A/n: Omg you guys we did it. We have reached the climax. Ö Thanks so much for reading!

FYI though, I don't know how to castle. Or to action. But I gave it my best shot. :B

-Chapter 11: The Siege of Gods-

The metal binds around Hiccup's wrists were digging into his skin. Still, he struggled against their hold.

His cell was dank and freezing cold, windowless and nearly pitch black. Outside, he could hear the wind beat at the tower walls. Over the stormy wail, his short breath ground quickly as he again tried to free himself. His arms were raised above his head, hands bound to the wall. Beneath rips in his tunic, strips of red-tainted bandages could be glimpsed wrapped over his shoulder and around his middle.

Another sharp lurch of his body, and the iron drew blood from his welt-covered forearm. The prisoner winced and cried out, stilling his efforts.

It was fruitless. His hours were few, his binds tight, and the stone fortress impenetrable.

The boy's eyes nearly drowned in the thought that they may never again look on another dawn. But Hiccup's grim determination leveled the tremor of hopelessness, and with a long breath, he began again to work at slipping his slim wrists from their binds.

Perhaps he could make no difference in his fate. But he could not simply lie in wait of death, or of some miracle to rescue him. Every last second would be spent fighting.

When the cell door suddenly flew open, slamming against the wall, dread caught the boy by the throat, sealing out all air from his lungs. The torchlight from the hallway was almost blinding to his eyes. But as he stared at the open doorway, Hiccup realized there was no one there, and in with the flinging door blew a sharp wind, loud as a yell and strong enough to tousle his auburn hair.

The wind died quickly as it came. Hiccup could hear a distant commotion from beyond the open door, but another, gentler sound caught his ear. It was strange, almost like a frozen pine tree bough were shaken, and the frost was tinkling down from the evergreen needles.

Hiccup looked up, and gasped. Ice was unfurling slowly around his shackles, weaving along the metal like a vine. There was a pressure near his wrists, and suddenly the metal cracked apart, at last allowing his arms to drop.

Rubbing his tender skin, the boy kept a bewildered gawk on the icy iron. His mind must have been playing tricks... this was some fantasy freeing his thoughts from his body. What else could it be?

But another whisk of wind danced through the loose, tattered ends of his clothes, and swept back his bangs. A string of frost trailed softly along the rock-gray floor, leading out of the cell.

Dream or no, the way out lay open. So Hiccup took it.

Urgent voices echoed on the passageway walls. The lights were dim and flickering, and through the tower windows Hiccup could see only swirling white, snow mounds gathering at the ledges and overflowing to the floor. A stairwell led the stumbling youth deeper into the castle, his heart skipping frantically over each step. At every other moment, he had to pause and grip at the walls while they quaked as though the castle were under fire. But how could any siege be waged in a snowstorm?

At the staircase's end, the hallway widened, and more torches decked the ancient walls. Two thick doors stood to Hiccup's right, a third lying ahead. He only paused briefly, arm clutching his wounded side, poised to start back at a hobbling run in another second. As he'd only been half-conscious when brought to the tower, the youth couldn't remember the way he'd come. But there were voices beyond the first door, so he tried the second. Beyond it Hiccup's dismayed eyes found only darkness, some unused chamber or bathing room. Without another wasted second, the boy made for the end door, throwing himself through it the moment it was open.

Once on the other side, Hiccup halted. He'd emerged upon a narrow balcony, overlooking a room the size of several houses. The tall walls were draped with the King's emblem, and with one long tapestry of a red and gold-hilted dagger. There were steep, crosshatch windows, arched at the top like the great doors down below at the center of the far wall.

Just beyond the balcony ledge, a great throne sat upon a small raised platform. It was hewn from gold and ridged up the long back with ornate, leaf-like curves. The laurel trimming ran also down the four thick legs, which each were flanked by little gold dragon statues, tails and long necks clinging possessively around the legs as their frozen snarls and clear, pupil-less eyes dared one to approach.

The balcony's outer rim was flanked with a low stone railing, and on either side of the carpeted area were more doors. But Hiccup didn't move, because down below was a swarm of men, filing quickly into groups and running past the four open archways along the walls. They spoke sharply among themselves, panic ripe in their thick voices.

Among them was the Dagger.

Another massive quake disturbed the castle foundations, and pebble-sized flakes of rubble crumbled from the ceiling.

