After dealing with the nuisance that was the Monstrous Nightmare, Hiccup began to casually walk through the burning village of Berk. A few Vikings shouted at the boy, mostly in annoyance.
"Hiccup, what are ye doing!?"
"Boy, get back inside!"
"Hiccup, what do ye think- AH!"
That last one was cut off when a tail spike from a Deadly Nadder lodged itself in his skull. Hiccup watched as the corpse of one of his neighbors fell to the ground quietly. The boy's expression did not change.
Navigating his way through the fiery town by firelight (though he could have done it blindfolded), Hiccup reached the forge a few minutes after setting out from his house, already having forgotten about the dead body of one of his own. After living on Berk for fifteen years, one got used to death.
At least, Hiccup got used to it. He was never particularly bothered by the concept of losing one's life. The young man understood from a younger age that these things simply happened. They could be avoided, for a time, but the cold hands of the Reaper inevitably caught up with everyone… Except a select few.
When Hiccup finally reached the forge, looking for all the world like he'd just come from a simple walk in the park, a metal object was immediately thrust into his hands. More specifically, a sword.
"Nice of ya ta show up, lad." Said the village blacksmith, Gobber the Belch, dryly. The man, like many Vikings, had a rotund stomach, stocky build, and a face of very impressive facial hair. Unlike other Vikings, however, was the fact that the blacksmith was missing two limbs; an arm and a leg. He had prosthetics instead- a peg leg and a hammer hand. The hammer was one of his many detachable arm gadgets. There was also a hook, an axe blade, a brush, and many others.
"Yew know what ta do, lad. Now, get to it!" Gobber told Hiccup. The boy had been the blacksmith's apprentice for many years, due to the machinations of his father. When he had been younger, Hiccup had been quite the fishbone of a lad. He couldn't even lift a Viking helmet a few years ago. So ashamed was Hiccup's father, that the man sent the boy off to work in the forges. His reasoning was that blacksmiths tended to do a lot of heavy lifting, and heavier hitting. Hiccup's father had hoped that after a bit of time, the lad would finally put on some muscle.
Luckily, it worked, much to everyone's relief. Although he wasn't as large as the other Vikings, Hiccup was still quite strong- he just happened to be more lean than the others, built for speed as opposed to pure strength. That monstrous power he showed when killing the Nightmare was due to… other things.
Hiccup gave a noncommital hum to his master, before walking over to the whetstone and rapidly pressed the pedal to get it spinning. The boy quickly sharpened the sword, then put it into the bucket for finished jobs. Just when he was about to turn and ask Gobber for some more things to work on, a barrel was plopped down in front of him. It was full of a variety of weapons- more swords, spears, maces, axes, daggers, even a frying pan! Confused, Hiccup glanced at his mentor with a raised eyebrow.
"Hey, don' look at me! When the dragons raid, ya gotta have a weapon- doesn't matter what it is!"
It was true, Hiccup supposed. The raids began quickly, with little to no warning, and always on dark nights when the sentries couldn't see the dragons until they were on top of them.
Still, Hiccup sighed with aggravation. Many of these weapons were dented or bent, something that couldn't be fixed with a simple sharpening. He would have to actually get up, and go over to the forge. It was so much work…
It couldn't be helped, though. Besides, Hiccup needed something to keep him busy, else his mind would wander to the edges of the Earth- and that always led to disaster. Better to distract himself with something that requires concentration, even if it was as mundane as fixing weapons.
Walking over to the already fired up forge, Hiccup simply thrust in the metal parts of the damaged weapons, leaving the hilts to just hang out. A few minutes later, he was pulling the objects out using thick cloth gloves, quickly hammering them back into shape, and then dunking them in cold water. After doing this a few times, Hiccup had to pause in his work to open the window of the forge, in order to allow the billowing clouds of steam to escape. His ice was working overtime to keep him from sweating like a pig- layering his skin in a barely-noticeable sheet- but it was still a sweet relief to be surrounded by the chilled night air.
Outside, Hiccup caught sight of a group of teens around his age. They were lugging buckets of water with them, running from place to place, and putting fires out with the water they had.
This group was Berk's Fire Brigade, something Hiccup would have been a part of it he weren't the blacksmith's apprentice. They consisted of the teens in Berk who were too young to fight dragons, but too old to stay cowering inside with the rest of the children. Everyone above a certain age was expected to help out in this village.
