*Krogæn'tan is Krogan's "True name" or his given name that his parents originally gave him. It means "Little Star" In his mother tongue. "Krogan" is a shortened, bastardized version of his own tongue and his own name. It simply means "Death". Krogan does not go by this name, nor will he respond to it anymore, as that has been completely trained out of him.
**Aeros is the name that only immediate family and close friends would be allowed to call Krogan in his culture.
"What do you mean, Krogan?" Hiccup's voice rang in his ears. The smattering of light dancing in pinpricks across his vision was everything else in his mind. It all hurt. It was all too bright, despite the darkness that shrouded the rest of his vision.
He panted heavily, everything beginning to focus in on a singular pinprick of light at the back of his mind. His legs were touching the hard, wooden floor, his chest heaving precariously as his mind began to turn towards the pinnacle of focus.
He could feel the voices slashing through his head. Near constant echoing as the cries from the dragon riders burst free into the air and up into the sky around him. It was as if there were constant explosions going off.
"What happened?" Came the distant cry. Krogan couldn't pinpoint who had said i, his mind was starting to spin too much.
"Hello? Is he going to be okay? What's wrong with him?" Sorry glanced through his mind as the dizzyness began to stretch and yaw with his mind dreadfully trying to tread water, no matter how hard it was for him to do just that.
He turned his head to the sky, where the overwhelming stench of salt rolled into his nostrils. He could barely get ahold of his vocal cords to let out a shriek of terror and agony. Everything else spun like a top on his shoulders.
"Too much," he gasped out, "Too loud… please, please stop!" The giant of a man had no other idea on how to puncture his sentences through the shadows. It was as if he were swimming in a deep pit, and his voice was but a stream of bubbles as he tried to scream.
The bandages stuck down fast to his sweat-covered, clammy skin, and he could feel the slime that made him slippery against the scaly back he laid against.
"Calm down Krogan you're fine." Came a gentle voice. It cut through the darkness like liquid sugar. A hand was pressed down against his forehead. It hurt. Everything hurt. It was all full of pain- he was all full of pain.
"Focus, come on, Krogan, just focus." The plethora of other sounds ringing into his slowly waking mind made his limbs shiver, his body cry out in pain as his joints seemed to creak. The shriek that echoed from his throat made him turn his head skywards. He screamed, though no sound came past his lips.
"Shh," the voice had a pair of hands now. A pair of hands that gently gripped onto his shoulders. They gently rubbed circles into his arms, brought him to his knees, and he blinked.
With what seemed like a sudden pop, his body seemed to break out into a startling clarity. The touches, the screaming, the desperation in the air was all focusing in on itself. Everything was desperate, everything was too loud. Too pristine.
Krogan brought his hands up to his ears. He swallowed thickly. Desperation clung to his body, as he arched his head back.
"Krogan? Are you aware?" Hiccup asked. His voice cut through everything else like a hot knife. Krogan only panted. He wanted to sit up, wanted to get up on his feet again, but everything was horrible. "Come on, big guy,just give me some words…"
"Hiccup?" Krogan trailed off. His voice was too weak and shaking as it rattled around in his head. Krogan tried to sit up, however his clammy hands floundered and slipped against the Night Fury's scales that were underneath him.
His eyebrows brushed against the bandages around his face.
"The. Drago. My… my master…" he felt a shiver rush up his bare back. He could feel the muscles that ran along his spine twitch, as if trying to tug invisible spines up into an aware and scared position.
"What about him?" Hiccup placed his hand on Krogan's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"He has a King of Dragons already." He felt the tears begin to drool down his cheeks, wetting the bandages wrapped around his head, down to his face. They fell like glittering diamonds down a starlit sky, their warmth fresh against Krogan's skin.
"He… what?" Hiccup asked. "This is…"
"Worse than you thought?" Krogan remarked sardonically. "Yes. There is a very good reason that I never, for the most part, filled Viggo in on who my master is." He swallowed thickly, and then he tilted his head back, a sob breaking through his throat despite his best urges to stop it from happening.
