AN: Farin okay, mi frieundlees? Nice to see you back for more twisted fanfiction from my hand. This chapter should really start digging into the psychologically-screwed-up mess that Hiccup has been left by that butt Raoul. I don't even know what the guy looks like; I haven't even designed him yet, but I hate him with every fibre of my being. Lol, this is what we call unhealthy obsession. (points to a certain male who sits at my lunch table)
Anyway, enjoy, and try not to get roped in TOO much to my twistedness.
o~0~O~0~o
Chapter two
When I wake up again I groan. The first time there was no pain at all; this time I felt everything. I look down. From just below my knee down is a taller version of my old peg. I sit up, wincing at the pain in my head. I look to the side; but this time there's no Toothless. How long have I been out this time? The pain in my lungs has gone, so it must have been a while. I reach out and pick up the crutch I've been left and slowly limp my way to the door. I open it and then there's a blur, a shriek and then there's three hundred pounds of black dragon on top of me. He licks like he'd expected me to be dead and for once I don't protest. Then the door creaks open further and Dad is there, pushing my dragon aside and helping me to my foot once again.
"Oh, Hiccup," he sighs, and hugs me gently. I grit my teeth at the contact and fight my instincts to drive my new peg into his kneecaps. He seems to sense it though, because he lets me go pretty soon. He searches my eyes for any emotion, but I wipe my face clean like I taught myself. Then Gobber comes in with the biggest plate of food I've seen in my life and plonks it on the table.
"Eat up, Hiccup," he says, and Dad drops me onto the log chair. I gingerly reach out to a chicken leg impaled on a stick and prod it, just to make sure it's real, before I grab it and take a huge bite.
It's amazing. Real food, not just the half-raw fish scraps I was served up on Hysteria. I completely forget I'm being watched and shove the food into my mouth like an animal. Once it's gone I feel fairly sick. I haven't eaten very much in five months; my stomach feels like it's the size of a walnut. I can't help but notice the way Dad's eyes rake my torso, gazing at the protruding ribs visible even through my tunic. I hug my vest a little tighter- someone must have put it on me while I was out-and sit there in front of the fire. Dad's eyes have a look of pure misery in them, and I'm terrified that it's my fault, that I've hurt him by getting myself kidnapped again. Every other time it was never more than a day I spent under lock and key; he probably thought I was dead. I suddenly realise there's a way I can check; I stagger to my feet and limp to the stairs. Dad's there by my side immediately, and I can see him resisting the urge to scoop me up and carry me into my bedroom.
Toothless' bed is still in its spot; in fact, nothing has been touched at all. A clear two inches of dust coat everything. The one thing missing is exactly what I was hoping wouldn't be.
The helmet I never wore. The one made from my mother's breastplate. It's gone from its usual spot, and it's nowhere in the room. I turn to look at Dad. He seems puzzled at my coming up here, like he doesn't know why the missing helmet is so significant to me. When a Viking's body can't be burned for one reason or another, it's tradition to put their helmet or another important possession on a small boat and burn the possession instead.
They burned the helmet. They thought I was dead. All of them. How much pain I've caused them, how many horrible nights alone in this house, and they had to accept they would never know what had happened to me. Whether I was waiting for them in Valhalla or I was drifting in Hel not even knowing who I was, who I had been. Whether Toothless had died with me or whether he was stranded forever on some landmass, unable to fly, waiting for the day a hunting party would put him out of his misery. Whether I had died an honourable death or whether it had been as ignoble as falling from Toothless' back and drowning. I can't stay in here any longer, and I go to shove my way out when Dad stops me.
"Hiccup," he says, "what's the matter?"
I look at him and suddenly I'm crying and stumbling backwards.
"The helmet!" I howl. "The helmet!"
His eyes widen as he understands, and he drops to his knees and places a hand on my shoulder. I twist savagely away from the grip, and for a moment his kindly, albeit huge form seems to be another.
"Give it up, runt. Either you teach us or we hurt the dragon. And you."
"Leave him alone!" I cry. "It's me you want; don't hurt Toothless!"
"Oh, we'll hurt you too," he leers, lifting his sword. "It's one thing that no-one else seems to realise; although you're the best, you aren't the only dragon rider…" And then he grabs my shoulder and I'm yanked forwards, and I can't help but yowl like a dying cat when he brings the sword down.
I shake my head. It's not Raoul. Not Raoul. It's Dad. Dad. Dad. Just Dad, not Raoul. Not Raoul. The fractured thoughts chase each other through my head and I groan. Dad's eyes are depressed. He hates it; that he can't even touch me without having me flip out on him.
