A Son of Ice and Fire
A/N: This is the last of the background chapters. After this I will be mixing up the orders and focusing on certain characters as they will have larger roles to play in this part of the story. I may add chapters for characters I haven't focused on later down the line, or sooner if requested. I do plan on doing a few flashback chapters from the point of view of some other characters (Stoick, Spitelout etc.) so you have that to look forward to. As always, thanks for reading :)
Chapter 5: House Jorgenson
Snotlout
It was the fourth day straight that the storms had hit the Island. Lightning flashes over head and the sound of thunder shaking the foundations of the keep. The rain now seeping through the cracks and forming puddles under foot. The castle was built high on the rocks, but the fierce waves were reaching higher and higher up the outer walls. Was this a test? Or a punishment? Either way, the fury of the drowned God was in full might. One of the three watchtowers had already fallen, and the downpour in the outer courtyard was near flooding into the main hall.
I had remained locked within the walls since the first night the castle was under siege from the storm. I hate being grounded, like an invisible chain is wrapped around my waist, and it is starting to make me go insane. I slammed my fist on the table, causing the plate to leap half an inch into the air and the drink to teeter on its base before falling over. As it flowed over the side of the table, forming a puddle on the floor, I stood up and stormed towards the door.
"SON! Sit back down. NOW!" My mother yelled.
"ENOUGH! I can't do this anymore. I am not a dog to be leashed, or a chicken to be cooped. I am done with being locked away. I am done being chareponed."
"Do you mean chaperoned, brother?" A voice from the near side of the table sniggered.
"Shut up. Just let me go, I feel like I'm about to explode." I boomed. I headed through the main hall towards the main doors that led out into the courtyard. As I reached the doors, the guards stepped from their posts to block my path, "LET ME PAST!" I ordered. I had spent the last four days walking miles and miles around the castle, repeating the same routes and traversing the same steps tens of hundreds of times. I had been stopped from leaving before, but there was no way I was going to be stopped this time.
"Lord Snotlout, it is not safe for you to go out there in this storm. I will let you know immediately when it has past, then you may leave." The guard responded, while stepping across and blocking my path.
"Move out of my way, I am going out there. NOW!"
"Your father has told us to keep you in the castle until his return."
"I am not planning on leaving the castle altogether. Just getting a bit of fresh air, that is all."
"I'm sorry my lord, but I must insist." He stepped towards me, while gesturing to the other guards to help him escort me away.
"I AM SNOTLOUT JORGENSON, SON OF SPITELOUT JORGENSON, I ORDER YOU TO LET ME THROUGH OR I'LL CHAIN YOU TO THE CLIFFS AND LET THE WAVES DEAL WITH YOU!" I slipped my hand behind my back until I felt the handle of my axe. As I ran my fingers along the leather handle strap, I coiled my fingers around it, as I began to lift the weapon.
"Take him back to his quarters," the guard said coldly. He nodded across and I saw the two others come around to prevent me from getting past. As I fully tried to pull out my axe, I felt a hand on my back grab the weapon and forcefully lower it.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is the heir to the Stormfangs you are planning on manhandling. I'm sure we can come up with a better solution." The young man's voice was cold. His posture, unnerving. The guards backed off a pace as he removed his hand from me and approached them, hands behind his back as he strolled towards them.
"Yes, Lord Grimborn, of course, we were only following orders." The guard backed away a further step and stepped to the side of the door.
"While I'm sure lord Jorgenson would be impressed at the loyalty of his men, I'm sure he would be alright if he knew I was escorting his son to where he needs to go, there is no cause for alarm here." Viggo's words seemed to calm the men, or strike a certain level of fear into them, as none would look him in the eyes as the door was opened and we headed out into the courtyard.
"Not everything has to end in violence, brother," Viggo laughed, even though we both knew he would have preferred it if it did.
"Thank you for that, but I was handling it." I grunted as we headed into the rain. The soles of my boots now completely soaked. The water was now two to three inches in places as we pushed through the sludge.
"So, I could see. Quite expertly at that I must say. What were you planning on doing back there? Killing them all. Not really your style Jorgenson." Viggo's tone was that of victory, why did everything have to be a competition.
"Can you just shut up? I'm already cold and wet, I don't need to deal with you as well."
"Just trying to help, my friend. So, what was so important we have to be out in… this?" He raised his hands to the sky, the rain still pouring relentlessly.
"I just have to see him return. He is two days late and he is never late. Never. If he's not back tonight what are we going to do?"
