NorseWorld

Part 1: The Dawn

The longboat carrying the newest batch of the park's guests bobbed closer and closer towards Berk, and already the carnage they were seeking could be seen in its full force. Columns of fire rained down as the monsters of myth inflicted their vengeful desires, whilst the war cries of the unyielding inhabitants were as rough as the waves carrying the newcomers closer. Steadily, the boat creeped towards the pier, drawing out the suspense, and most of the breath in Hiccup's lungs in the process. All he could do was close his eyes and tell himself the simple truth, none of this can hurt me, this isn't the real world.

When his fiancé, Heather, had suggested that he and his future brother-in-law needed some bonding time, Hiccup assumed going to see a football match or a movie would suffice, but alas he was wrong, as per usual. No, he had to fund the £30,000 a day bill that this ridiculous venture would cost, and all because she saw it as a drop in the ocean from the fortune he had received in his dad's will. Westworld apparently too tame, Shogunworld too exotic, so of course Dagur had brought him to NorseWorld. A world of bloodthirsty Vikings and even more bloodthirsty dragons. What could possibly go wrong?

Of course Hiccup and his friends had dreamed of going to one of these unprecedented attractions in school, but they couldn't even afford a day, never mind a week. But now he could pay for a year straight if he wanted, and although he still had a few reservations, that desire from childhood was still burning strong. A place where you can be whoever you want to be, where there are no consequences, no repercussions, it seemed far too good to be true.

He had to admit to himself that he needed this break, but bringing Heather's brother along was definitely not ideal. Nonetheless, he had vowed that he would make the best of the experience, but seeing the park in person was making that pledge very unlikely. He had wanted to delve past the cosmetics to find the heart of this place. To indulge in the minute intricacies stitched into the park. To uncover its secrets. For after university, he hoped he could work behind the scenes at a place like this.

Shivering on the deck as the Island's rocky shores came closer and closer, it was already becoming far too real. He looked nervously across at Dagur, but there were no doubts in the man's icy green stare. The metal breastplate and flashy horned helmet only proved that the flame-haired whack-job was perfectly in his element - a terrifying realisation. Hiccup, though, had never felt more out of his comfort zone.

His wild, auburn hair made any helmet he had tried on painfully uncomfortable, and his lanky frame didn't suit the standardised armour. Settling for a simple red tunic and leather scaled armour, he couldn't look more different than the other guests; he knew that wouldn't be the only thing separating them. He wouldn't be going in with a sword raised aiming to spill as much blood as possible; he promised himself, he would not lose himself in this world.

Hiccup could watch on, the dread hanging like a noose, as the park's largest island welcomed the newcomers with the loudest explosion of the night so far. His eyes followed the trail of sparks as the second wave of dragons pounced upon the village from all angles. Everywhere he looked was a battlefield, and he would just be another soldier. From rocky arches to sprawling forests, Berk seemed to have it all, it all seemed to be on fire.

"Wow," was all Hiccup could say.

Dagur turned to look at him and laughed, "What? Are you serious?" Dagur told him giddily. "This is only Berk. This is just a taster. There's much more out there."

"More?" Hiccup blurted out with wide eyes.

"More!" Dagur confirmed. "So much more. Just get me a boat and I'll be heading out as far out as possible. The further away from here you get, the more dangerous it becomes. I just hope I can reach the end this time."

"This time?" Hiccup repeated, unable to mask his confusion. "What do you mean, 'this time?'"

"I've been coming here for years," Dagur said unflinchingly, only to pause seeing Hiccup's reaction. "What? Sis not tell you that?" He added, and Hiccup shook his head adamantly. "Ah well, I'm sure we'll be getting up to some stuff here she doesn't need to know about, am I right?" Dagur grinned, slapping Hiccup playfully on the shoulder.

"Something like that," was the eventual mumbled response, as Hiccup watched in shock as a blast of purple flashed by overhead, before hitting a watchtower with pinpoint accuracy, lighting it up in flames.

"That's the spirit, Brother," Dagur beamed, swirling his sword in his hand impatiently. But when a second plasma blast set a catapult ablaze, he immediately rushed to the side of the ship and stared in awe at the shadow zipping through the midnight sky. "Night Fury," he murmured shakenly. "My baby's come home."

