Foreign desires of unforeseen transformations
Chapter 59 - Disquietude and vengeance

Hiccup, was fastening one of the bags on his bed closed when he heard the knock at the front door. With a sharp intake of breath, he froze, stopped breathing, and listened as Gobber grunted awake from his slumber in the big chair downstairs. Gobber's wooden leg tapped across the floor as he walked. Snapping back to his senses quickly, Hiccup rushed to hide the bags. He shoved them into the trunk at the end of his bed, and threw a wool blanket over the top. No one could find out about his if-the-council-want to-kill-or-outcast-him backup plan to flee Berk with Trid.

"… Thought I'd come over and see … okay … tribes been saying …" Fishlegs's voice drifted up from the living room, but Hiccup could only hear fragments.

Hiccup breathed, calming slightly. It was just Fishlegs, not a mob of angry villagers. He had to stop jumping at every sound! He chided himself, but then he heard footsteps climbing the stairs - three shoes and the familiar sound of a peg leg. Hiccup rushed about his room trying to decided what would look more casual, and he had just thrown himself in the chair at his desk, and grabbed a charcoal pencil and random parchment, when his bedroom door knocked.

"Iccup, you ave a visit'ah." Gobber called.

"Come in." Hiccup replied, wincing internally when his voice was far from casual.

The door opened and Fishlegs entered his room with an air of shyness, but a small smile donned his lips. Gobber turned and went downstairs, leaving the young lads to it. Hiccup smiled at Fishlegs again, noting the unsure look on his friend's face as he shuffled nervously, a sling holding up his right arm.

"Sit down Fish." Hiccup nodded towards the bed. He was glad his friend had come to see him, but he felt guarded and uncertain of why he was here exactly.

"H-How is he?" Fishlegs asked, pointing to the sleeping baby in the crib as he sat down on Hiccup's bed.

"Alive." Hiccup's bitter voice almost cracked with disgust.

He wasn't fooled by Fishlegs's avoidance to state his true reasons for being here, but the reminder of his son's ordeal made him writhe with an uncomfortable anger. His fists clenched slightly, and as he looked down at them, he saw the bruises and lacerations around his wrists from the chains. He had cuts littering his arms and hands, lacerated knuckles, scabs forming… but he couldn't feel the pain. The only pain he was aware of, was the one that insulted and battered his heart, and the thick dark smog that threatened his mind; he had failed his son, failed Toothless, and Fishlegs's injuries were a reminder of how he had failed his tribe and his friends. His failure was stuck on a loop, constantly reminding him, constantly there, just waiting for him to break.

Fishlegs shifted nervously on the bed, unsure of what to say. He had generally come to see Hiccup as a friend, but he did have questions that he wanted to ask. He'd heard the rumours, but he wanted answers from Hiccup himself.

Hiccup noticed the frown on his friend's face, but he looked back at the crib instead. He couldn't take it out on Fishlegs, and he knew what his friend had asked so he elaborated.

"Gothi says he'll be alright, but … he hasn't been himself." His voice turned somewhat sombre and icy with disgust. "He eats, sleeps, and cries when he isn't being held. He clings to me like he fears I will drop him. He won't smile, won't laugh or chuckle, and he has no interest in his toys-" Hiccup suddenly choked on his words, covered his mouth with a hand, and squeezed his eyes closed. His eyes stung, and he held his breath as a lump grew in his throat. His own words reminded him of how traumatized his son was, and his baby boy was only twenty-four weeks old! He couldn't protect his son - Toothless had done that, and he couldn't do anything now to ease his son's pain either. What sort of father am I? He thought, his hold on his emotions shattering.

As his body trembled with unshed tears and restrained sobs, he suddenly felt a comforting arm lay hesitantly around his shoulders. He dared look up at his friend, not wanting to see the disgust in his face; Fishlegs must think that he had lost it, that he was a disgrace - weak, pathetic, and a broken mess. He was embarrassed, but he couldn't rein in his tears.

"He just needs time Hiccup. He is strong like his father." Fishlegs almost whispered, his hand squeezing Hiccup's shoulder firmly. Hiccup made a noise of disbelief, shaking his head; he wasn't strong. He couldn't say this though; if he spoke, he would start sobbing out loud and the flood gates would open … but Fishlegs continued on anyway - in a much firmer voice. "No Hiccup! You are one of the strongest Vikings I know. You've done and lost so much. I don't think I'd have managed to cope through everything you have."

