The large, wooden, enveloped by the metal additions door, whose size could've been compared to the four Vikings standing on each other, evoked a creaking sound, as Hiccup pushed them open, having considerable difficulty in doing so. Notwithstanding that, once she attempted this, the smell of the sweat, the warmth, and the light of the torches welcomed her inside, although didn't much encourage her into entering, as she just took in the sight of the insides, before daring herself to move.
The place was shrouded by Vikings of various ages - the adults taking the spots by the vast tables and conversing, although more likely proclaiming soundly their opinions, while the children were seeable running across the area. Hence, it came to be rather hard for Hiccup to avoid the glances, by which she was endowed, and which she ignored, having her eyes locked to the front, never leaving the view of the tables at the end of the site.
Appearing by her target, her eyes widened on their own, at the glimpse of the steaming warmth dishes, such as roasted chickens, fish, and other types of meat, but also, beverages in the composition of alcohol, mainly. Not much waiting, the woman, at once, grabbed one of the wooden plates at the side put herself a nice piece of the cod, and moved to one of the empty tables, by which she took her seat, not much interested in building any contact with people.
Usually, the reason would have been her knowledge, that the villagers had no will to spend their time with her, although today, there was an additional factor - her mental and physical exhaustion. In the matter of one, horribly lengthy day, she'd come across her mortal enemy, who ironically, became somewhat her odd ally, and not only that but also had to bear his threats, as if she hadn't many concerns, already.
Ultimately, the flow of her thoughts, and her complaining, were ceased, once the voices of the groups of infamous, young adults reached her ears, from the table just next to hers. "-we were today? Amazin', right?" Tuffnut exclaimed, leaning his hands on his neck, wearing the smug grin, and glimpsing so, with the side of her eye, Hiccup gagged, disgusted.
"Well, ya'd made a pretty good job today," Gobber praised, as he paced around the table, although when he was precisely over the comfortable man, he grabbed the top of his head, and slammed his forehead into the table, not very firmly, "and when I say ya, I mean not ya."
"Illogical, but what the hell do I know?" Tuffnut noted, massaging the aching bruise on his head, before straightening at once. "I continue to believe that the strategy, with killin' from the inside, is just brilliant."
As he acknowledged so, his sister, having the spot just next to his, leaned her elbows on the wooden surface of the table, and muttered, "My twin is a fuckin' cretin," rubbing her eyebrows in the meantime.
"And that's somethin', I can agree with," Gobber admitted, limping as he stopped by the table's corner, and crossed his arms over his wide chest. "Although, ye're not without a blame yerself, Ruffnut. Ya'd better learn some discipline in these heads of yers, already, before it comes back to ya."
"Let them be, Gobber," Astrid recommended, as she chewed, and although so, the sound of her voice itself, send a shiver down Hiccup's spine. "The gods are goin' to appear, before they mature. 's a waste of time, tryin' to convince them."
"Oh right, the perfect Astrid, as always has somethin' to say in the matter," Ruffnut exclaimed, his hand tensing its grasp on the cup that she held. "Before judgin', anyone, perhaps take care of yer business first, for instance, gettin' over Hiccup's case, what ye've not done, yet."
"Bullshit," Astrid snarled straight into the twin's face, her teeth gashed, firmly. "Dislikin' her has nothin' to do with gettin' over it, as ye've named it."
"If I were ya, I'd do more about the whole case," Ruffnut declared, and the smirk painted itself on her face. "Rules may be rules, but justice, that's the other thin'."
"Moreover, justice may be justice, but the chief's rules are greater than it," Fishlegs acknowledged, rather boldly leaning his forearms on the table. "After all, ya'd not want to be banishment, would ya?"
"Fishlegs's got a point," Gobber claimed, before glaring his eyes at Astrid, who only gazed to the side, unbothered. "I thought the case was closed."
"It will, once ya'll tell me, what will happen with that new, caught Monstrous Nightmare?" Astrid questioned, chewing on the chicken's thigh, lifting an eyebrow once swallowing. "'s the time to allow me to kill it, at last. I'd earned the honor a lon' time ago."
