"A dragon will always, always...go for the kill."
Principled words, unfortunately, would never be heard aloud by the ears of the one who needed them most.
It was Hiccup, the heir of Berk, who would never have the privilege of taking these precious words of advice into account as he used his trusty dagger to cut into the ropes withholding the dangerous wild animal, namely, the infamous adversary of Berk: the Nightfury.
The large emerald eyes that belonged to said Nightfury, inundated with hate, distrust, and an instinctive drive to kill, and shield itself as any wounded animal would, bore into the small human with a ravenous expression that would send any other creature to cower in fear. But the human was no longer paying attention to the eyes; the eyes that belonged to the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself: a sleek, ravened beast with the ferocity that could only be topped by its own species.
While raiding the inestimable mammals' homes and food stores for the Alpha, it hadn't expected to be shot down by a shooting projectile, nor did it expect its life to be in the hands of one of the human younglings of the flock. It was disgusted. Here it was, a feared beast rendered useless by the tiniest human he'd ever seen.
Why was it, he wondered, that human creatures allowed their young to participate in such activities as battle when they could be safe in their strange burrows? Why risk a generation of flock-mates while there were hardier warriors at the ready?
Disgraceful, he demeaned as he stared at the tiny creature. For a moment, he almost felt pity toward it, but he shook himself back into reality. As far as he knew, the younglings could be equally strong if not stronger than their sires. They were smaller, which meant they were quicker and sneakier while their elders were worn out and weakened by previous battles. This particular youngling was no exception to that statistic of the whole exhausting enterprise.
A momentous decision led the dragon to finalize that if he escaped, he would dispose of the human immediately. And why not? One less little pest to deal with, he reasoned as the ropes went loose. One less obstacle to overcome in order to feed the Alpha he defended as they fell. He growled again when he felt the ropes containing his wings disparage at last.
...
It wasn't until after the last of the ropes had fallen uselessly to the side that Hiccup had time to scream, run, or even back away. But the Nightfury had leapt from its pratfall before then and stole the chance.
The scaly, extended paw forcefully shoved the boy backwards and mercilessly slammed him into a nearby boulder with marvelous strength, pinning him shortly after. Hiccup's breath hitched when the back of his skull cracked against the rock, his breath hitching at the force of impact and his mouth opening in a silent scream.
Pixies swam before his emerald eyes and it took a few good seconds for his puzzled mind to process what was happening. By the time it did, the claws had moved to his neck in a sort of chokehold.
Once the human was firmly entrapped beneath the reptile, it growled dangerously, the garishly razor-sharp teeth bore in a grizzly sneer.
Hiccup blinked once, twice, and whimpered after he tried and failed to move.
He was trapped, he realized with forthcoming horror. He was honest-to-Gods trapped, completely at the mercy of his people's greatest enemy in the middle of the forest, with nobody around to help him.
Regret instantly overtook his mind as his fingers reached for his dagger, which was just out of reach, sunk to the hilt in the soft earth. Oh, why hadn't he finished the job when he had the chance? Why hadn't he RUN?
"Help," he thought weakly, and then with more force when the dragon inhaled his scent, "H-Help...!"
Horrible images of being eaten alive followed suit of his hysteria and he coughed. The scaly grip around his tender throat was tightening with each passing second. Was the beast planning to suffocate him to death? Quite the dismal way to go, but he'd rather meet his maker quietly rather than the outrageously gory deaths other dragons displayed to his poor fellow villagers.
The gears in his mind, understandably befuddled with thoughts of squeamish death trials, whirred frantically to hatch an escape plan, all the while attempting to maneuver the dragon's paw off of him with his own shaky hands.
It was a little too late, he miserably decided, to play dead. Besides, those large intelligent eyes hinted that this particular dragon might be grouped as a far more astute blazon of his reptilian counterparts. He doubted that he could fool them with a petty act.
His best bet was removing the paw from his jugular and making a quick break for the thick tree line, which wasn't far off. That way, the thicket would slow the dragon. But as far as actually getting the paw off of him...
"Grk..." Hiccup croaked, his lips adopting a frightening shade of blue from the abridgment of oxygen. His eyes rolled upward to display the whites. "N-Nuh...ughhh..."
The Nightfury growled in disgust at the feeling of mammalian fingertips clutching his scales, so he re-gripped the flesh with flourish so that the boy's paws fell from his own, and he slammed the frail being against the boulder again. Quite caught up in its fury, the dragon purposely ignored the cracking noise emulated by the connection of flesh and rock, the pitiful yips, and the augmenting terror on said prey's face.
He made no ceremony of it. His mind was deprived of mercy or empathy. Whimpers from his prey did little to alter his drive to kill.
'This conniving little Viking,' he huffed, 'this monstrous, pathetic little thing' was not in the interest of him. It squeaked, he noted in annoyance, and tried to wriggle out of his strong grasp, its tiny paws flailing uselessly, its fingernails scraping at the rough surface of the boulder, but he was held fast.
The dragon sniffed skeptically at the small, tensed human, and almost reared back in surprise after he had snuffled his way into the chestnut locks. The scent was familiar. He was sure that he got a whiff of it as he was soaring over the human's nest... Ah... He understood.
This, he realized with impending nervousness, was the human Alpha's offspring. His young. Should be really...? A quick side-to-side glance from the anxious dragon eased his squeamishness, and it took a deep inhale to make sure that there were no more humans present.