The warm feeling that hit him then, ended the fight he was waging with his tears … they flooded from his eyes like a fucking broken dam, running down his face behind his hands. While he didn't believe his friend's kind words, he was still immensely grateful that Fishlegs wasn't judging him. He couldn't take it if Fishlegs reproved and berated him, or if he expressed revulsion. Having one person say what he needed to hear, no matter how much he'd have argued against it, made him feel stubbornly lighter inside. Whilst he hated crying, feeling it a sign of weakness, it helped relieve some of his pent-up emotions. He wasn't strong like his father; he could only remain stoic and hold back his emotions for so long until he couldn't hold them any longer.

It took a while before Hiccup lifted his face, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and nodded that he was alright. He wasn't alright, far from it, but his little breakdown was over for now - thank Thor. Sighing loudly, taking a few deep breaths, he felt Fishlegs pat his shoulder before sitting down opposite him on the trunk at the end of his bed.

"Thanks." Hiccup breathed, finally swallowing the lump in his throat, and sniffling as he tried to look more composed and right himself. When he looked back at Fishlegs, after glancing at his son still sleeping, Fishlegs offered him a small smile and nodded.

"Sorry I haven't been over sooner, but mum needed me ya know. The twins would have come by, but Gothi ordered them on bed rest. They put up a crazy fight, throwing anything they could ya know - food, mugs, plates, even their boots. Tuffnut bit one the enemies ears off. He didn't react very well to that, and Tuff got stabbed for it." Fishlegs had been telling him, but one look at Hiccup's face and he quickly added. "He's okay, really! Ruffnut went berserk, she managed to knock him out cold, but another man knocked her out cold. Gothi said they will make a full recovery, but they need to stay in bed."

Not knowing what to say, and reeling in his emotions once more, Hiccup just nodded. He didn't know why Fishlegs was telling him all this, but a part of him wanted to hear it, even if it was painful and hard to do so.

"Snotlout is in shock, I think. He didn't get too badly injured - bruises, a few cuts, but he was restrained rather quickly. He did put up a good fight, but he was really drunk though - one of the worst in fact. He thought … erm … Ya know … Toothless … He thought it was the mead and ale. Eventually it sunk in - that what he saw was real, and he was shocked."

"Disgusted you mean." Hiccup muttered sourly, looking over at the wall.

"Actually, no!" Fishlegs informed him quickly. "We were all shocked Hiccup. I mean, its not everyday you see a human turn dragon. We're all on your side: Me, Snotlout, the Twins, even Gustave. Snotlout kept mumbling that he had attacked Toothless. I think he was referring to that time in the arena … ya know, when you punched him for cowardly punching Kalster in the gut. Well … Toothless in the gut." Fishlegs frowned, obviously still finding it hard to process.

Hiccup snorted a tiny laugh - trust Snotlout to be more worried about that at a time like this. He probably wouldn't have dared to hit him in the first place if he had known who it actually was. However, Hiccup couldn't believe that they weren't disgusted in him. Didn't they know he had fucked a dragon? He suddenly had the urge to throw it out there, to remind Fishlegs that he should be revolted in him and what he'd done. He didn't want feigned support from his friends. He didn't want Fishlegs here if he didn't know what he'd done, only to be disgusted in him once he found out.

"So you're okay that I fucked a dragon then?" Hiccup's bitter voice made Fishlegs wince. So, he was disgusted with him.

"It's true then? That you and … Toothless-"

"Yep! So, you can leave now and spare me the revulsion." Hiccup snapped, gesticulating madly, and rising to his feet to show Fishlegs out.

"Hiccup, I'm not revolted! Just a bit surprised. You can't expect me to not have questions." Fishlegs defended himself. He wouldn't have Hiccup accusing him of feeling a certain way when it wasn't true.

Hiccup fell back into the chair and rubbed his face, blowing out a huff of emotional air. Why wouldn't Fishlegs just leave him alone? He wanted to believe him, he really did, but he just didn't. He was so sure of the abhorrence and hostility that he felt was due, that he couldn't let his guard down and believe that anyone would understand or support him. He couldn't hear that it was okay when he had insisted to Toothless it wasn't - when he believed so strongly that it wasn't. His fears had to have merit - they couldn't all be wrong!

"You expect me to … to believe that everyone is just dandy about this?" Hiccup asked, not knowing what he wanted to hear.

"Well, no Hiccup, not everyone is. Some of the villagers aren't happy at all, but you're my best friend … and not everyone is against you, ya know."

