Eight
Pain.
It's disconcertingly the first thing he registers once again.
It's hard and lancing and deep in his chest and his leg and his arm and his forehead. He's got a colossal headache. His whole body is hot and sweaty and burning and he can't move. Can't move because it hurts. It's hurts so much and breathing is like fire and it hurts and his head is pounding and it's like being stabbed repeatedly and it hurts and he thinks he's going to be sick from it and...
Then he registers the arms; gentle and strong around him. Full of strength and sinew and muscle. Powerful arms. Battle hardened and sturdy. Tough. Safe. Holding him carefully, gently, like he might just break at any second; as if he could shatter like wood splintering under Astrid's axe. Like he's something fragile. Precious. The arms are trembling ever so slightly, and the bare flesh feels cooling and comforting against his own too-hot body.
Because Hiccup feels like he's on fire, like flames are raging just under his skin, which is slick, flushed and painful with sweat. His head pounds, lolling to one side and he feels nauseous and limp and oh so tired. Unbidden, a weak moan escapes his lips.
It's then he realises he's resting against the hardness of a torso, huge and muscled under the soft woven material of a tunic, and Hiccup begins to take in the fact he's being cradled against someone's chest, his head tucked limply under their thickly bearded chin, a large hand, the size of a dinner plate, in his hair.
"Hiccup?" Comes a voice; he's unsure whose, from right above him - the person holding him he assumes. He tries to formulate some response, but only just manages to open his mouth to moan pitifully, the sound low and feeble in his chest. His eyelids feel too heavy to open, the darkness of unconsciousness lingering at the edges of his awareness. His head lolls slightly to one side, where it rests back against a sturdy shoulder. The pain is still great and terrible in his chest and limbs. What had happened? His mind feels foggy, uncertain.
Footsteps hurry across the squeaking floorboards that like they do in his own room at home. Hiccup wonders if that's where he is. Probably he concludes. He's probably in his room. He can't quite remember why he'd be there though. Why does his head hurt so much?
"Did we wake him?" He vaguely recognises that voice. It's Astrid he thinks. She sounds strained and tired and so, so worried. Why's she worried? Panic floods Hiccup's system, making his heart lurch wildly in his chest. Hiccup tries his hardest to open his eyes, struggles to, he needs to; Astrid is worried about something? Has something happened? Are the dragons ok? Toothless. Where's Toothless? His breathing stutters and speeds up. His torso hurts so much. So much pain. Does Toothless need him? Could he be hurt? Is that why Astrid is worried?! Or maybe Fishlegs or one of the twins or Snotlout or his Father...His Father...
His suddenly becomes hyperaware of exactly who he's leaning on.
"I don't know..."Comes Stoick's deep, accented voice and Hiccup wonders why he didn't recognise it sooner. Perhaps because he sounds so strangely... worried? Panic seizes Hiccup once again. Making his breathing falter and his body tense. Something must be really wrong if his Father is worried. At this thought, every muscle in his body suddenly seizes up and he almost screams aloud at the sharp, horrible pain that lances through his chest and arm; shooting along the limb and right up into his shoulder. All Hiccup can manage to do is lay there gasping shallowly and feebly, the firmness of his father's arms the only thing keeping him grounded. Stoick speaks again, and Hiccup can hear the panic in the Chief's voice: "Hiccup? Hiccup can you hear me?" The arms around him shake his shoulder lightly, and then the man's voice calls out: "Astrid?" the pleading and pitiful tone almost hurts.
Soft, femininely smooth hands reach out to touch his face, their contact calming and gentle. One settles on his cheek.
"Hiccup?" Hiccup can't find the strength to reply, only to moan lowly. "His fever is still quite high." The young woman sighs.
"Dammit..." chokes out Stoick's voice, "Dammit Hiccup..." and the arms tighten around him. A warm, suspiciously damp face buries itself in his shoulder, soft hairs tickling the side of his neck, the puff of his breath soft and comforting against his fevered skin.
And it's only now Hiccup begins to realise that whatever's happened, must have happened to him. Because Astrid, hell, even his Father's worried about him! But what had happened? He can't seem to remember. His torso and limbs and forehead feel like they're burning... What on Earth happened? Another jolt of pain flits through him. Gods, it feels like he's fallen off a Thor-forsaken cliff or something and landed on his head... wait...
