The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five
Chapter 34: The Feast Part 2: A Tale of Three Blondes
Summer Quarter
While its most remarkable abilities were its rapid flight speed and its plasma blasts, Night Furies also possessed a very good sense of hearing.
So even a practically a Quarter away, the beast, which had been aptly though undignifiedly called Toothless, heard the scream emerging from the throat of a familiar human companion, he cocked his head up in alarm.
As far as the dragon was concerned, humans were revolting, mindless, stupid creatures who took an unfortunate pleasure in lording over the other races. He had witnessed the atrocities committed to his kind by those sadistic bipeds, and had many of those horrors carried out his own body. He owed mankind nothing, except maybe a scorching blast to burn them all to kingdom come.
But that strange little human youngling – the one who always walked as if he going to fall, and fell like he was still going to keep falling – he knew how to use his funny little paws to make magical little things that brought the dragons many nice fishies to gobble up. The Night Fury had never stayed so long in the presence of a human that wasn't trying perpetually to poke him with needles. Nor one that actually fed him. Nor one that spoke to him like another sentient being – though Toothless had to admit he hadn't a clue what the chirping sounds the youngling made meant.
If humans could have ever read the minds of dragons, they might be surprised to find that there was no conflict in Toothless' mind when he bounded away from the grass patch he was lolling in. For the dragon could not believe that the skinny human youngling wasn't quite human at all. No human would put their lives in the hands of a fire beast. Yet he couldn't be dragon either. He was too small and too weak.
So Toothless concluded that the boy must be human in flesh and dragon in heart. Or maybe he was a very sickly and incredibly, undeniably and completely ignorant little human male.
Regardless of his confusion regarding the strange little chirpy male, Toothless still spread his wings out, lifting himself to the skies with a single powerful flap. In a blink of an eye, he was slicing into the air, zooming pass the artificial clouds, heading straight for the centre of the Arena.
He could smell the boy now, and his fear. And something else...blood. The funny boy's blood. The boy's life was in danger.
Toothless growled. His speed increased almost tenfold, so quickly that he almost vanished from the Capitol's cameras altogether. When he was just over the circular white clearing that had nothing but the point grey rock in its centre, his senses took in the scene.
There were many young humans on the ground, but Toothless only sought out the scent of the funny boy. He found him quickly enough, huddled on the ground, having fallen – that was not much a surprise. Toothless immediately picked up the thunderous heart beats of the boy and his gasps of pain. The funny human's eyes were fixed on another young skinny human male, and he was shirking away, terrified. Toothless heard the other young human chirping something, and though he didn't know the words, he could hear the tone. It was reeking with threat.
The Night Fury swept down rapidly, throwing itself into a blur again. Anger had filled him to the brim, and he was determined this child of the revolting race would not harm the funny boy. His funny boy.
Parting his maw, Toothless emitted a loud piercing shriek that made both young males look towards him - or try to look at him, because he flew past too rapidly. The youngling that was standing up had dropped the strange black stone from his hand in shock, and that was when Toothless fired.
Cornucopia
The chain was about half a centimeter into his chest when Hiccup heard it. He recognized it at once, though it had been ages since he had been first exposed to it. Like a bullet train running past a platform, the screech escalated in pitch, coming down hard on his ears. He saw that the District 3 boy had been startled enough to drop his controller, his head upturned and his jaws hanging open. But Hiro wasn't stunned enough to lose his sensibilities; dropping to his knees, he unzipped his bag and pulled out a huge block-like object – the Mutt Manual, Hiccup realized – before opening it up and holding it over his head. Just half a second after he did, a purple bolt descended upon them.
Hiccup had, as an instinct, wrapped his arms over his head, as if they could offer any protection to him from the fire. But he wasn't actually afraid. In a matter of fact, relief came gushing through his soul like a river that had been dried out for too long. He knew that fire was dangerous, and plasma blasts even more so, but strangely enough - or perhaps not strangely at all - he no longer associated it with death.
When he looked up again, he was shocked how much everything had changed. The snow in the immediate vicinity had been melted off or blasted away, and the grass lying below it had been burned black. The technological prodigy was still very much alive, thanks to the shielding of the book – that thing really was indestructible - but the impact of the shot had thrown him back rather painfully. The boy now lay sprawled on the burnt ground, groaning as he struggled to sit himself up. A quick glance to his left also told Hiccup that the blast had been far-reaching enough to knock his district mate off her feet. She too was slowly getting up, and as far as he could see, she was unharmed, though certainly stunned.
Making use of the brief respite, he yanked the metallic chain off his person, wincing as the prongs were removed from his flesh. Still gasping in the remnants of his anxiety, he pulled against the coil, trying to crush it. It was far too strong, and he was far too exhausted. So he coiled it into a ball, and threw it as far away as he could.
He heard a 'whoosh' behind – so quiet that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking out for it. He felt a warm breath run through his hair, and he was about to twist himself around to see who it was when a surge of agony shot up his left leg.
Oh man, his leg. It looked like some had pressed a pistol into his shin and fired at point-blank, leaving a gaping hole straight through his leg. The only thing that proved that this hadn't been so was the rings of scratches around his calf. Those had been made by the metal coil when it had tightened around his leg. The bleeding wasn't as much as he had feared initially, but still, it was as if someone had just injected a ton of acid into his calf. He had to press a knuckle against his teeth to stop him from screaming.
He felt something cool butt him in the shoulder, so he glanced up. Staring right into his own eyes was a pair of emerald green orbs.
"Whoa!" He wasn't actually shocked. Well, at least he thought he wasn't. But he jumped anyway, and the vibrations of that action rattled his bone to the point that the wound flared up again. Even though he quickly bit into his hand again to still his cries, he couldn't hold back a whimper or two. The black creature by his side made a sympathetic croon, coming closer to him, shrouding him in the shadow of his protection, while making a threatening snarl at the spikey-headed boy, who was pushing himself off the snow.
"Toothless?" the voice that came out from Hiccup's mouth didn't sound like his own. His throat felt like sandpaper, and the skin around his neck felt as if was trying to close on him.
The dragon turned away from the attacker back to the scrawny boy he had saved, warbling in response to the ridiculous name. Any traces of rage on the creatures' dark countenance melted into concern and worry. Hiccup wanted to say something more – probably something sarcastic and affectionate - but talking hurt too much. Slightly wary, he lowered his fist from his jaw, then opened his palm towards the dragon.
