A Son of Ice and Fire

A/N: This is the first part of my two-part climax to season 2. Part 2 will be up soon!

Guest: I'm sorry you felt that way, maybe I could have made the start and end of the flashback clearer. Apart from that, all the events pretty much happen after one another, so I thought it would be easy enough to follow.

Guest: Thank you for the support :)

Guest: The Hofferson sigil is a gold star on a light blue background. I took inspiration for the flashback from 'the Knight of the laughing tree' from GOT history and lore. Obviously, Astrid wouldn't be allowed to fight, so she had to conceal her identity to take part. That's why she had a different sigil. I hope this clears it up.

Guest: Thanks for pointing the spelling error out. I try to check, but every so often some things slip through. I've gone back and changed it now.

Guest: Couldn't have this story without Hiccup's dragon, could we? ;)

Chapter 46: Dawn of destruction

Hiccup

My blood was boiling so furiously, steam was venting through every pore of my skin. The heat was surging through me, my breaths so warm they could be mistaken for dragon fire. "Don't!" Heather pleaded, grabbing my arm.

"HE DID THIS TO HER! HE DID THIS! HE'S GOING TO PAY!" I screamed, before I turned to the frail shape of Mum. She was lying on a grey blanket, her hair tousled and her face burning up. Along with the blotchy patches of red across her skin, there was a slight tinge of green sweeping across her face. Alvin survived this. She will as well. I softened my voice, clutching her hand, "Don't fear, Mother, I'll do whatever's necessary to save you. I promise." I hovered over her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Whatever it takes."

I turned to leave, but Heather fell to her knees in a thunderous bout of coughs, spluttering and clutching at her throat. No. Not you too. No. Stay with me, sister. I rushed to her side, lifting her into my arms and carrying her to the next bed over, placing her down gently. I ran across to the other side of the vast room, picking up a small glass of water and racing back. She was becoming breathless, eyes filled with panic. Slowly tipping her head back, I poured the water into her mouth. She took the liquid down, as she clutched at her chest. Come on Heather. Fight it. Fight it. I held her tightly, as her fingernails dug deep into the back of my hand. Thankfully, her breaths began to slow down, and the terror etched across her face seemed to fade, if only slightly. In one movement, she rolled over onto her side, and her eyes slowly began to close. On the back of her neck, the visible rash was starting to form, patches of skin elevating and growing a dark crimson. The grip on my hand slowly loosened, as she fell into deep sleep. This has to end. I have to end this.

I stood there, looking around at the horrors of the healing ward. At least thrity people were lined side-to-side, all suffering similar symptoms. This wasn't like last time, where only horses died. This was worse. People are dying. An old married couple were the first fatalities. Then a child, no older than three. The disease seemed to be picking them off, targeting the young and the old alike. Those that weren't strong enough to fight back. How did this happen? People had started getting slightly sick in the last week, but this is nothing like I had ever seen. At least fifteen soldiers are lying unconscious at the far end of the hall. They were the first to be brought down with the illness. That can't be a coincidence. My heart was racing, as Astrid approached and took my hand, "Stay with them. They need you," she said softly. I looked at her for a moment, before closing my eyes and shaking my head.

I ripped my hand away, as I backed off, "He's done this to them. To all of them. He will regret the day he laid a finger on my family. Mildew will tell me how to cure them, or he will die!" I put my head down and clenched my fists, as I headed for the exit. I heard the soft pattering of her boots on the rock after me as I stormed from the hall. She can't stop me. Nothing's going to stop me. Mildew will pay for this.

I plunged down the steps, barrelling towards the cells. I ripped the key from the guard's hand and jammed it into the lock of Mildew's cell. A few seconds later, the old man's throat was clutched in my hand as I slammed him against the back wall. "TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO THEM! TELL ME!" I screamed in his face. The man's drowsy eyes opened fully, and a twisted smile crossed his lips.

"I have no idea what you mean, my Lord." He sneered with a slight chuckle.

