Season One, Episode 4: This is (Not) my home: PT 2
In the half-hour since Hiccup had watched Fishlegs be taken, not a lot had happened unless you counted "getting out of a barrel" as a riveting event. For now, the young future chief of Berk paced pack and forth in that selfsame alleyway, stopping ever so often to throw up his arms or make a deliberate "hmm."
"Oh, the gods hate me," he grumbled at long last, finding himself no closer to solving the dilemma before him than he had been a half-hour ago. Or one month ago. Hel, maybe this had been going on for years! It was all the same problem when he really thought about it. He was a weak Viking in a position where everyone expected him to be anything but. He wasn't reliable. His ideas never worked out the way they should.
He was useless.
Maybe if he could just stop feeling so guilty over Fishlegs then things would be better. He hadn't exactly been close to the other boy, but then again Fishlegs at least had never outright bullied him as the others had. He didn't deserve to be bullied in Hiccup's stead. If only Hiccup was stronger, or more respected, or more anything then he wouldn't have to hide from Dagur in his own home.
But here he was, and there Dagur was, and Hiccup was still useless. He leaned against the wall of the alleyway, scratching at an itch in his hair. His stomach was just an icy lump, sticking its fingers into his chest. Because his stomach had fingers now, obviously.
This whole idea was a bad idea from the start, he thought bitterly. Now I've gotta go back to the drawing board.
He should probably find Azula and tell her what went down. It wasn't like he had anyone else to talk to right now.
Sighing, he straightened himself up and began to trudge back home, furtively sending glances from side to side to avoid passing Berserkers. It was probably just his imagination, but the houses on either side of the street seemed to loom in more than they ever had before. The eyes of the passing Vikings seemed more judgemental. Even the rare sun seemed cold on his skin, a pale hazy disk that left no real warmth.
Fishlegs yelling in his ears was also probably his imagination.
A princess accepts difficulty with grace.
"And you've had this curse all your life?"
Azula's brows furrowed involuntarily at the word 'curse', and her fingernails scratched thin little lines beneath the table in front of her as she considered how to best answer Oswald. Well, obviously the best answer would be to set him on fire, but she was all too aware of the thin ice she stood on amongst these savages. No doubt they would take the first opportunity they could to be rid of her. So she merely recomposed her expression and took a calming breath.
"The gift of firebending manifests in the first few years of life," she said, voice as precise as she could make it. "I of course made my latent abilities known earlier than most. I am regarded as quite the prodigy amongst the Fire Nation." Azula decided they didn't need to know that she hadn't yet earned her title of Master Firebender, a fact that irritated her the more she considered it.
Oswald took a moment to answer, considering her response. He may have gotten over his initial fright disappointingly quickly, but she could tell he was still wary of her. Afraid. His mannerisms, his choice of words, all gave that away. But what was the point of this discussion? Surely she wasn't so dense as to believe they really were just trying to find out more about her homeland(she hadn't given too much away, just in case. She wouldn't compromise her country's defenses). But where was this conversation going?
"And your eyes," Oswald said finally, tapping his chin. "They were always this color, were they?"
"I don't know," she replied quickly, and she couldn't keep all the snippiness from her voice. "I imagine I may have been born with some other shade, but I'm unfortunately unable to flawlessly recall my infancy for you. Do you have any other questions? The flavor of my mother's breastmilk, perhaps?"
Oswald leaned back, his bushy eyebrows rising so high they might have fallen off his head. Stoick, however, began to chuckle from where he stood behind Oswald. That was probably a good thing.
"I think she's had enough, Oswald," he said, lumbering forward. "Children don't like to be cooped inside all day."
Azula stiffened, not liking being lumped in with common children but she would take the excuse if it worked for her. She wasn't about to let her pride obstruct her. She wasn't Zuzu.
"Besides, I think you've seen what you need," Stoick continued, now standing alongside Oswald as he spoke to the other man. "No doubt we have business to discuss, eh Oswald? Child, you can run along now. I wouldn't want to keep you from your lessons."
The way he spoke was patronizing, but Azula would accept it for now. She stood up silently, excusing herself with a curt bow(wait, they didn't do that here. What did they do?) and turned on her heel out of the Great Hall. As she left, she could hear Oswald speak behind her.
