Chapter 12: Nidhogg

Hiccup jerked awake, and saw nothing but whiteness. The wind whipped around him, and he felt the damp air tearing at his clothes―hands of cloud that clung to his body. His dragonskin armor was half-on, but the top half of it laid in front of him, like an empty shell. He was saddled on Toothless, but when he tried to call out to the dragon, it made no reaction. In the foggy, clouded world he found himself in, Hiccup felt unnerved.

In this uniformly misty world, he couldn't help but wonder where he was. Am I dead? He wondered. Am I traveling to Nilfheim, to be punished as one not killed in battle?

Spires of stone flitted past them, but Hiccup couldn't see them long enough to recognize their shapes. He clung tightly to the dragon and tried to rest―his memories were fuzzy, but a quick exploration of his body revealed injuries far more grievous than even the stoutest Vikings could live through. He breathed slowly in the misty air and hoped that their flight would end soon.

An amount of time passed―it could've been minutes, it could've been hours. Either way, the misty air began to clear, and Hiccup saw a mountain of gray ash and pulsing orange lava pushing through veiny cracks in the earth. The pure white mist began to fade, and through it Hiccup saw a swirling mass above the mountain. It looked like a huge, undulating pillar of smoke―contrasting the peaceful (although unnerving) mist.

Toothless, as emotionless as he had been the rest of the trip, began flying upwards―out of the mist, and into the smoke. As the last wisps of mist curled off of the human-dragon duo, Hiccup saw what that smoke really was. It was thousands of dragons, flying erratically and uniformly as a pillar to the sky. Hiccup shook Toothless, batted at his face and shouted at the dragon, but nothing seemed to be able to wake him from the blind stupor that controlled him.

Finally, as a last resort, Hiccup re-suited into his armor. It pained him to leave his dragon, but it would be worse if both of them died. Looking up at the smoky mass of dragons one last time, he was alarmed to find how close they were―and more importantly, that they seemed to be opening to welcome the rider and his dragon.

Hiccup gritted his teeth and jumped.

More accurately, it should be said that he slid off of Toothless. The saddle was crudely made, and it was a simple task to slide off. Landing, unfortunately, was not. Hiccup fell farther than his house was high, and he landed with an audible thump. He had landed on his feet, but one foot had been yanked in an unnatural position in the impact. Maybe I should've let myself roll down the mountain, he thought, his face twisting from the pain surging through his ankle and his ribs.


The world began, chaotic and filled with warfare. The gods on the side of the world, the giants aiming to create chaos.

In reality, it is rarely as cut-and-dry as the stories stories are often factual, but not always honest. History favors the victors, as they say.

There is always one story that is true. The story that tells of the first dragon. The true seeker of chaos: Nidhogg. My story.


Hiccup stood, leaning precariously on his injured foot. As he looked up, he saw Toothless as he was swallowed into the massive spire of dragons. Immediately after, Hiccup began to run―a large portion of the dragons in the swarm had detached from the pack and were swooping pointedly at him.

The ashy mountain's surface crumbled as Hiccup ran, and he lost his footing multiple times as he ran across it. Once he found a flatter, more stable area, he took two knives from his belt and turned to stand against the horde. Only then did he realize how many dragons were flying towards him―roaring in a collective rage.

They were upon him quickly, tearing at his arms and his face―but his armor shielded him from the worst of it. He tried to jump and tear at the eyes of a Nadder, but his lame foot made him miss it by a large margin. The Nadder had been chased off, but three more dragons swooped in to replace it; their teeth glistening in the dim light. Hiccup growled in his throat―irritated―and the dragons growled back.

A wave of fire blew over him from behind, and although the suit was supposed to protect from fire, it was unfinished. He felt his shoulders burning and he swung around, cutting out the tongue of a Monstrous Nightmare. As he did so, he realized how hopeless the situation was―he was encapsulated in a funnel of dragons, swirling like a tornado around him. He had no choice but to keep fighting, however, as the next dragon attacked him from the side.


Vikings worship their gods, just as the rest of the world worships their own. I have no knowledge of whether one religion is any more true than the next―my roots only stretch so far.

The gods were often just as chaotic as the giants. The only difference is that they are worshipped, while the giants are feared.

The stories are wrong, just as the worshippers are.


Hiccup flung himself at the wall of dragons, and with a burst effort he burst through it. Rushing along a flattened edge forming a path on the mountain, Hiccup periodically ran, then turned to fight back the dragons. There would be dire consequences if he allowed the dragons to surround him again, and he knew it.

