I went ahead and changed most of the content of the earlier chapters. Why? More QOL treatment. I thought their pacing was wayyyyyyy off and in sore need of change. That's where I have been – and on top of that, exams too.

Yay.

Anyways, on with the fic.

Here's a touching story:

Once upon a time, there lived a girl in the magical world of Absence-Of-Dragons.

She wore a patch-covered dress, bore crystalline sapphire eyes, and adorned herself with blonde hair. She even endowed a pair of bracelets, handcrafted from the feathers of a magpie.

However, as with every fairy tale, it wouldn't be sunshine and rainbows for this little girl.

Instead, she was struck down by God with a cruel illness. The nastiest, most volatile cough had built its main base of operations around the crevices of her neck; the cough didn't care for her livelihood, her safety. She was left for dead.

She was far too weak; far too unworthy for Mother Nature to come and save her.

No matter how hard her hardworking father tried to cure her illness, it would always end with disappointment and despair.

The medicine he gave the girl, the advice from various practitioners, the many prayers to her deity.

All those efforts that, in the end, bore no fruit.

So, every day, within the confines of crumpled bedsheets and a worn bed, the sick girl sings out her window:

O Mother Nature,

Why art thou?

You have bedridden me beyond repair, leaving both my father and I no warning beforehand.

Now I lay here, suffering, every day. Hoping for a day that my cure would come.

But of course, Nature, I realise that you are a stringent one.

For you will do everything in your power for that day not to come.

So please,

from the very bottom of my aching heart,

Go fuck yourself.

She sings and sings her song; at the top of her lungs. But alas, it was not meant to be. The Mother would not hear her call.

All Nature did was leave her. To rot on her mattress.

The situation all seemed hopeless and forlorn and useless – there seemed to be little light at the end of this murky tunnel.

It was then, on one grey and misty day, a dragon by the name of the Black Angel came by to check on her.

He was the cornerstone of mediocrity – a slave to the introvert. And goddamn it yes, if he isn't who she just needed to help her.

Thus, with joy in her heart and fireworks in her eyes, she greeted the Black Angel with open arms and one closed palm.

With a long, thin stick up his arse.

And, to him, it gods-damned hurt!

"Aiiieee!"

He jumped to the ceiling, leeching his claws into the plywood – a loose paw found its way to soothe his plump butt.

"W-…" stutters The Black Angel. "What the Hel was that for?!"

To that, the coughing girl rotated her head slowly, slowly to the dragon,

And pointed the middle finger just to obligatorily spite him.

With that, she smiled, pulled up her blanket to cover herself, and everybody lived happily ever after,

-The End-

…

I hope you all liked it.

A lot of hard work went into this.

I'll have you all know that I tried to remain as true as draconly possible to the source material when I wrote this… it all seemed just moments ago was that insatiable thirst for excitement quenched.

…

And by the gods' sweet, fat buttocks, is that round piece of yak shit that the girl calls a face is so punch-able right now.

Gods! Sorry about that episode earlier, but I just couldn't help myself. It has become a very unhealthy habit of mine to mock up stories to ease the pressure on my temples.

The girl sitting opposite of her gaze-tranced father may have just jeopardised and unravelled this whole operation; not just for me, but for other explorers' lives as well if a certain somebody doesn't end up keeping his trap mouth shut.

The thing is, the worst part of the whole ordeal has yet to come.

Need I remind you of it?

You needn't look further than who is standing in front of me.

Jacob.

And an ailing question standing mockingly next to him.

Hey, you want to know the cherry on top of this whole thing? I don't know how to respond.

I mean, what could I respond with? A nod? A—a, uh… a smile?

If it is a shake of the head he'd know I understand them regardless.

Even I try to run away, he'd know that something is off about me too. I am being stuck in a pickle here, and I am not liking it, not by any stretch.

Oh, just what do I do? What do I do?

I turn to Lisa with pleading in my eyes, begging her to say that "I was just kidding!"

Only, she doesn't. She smiles instead.

Then Lisa, so far having been a sleeper agent throughout this entire situation, decides to answer for me.

With a tug of the wrist, a glance from Jacob,

And a weak nod which seized the lives of millions.

Good gods.

Jacob, having acquired this newfound information, slowly, carefully turns to face me.

An open jaw and an expression of awe creep onto his face.

My ears droop.

He knows.

My heart may as well have jumped out my throat.

