “You’re touching that dragon.”
“You’d better move before you look like Gobber,” Ruffnut called.
“Shut up,” Snotlout snapped at them.
Astrid and Hiccup opened the next cell and emerged with a Gronckle that Hiccup
pressed Fishlegs’s hand too. Then, they released the Zippleback and each took
the hand of one of the Thorston twins. Astrid’s heart swelled as she saw the
softness in the eyes of each dragon. How could she had ever spent time fighting
these gentle creatures? Hiccup nudged her towards the final cell and she half-
carried him. They opened it with a creak and waft of musty air.
Inside, the bright blue Nadder waited quietly. Hiccup reached out his hand as
he had done all the other times and the Nadder closed the space between them,
chirping softly. Astrid’s hand followed as if drawn to the light. She placed
her hand over his and he slipped his fingers from beneath hers. The dragon was
as warm as Toothless and thrummed beneath her hand trustingly. Astrid led the
dragon from her tiny cell and watched as she stretched her beautiful wings.
“Are you ready?” Hiccup asked quietly.
“As I’ll ever be,” she answered.
“I hope you packed some rope in one of those bags,” Hiccup said and glanced
over at Toothless, “because you’re going to deep something to help you hold
on.” When Astrid didn’t answer him, he looked around at the teens he had never
quite been able to call his friends. As he realized they had come to free him
in spite of the risk to themselves and watched them stroke the dragons, he
wondered if he could call them that now.
…
Gobber didn’t realize something was wrong until he heard the hull of the ship
scrape against shore. In all the times he had gone in search of the Nest with
Stoick, they had never found an island, only sheer cliffs that ripped their
vessels to pieces. He and Leon were standing at the center mast in silence,
watching Stoick’s back as he pointed directions. Gobber realized he had
something in his hand, some kind of hand drawn map, and worry lodged hot in his
throat.
“The Nest,” Leon gasped. “I never thought we’d really find it.”
Together, they looked up at the massive mountain. It steamed with heat and a
faint volcanic light seeped onto the thick overhead clouds. All around them,
the air vibrated with energy and threats. Despite this, Stoick jumped onto the
shore. Sharp rocks slipped beneath his feet, clattering noisily, but no dragon
came to investigate. Everything was silent and still. Gobber barely dared to
breathe. Something lived here that was beyond any of their imaginings. He could
feel it where his hand and leg used to be.
“Odin’s Beard,” Gobber whispered.
But it was too late to go back now. The Nest—the thing Vikings had searched for
for centuries, the phantom menace that Stoick had never been able to find, the
home of all their troubles—lay before them. It was ripe for the taking. There
would never be a better time or another chance. Though they had only ever
talked about what would happen if they found the Nest, the ships pulled ashore
and everyone began to unload catapults and sharpen spears as though they had
practiced a thousand times.
…
After creating makeshift reins so they could hold onto the dragons, Astrid
helped Hiccup into the saddle. He winced, gasping in pain, as he fit his broken
ankle into the stirrup. Astrid rested her hand on his thigh and gnawed the
corner of her mouth. “Are you going to be alright?” she asked gently.
Hiccup nodded and brushed her hands away. “Just worry about saving your
father,” he said softly.
Astrid mounted the bright Nadder and gripped the rope with both hands.
Hiccup led them out of the arena, opened Toothless’s tailfin, and took to the
sky. Astrid followed behind him, her heart pounding as she looked at the open
sky and vast sea. Her Nadder surged up and the wind sucked all the air from her
lungs. A cry of delight escaped her lips and her hair streamed back like a
banner. She closed her eyes and stretched out her hand, feeling the wind wrap
around her like a crisp embrace. She had never felt so free.
Hiccup looked over at the girl he had always admired from afar. She was
beautiful, more beautiful now than she ever had been, and he smiled despite the
pain in his ankle.
The flight to Helheim’s Gate took less time than Hiccup remembered. Soon the
wall of mist and steep cliffs spread before them like a dangerous blanket.
Toothless warbled nervously and the other dragons answered his worry. They all
knew what lay ahead of them.
Snotlout pulled up alongside Hiccup and took the small dagger from his waist.
“Here,” he said to his cousin. “Take this.”
Hiccup accepted the dagger awkwardly and tucked it into his belt. “Um, thank
you, Snotlout,” he murmured.
“Just in case you need it,” Snotlout said and fell back to accept a massive
hammer from Ruffnut.
“Stay close,” Hiccup called as they slipped into the dense mist. “Call out if
you lose sight.”
Together, they slipped through the fog and left behind all the ruins of the
ships that had come to this place before. Ahead of them, Astrid could hear the
shouts of battle and the shriek of death. She tightened her hands around the
rope and leaned forward against the Nadder’s back. Then, they emerged from the
dense mist into a pocket of heat and steam. She looked down and saw the Vikings
as ants when compared to the massive dragon before them. Her heart lurched.
“What are we supposed to do against something like that?” Snotlout demanded as
they circled the area.
“What can we do?” Fishlegs asked bleakly.
Astrid glanced over at Hiccup. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and she
swung a little closer to him. “Hiccup,” she asked, “what do we do?”
Surprised, Hiccup looked over as though he had forgotten she was there. The
others drew close to listen and Hiccup didn’t think anyone had every paid as
much attention to him as they did now. “No matter how big it is, it’s just
another dragon,” he assured them. “We’ll beat it just how we would any other by
exploiting its weaknesses and blind spots, by taking advantage of its shot
limit, and everything else Gobber taught us. Understand?”
“What should we do?” Ruffnut asked.
Hiccup grinned. “Make it mad,” he said.
“You know we can!” Tuffnut cheered.
“Astrid,” Hiccup called over the hiss of the wind.
She tore her eyes from the Vikings below and all the burning ships.
“Dragons aren’t fireproof on the inside,” he explained. “That’s their greatest
weakness.”
She nodded in understanding and branched off.
Hiccup hung in the sky for a moment, bracing himself for the pain of using his
broken ankle. He angled Toothless’s prosthetic and the two of them dropped from
the clouds like a bomb. The trademark explosion of a Night Fury’s fire knocked
the massive Queen down with a crash. Plumes of dust and cinders flew everywhere
with otherworldly intent. Hiccup glimpsed Gobber and Astrid’s father standing
awed at the sight before them, but he didn’t see Stoick yet. For that, he was
almost grateful.
Astrid fell in alongside him, her hair whipping back. She tapped the Nadder
behind the head and she fired a volley of spines. Snotlout swooped in between
them and as the spines slipped through the fire, they ignited and sank deep
into the Queen’s sides. She roared in rage and smashed her armored tail into
the mountain. Rocks flew everywhere, but Toothless rolled out of the way
effortlessly. Fishlegs emerged from the smoke and screamed. The Queen turned to
face him, confused.
Hiccup used that opportunity to fire another shot into the Queen’s body.
Snotlout gusted through and the Nightmare unleashed a stream of fire that
slipped harmlessly over the Queen’s fireproof scales. Ruffnut and Tuffnut
swooped down, yelling and shouting insults. The Queen snapped at them and
Toothless fired into her open mouth. She roared, throwing her head back in
agony. Astrid lifted her axe and hurled it strong and true. It sank into one of
the Queen’s eyes in a fountain of blood.
Shrieking, the Queen swung her head blindly. The armored plates and spines that
crested her head caught Fishlegs’s dragon by surprise. The two of them crashed
to the ground, scrambling to escape the Queen’s huge feet as she stomped around
blindly. Astrid dove low with single-minded intent to save Fishlegs and the
Queen saw her chance. With a roar, she opened her mouth and gas plumed in the
back of her massive throat. Hiccup didn’t have a chance to warn Astrid. He took
the shot.
Toothless’s fire caught the gas in the back of the Queen’s throat, blazed down
into her chest, and blossomed into a raging inferno that consumed the Queen
from the inside out. With a final roar the Queen breathed out a desperate
stream of fire. Hiccup and Toothess surged down and caught Fishlegs by the back
of his tunic. They swept him to safety and Astrid plunged after them as the
fire raged all around them. Fishlegs yelled helplessly as the fire licked at
his heels.
