A Son of Ice and Fire

A/N: I've had this chapter wtore for a few days, but I waited to post it, until it would fit in with the timeline. These events happen concurrently with the previous chapter (the day after Hiccup's return).

Guest: We are nearing the end of season 2 now. Between chapters 45-48 will be the end, depending on how many tangents I go off on, and then season 3 will continue from there. This season has had roughly the same number of chapters as S1, but I've focused on lengthening each one to develop the story better. This has also allowed the timeline to be a but less jarring than season 1, but now I better know how I want to write it going forward :)

Guest: I'm not going to make the end totally depressing, but it's not going to be without heartache. These characters will have been through a lot in the 200+ chapters and it'll be sad to see some of them go. In relation to thrones, my favourite deaths have to be Joffrey's and Oberyn's. I loved Oberyn's character for the short time he was on and I wished he lived longer, but the way they filmed his death was just so unforgettable.

Guest: Yeah, the twins did spend time in Essos at the start of the story, but I've chosen for them to spend more time in Westeros than I expected at the start. Their second to last chapter for the season will be after this one, so that should clear things up to where they will be headed in the future.

Chapter 40: Until next time

Snotlout

Hostilities within the castle only grew more and more, tension growing with every minute, and nothing could quell it. After confronting Viggo about his attempt to usurp the position of heir, Spitelout announced that I was to be released from the cells immediately. That was two weeks ago, and ever since Viggo hasn't spoke a word. Every accidental passing in the hallway, every meal where he still sits opposite me, every moment we are even in any way close is filled by a long, uneasy silence. He doesn't even scowl at me anymore, just stares with vengeful eyes and an emotionless face. The pragmatic boy who always used to stroll around the castle, now replaced by a seemingly hollow shell, a vessel filled with deep-rooted hate and anger. Every day he spends his time deep in the darkest part of the castle, with the man everyone now knows is his brother. I tried to help Ryker once, but I nearly got caught and blew everything I was working on here. I can only empathize with the horrors he's having to suffer.

Dagur is still locked in a cell, father said it was his insurance. A way he could keep me in line, so to speak. Despite that, my flame-haired brother seemed somewhat at ease. I know he and mother have been having secret meetings when dad is out, or asleep. I visit him often as well, and as more days passed, the more I recognised the brother I grew up with. The lopsided grin, the bright and hopeful eyes, the hearty laughs we would share. I was told he would be released the second Hookfang is returned. All Dagur said was that Johann had it, but I wasn't allowed out to search for him. After all that was sacrificed to release that girl, She and her brother wouldn't just betray us and take off with Johann. No. Dagur trusted her. I just hope they'll come back sooner rather than later. For all our sakes.

I was planning to visit my brother just before the end of the day, but as I was heading down to see him, a guard rushed up to me. I was taken back at first, but stood tall, as the man took a deep breath before starting.

"Lord Snotlout, you must come to the meeting chambers at once, your father has requested your presence." He said strongly. I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes.

"Can you not just give me half an hour? I'll be in and out before you know it." I questioned.

"I'm afraid not. He asked me to fetch you to him immediately." He answered emotionlessly. I resigned to a nod, with the man accepting the gesture and gesturing me to head towards the intended venue. Why the meeting chambers? He never uses that place unless it's something drastic. I guess I'll find out soon. As I reached the top floor of the castle, Viggo exited the room and sauntered past me. A sinister smile across his lips, and a sparkle in his eyes, as he leaned in towards me whilst walking past.

"Lord Jorgenson isn't looking too good. He might not be so lucky next time." He chuckled as he strolled away. What has he done? Father? I quickly rushed into the room, to a rather bemused looking Spitelout. A bit flustered, and a few hairs out of place, but apart from that nothing seemed out of order. What bullshit is Viggo spouting?

