I do not own Brave or HTTYD.

Chapter Eleven: Journey

Berk

The villagers lit fires all along the beach, flaunting the fact that Berk still survived, despite the raid. Merida and Hiccup curled up under the wing of Toothless, Saorsa always sleeping a little ways off but still close enough to help should the need arise. Although the princess had sputtered and flushed at the thought of practically sleeping in the same bedroll together, the exhaustion and nonchalance of the village (including his parents!) eventually lead her to share her father's tartan with him under the dark wing and curl up next to the boy.

Under Toothless' outstretched appendage, the night seemed moonless, starless, empty and all consuming, like stepping into the maw of a great god or nameless, faceless monster. When she had first woke up before the sun had risen, she had nearly lashed out in fear, feeling as though she had been perhaps buried, she had already died and she had woken up on the other side of the afterlife. But Hiccup's breathing, slow and quiet, the gentle puffing of it along her forehead, the humidity that had collected in the few short hours that they rested, brought her back to the cool sand under her back and caked in her hair.

Merida wasn't a morning person, never was, but there had been too much loss too soon. She had seen more blood and gore in the last month than she had ever known—or wanted to know. Her ideas of war and martial laws were from dusty books and her mother's dry lecturing, but she had wanted to know it in real life, had begged her father to take her with him many times on campaigns. Now, when (if) she ever had the opportunity to see him again, she would not hesitate to sob into his chest and proclaim that he was right and she never should have wanted something so childish as to participate in such a terrible event. Now, the spray of blood and white chunks of bone still flashed behind her eyelids every time she dared to close horror had mirrored the nightmare previously and, despite the bodies being those of Vikings, they still bled the same red as a Scott.

She snuck out from under Toothless' wing, taking the tartan with her, wrapping it around her shoulders as she stared up at the high moon. She toed the strand, watching at it slowly devoured her feet and ankles before receding, each time the tide came in she sank deeper and deeper into the sand. She looked around and saw that some of the fires still burned, one of which was being manned by none other than Gobber the Belch.

She hadn't had much opportunity to speak with him. If she was honest with herself, she was terrified of him and the opinions he might have of her. He had raised Hiccup, she believed him to be more of his father than his own sire, had taught him to raise his sword and defend himself from the village, had even encouraged him to soar across the land and embrace his greatly desired freedom. Besides, he seemed to have stuck fairly close to the Astrid, Hiccup's ex-love, and she found herself fearing that she wasn't quite up to snuff. Oh, she had no doubt that if she and Astrid were stuck in a ring, they could go toe-to-toe, even without her magic, but Merida had to admit that the blonde had an air of fathomless authority and pride that the princess respected.

But Astrid had bowed to her.

She made her way over to the man, seeing his wet cheeks, feeling his sorrow as if it were a physical thing she could help him lift and sit into the fire to melt and forge into something dangerous.

"May I sit?"

"Of course, yer Highness," he tipped his head but his gaze remained locked on the dancing flames.

Merida settled into the sand, feeling the heat lick gently at her face. The wind from the sea whipped the fragile flame left and right brutally, but it continued to burn brightly despite the onslaught. She wanted to fill the silence, but every thought seemed to still her mouth, as if she was no better than a fish caught by the cheek on a hook. She chewed on her lip, turning her thoughts in her mind, over and over again, hoping to find something to break this silence into pieces.

"Will ye tell me what Hiccup was like as a child?"

"Ye've spent all this time with him," he muttered, feeding the fire, "He's told ye, I'm sure."

Her smile was tight across her face, "Of course, aye, but…he's so self-deprecatin' and humble. All he ever talks about is his failures and his pain. Certainly there were good times, when-when he was wee and bright eyed and—"

"Off huntin' trolls in the dead of night, had me chasin' him down before Stoick was up and ravin' like a loon about it."

She caught his raised brow, his long mustache dangling over his wry smile. Her own mouth lightened at the sight.

"Trolls? I used to hunt 'em too," she chuckled, "My da says that's why I asked for my first bow."

"Is it, now?"

"Oh, aye," she nodded, "One of his fondest stories."

It was easy between them, easier than she believed it be. He told her about how small Hiccup had been, how tiny and frail as a babe, abandoned by mother and father both. She told him about her constant racing to the woods to be comforted by the rocks and trees. He told her about all of Hiccup's daring journeys and messes that Gobber helped him clean up, the edifices and buildings he burned. Merida guffawed at his reenactment of Hiccup's face when he was being chased by a Monstrous Nightmare, equal parts horror and adrenaline-spiked joy.

"Oh, he loves it, ye know," he broke another batch of twigs against his hook hand, "The rush, the thrill, the fear. It's how he'll live 'til the end of his days."

She caught his sideways glance, gauging her reaction, "Oh, I ken it well. In fact, I believe it may be contagious."

His chuckle was as warm as the crackling flame.

"A Highland princess on the back of a Nightfury? Eh, well," he scratched his chin, "I've heard wilder stories, to be sure."

"I'd fancy hearing all the wilder ones, then," Merida smiled, wrapping herself up tighter in her tartan.

"Oh, I can'nae tell them all right away, ye've got to come back and see me for somethin'."

"I'd reckon I'd always be wanderin' into yer shop, Gobber," she snorted, "Ye are…well, after everything Hiccup told me, I'd know that I could come to ye in search of good advice or help. I wish I had someone like ye back home, well, I did, but not-not for a long time, ye ken it, and I wished I had ye as a wee lass. My da was like ye, really, but if I knew I had someone to—"

"Aye, lass, don't hurt yerself," Gobber chuckled, "I see ye've been with Hiccup a bit too long."

She laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. The sun was beginning to rise and their eyes turned to the horizon, gray and bleak and miserable. They wouldn't see the ships until they were directly on the shore, due to a thick fog that was settling over the ocean and between the rocky outcroppings of the beach.

"Lass," Gobber cleared his throat when she turned her bright eyes to his, "Princess…"

She clasped her hands, feeling the callouses on her fingers stroke her own knuckles.

"Do ye really have land? Enough for all of us?"

Her shoulders relaxed, "Aye. Acres of land that is being left without field hands to take care of it. There will have to be negotiations, surely, but I am acting Queen with my father away and I can make these decisions. We can discuss the distribution later, once ye all are settled and are no longer in fear of yer lives.

"But I must ask ye, truly beg and beseech ye, to wield that anger, that revenge, that fury—be my blade, my army, that will fall down upon those absolute bastards and, once we all have our revenge, the rest will fall into place. I swear unto ye."

His eyes were dark in the dim morning.

"Hiccup does'nae want the dragons to be used for war."