"She's taking lessons?"
For a moment, she considered staying and eavesdropping. If the two chiefs were discussing her, then she would want to know what was being discussed. Azula refused to be a passive participant in her own life. She would have control, even when everything else was ripped away from her. But Stoick was still eyeing her, so the opportunity simply wasn't present. Instead, she turned hazel eyes to the sky. By the position of the sun, she estimated she'd wasted nearly an hour in this pointless interrogation.
That put her behind schedule, and she hated being late.
Hiccup had waited on the hill in front of his house for some time before Azula found him. He didn't want to say he was waiting for her to show up, exactly, as Azula was sort of a pain to deal with, but she was involved in this whole debacle and probably deserved to know what was going on. And he had to admit she was smart, and he needed some sort of second opinion because everything had gone terribly wrong so far today.
So when he finally saw her trudging up the hill, he stood up off his front stairs and went to greet her, shrugging sheepishly.
"So what was that all about? With my dad?" he asked. Probably best to ease into what a disaster the whole thing with Dagur had been.
But Azula looked up at him with such a sharp expression that he nearly faltered. "Nothing," she said icily, pushing past him and plopping herself down on the stair he'd just vacated. "What about you? Did you isolate our target?"
Hiccup's shoulder's slumped.
"Y-yeah..." he said, rubbing the back of his head. "You could say that."
Azula raised an eyebrow, some of the ice falling away from her expression and being replaced with curiosity.
"Oh gods, it was a disaster," Hiccup groaned, gripping the sides of his head and beginning to pace wildly. "Right after you left, I ran straight into Dagur. Only he wasn't alone. Oh no. He had the two biggest, beefiest Vikings ever to be dropped by their mothers in the entire archipelago as his bodyguards! And did he want to talk things out? Noooo. Dagur sicced his guards on me, and I ran away through the village..."
He paused his rambling to see if Azula was paying attention, and found her staring very intently at him. However, as soon as he looked she abruptly glanced down to her nails, picking beneath her thumb. Wierd.
"Go on?" she said.
Hiccup continued, taking a deep breath. "I managed to outrun them, but just when I thought I'd escaped, the worst part happened. Dagur went and kidnapped Fishlegs just to torment me. He's threatening Fishlegs just because he couldn't catch me, and–and how am I supposed to deal with all this? I mean look at these arms!" His shoulders slumped further, and he sat himself down on the grass, finding a small leafhopper very interesting. Saying it all out loud made him feel even more like a failure.
"If he's going to play that dirty I can't see how I'll ever be rid of him," he mumbled.
"I have a question," Azula interjected.
"Yes?"
"I don't understand something, and I'm hoping you can enlighten me. What part of that story you just told me was the disaster?" Azula looked from her nails, fixing him with a gaze that looked for all the world like she was actually curious.
Hiccup blinked. Was she playing with him? Getting at something else? He didn't believe she just didn't understand. She was too sharp for that.
"E-excuse me?" he asked, still blinking rapidly.
"From what I understand, you were ambushed by your enemy in an inopportune situation, bereft of allies and without adequate time to come up with a counter-strategy. You attempted to stall for time, but when faced with overwhelming odds you took advantage of your superior speed to relocate to a position where you held the advantage. Unable to counter your defense, your opponent was forced to resort to hostage tactics, overstepping the bounds of this game and placing himself in a very risky situation. But all that's beside the point. What was the disaster?"
"I–uh–Fishlegs–" Hiccup stammered, mind racing as he processed through Azula's words. "W–well none of that felt all that great at the time." The last words came out in a sheepish mumble.
"Right," Azula said curtly, standing up from the stair and peering down at him, hands on her hips. "I'm about to tell you something important, so pay close attention."
She marched over to where he sat. "My father was the supreme leader of the greatest country on the planet, and he told me that one of the most important tools in a leader's arsenal is how they choose to tell their story. A leader never fails. Even their shortcomings are merely setbacks in the path of greater success. In short, you need to learn to turn even your failures into opportunities for glory. This story isn't finished yet, you see, and we will control the ending."
Hiccup couldn't help it. He grinned, a real smile crossing his features.
"I guess I–I never thought about it that way before."