There weren't. The Alpha wasn't coming to protect its young. Too busy, or simply unaware of his young's whereabouts. Perhaps he was searching at this moment. Then he had better hurry.
The Nightfury turned back to the youngling with satisfaction and a determined resolve to finish what had to be done. It failed to take into account that the young human had technically set him free. Nothing. Not a scintilla of acknowledgement. His sharp claws pressed into the jugular of the young Viking, causing him to gasp and retch.
It was time.
"N-No! STOP!"
Hiccup screamed as the reptile's spare paw jammed into his diaphragm, effectively cutting off his vaporing air supply and temporarily disabling his ability to speak.
In the time it took for the young male to regain his breath, the dragon had angrily battered his pale face with the underside of its paw, much like a hungry cat would with a poor, befuddled mouse.
"NO!" Hiccup screamed after the last of the blows had ceased. "Somebody! Help me!"
Nervous that the human alpha would respond to the sounds of distress that its frightened young was emitting, the dragon let out a deafening roar to silence his prey, spittle and a rush of heated breath befalling it.
Hiccup screamed anyway, but this time from unbearable pain as the Nightfury opened his gaping maw and sunk his razor-blade teeth into his tender shoulder. He screamed deafeningly, resisting his entrapment by battering the dragon's scaly snout with all his might, or whatever he could muster with his scrawny hands. But to no avail did he succeed. The dragon only bit down harder.
"H-HELP ME! BY THE G-GODS, HELP ME!" He screamed, involuntarily arching his back as his body tried to retreat from the grip of this unwanted predator. His legs kicked out.
The dragon paused, almost as if considering his next move before sinking his teeth in deeper and shaking his head from side to side, tearing more layers of flesh and muscle, reaching the bone shortly after.
Absolute terror filled the boy's mind as the sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone reached his ears. Streams of crimson liquid, his own life essence, splattered against his face and chest, causing him to retch in disgust and shock.
"STOP IT! S-S-STOP IT!" He shrieked, kicking his legs out against the snout.
The dragon snarled as it tore deeper into the body. Thankfully, after what seemed like hours to Hiccup, the dragon pulled away from the torn mess that was formerly an appendage. The Nightfury licked its chops with its large pink tongue, trying to catch the drops of crimson liquid from the gleaming teeth. Its snout was splattered with blood.
Hiccup retched, letting out a choking sort of gasp as his wide eyes caught sight of the gut-wrenching wound. He choked again, and reached up with a trembling hand to prevent the maw from drawing nearer. His other hand reached to retrieve his dagger. Had he been uninjured, his train of thought could have pinpointed the fact that a dagger couldn't do much against this bloodthirsty creature. Perhaps if he aimed for the eyes, nose, tongue, or other sensitive areas, he could stall the beast long enough to make his escape.
But Hiccup wasn't able to do any of those things.
The dragon had noticed his hand flailing for the dagger, so now he only hoped to catch the boy's hand that desperately sought refuge.
"GAAAAAAAAAAH!" He screeched at the top of his lungs. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP STOP STOP-!"
The teeth sunk into his callused palm, emulating the most terrible pain Hiccup had ever felt in his life. In the midst of terror, his voice caught in his throat and his mouth fell open, resulting in a silent scream.
"..."
The fiery pain... It was a seemingly endless blaze, igniting at his digits as they were removed from his palm, and overtaking the length of his arm. The right half of his body adopted an augmenting throbbing sensation, while his poor shoulder remained torn, raw, bloody, and unresponsive.
The fangs crunched mercilessly into the phalanges of his hand, rendering them useless along with the metacarpals. The thin blue veins beneath his skin tore like forged wire, spurting his blood everywhere. Hiccup screamed with all his might, hopping that somebody would hear him, but it was futile. He was a good mile or two away from the village.
He couldn't see. He couldn't see anything beyond the red mist that swarmed the area and overtook his vision. He couldn't hear. He couldn't hear anything but the crunch of bones, the splatter of blood, the growls of the dragon, and his own screams. He wanted to be dreaming. He wanted this to be nothing but a graphic figment of his lurid imagination. He so desperately wanted to wake up any second in his bed to the scent of roasted salmon his father cooked for breakfast everyday.
His father... His father was right, he realized. His father had been right all along about his son. Hiccup was no dragon killer. He couldn't even defend himself when it mattered most.
"D-DAD!" Hiccup hysterically bawled, shamefully as helpless as a newborn baby. "DADDY!"
Oh, why didn't he listen when he should have? All his father wanted was his safety intact, fearful that something like THIS may happen, and now because of his own ignorance, he may not ever escape this unwanted feasibility. And his father would be alone in the world. "I-It HURTS!"
The dragon snarled and batted the child's bruised face with its paw, trying to silence the terrified creature but to no avail.
"D-DUH-DADDY!" Hiccup screamed, each syllable choking him up with the onslaught of blood traveling up his throat. He coughed, spraying the sticky liquid onto the dragon's approaching muzzle.
The Nightfury became ever-increasingly irked by the volume of his screams. To illustrate this, it proceeded to rake its claws across every inch of the poor boy, tearing the forest green tunic and shredding the skin beneath the article of clothing like blades slicing through butter.
The sanguinary assault left no place unscathed and succeeded in causing much bloodshed. Hiccup let out shuddering little gasps as he watched his own blood spurt and pool upon his body and drip onto the forest floor, where it soaked into the grassy vice.
