~Ouroboros~

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1st - 9. Eyes so Much Like Mine

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Hiccup cursed as he picked himself up from the rocky forest floor he was sprawled upon after his leg got caught in one of the unearthed roots so prevalent in the forests of their island. Fortunately for him he had managed to get his arms in front of him to prevent himself from hitting the ground face first – not that he was in a mood to appreciate that considering the slightly bleeding scrapes covering his hands.

The sun had already passed its peak, and he could feel the last shards of his resolution crumbling within his mind – resolution that was oh so dominant when he had first set foot in the forest to look for that thrice cursed Nightfury that he had shot down what now felt like a lifetime ago.

Hard to believe that even after the ill-fated accident with the torch that had fortunately NOT burned down half the village and everything that had happened afterwards – his father's words that cut straight through him followed by the all too expected confrontation with the others of his age, the discovery of the remains of his house… and of course the scene he had inadvertently stumbled across on his way to Gobber's…

Truly it was hard to believe that he was still capable of anything more than stumbling into bed completely emotionally spent and trying to bury his thoughts deep in his mind – as he had done countless times before.

In fact the only thing keeping him together was the knowledge that he had in fact done something worthy of notice – and not in a 'not again Hiccup…' kind of way. The memory of the Nightfury's dark shadow streaking down across the sky to crash somewhere within the forests of Berk was like a single light in the darkness of his life – more than enough to spurn him into action.

It hadn't taken him longer than a few minutes to scavenge through his room within Gobber's forge where he kept most of his journals to find a relatively empty one and a pencil – his old one had been lost sometime during the frantic rush from that monstrous Nightmare that had decided that he would make a perfect snack after his ill-advised decision to proclaim his position to anyone bothering to listen about his success of shooting down the Nightfury.

Heck, with all the other Vikings focused on taking care of all the dragon carcases (and Viking ones, but he tried not to think about that) around the village along with repairing or at least partially mitigating the damages done to the village, it was a not so surprising but welcome break for him to have gotten to the outskirts of the village and across the perilous bridge to the main island of Berk without being spotted by the other villagers. Not that they would have done much to stop him – but there would be Hel to pay if his father got wind of this latest of his escapades.

Oh yes, he had most certainly been in high spirits then.

But now, having stumbled through more than several hectares of forest in his search for the elusive Nightfury he was reaching his breaking point. How could a downed dragon that was likely still completely tied up by that bola and barely able to move if not dead from the crash be so elusive!

He did not allow himself to even think about the possibility that the dragon had escaped – in the best case that would result in all of the time searching for it being futile. In the worst case…

In the worst case the dragon might be waiting to take a shot back at the one that shot it down, and Hiccup highly doubted he would fare well against a dragon that all the other Vikings labeled as 'run away screaming if you are within its general vicinity' with only a small dagger as his weapon.

Using the hand holding the journal where he had tried to keep track of all the spots within the forest that he had already checked to slam it shut, Hiccup used the other to massage his forehead in exasperation before letting his hands drop down to his side and raising his head upwards.

"The gods must hate me… How difficult is it to lose an entire dragon? Well, nothing more than yet another 'accomplishment' for me… The single Viking responsible for the most accidents within the village… The only human in the seven generations of Berk to have been prophesised to never become a Viking… And naturally my latest accomplishments of setting fire to half the village in a stunning reproduction of the Nightfury's first attack… Now I can also add losing a several thousand pound dragon to that list." He just let the words flow out along with all of his exasperation at the situation, secure in the knowledge that there was no one around to hear him.

As expected, Hiccup's highly cynical rant did nothing to improve his mood – if anything he was feeling even more depressed than before. Trying to vent some of his directionless anger and despair by slapping the unfortunate branch blocking his way as he stalked away did not help either, as it snapped back and hit him painfully across his face – just barely avoiding his eyes, but still leaving a nasty gash across his cheek.

Hiccup's thoughts of getting back home to grab an axe to vent some of his anger at the tree – impractical as that may be considering the difficulty of finding this particular tree again, screeched to a halt as he noticed that something had already completed his job for him. Slightly above his head the trunk of the tree ended in a mass of splintered wood, with the remainder of the tree lying off to the side.

Something must have hit it quite heavily for it to have been destroyed so badly – the break was clearly from bludgeoning force instead of the relatively clean cut of an axe or the perfect slice of Timberjack's razor sharp wings.