I unsheathed my sword, replacing the pressure of my fingers on his skin with the point of the blade. The steel grated against the stubble on his chin, as I yelled at him, "THE POISON! WHAT IS THE CURE!"

"Oh, little Hiccup, what is this charade?" He laughed. "What could you possibly due to me? Torture me. No. Kill me. No. You don't have that in you Hiccup. I see it in your eyes."

I gripped the sword tightly, pressing it more firmly against Mildew, "You don't know me. If you did, you'd know not to harm the people I care about."

"I do know you Hiccup. I've suffered here under you and your father. You've treated me like shit." He scowled, staring down at me with disdain.

"I've given you every chance to work with me, and instead of doing that you choose to do this. Poison our people!" I yelled, roughly grabbing the left side of his beard and slicing it off completely. Matted grey hair dropped to the floor, as the maester reached a hand up to his bare cheek.

"They're your people, not mine." He grunted back sharply in response.

"Either way, they are suffering, and that's down to you. Tell me the cure!" I snapped, grasping the other side of his beard and removing it from his neck with the tip of my blade. As more ash coloured strands fell onto the rocky ground, I pinned the point of the sword into his now bare cheek. "Tell me what I want to know, or the next thing this sword will be slicing into will be your skin."

Mildew just put his hands up in the air and laughed, "Oooh, I must have done well. So, which one of them did I get? Gobber, your mother, maybe your sweet sister. Or how about that blonde girl? Please tell me I got her."

Astrid finally caught up, and stood at the entrance to the cell snarling at the maester, "Think. Again!"

"Uhh," Mildew huffed, staring past me, to grimace at her, "I should have just killed you myself."

"MILDEW ENOUGH!" I yelled, as my blade drew the slightest drip of blood form his cheek. "THE CURE! NOW!"

Astrid rushed to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Hiccup, stop. This isn't you."

"IT IS WHEN MY MOTHER AND SISTER ARE GOING TO DIE," I screamed, never taking my eyes from Mildew's. "He's already killed three people. Three innocent people. How many more Astrid? There is no other way."

"There's always another way, Hiccup. You showed me that. Please don't do this." She pleaded, placing a hand over the one I had on the hilt of the sword. "Doing this will make you no matter than him. Please don't."

My hand that was so firm and full of conviction began to waver. No. I have to do this. I have to help them. "He'll die for his treason, why not get it over with now?"

"You kill him…" She said softly. "…You kill them." I looked across to her, then back to Mildew. The steel had carved a small line across his skin, and slight trickles of blood ran down his face onto the blade. She's right. I can't do this. It'll only make things worse. I slowly lowered the sword, stepping back a pace, as the maester gave me a victorious smile.

"I knew you didn't have it in you, boy." Mildew laughed, whilst running his fingers across his cheek. "Now their blood is on your hands, just as much as mine." I ignored him, turning and heading for the exit of the cell, but he called after me, "How will Stoick feel when he loses his wife all over again, eh Hiccup? Not that you'll ever see him again."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped back.

He rushed forward, grabbing my arm and cackling wildly, "You are weak. You don't have the stomach to try to part the secrets from my lips. Not that I would tell you anyway. So go run off. Run off like a coward and cry. And take the blonde whore with you." I clenched my fists, but before I could strike him, he'd already been knocked back. Astrid's fist had landed hand across his nose, and the popping of bone as it tore from its socket echoed all around. Mildew toppled back, clutching at his face. His shaky hand hovering over the tip of his nose, which now rested closer to his ear than his mouth.

"I did warn you not to call me that again," Astrid spat at him, "But, that was for poisoning Heather." She gave one last hateful glare towards the old man, before leaving the cell. I looked once more back towards Mildew, before following her out and locking it behind me.

I gave her a sceptical look, and she just put her hands in the air innocently, "What? He was asking for it."

"After all you just said to me, you went and did that?" I asked judgementally.

