A Son of Ice and Fire
A/N: Most of the other storylines have time jumps after last season, so expect to stay in the North for a few more chapter until the timeline starts to even out :)
Guest: Stoick definitely won't be happy when he finds out, Mildew and Spitelout definitely need to watch their backs.
Guest: I'm sorry you feel that way, but I don't repeat words for no reason. Although I can admit it may have been a bit more than usual in the last chapter, the repetition was used for a purpose.
Guest: I've never seen Legend of Korra, but if I get time I might give it a watch. I have 4 or 5 ideas for fanfics I might do in the future, but with how much I still have left of this one, I doubt I'll be writing another story until at least 2019.
Guest: Yeah I like that idea. Having the green eyes be a trademark of the House is a nice feature :)
Chapter 49: Traitor's true colours
Snotlout
"AHA! NOW THIS… THIS IS FIT FOR A KING!" Dad beamed, waving his hands around triumphantly. He sauntered into the room, brushing his fingers over the wooden footboard, before he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "We might as well get settled in this castle, boyo, looks like we'll be staying for a while."
I lumbered my way fully inside the room, taking in the full scale and luxury of the vast chamber. The large stone fireplace roared fiercely, as Dad patted the bed next to him, gesturing for me to sit next to him. I slowly approached, sitting down at his side. "How long will we be staying?" I asked him, and a wide smile struck his lips.
"You want to go home already?" He chuckled. "We've won a great victory here, it's time to enjoy our spoils."
"A great victory," I scoffed, shaking my head, "how many hundreds died in this great victory?"
He reached an arm over and patted me on the back, "There are always casualties in war, son. I know that better than most. But you held your own out there. I'm proud of you." He gave me a sincere smile, which only tightened my chest. Like chains wrapping around my beating heart.
"I only did what I had to. I didn't like it. I didn't…" I jabbered.
"Son. Stop!" He said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know it's a lot to take in, but just calm down. The first one is never easy. I was just like this after my first battle."
"You were?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, "Back then, I had hope. Optimism. A longing for the fight. But when you've been through as much as I have now. When you've suffered, as I have suffered, the only thing you have left is the desire for revenge. We do what we have to do; we can't do that without violence."
"What about now?" I asked quietly, staring down at the floor. "My brother's death has been avenged. What have you got planned for these people?"
"These people, huh, well actually I'm not sure yet. If that boy survives the night, we'll get him to yield to us infront of his people at dawn. If not, we'll probably have to kill a few of them to set the standard. Prove we won't be messed with. After that, I guess it depends on how compliant they are." I nodded to him, mentally praying that the bloodshed could finally came to an end. "I've got my vengeance, son. That's all I ever wanted. This is my last war. Win or lose. This is my last. You've proved yourself worthy. You will be leading our men come winter. You will be ready," he declared proudly, holding firmly onto my shoulders.
"I'm not sure I…" I mumbled.
"…You will be ready. You will." He exclaimed, nodding sharply.
Unable to suffer through any more of the unearned praise, I feigned tiredness and retreated to my quarters. Well, not exactly mine. I opened the door to the room opposite to where I had just been, and shuffled inside. The soft rugs under foot made a nice change from the hard rock throughout the halls of the castle, and I automatically began to remove my boots. My bare feet quivered, as they sunk into the spongy fur, and I made my way across towards the desk. This room, just like everything in this castle is so foreign. The black rock, so different to the mostly dull grey foundations of the Stormfangs, and the reverberating heat all around is such a nice change from the constant cold winds of the Iron Islands. The walls, littered with drawings, make my room back home look barren in comparison. Then I saw it. Laying on the far end of the desk. A black book, with a cover of brown leather over the top and a red dragon imprinted in the centre. That's the sketchbook. This is Hiccup's room…
The pain in my chest, although heavily reduced, was still a constant reminder of what had conspired in the early hours of the morning. I carefully picked up the book, and drifted back towards the bed. I shouldn't look. This is private. I rubbed my palm across the cover, tapping it gently, and shaking my head to myself. No. This could be a trick. There could be a secret compartment with a knife. Or a key. I have to look. I have to. After convincing myself I was doing it for the right reasons, and not just out of curiosity, I slowly pulled back the thick cover. I began to quickly shuffle through the pages. Most were a bare black and white, but certain ones popped off of the page because of their bright colours. The light blue of a lake, the vivid green of the fields, the deep red of the Targaryen and Haddock sigils. I couldn't stop from flicking from page to page. Drawings of the castle, the surrounding villages, and people. A man with the most impressive flaming beard I'd ever seen. A brunette girl drawn with a wolf in the background. A blonde girl that looked extremely similar to the one I had let go yesterday.