Hiccup, after a few minutes of this torturous exercise, began to stumble in his steps. His suit, unfinished around the shoulders and the back, was smoldering and he was in pain. He turned to beat back the dragon horde again, but he hesitated for a moment. Not far ahead on the path, there seemed to be an opening―possibly a cave which he could hide in. He jumped―grunting in pain as his sprained foot pushed off the ground―and slashed at a Gronkle's eyes. Then, using the Gronkle's momentum, Hiccup launched towards the cave's opening.

He skidded on the ash as he landed near the opening―giving the dragons just enough time to catch up with him. Fire washed over him, but it was nearly ineffective―since he was already badly burned, he barely felt the pain on his back. What hit him harder than any other attack yet, however, was a Thunderdrum's roar. A large, green Thunderdrum was barely a meter away, and the air rippled as it bellowed. Hiccup turned―barely conscious―and threw one of his last knives into the dragon's mouth; it choked, and Hiccup threw himself into the small, tunnel-like cave.

Breathing heavily and with pain spiking through every body part, Hiccup crawled until the dragons' fire could no longer reach him. The tunnel was perhaps a meter high, and Hiccup sat against the edge, trying to regain his breath and his clarity.

It took a few moments for him to realize it, now that the dragon-prompted chaos was outside and he was inside, but it was truly, completely silent. It was comfortable at first, but then it became eerie. It only became worrisome once he scratched his head underneath the helmet and he couldn't hear the ruffling of his hair.

He tested it a few more ways: speaking quietly, then at a normal volume. He tried scratching at the tunnel wall, then finally tried yelling as loud as he could―hoping he wouldn't attract some smaller dragon to come and assault him. Unfortunately, his ears seemed to be completely dead, making all noises nothing but quiet hums.

He lifted himself off the ground and began walking farther down the tunnel, since leaving it would be a death sentence. In a walk that was half a squat, half a crawl, Hiccup moved farther inwards.


One story over all, however, is untrue. One story is incomplete.

The Vikings tell of a time―the future, when the World Tree falls―when the gods will finally bring the world to rest, fighting their last battles. They tell of a time when I will escape from my prison and bring chaos with my brood.

This story is incomplete.

The gods and the giants are all dead. I have broken from my cage―and I feed endlessly, preparing to bring the foretold chaos.


The temperature rose as Hiccup moved farther and farther into the mountain. The tunnel twisted and overlapped with other tunnels, making a patchwork of pathways. He had lost his way, but he knew he could escape if time was allowing. For now, he wanted to find a safe place to rest.

The humming in his ear ebbed and flowed unpredictably, and although he attempted to find the source, he couldn't seem to find anything causing it. He often felt the ground shaking, but it was faint, like the ashy summit itself was breathing. He shifted uneasily in his suit, and kept limping along.

It was not his choice to keep the dragonskin suit on, but it would be his salvation. It was not his choice because of how it was made, and how it had melted. Parts of it were practically welded to his shoulders and back, after the fiery breaths of the many dragons who had burned him. Taking it off would've left him practically naked and defenseless―and it would take a good amount of his skin with it. He had finally decided to keep it on―even though it was cumbersome and unforgivingly scratchy.

It was his salvation because of its nature―form-fitting and above all, strong. As Hiccup walked down a particularly scorching tunnel, the humming began in his ear again. He ignored it, but it persisted, getting louder and louder until it was nearly unbearable. He raised his hands to cover his ears, but as he did so, rocks shattered next to him.

In the half-second Hiccup had to swivel towards the rock wall next to him, he saw a widely opened mouth, razor teeth circulating to shred everything in front of it: a Whispering Death. His mind recognized this, and in that half second, he blocked his face and his body with his limbs.

He was slammed into the wall behind him, becoming part of a rock-shredding machine that had nothing but murder in mind. He felt rocks breaking behind him as the momentum of the dragon pushed forward, its teeth ripping at his suit. The suit was resilient, however―it was well-made and would not be beaten down without a fight.

Hiccup yelled a silent scream―he could not hear it, but he hoped the dragon would. With his legs and right arm, he blocked the screaming teeth. His left hand was grabbing at his last sharp dagger―and he found it. His heart was bellowing at a frantic pace, and he stabbed the knife into the center of the gaping mouth. He aimed for what he assumed was the throat or the windpipe, and from the way the dragon reacted, it was likely that he had hit his mark. With choked movements, the Whispering Death thrashed even more wildly―but it went limp after another few moments. It fell backwards, and Hiccup fell against the wall―more dead than alive.