"Hiccup," he begins, and sits down on the dusty floor. I sneeze at the sudden upsurge of dusty air. "You need to get this out. It's going to destroy you from the inside out. When your mother was taken, I thought it was my fault. Gobber held me at knifepoint until I told him. It did me good; it helped me realise that it was no good brooding over it. I can understand if it's not me you want to tell, but…"
"No," I say. I slowly sink to the floorboards, nose running slightly. "It's okay."
I don't know why I said that. TELL him? He'll beat himself up even further! But now the floodgates are open, and it all spills out.
"I was out on my afternoon flight with Toothless" I sniffle. "We were just flying like normal, but then we heard this noise and we got shot down by… I dunno, I think it was a bola. We landed in the water, but we got fished out and thrown in a boat, by some guy named Raoul. The boat stopped at some island called Hysteria, and I was locked in a cell, and Toothless was too. It was the usual reason; the dragon taming thing; I don't get why no-one else has worked it out yet. We tried to escape so many times that I ended up having my peg leg confiscated for a time, until someone pointed out it was no fun if I couldn't run when- I mean if I couldn't stand up?" It turns into more of a question, and I'm hoping Dad accepts it. Although he must know, I don't want to outright mention the torture. He'll declare a blood feud; and I really don't know if we could take the Hysterics, even with dragons. "They locked Toothless up too, but luckily they left the tail-wing strapped on. They kept trying to get me to surrender Toothless to them, and… they were pretty drastic. But I knew I couldn't do that to Toothless, and sometimes they took it out on him, and I couldn't make them stop!" I'm choking up now, and Dad leans forwards and hugs me loosely. I manage to continue. "And then I managed to escape with Toothless, and I crashed here. I'm so sorry. I should have come up with the idea sooner!"
"It's alright." Dad reassures me. "You've told me your story, now I'll tell you one of mine." he says. I look at him, bewildered.
"You remember how Alvin told you how he got kicked off Berk?"
"He said he disobeyed you and caused a few injuries…"
"'Injuries' is not the right word. It was Alvin's fault that Gobber lost his arm."
"What?"
"He didn't follow through with our plan to capture this Nightmare. He attacked it, and when he grabbed its wing it went berserk. It lashed around, spewing fire everywhere, and then it grabbed Gobber's hand and just bit down. If Alvin had listened to me, Gobber would be fine. But if I'd stopped to make sure Alvin was prepared to listen; if I'd made sure he actually knew the plan, he wouldn't have disobeyed in the first place. So, if you see it that way, it was my fault. But if you look at it another way, it was simply the Nightmare's nature to fight back. It couldn't stop itself from attacking any more than a cat can stop itself chasing a bird. Don't blame yourself, Hiccup. Go out, maybe do something you like doing. Maybe not flying; it's too soon for that. Why don't you help Gobber out in the forge tomorrow? You used to love that."
It sounds terrifying, but I reluctantly agree. He's right; it might help.
o~0~O~0~o
This is why I like Gobber.
Whether I've just messed up another dragon raid and everyone's treating me like I've brought Ragnarok down upon us, or whether I'm suddenly a dragon slaying celebrity, or whether I've just escaped from five months of violent torture, he treats me exactly the same. At first he just lets me sharpen axes and swords, but when he realises I haven't lost my touch, he's got me forging like any other day, whether it be new weapons or dragon tools. There seems to be a suspiciously large number of people who've 'broken their hammer' or 'need a new saddle', and Gobber scowls at them all until they slink away guiltily. It's the best way I could possibly get out into the open again, simply because it's so blissfully normal. He lets me forge Toothless a new tail-wing; the old one was rusted and likely to collapse the next time we used it. It was a miracle we made it back to Berk in the first place. Gobber tries to make a joke and holds up a leather collar and leash and pretends to tie me to a post, and says sternly 'No pee-ing inside', but he's not to know that I'm hiding a shudder of fear; that if anything leather comes near my neck again I'll scream. When the day is done, Gobber distracts the hordes while I sneak out the back to return home. Then I hear a voice behind me and jump about a foot in the air in fright.
"Hiccup! Wait!"
It's Astrid, and this time there's not even a punch. She just kisses me. When she pulls away, I stutter out,
"How did you know I would go this way?"
She rolls her eyes.
"Well, between Gobber dancing the aldurnari in front of the forge and your father threatening painful death to anyone who bothers you, I figured you'd stay out of sight, and this was the likely path."
I wince.
"The aldurnari?" I question. "Gobber is dancing the Fire Dance in front of the whole village? Ouch."
