I do not own Brave or HTTYD.
Chapter Sixteen: Peace & War
Hiccup found a quiet meadow to land in, Toothless' grace and ease as great as he'd ever seen. Thanking his dragon lowly, he dismounted with Merida in his arms. Saorsa landed in the next moment, cooing and nuzzling her rider's cheek in worry. Her skin was still hot to the touch, face flushed as bright as her hair as she slept peacefully on. Saorsa's, yellow eyes pierced Hiccup and he swallowed thickly before assuring her that Merida was fine—just fine and would wake up soon. He placed her in the tall grass, pressing his lips to her burning forehead once before leaving her in the capable claws of her dragon.
He built a fire although it was warm enough that they didn't need it, but it was reflex and maybe Merida would wake up and want food. Toothless lead him to water, which supplied them all with fish. He wanted some kind of bowl to bring some back with him but couldn't find anything close enough in the packs that were on his dragon, his map and some other limited resources remaining on him at all times. He hurried back to Merida with two gutted fish on a couple of spits, Toothless' mouth full to supply Saorsa as well. Hiccup did not look forward to watching the other dragon eat his coughed up carcasses, but at least he wasn't offering any to him anymore.
He was keeping himself busy, collecting more kindling, scaling the fish, anything to keep his mind off how hot Merida was running how long it would take her to wake. Saorsa wasn't as patient, her thick tongue swiping across her face every so often to clean her of sweat and probably check her temperature—it was a sweet, if not disgusting, gesture that made Hiccup wince. He was reticent to shove the dragon away, since Toothless appeared just as concerned and kept closer to Merida than he did Hiccup, which concerned the human male further.
But he couldn't heal any magical related injuries—so he was stuck waiting.
After three hours of fighting off the bugs that kept trying to get to the uncooked fish, Merida groaned as if waking from a long nap. He saw her yawn widely, groaning as she sat up in a mess of curls as she wiped at her face and waking quickly when her palm was thoroughly adhered to her skin. She gave a gasp when she couldn't pull it away, the Nightfury saliva nearly like glue. There was more struggling and Hiccup was on his feet, pushing down his laughter as they made their way to the stream. After washing her face and unsticking her palm, she wetted her curls and sighed at the still-cold water.
"Hiccup," she looked over her shoulder as he hummed a response, "Undo my dress for me, wee lamb."
"I-I-wow, wh-what now?"
"I've been sweatin' for Thor knows how long and I'm still hot," her hands were reaching back behind her, motioning to the same cords that seemed to hold her last dress together, "I want to cool off and get in."
"In-in-in where? The water? Oh, um, well," he hoped it was dark enough that she couldn't see his bright face, his hands trembling as they undid the lacing, turning away as she shucked it and her shift with a great sigh of pleasure and immediately began making her way into the shallow stream. She seemed to care nothing about his presence as she bent at the waist and showing him the expanse of her heart shaped ass, the secret between her legs just barely teasing him with a glimpse.
Feeling utterly flustered, Hiccup covered his eyes like a child. He had lain with women, he was the one with experience in this situation, but there was something about Merida that made him revert back to the same bumbling fourteen year old that drooled and stuttered around Astrid and prayed to whatever goddess that might take pity on him that he could one day have a girlfriend and know what boobs felt like.
She knelt and cupped handfuls of water, letting it slide down her pale body to cool her off and wipe the sweat from her skin. Again, Hiccup was struck by how primordial, how inhuman she appeared, like something dangerous or mysterious out of her fairytales. Something that came from this land and would be found nowhere else on earth, every part of her grown and manifested here—the special dragon that was his Merida.
"If ye can stare," she looked over her shoulder, her brilliant hair becoming an auburn shade from the water, "Ye can help."
"H-he-he-help?"
"Aye," she jerked her chin, "C'mon in, the water is freezin'."
"Ah-ah, umm, uh-huh," he was stripping his armor off as quick as he could, nearly stumbling in, knowing that he wouldn't look half as impressive in the cold water, "Comin'!"
She rolled her eyes and turned back towards the dark woods and dipping her hair into the water before flipping it back. Heavy, the curls lengthened and the reached past her hips and trail into the running water, like little leaves swaying with the light current.
"Be careful—!" He slipped on a rock and just barely managed to catch himself from castration, "The rocks are slick…"
"Yeah, you don't say…"
He picked his footholds carefully, knowing that he would have to oil and grease his prosthetic if he didn't want it to squeak terribly, but uncaring. She stood when he approached, hands on her wide hips, giving him an eyeful—he gaped and swallowed, throat dry, before he eased his way to stand in front of her. Once up close, he could see that her smirk was wavering and her body was just barely shaking.
It made him feel better to know he wasn't the only one whose heart was thrumming.
He took her arm and pulled her forward, flesh to naked flesh. Despite the cold water, her skin was still warm. Her nipples pebbled and pressed into his chest and she gasped, trembling. Her bright eyes turned up to his, yearning, questioning. Gooseflesh erupted under his fingertips and he smiled crookedly at her, laughing at their virgin nervousness.
"Merida…?"
Her furrowed brow relaxed and she pulled him down into and explosive kiss that nearly had him stumbling into the stream. He reached up and tilted her head, angling their mouths together while another hand splayed across her lower back and pressed her to his body. His breath hitched when her tongue met his and he marveled at how her body was soft in all the places his was hard. Her hand was on his chest, feeling his heart flutter and she moaned into his mouth when she tipped her hips to his and felt him growing in anticipation.
"Wait," he pulled away, "Wait, wait…"
"No more waitin'," she hissed, sliding his hand from her back to cup the swell of her ass, "I want ye, now."
"No—I—wait!"
"Wha'?!" She whined, bouncing a bit and drawing his gaze downward for a blink before he was grabbing her head in his hands and forcing himself to look into her eyes (only her eyes!).
"I need to know you want this because you want me," he gasped, "Not because you are afraid or…I don't know, whatever is going through that giant mane of hair."
Merida gaped at him, pulling him down for another kiss that sent her near frozen toes curling in the water. She could never have believed to have felt so much emotion in her life—first with her dragon, which she thought to be a terror and a monster that became her greatest friend and ally and now with the Viking boy who changed her mind about his people, the world and all it had to offer her. It swelled in her chest and she thought she could near burst with the emotion, huffing out a laugh as they separated, both of their lips surely swollen.
"How can ye even doubt that I love ye?"
"I don't," he pressed his forehead to hers, "It's not that—it's this. Us."
"The…sex, ye mean?"
"Well…it would mean…"
"Ye said to me," she cleared her throat, eyes wet, "Ye didn't need a ceremony, or our parents or any of the bits and bobbles…Just ye and me. The war is approachin', and I do'nae know what will happen. I want us to be together, have this moment between us. Let the moon be our witness, aye?"
"My people would see us as wed…"
She shrugged one shoulder, just a few freckles dotting her pale skin like a constellation on parchment.
"Mine as well. But is that not what we are? What we want to be?"
His hands found hers, twisting their fingers together.
"Yes," he kissed her on the forehead, "Absolutely. If you'll have me."
She rolled her eyes, "Och, foolish dragon-boy! Course I'll have ye," she kissed him on one cheek, "Again," the other, "And again," his nose, "And again."
"You do understand that's not how—like I can't—not that many times—?" He shook his head, "Never mind, we'll figure it out."
She laughed and he was kissing her, murmuring her name like a chant, a prayer, as if it could summon the gods from Valhalla. At some point they dragged themselves from the stream and onto the bank, to their fire. The dragons were in the trees, hanging upside down like bats and, seeing their riders so uncovered and in the midst of something so personal, covered their eyes with their wings.
They fell into the soft grass in a heap, panting.
"Tell me ye love me," she demanded, her teeth finding his collarbone.
"I do, gods I do," he swore, staring down at her. Her curls, still wet, were sticking to her skin and his.
Her hands burned like fire and he gasped, wondering if he would be scorched to have her. Her cheeks were flushed and she grinned at him, happy and giddy to have this moment alone with him. She took his hands and pressed them to her chest and he palmed her smaller chest in his hands, suckling on her exposed neck when it tipped back in pleasure. He laid back on the grass and let her have her way with him.