Toothless strained to fly faster. Behind him, Hiccup heard Astrid cry out in
shock and the whoosh of the fire followed them. Neither of them dared look
back. They just had to move, get out of the way, and hurry. Toothless dove
around a spire of rock and the fire hissed wetly against the stone. The Nadder
squawked in shock and couldn’t make the turn. Astrid’s body clipped the stone
and plummeted. She screamed and the Nadder dove after her, strong legs
outstretched.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Flight, Fight, Freedom *****
I have to make some additions and changes to the final chapter so it might take
a little longer for me to post it, especially if readers want an added scene of
Hiccup and Astrid sleeping together.
                                     X X X
When Hiccup was seven, he built a tiny gravestone in the cove off Raven’s Point
for his mother. It was a small unnamed epitaph that no one could find even if
they happened to be searching for it. It was Hiccup’s secret since real Vikings
weren’t supposed to mourn and Hiccup was already nothing like a Viking. Crying
after his latest mess up that ended in Stoick yelling at him and gripping him
hard enough to leave bruises, Hiccup put a tiny bouquet of purple flowers at
the base of the little marker.
His eyes streamed and he sobbed helplessly with no one to comfort him. He
wished for his mother, but he didn’t know her face. He wondered what she was
like, if she had been beautiful, but no one would speak about her. When he
mentioned her name or asked questions, they all glared at him as though he had
asked for something taboo. He didn’t know until years later that he caused her
death and spent many night crying for that at her little unmarked place in the
cove.
Crying, the boy sat before the little site until his legs went numb and his
tears dried up. He returned there every day until his bruises healed and Stoick
stopped looking at him angrily. For years afterwards, it was his secret
hideaway, a place he went when he couldn’t take anymore. He sat before the
shrine of stones and leaves with flowers wilting in front of him and cried or
talked for hours. Valka’s spirit never came to him, but Hiccup didn’t care. It
was enough to just imagine that she was there and that she had loved him.
When he found Toothless in the little cove, lying mournfully close to the small
invisible marker, it was as good as hearing Valka’s voice. It was as good as
hearing her whisper, ‘Go and try something no one else would dare. Go, my son.’
So Hiccup did and he flew.
…
The roaring fire blocked Hiccup’s view of Astrid’s fall. He cut in low and
dropped Fishlegs on the shore with Snotlout. Hastily, he and Toothless turned
back for Astrid just as the Nadder swooped past them. He glimpsed Astrid
hanging from its talons, her hair unbound and her arm dangling limply. His
heart stopped. Toothless raced after them and Hiccup stumbled from the saddle,
hopping across the uneven stones to spare his ankle. Snotlout and Fishlegs fell
in beside him. The twins landed somewhere at their backs.
Hiccup dropped to his knees carelessly and pushed the Nadder’s beak aside as
the dragon worriedly nuzzled Astrid. To his abounding relief, Astrid was
breathing and he couldn’t see any injuries save for small cuts and bruises. The
Nadder had saved her in the nick of time. The shock of the fall mingled with
the lack of oxygen caused by the raging fire must have caused her to pass out.
Gratefully, he pulled her into his arms and pushed her wild hair back. She
moaned quietly and her eyelids fluttered.
Snotlout began, “Hic—”
The blow caught Hiccup unprepared. The pommel of a sword cracked into his head
and he reeled with a cry. He had the sense to cover Astrid protectively with
his body. He didn’t know what had happened. All around him, people were
yelling. He heard Snotlout’s voice and Gobber’s, but the others blurred into a
horrific maelstrom. He touched his face gingerly, whimpering when he felt the
wet broken skin and the throbbing beneath.
“Stop!” Stoick roared and his voice cut through everything like a hot knife.
Hiccup stiffened. Toothless crouched low beside him with his lips drawn back in
a snarl. Hiccup didn’t dare turn to face his father, but he gently lowered
Astrid from his arms and put a little space between them. In case something
happened, he didn’t want her to be caught in it.
“Stoick,” Gobber protested.
“Enough!” Stoick shouted. “Everyone be quiet.”
Hiccup turned his head slightly and saw Fishlegs’s father standing over him
with his sword drawn. The hilt was bloody. Sturgeon must have struck him,
though Hiccup didn’t know why. Leon the Lionhearted pushed through the crowd
and tripped his way to where Hiccup knelt with Astrid. Respectfully, Hiccup
scooted further away so Leon could ease Astrid into his arms. Tears swelled in
Leon’s eyes he touched his daughter’s face, but Astrid’s breathing remained
strong and steady.
“Silence,” Stoick repeated even though no one dared speak now. His heavy boots
crunched on the stones like bones grinding into powder. For a moment, Stoick
towered over Hiccup and the boy didn’t dare move. He didn’t know what was
coming. Would Stoick strike him down, put him back in the stocks, kill him
outright?
“Stoick,” Gobber said warningly.
“Hiccup,” Stoick murmured and it felt like the first time he had spoken
Hiccup’s name.
Hiccup turned cautiously to face him, hyperaware of the blood running from his
temple and the soreness filling his body from the core. Stoick looked as he
always did, strong and fierce with iron eyes and big hands that could snap a
dragon in two. Hiccup flinched as the memories assaulted him.
“My son,” Stoick whispered.
Hiccup’s heart stopped and his vision swam. It felt as if all the air had been
sucked from his surroundings. Stoick had discarded him, let everyone use and
hurt him to their heart’s content, but now that he had slain a dragon, Hiccup
was worth something to Stoick. Pride mingled with nausea and Hiccup clasped his
hand over his mouth.
In Leon’s arms, Astrid shifted and then put her hand to her head. Her eyes
fluttered open, looked up at Leon happily for a moment, and then strayed to
Hiccup.
Stoick reached to put his hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, but Hiccup flinched away.
Terror gripped his insides, tearing at them rabidly.
Astrid scrambled to her feet and closed the distance between them. She wrapped
Hiccup in her arms, holding him tight against her armor and muscles. Toothless
loomed over both of them, his eyes like twin pools of fire. To the side,
Snotlout and Fishlegs stood with hands on their weapons. Ruffnut and Tuffnut
peered over the crowd from atop their Zippleback, prepared to breathe fire at a
moment’s notice. Astrid challenged the chief with her eyes, daring him to reach
out with that hand and touch Hiccup. In her arms, Hiccup shuddered, clinging
with his hands around her waist. She could feel Toothless’s hot breath on the
tops of their heads.
For a long moment, no one moved.
“Son,” Stoick said finally. “You’re a Dragon Slayer now, a son of mine. Won’t
you come back to Berk?”
Astrid’s teeth drew back over her lip in a snarl that mirrored Toothless’s.
How dare Stoick think it would be that easy? He had abandoned Hiccup to some of
the cruelest torments, left him to starve and thirst, to be violated by
everyone who came across him. He hadn’t even cared, drowning himself in mead
and the hunt.
Gently, Hiccup pushed Astrid back and struggled to stand. His broken ankle
wouldn’t support him and Astrid stood hastily, pulling him up and keeping her
arm tight around his waist. Hiccup gazed at his father with something between
longing and fear. Then, he slowly shook his head.
A flash of delight crossed Spitelout’s features. Snotlout could still become
the Chief of Berk.
“Do you think it’s that easy?” Hiccup whispered. “Do you think I could just
come back after what you did to me?”
“No one has to know,” Stoick said. “I’ll kill everyone who hurt you.”
Hiccup stiffened.
Astrid’s breath caught. Her mother had hurt Hiccup. Would Veena’s life be in
danger next?
A murmur ran through the assembly as everyone looked at each other. How many of
them had hurt Hiccup because the chief disowned him? Were all their lives
forfeit now?
Hiccup gripped Astrid’s waist and then asked softly, “Even yourself?”
Stoick didn’t answer.
“I won’t come back to Berk,” Hiccup said firmly. “Toothless and I are leaving.
We won’t ever come back.”
Stoick laughed as though Hiccup had said something very funny. “Of course you
will,” he said. “Berk is your home.”
“It was,” Hiccup murmured, “but not anymore.”
He tried to break from Astrid’s grip, but she wouldn’t let him. Astrid moved
with him, her arm wrapped tight around his hips. They stumbled towards
Toothless and the great dragon dipped his head low to accommodate Hiccup’s
injuries. Astrid helped him into the saddle and then stood with her back to him
as she looked over the people she had known all her life. With a sharp shake of
her head, she ran to her father and threw her arms around him tightly.
Leon embraced her with all the strength in his body as if he already knew what
she had decided.
She drew back, kissed his cheek, and then whistled for her Nadder. The dragon
came over and nudged Astrid affectionately. Astrid swung onto her back and
gripped the rope tightly. “I’m leaving too,” she announced. “I won’t come back,
not after what everyone did to Hiccup. How could I live among you knowing that
you’d turn on your own in an instant?”