"Calm down, boyo." He greeted with a chuckle as I entered the room. "I said I needed to see you tonight, not the very second I gave the order." He lounged back on the colossal chair, laughing as he stroked his beard. Behind him, the flames raged ferociously, the monstrously large fireplace bathing the entire room in heat. The wooden borders to the top and sides of it engraved into the shape of a set of huge fangs, with the vertical pillars each side of the fire shaped into teeth. He rocked back and forth casually on the chair, one unfortunate push back too far from falling into the mouth of hell itself. Luckily, he stopped swinging and stood up and walked towards me, holding a note. "I have to do it again! All of it! Again!" He exclaimed angrily. "This time I'm not leaving you behind!"

Still trying to process all that father had told me in the past hour, I was trying to put all the pieces together. As I walked back through the castle on my way to finally visit my brother, everything seemed to finally make sense. Everything apart from one thing. Dad was understandably furious about 'King' Balon's choice, but not anywhere near as broken as Viggo made him out to be. What was so important he broke his silence to taunt me about. His words racked through my mind, 'Lord Jorgenson isn't looking too good. He might not be so lucky next time.' If he wasn't talking about that meeting itself. What in God's name could he have been talking about? Then it hit me, halting me in my tracks. Is he talking about the war? That would make sense. No, not likely. The last one near broke him, I don't see how him losing one son and disowning another could be classed as lucky. Think. Snotlout. Think. Come on. I stomped my foot loudly, shaking my head, as I resumed my walk down to the cells. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, five large shadows were painted against the far wall at the other side of the corridor. They laughed as they walked away, fading into the darkness. Lord Jorgenson. Dagur. Oh no. Brother, I'm coming. As the candlelight flickered, I couldn't make out any of their features, except for the bright metallic red on one of the men's helmets. Viggo. He will die for this! I watched them leave, feeling ever fiber of my being wanting to chase after them. No. I need to know Dagur is fine. Yeah, of course he'll be fine. He's survived much worse than Viggo.

Despite those thoughts of hope, a deep-rooted feeling of dread in my gut began to spread through me, as I rushed up to Dagur's open cell. Grunting violently and frothing at the mouth like a wild animal, he stumbled to his feet and charged towards me. Two hands clamped onto my neck, as he pushed my back against the opposite cell's door. His face was so close to mine, the blood smeared across it could almost trickle onto mine. Bright purple swelling obstructed one of his eyes, I doubt he could even see me out of it. His other eye blazed green like wildfire, as he bared his teeth in front of me, like a rabbid dog. He tried to speak, but at the first word, his cracked lips faltered. Then so did his arms. Finally, his legs. With a spluttering of coughs, his resolve cracked, and he dropped down to one knee.

"Brother, get me out of here. Get me away." He whimpered, as his other knee slammed down on the rocky ground. I hoisted him up, hooking my arm around his back as I dragged him to his feet.

"I've got you. I've got you. Come on." I reassured, as we started to move very slowly. With every step he winced in pain, but we pushed on. My eyes wandered from one injury to the next, at his ripped shirt soaked in his blood. Purple blotches painted across the bare skin of his arms and drawing my attention through the holes of his clothes. This wasn't just a beating, this was a message from Viggo. 'He might not be so lucky next time.' If he stays here, he will die. I will probably die trying to avenge him. I need to get him out. Even force father to let him out. Anything so he doesn't die here. I propelled him up the final flight of stairs, slamming the first door at the top open with my boot. I ran to the far side of the room, gripping the arm of the maester. "Heal him. Just heal him. I order you to heal him." The man looked at me oddly, but upon seeing the state of Dagur, he rushed over. A tear slipped from my eye, but I brushed it away. Not the time for this. I need to be strong.

"I'll do what I can." He said softly, already working on removing brother's shirt to see the full scale of the damage. Next stop. Viggo.