"Your what?" Hiccup asked sceptically, but Dagur's hands were both raised to the sky, as if worshipping the winged devil.

"My magnificent Night Fury," Dagur stated, almost with tears in his eyes. "I haven't seen him in five long painful years, but my baby's come home. He's come home to Daddy. And I'm gonna be the first to have his head mounted on my wall. This week just got a whole lot better," he said, wickedly rubbing his hands together.

"So, you're going to spend all week hunting it?" Hiccup asked him, with a disinterested shrug of the shoulders.

"WE are going to spend all week hunting it! Nothing better for brotherly bonding," Dagur cheered, before eyeing Hiccup's weaponry, or the severe lack of it.

"You sure you don't want anything other than that ornate shield and a flimsy little knife?" Dagur enquired. "It's the unholy offspring of lightning and death we're going after. I can get you a sword, or an axe, or a mace, or a ham-"

"-No, I'm fine," Hiccup shut him down, making Dagur pull a somewhat sulky expression before he set his face in stone. And as the ship had finally came to a halt, Hiccup had to repeat his answer again. He would be fine. Hopefully.

As the gangplank descended and slammed down, crazed thrill-seekers charged out and immediately headed straight for the battle. Hiccup, though, barely moved. He was now severely regretting that he'd been convinced to come to this ridiculous place, but he knew it was far too late to back out now. Even as his feet landed on the rickety pier, a part of him would have preferred it to break and for the ocean to swallow him whole.

Mangled demonic screeches and howls dominated the sky with enough force to make the ground shake, and with his knees knocking together, Hiccup slowly headed up towards the main plaza. He took one last look back, seeing the boat automatically began to retreat, leaving him stranded. Now he was in the game for good.

If seeing it at a distance was bad, seeing it up close was so much worse. Blood littered the floor in such quantities that the dirt had a permanent red coating, and there was barely a single hut left standing. Multiple times he had to duck under loose talons or dodge out of the way of jets of fire aimed in his direction, and all his fears were coming true. All the safety precautions, all the failsafes, but he couldn't see any of that now. Just the next thing he had to escape.

Even on the other side of the village square, Dagur's laughter could be heard. A high pitched, maniacal laugh of someone revelling in the mayhem. His razor-sharp pristine blade was nothing but a blur as it swung through the air. A light brown pudgy dragon was the first to meet its end at Dagur's hand, its white belly carved open in one slice before it collapsed into a pile on the ground. And yet, he still didn't look satisfied, a gronckle was easy work. So he raised his sword into the sky, challenging the dragons' very domain.

The challenge came soon enough, and he was on guard, craning his neck up to sniff the air. In a sharp burst, he span and rolled out of the way of the gas cloud about to engulf him, just in time before it ignited. Without fear, he leapt back to his feet and ripped two daggers from his belt as he sprinted straight towards the beast. This would be fun.

A twisted smile crossed his lips as he stared at the bright green two-headed dragon charging equally as fast towards him, before in one abrupt move it was all over. Dagur stood at the base of its neck, its two heads parted either side of him with a handle of a knife sticking out of each. He admired the kill for all of a second, before unceremoniously tearing his blades free. A zippleback was a decent trophy, but he was after bigger prey.

Hiccup could quite clearly see why men like Dagur would find themselves at home here. Every aggressive impulse, every violent tendency, that was the key to victory in this period of history, where size and skill with a sword would determine your position in the tribe. Kill, or be killed, that seemed the only rule here. And as Hiccup scuttled from behind a burning cart to find cover in the half-charred smithy, he could never have been more glad to be born in the twenty-first century. He just wanted a warm bath and a soft bed, but he had to survive another seven nights before he could get out of this hell.

And it was hell. Everywhere he tried to find shelter would be reduced to rubble no more than a minute at most later, as if the beasts were coaxing him into a fight. He didn't even get a chance to interact with any of the hosts, as every time he would get close to one of the Viking warriors, they would immediately suffer a gruesome, barbaric death. The chain of fatalities did achieve its purpose though, and Hiccup was thrust back into the action.

With his shield in his hand, he kept his head down and ran. He saw the steps, the great stone statues at their base, and the welcoming arms of the great hall itself at its peak. He focused on his path, trying best to ignore the heinous cacophony of sounds behind him, and he darted as fast as he could up towards the colossal wooden doors.

