Well! It's been a very busy two weeks for me since I posted last. Not only did I get accepted to university to upgrade my degree in septembre, but I also got featured in the art features on the dA group httyd-fanarts! I received a nomination feature and an admin pick, which is rare and super awesome! The piece is called Smile As You Kill and I highly recommended that you read it; it has one of the highest review counts for a oneshot on this fandom so thank you to all that reviewed, favourited and nominated me!

We're winding up towards the end of the second arc! I hope you all enjoy this longer chapiter!

(Cookies to anyone that can pinpoint the KFP reference!)

HORIZONS

Arc 2: Verðandi and the End of All Things

Chapter IX

Having to basically raise himself during the majority of his childhood, Hiccup was used to running through the domestic tasks that were usually done by the wife in a typical Viking household. Laundry certainly wasn't one of his favourite chores; the constant, eternal scrubbing back and forth was enough to make his hands – and his eyes – bleed. But, when every single one of your garments (and there were a lot) were covered in dried blood, well, washing incessantly was your only option.

He'd manage to transport enough water into a shallow basin in the floor of the cavern, not wanting to contaminate the natural spring they were using as a source of drinking water. For two hours now, Hiccup had been scouring the living daylights out of the stains in the fabric of his clothes, rubbing them against a makeshift washboard; it was only a roughly square shaped piece of stone and it was doing its job more or less, but it didn't stop him from griping about it anyway.

The dragoness watched the human from afar, curious as to the boy's eccentric state of undress. It shocked her that humans seemed to have no outer defenses save the wool and metal they wore on their backs, and underneath it all was even more unnerving. The boy was nothing but pinkish skin that was obviously easily penetrable, the gash on his side holding all the proof that her observations required.

Toothless tipped his head and expressed that he had felt similarly, that is until he had learnt more about their species while he and his hatchling had first started their unlikely friendship. He reiterated that, although the human race seemed weak and defenceless, it is their minds that make them formidable and dangerous opponents.

Well, some of them anyway.

Hiccup sat back onto his haunches, attempting to get into a more comfortable position. A ridge in one of the rocks was digging into his backside but he stubbornly remained sitting on it, grudgingly averse to wasting any more of his precious energy by moving.

The dragoness raised an eyebrow in the Night Fury's direction, noting with amusement the look of defiant discomfort on the human's features. Toothless shrugged, another sign of his prolonged exposure to humans, and tried to reason with the female, assuring her that Hiccup wasn't always this ridiculous.

She schooled her face into an incredulous expression, but otherwise said nothing.

Pushing himself to his feet, Hiccup gathered the final piece of clothing that he had finished scrubbing and stretched it out against a rock to dry. He walked over towards the baby dragon and bent down to rub the drowsy tot, smiling lightly in endearment. It cooed contentedly and rolled over to expose its belly, and Hiccup happily scratched him with the pads of his fingers, being careful to avoid his healing scales.

The rate in which the dragon was recovering was miraculous, and Hiccup couldn't help but look back down at his own healing wound. It hadn't healed entirely, not yet anyway; there was still a garish looking scar running parallel along the outlines of his ribs and the skin was still mottled with scabs. But still…he had never seen something heal that fast in his entire life!

And, as it turned out, it wasn't just the slobber of a Night Fury; the dragoness groomed her baby with her tongue a few times a day, and already the little guy was a hundred times healthier than he had been when Hiccup had first woken up in their cave.

Hiccup stroked the tot's ears absently, staring off towards the two communicating dragons – if dragons were capable of healing grievous flesh wounds, what else were they capable of?

He glanced over towards Toothless, noting the restlessness in the way he kneaded his paws against the stone floor. The eternally earthbound dragon was yearning to be back in the skies, and his rider was no exception. He'd lost track of the time they had frittered resting up in the cave, although Hiccup couldn't claim that the time hadn't been needed. He was still feeling the residual effects of nearly bleeding out in every muscle in his tired body, and he certainly couldn't deny how awesome it was to be able to catnap whenever he pleased.

Nevertheless, no matter how enjoyable being lazy was – he was a teenaged boy after all – the permanency of it all was starting to rub him in the wrong direction. He'd been stuck in one place his entire life; he almost felt a little cheated since he had been more or less forced to embark on this unintended holiday.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying in vain to count the days since they had taken refuge in the heart of the mountain. He had lost track of time, as much as he loathed to admit it. He snatched his notebook from his pack and counted the scratches of charcoal he had marked on the very first page. It had been just over a fortnight before his run in with the giant tidal wave, and he marked the day he had missed down with his marker. But after that, he noted with some dismay, the daily tally was a mystery.