"He knows," Krogan started to say. "Of course. If that man is good at anything it is using his words and shoving his head places it doesn't belong." He muttered the last part tiredly, as he dug his toes into the wooden floor.
"I wish I had a map on me." Krogan said. "You already know where the old base is, don't you, though?" He tilted his head up slightly, towards the sky.
"Krogan, can you slow down for a moment," Hiccup spoke up, and Jrogan grunted in acknowledgement at the statement. "Okay, Who is Drago, and why is he important?"
"Drago Bludvist is the creator and founder of something called the Northern Alliance." Krogan started to explain, waving a hand almost dismissively. "I was brought into… everything… twenty… twenty one… years ago? I don't know. Originally the Alliance was founded to help the archipelago and her neighbors deal with the so called "Dragon Problem."" He put air quotes about the dragon problem part.
"There never really has been a problem with dragons with him." Krogan gulped, air trying to smother its way out of his throat in an agitated hiss through his teeth.
"Drago just learned after subjecting a baby Bewilderbeast to torturous competition that he could control dragons." He shifted. His third eyelid slid across his eyes to moisten them.
"That is what the Dragon Eye said the King of Dragons could do!" Hiccup explained.
"Right," Krogan confirmed, rubbing at his palms. "They are… one in the same." He swallowed thickly, listening to the Night Terrors screech as they most likely played in the fresh darkness of the… stables? Was it called? The Terrible Terrors were screeching as well, bringing on the hail of morning.
He swallowed thickly. Krogan picked at his brand, and then he shivered again.
How do I explain him to Hiccup? Would… Hiccup go after him if I told him everything he has done to me? To others? Krogan turned his head towards the shuffling of Hiccup's feet. Am I worth that much?
Perhaps he should focus on what happened with the Bewilderbeast, first. He wasn't as important. Hiccup had to know his potential enemy first and foremost.
"I don't know how he originally acquired the Bewilderbeast. It was there long before he acquired me, I think." He swallowed thickly.
"Of course," Hiccup stated softly. The other's boots approached quietly. He heard the small, uncomfortable noise that one of them made.
"But I want to hear about you, Krogan." Hiccup's hand was gentle against his back, as it brushed down his spine.
Krogan tried not to stiffen at the touch of the fingers against his back. It was a stinging sensation that he couldn't quite handle, and one that made him stiffen up, his muscles quiver.
"Why?" Krogan asked. "I am not the important one. What he's done to me, minus… a few things… is exactly how everyone else is treated. I am not special." He blinked slowly, his eyelashes brushing against the fabric of the bandages on his face. His tone had become even, almost emotionless in nature.
"He is the one who branded you, isn't he?" Astrid's tone came as a shock to him. He could smell the disgust in her body, rearing its head like an ugly snake. But, it wasn't directed at him. No, it was directed at Him. Drago.
Krogan was silent, and then a shiver ran down his spine again.
"Yes." Was all he said. He turned his head away again, almost sheepishly. He didn't want his voice to shake with discomfort, but it did, and it hurt him. It made his body quiver and tremble. It was like he was being interrogated.
Perhaps I am, he thought, his mind feeling the barest him of dull regret in the depths of itself. His mouth pulled into a straight, emotionless line. He could hear everything shaking, feel his bones grinding against each other as he shifted. His toenails dug into the wood beneath his feet.
"I…' there was an uncertain pause, as the air became heavy and laden with tense energy that started to drag onwards. "How often were you hurt?" It was a question, of course- one Krogan didn't want to answer, but his mind shook. Everything shook. It was all wrong, all of it was wrong.
"Whenever… Master… he felt like it." He mumbled, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and the waves. He could barely get the words out. It was almost shame that filled his stomach then and there. But it was also something else. Fear? Perhaps it was fear?
Krogan didn't quite know. It was familiar, but at the same time, it wasn't.
A shiver ran down his spine, and he winced away as a hand brushed down the crown of his head. That… that actually felt good, even with the bandages wrapped around his head.