Gasping, her brows lowered, "I want ye."
He smirked, palms open to gesture to her body sliding atop his own, "You have me, princess. All of me."
Above them, the moon witnessed them consummate their love, a right eternal under all the gods of all peoples—they were each others and no else's.
Afterwards, they lay naked under the stars, no need to fill the silence. They needed to return to the stream, covered again in sweat and fluids, but felt no need to until the sun would come and stretch its hot hands across the dawn.
"Next time won't…hurt, y'know," he murmured into her steadily growing hair.
"It did'nae hurt that bad," she shrugged one shoulder, "The first bit was very nice."
A bit of pride swelled in his chest, "I can do better."
She snorted into his chest, "I'll hold ye to that."
"I'll be happy to deliver," he chuckled, "But…just checking…you're…okay, right?"
There had been a moment where, while she was atop him, her face was contoured with anguish. It hadn't been physical—it seemed like something much deeper than that.
"I'm fine, lad," she swatted his shoulder, "It barely hurt at all. And I enjoyed it. Now I know what the maids were sayin'," the last part was a bit of a huff and he peered over at her.
"What does that mean?!"
"Oh, ye ken it," she snickered, "Just that all men need constant reassurance that they do well in bed, lest they start pickin' fights with other lads."
"Hey!"
He dove to tickle her uncovered flanks and she shrieked in shock and recoiled, making him pin her from above to adequately torment her.
"Do you yield?!" He cried triumphantly, watching her chest heave.
"Never!" She turned them over so that she was astride him again and he was pleased to let her be.
"Then we're at war!" His fingers were as quick as hers and she shrieked and nearly fell into the smoldering ashes of their long dying fire if it wasn't for his quick grip.
"Oh! Ye monstrous Viking! Come to pillage our land and steal our women!"
"Oh, yeah," his laughter bubbled out of him, despite the morbidity of their conversation, "I'll have you on your knees, princess! Bow before your Chief!"
"Make me!"
Laughing, their hands interlocked as they wrestled, Merida begged her gods and his to hear her prayer—that if she could not save everyone, let her save him. She would give up her life a thousand times if it meant his freedom, let him fly across the world as free as a bird. Let him have everything he wanted, Toothless and his mate included.
Staring down at him, his joy making his green eyes glimmer like the darkest pine needles in the summer sun, she knew how to break the curse between them and her breath hitched, letting him take the upper hand and flip them both so that he was between her spread legs. His chest heaved with exhaustion as his expression fell from joy to concern as he scanned her face, his two braids catching the slivers of moonlight that was fading.
She brought his mouth to hers and he eased himself to his elbows, settling into her again. She gasped when he rolled his hips against hers and she pulled away to nuzzle his cheek.
"I did'nae think—?"
"Yeah, yep, neither did I," he laughed, breathless, looking into her eyes, "But if anyone could do this to me, it'd be you."
"What does that mean?"
"You changed everything," he pulled a lock of hair from her lips, "I had all these expectations for myself, for Toothless. And you came and turned my world upside down."
"Oh…" she flushed, "Aye, ye did that to me as well."
His eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled.
"I love you, Merida of DunBroch."
"I love ye as well, Hiccup Haddock."
Her thumb trailed over his lower lip and he kissed it with a wry smile.
"Stay with me, forever," he begged, "I want you with me until the end of the world and back again."
Her throat clenched, "Of course. How many times must I swear to ye?"
"At least once a day," he chuckled with a shrug, "Maybe more if I need it."
Her smile was tremulous and he cooed as he bent to press his mouth to hers and she swallowed her tears.
The world was spinning out of control and she latched onto his back with both hands, letting him lead her into a corkscrew that left her dizzy and nearly sick. When they were done, gasping and shuddering in each other's arms, Merida ran her hands through his hair and let the remnants of her magic slide over his skin. He shivered but barely seemed to notice as he bent to kiss her on the cheek before rolling to her side and bundling her in his arms so that she could hear his still racing heart in her ear.
'If we should seem to lose,' she compelled him, 'Run and save yourself.'
'Run.'
'Run.'
Run.
When morning came, as it was forced to do, Merida and Hiccup washed each other in the little stream before putting themselves back together. He tied her laces up the back of her dress and she helped him strap into his armor, both of them giggling and teasing the other along the way. Hiccup's prosthesis began to squeak horribly and he groaned at his own stupidity before setting about oiling it with a small cloth he had on Toothless at all times. Merida had watched him remove it a few times, but this is the first time she had seen him disassemble it, muttering over the spring and screws. The bandages around his stump were still wet and she felt a rush of guilt as she knelt in front of him and began to undo them.
He yelped and nearly kicked her in the face.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
"It can do a lot of damage, to leave it like this. Did'ye already forget my da has his own injury?"
"No-no, I, uh-um-well, that is—!"
"Oh, just hush," she unraveled the bandages to reveal the pink, slightly purple skin beneath. She could tell from looking that it wasn't bandaged right and needed to have tighter linens and she took the base of his leg in her hand, despite his cry of protest. Seeing the unlined section that would have wrapped around his wound, she scoffed and nearly growled at him when he reached to take it from her.
"Are ye crazy, Haddock?!"
"Wh-what? Why?!"
"You don't have anything but leather and metal on this accursed thing? Does'nae it hurt?!"
"Well, yeah, a lot more before but, y'know, we're, uh, we're Vikings! Pain is an occupational hazard! And I don't have it nearly as bad as others, I mean, y'know, you've seen Gobber! And—!"
"Shut it," she snapped, swatting his knee, "Ye're a fool."
"What? Why are you so mad?"
"Because this whole time, all the days and nights we were together, ye never once said anything! That ye were hurtin'!"
"Be-because I'm used to it hurting! That's what happens when you lose a limb!"
"No, ye topsy! It will ache, sometimes, surely—my da always says he can predict a storm in the way his leg throbs—but it should'nae always hurt!"
"W-well, how would I know that?!"
"Oh, for—! C'mere!"
She threw his old bandages away, she decided he needed something sturdier. She tore her underdress up to her thighs, creating long strips of fabric. She went underneath the wound, wrapping a tight figure-eight pattern that cocooned his limb past his knee, which he had never done. Finally, after it was rewrapped, she stomped into the woods muttering under breath about stupid men and ignorant Vikings hell bent on hurting themselves. She returned with a spongy, green moss that she padded the inside of his leg with, adding and fitting it, taking some out and trying again. Once it was to her satisfaction, she handed it back to him to put it all together.
There was a tense moment between them, staring off. She held her hand out expectantly and he hesitated for only a moment before she yanked it from his grip and gently replaced his leg. She strapped him in firmly, but not overly tight before gently pressing her lips to his bandaged knee and smiling up at him. He stood and tested it and couldn't help but gasp at the huge difference it had made.
"Better?" She asked with a knowing grin.
"Much, wow, thank you!" He eased more weight into it and couldn't help but give a pleased chuckle.
She looked too pleased with herself so he swept her into his arms with a great laugh, kissing her soundly on the mouth. Merida leaned into him, holding as tightly on to this moment as she was to his shoulders. This was how she would remember him, this part of him that she adored so much and would always adore—he was soft. She saw it so many moons ago with the dragons, how he played with them and spoke to them like they were his best friends and his children both. He was a gentle soul always pulled into terrible events and Merida couldn't help but hate to see him once again forced back into a life and world he was simply best left out of.
She felt bad about her magic when she first awoke but she had gotten over it.
He raised a dark brow, "What are you thinking?"
"That's yer handsome," she flashed him a wan smile, "And that we need to leave."
He gave a suffering sigh, "I know you're right…but I don't want to go back."
She let her shoulders sag, agreeing softly that there was so much at stake.
"I wish it was just done and over with, ye ken," she wrapped her arms around herself, "No matter what happens I just wish I knew."
"Could you…look? Could you peer—?"
"That's not one of my gifts, nay," she shook her red head, "Maybe with enough time and Moira's book or more magic, but it was never really somethin' I had."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean," he swallowed, "I know you're doing everything you can. Last night? That was…astounding."
She tipped a brow, "Ye weren't so bad yerself, wee lamb."
He flushed as red as the swell of a ripe apple as he stuttered and laughed.