Without even waiting for Hiccup to turn away his head, the Night Fury shut his eyes, then rested his snout against the hand. Hiccup's own eyes widened as the significance of the action crashing down on him. The delight bubbling in his soul was so great that it was almost good enough to drown out the unpleasantness the situation.
The word being 'almost'.
"Holy." Both dragon and boy glanced in the direction at Hiro, mouth agape. Then it struck Hiccup that not only did the District 3 boy know about Toothless – every tribute in the entire Arena knew it.
The spiky-haired boy snapped back to action, crawling from his position over to where the remote controller was, but Hiccup was much faster. Pointing at the District 3 boy, he began, "Toothless-"
As if reading his boy's mind, the dragon fired at the small black device that had caused Hiccup so much grief, burning it to crisp. Hiro made a shout of dismay.
"Thanks, bud."
Knowing fully that he was outmatched, the black-haired boy scrambled to his feet, grabbing the book and his bag, ready to flee. But the black dragon had leapt from Hiccup's side at that moment, galloping towards him, glowering, his bestial anger expressed by his upraised wings and its barred teeth. Hiro lifted the book in front him, practically waving it in the dragon's face.
Toothless drew himself back from the symbol of all his own pain, snarling as he did, but refused to make way for the guilty assailant. Instead, the creature swung its tail forward, batting the despised book out of the black-haired boy's hand, sweeping it out of reach before launching himself on to the boy. Hiro cried out in fear, trying to wriggle away, but the weight of the Night Fury was more than enough to pin his skinny body to the ground.
The dragon's emerald pupils then narrowed into slits, sending savage rumbles towards the terrified boy. Parting his jaws, a wisp of gas formed at Toothless' throat, followed by a bluish light that gradually building up in intensity and then-
"Toothless, stop!"
The dragon didn't listen at first, the hissing from his mouth getting louder and louder. The light in his throat was rolling into a ball of plasma. Hiro's breathing tripled.
"TOOTHLESS! NO!"
The Night Fury suddenly shut its maw, drawing himself back from his victim, letting him go but not taking his eyes of him. He made a shameful whimper, as if afraid that he had stepped over the line.
"No, bud, you didn't do anything wrong." Hiccup glared at the panting boy edging himself away from the dragon. "You didn't, at least."
Hiccup considered himself a very tolerant person – so tolerant that he became quite an amicable bully victim to his peers. Due to his tendency towards thoughts of self-deprecation, he usually took the blame on himself, sighing and rubbing his neck each time he mentally listed his own flaws.
But this was incident he couldn't take on his shoulders. He hadn't attacked Hiro, and hadn't given any indication that he wished to do so. He had been accused of a crime that he certainly didn't commit and an ear for his side of the story was not even asked for. The real tipping point was that he was being accused of being the person that his father and his district had always pushed him to be; the cold-hearted, hardened Career who cared only about the victor's crown, and maybe decapitating other people. There was a time that he would have loved to have such a labelled pinned on him, but now, not only had that desire evaporated, the very thought of it disgusted him.
He got to his feet, or foot, actually, since he couldn't rest any weight on his left leg without swooning in pain. Keeping balance was tough, since the soft snow ground kept acting up just to trip him over. If it wasn't for Toothless jumping over quickly to lend him support, he would have face-planted into the snowdrift.
"Thanks, bud." The dragon crooned back almost affectionately. Hiccup couldn't help being amazed by how kind and warm the Night Fury was. After days and days of hostile distrust, the beast had not only accepted him, but cared about him to the point that he came back.
How the tables have turned; now Hiccup was the one standing tall, with a dragon, no less, by his side, while the child prodigy cowered in the snow. The searing wound in his leg that now plagued him was all Hiro's doing, setting his blood to quick boil.
"I should kill you." Hiccup's voice was soft and strained, but his burning eyes were enough to convince Hiro of how serious he was.
And deadly serious he was. The District 2 boy was certain that if he told the dragon to do so, the beast would rip the other boy into shreds, probably even bake his remnants in plasma. But that's what a Career would do – if a Career would even dare befriend a mutt.
"That sentence alone should clue you in that I won't. I'm not one of them." He waved his hand vaguely at the rest of the Arena, but he knew who 'them' really was, and he was sure Hiro did to. 'Them' were not just the Careers, but the Capitol, and any other idiot who thought that the Hunger Games was a fine activity for kids.
The tension in Hiro's body had dissolved somewhat, but the boy was still staring at him in pure incredulity. He couldn't quite understand it – too long his mind had been fixed in such of way that absorbing this would be tricky. It would be unfair to blame him for the way that he thought, but it was also pretty unfair to try to choke Hiccup and to fracture his leg.
"But I'm not one of you either." The russet-haired boy pulled back his left sleeve, where he found the gleaming silver band. Removing it, he tossed it into the snow, right in front of the fallen boy. "Unlike you," the emphasis in his voice weakened, becoming uncertain, "I don't think... I actually know who I am." He sighed, using the hand that wasn't resting on Toothless's head to brush his bangs out of his eyes. The District 3 boy's gaze fixed on him, confusion still all over his face.
When Hiccup looked up again, there was conviction in his raspy voice. "I didn't kill Honey Lemon. I held her till she died, but I didn't kill her. She gave me her band completely on her own accord." The memory was getting more and more blurry each time it ran through his mind, but he still remembered the blood on the glasses, and the words of the dying girl. "She was willing to give me a chance. What about you?"
Hiro's eyes seemed to glaze over at the news.
If he did have anything to say then, Hiccup would never know. Because at that precise moment, a loud voice broke in through the sky.
"Attention all tributes,-"
But before that, a rather distressing line up of events happened to the tributes scattered all over the Arena, so let's not get ahead of ourselves.
About five minutes before the announcement, Jack heard the District 5 girl screech, "Elsa, lookout!"
So of course, he made the fatal mistake of looking behind.
He was greeted by the sight of an alarmed-looking Elsa standing in an array of her own ice constructs, and she had just summoned up another wave of ice barriers to block the incoming projectile. It didn't help in the slightest, though. The minute the fiery projectile came in contact with the walls, it detonated into a myriad of flashing colours. The ice constructs were shattered, and walls came tumbling down. The explosion rang against their eardrums, the impact almost knocking them off their feet.
"Elsa!" This time it was he who yelled. Jolting to a halt, he almost caused his companion with seventy feet worth of hair to trip. If she was annoyed by him, she didn't voice it. She too was busy gawking at the blazing eruption and destruction.
