The fly back to the campsite was dead silent. Okay wrong choice of words, but no one said a word, and I felt like they were avoiding looking at me. I'm flying ahead while everyone else stays behind; no one even matches my pace. The sun setting over the horizon.
I clutch the arrow tip I received from the unknown Outcast soldier who aided me, in my palm. He gave his life for me. I bring it to me chest.
My head's reeling from the ghastly events of the last hour – the unknown Outcast mutilated, dying, dead, my homicidal rage, and another Outcast bloody and netted and swallowed by the foul black smoke. I drift to the Outcast's last words . . .
"Take it. This'll shoot him down. Aim for the heart. Don't trust him. Do what you came to do."
What did he mean? Don't trust who? The Outcasts? Alvin? I knew that. That was obvious from the beginning not to trust him. But if it was that obvious, I feel like I'm missing something. Did he mean not to trust someone on my own team? Not to trust the Outcast rebels? The people who supposedly want to take down their former leader?
I slightly turn my head to the side, my eyes peering to the back, very badly needing him alive. To explain everything. I can't work all of this out now, so I conceal the arrow tip in my belt. Apart from Dad and Gobber, I'm suddenly sure that he, and he alone, is completely on my side.
Suddenly I'm feeling so alone. Coming up with so many theories about just those simple orders from the Outcast rebel. Don't trust Alvin. Don't trust the Outcasts. Don't trust the rebel Outcasts? Don't trust my own team? My own friends? It's possible right now our entire village could be under siege because we let the Outcasts on our shores, into our village. The only thing that keeps me from steering home is the thought of the Outcasts coming ashore, and kissing my shoes and their acts of salvation.
No Outcast could act like that if they had to. They were genuine. But with so many questions swirling in my head, I decide to carry out the first orders: don't trust anyone.
My face feels crusty and I realize the blood on my face. It's dry so it scrapes off with ease. But when I see the dry blood soiling my forearm and knife, I feel sick to my stomach. A realization just hit me. The rush of everything kept me from seeing, even feeling everything that happened. I flashback to the Outcast in the tower. Face ripped to shreds. Soaked in a pool of blood. My feet standing in the blood. My knife red. My glove red. My uniform and face splattered.
But what scares me the most is the feeling of satisfaction. I was happy I killed him. Happy he paid for killing the Outcast. What I thought was me avenging the death of the solider. It was really me getting revenge. Getting even. Me killing him for him killing the Outcast. I relive the feel of my smile. So horrid. So evil that it's more like a grimace.
What have I become? I'm becoming no better than the Outcasts. No better than Alvin.
Suddenly I'm shaking, but not wanting them to see me like this, I force myself to keep my composure until we get back to camp, and I can crawl into my tent.
Once back at the camp, we land and as we're walking in, I look to my left, out of peripherals. I see a shadow, creeping up to the sight. I see the symbol on his shoulder plate. I walk over normally, so normal the Outcast doesn't see me. People are about to call to me, until they see the figure. No one stopping me indicates that he's not a rebel.
He turns to me, and the expression on his face says he recognizes me. He opens his mouth to say something.
Without hesitation, I shoot him through the heart.
I leave the arrow and step over him. Completely unfazed. I walk on ahead to the lake.
"Hiccup." My dad calls to me. But I wave him off as I head for the lake. Uniform, weapons and all. Even with the distance I have, I can hear the Viking men drag the dead body away.
Once I reach the lake, the first thing I do is place my weapons propped up against the trunk of a weeping willow. Then I strip off my Dragon Conqueror uniform so I'm only in my undergarments. Then hang it on a branch.
I step out from the curtain of vines, then take a deep breath and dive head first into the water. The water's crisp on top and murky below. Even with the cold-front moving in, the water's warm, like in the summer. Or my feelings have fired the whole things up.
My feet kick up eddies of sand and rock. I float down to the bottom and try to get a grip on things. Since I can't I relax all of my muscles and just float through the water. Letting it block out the sounds around me.