"You know what I meant," he accused halfheartedly.
"Aye, I did," her eyes twinkled, "But that does'nae mean I can'nae tease ye when I like."
"Damn Scott," he smirked.
"Cursed Viking," she chuckled back.
And they climbed on the backs of their dragons, taking off back towards the castle on the horizon.
"Dude, do it."
"No way! You saw it, all glow-y and lightning-y!"
"Aw, poor Snotlout is scared of a magic sword!"
"Oi! If you're so tough, you do it!"
The blade still lay in the center of the stones, humming gently and letting of an eerie light from the black metal.
"And mar my beautiful hands?!" Tuffnut threw his appendages in his fellow's face.
Snotlout batted them away, "You're hands reek! Have you been digging in yak shit?!"
"Of course not," he crossed his arms and sniffed, "But chicken is rather partial to it."
Shuddering, Snotlout turned back to the ring of stones. He wasn't afraid to go in—Jorgenson men were afraid of nothing!—but there was something off about the area. It was the same feeling he got around the dragons, before he learned to tame and ride them, something that tasted like blood on the tongue and the knowledge you couldn't win the fight of whatever you were up against.
There seemed to be something floating on the edge of his vision, too. Whenever he turned to look for it, it disappeared, which concerned him greatly. And no amount of calling, cajoling, or even begging would get Hookfang to stay near this place.
"Go touch it," he told Tuffnut.
"Nah," he shrugged, "Seems like more trouble than it's worth."
"Oh, so I can touch it and die but you can't?!"
"I mean, I could," he rolled his eyes, "Obviously I'm cool enough to wield it. I mean, look at it! It was made for me and Barf."
"Oh, yeah? Go get it then."
"Fine!"
There was enough challenge in his voice to make the kid do anything and Tuffnut went strutting into the clearing, chest puffed out and head tilted towards the sky. He went to the blade in the middle, his hand hesitating a moment before he went and grasped the hilt.
A light flashed and he screamed before being shot directly from the ring of stones, smacking against a tree near him. Snotlout winced and whistled at his smoking palm and twitching body.
"Oh, I am hurt! I am very much hurt!"
The trip back was filled with jokes and grinning and ribbing. While they were in the air, there was no looming war, no threat of death and heartache and loss. There was only the four of them—two dragons and the humans that rode them.
There was some commotion when they landed and the Queen raced to grab Merida into her arms.
"Oh, lass! Ye scared me to death! I did'nae know where ye'd gone!"
"I was with Hiccup, mum," her smile was dreamy, "He looks after me."
Her mother's grip tightened, her appearance suddenly fierce. She pulled her away from Hiccup, who allowed her to handle her family on her own—there were some things that were best left in her hands.
"Lass, tell me ye did not lie with him as a wife should?"
Merida shrugged on shoulder, smirking flippantly, "Does'nae really matter, does it? I've told ye—I will not be marryin' any of the Laird's sons and I will not be on the throne."
Elinor's face turned fleece-white and her hands shook as she awkwardly stroked her hair and cheeks, her eyes suddenly wet and pained. Merida's gloating manner dissipated with a flash of shame, her hand crossing her body to grab her opposite elbow as a blockade between her and her mother.
"How—How could ye do this, Merida?"
"Mum?"
She shook her again, harder and making Merida swallow a yelp.
"Do ye seriously not see the danger we're in? I know ye have feelings for the lad, but for God's sake, Merida! Did ye not think about us?! About what we are to do should be flushed from our own home?"
"What—What are you gettin' on about?"
"Merida," her voice was a whisper, more painful than a shout, "Do you not see what will happen? Should we win? Should we lose?"
"We will win, mother, but I still don't understand what ye're on about!"
"They—the Vikings, lass, yes, do'nae shake yer bedraggled head at me!" She shook her again, "The Vikings will force us from our own lands, the land of our father's fathers, and take it for their own! We needed ye to marry, to wed one of the Laird's families for their armies and, if need be, their land. We needed ye to think of yer family, not yerself! What will become of us?!"
Merida balked, her hands fisting at her sides as rage hit her like lightning.
"Ye'd sell me?" She nearly screeched, "Body and soul to someone I do'nae love for some kind of false security?"
"Merida, ye are a princess! This is yer duty to yer family, yer people, yer clan and homeland! The Clans—!"
"The Clans can bite my—!"
"This is not about ye! Och," her hand fell to her brow, "I thought ye had grown, I thought ye'd come to understand yer place. What will we do now?"
"Mother," she spat, "Did ye not think about what an alliance between myself and Hiccup would mean? Would bring? Two royal families?"
"We do'nae want them here," Elinor snarled, "If they are here, how are we to rule?"
Merida gestured helplessly, "Och, I do'nae know! Ye could try to speak to them, find them another place to settle! We owe them, mum! They are helping us defeat our enemies! Or," she snarked back, "Do ye think it is my duty to offer myself to that monster?"
"Do not take that tone with me, young lady!"
"Ye would give my body away, have me spread my legs for one of them so that ye'd have somethin' to bargain with! I told ye! I told ye I tried to save DunBroch, but I could'nae—!"
"All that sneaking around, all that magic learned and a dragon no less and what could ye do? Nothing!"
The two women battled as fierce as seasoned soldiers, attack—parry—defend and deflect—retreat—advance. It was a dance as old as any, disregarding any boundaries previously set between mother and daughter. Merida may as well have her bow for all the projectiles she threw at her mother, the two of them slowly turning more and more red in the face. Those who witnessed it quickly averted their gaze and kept moving away from what was obviously meant for family only.
"Mother," Merida took a few deep breaths, "I did'nae do any of this to hurt ye! I love him!"
Elinor swallowed her shout, her mouth floundering wordlessly.
"He is…" she looked to him, suddenly flushing a brilliant crimson, "He saved me. In more ways than one. And now he's saving our people. If he hailed from any other land, if he was nay a Northerner, ye would throw me at him whether he wanted me or not. I would be owed to him—my bride price has been paid ten times over."
"Merida…" Her gaze hardened,
"I understand," she cleared her throat and grimaced, "That I was promised to the Clan heirs. But it no longer matters…"
"Merida."
"Look at this! Look at DunBroch! Hell, look at me! For once in yer life, just look at me!"
Breathing heavily, Merida gestured to herself wildly.
"I am! And…this is'nae good for ye, Merida!"
"…What?"
"Ye…are wild and unabashed! Ye wear short skirts and flaunt yer power to the Lairds and the Chief and—and any man! Ye act as if ye have no upbringing; like ye have some right to lead an army in the place of a man! And ye don't!"
"I rallied the castle! I held the line for hours—!"
"Ye failed as well, did ye not?"
"I did," Merida admitted, standing taller, "But I shall not again."
"There are ramifications to this—these actions have consequences! How do ye not see, after all this, that ye are not ready? That ye cannot run a household, let alone an attack!"
"And ye can? Ye, who can'nae swing a hammer, ye can'nae wield an axe—ye can'nae even shoot!"
"Nay, I can'nae! I know my place—it's time ye learn yers!"
"And where may that be, mother?" She radiated rage—Hiccup had no doubt that if she had any magic she'd be glowing with it. A part of him worried that she wasn't regaining her power as quickly as usual, but he filed that away to bring up at a later time.
"Ye need to be with me—!"
"Tell me what makes ye balk more, mother—that I act above the men around me or I was beneath one last night?"
Her mother reached to grab a fistful of hair, which resulted in some embarrassing shuffling and snarling as they fought. Hiccup took a step forward when Merida bodily threw her mother away from her, a chunk of curls still in her hand, "Ugh!"
Merida stomped her feet and glared balefully at her own blood.
"Merida…Merida…" She shook, seeing the hair she had pulled and whimpered, dropping the fiery strands and stepping back, "I'm sorry, love, I am…"
When she advanced, hand outstretched to console and soothe but Merida took a step back.
"Ye have to understand…ye have to see…"
Merida swallowed thickly, eyes wet and thick.
"Merida…child, my baby…I lost ye once and I can'nae lose ye again. Please, my darlin', stay safe in the walls with me. Stay away from this violence. I could'nae keep ye safe before—let me keep ye safe now."