Toothless eventually took notice of his hatchling's stare and locked eyes, sensing the same bustle of emotions churning within them. Their need to be free was pressing, and eventually they would have to continue the journey they had set out to reach. For Hiccup, it was to find the end of the world. For Toothless, it was simply inner peace.

Hiccup flipped through his notebook to a sketch of his late mother. He had duplicated it numerous times from the portrait of her above the weapons rack, and each time he felt like he was getting closer and closer to the real thing. He had painted her eyes emerald with the juices of a crushed stinging nettle leaf, and tinted her cheeks with the nectar of a wild strawberry plant. He ran his thumb across the bridge of her nose, smoothing out the heavy stroke of charcoal to mirror the gentle expression in her eyes.

What he wouldn't give to see her again…

He breathed out slowly, balling his free hand into a fist. He'd never be accepted forever on the island of Berk, but in the eyes of his mother…he knew she would be proud of him. She'd believe in him, despite all of his flaws. He was a left handed, one legged freak; if anyone could willingly tolerate such an abomination, it was his mother.

He was trembling before he could realize it, fighting to supress a hundred and one inclement emotions that fought to tear him to the very core. He glared down at his sorry excuse for a leg with vexation and fought to keep his reactions at bay, hating the way his body was betraying his thoughts. He wondered if anyone back home even missed him for who he was; he figured they would only grieve because he was no longer available to answer their questions. He reckoned his father was more or less pleased with his son's disappearance – Hiccup had only ever been a pain for him anyway, and now he would have nothing to worry over when he returned to the house every night. It's not like he would miss his presence; even when they were both in the same room, it still felt like an empty house.

And Astrid. Gods…

Was it okay if he openly admitted to himself that he was madly in love with her? It wasn't like it truly mattered; he was never going to see her again, let alone hear her voice, or run his fingers through her golden hair. And her lips…by Thor, he had never felt anything so surreal in his life. She was like a Valkyrie, enrapturing him in her beauty every time he thought of her. She was everything he had ever dreamed about. But had she even loved him back? Had she already gotten over him and moved on, like he had urged her to do in his letter?

It hurt him to think about her being with another. He wondered who she would eventually end up married to, and what their children would look like. Over and over again, his mind drifted over to what their children would have looked like, even though he continued to chide himself over dreaming about the impossible. Would they have had blonde hair like hers, with freckles spattering their cheeks? Would they have had red hair like his, and beautiful blue eyes that sung of the depths of the sea?

He tossed his notebook off of his lap and leapt to his feet, straining his limbs against the onslaught of emotions that portended to tear him to pieces. He wanted to just get up and run away from his troubles, but he knew in his heart that the true nuisance at hand was his own self esteem warring against him. He could never be good enough, brave enough, smart enough…he'd never be normal enough. And wasn't that what he had always wanted? To be able to fit in, to be normal? He glared down at his prosthetic, overwhelmed with a sensation of loathing and dread.

His mother would understand.

Right?

He sighed, realizing how incredibly juvenile he was being. Even if there was an abyss at the end of the world, no mere man – let alone a boy – could pass into the realm of Asgard.

The real reason for his departure, although shrouded by forlorn hopes of seeing his long deceased mother, was to escape. Escape the ridicule that would return eventually, escape the bad memories of days long passed, when he was the butt end of every wounding joke. Maybe he was never meant to be with humans at all; maybe the Norns foretold that he was destined to live with dragons forever, and forsake every ounce of humanity that had ever rooted inside of him.

The tension in the cave was as thick as the fog of a spring morning, ominous and suffocating. The dragoness stiffened, sensing the exchange of emotions between the Night Fury and his hatchling. The disquiet they were both feeling was mutual; she was nomadic by nature, and eventually she needed to continue her journey to the lesser continent across the seas. She strode over and collected her young, grooming him and communicating her need for a new home. The baby cuddled to its mother instinctively, happy as long as he would never be abandoned again.

Hiccup strode over to the Night Fury's tack and held it silently, waiting as the dragon made its way over to his side. He didn't have to speak to get his needs across; they were both more than ready to move on with their adventure.

Hiccup stifled a yawn with his forearm and Toothless urged him to get some rest before they packed up and finally left the continent of Groenland behind them. Hiccup nodded, acquiescing easily to the dragon's request. The young rider pulled a woollen blanket from a few rocks away around his nearly naked body and settled against the ebony dragon's scales, willing himself to fall asleep. He did eventually, but his dreams were plagued with thoughts of darkness.