"He-...Help..." He weakly choked out, his head incoherently flopping from side to side. He shuddered once more as the dragon loomed over him. He was sure he was being scrutinized as a tasty meal. "P...Please... Don't eat me..."
The dragon paid him no mind and Hiccup shut his eyes. Tears stained his pale-from-blood-loss face and his panicked thoughts turned to his village, his father, and the teens.
From what he knew about injuries-he did know plenty, having witnessed dozens of amputations-he was being ruptured beyond repair. Any more of this torture and he would die without his father's presence. If the dragon was satisfied with its work and left him alone (which was also very unlikely to happen) an infection would eventually creep up and take his life that way if blood loss didn't do the job first.
But... Hiccup coughed up a bout of mucus and blood as the inevitable end of his short life drew near in the distance, rendering him to tears. He would never see the village and its citizens again. He would never forge, draw, eat, or do anything enjoyable alive again. The great pink tongue lapping at the blood along with the speckles of flies corroding his raw wounds only made things worse.
The odds of actually drifting away to Valhalla and leaving behind his short life caused a sudden burst of energy to shoot through the young child. He wasn't going to die without a fight. He was a Viking! And as such, he would never die dishonorably!
"I'm a Viking..." Hiccup mumbled incoherently. "I…I'm a Viking…" The dragon ignored him. "I-...I..." He swallowed his blood and yelled with flourish, "I AM A VIKING!"
When the dragon reared back on its hind legs, prepared to slam both of its heavy paws onto his exposed ribcage, Hiccup used the adrenaline rush to flip over onto his stomach, narrowly avoid the dragon's paws slamming onto him, and speed crawl across the grass, despite the terrible, raw pain inflicting his being.
He didn't get far, of course. His unresponsive right shoulder dragged uselessly at his side, and he was using the entire left side of his body to push himself along the moist grass. But he didn't care. He needed to get away. He didn't know how, or where, but instinctual survival drive urged him to escape, so he kept crawling. He couldn't let the dragon win.
The Nightfury snarled and pounced, pinning the poor child on his stomach, causing the pain to intensify even more so. That's when Hiccup lost his bout of bravery and acceptance of an awaiting painful death.
"NO!" He screamed when the Nightfury bit into his other shoulder, tearing for all its worth. "GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GOBBER HELP ME HELP HELP HELP DAD HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME-" *crunch* "...H...H...Help..." Surely, someone would hear him, right. With how loud he was carrying on, one would think that Odin himself would jolt.
The dragon's paw slammed his face into the ground, effectively muffling his screams of pain and anguish. He squirmed as much as he could in protest. If he were going to die here, he would die fighting. He would go down, yes, crying for help, but he would protest until the very end to maintain a hold on what little shred of dignity remained in his mind. People would see that there was a struggle, he foggily confirmed. A large trail of blood to point Ä to point Į would prove it.
But as time wore on, and the amount of bloodshed increased, Hiccup began to drift away.
The boy coughed blood as his face was released. He was too disoriented to focus his emerald eyes and watch the liquid splatter. He was too far-gone at that point to cry out as the furious reptile sunk its teeth into his back and tore out chunks of human meat. The dragon, the Viking realized, must have destroyed many nerves during his attack, because the pain was almost fading away.
"Well," Hiccup thought tiredly, laying his head on one side. "I suppose this is it for me."
He couldn't imagine a worse death than this-being torn to bits by the enemy. But... But... His journal... The ropes... They would find out, he realized with relief. They would know that he DID capture the Nightfury, although he had been killed in the process of setting it free. He would have chuckled and shake his head if he could. How stupid it seemed now, that he once thought dragons had a conscious, or had feelings like humans. They were incapable of mercy, or pity.
"I don't wanna die..."
But now his father... His father would miss him to be sure... But now he had a reason to be proud of his son. Of the effort his son exerted to find a dragon and kill it. Now he could be prideful... Hiccup smiled a bit at that. He would die with honor and his soul would drift to Valhalla.
"A dragon will always...always...go for the kill."
Well... At least now he could be with his mother.
Hiccup closed his eyes and waited quietly until the dragon finally finished him off by sinking its teeth into his slim neck, destroying any traces of life left within him.
...
"..."
...
..."HICCUP!?"
Hidden in the brush, the Nightfury watched with interest as the human Alpha bowed over his offspring's mutilated body, wailing and sobbing and begging the Gods to bring back his son.
(I might write an alternate ending in which Hiccup survives the ordeal)
And HERE IT IS! :D
The amount of terror and rage consuming Stoick's mind when he saw that beast tearing at his son was astounding. With a crazed battle-cry that the Gods themselves would eulogize, he barreled forward, brandishing his trusty axe above his head.
The next few moments were obscure and rushed; he felt nothing, he heard nothing, saw nothing. The trees and the brush disappeared into a misty glaze and all that mattered was the monster that was trying to make a meal out of his only son.
Stoick screamed with rage, chopping and hacking mercilessly at the hissing lizard before him. His lips pulled back into a snarl and his nostrils flared. How dare this cursed beast harm his son?! How dare lay a claw-!?
Eventually, Stoick didn't care if he had fatally wounded the dragon or not; he only wanted the thing as far away from his son as he could force it, and if it finally gave up and retreated, his only priority was getting his son back to the village and receiving much needed help.
The Nightfury drew back in anger and snarled. He was so close! So close! The alpha's offspring would have made a hearty meal (despite the abundance of bones and lack of meat) that he wouldn't have needed to bestow to his OWN alpha to consume. Which reminded him...