Merida scoffed, "Is that really what all this was about? Yer fear?"
"Of course, ye daffy girl," she spat, "I have always made my moves for ye out of fear. I feared we'd fall and ye'd need a powerful family to keep ye on the throne. I feared the Northmen would return. I fear and fear and fear and fear…and look at what happened. Ye had no one to protect ye, no man to—!"
"I did'nae need a man! Hell, I do'nae need one now! I choose Hiccup—just as I choose my own fate!"
Elinor's lower lip wobbled, pitifully.
"They'll…lass, my bairn, my darlin', they'll kill ye…they'll slay ye dead and I will be left with nothin' but my sorrow. Please…Please, I beg of ye, stay here with me. Stay here and be cared for, stay within the walls that raised and protected you."
"Mum," her voice was softer now, pleading and placating, "Those same gates failed. Those same walls fell. Those same protections that ye believe will hold us will'nae. I know because I watched them crumble."
"But ye were alone! No way to hold them! But we have an army—a powerful one! Ye do not have to fight!"
"That may be," her shoulders flexed in agitation, "But how can I live knowing that others died for me? More than those that already have? I swore to the people that I failed once—that I would avenge them and remember them. How can I be expected to hide away from all this when I can fight as well as any man? My father taught me to fight, he taught me to hold a sword and when to swing it. I learned magic so that I would ne'er be helpless again. I can save us, mother. They have faith in me—why do'nae ye?"
"I do, Merida, I—Of course, I do! But ye are so young, barely twenty summers this past year. How can I lose ye? I have once already, how can ye ask me to lose ye again?!"
"I'm askin' ye to have faith. Faith in not only myself but in those around me. Have faith in the Dingwalls, the MacIntoshes, the McGuffins. Have faith in the Hooligans and Hiccup. Have faith in DunBroch and those that have followed ye and father since this madness began. Have faith in the land, which we are a part of and belong to—have faith in our fate that was determined but has yet to be fulfilled."
Once again, Hiccup was proud of his choice and beyond grateful that Merida could view him in any worthy respect. She had given herself to him, despite his faults and callousness and their many fights—she had forgiven him for his tripping tongue and foolish actions. He was continuously amazed by her bravery, her wisdom and power and he knew that a lifetime of her would not even begin to be enough. Her eyes were as vast as the sky and deep as the ocean, her lineage of witches power worn like a mantle around her shoulders despite the dirt smudged on her cobalt dress and her curls a bit more wild without a comb this morning.
"I had faith before—before all of this happened."
"Then ye can have faith again, mum. Can ye not try?"
"And watch everything I know and love die? How can ye ask this of me?"
"Because fate demands it of me!" Merida points to her chest, patience slipping, "And it demands it of ye also! Where is the queen that taught me to put the country and the Clans before all else?! Where is the woman that never dared show her emotions in front of the army?! Where is my mother, queen of DunBroch?!"
"She is gone!" She screeched, tears streaking across her purpling face, "How can I be the same after the loss of a child? How can anyone?! I will never be the same again and ye can'nae ask me to!"
"Then I won't," Merida ran her hands through her hair, "I will ask ye to be stronger. For the good of all of us."
Her mouth was puckered with sorrow, "Merida…"
"Mum…I love ye. I need ye to be strong."
"I—!"
There was a rush of noise, commotion and panic that seemed to race through the crowd that had gathered. Hiccup took Merida by the arm and began to haul her, bodily, towards the castle.
"Dragons! From the East!"
"Prepare for battle!" The bass of Fergus seemed to ripple across the crowds, people scrambling and hollering as the rush of bloodshed and promise of violence sent Vikings and Scotsmen alike in search of weapons and armor.
"We need to get our stuff, now," Hiccup encouraged, "Your Majesty, come with us and prepare to hunker down in the castle with the rest of the women and children!"
Elinor promised to follow but began rounding up those that had no skills with which to fight, the flurry of movement making everyone dizzy. Quickly, the previous preparation began to pay off and weapons began to be distributed, soldiers stepping up along the ramparts with bows and dragons, the gate closed and barred and fortified. Women hid children deep under the castle walls, near the secret passage that would lead them to the woods should things get too violent or seem doomed. The sound of battle seemed to rise from the earth as every available body quickly prepared to meet violence and death.
Merida and Hiccup strapped themselves into their armor, helping each other with shaking fingers. He couldn't plait as successfully as some of the others in his tribe, so they ended up pressing her hair into the ball-like tail they had managed before. Once fully outfitted, Hiccup pulled Merida's brow to his and sighed through his nose, remembering this moment.
"Lo, there do I see my Father. Lo, there do I see my Mother. And my sisters and my brothers," he prayed, "Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning."
"Our Father, who art in Heaven," she whispered, "Hallowed by thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
"They do bid me to take my place among them," Hiccup continued, "In the Halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever."
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from evil. Amen."
He kissed her fiercely, "I will see you, one way or another, on the other side of this."
"I know…" she pressed her mouth back against his before pulling back so that their hands were threaded in each other's hair, "I love ye, Hiccup. I'm thankful we've had the time we've gotten…but ye must promise me, if me and Ivar face off, ye must stay away. He will use me against ye or the other way 'round, ye ken? Please."
He was nodding, but furious at the very thought.
"I must go," she whispered, "I need to collect the blade from the stones. Get everyone into position, I will be back in just a moment."
He wanted to argue, a thousand promises on his tongue, but he nodded anyway, again, "Come back safely, okay? I'll be waiting."
Neither moved from their embrace, breathing in the other.
Finally, using strength he didn't know he possessed, he extricated himself from her and nudged her towards the door, rasping, "Go."
She spared him one last glance before running from the room, her bow in her grip and her hair flowing behind her, appearing like some primordial goddess of darkness dressed in her black armor. Hiccup took deep breaths as he strapped his pointed helmet across his brow and left the memories of the shared room behind him, locking them away as he faced the battle ahead.
Saorsa cawed fitfully when Merida led her over the walls towards the woods. Her hands were shaking more than she'd like to admit, searching in her body for the comfort of magic that didn't seem to be there. She was spent, empty, and there was nothing more to be done about the situation than hope that Storm-Bringer would give her enough power to take on Ivar and his demon-hoard.
She cursed again, under her breath, hurrying her dragon onward. She knew how to break the curse between her and Hiccup, but she didn't have the time and opportunity to undo the knot that tied their lives together. She had no doubt that to take down the monster Ivar would mean the ultimate sacrifice and she refused to condemn her beloved and her dragon's mate to a fate that wasn't theirs.
She dismounted when Saorsa landed, skidding to a halt, as nervous as her rider. Merida's hand rose over the blade, black once again. When it was a few inches away, tendrils of electricity began reaching and pulsing towards her palm. Taking a deep breath, Merida gripped the hilt and gasped as the power rocketed through her, heat licking up her arm and through her entire body as it raced through her blood. She could feel her sight improve, her muscles and reaction time, every last nerve ending and cell amplified by the magic that pulsed in the blade made by her magic and Hiccup's skill.
She yanked it from the earth and thunder boomed above her head, despite it being a perfectly clear afternoon just a moment ago. She turned glowing eyes to her dragon, seeing her unease and peering around the caim, aglow once again with a magical power. Will-o-wisps appeared before each pillar, even the broken one, flickering like wild flames.
In a flash, there was her magical ancestresses—all those that came before her. Merida's eyes spun in search of one, landing on the young Moira, feeling a grin stretch across her face as they locked eyes.
"Unleash the storm," she urged, her voice merely a whisper in Merida's head, "We are with you."
Above, lightning streaked across the sky as the rain began to fall heavily over DunBroch.
"Damn it all!" Fergus groused, seeing the rain begin to pour in earnest, "This will make things harder. Should have trusted my leg from the start..."
"Never had to fight in the rain, eh, Scot?" Stoick had picked up a good bit of their language in the short amount of time him and his people had been interacting with them.
"Och, shut it," Fergus muttered, bending to attach a grieve to his one shin, "The earth gets slick and before ye know it, we've got soldiers in full armor skiddin' across the muddy hills like a damn pig in a sty."
