Took a bit with this one, ah? It's a good one!
—
When Astrid awoke in the morning, there was quiet murmur and a throbbing in her head.
"...Fishlegs?" She asked, looking for her friend. "Is it safe?"
"We're here, Astrid." His voice spoke from the dark.
She flicked on her flashlight, to see sullen faces. The room was small, and only had a bed in it. There was no window, and the door was made of iron.
"So what happened with Viggo? How did you escape?"
Still tired, Astrid remained reclining, and propped her head up on her arm. "I almost didn't. I was unconscious, and when I woke up, I smelled smoke, and I was in a wicker basket."
The ghosts nodded in understanding. They had learned enough Celtic culture through past Hoffersons to understand what Viggo was trying to do.
"Eret and Toothless saved me though."
Ruff sighed longingly, "Oh Eret…my dream boat…so wonderful."
Astrid snorted. "They got to me in time, so I wasn't hurt at all."
"So…why are you here then?" Snotlout asked, not to rebuke, but legitimately concerned.
"I…I was abducted. I thought you guys needed to know I was okay?"
Ruff crossed her arms, but did not meet her eyes. "Don't get us wrong, we're all happy you're okay…but it would have been better if you didn't come here."
She sat up fully, pushing back the weariness in her bones. "When I got back, Gobber was the only one left. I couldn't just…" she sighed. "Wait, where's Hiccup? Isn't he with you?"
The others looked at each other and Snotlout scratched his neck. He opened his mouth to speak, but just cringed instead.
"Well?" Astrid urged.
"He's at the bottom of the stairs, but no one else wants to go down there." Fishlegs finally said. "You shouldn't either, Dagur and Drago are the guards down there and…" he shook his head, trying to rid himself of a horrible thought. "They are impossible to pass."
"Dagur is wicked fast, and make sure no one living gets by. And Drago only allows the chief to pass." Snotlout finished.
"So, that's where Stoick is too?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"I asked Gobber this question too. Why is there guards? Surely you guys don't need to be protected, since you can't die."
"Hey yeah, that's a good point!" Tuff exclaimed.
"What are you saying?" Fishlegs asked.
"I'm saying, maybe the cure for your curse is down there. And that's what Dagur and Drago are actually protecting."
"Do you know that for sure?" Ruff urged.
"No." She answered honestly. "But what else is there? We've exhausted the library, my uncle spent his entire life trying to help…You all have been in torment for a thousand years. If I have the chance to save you, I'm going to take it."
They circled her, reaching out with gentle and caring hands. They were tangible, but didn't hold the same weigh as human touch did.
"Live for us, Astrid. Go back, stay safe."
She scrunched up her brows. "Say I live 80 years, and then I pass away. Then what? You'll all still be here, in the dark, in the quiet. And it will just go on and on. No. I'm ending this now." She pushed passed them towards the door.
"Wait, don't!" Fishlegs pleaded.
"You'll die down there!"
Astrid snatched up her axe that leaned against the wall. "Then what will happen to me? Will I get to be a ghost with you? Will I haunt this castle as well?"
No one had the answer.
"Why don't you guys go back up and tell Gobber and Eret I'm still kicking."
Ruff stood, not surprisingly. "I'll go."
Astrid took the key off her neck and handed it to the girl. "Wait for me, okay?"
"You know it!"
With nothing else better to do, Tuff and Fishlegs went up with Ruff.
"I'll go with you, as far as I can." Snotlout offered.
Astrid nodded, and they were off.
They travelled in relative silence, not sure what to say to the other. The tower was so deafening still, Astrid almost wished he would try flirting with her, but he remained deadly serious.
Down they went, spiral after spiral, farther into the depths. Where the stone crumbled with a touch, and the iron steps were rusted under foot. One step had given out completely, and if not for Snotlout, she would have fallen into the dark. As her torch had been on for several hours now, the light flickered.
"Oh no no no! Don't give out on me!" She hit the base of the light, and it returned steadily, but a lot dimmer than she needed. "Great." But dim was still better than black.
Finally, they reached what seemed to be the bottom. The statue in the center of the room had expanded outwards to touch the railings. The stairs took them down into a wide room, for there was no where else to go.