The dragon swiped an injurious paw at the burly human in resistance, but ultimately decided that returning back to the nest was far more important than dealing with this burly human, even if he WAS the alpha of the human pack. With a final roar, the dragon retreated, hightailing it back to the woods behind him and away from the gruesome scene that he had created.
Stoick watched with satisfaction and heaved a large stone in the general direction in which the dragon had fled-with resounding boldness.
"BEGONE YEH DEVIL!" He bellowed with burning hatred. "BE OFF WITH YE!" His arms fell to his side and he panted.
The Chief had succeeded. Now there was the matter of his son, who lay unresponsive, still awaiting his imminent demise.
"Hiccup!" Stoick cried hoarsely, terror layering the earlier triumph as he rushed toward the mangled boy, which twitched in a pool of its own life essence.
It was a retched sight, and it was all the Chief could do to constrain the bile as he carefully lifted the torn body from the blood-stained grass and into his arms. It was then that he quickly observed his son's critical state and realized that if he didn't get back to the village fast enough, the male wouldn't make it.
Seconds later, he was off.
Stoick crashed through every obstacle in his path: brambles, shrubs, branches, fallen trees, you name it. Nothing could stand in his way when he was determined to preserve what little life his child possessed. At his speed, it wasn't long before he reached the town plaza.
"GET TH' HEALER!" He barked, his eyes wild. The surrounding villagers looked up from their daily tasks and upon taking in the sight of the marred body in Stoick's arms, they gasped.
The devastated father's eye twitched and he couldn't contain the note of desperation in his voice as he shouted again, "Are yeh stupid?! I SAID T' GET CLAUSÉ! NOW!"
"Aye, Chief!" A local shepherd named Gunnar responded to the man and scurried away as quick as he could.
Stoick followed the shepherd, making quick glances at his son to make sure he was still breathing. He was. Short, weak little inhales and exhales. Disoriented he was, drifting in and out of consciousness, the shock of the attack dimming his abnormally dull senses.
"C'mon, Son, stay weth me," Stoick desperately beseeched, taking note of the paleness of his son's face. He was losing more blood than one of his physique should; the palettes of his skin were fading away quite quickly. He held the limp body close and rushed up a nearby hill to enter the healer's home.
He felt sick. Sick as unfamiliar hands grabbed at his son and tore him out of his hands. Sick as he stared at his hands, which were now coated in the blood of his child. Sick as they shooed him out of the healer's place and concealed the boy from his view. Sick as he collapsed to his knees, internally cursing himself for not keeping a better eye on his child, for not getting it into the boy's head that he didn't WANT his son to be a dragon killer, because then something like this would happen and... And now he might die.
Sick as tears eventually broke through his mental barriers and streamed down his rugged face.
"..."
The last thing Hiccup remembered before nodding off was his father's screams of terror and rage, the dragon's teeth closing in around his throat to deliver the fatal bite, and the numbness that completely overtook his senses. After that, the dark took him, and he knew no more.
...Until a few days later, when he at last awoke from his hazy sleep, bandaged from head to toe, apothecary drugs coursing through his veins that made him sluggish and drowsy, colors before his eyes swirling together and noises droning on and on...
After the glow of firelight, the first things he came to process were the warm wool blankets layering his body. His rekindled instinctual drive urged him to move, but after a few tries, the most his sluggish body could accomplish was a mere centimeter of distance without paining itself.
Speaking of pain, a good sharp dose of it immediately overwhelmed his shoulder area and collarbone. This was caused by the movement of Hiccup attempting to lift his head off the pillow to try and see what was transpiring.
After a few more failed attempts at swiveling his head, Hiccup flickered his emerald, bloodshot eyes to his left, where he found his vast father sleeping at his side, hunched over the bed with his face buried in his arms. His helmet was discarded. Where, Hiccup didn't know, because he couldn't sit up to take a look.
Closing his eyes, Hiccup tried to recall earlier events that may provide evident reasoning as to why he couldn't move without it hurting and why his father was sleeping by his side. Not that he didn't appreciate it of course, or find it touching, because...well...
Oh. Hiccup abruptly paled, all hue and peace draining away from his being as the memories at last fell into place.
The dragon. There was- There were-!
Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, only for them to pop open once more because the darkness he saw resembled the scales of the Nightfury, but images flashed before his open eyes regardless.
Razor sharp teeth shredding his shoulder- Claws raking his chest-! Those...Those terrible jade eyes that emitting one single entity:
Hatred.
When a thick layer of anxiety shot abruptly through his spine, Hiccup opened his mouth to cry out to his father, only to discover with augmenting horror he couldn't assemble his voice. When only a hitched gasp escaped the confines of his mouth, followed by a series of coughing that burned his throat and chest, he began to whimper hoarsely; nothing short of panicking.
Thankfully, Stoick came to, absolutely joyful at his son's awakening, but quickly took to a calm aura to soothe him. It was all he could to keep himself from picking up the boy and squeezing him in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Hiccup... It's alright, son. It's alright. Just calm down, just calm down."
The unusually calm tone in his father's voice miraculously soothed Hiccup's panicked nerves and he settled quickly.
"You're safe now. You're safe..."
He gasped, hoping his father could explain as to why he could not speak...and why he was alive...and where the dragon now resided.
