The final battle had killed them all.
He could remember all too clearly the pain, the phantom stabbing in his heart.
His mother, torn apart protecting a youngling dragon.
His father taking the blow meant for him, leaving them all alone after they had only just started being like a family.
His friends incinerated as they tried to help, their sacrifice all for nought.
And Astrid? Oh his sweet, sweet Astrid, shot down on Stormfly, falling into the icy waters, his name on her lips, crying out for help, something. But he couldn't reach her. A few bubbles, and a dark stain were her only grave markings, and then all traces passed forever, with only fishes to eat her flesh.
After that, his memories all blurred into a red-tinged, rage-fuelled scream, the feeling of blood on his face, bone beneath his hands, and scales all meshed together into an unholy night terror. Then, nothingness, until he woke up next to Toothless. The dragon had curled around him, hugging him, keeping him warm, for they were still on this Thor-saken ice floe. The loss only properly hit him then, as he looked around, searching for any other survivors. It was only him and Toothless left.
That night he bawled like a babe, sobbing his loss, the tears freezing as the travelled down his cheek. And Toothless still held him close, making deep rumbling noises in his throat that if could've understood them, he was sure they would say 'I'm sorry'. Say 'it wasn't your fault'. Say 'I'm here for you'. For Thor knows how long they stayed like that, until the need to piss and eat overcame Him. They left soon after. If they had stayed a day longer, search parties from the other tribes would've reached them, telling them that Berk wasn't lost, that a handful of survivors and made it, huddled deep in the rock, hidden from the noses and the flames of dragons. But they didn't.
The last of the Hairy Hooligans were absorbed into the other tribes, and eventually forgotten to the cruel hand of time by the far, far north, only appearing in dusty scrolls, half-finished treatsies and abandoned manuscripts. But that is another story. Dear reader, the tale before you is of how Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third lived.
In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with worms and an oozy smell…
His journey with Toothless took them over the sea, far south, farther than he'd ever been before. Sheets of ice stretched out before them for days. If it snowed, they flew up above the clouds. Fish was their only meal, catching it as they flew. Neither of them spoke a word for what felt like an age. Occasionally he forgot how to speak, but the memories of his family, his friends, his people brought it back with an aching sorrow. Sometimes Hiccup would cry silently, but on they went, blinded by loss and pain. He recorded it all down in his note book (That had by some miracle survived) as best as possible, writing miniscule shorthand notes on every surface, until the paper ran out. Hiccups' hair matted form lack of care, but always he redid Astrid's plaits. They were all he had left. That and Toothless, his stalwart companion. They flew on, and on and on, until flying became the only thing that seemed real anymore, the only colours in the world white, blue, and black.
The ice eventually became an iron grey sea, the air warmer. Hardly any dragons were visible now, and the ones that were, were tiny wretched beasts, devoid of any intelligence, even less so than the Terrible Terrors of Berk.
He stopped and he could hear, when he listened hard, drops drip-drip-dripping from an unseen roof into the water below…
When land eventually made itself known, they hadn't seen a dragon for days. The air also smelt different. Less salty, less sheep, and the scent of dragon was entirely gone. It was then that they saw the land, a vast, vast wave of a land, like nothing they had ever seen before, reaching out further than the eye could see, swallowing the horizon in the great maw of the mountains, reaching up, up into the sky. That night they had a celebration of sorts, quietly though. For the first time since the start of their journey, Hiccup slept and didn't wake screaming.
xxx
AN: Don't shoot meh *Holds up hand pathetically* okay, I haven't updated, yet only spewed more crap at you. I really am sorry. I hope to write some more soonish, but on January I have two english exams, besides the final deadline for my art coursework. I should probably be doing that now actually. Any mistakes in the lore, grammar, spelling, feel free to yell at me. I hope you all had a very merry Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Saturnalia, Yule, obscure hipsterish festival, whatever. I just wish you a good 2015.
~The Cat (What did that)