When the smoke had settled, he caught sight of tall, wiry figure moving towards the shambles of ice pillars, a long lance sword resting on his shoulder and a menacing smile across his pale face.
"Jack?" Rapunzel put in timidly.
He removed his hand from hers unconsciously, taking uncertain steps toward the centre of the field.
"Jack, I don't think she's… anymore. She couldn't have, with that."
He didn't answer, but he didn't resist when she held onto his arm and began dragging him away. A wave of sadness swept over him, followed by a crash of guilt. Maybe he could have stopped it. Maybe he should have tried. But Emma came first. Emma always came first.
Just as he was about to turn away for good, he realized something curious. The ruins of ice constructs had an eerie red glint within them. In that, he found a surge of hope.
Elsa was alive.
Snatching his arm away, he lifted his staff from the ground, turning around and running towards the debris centre.
"Jack! Where are you go-"
He drowned out the blonde's voice, tearing his teeth against the wind as he surged forward, his staff thrust forward.
Sorry, Bunnymund. Sorry, Emma. He couldn't turn a blind eye to this anymore than he could rip his own heart out.
He was a guardian, after all.
"Jack!"
He had launched into full sprint, and she couldn't keep up with him while trying to balance her armfuls of hair and the frying pan.
"Jack! What about the plan?" she shrieked, chasing after him the best she could. In the end, one of coil of her hand had fallen from her arms, but she hadn't the time to pick it up. So she let it trail behind her as she sprang herself forward.
Then a sharp scream reverberate in the air, immediately sending goosebumps all over Rapunzel's skin. She whipped around, tracing the source of the voice. Far on the other side of the Cornucopia, she spotted Hiccup, yelling in agony as he clutched a bleeding shin to his torso, while Hiro slowly strode towards him, a dark look cast over his contours.
Wait. Hiro?
Rapunzel could only stand still, completely stunned as she watched two boys conversing, the expression on the District 3 boy's face becoming grimmer and grimmer as each second rolled by. The sudden influx of confusion in her brain completely robbed her of action or speech. What on earth was going on?
Then something came whizzing past her head, and she squealed as she ducked, covering her head with her frying pan at the same time. Glancing up, she noted that her assailant was standing a few feet away from the table by the Horn's mouth. It was none other than Dagur, the crazy boy from District 4.
"Hey, remember me?" He bore a toothy grin at her, a dangerous gleam in both his scarred and unscarred eyes while giving a careless wave. "The guy who tried to impale you in a barricade of ice, yeah?"
Then, his brows suddenly furrowed together as he shot another row of bolts from his crossbow. With a frightened yelp, she rolled out of the way of the projectiles, hopping to her feet again and dashing as quickly as she could. If she could put some distance between herself the Career, maybe she could get out of his range.
She had been pretty close to the Spring Quarter border, so she ran in its direction, glancing over her shoulder every now and then, finding great relief that he was unable to fully catch up with her on the slushy wet ground. She was just about to pass the gray stones leading to the warmer haven when she yanked to an abrupt halt, an explosion of pain in one of her arms. Her feet stuck to the ground, she let her gaze dropped to the region of injury. To her intense consternation, she found a huge spiked hook skewered through her right arm like a kebab.
It didn't stop there. She was suddenly yanked off her feet and hauled backwards, as if she were a fish being towed back to the ship. She screamed, kicking while the hook biting her arm took her swiftly and surely to her assailant. The rope of blonde hair wrapped around the bleeding appendage got tangled in itself, falling away from her grip and control. Her head hit hard against quite a few snow rocks while her body raked through the snow, leaving a canal of snow behind her. Clenching her teeth, she let go of her frying pan, letting it fall in the snow. Using that free hand to dig into her pockets, she found one of the many knives that she had been given in her backpack. Gritting her teeth together, she felt for the rope attached to the hook, then pressed the knife blade against it, sawing it till it broke.
"Hey! You ruined the harpoon, you -" she heard him throw a list of expletives at her.
Letting go of the rope, she allowed her body drop onto the snow, letting herself take a short breather. The burn in her pierced arm was excruciating, but she was sure she could bear with it. Until she had a chance to heal herself at least.
She must have rested far too long, because she then heard her assailant howl, and found a sword's blade stabbed into the snow next to her head.
Inhaling sharply, Rapunzel sat up at once, then arched herself backwards to avoid the next swing he swung in her face. The Career from the fishing district gave a mad cackle, before lunging at her again. Fortunately, she had gotten back to her feet by that time, and managed to jump away from the mad swings. Once when he had lowered his blade, she made a bold slash with her own knife, almost cutting at his chest. Unfortunately, he used his free hand to grab her left one, clenching on it so tightly that she cried out, dropping the knife. He pressed against the bone again, the pain so great that she found herself unwittingly collapsing her knees again.
Part of her was egging her to get up – knee him in the balls, punch him, anything! But the other part was just shouting 'Pain! Pain! Pain!', shutting out any voices of retaliation. And the latter was winning.
She felt a prickling sensation beneath her lids and knew she would end up bawling if he kept this up, so she held her head down, not in fear of his mad eyes, but of showing how hurt she really was.
He was laughing, gloating in his easy victory. "Don't worry, Goldilocks," he said between mocking snickers, crushing her arm again in his vice-like grip, forcing a whimper out of her. "I'm going to dice you up and rip you open, till you're begging for mercy. Just like the stupid 10 girl."
That made her head jerked up in alarm. She found herself meet his crazed eyes, and her brows narrowed together. She could read the sadistic ecstasy in his eyes, the pure joy that he earned from her terror, but she wasn't afraid of him. All she felt was a flood of disgust and anger, rising and swelling within her like a hurricane.
He must have seen the change in her face, because he hurriedly descended his blade on her that moment. But before the metal could touch her head, her right hand, the very same that had been speared through by his harpoon, shot up to stop it. She felt fresh blood pouring down her arm as the blade dug into her palm, but she could barely feel the pain. All she saw was red, red and red.
Her jaw tightened, her emerald eyes boring into his skull, communicating her promises of harm far more effectively than his words had.
It was Dagur's turn to gulp in fear.
Ha. Who knew?
Merida supposed she could consider herself lucky. Lucky that the District 2 boy decided to squeal at that precise moment. Lucky that the blonde Career got distracted. Lucky that said Career cared enough about her District mate to cease her hunt in favor of presumably rescuing the scrawny auburn-haired boy.