Fishlegs Ingerman, the largest of the group in terms of size, was lagging behind the others. The boy's large cheeks were flushed red from exertion, and his helmet was on crookedly, exposing blond hair, but he pushed on with his stout legs.
In front of Fishlegs were a boy and a girl who looked so similar, one could mistake them for twins. Then again, that was probably because they were twins. Ruffnut, the girl, and Tuffnut, the boy, were quite possibly the most destructive teens in Berk. After Hiccup, of course. They were, however, the most purposefully destructive teens. Both teens had lanky builds, similar to Hiccup's, but a fair bit shorter. The both had long, blonde hair flowing behind them, and they seemed to be arguing with each other. After a few words were thrown, the Thorston twins knocked their helmeted heads together, stumbled apart, and then rejoined the rest of the Fire Brigade. The only way to tell the two apart was by their voices and hairstyle. Ruffnut had an intricate braid, while Tuffnut allowed his locks to fly free.
Further ahead was a muscular boy, Snotlout Jorgenson. Like Fishlegs, this boy was rather large, although he had noticeable muscle, as opposed to all-encompassing fat. However, one could only see the muscle on Snotlout's arms. He seemed to have ignored his legs, for they were a thin as Hiccup's. The boy was obviously fit, though, for he did not seem to be struggling very much to run. In fact, he seemed to be so at ease that he was flirting with the final member of the Brigade.
A blonde girl ran at the fore of the group, leading them to yet another fire. She had a steely look on her face, hardly noticing Snotlout's failed attempts to get her attention. Her blue eyes were tinted orange by the luminous flames. Her face, while containing soft curves, was contorted into a sharp scowl that became honed with Snotlout's every word. She obviously did not like the boy.
Astrid Hofferson had a lithe build, similar to Hiccup's and the Thorston twins, though her muscles were far more defined. She was the only one of the teens to carry a weapon- a single-sided axe- though that was because the axe was gift from a very important person. She could not bear to leave it at home, in case her house was destroyed by a rampaging dragon.
Hiccup watched the teens move through the village, and was tempted to just jump out the window and join them. Anything to get away from this boring, mindless work.
As soon as Hiccup had gotten a leg up onto the windowsill, he heard a shout from behind him.
"Hiccup! Get back in here!" Shoot. Looks like Gobber found him out. WIth a hefty sigh, the lad got back down, and returned to his station at the forge.
"Ah, come on, Gobber. You can't seriously expect me to stay here the whole time! It's so boring!"
Gobber was not impressed with the teen's reasoning.
"Boring or not, yer stayin' here 'til I say so!"
HIccup groaned dramatically, going back to hammering a broken weapon.
"None a' yer whinin'-" Gobber paused when he looked out the window, and caught sight of a few of his tribesmen struggling to hold down several Deadly Nadders caught in a net,
"They need me out there. You," He pointed at the apprentice, "Stay put. There... Yew know what I mean." The blacksmith then ran out the forge, leaving Hiccup to his own devices. Quite the mistake.
The second Gobber was gone, a malicious, toothy grin spread across Hiccup's face. He immediately dropped the object he was tending to, shot some ice into the furnace to cool it down, then leapt out the window of the forge. He ran back towards his house, circling around back to where a small structure was hidden by a tarp.
Pulling the cloth back, Hiccup revealed what he dubbed, "The Mangler." It looked very similar to a cannon, but was made completely from wood, and quite a bit smaller as well. Hiccup put the wheels it was mounted on to use and pushed the contraption across the ground, quickly making his way to the highest cliff near the town. Once there, he flicked a lever which would keep the wheels locked into place, to prevent movement while aiming. After fiddling a bit with the wooden crosshair on top of the device, he deemed it ready to fire.
"Come on, gimme something to shoot…" HIccup mumbled to himself. Then, he heard it.
An ear-piercing shriek broke through the sounds of combat and destruction, causing all who heard it to turn to the skies. Those near the catapults were especially on guard, since the maker of this noise tended to destroy the main defenses of the village. The screeching got louder and closer, until the night sky was lit up by a single blue orb. It rocketed forward at insane speeds, striking fear into the hearts of all who saw it.
One of the Vikings manning the catapults finally managed to get his fear under control, and shouted, "NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!"