"That is true, but the dragon is quite wounded after the confrontation with the Night Fury, currently," Gobber remarked, scratching his jaw with the spoon prosthesis. "Although, of course, I'd talked with the chief, and he agreed that ya'll be the one to take it down, just not yet."
As he mentioned that, Astrid nodded, her expression not betraying any emotions, before she replied, "The time doesn't matter, what's important, is that I'll do it," having her focus on the meal, afterward.
"Now, what's left is hope, that Hiccup won't fuck yer chance up the second time," Tuffnut scoffed by the time, when Hiccup felt the couple of eyes on herself, while her were locked on her dish, which was untouched since taking it. "That would be comical to see."
"Comical? More like pathetic," Astird droned, her eyes drilling into Hiccup's skull, who sensed it, notwithstanding not having a view of that. "Fuckin', spoiled, twat."
At once, when the curses left Astrid's mouth, Hiccup stood up, her heart beating at an unknown velocity, and made her way toward the entrance, having her stomach empty and her head overflowing with emotions. Somewhere behind her back, she'd hear the Gobber calling her back, and soon after that, his scowling at Astrid, but that wasn't registered by her mind - the one she gave attention to, was her accelerated breathing, some laughs at the back, and the tears that clouded her vision of the damned world.
The real warriors would've never shown their emotions, so why are ya? Stoic's words, which she once must have listened to as a kid, echoed in Hiccup's ears, swathing her body with not only despair but also remorse. This was like a fight, combat with her own senses that, no matter her efforts to avoid, she would've always lost to, just like currently, having her cheeks coated by thick tears, although her face was being overtaken by apathy.
There was not even silent sobbing coming out of her, at least no longer, the woman just lay on her bed, plastering her back to the sheet, staring through the window, which was just ahead of her face, and beyond which she could not even glimpse a moon. Before her eyes were spread only darkness, jet-black emptiness, which wasn't only seeable, but also feelable, as Hiccup attempted to withstand her hopelessness, although the need to break was beginning to overcome her appearances.
If the young woman would gaze to the side, she would've glimpsed not least the room in its own look - the scattered around papers, the blankets strewn by the corners, and various, wooden furniture, with the carbon sketches by their flanks - but also, her own reflection, in the metal shield being nearby. By that time, she would've caught sight of the strand of auburn hair, glued to her cheek, her green eyes encircled by the redness of the sclera, and the crumpled, messed-up tunic, she had worn throughout the entire day, but she didn't even move the head.
However, the concept of her appearance emerged in her mind, and while it wasn't very far from reality, she could've only thought, about how awful it was, how ineptly it was, how inadequate, for the role of forthcoming chiefness, she was. The preparation, for the day she would take her father's position, was held since her early childhood, although even so, the day itself and the presumption that it was nearer than farther from occurring, was unthinkable.
It might have been seen, that such thinking was caused by the opinion of everybody, including Hiccup's own, that she wouldn't have made it, and partly, that was correct, but also, it was caused by Hiccup's lack of interest in it. If she'd ever said that out loud, she would've been laughed at, because, how could she not have any interest in being a chief, but the truth was what it was, and the woman, what she craved for most, was the travel, not the chiefdom.
What she yearned for was the journey throughout the entire world, the discovery of the farthest lands, the viewing of what's never been seen, the getaway from her home village, as far away from it as it was even achievable. Such an indecent ambition, for the chief's daughter, the heir of the society, the embarrassment, Hiccup condemned herself, although the fantasy of disappearing behind the horizon of the ocean kept itself in the back of her mind.
Ultimately, what would push her to sit up, was that mere hope, the thought, that if she disposed of the curse, disposed of the male himself, maybe, she would, at last, find the boldness to kill, maybe, she would satisfy her father's expectations. If so, maybe, she would, furthermore, fulfill the deal with him, and then, she would be unburdened to choose her fate, maybe, she would fulfill her, although rather unsuitable, only dream she had.