"You don't need to flinch," Hiccup cooed softly. "We won't hurt you, Krogan, okay?"
Krogan only nodded, swiftly gulping. Oxygen tried to dispel down his throat, his ears twitching as he tilted his head back, arched his spine into the air. Hiccup's touch lingered for a moment, and then it was gone again.
Krogan held back the urge to keen. It felt good. He wanted the warmth of Hiccup's touch, to feel those pads pressing against his scalp.
Don't be needy, he told himself. You don't need it, you just want it.
"Were you afraid?" Fishlegs asked, from the sidelines. He could hear something scratching against paper. A charcoal stick, perhaps?
"Of what? Punishment?" Krogan didn't move. "I must have done something to deserve the pain, though I… cannot remember the reasons sometimes." He swallowed thickly. They were picking him apart. Studying his mind as if he were some mildly interesting bug.
It is only logical, he thought. Why else would I deserve pain? It was the barest thought at the back of his mind, but one that was instinctive, at this point.
He could hear the scribbling for a moment in the hushed silence that overtook everything else. A dragon's wings flapped, a neck arching, spines rattling against scales.
"Drago does this to everyone that is there unwillingly, I think. Beats them." He heard the small gasp from Fishlegs, but he ignored it. "I'm undeserving of special treatment, and Drago keeps people safe from me."
His throat shivered slightly.
"Why don't you run away then, Krogan?" Astrid's voice was firm, but Krogan shook his head at her question. "You're separate now, right? There has to be a way for you to have gone to a different faction, right?"
Krogan again shook his head.
"No. He said quietly. "My reputation with other dragon hunters isn't good. They see me as a beast to be controlled. Or they fear me, or they would turn me right back into Drago!" His voice had started to spike, panic floundering in his chest.
"My titles say that in the least." He shivered softly.
"What… titles-" Hiccup's voice came out strangled.
"Bringer of Death, is one of them…" he trailed off into thoughtless shivering. "Helspawn who Walks Among Mortal Blood. Helspawn for short." Krogan trembled, gripping at his barest gaze.
"There is too many for me to remember. Too many things I have been called." He scratched the back of his head, wincing at the feeling of his hand brushing against his ear. "I am considered an omen of death to some factions, and they steer too far away from me for me to have anything to do with them." He gave a shaking noise in the back of his throat.
"He… he made sure you couldn't run." Snotlout stated. Krogan could sense the numbness in his voice. "It isn't your fault that you had that reputation. He lied to them, most likely, off started rumors that you couldn't fight to make people fear you."
"What do you mean?" Krogan asked. "He protects people from me… why would he do that?"
Krogan heard the charcoal stick tapping against the paper. Thud, thud, thud.
"He… we don't have a real word for it, but Drago was…" Astrid started to speak, and she paused.
"He didn't have your best interests in mind. He was exploiting you like what the dragon hunters do with dragons, because he knew he could." The statement drilled into his head. "How old were you when Drago took you?"
Krogan stared ahead of himself, beginning to open his mouth, and then he closed it. He should… he should start from the beginning, then, shouldn't he?
"I was just a boy." He stated quietly.
The fires raged through the village. The dry season was upon them. Fires happened on occasion, it was no big deal, especially since Mother had, like usual, tucked him underneath his arm, and was prodding him towards another location.
"Momma, where are we going?" He asked softly. He blinked. "Do you think papa is going to come home soon?" Of course, the boy's thoughts whorled and circled around his parents and his siblings. He was an odd kid.
The house was silent. The outside of it was not.
That didn't stop the other children from enjoying his company, of course, but even at the age of five, Krogæn'tan* was a loner, and lacked many social skills that were needed to gather friends, even though he had just started schooling with the other children, he had seemed to form no interest in actually socializing with them.
"Papa just went out on a hunting trip, Aeros**, you know that," Mother sighed softly. "Now come on, you need to hide."