Him, and the majority of his comrades, dove off the tower which the catapults sat atop, as the spire was blasted to pieces by the blue bolt. One man hadn't been quick enough, and ended up getting crushed to death among the rubble. He didn't make a noise, even as, or perhaps due to, a jagged segment of a support column stabbing straight through his sternum. The man grasped feebly at the piece of wood, before he was blocked from Hiccup's sight by the crumbling masonry.
Hiccup ignored it, excited as he was by the prospect of a worthy adversary. His hands were shaking in anticipation, and he turned his full attention to the stars. Everything else- all the gruesome deaths, war cries, bestial roars, explosions- was blocked out by the young lad's one-track mind. Finally, his sharp emerald eyes caught sight of his prey; a few stars had been momentarily blocked out, the sudden darkness relaying the position of the Night Fury.
The best part was, Hiccup knew where it was going to go. The elusive demon always took out the aerial defenses of the village, before disappearing for the rest of the raid. Right now, there was only one catapult left, somewhere to the north of HIccup. There had been more earlier, but they were destroyed by a combination of rampaging dragons and reckless Vikings.
Eying the air around the remaining tower, Hiccup's jitters were beginning to get to him, and he had to take a moment to forcefully calm himself. In that second, he saw it- the telltale blue glow in the sky, seemingly coming from a void of darkness. Ignoring his shaking body, Hiccup swiveled the Mangler as quickly as the mechanisms would allow, before slamming down the lever which would shoot the bola.
He was rewarded, seconds later, when a leathery collision and a bloodcurdling shriek were heard, and the blue bolt the dragon had been charging was shot upwards in panic. Hiccup's brain threatened to shut down at the sheer amount of amazement it was subjected to.
"I hit it…" Hiccup murmured quietly. Then, the reality of the situation sunk in.
"I hit it!" He cried, "I really hit it! DId anyone see that!?" The boy turned around, searching for any nearby Vikings to brag to, but stopped in his tracks when he met the sickly yellow glare of another Monstrous Nightmare.
"Except for you…" The young man sighed, then jabbed his arm at the dragon. A spear of ice propelled from Hiccup's outstretched palm, impaling itself into the Nightmare's eye, piercing the animal's brain. The dragon was dead before it knew what happened.
Feeling very proud of himself, Hiccup felt the urge to go run and tell his father, which he did. The Mangler was left up on the hill; he could get it another time.
Weaving through the mess of dragons and Vikings was very easy for the agile lad. His small frame also helped quite a bit. In minutes, Hiccup had reached the town square, the largest clearing in the village, in hopes of finding his father. Luckily, his intuition had been correct.
There, on the opposite side of the square, was a group of men struggling to keep their grips on a massive net which held many Nadders- the same group Gobber had rushed off to join earlier. In fact, there was Gobber, right over there!
Next to the blacksmith was a true beast of a man. He stood well over six feet tall, perhaps closer to seven, and seemed to be a walking mountain of muscle. The Viking's massive biceps were wider than Hiccup's waist, and broad shoulders made it hard to walk straight through most doors. The man had an enormous beard, which covered the majority of his torso. The ends of the red hair were tied into neat braids, a few of which were burned, likely a result of the raid. All in all, the man was more comparable to a bear than a human.
That man was Stoick the Vast, the chieftain of Berk for well over twenty years, and hailed as one of the best chiefs the village had had in decades. He also happened to be Hiccup's father.
Hiccup jogged over to the group, and slapped his father's arm to get his attention. The boy completely ignored the fact that Stoik seemed to be the main source of strength holding down the Nadders, and when the man was distracted, his grip slipped. As a result, one Nadder managed to maneuver enough to slice the tough ropes of the net, and soon was leading the other dragons to freedom. They quickly took to the skies, not even sticking around long enough to nab some more food.
With a heavy sigh, Stoick turned to his son.
"What now, Hiccup!?"
Though others would have felt at least a bit nervous talking to the chief when he was in this mood, Hiccup was riding too high to be brought down.
"I hit the Night Fury with my bola-launcher!"
Stoick eyed his son for a moment, then sighed once more in exasperation. His beard moved with his mouth, making it seem as if the chief had a furry creature on his face.
"Hiccup, stop with yer games. We've more important things ta worry about."
"No, I'm serious this time! It isn't like the trolls!"