"Is this…the end?" Astrid whispered, as she swept the room with her light.
In the center, a body sat, curled up, back towards them.
"That's Dagur." Snotlout whispered.
The guard looked over his shoulder at the source of the light. "Snot-hat? Is that you?" He turned slightly, squinting at the light and a pleasant smile on his face. "Long time no see! What's it been? A year or two? I can never tell down here. There's no way to see the sun and haha, I don't sleep."
Snotlout stepped in front of Astrid, preparing to be a shield.
With a sickening crack, the man turned his head around, revealing eyes black as pitch. "How long has it been?" He urged again.
Snotlout tensed, but answered. "A thousand years."
"ONE THOUSAND YEARS!" The ghost shrieked. More cracking and his body twisted and contorted in unnatural ways, "In all that time, no one thought to visit me!? No one thought to check on poor lonely Dagur?!"
Snotlout held his hands out, in an attempt to calm the wrathful spirit. "But…but you died."
"And I suppose if your parents died, you wouldn't weep at their grave!?" Dagur shifted his body and ran with unnatural speed at Snotlout, stabbing him in the stomach with his long fingernails.
"Snotlout!" Astrid cried out.
The boy reeled backwards, holding his stomach. There was no blood, and the wound quickly sealed itself. "I'm alright, Astrid. Just…stunned. Sorry, maybe me coming with you wasn't such a great idea."
Dagur turned his sights on her, and ran at her.
Astrid braced herself with her axe.
However, he stopped a few centimeters from her. "Who are you?"
She grit her teeth. "My name is Astrid Hofferson…and I came to visit you." She added as an afterthought.
"You did?" His head spun around his neck, as he twisted around her like a snake. "That's so kind."
"Gobber told me there were five guards in this tower, and I figured they were lonely."
"I'm so lonely…" he moaned. "Lonely in death as I was in life."
"I'm so sorry to hear that…" She did genuinely feel sorry for the ghost, but she did not relax one bit as he crept around her, studying her.
Snotlout watched carefully, trying to gauge the situation. But he made no sudden moves, since Astrid had lulled him into a sense of security.
"What about you? Are you lonely?"
She tried to give a soft smile at the creature. "No, I tend to always have someone bugging me."
His eyes widened and his needle point teeth glinted in the light of the lamp. "You could stay here with me. Then I won't be lonely, and you'll only have me as company."
She paused just long enough for him to continue.
"You can join me, just like he did." He gestured to the corner. Astrid swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned her lamp slowly…slowly…until in gleamed over the gruesome remains of a skeleton.
She shut her eyes in fear.
"So how about it?"
Astrid managed, "I can't. There are people waiting for me."
This was the wrong answer, because Dagur reared up and hissed. "Then I will make you stay!"
Snotlout, watching the exchange carefully, dove in front of Astrid just in the knick of time and took another stab. This time, Dagur's hand went all the way through his body and out his back, stopping centimeters before he hit Astrid.
"Don't get in my way, Snot-hat!"
"You want company? I'll give you company! But leave her alone!" Snotlout tried to be intimidating, but his voice was hollow.
Dagur gave a fierce shriek and tossed Snotlout to the side. With a semi-tangible body, Snotlout flew across the room and slammed into the wall, stunned. Then with a crack, Dagur whipped his head over, and looked at Astrid.
Astrid dropped her axe in fear, and stood no chance in recovering it in time. So she went with Plan B, and drew her gun.
Dagur was mere inches from her as she pulled the hand gun from her holster and unloaded bullet after bullet into the specter, all the while screaming as she did so. The smell of sulfur cut through the musty air.
When the gun stopped shooting, she finally pried her eyes open.
Dagur, in all his horror, had stilled, his face and torso riddled with holes. He let out a shutter. "That was…unexpected…" His voice sounded like a normal man's. His eyes had returned to a normal human's, and his body unwound to stand at a normal gait. "I haven't felt pain in…some time." His skin began to flake and dissipate. "It was so loud and bright…" He took a step forward, only for his foot to dissolve before hitting the floor. His skull on his ribcage remained. His jaw opened as one final whisper came out. "Now I won't be lonely any more." With that, the specter dissipated into dust.