Nevertheless, it was a strange thought that a Career would care about anyone other themselves. Especially in the Arena. Especially if that person was weakling. Merida decided to file that piece of information, just for future reference.
Making a beeline for the table, she was somewhat relieved to note that most other bags were gone. Not that she was glad that her competitors managed to get hold of their 'advantages', but an empty table meant that she would hopefully not run into anymore attackers. After the battle with the blonde Career – if it could be called a battle, since it was very one-sided – the redhead was tuckered out and wounded. She pressed a hand against her bleeding head as she went over to her own backpack, only lowering it when she needed unzip it. As she had hoped, inside the bag lay a quiver of fresh arrows.
She swung the quiver strap over her head, trying not to let the nylon scrap against the head injury. When withdrawing one of the arrows and notching it, she realized that unlike her old arrows, this batch wasn't made of wood. Rather, the stem was made of some kind of strong opaque plastic, while the tip of metal - no one was going to snap these arrows in their hands.
She spun herself around just as she fitted it, feeling stronger and surer of herself as she faced the Arena. Her eye fell on the various tributes in sight, wondering who she should take out first: the Careers, or her so-called allies.
Her confidence was her mistake, because her greatest threat came from behind the table. She didn't hear him when he climbed the table, or when he raised the spike mace over her head. What saved her was her assailant's compulsive giggling, that apparently could not be silenced while he trying to do a sneak attack.
She turned her head back, and her mouth fell open.
The short gray-skinned boy with yellow eyes was chortling madly before the mace came crashing down. He had aimed for her head, but her arm had flown out to protect it, sending her tumbling down to the ground. She gripped on her left wrist, feeling the awful old flare in her elbow igniting itself again. A broken arm the present of a nut job – that definitely felt familiar.
Turbo snickered, his eyes wide with delight as he caressed spiked-head adoringly. "Have I ever told you, Red, – hee-heeheeheehee- how much I love my mace?"
Merida could only set her jaw in a grimace.
There are three ways an explosion can injure a person.
First is heat. With the sparks bursting out into flames of over 150 degrees, second or third degree burns would start appearing over one's skin. If you're lucky, you get blisters. If you're not, you get scars, and sometimes deformation.
The second way is by impact. A rapid increase in temperature causes a proportionally increase in air volume, resulting in objects near the centre of the detonation to find themselves flung forcefully away. That alone could possibly result in whiplash and if powerful enough, a few snapped bones if the victim frail or old. A lot of it times it just makes your heart jump up to your mouth, so it's not the unexpected flight that kills you. It's the landing. When gravity drags the body down onto the earth again, the resultant forces that lash out at the bones can cause massive fractures and even paralysis.
That leads to the third way: debris. The impact of the blast would usually cause the collapse of surrounding structures. Sharp splints could stab vital organs, or heavy concrete crush the life out of victims.
Groaning as her eyelids fluttered open, Elsa tried to sit up, only to find that there was a block of ice pining her torso down. Her arms were painted with dozens of scratches; some were grazes and others gnashes, all a result of the glassy shards surrounding her. As far as she could tell, she could feel her legs, but she somehow couldn't remember how to move them. Gingerly shifting her arms in front of her chest, she shoved the icy slab off, making a harsh sound as she felt the relief from the weight be replaced by an uncomfortable sear in her one of her lower ribs. She placed a hand over it, trying to numb the pain with her own cold.
Propping herself up, she gazed blearily around her. If she had been in a make-belief mood, she would have imagined herself to be the between the jaws of some gigantic ice monster. Large chunks of ice were protruding from the ground, spikes lined the terrain three-hundred-and-sixty, and an assortment of ice fractals were strewn all about. An uncharacteristically gentle shower of sleet fell from above, wet flakes splatting on her torn white coat and the craggy blue-white surfaces of the broken constructs. A white mist around the translucent rocks blended into the rising gray fumes, lingering reminders of the flames.
Somewhere in her fuzzy mind, she registered a dark shape behind the smog, looming closer and closer towards her, expand in size and foreboding. She curled her ankles closer to her hips, having every intention to hop to her feet but lacking the will to do so. It could have been the foreboding, approaching presence that had frozen her to her own shattered fortress base, or perhaps the sting in her right ankle telling her it had been broken.
Out of the shadowy smog came the first signs of danger. A set of five darts came flying out, just missing her head. The dark figure then tore through the cloud, revealing its owner to be the white-skinned boy from District 1, Shen.
She was a sitting duck – she knew that. But the blast had taken out more of her then she had expected, and fixing her ankle somehow didn't come to her as easily as fixing her ribs did. So when the boy thrust his curved blade at her, she fully anticipated the steel to sink into her ribs and slice in her half.
Perhaps it was good then that her eyes had been watching the blade advancing towards her at that time, because she felt a surge of panic, and panic decided to manifest itself as a defensive mechanism.
She had squeezed her eyes shut the next moment, waiting for the jolt of pain and the leaking of life from her body, but instead she heard a sharp clang just next to her ears. Open her eyes now, she found that the lance sword had been blocked by a sparkling crystal sword that she had created in that moment. A sword of her own in between her hands.
Shen was slightly taken aback to see the impromptu weapon, but he didn't dwell on it too long. Yanking back his sword, he spun it by the handle before sweeping it towards her. More prepared than she had been previously, Elsa parried the blow – a rather awkward deed, considering she did so whilst still on her knees, but strangely enough it worked. The second he fell back, she summoned a wall of ice – a crude one crafted in fear.
By the time he broke through the palisade, she had gotten to her feet, having swathed her twisted ankle with layers of ice-cloth. She was aware of how battered she looked; head to toe, she was tattooed with fresh cuts and grazes. Her pale yellow braid had bits of ice sticking out of it. The bruises on her cheek and the laceration on her chin would have sounded impressive as words, but in reality only made her appear haggard and drawn.
Perhaps in view of that, her efforts to face her opponent could indeed be called admirable. Her tired hands still gripped the blue handle, and her worn face was forced into one of ferocity.
He however was not at all intimidated. "You can't kill me with that, you know."
"I don't need to," she answered boldly, and maybe possibly foolishly. "I just need to slow you down till exhaustion takes you out."
He gave a plaintive smile, rather like a condescending teacher about to correct a gravely mistaken child. Then, with a flash of steel as his only warning, he charged.