"My soldiers can fight in any weather," Stoick chuckled, "Can't yours?"
"Oi!" He stood, helmet in his hand, "Our kids are out there. Aren't ye…scared? Worried?"
Stoick stared at him, chewing on the words he'd spoken incomprehensibly.
"Yer son and my daughter? Hiccup and Merida?"
"Do not worry about them, Hiccup will protect his—" he continued but Fergus could not decipher his words.
"Aye, but he's still just a lad, a wee one at that, no offense," he wasn't sure how much the other man would catch with his speed, "How much can he really protect? I had hoped…"
They lapsed into confused silence on both ends, Fergus unsure to say and Stoick having lost the thread of communication between them.
Finally, the Viking took the Scotsman shoulder in his grip, "I am…"
They locked eyes as he struggled, Fergus growing uncomfortable but wanting to know what he was trying to say.
"I am honored," he finally concluded, "To fight and die with ye."
Fergus smiled and gripped the other man back, "And I, ye."
They shared a moment of camaraderie before the battle would wage and tear them from their bodies with its violence and demand for sacrifice. Stoick would revisit that blackened haze of the berserker state and Fergus would allow his lifetime of training to dissociate mind from body so that he can do what he must to protect his home and family. It was like slipping into a pair of old shoes, worn but still uncomfortable, aching but still familiar.
Another trumpet sounded and the moment was broken, their attention torn away and gazes reaching towards the blackening horizon.
"They come."
"Aye."
"I have lived well," he sighed, "A good woman, a son better than myself. I am not afraid to die."
"If ye do, know that I will look out for yer boy and Valka. They will want for nothing."
"Thank ye," he swore, "I shall take Merida as mine, yer home and family protected, should ye be lost."
The wording was strange, but Fergus did not hold against him, "I appreciate it."
Stoick lifted his massive war hammer, banging it against the ground as Fergus sheathed his newly sharpened blade, thanks to the blond, multi-handed blacksmith. They both took up shields and moved forward, as one force, to greet the enemy.
In their hearts, the hearts of rulers, they feared not for themselves, but for their people.
Ivar bounced up and down, unable to contain his excitement. He was riding a Monstrous Nightmare and using its eyes as his own as he followed Bjorn and Hvitserk, asking how close they were every three minutes or so. He knew he was trying their patience, but they were trying his—he was so close to his Merida he could taste her magic on the air.
When lightning and thunder cracked above them like a warning from Thor himself, he had laughed outright and starting screaming at the sky. His brothers asked if he could somehow stop the storm, but he reveled in it, its promise of destruction and violence that would help the blood soak into the mud and the bones would be consumed in the moors. He didn't know if his magic was able to stop hers in its path, but he didn't even want to try—he liked this side of her, the assurance of her power.
"Let it rage!" He cried, chortling, "Let us destroy the surface of this earth! Let us bring about the end of times!"
He could feel the eyes of many on him, dragon and human alike, but he ignored them. He knew that Merida was powerful, but that power was growing and swelling into something truly dangerous—when he made her his, they would turn the sky to fire and the earth to ice.
"Ivar!" His brother demanded his attention, "We approach!"
"Ah," he knew, he saw it through the eyes of the hundreds of dragons he controlled, "I see their walls. They are weak."
"Are we ready?"
He could barely hear them over the roar of the rain, creating deep puddles.
"Ready enough," he giggled, unable to contain himself, "Let it be known! The redheaded Völva is mine! Should anyone lay a hand on her, be prepared to lose it!"
His dragon snapped and snarled in threat—even under the onslaught from the heavens, Monstrous Nightmare gel was flammable. His neck and back erupted in flames, covering him, setting himself ablaze, but he didn't feel the burn, protected by his own magical craft.
"Take the castle! Spare the dragons!" Hvitserk called to their army of mindless slaves and hired mercenaries.
Like puppets, he pushed all of those under his sway forward, screaming and spewing fire and swinging their blades. Even if mortally wounded they would continue to fight, nothing would deter them from breaking down the feeble walls and dragging his beloved to him.
The war has begun.
"Dragons, to your stations!" Gobber hollered, "Keep these walls standing! Do not let them near the gate!"
"Teams One and Three, with me!" Valka motioned as she and her Storm-Cutter took to the skies to fight off the dragons that were beginning to descend.
"Minimize the damage to the castle!" Hiccup took up his old riders, leadership a familiar yoke around his throat, "Keep the dragons in the sky! Do not let them land! If you see the blind kid, the pale one from before, do not engage!"
They wanted revenge, it was obvious in their wide and furious eyes.
"His head belongs to Merida—!" He ignored Fishleg's indignant cry, "He will steal your dragon or maybe your own mind, I mean it!"
Thunder cracked above them and Toothless warbled in excitement. He was about to tell Toothless to search for his mate, to seek out Saorsa in a desperate attempt to find Merida, having no doubt that the sudden storm was her magic. He could taste autumn on his tongue, apples mixed with ozone and rain, her signature.
"Hiccup!" Astrid screamed above the din, "If this keeps up, we'll have to land the dragons!"
"That may be for the best," he cried, "It will even the field! Ready your weapons and protect your dragons!"
Toothless cried in pleasure with the lightning that raced above them.
"I will see you on the other side of this!" He swore and they all bowed to him in respect, for his gift of flight, his position as once-leader, his friendship to them.
He turned tail and went in search for his lost princess when Toothless gave another warble. He leaned close to ask him what he could see when his own enhanced eyes caught a shadow within the great clouds above them, fattened with rain. He spun them in circles, eyes scanning the underbelly of the sky when Merida appeared with another crack of lightning.
He gasped when he saw her eyes, iris and pupil completely blended into a glowing mass that eclipsed her usually azure gaze. Her hands and eyes appeared to crackle and shoot off sparks, completely covered in her mass of strength.
"I see you have your magic back," he breathed, somehow sure she'd hear even a whisper.
"Aye," it echoed all around him, in the clouds, in his mind, behind his eyes, "I am full with the strength of my ancestors, all those that came before me."
"Are you…" he swallowed, eyeing her strange form, "Okay?"
She laughed and electric pulses seemed to swell around the fat clouds they hid in, "I am endless in this form, Hiccup. I will finish this."
"Please," he swallowed, "Be safe, still. For me, for us?"
She tilted her head like she didn't understand his language before nodding and steering her dragon nearer. Saorsa and Toothless flapped their great wings in perfect tandem, nudging each other and cooing in greeting.
"Fear not, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III," her voice was hers but not, an echo of something older and foreign, "She does not stand alone."
"I am with her, too! Others stand by her side!" He didn't understand why he felt that was necessary to emphasize, but he did. He couldn't stand on the same field as her, but he would still fight in her name, would still kill for her.
"I know," her voice was hers again, "I am with ye, and ye with me."
And she was gone, soaring off into the dark clouds for cover, her magic ringing in his ears as he raced after to shoot from above and help her in her slay the monster that was closing in. He knew Ivar would appear soon in search of Merida and he refused to let her face down that monster alone. He knew she warned him to stay away, to keep further from him because he couldn't fight against magic—but how could he let her be alone when she faced down a monster?
But for now, he would keep himself content with firing at the mindless dragons below, apologizing quietly for every loss he incurred, all the blood on his hands. Toothless' shots were perfect, as always, impaling a small group of Timberjacks onto the broken splinters of the trees Toothless uprooted with his plasma blasts.
He could see Astrid and Fishlegs hunting several Singtails, trapping them before Astrid finishes the job. Fishlegs took a forward role that shocked him, but he knew the loss of his parents had unleashed a rage in him that he had only seen when Meatlug was in danger. He couldn't help but flinch when they were beheaded, knowing it was an inevitability of war but hating to see it done. He hoped that it hurt them too, or feared that the bloodlust he had tamed years ago would resurface and lead to the Berkians attempting to overcome the Four Clans.
But those were the fears of the future—he had more than enough troubles in the present.
Blasts struck across the sky, staining the gray clouds red and orange and blue and purple as each class of dragon clashed against each other. Poisons spat in the eyes of Vikings, Scotsmen burned alive, dragons cut down and maimed by hammers and axes and swords. The din was deafening, heard over the crashing of the rain and storm around him, the screams pulling him in different directions. One part of him demanded he side with the creatures he nurtured and adored throughout most of his adult life, the other part beseeching him to help those that have never stood against the pulsing shockwave of the Flightmare or the blistering heat of a Singetail.