He could feel something tailing him, stalking him, and panic was setting in. The stairs seemed to go on forever, an endless escalator where the top was but a mirage. And when he succeeded in clambering over that last final hurdle, that dream of safety, of respite from the bloodshed, it never came true. The doors were bolted shut, locked from the inside and now he was a sitting duck.

He banged and he banged, but they wouldn't budge. So he banged and banged louder, each fist landing with more weight than the last. On the last strike, he was sure he heard a slight creak on the other end, but he had no time to make sure, for the noise behind him already had him spinning. The chirp sounded like an exotic bird from some nature documentary, but Hiccup knew he wouldn't be turning around to see something as harmless as a macaw. Not even close.

The dragon stood on two legs and was almost twice his height. Its exquisite blue and gold colouring would have made it almost resplendent in appearance, had it not been for the rows of serrated teeth and the barbed tail wagging viciously at him. Behind his shield, he coiled his fingers around the handle of his small blade, and he waited. But the creature didn't attack him, it simply swayed side to side, prowling him. It was as if the creature itself was waiting.

He heard the double doors creak again in the background, but all he could focus on was the vivid yellow flame growing inside the dragon's mouth a few metres away. The initial ball of fire ballooned in size, becoming a frothing cauldron that overflowed down the dragon's jaw. Its pupils narrowed to slits, its tail raised pointedly, and then it fired. A trio of foot-long spines imbedded into his circular shield, knocking him backwards, but he quickly regained his ground and began to head towards the beast. He had no choice. He would have to do this.

He switched his dagger to his dominant left hand and advanced down, his heart racing more and more as the distance between him and the beast shortened with every tentative step. As the dragon pinched its neck back, he dropped to his knees, bracing himself behind the shield as a torrent of fire burst from its snout. But there came no impact, and behind his cover all he could hear was the ringing thud of the double doors slamming open and an even more deafening sound of a feminine battle cry.

When he spared that one glance back, he saw the first thing in this egregious world that that made him want to keep his eyes open. One glimpse was all he needed to have her image engraved in his mind. Maybe it was because she truly was stunning, or maybe it was just because the sight of her was such a welcome change from everything else he had seen since docking in Berk. Either way, she was the first thing in this world that he found himself not wanting to escape from.

The glow of the fire provided the light to illuminate her golden braid that twizzled loosely down her back, and the simple parting of her fringe hung over one of her eyes. The tight red shirt hugged her lithe figure, and the brown, leather spiked skirt above the deep blue leggings fit snuggly around her waist. The thick fur boots, hood and vambraces completed her look, and she looked every bit the perfect Viking model.

He would have found her almost mesmerizing, had it not been for the complete lack of emotion on her face. Her eyes were cold, angry, without a shred of joy, and it immediately knocked him back to reality. That no matter how much they were made to look like one of us, they would never be… human. She should be afraid, she should be fearing for her life, and yet there wasn't even a hint of that. A weapon in hand and vengeance in her eyes. So one-dimensional, it just seemed a shame. Why had they gone to all the effort of making something so special, just to make it act like the rest?

The dragon's blast arrowed directly for her, but with a somersault dive, she evaded the stream of fire with ease. Without letting the dragon fire again, she sprinted across from where she was stood by the doors and took an almighty leap towards the beast, two hands clasping the axe above her head as she sailed through the air. Reacting just in time to avoid a killing blow, the dragon bounced back a step, but it still wasn't enough to be out of the weapon's range.

The tip of her blade carved its way down, splitting the scaly hide as it left a permanent gash a finger-width deep. The dragon let out a pained squeal, as the unblemished white colouring of its chin was tainted by the deep crimson seeping from of the wound. Hiccup slowly began to descend, watching on as dragon and Viking traded blow after blow, neither willing to back down. The fluidity of her movement was a sight to behold, her limbs like flowing liquid as she swayed, swirled and vaulted out of the way of the creature's strikes, before landing a few of her own on the scaly reptile.

Both parties fought well, a battle so clearly choreographed, but it did make an amazing spectacle. And when a viscous talon caught her neck, she didn't look like she felt it. Even with blood trickling down her chest, deepening the red of her vest, there was no trepidation, no fear. Even fighting a losing battle, she was yelling and cursing at the beast. Pressed with her back to the dirt, with only the handle of her axe between her and the dragon's chainsaw of a mouth, still she fought with a ferocity he had never seen before.