Swipes, lunges, slashes – Shen rained each down in a continuous fury without pause, and only keen concentration allowed her to keep him from drawing blood. Even then, he still dominating the battleground. He had experience with footwork and swordplay, so he carefully drove her into a chasm created by the two still standing ice barriers, purposefully cutting off her moving space and her options for strikes. She could still slam her blade hard against his, jamming it mid-air, but that was all she could do. Even then, he would often find new openings to hit her, managing to nick her once or twice.
"You might as well give up, Witch," he told her right after he sliced her left forearm, making her hiss in pain. "You'll collapse from exhaustion before I do." With that said, he repelled one of her own strikes, before plunging his lance-sword into her side and pulling it just as quickly.
Elsa gasped, holding her hand over the new wound, staggering back as she fought to control the agony. All around her, the flakes were dancing agitatedly and the wind was starting to pick in speed. Without thinking, she dropped her sword, holding her empty hand out to her enemy, and her thoughts were those of simply removing the threat.
So she shot at him.
It was an unlike anything she had ever done before. A blast of raw emotion - negative raw emotion. There was some agony in it, mixed with hurt and a good dose of anxiety. A little resentment and hatred was tossed in it too for good measure, but the primary ingredient was fear.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the taller boy dodged it, letting flew past his head, smacking harmlessly against the surface of an ice wedge. He cocked a brow at her. "Seriously?"
Before he sent another flurry of strikes at her again, her ears were filled with a yell belonging to someone she hadn't expected to hear from anymore.
No good deed goes unpunished.
"You cut my face, dearie."
Rash decisions often led to self-destruction.
"I know it sounds horrible unreasonable, but I take that kind of thing seriously."
Jack had been just about to step into the rim of ice rubble when he had been stabbed. He had heard of the metaphor before, and it's varied uses, but having now felt it - having a knife literally thrust into his ribs definitely topped the list of life's undesired repeat experiences.
He was much too stunned to respond to the first blow, but when Gothel ripped the knife out, he gasped, his mouth torn open in agony. His entire body shook, threatening to crumble down, but he then realized that he could still stand on his feet. She hadn't given him a lethal strike, and that confused him.
"Oh, did you think I was going to kill you nice and easy, did you?" She burst into a peal of hearty laughter even as she carelessly wiped the blood on her own jacket sleeve. Jack wore a façade of impassivity, though his knees wobbled and his arms dropped. The most he allowed himself to display was a grim exhale, when he held his left hand to the hole in his back, while his right still wielded the staff.
Gothel slammed the knife at him again, which he blocked off easily, but then she kicked his knee at the same time, and that one made him stagger back. Adjusting his stance, ignoring his hurt, he charged at her this time, bringing down his staff with enough strength to break her skull.
But the wave of giddiness assaulted him first, while the acrid bite of both new and old wounds began to eat up his focus. He slowed down his strike at the last minute, giving Gothel not only ample to time to avoid the hit, but also to grab his staff, wrenching it from his grip. The swiftness at which he had disarmed stunned Jack for a few seconds, giving her the opening to spear the butt of his rod into his chest.
Being a blunted weapon, it didn't actually puncture flesh, but it certainly felt as it did. Jack grunted when he lurched back, wincing when his spine smacked a cold, rough surface – one of the few standing ice walls, he later discovered. Gothel slid the bloodied dagger through one of his shoulder blades, effectively nailing him into the block. He hissed, his body quivering, his heart rate accelerating to unmeasurable speeds.
"I've known lots of pretty boys in my time," she said to him rather conversationally, tossing her curls back and checking her nails. He was wriggling like a fish on a hook, one arm trying to yank the dagger out of himself. Pain was flooding over him, threatening to consume every last bit of his self-control. "They were nice to me. Well, after I became beautiful." She added the last sentence rather distastefully.
Jack didn't comment, hoping his silence would be taken as disdain rather than defeat. Elsa needed him. He focused on that. Elsa needed him.
Gothel merely shot a patronizing smile at his valiant efforts, shaking her curls. "You should have run, you know that?"
He bit his lip, not meeting her eyes, still tugging against the dagger's haft to no avail.
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't expect the likes of you to understand," he spat at her at rudely. Unwise, but it made him feel better anyway.
Gothel simpered at him. "Oh, don't I?"
She closed a hand over his own that he was using to pull against the dagger. Her grip was steel, and Jack feel the blood being flushed from his fingers. His breaths quicken, his rapidly heaving torso only aggravating his injury further. "You mean to say that I don't understand why you'd run to the rescue of your fair 'damsel in distress'?"
His brow creased, his breaths suddenly stilling.
"You like her, don't you?" He could detect the pleasure she was getting out of the scorn. "You must think yourself so chivalrous and brave to risk yourself for her, but you're forgetting one important thing, sweetheart." Her voice dropped as she drew herself closer, such that he could see the cruel joy in her gray eyes. "Only one winner."
Drawing herself back, Gothel clapped her hands together. "Come, come. Let's get to work." She drew up a coat flap to display the splendid array of gleaming blades inside. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she picked out one of them – a long, dainty one with a jagged edge. "Yes, yes, this would do. Tell me, Jack," she smirked at her victim, who had gone suddenly pale, "have you ever gutted a fish?"
He came back.
The three words sent ripples of gladness in Elsa's soul. Whatever his reasons for leaving, whatever signs he had given to make Merida suspect betrayal, Jack still came back.
Then delight fizzled out into horror. Jack was back, yes, but if his yell of pain was anything to go by, he was in a lot of trouble.
"You cannot hope to defeat me," her opponent snarled for what must have the tenth time during that battle. He must have thought her an idiot if he would think she would simply give in like that, but she supposed she could applaud his effort. His confidence wasn't mistaken either. He had managed to smatter two of the ice blades that she had crafted before, which is why she now resorted to making a portable shield for herself instead.
She heard a distance cry from same boy and she knew that she couldn't waste any more time battling the Career. She needed to get out of this fight, somehow.
As she raised her shield to block yet another blow from Shen, she stomped her good foot, summoning a chunk of ice to shoot up from below his feet. He however simply leapt into the air, doing a flip before landing gracefully and safely out of the way.
"Is that the best you can do, witch?" He sneered at her, brandishing his blade at her. "You might as well tear out your heart and save me the trouble of doing it."
Elsa sucked in a breath, resisting the temptation to call a shower of spikes onto him. He was right. She needed a new plan – beyond ice weapons, ice castles and icicles.