I start to float back toward the top. I break the surface and smooth my hair out of my eyes. I just lie in the water for a few minutes, letting it wash off the soot. There's the smell of blossoms and greenery. The muddy bottom of the lake beneath my toes. I stand up and feel the breeze of winter. My skin crawls with goosebumps.
I splash my face, wanting to rid it of the blood that soils it. I scrub my forearm since the blood of the Outcast has soaked through. I harshly scrub up and down until its bright pink. But I know even with all the scrubbing, in the end, you can never wash the blood from your hands.
I walk back to shore and yank my uniform from the branch and drag it back into the water with me. I dip the end of the sleeve up to the elbow into the lake water and immediately, through the blue layer of water, see a milky- red substance, the blood of the Outcast leaching out of the fabric. I back away, as if expecting it to infect me.
The Outcast's last act of defiance against me.
Knowing the seamstresses' will be able to get the blood out themselves, I simply grab the uniform by the shoulders and dunk it several times until I know the spots of blood have faded enough to give the seamstresses' a little less work.
As I'm ringing out the uniform while walking back to shore, I had just hung it on the branch when a voice startles me. It was more like someone clearing their throat. I turn and find Astrid.
"Hey Hiccup," she says.
"Hey," I rely. Her are eyes flicking to the side, never staring at me for more than five seconds. Then I see the shade of pink on her cheeks, and I remember I'm only in my undergarments.
I slightly chuckle, but instead of putting on pants, I walk back out into the water to make her feel better. She watches me as I casually stroll through the water. Her arms folded over one another. Her eyes watching my every move, her cheeks turning pink.
"So, was there something you needed?" I ask.
She hesitates, "Well, I just wanted to know how you're doing." She says. But there's the sense she's holding back. And Astrid's not one to hold back.
"I'd be lying if I said I was okay." I admit to her, to ease her nerves.
"It's everything, right?" she guesses.
"Yeah."
"Look Hiccup, can I tell you something?" she asks. I turn to her and her feet nervously shift.
"Sure." I say.
"Back when you were with that Outcast, and he was all bloody and dying, it must've so horrible and traumatic for you. I saw you become so angry that you weren't even you anymore."
"You think I'm heartless." I say searching her face.
"I know you're not. But you have to understand, for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary." He voice shakes and I know she's being serious.
I turn away from her and face out into the open water. I peer down and see my reflection in the water. I look the different. Everyone can see it. The outside of me is relatively unchanged besides the muscles I've gained. Then there's the plump scar on my bicep where the Outcast stabbed me. I look like the old Hiccup, but not on the inside.
There's the sound of a scuffle, and I hear the water ripple. Astrid shows up next to me, still fully clothed; only her shoes are back on shore. She hovers over me, and stares at my reflection with me. Her hand gingerly touches my shoulder, then slowly drifting down to my scar. Her finger braising the skin, her thumb stroking my shoulder. My body sizzles with sparks at this motion. I don't know why, but I felt my entire body tingle; from the toes on my feet to the hairs on my head.
I turn and face her, and we stare at each other. I can just see her pulse racing, blood coursing through her veins as she stands close to me and my bare skin. I'm sure she meant to say something heartfelt and sincere. Something that will erase my fears.
Instead, she steps toward me, catches her foot against a rock on the lake bottom, and trips. Crashing into my chest, she plunges us both beneath the surface. I catch her, my hands wrapped around her arms, as we plummet to the bottom. Her hair twists out of its normal braid and floats out around me, and I stare at her while above us, the moon pierces the surface with snow white darts.
This is better than words.
I let go and she reaches for me. Twining her fingers through mine, I feel something soft warm the silence within me a little as she tangles her legs with mine until I can't tell where one of us ends and the other begins.
But this isn't enough. The ache within me pushes against my chest, tingles down my arms, and hurts the tips of my fingers.