A silence that descended on the room. Trid stirred but stayed asleep - like the silence bothered him too. Hiccup tried to process what he was expected to think, to feel, or do about this information … but his mind was failing him once again, he could deal with everything being thrown at him.

"Toothless said he loved you?" Fishlegs suddenly asked, hoping Hiccup would at least explain that to him. Hiccup sighed, resigned to answer Fishlegs's questions. Why not, right? What else can I lose?

"Yes. We were … are …in love." Hiccup started nervously, noticing Fishlegs's slightly shocked expression at the confirmation. "I-I know … c-crazy right? But it's the truth, and it's a long story."

Once Hiccup had started talking, he found he couldn't stop. He told Fishlegs how Toothless had changed, all about their relationship development - from the Ogthantarth, to Sanctum island, to Maligon's attack, and eventually the great uncovered secrets in the Great Hall … but it felt so fucking good. He felt a tiny bit lighter, someone else knew the truth and it was a tiny blessing, a small relief. He even chuckled when his son woke up crying - a bitter, depressed, hopeless chuckle, knowing his son was traumatised, but it was all so fucked up … so broken that he had chuckled like a lunatic.

Fishlegs must have thought him delusional as he held his crying, clinging son … and chuckled. His chuckles soon turned to a muffled sob or two, and he went downstairs to get food for his son. Fishlegs followed him down, and Hiccup noticed Gobber wasn't there. Gobber probably went to see if he was needed as a blacksmith to make hinges, locks, or assist with any repairs today. Gobber would be back, and his mother should return later on if she had succeeded in getting medical supplies. All he could do was wait, wait as a prisoner in his own home, and care for Trid as best as he could. The waiting was torture in its self.

By the time Hiccup was feeding his son, he was in mid conversation with Fishlegs once again.

"It makes so much sense now though Hiccup. Where Kalster came from. Why you were so protective and so close to him. Why he was strange … and … I taught him to read-" Fishlegs suddenly looked like he'd had yet another realisation.

"Yes, after he asked you to teach him about love." Hiccup chuckled.

"Oh Thor, he was asking about you, wasn't he?" Fishlegs asked, but he didn't really need the confirmation.

"Mmm, and you threw him out of the Great Hall. I almost gave it away when you came over, when I called him Toothless."

"I remember that. I also remember him asking about Nightfury statistics. Speed, armour, fire power and- He was really good Hiccup, he had us all completely fooled." Fishlegs was still trying to get his mind under control - all the new realisations were still catching up with him.

"Yeah. He did." Hiccup sighed. For a moment, just a blissful small moment, he had been lost in happy memories. Now though, everything wrong was back and forefront of his mind. "I miss him Fish. I'm terrified." He almost whispered, afraid to speak any louder.

"Of what has happened to Toothless?" Fishlegs asked.

"Of everything! I really fucked up this time." Hiccup inhaled deeply, and exhaled shakily. He placed the empty bottle on the table, and adjusted his son's clothes. Trid gripped onto Hiccup's tunic tightly. "I wish he was here Fish. I really can't do this without him. Not knowing. What if Toothless is hurt or worse-"

"To-too." Trid mumbled, his bottom lip quivered as his azure-blue eyes glossed over.

Fishlegs gaped, but Hiccup was trying not to start crying again.

"Yeah bud, I miss him too." Hiccup's small voice croaked and wavered. It was obvious he had a lump of emotion wedged in his throat again, his tears only seconds away as he kissed his son's head and closed his eyes. "We have to be strong, okay buddy? We have to try." Hiccup whispered as he gripped his son's blanket tightly in his hands, and held Trid to him as tightly as he could without hurting him.

Fishlegs smiled sadly at them. He could see how much they both missed the Nightfury, and it was suddenly so obvious now, how much Hiccup loved Toothless. It was strange - the relationship Hiccup had with Toothless, and almost impossible to believe, but he wouldn't judge his best friend. Hiccup couldn't help who he fell in love with, and it was an unorthodox situation - one that involved sorcery too. People were scared, confused, and feared it because it was something new, something different … but as the keeper of knowledge and a member of the council, he wanted to help Hiccup.

"Hiccup. Let me go get the records of past laws, the current laws, and the Berkian book of chiefs. I'll help you figure out what to do, what to say at the trial, and we'll figure this out okay?" Fishlegs had already made his way to the door, determined in his resolve.

"Thank you, Fish." Hiccup honestly felt so much gratitude towards his blond friend. He had already mentioned to Fishlegs, his desire to go through them himself, but hadn't had the chance because of Maligon's attack - and because of the mess he had created.