"Of course you didn't," Azula smirked, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "That's what I'm here for. It's all part of that perfection I promised."
Her mood seemed to have improved. Hiccup stood up off the grass, brushing his pant legs off. He could feel that fire of determination coming back, that optimism that never seemed to die. It was a little strange that Azula was motivating him, but there was a certain sense to it; he couldn't think of anyone better at starting fires.
"Now we should be able to simply reveal Dagur's misdeeds to the world," Azula continued. "Surely kidnapping a child is beyond the rules of hospitality even for a place like this."
"You've still got a lot to learn bout life here," Hiccup shrugged, frowning as he thought. "As long as Dagur didn't try to sail away then it's all just fun and games, as far as anyone else is concerned. And who would listen to me?"
"But you're–and I'm–" Azula sputtered, lips coming together in a thin line. "Alright, fair point. Ash, everything is so much harder without proper royal authority."
Hiccup nodded, though he didn't really understand what she was talking about. He had gathered from her many repetitions of the fact that she was a princess of some faraway country, and he believed it. But what did that mean? He assumed she had an extra-large island or something.
"It's alright," Hiccup continued. He sucked in a stuttering breath. "I'll just–I suppose I'll have to confront Dagur myself. I should have just done that from the beginning. This is my home." He turned and looked down the hill towards the docks, and the crowding press of Berserker ships in all their intimidating glory.
"I just hope Fishlegs is alright."
Dagur's ship was not a quiet place.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Fishlegs' scream finally ran down, his facing turning blue as he began to run out of air. He sucked in a deep breath, rocking back and forth in the chair he was tied to.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Fishlegs' scream finally ran down, his facing turning blue as he began to run out of air. He sucked in a deep breath, rocking back and forth in the chair he was tied to.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Fishlegs' scream finally ran down, his facing turning blue as he began to run out of air. He sucked in a deep breath, rocking back and forth in the chair he was tied to.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA–"
His scream was cut short as Dagur clapped a hand over his mouth. The Berserker heir's eyes were wide and red-rimmed, looking extremely deranged. Go figure. "Can you PLEASE be quiet for ONE MINUTE?" Dagur growled, slowly removing his hand from Fishleg's mouth. "Odin's beard, I can't even hear myself think! I haven't even done anything to you–"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA–"
"SHUT UP!" This time, Dagur ripped free a piece of a nearby burlap sack and stuffed it in Fishlegs' mouth. Grain began to spill free into the hold of the boat, but at least there was some quiet. "This boat is not exactly SOUNDPROOF! If you keep yelling like that, SOMEONE WILL HEAR YOU!"
"Ey boss, I think that's the point!" Mugg said from behind him.
"Yes, thank you Mugg," Dagur said, bringing up both hands to rub his temples. "Calm down, calm down Dagur, don't go full berserker yet you're saving it for later. Calm down," he whispered to himself in a high pitch. "Okay! Now that we're all comfortable I think we just have to settle down and wait for Hiccup to show up."
"But what if he don't?" Mugg added.
"Wha–what if he don't what?" Dagur replied, turning on his heel to glower at the larger man with all the venom he possessed.
"What if Hiccup doesn't show up?" Mugg continued, showing a complete lack of self-preservation. "I think we scared him too–"
"WELL THERE'S OUR PROBLEM!" Dagur interjected, fanning his hands in front of him. "You don't think, Mugg, that's what I DO. I THINK. I DO THE THINKING."
There was a sudden creaking of stairs, and Dagur turned away from admonishing Mugg to see Ugg descend the stairs from abovedeck into the darkness of the hold. Dagur let out a sigh. "Alright, Ugg! Just the man I was waiting for! Quick, give me your report!"
Ugg froze mid-step. "R–report?"
Dagur grimaced. "Yeeesss? THat's why you were walking around Berk instead of down here in this STUPID SHIP with me? You were supposed to be keeping an eye out for Hiccup and telling me what he was doing! Remember?" He drew out the word 'remember,' waving his hands in circular patterns as he leaned towards Ugg.
"Oh, oh yes, that's what I was doing," Ugg said, brightening up.
"Good! Then give me your report."
Ugg turned away, hiding his front from Dagur. "Um, hold one second." Dagur could hear the sound of scribbling. What was he doing? Was he drawing a map?
