There's no other way we can pull it off dad, I-"

"You really expect me to believe this?" Stoick choked out. "That you can just withstand it like it's nothing and-"

"Please, dad, I know, I know it sounds ridiculous, and morbid and completely messed up, I get it."

"But-"

"But I'm telling the truth."

Stoick looked at his son in shock.

"Magic?" he hissed, leaning across the table. "Witchcraft? You want me to believe that a magic spell from a fortune teller is what saved you from death? A spell?"

In the privacy of the little room connected to mead hall, Hiccup was discussing a... somewhat questionable plan with his father, who was still coping with everything that had occurred within the last few hours.

"It's the truth. Please, I've already tested it out and everything."

"What do you mean, you've already tested it out?"

"I was walking past one of the torches on the wall and I just brushed my hand through, it was like nothing at all."

Stoick's brow furrowed. "Why, in Odin's name, would you do that sort of thing? You could've burned your hand off!"

"I work in a forge, dad, I think I know what I'm doing."

Since his "reawakening," Hiccup had become far, far better at remaining composed in a heated discussion like this one. It was extremely helpful. Even so, he kept seated far away from his father. Who knew what that man would do once Hiccup told him his entire plan. Kill him all over again, probably. But his father only sighed, tapping a finger on his knee, very much on edge.

"So you'll sneak out when they raise the sheets, then." Begrudgingly, Stoick went to work on jotting the plan down on a piece of parchment. "First of all, we'll need to carry you out of the mead hall. You can't walk out by yourself, you're bound to be seen by someone. Once you're on the table the sheet will be laid over you... " his voice shook a bit.

"It's going to be okay, dad" Hiccup assured him. Stoick nodded and kept going.

"The sheet will be laid over you, and the first hymn will be sung. By then any of the Askr spies that Seljast has planted nearby should be entirely focused on the ceremony, and nothing else. Then the ritualistic sheets will be raised around the table, and that's when the elder will pass through the Wall of Sheets to 'recite the funeral rites.' But how is she getting you out of there again?"

"She'll be wearing a very long cloak, I'll just stoop under it and when she exits the Wall of Sheets, I'll leave with her under the cloak."

"And Toothless, what did you need him to do?"

"Just... just to be there. He'll know it's not real - I'll explain later, there's more to the spell than I've already told you - but just make sure he's not freaking out or anything."

"Of course. And what of the spies - does it matter which uniform they wear? Some of them might be soldiers."

"All of the spies wear armor under their cloaks. But make sure you have a helmet... or at least know what one of them looks like. Oh, and is it possible to send someone back to our house? There's a helmet there, if that could be brought back... just in case. And there's something else there, too. A little piece of metal, shaped like a feather."

Stoick raised his eyebrows but said he would get someone to go to the house. "And you're certain we'll be able to capture one of the spies during this time?"

"Absolutely."

Stoick looked over what he had written on the parchment. Hiccup held his breath, waiting.

Finally, his father gave a last nod. He folded the parchment and looked up, swallowing. Then the chief looked Hiccup directly in the eye and spoke low.

"Please... just please, don't die on me, son."


"It was a shame you couldn't have killed him yourself, Krista."

Sjenna's head swung to her father. "What?" She looked quizzically at her older sister, who had said nothing during the entire meal. The three of them - Seljast, Sjenna, and Krista - were seated at a table in the captain's quarters for the night meal. They were discussing how the rest of the war would play out, as long as everything went according to plan.

Seljast eyed his youngest daughter. "I had told Krista that it would be up to her to kill Stoick's little brat. The cripple who trained dragons. Unfortunately, that blonde girl got in my way, and the boy jumped in front of her to stop me from killing his little lovebird."

"We know what happened, father, we were there." Krista was looking down at her goblet.

Sjenna's face changed from mild surprise to anger. "If Krista was given the responsibility to kill the Haddock boy, then let me be the one to kill the Hofferson girl."

Seljast raised his eyebrows. "The Hofferson girl? You mean the blonde one the boy saved?"

With a firm nod, Sjenna answered, "The girl is a menace with an axe. She's an absolute pig, she snuck onto the ship a few weeks back, snooping around. She had the nerve to talk back to me. I want her dead." She stared her father down unwaveringly. There was no way Krista was going to get all the glory.

Her father tented his fingers. "Hmm... Very well. That will be fine. As long as you don't get yourself killed, my dear. I don't want to lose one of my daughters to some silly shieldmaiden."

"You won't."

"Then so be it. Kill the Hofferson girl, if that's what pleases you."

Sjenna smiled smugly at Krista from across the table, but Krista wasn't looking back at her. She was deep in thought. Suddenly she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Excuse me, I think I'd like to get some fresh air."