She nodded, "He knows them best. But the dragons have their own dead, their own anger, I feel."

He looked to Grump, snoring in the sand, "Well…some of them."

She snorted lightly.

"Hiccup swore to help when this began. We're stuck together, as ye know."

Hiccup had warned her that he told Gobber everything—there were no secrets between the two men.

"Oh, aye," he rolled his eyes, "And with the whole lie, should we meet yer family, things may get a bit complicated."

"A lie? What lie?"

The man's eyes widened comically, bloodshot and red-rimmed though they were.

"Gobber?"

"I should'nae have said anythin'," he shook his head, "I didn't—uh, it's somethin' ye should talk about with Hiccup, that is."

Her brows lowered, "He's asleep. Why don't ye tell me about what was said before I got the chance to, erm, acquire yer language?"

Gobber's eyes noticed her straight posture, her narrowed eyes, her powerful authority. Hiccup said she could be like two women wrapped into one and he could see it here, how she had been so open, so easy going and relaxed and now she appeared someone much older, more sure of herself, less girl and more woman.

"Ye'd best speak to the boy," he felt his own voice sounded far off, "That's what's best."

She appeared to be rather miffed that she was not answered—he assumed not many would dare deny the princess—but nodded resolutely, not holding it against him. Admittedly, Gobber was pleased by this, he wasn't too keen on being on her bad side.

"I believe I'll do just that, thank ye, Gobber," she tipped her head in respect and stood, wrapping herself up tightly, her wild hair whipping furiously around her face and head.

"Lass—eh, princess," he stood, unsteady and she paused, "Go easy on him. He does everything with a good heart."

Her brow lowered again, "I make no promises I can'nae keep. If he had been honest with me to begin with, perhaps I would not have the need to be mad."

Gobber hummed and felt himself smile, despite the momentary ache in his chest. Even when Hiccup had left, he had never thought him gone, but if he should become the king to this lass he would most likely never step foot on the island again. Not that he truly believed that was what was best, but he couldn't deny the thought of him sitting on another throne did not worry him.

Merida tickled Toothless' side and the dragon let out an annoyed grumble, rolling over and taking the cover of his wing with him. Hiccup blinked at the sudden damp morning hitting his skin as he looked up at her, hissing in the dim light. Her eyes were bright, yet dower and furious.

"Merida?"

"What's all this about a lie, then?"

His head fell back into he sand with a groan, "Who told you?"

"Gobber said there was something about it, he did'nae say what it was, he told me to ask ye, so I'm askin'. Talk fast."

He rubbed his palms over his face, brushing off the sand. He had to think, harder than usual at this hour, about how his mouth was moving to make sure that they were speaking her language and not his own.

"I told them you were my bride, or would be soon, anyway," he lifted himself to one arm and sighed, "I should have told you but…you got hurt and then there was never a good time."

Her face flushed red, stuck somewhere between mortification, horror and fury.

"So…ye mean to say, the reason they trust me, the reason they like and respect me is all because of ye?"

"No," he stood, "Not like—well, I mean, not like the way you think!"

"And how do I think?"

They were so close their chests nearly touched when they inhaled.

"I—well, you—We, I mean—!"

"Hiccup," she spat, "Do ye not think, lad? What happens when we meet my family? This, just us being so informal, us having spent so much time together, it could spell war. War between the Clans and yer family!"

"You don't think I haven't considered that?"

"Obviously not!"

"They were never going to meet until you decided to open your borders!"

She sputtered, "How are ye mad at me for savin' yer people?"

"I'm not!"

"Ye are, too!"

"No, I'm mad at you for not-not consulting me! Not running it by me first! You don't think about the consequences!"

"I don't?"

"No, you don't!"

"Hiccup," she gasped, incredulous, fists clenching at her sides as her volume rose despite his fervent shushing, "If I had not done so…yer people would be doomed! Ye have no-no-no crops! Nothin' to trade with! No cattle or herds! What would ye have done? My people are scattered and if they did not dare return nearly a week after the raid, they most likely settled elsewhere! I believed in us—I believed in ye!"

"You don't know what you've done," he shook his finger at her and she barred her teeth, "There'll be fire and sword if it's not set right!"

"I am well aware," she nearly screeched, "But yer homeland is gone. Do ye not see that that? I know ye have no desire to ever come back to this place but they can still live if ye'd let them!"

"Merida," he pulled at his hair, "Vikings on Scottish land? Are you out of your mind?! Either my people will slaughter yours or the other way around!"

"Not if we teach them! Not if we explain!"

"Ugh," he knew they were causing a racket, but didn't care about all the eyes they were beginning to attract, "You are acting like a child!"

"And yer actin' like a beast! That's what ye are!"

"Don't you see that I'm trying to help you?"

"No, ye care about yer dragons! Ye don't want them involved and so ye'd rather yer people sit on this doomed shell of an island than have them be used as a weapons!"

"They are not my people!"

She sucked in a breath at his tone and his volume.

"If you do this," he swore, "If you take them…you will doom everyone."

She gripped him by the collar and shook him, "If we do nothin' we doom them all!"

She shoved him and he stumbled back with a grunt, nearly toppling over into the sand.

"If we leave them here, who will tend the fields of DunBroch? That land can feed half the country in potatoes alone and there is no one there to work it! It is not a matter of you need me or-or the other way 'round! We need each other! Ye-ye fear a war when there isn't a soul in the compound!"

"But your parents could have returned and what will they do when you bring a hoard of Vikings to their land? They'll run you off, you'll-you'll be denounced by your own people! They may even hurt you or Saorsa!"

"We are not savages, Hiccup! We would talk to them!"

"But we are!"

Her eyes widened, glancing around to see so many of the village staring at them. Were they speaking Gaelic? Or was she speaking to him in the language of his people? She couldn't rightly tell what was coming out of her mouth.

"You are so naive," he spat, "If you think my people won't slaughter yours if they think they might take what they believe to be theirs. Once they step foot on DunBroch," his voice was controlled, clipped, "You will have lost it to another hoard of Vikings."

"Ye believe yer parents to kill mine, when negotiations could be made? Do ye have so little faith in them?"

"I saw my dad rip a man's spine out through his throat," he stared at the man who was staring worriedly between the two and fought to gesture angrily at him, "I've seen my mom kill men who threatened the dragons without hesitation. If you doubt they aren't capable of killing your family if it means they're survival, you are a fool twice over."

"I've killed," Merida raised her chin, despite how it wobbled, "Am I a monster?"

"No," he muttered, "That's why I don't want you to do this. I don't want you to get involved! Hel, I didn't want to get involved! I wanted to stop you, when-when you took off your crown and put on that helmet, when you danced with us, when you made these promises that you cannot keep! I didn't want you look like one of us, to speak like one of us, because if you align with them, your family may not accept you back!