In a second, Ugg turned back, holding out a scrap of parchment. Dagur yanked it from his hands and looked over it.
Ugg's Report
By Ugg.
Ugg was walking don the hill in Berk.
He saw a neet weelbarrow.
He did not see Hiccup.
The End.
"It's not very good," Ugg said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with a meaty hand.
Dagur stared at the parchment. Then he stared at Ugg. Then back to the parchment. Then back to Ugg.
"WHAT IS THIS?" he yelled at last, thrusting the parchment in Ugg's face. "YOU MISSPELLED WHEELBARROW! And furthermore THIS WASN'T THE REPORT I WANTED!"
He chucked the parchment at the larger man, and stormed from the hold onto the deck. Sunlight and sea air blasted his face, and he took several calming breaths until the blood drained from his face. Sometimes the corners of his vision would get all red and he'd just start hitting something, but he didn't want to do that yet. It always left him so tired and he didn't want to be pooped out when Hiccup worked up the nerve to get over here.
And Dagur was confident that Hiccup would show.
A little violence always made him feel better.
Stoick turned back from the large double-door of the Great Hall, making certain that Azula has walked out of earshot before turning back to Oswald. The other chief had slumped down, resting his white-bearded head in his hands and his elbows on the table. Stoick sighed, closing the door behind him as he strode back and sat down opposite Oswald, in the seat Azula had occupied a short while before.
"I'm sorry," he began, crossing his arms in front of him. "I didn't mean to get your hopes up. But something about the lass reminded me of Dagur, and her hair..."
"It's not your fault," Oswald said, looking up. "She's about the right age, and her hair is the exact shade as my wife's. But those eyes, and that face. No."
Stoick said nothing, shifting uncomfortably at the naked grief Oswald let slip with that last word. He'd known it was a long shot when he'd called Oswald over here, but there had been a chance. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sure your real daughter is still out there somewhere."
Oswald didn't reply for a long moment, burying his head in his hands. Finally, he let loose a long sigh, and looked up. "I don't envy you taking care of the wee devil. She's clearly under some sorta spell, you know that don't you? Going on about countries that don't exist, to say nothing of that ability she has. Not natural." A ghost of a grin crossed his face, but Stoick had mediated enough arguments to recognize a mask when he saw one.
"Aye, it's going to be an adventure," Stoick nodded, deciding to let the man hide his feelings if he wanted to. He paused, then spoke his next words slowly. "Perhaps you could still take her off my hands. There's no place for her on the island, and I'm worried about Hiccup's safety with her in the house."
Oswald jerked his head up, opened his mouth–but then closed back again, a considering look coming into his eye. "The wife has been wanting some help around the house...having another girl around might help take her mind off things."
Stoick chuckled. "Let's face it, I am not the first person you think of when it comes to raising a young girl. At least you have a wife."
"Aye, aye," Oswald nodded. "But I don't know, Stoick. The girl's clearly some sort of freak."
That comment made the hair bristle on Stoick's arms. Maybe it was being Hiccup's father, but the word "freak" aroused irrational parental instincts that Azula absolutely didn't deserve. He was about to say something in her defense, but just as he was about to speak, Oswald continued.
"Alright, so how about this," he said, pushing his seat back. "I'll get her and Dagur to play together. If they get along, I'll consider it."
"That's all I ask for," Stoick replied, settling down in his seat. It was a fair enough plan, from where he sat. Dagur and Azula were similar enough that they might just get along fine, and Oswald's wife would no doubt be far more equipped for dealing with her than he was. Honestly, having Oswald even consider taking her off his hands was better than he'd hoped for originally.
What could possibly go wrong?
"There's so many ways this could go wrong," Hiccup remarked to himself, feeling the air take a noticeable chill as he crept towards the docks, trying his best to stay out of sight. He knew that Dagur wasn't likely to be all the way out here, but better safe than sorry, right? Maybe if he was stealthy enough, he could avoid Dagur entirely and all this would be completely unnecessary. And maybe Snotlout would grow wings and fly, you never knew.
"Obviously," Azula whispered to his left, sending a furtive glance around the docks. "Alright, this is where we split up. Just keep Dagur occupied, even you should be able to do that."