But there was really only one opponent—he should do as he was told, a part of him knew that he should seek out the best way to minimize the damage done to both sides without engaging against Ivar. But he was the catalyst of this horror, the central figure in which all the destruction spun around, the nucleus that suspended the pivoting warfare. He knew that if he stopped Ivar, the death would stop and that was all that mattered—Merida would deliver the finishing blow, but he deserved his own licks.
Steering Toothless around in circles, he sought out the unearthly pale specter of the Viking boy. A sharp displacement of air behind him had Toothless screeching and whipping around to seek out the movement. The clouds parted, billowing away from the massive wings of a Typhoomarang. Hissing under his breath at the mop of white hair that was barely visible around the massive neck of the dragon. They circled around each other, the monstrous little demon smiling at him with a mouth full of yellowed teeth and eyes that were milky white. Hiccup felt his lips tear across his teeth in a snarl, his dragon cawed in rage with a mouth full of deathly plasma.
"Take your dragons and go," the boy called over the rain, "I will not follow. I do not want you."
"If you think I'd abandon my people and my dragons, you've got another thing coming!" He screamed, voice raw with hatred—so potent and hot he swore his throat could produce flames.
His pale face contorted into a sneer, "So noble! I only came for Merida. Leave before you no longer can."
"I don't care what you came for! The only thing you'll get is a sword through your chest!"
"Ooh," he mocked him like the child he was, "So scary!"
Toothless shot off a blast with his soft command, rocketing past the larger dragon's massive wingspan to skitter across the clouds and create shockwaves behind them, mimicking thunderclaps that boomed around them. Creating a rush by keeping the larger dragon flapping wildly, Toothless had no cloud cover to duck beneath to retreat and attempt to take advantage of. They ended up on a high speed chase that the child had no chance of escaping from, the wing power and speed of the Nightfury still unmatched, neither rider nor dragon pausing at the loss that would incur once Toothless finally struck the Typhoomerang. It screeched, the putrid smell of burnt scales and wing-membrane cutting through the rain as they plummeted, Hiccup alarmed to see the boy laughing as they dropped.
The larger dragon crashed without any resistant, bashing its head open and spilling gray matter across the bloody battlefield. Several soldiers were not fast enough to escape the expanse of razor-sharp wings as it skidded against the ground, sliced clean through to lay in equal halves around them. The carnage should make him gag, but he only had red-filled gaze for Ivar, the closest to a berserker state he had ever reached.
He didn't just want him dead—no, the boy needed to suffer. He wanted to tear him apart, render him piece by piece until he was nothing but a magically screaming head that Hiccup kept like Odin and Mimir. He wanted retribution in the form of blood and gore, he wanted to plunge his blade into the soft underbelly of the child, let him bleed out. A part of him screamed and howled that he remember that the boy was handling more than dragon fire, was far more dangerous than he could even comprehend—but it was drowned out by the din of battle, the screams and cries of his people and dragons, the squelching of metal into giving flesh.
The boy clambered down the corpse of the dragon, eyes a haunting purple that made Hiccup pause as he unsheathed his sword. He was attempting to spin some magics through him, attempting to take over his mind and body—he could feel his influence like oil across his skin. But it didn't seem to stick and he was growing more frustrated as both him and Toothless squared off for a battle that now seemed swayed heavily in their favor.
"Why won't you submit to me?!" He stomped his booted feet, white eyes blinking the smoke from around them.
"Because," he released a spray of Zippleback gas, "We are Alphas and bow to no man or dragon."
He sparked it and Ivar was thrown back with a cry, Hiccup thanking Merida and whatever spell she had woven across him that was protecting him and his dragon. The pale beast got up with some difficulty and suddenly, the dragons all around them turned deadened eyes towards the two Berk riders.
"Shit," there was no way to advance without being attacked by a dozen different blasts, the earth under his feet shaking from a herd of Whispering Deaths.
He leapt on a twitching Toothless and shot into the sky, dragons on their heels. He dispatched two Gronckles, praying for them under his breath when an arrow landed in the eye of Deadly Nadder and sent it screaming to the ground. Merida's long hair was visible across the sky, the only part of her not covered by her dark armor, her glass eyes glinting in the fires raging below.
"We must end this," he coughed, when he razed his helm, "It's going on too long…we'll fail if we don't!"
She nodded, face streaked with soot, "I will'nae fail."
"Let me come with you."
"No!" She nocked another arrow, "I will end what I started—And then we will pick up the pieces. Together."
However, when she shot across the sky, he was on Saorsa's tail. Throughout the entire battle, Toothless' mind was in constant disarray, his worry pulsing and pouring into Hiccup. And in return, his rider fed him rage and hatred that neither one of them were used to feeling. But now, rider and dragon were in perfect sync as they refused to let their mates face such danger alone.
Merida landed silently, firing two arrows that scared away several dragons as she unlaced her legs from the saddle. She unsheathed her black sword, Hiccup landing behind her right as lightning cracked from the sky to touch the tip of her blade and the rain suddenly stopped falling, the mud the only reminder that it had been there just moments before. The battlefield stilled as she plunged the tip into the earth, an unearthly vision, a Valkyrie in human skin, eyes aglow and promising danger. She felt primordial, infinite, like not even death could dare touch her. Power pulsed along ever fingertip and hair and she was a monster in human skin, a dragon without name or place, a deity conformed to flesh. It burned the inside of skin hotter than the flames around her and she wondered if, oddly, the use of this magic would end her, as it most certainly could have and would if she were asked to wield it some simple months ago. There was something demonic in her heart, a coldness that ached against the heat of her magic that pulsed in her blood.
"We end this," she promised, "Now. Bring me Ivar!"
The dragons stilled, the zombie like soldiers stepping away to stop the noise. He could see her eyes crackle with sparks of electrical power, eclipsed in a glowing blue hum that set his teeth on edge and his hair raised from his skin.
There was rush of movement, a triumphant cry piercing the sudden, unnerving silence, "My bride!"
She didn't move from her position as he stood across from her, flanked by two other men. The boy clapped his hands, giddy, laughing and pleased.
"Did I not tell you, brothers? Is she not a vision?!"
"I am Merida," she spat, "Of Clan DunBroch. Ye have invaded us once, but ye will'nae again. I seek to end this."
"All we want is—!" Bjorn wanted money, land, gold, a name that would live on for the rest of eternity. It was as obvious on his face as if he spoke it.
"You!" Ivar cried, "Come with us and we'll go. No fuss! Promise," he grinned his crooked grin and she tipped her head to the side to watch him.
"As?"
"I want you as my bride, I have told you this. Give up and come with us and we will leave this horrible little world to face our destruction. We will—!"
She held up her hand, effectively ignoring him as she turned to the larger blond man, "I am askin' ye, ruler to another—leave this place, stop this madness and bloodshed."
"Leave the castle and your dragons and we will consider keeping the women and children," he shrugged, "They will be raised as ours, in our name and ways."
"No deal," Hiccup spat, "If you do not leave now, we will not leave one of you alive to infect others."
"You disgusting little worm," the brown haired one, splattered in blood, swore, "I will slaughter you where you stand!"
He brandished his sword and Hiccup drew his own blade, lighting it ablaze with Monstrous Nightmare gel. The man blinked before grinning, but was held back further by the eldest.
"Let me be clear," Merida spat, "I am wed already and—!"
"What?!"
The earth shook, the trees shaking and the dragons all began to scream and spew fire and molten lava in fury, hitting others and themselves as well as humans. They flailed, necks cracking and breaking against claws and teeth and hide, cawing as men and Shield Maidens scrambled backwards from the reckless spray of molten fire.
"Ivar!" Bjorn lifted his shield to avoid losing an arm, Hvitserk attacking several berserk dragons. They attacked everything and anyone, trees and humans and each other, slaughtering mindlessly without any abandon in a way that made Hiccup gag.