Chunks of wood began to get nibbled away as the onslaught of teeth never once slowed down. And then, with her weapon being gnawed down enough to look like an hourglass, for the first time Hiccup saw the flash of realisation spread across her face. She was out of her depth, and she knew it. Her time was running out. That slight flicker alone was all Hiccup needed. It showed him there were layers beneath that porcelain exterior, something deeper, something worth saving.

He kept his head down, he raised his shield, and with the last of the steps behind him, he charged. "I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" The girl growled, but he ignored her and slammed the face of his shield hard into the side of the dragon's skull, barging it off of her and almost knocking it from its feet. In a slight daze, its legs got crossed and it had to take to the sky to avoid toppling over completely, giving them a few seconds of calm. She instantly leapt back to her feet and glowered at him, before her sights returned back to the beast. This was her fight, and that dragon's head would be her trophy.

A volley of spines was sent in their direction moments later, and only Hiccup's shield prevented the pair from being impaled. The next thing he knew, the dragon was heading straight for them and its mouth was already a pit of bright yellow. He closed his eyes and raised his protection high again to block. Only this time, her blade, hurled with some force, ripped it from his hands.

"WHY THE HEL DID YOU DO THAT? I HAD IT COVERED!" She screamed, frantically watching on as the shield skidded across the floor a few feet away, her axe still imbedded in its back. Rushing forward, he grasped at the rim of his shield, but as she tugged at the axe handle, it wouldn't budge. The dragon converging on them, they were stuck in the open, cover nowhere to be found.

He looked down at her as she frantically tried to pull her weapon free, and the calmness she had earlier was cracking before his eyes. As if everything leading up to this had been ironed out, smoothed until not a single crease remained, and now her script had been shredded into pieces. She tugged with all her might, but it was imbedded deep. She was out of time.

The dagger left his palm, and before it had hit the ground, his hand wound its way around her waist. Without even thinking, he pressed her against him and span until he could see nothing but her face. There was confusion clouding the bright blue of her eyes and she continued to struggle, but he held her firm. He held her so tightly she couldn't break free, and he closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

It didn't take long for him to hear the flap of wings and then the explosive burst as the stream of fire struck him from his hip all the way up to his collarbone. His back was ablaze, but yet it didn't feel like burning. The sensation was like none he had every experienced, but it was enough to nearly drop him to his knees, with only her grip keeping him standing.

She warily raised her head, only to see his eyes wide open, staring flatly past her. She followed his gaze to see the dragon veer back for a return passing. Desperately, she pulled at her axe handle once more. This time, he didn't have the strength to counter it. Both axe and shield came as one, and she raised it like an unorthodox hammer to end this once and for all.

The dragon closed in on its target, but it came too close, and in one swing, the front of the shield was slammed against its carved horn, bringing it crashing down to the floor. The strength of the strike shattered the shield into splinters, leaving her own weapon free to inflict the final blow. A smile crossed her lips as she strode towards it, but she didn't get far before she was spinning on her heels.

Even over the explosions and screeching in the background, she heard the thud as his knees hit the ground. His face was crumpled out of shape, disfigured by the pain he could no longer hide. She had her family's honour to uphold, this was her duty, but now, ending its life had shifted down her list of priorities. He'd took the hit for her. He'd put his life on the line for her and she couldn't ignore that. She wouldn't ignore that.

Her axe re-strapped to her back, she was at his side before he even realised it. Kneeling down, she took his hand and looped it around her neck, before she hooked her own around his waist. Hauling him to his feet, she guided him out of danger as fast as she could manage, continuously with her head on the swivel, keeping watch of the dragon she had downed.

The beast, though, was doing nothing but rattling its head side to side, its spiked crown digging into the dirt as it tossed and turned. Seemingly fighting with itself, the dragon was shaking violently, before it suddenly calmed and looked up at her. She stared at its piercing yellow eyes, yet this time something felt different, wrong even. She didn't see any animosity or venom, only a strange curiosity, and she had no idea what to make of it.