Straightening her back, after what seemed like hours of motionlessness, she reached out for the book from the bedside table, with the same title and author as the one that Night Fury owned, and browsed through it, cautiously. As she read the sentence by sentence, she attempted to deduce the meaning of them, alas ineffectively, and having nothing in her mind, she tossed the leather object across the whole room, into the wall, against which it was smashed.
She needed help, she understood, and having her head fuming by overloading reflecting, she stood up on her bed, even balanced at the very frame of it, finding herself halfway through the window, consequently. Immediately, the cold wind rushed through her tangled hair and soaked cheeks, which provoked a shiver up her shoulders, although freshened her sanity as she had hoped for, while she just stared forth, thoughtlessly.
Her house, and therefore, the chief's house had its placement the highest from every other, that's why this was rather unattainable not to catch sight of the mountain, which was the center of the isle, just by the side. Hence, at one point, her eyes must have narrowed with the idea, as these glanced just above, toward the mountain's peak, where its location had a rather slight, dangerously aligned, wooden hut.
It was not any mystery who lived there - elder Gothi, the second, after the chief, if not equal to him, figure who could've been praised by possessing the ability to communicate with the gods themselves. If there was any knowledge to be learned, it was from there, Hiccup realized, and not thinking twice much, she slid through the curved, oval roof, and as her feet touched the grass, swathed by the dew, moved in its direction.
The darkest and quietest time of the day was much help, retaining the lack of any presence at the current empty land, however, her heartbeat sounded with the tone of thousands of war bells, nevertheless. Thus, that was rather fortunate that not even minutes had passed, and she was by the stairs, even hurried up them, although while climbing them, her head raced with the scenarios, the questions of the steps of her unknown plan.
What was she even doing? Why was she? she asked herself, the pace of hers never slowing down. Asking about the book of her mad grandpa, whom everybody hated, in the middle of the night? Because of some pity worth, mere hope?! Ultimately, the screams inside her head became unbearable, unbearable enough that she must've stopped herself half the way to the target, and facing another of the upcoming wooden steps, panted, her heart jumping out of her chest.
What she longed for, what she just wanted to obtain, at last, was just the freedom, the simplest freedom, the lack of the weight that came with the black scales and the pair of the wings, that came with the curse. How much she was ready to do, to attain that? Hiccup answered that question merely a couple of hours earlier - everything - although just now, she realized the very meaning of that confession because now, she was about to become a thief, a traitor, a fraud.
Eventually, she proceeded with the climb, although much slower, hence quieter, until stumbling upon the top, she made her way through the stuffed terrace toward the opening of the house, namely a rather short door. Tiptoeing, she slipped inside the building, and couldn't glimpse much under the influence of the darkness around, although saw a table just by the entrance, crammed with books, at which her focus turned, instantly.
Alas, after a moment of searching through the various titles and authors, she couldn't find anything that might seem helpful, other than some myths, traditions, or even characterization of each god ever known. That was rather obvious she needed more than that, although once hearing the steps up the upper floor, she understood that she didn't have time for more, and without much hesitation, flung the first three books out of the window, before herself climbing it.
What she hadn't known about, was the rather deep decline behind it, which extended toward the ground itself, and through which she was falling, after realizing the occurrences seconds too late to react, properly. The woman didn't have to think much, that was rather evident she ought to fly, in order not to die, and also, not be noticed when, after transforming into her dragon self, she would collapse on the ground if failed.
Change itself wasn't much of a deal - in a matter of five years the ability became as easy as breathing was - although it was the flight that was the difficulty, the lack of any knowledge about it, also the instinct required for having that. Hence, when attaining the pair of mighty wings by her back, she wouldn't use them, rather flung them without much of an idea how to fly safely to the ground, and the panic sank in her body, not short after.
Ultimately, when she thought that it was about to be over for her entire existence, a ray of hope shone on her head, being the reminder of the previous occurrences, more precisely, of the first meeting with the Night Fury in Cove. Clearly, she remembered, how gracefully he flew over the surface of dark water, although without even moving an inch of his enormous wings, which being extended, anyhow glid him across the dampness.