Hiccup slowly began to back into the previous room, waiting for the soldiers to disperse. But the heavy wail of a door flying open turned his attention behind him – more soldiers were emerging from the first door. Half a second after he turned, a man looked up, and locked eyes with him.

There was a shout, and he started running again.

The door banged off its hinges when he threw it back, and with only a few moments head start, clanging footsteps were hot on his heel. A hand snatched his upper arm, yanking back. Hiccup yelped from jolt of pain tearing up his wounded shoulder, staggering under the man's hold.

But all at once, the digging grasp let him go. Among the soldiers were exclamations and the clatter of metal against floor. Hiccup looked back just in time to catch sight of half the wall abruptly bursting, as though torn through by a battering ram, slamming heavy chunks of stone against his pursuers. Many were already lain upon the floor, waving their hands above their faces dizzily as though to bat away an unseen force.

Along the dusty wreckage there drifted a few little tufts of gray fur, and from seemingly out of the air floated down a single, shimmering green and purple feather.

Below an utterly astounded furrow to his brow, Hiccup's dazed eyes tried to find any further clue as to what in God's name had happened. But there wasn't time to gawp. The commotion on the balcony had drawn the notice of those in the throne room below. Half-armored men pointed and hollered, and scuttled towards the archways.

Mordred's eyes promised death. But the castle shook again, and from the ceiling collapsed a great slab of stone, careening down over the prince's head. He leapt back just before it could crush him, and it slammed down against the throne to his side, scattering rubbly dust –and strangely, ice– over the golden symbol of power.

The frantic call of survival pounding through his body and mind pushed down Hiccup's baffled curiosity, and urged him to keep moving. He fled past the rightmost door, facing another long hallway with pillar-embossed walls beyond it. At the corner of either end was a staircase! But the banging of footfalls echoed up the stairwell nearest him, so the boy hobbled down towards the other end, almost losing his balance at the next thunderous tremor to rattle the stone palace.

But as he drew closer to the stairwell, another group of men emerged from that end as well! Trapped, the youth looked wildly around for an escape – and his eyes fell on the glass windows along the outer walls. He scrambled quickly for something to break the glass, but there was nothing, and the men were bearing down on him. Barreling for the window anyway, Hiccup reached down to his metal leg, and hurriedly unclasped it from the stub of his shin. With a thin grunt, he slammed the prosthetic into the murky window. Shards scattered everywhere. Shielding his face, the boy tore a gap in the glass wide enough to climb through, and clambered up onto the table-high ledge.

What little footing there was along the castle's outside walls could barely be seen in the whirl of snow and wind. There was barely time to reattach his leg before hands shot out of the jagged hole he'd made. All Hiccup could do was squint against the wind and sidle slowly along an icy ledge, back pressed flat against the window. The thunderous blizzard howled in his numbing ears as he took a step, another, two more.

One of the groping palms seized around his ankle, and jerked. His precarious footing left him. The winds swallowed his cry, and the one-legged horseman fell from the castle wall into the storm.

Only just before the ground could greet him, the shrieking air stilled. Then a cold, cold current swept around the boy's limbs, no sharper than a breath. Yet it held him fast, turning his breakneck fall to a feather-light drift.

Eyes prying open, the boy simply blinked down at the snowy castle grounds, no more than a few feet below him. He sank into the snow with a little plop and only the slightest stumble, as the breathy cold seemed to righten the fatigued lean of his body at once – almost like a pair of hands.

He might have been certain now this was a dream he had floated into, but his breathing wheezed so sharply that his shallow chest stung, and the biting cold flared his senses. How real this dream appeared...

A sound reached his hearing, sharp and heavy. From the blustering darkness a black figure clopped forward, and Fury's excited eyes gazed into his little friend's. With a small exclamation of the sheerest relief and joy, Hiccup clung to the stallion, face digging into his warm, silky coat. The horse gave an agitated shake, and understanding the horse's unspoken instruction, the boy wasted no time in heaving his raw little form onto the saddle.

The moment he did, the shower of snowflakes suddenly parted around the boy and his horse, like a curtain sweeping aside. The snowless gap reached slightly ahead of them, and as Fury began to run, the canopy of clear air still held over their heads.

There were far-off sounds of an outcry behind. Hiccup turned, and could just make out a few shapes at the open doorway of the castle throne room. But they were soon too swamped with furious flurries of white to see anymore.