"Besides, there's no way the Gamemaker's would let you be victor," the boy sneered. "They'd never let a monster win."
The words were like a blow to her heart, and it came right before another blow to her shield. She heard a sharp crack, and noted that the ice plate was beginning to splinter.
Deliberating over his words for a second, Elsa then had an idea. She had never tried it before, and she honestly didn't know if it would work or whether it was ethically correct to do it, but now wasn't time for such thoughts.
"You want a monster?" She called out to him, her blue eyes seemingly catching flame. "I'll give you a monster!"
With a flick of her wrist, she sent a bolt of ice flying, but this time it wasn't aimed at her opponent. There was a spray of ice when the blast smacked against the snow littered terrain, and a swirl of mist rose suddenly, disappearing only to reveal a large boulder of ice that possessed two blocky legs, a laughably small head, and a pair of humongous crystal arms. It was almost twice her height, and probably ten times her weight. And the boulder of rock was moved.
It took one look at the Career before letting out a ferocious roar.
The white-haired boy brushed the newly formed frost off his attire, looking more flabbergasted than miffed.
The creature gazed at Elsa expectantly. She reeled haltingly away from it, when she realized that it must be simply waiting for orders.
Pointing at the Career, she commanded, "Keep him away from me, but don't kill him." She added with a dark grin. "Feel free to try anything else."
With an almost respectful nod, the creature turned to the chagrined Career, pressing one fist into its other palm ominously. Shen murmured an intelligible curse, before spinning on his heel and fleeing deeper into the wreckage. The creature pursued him, sending tremors in its every stomp.
Elsa could only gaze on in amazement. That went surprisingly well.
Now, for the rescue mission.
Darting through the spires of crystal, skidding over the frosted surfaces and hopping over the cracks, she made her way easily out of the explosion site.
The snowfall in the Arena seemed to have increased since the last she saw it. Her emotion had been hyping up, so she shouldn't have been surprised at that fact. In the clear white sky, she caught sight of a black blur and from it emerged a purple fire, hitting the ground around the other end of Cornucopia. She gawked at it, wondering what it could be.
Then, a closer sound caught her attention, muffled only by the ice structures obstructing her - "Now, tell me Jack, have you ever gutted a fish?"
"Jack!" She shouldn't have screamed, shouldn't have given away her location, but she couldn't help it. The palpitation of her hearts were hitting a record-high when she wove her way through the last ice structures, praying that she wasn't too late.
Her arrival stunned both assailant and victim. Jack was still alive, but definitely wounded. From his face to his chest, to even his knees, he was smeared in blood. One knife was still stuck in his shoulder blades, pinning him to the ice block like a notice to a cork board. The sinister grin on the District 1 girl's face gave way to a gape, then contorting into frustration. Flipping the knife in her hand, she tried to throw it, only for Jack to kick her in her shin, knocking her aim off and earning deathly glare from her.
Elsa got straight the point. "Let him go, or I will kill you." There was no waver in her voice, and the District 1 girl was well aware.
Still, Gothel sniggered. Elsa narrowed her eyes at her, holding an arm out.
"I'm not joking," the blonde warned once again.
"Oh, I know that," Gothel answered with an air of mock indulgence. "It's just that I can't help feeling a little sorry for your other," she raised two pairs of crooked fingers, "'boyfriend'. Tell me, dearie," she made a casual wave to the bleeding boy, "does he know what a two-timing little minx you are?"
Elsa had prepared quite a lengthy and rather heated objection to the insinuations, but before she could voice them, a loud voice rang from the sky, "Attention all tributes-"
Her blue eyes turned upwards instinctively, as if she expected to see some talking face in the blank white above. Her mistake.
"-there has been-"
Gothel had jolted back to focus faster than the other two teenagers. Searching her coat and her strap for another blade, she drew her arm back and flung it at the blonde.
"-a rule change. If-"
Fortunately, there was someone watching her. "Elsa!"
The ice mutant dropped her gaze, shocked to find a dagger spinning towards her. Unwittingly, her hand twitched and the resultant ice blast knocked the weapon away, causing the rise of a few stalagmites from the ground.
But Gothel was already on the roll. Two more projectiles appeared in her hands and she shot one of them at Elsa. Gasping, the blonde called up a ice wall before scurrying away. The knife hit the wall, but instead wedging itself it, it smashed the palisade instead, breaking it into tiny crystals.
When the black-haired girl poised herself to fire the next blade, Elsa was prepared herself not just to divert the projectile, but to stop its thrower for once and for all.
Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one with that train of thought.
"-the last two remaining tributes are-"
Jack must have gathered up all his strength and determination to finally dislodge the wretched knife from his bones. Casting it aside, he threw himself at Gothel, stepping in front her and slapping the dagger out her hands.
And he did just that when Elsa had pulled energy around her to form a final ice blast, with the intention to stun rather than slay. However, the sudden change in scene spooked her, and the blast left her hands before it had been fully crafted.
"No!" she cried, but it was too late. Both Jack and Gothel glanced up from their own struggles to note the ball of blue flying toward them. Or flying towards him, since he was standing in front.
"-from the same district, both-"
The shot had no direction or form, as far as Elsa knew. It was just a globule of pure emotion. And that was the problem – she hadn't any control over her emotions.
When the blast hit Jack's chest, he reared back, his breath rates starting fluctuate in odd patterns. The most noticeable change in his condition however was the blue glowing patch on his chest.
Elsa shrieked. Gothel gasped. Jack's scrunched up in pain, burying his hands in his chest. It was like watching Hans getting speared all over again. Except this time, she was the one striking the killing blow.
"-would be crowned victors."
"JACK!"
He merely clutched the cloth around the glowing patch on his chest, staring pleadingly at her, before he fell to his knees, going limp in the snowdrift.
The witch just went ballistic.
With a howl of despair, she dashed forward. Gothel tried to attack her again, of course, but the blonde simply sent a powerful gust to knock her away, sending her flying into the air and smashing herself into an ice wedge. The ice mutant then hastily raised a cluster of icicles surrounding herself and her ally, preventing further assaults. For now.
Flustered and miffed, Gothel picked herself, brushing the snow off her hair violently. She took stock the important things first, stopping at one of the more reflective glass faces. She still had the awful laceration that the stupid District 10 boy had drawn on her face, which peeved her to no end. There was also a bruise on the side of her face, which created an unpleasant splotch on her complexion. And she had broken a nail. Well, wasn't that just splendid.