Astrid fell to her knees, and the gun fell uselessly out of her hand.
Snotlout was rubbing his eyes when he came over. "I'm glad I've gotten out of the tower a lot or else that light would have been…awful."
Astrid let out a humorous huff. "And Gobber said a gun couldn't kill a ghost."
Snotlout shrugged. "Well, Dagur wasn't really a ghost. I don't know what you would call him…he was…undead?"
"A zombie?"
"Hmm?"
"That's what we call the undead, a body that died, and then was animated again without a soul."
"Huh. But this was more…a body that died, and a soul ripped from an eternal resting place and stuffed back into it. It's hard to describe."
She nodded in understanding. "I see."
"You look exhausted."
"I am. And I'm extremely hungry."
Snotlout thought for a moment and snapped his fingers. "I'll go back up and get you some food. It wouldn't tire me."
"Oh my god that would be amazing." She stretched out her legs and leaned back on her arms. "Some water would be great. And some batteries for my light. 2 AA."
He nodded. "Got it, I'll be back…soon."
Astrid just scooted back to lean against the wall and closed her eyes in exhaustion. There was one guard left in the tower and she was out of bullets. So she'd have to win with her wits, or pure dumb luck. But she had to go on. Hiccup needed her.
Snotlout returned much quicker than she was expecting, or perhaps, time had slipped her by.
"Here," he said, holding out a bag. "A ham and cheese sandwich for protein, carrots and broccoli for whatever they do. A coke for caffeine and sugar, and water."
"Oh thank god!" She tore into the sandwich and the veggies with relish, wishing there was more. She downed the soda and took several gulps of water. As she ate, Snotlout updated her on what was going on upstairs.
"Your mom called Eret. She said she tried your phone, but it went right to voicemail."
Astrid took her phone out of her pocket, only for the battery symbol to glow up at her. She doubted she got any signal down here anyway.
"She said your dad is alright, and asked if he could pick them up from the hospital. Eret and the others will make sure they're comfortable."
She didn't know how comfortable they'd be staying in the castle after what had happened.
"Eret also left out the whole thing with Viggo. So no worries there."
"Good."
"Oh, and here's the batteries,"
"Thanks." She sighed. And in the dark, she replaced the batteries, only for the chamber to illuminate much brighter when they were in. "Better."
And with the light, a door was visible, on the other side of room from where they came in.
"I'm afraid this is as far as I can go." Snotlout said. "Drago won't allow me to pass."
"What was he like, in life?"
Snotlout shook his head. "Horrible. Mysterious, manipulative, always vying for power. We were all surprised when he was the first to die, because he was a monster in size. I'm not jealous of you, going down there. Who knows what he's become in death?"
Astrid swallowed. "You were supposed to make me feel better."
Snotlout shrugged helplessly, "I can't sugarcoat this. Not this one."
"Well, thank you for preparing me, I guess."
And so, she stood, on her own two feet and went to the door. Before opening it, she gave Snotlout a little wave.
"I'll wait here, just so you know. Got nothing else to do."
She smiled back. "We'll try not to keep you waiting."
Inside the door was a staircase that went straight down. On both sides, was only darkness. And as she directed her light into it, the beam just went on, like shining a flashlight into the night sky. Only there were no stars to comfort her.
She began her descent, carefully holding onto the railing. Each step ticked against the cold stone, and a cold chill went down her spine. She took each step carefully, quietly, and slowly, afraid to even breathe.
One step and burst of light, she found herself standing in her lobby. The lobby she had redecorated, and modernized for her guests. Only this was different. Her lobby had a couch and a TV, and early gothic crown molding. This lobby was stone, with ornate wooden benches and tapestries.
In front of her stood a woman, gazing out the window, watching the rain. She was dressed in clothes from a different era.
"Phlegma, my dear." A man called over, entering the room.
Astrid wished to speak up, to ask who they were and what they were doing there. But she couldn't recall how to speak.
"How many days has it been? How long has this rain gone on?"
The man was quiet, "You asked me that yesterday." He said softly. "And my answer was 35. And the day before that was 34. Shall I tell you again that it's 36?"
There was a break in her voice. "So then, is the rain for you, as it is for me?"