"Your father's been on the seas for more years than you've been alive, if anyone can survive in that it's him."
"I know that, but it's not like I'd know the first thing about running this house. He's hardly even let me out on the water, how would the men feel about having me command the fleet?"
"You're all he has left, he's only protecting you."
"Protecting me." I scoffed. "I'm not a girl. I can fight my only battles. The way things are, you're probably more suited to running this house than me." I laughed, but another devious smile came across his face. His eyes lit up with a flicker of joy at the words, but he soon restored them the cold, pincer-like stare he is known for.
"My house is dead Snotlout. My ambitions of being the lord of a house died with them."
"If you say so Viggo. If you say so." I said nonchalantly. Where morals were something he lacked gravely, ambitions he did not. "Are you coming with me to the viewpoint?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.
"While I would love to join you brother, I have other matters I need to attend to tonight. Don't tell anyone I left you out here all alone, they'll have me thrown in a cell."
"I doubt that," I snickered.
"Well they can always try, I would love to see that." He laughed. As he walked away, I could still hear him cackling to himself, his black armour and silver shoulder pads glistening in the moonlight. Like a demon sent from the darkness to cause nothing but pain and suffering.
It was only about thirty metres to the watchtower, but I was drenched head to toe by the time I had locked myself inside. The black leather soaked and clamped to my skin, even the steel breastplate feels like it is digging into my chest, like a boulder piercing my heart. The tower was dark, and the only sounds were the dipping of water and the clap of thunder growing louder as I ascended the stairs. Grasping the railings, I pulled myself up, the wet boots making the climb especially treacherous. It took time, but I was there, closing the door behind me as I reached the top. After the last one fell two days back in the storm, the watchtowers have been unmanned. No-one was watching for our men to come home. My father to come home. Tonight, that would change. I opened my pack and placed the spare clothes on the side. The rain had seeped through and dampened them, but it was an improvement on what I had on now. I lit the torches that rested on the walls of the room and started to change. The spare clothes at least reduced my shivering, the fire helped the most. One thing was for sure, this would be a long night.
A couple of hours may have passed, maybe three, maybe five. I looked out to the sea, the waves clashing against the rocks and the flashes of lightning flickering in the darkness. We often had storms, but this was different. The last time I had seen it this bad I was standing in this very room looking out to sea. The last time it was this bad was the day Viggo had come.
It was 6 years ago to this day. I was waiting for father to come home. I was up for hours. Wouldn't sleep until I saw his ship dock in the harbor. I waited, and waited, and waited. It was almost a week later when I saw his sails glide into the bay. I can remember the joy as I bounded down the hundreds of stairs. Sprinting into the rain down to the docks. I would always be there to watch him lead his men off the boat and I would run up and hug him. This time it was different, when I got there I saw all the men get off. One by one the ship emptied. I began to think the worst, was he captured? Was he dead? Just as I began to panic, I saw the horned helmet of my father emerge and he stepped onto the deck. What was going on here? He looked at me, then down into the boat and out stepped the reason for his delay. The boy looked around, up at the castle in awe, then to me. He stepped onto the deck, then walked past my father, onto the dock and up to me, offering his hand out.
"My name is Viggo Grimborn, lord Jorgenson says I'm to be your new brother."
That memory soon shook me awake. Viggo was many things, but a brother, no. He had an actual brother of his own at his family's castle but him, just like the rest of the Grimborn family died in a 'tragic accident', as Viggo put it. After seeing what he is capable of here, I doubt that accident was actually an accident at all. He was only ten when he came to live with us here, and soon gained the reputation he has maintained to this day. The first people to mock him lost their tongues. Those who looked at him the wrong way, well let's just say, they never looked again. That was before people started disappearing. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. My father always idolized Viggo. He wasn't especially tall, or strong, but for whatever reason there was a bond they shared, and nothing could get under my skin more than that. That my father could feel more for that monster than his own son.
It was only then that I saw it. Faint at first, but it was there. The black and red sail of Stormrider come into view. The black sail of my father's ship painted red with the image of a set of fangs speared through the storm. It was the harshest of storms and choppiest of seas, but the ship glided effortlessly. Behind it, the ten supporting ships were struggling to ride the waves. Just like I was twelve again, I burst open the door and made my way down to the bottom of the tower and then into the rain. My boots are drenched, my hands are cold, and I can feel the water dripping down my back, but it doesn't matter. Father is home...