"If our families meet, if our people meet…they will destroy each other. And mine, unfortunately, will win. I have no sway here, anymore, alright? They don't mind me now because I've brought you and offered them a kind of salvation, but when I get in the way of them using the dragons to hurt those that stand in their way, I will not be able to stop them. You think a group of ten dragons is bad? Look at all of the ones we have here on the island! They'll tear that castle down in minutes.

"I am trying to save you," he took her hands in his, rubbing her archery callouses, "I didn't mean for this to happen with that stupid lie, I swear. When Astrid attacked, I thought you were going to die and the world felt so much colder. The people of this village are so stubborn, they'll find a way to survive with the help of the other Viking Confederate members. I'll-I'll still help you get your revenge, but, please…leave with me. Come away from this doomed island."

"Ye want me…" she lowered her eyes and chuckled angrily, "Ye want me to be like ye."

"What?"

"Ye want me to run, to hide away from all the worlds problems, just like ye have. Would ye really condemn yer people to starve?"

He barked out a laugh, "They've stood against dragons and death for generations, they'll stave it off again!"

"No, ye absolute numpty!" Her hands reached, like claws, her frustration apparent, "What will they do with their precious dragons if they start to starve?! They'll just start to raid again! And then they might come to our shores anyway!"

He hadn't really thought of that and he sputtered for a moment.

"Well—!"

"And then they'll kill my people and take my land without any agreements concerning the crops! If we make a deal, if we uphold our bargain, if a bond is struck, we can save each other!"

Hiccup stared then, at her, then to his people, swallowing thickly.

"Och," she growled, her hands so close to his face she could rip into it, her blunt nails tearing flesh from bone, "Ye want me to be like ye—but I'd rather die than be like ye!"

She was pulled away then, hands on her arms by Astrid and Hiccup's mother. She should be embarrassed, humiliated, aghast that she would act this way in front of so many people. Her mother would be appalled and even her father would not find his daughter's willfulness to be funny.

Hiccup's shoulders were occupied by both Gobber and Stoick, a hand on each.

"Leave if it pleases ye!" She kept spitting, "That's all ye know, anyhow! Leavin'! Runnin'! But life catches up, Hiccup! It always catches up!"

They turned her and she felt tears threaten to overtake her, but she kept her gaze firmly away as she was led down the beach away from the men by the two women. They said nothing but she knew by their grip they were displeased. Now wasn't the time to show weakness, now wasn't the time to show the village that there was division.

"Especially since I'm s'posed to be his bride…" she muttered angrily to herself.

"What's all this about?" Astrid was the first to crack, which wasn't too surprising. She had less control than Valka and her temper helped very little.

"Ye don't want'a know."

Astrid huffed out a little laugh and Merida couldn't help but admire her. She was gorgeous, truly, and a sharp pang of jealousy hit her where she didn't seem to know how to help sooth it. The roundness of her face and the brightness of her eyes was complimented by her white-blonde hair the color of wheat. She looked like what a queen should look like, refinement and poise.

Her mouth opened to say more when a horn blared through the fog and both the women perked up. Merida knew the ships were close now and Valka called for Snotlout and three other riders who flew on Monstrous Nightmares to go and clear the thick fog on the ocean so that longboats could reach the shore with relative ease.

"Look," Astrid tied her long hair back, "All I have to say is—"

"I know."

"You do?" She cocked her hip.

"It's not the right time to start an argument, there's so much at stake and I shouldn't—"

"Oh, no, no," she chuckled, "I was going to say Hiccup is an idiot who thinks he's always right. Sometimes you just have to make him shut up and see reason."

Merida blinked, "Eh…right. Ye ken that we aren't—?"

"Really engaged? Yeah, well, you fight like it," her smile was somewhat sad but not angry.

"Astrid…Um, ye see…"

"Don't," the blonde shook her head and murmured quietly, "Please, don't say it."

Merida couldn't stop her arms from circling around herself, "If I could have done more for yer people…I would have."

Astrid sighed, "Yeah, well…so would I."

There was a moment between them. Respect, truly, but there was sadness and regret. There was so much blood between them, the sea between their lands could easily have been filled with the bodies of both villages. One of the people between them, despite how it ached in Merida's heart, on the back of his beloved dragon, was Hiccup.

More horns blared and they turned their attention to a shore, clearing from the flames of dragons.

"Time to deal with the dead," Astrid rolled her shoulders, "Come on, then, princess."

Merida closed her eyes, her own people haunting her, their boney hands, charred, reaching up to pull at her tartan, her hair and dress, attempting to drag her down. She moved, despite the horror, feeling as though she was wading through buckets and buckets of gore. Her muscles prematurely ached, knowing the lifting she was going to be doing.

Merida helped the twins, lifting body after body into a boat at the end of the beach. This wasn't the same as piling them all up in a barrow to be burnt, but something reverent to be set out to sea.

She went to a larger boy, hands out to grab the bodies he was struggling with and he barked at her.

"Don't touch them!"

She saw his tears then and folded her hands, trying to ignore how much they itched. Sand and black blood were stuck between them and she sought his sorrowful expression as he poured over what were once, maybe, his family.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "For yer loss."

"Sorry? You're-you're sorry?!"

"I am," she nodded, "I am, truly."

He sniffled, pitifully and wiped his nose, pulling at the braided mustache.

"I'm not sorry," his eyes came to hers, finally, "I'm mad."

She nodded, slowly, "Aye…I understand."

"How can you? How can you possibly understand?!"

She looked away from the bloated, swollen corpses, blue in the places they had lain, their faces misshapen and bent at odd angles. It was a horrible sight, but it was something she had witnessed not too long ago.

"My home was invaded, too, ye know."

"And who did you lose?"

"I lost everything," she whispered, "It was my job to protect them and I failed."

He wiped his face again and a sad-eyed Gronckle trundled up the shore to nuzzle his hand and he turned to her pebbled hide and cried. Merida stood and waited until he was done before she bent and took his soiled hand in hers.

"I have want of revenge, myself. Should ye need it, I will help give it to ye."

His grip tightened and he appeared murderous, dangerous. She wouldn't have thought such an expression could be made by the gentle giant, but she had heard of berserkers in her father's stories. She could see the blond flying across the battlefield, his axe cutting down any who dared stand in his way.

"I want revenge, princess," he whispered, "Not land, not money—I want them to pay!"

"They will," she swore, "They will. We can make sure of it."

Her gaze fell to his dragon, eyes low and hurting.

"Let me help ye."