Hiccup awoke some time later, troubled but rested nonetheless. He stretched from his position on the floor, careful not to irritate the healing gash in his side. He pushed the blanket off of his torso and peered down at the layer of scabs, happy that he hadn't torn anything open.

He sat up and immediately started preparing for their departure, folding the sleeping blanket into the smallest bundle he could manage. Slowly, he made his rounds around the mountain cavern, collecting and packing all of his things that laid strewn out on the rocks by the pools.

He glanced over sidelong at the three dozing dragons, eyeing them closely. It was obvious that the darkest of them was feigning sleep, and Hiccup made a point of staring at him as if to prove that he wasn't fooled. Toothless grunted, caught in the act, and lifted one lazy eyelid, glaring silently.

Hiccup threw him an incredulous glance before continuing where he had left off, gathering his freshly washed clothes from their perches. He slowly started pulling the lighter layers of his clothes onto his body, enjoying the warmth of the fabric as it brushed against his skin. The wool rubbed uncomfortably on his scar though, and Hiccup ended up wrapping his torso with some of the linen bandages from his pack that he had been hoping to save. He didn't know why he felt he needed to conserve them, but he had a feeling that he'd need all that he could get in the end.

The remorseful feelings that had plagued him the night before had turned into a brooding sense of dread. He'd been feeling a buzz in the back of his mind since he had awoken, and the crowded sensation in his mind was worrying him more than he would have liked to admit. He strode over to bags attached to Toothless' saddle and rested his hand on the dragon's obsidian brow.

"Do you feel it?"

The look in the Night Fury's eyes spoke volumes, and he was forced to swallow uneasily as the realization set in. He thought back to the tidal wave, of the rasping laugh that had nearly sucked the breath from their lungs. The hum almost seemed like an echo or a reverberation of sorts, teeming like an agitated hornet against the back of his skull.

Hiccup picked up the largest component of the saddle and placed it on top of the dragon's back, his fingers working on autopilot as he tightened the straps and fasteners piece by piece. Toothless rolled onto his side when he was supposed to without making much of a fuss, too distracted by the drone in the back of his brain. Over and over again, the image of the leviathan that the dragoness had described reappeared, each time more frightening then the last. What if, by continuing on their quest, they flew right into the serpent's trap?

Not for the first time, Toothless wished that he could communicate with his hatchling the way the dragoness could communicate with her adopted young. The human understood very little of his language, not that there was much to learn in the first place. It was a dialect of mannerisms first and foremost; the noises they formed within their throats only connected their ideas like a branch between two trees.

Toothless stood up on all fours and waited as the last component, the saddle bags, were strapped to the leather above his ribs. Hiccup worked with an unnerving precision as Toothless watched him from the corner of his eye; they were both undoubtedly lost in their respective thoughts, but the expression of an old, weathered man on the young boy's face was disquieting and downright alarming.

Hiccup took one last glance around the cavern, scanning the place for anything he might have missed. The cave looked almost exactly how he left it, except for the two still slumbering dragons curled up near the source of the mountain's heat. He glanced quickly at Toothless before following the direction of the Night Fury's gaze; his draconic green eyes stared towards the white dragoness and her young, reflecting the sadness the dragon felt upon leaving his own kind again. Was he really cut out for this nomadic lifestyle?

Once again, Toothless was regrettably reminded of his age.

He sighed and hoped that, despite his untimely middle-aged body, he could still outfly a sea serpent some thousand furlongs in length. He snorted and shook his head; who was he kidding?

Hiccup started off towards the tunnels that lead to the outside, pulling on the final outer layers of his winter clothing. He waited at the edge of the cavern as Toothless trudged behind him, almost unwilling to leave without at least displaying some type of gratitude to the female that had allowed them to take refuge in her territory.

As he stepped towards her, the dragoness revealed one of her blue eyes, startling Toothless from his approach. She pulled herself to her feet in a movement that seemed to defy the very laws of gravity, raising herself to her full height. The white dragon towered over the Night Fury as she settled onto her hind paws, eyes trained towards him.

Hiccup watched as they exchanged words, or what he thought was the dragon equivalent of words, and wondered briefly as to what they were saying. Their body language spoke of a terse conversation subject, and Hiccup had a sneaking suspicion as to what they were talking about.

Toothless thanked her one last time and began his departure, walking over to his hatchling at the mouth of the cave. He turned around at the last moment before leaving entirely, locking his gaze with hers one last time. She lowered her stance and allowed her eyes to reflect the turmoil that she felt churning deep within her.