Her father nodded, excusing her, and Krista left the cabin. Sjenna watched her go but thought nothing of it. What did she care, now that she finally had her own chance to be given the love she deserved?


After his discussion with his father, and a last-minute talk with Toothless, Hiccup was taken to be dressed in proper funeral garb: A long white robe of a thick material, a wide leather belt laden with semiprecious stones, a heavy cloak, purple and stitched with gold, and no shoes. On his head was placed a woven crown of leaves and brush.

He stared into the mirror he stood in front of. He was staring back at some sort of phantom, a young man, robed like a demigod, looking back much more calmly than he felt like he was. His father was out in the main hall, waiting with the others. Hiccup felt like a piece of him was missing, and he couldn't place what it was. Something felt incomplete. He shrugged it off for the time being.

Outfitted like a deceased hero, Hiccup left the secret room where he had been dressed and walked to the mead hall. Barefoot and feeling strange inside, he rounded a corner and entered the hall, where everyone was waiting.

As soon as the chief's son was in sight, everyone bowed their heads and knelt down on one knee. It was customary to do so, as a sign of respect to the... well, to the deceased. A clear path was cut through the center of the hall, half of the villagers on the right, the other half on the left. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience.

One foot in front of the other, Hiccup. Just be calm.

All of his friends were there, grouped together on one side. No one looked up from where they were kneeling except Astrid. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Wishing she wouldn't be sad, Hiccup looked right at her and gave her a comforting smile. Astrid smiled back sadly and bowed her head again. The others kept their heads down, but Hiccup knew they wanted to look up, too.

One foot in front of the other. Keep yourself together.

Hiccup kept walking and turned his head to face the very table he had been laid on before. Now, there was a shaped, smooth slab of wood set on top of the table, just long enough for someone to lay down on lengthwise. Long enough for him, specifically.

Here we go again, Hiccup thought.

Only this time, he would be conscious the whole way through. Before he made it to the table and laid himself down to be taken outside, Hiccup turned around to look back at all the faces, the faces of all the people he was doing this for. He prayed that he would get to see all of those faces again.


Up on deck, the flames of a funeral pyre could be seen, glowing brightly against the night sky while smoke floated up into the air.

Krista could picture it all, as if she were standing right there, up close in front of the flames. She could hear the chanting. Not in reality, but in her own mind.

Requiesce in pace, dilectus mulieris,

the chants from another time passed through her head.

Uxorem,

She refused to let the thoughts get to her.

Et mater.

No. Stop it.

She pushed her thoughts to the ceremony that was happening in real time, on the other side of the island.

It was unsettling to picture the boy, dead and burning there in the fire, the boy who once talked to her, weeks back when they had first met. But she let that go. Mostly because she hated to cry.


I wonder how it really feels for someone who's died, to be lying around, listening to his family sing for him to have a happy afterlife. I wonder if the soul really does leave the body. Or maybe it stays until the body's been entirely burned away.

That was all he was thinking about. He mulled over theories in his head, trying to distract himself from the weirdly morbid scene going on around the wooden altar - which he was lying on, eyes closed, pretending to be dead for everyone's sake. Now all the Berkians were chanting out a hymn with a steady, somber tune. A drum was beating in the background. There was no need for anyone to pretend to be sad - They felt it anyway. Everyone, especially the teens, was completely put off by the macabre event. They looked sad and afraid because they were sad and afraid. Toothless sat near the pyre, looking forlorn. Of course he knew it wasn't real. But he gathered from the others surrounding him that this was a sad time all the same. Even Gobber shed a tear, even though he knew, just as well as anyone, that it was an act, an act that would keep the enemy from knowing their secret. Stoick's face still reflected every bit of grief he felt as he began to sing the hymn with everyone else.

It wasn't because Hiccup's little act was so convincing (which it was, to be honest). It was because this could have so easily been real. He really could have been dead. It was under the most impossible circumstances that this wasn't actually real, and many were counting their blessings because of that.

The first hymn was finished. Hiccup heard the sound of someone starting a fire. A torch was probably being lit. Then the sound came closer to him, and at that moment there was a collective gasp from all of the mourners. Toothless must have set the altar on fire.

Just as it was supposed to happen. It's all going to be okay, bud.

It was quite possibly the most bizarre feeling in the world, Hiccup decided. He was surrounded on all sides by a blazing fire, but he didn't feel like it was fire. There was no heat, not a single twinge of pain, nothing at all that could have led him to believe there was really a fire burning the wood around him. What he did feel was a strange, but somewhat enjoyable buzzing sensation spreading through his veins. He felt... powerful. He felt alive, how ironic.