"There's a difference. What I did was… retribution. If you tortured him, you'd never be able to go back, you'd lose a part of yourself," she said softly, "you could never come back from that."

"You're right," I sighed, "and something he said actually did give me an idea how we can stop this." She smiled at me, as if to say 'I told you so,' and we began to head back up the stairs to try to find some answers.

But before we could even ascend further than a few steps, the sound of Mildew's voice rung in the air, "THERE IS A STORM COMING, HICCUP, THERE IS A STORM COMING!" Those same words. Those same words over and over again. I need to get to the bottom of this. It must be connected.

Snotlout

Dad wasn't half as angry as I thought that Dagur had been released. I think the war preparations were draining him that much. Weeks of silence and cold-shoulders past, and in case Viggo tried attacking me next, I always slept with a knife under my pillow. Always keeping one eye open. But as weeks passed, I no longer felt I needed it. After my brother left for good, Viggo returned to his usual self, acting as if he owned the castle. It was obvious his plan was to break us apart, and he'd done that, but I'd rather be separated from Dagur than have to wake up one day and bury his body. Everything was quiet, until more and more ships began to appear in the waters around the castle. Dozens and dozens of them. I'd only suffered the minor experience of one battle on the sea, but this, this would be something so very different. Something I wish I could avoid at all costs.

That was two months ago. We left the Stormfangs in force. The Jorgenson armada sailed with its full might. The boat journey was long. The march inland even more so. I couldn't believe it was actually happening. That it was nearly here. That this would probably determine the fate of our House

"How many more days are we going to have to walk?" I asked, breathing heavily. "We've been on foot for weeks now."

"We're nearly there now," Dad grinned, "they'll never see it coming."

Miles and miles of wilderness, and nothing but a chilling cold to keep us company had made everyone tired, and angry. The slightest flicker of life on the horizon instantly raised morale, and soon weapons were slowly being drawn. In reassurance more than anything, I reached to my back, feeling the feel of the wooden handle in my palm. I couldn't bring myself to get another axe made, after mine departed with Dagur, so I decided to ask the smith for a war-hammer instead. I pulled it out in front of me, holding the heavy blunt end in my fingers as my eyes turned to the village in the far distance.

"We can go around." I stated to Dad, as he held his hand in the air to halt the men behind. "That way there won't be a chance the castle will be warned. This might lose us our advantage." Please don't make us go there. We don't have to go there. We don't. He looked at me with a smile across his lips, as he pulled an axe from his back.

"It's not valerian steel, but it'll do. This metal will be covered in the blood of northmen by the morning. So will yours." He laughed, patting me on the back.

"They're not northmen," I argued, "not soldiers, not warriors, not our enemy."

"Our men want a fight," he laughed loudly, "we are Ironborn. We pay the iron price. We take what we want. This is just the start. A warm-up. Make me proud son."

"Yeah, sure thing Dad." I smiled weakly, turning back to stare at the village in the distance.

By the time we were within striking distance, the sun had set, and the black of our armour concealed us in the darkness.

"HERE COMES THE STORM!" Dad yelled loudly, and the cry echoed from the men.

Our house words were chanted loudly, as two hundred Jorgenson warriors descended from the hills. Screams and wails erupted from the small village, as helpless men, women and children attempted to flee. It was like a veil of doom sweeping through the valley. A plague poisoning everything it touched. People ran for their lives, as our men chased them down relentlessly. The few men who tried to fight back with pitchforks and axes were mowed down. The straw huts were set ablaze, pillars of smoke pulsing into the night sky. I stood there, frozen in the mist of the chaos, as piercing screams littered the air. Father's sadistic smile buried into my soul, almost as deep as his axe was burying into the defenceless villagers. How can he actually enjoy this? This isn't a battle. This is a massacre. Bodies began to build up, as more and more men, women and children were butchered. Is this what we are? Is this our legacy?