'He'll never stop hunting you.'

Toothless breathed in sharply, the words of the ancient language seeping deep into his skin. He dipped his head briefly, a final gesture of indebted thanks, and finally departed.

It wasn't long before the bite of winter began to sting their cheeks, and within minutes they were out in the harsh winds of the Groenland bluffs, no longer shielded from the outside world. Hiccup steeled himself as he leapt onto Toothless' back and fastened the mechanisms of his prosthetic to the saddle, already wishing he were still inside the cavern. He inwardly scolded himself and reminded himself about why he was out here in the first place.

He was on a quest.

A quest to find his mother, his independence, and himself.

Hiccup pulled his handmade sword from his pack and fastened it to the belt on his waist, patting it with a sense of determination welling in his heart. He'd find Jormundgadr too and kill him if he got the chance.

If only he knew.

Astrid pulled up on the handles of the leather saddle, narrowly dodging another droplet of hail the size of a war hammer. She wiped the frost from her goggles as she continued to keep her eyes trained above them, covering her dragon's weaknesses as they tried to make their way above the clouds.

The barrage was getting heavier and heavier the higher they flew, and it was getting harder for Astrid to see them fast enough in order to pull them out of harm's way. One hit from one of those hail balls and Astrid was sure that it would be then end of both of them.

She jerked to the left and the Nadder barrel rolled out of the way, only to have to double back the other way. The dragon kept them on a steady incline and she could almost feel the pressure of the storm clouds on her snout, but so long as they were beneath the fray they were still in danger.

Finally they burst through the barrier, fighting against the turbulence that threatened to knock Astrid right off the saddle. She gripped onto the handles with enough force to break a grown man's arm and gritted her teeth in determination. They shook violently against the opposing winds within the raging squall, rattling them so hard that they both lost the ability to think. Her instincts took hold at that moment, and there was nothing else to do but press her body down as close as she could and hold on.

They shot through the final boundary like an arrow and slumped together in exhaustion, gasping and panting for breath. The storms had been a consistent obstacle in their westward passage across the ocean; it was almost as if the gods themselves wished for her to turn back. Something nagged at the back of her mind every time she even remotely considered high tailing it back to Berk, an old riddle her great aunt had often asked of her all those years ago.

She was beginning to think that the riddle wasn't much of a riddle at all.

Fighting to catch her breath as they soared above the churning clouds, Astrid wondered if her great aunt had known all along that she would eventually leave Berk. Had she known what the significance of her voyage was? Had she kept it from her all her life only for the connotation to reveal itself?

"Two paths, one never taken,

On the road that never was,

Should you take to the horizons,

Where beginning meets the end.

Where is where?"

The two final lines still didn't make sense, but she was starting to see where the first three lines were going. The road that never was must have been referring to the skies she was flying now and the paths, well, she figured that Hiccup had taken the first path and that she was taking the second, pursuing one.

It made sense, she supposed, in that roundabout soothsaying way. Gothi had known all along what was going to happen, but why was it so important that the gods offered her a prophecy? She knew for a fact that predictions into a child's future were something that all newborns went through after their first nine days of life. But usually they were mundane things like, "your child will be a gifted warrior" or "the ocean flows through his veins." Her parents had told her that Gothi predicted that she would become a valiant shield maiden, but had there been something more? Something that they hadn't told her?

She shook her head as if to try and rid herself of her thoughts. Her sister was predicted to be the next seer, not her. She was a shield maiden, and nothing more. This kind of thinking was more suited for the mystical minded, not someone who had been trained in battle since the time she could walk to wield an axe. She pushed her growing bangs out of her eyes, wishing back for simpler times.

Times before the days of peace. Times in the relative comfort of war.

Times when love had been nothing but a long suppressed emotion.

She breathed out forcefully, confused and no less close to the truth then when she started. If thinking wasn't what she was born to do, then why did she spend so much time doing it?

She'd been flying for well over a week and a half, and the only sign that she had found that she was going in the right direction was the half hidden signs of a camp on one of the larger islands they had crossed over. He hadn't done a very good job of trying to hide the ashes of the fire he had made, and she probably would have scolded him for it had she not been so grateful. Finally, she had proof that she was headed in the right direction, and for that she was glad.

But after that, she had barely seen anything. Before the hail storm set in some hours ago, they hadn't spotted an island in over a day, which worried her. They would have veered off course to find land at some point, and Astrid honestly wasn't sure what direction she was flying anymore.