His cheek broke under my fist as I struck him with a strong right hand. Viggo rocked back, but had no time to recover, as I landed more successive blows. Knuckles soaked red, I pressed forward. His hands weakly rose in defense, but my fist flew upwards, colliding with infinite force against his jaw. He toppled backwards, staggering just in time to rest against the wall. His face puffy and disfigured, he looked up at me with disdain, before spitting on the floor. In a pool of blood and saliva rested two of his teeth, jagged and cracked, at the boy's feet. Viggo growled at me and charged, attempting a strong blow intended for my skull. I caught his fist, cracking it within my grip, as I flipped him over to land heavily on his back. He screamed in pain, as he hit the deck, but I didn't care. I kicked him twice in the side, before stamping on his chest and forcing my boot against his shoulder blade. With a sharp tug, I dragged him to his feet, hauling him by the scruff of his neck towards the fireplace. He fought back, but I held him firmly. I shoved him, so his nose was lightly singing in the flames, digging my knees sharply into the back of his, as his feet gave way. I pincered my hand around his neck, squeezing sharply as he fought with all might against the burning heat.

"You killed your family in that fire at your own castle. Locked them inside the hall and listened to them burn. Ryker told me everything, you sick fuck. I'm guessing that hideous scarring across your face is from that. You got too close, huh? Wanted to watch them suffer. Enjoyed seeing them die, did you? Even in death, they haunt you. Branded you. Marked you for the horrors you committed. You took your own family from this world. YOU WILL NOT TAKE MINE!" I yelled, forcing his head forward.

"You think you know me, Snotlout. Think you can scare me. Threaten me. You are weak. You couldn't kill before, you won't kill me now." He taunted with a cold chuckle. "You're nothing but a cowAARRRGGGGHHHHHH." Viggo's mocking soon faded, as the embers of the fire flicked up, digging deep into his flesh like a worm through soil.

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY FAMILY FROM ME!" I screamed, reaching my arm back. I can do this. Send the demon back to hell where he belongs. Your time has come Viggo. I took a deep breath, before plunging it, and Viggo's face with it, towards the fire. Yet, as the flames shaved across Viggo's cheek, a firm hand locked around my shoulder, dragging me back. I turned to strike at the person responsible. Viggo deserves to die. He will die. You won't stop me. As my fist coiled and my swing was already in motion, I turned to the scowling face of father. I don't care. Even you won't stop me. My left hand cannoned against his nose, as he waddled back a few paces in shock, releasing my hold. My fingernails dug deep into Viggo's skin, leaving blood trails in a pattern around his throat. Not that you'll be able to see that for long. I pushed forward again with all my might, hauling him towards the giant fireplace. "You scared yet, brother?" I taunted, the fire in my heart burning wilder than the one only a few paces away. He pressed his boots into the ground, but I was stronger. The fire was within touching distance once more, when two arms snagged around my waist. All the air stripped from my lungs, as father's hands hauled my back sharply, chucking me to the other side of the room. I gritted my teeth, charging towards Viggo, who collapsed to the floor by the fire, but dad forced his way between us. "LET. ME. PAST. NOW!"

"Son. No. This is not how we do things here." He demanded, one hand pressed to my chest, the other holding his bleeding nose.

"THIS IS EXACTLY HOW WE DO THINGS HERE. ESPECIALLY TO TRAITORS!" I screamed. "THAT'S THE PENALTY FOR TREASON, RIGHT? DEATH. HE ATTACKED DAGUR. NEARLY KILLED HIM. PROMISED TO DO THAT NEXT TIME INSTEAD. GET OUT OF MY WAY. NOW!"

"NO SON. NO!" He said coldly, unmovable in his stance. I felt two soft hands around me, as I turned to find mother in tears hugging me from behind. I turned to face her, as she wiped away the tears that started to roll my cheeks.

"Mum, he nearly killed Dagur. Viggo nearly killed your son. Dagur's not safe here anymore. Help me." I pleaded. She nodded to me, before standing up defiantly and marching over to her husband.

"HOW MUCH LONGER WILL LET THIS GO ON UNDER YOUR OWN ROOF? YOUR OWN SON IS BACK, AND ALL YOU DID WAS LOCK HIM UP. HE'S HERE AND HE'S SUFFERING. GROW A PAIR. BE A MAN. TAKE ACTION FOR THIS, OR BELIEVE ME, YOU WILL LOSE EVERYONE YOU LOVE." She yelled fiercely with gritted teeth, as she stared directly at him. He seemed wounded by her words, his lip quivering before hardening into a scowl. CRACK. A look of guilt racked his face, as he looked down at his own hand. The hand he just struck his own wife with... You are not my father. Not now. You are a monster.