No one answered her. The silence hung heavy and thick like smoke.
Fishlegs mounted his dragon and came to stand beside Astrid. He stared down at
his parents, daring and pleading them to ask him to stay. Neither Sturgeon nor
Tarsus met their son’s eyes. They stared at the ground without speaking.
Fishlegs’s hands trembled and then he clenched them tightly.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut clambered over and stood at Astrid’s back. She looked at
Snotlout and saw the war inside him. Finally, he shook his head. He beckoned
his dragon over, stroked his horn for just a moment, and began to climb onto
his neck.
“Wait!” Spitelout shouted, pushing through people to get to his son. “Snotlout,
don’t go!”
Snotlout froze, his eyes wide.
“Don’t leave,” Spitelout pleaded. He grabbed Snotlout’s vest and hung on.
“You’re Stoick’s heir. You’ll become chief when all this is over.”
The hope that had filled Snotlout’s eyes disappeared. He batted his father’s
hands aside and snarled, “Is that all you can think about? Making me the
chief?”
Spitelout reeled back. “I thought that’s what you always wanted.”
“It was,” Snotlout admitted and then swept out his hand, “until getting it was
going to cost Hiccup’s life.”
Spitelout’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out.
Gobber pushed past Stoick and Spitelout, each stricken into shocked silence. He
put his good hand over his heart and said to them, “Godspeed. If you ever need
anything, you always have an ally with me.”
Hiccup nodded gratefully, a true smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“If you ever need to get away,” Astrid told Gobber, “just say the word.”
Gobber nodded.
“Let’s go,” Astrid said to the others.
As one, they surged into the sky and disappeared into the clouds.
…
Astrid lost track of how long they flew. The sky was wide, open, and endlessly
forgiving. The weather was clear and surprisingly warm. For the most part, they
flew in silence broken only by occasional chatter that didn’t last. They could
go wherever they wanted. They were free. The world was open to them now, but
the weight of what they left behind hung as heavy as a millstone around each of
their necks.
Astrid stroked her Nadder’s scales absently, staring at the sheet of ocean
spread below them.
Hiccup banked closer to her and Toothless’s wings beat softly like a heart.
“You didn’t have to stay with me,” he said softly.
She glanced at him and pressed her lips together as the bright sunlight fell
across his face. He looked like a nightmare. Wounds scattered his pale face,
there was necklace of bruises around his thin throat, and his lip was split at
the corner. She could almost see the fingerprints of the people who had hurt
him carved into his skin. Astrid looked back at the water.
“I couldn’t have stayed in Berk, not after what I saw,” she told him. “In my
position, could you?”
Hiccup shook his head. For a moment, they were quiet again and then Hiccup
ventured, “What are you guys going to name your dragons?”
Astrid answered impulsively, “Stormfly.”
Beneath her, the blue Nadder warbled as if in agreement.
“Barf!” Ruffnut said.
“Belch!” Tuffnut agreed.
They bumped their helmets together affectionately.
“I think I’ll call her Meatlug,” Fishlegs remarked and rubbed the Gronckle
behind her small ears.
Snotlout was the last to decide. Lost in thought, he ran his hands along the
Nightmare’s long horns. Finally, he said, “Hookfang.”
Hiccup nodded and winced in pain as he moved his broken ankle.
“Maybe we should stop for the night,” Astrid said as she watched him. “Your
ankle is hurting, isn’t it?”
Hiccup hesitated and his eyes darted as he considered lying. Finally, he
nodded. “There’s a little island just a few miles ahead,” he said loud enough
for everyone to hear him. “It’s sheltered and mostly uninhabited. Maybe we
could stop there.”
“Sure,” Astrid agreed.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the island and the dragons landed
heavily. Stormfly shook her wings and the gust of air ruffled Astrid’s loose
hair. She slipped down from the dragon’s back and stretched her legs with a
groan. Fishlegs looked as stiff and sore as she felt and he took a few waddling
steps. Snotlout grumbled, but didn’t admit to anything. Ruffnut and Tuffnut
took to kicking each other in the butt to get some feeling back. Astrid crossed
the thick grass and reached her hand out for Hiccup. He accepted it and slid
carefully from the saddle, landing gently on one foot and favoring his ankle.
“We should make camp and gather some food,” Astrid told the others. She cursed
herself for not packing more, but she hadn’t expected to leave with Hiccup at
the time. She hadn’t thought to bring blankets or spare clothing either. All
she had was the weapon on her back, her good friends, and the dragons.
“I’ll get the food and some fresh water,” Fishlegs offered. He rummaged through
Astrid’s bag where it was attached to Toothless’s saddle, found her empty
canteen, and headed off with Meatlug at his heels.
“Firewood,” Snotlout said evenly. Hookfang settled down in the clearing
contentedly and watched Snotlout leave. A moment later, he lumbered after him.
Stormfly chirped and chortled as though telling Astrid something, nuzzled her
wild hair, and flew away in a rush of leaves.
Ruffnut and Tuffnut finished kicking each other and looked around. “We’ll catch
some fish!” they said eagerly. Tumbling freely through the grass, they leaped
back onto their dragon and headed for the ocean.
Astrid sighed, certain they wouldn’t come back with anything.
Once Astrid was convinced Hiccup could stand on his own, she turned her
attention to creating a place for the fire. Using her axe, she scraped away the
thick grass until there was a wide ring of soil. She found a few small sticks
that could be used for roasting and set about scraping the bark from them which
was difficult when she only had an oversized battle axe. Hiccup sat down
carefully beside her, took a small dagger from his waist, and offered it to
her. If she recognized it as Snotlout’s, she didn’t say anything and resumed
sharpening the little sticks.
“Are you alright?” Hiccup asked suddenly.
Astrid looked up from her work. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I watched you fall,” he murmured. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m alright,” Astrid assured him. She studied his face again, bruised and
bloody with yet another gash at his cheekbone from Sturgeon’s blow. She wanted
to comfort him, to soothe some of the pain she could see in his eyes, even
though she knew the scars from this would never truly fade. Gingerly, she
reached to touch his face, but he flinched away. “I won’t hurt you, Hiccup,”
she whispered.
He clasped her hand in his own. “I know, but… Sorry, I think it’ll just take a
little while.”
Astrid reached for him again, slowly, and Hiccup didn’t shy away. She cradled
his cheeks gently, careful not to press on any of his wounds or bruises. “You
have all the time you need. No one here is going to hurt you,” she promised,
then paused, and added, “Unless it’s an accident.”
Hiccup chuckled and placed his hand over hers on his cheek. “Thanks, Astrid,”
he murmured.
They sat quietly together as she finished the sticks. Hiccup stretched out his
leg and propped his broken ankle on a patch of grass. Toothless came to lay
behind them and his belly was warm against Astrid’s back. Fighting back a yawn,
Hiccup drew his cloak around his shoulders and let his eyes slipped closed. He
reclined comfortably against Toothless and Astrid relaxed as she listened to
him breathe. Sleepily, he curled against her shoulder and Toothless crooned
softly. Hiccup was asleep when Snotlout returned and looked at them with a
cheeky smile.
“Don’t say it,” Astrid told him sternly. “He’s got to be exhausted and I don’t
want to wake him up just because I have to kick your ass.”
Snotlout snorted, built up a fire, and let Hookfang light it. He sat down near
Toothless’s tail and leaned back on his hands. Hookfang lay down nearby without
touching Snotlout, his golden eyes soft.
“Are you okay?” Astrid asked him. The sharp corner of Hiccup’s jaw pressed into
her shoulder and she shifted slightly so that his cheek rested softly against
her instead. He groaned quietly. Astrid and Snotlout stayed quiet until he fell
asleep again. “I mean, what happened with your dad…”
Snotlout shrugged. “I think it had to be that way,” he said finally. “I don’t
regret it. You saw what happened. All he cared about was me becoming the
chief.”
Astrid nodded thoughtfully. She could still barely believe what had occurred.
Fishlegs and Meatlug returned, stumbling noisily through the brush. Fishlegs’s
arms were filled with fruits and Astrid’s canteen hung heavy from his elbow. He
spread everything out in front of the fire and took in the sight of Hiccup
sleeping peacefully propped against Astrid, but didn’t say anything. He sat
down across the fire from her and Meatlug plopped down heavily at his back.