"Yeah yeah," Hiccup mumbled. He'd have felt better if he'd actually completed the Dagur-Buster 12–000(he had some really good ideas) but he'd been stuck for time. All he had up his sleeves right now were his noodly arms and a lotta determination.
"Listen," he said quickly to Azula, stopping her as she began to sneak away. "Let's not set anyone on fire, alright? Dagur's bad, but I think the consequences of that would be worse."
Azula rolled her eyes in what he hoped was a "I was obviously not going to do that" kind of way and dashed off, losing herself amongst the crowd at the dock. And then Hiccup was left alone. Oh good. The more he thought about this whole thing, the worse it felt.
Swallowing the lump in his gut, he weaved between Vikings, the mix of Berserkers and Hooligans doing an alright job of keeping him hidden for now. Dagur's ship was impossible to miss, slightly larger than the other Berserker boats and emblazoned with runic writing denoting its name, The Pride of Dagur. The word "Dagur" in the name looked like it had been scribbled on top of some other word below it, but the whole thing was overall EXTREMELY subtle. As subtle as a gronkle in a pottery shop, that is.
Hiccup dived behind some crates, peeking over the top to get a look at the ship. He couldn't see Fishlegs or Dagur's bodyguards amongst the halyards or pulleys on the deck, but what he could see was Dagur standing atop the gangplank, arms folded.
Oh good, Hiccup thought to himself. Good to know that even though he's a psychotic maniac, at least he's patient.
Internally groaning, he stepped out from behind his crates and into the open, spreading his arms out in case Dagur was feeling really, really unobservant today. But he needn't have bothered because the very second Hiccup made himself visible, Dagur leaped to attention. A smirk spread across the Berseker's face.
"Hey, Dagur. We meet again," Hiccup said, internally writing his own eulogy.
"Well well well, if it isn't Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," Dagur said back, a wide smile splitting his face. "You know, I'm only a little surprised you actually showed up. I missed our quality time."
Hiccup swallowed, a wave of ice constricting his chest. His eyes danced down to Dagur's hands, and he quietly praised Thor that at least Dagur didn't seem to have any knives on him. That was a trauma that didn't need repeating. Using that thought as courage, Hiccup steeled himself.
"I just thought I'd stop avoiding you in my own village," Hiccup said, in a tone that even he was surprised at how even and controlled it was.
Alright, let's go.
Just take a step.
Move your foot.
Come ON, Hiccup!
He sucked in a deep breath, calming nerves that were sending panic signals all throughout his body. Then, with an effort that used up his allotment of willpower for the month, he lifted his foot and took a step forward. Then another. And then after that he had momentum, and the next steps came easier until he was walking up the gangplank towards Dagur, a mere foot in front of the other boy.
"Let's just get this over with."
Azula knew her part of the plan. Just sneak on to Dagur's ship while Hiccup was acting as a distraction, rescue the boy Fishlegs (Agni, the names on this island were like terrible jokes), and remove the hostage from the equation. It was a simple plan, not one that she personally would have come up with, but one that she admitted could work even if it stunk of Hiccuppy weakness.
But knowing that she was supposed to sneak onto the boat didn't necessarily make it easier.
That task began, as it always did, by gathering information. In this case that was simple enough. A glance at the dock told her what she needed to know about the layout of the boat, and her experience building a similar boat, as limited as it had been, gave her confidence that she knew what to expect once she was inside. She was quick to notice that these large bodyguards Hiccup had mentioned weren't present, but she'd just have to deal with them as the situation unfolded.
Then it was a matter of letting her mind tick into active mode, calculating the best way to gain access with the victory conditions established.
First, she boarded the vessel behind Dagur's, weaving between two Berserkers unpacking a massive siege weapon, keeping her head low to avoid drawing attention. Were those ballistae dragon defenses? That thought was filed away for later, for now, she needed all the efficiency she could get. Next, she ascended the railing, waiting for the moment when the swell of the waves pushed this boat closest to Dagur's. It was a simple matter of predicting the push and pull–
There.