"Son, I'm serious, too, when I say ta leave me alone with this yakshit!"
Annoyed, Hiccup allowed his father to leave without protest. The boy turned to go back to the forge, grumbling under his breath the entire time.
"Fine, if he thinks I'm lying, I'll just bring him the damned thing's head as proof."
That was how Hiccup found himself wandering through the forest the next morning. It was very early, before Gobber woke, so the boy was free from his apprentice duties. Hiccup didn't really have any other things to do, not even house work. Two people did not generate a ton of mess.
This was the reason why Hiccup made those seemingly-insane contraptions; he had nothing better to do with his time. He didn't need them to kill dragons, since he could do that well enough on his own. These machines were more to make raids fun, and it helped that working on them was usually pretty entertaining as well- especially when they malfunctioned. There was one time the Mangler was set off prematurely, and it knocked another Viking out. Hiccup could not stop laughing, even while he was running from the enraged villager.
He had been tromping through trees for the past hour, and still no sign of the downed dragon. Hiccup vaguely remembered seeing the Night Fury fall around Raven Point, but was distracted by the Nightmare. He silently vowed to rip out the heart of the next one that came after him.
Hiccup entered another clearing, glanced around for anything suspicious, then scribbled another cross down on his map. At this point, the lad was frustrated enough to tuck away his sketchbook, and punched a tree. His arm went elbow deep into the bark, and he pulled it out sideways before continuing on his way.
A few moments later, he heard the sound of a falling tree behind him.
"Timber…" The lad whispered to himself in amusement, before trailing off at the sight before him, emerald eyes wide in disbelief.
In front of him stood a tree that looked to have been sheared in half. The majority of the branches were scattered along the forest floor, with a few still limply hanging from the tree. Behind this broken tree was a path of destruction, trailing for what must have been at least a hundred yards, before dropping off a cliff.
Moving forward to examine what may have caused the ruin, Hiccup gasped when he peered over the ledge, and saw a beautiful cove. Even though he had lived on Berk for fifteen years, and spent much of that time gallivanting through the woods, Hiccup had never seen such a perfect piece of nature.
The water was a pure azure, so clear that Hiccup could see the bottom of the lake, along with the many fish which were swimming around. The grass was a vivid green, tall in some places, but short in others. Regardless of its height, the greenery seemed very soft, which Hiccup had a hard time believing was possible. On Berk, where it snowed nine months and hailed the other three, grass was sparse. If it did grow, it was usually very short and coarse.
There were no trees in the bowl of the cove, but there were plenty lining the rocky outcropping which made up the walls of the basin. These trees were similar to the other trees on Berk; tall, thick, and gnarled with knots, along with plenty of needle leaves. Had Hiccup not been looking for the Night Fury so diligently, he would likely have never found this place with how ordinary the large trunks were.
In the center of the cove, Hiccup saw a massive rock, roughly the size of a house back in Berk. It seemed very smooth and round, likely a result of the lack of cover from the elements. The water from the snow, hail, and occasional rainfall, must have eroded the boulder from something even greater in the past.
In front of the gargantuan stone, Hiccup saw a black figure. It was small, compared to the rock, but was likely bigger than him up close. Slightly put off by the darkness of the silhouette, Hiccup cast a quick glance to the sky before assuring himself it was not a shadow, but indeed the captured Night Fury. It stood out brilliantly against the background of bright green, courtesy of the short grass.
With a toothy grin, Hiccup threw himself over the cliff, dropping the twenty feet to the ground without even a wince. A smile still on the boy's face, he jogged over to the downed dragon, barely able to contain himself. By presenting the head of this legendary beast to his Father, Hiccup would ensure himself a position in Berk's annals until Ragnarok struck.
This would also have the effect of proving his worth to Stoick. Though the boy had amazing ice powers, he never showed the rest of the villagers. He figured, since the others did not have any abilities of the magical variety, that he would be further disgraced for being even more different from his peers.
Ever since his birth, the village knew Hiccup would be different. Born prematurely, the lad had barely survived his first week, so weak was his infant body. It was a miracle he had lived past the first year, but the circumstances of his strange birth showed within the coming years.