“Fishlegs,” Astrid ventured when he began toying with the Gronckle’s toes. “Are
you alright?”
“No,” he admitted. “My parents didn’t do anything to stop me from leaving. They
didn’t even look at me.”
“Could they have said anything to make it right?” Snotlout asked bitterly.
Fishlegs was quiet for a long moment as he thought about it and then finally
said, “No. Probably not.”
Hiccup murmured in his sleep and clutched his cloak a little tighter.
“Is Hiccup okay?” Fishlegs asked.
“He needs a real healer,” Astrid said as she looked at him, “but he’ll be okay
through the night.”
“You should treat that gash on his head,” Fishlegs said and then looked into
the fire. Mournfully, he whispered, “I can’t believe my dad just hit him like
that.”
“I’ll do it when he wakes up,” Astrid assured Fishlegs. She drew an orange
closer with her boot so she wouldn’t have to move Hiccup and began to peel it.
She popped a piece of the fruit into her mouth and chewed with no real
appetite.
Stormfly landed across the small clearing and strutted over to Astrid, proud
and preening. She dropped a branch of flowers and a rope of vines in Astrid’s
lap. Confused, Astrid just stared at the offering until Stormfly nipped a piece
of her disheveled hair between her teeth and tugged gently.
“Oh, thank you, Stormfly,” Astrid said. She used her fingers to comb out her
hair, pulled it all over her shoulder, and braided it with practiced ease.
Finished, she tied it off with a strip of vine and ran her fingers over the
plait.
Stormfly chortled appreciatively, took the rest of Astrid’s orange, and gobbled
it noisily.
A few moments later, Ruffnut and Tuffnut returned with an impressive amount of
fish and commotion.
“I caught all of them,” Ruffnut crowed.
“You did not!” Tuffnut protested. “I caught at least two.”
“Would you shut up?” Astrid interrupted. “You’re going to wake Hiccup.”
The twins looked down at him, took in Astrid’s hot glare, and sobered. If they
were worried about leaving behind their mother and Berk, they didn’t show it.
Astrid and Snotlout gutted the fish, speared them neatly, and arranged them
around the fire. Fishlegs set to work peeling and cutting the fruit he had
gathered. Ruffnut and Tuffnut fed the leftover fish to Toothless since he was
curled up around Hiccup and wouldn’t move.
Hiccup woke groggily to the smell of cooking. The familiar pain still throbbed
in the back of his mind, but it had diminished slightly save for his broken
ankle. Toothless was warm against his back and Astrid’s shoulder cushioned his
cheek. He sat up blearily and looked around.
Astrid smiled at him. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmured and handed him a nicely
smoked salmon. “You should eat something.”
At the edge of the sky, the sun was setting gold and red like one of the
victorious paintings that hung in the Mead Hall on Berk. As his eyes moved
across the people and dragons settled around him, he couldn’t believe how his
life had changed. It felt like a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from. Then,
as Astrid nudged his arm gently, it felt like a dream. Hiccup nibbled on the
fish. It was rich and savory and warm and he didn’t think anything had ever
tasted this good to him.
“Tomorrow we need to get you to a real healer,” Astrid said. “And after you’ve
finished eating, I’ll take a look at that gash on your head.”
Hiccup nodded slowly and swallowed.
When he finished his fish, Astrid dug out the bag of bandages and poultices.
Hiccup flinched when she reached for his face, but she waited patiently until
he leaned towards her like a trusting dragon. She used a little water from the
canteen to wash his cut and smoothed some herbs over it tenderly. Hiccup
watched as she put everything away and tucked it back into Snotlout’s bag
before returning to sit beside him. He was glad she was there.
“I’m beat,” Snotlout muttered and flopped back in the grass.
“I wish we’d brought blankets,” Fishlegs said.
“We can buy some when we reach a town tomorrow,” Astrid told them and examined
her fingers.
A moment of silence stretched between them.
Astrid looked up at her friends and saw worry reflected on all their faces.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Are you sure it’s… safe to go to town?” Fishlegs whispered.
Astrid would have thought his question was a stroke of madness if not for the
way Hiccup stiffened against her side. She looked down and saw his fingers
twisted tightly in the dense grass, trembling slightly. Sweeping her eyes
across her friends, she saw the same fear reflected in all of them. If their
own hometown, if Berk and their parents could betray them, who was to say that
other towns and people would not? Until that moment, Astrid hadn’t thought
about it more than she had to.
Now, those thoughts twined like eels in her belly. If they went into town,
would they be safe from harm and ridicule? Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they
would all find themselves in the stocks and maybe other people would hurt them
too. Maybe that was the truth of the world. Were people mainly good or mainly
bad? Astrid fought back the wave of panic that wanted to consume her. She put
her hand down over Hiccup’s and squeezed his cold fingers comfortingly. He drew
in a shaking breath.
“We don’t have to stay,” Snotlout said suddenly. “We just have to go to town
and get what we need. We can build homes for ourselves here, like the dragons
do.”
“Sounds good,” Ruffnut said slowly. “I wouldn’t mind living out here. No rules,
no parents, no risk.”
Astrid nodded in agreement.
“At least until we decide what we want to do,” Hiccup put in with more trust
than Astrid ever thought he had left.
She tightened her grasp on his hand and scanned the pale faces of her friends.
Fishlegs still didn’t look convinced, but Snotlout drew himself up tall and
proud even from a sitting position. Astrid allowed herself to think that he
might have made a good chief if he had stayed, but she was happy he was with
them. The twins remained knotted close together with their dragon, quiet as
they studied each other. Ruffnut traced a scar that lingered on Tuffnut’s
cheekbone with her fingertip. He leaned into her touch.
“Snotlout’s right,” Astrid said. “We don’t have to make any decisions tonight
or tomorrow. We just need to get through for a little while so we can think
about it.”
A sort of peace descended on them. The pressure had been taken off, even if it
still hung in the air like mist. None of them knew what the future would hold,
but they had each other and they had their dragons. If the world turned out to
be a dark place, they didn’t have to return to it. They could be as free as the
wind.
“Do we have any money?” Fishlegs asked. “I didn’t bring any.”
Astrid shook her head. She didn’t have anything worth selling either.
“We can sell this,” Snotlout said. From beneath his shirt, he withdrew the gold
crest of the Jorgenson family and it glinted in the firelight. “It’s not as if
I need it anymore.”
“What about all the weapons we brought?” Ruffnut asked and gestured to the
haphazard pile heaped nearby.
“We can sell some of those too,” Snotlout said, “but for now, let’s get some
sleep.” He rolled onto his side with his back like a fortress of bone between
them. Though his back rose and fell serenely as he breathed, but Astrid could
tell he wasn’t asleep. The day had been too hard for that.
She glanced at Hiccup as he arranged himself on the ground with his ankle
curled carefully against some soft grass. Toothless warbled affectionately and
pressed his nose to Hiccup’s forehead, breathing in the scent of the boy’s hair
and skin. Hiccup smiled slightly when he saw Astrid looking at him. Like
Toothless, she stretched out a hand to ruffle his hair gently. Hiccup closed
his eyes and appeared to fall asleep quickly, exhausted and healing from
everything that had happened.
“Will he be okay?” Fishlegs asked.
Astrid tucked her hand beneath his bangs to feel his forehead. “He doesn’t have
a fever,” she said. “He just needs some more rest.”
With a nod, Fishlegs added a few more logs to the fire so it wouldn’t burn down
in the night. The day had been warm, but the night was cool beyond their little
circle of firelight. Then, he took off his helmet and curled up against
Meatlug. “Astrid?” he asked softly.
She looked at him, blue eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“Do you think it’ll be okay in town tomorrow?” Fishlegs asked.
Astrid brushed a lock of her bangs out of her eyes. “I do,” she told him. She
had to believe that there were good people like Gobber and her father in the
world.
Consoled, Fishlegs closed his eyes and rolled over to burrow against his
dragon’s belly. Meatlug licked his bare arm and then nestled protectively
around him. A moment later, Fishlegs began to snore sp horrifically loud that
even Meatlug’s eyes widened.
Tuffnut snickered. “Man, I always thought that sound was some kind of dragon.”
Ruffnut giggled. “I know, right. It’s so loud!”
Then, in a moment of surprising tenderness, the twins nestled against each
other in the little hollow created by their dragon’s split neck. Barf and Belch
wrapped around them like loving arms, warbling sleepily to each other. The
peace only last a little while though. After a few moments, Ruffnut and Tuffnut
began to argue in their sleep about unrelated incidents. Comically, they
remained snared in each other’s arms without moving.