"But why, Mama?" His large, brown eyes stared outside for a moment. He could hear the crackling of fires, and screaming, and he could smell the stench of burning flesh. The screams were off, though.
Krogæn'tan blinked his large, brown eyes cautiously, and then he turned around, wrapping his arms around Mama's leg.
"I don't want to go," he whimpered. There was a shift.
"Come on, Aeros," another voice whispered. It was Sister, Mæne'aet, and she had his brother, held calmly in her arms. "Mama needs to help out, okay?"
"But-" Krogæn'tan was cut off as a bang sounded against the door. The wood creaked underneath the force of the blow.
"Come on, Aeros, you'll be safe, okay? I promise." Sister stated, and Krogæn'tan shook his head. He turned away, looking at Mama, as she unsheathed a sword. Focusing completely on the doorway, as it splintered open to reveal the shape of a man who dwarfed Mama by what seemed like a hundred feet.
"You savage," the man sneered. His understanding of the language was broken, and as the windows broke out, more men broke in, tearing the house to shambles.
"Bring me the children, slaughter the wench if you have to." The gravelly voice tore a hole in Krogan's chest as he started to back away again, and his mother, her hand instinctively grabbed onto his shoulder.
"No!" She snarled. "You will not take them! Have you not done enough?" She wailed, her voice was a soothing memory, despite how blurry her face was.
The man laughed as he approached, and Krogæn'tan felt himself being tugged close to his mother's chest. The sword she brandished sliced a man's throat open, brought down another, before she was harshly grabbed by the wrist.
Krogæn'tan cried out in fear.
"Aeros, it is okay, you're okay, mama has you." His mother's whisper on his ears made him shiver. Her hand snaked around him tighter, her body shielding his.
It was the barest moment, as everything blurred together into a jumbled mess of fire and smoke, before Krogæn'tan realized that something warm and sticky was drizzling down his forehead.
"Mama?" He asked softly. There was nothing but a gurgle in response. Krogan was harshly gripped by the wrist, the grasp threatening to bruise soft flesh, even as he was tugged around to face his Mama. The white dress she wore, the one with beautiful red flowers embroidered across the neck.
"MAMA-" Krogæn'tan cried out in fear. "Mama wake up- wake up! Please help me!" The boy struggled against the grasp of the man holding him in place. The only thing that wasn't muggy about Mama's face was her eyes. The light began to fade, her body convulsing as the pool of blood began to spread around her throat.
His siblings were taken. Twin Brother, Kahme'ta, ripped from Sister's arms. Sister, dragged to her feet, kicking and screaming.
"You would make a lovely whore," Came a serene chuckle from the man gripping her.
"LET GO OF ME, YOU BASTARD!" Sister cried. "Let us go! Please, please, you have already taken so much, we gave you and your men safety and security, please!" She cried.
Krogæn'tan only screamed. He could only focus on Mama. Her body weak, limp against the floor. Her hand bent at an awkward angle as she tried to reach for him.
The stark stop that had come spilling from his mind was more than enough for him to begin to shiver. His mind quivered.
Not the time. It wasn't the time for everything to come spilling out of his memory like a wave of uncontrollable rage and fear. The disgust of onset, old emotions was bringing him deeper and deeper into the spill of emotion.
How he'd been violated. His childhood stolen from him. How he was barely twenty five- barely even an adult- only a few years past being a teenager.
"Krogan, it is okay," Hiccup said quietly. A hand brushed his head again, running along his scalp. "I am- I am so, so sorry…" Krogan could hear the younger man's voice shaking. He could smell the heavy, rain smelling scent of pity…. Of hurt… clinging to the air. Empathy, they held empathy for him and his plight.
It made his head hurt. Everything made his head hurt. The blooming of a headache was the least of his worries.
The urge to lash out at their pity was strong. The urge to bite, to hiss, to fight and scream that No! He didn't need their empathy. He didn't need them to feel emotions for him.