I pull her against me as we start floating back toward the top, and I smile. We break the surface together and the air feels alive in a way it didn't before. I smooth her hair out her eyes. When wet, it reaches all the way down her back. Suddenly I'm back at the arena, and the wedding, and the music. And Astrid looking breathtaking.
I need her.
More than I thought, and more than what I denied when I'm with Skullette.
"Kiss me," she says, and she doesn't even have time to blush at the audacity of her words before I slide a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and tug her towards me.
I tighten my arms around her and touch my lips to hers. The kiss is rough, tastes like lake water . . . and it's the best thing I've ever felt. She presses against me, consuming me like she'll never get enough, and when we break apart, my pulse pounds against my ear and her chest rises and falls like she's been running.
Astrid looks at me like I'm precious to her. And the silence inside me cracks open, just a little. Just enough to let a small piece of hope float to the surface. I grab onto it with desperate fingers. The hope that I'll somehow manage to keep my sanity with all that's going on around me.
But after the conversation I had with Skullette back at the Cove on Berk, I can't just leave her. And yet here I am again, bubbling up Astrid with a possible false hope, that doesn't seem so false anymore. And loving someone else behind Skullette's back.
My hands relax on her waist, and she looks to me and knows, one again Skullette has ruined her moment.
"I know." She whispers.
I shake my head and tears spill over, scalding my cheeks with heat.
"I promise to always find you, remember?" she asks.
"I remember."
"I promised I would always stay by your side and protect you. You've been wounded badly because I failed to keep that promise." She says.
I look her in the eyes, feeling my heart tearing two ways. One finding Skullette. The other finding hers. "I will always love you, Hiccup. I told you I'm not afraid to save my heart for you."
My arms flex, pulling her into my chest. A brief sob escaping my lips. Her lips hover just below mine, our breath mingling in the dazzling midnight air.
"I love you." She whispers and then kisses me again. Her lips rough against mine, her breathing ragged as she devours my fear and makes me long to feel this way forever.
But unfortunately, we need to get rest.
The walk back to the campsite, we both were in good spirits. I wave to her as she disappears into her tent and blows out her lantern. I was about to go into mine when I become aware of a conversation that I'm sure was meant to be private. Dad and Gobber. I can't stop myself from eavesdropping.
My Dad sighs heavily, like he's trying to rid himself of something that's majorly troubling him. "What's happened Gobber? What's happened to my son?" he asks. His voice shaky. My eyes widen and my hands tremble to know they're talking about me.
"I know it's hard, Stoick. But what can you do?" he says.
"I can keep him here. Until we secure the final towers." He says.
"He'll just argue against you, Stoick. And even if you leave, he'll just hop on that dragon of his and beat you there." Gobber argues.
"I know, I know." says Dad. "I just wanted to protect him from this. Shelter him from the horror that is this world."
"You can't stop him, Stocik. He's going to have to face these things when he becomes chief. And why not get him started early? Dip his toes in the water." Gobber says.
"Because he's too young, Gobber!" Dad suddenly bursts, startling me and Gobber. "This is all too much for an average sixteen-year-old boy to handle. You saw what happened to him out there. When he was with that Outcast. The change I witnessed in my own son."
"He's been through worse. He lost his own foot when battling the dragons."
"No. Nothing's worse than this. I never should've let him in the war." Dad wishes.
"Again he would've argued against it."
"It would've been better than seeing him like, this." Dad says.
"I suppose you would've gestured to 'all of him'?" Gobber says. And he manages t bring out a smile and laugh from both of us.
"What happened to the son I once knew?" Dad repeats.
"Personally, I didn't think you even knew him back then." Gobber says.
"No, I did. Maybe not how a father and son should've understood each other. But I knew him."
"And he's still there, Stoick." Gobber says, and I can see his shadow go over and place a hand on my Dad's shoulder. "Your old Hiccup is still there. I'm sure after all this is over, he'll go back to being the clumsy, danger prone, sarcastic Hiccup we all know and have come to love." Gobber says.
"I hope so," says Dad. Then there's a long pause before he speaks again.
"Because that's the son I want back."