The further Fury took him away from the stronghold, the further Hiccup's eyes widened. He now could see the holes lining the ancient structure, and the crumbling rooftops and caving walls. The tower from which the boy had fled swayed, and like a hewn tree came crashing slowly down.

Whining metal drew Hiccup's eyes back to what lay ahead – the drawbridge. The chains upholding the gate were snapping apart of their own accord, the way his bonds had torn with a touch of frost. Down fell the thick bridge before Fury and his rider, and the stallion had not even the need to slow before he crossed.

Thunder-like strikes still resounded in the distance. Though Hiccup could not see much of the weary castle from so far, he could hear the crashes of collapsing stone, on until they rode past the blizzard's peak into a gentle snowfall over a morning sky.

The first place the boy could think to go was back to Burgess, to see to all that he left behind. It did seem, after all, that there were matters far more pressing to occupy the Dagger and his men. He found the horses restless and hungry, but well and giddy to see the young stable boy returned to them. Supposing Jack might be at the inn, the youth lumbered though the Over Land's door with half-awake footsteps to check.

Instead, he met with Astrid's stern face, melting to deep relief at the emergence of her friend. Even wounded, she threw her arms around him and held on tight.

"Where's Jack?"

The question was very simple, and ought to have had a simple answer.

But in Astrid's perplexed blue eyes, there was only another question.

"Did he not bring you?"

"Bring me? What do you—" reading the slow-growing gloom in Astrid's fair features, a tremble passed through the horseman's weary heart. "Astrid... where is he?"

Gone, was the only answer that could be given. Though she explained that Jack had left vowing to find him, not one of the horses was missing. Hiccup's first thought was to take Fury out again and search the forests, but the snow would yield no tracks but the most recent, and the stallion was exhausted.

The boy had no rest that day, asking all around for any who may have seen the man with chestnut eyes and hair, with a strange way of speech and a childlike smile.

But no trace of the funny foreigner remained.

As night fell, Hiccup sat by the window in the alcove. The place was too devoid of unchecked laughter and nonsensical antics for comfort.

"Where are you?" his frustrated whisper sighed over the empty space beside him.

Then once more, just like in his cell, a tinkling little melody caught his ears.

Hiccup's eyes turned upwards. Petals of frost bloomed over the glass window.

He was standing in an instant, completely rapt in the presence of the same uncanny magic that freed him from the Dagger's prison.

The trails of ice curved slowly across the pane, shaping into a row of finely caligraphed letters.

Galahad.

Hiccup released a startled breath. It came out as a cloud of mist in the sudden cold.

Squaring his shoulders, the boy stared out through window at what seemed to be only empty darkness. "You..." he started unsurely, taking the chance that whatever godly power had reached down to help him would hear him speak. "You saved my life – it was you, wasn't it?"

Though it was only Hiccup's own face reflected in the dim light on the window's surface, the frost converged and reshaped in answer.

Aye.

The boy swallowed, forcing his mind open. "Well I... I don't know why you did, but... thank you." As the frost began again to move, Hiccup's innate curiosity overcame him, and the boy added, "Who are you?"

Letters formed more slowly this time, but form they did.

Messes have a habit of following me...

The boy frowned at the familiar little phrase. Then it reshaped again into another.

...When you let me alone.

Slowly churning thoughts began to snap into place, summoning the image of a grinning young man below him in the snow. Hiccup's eyes flew wide and his mouth gaped.

"...Jack?" he whispered.

The frost danced again.

I have to go now.

Thoroughly confused, the boy just sputtered. "Wh-what, but how – if it really is you then – but, hold on, go where – what are you?"

Icy ferns thickened over the glass, consuming all the letters and covering all the panes.

"Jack?" the boy tried again. "Jack, go where, where are you going?"

There were no more letters. Instead, the imprint of a palm pressed against the frost layering the outside of the window. Furling ice was chased away from the long-fingered cast. Hiccup stared at it, and hesitantly opened his hand. Slowly, the boy glanced up past the glass, wondering if his friend was really there somehow behind the window, and he brought his own palm up to cover the cold imprint.

Only a few moments' stillness passed before the imprint too was laid over with frost.

"Jack? ...Jack? Jack!"

No more answers met Hiccup's piercing voice that night.

A/n: Jack Frost - from human puppy to castle-leveling bamf in 0.5 seconds. XD

And yes hello obscure reference to an earlier chapter. Eheheh...

Sorry for sad. ;-; One more chappy then we'll see what happens to them!