A Son of Ice and Fire

A/N: This may be a bit more of a darker chapter, but this is the world of game of thrones and it can't all be fairytales and princesses. This is going to be the last chapter for Snotlout and the twins, before we head into season 2 of thrones.

I hope you have all enjoyed the story arc for these characters so far, and I would be up for any suggestions you would like me to take on board in the future. Reviews would help me greatly in seeing how you feel about this chapter in particular, as well as the story as a whole. Follow the story to keep up to date with the regular uploads.

Chapter 21: No way out

Snotlout

"Brother, let me help." I asked softly

"BROTHER! I DON'T HAVE A BROTHER!" Dagur yelled loudly.

"But…" I pleaded.

"But what Snotlout? But what? Unless you have a way to get her back, you are nothing to me."

"Well actually, I do kno…"

"A hidden entrance?"

"No."

"A weakness in the castle defenses?"

"No.

"Anything at all that can help us whatsoever?

"Well, erm, not exactly."

"So what exactly can you do to help? Come on the Snotlout, tell me. WHAT CAN YOU DO?" Dagur's eyes grew narrow and angry, as he drew a dagger and stabbed it repeatedly into the table between us.

"I… I… I… I… can… can…"

"CAN WHAT? SPIT IT OUT." Dagur hissed

"I can speak to dad, get him to release her." I offered weakly

Dagur let out a loud, maniacal laugh. His grip of the blade now so strong that his dagger stuck deep into the wood even after he had let go of the handle. The splinters of the table forming small piles around the point of the blade.

"Speak to Spitelout Jorgenson. Are you really that stupid? I tried teaching you to be better than him. To be smarter. And what did you do? You forgot it all, and became just like him." Dagur's accusations hit hard. Was wanting to be like dad so bad?

"AND WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?" I yelled back. "YOU DIED. VICELOUT DIED. I WAS A CHILD, AND YOU LEFT ME THERE." I was now standing up to face him, fists clenched. I tried to show a look of anger, but the act was only hiding the tears swelling in my eyes.

"You have no idea what I went through. NO IDEA!" Dagur screamed.

"Then tell me, brother, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE? ALONE!" We were practically butting heads no across the table, but I saw him lower his head and let out a deep sigh.

"At first, I didn't remember. When the castle collapsed, I took a serious hit. Up here." He tilted his head, while knocking on the side of his skull. "I woke up alone, and trapped. I escaped from the rubble and sprinted as far from the destruction as I could. I found a small boat on the edge of the island and sailed off. I rode off into the distance, and I left it all behind. I sailed for months, on the small rations stashed on the boat, and eventually landed on an Island just off of Volantis."

"Volantis?" I questioned.

"I was there for a long time. I was taken in by a highborn family there. I had you know, like a father there, that actually treated me like I was his son. I even had a sister."

"A sister?"

"She was fierce, and brave, and I loved her as if she was my own blood." I saw his eyes light up at the memories, before they turned back to pure rage and he dropped his head. "THEN YOUR DAD CAME AND WRECKED IT ALL TO BITS!"

I walked around the table to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under the contact, but soon looked up to face me again. "What did he do?" I thought about letting it drop, but I needed to get through to him somehow. Somewhere deep in there, under the wild hair and all the scars, there must be some part of the brother I always looked up to still alive and fighting.

"The first time I saw the Jorgenson flagship on the coast of the Island, it caused all the memories that I had of my former life to resurface and flood me. I tried to process everything, but in all the panic and confusion, I… I… I blacked out. When I awoke, I heard the bells ringing and I rushed back to the castle to find out that Lord Oswaldson, the man who had looked after me for five years, was dead. I tried telling them that I had nothing to do with it. I tried telling them it was Spitelout. But they blamed me. They cast me out. I haven't seen them since. I couldn't face them. I spent the next years going from contract to contract as a mercenary in Essos, eventually choosing to fight in the pits to earn enough money to sail home and even the score."

Dagur slouched, as if he was relieving every painful reminder of his former life was dragging him down to the depths of the sea. I can remember dad being gone for months when I was younger, but was there where he was always going? Hunting? All in the name of vengeance? Or jealousy? I knew deep down it was the truth, I saw it in my father's eyes when Dagur had him hostage. Dagur was always very impulsive, and somewhere along the line, my father had broken him. I watched as Dagur had taken his anger for my father out on the Ironborn corpses littering the ship after the battle. How he'd covered his blade in so much blood that the silver of the metal could no longer be seen. It had taken us the best part of a day to remove all of the bodies from the ship, and even after the that, the pungent odour remained. As some grim reminder of the horrors of the fight.

I looked up, and I could see my brother pacing angrily. I needed for him to be able to open up. Maybe then I could get my brother back, "So why is the girl so important to you?" I enquired.

"What?" Dagur stopped pacing and turned towards me, his eyes now daggers staring at me.

"Why are you planning on risking everything just to get her back?"

"I owe her." He snapped sharply.

"What for?" He shot me an angry scowl.

"Enough that I won't leave her in the hands of your father."

"It's a suicide mission. He won't exactly let you walk in there and take her." I tried reasoning.