She shook her head at the thought and focused on getting him to safety. These were devils. Monsters sent down by the Gods to test them. Thinking any other way was nothing short of treason, yet it didn't stop her looking once more over her shoulder. But where the dragon had been just a few moments earlier, now there was nothing. It, along with the rest, had taken to the sky, leaving the village in peace, for now at least. Hiccup took her relieved sigh as a cue, and looked up at her to breathe a simple thank you.

"BROTHER!" Came a loud call from across the plaza. Dagur was practically skipping across the warzone, seemingly unfazed by the corpses strewn across the floor. In his arms was the severed head of a bright red monstrous nightmare, its blood was dribbling down his knuckles. He raised an eyebrow at them, laughing heartily to himself, as he dumped it at Hiccup's feet. "Now that was fun," Dagur boasted.

Hiccup went to reply, but he was beaten to it by the blonde at his side. "FUN?" She snapped. "Half my village is dead. All our animals have been taken or killed. All our homes are destroyed. How is any of that fun?"

"Ooh, just as feisty as I reminder," Dagur chuckled, tapping her patronizingly on the nose. "I'm glad they never change you."

"Enough, Dagur," Hiccup warned sharply, to which Dagur simply threw his hands whimsically into the sky.

"Oh, I see, our little Hiccup has the hots for dear old Astrid," Dagur smirked.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, before giving his response as impassively as possible, "very funny."

"I don't blame you if you did," Dagur told him straight. "The first time I came here, this bewitching seductress got me wrapped around her finger as well."

"Lies!" Astrid spat at him.

"That's not a nice way to speak to an old friend, is it? Come on, babe, I'm looking forward to get to know you again," Dagur said with a sly smile.

Astrid's expression became flat, as if she was staring right through him. "I don't know you. I've never known you. And the next time you call me babe, you'll lose your tongue."

"Enough, Dagur," Hiccup told him again, this time with a darker edge to his voice. "Just leave her alone."

"Fine!" Dagur huffed. "If you want the bitch so bad, I'll let you have her. But just a word of advice, in this world, she's like a six out of ten."

"I'll take that on board," Hiccup deadpanned, before he felt Astrid shift next to him. He could see her staring almost longingly at a man trundling his way across towards them, and she turned to face Hiccup with imploring eyes.

"Can you stand?" She whispered, and although he wasn't completely sure, he nodded, allowing her to slide out from under him and run across to meet the rounded figure.

The man's deficiency in limbs drew Hiccup's attention instantly. A hammer replaced one of his arms below the elbow, and a peg-leg accounted for the limp, as he made his way towards her. A long blonde braided moustache hung down to his waist, and a bushy monobrow besieged his brow. With a tattered tunic made of fur and a helmet of twisted yak horns, he looked pretty worse for wear, but the relief on his face was clear to see as Astrid bounded straight into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers, before he looked past her to see Hiccup and Dagur. Each got a firm nod from the Viking, before he pulled back and cupped her cheeks. "Why are you out here? It's not safe for you during a raid. You're my heir, you can't risk yourself like that."

"I'm a warrior, I need to help the tribe," she protested.

"You're my daughter, and I-" he began, only to be cut off by Dagur bursting out in an overexaggerated fit of laughter.

"Wait. Wait. Wait," he kept repeating, unable to speak two words without giggling. "You… You've got to be kidding me. You're in charge here?"

"Chief Gobber Hofferson of the Hairy Hooligan tribe of Berk?" The man proclaimed cheerfully.

"I mean, come on," Dagur groaned. "At least the host they had to play the role of Chief last time I came looked like one. I'm sure you were the blacksmith a year ago. This is just absurd."

"I've been chief here for twenty-two years, so mind your place, boy," Gobber stated firmly, releasing Astrid and heading over towards Dagur. "Now, I want to thank you both for protecting my only child, but I will not allow you to insult me or my village. For your accomplishments during the battle, I grant you one request. State anything within reason and it is yours."

"Hmmm," Dagur considered. "Well, there is only one thing I want."

"And that is?" the Chief asked him invitingly.

"Your Island!" Dagur answered, as he drew his sword. The Viking had no time to react, and before he could even take a step back, Dagur's blade pierced through the Chief's centre, impaling the man's heart in one thrust. A loud, synchronous gasp came from everyone watching, with Astrid's deafening shriek ringing through the air. Gobber teetered on his one foot, before he collapsed to his knees, his hand painted red from where he was clutching his own chest.