Once Fishlegs was gone, he held his fragile son close to his chest and allowed some of his tears to fall on Trid's soft auburn hair. He prayed that Toothless was okay - where ever he was, and that Visskara would bring him home. He was also conflicted, and worried about the tribes' reaction if he did return.


Toothless stubbornly went to power up a plasma blast - the resulting pain would surely be a quick ride to unconsciousness, to shoot the malodourous pair of idiots that were trying to get him to drink the muddy water, when they yanked the straps of the muzzle and clamped his maw shut in panic. Toothless almost choked on the gasses from the unfired shot, smoke blew from his nostrils instead, and the men loosened the muzzle a little … so he could what? Choke more easily? Idiots! He thought. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and closed around a roaring headache. What a fucking waste of energy, Toothless thought, not even getting to kill one of the dumb hunters, but still suffering the agony of trying.

"Come on ya beast! If ya don't drink Maligon will kill us!" The black-haired man, whose muscles must be compensating for something, half shouted and half pleaded with him. Toothless didn't have the energy to respond, and he'd rather focus on breathing.

"It's no use Sverre, the fucking thing won't co-operate." The mousy brown-haired man - thing - spoke. Eugh!

Toothless tuned them out, he didn't want to drink! He wouldn't eat or drink anything they offered, and despite his weakness, he was going to be the fucking god of stubbornness. If he wasn't in so much pain, he'd have enjoyed watching them panic over what Maligon would do to them if they couldn't make him drink the dirty fucking water.

Toothless just laid there, restrained, wishing he'd fall back into the painless bliss of unconsciousness. Breathing still hurt, still caused his back to burn where he assumed the welts and lacerations decorated his skin wonderfully instead of his perfect black scales. In fact, his entire body screamed so loudly in anger, that he still had a hard time focusing on anything but the pain. He'd almost give anything for Maligon to just return and finish him off, because it was torture just laying there, unable to move, with just his pain and heart ache for constant company.

Lost in his mind, the thumps of stabbing pain he could literally count, the sting, the burning eternity on his back - louder when he didn't work hard enough to think of something else, and his breathing … slow puffs through the pain … think of Hiccup … In … and out … Trid's innocent blue eyes … in … and-GASP!

He howled out in pain as a wooden stick smacked down over his back, banging onto the welts and lacerations. It hurt, it really fucking hurt, but he almost sung when his vision turned black. His body was shutting down in its weakness, its previous blood loss not given a chance to rectify its self yet, and in its desperate last resort to avoid the pain.

He failed to notice the two men fleeing the cell, panicking because they were ordered by Maligon to not hurt the Nightfury. They only wanted the beast to wake up and drink, they didn't think a stick would cause him so much pain and make it pass out.

"This is your fault Tyrkir! You hit it." Sverre moaned as Tyrkir finished locking the cell.

"It was a bloody stick, how was I to know it would make a Nightfury pass out? A stick!" Tyrkir shouted.

"Maligon won't be happy Ty. What do we do now?" Sverre asked in a panic. Tyrkir put his hand out to stop Sverre from walking.

"We tell him the Nightfury took a bit of water, not much. Then it went to sleep." Tyrkir said, nodding in agreement to his own plan.

"But, what about the noise? Maligon must'a 'erd it." Sverre pointed out, unsure and obviously worried.

"It just made that noise when we left, didn't want to be left alone see, tried to escape. Not that it could."

Nodding, Sverre followed Tyrkir from the cells, leaving the unconscious Nightfury alone.


Flashing over the ocean unseen, in a frantic search for her ameor, Visskara suddenly heard a howl of pain reach her sensitive ears. It was faint, quiet by the time her ears had received it, but she was sure she knew who it belonged to - Toothless!

Roaring in anger, blood thirsty for revenge of her Ameor's suffering, she glowed in her alpha form and picked up speed. She closed the distance between her and the ship Toothless was on, in a matter of seconds. She could see Toothless on the lower deck of the ship with her heat vision … but something was wrong; heat was bright on his back, but his core was colder than is should be.

She circled the four ships so fast that not a single human upon it could see her, but she knew the hunters felt a growing trepidation based on their wafting scents of developing fear and confusion. The wind twisted around them like a growing tornado, and the previous calm sea, under the peaceful dark sky, riled against the assault. The ships started twisting and spinning as Visskara weaved between them, quickly analysing and planning her revenge.