A jarring pain suddenly shot through my lower torso, like the sword had once more been plunged through my chest. I gasped loudly, breathing heavily, as the pain slowly began to reduce. I laid back on the bed, resting my head on the pillow, as I brought the book up to my neck. Just a few more pages. Then I can sleep, before the pain becomes overbearing. I tried to remain as motionless as possible, as I used only my fingertips to brush the pages across. There were the same drawings of the man with the thick beard, some with only the beard coloured in, which made me laugh outright. A man with one hand and one foot in a stance that looked like he was dancing also brought a smile to my lips. As I flicked the paper across to the next one, I almost sat up to get a better look. The drawing covered both pages, and I had to twist the book on its side to see it from the correct perspective. It was all black, except for the large drawing of a dragon in the centre. No outline to it, as if it was built from flickering flames, the beast was made from the pure fire. Why is he so obsessed with dragons? I mean, the rumours from Essos are just that. Rumours. Dragons no longer exist. We all know that.
I wanted to stop prying, but I'd already gone too far to go back now. I skimmed though quickly, until only a few filled pages remained. There were a few jagged shards of paper at the hinge of the book, where a sheet had been ripped out. I wonder what that was. Beyond that, the majority of the pages contained only drawings of women. One was an older woman, about my mother's age, another was a black-haired beauty with striking green eyes, and finally there was a blonde Goddess with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Do women like this actually exist here? Compared to the stumpy things back home, there is no competition. The last three drawings were of that last girl, all coloured without one stroke out of place. I guess he must like her. Maybe she's his wife. It's strange I haven't seen her, nor have I seen most of the people in here. I flicked the page, only to find an empty page, and that was all that remained of the last quarter of the book. I sighed heavily, closing it fully, and sliding it onto the bedside table. The pain was slowly increasing, and the weight of the last day had drained me enough for me to just turn on my side and allow my eyes to close. I'll give it to him tomorrow. It'll be another long day.
Hiccup
The loud clanging of metal jolted me awake, and a few seconds later my hands were clamped into a set of manacles. The unsmoothed metal dug deeply into my wrists, grating roughly against my skin. My bare feet dragged against the coarse ground, and as I was pulled up the steps I could already feel the blood on my toes. I could feel my legs, but the heavy loss of blood had made everything feel like a daze. A blurred reflection of reality. I could hear the voices, but I couldn't make out the faces. My head drooped like a wilting flower, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't raise it. The bright light hit me like a Warhammer, as my feet grazed the muddy ground of the courtyard. The sheer cold struck my chest, piercing the flimsy shirt like an arrow through silk. Before I even realised it, the hands holding me let go, and I feel ungraciously into the dirt.
"THIS…THIS IS YOUR PROTECTOR. YOUR SAVIOUR!" Came a booming voice infront of me. I raised my head to see the large figure of Lord Spitelout stood high and proud, pointing at me, as his son stood at one side and the man in the black and red mask at the other. I attempted to push myself to my feet, but the second I put pressure on my knee, I collapsed again on my front. A few Ironborn soldiers began to laugh loudly, but started drawing their weapons if anyone came to try to help. A few people got further than others. Mulch almost skipped past two soldiers before he too was restrained, and then shoved back into the crowd. I couldn't see them all, but I could hear the murmurings of hundreds of people behind me, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide. Helpless. Weak. Useless. Thank the Gods Dad can't see me now. But as I was about to hang my head, a strong arm lifted me up. One arm secured my chest, while the other held me steady, slowly cradling me without digging into me with the hook.
"GET OFF OF HIM!" Ordered Spitelout, and three men rushed to pull the person helping me away from behind me.
"Yer've already won the battle. There's no honour in humiliating the lad." Gobber growled, resisting the attempts to drag him away.
"Gobber, I'm fine. Now get off of me, before you get hurt." I said quietly, swivelling slightly to face him. He nodded and began to let go, but before he could, the bottom of an axe slammed into his jaw. I pushed back every urge to scream and fight back, as the blacksmith wobbled backwards under the force of the blow. He raised a hand to cover his bleeding mouth, but lowered it back to his side at a few seconds. He looked directly up at Spitelout, and spat at the floor, leaving a small pool of blood and two teeth on the ground. I kept standing, but the shaking in my legs was unrelenting
"YOU SEE THIS." Spitelout called out, as the two other men continued their assault on Gobber. "THIS IS A SITUATION I REALLY WISH TO AVOID GOING FORWARD." One of the men punched him in the ribs, while the other elbows his back after he dropped to his knees. Even after he stopped fighting, they didn't show him any mercy and went on to start kicking him in the sides.
