Wind rushed past them, a flying torrent of heat and smoke and terror. Scales rose up before them. Gravity pulled itself hard as Hiccup clung to Toothless' frame, zipping to and fro to avoid the exploding corpse beneath him. Their talfin- gone. Burnt to a crisp.
The flames rose higher, but look- Were almost out! Hiccup pushed Toothless forward, heart thumping wildly, body pressed down into his saddle. Up up up!
Hiccup barely had time to register the bludgeon tail that rose out of the smog, towering above them.
"Oh, no."
Impact.
There was a blinding, searing pain through his skull as the bulbs connected with Hiccup's face, sending him flying off Toothless. The world spun and tilted, flames rising higher and higher, Toothless stretching toward him-
Spots entered his vision. He lost all sense of direction. His head whirled.
Everything went black.
—
"Hiccup! Hiccup!" Stoick whirled about, calling his son's name through the thick cloud of smoke and ash. He can't be dead.
But how could he not be? The image was emblazoned in Stoick's mind- a small, black, lithe figure diving straight down, swallowed whole by the massive, flaming Queen beast that crashed mere moments behind them, in a glorious ball of flame.
There was no way.
"Hiccup!"
Stoick paused, pressing his hands to his temples. His helmet felt far too tight; the ground seemed to spin beneath his feet. This can't be happening.
But he could smell the smoke, feel the way it burnt his lungs. He could feel the ash and gravel crunching beneath his feet. He could feel the scrapes and bruises from being tossed to and fro by that great beast. This was very much real.
A glint of metal caught his eye- that was no sword. It was- Stoick rushed forward, heart skipping a beat-
It was a bent piece of wire.
His rushed footsteps made heavy impacts on the crushed rock beneath his feet. Another piece. Then a scrap of leather. Then-
A tail. Black as night, long and thin and graceful, disappearing into the fog. Stoick gasped, a million thoughts racing through his mind, a cacophony of hopeful and terrified and angry. He stumbled to it, watching the shaft lengthen and widen into a dragon's body- hind legs came into sight, dorsal fins, massive, pitch-black wings-
This was the dragon. This had been his son's dragon. The idea felt too foreign for Stoick.
Vibrant green eyes met his. Stoick stumbled back- Great Hel's beast. It's chest hadn't even been moving! What- the dragon crooned softly, almost wincing in pain as it looked forlornly towards its curled spine. Once again Stoick's breath caught in his lungs. A charred, frayed, empty saddle, the empty space above it only confirming his fears.
Hiccup was gone.
Stock glanced back at the dragon, shocked to see real grief in its eyes. Dragons don't feel! But this one did, quite clearly. It thumped its feline head against the ground, cooing softly. Mourning.
The world spun again; gravity seemed to double. Stoick's knees suddenly caved beneath him, armor clanking as the heavyset man collapsed to the ground. The throbbing in his head increased, but all of that was not enough to block out the heavy weight of guilt and dread. His stomach sunk through the floor. The crowd gathering around him meant nothing; the world had tunneled in to him and this dragon.
"I…" Stoick heaved back a sob as reality crashed down on him. "I did this."
I should've listened to him. I shouldn't have pushed him away. I shouldn't have disowned him, for the love of Odin. If I had just let Hiccup be, none of this would've happened.
The bright, inquisitive son of his, smart and loyal and sarcastic and strong and oh so special. Stoick had just begun to see it- 'I'm proud to call you my son.'
I was blind. I was foolish. I was cold. And now… Stoick bowed his head. Now it's too late to fix it.
The dragon warbled again, loud and long, bringing Stoick's eyes back up to its head. A shiver ran down the morose Viking chief's spine. He'd never seen a dragon like this before. Much less been this close to one. Somehow he didn't feel any sense of fear, or even awe. Just emptiness.