She then took stock of other damages. Her chest badly bruised from one of the blows the boy had given to her, but besides that, there was little else she needed to worry herself about.
"I repeat."
Well, other than that. Gothel rolled her eyes. Seriously, they might as well keep James Sullivan permanently plugged to announcing system, at the rate that the Gamemakers were going.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, the District 1 girl decided to spy on the ice mutant through the fragments between the translucent stones. The witch was shouting at her ally, pleading him to awaken. After much hesitance, she even grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The pretty boy did not respond, his head lolling back when she lifted his torso
"If the last two remaining tributes-"
As disappointing as most events have been so far, this one actually pleased Gothel. It was as if all it was perfectly planned – the 10 boy freezing painfully to death, while his snow-shooting little friend gets eliminated on default. The black-haired girl slapped the remnant snow of her finger, smirking happily. Her work was done.
The rule change had been for the lover boy and his little ice witch, of course, but it would bring them no benefit to now. Not if the 10 boy died. No fairytale endings.
"-are from the same district,-"
Then an idea occurred to her. She and Shen could win. She made a face. It was weird, the idea of both going home together, sharing victor-ship. It was repulsive, indeed, but perhaps it was her generous nature that dampened her revulsion towards the alliance. Perhaps she could put up with working together with Shen, despite their… differences, and the grave wrongs the white-haired boy had wrecked upon her.
Then she realized that hers would not be the only District to benefit.
Spinning herself around, she scanned quickly for the blonde warrior that was supposed to be her ally. And also was supposed to be hunting down and killing the eleven-scorer from District 5, not standing in a mere fifteen feet from her district mate, gawking at him.
Gothel vaguely noted that the scrawny lad of District 2 was standing side by side with a ferocious huge black mutation, and he was stroking its nose, as if it was some kind of – pet?
"-both would be-"
Being a woman of her word, she was obliged to carry out her promises. So Gothel removed a knife from her collection, balancing it on the tip of her fingers.
"C'est la vie, my dear." With an air of tragedy, she sighed. "I did warn you, and bad little girls have to be punished, don't you think?"
Swinging her elbow back, Gothel launched the projectile.
A mutt. He had trained a mutt.
Astrid's brain hadn't taken to the news too well. The wimpy, weakling of a Haddock taming a monster – a dragon no less. The notion was not just laughable, it was inconceivable. But then today was a full day of surprises.
"- crowned victors. That is all." With that, Sully had signed off.
There had never been this many rule changes in the Games, and there had definitely never been any of this nature. But Gamemakers' word was law, and if the law had been changed...
The epiphany made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, so she laughed. There was relief, and there was hope. She didn't need to kill him. She didn't need to kill the boy with the bread.
Her blue eyes lifted themselves from her axe to meet those of her lanky little District mate. He was just as startled as she was, though possibly a little more skeptical. He flinched when he found her staring at him, but when he noted lack of her usual acrimony, a shadow of smile appeared on his features.
Then it transformed into one of sheer consternation. She couldn't understand it, till she heard a whizzing object approaching her rapidly.
She shifted herself, but only slightly, since her usual responsiveness was slowed by the bizarre happenings around her. Hence, the knife that struck her only penetrated the right side of her chest, rather than tearing out her heart in her left, as she knew Gothel's blows were well capable of doing. Nonetheless, a lung puncture was just as fatal, and much slower.
The game was up. Her disobedience of the elder girl's orders had come at a price – that she was well-aware – but she had fully intended to escape the battlefield before the other girl's wrath caught up with her. But the blonde knew that she had wasted time, changing plans in the spur of the moment, trying to do one last honorable deed.
Some psychological defense protocol in her body started whirring to life while life itself started draining out her, shutting down her systems swiftly. She lost control of her own limbs, falling into a heap as her eyes rolled to the back her head. Even the fighter in her capitulated to the abyss, letting the pain wane with sentience.
She heard a voice, imploring her to fight the pull, but the throbbing of her heart was too much of an earful for her to make out the individual words.
She drifted away.
"It's always people like you!"
Dagur had whipped out a flail, lord knows where on earth he kept that on his person, but Rapunzel didn't even blink at the sight of it. She had disarmed him when he had wielded a sword, a scimitar and even a mace – this would be no different. Her bleeding arm grabbed the golden loop of hair, staining the gold crimson when she held it up. With a swift swing, she coiled a loop around the chain of the flail, then yanked it out his grip, flinging it away and out of his reach. He helped in surprise, ransacking his person for another weapon, but Rapunzel then latched the golden cord around his right hand, tugging it towards herself. The boy jerked forward, his eyes as wide and saucepans, blabbering something about his own innoncence – lies, of course.
"People like you who are always bullying and hurting the smaller guys!" Rapunzel hollered over the frightened noises he was making. She twirled the cord over his head too, tying his arm to his neck, making him grunt in the discomfort. "People like you who are always abusing your strength, instead of using it for good!"
His left hand went for a short-sword on his side, but she caught his arm before he could unsheathe it. She rapidly swathed it in her hair, before coiling the cord around his neck again.
She was almost gnashing at her own teeth, her heart hardening by how terrified he looked. What a coward.
Dagur tried to kick her, but she stepped out of the way nimbly before slamming her own sole smartly onto his kneecap, forcing him to kneel. And there she was – the scared, hesitant, sweet girl towering over the powerful, muscular District 4 boy, holding him captive in her hair.
"It's always people like you that-"
She cut herself off when she caught sight of Hiccup, accompanied by Toothless, whose entrance she hadn't noticed earlier, hobbling across the snow grass, anxiously calling out to someone else lying on the ground over something or another. Further away, she spotted a small figure – Hiro - creeping away from the scene, heading to the stones that led to the Autumn Quarter. There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Their plans had truly fallen apart.
"Astrid!" Her gaze darted back to Hiccup. She could feel the captured Career writhing below, probably trying to loosen the binds. Wordlessly, she stomped on his shin, causing him to holler in agony. Well, at least he stopped struggling after that
Hiccup was near tears when he sank down by the side of his District mate, who was indeed the one lying horizontal on the snow. The girl's eyes were shut, and an ugly red blotch decorated her chest, along with the stained handle of a knife. Rapunzel saw Hiccup take the girls' hands in his own, begging her to stay with him.
The unfairness, the raw injustice of it all had stirred within Rapunzel a blazing flame, burning viciously and building into a fiery eruption.