With a combination of precise timing and practiced skill, she leaped across to Dagur's boat. For an instant she was soaring through the air like she had when Ty Lee was teaching her to do cartwheels, then she was clinging to one of the many spike-like projections near the rudder that the Berserkers loved to decorate their ships with. These provided convenient hand-and-footholds for her as she climbed. In mere seconds, her hand gripped over the rim of the ship. Azula had no time to check if Dagur was actually distracted or not, as she couldn't see over the side, but she'd just have to assume Hiccup had done his job.
With a flex that used almost all the muscles in her upper body, Azula slipped over the railing and landed softly. Hiccup had done his job. She could see him facing off against a slightly taller, predatory-looking Viking in a helmet whom she assumed to be Dagur. Dagur had his back to her, intently staring down Hiccup. Her distraction looked afraid, but he had that stubborn expression on his face which told her he was about to be very irritating to someone.
Wait.
Dagur had his back turned, did he?
Hiccup was shaking.
He'd kind of expected it to happen if he was being honest. He couldn't convince himself he wasn't scared of Dagur when the other boy's scowling, scarred face was mere feet in front of him. But he had to focus because he could see Azula pull herself over the railing behind Dagur. He met her eyes for a brief instant before his gaze turned back to Dagur's. He didn't want to draw attention to her.
"Get what over with?" Dagur grinned, leaning forward and placing a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. He was close enough that Hiccup could smell Dagur's breath–And what an experience that was. "Come on, Hiccup, you just got here."
Hiccup could see Azula get to her feet behind Dagur. He was expecting her to sneak into the hold and hopefully free Fishlegs. Ugg and Mugg would probably be down there, but without Dagur to give them instructions Hiccup couldn't see Azula being worried about them. Hel, maybe they should be more worried about her. No, he expected she'd be able to pull her part of the plan off as long as he kept Dagur occupied.
He didn't expect Azula to launch herself across the deck into a flying leap. He didn't expect her to slam down onto Dagur's shoulders and wrap her legs around his neck. He didn't expect her to seize hold of the horns of Dagur's helmet and ride the youth like he was an angry yak.
"AAAAGGHHHhhhhh!" Dagur forced out a choked yell, and that's when Hiccup's brain finally caught up with his eyes. Dagur's face was going red, his arms pulling at Azula's ankles as he tried to dislodge her.
"Hiccup!" Azula commanded, her voice taught with concentration as Dagur came dangerously close to dislodging her. "DO SOMETHING!"
"R-right! Doing something!" Hiccup started, hunkering down abruptly. "Doing a thing!"
He just moved, flailing gangly limbs forward and crashing into Dagur, throwing his full weight against Dagur's midsection. Ordinarily, his pathetic fishbone weight would have been laughable, but Dagur was already teetering backward, struggling against Azula's full weight on his shoulders. And so the end result was that Dagur crashed down onto the deck in a pile of limbs and frenzied blows, writhing like a trapped eel.
"Stay still!" Azula hissed, and Hiccup could tell she was trying really hard not to let the flames beneath her skin out onto the deck. "Hiccup, hold him down!"
Hiccup wasn't even sure what he was doing, his mind going a mile a minute as he wrestled with Dagur on the deck. If he gets back up we are so dead, it told him. Better make sure that doesn't happen, it told him. Oh look, a rope, it told him. Wait, not a rope, he remembered from his lessons with Gobber. There were no "ropes" on ships. There were halyards and lanyards...and pulleys.
And then Hiccup had a brilliant, awesome, and AMAZING idea that almost made up for all the bad ideas he'd had before.
He quickly pulled away from Dagur, shutting out the increased frenzy of cries from both the Berzerker and Azula, and grabbed the rope. No, not a rope, as he'd suspected, it was a pulley, used for hoisting the sails. Except now it would lift Dagur, as Hiccup quickly fastened the rope around Dagur's kicking legs. His knot was sure and fast, almost as if he'd been practicing tying knots after a certain embarrassing incident involving a tree, a rope, and a Nadder.
Now just to find–the winch!
He made a dive for it, turning the winch just as Dagur finally pulled Azula free from around his neck. Azula scrambled back, getting into a fighting stance that Hiccup didn't know. But that wasn't even needed, as Dagur's legs were yanked up from beneath him, and the Berserker was hoisted into the air, hanging upside-down.
"There we go, held him down, compliments of Archimedes," Hiccup held his weight against the pulley, his arms and weight the only thing keeping Dagur from dropping back to the deck. "Or maybe I should say I held him up?"