He did and they lifted his mother and father into the boat amongst the others. Once the bodies were lined up, shoulder to toes, all across the longboat, they ventured into the woods in search of greenery and flowers. They filled all the nooks and crannies beside knees and between boots with foliage and kindling. Finally, any trinkets or unbroken blades were placed at the prow of the ship in a great heap. Then they stood on the dock as the sun rose, high and cold, above them.

"We've lost so many," Valka sighed, "It seems a waste of an able body."

"It must be done," Stoick and Gobber nodded, looking out among the rabble of about thirty or so men and women and children, "One must volunteer."

"I do," a woman stepped forward, face terribly red and swollen from heartbreak. Merida wasn't sure what exactly what was happening, but jumped when Hiccup came and put his hand on her shoulder.

Stoick nodded and brought the woman forward.

"Do ye wish to take yer fallen brethren to Valhalla, Aslaug?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I will lead them."

Merida barely turned back to murmur, "What is happenin' now?"

Hiccup took a deep breath and sighed through his nose.

"It's tradition, after something like this."

"What is 'tradition'?"

There was some singing in a long, lilting tune that made Merida feel floaty and off-kilter. There were deep prayers to Odin, the redhead staring as they bent their heads to the tuneless chanting. Stoick put sprigs of greenery in the woman's, Aslaug's, hair, her confusion growing.

"Watch," Hiccup murmured, head still bowed, "Watch just what you will have to explain to your people."

The chief took a smaller axe, not the one he used for battle. This was sharper and seemed twice as deadly, despite its size. He slowly, methodically, slit the woman's throat and Merida gaped as she continued to stand, for as long as she could, before she collapsed, blood gushing around the feet of Valka and Stoick.

"May the Valkyries welcome you," Stoick intoned, "And lead you through Odin's great battlefield."

The body was lifted, eyes wide and unseeing as she was put into the boat, limp and slack.

Merida would have doubled over and thrown up into the sea if it wasn't for Hiccup's crushing grip on her shoulder. He leaned forward, his breath hot against the shell of her ear,

"Do you know what you will have brought to your shores?"

There was heaving from men as the pushed the boat full of bodies out into the raging sea.

Stoick continued, "May they sing your names with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you have taken your rightful place at the table of kings."

"Don't show weakness," he continued, quiet, "They'll destroy you for it."

"For great men and women have fallen this day. Warriors, fathers, mothers, friends, daughters, sons, friends and loved ones."

When Stoick approached her she couldn't not stop the shaking in her legs. He handed her a bow and a single arrow, nodding to her. It was lit on fire by a hand she could not find a face to put with and she thanked whatever heathen gods that ruled this land that, even in shock, she could still shoot better than anyone. It hit the center mast and the half-raised sail set flame and began to encompass the ship. More arrows whizzed by like the buzzing and thrumming of a massive beehive, the noise echoing in her ringing ears, igniting the ship and lighting the swollen bodies ablaze.

"A sacrifice is required," he told her, his voice so cold she shivered, "The bodies had been on earth too long—they needed a guide to Valhalla."

She took the smell of salt into her nose and closed her eyes. It was a nightmare, that was it—just a terrible nightmare and she would wake up, safe in her bed at DunBroch. None of this had happened and her mother would snap and snarl at her for sleeping so late and hurry her down for breakfast. She'd shove three bannocks into her mouth and apples into her bag and go riding on Angus so she could be back for lessons before noon and bemoan how boring everything was for hours until she'd sit down with her great big da and hear his same stories about Mor'Du once again.

No more Vikings, no more bloodshed, no more horror.

'Please,' she begged, 'Let this all be a nightmare.'

She opened her eyes to the gray sea of Berk, Hiccup's breath warm against her ear and his grip crushing. She could smell the iron stench of fresh blood and putrid reek of old blood mixed with salt and smoke.

It was real.

It was all real.

Unnamed Boat

"Explain to me again, brother, what happened?"

He was pacing, eyes bright like a moon on a cloudless night.

"Did you see her, brothers? Tell me, what did she look like?"

"Ivar," Bjorn surged forward and took his youngest sibling by the shirt and shook him, "I swear by Odin's missing eye, I will gut you if you do not explain to us what happened!"

"I couldn't see her, brother!" He laughed, feeling bright and weightless, "I couldn't see her! Not the way I see you! Or the dragons! I could feel her, like a coming storm, full of magic, but I could not set my sights upon her!"

"How is that possible?" Hvisterk spat.

"I don't know! Isn't that astounding?!"

He was slammed into the wall and he gasped, still laughing, albeit breathless.

"How can you not track her?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," he chanted, "I can't see or feel her. Only hear her and feel her magic upon me…"

He ran his hands over the wound she had made, the arrow having pierced him deeply and the shaft had to be removed. The pain made him gasp and moan sensually and his brother dropped him with a shout of disgust.

"How?"

"She's hiding! I don't know how!"

"That's why you couldn't find your Nightfury? Because she was with it?"

He shrugged at Hvitserk's voice, "Brothers, I told you! I have no clue how it is so! She's—she's a mystery! An anomaly! I can't see her!"

He was grabbed and shaken again, his head bouncing against the wall several times.

"Then how can you make yourself see her?"

"I don't know…I've never had someone hide from me before…"

"Then fucking figure it out!"

He was thrown across the room and he landed, hard.

His brothers left him, closing the door with a slam. He sat up and leaned against the wall, grinning. She was out there somewhere, his little oddity—somewhere he couldn't find. But he'd learn how to, eventually, she couldn't hide forever.

Her power felt like autumn—the crunch of leaves beneath his feet and the sweet whispers of winter in the wind. She felt like freedom and lightning and she managed to actually harm him quite badly. Lucky for her, she hit the worthless dragon he was riding on with her blast, despite her arrow piercing his shoulder.

She couldn't rightly kill her husband, could she? That wouldn't do. No one else could dare go against him, save her and she was the only one he wanted now. He would happily forgive her transgressions against him, once she apologized. His brothers would surely congratulate them on their marriage and they would produce magical offspring unlike the world has ever seen. Surely her talent stemmed from somewhere in her lineage.

Gods, he couldn't wait to find her again.

She could keep the stupid dragon if she wanted it, he didn't care. The Nightfury was only important because it was powerful, now he had a much more dangerous creature to play with.

He had only met a handful of witches in his life, one being his mother. No one had ever come close to her amount of power, however, and it still tickled the back of his throat.

He wanted her.

Oh, no, that was wrong.

He needed her.

And he knew where to find her now, how to track her. They would go to Berk, well, whatever was left, and track them through the sea and sky until she was on his lap and in his bed.