It can't be…

Hiccup's breath hitched in his throat as he realized exactly what was most likely to have caused this. A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions – there was a deep gash in the forest floor before him with several severed roots sticking haphazardly along it, and from what he could tell, it was quite recent as well. In his mind, only one thing could have possibly caused this…

Throwing caution to the wind – never a good idea considering the plethora of predators within the forest, not that he cared about that at the moment – Hiccup sprinted to the gash and continued running beside it. The path cumulated on a small hill, and Hiccup dropped down onto his chest unheeding of the sharp rocks unearthed by the passage of whatever caused the gash that were now digging through his vest and into his skin. The slight rise of the hill followed by the sudden drop from the precipice into the outcropping below had prevented him from seeing the ground past the edge and made him incapable of spotting the dark shape lying amidst the rocks below until he was practically standing along the edge of the drop no matter how well it stood out when surrounded by all the green, brown, and light grey colors of the ground it was lying upon.

Silent thanks were given to his instincts along with feverent wishes that whatever the dark shape below was, it had not spotted him during the sparse moments when he had blazingly run right up to the edge, or heard his approach when he rushed along the path of destruction heedless of all the noise he was making. Taking deep breaths to quiet down his rapidly beating heart, he focused on the sounds around him. If whatever was down below was aware of his presence, it would likely be approaching towards him and making at least some noise.

After a minute of lying sprawled on the ground and attempting to make as little noise as possible Hiccup felt just about ready to take another (and much more cautious) look over the edge. He had not heard anything outside of the rustling of leaves and some birds in the distance, so either he had not been spotted, or the dragon below (he highly doubted it could be anything else judging from its size…) was silently stalking up towards him… Oh Thor almighty please let it be the former...

Perhaps it was the fear of the dragon coming closer that spurned him to get another look down, but never the less, Hiccup slowly pushed himself up and crawled towards the edge. Taking a cautious look down below, his eyes widened and almost without thought he raised himself up to stand still at the tip of the hill.

Yes… Yes! Oh thank the gods; yes!

There, on the grass growing between the rocks scattered across the ground below was the still form of a black dragon. There was almost no chance of it being anything other than a Nightfury – although it could be another as of yet unknown rare species, Hiccup knew that with all of its scales tinted that particular shade of black it would have no problems blending in with the night sky. The dragon was completely black, with none of the colorful variations of all the other dragon varieties. Completely black that is, except for the dark brown ropes that twisted all the way around its body.

He simply had to get closer.

As silently as he could, Hiccup made a dash from the edge of the hill towards one of the large boulders he could hide behind. He most definitely did not want to advertise his position in the case the dragon awoke and the ropes tying it down were not as inescapable as he hoped. Several dashes between the boulders ended up with him leaning against the rock face of the boulder closest to the dragon.

Well, it's now or never…

Taking a few steadying breaths to force his growing anxiety down, Hiccup reached with his slightly shaking hands into his vest to bring out his dagger and cradle it against his chest. Please let it not have noticed me. Now that he had a chance to think about it, his mad dash between the rocks was anything but stealthy.

A few more deep breaths later he carefully peered out from behind the boulder to get a better view of the Nightfury, and got another dose of disbelief as he noticed it's unnaturally still form.

It looked… dead.

Please let it be dead.

Things would be much simpler for him if it was – there was hardly any danger from a dead dragon, unless you stumbled and fell on any of its sharp pointy bits, which his brief glances at the dragon in front of him informed him the Nightfury had a distinct lack of. Besides which… his heart clenched at the thought… He really did not want to have to kill it.

There was a huge difference between shooting down a dragon and thereby causing it to die from the fall, and driving a dagger into its chest to feel the warm blood spilling along your hands. There was just something more personal about the later… Speaking of which – an icy feeling settled in his chest – this would be the first time he would kill… The first time he would take a life – no matter if it was because of the Mangler or by the dagger clutched in his sweaty hand.

His first kill – not taken during the heat of battle in defence of the village; not taken because it was either him or it; not even for the purpose of putting food on the table. No, his first kill was going to be for his father's pride. Somehow, standing alone over his kill with it completely immobile on the ground, his reason for doing this seemed so minor – so… so frivolous…

Hiccup took another look at the still form of the dragon lying a few feet in front of him. It certainly looked dead.