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Came a deep growl. It snapped my attention, and I turned to see one of our men clutching the short blonde hair of a young woman. He pinned her up against the side of a hut and lifted her from her feet, as she struggled in his grasp. Reaching down, she pulled the dagger she had plunged previously in his chest, and lodged it firmly in the side of his neck. A splattering of blood coated her face as the man fell, and she instantly dropped back to solid ground, breathing heavily. The commotion had drawn a lot of attention, as two other men charged in her direction. Grabbing both her arms, and forcing the weapon from her fingers, they carried her into the nearest shack. Her screams rang in the air, as the door was slammed closed behind them. I have to do something. Just one thing. If I do nothing, I'm no better than them. I'll never be better than them. I held the hammer out in my hands, as I rushed over. My hands were shaking, as I made my way across the blood-soaked ground. Red was painted across every structure in sight. The pure yellow of wheat and straw now tainted by the blood of those that had planted it. Things can't continue like this. I can't live like this. If this is what it means to be Ironborn, then I want no part of it. With a heavy palm, I slammed the door open. This is my stand.

"She's mine!" I demanded, upon entering. The two men swivelled round, eyes choked with anger. The girl had her eyes closed, and her clothes partly ripped, struggling furiously as they pinned her. I moved closer, but they didn't refrain from keeping their hands on her, so I ordered more loudly, "SHE IS MINE!"

One of men held both her arms above her head, as the other got up and charged towards me, "This bitch just killed my brother. We're gonna have a little fun with her, then she'll suffer the same fate as him. Now back off." He snarled, clutching his axe in his hand.

"I am your Lord. When I say she is mine. SHE IS MINE!" I growled at him, clutching the handle of the hammer tightly in my hands.

He took another step towards me, "Your father is the only Lord I take orders from. You can't stop me. If you get in the way of me and my vengeance, you will die."

"Your vengeance," I scoffed, "how many of her people have you killed today? How many did your brother kill? All she did was protect herself."

He shook his head and laughed, "God, you're soft. No wonder your father hates you. You are not Ironborn. We all know it."

"I am Ironborn. I take what I want. And what I want is her." I stated coldly. The man grunted and then lunged at me, swiping wildly with his axe. Drips of blood from his previous kills dropped from his steel, trickling down onto my armour, as I ducked under his blade. With a powerful blow, I rose and my hammer swiped across at his head. The loud crack of metal against metal as the blunt end of the weapon slammed against the side of his helmet reverberated all around. The dent in the side of his helmet was large, so big that the force of the blow had cracked his very skull. Without even saying a word, he fell sideways, the momentum knocking his limp body against the side wall. Watching him fall. Watching the life drain from his eyes. I feel nothing. Nothing but a sense of relief. As if it was the first step, and it could only go up from here. I gritted my teeth, staring daggers at the second man, who had suddenly released his hold on the girl. For the first time, she opened her eyes. They were bright and blue, but clouded in fear. Fear of the monsters that had taken everything from her. I stared to the other man. He was tall and skinny, and for a moment I thought he would draw his weapon, but luckily he chose to scuttle away. After one last disconcerting look towards me, he rushed out of the hut, re-joining the slaughter.

Now alone with me in the room, she backpedalled until she touched the wall. Pulling her coat back over her to cover the holes in her ripped shirt, her eyes fidgeted frantically, trying to find any sort of weapon. I slowly approached, placing my hammer on the floor as I held my hands up towards her, "I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm sorry for all the harm that has come to you and your people."

"You can fuck off!" She snapped with a tear in her eyes. "You're just like them. Just bash my head in and be done with it. Just make it quick."

"I won't do that," I said softly, "I want to be as far from here as you do. I didn't know this is what my father meant by going to war."

"You think I care what your father says, or doesn't say. Look at my people. Cut down in their hundreds. Entire families gone in seconds. You savages should just go back to the sea." She cried, hugging her face in her hands. "What did we ever do to you?"

I approached close, crouching in front of her, "I didn't want this. You must believe me. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." I reassured, placing a hand on her knee. She pulled away, curling into a ball.