Instead, Krogan tightened his mouth into a straight line. It wobbled slightly. His throat. It quivered heavily against his bandaged body. The groan of fear and terror that peeled past his lips made him start to shake. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Don't cry, he thought. Why am I crying? I shouldn't be crying- he missed Momma's warm arms, he hurt, he's never remembered Father or Mother's face. Both were a blurry stain in the back of his mind.
The only things he remembered about them was the smell of fear. The smell of death. Of terror. Horror. Pain. It was all wrong. It was all horribly wrong and it only made his head hurt and scream at him in agony and terror.
"It hurts." His voice shook with the effort it took to spoke. "I want to remember their faces but…" his voice broke, as he started to shift, blindly fumbling through the air as he tumbled from the dragon's back.
Hiccup's hands steadied him, gripped onto his sides, and then he was being pulled into a chest. Held tight. It was not the same as Mama's arms. It never would be, but it still made his head spin.
I have never seen Hiccup's mother, Krogan thought to himself. At least not on Berk. She wasn't with the rest of the village, or.. I don't think she was…
"I know," Hiccup said softly. "I… understand how you feel the way you do." It was a soft, shaking tone of voice that Hiccup spoke with. Krogan buried his head deeper into Hiccup's body. Warm. His scent was warm and gentle. Like a spring day, fresh with the new white and purple blooms of yarrow and hogweed.
"My mother…" Hiccup's chest rose, and then fell, even, trying to be soothing. "My mother was taken by dragons when I was just a baby." His voice quivered in his throat. Krogan could sense the emotion that was threatening to spill over Hiccup's even tone.
"You aren't alone." Hiccup said simply. "Astrid lost her uncle to a Flightmare, and Snotlout…" Hiccup took a deep breath in the back of his throat.
"You said your father was on a hunting trip, wasn't he?" Hiccup asked. His hand gently massaged Krogan's back, loosening muscles that were tight and knotted into thick braids underneath his skin.
Krogan only nodded in response, not knowing if he had the energy to speak. If he had the will to speak without sobbing, or his voice cracking. Or both.
"Maybe he lived." Hiccup said. A small shiver ran down Krogan's spine.
"Where…" Krogan winced as his face broke down, crumpling in on itself. "Why hasn't he come for me? He could have saved me but he didn't." Krogan's memory of Father was even worse than it was for Mother. Father was Chief, he was busy, if he wasn't leading hunting parties, he had been only able to hug Krogan once a few times a week, wish him luck in school, or congratulate him on a drawing.
But he wasn't around much.
"What if he doesn't care?" Krogan squeaked. "What if he moved on and had a different family?" The worry began to sting Krogan like a thousand bees. Hungry. Hungry for him to observe. For him to yield. To yield to the most obvious of scenarios.
He was disposable, after all, why would his family not be the same?
Krogan shivered as yet another hand was placed on his shoulder.
"Krogan, you have been dragged a long way from home," Astrid's voice was a jolt in the back of his mind. He stiffened against her hand. "He has a lot of space to search for you, and your siblings." His eyes shivered.
"Kahme is dead." Krogan said softly. "He got sick, and when he didn't get better, Drago refused to treat him. He was dumped into the ocean like trash." His voice wobbled slightly.
He began to pull away from Hiccup. He averted his head from a hand that tried to gently brush against his cheek.
"Mæne'aet. I don't know where she is. She was sold for some other purpose." His throat wobbled heavily. "I know what it is."
There was muted silence. Disgust permeated the air, just as it had when he mentioned what they had called her.
"Father Might think I am as good as dead as well." He mumbled the last part. "Just like the Dragon Hunters. They want me dead. They left me to die, it doesn't matter, but it happened." His shivering began to ease as he settled onto his knees.
Why are they asking me these things? Krogan wondered to himself. His body shivered softly. Terribly so, his cold body took the soft groan from his razorwhip as an offer to scratch her nose. She cooed, brushing against his hand, before she settled down on the wooden planks below them.
The air was still chilled to the bone with the early morning's wrath.
I want to see the sunrise. He thought to himself wistfully. It was as if he had broken into a dark shadow on the edge of the dark gaze in the wind.