Merida was quicker than the chaos, dropping the blade for her trusty bow—two shots fired and one brother was dead while the eldest was pinned through the shoulder. Hiccup grappled with a Rumblehorn, Toothless' blast ripping a hole in it as it keened once, loudly, before succumbing to an uneasy death. Hiccup tackled her to the ground when a Razorwhip spewed spiked scales in every direction, nearly missing her head and neck as they tumbled in a heap of limbs.
"Off!" She seethed as all the air was driven from the impact, demanding as he rolled to hop back to his feet, her blade suddenly in his hands as he blocked a downward swing from the eldest brother.
The screaming of Ivar somehow echoed around them, in their ears as well as their heads, louder even than the dragons. Bjorn was without one sword-arm, but he didn't need it to be a formidable opponent. He swung recklessly, far larger than Hiccup, making him continuously retreat.
He swung downward, Hiccup ducking and rolling to the side when his father rushed to take up arms with the large man.
"Son! Are ye alright?!"
"Fine!" He screamed back, his arms shaking and weak but not damaged.
Seeing Stoick the Vast fight was like watching Gobber work metal—it was a skill honed to a razor sharp edge. With his beast of a war-hammer, he began to beat back Bjorn, his powerful swings enough to split his head open and break any bone. With his father handling his attacker, Hiccup turned his attention back to Merida.
Ivar had approached, his magic tumbling across his skin as wildly as Merida's. He threw powerful bolts that had driven Saorsa to the ground and Merida was only able to keep at bay with some kind of shield. His entire being was slowly consumed by his hate-filled screeching, attempting to destroy Merida so that not even a strand of her curls remained. Another blast sent her trembling to her knees, her helmet discarded in the dirt, lenses broken.
He was moving before he knew he was, swinging the blade with practiced movements to maim and slaughter. He caught the demon's arm, shearing a chunk of flesh away from bone before he was bodily thrown into a tree. His head bounced against the trunk, his own helm being dislodged with the impact and he cursed as white spots clouded his already hindered vision.
His dragon screeched, rage in his heart and in his blood and he was on his feet again. He could feel the urge to protect thrumming loudly in his veins, knowing that the blackened sword in his hands had the strength that Merida was lacking. She needed him and he needed to get to her, quickly.
He moved around a Nadder, slicing clean through its neck with a quiet apology. It slumped to the ground and he went through four more dragons to reach her side, pressing the hilt of her sword into her weak hand. She raised tired eyes to him, tears dripping down her cheeks from strain and the constant smoke and soot and ash that surrounded them from the battle.
He was crying for the same reason and she surged forward, him expecting her mouth to seek his but finding her pressing her soppy cheek to his own.
Something coiled in him was undone—a knot untied, making him quake and heave in the dirt, sagging under a pull in his gut that made him feel as though he weighed more than a Bewilderbeast.
"What did you do?!"
She stared down at him, her face smudged and pained, "Two saltwater streams, ay, laddie?"
"Oh, for Thor's sake," he spat hoarsely, struggling to get to his feet.
"Stay," she commanded, "'Tis my time."
And she stood with all the fluid grace of a soldier goddess, a queen meant to survive on death and destruction instead of glittering gowns and golden tiaras. Her sword winked dully in the sporadic spurts of fire that erupted from the dragons still under the control of the ghastly boy Ivar. His arm had a nasty gash that was the only color on his unearthly pale body, his stark white against Merida's black armor a contrast in the din of a battle quickly erupting into a chaotic chasing and hunting from both dragon and man.
"You dare—!" He stomped his feet and waved his arms, "You defy me?!"
"Yes, ye bastard little heathen," she rolled her neck and shoulders, "Yer brothers are dead and yer army is slowly disintegratin' to nothing. Even still, with yer defeat assured, I can'nae let ye live…"
"I am eternal!" He screamed, the earth shaking and making some dragons and men around them fall to their knees, "I am the bringer of Ragnarok, the end of days! I am a god!"
"Nay," she glowered with a sigh, "Ye are a child. And ye were never taught the dangers of fallin' so deeply into magic that ye fused with it. Ye are only as good as what ye do, ye are only as powerful as who ye help. Ye are deranged and maddened, like a rabid dog."
The sword lifted in preparation, "And I must put ye down."
He ran, bolting into the woods and leaving the dragons to fight his battle. With her blade in her hand, her power seemed fully restored, eyes crackling that same dangerous white-blue hue. With a wave, they were downed, necks agape with grins that spilled steaming blood into the smoky air and she was chasing the boy down.
Saorsa gave a warbling cry of distress, her back leg mangled, unable to chase after her. Toothless keened lowly, keeping the female prostrate as Hiccup assessed the painful carnage around him. True as Merida had said, the destruction was coming to a close—the puppets were being slaughtered with far more ease now that the boy had lost his control. The corpse of Hvitserk lay in the dirt, one eye open and the other full with the point of an arrow. Bjorn was dead as well, his head and brain smashed inwards by his father's massive battle-axe, nearly unrecognizable save for the painfully tight blond braids that seemed to stretch across the earth like rays of the sun.
He saw Astrid, her arm was bleeding but she was fine as she approached on the back of Stormfly. Her face was red and full of tears, but that could have been the smoke that filled the air around them. The forrest was burning, the gate had been destroyed but the castle still stood, scorched but without too much damage. They needed to begin putting out the fires, but his heart and head were deep in the dark wood with Merida.
Astrid sagged when she slipped from her saddle, her axe lost somewhere, "We've won, but it came with a cost."
His eyes closed painfully, "Who?"
"Fishlegs," she gave a little sob, "Ruffnut."
He took her in his arms, smelling the salt of her tears and the smoke of her dragon.
"They are with Odin," he choked, "In the halls of Valhalla."
"I know it," she stood back on shaking knees, "Where is Merida? And Ivar?"
"The coward ran," he spat, "She pursued him, I have to follow. Watch Toothless and Saorsa, alright? She's hurt and I wont ask him to leave her."
She gave a little smile, "Of course. I'll get the water dragons on the fires."
He took her shoulder in his hand, "You will be the chieftess we need and deserve, Astrid."
She nodded, once, eyes sharp and hard as the scales of her beloved Stormfly, "I know. And you will be the man she needs—go!"
He needed no other prompting, running faster now that his amputated leg didn't hinder him so much. The ease of his movement made him remember her help and her skin under his hands, the moonlight in her hair, the briefest of intimate moments shared between them. Although she had undone the spell that held their lives together, he could not bear the thought of her dying and leaving him to fly the world alone.
"No," he swore, throat tight and hot from his emotions and the inhalation of smoke, "No, no, no!"
His eyes were good enough to pick up the trail in the forrest, leading him surely towards the two. However, he found himself turned around and cursed the darkness and the looming trees that seemed to close in tighter and tighter the faster he tried to find the broken limps and rushes they stomped through before him.
'Come!…Here!'
His eyes whipped around in the darkness, spotting the little blue flame that winked and waved invitingly to him. His knees buckled with the relief as more lit up a path that began to spiral upwards towards the higher parts of the woods. He took off at a sprint, their call weakened in his head but still loud and clear—they promised to lead him where he needed to go, they swore to take him to Merida.
He shouldn't have been surprised where they took him—back to the stones where Merida probably had herded the boy. He was bleeding more profusely now, more shallow cuts where she had lunged and gotten close. He had found a blade himself along the way and was holding his own against one of the best fighters Hiccup had ever known, his father and Astrid included.
Merida swung again, meeting his blade with a cry that eclipsed the clanging of metal against metal. Their eyes were inhuman, ungodly, his purple against her blue. Their attacks were equal parts magic and blade, swinging, attacking, retreating and advancing in a step that seemed almost like a dance. If the boy truly was blind, which Hiccup had no believe that he was, he could move around this impediment with an ease that was definitely aided by the magic in his blood.
"I don't understand," he coughed, looking around the ring, "Why wont you come with me? Don't you see that we were meant to be together?!"
"Why one Thor's earth would ye ever think such a thing?!" She screeched, voice raw, lunging after his retreating form. She was lithe and fast, but the boy was proving to be a quicker target.
"Because, I've never met someone like you! Even now, I can't see you the way I can others! I see the blank, empty minds of those that simper and go about their lives, never seeing the magic that we have! No one is like us! No one is like you! I want you! It's not fair!"
