The day turned into night, Camicazi only knew this because it got a little darker inside her cell and the guards outside it switched. She fought against herself as she had all day. She was not afraid of anything, she would not be scared, and she would not feel sad and cry. But that one word... Exile. That word was enough to make a grown man plead for any other fate. Exile was perhaps the worst fate that anyone could be given. A grown Viking was likely to die if he was exiled from his tribe, the archipelago was treacherous and a lone Viking stood little chance of survival. Let alone a thirteen year old girl. She'd likely either die within a month or be captured and made a slave, and the latter was the worse of the two options. If she'd had Sparky, she might not have minded, she could have survived if she had him. But she would not. He would surely be killed, and she would die out there in exile. Maybe she'd get to see him soon then, in Valhalla.
She bit back tears again. She hated crying, it made her remember that she was a child, a helpless child. And Camicazi hated feeling helpless. She would not cry. She would not beg Hiccup to change his mind. She'd just let it happen. The bitter fact was exile might give her a chance to delay her inevitable death for a short while. When she gave no signal that Hiccup was dead, her father would know she had failed and attack anyway. Someone would then come here to the cells and find her, and she'd be killed for her failure. She found herself hoping she'd be exiled sooner rather than later. She would not die by her father's hand. If by some miracle she survived exile, she'd return and kill her father one day. But first she had to live.
She felt scared as the dark seeped into her cell, she was not afraid of the dark, but she knew what dawn would bring. If the dark was here, the light would be here soon too. And when the light came, she'd be exiled. She hated herself all the more for her fear, for her childish hope of a saviour. She hated herself most though, for daring in those darkened hours before the dawn, to dream that things were different. That she had a family who loved her; she pictured her father as Hiccup, for he was the only man who had showed her what a father's love looked like. She saw herself training and fighting with Finn and the others, laughing with Buffnut, another female, she saw herself riding Sparky over the island, laughing as smiling as Toothless flew beside her. She let these foolish dreams comfort her through the dark, if the Gods had only been kinder, maybe it would all have been real, but with her own family, her real family and her true tribe. If only. In another time, maybe she'd have had a chance, a chance to really live and love.