"No, but he will let you." Dagur smirked. "I have a plan…"

Ruffnut

Darkness. Darkness and cold. A chilling cold that feels like a thousand small knives puncturing the skin. I tried to move, to wriggle free and to run, but any motion caused the hurt to return. The throbbing in my chest, the aching in my back, the jolts of pain pulsing through my fingers. My head drooped, eyes so heavy and a face so bruised I can barely see. I tried to roll my head, to rest it on my heavily Injured shoulder, but the restraints made the movement more hassle than it was worth. I had tried for days to loosen the chains tied around my hands, but now they were forced straight above my head. I had tried to pull my hands down to my side, or even to head height, but the metal clasped around my wrists locked them in place. My back was pinned against a cold slab, and my feet were tied tightly, only giving me the ability to stand on the tips of the toes or I would be left hanging by my arms. I tried calling out, to scream, to beg, but all that got me was more and more pain. I don't know how much more I can take. Please find me Tuff. Please find me.

As I tried closing my eyes again, to escape to the peace and painlessness of sleep, the large wooden door crashed open. A short figure approached, blending almost entirely into the dark. A single candle was lit, as he emerged from the entrance and came towards me. The metallic red of his helmet lighting up, as the flame dodged and weaved. He walked up towards me, the usual cold lifeless eyes hiding behind the mask seemed to almost revel in the joy he got from my suffering. For the first time in all of the days he has had me here, he slowly reached round the back of his head, untying the straps, and pulling off the mask. The burns covering his face matched his mask almost identically. He gently placed the helmet onto the desk, before giving a slow and calculating smile and sauntering up towards me. He still held the candlestick in his hand, and I could see his eyes almost instinctively following the flickering of the teardrop of fire above the melting wax.

"You would think that I may fear the flame, that I would turn away as it burns ever closer. But my dear, there is beauty in fire. A power. An innocence. A longing to be controlled. Can't you see?" His smile was unnerving, as he brought the light ever closer to my bare skin. I tried to flinch, but my arms were so sore, so cut and black and blue, the protective instincts of my body seemed to have fought their last fight and gone into hibernation. "Oh, do forgive me, my lady, in all our time together, I do not think I have properly introduced myself. My name is Viggo Grimborn."

I grunted back at him, the thick gag over my mouth covering my groans, and soaked in the blood from my busted lip.

"My apologies," Viggo smirked, as he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. He reached his hand around my neck, untying the thick, red gag and letting it drop to my feet. "It wasn't right to silence a lady."

"Fuck. You." I grunted angrily, hoping that at least some resilience would show through.

Viggo chuckled to himself, as he ran his hands up my forehead and through my hair. I twitched back, trying to kick and fight and bite and force my way free. "I do admire your spirit. Most cannot withstand this level of… reprogramming."

"Reprogramming?" I spluttered.

"Well I do like to be thorough," he laughed, heading over to the desk and running his hands across the selection of blades, vices, and all other manner of horrific instruments he possessed. "Your friends kidnapped lord Jorgenson's son; did you think there would be no price to pay for that?"

"Why don't you go out and get him if you're so upset?" I mumbled, trying to at least make it more the experience of hurting me more uncomfortable for the man than anything. And I say man, more of a boy really. Can't be older than sixteen. The cold demeanor and armour he hides behind is all just a mask. A screen to cover how pathetic he truly is.

"You think I care for the Jorgenson boy? Honestly, if his deranged brother ends up going berserk and slices him into pieces, then that would make life a lot easier for me. He is weak, and he has no right to call himself Ironborn."

"And you do? You're nothing but a coward." I scoffed, blood still spluttering out of my mouth. "You hide behind a mask, a cover, but all you are weaker than all of us."

"WEAK." His calm manor turned erratic, as he slammed his fist on the desk and then exchanged the candlestick for a sharp needle-pointed dagger that was laying at the edge. "Born the second son of a family of weak men, with a destiny to fall into mediocrity, I am now the second heir to the second largest house in the entire Iron islands. By eighteen, I will control the Jorgenson fleet and then…"

"Then you'll go and conquer the world." I said nonchalantly.

"I may have higher expectations for my future than most, but sitting on a throne made of swords is not among them. The Iron islands are weak. The mainlanders don't fear us. We raid, and pillage, but those are small goals. Small victories. I will make the lords of the realm dread the sight of our ships on the horizon." His fist was now raised into the air, as if he was putting on a show.

"Bravo. Bravo. I'm sure you dad is very proud of that speech."

"Ha. I doubt that very much. The only thing he was ever proud of was when my brother was knighted by one of the southern lords. An Ironborn lord's son, sent off to act as a squire to some posh, fancy, noble, privileged imbecile. Two years later, he was made a knight, what shame it brought to our house. Of course, it was only me that felt that way. It was such a shame my family had to meet their unfortunate end." He would have sounded sympathetic, if you couldn't see him, but the wry smile slowly inching across his fate soon turned into a large wide smile.

"I guess that's what you have planned for me?" I asked reluctantly.

"Oh no, my dear, you have got a lot, a lot, planned for you. Don't you worry about that." Viggo clenched his hand forcefully up against my neck, my already bruised skin burning under the contact. I closed my eyes, waiting for the opportunity to be able to breathe again. As he released me, and my head fell forward once more, he incisively lunged the blade into my shoulder blade. I yelled out, screaming as the blood trickled down my arms and across my torn shirt. He let out another hearty groan, as if this was somehow pleasurable for him. He reached down and retied the gag harshly against my teeth, luckily escaping with his fingers in one piece as I crunched my teeth down. He gave me one final smile, as he headed towards the exit, leaving the blade lodged inside me, "You, lady Thorston will make me very happy indeed…"