The man, seemingly patient, replied, "how do you see the rain?"
"A downpour. A storm that would sink ships. Another home like the one we left behind…would simply wash away."
The husband nodded in understanding, stepping closer to her. "And for me, the rain is only a pitter patter upon our stone walls. But, it is persistent."
She turned to him quickly. "Then why?! Why is it so much easier for you than it is for me!?"
He grasped her arms, and held her tightly. "Because, you were the one that carried him. He came from you, Phlegma…and losing a child before knowing him…is the ultimate heartbreak. He was part of both of us, but he came from you."
At this, Phlegma dissolved into sobbing as her husband held her. "And until the storm turns into a gentle sprinkle, I will hold you, and count the days."
"Thank you, Axel."
He smiled at her and kissed her sweetly. "We will have a family. The Hofferson's must live on!"
And just like that, Astrid was on the dark stairs again, her footstep coming in contact with the stone.
"What…?" She whispered aloud.
Confused, she took a couple more steps, only to step into the ballroom. A throne sat a head of her, and the king who would sit upon it, laid on the floor. A trail of blood lead from the throne to him. With great pain, he rose his head, blood leaking from his lips.
"I will not die here! I will not die alone in this stone hell!"
His finger tips clutched at the floor as he dragged himself another foot. "Stoick!" He cried. "Hiccup! Gobber! Anyone!" He coughed, "I'm sorry! You can come out now! Help me!"
Still, the castle remained still, and his fist landed on the stone.
"Aaron! Aaron, my son!" He cried. His head dropped to the floor as a sob broke from him. "Aaron…I'm sorry. God, if you have any mercy left. Please let me see my son! I must warn him of the North Tower! I must warn him of the—"
The vision broke, and Astrid was in the dark, yet again.
"I get it." She whispered to herself. "These are past Hofferson's. But why here? Why now? And why these things?"
On she travelled, through each generation of Hofferson before her. And each time, there was more heartache, more betrayal.
More tragedy.
A man weeping over the loss of his loved ones during a raid. A woman burning alive in a fire, as her brother watched on. A pair of twins having a playful sword fight that only turned deadly as one plunged his weapon into his brother's chest, spitting words of hatred all the while. Onward she stepped through time, feeling her heart squeezing, her eyes burning, and a painful constricting in her throat.
At one moment, she was standing in the chapel, surrounded by her ghoulish friends, and a dozen more she had never seen. There was no way to place the time.
A woman, slender and small, cried into her hands as Stoick and Hiccup comforted her.
"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that everything is going to be okay. I can't keep looking outside, onto the same lake, those same moors, and never be allowed to touch them again."
"We'll be out there again mom, I know we will! Conway will figure out a way to break the curse! I know he will!"
"You've said the same thing about every Hofferson in this damn castle! Every 50 years or so, it's the same! But he's different! But he's smart! But nothing! We've been here for almost a thousand years, and no one has come close!"
Stoick shook his head. "They just don't live long enough."
Hiccup had recoiled, ashamed. "I know it's hard…I just have to keep believing, because if I don't…" He turned and met Astrid's eyes, looking right through her. "I'll go back."
Hiccup's mother stood, her arms swaying slightly. "I'm ready to go down." She took her husband's hand and looked up at him. "Will you help me?"
He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it, his whiskers tickling her skin. "Anything for you, my love."
The step out of the scene felt heavier than the last, as her eyes had filled with tears. Though it hurt, she moved on. She fought for Hiccup, pushing each of these visions out of her head as the next one came into play.
But then finally, she was in her room, the bright sun of the morning coming in the window and shining on a lovely woman. She was middle aged, grey in her hair, and crows feet by her eyes. But she was still lovely, and rocked the bundle in her arms with joy and peace on her face. She sang a nameless tune to the babe, who remained quiet in sleep.
A strange scene, in this onslaught of nightmares.
There was a knock on the door, and another woman came in, presumingly a maid. With one look, she released a shriek that she suddenly stifled, then ran out of the room.
Astrid watched nervously.
A man came hurriedly into the room. "Helena!"
The mother hushed him. "Quiet, or you'll wake Henry!"
The man closed his eyes, not in anger...but in fear? Disgust? Astrid wasn't sure.