After removing her armor and spiked skirt, Astrid stretched out beside the fire
with Hiccup curled between her and Toothless. He looked small as he slept, his
breath stirring a strand of hair that fell across his cheek. She thought about
touching him, but decided against it. Thoughts and memories churned in her
head. Unable to sleep, Astrid lay awake listening to the crackle of the fire,
Fishlegs’s snoring, and the twins quietly arguing.
“Aren’t you tired?” Hiccup asked suddenly.
Astrid jolted in surprise and rolled over to face him.
His eyes gleamed in the fire and moonlight, bright open green that reminded her
of precious stones. He licked the split on his lip gingerly.
“Aren’t you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I slept a little earlier, remember?”
“That couldn’t have been enough,” Astrid said.
“Honestly,” Hiccup confessed and cushioned his head on his arm, “I don’t want
to sleep. I see my father’s face every time I close my eyes.”
Astrid stretched out her hand and Hiccup nuzzled into it. She didn’t tell him
any empty words of comfort or assurances that they had gotten away and that
Stoick couldn’t hurt him anymore. Hiccup already knew that. Tentatively, he
reached for her and Astrid let him pull her into his arms. It was odd to be
embraced by him. He was a little smaller than her, slimmer and weaker, but
there was strength inside him that she didn’t think she could ever match.
Hiccup buried his face into her neck breathed out shakily. Astrid ran her hands
along his back, stroking with the hopes that it would help him relax.
“That’s my ham,” Tuffnut whined.
“No, get off that chicken,” Ruffnut ordered.
Interspersed with their dreamy arguments, Fishlegs’s snoring floated on the
still night air.
Astrid felt Hiccup’s lips curve against her skin. She ran her fingers through
his hair and down his back, feeling the bumps of his ribs and the sharp bones
of his hips. He curled tighter against her, his fingers twisting in the back of
her shirt to pull her closer. Toothless grumbled quietly and drew them both
closer with his wings and tail. Cocooned in the safe warmth of the dragon’s
wings, Astrid felt as if everything outside was blocked out and would never get
inside. When Hiccup began to cry silently, she just held him a little tighter
and listened to the dragon’s heartbeat.
She wasn’t sure when exactly she fell asleep, but when she woke, the sun was
shining brightly. Fishlegs was cooking breakfast in front of the fire. Ruffnut
and Tuffnut were sorting their weaponry into keep and sell piles, arguing all
the while over what to keep and what to sell. Snotlout was still asleep,
wrapped in the protective embrace of Hookfang. The bruises and cuts on Hiccup’s
face were beginning to heal and he smiled at her brightly from where he was
seated with his ankle propped on her bag.
The world was a long way from right, but at least it was good.
                                     X X X
Who skipped the opening at the beginning of this chapter because they were so
worried about Astrid? Yeah, I thought so. Go back and read it!
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Epilogue: Wings *****
Final chapter totally encouraged by this picture, link: http://
37.media.tumblr.com/b28605c7d2b7022a3cdc217f8b292886/
tumblr_n9cy2jX48B1qb28imo1_1280.jpg
                                     X X X
In the wake of everything that happened, some things changed and others didn’t.
With the Queen gone, the dragons had no reason to attack Berk yet no reason to
move on either. Together, Leon and Gobber managed to form an uneasy truce
between Vikings and dragons. If Hiccup and the other teens had been able to
ride them, why couldn’t they? Gobber crafted saddles that saw some use but
never enough. He made friends with a lazy sleepy dragon that lay in the middle
of his forge like a pet and kept the fires from going out. With Hiccup gone,
the shop felt vacant, but the dragon went a way towards filling that empty
space.
It was a hot day on Berk and the heat of the forge made Gobber sweat. He
stepped over Grump and breathed a sigh of relief on the cooler street. He
hobbled to the well nearby, drew up a bucket, and dumped it over his head.
Then, he looked out over the village he barely loved but couldn’t leave. All
around him, dragons roosted atop houses. Some people chased them away while
others accepted them as pets. It made him uncertain sometimes, but nothing
terrible had happened—yet.
After what happened with Hiccup, every day felt like a clock counting down.
Gobber kept waiting for the second sword to fall, for something to go wrong,
and the people of Berk to reveal their true natures. But, day in and day out,
nothing happened. Berk remained peaceful if not quiet.
Letting out his breath, Gobber saw Leon the Lionhearted exit his home with his
Terrible Terror perched on his shoulder. The little dragon was an odd shade of
blue that reminded Gobber of Astrid, but he never asked if that was why Leon
kept the tiny beast around. He waved to Leon with his good hand.
Leon ambled over and said, “Hey Gobber. How’s everything at the forge?”
“Pretty hot,” Gobber said. “I’m just taking a break.”
The shadows of two dragons skimmed the ground to the left.
Gobber would have ignored them if not for the familiar shape of those wings.
“Night Fury,” he breathed and his head snapped up.
Overhead, two dragons wheeled on the hot air. One was a bright blue Nadder with
beautiful wide wings and the other was an ink-black Night Fury with a
prosthetic tail. They circled overhead for a moment without landing and a
single package dropped from them. Gobber snatched it up and stuffed it inside
his vest before anyone but Leon saw it.
“It’s them!” someone shouted in the village.
Leon winced at the words that prevented his daughter from landing.
Chattering, the people of Berk poured from their houses and filled the streets.
Young children looked up and pointed at the fabled Dragon Riders even though
none of their parents told the story as it actually happened anymore. The parts
where Hiccup was disowned and violated had been expunged. The daring betrayal
and escape of all the teens involved was censored into a single decision to see
the world. The only thing that didn’t change was their brave slaying of the
Queen of Dragons.
The door of the Hofferson house crashed open and Veena barreled out. She had
lost weight since Astrid left and wailed at the sky, “Astrid, come back!
Please, Astrid, come home! I’m sorry. I would take it all back if I could.
Astrid, please!”
The Night Fury fired a single shot into the sky.
The house on the hill where the old chief lived remained dark and hollow.
Barrels of mead piled outside the doors and windows, but Stoick never emerged.
Spitelout had tried to step into his shoes, but the village wouldn’t follow
him. After what happened, they followed no one but Gobber and Leon.
As one, the two dragons flew away. The vast openness of the world swallowed
them up.
Leon and Gobber watched them go. Then, Gobber patted the package tucked safely
inside his vest. Later in the night when everyone was asleep, they would open
it together and read the letters Hiccup and Astrid had written, but they kept
the news to themselves. They thought it was better that Berk didn’t know about
the life those children had carved for themselves.
…
Morning sunlight played across the dirt roads, little shops, and laughing
children. The day was exceedingly peaceful and had been for some time.
Balancing a wide basket of bread against her hip, the baker crossed the street
and set it down with a thump beside the butcher. He wrapped several steaks in
skin, bound them with twine, and tucked them neatly into the baker’s basket.
Coming up behind them, the village healer slipped a package of herbs and a
brass teapot into the basket.
“A teapot?” the baker asked curiously.
The healer shrugged. “Who’s to say dragons don’t like tea? We’ve certainly been
surprised by more of their antics.”
Shooing a tiny Terrible Terror away from his sausages, the butcher agreed, “Who
would ever have known that dragons are as peaceful as dogs and sheep?”
The baker hefted her basket again. “Well, I’d better bring this to the chief so
he can take care of it.”
“I don’t see why those Dragon Riders don’t just come to town like everyone
else,” the butcher added. He gave in and finally let the Terror have a little
bite of discarded meat. “They’re as peaceful as their dragons.”
The healer shrugged again. “I heard a rumor that they don’t like to be around
people.”
“Why?” the baker asked.
“You didn’t hear?” the butcher asked incredulously.
She shook her head.
“Why would she?” the healer remarked. “She’s always trapped inside with those
ovens.”
“Trader Johann travels the entire archipelago trading so he hears just about
everything,” the butcher explained with a large expressive wave of his hand.
“He told me that the Dragon Riders originally came from Berk.”
“Berk?” the baker repeated. “That little frozen hunk of rock?”
The butcher nodded. “In Berk, they get along with dragons too and there are all
manner of stories about the Dragon Riders that start there,” he continued.
“They claim that the Dragon Riders are children of theirs who left to see the
world.”
“Then why are the Dragon Riders here?” the baker asked.