Stoick smiled sadly at the sight of the prominent scarring on his boy's face. He found that his heart thumping tremendously, and he brushed a few strands of Hiccup's auburn back away from his wild eyes. "There was a mighty bit of damage t' yer throat," he explained quietly. Hiccup swallowed hard and winced at the raw ache, remembering how the dragon had slammed its paw into his jugular.
"Et might take time before yeh can speak properly again, but yeh'll be alright. Up and at 'em soon enough-Ah can promise yeh that."
Hiccup was very confused. Why was he still alive? Hadn't he been ripped to shreds? Shouldn't he be in Valhalla with his mother? What if his father had been brought down as well? Now that was a terrifying thought, and now that he thought about it, that did seem like a possibility. Scattered, unfocused images of his father fighting the Nightfury swirled about in his mind like a typhoon, and he was unable to make sense of it all.
He opened his mouth to speak once more, but was only able to emit a hoarse gasp. Stoick smiled with pity. "Ah'm sorry, Lad," he apologized. "If Ah could give up my status, my wealth, my life... to prevent yeh from going through that sort of torture again, I would in a heartbeat."
Hiccup's eyes widened. He tried with all his muster to question the man's statement, but all that came out was a squeak. His cheeks burning with embarrassment and fever, he discovered that he was in the loft. His room.
Hm. He suppose he hadn't died at all. Never in the scripts had it mentioned that one could be mute in Valhalla, among the banquet of heroes. Nor did it say the atmosphere could be so...dusty.
Stoick found it pitiful that his son's stubborn attempts to speak were failing. "How about yeh work on yer name," he suggested. "Start small. Begin weth yer name. Think yer up to it?"
Hiccup tried his very best to nod to show that he wasn't an entirely hopeless case, but the movement merely sent a sharp searing pain throughout the base of his neck. Oh well. "M..." He tried, swallowing rigidly. "M-...Muh..."
Stoick inhaled with anticipation and slight tension. "Mah name es...?" He trailed with a slow nod of encouragement.
"Muh...Muy...M-" Hiccup croaked and swallowed again. Please Gods. Please, please, please, he had to do this. "M-*hack*"
Sadly, he only made it that far, for soon he was coughing uncontrollably. The spasms pretty much erased any further implications that he would try constructing proper speech again anytime soon. He gazed wearily at Stoick, who sighed and shook his head.
Out of shame, Hiccup squeezed his tearful eyes shut, afraid to see the disappointment that was sure to override his father's complexion.
"It's alright," Stoick finally assured. Hiccup cautiously reopened his eyes to find his father smiling at him, which surprised him further. That of which was supposedly to be chastised had turned out to be reassurance. He was so sure that he was going to be frowned upon for his unintelligible dialect.
"We'll try again later when you've healed some," Stoick promised, but wasn't certain his son would...would be lucky enough to make it that far to try again. "Thirsty?"
Hiccup pursed his chapped lips together. He couldn't even nod, so how would he be able to communicate if he couldn't do so with his voice or body?
Stoick recognized his son's distress and helpfully offered, "Blink thrice for "yes" and twice for "no".
Hiccup rapidly fluttered his eyelids by the aforementioned "three" and Stoick nodded dutifully.
"I'll be back," he promised, and got up to leave the room, "...for sure."
For a few minutes it was silent, which gave Hiccup plenty of time to assess and imagine the extent of injuries the Nightfury had befallen upon his lithe form. It was then when he realized that he might not have been all in one piece, there on the bed.
To test out his appendages, he gave a small wriggle, gently enough to get some feeling back into his body without it hurting. To his relief, both of his legs were functional, albeit temporarily defective, torn, and raw. Still, they were functional, and that's all that mattered for the time being.
After breathing out a sigh of faint relief, he wearily recalled the matter of his shoulder and hands. Shuddering fearfully at the memories, he cringed. He knew that the aforementioned appendages had gotten the worst of it, and with the attack fresh in his mind; he feared that there were parts of him he would soon discover to be unusable. He was sure by that point that his entire body was littered with crude scars, etched and carved into his back and chest like a knife with a block of wood. He was certain that his form resembled that of a crudely sewn rag doll by the hands of a seven-year-old. Not to mention the raw ache that he was sure that any medication or herbs couldn't suppress stabbing his shoulder.
The sounds of feet thumping at the stairs brought Hiccup out of his worrisome stupor for the time being, and he felt his heart and mind calm again. Stoick had returned rather quickly for a man as burly as he with a mug of water in hand.
"Drink," he urged kindly, using the upmost gentleness to press the rim to his son's lips.
Hiccup complied gratefully and swallowed every last drop of cool fresh water within a matter of seconds to soothe the raw scratchiness in his throat. Stoick refrained from ordering him to slow it down some and seldom his enthusiasm, but he didn't feel right doing that then.
"Better?" He asked when the entire mug had been downed.
Hiccup gave a half smile in reply and blinked three times. Stoick faintly smiled back, his heart constricting.
"Ah suppose yer itching t' get some answers about what's been transpirin' around 'ere," he assumed, kneading his large fingers together.
Three more blinks.
"Alright." Stoick sat up in his stool, a small bout of silence blanketing the two. As far as one-sided conversations went, this should've been a walk in the park for the Chief, whose voice outmatched the rest, but when his son's piercing gaze plunged into his own, he found his throat dry.