"If I have been disposed of according to the Dragon Hunters, Johann has gotten in contact with him to make sure he does not incur Drago's wrath." His voice shook. Krogan could feel the fear raising in his stomach. The terror that had been growing ever since the Incident.
"He approved of my disposal." He felt his throat tighten in fear. "I've become the sword that is no longer able to be sharpened. So I am to be disposed of according to him."
He could smell the scent of rage suddenly overwhelming his nostrils as he finished his sentence. It was a scent that was furiously red-hot, one that made his sensitive nose twitch. Pungent, like the smell of rotten grapes.
"Did he tell you this?" Snotlout's voice was terse, nearly shaking.
Krogan only nodded. It came as a shock when Snotlout growled lowly underneath his breath. The disgust was clear in his voice the next time he spoke.
"You can't let people speak to you like that!" He cried. Krogan only listened, wincing at the volume. "You aren't a sword, you aren't just another weapon, you're. You're a living, breathing man!" Krogan felt his throat click at the sound of Snotlout approaching. His hand was placed against his slumped back.
"My…" Snotlout's voice tightened. "When Hookfang lost his fire once, my father told me that I should just let him die and get a new dragon." Krogan could feel the hurt that radiated from Snotlout now.
The disturbed scent that wafted from Hiccup didn't help, either.
"Snotlout-" came the choked reply from Fishlegs. "Your father did… what?" Krogan winced, reaching out and wrapping a hand around Snotlout's arm.
"Not now, Fishlegs," Snotlout said, his voice now softer as his hand brushed against the back of Krogan's hand.
It was so tiny compared to his. He could feel it clinging to his finger, before it gently stroked his wrist.
"Your dragon is your friend though, isn't he?" Krogan whispered softly. "He's not a person but he's- Alive." His voice shook with a shaking disgust. There was someone like that on Berk?
"Hookfang is my best friend." Snotlout explained, voice evening out. "He is not only my friend, but he is my brother. At the time, i didn't realize how much I… cared for him… until I saw him getting weaker and weaker."
This was a touchy subject Krogan could tell by the shivering of Snotlout's voice, as the younger man squeezed his hand.
"Just like he is not just another sword, neither are you." Snotlout stated firmly. His hands gently wrapped around Krogan's own, brushing against his palm as he slowly tugged the giant of a man's hand away from his arm.
Krogan felt his mind shiver with discomfort.
"I am treated no differently to any of the other low-lives Drago has taken." Krogan explained. "At least… that's what i was told. Pain is a required part of failure, isn't it, Snotlout?" Krogan could feel his mind struggling to wrap around this concept, as he was slowly shifting on the Night Fury's saddle. He was far too big for the Dragon.
Again, silence overtook the area. Then, Hiccup sighed from his right side.
"Why don't we change the subject," Hiccup started. "Are you hungry? We are happy to provide you and your new dragon friend with food." Krogan tilted his head up, and he slowly nodded.
"Astrid, do you still have the bucket of sea slugs for when Windshear is here?" Krogan heard Hiccup mumbling. He blinked as the younger man's voice seemed to fade.
"How about I help you to the table, okay?" Snotlout asked. Krogan nodded slowly, as he lifted an arm for Snotlout. The young man wrapped an arm underneath his shoulder, and then wrapped it around his back.
"Hookfang, a little help?" The other's voice droned out of Krogan:s focus on whatever else was happening around himself. He just started to try to focus on something, anything else other than the pain, as a long snout pushed up under his opposite arm, and he was lifted onto his feet.
He gave a loud hiss of pain, only giving a sharp yelp as his Razorwhip suddenly nudged herself into his stomach. She brushed her tongue against his throat, and then she was gone again. The din of everyone else talking blended into the background with everything else in the back of his head.
That was how it should be, right?
After a while, the din picked up. Others began to stride in, get sat down. The smell of food was a draw, even for him. He ignored the din to his best ability.
Just leave, he thought. Ignore it all.