The hypothesis was straightforward - immobilize wings - and while the idea wasn't very certain and secure, having no other, and also being dangerously near the hard soil, Hiccup depended on it, and at once, quit waving her wings. The movement itself was like a shot of adrenaline, and with the violent heartbeat, the female soared beyond the houses whose roofs were inches over herself, although much wobbly, having no management over anything, rather than the height of the flight, which reduced, luckily.
In the final, she managed to fly out of the village and found herself on the earth afterward, however, the landing didn't belong to the finest, because it included the impact with the tree and collapse from somewhere around several meters. Notwithstanding all of that, shortly after having herself transform back, with her back glued to the wet flora, Hiccup giggled, even laughed, the honest smile brightening on her face with every second that passed.
Eventually, as the flashy, densely decomposed stars reflected in her eyes, she whispered, "Now, that's a life," not moving an inch, before surveying each detail of the stunning sky.
"Who do we have here?" the Night Fury, having his very much human legs bent in knees, his arms leaned on them, sitting just by the lake's corner, exclaimed - the book in his loose hold betraying his previous action. "Miss Viking, herself, came to see me."
Barely had Hiccup crossed the border of the cove, when the man's voice rang in her ears - the sound that, itself, induced nausea - to which she reacted by simply furrowing her eyebrows and clenching harder on the books' covers in her arm. Her eyes were fixed on him, largely because of the plain distrust toward him, but also, the lack of any noteworthy sight, such as the cove's beauty, which was obscured under the influence of the grayish night.
At the point, when her body arose just over his, the man gazed up at her, the acid eyes drilling into her as he asked, "How may I serve you?" having not even a shred of seriousness.
"I've somethin' for ya," she notified, before dropping the entire weight of three books on top of his head, the smirk debuting on her face. "Ye're welcome."
Initially, the man glared at her, while the large hand stroked his aching neck until having glimpsed the gifts, he acknowledged, "Books?" sticking an eye at her.
"Indeed," she verified, twisting her fingers behind her back, although raising herself on her tiptoes, periodically. "Since ye're such a literate, I thought ye're dreamin' only about them."
"They're broken," he pointed out, glancing from the mentioned objects, to back at her carefree self, his voice lowered as he leaned closer to her. "How do you expect me to have any use in them?"
"Ye're overreactin'," she snorted, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest, although once he grabbed one of them and held it by the cover over the ground, when it halved in half, the grin slippered from her face and his only brightened. "Smartass."
"Whatever you say," he replied, eyeing the woman's efforts to clean the mess, before he applied his body weight on the arms behind his back, and questioned, "Where do you have these even from?"
As Hiccup squatted for one of the pages, she peeked at him, squinting her eyes at him, and added her own ask, "Why's that important?" lifting herself along with the piece of paper.
"It is not," he acknowledged, shrugging. "I am just curious, of how such a woman like you obtained," he paused just to draw the cover to his face, and read, "The secret of greatness."
"They're from my home," she lied, begging that her face didn't betray that, when she stood side to him, hugging the mashed pages to her chest.
"If so, then I guess the books aren't very well treated in your household," he noticed, and then read her, like a quoted book. "You stole them."
"And so what?!" she snorted vexed, tumbling the retrieved pages to his feet. "I'm certain that nothin' ye're ownin' is, in fact, yers."
"Well, yes," he affirmed, and stood up, at once disposing of the woman's height advantage. "Although, there is a dissimilarity between us."
"Oh, is there?" she yelped, facing him while wearing an irritated expression. "Lay it on me, then."
Before answering, the man tilted his head at her, even had the audacity to lower his head to her level, as he whispered, "I'd never steal from my own," although creased his forehead, when Hiccup nohow reacted as he thought, even better, snickered.