Please, PLEASE let it (not) be dead…

Pushing himself back to a standing position Hiccup slowly walked around the boulder he had been hiding behind and towards the Nightfury. Without the rock to block his view, he was finally able to see the entire dragon laid out in front of him. It was lying on its side with its legs and wings completely tied up by the ropes of his bola. A small part of him that was not caught up in the maelstrom of his emotions was relieved to notice that with the ropes looped so tightly around it, the Nightfury was completely incapable of getting up and attacking him even if it was awake – Or alive… his breath hitched from that thought for a second – even disregarding everything else, somehow it just seemed so… wrong… to kill such a majestic creature.

Hiccup had always found a sort of deadly grace and beauty in the dragons – not that he had ever voiced those thoughts – the others, his father especially amongst them, were unlikely to either understand him or even take that revelation well. Perhaps he had been too young when his mother died, or perhaps it has been too long since then, but he did not even really hate them for it – his entire wish to kill a dragon spawned more from his wish to make his father look at him with pride for once in his life rather than from any inherent feelings towards the dragons themselves.

Now that he had the chance to look at a dragon instead of just seeing their darting bodies during the dragon raids (or even worse, the blood covered carcases afterwards); Hiccup could not stop himself from taking a moment to just gaze at it.

The dragon in front of him though was quite unlike the others he had ever seen. Besides the obviously dangerous claws on its legs, the Nightfury in front of him did not have any quills, spikes, heavy armour, or even teeth pointing out of its mouth that were so prevalent on the other dragon species. If had to compare the being before him to a non-draconic creature, he would liken it to lynxes which were quite common in Berk's forests. Even lying unmoving before him, the Nightfury extruded a sense of grace and maneuverability – sleek and powerful, relying only on its speed and dexterity to bring it within range of its fire or teeth. Even its claws were currently sheathed inside its paws – making the comparison even closer. From what Hiccup remembered of the other dragons, their claws were drastically different – longer, more angular, and incapable of being withdrawn.

-Drip… Drip…-

The sounds of droplets landing in water brought Hiccup out of his stunned state as he searched for whatever was making that sound. The front left leg of the dragon was dangling down lifelessly in the air due to the dragon's position on its side; a long jagged gash making its way down it. As he watched, a bead of red liquid formed on the tip of its bottom claw, growing larger and larger until it finally let go to fall down towards the reddened grass below.

-Drip…-

Involuntarily he took a step back. He had been so focused on the dragon and his own success of bringing it down that he had completely missed the heavy wounds upon its snake like scaled skin. The raged gash along its front left paw was not the only one – he could see slight tears in the membrane of its left wing that was sticking in an uncomfortable pose from its back due to the ropes tangled around it; and a long laceration stretching from just in front of its leg all the way back, disappearing behind its wing. Miraculously its snout and face were unscratched, especially considering that it must have fallen face first.

The other wounds however more than made up for that.

Hiccup could not tear his eyes away from the nasty wounds that were marring the otherwise perfect dark scale covered skin of the dragon. Only now, he could see that it was not as perfect as it had first appeared – patches of scales were gone, broken or even ripped off sometime during its fall, the trees and the ground having acted like a primitive fish scaling tool on the dragon's hide.

…I did this…

Unbidden, the bloody scene from that morning flashed before his eyes making bile rise up his throat as he hesitantly took a step towards the dragon – and then another. In almost stunned disbelief he brought his hand towards the deep gash along the dragon's side and traced it with his fingers, heedless of the pressure he was applying on the wound and the blood now coating his hand.

The dragon let out a pained roar and from Hiccup's new position on the ground after basically throwing himself backwards away from it he could see the rapidly rising chest and hear the sounds of pained breathing.

The dragon was most definitely not dead.

But it had to be.

Perhaps it was that which brought Hiccup back to reality as he suddenly remembered why he was here in the first place. The weight of his dagger in his hand registered and he took several quick glances between the dragon and the dagger.

His father would never recognise him unless he killed the dragon before him and brought a trophy back to dad.

That was however not possible while the dragon was alive – as it most certainly was at the moment.

That meant…

Hiccup swallowed – finding it extremely difficult to do so, before glancing at the dagger in his sweat covered hand again.

That meant that he would have to kill it.