"Helena, this charade has got to stop! Your children need you!"
"What children? I only have my Henry." She smiled, not taking her eyes of the babe.
"What children!? What about Edmund? And Thomas? And little Marie!?"
Things didn't seem right. Looking at the mother, Astrid noticed mud on her dress, and the cradle had no indication of recent use.
After a pause, Helena replied, "I need to take care of my youngest son."
Father frowned hard, a look of defeat on his face. His lip trembled and he looked like he was about to cry. "That…that thing isn't our son. Not anymore!"
Helena finally looked to her husband, insulted and aghast. "Andreas, how could you say that?"
Astrid watched in mute horror as the woman held up the decaying corpse of a long dead infant. "He has your eyes."
Astrid nearly tumbled down the stairs in a mad dash to get away from what she had seen. It was horrible, sickening…and it was in her blood. Was she capable of such horrors? Of such madness? Surely not…She hesitated on the stairs. There couldn't be that much longer left, could there? How many lives did she witness? How many deaths?
So she swallowed, and preceded onward.
She stepped into the library, where a man sat at the big mahogany desk. The painting of Stoick she was so used to was not there, so this was still before 1950. The man smoked a pipe, the long gusts of smoke curling in wisps in the darkness. A empty decanter sat beside him, along with a wet whiskey glass with ice still inside. Only a fire lit the room, plunging everything into shadow.
"Hey, old man?" A teenager spoke from the door.
Astrid turned to see his face, only for him to walk through her. She was the ghost in this realm.
"What is it?" The older man asked.
"Drinking again, I see." The boy said, with a sneer.
"Well, spit it out!"
"Fine fine. I'm 18 now, legally an adult. So I want an advance on my inheritance."
The father said nothing, just picked up the glass and spun the ice around.
"I want to go to America and study, so you know…I'm not going to just going to blow it all. I'm sure you think I would." He held out his hand.
The father took an ice chip into his mouth, and was quiet for a moment, thinking. "What makes you think you're getting an inheritance, Rowan?"
Rowan furrowed his brow. "Well…I am your son, aren't I? Half of this castle is mine, by right. Finn isn't even a year old. You think he cares?"
The father raised his brow and leaned forward in his chair. "Unless I have another child on the way, Finn will be inheriting this castle on his own."
"But—"
"You aren't in my will, Rowan."
The son shook his head. "You can't…you've lied to everyone else! But you can't lie to me! I've been a servant to you. Only you and 'mom' know I'm your son. I put up with this charade all my childhood, because I didn't know any better. But you show Finn more affection than you've ever shown me. This isn't fair!"
"You worked for room and board. But even that was a stretch. You'll stolen from me and others. You've been arrested and gotten in some questionable places." The father said. "I allowed you to stay, because you were my mistake. But I have long since atoned for it, and I owe you nothing, bastard."
Rowan clenched his fists, "I might be a bastard, but I'm still a Hofferson!"
Astrid didn't like the crazed look in the elder Hofferson's eyes. "You're 18, you said? You're an adult now. So you can live on your own."
"So that's it? You're going to kick me out? Fine! Then I'll tell everyone in town! I'll tell that everyone that you hate your eldest son, and never gave me a chance! Then we'll see who comes for—"
The sudden gunshot startled Astrid, and she shrieked in fright. She hadn't even seen the man reach into the desk drawer, and neither had Rowan.
The father staggered out from his place, swaying slightly and very drunk.
"I always hated you, Rowan. Every time I looked at you, I thought of Germany. And that was the last place I wanted to be again." The man grabbed the boy by his wrist and dragged him out of the room.
Rowan moaned softly, just barely hanging onto life.
"You may have been a Hofferson, but the only thing you inherited was our curse. The curse of tragedy. Killing you now is a mercy you will never understand." He yanked his dying son up the stairs in the East Tower. "We have a duty, a duty to break this curse, but you would never be able to. You say you want to study in America? I doubt it. You've been selfish your whole life. I don't trust you."
At this point, they had reached the North Tower, and Astrid watched as the father stood Rowan up on his feet.
Hiccup appeared nearby, watching in shock in horror. "Elis? What's going on? What are you doing?"