“No one knows,” the healer said with a shrug, “Just like no one knows why they
don’t just come to town to shop.”
“Didn’t you treat one of the Riders some time ago?” the butcher asked.
The healer flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean,”
she said.
The baker balanced the basket against her hip and looked out at the clear blue
sky. “Maybe they really don’t like other people,” she said softly. “Maybe they
left their hometown because of something bad that happened to them. It’s not
unheard of. That’s why I came here.”
The healer shrugged. “Either way, we’ve had more peace with the dragons in the
past year than our ancestors have in centuries, though the fact that there are
no more maulings has put a damper on my business. As far as I’m concerned, I
like the Dragon Riders. I wouldn’t mind if they came here to stay.”
Out in the street, a child called excitedly, “Look! It’s the Riders!”
The baker bid farewell to her friends and hurried to where their town’s chief
was waiting in the large open square. The ocean-blue Nadder and haunting Night
Fury landed as gracefully as birds. After scanning their surroundings, the
Riders dismounted. Though they each wore a strange mask, they were very human
and not at all frightening. A few children rushed closer to pet the dragons and
climb into their saddles, pretending to fly.
One Rider stepped forward and withdrew a purse from his belt. He removed a few
coins and handed them to the chief. “Is this enough?” he asked.
The chief handed back half the coins. “For peace,” he assured the Rider.
The baker passed the basket to the Rider. His hands were slender and strong
with fine calluses from work. A ring of pale scars circled his narrow wrist
where the sleeve of his leather armor rode up. They looked painful, even being
healed.
“Thank you,” the Rider said. His voice was gentle, a light timbre that soothed
as easily as a balm.
His voice startled the baker from her musings. She looked up at his face hidden
behind his dragon-esque mask and wished she could see what lay beneath. All she
could see of him were stunning green eyes that peeked through the slats. She
imagined that he smiled at her. “Of course,” she answered and handed him the
basket.
The Rider lifted it from her and turned back to his dragon. He walked at an odd
tilt as though he didn’t want to put his back to anyone. The female Rider’s
eyes tracked him before snapping back over the townsfolk. He packed the
contents of the basket into his saddlebags with practiced ease and returned it
to the baker. Then, he lifted a child from the Night Fury’s saddle and set her
gently on the ground. In a unison that was slightly unnerving, both Riders
mounted up.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” the female Rider called to them.
Then, both dragons surged into the sky and disappeared into the dense bank of
clouds.
“Why do they always leave?” the chief murmured softly, watching them go.
The baker thought of the scars she had seen on the male Rider and thought that
maybe the rumors were right after all.
…
It was a rare day when everyone left their island to gather things they
couldn’t make themselves. It always felt strange to leave the place they now
called home, but it was for the best. They couldn’t stay there forever, shut in
from the outside just because they didn’t trust it. Ruffnut and Tuffnut
supposed they had it easy because they had only ever trusted each other and
they still had that. They were twins. They would never betray each other.
Having finished their shopping a few hours ago, they stopped on a large island
to give their dragons a rest. From the cliff where they lounged, they could
hear the noise of the nameless village below. The twins had once liked the
commotion of a village and they liked nothing more than to cause it, but now it
seemed too loud compared to the peace of the island they shared with Hiccup,
Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, and all their dragons.
Rumbling, Barf nudged Ruffnut and she let him have the rest of the cod she was
eating. With a deep sigh, Ruffnut leaned against her brother and tipped her
head onto his shoulder.
“What?” he asked in a voice that would have sounded harsh to anyone else. He
held his fish out of Belch’s reach. “This is my fish,” he told the dragon
tersely.
“Do you miss Mom?” Ruffnut asked and tilted her gaze to the sky.
Tuffnut was quiet for a long moment before he murmured, “No. Should I?”
Ruffnut moved her head, but he couldn’t see if she was nodding.
“Do you want to go back?” he asked his sister.
“No,” Ruffnut said. “I like being here with you and the others. I like being
free.”
Tuffnut let Belch have the fish and looked down at the town spread below them.
“It’s nice not to be in town anymore,” he agreed quietly. “It’s nice not to be
blamed for everything.”
Ruffnut breathed out shakily, remembering the times their mother had beaten
them for causing blizzards and breaking dishes. Twins were believed to bring
calamity on Berk. That belief had only been cemented by the death of their
father so soon after their births. Regarded as unlucky, no one spent much time
with them, but they had always had each other.
Tuffnut butted his head against hers. “Don’t think about it,” he said. “It’s
all behind us. Nothing bad has happened since we left Berk, right?”
Ruffnut glanced at him from the corner of her eye. The sunlight played on the
thin scars on his face and throat. “I guess not,” she murmured and tried not to
think of the injury inflicted on Tuffnut when they were younger. “Are you happy
here, Tuff?”
He nodded and scratched Belch under the chin affectionately.
“Maybe we should head home,” she murmured. “Hiccup will wonder what happened to
us.”
“Let’s stay out just a little longer,” Tuffnut said softly. “No one knows we’re
here. There’s no harm in staying.”
Ruffnut nodded and twisted her loose hair into a familiar braid to cover the
scar on her collarbone. “You’re right,” she said to her brother. “There’s no
harm anymore.”
…
There weren’t many places in the archipelago that they hadn’t been to at one
time or another, but Fishlegs was childlike in the way each new thing
fascinated him. Though technically every place was an island, this one was the
largest they had ever seen. It was a continent with wide grassy hills, tall
castles, and a massive open-air market. Even that would have been typical if
not for the holiday that was ferociously underway. There were colored
streamers, bright flowers, loud music, fried foods, and everything was
thunderous.
“Fishlegs? Would you stop?” Snotlout demanded. He stood back, the satchel slung
over his broad shoulder. They had left their dragons and helmets at the edge of
the market because Hookfang was too big to lumber between the stalls and
Meatlug was too clumsy. “I’m not kidding,” he grumbled. “Cut it out.”
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Fishlegs asked eagerly and held up a
round bowl of cut glass.
Snotlout had seen plenty of bowls in his day and he had to admit this one was
exceptionally colorful, but he still didn’t think it was worth being this
excited over. “Very nice,” he said uninterestedly. “Now put it down and let’s
go.”
“Maybe Astrid would like it,” Fishlegs remarked as he turned it over in his
hands.
There was a time when the prospect of getting Astrid to like him would have
made Snotlout run naked through a forest dripping in honey, but now he knew she
was out of reach. Even if she wasn’t, he didn’t think he could bear to take her
from Hiccup. “Maybe she would,” Snotlout agreed because it was a nice bowl.
“When we get back, I’ll tell Hiccup.”
Sobered by memories, Fishlegs put down the bowl.
They continued through the bustling market, weaving between stalls as they
checked things off on the list Astrid had given them. Fishlegs got distracted
every step of the way, oohing and aahing over every strange artifact and
obscure text and bright holiday decoration.
“Fishlegs, I’m serious,” Snotlout complained. “If you don’t stop it, I’m going
to rope you to your dragon and make you wait for me—”
A woman’s voice, high and angry, rose over the chatter of the market. “If you
don’t stop, I swear I’m going to put you in the stocks and let everyone have
their way with you.”
Fishlegs froze. The wooden vase he had picked up slipped from his hand and
rolled, unharmed, across the dusty ground. Snotlout wasted no time rushing
through the crowd in the direction of the woman’s voice. Fishlegs crashed after
him. Together, they spilled into the center square where there was a great
fountain spilling clear water from a swan’s beak.
Near the fountain, a woman had two sopping children locked under her arms.
“Honestly,” she grumbled as she carried them away, dripping wet. “I don’t know
why I bring you out in public with me. You should stay home with your father.”
Snotlout looked around, but there was no sign that anyone had ever been hung or
tortured here. The pale cobblestones were pristine and flat without the divots
left by people struggling in the stocks. The villagers who had heard the woman
threaten her children looked unconcerned by her words. They continued whatever
they were doing. A cold knot settled in Snotlout’s stomach. Were there more
people who thought it acceptable to torture and rape someone as punishment?
“Are you alright?” an elderly woman asked.
Snotlout turned around and saw that Fishlegs was as white as a sheet. Sweat
beaded on his brow and upper lip, glistening in the sunlight. He swayed on his
feet, unsteady. Snotlout closed the space between them quickly and put his hand
on the back of Fishlegs’s neck. He pushed him to the ground and said firmly,
“Take a deep breath, Legs.”