"Perfect," he murmured, "She'll be perfect…"

Berk

Uppsala was in the Northern part of the island, nestled between two mountains. It was a quick and easy flight, but the dangerous pets of the Berk tribe were not allowed on the sacred site despite their newfound connection. Technically, outsiders were not allowed to venture to such a place either, but Merida and Hiccup were able to impress upon his father that she would not be an outsider soon. Hiccup ignored how white her knuckles were when she grasped the crook of his elbow, her gaze cold and sharp as ice as she looked outwards, past everyone.

"Why do ye feel the need to go, son?"

Hiccup swallowed and met his mother's wide, frenzied expression that warned him against lying. He wasn't very good at it as a child and he hadn't improved terribly much in his adult life—but he had always been creative and what was a lie but a believable story?

"I had a vision," he nodded, meeting his father's gaze and did not back down, "From Odin."

His father raised a bushy brow. Stoick the Vast was like most Vikings, he beseeched the gods when warranted and respected them the rest of the time. But that did not mean that he wasn't skeptical of the event of his son, who had often flouted the hypocrisy of their religion amongst a rather superstitious lot, having had a miraculous visitation from the gods.

"And what did ye see?"

"An eagle," he swallowed, still keeping his father's eyes locked with his own (they were the color of his mother's but the shape of his father's), "I saw an eagle soaring over Berk, Uppsala between the mountains, just peeking out. The eagle had golden feathers but the tips were tinged red when it turned, catching the sun just right."

Merida schooled her features, the sound of her own swallowing loud in her ears.

"Gothi must be consulted," Stoick rumbled and Hiccup nearly groaned aloud, "It would be best if—"

"We lose daylight with each moment," Merida interjected, "T'was a sign to Hiccup and I had dreams also, despite never havin' seen this place. I believe we must go."

The chief hesitated for a moment more before he jerked his bearded chin towards the Northern edge of the isle of Berk, "Go."

They flew halfway before landing at the base of the valley where Uppsala was nestled. It would be just upwards of three hours on foot, maybe longer with Hiccup's prothesis, so they carried water with them. Neither had eaten since yesterday morning and were feeling lethargic and exhausted from all their previous work, bemoaning the need to traipse between mountains for anything.

Merida said nothing to Hiccup in the air, which was something he could mostly ignore. There was so much wind on the backs of their dragons and it filled their ears and head with the constant whizzing of it going by. But when they landed, bidding their dragons to stay close by the area so that they could fly back once all was said and done, she still continued to ignore him.

Hiccup swore he'd wait. He would give her space and time to think—the fight they had on the beach was mostly done and he had yet to really admit that she was correct. He had believed, rather foolishly, that his people would find aid with the Viking Confederate, the Berserkers and the Bog-Burglers. But Merida was right—they were far too stubborn, far too prideful to beg for goods when they could reach out on the backs of their dragons and take them. He knew he should admit his mistake, his defeat, but that would be the third wrong he'd conceded to her just in one day.

Damn his pride.

The trek was more arduous than he believed and soon they were gasping and sweating as they climbed at a steady rate upwards. Hiccup's legs felt like lead weights (not helping that he actually was technically wearing a lead weight) and his chest was constricting along with his empty belly. They drank heavily from their water-skeins but kept on for upwards of an hour before Hiccup couldn't stand her silence for another moment.

"Yell at me," he took her arm in his, gasping, halting her breakneck pace, "Please."

She looked at him like she did all those nights ago when they first met—like he was nothing, a rock in her shoe, a bramble on her dress—something to be picked off and tossed back into the dirt.

"Merida," he knew she was just like the dragons and what it took was to be vulnerable before her, prostrate himself before her dangerous claws and bone-melting fire, "Yell, scream, hit me, anything! I'm sorry, I was wrong."

She clicked her tongue and removed his arm, turning back to continue on the path his ancestors had stamped out generations ago. He blocked her path, then, arms out, exposing his soft belly and easy access to his heart.

"I was wrong."

"When have ye been right, ye daffy?"

She cocked her hip and he was pleased that she would at least speak to him.

"Well, I—!"

"No, that was'nae a real question," she rolled her blazing blue eyes at him and he gasped out a laugh, despite her ire, "Ye have been wrong again and again. When will ye realize that this isn't about just us any more? It's about them, too, and my family."

"You're right," he nodded, dropping to his knees before her, "You're right. I thought about what would happen when my people met yours because that's-that's what is going to happen! That's the plan! But I didn't think about what would happen if we just left them here to starve and what it would drive them to. You were right, I'm sorry."

Hand out, palm up, eyes closed, neck turned.

Bare your vulnerable spots, lower your defenses, extend the offering of trust and friendship.

That's what it took to soothe a dragon.

Her nostrils flared, "I could forgive ye for all yer idiocy, Hiccup. That is not a crime to me, though it is annoying."

His green eyes fell to the woods before him, the trees strangling the noise from any living thing. The birds did not tweet out pretty songs here or even call warnings to passersby, wolves did not howl as they went hunting stags or does, yaks nor sheep wandered this deep to bleat pitifully. The closeness of the gods smothered out all other livings things, Uppsala an all encompassing presence that forced anything else far away.

"What I can'nae forgive ye for is lyin' to me."

He had offered his trust and friendship and she had taken it—and then he had turned around and skewered her with it. He had doubted her intelligence, her understanding, her power and ability to maneuver a political minefield. She was better equipped for such things than him, yet he felt it necessary to keep such a con from her, doubting that she could continue the charade and fool his family.

"I mean," she snorted and turned her nose up, "Did'ye think I'd run after ye in the hall, Hiccup? Grab ye by the ear like a bairn and wallop ye in front of the crowd?"

"Well," he shrugged, sheepish, "You do have a temper."

She clicked her tongue again and breezed past him, her tone nearly making him shiver, "That I do."

He moved again, stopping her, "Then use it!"

She was growing frustrated and he wondered if, maybe, the best thing to do was rile her. Sometimes the only way to get a dragon out of its nest is to pester it enough to go looking for a fight.

"Hit me! Come on, princess!"

"Och, Hiccup! Enough!"

She tried to evade him and he danced into her view, spinning her around so that she was facing the wrong direction.

She stomped her feet and her face was growing bright red, "I've had just about enough of ye, lad!"

She whirled around and he pulled at her arms, yanking her backward into an awkward embrace. Hearing her growl, he braced himself when she shoved her elbow into his gut and threw him easily over her shoulder and into the dirt.

"Hiccup, I swear to ye—!"

He tripped her, hooking his metal leg behind her knee and she landed with a grunt as they both struggled to get back on their feet, her curses getting louder and more proficient with each moment.

He was bouncing on the balls of his heels, dancing circles around her, "Come on!"