The dragon crooned- and out stretches its massive wings, revealing a pair of forelegs wrapped around-
"Hiccup!" Stoick shouted, scooping the limp form into his arms, ignoring the way his hand brushed against the dragon's rough scales. His son's head lolled limply to one side, and Stoick clutched him tighter. Burns and cuts covered his body, smoke-stained clothes clinging to his thin frame. His legs hung limply from Stoick's arms, arms laying akimbo to the sides. Stoick's eyes, however, were fixed on his son's chest. Moments passed- Wait. Did he… Stoick threw down his helmet, pressing his ear desperately against his son's thin chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Erratic and thready but there. His heart was beating. Stoick felt faint with the sudden surge of hope and relief in his chest. The dark world he was in suddenly brightened- he had a chance to redeem himself! "You did it!" Stoick exclaimed, hardly daring to believe he was speaking to a dragon. "You-" His voice cracked into something more heartfelt as tears burned at his wrinkled eyes. "You brought him back alive." Stoick gasped, blinking fast. He would not cry. He was vaguely aware of the crowd that had formed behind him, cheering and letting out surprising exclamations. One voice in particular stood out- and it wasn't one of joy or jubilation.
Gobber's voice, close on the chief's left side. "Stoick…"
The warning that tone held. The sorrow. Stoick froze, hardly daring to look where the man's hook was pointing. But he did, fully
prepared for some sort of injury.
But nothing could've prepared him for this.
Hiccup's face, the first thing he should've checked, marred almost beyond recognition. Blood, both dried and fresh, combined with grime and dirt to where it was almost unrecognizable. Stoick choked on air, eyes glued to the horrible… thing before his very eyes.
No. Not Hiccup.
Gobber's gentle prodding snapped Stoick out of his horrified stupor. "We need a medic! Now!"
Moments passed as the crowd shifted and parted. A young woman rushed to the front- Revna. Stoick's numb brain supplied. The healer in training. "I don't know as much as Gothi, but-"
Stoick firmly cut off her strong, rasping tone. "Do what you can." Her hazel eyes lit on Hiccup's face for a moment, widening almost imperceptibly, before she rushed off to gather a team. Stoick's dread deepened. That girl, though young, had seen amputations, labor, arrow wounds, infected animal gashes- everything. If she was shaken by this…
A strange choking sound came from the prone form beneath him. Stoick's veins turned to ice, yet he gently brushed his son's wispy bangs away from the wreckage that was his face. A whimper was all he received in response.
Oh, Hiccup. Why didn't I listen to you? Stoick's gaze turned to the healer's apprentice, shouting orders to a group of burly Vikings, one of whom was Spitelout. "You three go search the shoreline for any surviving supplies from the boats, and the rest of you-"
The boats. His stomach churned. We have no way back. We have no supplies.
"Gobber!" The two-limbed Viking appeared almost instantly. "Get one of the others to help you watch Hiccup. I have to round up my men."
"But, chief-"
"Do as I said." His frosty tone held no room for argument. Gobber watched helplessly as the chief stomped away, calling what was available of his council. "We need the scrap collected from those boats!"
"That'll take too long." Gobber whirled to see Astrid approaching from the direction of the search party. Her fingers were wrapped around a piece of curved wood- her axe handle, missing its head. She fidgeted with it, voice coming out unusually soft. "I sent the others to help look for supplies. Can… can I…?"
"Come 'ere, lass." Gobber motioned with his hook toward the girl, letting her sit opposite him with Hiccup laying between them. "Ye' got a tough stomach, yea?"
Astrid nodded shakily, eyes darting from Gobber to Hiccup's marred face. "I- yes. I can handle it."
"Good." Gobber wiped his one remaining hand on his trousers, chewing on his stone tooth. "Go get s'me drinkin' water from one of ye fellow Vikings. We're gonna hafta clean these gashes."'
Astrid gulped, eyes wide. Glanced back and forth a few more times. "O-OK. I'll be right back."
She ran off toward Snotlout, who was chasing after his father. He had a drinking horn- she hadn't thought of it. Her legs pounded against the uneven ground, yet that image wouldn't leave her mind.
Hiccup's face. There was one part of the gruesome scene that scared her most of all.
She couldn't even see his eyes.
—-
Lowkey am only posting this so I have to finish it. Upload two of four today.