Hiccup's half-smile faded, but he tried to speak out instead of blinking. He wanted to tell his father himself that he wasn't quite interested in hearing about his broken body. He was much rather interested in the fate and whereabouts of the Nightfury he had successfully (partially) downed. "...Drahhhh...? *cough* D-Drahhhgnnn?" He tried, praying that it was enough.
Thankfully, Stoick caught on, but his response wasn't up to par.
"Th' dragon?" He scowled, his fists clenching with hatred while his jade eyes gleamed. "I've got mah best trackers hunting it down. We should have it caged soon enough." He stopped and shook his head with despair. The last thing he wanted was to relive the moment when he saw his only child being eaten alive.
"W-When Ah saw what that thing was doin' t' you," he snarled, "Ah drove it deep int' a cove and it's been there since. Least that's what mah men 'ave reported. Reason why it can't fly away is 'cause yeh did a number on the tail fin with that contraption o' yers."
He paused again, letting the words sink in. "Hiccup," he said quietly, his voice wavering ever-so slightly, "When Ah saw what that beast was doing to you..." He stopped yet again, slapping his hands over his eyes, his entire body trembling. Hiccup watched, trembling a bit himself. He hadn't meant for his father to feel this despair.
"Ah had never been so terrified in mah life," the man murmured. "Ah felt the entire seven worlds collapse around me. Nothing existed, nothing mattered except for yeh." He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. "Ah wouldn't be able to forgive myself if...if...Ah lost yeh. And Ah can't lose yeh."
The quiet was deafening and Hiccup was sure he would die from the sadness, buried beneath it as it smothered his breath away.
"Ah can't lose yeh," Stoick tried to explain, glancing awkwardly away. He'd never been well with expressing how he felt, hence his name. "I TOLD yeh not to leave th' house... Ah'm not strong enough to...to-to live without mah family."
Hiccup sucked in a breath, feeling it reverberate through his sore chest, all while feeling the blood draining away from his face as he began to shudder. It was too much. All these...these sentimental statements masking the important issue: the dragon. He shuddered again, his complexion darkening with beginnings of something unexplainable in their society. Stoick caught the look and gazed on in worry, but Hiccup clenched his teeth.
He couldn't handle this. What made him think he could handle this? His mind was stumped at that, and broke a little. What?! He asked himself why, but he wasn't sure what was... Couldn't handle what?! He was a Viking; he was made to handle hardships! He wasn't sure what it was that was driving him mad, but all he knew was that he couldn't handle it he couldn't handle it he couldn't handle it he knew he couldn't handle the thought of the Nightfury alive, the effect his own death would have on his father...the Nightfury...the Nightfury...the Nightfury...ALIVE!
The man would be alone in the world, a result of Hiccup's own arrogance and that unholy devil. Hiccup growled and clenched his jaw, literally shaking as he tried his best to hold in his screams and tears of hatred and anguish. But the pressure became too much. He let out a hoarse cry.
Stoick immediately picked up on his boy's distress. "Hiccup?" He whispered. Oh, Thor. What was he doing to his poor child? "Hiccup, it's alright, it's alright..." He reached over to tenderly cup the boy's cheek in his palm, where several rivulets of tears made contact with his fingers.
He closed his eyes, wondering to what extent the dragon attack had damaged his son, not physically, but mentally. That cursed demon. It was its entire fault, destroying his child.
"It's over," he soothed. "It's over. It can't hurt yeh now. Not when Ah'm here. Ah'll keep yeh safe." Hiccup, still crying, leaned eagerly into the safety of his father's touch, absorbing the sweet security that came with him. Yes... His father would protect him. He always protected him. He cared. The Nightfury... The Nightfury wanted to kill him. His father. The teens. The children of the village.
Hiccup wanted to scream at his stupidity. He had let loose a killer. A killer! Exactly what had that thing been doing before he'd downed it?! Destroying everything! Causing mass destruction that even he was incapable of creating. It was madness, he realized, that he had let the Nightfury go.
...Hopefully his father had gotten a good few swings.
"I have to kill it," he thought, eyelids drooping with fatigue. "I...I need to do it...for everyone...for Dad...for...for myself."
...Hours later when Hiccup, finally overcome by the drugs and herbs, fell into a sluggish sleep, Stoick sat quietly. He didn't leave. He couldn't. How could he? An instinctual drive to protect his young surpassed all other matters and drove them into the back of his mind where they collected dust. The village could wait. Spitelout could finish documenting the accounts, Gobber would keep the forge running smoothly, and Silent Sven would take care of the herds. The dragons would just have to be fought off without him. Hiccup needed him more than anyone or anything, and by Freyja, he was going to be there.
He spent the remainder of the evening sitting quietly by his son's side, absentmindedly stroking his thick fingers through his auburn locks, wondering to himself how the boy was going to pull through. He had always been the fragile type, physically. But mentally? Hopefully that was a question he didn't have to answer.
"Chief Stoick?" A foreign voice whispered, long after the shadows in the room had lengthened and the light had adopted a rosy glow. The man who had remained by his son's side with an axe at the ready swiftly turned to meet the healer, Clausé, who was waiting nervously at the door. "Ah need to speak weeth zhou about your son's injuries."
Stoick grunted in response and followed him out the door. "How is he?" He asked blatantly. "Will he live? Tell me he will."
Clausé raised one shoulder and rand a bony hand through his aging, silvery hair. "At zis point," he admitted regretfully, "ze possibility of a fatal outcome eez steell very very high."
Stoick's gaze darkened. "...Ah see," he intoned.