Nothing to it right? All I would have to do is drive the three inch sharp and as of yet unblemished blade within my hands mercilessly into the already damaged chest of the beautiful and stunningly majestic Nightfury in front of me… Feel the blade cut its way through the chainmail like scales of the dragon before slipping easily between the ribs and into the still beating heart that simply refused to give up on life, even in a hopeless situation such as this… Hear the last gasping wail of the dragon before him as its life blood left it to pour down the dagger and wash my hands in its warm blood… And then, as the last traces of life left the dragon and its heart stopped forever, I would then proceed to cut an incision below its rib cage with the now blood covered dagger, before reaching inside with my hand to rip out its –

The dagger slipping through his fingers to land on the floor, Hiccup used both of his now free hands to cover his mouth as he swallowed several times in rapid succession in an attempt not to retch on the spot, made all the more difficult by the smell of blood originating from one of his hands. At times like these he truly hated his own imagination that was even now vividly portraying the warm feeling of flesh slipping along his hand as he grasped at the dragon's heart and pulled…

Oh gods above…

Opening up his eyes that he had closed in a futile hope that not seeing the wounded dragon would stop his thoughts, Hiccup looked at the grass directly in front of him and focused on his father. Now more than ever he wished that he had that unmovable confidence that his dad seemed to extrude without even trying – the one that had probably been there when he had killed his first dragon when he was six – the same confidence that Hiccup was lacking oh so much right around now.

Strangely enough, that seemed to work. The bloody sight of the dragon and his actions towards it within his mind were instead replaced by his father's face looking at him with that same glint of proudness and a beaming smile that he had seen on many other Vikings as they gazed at their own sons – the same look that had never appeared on his father's face before – the same one that he would look at him with once he showed proof of the dead Nightfury to him.

No longer hyperventilating, Hiccup rose from the ground and walked toward the tied down dragon, the dagger once again clenched tightly in his hand. He knew now what he must do – this was it.

This was the culmination of all his work – the final step along the long and difficult path to his father's acceptance.

All he needed to do was kill this dragon in front of him – and what did it really matter in the great scheme of things? Just another dragon added to the long list of those slaughtered throughout the years.

But for him – it would be a turning point in his life.

Any other Viking would not have any second thoughts about doing what he was about to do – and as soon as he completed this one, insignificant, task – he would also be counted amongst them.

Just a single action on his part, and the words of the elder would be proven wrong – just a simple movement of his hand and he would show that he really was a true Viking, no matter what she said – no matter what the other Vikings believed. Even if he did not accomplish anything else throughout his life but this, his name would be forever remembered as the only Viking to have brought down a Nightfury – the only species of dragon listed with a danger class higher than the most deadly of the rare dragons; something that even his father could be proud of his son for.

All he needed to do was to stab his dagger deep into this dragon's heart…

"I am going to kill you"

The words seemed to flow directly from his mouth, bypassing his mind altogether; his thoughts spilling out unbidden into the depths of the forest where only he and the Nightfury could hear them – and only he could understand them.

"In honor of my father, I will kill you before cutting out your heart to bring to him"

Without even noticing it he had already knelt down in front of the Nightfury with his dagger sliding along its scales to find that spot where it could slide between the ribs and into the heart.

"A single death – and I will prove myself to be a Viking! You understand that right? – I am a Viking no matter what everyone believes and this will prove it to them! Prove that I truly am a Viking…"

He didn't even notice how desperate his voice sounded as it broke over them.

"I will show everyone… Dad, Gobber, all the others… They will finally realize the truth… I am a Viking… I AM A VIKING!"

His dagger dipped into the softer recession between the ribs.

There…

His hands clenched tightly around the hilt he swiped several times at the spot as he had done to countless fish before and watched dispassionately the dragon flinch as its scales came off to fall down to the ground below. It was obviously much harder than with fish – barely within the limits of his abilities really, especially considering his weapon of choice – but in needed to be done. He knew that there was no way his weak body would have been able to pierce through them – but with them gone there was nothing to get in his way.

"If it's any consolation, know that I am sorry for doing this – but your death will not be in vain."

He never even thought about whom he was trying convince with his words – the dragon, or himself.

Angling the dagger, he pushed it inwards – feeling its razor sharp edge slide through the dragon's skin and enter between the ribs, straining his muscles to their extremes as it forced its way through the dragon's tough skin and flesh. He felt more than heard the reverberations from the dragon's pain filled cry and took one last look at the creature that would serve to elevate him from an informal outcast towards a glorious hero – not even realizing the gut wrenching self-hatred and pain that were easy to hear within his words as he whispered to the dragon, almost as if wishing for its forgiveness.