"Ye've got quite a nerve to throw that in my face, while wearin' the face of the mortal enemy, like a traitor," she rasped through the gnashed teeth and grinned when the wrath transformed his expression. "It hurt, didn't it? The thought that ye're not as perfect as ya'd believed," she muttered, and stank her nose higher, while he stayed silent. "What? Ya'd been so chatty, just now. Why won't ya talk anymore?"
"You'd like me to talk? Very well," he murmured, the deepest she'd ever heard him, before at once, he captured her upper arm in a firm grasp and drew her nearer, against her will. "I loathe your race, the existence of it, itself. You're just fucking horrid, being the weakest creature, that somewhat outlasts," he revealed, his appalling face just inches from hers, "and only, because, as the book says, you have it better, just by owning the abilities the mind posses. If I'd like to get rid of, how you named it, the face of the mortal enemy, I must use it, although the longer I stay like that, the better I despise you, because now, I am aware, how much intelligence you hold, and how less you use it!"
Throughout the total speech, each of Hiccup's attempts to break out of his robust grasp, whose strength increased with every word spoken, was frail, not enough to escape from the pain, which flooded her eyes with tears. It wasn't until the last word, that she'd given up, entitling the man to uphold her body weight, and while he lived up to these expectations, as his eyes eased, from the vivid fury to the nettle apathy, he, at last, let go of her.
Not surprisingly for both, the woman collapsed to the footing, her hands clenching on the grayish grass, as the man only observed the rapid motions of her panting body, being nohow touched by them, before handing her his hand. At once, she shoved it away, although the act did not prevent the man from clasping her other upper arm, and yanking her upward, much to her objecting which didn't have any power over his persistent, stubborn behavior.
"You're welcome," he droned, and only bored his eyes at her, as she stroked the bruised arm. "Consider it a warning, to never throw such an accusation at me, again," he added, and once she nodded, he straightened, and changed the theme, as if nothing had happened. "I thought about all that prophecy."
"Okay," she replied, her hand never departing from the injury. "What ye've come up with?"
"I believe it's split in the two parts, after all, the idea is that, it's supposed to be understood only by us. The one being understandable only by a dragon, and the other by a human," he explained, while Hiccup put up with hers, avoiding his sight. "I, also, believe it shouldn't be complicated, rather the first thought that comes to your mind," he continued, although, at last, annoyed with her behavior. "What's up with you? You'd been so chatty, just now," he quoted her, narrowing his eyes at her, teasingly, while she only turned her head to the side, hardening her jaw. "Perhaps, you think that I'd gone overboard, but don't expect any apology from me, because you won't get one."
"No, I ain't think ye've gone overboard," she confessed, daring herself to glance at his stoic self. "However, I ain't like the way ye're lettin' it out on me, the hatred toward my people as if we were the only ones guilty for the war," she clarified, her eyes reluctantly gazing at his hardened expression. "Both, ya and I, know that yer race isn't the bed of roses, also. Ye're not as innocent as ye're constantly assumin', after all, ya'd killed hundreds of ours. Furthermore, ain't be shocked that I detest ya, just the same, as ya detest me. I, too, have reasons for that."
Thereafter, he didn't answer that much, although stared at her intensively, his face tilted as his eyes narrowed, surveying each detail of her, while the woman stood wordlessly, confused over the lack of his response. At some point, dark thoughts flooded her mind, and the idea of running away even crossed her head, although she didn't move an inch, being inquisitive of anything the man had his mind onto, currently.
Ultimately, he'd move a few steps onward, toward her, and at once, Hiccup reacted by stepping back herself, her heart gaining on velocity as he loomed over her, his face betraying neither his thoughts nor his deeds. As she tormented herself, by making an effort to withstand his gaze, the man, without much struggle, had his eyes still locked on her, until having enough, he, at last, muttered, rather to himself than her.
"This might work."
"W-What might work?" she questioned, her stomach jumping to her throat.
Again, the man didn't respond, although passed through her, and commanded, "Come with me," while leaning over her ear, and then proceeding with his path onwards, with the woman following him, obediently.