She glanced upwards but it was still too light out to make out any sort of stars. The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of tall clouds, which made it nearly impossible to try and pinpoint its location in the sky. If she had to try and guess what time it was, she would have said late afternoon.

Her stomach rumbled loudly and she silently cursed at herself. In her sufferance of near starvation, she had all but become used to the hollow pit of hunger in her stomach. She would have given anything to be able to look at her reflection and see the damage that had been done to her face and body, but she had regrettably left her mother's polished glass at home.

She touched her cheeks with her gloves and found that her cheekbones were quite easy to find, even through the thick pelt covering her hands. She sighed, hoping that she didn't look too much like a walking skeleton; the last thing she wanted was for Hiccup to accuse her of being too skinny when that was so clearly her job.

That is, if she ever found him.

They soared for another few hours over the tumultuous clouds, churning like a cyclone beneath them. The winds were calm up there, but she pitied anything that was caught in the lethal chaos below. The storm had literally come out of the blue, and from what she could see in the distance, it wasn't letting up anytime soon.

More hours passed, and darkness soon befell the world around her. The clouds began to clear above them, the twilight fading in and out in between wisps of cirrus clouds. Patches of the ocean could be seen below her as well but she didn't dare lead the dragon lower in fear that another hail storm would arrive out of nowhere again.

Instead, dragon and rider soared farther skyward, taking advantage of the clearing night to get a better look at their surroundings. Astrid studied the stars and found that they were miraculously still heading westward, if not a little southward as well. She cleared her goggles of fog and set her sights on the horizon again, searching the skyline for anything, something.

She narrowed her eyes, pressing as far forward as she could in the saddle. She couldn't be sure, but something seemed out of place on the brink of the horizon, a small speck where there should have only been sky. She couldn't even be sure if it was moving, but it was worth taking a closer look.

"Do you see that?"

The Nadder took a moment to scan the vista before finally settling its gaze on the same dark blur in the distance, so far away that it was nearly impossible to determine what it was. The Nadder pitched on a upwards incline and started to beat her wings faster, hoping to slowly but surely catch up with whatever creature lurked ahead of them.

It was pitch dark over the seas, which meant that dawn was nearly close at hand. She had lost sight of the dot some time ago, but they had been making good time in sneaking up on the mysterious creature flying the skies. Astrid tried to quell the hope that kept trying to swell in her stomach; they had encountered dragons before on their chase across the seas, but they had always been going southward and were usually much lighter in colour. But if they had finally caught up to him…

Astrid forced herself to keep calm, and to keep her breathing silent. Sneaking up on the unknown was dangerous business, especially when said prey was decidedly out of sight.

And that's when she heard it; it was faint, but it was there nonetheless. The steady pounding of wings against the tranquil atmosphere, slow and powerful on the quiet undercurrent. There was no wind to heed their passage; dawn was beginning to stain the horizon.

The Nadder instinctively shortened her wingspan, allowing her to take smaller, less noisy beats. Astrid pressed her body as close to the dragon as she could, praying that whatever they were following wasn't hostile. She didn't want to have travelled all this time just to be eaten by a Whispering Death.

They followed in silence for almost another hour, stifled by the tension of flying undetected. She was having a hard time trying to point out the source of the wing beats through the thick pre-dawn air; they were flying through a layer of diaphanous clouds and although the faint rays of the rising sun were beginning to return the colour to the world, Astrid still couldn't find the creature they were tailing. In a burst of paranoia, she quickly scanned the space around her, but found nothing.

Minutes passed, and she could finally begin to see the light of the sun begin to dye the clouds around her orange and yellow. She continued her vigilant scan, keeping her ears trained on the rhythmic buffeting of wings coming from somewhere around them. She peered down over the shoulder of her Nadder and tried to make out some sort of shape beneath the clouds.

No.

Sweet Odin.

Astrid slid the goggles up onto her forehead and tried again, unable to believe what she was seeing. She knew that silhouette anywhere.

There was no mistaking the shadow, perfectly camouflaged in the darkness but exposed in the rising sun. There was no mistaking the tuft of reddish hair that reflected the dawn's brilliant rays, a beacon against the sunrise.

She was right above him.

As her stomach tied itself in knots, she remembered one of his teachings that had resounded with her the most.

"Sometimes we could save ourselves a lot of trouble if we just took the time to look up."

Thank you to the lovely Sir Nick, who always does a wonderful job in puffing up my ego before I post a chapiter!

Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! I always look forward to hearing what you have to say, and I wonder if any of you are catching on to the ridiculous amounts of foreshadowing and retrospection I threw in! Let me know your theories; I'm dying to hear them!

Brontë