The brownish-black and yellow Triple-Stryke, Sleuther, was just about to land on the small abandoned island - The Eerie Shadows - when he heard Visskara's roar reach his ears from afar. She wasn't asking for help; she was voicing her anger with the promise of bloodshed. Sleuther assumed she had found those responsible for Toothless's capture, and he had to find out what was going on. He had to know if Toothless was at least safe.

The change of direction caused Dagur a moment of confusion.

"Oh, come on! I though for sure you were taking me to The Eerie Shadows, we could have-"

Sleuther growled at Dagur who pouted and crossed his arms like a petulant child.

"Okay fine, not The Eerie. This had better be good Sleuther! Daddy is missing out on his beauty sleep, and you know how cranky that makes daddy!" Dagur growled.

Sleuther just rolled his eyes and continued flying.


The sudden raging sea had started to calm, and the wind stopped as quickly as it had come. The hunters were scared as they stood up and let go of what they were clinging onto, their eyes frantically observing their surroundings with uncertainty. A few humans had fallen into the sea, some had drowned, but she didn't care. Visskara was high in the sky - too high to be seen, but she still watched.

She had finished analysing the ships, all four of them: None carried human younglings or hatchlings, so that made things easier. One held her Ameor, and another ship was carrying an elder male Bregoasveial under deck. The last two ships were easy target practise, and the hunters would die before they even saw what had caused their demise; no point risking the weapons she had heard about from Toothless and Hiccup. She would act quickly, spare no one, and move so fast she would not be seen. With that in mind, she wasted not a second more - it was time to eradicate and enact her revenge.

Maligon was suddenly on top deck by the helm - dishevelled and wary. The weather was strange, too strange. Could it be … dragons? He wondered, striding over to the side of his ship, his eyes madly searching, hungry for dragon blood.

Suddenly, amidst a great gust of mysterious wind that violently pushed the ships and angered the waves, one of his ships blew up. It was obliterated so unexpectedly that pure shock forced his eyes to widen in a foreign feeling of fear that grappled him. Pieces of wood and metal rained down into the stressed and angry ocean. The wind changed direction as if commanded by an angry deity; crashing waves smacked violently against each other, splashing up and over the ships as they rocked and turned, and then … another ship joined the fate of the first, and just like that it was gone, with no visible assailant.

Maligon gulped, and gripped on tighter to the side of his ship, still trying to find something to attack. He tried to reason with himself, against his fear and trepidation, that an action always had a cause; find the cause and eradicate it, then the problem will die along with it.

A Changewing herd perhaps, he thought wildly, clawing his way frantically for a plausible cause. A Changewing attempting rescue of the one they had caught? It was very possible, seeing as they could turn invisible, but he had no plausible reason to explain the weather. The sun was just starting to rise for its few hours of newly returned glory after solstice, and the sky was clear and still dotted with stars, but it was all in such diametric contradiction of the sea and the winds that continued to attack the last two ships, that rocked them violently and made the sea churn and crash, and nothing made sense. Could there be new dragons out there? He thought, still searching urgently with his eyes whilst trying to hold on to his ship, lest he fall into the battling waves below.

"Dragons!" Maligon yelled desperately, a last-ditch attempt to try anything, lest his fate follow that of the two obliterated ships. His men struggled and attempted to prepare the spears, the chains, the traps, the catapults, the nets, the dragon root arrows and the ballistae, but the boat moved violently, and the feral winds threw them around like rag dolls.

A small let up in wind, allowed Maligon to grab the ropes at the side of his ship, and he wrapped them tightly around his hands for anchor - desperate to not be tossed overboard or thrown around his deck. He barely witnessed the hole that blasted into the side of the third ship, but again … he could see no assailant. The wind returned, cutting and vengeful, and the third ship was pushed back as the waves parted and crashed.

Maligon's fear increased as bodies suddenly started disappearing, screams carried across the ocean to his ears - that worryingly, cut off mid-scream, and then … limbs, blood and guts rained down onto his ship as the line of wind swept him and his crew off their feet. The wind was merciless, and it strained his body as he lay front down on his deck and held on tightly to the taut rope in his hands. As he fought with burning, aching muscles, to hold on to his only lifeline, he struggled to watch as his ship was wrecked. The sails ripped, the mast came down, wood snapped and creaked, and the sea raged against the side - slamming them with angry waves and impairing their vision greatly.