His arms and legs were in tatters―his suit had protected them from the brunt of the beast's attack, but it had given way eventually. His back felt even worse after being forced through volcanic rock, and he feared whether or not it would heal. Almost all of his suit was now on the ground, soaked in blood. Hiccup stood weakly, and looked around.

Next to him, a small hole had opened, and light was filtering through. Have I come full circle to the edge of the mountain? He thought, clawing frantically at the rock. After a few minutes, he had created a hole big enough for him to crawl through. With one last look at the dead dragon next to him, he slipped through.

And he arrived in Hell.

An orange light pervaded every crack of the strange, craggy land he had escaped to. He was reminded of an anthill he had once dug into in a childlike curiosity. It seemed to be endless, yet contained in its own area. It was layered and tunneled and worst of all, was filled to the brim with dragons. Hiccup froze, holding his breath like a dangerous weapon that would annihilate him, should he let it go.

None of the dragons seemed to notice him, however, and he began to venture forward, peering over the edge before him. The sight he saw was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

A dragon the size of a small mountain sat at the bottom of the smog-filled volcano. It was staring intensely at Toothless, and Toothless stared back with equal strength. It was all in vain. The giant dragon was the clear victor, and Toothless was flattened underneath the pressure.

With a movement that seemed faster than physically possible, the giant dragon whipped its head towards Hiccup. Hiccup jumped backwards, but the tremors shaking through the ground told him that he had been too slow. Claws crashed into the wall not far from Hiccup, and a giant face stared down at him. Six eyes opened, and all six of them pinned Hiccup in place.

He knew his ears were still unresponsive, but he still heard a fearsome voice slither out of the dragon and into his mind.

"You've finally crawled your way to me, haven't you, Hiccup?"

Hiccup's heart felt as if it was being squeezed, but he tried to cough out a response.

"It...It was you all this time?"

"Let me use your body, Hiccup. I'll allow you to live, as long as you give it to me freely."

Hiccup felt tiny, facing the rock-encrusted beast in front of him. The sight of it made his knees shake, and he could practically breathe the ancient aura it gave off. Hiccup felt vaguely ashamed that he ever thought Gobber could've been the one controlling him.

"I'll never give you my body―you'll never have it." Hiccup proclaimed defiantly. It was a fake bravado, and the beast knew it. "I swear to Thor himself that you'll never control me."

It gave a low, angry chuckle―then thrust its head forward, stopping inches from Hiccup's face. "Thor is dead. Ragnarok has come and gone, and your people did nothing in the fighting. You are weak and pitiful, and your gods cannot help you. I could kill you without a thought. This is your last chance to keep your life."

Hiccup knew that the beast was telling the truth. Hiccup was battered, weaponless, and covered in blood―from both himself and the dragons he had fought. The beast, on the other hand, was larger than the entire area of the cove, and was flanked by hundreds of assorted dragons, flying around him in a motley swarm around its head. Toothless was one of them―flying directly over the giant.

The voice sounded throughout the cavern once more, slightly quieter and more understanding. "Hiccup. I know you both inside and out. I can give you strength. I know that you are no fool―give yourself over to me."

Hiccup considered it. If he had to choose between death or strength, the choice was obvious. But if that strength came with a cost, or hidden lies…

"No." It was quiet, but Hiccup said it with a certain finality. The giant beast was silent.

Then it opened its mouth wider than seemed possible, letting out an earth-shaking roar. It seemed to surpass the brokenness of Hiccup's ears, and he heard it through the air and in the rocks around him. With the roar, the dragon bellowed, "You are a fool, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock! No human nor dragon disobeys Nidhogg! You will pay for your foolishness―I am already deeply rooted inside you!"

Hiccup felt his mind twist, and the darkness inside it rushed through the entirety of his mind. He tried to fight back, but there was no strength in his body or his mind. As the blood dripped onto the ground in front of him, he looked up into the sky. There was a small circle of hazy sky that showed at the top of the volcano, showing tiny, glittering stars looking down on him. With his last breath, Hiccup mused with a small grin, "Are the gods truly dead, Nidhogg?"

And Hiccup lost consciousness.


This is what I would call the end of the first third. This is where the story will greatly derail from the main movies, and it will mark the beginning of a good amount more mythological stuff. It shouldn't require any knowledge of the mythology, and I'll probably add what seems necessary to know here at the bottom.

Nidhogg was imprisoned underneath the World Tree (Yggdrasil) in its root attached to Nilfheim (the land of the dead, basically). At the end of the world, it would break loose and bring chaos to the universe. It was supposedly the first dragon.

That should be all! I wanted to get this short chapter out now, since I won't be uploading another one for at least another month or two. Thanks for all the support, it means a lot! Hope you enjoyed!