"I pity their poor eyes," Astrid says.
It's so normal. My new favourite word, 'normal'.
"Well, I'd better get home before Dad sends out a search party…" I say pathetically. I turn to leave and realise she's following me.
"Why are you doing that?" I ask.
"Because I've told your dad that I'm staying in your house tonight and if he said otherwise I was sleeping on your roof." she answers matter-of-factly.
"Oh," I say, and keep walking. She follows me, all the way to the house, where Toothless is waiting. He pokes me with a fat paw, as if checking that I'm still in one piece, or… that I'm actually there. For the first time, I wonder if I wasn't really the only one having hallucinations in those dim cells.
I lay on the ground. Raoul is gone, and his tools of torture with him. I'm bleeding slowly from the puncture wound on my arm, and the poison, although not strong enough to be lethal, is making me woozy and I have a terrible headache. I focus on the walls. There are years' worth of carvings etched on them; some names, some messages, some insane scribbling. There's a crack near one corner, and as I watch a tiny green shoot emerges from it. It sprawls into a huge vine, clasping the walls, beautiful blossoms popping open. It breaks through the roof, and there is Toothless, happy and healthy, waiting for me. I lurch to my feet and stagger to the vine, but when I reach out to take hold my hand passes right through it and I crack my fingertips into the cold stone. I drop back to the ground as the vine falls to dust, the brief flicker of hope extinguished. Again.
Satisfied, Toothless nudges the door open with his nose and Astrid follows me inside. I limp my way up the stairs, into my newly dusted bedroom. I lean back for a moment, thinking. Where's Astrid going to sleep tonight?
"Hurry up, slowpoke," Astrid says behind me. She pokes me in the back, unwittingly directly on top of the half-healed arrow wound, and I yelp, more in surprise than pain. She flinches.
"Gods, Hiccup, I'm so sorry."
I hate it.
"Don't be, you weren't to know," I tell her, letting her past me into the room. She drops her axe with a thud.
"Is it alright if I sleep here tonight?"
She points to a patch of floor. I suddenly realise something.
"No, you can take the bed. I sleep with Toothless now anyway," I respond.
"Hiccup, I couldn't do-" she protests, but I cut her off.
"Astrid, I spent last night on Toothless' bed. I'll be fine doing it again. He had no problem with it. Please, take the bed. Really."
She looks doubtful but nods.
"Hiccup," she says quietly. "I just wanted you to know… I missed you a lot. I'm really glad you're home."
"Believe me," I answer. "So am I. Home beats crazy Vikings with hot swords any day."
Oops. Astrid's eyes get that horrified look in them, and I realise that saying that was stupid. Oh dear. What a way to go, Hiccup; you really have a talent for sticking your foot in it.
She reaches forwards, grabs my wrist and shoves my sleeves up my arm. I try to pull free but her grip is unbreakable.
"Great Odin's ghost," she whispers, appalled. Her grip slackens in shock and I tear my arm away and pull my sleeve back down, but it's too late. She's already seen the scars. At least she didn't see the ones on my back or chest.
"Really, they're fine. Besides, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," I quote back at her. She's looking at me with wide eyes.
"Hiccup… you're a better Viking than any of us. To have held out for five months without telling them whatever it was they wanted to know… that's amazing."
I don't like it. I resolve myself; long sleeves every day for the rest of my life Astrid, awestruck by me? Not okay. And I'll get a similar reaction from everyone who sees them. Scars are the symbol of a Viking's bravery; if I wanted to, I could use these to stop the mutterings of 'Stoick's little disappointment' for all time; but that's just not an option. I don't want to be seen as some amazing warrior hero.
"Why don't you guys get it?" I protest angrily. "I don't care about what happened; I just want everything to go back to normal!"
Astrid's face is uncharacteristically gentle; she gently gives me a hug and I can't help the low whimper that escapes my lips. She stiffens and slowly draws away, looking mortified.
"Oh gods," she says in a horrified voice. "I'm so sorry…"
And that's what does it.
"If I hear one more person say 'I'm sorry' then they're going to be!" I snap angrily, and I limp as fast as I can- which still isn't very fast- down the stairs. Toothless had been tactfully waiting downstairs; maybe expecting some soppy 'I missed you' thing, but he coos quietly and lifts a wing, which I flop under miserably. Now I feel bad; there was no reason to get mad at Astrid. But I did; I really hope she's not too wounded. But she probably will be; it takes a lot to make me mad. She must be feeling like she's done something unforgiveable.
It's a real shame that I'm the one who did the unforgiveable. Well done, Hiccup.