"Enough!"

He was getting close, he could see the blue hazy halo that floated through her curls.

When she advanced again and he grabbed her around the waist, he was not at all surprised to be thrown against a nearby tree, a wafting of apples accompanying her power this close. He saved his head from being hammered against the bark with effort but the wind was knocked out of him nonetheless, but he managed to land into a crouch and rush her as she shrieked, his shoulder blade stabbing into her gut and making her wheeze when he lifted her.

"Put me down, this instant!"

He laughed, gasping, feeling reckless and daring.

"As milady wishes!"

He dropped her ass first into the dirt and he was glad to see that had finally done it.

With a snarl she leapt, tackling him at the waist and they went down in a jumble of limbs and leather and hair. There was pulling and pinching and slapping and one well-aimed punch to the gut that made Hiccup swallow a shout before she was glaring over him, their hips connected as they panted.

"Ye are such an arsehole, Hiccup!"

"Yeah, I am! Is that all you've got?!"

"Och! Ye-ye are so annoying! Ye-ye open yer fuckin' gob and ye think there is no one else that can dare be on par with ye! But ye don't see the whole picture! No one does! No one can!"

"You're absolute right!" He grinned, "Come on!"

"Ye are not always the smartest person in the room, ye numpty!"

"Nope!"

"Stop agreeing with me!"

He couldn't help his little smile of victory.

She growled and huffed, "Ye don't see me as an equal, Hiccup. Ye don't find me capable. Ye could have told me, ye know ye could have but ye didn't."

His smirk fell, "I swear, I just—I just thought it would be safer."

"To lie? So that I would stumble into it?"

"I was hoping you'd never have to know," he shrugged, "You know I-I wanted to take you away as soon as we got there. First, Astrid attacked you and then dad wanted to keep you as his own daughter! And I, well I thought—maybe, you'd want to stay."

She blinked and sat back, her round ass directly on top of him and he swallowed, head swimming from the contact and her punch that made him focus on what he said next.

"Merida," if he was gasping he hoped she couldn't tell, "You'd make an amazing Viking. You'd be a fearsome, no, terrifying Shield-Maiden and you'd be a Valkyrie like no other."

She was quiet again and it made him panic.

"My dad would keep you in a heartbeat, he'd try to trap you here just like he tried to cage me in and-and I don't want that for you! You deserve more, whether you decide to go back home or to do something else! You shouldn't—!"

"Hiccup," she murmured, shaking her head, "Shut up."

She bent and kissed him once, twice, before straightening to look down on his shocked face.

"I have no desire to stay. I have no more want to rule. This, all of this," she shook hair from her eyes and looked upward, past the trees to the sky, "It is too much for me. I see that ye were right—the crown is too heavy and it's not worth the cost of my freedom."

"So…?"

"Once those brothers are dead," she stood, offering him a hand and he took it, "I will leave with ye. Let's chart this world, one end to another. Together."

His hands reached up and into her hair and he was kissing her in earnest, dipping her before reaching under her legs and lifting her into his arms. He laughed, breathless, but was hurt to see her sad eyes.

"Truly?" He had to make sure.

"I do'nae want anything more," she put her brow to his, "Than to put this horror behind us."

He put her down, slowly, letting her regain her footing.

"The one boy, the blind one," he muttered, his heart now set on finishing the mission, "He kept saying he couldn't see you. What does that mean?"

Her red brow furrowed, "I did'nae understand him at the time, I didn't know yer language and, even then, the storm was too loud. What was he saying, then?"

Hiccup shrugged one shoulder, "He kept saying he couldn't see you. He's blind. It made no sense."

She rubbed her temples and muttered curses, "I can give no answers until I have some of my own. Let's get to this damnable place."

They finished the journey, sweating, starving, exhausted. A woman, dressed in white and wearing flowers met them at a massive wooden gate. Inside the glen statues of wooden creatures stood tall and proud, roughly carved with harsh geometric features that somehow managed to seem severe and serious rather than comical or cartoonish. One had a hammer and Merida immediately placed him as Thor, and his father stood to the right with one missing eye. But one was a woman, with softer cheeks and chin and her hands held no weapons but were faced out, palms up, both offering and demanding at once.

The priestess did not give them a name nor did she ask for theirs. She took Merida's hand and led her into a small hut where she lit a fire and filled it with herbs that smelled sweet and dangerous, bringing her a kind of tea as well.

There was nothing to be said between them and Merida nodded her thanks as the nameless woman floated away, leaving her within. She drank and inhaled as deeply as she dared, knowing that more than one of the ingredients were most likely poisonous and hoped, beyond hope, that she would be strong enough to pull herself back out before she was truly sucked into the Tech Duinn forever.

The closest description would be that it was like flying. Her stomach dropped to her knees and her throat tightened and it became harder to breathe, her head swimming and spinning like a top. She felt her eyes roll back into her head and she saw the rough dirt floor of the hut before she woke up in the stone circle of DunBroch.

For a moment, Merida was hopeful she had been right before—it was a nightmare and she had just been thrown from Angus' back and passed out for a few hours.

But when she stood, she knew that she was not in the world of the living. She followed the path to the witches cottage, knowing it without needing to think, surprised when she did not find it resting, nestled between the trees like it always was and had been. Instead, four women dressed in different styles huddled around fire, laughing warmly.

A dark haired woman, eyes bright like a grinning cat's, stood, "Merida!"

She approached, slowly, feeling her breath hitch, "M-Moira?"

She did a little curtsy, "Aye, lassie, 'tis me!"

She looked her age, if not a tad bit younger. Her hair was darker than her mother's, as black as Alec's feathers had been, as black as Saorsa's scales, and plaited simply to her mid-back. Merida gaped as she was introduced to other witches in her line, Moira's teacher and her teacher before that and her teacher before that. They bowed to the princess and commented on her skill and power to make it so far with so little trouble. Merida sputtered, reeling, grasping the edges of her mission and turned to the young version of her mentor.

"Moira," Merida knew time was fleeting and she need answers sooner rather than later, "Please—!"

"I know, lass, I know," her head patted hers like it always had, "I'm sorry for leavin' ye so soon. I wish I could have stayed longer. But I saw what was to come and I knew that ye needed my power more than I did. My death brought me home," she looked to her family, "Where I needed to be."

"Moira," Merida grasped her hands, surprised how soft they were, "Moira, there is boy. A witch boy, someone—no, something I have never seen before. He's-he's-he's monstrous! I swear, all of ye—!"

"We know," Moira's teacher, Fenella, nodded, "We have seen him. He is very strong."

"What is he doin' and how do we stop him?"

