A/N: Co-written on Tumblr by thefellowshipofthedragonmark, historyrepeatsitself, httydbooks-doodler, wordofatreacherous, ishnergthegnome, eggingarde-the-scary, fangirling1998, and books-are-like-dragons (that's me).
"I say NO!" cried Dragonmark, red in the face, shaking her fist. "The unhappy memory of Hiccup's toe should be left forgotten, just as every single unhappy trigger in this fandom should be left forgotten!"
All around, the fangirls were murmuring to each other like an unhappy sea.
The Rogue Dragon smiled. "You poor fangirls, but I'm afraid that the toe must go on."
All around a murmur of terror went up from the sea of fangirls. "Not the toe. Not the toe."
Dragonmark looked in fury upon the Rogue Dragon, History that stood before her. "How dare you remind us of the toe. How dare you bring such darkness into this fandom."
History merely smiled, her lips curling upward in a pleasure at what had been accomplished. "The Toe Revolt has begun."
That was the moment Dragonmark took on her destiny.
She lifted her drooping head.
"I will NEVER give up fighting you even though it is too late . . . Even though all is lost . . . Even though it is impossible . . . Never never never . . ."
And then she sprang.
History laughed and rolled her eyes, ducking away from Dragonmark's swipe. "The clock is ticking upon your destiny," she whispered, her eyes flashing red, "and even a warrior such as yourself cannot stop it.
"The Toe Revolt is here."
Dragonmark calmly gazed ahead.
"No," she cried, "all is not yet lost!"
Drawing her sword, the mighty Endeavour, she advanced.
"I will NOT let you haunt us with the memory of our Hero's sacrifice! History, I challenge you to a DUEL!" shouted Dragonmark.
"I ACCEPT YOUR DUEL!" roared History. "MAY THE GREAT TOE REVOLT CARRY ON VICTORIOUS!"
Dragonmark flourished her sword. "So be it."
Henceforth begins the chronicle of the Great Duel of 2016, wherein the brave and noble warrior Dragonmark, descendant of the great Hiccup Horrendous Haddock himself, along with her friend Treacherous, loyal and true, stood against the dreaded History and her terrible partner in crime, Doodler.
Drawing the mighty sword of her forebears, the Endeavour, Dragonmark faced the traitorous rebels, who were trying to haunt the fandom with memories of How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel, Chapter 23, and the terrible sacrifice made by her own ancestor.
"I hope you are ready!" the adventuress cried. "For this will be a battle of skill and of wit, and we are determined to put an end to your evil ways — once and for all!"
History smirked. "LET IT BEGIN!"
Both warriors raised their swords in preparation for the battle. Nearby, a crowd gathered, a hum filling the still, cold air. The two blades hung in the air for a moment, the setting sun glinting off them as they readied themselves to deliver the first blow.
A cool dawn air raked the sky, blowing back the hair of the two soldiers.
There was a pause, and though it only lasted a second, it seemed an eternity to the watching crowd. And then, as suddenly as it had began, the pause ended and the sound of steel on steel rang crisp and clear through the night air.
The battle had begun.
As the fight developed, Dragonmark began to speak. Both warriors knew that this battle was not just in their swords, but in their skills of persuasion. Both wanted this. Both needed this.
"Fandom!" cried Dragonmark. "Have we not suffered enough? Have we not faced enough angst? My noble ancestor gave his everything to stop the rebellion in his lifetime. These two traitors cannot be allowed to bring Chapter 23 into our minds and hearts, not when so much has already been faced and fought for!"
From the sidelines where the fandom watched attentively, Doodler cackled.
"Movie!Hiccup lost his foot!" Doodler called derisively, "And everyone makes jokes about it!"
"And for that," Dragonmark said sadly, "I am sorry. Yet are we not, book fandom, accustomed to even more angst and sadness than even HTTYD 2 could bring? Have we not dealt with such sadness as Snotlout? As the Torture Scene? As the entire series past Book Nine?
"One more little event is too much. Much too much."
The blades rang clear. Treacherous spoke for the audience.
"We have faced too much. We have faced too much."
On all sides, the fandom looked down, the memories of Book Eleven threatening to engulf them. Something flickered even in the faces of History and Doodler, but the fight pressed on.
Doodler parried the blow and had the nerve to toss her hair proudly.
"You wouldn't understand the EXHILARATION I feel when that happens. The more the character suffers and overcomes their hardships, the more greater they become. And the more I LOVE them. If Snotlout hadn't died, would Book Eleven have been so amazing? In fact, I believe that all this pain is what's keeping all of you here in the first place. "
She smiled, looking amused, bending forward towards Dragonmark, while pushing her sword against hers. "How IRONIC is it that you try to conceal all that. Admit it, you love this as much as I do. Aren't we all Dragonmarkers, in the end?"
"You're evil!" Dragonmark spat. "It may be true that the angst feeds us, but it also kills us! How DARE you speak of Snotlout's sacrifice that way!"
Fuelled by the harsh words, Dragonmark fought ever harder.