And soon following my heart… was my tolerance for stress.

My eyes cave in upwards into my eyelids.

And then, in almost anti-climactic fashion,

I collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

As I fall, I catch, for a momentary second, the expressions that have formed on Jacob's and Lisa's faces.

The former held confused eyebrows with crooked lips of concern. The latter had eyes that simply look on – not worried at all for my outcome. If anything, they look annoyed.

'You'd have to be actively trying really hard to pass out like that.'

I know, Lisa.

I know.

I am simply too good for myself, aren't I?

Involuntarily, I faze my eyes shut – disregarding all that's left in the world.

…

I…

I honestly didn't know what I expected.

By Odin's beard.

You'd—you'd think that I'd come to like how a normal person would this time, but nooooo…

Of course, I am in my head again.

Of course, I wake up here after having writhed in a cataclysm of emotional agony.

All that's left would be for the stage to cue the lights & the inevitable mind-melt and you'd have the perfect formula for formulaic monotony.

Well, not monotony, but you get the point. I am in my head, both figuratively and literally.

…again.

Breathing a heart-felted groan, my front hind-legs fold into one another, waiting patiently for something to happen.

Moments walk by.

No matter how many times I call out to them by name, they couldn't care less.

I linger even more, despite its insistence.

And...

Nothing.

None of them seems at all interested in showing me sheep dung. Gods, you know you have stooped low when even your own body refuses to work with you.

I look down, disappointed.

Just when I had about given up all hope, my brain – seemingly out of response – materialises in front of me a leafless, soulless tree.

There isn't much to talk about other than it being dead.

Scorched and lifeless, it remains to be seen how in the Hel it had stood the test of time. Now attracted, curious and partially worried black ovals narrow in on it, trying to crack its code.

What's it trying to say this time?

My hindlegs jut forward to look closer.

Only to have what looked like a tail fin swing at me out of thin air instead.

I jump, my back later meeting firsthand the scathe of the prison floor.

ACK!

Letting out a groan, I try to straighten my poise out to make out what happened.

Dry chuckles seep into my mind as a constituent. My figure weakens a bit.

"Honestly, with a dexterity like yours, it's easy to forget that you are still alive."

What kind of Hel-spawn voice is that?

I spin around the landscape, in desperate need of a lead.

The voice annoyedly sighs again. "…and your sense of depth perception too, apparently. Fine."

"W—" I stammer. "What do you mean by 'fine'?"

I can almost feel the owner of the voice facepalm.

The tail fin swings at me again, making sure it had struck. And it did.

On my head.

"Ow!" I yelp, massaging the inflicted area. "What was that for?"

"Above you."

My head moves in unison with the aided direction.

Above me, a dark, shrouded figure rests back-first on branches jutting out of the tree's cobweb-like branches.

The thing blended in so well I couldn't even see its outline, let alone its figure.

Its scales shimmer underneath the blanket of an illuminated white; sleek in figure and hypnotic in poise, her tail ticks and tocks like the bottom hands of an English clock.

Almost to showboat, its wings sing to their half-expense, shielding its face from the white, but not enough to shield me.

Shit.

The entity.

It came to visit.

How fitting.

Ovals closing in, I catch a peculiarly crooked smile gracing the front-side of its double-crossing face, almost empathetic to see me.

Out of her teeth, it utters: "You look worse for wear."

I couldn't help but rebuke. "You don't say?"

Its gaze stares me down for a while, studying me intently.

It frowns.

"And for the record, Hiccup," it adds. "I wouldn't be in my gull to study you. Just… appreciating."

"O—" Shit. "Oh."

I forgot just how much it knew.

Everything. It laughs at my expense.

"You're just so damned adorable sometimes. Getting all flustered over something that you could very well improve on." Pausing, its loose paw points a finger at me. "Anyway. You want to know why I am here, right?"

My ears perk – my unbridled attention, gripped thin with vice.

"You may not know it, but I have been watching from the sidelines for the longest time," it continues. "True enough, my timing left a lot to be desired, but I see it now. I see that you've picked up the habit of helping others…"

My eyes widen.

Hoping to correct it, I scramble to find my voice. "No. No, no, no, no. Y-you… you got it all wrong. I don't—"

"Oh, but you do want to help them."

"No, I don't. I mean, I d-do... but..."

"Well, whatever the case may be, Hiccup, you can't change my mind."