"He is a terrible creature, my darlin'," Moira sat her on the log with them, "His gift is to seek out beings that he can control. He can worm into their minds and make them act like his puppets."

"Like a compellin'?"

"Not so," Fenella interjected again, "He's no need to use that much effort nor any contact at'all. He can slip in without ye knowing and take over and ye'd never remember who ye were or where ye came from. And those he releases are basically emptied of mind and spirit, but he mainly kills those he consumes."

"How?"

She shrugged, red hair tied back against her head in a bun, "I know not how. 'Tis his gift of magic and, where he could use it to do well, command kings to do good or dragons to be tame, he uses it the wrong way. His brothers, bent on corruption and destruction, do'nae help him much but he is a mad one, to be sure."

"Then-then how do I stop him?!"

"Merida, lass," Moira took her hand, her smooth cheek resting easily against hers as she embraced her tightly, "What did I always say about ye?"

"My-my gifts, ye mean?"

"Aye! What are ye best at?"

She shrugged, "Illusions, ye said!"

"Aye, and I also told ye that ye'd always be able to hide if ye wanted to, yes?"

"Yes, true, but what does that have—?!"

"Play to yer strengths, lass," one of the other girls commented and Merida haltingly tried to grasp her name, "Hide from him, show him what he wants to see, trap his mind with yer powers. If ye let him in and turn the tides, ye can make him a prison he can'nae escape from."

"O-Okay, fine, I can think on that later but, Moira, the bindin' on me and Hiccup. How do I break it?"

"Ye still have'nae figured it out? Geez," she rolled her eyes, "Ye never got any better at solvin' riddles."

"To be fair, Moira, dear," a pale blonde girl piped up, her name and place in line also escaping Merida, "Ye are pretty shite at it!"

There were shared cackles as the dark haired witch chortled in good fun.

"Please," she took her hand, "I do'nae have much time left!"

"Oh, ye'll figure it out when ye need to," she gave her a sharp glance but her gaze, like a wolf's, softened, "Och, lassie…"

They embraced and Merida felt a tugging in her chest, like something was trying to pull her back and away.

"Time to go," Moira released her, "Leave this place."

She hesitated.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "For—!"

"I forced yer hand," she shoved her back up towards the path, "I made ye because I had to! I will see ye again, one day, many moons from now."

Merida took a few steps before she turned back, "Wait! Moira, did ye see me on the throne of DunBroch? In yer visions?"

The hooked nose was all Moira, no matter her age. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"No, my brave lass. But I have one last bit of knowledge—Ye have a storm in ye, so let it rage."

Nodding, Merida went back at a full sprint to the safety of the stone circle. Her chest was feeling like it was being crushed with a crank and just when she thought her ribs would creak and shatter, she woke up outside the hut of Uppsala.

Someone held her hair back as she rolled over and retched, the acidic burn of the poisonous tea burning her nose as she coughed. On her hands and knees, tears streamed down her face as she groaned at the roiling of her gut.

"Easy," it was Hiccup (it was always Hiccup).

"'M fine!"

"Sure, the vomit on my boot really backs that up."

She wanted to curse him but she was overtaken with more nausea and she groaned again as her head swam.

"Drink," Merida nearly deposited more bile onto the dirt when the priestess offered her more tea, less noxious this time around, but still dangerous. Merida took it and downed the contents without fuss and was glad when it helped steady her legs and gut.

She stood with some help, Hiccup giving her the rest of the water from their journey before she remembered just what led them here and just what she had learned.

"Hiccup," she shot him a tired, weary look, "I know what we have to do."

He nodded, "Let's do it, then."

She raised a brow, "I did'nae tell ye what it is."

"Oh, y'know," he rolled his green eyes back at her, "It's probably something stupid."

"Och, we've already done that."

"Then something kind of crazy," he shrugged.

She leaned her head on his chest and tried to smother her laugh.

"Bein' us, that seems to be the norm."

He only laughed and she couldn't stop herself from joining him, snorting and chortling together until they were leaning on each other to keep themselves standing.

Mad, that's what he was. Mad, pure and simple. But it was a madness that somehow kept working in their favor and she wasn't sure she could go back to a world that wasn't somehow influenced by his crazed, manic nature. If she was returned to DunBroch, despite her words previously, would she laugh at bears and dangerous monsters that came racing in the night? Would she paint her whole body in woad and race across the land firing arrows at Viking intruders?

She only laughed harder, this time at herself.

There's no way she could ever live without him now.

Castle Tioram, MacIntosh Lands

"So," Fergus could feel his wife's frail, thin hand over his own, attempting to keep him calm, "Ye mean to tell me, ye journeyed all the way to DunBroch only to return to me empty handed, with no more information than when ye left?"

The three boys cowered as the King stood, growling under his breath. But it would do no good to take it out on his friends' sons. So he lifted a long table and hefted it clear across the room, the terrible noise so loud that Elinor covered her ears as it shattered into chunks against the stone wall.

"Oi!" MacIntosh looked to his friend, his indigence immediately quelling at the sight of his liege.

"Did," the Queen cleared her throat, "Was there a b-body?"

"There was a barrow, Your Majesty," Lachlan said with a sigh, "It was full of bodies, burned to ash. There was no way to identify anyone."

"Burned?!"

"The savages! The brutes!"

"However," Ian spoke up, timidly, "There was evidence that someone had been in the princess' room recently, Your Majesties."

"As in?" Elinor stood, hopeful, trying to catch her husband's attention while he muttered about why the MacGuffin boy was in her room to begin with.

"Eh," he hesitated, "The closet was open. Mainly emptied."

"Jewelry?"

"I-I know not," he looked away, "But things looked displaced…in a way that suggested familiarity with the area, ye ken?"

At the growl of Fergus, the boy dipped his head in respect. It seems there was more to his nickname as 'The Bear King' than his battle with Mor'Du.

"What in the name of God does that even mean?"

"It means," Lachlan defended his friend, despite the smarting bruise he still bore, "That it wasn't trashed. It wasn't destroyed like the throne room or yer own room."

Elinor halted her husband's pacing with a single gesture.

"Explain."

Lachlan sighed, his knees were aching from having knelt so long. Whipping his black hair from his face he said, quickly, "The bed was unmade but not in pieces. There were still weapons by the hearth. The closet was open like Ian said, aye, but it was not toppled over and pieces strewn about. There was a mark on the door, a runic symbol, though I know not what it may have meant. It may have told the other Vikings to leave the room be."

"But why her room in particular?" That was Laird Dingwall, who was apparently far more shrewd than his lackluster son who sagged (was he asleep?) on his knees.

"I can'nae speak for them, m'Laird," Lachlan shrugged.

"Boy! Watch yer mouth to yer betters!"