The elderly woman watched. “Will he be alright?”
Snotlout nodded and searched her face. She had open eyes sheathed in wrinkles
and a wide smile showing a few missing teeth, but that wasn’t uncommon for
someone her age. He asked, “Do you still use the stocks here?”
Her brow furrowed. “The stocks? Heavens, no. Those old things haven’t been used
since my great-granddaddy was alive,” she assured him.
“But,” Fishlegs sputtered, “we heard that woman say…”
The elderly lady glanced at the fountain. “Oh, that’s what Elvira calls her two
strong arms. When she picks up her children like that, she calls them the
stocks.”
Fishlegs breathed out in shaky relief.
Snotlout lifted his hand from the back of Fishlegs’s neck and helped him get
up. He thumped Fishlegs firmly on the back and handed him their satchel to keep
his hands busy. “We should get home,” he said. “Astrid and Hiccup will be
worried soon.”
Fishlegs nodded.
The elderly woman stared at them as though she wanted to ask something.
“Good day,” Snotlout said to her and then steered Fishlegs away from the
market.
Stricken and shaking from his panic attack, it was an easy matter to get
Fishlegs back to the dragons. Snotlout stretched his hand out and Hookfang
dipped under it to receive a gentle scratch. Fishlegs collapsed against
Meatlug, breathing easier now that they were away from so many people though
his breath still rattled in his lungs.
“Things like that are going to happen,” Snotlout said after a moment. “We can’t
just freak out every time.”
Fishlegs pressed a hand to his face. “What if Hiccup had been with us?”
Snotlout didn’t answer. He didn’t want to imagine Hiccup’s reaction.
“It’s been a year,” Fishlegs breathed out. He turned towards Snotlout and
stared at him with eyes like open windows. “Do you think we’ll ever get better?
Any of us?”
“Let’s go home,” Snotlout said quietly.
He climbed into Hookfang’s saddle and waited patiently for Fishlegs to get
situated. Then, they flew into the clouds and left the celebrating marketplace
behind them. The whiteness cocooned them comfortably, swathing them in light
and fresh air. Beside him, Fishlegs began to breathe easier as his final
dredges of panic left. Snotlout tried not to think about his father, about
Berk, about the stocks. He tried not to remember the last time Hiccup laid eyes
on a parent scolding their child and withdrew into himself like a snail curling
away from the dangerous outside. The open sky went a long way towards soothing
those scars.
…
Astrid and Hiccup landed on the small island they called home. Uninhabited save
for other dragons, it was peaceful and safe. The ground was moist and soft,
weaved through with streams and tall trees, and weeds grew in abundance. It had
taken them some time to build houses and learn to farm and some things still
didn’t come easy to them. Yet it was home.
Dismounting, Hiccup felt a familiar twinge of pain in his ankle. Despite all
the herbs and wraps, it still ached sometimes as a reminder of what he had been
through. Astrid jumped down with light grace and bounded over to him, removing
her helmet and shaking her golden hair free. He smiled at her, but it was lost
behind the mask he wore. She cupped the helmet in her hands and lifted it off
his face.
“Did that bother you?” she asked as she examined his pale face. “Snotlout and
Fishlegs can go if it did.”
“It didn’t,” Hiccup assured her.
“Ruffnut? Tuffnut?” Astrid shouted in the direction of the twins recklessly
conjoined houses. They had wanted to live apart, but hadn’t quite been able to
make that leap and wound up joining their homes halfway through construction.
The space between their joined roofs was large enough for Barf and Belch to
sleep beneath. Though it was strange, everything about the twins was. “Are you
home?”
“Snotlout?” Hiccup called and peered up into the large pine tree where Snotlout
constructed a crooked tree house. He pulled the rope ladder in at night and
Hookfang slept heavily on the cocoon of branches over the roof. Hiccup was
always worried that one wrong move would send them both crashing down, but they
had yet to tumble from the treetop. “Snotlout?”
“Fishlegs? Meatlug?” Astrid shouted. Keeping in mind Meatlug’s propensity for
eating rock and breaking branches, Fishlegs had built a flat one level house
that they could share together. It butted up against the mountain and Meatlug
carved out a cavern for herself while Fishlegs slept on the floorboards,
snoring like a lumberjack every night. “Guys?”
For their part, Hiccup and Astrid built a house that was nothing like the ones
on Berk. They crafted a cabin made entirely of logs with moss packed into the
spaces to keep the wind out. Hiccup made a great stone fireplace that he
mortared together. Stormfly and Toothless fit easily inside. Hiccup and Astrid
built a loft that they slept in with their dragons.
There was no answer from anywhere.
“They must still be out,” Hiccup said.
Astrid nodded and smoothed her wild hair.
She examined Hiccup’s face a moment longer and began unpacking the saddlebags.
Hiccup carried what she couldn’t and they walked together to the deep cave that
they had carved with Toothless’s blasts. They all shared it as a central
sanctuary, a place to meet and be together and be safe. Astrid packed the food
away in their ice chests, put away the bread, set the teapot on the fire, and
put the herbs into the medical bag. Then, she hung her mask on its peg on the
wall.
Hiccup did the same, but stared at it for a long moment. “Why do we wear
these?” he murmured.
Astrid wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned her cheek on his
shoulder. “Doesn’t it make you feel safer? No one knows who you are.”
Hiccup laid his hands over her arms and ran his fingers along the fine muscles.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “But sometimes it just feels like hiding.”
Astrid rose onto her toes to press a kiss to the scar on his temple where
Fishlegs’s father had struck him what felt like an eternity ago. “So what if we
hide?” she murmured. “We can do anything we want.”
“I guess you’re right,” Hiccup admitted. Then, he fell silent in that way he
did when he was thinking about his body, his scars, and his mind. He lifted his
hands from her skin and traced the scars on his wrists. His throat flashed as
he swallowed.
Astrid loosened her arms from around his middle, took his hands, and pulled him
out of the cavern. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere.”
“Where?” Hiccup asked as though waking from a long sleep.
Smiling to put him at ease, she led him through the dense woods. Toothless and
Stormfy followed, chattering in their special language. All around them, little
Terrors raced through the bushes and swooped overhead. Finally, they reached
the wide cliff where Astrid liked to bring him. If they sat there, they could
almost see the distant island where towns were and people lived. It was good to
look at it sometimes, even if none of them were brave enough to stay.
Astrid sat down in the dense grass with her legs folded beside her comfortably.
Hiccup hesitated and then dropped down beside her. Their shoulders brushed.
Without speaking, they looked across the ocean at the town. At night, it glowed
like a tiny lantern, flickering as the hours ticked on and vanishing when the
sun rose. Astrid rested her hand on Hiccup’s and their fingers threaded
together gently. After a moment, Hiccup lifted her hand to his lips and pressed
a soft kiss to the back of it.
His breath plumed warm on her skin and Astrid shivered. It wasn’t often that
Hiccup found the courage to initiate physical affection so each time was
precious. It was a tiny mark of his healing, even if he still couldn’t bear to
walk through a crowd or stay in town for too long. His trust in anyone but
Astrid and the other Riders had been shattered beyond repair. Hiccup held her
hand to his lips, breathing slowly as he focused on the scent and texture of
her skin.
Astrid rubbed her thumb against his wrist and he lifted his beautiful green
eyes from the town to her face. A smile tugged at his eyes and lips, banishing
the memories of the scars and pains. He leaned into her shoulder and she tilted
her chin welcomingly. Hiccup kissed her softly, slow and gentle at first. As he
gained courage, his tongue slipped out to brush the seam of her lips and she
opened like a flower for him. His tongue dipped timidly against hers.
Astrid melted into his kiss, holding his hand as her fingers tangled in the
soft hair at the base of his neck. She clung to his armored shoulder and his
other arm circled behind her back. He pressed her to him, cradling her close as
she wrapped herself around him. He was safe with her and he always would be.
Hiccup broke the kiss a few moments later, breathing softly as he gathered
himself. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
“It’s alright,” Astrid consoled him.
“I know,” he answered.
Hiccup shifted and reclined against her shoulder, his breath easing from his
lungs. She tucked her cheek against his sun-warmed hair. He grew heavy against
her, limp with sleep there in the grass, and she cradled him in her arms. He
still had trouble sleeping sometimes. Nightmares woke him, especially after
they flew over Berk or stayed long in town.