A hand gently brushed his back. Something cold and slimy was rubbed across his wounds. Krogan stiffened at the touch, turning his head slightly.
"Don't worry, it is just me." Fishlegs's voice was calm, and Krogan shifted. His head quivered as he shifted on the bench. There was barely enough room for him.
"Later I am going to check on your face, after breakfast, okay?" Fishlegs soothed. Absentmindedly, Krogan nodded slowly. His body twitched as the rest of the time bled by. Fishlegs left after a while, his bare back being chilled by whatever ointment had been rubbed into his skin.
"Here," a bowl was placed in front of him. "Nettle soup. It should help with your wounds." Astrid gently patted his side. The scent of the warm soup wafted up to his nose. He could smell the other fragrant hints of dried herbs; yarrow, waterweed, fire fern. Others were there too, especially in the cup that had been set in his hand.
He took the cup, the wood was warm to the touch. The fluid felt good and soothing as it trailed down his throat. His stomach was full, for once. He had a meal in him. That is what mattered, right?
He had something.
─── ∙ ~?~ ∙ ───
The rumbling of the sky was the only sound he focused on as he shifted against the floor. Was Drago actually coming for him? Was He hunting for him? It was a horrifying thought, and one that made his heart thump in his chest like a spiraling drum in the back of his mind.
No, he thought. He can't be. His fingers rubbed circles in his dragon's head. She had fallen asleep a while ago, at least, he was sure she had. His eyes blinked slowly, as he tilted his head to the side. Again, the man blinked. His ear shifted, as he listened to his surroundings. A full stomach, his wounds numb, he felt… at ease.
The Bewilderbeast's presence in the back of my head was a simple coincidence. His thoughts whorled like a tornado in the back of his mind. Had the other dragons had any sort of reaction to the call? He must be doing something with it, though. Calling and drawing in more dragons for the flock, perhaps? Krogan chewed his lip at the thought of that.
Drago was preparing for something. What, exactly it was, Krogan was unsure, but it couldn't be good. If only he could offer information on what the Dragon Hunters operations were, however he had been kept out of the loop as of recently.
Probably because they were planning on disposing of me. He thought icily. Then, he paused. Oh no, he felt fear creep through the back of his mind. The plan to ambush Berk's A-Team hung heavy on him.
─── ∙ ~?~ ∙ ───
"Johann, that isn't a good idea," Krogan stated simply. He crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't know about you, but doesn't going after Haddock's father seem a bit… counterproductive?" Krogan felt the mousy haired man's eyes boring into him.
"It will distract the riders long enough to have them on their knees the next time that we see them," Johann ranted. "You know this, Krogan."
Krogan only gritted his teeth.
"No, it will not, Johann. Has your taste for revenge against Berk gotten the better of you?" His eyes narrowed. "If we kill or injure Haddock's father, that will only be like further disturbing a nest of hornets."
"Oh be serious, Krogan," Johan snorted. "It would be a perfect way to lure the Riders into a trap after we take over the Edge again." Johann stepped up closer to him, pointing a finger into his chest. Hard.
Krogan bared his teeth at the much smaller man. A hiss rippled out of his throat.
"Are you going soft? You are supposed to be the best in the business, and yet here you are, quivering over what would happen if we took out the patriarch, a leader, in the dragon riders." Johann trailed off slightly. His eyes narrowed, as Krogan shoved his hand off of him.
"Get your filthy hands off of me." Krogan snapped. "I know what would happen because you're the one that sent me out to observe them, Johann!" The behemoth of a man sneered. The flickering torches that lit up the room made his skin glow with gentle light.
"You know what would happen too, unless you are so blinded by rage that you want to risk everything we have just to settle a score, and not to mention, using a cowardly way to settle said score to make it easier for you to win!" Krogan's chest heaved as he got up closer into Johann's face. "The way to do this is to keep going the way we are. In a few weeks time the others will have the lenses we have translated and then we can go for the prize and be done with this." Krogan's face turned red with rage.