"Why?" He croaked out, before he fell flat, his head slamming against the ground as his body went limp.

"BECAUSE I CAN!" Dagur roared, bringing the tip of his blood-soaked sword up to his mouth before kissing the blade. He stood tall, addressing all the remaining villagers. "YOUR CHIEF IS DEAD, BECAUSE YOUR CHIEF WAS WEAK! WITH ME IN CHARGE, I CAN END THE TYRANNY OF DRAGONS. EITHER YOU JOIN ME, OR YOU MEET THE SAME FATE AS HIM!" Dagur proclaimed, as he kicked Gobber's lifeless body for good measure, and then rose his weapon as a challenge.

The first man to contest him got a dagger through the eye. The next was gutted wide open, making him slump into a pile of his own entrails. And as the madman cut down man after man, his maniacal laughter only boomed louder into the night. With a pile of bodies at his feet, he wiped his sword clean by rubbing it against the back of a fallen warrior and then he raised it into the sky once more. "ANYONE ELSE?" He asked with a grin, and this time no-one stepped forward. "THAT'S BETTER. I AM YOUR CHIEF NOW! LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINE-"

"AAAAAHHH!" Astrid screamed, rising from where she was hugging her father's body to charge at him. Dagur, though, didn't even flinch. He did the exact opposite. As she came barrelling in, he lowered his weapon to his waist and then dropped it to the ground completely. As she came at him, axe raised and eyes full of fury, he smiled at her and then tilted his head up to give her a better shot at his neck.

"Come on, kill me. Do it for your father." Dagur mocked her, as he dropped to his knees. She raised her weapon and brought it down, only to find herself incapable of landing the strike. The weight of gravity should have led the axe to pick up speed as it descended towards the bare flesh, but the closer to his neck it came, the slower and slower the speed. When metal met skin, it wasn't even enough to scratch the skin.

She stared down at her own shaking hands, as her precious axe, the axe that her mother had given her as a child, dropped to the floor and landed in the dirt. She looked around pleadingly, praying someone would help, but no-one moved. Hiccup found himself frozen, paralyzed in shock.

In the blink of an eye, Dagur's hand clasped around her neck, choking her as he lifted her from the ground and left her there to dangle. He seemed to enjoy watching her struggle, seeing her gasp for air as her feet swung wildly. Her fists struck out at him, hoping one would land strongly enough to make him let go, but she was at his mercy.

Before it could get any worse, a fist cracked against Dagur's jaw, knocking him back. The power of the blow forced him to release her, and before Dagur could recover, Hiccup planted himself between them. He kept his fist coiled, but Dagur gave him nothing but a single nod, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"See. Now you get it," Dagur said calmly, chuckling to himself, as he waved his arms about. "None of this matters. You can do what you want, be who you want. Everything here is built for our enjoyment, our pleasure. And this is just the start. You like games, don't you, Brother? How about we play a little game? I'll give you an hour headstart, and then you and that whore will be added to the list of things I'm going to hunt. You, her and the Night Fury will be my prizes, and I will get you all before this week is over. I promise you that."

"You're sick!" Hiccup scowled.

"Tick tock. Tick tock. Fifty-nine minutes left on the clock," Dagur sung in a high-pitched jingle. "So run, Hiccup. Run."

Quickly, Hiccup stashed her axe on his back, as he knelt down and scooped Astrid up into his arms. Dagur was still grinning with that same twisted smile, and Hiccup gave him one final glower before rushing away as fast as he could. Her breaths were weak, but they were still there, and he would need all the headstart he could get if she was going to survive the night.

The forest seemed the best option, and he found himself sprinting through the trees without daring to look back. He had to find somewhere where she would be out of Dagur's reach. For what seemed like hours, he bounded through the woods, looking for a cave, a tunnel, or even a bridge to hide under. Anything would do, but with only the stars to guide his way, he had no idea what was around him. The pain in his back had all but vanished, but he had to muster every ounce of strength to keep his legs going.