"Ze boy's been torn to shreds," Clausé sadly pronounced. "We can't deny zat."
"No, we can't," Stoick agreed.
"Many nerves and tissue have been ripped from hiz hips and left thigh, hiz collar bone eez nearly dysfunctional, wheech may interfere wiz ze usability of ze arm...and as for hiz left hand..." Clausé paused and shook his head sorrowfully. "Well...you've seen it."
Stoick nodded slowly, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Aye, that Ah have."
"Ze dragon has taken chunks of flesh from ze lad's backside," Clausé went on. "He iz very prone to disease and infection, so ve're doing our very best to keep hiz wounds clean. ...And zhere vill be an abundance of permanent scars. Not t' mention that amputation of ze hand is very probable."
"Any good news?" Stoick growled flatly.
Clausé shook his head regretfully, almost guiltily. "None to speak of," he admitted. "Zhough, eef he iz lucky, he might be able to speak in a day o' two."
"...Loki's beard..." Stoick cursed under his breath, his hands aching to hit something, ANYTHING.
"He's een very bad shape, Chief Stoick," Clausé solemnly affirmed. "He may not be able to function properly again, EEF 'e makes eet out alive at all." Stoick's lip trembled at that, and he bit at it stubbornly. "And as for hiz mental state..." Clausé sucked in a breath and looked away.
"Bad," Stoick finished. He wasn't daft.
"Afraid so," Clausé sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But zhou ah're hiz fazher. You can help him. If zhere iz anyone who can heal hiz mind, eet iz zhou."
Stoick stiffened awkwardly. He had never been quite the sentient type parent, but a challenge called him to be. The challenge of stabilizing his child's broken mentality. He had to do it. For his son. Without him, the road to recovery would most definitely take a wrong turn and bellyflop off the face of a cliff.
With that in mind, Stoick cleared his throat and gave the healer a determined nod. "Yer absolutely right. Ah'll be there for him."
Clausé smiled sadly and patted the other Viking's shoulder. "I feel for zhou, Chief. I can't imagine ze hardships of watching zhour child go through zis pain."
Stoick shook his head uneasily and rubbed at his brow. "Ah can't lessen the pain," he murmured, and then chuckled weakly. "Ah think that's the hardest part: that Ah can't make et better."
Clausé smiled sadly and ushered the man back toward the door. "He needs you right now," the older man gently pronounced. "Go."
Stoick complied and entered the room, albeit hesitantly, of his injured son, who immediately perked at his return. Clausé followed suit of the Chief, smiling warmly.
"Hallo, Lad," he greeted. "Eet's good t' see you awake."
Hiccup smiled a little in return and lifted his chin, exposing his badly bruised throat. Stoick cringed and cast his eyes away, despite seeing harsher in battle. The effect a child could have on his father was tremendously underrated in his own opinion.
Clausé knelt at Hiccup's side and said, "Now, I'm going to feel a bit, so if eet hurts, just let me know."
Hiccup wondered how on Berk he was going to let the healer know if he was getting hurt if he couldn't speak, but when Clausé pressed a single finger against his jugular-
"ECH!" Hiccup hissed, his breath hitching hoarsely. He struggled a bit in protest as the finger moved, this time at the base of his neck, near his collarbone. There, it hurt terribly, and he was sure that if tears weren't streaming down his face before, they were now.
Clausé tsked and maneuvered his hand to Hiccup's cheekbone, bruised from the battering of the Nightfury's paw, and pressed.
Hiccup clenched his jaw, ignoring the ache, and TRYING to ignore the sting. He couldn't turn his head; it would just hurt more.
When the hand traveled to his shoulder, Hiccup's world went white and he knew no more. He wasn't sure if had screamed or blacked out, but when he came to, his father was shouting at the healer and shoving him out the door.
The poor healer was apologizing profusely, that he just hit a bad nerve and that he hadn't meant it. Stoick slammed the door with resounding flourish and rushed back to Hiccup's side.
"Son? Hiccup? HICCUP?" He shouted, gripping his boy's uninjured right hand. "Can yeh hear me?! ANSWER ME! ANSWER-! ...Oh, right. Ye can't speak." He awkwardly released the younger Viking's hand and took a seat, but his anger was far from gone.
"That fool," he cursed, shaking his head angrily. "Ah can't imagine WHAT that simpleton was trying to accomplish, but if he ever tries something like that again-!" He looked at his son, who was straining to regain some sort of numbness. "Does it still hurt?"
Through the pain, Hiccup somehow managed to focus his bloodshot eyes on his father and blink three times.
Stoick slumped and rubbed a hand over the space between his eyes after absorbing just how many bandages had to be plastered on the boy's body. How...even with all of that...was the blood seeping through? He couldn't even imagine... The worst he'd ever gotten in a raid was a 3rd-degree burn to the arm and the back of the leg...and that was painful! But none so painful as the agony his son was surely experiencing.
"I'm-I'm so sorry."
Hiccup blinked, his emerald eyes smarting.
"For everything," Stoick muttered. "For not listening. For-For not protecting ye as Ah should have. For not-For not..." He trailed off and sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "For not being there when Ah should have been. When yeh needed me most." When he looked back up, Hiccup was shocked to see that his eyes were wet and runny.
"You were right about the Nightfury, about taking it down. If only you hadn't-!" He stopped. It wasn't any good to start blaming him now. He could only blame himself.