"I'm sorry…"

And he really was.

He felt the dagger slide just a bit further, grating between the ribs of the Nightfury before him.

The single dragon that had never even been seen – the one dragon that all the other Vikings feared above all others.

That same dragon that was even now lying before him, completely at his mercy.

The dragon that even now had its head slightly raised and was looking into his eyes…

Oh gods... Its eyes…

The deep green eyes that reminded him so much of his own – gazing at him with such deep fear and despair – deep pools filled with intelligence not unlike his own, and yet at the same time vastly different…

Those eyes…

Asking for mercy – begging him not to do this…

He simply could not break his gaze away from those eyes.

He was still on his knees right next to the dragon's chest – his hands still curled tightly around the dagger that was even now mere inches from its heart – and yet the dagger had inexplicably stopped its movement.

A single action – a single thrust of the dagger – an almost negligible amount of effort compared to what he had done to bring him to this point; and his dream that he struggled towards his entire life would be realized.

Why then did his hands refuse to move!?

Why!?

Why did those eyes remind him so much of those that stared at him from the calm waters in the bucket when he washed his face!?

Why were those piercing green eyes releasing so much fear and terror… Just as his own must have done when he ran from that monstrous Nightmare just after shooting the dragon before him down?

The same Nightfury that was even now looking at him…

"Stop looking at me with those eyes you– you– ! Stop! – Just please… stop… Everything I have done in my life had been for this single moment! So stop looking at me like that – Nothing will stop me from killing you!"

Almost as if in response to his desperate exclamations the Nightfury broke its gaze and closing its eyes allowed its head to fall backwards onto the ground – back to the same position he had initially found it in.

Thank you…

Turning back towards the dagger yet again he threw his full weight against it in the hopes of finally finishing what he had set out to do.

Even as his head slammed into the dragon's leg – directly into one of the grievous wounds marring its body, and causing the Nightfury to release another painful roar, Hiccup knew that the dagger had not moved. His hands had not done their job, curling inwards lifelessly instead of holding steady and plunging the blade through the heart.

"I have to do this… I have to do this… I have to do this…" he repeated the mantra under his breath even as tears streamed unnoticed along his downturned head and dripping off his nose fell onto his hands.

Why!?

He felt the dragon give one last groan before it stilled.

Why? Why was it so hard!?

The dragon had already given up! It had already accepted its fate!

So why couldn't he do the same…

Why couldn't he just accept this dragon's death as it had done and just finish it?

WHY!?

But no, he just couldn't do it.

His lifeless hands releasing their hold on the dagger still stuck in the dragon's side, Hiccup could not help but think that the elder was right as always – He really was not a Viking.

And strangely enough, that thought brought a sense of peace to him.

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A/N

Quite honestly, this part and the forbidden friendship scene in the story have always brought tears to my eyes. The entire movie was perfectly done (from my point of view, and I may be slightly biased – don't know how, but I could be), and yet those two scenes are literally the reason I watched this movie over 10 times (three of which were in rapid succession – as in stopping for five minutes to go to the washroom and perhaps make some more popcorn before re-watching) in the span of a single week. That was back in jan-feb 2011, but still.

Hopefully there was just enough detail here to not detract from the story. I thought of making the entire scene shorter, but everything I put in was referenced at later on so I have to leave it all in. I really do hope I did this scene enough justice.

Also:

I like lynxes. Really. There is really no other point in having them in the story than for comparison's sake as well as to provide some depth to the type of wildlife around Berk. I read that lynxes live in parts of Sweden and Norway, which puts them roughly at the same longitude and location as I imagine Berk being located at. If I am wrong, just take it as an AU part. Lynxes will appear predominantly along with wolves as the predators in the forests of Berk.

And finally, I took the time to see how much I have written based on my plot outline and guessed at the lengths for the next sections (roughly, but still) and I came up to 500k words for the entire story… I really do not know if it will ever reach that much, but I will definitely at least try and finish it and see how close my estimate was to the actual numbers. I did finish up most of the 20k story covered in interludes (and prologue + epilogue) but those will be posted in between the different 'arcs'.

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Saienai