Fallen?
Fallen...?
Oh gods...
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back.
The snow had just... Given way... And His father...
His Father!
Hiccup's eyes jolt open, his body lurching forward with a howl of pain, so suddenly that both Stoick and Astrid jerk backwards with loud cries of surprise.
"Hiccup!"
The sudden movement has shaken him. He can't breathe. Everything is pain. The arms around him are tight and secure and are the only thing keeping him from passing out. And he holds on purely because he's stubborn. Because he won't. He won't fall into unconsciousness. Not until he knows his Father's all right. That the snow didn't break under him too. It feels like he's being run though. Like there are daggers in his head. His headache blinds him and he squeezes his eyes shut again. And he can't breathe. And bright spots are dancing in his blackened vision. But he won't pass out. He won't. And...
"Shhh, Hiccup. Shhhh." His Father's strong arms are leaning him back, flush against his broad chest, and helping him take great, gasping breaths of air. Tears stream down the young rider's cheeks. Because it just hurts. It hurts so much. And... "It's ok, Hiccup, your fine... Shhh." Stoick murmurs in his ear. And when did he become so comforting anyway?
"Fath'er" Hiccup chokes out between pained wheezes, fingers scrabbling weakly at his arm in panic. Soft little nails tickling Stoick's skin. "Far...th...her..."
"I'm here, Hiccup. Shhh. It's ok Hiccup. Your fine..."
"D...Dad!" He chokes out, and then Hiccup can feel Astrid's hands on his throat and pressing a vial of some sort to his lips and he's clever enough to know it's intended to knock him out, take the pain away, but "No!" he has to know. Has to know if his Father is alright. "No!" He jerks his head away, his abused arm screaming at the action. He chokes on the air he's breathing. Heart pounding in his chest. Blood rushing in his ears. Panic floods his senses. He's hyperventilating. Each breath a desperately rapid painful gasp.
"Hiccup! Calm down! Hiccup!" Stoick's arms are tight and secure around him, they're trying to gently rock him, like one would do a small, panicked child. Maybe this is what Stoick's used to do when Hiccup was younger and had a bad dream. The arms are clumsy and jittering, like they're little panicked themselves and don't quite know what they're doing, so perhaps he'd seen Hiccup's Mother doing it for him once. Hiccup can't quite remember.
"Falling... Dad... I..." Hiccup manages to choke out in his fear. "I wz...fall'ng. 'urts..." And Stoick realises his boy's lost in the grip of his fuzzy memories.
"It's fine Hiccup, your fine, you're not falling anymore." He tries to reassure the child, aiming for a calming, steady manner, and ignoring how it's actually choked and trembling "We got you out of there. Me and Toothless." Stoick tries to force his voice into a more soft and reassuring tone, but Hiccup still thrashes in his arms. "We're all fine, we're all safe." Stoick all but shouts in his ear, falling back on the old, if you don't know what to do, yelling is always a good bet. The boy falls limp at this, but Stoick's pretty sure it's not because he was shouting. Even the Viking chief is clever enough to work out the boy was fretting over them. "It's ok Hiccup. We're ok..."
There's silence for a moment when only Hiccup's quick, harsh, ragged breaths pierce the air, then Hiccup's eyes slip closed, and the boy can feel the deep pulling fingers of unconsciousness grasping at him. He tries to fight it. He should... he should... but he's just so tired and...
"It's alright Hiccup. Go to sleep. There's a good boy now. Go to sleep..."
And then the fingers pull Hiccup away into the darkness. The blackness. And he hurts no more.
...
At the window, a figure dressed all in ragged black lurks in the darkness, peering in at the scene with cold storm-grey eyes. From his perch on the roof he can hear the dragon moving around downstairs, and he's thanking his lucky stars the beast was banned from the room the boy resides in.
Otherwise he might have been detected; smelt, and the beast would raise the alarm.
The figure looks back at the boy in the bed and smiles in a manner not dissimilar to a shark considering its prey; all cold-hearted cunning and long, jagged teeth.
Because here's the dragon conquer, ill and weak and defenseless.
And it's the perfect opportunity.
The figure's grin widens.
He must hurry to tell his master.
The dragon conqueror will be theirs.
...
A.N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter, drop me a review to let me know! I give you cookie?
*Grin*
- Lenle G