Johann himself scoffed, and turned around.
"I know you and the Chief of Berk have a vendetta against each other, mainly you, for whatever Thor-Forsaken reason-" Krogan started to say, only to pause.
"He has been interrupting my means of getting around the archipelago unseen for years, and they're allied with those BEASTS!" Johann threw his hands up in the air. At the back of his mind, Krogan could only shake his head.
"Johann, if this causes your plan to blow up in your face, do not come to me whining about it." Krogan snarled. "You wanted me to gather information on your enemy. I did that. I say it's a horrible idea that is just going to get more of our men killed. We don't need to give the dragon riders a personal vendetta against us if all of this backfires!" He reminded Johann, standing up straighter.
Johann only scoffed.
"Go back to your post, Krogan, the decision has been made." Krogan only growled, and turned away towards the door. It was a waste of men. A waste of time, and he just wanted to go back home to be left alone for months again.
─── ∙ ~?~ ∙ ───
I need to tell Hiccup, he reminded himself. The arc for that event was nearing rapidly. It had to be done, if he was to be an important member of the team. He needed to be safe. He had to be trusted.
I can't believe I told someone that, about my home, he thought to himself, trying to drag himself away from the subject in question.
His heart fluttered in his chest. Desperation clung to his throat as it tightened. He could hear footsteps approaching, and he recognized them. Snotlout, perhaps? He couldn't think of anyone else they could be.
What time is it? It shouldn't have been that long, could it have? He shivered softly. His spine tingled. He then blinked slowly.
Heat rushed to his ears as he shakily turned his head towards the sound of the footsteps pausing in their place against the ground. In the entryway. His mind throbbed. Everything throbbed.
"Hello, Krogan." Snotlout greeted cheerfully. There was a thud. A box. A heavy one at that, was dropped on the floor, and another box, was set down by the Nightmare, by what Krogan could assume.
"The Chief of Berk is in danger." Krogan stated swiftly.
"What do you mean?" The sound of shuffling was heard, as first, Snotlout's hands hesitated against Krogan's back.
"I need to take your measurements. It will be quick, I have an outline for an outfit ready and I just need to sew it together." Snotlout continued, and Krogan huffed loudly.
"Johann has a plan ready for the thirteenth of August." He started to say. "He is going to set a trap, one that will lure your chief away from Berk to ambush him and try and kill him. I warned him of the repercussions but he would not listen." Krogan turned his head in Snotlout's direction, blinking his eyes.
"Hookfang, go get Hiccup," Snotlout hissed. "He will need to hear this to get a hold of Stoick." The Monstrous Nightmare snarled, and then the sound of claws scraping against the floorboards sounded. Wings spread, and then a gust of wind hit Krogan's face.
Fabric was placed on his back.
"It might take him a bit," Snotlout explained. "Can you lift your arm, please?"
Krogan grunted, nodding. His arm shifted, and Snotlout wrapped his hand around his bicep.
"I made that way too small, shit." Snotlout hissed. His hand could not even wrap around his bicep, and could barely grab it at that.
The sound of returning wingbeats sounded and then claws on the wood.
"Krogan?" Hiccup's voice came from in front of him, and then there was a pause.
"Johann has a plan I am sure you would like to hear about." Krogan stated simply. "You need to get in contact with your father. He is going after him." He swallowed thickly.
Hiccup made a noise.
"When?" He asked. A frantic noise in the back of his throat.
"August. Two weeks." Krogan tilted his head. "The Thirteenth to be exact." He swallowed thickly.
"What is the plan?" Hiccup's voice tightened. "Is he going to?"
"He wants to kill him. Send word to your father that if he sees any ships or dragon flyers around the date of the thirteenth that he is to ignore them. It is a trap," his throat wobbled slightly. It hurt the back of his mind to know what might happening.
"Thank you. I will inform him right away…" Hiccup's legs clicked slightly. "Thank you."
Thank you. It rang in his head like a scream. Yes. It was nice. A smile began to make a smile pull at his lips.