If he was any more emotional, he would have tossed his sword in the dirt. Merida growled, her hair having come undone to wave around her body in the breeze, the smell of smoke still sharp in the night air.
"Ye slaughtered my brethren, my clan and kin," she heaved, chest rising and falling, "Ye invaded my home and threatened my people and my love. How could ye think that our magic makes us anything alike? All ye do is destroy!"
His head cocked, "So…if I made things for you, you'd love me and come with me?"
"I will never love ye," she called into the darkness, "I love only one, a man who has fought and protected me from others and myself! Fate brought us together, but it was our choice to trust one another! He earned my heart, every last wee bit of it and I can'nae dare to think to give it to another soul."
He bared his teeth, "But I want you! I can love you better than he can! We understand each other in a way that no other could! Why don't you see that?!"
"I don't need ye to understand me, or my love," her voice was a sigh on the wind, "I just need ye dead."
She lunged again and the fight was back on, neither one giving in or backing down. The screech of wings suddenly drew their attention away from each other, the sound of a Nighfury's wings making them pause.
"I gave her to you, you know?" He rasped, Hiccup's ears straining to listen from his place hidden in the darkness.
"What?"
"She was mine—her mind was under my sway, I found her all alone on island, dying," he swung and she blocked, pushing his sword away, "I saved her! And when she got close to you, her mind was freed. How did you do it?"
"I do—I do'nae know," she huffed, "Like I said…mayhaps fate intervened again on her behalf. Maybe this was all planned, from the beginning—yer birth to this war, every step was destined to be."
"I think you have more power than you know, I think you could have freed all my dragons but you didn't bother to try, you just killed them."
"No…"
He began to go on the offensive, his words and blade in synchronizing strokes against Merida.
"I think," he snarled, "That you only care about a few things, even though you claim to care so much about everyone! I think you could have saved all the lives I took, dragon and human, but you didn't feel like trying!"
"No!"
The clanging escalated, their strokes more frenzied and dangerous. The metal glinted under the moon and Hiccup held his breath—he was there only if she need him. This was her revenge, owed to her from the destruction Ivar and his brothers wrought.
"I think," he was in her head now, worming his way through the defenses she had, "You are a spoiled little weak brat that only cares about herself!"
She screamed in fury and launched herself at him, ducking his swing and slicing clean through his leg. He fell with a panicked and pained scream that filled the air around him, but Hiccup felt an odd peace settle over him.
'It's done,' it promised him, 'We'll be free…'
She poised the tip of her blade at his throat. In that moment, the cold bit of her chest seized and spasmed, traveling across her chest and down her arms, filling her with ice. It was relief to the electric pulsing in her blood and it hardened her resolve to stone. She would have him dead and carry his head back to DunBroch where she would pin it to the gates as proof of the power of her and her homeland. He would die and be done with the horrors he wrought and it would be by her hand.
"Die, ye sick bastard," and she slit his throat with one mighty blow.
She stumbled back, dropping the blade as she realized all the horror it had brought down upon her enemies, the blood that was sticking to the hilt and pommel and dripping down to join the puddle around the boy.
"Merida," Hiccup called triumphantly as he entered the sacred circle, proud beyond words.
She turned, a smile on her mouth that lit her face. Then she stumbled with a curse, spinning on unsteady feet. His heart stuttered and he called her name like a prayer as she fell forward, a Nadder spine in her left shoulder.
She fell to face a suddenly grinning Ivar.
"If I can't have you," he wheezed his last words, blood pouring from his grinning neck, "No—one…can…"
Hiccup spotted the dragon, the color of pine needles and oak leaves, flick its head left and right in confusion before it sauntered off into the woods, no longer controlled by the demon Ivar. It had been deathly silent and the same color of the surrounding trees, able to hide in the sweltering darkness.
"No," Hiccup was crying in earnest now, picking Merida up into his arms, "No, no, no…"
He had no antidote, no way to get or make any before she would long be departed from this world. Toothless and a limping Saorsa appeared from across them in the stones, her dragon screaming as it laughing itself unsteadily at her shaking body.
The Nadder had aimed true—as close to her heart that would soon leave it paralyzed and cold and silent forever. He tore it free to stop the release of any more venom into her bloodstream.
"Please," he stared up at the moon, the stones, the dragons, begging, "Please…someone! Please, help me!"
He pressed his shaking body against hers, "Please…help me, tell me how to fix this…Anyone…I'll do anything…"
He remembered, dimly, the chant that had begun all this and began reciting it against her chilled cheek.
"Fate be changed, look above—to see a bond forged in blood," he panted, not knowing what else to do or try.
"Fate—!" He choked, "Fate be changed! Look above! To see a bond, forged in blood!"
He chanted it twice more before seeing a figure appear in the darkness, a glowing blue that reminded him of another that had approached him in the woods long ago.
"It is a good idea, boy-o," she hummed, "But ye are missin' the crucial bit."
"Help—help her," he sobbed, "Please…I'll do anything."
"Ye promised me that once before, ye know," she hummed, "D'ye remember what I gave ye?"
"Another chance," he begged, "Please, tell me what to do."
She knelt to the still form of Merida, now gray and pallid, her chest jumping with shaky, small breaths that spelled a painful death.
"Take her dragons blood and feed it to her," she demanded, eyes bright, "We shall handle the rest."
"We?"
He sniffed as he stood, seeing that there were other ghostly figures that surrounded them. He fell to his knees before the crying Saorsa, rubbing the flat planes of her head soothingly. Toothless was inconsolable as well, prowling in painful circles with a mouth full of plasma that had no intended target.
"I can help her," he sobbed, "But I need your help, too."
She blinked big, sunny eyes at him, the gold rings dark in the moonlight. Her cheeks were wet with the acidic tears of a dragon, nearly corrosive to human flesh, but he couldn't care as he cupped her wide face in his hands, no physical pain equal to the panic in him.
"Toothless gave his life to me, forged a bond," he whispered, "Through his sacrifice, I lived. If…I know you haven't been with Merida as long, but you can be with her still. I just need your blood."
She produced her front leg without hesitation and he took Merida's little dented blade from his thigh holder, nicking deeply despite the warning growl of Toothless at his back. He cupped the dark blood that slipped through her claws, nearly black as oil, in his hands, bringing it back carefully to the fallen body of his love.
"There now, easy lad," the young version of Moira encouraged as he fed the blue lips of Merida the dark dragon blood. He pulled stained fingers away from her equally messy mouth, looking up at the phantom that promised her.
"Good," she smiled, "Now stand back."
'Fate be changed,' all twelve figures chanted, nearly making his eardrums burst with the noise of it. He covered them as the dragons cawed painfully, hearing more than he could dare to.
'Look above!'
The air seemed to be sweltering, power radiating between Merida's body and her dragon. She seized twice, making him wince as she flailed before he pinned her body down with the promise that the pain would stop. It hadn't hurt him, at least he didn't remember it hurting him—he was reinvigorated, empowered and made stronger than before. What was happening to her?
'To make a bond,' Moira's blue hand fell against Merida's forehead, making her open eyes glow as if she was still full of magical power.
'Forged in blood!'
She gasped, raised from the ground as if stolen from the grip of Hela herself. She turned on her side and coughed, painfully, while he pulled her limply to him and rocked her as he cried.
"Thank you," he told Moira, who smiled, "Thank the gods and thank you."
She nodded her head, staring at Merida who reached for her ghostly body.
"The next time I see ye," Moira promised with a bright cackle, "Ye will look just as old as I did!"
And in a blink, the forms were gone and the only light was the moon above them. Merida was still gasping and sucking air in at an alarming rate, Hiccup still sobbing nearly uncontrollably.
"We did—it…" she touched his wet cheek, "We won."
They fell together, her in his arms, staring up at the cloudy sky, the moon winking from behind the clouds.
"It's over," he chanted, "It's all over."
She agreed, softly, pressing close to him as she fell unconscious. His eyes met Toothless', who was tucked against the side of Saorsa, who wanted desperately to approach but was hindered by her injury.
Then he too succumbed to the call of the darkness, letting it pull him under.
Epilogue up next.