Sighing and flipping his hair again, Lachlan stared at the floor and bemoaned his knees while his father muttered about worthless sons.

"Rise," Fergus said and they haltingly got to their feet.

"We march to DunBroch at first light."

"My Liege—!"

"I do'nae believe that to be wise, Sire—!"

"Fergus—!"

The Bear King took to the dais and stared down at everyone in the room, including his wife who was holding her chest.

"I have waited, I have been patient. I have believed in others where I should have known my own presence was required. I have been a king because I thought that my own family came before my people and my land. But I am no longer patient, I am no longer willin' to accept others in my stead. And," his face, nearly purple with repressed rage and horror, "Should ye feel that I am no longer worthy of a the title as yer king, I will step down in order to be the father I must be."

"Fergus," Laird MacGuffin stood by his son's side, taking his shoulder in his arm before half-embracing the boy, "We can nary blame a man for taking care of his family. But DunBroch is, at this moment, completely defenseless. The boys said the gates are broken and it's in shambles. We can'nae risk yer life."

"But ye can risk our daughters'?"

The blond man sighed, looking under his heavy brow to the Queen, "Your Highness…"

"Ye dare say to me," her voice was sharp, accentuated by her footfalls, so unlike her as she approached the other man, "Ye dare say to our faces that ye would'nae dare risk our lives, but ye care so little for the life of the future Queen of DunBroch? The woman who, once she is ready, will choose one of yer sons to take as husband and rule as king by her side?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "She has'nae taken the throne yet, my Lady, nor a husband and I feel it is pertinent to bring up the incident ye yerself was involved in so many years ago—!"

When Elinor's hand reached out, Fergus knew he should try to stop her. But as it solidly connected with the cheek of the Laird, he could't help but grin. He knew Merida had his stubborn nature, his bright anger, but that slow, simmering rage was all his wife and he loved to see it in his daughter as much as he did to see in her.

"She is still the heir! Do'nae dare speak of the future queen in such a fashion!"

The man's facial hair twitched and Fergus, for a moment, full of hate and rage and fight, wanted him to dare. Let him snap at his wife, let him raise his voice to his beloved, let him make that fatal mistake—he would not hesitate to take his life right here, in front of his weak-willed son (big as an ox yet fierce as a lamb is what Merida remarked once).

"Of course, my Lady Queen."

She nodded, once, firmly, before stomping to take her rightful place by his side.

"Pack!" She spat, "Prepare! We go in search of the princess!"

There were brief nods and bows before they shuffled out and Fergus did not allow himself to curl into himself, he could not dare weep, despite his desire to do so. He would use this fight, this fury, the need for revenge, he'd bury it deep within himself so he could water it, feed it, and let it grow into the monstrous thing that would help him find the demons that dare hurt his babe, his darling girl, and slaughter them.

"My wee lass…" He sighed.

"Do not!"

"Wha'—?"

"I want—I want their heads on pikes! I want bloodshed! I want war!"

Elinor had never been so violent, so fierce, so angry—her face streamed tears and turned so red he feared it may burst like an overripe cherry.

"Ye'll have it, lass," Fergus swore, his own face tight and hot, "I swear unto ye, lass—Elinor—I'll bring to ye their hearts and heads to burn in front of all the Clans."

Her bright eyes turned to his, dark like wood, "We will find her, Fergus."

"Aye, beloved," he put his hand on her shaking shoulders, "Without a doubt."

Berk

When Merida and Hiccup landed before the remnants of the Berk tribe, Stoick awaited the explanation of their so-proclaimed visions with a scowl. They were able to manage a believable enough lie between them to convince him of the urgency of their leaving the charred ruins of the city as soon as they were physically possible, Merida expressing that the brothers and their armies were a massive threat that would take out more and more peoples until they were able to consume as much of the world as their dragons would gain for them.

It was then that Merida got to see Hiccup as his father did, the potential he held to be such a fantastic chieftain. His quick, barking orders were issued out to the villagers to round up every bit of spare rope and metal they had—they were in great need of harnesses and fast. Then he demanded Toothless to use his Alpha power to summon every dragon for as far as his powers would allow and to continue to call out as long as they were flying. Every water dragon they could tempt or tame in the span of a few hours would be attached to one of the few boats they had and would drag them behind their powerful, aquatic bodies to help the sailors keep up with the riders.

She had seen Toothless like this once before, his powerful body alight with a bright glow as he screamed, mouth ablaze. Dragons erupted from the ocean and the earth and the forest, coming to bow their sharp, angular heads to their Alpha. Saorsa stood next to him, bright eyes surveying the dragons around them with a keen, assessing eye, a generals gaze. She had known they were likely to be mated, as Hiccup had suggested, but she saw them quite clearly in that moment and she couldn't help the tilt of her mouth at the prospect of a half-dozen little Nightfuries running around madly during the winter season.

Hiccup, although his pinched brow and white lips expressed his great displeasure, did not falter. It seemed just another aspect of him she had uncovered and she couldn't help but wonder, idly, if there would ever come a time when she knew every facet of him, like a well-loved gemstone. He always seemed steady, sturdy, and this seemed no different, but it was clear he was unhappy. She stood by his side, offering suggestions and discussing matters with Valka and Stoick, glad to lend her hand when it came to such a monumental occasion.

"We leave at sundown," Hiccup spat, "No one remains on the island—you leave or you die."

Merida knew this was the only way. If someone was captured because they had stayed behind, too attached to the land and its histories to abandon it, they were liable to being tortured into revealing their destination.

"Pack up and move out, we only have a few hours to accomplish much," Stoick commanded and there was a general rush from everyone in different directions to prepare all the villagers that remained to leave their ancestral home for the last time.

They left, carrying extra villagers on the backs of their dragons. Valka and her StormCutter supported another Viking woman, Astrid allowing a little girl on the back of Stormfly. The ships were filled with people and whatever extra supplies still remained on the island and Hiccup extended his map, piecemeal and chaotic as it was, to show everyone the route he intended. It would be fast and dangerous but it would get them to DunBroch with minimal stops on relatively unknown islands that would have enough to supply them and all of the dragons that Toothless would take with them.

If Merida was at all concerned about the sheer amount of dragons they intended to bring, she made no mention of it. There were over three hundred just on Berk and more were flying in from the nearby islands. Hiccup knew that this could damage the land of DunBroch and there would be some issues that he would need to figure out, but he was willing to take the challenge if she was.

"We need to hurry," she told him, seeing the sun sinking below the horizon.

"I know," he took her hand in his and their eyes met.

When he kissed her in front of the entire village, he knew that wherever she dared go, he would follow.

Chapter eleven, complete.