History smiled as a hint of exhaustion flickered across Dragonmark's face. Doodler's words had struck home.
"Admit it, Dragonmark, there is no happiness without pain. No light without dark. No fluff without angst." History whispered, light flickered through her eyes.
"We are all Dragonmarkers in the end." Doodler repeated.
"Don't let them get to you, Dragonmark!" came Treacherous's voice from the audience. "Did Hiccup, our greatest hero, not suffer enough? Are these people not satisfied with the pain and loss already explained in detail in these books, or must we exploit his missing toe too? Assembled people of the fandom, must we insult the memory of our great hero by continually discussing the untimely and humiliating loss of his toe?"
The crowd (and by crowd I mean our smol fandom) gasped in delight at the scene. Surely this would be a battle for the songs! The valiant Dragonmarker against the notion that, perhaps, the readers enjoyed pain? Even craved it?
Pushing her way out of SWR feels, a lone Wanderer came forward.
"Stop this!" she cried, but she had never really been good at talking to real live people and came across very quiet.
So she tried again, because that is what you do when you see trouble.
"We as Dragonmarkers have a duty!" she addressed the small yet very interested group of fans. "We have sworn to make this world a better place, so that still someday the dragons might return. Is that not so?"
The brave words of Treacherous and the Wanderer gave new life to Dragonmark's weary body. Endeavour was strong in her hand, the memory of her ancestor and all he had cherished driving her forwards.
"I will not forsake my hero, Hiccup. I will NOT let you exploit his pain! You can do what you like to me, Doodler and History, but I WILL NOT STOP FIGHTING FOR HIM!"
"Soon, you will find that pain is what builds a hero, Dragonmark," History murmured as she blocked Dragonmark's vicious thrust. "Are we, a small but fierce fandom, to ignore our Hero's pain? To pretend he was nothing but victorious? Pain and loss are what truely tests a Hero, Dragonmark. The Toe Revolt shall live on."
Dragonmark heard the threats in her enemies' voices. She battled on, however, for nothing they threatened her with would change her mind.
"Yes," she said softly. "Pain builds a Hero. Yet we do not celebrate the pain. We celebrate the Hero that Hiccup became. We acknowledge the pain that he faced, for that is how we appreciate his sacrifice. Yet we are sorry for it, and focus on the good, the victory, to drive us forward, to remind ourselves of what we are fighting for, to motivate us and change the world!"
Camicazi stepped out of the crowd, and gasps came from all around. (Cause, you know, she's like 3000 years old, but she still looks like a 12 year old girl.)
"You two fuck heads better stop fighting, or I'll kick all your butts. Ages ago, Hiccup had to stop a war between the dragons and the humans. Either side could have destroyed the other in a second, but Hiccup stopped them both. Would you really destroy the legacy of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, all over his smallest toe (or rather his lack of such)? His memory deserves better than this, History, but for you, Dragonmark, should you really taint the memory of a peacemaker with hatred and war?"
"This is not war."
Dragonmark stepped forward.
"This is no war, at least not one I have started. This is a DUEL, to end the Great Toe Rebellion.
"It is them who have inflamed the situation!" she yelled passionately. "I am doing what my great ancestor and Hero did so many times. I am trying to stop a violent rebellion full of fear and angst from the terrible mention of Chapter 23!"
Dragonmark parried each of her enemy's thrusts. "If I have made a mistake, then I have made a mistake — but it will not be from tainting my Hero's memory! I am doing what he did so many times in his life with the very sword I now hold! I only want what's best for my Hero. I am trying to stop these traitors from haunting us with his pain! I do not want violence, but that was the only option left to me. I would be happy to bargain with these traitors, if only they would listen!"
History kept fighting as she contemplated whether or not to stop the Duel.
A new person stepped forward, a girl, and she held out her arms when she started to talk:
"Where are you going with this? What is the point with all this anger? Ain't we supposed to be on the same side? Same fandom?!"
She looked on those who had already picked a side.
Dragonmark sighed. "You are right, of course. But the Toe was forbidden to speak of, and I felt betrayed on behalf of my ancestor! We are all mad fans here! We all know the feeling of obsessive protective anger. If History and Doodler will come to an agreement with me, I would have peace. Please, break your silence!"
For minutes that seemed to stretch into eternities, the Warriors stood in silence. But it was more than simply an absence of sound. The wind whistled through the battlefield stained not by blood but by words, the words of friends turned strangers and strangers turned enemies. And this one sound, this lone song of the skies, made the silence a thousand times more suffocating. It choked the Dragonmarkers, and no one was brave enough to speak and break the deathly silence.
In the end, the decision was made for them.
Faster than lightning, a bolt of flame sent from the sky incinerated the bracken, a mere metre from where History stood. A single scream finally rang out from the small (but mighty) crowd, and the sanctity of silence was broken. A little girl screamed, pointing up at the sky with one shaky finger. An ear-shattering note that seemed to sustain forever.
For in the sky, previously hidden among the clouds, were dragons.
But they were no ordinary dragons. Ordinary dragons did not have scales made of ink. They did not fly on three hundred wings of paper.