"STOP THIS!" I screamed. "YOU'LL KILL HIM!"
"YOU NO LONGER HAVE AUTHORITY HERE, BOY. TELL YOUR PEOPLE TO STAND DOWN. TELL THEM WHO IS IN CHARGE," Spitelout growled, putting his hand up to stop the men from continuing their attack. I looked back to Gobber. The pain was evident on his face, but he refused to show them weakness. He stood back up abruptly, even slightly smiling as he gave me a reassuring nod.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, before I turned back to face Spitelout. "I yield the castle to Lord Spitelout Jorgenson," I mumbled quietly.
"Speak louder, boy, I don't think your people heard you clearly," he laughed, with a sinister smile across his lips.
"I YIELD THE CASTLE TO LORD SPITELOUT JORGENSON!" I bellowed in his face. He looked around at everyone in attendance and began to clap mockingly.
"And?" He smirked
"AND YOU ARE NOW UNDER HIS LEADERSHIP. DO AS HE TELLS YOU. FOLLOW HIS ORDERS." I answered. This is as low as it gets. At least death wouldn't have been as shameful as this.
As more mumbling sounded through the crowd, Spitelout stomped his foot on the ground loudly, silencing everyone. "NOW YOU KNOW THE RULES. YOU BREAK THEM, YOU PAY!" He pointed to Gobber, "HE IS A WARNING, THE NEXT PERSON OUT OF LINE WON'T GET OFF THIS EASILY. NOW GET BACK TO WORK"
A final, victorious clap echoed from his hands, and people started to reluctantly return to their work. Although now they're slaves, in all but name. As everyone started to funnel away from the courtyard, the lanky shape of Mildew strolled through the crowd. He simply ignored the hateful stares thrown his way, and breezed through as if he didn't have a care in the world.
Mildew approached Spitelout, bowing slightly, "My Lord," before he turned to face me. "I told you there was a storm coming, and you were so ignorant you ignored it until it was too late. You always were a failure Hiccup. Never good enough for Stoick. How ashamed of you he must be. Your head on a pike was what I expected, but this is much better. Seeing you like this. Oh, it brings me so much joy," he grinned, his full set of uneven and buckled teeth on full show.
"You think all this is worth it? You think they'll treat you better than we did. You're a fool," I scoffed. "Once they're done with you, you're as dead as I am. There's no happy ending for you, Mildew." His face visibly reddened with anger, and he looked over at his new allies for support. They did nothing. Just as I thought. "Don't get too comfortable. You're in the jaws of the beast just as much as I am."
He stomped it to me, until his nose was grazing mine. As he attempted to intimidate me, I couldn't help my lips twisting upwards into a smile. His breath was foul, bathing me in the smell of a a month old leftovers, as he vented his anger with deep breaths. "You will lose everything you hold dear. I promise you that. We will find your mother and your sister. Your whore as well. She won't be as pretty once we're done with her."
Me laughing in his face was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. "You'll never find them. You can search and search, but you'll come up empty. There is one thing though, I've finally done it, I've finally worked you out," I grinned at him. He heard every word, but his face never changed from his distorted scowl. "You're jealous. Jealous that we have what you never had. You're alone. You've always been alone. You see me with my family and friends and you just can't handle it can you? Can't deal with the knowledge that not a single person in this entire world would care if you were put in the ground. Not. One."
He lunged forward, grabbing me by the neck, "You're wrong." I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and as he clutched me I could only smile wider. Even with my hands shackled behind my back, and at his mercy, he had still lost. And he knew it. The Ironborn were looking at him in confusion, and the hate for him among my people in the crowd only grew. Mildew looked once more backwards in hope, but Spitelout just looked at him with scrunched eyebrows as if to say, 'where are you going with this?' Mildew realised he had the eyes of every single person there directly on him. He could release me, but this would show him to be weak. He couldn't have that. Before I had time to back away, the bottom of his boot cracked against my right knee.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I screamed, as the initial pain almost made me black out completely. It still didn't stop me from falling to the ground once more. This time I didn't get up. I just laid there, paralysed, with my cheek resting against the ground. A quick flash shot past, as Gobber yelled out and charged at Mildew. One hand to the maester's throat, Gobber's face showed pure rage. The hook on his other arm was pressed against the back of his neck. No. Gobber don't. They'll kill you. I tried to shout, but I could barely whisper. "Don't." I manage to force out.