Hiccup was, to put it simply, a twig. The boy had limbs skinnier than a weapon handle, and didn't weigh much more than one, either. Growing up, he had always been made fun of by his year-mates, who had already outstripped him in terms of physical development, and was continuously ridiculed by the adults. They simply could not believe that their Chief, Stoick the Vast- emphasis on vast- could have a child that was so miniscule. Many even questioned if the Chief's wife had actually stayed faithful to her husband, and that Hiccup was in reality a bastard child. Perhaps a trader had taken a fancy to Valka.
Those rumours were brutally shut down by Stoick, who was enraged that any of his people would dare slander his wife's, and by extension his own, good name.
By the time his eleventh winter rolled around, HIccup hadn't changed very much. Sure, he got taller, but not by much- and he certainly did not gain a noticeable amount of weight. It seemed as though the mass he already had was simply spread across a wider area. Most of the other kids towered over him, like Snotlout. While Hiccup had been level with his Father's waist, Snotlout could see eye-to-belly with the Chief.
However, that was before Stoick signed his son up as the blacksmith's apprentice. Aside from the versatile set of skills which Hiccup learned in the forge- which he later applied to the creation of his insane inventions- the lad did indeed bulk up, as his father hoped. Hammering metal and doing lots of heavy-lifting tended to do that.
Stoick was quite proud when he noticed his son seemed to be always eating a few months into his apprenticeship. The boy needed the nourishment after expending all his energy in the forge, and the rest was put towards his rapidly-developing body.
Now, at fifteen, Hiccup was the one towering over the other children. The tallest of them, still Snotlout, now stood equal to Stoick's chest. Meanwhile, Hiccup could look straight at his father's chin- not that he could see it behind that impressive mane of a beard.
Hiccup now used that height and immense strength to his advantage; by holding down the floundering Night Fury with his bare hands.
"Damn, you're pretty strong… Too bad I'm stronger!" Hiccup cried, before grabbing hold of the ropes of the bola which caught the dragon, lifting the creature into the air, then slamming it into the ground hard enough to stun it. The overgrown lizard stopped thrashing at that, recognizing it's struggle was now futile.
It was going to die.
Hiccup took a moment to admire his handiwork. Here lay the most dangerous dragon known to Berk- the one which had caused more damage to the village than any other beast (and perhaps even other Viking clans)- all trussed up and defeated.
It was quite long from head to tail, likely comparable to the smaller Viking ships. It was, of course, pure black, and it was somewhat difficult to make out the individual scales, as they simply blended together into a mass of shadows.
Running along the length of the dragon was a single line of spines, which were rather rounded. They didn't seem to be made for doing damage or for intimidation, like other types of dragons.
The legs were rather short, but seemed to be absolutely packed with muscle. Hiccup was wary of being kicked by one of those- even with his enhanced durability, the beast could possibly still break a few bones with a well-placed strike. The stout legs led to flat feet, with four claws of also short length. Regardless of the size, Hiccup could see the curvature of the talons, as well as the razor-sharp point. He did not want to be on the wrong end of those.
Further up the body of the dragon, the boy saw the wings which made this dragon such a terror. It was rumoured amongst the Hairy Hooligans- the tribal name of the inhabitants of Berk- that the Night Fury was by far the fastest dragon, outclassing even the agile Deadly Nadder. Why this was, nobody knew, since none had ever gotten this close to the demon before Hiccup, though it most probably had something to do with the dragon's wings. The young Viking could not tell, with just the glance that he could get, just how wide the dragon's wingspan was. However, judging by the thickness of the folds, Hiccup could infer that there was quite a lot of flesh in there. This equated to either very large wings, or very meaty ones. The young lad was inclined to go with the former.
The Night Fury had, similarly to its legs, a very stout neck. Past that, Hiccup found the head, which… was not as intimidating as he had always imagined.
Hiccup had always expected that, since the dragon was called the offspring of death, that it would have a skull-helmet, or no skin on its face, or at the very least a bit of bone exposed.
There was none of that. Instead, the dragon had six strange flaps on the back of its head, two of which were larger than the others. These large ones seemed to be the ears, while the others had no immediately discernible purpose. On the top of the head, there was a series of small bumps, seemingly a continuation of the rounded spines on the animal's back.
Speaking of the head, the Night Fury had a rather disc-shaped one. It was flat on the top and bottom, and was more round than angular, like some dragon species.