He couldn't help but send Dagur a cheeky grin. The berserker flailed in response.
"HICCUP YOU LAMEBRAINED CLODFISH!" he yelled loud enough to turn his face red, though in his defense that might have been his position. "GET ME DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"
"Or what?" Azula interjected, brushing a loose strand of black hair out of her face. She was grinning a sharp-edged smile that perfectly exemplified how Hiccup felt right now.
"Or else I'LL TEAR YOUR FACES OFF AND FEED THEM TO YOUR PARENTS!" Dagur growled, trashing even more wildly and reaching towards Hiccup.
"Aww, so scary," Azula smirked. "Hiccup! I think he got some spit on me just now. Don't you think if he was further away that wouldn't happen?"
"Well we don't like spit," Hiccup said back, probably enjoying this a bit too much. He turned the winch a few more times, and Dagur rose higher off the deck in response.
"HICCUP I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T WINCH ME DOWN–"
"What did you say?" Hiccup held a hand up to his ear. "Too high, can't hear."
"He said 'don't winch me down'," Azula piped in.
"Oh well then I won't," Hiccup replied, winching Dagur higher.
At this point Ugg and Mugg finally had heard enough noise to realize something was up, and burst out from below deck. They weren't the only ones, Hiccup realized. On the adjacent boats, and even on the docks, Berserkers and Hooligans alike had started to notice the spectacle of Dagur wiggling on the end of a line at Hiccup's mercy. Hiccup had to admit it felt kinda...good.
Dagur, though, saw an opportunity.
"UGG! MUGG!" he yelled down, pointing down at his henchmen while he held his helmet on with one hand. "Quit standing around and GET ME DOWN!"
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Azula said, voice precisely loud enough to make Ugg and Mugg pay attention to her. "Hiccup has the fastest way of getting our dear Dagur down at the moment. We wouldn't want that, hmm?"
Hiccup started, realizing what Azula was implying. He hadn't considered dropping Dagur. Could he do that? What if they called his bluff? But Azula was sending him a pointed look, so he just shrugged. "My arms are getting a little tired..."
It wasn't even a lie.
Ugg and Mugg probably lacked the collective brainpower to even understand the threat, looking between Dagur and Hiccup in confusion. Fortunately, Dagur seemed to believe it, and his struggling suddenly cut off. He hung very still.
"Now, about...Fishlegs, was it?" Azula said, looking down at her fingernails.
"Oh yeah!" Hiccup looked up, squinting at Dagur. "We want him back!"
"Oh, uh, good idea," Dagur said, suddenly very meek and oh-so agreeable. "Ugg, why don't you go down below deck and fetch our good friend?"
Ugg blinked in confusion but did as he was told. In mere moments Fishlegs was brought up on the dock, which was a good thing because Hiccup's arms were really starting to burn. The portly boy was rubbing his arms where red lines cut across bare skin, and Hiccup realized he'd been tied up down there. But he didn't look any the worse for wear, looking around and then up at Dagur.
"H-Hiccup–"
Fishlegs began to speak, but Azula cut him off. "Alright, that was exhilarating."
"Yeah well we aren't done yet," Hiccup muttered.
"What's left to do?"
Hiccup felt his arms give their final pang of exhaustion.
"Now we run."
And he let Dagur go.
He was running before he even saw what happened to Dagur, though he looked back as he was heading down the gangplank to see the Berserker struggling in the arms of Mugg who'd snatched him out of the air. He yanked Azula's wrist with one hand and Fishlegs' with the other, and the three of them raced down the docks. They hadn't gone far when there was the pounding of boots on the dock behind them.
"HICCCCUUUUUPPPP!" Dagur's yell split the air, and Hiccup was motivated to run just that little bit faster.
"He's chasing us!" Fishlegs moaned. "Oh Thor he's chasing us. We're so dead. We're so dead!"
"Head for the center of town!" Azula instructed. She didn't even sound winded, she must have excellent breathing control. But Hiccup saw the plan. If there were enough people, then maybe they could escape in the crowd.
"Oh he's catching upppp!" Fishlegs continued to moan, looking over his shoulder. He was gasping, not exactly built for high-speed chases.