So this is what a dragon feels like when it's blasted with fire. No wonder they're the greatest creatures to ever live... they carry fire in them all the time. It's so... interesting. They're more powerful than any other living thing in the world. Fire burns away all fear.

That was it... It was fire! The flames sparked something in him... that was what made him feel complete. With a start, he realized that Toothless felt the same way about it - about fire, about the scorching, intense feeling of the flames, about the power of it all. It was an almost unexplainable thing, but it was incredible.

Hiccup kept his eyes shut. He didn't move. Soon a new chant was started, more warlike than the one before, and people stamped their feet on the ground in rhythm. Noises like those of sheets being handled and unfolded were like explosions in Hiccup's ears. The Wall of Sheets was being lifted around the lit altar. The flames continued to lick at Hiccup's hands, his face, and his bare foot. The metal of his left leg seemed to be unaffected as well. Tongues of flame danced around his robed figure as all onlookers gazed with awe at the glowing spectacle. The stamping ceased. Now there was only one set of footsteps, very light and slow. It must be the elder. She was pushing one of the sheets aside, passing through to get to the altar.

This is it.

Hoping to the heavens that the Wall of Sheets was high enough to block out the view from anyone watching - a spy, perhaps - Hiccup snapped his eyes open. Yup. He was good to go.

He sat up carefully and faced the elder, and she nodded to him, motioning for him to get under her long cloak. Hiccup gratefully nodded back and did as she needed him to. He unclasped the cloak that was fastened around his own neck and left it on the altar to burn. Then, stooping so low to the ground underneath the heavy furs that he was just about crawling, he followed the elder out from the Wall of Sheets. The woman made sure to be quick about it.

A path was made between all the fake mourners for the elder to pass through. They made sure to play it cool when just a speck of Hiccup's fake leg poked out from under the cloak for just a second, then disappeared again.

The elder led Hiccup, hidden away behind her, back to the bottom of the steps of the mead hall. This part was the biggest risk factor in the plan.

If he was caught, and a stranger from the other side recognized him, they had failed. If he wasn't caught, they were all set. Hopefully. Peeking out from under the cloak, Hiccup scanned the area for anyone hiding in the shadows. The elder shook the cloak a little to give him the all clear.

He ran for it.


Sjenna finished her meal and walked up to the deck. Krista was still standing at the bow, watching the fire in the distance. Sjenna was startled when her sister spoke to her, without even turning around.

"Do you think they feel the same way?" she said softly.

"Who?" Sjenna asked, wondering why her sister sounded like she was about to cry.

"The people who knew him. Hiccup Haddock... the one they're having the pyre for."

Sjenna shifted from foot to foot. This wasn't something she was in the mood to talk about, especially with her older sister.

"I don't know... You mean, do you think they feel how... how we felt, about our mother? How father feels about it?"

Krista gave a nod. In the darkness, Sjenna saw her head go up and down. A cold wind bit at her, and she hugged herself, thinking of something else to say.

"Maybe. But why do you care? They're the enemy."

"Think for a minute, Sjenna, what did those people do to us?"

"They killed our mother-"

"No, they didn't kill our mother. Only one person did. And we've declared war on everyone else, when they had absolutely nothing to do with it. We're killing the innocent."

"That's not out conc-"

"It is our concern!" Krista's change in volume made her sister flinch. "The very person who's leading the army against those people is our own father! Our mother is dead. For ten years she's been dead. And now a father is without a son. I'll bet you many fathers standing around that fire tonight are now without sons. And it's our fault, whether we know it or not."

Sjenna's arms fell to her sides. She had never thought about things that way before, and it tugged at something in her chest. Feeling guilty wasn't a normal thing for her to feel. But she felt it now.

"I... Krista, there's nothing that can bring those people back now. What can we do? What can we possibly do for a person we can't bring back?"

Krista turned around. Her face was stained with tears, but her expression was serene.

"Pray. That they may have a happier existence than the one they had here on earth."


No one had caught him. Hiccup was ready to hug someone, he was so pleased that his first plan had worked.

By the time he made it back to the secret room, a set of armor was already there, waiting for him.

Well I'll be damned, thought Hiccup amazedly to himself. One of the Berkians actually managed to out-spy a spy.

The Askr Gotar uniform that was spread out on the table was his to wear.

Gods preserve him if this next idea didn't work.


::::::::::A/N::::::::::

Sort of an interesting tidbit for the day, while I was writing part of this chapter I was listening to the song "Winterfell" by Ramin Djawadi from the Game of Thrones soundtrack. I'd highly recommend listening to it while reading the second half of this chapter. Gave me goosebumps.

Also, let me know what you think! I'm always happy to hear thoughts, opinions, analyses, comments, etc..

And thanks for sticking around!