As expected, not one Ironborn soldier made the slightest motion to aid the old man, and Spitelout ignored his pleas completely. Gobber must have somehow heard me, and I saw him grunt and shake his head to one side, before he released his hold. He chucked the maester, and Mildew fell with a loud thud. He clenched his bony hands, and stormed up to Spitelout, "KILL HIM. KILL HIM."
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Spitelout snapped at him. The maester's eyes widened and he scuttled backwards, as the Jorgenson Lord's anger turned on him. "YOU DO NOT COMMAND ME! IS THAT CLEAR?" Mildew nodded sheepishly, as Spitelout's eyes turned back to Gobber. The smith had been jumped on by five men, and had been forced to the floor, as his head was shoved into the dirt. Spitelout slowly began to walk towards Gobber, removing his axe from his back and rubbing his finger and the edge. No. He can't execute him. He can't. "Now this is a problem," Spitelout sighed, "You see, when I give a warning, I can't exactly go back on it. YOU PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW THERE ARE COSTS TO YOUR ACTIONS."
Two men pinned Gobber's arm, two had his legs, and the fifth held him in place, as they dragged him onto his knees and pushed his head forward. No. No. No. They're actually going to do this. With every last ounce of energy, I hauled myself from the ground. Every single muscle seemed to jar with pain, but nothing could keep me down. "NOOOOOO!" I screamed, as Spitelout's axed raised above Gobber's head. Leaning so heavily to one side I was practically walking sideways, I stumbled across the courtyard. "NOOOOOO!" I yelled once more.
"it's alright lad. Yer've made me so proud. I'm not your dad, but to me, yer the son I never had. Keep going, I'll always believe in yer," he smiled, with a tear in his eye.
"NOOOOO!" I yelled once more. I'm not going through this again. There's no way I'm letting you die as well, stubborn old man. "YOU NEED HIM!" I screamed at Spitelout, as he primed his axe to swing. "THIS CASTLE WON'T RUN WITHOUT HIM!"
His shoulders dropped, and his axe descended. My heart nearly burst from my chest, as the blade cut the air in one swift motion, but then it stopped. At inches from the man's neck, the weapon hung still. Spitelout was looking down the handle of the weapon furiously, but slowly turned to me. "Why do I need him? What good is a one-handed, one-armed moron?"
"He's the only blacksmith we have here." I blurted out frantically. "If you ever need new weapons or amour, you'll have to send a raven back to the Iron Islands to get them to bring them here. That is, unless you spare his life. He is a bit lacking in the brain department at times, but he is loyal and a hard-worker. He will be very useful to you." Spitelout just stood there in silence, and it was killing me. If he dies now, it's my fault. I had a chance ot save him. Please. Please listen to me.
"You can't seriously be considering this," Mildew sneered, "You must kill him."
Spitelout immediately withdrew his axe, instead turning and pointing it at Mildew as he advanced towards the maester. "How many more times will it take, until you get it into your thick skull? I am in charge here, not you. Do not ever order me again. The next time will be your last."
"But, my Lord…" Mildew blabbered.
"…NO BUTS! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU! THE BOY IS RIGHT. YOU ARE A FOOL!" Spitelout shook his head disapprovingly at Mildew, then turned back to Gobber. "Release the smith. He will still be useful." Gobber gave me a relieved nod of the head, as the men slowly let go of him, and I let out the biggest breath I'd ever held in. Spitelout turned once more back to Mildew, and pointed his finger at him, "Prove yourself useful, or the next one on the chopping block… IS YOU!" With that, Spitelout stormed off from the courtyard, followed by most of the Jorgenson men.
Gobber grinned at me, and I had a second of bliss knowing he hadn't joined Alvin. That moment soon faded, and with the adrenaline and fear no longer pumping through my veins, only the pain remained. I offered the smith one last smile, before I fell forward, my shattered knee too weak to hold my weight any longer. A few people came running over, catching me before I hit the ground. Gobber, although still beaten and bloody, somehow managed to look optimistic, and pulled me into a tight hug. "Yer never cease to amaze me, lad," he chuckled, "Never."