There were twelve of them, now raining down bolts of fire with a fury, and the crowd scattered. Even the fearless Doodler leapt onto her riding-dragon and took flight. Within minutes, only Dragonmark was left, standing alone on the battlefield.
The odd-looking dragons turned, in formation, so that Dragonmark could see the design on their spines and the backs of their wings. The realization spread like ice water to her very toes.
"They're books," she whispered. "The twelve books. And they're attacking us."
History flew higher and higher into the now jet black sky. The twelve books loomed, menacing, over the small warrior and her dark purple riding-dragon, Vengeance.
The books hovered in the still night air, the only breeze created by their great flapping wings. A gasp escaped her as she gazed up in the great amber eye of the twelfth book.
The eye was so large it looked as if it alone could blot out the very sun. The eye shone with fear and courage, but also with intelligence. It was easy to see that the twelfth book was the wisest of the group; its great, all-knowing eyes did not compare to the large innocent blue ones of the first book. Nor with the meek purple of the seventh.
History knew she was dealing with a warrior, a hero. She knew that she was dealing with a fighter when she gazed into its amber eyes.
And this fight would not be won easily.
Down on the ground below, one book fluttered away from the rest, down to where Dragonmark still stood alone, a silent, solemn figure. Her loyal riding-dragon, the Fire Dancer, beckoned at her to come, but she stayed still and did not move.
She knew the books had come, and she knew she had to listen, no matter how dangerous that might be.
The book fluttered down to the ground, and the sun glanced onto a winking amber jewel.
Up in the skies, there was chaos. Dragonmark could just about make out the silhouette of How to Fight a Dragon's Fury looming over History, while How to Betray a Dragon's Hero closed on Doodler.
They're going to fight them over their enjoyment and exploitation of the angst! she realised. They're going to expose them again to what they have stirred up, and teach them! They're going to make them read all of the most painful parts until they admit to how it affects them!
Dragonmark turned her head to where How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel was now advancing. Fire Dancer was shrieking for her to leave, but she knew what had to be done, and when the book began to open, like a sinister gate into dark knowledge, she began to count.
One . . . two . . . three . . .
All the way to Chapter Twenty Two she counted, until finally, the last page turned.
Chapter Twenty Three: Some Dragons Really Are Monsters.
Chapter Twenty Three. Chapter of the Toe.
She would have to read it, and confront the sacrifice, once and for all. Only then would the book leave her and the peril end.
After all, some dragons really are monsters, as the book had so helpfully reminded her . . .
. . . and books are like dragons.
The crowd gaped upwards. This was more than they had hoped for, more than they had ever expected. These books weren't dragons but they were alive. They were living and breathing and had consequences on things around them. It was beautiful. And this is what they loved in the end; not the angst, nor the heroics, but the beauty. They love the beautiful characters who seemed to jump into life. They loved the beauty of adventure, people who valued bravery above all else. They loved the hands of destiny upon the events of the world, and the radiant creatures they had never seen with their own eyes. And I think, above all else, they loved the beautiful thought that maybe, someday, the world would be a better place. As the great dragons descended, the crowd started to sing.
The song that the crowd began to sing, softly, subtly, yet still with passion, was one that all of the Dragonmarkers knew. It steadied Dragonmark's shaking hands as she traced the sentences of Chapter Twenty Three. It was painful to read, to remember, to imagine her ancestor's terror and pain as he let himself be swallowed by the terrible monster. But inspired by the crowd's words, she read on.
Up above, History and Doodler heard the song too. They stopped, and sighed, and they read.
"THE HERO CARES NOT FOR A WILD WINTER'S STORM
FOR IT CARRIES HIM SWIFT ON THE BACK OF THE WAVE
ALL MAY BE LOST AND OUR HEARTS MAY BE WORN . . .
BUT A HERO . . . FIGHTS . . . FOREVER!"
The crowd was singing straight to the hearts of the warriors.
And these words, these wonderful, beautiful words, made all the difference.
Dragonmark read the vital sentences which had flamed so many hearts. And she laughed. For as the song said, every Hero faced pain, but it was the facing and fighting and defeating of this that mattered.
And it was the fighting together, for each other, that held each other strong.
And at least it hadn't been Hiccup's head that was the scraggly little pink worm.
History and Doodler, up above, were hit with the angst of the stories. But the books would have smiled, if they could, because now the warriors realised that the only way to survive the angst was not to exploit it, to haunt others with it, but to survive it together.
They were all Dragonmarkers in the end.
The books closed their covers. They had done their part, and as quickly as they had come, they disappeared into the evening sky.
History and Doodler skidded down to the ground. The crowd was silent now, and the three warriors faced each other.
"I am sorry," Dragonmark began. "I was wrong to let my anger consume me and bring violence to our fandom."
"And I am sorry too," said History firmly.
Doodler nodded in agreement.
Dragonmark smiled and extended her hand. She shook the hand of first Doodler, and then History, for she loved them both very dearly in the end.
And . . .
If it doesn't end well, then it isn't the end.