Every few steps, he would glance down at her, and the feelings of guilt only grew stronger. If he hadn't paid to come to this world, Dagur wouldn't have been here with him, and she wouldn't be in this pain. With his knees almost on the verge of buckling, he regrettably needed to stop. He knew it wouldn't be enough, that Dagur would never stop, but he was already so far past his limits. The hand on her back slowly moved to cushion her, and he laid her head to rest on the trunk of a toppled tree.

The gash where the dragon's claw had snagged her looked worse now than ever, and Dagur's fingers had left red blotches all the way across her neck. Tearing the sleeve of his tunic, he ripped off a small square patch and dampened it with water from his canteen. Taking extra care to wipe away as much of the blood as he could, he attempted to clean the wounds, but there was little he could do. So with a heavy sigh, he finished up and discarded the fabric. All he could do now was hope.

As he tried to bunker down opposite her, the ground was too firm to be comfortable, but he tried his best to get some sleep nonetheless. A clump of leaves was his makeshift mattress, but even that wasn't enough to make his aching body any more relaxed. Even after a few tedious hours later, he still hadn't caught a wink, not even close. His mind was too overwhelmed, exploding with thoughts, feelings, decisions. They were all jumbling around, a muddle not making any sense, but there was only one thing that was constant…

No matter how hard Hiccup tried, he couldn't pry his eyes away from the sleeping Valkyrie. In her slumber, she looked so innocent, so at peace, and it was tying his stomach up in knots. She was a work of art, a masterpiece, and yet she had been made only to suffer. They had made her so strong, so brave, so fearless, knowing that those qualities would only be the catalyst to intensify her pain. Born to be a warrior, but destined to be the victim. Her very identity was a fraud, double edged like her axe, and she didn't even know it.

With every little twitch, every small, almost unnoticeable movement, she could not have looked more real. These motions that he thought to be so intrinsically human, and yet here she was right before his eyes. From the way she hugged her weapon close to her chest, to the furrow of her brow as she tossed and turned, there was no denying it. She was as real as he is.

He threaded his fingers through his hair and sighed, before he held his head in his hands. He shouldn't care. She's just a robot with a head full of code. She means nothing. And yet, the more he told himself that, the less he believed it. He wanted to study every inch of her, to discover all the ins and outs and how it was possible she ever came to be. The degree in engineering he was working through was supposed to answer all his questions about the world, but this place had blown his mind far more than he could ever have expected.

Where people like Dagur saw nothing but the violence and chaos, Hiccup could see the brief glimpses of beauty in this world. And a prime example of that was mumbling softly in her sleep only a few feet away. His head was swimming with questions, but as soon as one rose to the surface, a dozen more drowned it out. How long has she been here? How many different lives has she lived? How many times has she had to watch her father die? How many times has she, herself, been at the wrong end of the blade? What else has she had to suffer?

Locked behind the wall of sleep, her gentle stirring caused a single rogue strand of golden hair to stray free from the rest. The loose thread wound its way down her cheek, and her face scrunched up subconsciously in an effort to dislodge it. Her eyelash flickered a few times, batting it away, but it persistently vowed to remain just in the wrong place, threatening to drag her back to her reality.

Hiccup watched for a moment or two, before in a few short strides he was kneeling at her side, so close that he could hear her soft breaths before they blew away with the wind. He could feel the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat, in time with the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and he reached his hand up to make sure she would remain in that tranquil realm for a few more hours at least.

His fingertips grazed across her forehead, propelling the guilty curl of blonde on its journey back to join the flock. Her skin was warm, her hair soft as a feather, as he brushed her bangs fully to one side. She let out a soft purr, and with her face completely unobstructed, he could fully take the time to marvel at her up close. The contours of her rose-tinted cheeks. The shape of her adorable button nose. The small gradual curve of her lips as she smiled for the first time.

That one moment, of nothing more than a small gesture showing nothing but serenity, was enough to melt his heart. He knew it, and he knew he must pull away. He couldn't care for this… thing. It would become a one-way trip. 'Caring is weakness', Stoick would tell him, and Hiccup always knew it was true. He didn't have the ruthless instinct needed to become a stock broker like his father. This just proved it.

For as much as he wanted to force himself away, he couldn't do it. There was no way he would just leave her to suffer at Dagur's hands. Never. For as long as he stayed here, she would be his responsibility. He would not let her get hurt. Not this time. He would keep her safe, and maybe, just for once, he could bring a little happiness to her miserable existence.