And then he saw a crowd of Vikings cross the road in front of him, and the three dived amongst them. Dagur followed on their heels, having left behind Ugg and Mugg in his furious pursuit. He was catching up, his thicker frame letting him push past the other Vikings faster than Hiccup could–
Then Azula turned on her heel and faced Dagur down.
"That's far enough," she hissed at the enraged Berserker, holding a hand wardingly out in front of her. "Look around you, Dagur. Everyone's watching, from the fishermen to the children–and oh, is that Chief Stoick over there?"
Hiccup jerked his attention to where Azula had gestured. Sure enough, there was Dad, flanked by Dagur's father, Chief Oswald. Oh good, now there were witnesses.
Dagur stomped right up to Azula's face, but she stared him down, unflinching. "Think for a moment. It's one thing to play around on the docks, but do you really think that you'll get away with attacking the Chief's only son in full view like this?"
The Berserker's shoulder's heaved, his breath coming out in great hot pants in his fury. His green eyes were locked on Hiccup's. For a moment, Hiccup thought that he'd just ignore Azula's reasoning and charge in anyway. But then his clenched fists relaxed ever so slightly, and his eyes shifted to Azula. Then he snarled.
And Hiccup's blood ran cold.
Azula was right, of course. Hiccup was the Chief's son, even if he was the shame of the village. He had a certain immunity in that respect. Dagur couldn't just attack him in broad daylight without reaping serious and long-term consequences, and even he knew that. But Azula, on the other hand, didn't have that. It couldn't be more obvious that she was an outsider. A nobody. Dagur could attack her with comparative impunity.
Then Dagur was moving and there was a glint of steel in his hand and Hiccup's mind moved into overdrive–
One thing he did notice though, was that Azula's mouth shifted into a definite smirk.
Dagur saw red.
He was humiliated.
He was furious.
And so he followed the roaring of his blood and swept a small knife into his right hand, and swung it right at that nobody's face. He was aware of the sudden rush of gasps from the crowds, aware of his father starting to push through the crowd to get to him, but all of that was distant. He just wanted to hurt the people in front of him.
So when her frail little hand tapped up against his wrist mid-swing, he barely noticed it until his wrist burned. Her fingers were impossibly hot, and he reflexively drew his hand back. The knife slipped from his fingers. What had she done?
He moved forward again, swinging a bare fist this time, but she danced away on her heels, first weaving out of one swing and then the next. And the whole time she was smiling, mocking the blood pounding in his head. He let out a feral cry and just launched himself at her, both hands outstretched towards her throat, already feeling her skin as she backpedaled too slow.
And then she pressed a splayed palm against his chest, and the red mist in his eyes was cleared away by agonizing pain. He'd moved back without thinking about it, hands clutching his chest, but in the space he'd given her Azula pivoted on one foot and slammed her heel up into his chin with jarring force.
He stumbled. Wasn't it daytime? Why were there stars out?
And Azula swung around and snapped her arm out into his gut, right below his ribcage. It hurt. It hurt far more than it had any right too, and he was aware the world was spinning and suddenly he was lying on his back, looking up up the sky as it swam in front of him. And then he knew he was hallucinating because the girl opened both palms, and orange flames danced at her fingertips.
What just happened?
"Oh Thor!" Hiccup clutched the sides of his head, looking down at the downed Berserker. "Is he dead?"
Dagur groaned. A Viking leaned down at his side, poking him, and he weakly tried to push them away before slumping back down. Not dead then.
"T-that was incredible!" Fishlegs exclaimed, looking at Azula with awe. Hiccup couldn't help but send her a grin of his own, which surprisingly she returned.
"I had no choice but to defend myself," Azula said 'regretfully', though her face was anything but. She winked. "I did promise you I'd take care of him though."
And Hiccup's grin grew into a full smile.
Stoick brought a hand to his forehead and tried to suppress a groan.
So much for getting along with Dagur.
Author's Note: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! What a crazy week!
I had a lot of fun writing this, to be honest. Dagur is a lot of fun, we'll probably see more of him later on.
This chapter was originally supoossed to go somewhere completely different, but Azula went and ruined everything by attacking Dagur from behind. Once I'd written that Dagur had his back to her, I knew I couldn't in any good conscience have her just walk past.