"But—"

"Shhh… dear Hiccup." Its tail conceals my mouth. "There's no need to deny it. It only ever makes things needlessly complicated – and we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Without having to venture any further, I silence myself. I have it on good authority that it's not going to budge.

Smiling, its tail comes off my mouth.

"Good, good," it murmurs, an undertone of a snake's hiss, escaping its mouth. "Now that you have picked the habit of helping others, I thought it'd only be fair if I lend a helping hand as well."

"W-w… what?"

"Oh, yes."

"You… you wouldn't want to help me. I am—"

"Useless?" Vibrations tremble the ground carrying my feet. And, unsure of the right words to say next, I replied with the only way I know how.

"Yes," I reply. "Yes, I… I am much too useless for any of your concern to help…"

"Them?" it finishes for me. "Please; you aren't useless, nor are you a lost cause. The conversation you had with Lisa earlier proved that. The words you uttered and the impact you had on her… they were mere glimpses of what you could be. You don't exactly have to be physically or mentally apt in everything; you only ever have to work with what you have. In that case, it was your tongue. Thus…"

Just before it finishes, it pauses for a brief while, almost as if pondering its next sentence.

"Well," it follows. "I think you should hear it for yourself. When you wake up."

Just then, the prison floors crack and hinge below me. Sidestepping wouldn't help – everywhere else followed.

In desperation, I try to lift myself from the cracking surface, but it so appears that my winged efforts are too little too late.

My wings won't budge.

The floor crackles. It couldn't take me anymore.

It would only be mere moments before...

The shatter. Soon after, it does.

I fall.

The only thing that remained of my presence in the dome was an audible cuss and a shriek.

A cascading blinding of white light overwhelms my senses.

Dropping, the figure flew in unison – wings, upholding its weight.

"Until then, Hiccup."

It moves closer.

"Have faith."

Just like that, it vanishes.

Leaving me there, breathless.

And, soon enough, my conscience would leave too.

I let it.

A pinhole. The world looked the size of one.

Where was I again?

Opening my eyes further, more and more do I ornament the mundanity of the ceiling surface.

Brown. Drab. Worn. Dull.

Now, where have I seen this particular palette before, hmm…?

…

Oh.

Oh, shit.

That's where.

I am in Jacob Estate.

In the crux of the infesting Lisa problem. Feeling the tension of the room escalate, my efforts tried to leap out of my coffin-like state.

My tail protested against it instead.

And that singular action made me feel like that my own pain receptors are actively trying to work against me.

It felt as if I fell bosom-first onto a porcupine's chimichangas.

"ODIN'S GREAT BEARD!"

I leap off my hind legs.

Higher than I intended to as usual, of course.

My skull rams into the grit of the ceiling, causing a yell to leave my throat.

"Agh! Gods!"

Landing on the ground, my paw, for what may as well be the trillionth time today, still finds its way to massage it.

I sigh, staring at the ground.

...

It only took a few seconds to sink in.

Wait, what?

How did I…

"…speak?"

As soon as that… that word left my mouth, I strive for the life of me to cover my trap with both my paws. And as I do, a familiar phrase echoes in my head…

What...

the…

Hel…?

Moments pass.

I remain as motionless as a statue. Too static, too mentally erratic from the shock.

It.

It did this.

But how?

For all the possible medical books I've read, none of them state swapping vocal chords as something possible. Hel, somebody undergoing a procedure like that would probably die of blood loss in seconds.

And I don't recall Jacob being that much of a medicine person.

So… who in the Hel is it?

Is it a demon, sent from the depths of Helgevr?

Am I some… some sort of sick plaything to it?

I have a whirlwind ravaging through my mind right now, and feeling half-tempted to swear out loud every known expletive in the Nordish language can't be healthy.

"A-angel?"

Like a master switch, my quarter-life crisis turns off in an instant. A sudden, more pressing matter seems to have surfaced.

A witness.

I slowly, slowly turn to the direction the voice came from.

Lying before my eyes was a blanket-covered figure; tired eyes, pale skin and all. Mortally sick.

Lisa.

Opening her mouth, she speaks her mind loud and clear: "S-s-sorry f-for what I did e-earlier."

Hand covering mouth, she stops to cough.

"But…

The girl's spine rises, eyebrows frowning.

w-why c-couldn't you speak to me the f-first time?"