"You promise?" She asked quietly, peeping out from within her fingers. I nodded and held my hand out to her. She gave me a soft smile, and tentatively reached forward to hold it.

"I promise." I answered her, as she used my arm to get to her feet.

We stood there, inches apart, as she leaned towards me. She was very short, and parts of her face were slightly black from the soot, but she was still prettier than any girl on the Iron Islands. She stood and stared at me for a few seconds, before she leaned in, whispering into my ear, "I'm sorry."

A hard knee lunged upwards, hitting me directly in the place that should never be hit. I dropped to me knees, already feeling the bruising below the waist. She turned and ran towards the back entrance, but she gave me one last fading look before she exited. The wind taken out of me, and a pain surging through my body, I stumbled back to my feet. I wobbled towards the exit, clutching at the side wall to keep my balance. I stumbled towards the door, and fell back to the floor just as I reached it. Bouncing onto a dark brown house with a one large black spot on its side, the girl set off as fast as she could. Arrows swerved after her, but she managed to evade the storm headed her way and vanished quickly over the peak. At least one got away. At least I helped one person. The thoughts soon turned to dread, as the looming shadow of Father filled the small room behind me. Here we go…

"DID YOU LET HER GO?" He screamed, dragging me to my feet and chucking me against the wall. I shook my head rapidly. "NOW SHE'LL WARN THEM!"

"I didn't let her go," I protested, "I did what you told me to do. I had my way with her but she managed to escape."

"Yes," he sneered, "I've been told exactly how far you went, to get to her." He gestured to his left, where the tall man that had run from this hut earlier stood. "You killed our own, just to get to her."

"Isn't that what a Jorgenson's supposed to do. He paid the price for defying me. I took what was mine. Isn't that what you always taught me, Father?" I grunted, staring into his eyes. Instead of yelling, his scowl broke completely, twisting into a distorted smile.

"You're finally learning." He said contentedly, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "But she still escaped. If she gets to the castle. If she warns them. We'll have a lot harder time taking it. Their defences are weaker, I've been told that, but it's still an impressive fortress. We have two choices, son. We attack now, while we still have some element of surprise, but with fewer numbers. Or we wait for Viggo's offensive to the South to conclude and we attack together at sunrise like we planned."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him, as he crouched to my level and now firmly rested both of his hands on my shoulders.

"You are my son. I know we've not always seen eye-to-eye, but I can see you are becoming the man I need to you to be." He beamed. Oh, how wrong you are. If only you knew. "Make the choice. Make it now!" Make the choice. Make the choice. He can't be serious. As his eyes glued to mine, it became more and more clear he is.

"We attack now!" I answered. If we go now, at least Viggo won't be there to inflict any more horrors upon them. He nodded to me, as he put his arm around me and led me out of the hut. He let out a booming call, and slowly most of the men started to pour from the huts to join us. We began to walk away, but as I looked back at the village, there was nothing but destruction. Fires burned wildly, and the smoke stung my nostrils. Is this all we are? Thieves, rapists, murderers? Why? All those lives taken for nothing. For the slightest gain of gold, and what else? For the thrill of battle? For the enjoyment of the killing? I gave one final look, shaking my head at the purposelessness of what just happened, before we began to march on. Our casualties in the low single-digits, we headed forward. A few dozen stolen horses led the way, and in a few hours, the real battle would commence.

Hiccup

We rushed up to the maester's quarters, and in three kicks, I slammed the locked door open.. It was a very large space. Large enough no-one should ever complain about it. There were two floors, with a thin spiral staircase leading up to a small library on the upper. "What exactly are we trying to find?" Astrid asked, as we entered the room.

"He said that the secrets would never pass his lips, but that doesn't mean he hasn't wrote them down somewhere. Books, scrolls, notes. Somewhere in here is the answer. Somewhere in here is the cure." I answered her, before I got to work rummaging through the books. "Mildew has a valerian steel link on his chain, that means he has studied the higher arts." She looked at me with a confused expression, so I clarified, "Magic. There's going to be a lot of odd things we'll find, and he'll probably have hidden anything important, so keep your eyes open."