Elis didn't respond. He heaved Rowan to lean against the railing. "You've bothered me over and over about this tower. And now you'll see first hand the horror it contains!" And with that, he shoved his son over the edge and down in to the abyss.
"Elis!" Hiccup shouted at him.
The tower began to burn deep down.
Elis held his arms out. "There you go, you miserable pit. I give you my son…and in exchange, spare my newborn child from this curse. Let him be happy the rest of his days!"
When Astrid returned to the stairs, she fell over, weeping openly. The Finn he was talking about was her Uncle. He had had an older brother, but probably never knew. That explained the skeleton she had seen with Dagur.
"No more…I don't want to see anymore…" She cried.
"Oh but I still have so much to show you. Don't you want to see what your father looked like when he was mauled?" A deep voice echoed inside of her head.
"No! I don't want to see anymore!"
Regardless of her protests, she felt the ground change underneath her, and footsteps approaching.
"These stairs just go on forever, huh?" She heard her father say.
Astrid vehemently shook her head. "I won't look! No matter what you do!"
The door to Mildew's hovel creaked open.
"NO!" Astrid screamed in vain. "NO NO NO!" Her voice did nothing to drown out the tormented shrieks her father was making.
"Sensitive little one, aren't we? And you were doing so well."
Astrid gripped her skull. "Get out of my head! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
"Would you like to know what tragedy will befall you? Every Hofferson has at least one. As you've seen."
"Not me." She snarled. "I'm ending our curse. I'm ending it all, Drago! I've come this far, and I'm not stopping now!"
"Sensitive, but stubborn. Just like a Hofferson. Funny that in their final moments, they always fight death."
Astrid bade her feet to move, and trudged onward.
"I thought you said you didn't want to see anymore?"
"I don't," she grit out, despite the thickness in her throat. "But if I want to get to Hiccup, I have to go on."
"I should have known. You have the same stench of the young chief. Hopelessly in love."
Astrid did not heed his words, but hurried faster down the stairs.
"And in denial, it seems." He taunted.
"Either leave me alone, or come out and fight!" She hissed back. "I refuse to play games!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a hideous chuckle. "If you insist."
Almost immediately, Astrid fell to her knees again and choked. It was impossible to breathe. She grasped at her throat, desperate for air.
With horror, Astrid felt something crawling up her throat and into her mouth. Cold fingers touched her lips as a arm forced it's way out of her mouth. She had never experienced this much pain before, and she doubted she ever would again.
Then finally, she was free and she collapsed on the stairs.
"I'll give you a minute to breathe." He chuckled darkly. "It's only fair. Besides, you're the only Hofferson to make it down here. I don't want to kill you preemptively."
Taking huge, gasping breaths, Astrid staggered to her feet and collected her axe from the ground. Though, at the sight of Drago, she trembled uneasily. He was huge. Much larger than Alvin had been. And she could scarcely believe he had come out of her.
"I'll give you a hint." He smiled. "My size is dependent on how much fear you have. And judging by how small you are, I say…you're terrified."
Astrid tightened the grip on her axe, trying to get a hold of herself. She puffed out her chin. "It's an awful trick. Psyching me out before fighting me. Showing me all those terrible things? You're nothing but a rotten cheater."
He smiled and leaned in closer. "It's not cheating if I'm doing my job."
"And I'm doing mine!" With newfound confidence, she launched from the stairway and embedded her axe into his skull, and dragged it down. He screamed at her, waving his arms around, but shrinking in size. Soon, he had returned to his proper height. Still hulking, but less awful than he had been. His shouting dulled as he lowered his arms. He blinked his eyes sluggishly. "I suppose, after a thousand years…I've lost my touch. On a child no less."
"I was scared," She answered honestly, "but not anymore."
Drago closed his eyes slowly, and the utter blackness surrounding them faded away.
The ground was completely solid under her feet, and showed no inkling of being another vision.
"I don't have to be afraid anymore…" He whispered. His body started to dissolve, much like Dagur's had. "No one else does either. Thank you, Hofferson…"
"You're welcome."
Then, she was all alone. One huge door, locked, sat in front of her, while two doors stood either side. Now, to find the key.