The mouth was a bit hard to make out. It was simply a thin line which stretched across the width of the demon's face, and did not seem to be open at the moment. Hiccup imagined that the teeth in there must have been as sharp as, or sharper than, the creature's claws.
Regardless, Hiccup promptly forgot about the rest of his observations when he finally caught sight of the dragon's eyes.
They were, like the beast's other features, rounded, though more ovular than the other traits. The eyeballs themselves were a dazzling emerald green color, which were actually similar to his own. The young VIking was taken aback by this; he had never even seen another human with eyes that color. Stoick always said his son got his eyes from his mother, but Valka had gone missing years ago, snatched up by a dragon during a raid.
Managing to tear his gaze away from the mirror image of his eyes, Hiccup at last turned his attention to the vertical slits that were the dragon's black pupils. They were very thin, probably thinner than a knife blade, but they were filled with an unholy amount of rage. Of course, Hiccup knew this was to be expected; he had, after all, brought down the most treacherous dragon which roamed the skies of Berk.
However, what threw Hiccup for a loop was the depth of the Night Fury's gaze. It was penetrating, disturbing in its single-minded focus. The boy had no doubt that if looks could kill, he would have been dead before even laying his eyes on the dragon.
This also demonstrated to Hiccup the presence of, probably limited, intelligence. The dragon seemed to understand the fact that it was trapped, that it was at the mercy of this human, and would likely be killed. It may even have connected the dots and determined that Hiccup was the one that brought it down.
The staring match lasted for what seemed like centuries to the ice-wielder, before the dragon cut the connection and dropped its head to the ground with a light thump.
Hiccup was shocked. The dragon, which must have been as prideful and fierce as its fellow beasts, had just dropped its head in defeat. He had always been taught that the demons will struggle until the bitter end, and sometimes even beyond that- there were tales of dragons letting out a desperate gout of fire moments before their end, which caused damages to a nearby structure that fell and killed their murderer. Quite gruesome.
Regardless, this dragon was clearly giving up… Unless…
"So, trying to lull me into a false sense of security, eh, beast? Well, I'll have you know I'm much smarter than my tribesmen, which is why I won't fall for your tricks. I'm gonna cut your heart out, and present it to my father. Your head, too, so I have proof it came from the most fearsome dragon we know of." To emphasize this, Hiccup pulled a knife from the inside pocket of his leather vest.
"Yeah… With the honor of killing you, I'll be hailed as a hero! Nobody will be able to talk down to me anymore, because I'm the one who brought down the King of the skies. They can kill all the Nightmares they want, they'll never drag me down from my pedestal of glory…" The boy was becoming more and more demented in his rantings, going on about the prestige he would earn and his soon-to-be hero status. He even ended his monologue with a high-pitched cackle, which would have made the most hardened witch proud.
Let it never be said that eleven years of scorn, during the most emotionally sensitive part of one's life, is harmless.
The dragon, who had been expecting death, was confused to find itself alive for so long. It was also confused as to the odd noises which the human with the sharp object was making. Slightly irritated, since this prolonged torture was simply disgraceful, the Night Fury opened its eyes and lifted its head once more to gaze upon the boy.
Noticing the movement, Hiccup snapped his eyes over to the dragon's, slightly startled to see them open again. He decided to ignore it, and get on with taking the first step to his magnificent future. The figurative first step was accompanied by a literal first step, since the boy had managed to distance himself from the dragon during his mad ravings. In two more steps, Hiccup was once more upon the Night Fury, casting his thin shadow over the dark beast. The position of the sun behind him caused it to stretch longer than he was tall.
The demon continued to watch him, seeing the demented grin spread across his face, and his grip tighten on the metal knife. He positioned it where he thought the dragon's heart was, a bit to the left of the center of its chest, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. He was mentally preparing himself to become a legend.
Logically, he knew nothing would actually happen until he brought the head to the village, and perhaps showed his fellow warriors the rest of the corpse left in the cove. Regardless of that reasoning, this was the biggest moment in the young man's life, one he would never forget.
However, this day would be forever burned into Hiccup's mind for a different reason. The boy made a mistake- one he would soon come to view as a blessing from Odin Allfather himself.
Hiccup opened his eyes, and once more stared into the mournful eyes of the Night Fury.
Yeah, a pretty lengthy one. I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my stories, so if you're reading this… be honored, yo.