Again, her mother’s voice drilled into the back of her head like a nail. Veena
thought Hiccup was inadequate and worthless. She had hated him since the night
of his birth, since his life stole Valka’s, and nothing he did could change
that. But Astrid still wondered, if Hiccup hadn’t been a hiccup, if he had been
better, faster, stronger—a Dragon Killer—would he be someone worthy of her?
Would he be someone she could love?
As she looked down at the young man slumbering trustingly in her arms, she
didn’t think he would have been. She loved Hiccup for who he was—this broken
boy who trusted dragons more than people, who had been betrayed, who’s trust
was more fragile than his body, but who’s spirit was indomitable. She pressed a
kiss to his temple again and traced his scar with the tip of her tongue. Not
for the first time, she wished she could wipe away what had happened to him.
She wished she could wipe away what had happened to all of them.
…
When Astrid came home, the cabin she shared with Hiccup was lit with candles.
The faint firelight flickered against the walls like tiny dancers. Stormfly and
Toothless were curled up on the bottom floor in equal states of comfortable
disrepair with their wings, tails, and legs sprawled out. Astrid scratched
Stormfly’s extended wing and stepped over Toothless’s tail as she searched for
Hiccup. He had left dinner ahead of her, smiling in that way he sometimes did
when he was planning something.
“Hiccup?” she called and looked around the cabin. Their loft upstairs was dark
and a little tremor of hot excitement trailed down Astrid’s chest to settle in
her belly. She had suspected what Hiccup wanted, but she loved when he
initiated it with care and concern. She toed off her boots and tucked them
aside the front door. Barefoot, she padded upstairs to the loft.
A single candle burned on the small nightstand beside their bed. They hadn’t
crafted a traditional bed for themselves. Instead of hard planks and a wooden
frame, they had bought blankets and furs and pillows of all shapes, colors, and
sizes. The entire floor was virtually covered in a thick layer of padding.
Usually, Stormfly and Toothless would be stretched out all over the place.
Astrid and Hiccup often slept in the shelter between them, wrapped in each
other’s arms.
“Are you waiting for me?” Astrid asked when she saw him.
“Of course, milady,” he said smoothly.
Tonight, Hiccup was sitting beside the nightstand with the light of the single
candle playing on his face. He smiled at her as she crossed and knelt in front
of him. She reached out and cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheekbone.
Hiccup leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Astrid leaned in and
delicately kissed him, her lips just brushing his like a butterfly setting down
on a flower. Hiccup pressed in, his tongue rasping hot and wet against the seam
of her lips. Astrid welcomed him inside, tasting him. His hands slipped into
her hair, around her back, and pulled her closer.
Her fingers slipped beneath his tunic and she ghosted her touch along the
muscles of his slender frame. Hiccup unbuckled her armor and eased it from her
shoulders silently. Astrid broke the kiss long enough to peel her shirt over
her head and then remove Hiccup’s. He deftly unwrapped her chest and set aside
the bindings. Her breasts were warm and soft against his palms as he cupped
them and stroked his thumbs over her nipples. She shivered and ran her hands
down his back, tracing the faint scars of his beating. Hiccup trembled beneath
her soft caress and kissed her just a little harder.
Astrid cupped the hardness between his legs and he groaned quietly into her
mouth. She was already wet for him, desperate for his touch, but didn’t push
him. After a long moment of teasing touches at her waist and thighs, he finally
slipped his hand between her legs. She moaned and rocked against him. He
stroked her tiny pearl through her rough leggings while his other hand
unfastened her spiked skirt and put it aside. Astrid could feel him harden more
against her palm. She slipped her hand beneath his pants and cradled the bare
velvet hardness of him. She ran her thumb over his weeping head.
Moaning quietly, Hiccup passed his hand over the single candle and the tiny
flame snuffed out. It was dark in their loft and Astrid fumbled at Hiccup’s
bare shoulders, holding him like an anchor as her eyes adjusted to the dimness.
She couldn’t see even the shadow of him any longer, only feel him. Hiccup broke
their kiss just long enough to strip off his pants. Astrid did the same with
her leggings. Naked, she wrapped her arms around him and little fireworks
exploded wherever their skin touched. Being unable to see him made her
hyperaware of every place they were connected.
Hiccup kissed her again, his tongue snaking into her mouth to taste her. He
stroked the soaking folds of her sex and she gripped his length, rubbing the
sensitive underside and head of him. Hiccup slid his hand from her hair to her
shoulder and gently pushed in a silent plea for her to lie down. Astrid leaned
back into the pallet of blankets and spread her legs to welcome him between
them. He was so warm and she breathed out shakily as he lay against her body.
Hiccup traced her side with his fingertips, feeling her skin prickle with goose
bumps.
Astrid held his hip, tugging him slightly. Hiccup parted her folds and the head
of his member bumped her core. Slowly, ever mindful not to hurt her, he pushed
inside. Astrid groaned, her eyes fluttering and her head tipping back, as he
filled her. He went still for a moment, letting her adjust to the familiar
intrusion, before he began to move. His strokes were slow and purposeful, as
much for her as himself. Sometimes, Hiccup found it difficult to be intimate
with Astrid. The memories of his violation and torture burned just beneath his
skin and mind, lurking like a deadly virus.
Astrid stroked his shoulders, his back, his hair, and kissed him as he moved.
She felt a ribbon of tension leave him, melting away as he focused on being
with Astrid. She was his light, his sanctuary, and he loved her. Astrid’s
breath came in short little gasps as the pleasure built inside her. Hiccup
stroked her pearl, bringing her to the peak as he thrust a little deeper and
faster. Astrid clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, breathing hot
against his ear. Hiccup moaned very softly. He pinched her pearl and rolled it
between his fingers.
With a soft cry, the walls of Astrid’s core rippled and clenched around him.
Hiccup buried his face against her neck, breathing shakily and choking off his
moan as he came. Astrid cradled him against her. She tangled her fingers
through his hair, stroked the length of his back, and kissed the scar at his
temple. Hiccup remained inside her until he was soft. Then, he pulled out
carefully, fumbled through the dark, and found a wet towel. He turned back
towards Astrid and she reached out for him.
“Will you light the candle?” Astrid asked as she used the towel to clean
between her legs. “Please?”
Hiccup hesitated and she felt his spike of fear in the dark.
She reached for his shoulder, but couldn’t find it. “I’ll close my eyes, okay?”
Hiccup’s breath rattled in his lungs as he sought the matches, struck one, and
lit the single candle on the nightstand.
After the pitch darkness, the light seemed blinding.
Very quietly, Hiccup murmured, “You can look Astrid.”
Astrid opened her eyes. She expected Hiccup to have redressed himself, but the
gleam of his naked skin surprised her. Since she had rescued him from Berk with
the others, she had never seen him naked. They always made love in the dark.
Hiccup hated his body, his scars, the damage to him and he feared them. Astrid
didn’t allow herself to scan his nudity. She scooted closer to him and ran her
fingertip along the tiny bruises she had sucked into his neck with a smile.
Hiccup wrapped his arms around her and tucked his face into her throat, kissing
her gently.
“Thank you, Astrid,” Hiccup whispered.
They curled together on the blankets and Astrid pulled one over them. She
cuddled against Hiccup’s bare chest, her legs tangling with his. Absently,
Hiccup unbound her hair and stroked the soft locks. He ran his fingers through
her hair, untangling knots and smoothing the silk against her shoulders. She
ran her fingertips along his ribcage, over his hip, and down his back. She
could feel his scars, but tried not to linger long on any one of them.
There were noisy footsteps on the loft stairs as Toothless climbed them. He
snuffled at Astrid’s hair and Hiccup’s shoulder. Then, he flopped down at
Hiccup’s back and went back to sleep. A moment later, Stormfly followed suit.
Astrid smiled and looked into Hiccup’s face. His green eyes gleamed in the
darkness, but a smile played on his lips.
“Are you happy?” Astrid asked.
Hiccup nodded and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
The events that had taken place in Berk had stunted Hiccup, broken him, and
there were things he would never heal from. Hiccup was a caterpillar that would
never become a butterfly… but Toothless was his wings and Astrid was his
beauty. He would still fly, he would still be loved, and he would never be hurt
again.
                                     X X X
This story is very close to my heart right now. I recently lost/had to leave my
job and get a new one because all the coworkers I considered to be my friends
decided to hate me for reasons that I still don’t understand. They all spread
horrible lies about me while still being nice to my face. It’s terrible when
you can’t trust the people who should, especially friends and family.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!