She stepped behind Dagur, shortening the coil of hair in her grip. His body jerked against it, trying to push himself up from the ground to lessen the strain in his neck, but she pressed a foot down on his legs.
"It's people like you," her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the rage, "that take even the littlest ray of sunlight - the tiniest ounce of goodness and innocence - and destroy it."
That was the closest thing to a warning she gave, because without another word, she tugged against the golden coil while pushing Dagur's legs firmly to the ground.
The whole world seemed to go silent when the boy's neck snapped back.
A sickly sort of relief washed of her, filling her insides with a weird, icky sensation. She let go of the hair, and the body tumbled to ground, lifeless and still.
And the truth struck her.
She was a killer.
Rapunzel covered her mouth to hide her quivering lip.
She was a killer.
She shook her head, as if wanting to deny it, but it was real. All of this was real. This wasn't a training practice. This was the Hunger Games, and the Hunger Games had won. They had taken whatever goodness she had ever possessed, whatever innocence she thought she had, and warped into something corrupt and disgusting. She became like the dead Career at her feet. A pawn on the chessboard.
Her legs had turned to jelly, causing her to collapse next to her dead victim, sobbing between her fingers as she mourned the death of her old and purer self.
Where have all the feelings gone?
Why has all the laughter ceased?
Why am I loved, only when I'm gone?
Gone back in time to bless the child.
- Bless the Child by Nightwish
S/N:
In this chapter, the biggest events happened to the three blondes, so that's why the title is itself.
Marshmallow is in the house! Whatever good he maybe able to do. Oh yeah, Toothless is back – not that many people care.
Hiccup is possibly the furthest person in the cast from Cato, but if you're a THG reader, you might remember that Cato did something similar to Clove. Hey, District 2. So yeah, Astrid's … well, at least as much as Dagur is.
I think many people have been speculating that Jack would get struck by Elsa's ice. Yes, gents and ladies, I'm that predictable. Hopefully placing the announcement in the middle of a fight, however, was not as predictable.
Oh, Rapunzel just killed a guy. Take notes.
'Bless the Child' was essentially the theme song for this chapter. It is my favourite Nightwish song, so yeah.
Up Next: The Feast Part 3: Reshuffle, Redeal. The battle ain't over yet. The final deathlist would be revealed.
A/N:
Hey, guys. So... The Feast Part 1 was the first chapter to ever receive so many responses, and I can only say THANK YOU THANK YOU! because it's a very special chapter to me.
So, the 300 review mark as been crossed, which is awesome. Thank you very much, those of you who have been reviewing constantly, as words of encouragement are like water springs during a writer's block.
Sorry that this chapter was a bit late. I got a bit caught up in -not studying or writing my report, but – watching the Suite Life of Zack and Cody. It was kind of my childhood, so yeah.
Mailbox:
QueenElsaOfArendelle1: Elsa was on her own. Jack left her at first because of his new alliance's plan included using Elsa and Merida to draw the Career's away from themselves. Then Hiro snapped and Jack decided go his own way, and …yeah.
SmilingStarcat: When Rapunzel said 'bait', she really meant that Elsa and Merida were going to play distracters while the Band band ran off. Didn't quite work out, I guess. In the books, the bags had various sizes. So…Shen's would be huge, Jack's small, and Merida's…long? I should have described them more in the story, shouldn't I? Glad that you're liking this. You may kill for this chapter though.
hiddeninthelibrary: The Arena is not the best place to learn love, so Elsa is gonna struggle a lot. Hiccup and Astrid – Katniss/Peeta parallel, now Cato/Clove parallel. Hiro's under a lot of pressure – try to go easier on him. Your assessment of Ralph, Van and Merida are accurate, so …let's see the next chappie, shall we? Honey, it ain't a rant if it's full of lovely comments. Gracias!
waveringshadows: Action is really hard to write. I looked the nerd-on-nerd battle, but Hiro cheated. And now, Hiccup cheated even more (is that possible?). Hmm, I would say that Merida and Elsa has the most Katniss in them, Hiccup, Jack and Hans have moderate amounts of Peeta, and Rapunzel is…based on someone else entirely.
MissiriKoharehn: Just to answer your comments in docx – I think the story you mean is Umbreytingu by Elfpen? For this story though, Toothless' perspective is actually based more on the Dreki Kyn by Arcawolf. Both are really some of the best Toothless' POVs I've ever seen. Yep, Marshmallow. I was actually planning to save him for the future, but his presence is required for a plot line later. Yep, Rapunzel just killed. It is gross. Oh btw, Shen is both white-skinned and white-haired. He's actually an albino, but I've never really mentioned it explicitly. Thanks once again for helping me Beta this!
the fam man (chap 1, 3, 35): Welcome on board! Hope you continue enjoy! (Maybe if it doesn't make you feel like gorging your eyes out. Possibly.)
WarriorQueen 14: Dark Hiro. Yep. Hiccup as the 'boy with the bread' is reference to Astrid's backstory, which was all the way baaaaaccccckk in …chapter 4. Whoa. That was a long time ago. Hans is Foxface, and I love it! Merida was the one who warned Elsa actually, since she was the closest by. Hope this chapter cleared that up.
Maggietheawesome: To be fair to Hiccup, Hiro was the only one to attack him by the throat, so he couldn't pull the charisma think if he was choking to death (largely choking, plus damaged windpipe.) I'm used to your fangirling, so go ahead (I never talk to the characters, but I do put on voices and pretend that I'm them. Helps in writing dialogues.) Hope you can pry the bits of Jelsa in this chapter, because their gonna go dry after a while. Hope you enjoy the rest.
Awsomaniatica: I know right? And the whole thing is like blowing into bits in this chapter! And it gets worst. Really.
that one evil girl: Haha! Or crushed by Marshmallow. Or gets crushed by Marshmallow into powder.
Crystalline Quills (chap 1): Thank you. Hiccup dying? Can't answer that yet. Wait like… 7 chapters more?
Nightingale82: Well, Hiccup had his shot in explaining – sort of anyway (shrugs). We'll be seeing more Hiro in the future, and Hans too.
manyotpsforlife: Here's a hanky, honey. You'll need it for this chapter.
Pearlness4700 (chap 1): The twists shall stop the day the cliffhangers stop, which is never. hope you enjoy the rest of the story!
4Love4Love4 (chap 1,2,3,) Thanks man! Hope you continue to enjoy!
Guest: Troll lol. Seriously, dude?
Bye.
Review. Critique. Ask Questions.