A brief break in the sinister winds allowed Maligon to force himself to his feet. His hands bled from where the rope had nearly cut through them entirely, his muscles protested, and his limbs were weak from the strain of winds that had threatened to tear his body apart. He wobbled against what was left of the side of his ship, and saw a head roll across the deck as he slumped to the ground. He could see the blood - everywhere, along with what remained of guts and body parts. Whatever this was, it was evil, quick, and he felt so utterly doomed.

He just about witnessed the captured Changewing flee the scene, flying away over his battered ship before turning invisible. He wondered, with a silent plea to the gods, if the attack would now stop - seeing as the Changewing had been rescued, but he heard the third ship explode just like the others, and the winds picked up once again. For the first time in his life, he was beyond terrified. This had to be the work of a deity or a malevolent being. No dragon could move so fast, control the sea and the wind, and obliterate a ship like it was a small sandcastle beneath his feet.

His own crew were mostly gone, some had fallen into the ocean as the winds ravished the ship. The last few of his men shook in fear, daring to move. A violent wind hit Maligon so hard he was thrown from the top deck and crashed into the deck below. He screamed as he grabbed a rope in utter desperation, his hands threatening to rip as blood poured from the wounds of his skinless palms, but his slight relief - of not being thrown from his ship - was immediately over as more blood and guts rained down. His ship spun and rocked violently … and then the winds stopped and he saw it … a white dragon with blue wings. It glowed and glowered at him in pure rage with a blue icy death like stare. An alpha … or a god. He had never regretted his choice to hunt dragons until now, and his shaking body wouldn't save him.

Visskara could smell Toothless's scent on him, and she recognised the stench from Hiccup's house. She wanted him to see her before she ripped his head off his shoulders, before she killed him. She could smell his fear and regret, this was far too easy - oh how she wanted him to try and fight her! She decided to hurt him first; she wanted to hear him scream.

She flew at him so fast that he wouldn't have been able to attack her - even if he hadn't been so paralyzed with fear, and in a blur, she had sunk her teeth into his arm - deep into his muscles and bones, and ripped it away mercilessly. Her speed sent the malodourous man flying across the ship, blood gushing from his severed limb, and his screams and wailing of pain satisfied only a fraction of her fury. She attacked again, and once more; the satisfying, agonising screams that filled the now silent air, ebbed away some of her anger as she watched the blood gush from his severed leg.

She stood towering above the man, looking down at him as he helplessly screamed and writhed below her. She smelt the piss and shit that came from his already malodorous dying form. He would die from blood loss shortly, and she wanted him to know that it was her that had destroyed him.

Maligon the Malicious's black-brown eyes, filled with agony, fear, and tears, were staring up into hers as he struggled to breath … and then, the lights went out! He was dead, and now she could get to Toothless.

Visskara turned to make sure that all the humans were certainly gone, so there would be no further threat. She flew around the ship and the now settling ocean quickly, confident that she had destroyed every last dragon hunter. She landed, huffing at the thought that humans felt superior to drekis, and finally made her way below deck to where her ameor was held captive.

The stench was the first thing to hit her, the smell of death and decay that made her feel sick, that told stories of the many drekis that had died here. She had never seen nor confronted hunters before, but she had heard the stories. Runisalith had been one that she knew had suffered at the hands of hunters, and a wave of sympathy washed over her.

Then she saw him …

"Toothless!"


Cautiously, Sleuther landed quietly on the battered ship. He smelt the death before he had seen it, but he could also sense Toothless and Visskara.

Dagur wasn't usually bothered by blood, death, or the like, but this ... this was something horrific. A few body parts could be seen floating on the sea around the ship, and he couldn't see one whole body. Most unfortunate for them he thought, realising they were most likely dragon hunters, and for once, he was glad he hadn't been a part of this battle party. He climbed down from Sleuther hesitantly, and drew his sword slowly as he looked around. Hiccup usually took out dragon hunters, if Mala and himself didn't beat them to it, but this was an agonizing cry from anything that the dragon riders would do.

He looked down at the one body that remained, missing its right arm and left leg - ripped savagely away. The smell alerting him to the fact that the dead man had soiled himself at some point in his obviously lost battle. He also noticed what was left of fingers, guts, and the blood stains that splattered … everywhere! Whatever had happened aboard this ship, he didn't want to be the next victim.

He was about to suggest that they leave, that there was nothing but here but death, when a wail of sheer pain raised up from below deck. It was a dragon!

Dagur didn't have time to consider his options, Sleuther had immediately disappeared below deck.

"Sleuther!" Dagur whispered, going after his dragon.