"You really think the answer is here somewhere?" She asked tentatively.

"It has to be," I answered firmly, "it has to be."

We rummaged through the books for hours, taking turns to visit the healing ward and check on everyone. Mum had woken up, thankfully, and I stayed with her for a while. She was throwing up any food I tried to give her, and she looked to still be in very bad shape. No-where near being fully out of the woods yet. Heather was still out cold, as were most of the others in there. It must have been a higher dose than last time. The others were still comatose, and the situation only seemed to be getting worse. Astrid took my place, looking after the sick, and I returned to the mission. Through my searching, I managed to find an ancient book, hidden discretely inside another. From the few pages I flicked through, it seemed to be a spell book of sorts. A book about prophecies, magic and dragons. Written partially in an old, foreign language. I stuffed it back in its slot, imprinting its location on my mind. I'll be back for you when this has all blown over.

Hundreds of books and no results. No clues. Not even anywhere close. I resorted to knocking on the wood. Hoping it would do something. Anything. Hoping for a miracle. There must be more than this. There must be. I lashed out, striking the bare wood with my knuckles. But as my hand hit the wood, the panel didn't remain firm, instead it span on its axis. What? How? What is this? I crouched down, looking intently through the narrow opening. Reaching my hand in, I plucked out a dozen or so letters. Letters from my Dad. From Winterfell. From all across the Kingdoms. Broken seals on each and every one of them. The traitorous bastard. I quickly read through all of the scrolls. Words from Dad I'd never heard. Words kept from me by Mildew. I rushed my way through all of the pieces of parchment, scanning them quickly. Jaime Lannister had been captured. Robb had won three successive battles and pushed the Lannister's back. Theon Greyjoy had taken Winterfell. When did all this happen? Why? How? The last letter had no seal, but I opened it anyway. If it's in here, it must be important. I couldn't believe what I was was terms. Terms for what would happen to Mildew after the castle was taken. About what he'd already done to help them. About the poison. The time when we'd be weak. The time they would attack. No. No. No. Fuck. No. "Astrid. ASTRID. You need to see this." I yelled, and she ran down the stairs from the top floor holding and open book.

"I've found it, Hiccup. I've found it." She exclaimed. "Look!" I looked down at the page; written on it were the details of a poison called 'The fires of Myr.' "It says that it can be put in the water supply, or into food, and depending on the dosage, the effects can take months to finally take hold. It's all here, Hiccup. The coughing. The rashes. The sudden loss of consciousness. This is what Mildew did. This is it."

"Is there a cure?" I asked hopefully.

"It doesn't say," she sighed sadly, "but at least we now know what we're dealing with. The first attack on Alvin must have been a test run. He must have used too much. That's why the horses that ingested it died so quickly. Only because Alvin is strong did he survive. What we're dealing with now, it's serious, but it will pass. It says it isn't very effective as a means to end a life, as most can fight it off, given enough time. Heather and Valka are strong. With time, and rest, they will recover," she smiled, eyes with a flickering of hope.

"We don't have time," I told her straight, placing my hands on her shoulders, "Astrid, we don't have time!"

As if on cue, the calls of a rider at the northern gate echoed from the walls. I looked to her, then we both rushed out. Minutes later we were stood on the battlements, as a tired looking brown horse trudged towards us. A black spot on its side stood out, as the person looked up at me. Her face was splattered with lines of blood, and the rips in her clothes were clear to see. Oh Gods. Cami. What the hell happened?

"OPEN THE GATES! OPEN THEM NOW!" I ordered, running down the stairs to her, as her horse stumbled through the gates. Cami was panting heavily, and her eyes were clouded in fear. As I approached the horse, Cami fell off the side, and into my arms. She was shaking through and through, and looked completely exhausted. With weak breaths, she panted out to me, wheezing with every word.

"Ironborn... Coming... Here… Now!".