Hiccup miserably shut his eyes. He couldn't deny that he would have been spared this fate if he had listened to his father, but if his father had listened to HIM...would they had been alive and breathing by the end of it? And why was it that he had to be fatally injured in order for his father to see that?
"And now, with the state you're in," Stoick rambled. "Ah just-" He clamped a hand over his mouth and trembled. Hiccup watched incredulously as his powerful, daunting father crumbled before him, but it wasn't long before Stoick corrected himself, albeit tearfully. He cleared his throat.
"Th'-Th' healer informed me of the extent of injuries yeh've got. Would yeh like to hear...or...?"
Hiccup blinked twice, his good fingers curling.
"Ah. Alright then," Stoick absently dismissed. There wasn't much communication after that, considering that one of the participants was mute, but Stoick remained nonetheless. Even when Hiccup succumbed to exhaustion once more, he stayed, guarding his child throughout the night.
Sometime through the night, he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.
...
"Stoick? Stoick! Wake up!" A voice gently whispered in his ear. The man jolted awake, his hand instinctively clutching his axe at hand. He only relaxed when he realized that it was only Gobber awakening him from his slumber.
"Gobber!" The chief breathed, stealing a glance at his son, who was still out-cold. "Yeh nearly gave me a heart-attack! Don't yeh know it's dangerous to wake me up?!"
Gobber didn't answer at first. He looked very uncomfortable, and it confused Stoick. "What is it, Gobber? What's wrong?"
"Em... Well, Stoick," the other man began awkwardly. "Ah've got a message for ye. F-From th' healer."
Stoick's eyes narrowed. "What does he want?"
Gobber rocked back and forth on his heel and prosthetic, looking as skittish as ever. "Wellll... Ah-Ah personally wanted t' tell yeh; not just because Clausé is scared t' death of yeh now, but because Ah love Hiccup just as much as you do. And well, Ah figured that news this big should be delivered and discussed between honorary family members-"
Stoick held up a hand to silence Gobber. "Just. Tell. Me."
Gobber shook his head to clear and got to the point. "A-Anyway, Gothi and Clausé are outside with their assistants. They're here to, em...perform an amputation."
Stoick took a start. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "What?"
Gobber sighed sadly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "An amputation. Ah'm just as shocked as yeh are, Stoick."
"Can't we let him heal for a few more days?"
"Well-We can't. He's developing an infection in his left hand-" Stoick closed his eyes. "-We can't let it spread."
"..." How could this be happening? "Yeh think it's wise to cut off an appendage when he's unconscious from th' loss of blood as it is?!"
Gobber gave him a look. "Now, Chief, it's not what I think is right. It's what Clausé thinks is right. Not t' throw him under the wagon er anything."
"..."
"Yeh alright?"
Stoick shook his head but tried to maintain an intoned expression. "Let 'em in," he muttered tonelessly, heading back into his son's room. Gobber sighed and wiped his weary eyes.
"Aye, Chief," he responded, his gruff voice cracking tremendously. "Ah'll-Ah'll just, yeah... Ah'll go do that."
Stoick didn't watch as Gobber exited the loft. He could hear the door open and the cluster of hushed, muffled voices enter the quiet atmosphere. He stood rigidly and walked to the top of the stairs to acknowledge the healers.
"Chief Stoick," Clausé began, clasping his hands together worriedly. "V-Ve have come to-"
Stoick said nothing and beckoned them all upstairs. "Do yeh want me t' move him?" He intoned, locking his eyes on the motionless figure on the small bed. Gothi, who reached the top of the stairs, shook her head and bopped Stoick's side with her staff when he grumbled.
"Zat won't be necessary, Chief," Clausé wearily assured the man. "Ve'll spare you ze trouble. Now ef...ef zhou could please vacate ze premises...?"
Stoick whipped his head around to glower at the healer. "Ah'm not leaving him."
"Chief..." Clausé trailed, extending a hand while Gothi gave the man a hard look.
"Ah'm not," Stoick insisted, drawing himself up as if he were afraid that they were going to physically force him out.
"Stoick!" Gobber tried.
"Don't try and make me!" He snarled when a gentle hand graced his shoulder.
"Stoick..." It was Gobber, the only person who was capable of ushering the stricken man from the room. "Et's alright," he soothed. "Et's alright. Your boy is strong. He'll be just fine in the end. Ye'll see!"
"B-But Gobber!" Stoick protested, looking on in horror as the group of people closed in around his son. He finished with a hiss, "Yeh don't really think Ah'm just going to sit by and let them-?"
"Ah don't," Gobber interrupted him with assurance and a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Because Ah'll be there with yeh. They need t' concentrate on what they're doin'. Ye don't want them to get distracted and for something to go wrong, ey?"
Stoick opened his mouth to protest yet again, but the thought of his presence causing a fatal mistake surpassed his stubbornness. He did not want to be the cause if his son were to forego any more agony.
"...Alright," he muttered, ducking his head to obscure his face from the other man's view as he shuffled down the stairs. "But Ah want yeh t' stay up there, Gobber. Make sure nothing goes wrong. D-Don't leave him!"
The blacksmith smiled sympathetically. "Wouldn't dream of et, Stoick."
Not entirely placated, the skittish man lumbered to the hearth and began to tend to it in a nervous bout of anxiety. Not only did he have an audible view of the surgical procedure, but… He shut his eyes.
"Please… Odin, don't take him from me yet. Not yet."
...