"This… This… This… is your choice." Mum said with a tone of pure disappointment, as she rose from the ground where he had put her. Not anger. Not resentment. Just one of sadness to match the shaking of her head. "You choose to protect that boy, instead of your own family. You are a disgrace to this house." She sighed heavily, before turning and walking towards me. "Come, son, let's get you cleaned up. Don't even think of following us Spitelout. You've crossed the line this time. I don't think you can ever make up for this." With a gentle arm around my shoulder, she led me out, not even looking back. We didn't speak, as we took a few turns, but once we were far enough away she pulled me to the side. "Where is Dagur? We need to get him out now. I don't want him to go, but if you are right, he is not safe here." She's right. He needs to go. At least if he's out there, I can have faith he will survive. I'll have to manage here alone until we meet again. I pointed our way towards him, and we pushed our way through the castle and into the healer's chambers. It took her a minute to calm herself down upon seeing Dagur's battered form, even though most of his face and upper chest was bandaged up. She slowly approached him, placing a hand on his exposed cheek, as he opened his eyes to meet hers. "Son. It's not safe here. We need to get you out. Can you walk?"

"I can try." He mumbled weakly, sitting up and pulling his legs to the side. "I can try."

Two hours must have passed, when we stood on the rocky beach. I reached forward, dropping the small amount of food, water, and replacement bandages onto the front of the small rowing boat.

"I love you, son. Promise me you'll come back. This can't be the last time I'll ever see you." Mum cried, her arms shaking as she wrapped them around Dagur. He couldn't stop his tears falling either, as he pulled her against him.

"I love you too, mum. Don't forget that. I'm sorry, but I can't promise I will come back. I want to. I will try. One day I will." He replied quietly. She reached her neck up, planting a kiss on his forehead. She hugged him once more before turning away and weeping even more, as she took a seat on the ground. Dagur slumped towards me, embracing me tightly. "You keep safe, brother. Spitelout is nothing to me, but you will always be family. We are the last Jorgensons. The last ones that matter. Take care of mother for me."

"Of course, brother. I promise I will keep her safe. Please don't get yourself into too much trouble."

"You know me, Snotlout. Trouble's what I do best." He chuckled. His bright eyes shone a luminous green, as if the shadows of his past had already been put behind him.

"I thought crazy was what you do best."

"I suppose you're right." He grinned, before he looked at me with a look of remorse. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the brother you needed me to be. Even now I shouldn't leave you with them. Come with me. BOTH OF YOU." He voiced loudly to catch mum's attention.

"You know I can't. If I leave, Viggo gets it. All of it. Then we'll never be safe. Don't worry about me, just live your life, that's all I need for you to do to keep me going." I said sadly. How much I'd love to go. To sail off and never look back. I'd be with family, away from Viggo. I'd be safe. Until a few years down the line, Viggo stands at the head of the Jorgenson fleet. Spitelout is dead, everything I know is gone. I couldn't live with myself. "I'm sorry, but you know I have to stay."

"You're a better man than me. Thank you for everything you've done. Maybe one day. One day when Spitelout is gone. When Viggo is nowhere to be seen. One day I'll return here. Return to you. We can lead to this house together, back to back. One day, brother." He said optimistically. I can see the picture he is painting as clear as day. Wouldn't that be something. Maybe you're right Dagur. Maybe one day that could be our reality. Tears began to fall the second his second foot stepped from solid ground onto the boat. I placed two firms hands on the wood, pushing forward, as the boat was set free and open to the waves. I clutched at the edge, not wanting to let go.

"Take this!" I said, as I removed the weapon from my back and pressed my axe handle into his hand. "It'll keep me with you. I'll know you're safe, until we meet again." I said, as he held onto the blade tightly. I pushed the boat further from sure, the water level now reaching half way up my thigh, as he placed the axe down slowly and picked up the oars. "Until next time."

"Until next time." He sniffled, until the sound faded, and the boat became nothing more than a dot in the distance. We will meet again, brother. I know we will...