Awaking, for him, was as if after being stomped by the cow, maybe even buffalo - his head sore, lacking any major thoughts, his eyes blinded, though soon he learned it was actually dark, and limbs, his arm especially, numb. Eventually, whether he wanted that or not, blinking his eyes, he endeavored to stay focused, although once having the urge to wipe his eyelids, he'd found himself unable to, due to the tied hands.
At that point, having more than one question, he'd taken into sight the surroundings, and shortly, detected Hiccup, sitting with her crossed legs just off, by the bonfire that split them, her face expressing a serenity he'd never expected from her. Subsequently, likewise, she'd caught sight of him, being awake, and waved, within rather a beam, to which he'd responded with a narrow of his eyes, before, sighing, the woman stood up, and anon, drew near him, leaning her side at the same tree he'd been laying under.
"Good midnight, buddy," she greeted, the grin only brightened, whilst his forehead gained on lines. "The moon's up, so should ya."
"I fucking hate you," he rasped and lifted his hands, circled by the rope for her to eye. "What's that for?"
"So ya'd not get any dense ideas," she declared, crossing her arms atop her chest and gazing downward at him. "For instance, chargin' at me for knockin' ya out."
"You've knocked me out?!" he yelled, straightening at once, regretting it once his head spun, and he must have fought the wave of pain. "I swear, when I'll get out-,"
"Ya'll do nothin' more, than bein' grateful for patchin' ya up," she interrupted him, not much concerned with the glare he'd bestowed her with. "Moreover, even try somethin', and I promise, I'll have to get to patchin', again," she threatened, circling in her hand his very knife, which, just hours ago, was against her very neck. "Pretty, of my work. I understand ye've stolen it, the day ye've visited?"
"I plead not guilty," he replied, wearing a smirk that resembled hers, and whilst the seriousness clouded his features, asked, raising his hands, "Now, could you take it off? I swear to not try anything."
At the start skeptical, Hiccup studied him, her head tilted at him, although at last, she kneeled down to his level, and applying the blade to the ropes, warned, "I'd better not regret it, otherwise ya'll obtain the knife penetrated through yer throat," before snapping them at once.
Thereafter, the grin faded from her face as she moved back to the previous spot by the fire, while the man massaged the skin of his wrists, bruised upon being tied, his eyes never dropping off the woman, who was very aware of that. Had been staring at the blaze, that had extinguished over the flow of time, even if so merely, she dropped a couple of branches into it, enlightening it at once, wearing an apathetic expression, which hadn't suited her, at all.
At a certain stage, the man, albeit weakened, followed her within standing up, and looming nearer the bonfire, although haven't seated down, but rather gaped at her from over the sparkles, and spotting that, Hiccup returned the gaze and glanced at his shoulder. Himself curious, the man eyed his arm either, at that point, not very surprised when witnessing the bandage, which was wrapping the skin, as well as the tunic being ripped off, partly.
"I haven't been able to save it," Hiccup clarified as if reading his mind, what confounded him at once. "The material was glued to the skin, and I'd to cut it, in order to not have to cut off the whole arm."
In the very beginning indifferent, then amused, the man snorted, and explained his behavior, "You must have had a hard time, deciding it over," his mouth curved into a smirk.
"Well, I won't pretend, the thought has crossed my mind," she confessed and chuckled, whilst the man joined her, soon after. "I'll fetch a new tunic by tomorrow."
"Oh, alright," he responded, and barely had Hiccup withstood to not laugh out loud, at the view of that stuck dumb face of his. "Thank you, then, for arm also."
"Ye're welcome," she reacted by beaming, and then, transforming the beam into a smirk. "Shoud've listened to me, from the very start. I'd have spared the rope."
"Why did you stay here?" he asked, out of the blue, baffling the woman at once. "Don't you, humans, rest during the day?"
"Says the Night Fury, the creature of the night, who'd just awakened from the nap," she teased, although rather quickly straightened, the grin never slipping from her face. "Well, I must've taken care of somebody, albeit now, that ye're awake, I may go home," she declared, rising, while the man locked his eyes on her, and upon being up, gazed at him, her face transformed by rather a realization. "Though, before that, I'd better check on that damage of yers."
"That won't be necessary," he muttered, his expression, at once, hardening, for whatsoever reason. "Look, you've helped, and all, but you'd better go, now."
"What? Ye're really?" she asked, the smile vanishing from her face. "So, I spent the fuckin', entire night, concernin', what, if bein' honest, now I regret, and that's how ye're payin' me back? By castin' me out?!"
"Why are you so shocked?!" he droned, both maintaining the vexed appearances. "Have you thought, this night was going to change something in between us?"
"Yes, I thought that!" she bellowed, having a hard time retaining her hands fisted, rather than tangled around each other. "However, I thought those past few days changed somethin'! I thought that-, I hoped that maybe, just maybe, we could've dropped that worthless combat. That we could've-, we could've-,"
"We could've what? Maybe reconcile? Maybe trust each other, for sake?!" he finished for her, and snorted, rather shattering her heart in half. "I'll never be reconciled with, nor will I trust you! You've brought that hex on me, what do you expect from me, then?! Freaking friendship?!"
"What I expect is some, at least mere heart!" she boomed, glaring at him, with her glistening eyes. "What I expect is some empathy, some support, some, even if mere, trust! I believe that I earned it, after puttin' up with that temper of yers, after listenin' to the constant threats, after worryin', for fuck!" she yelled into his face, which was very indifferent to that, and continuing, stabbed her finger into his chest, at some of her next words. "Instead, what do I get in return?! The insults, humiliation, and mistrust!"
"Oh, what fucking else?!" he countered, rolling his eyes, later on proceeding with boring them into her. "And you're such a saint one?"
"Ain't even dare to belittle me, now," she rasped through the gnashed teeth, the dejection not even crossing her face. "Constantly do I risk my image, by stealin', by allowin' ya much, even by nursin' an enemy, twice already! No matter what I'll do, that's never will be enough, will it?" she inquired, glancing at him, with even mere hope, although it was shattered, whilst he'd not even flinched. "I'd hit enough, and I'm out - out of here, out of the duty, and most importantly, out of ya."
"Out of me?" he cited as if touched, suddenly. "What does that mean?"
"That means I'm givin' up on ya, and ain't want to have anythin' to do with ya," she clarified, raising her chin, confidently. "Even the common task."
"Are you fucking-!" he cursed, although stopped himself in mid-sentence, wiping his face with his palm, before glowering at her, warningly. "I'd like to recall, that either ya'll help, or otherwise-,"
"Otherwise what, ya'll attack my village?! Go ahead!" she shouted, taking him aback. "Do it, and that itself, will assure me, ye're deservin' that fate, even if at the cost of mine," she pointed out, even smirking when hearing no response from the man, who stared at her, even shaken. "If ye've any honor, ya'll not charge at innocent people, but I'll be in ready if ya'll decide on that, and that time, I'll leave ya for the fuckin' starvation."
No other words were spoken afterward, as the woman just gazed at him, awaiting any reaction from him, having her chest stank out, whilst the man was numb, not moving an inch, the glimpse of his eyes betraying his hidden fear. Ultimately, when neither he'd spoken, nor his expression had changed, having enough, turning on her heel, she was about to walk onward, however, the man observing that, eyeing his last hope fleeing, with the remnant of his sense, caught her hand with his, halting her at once.
"Stay," he begged, and once Hiccup glanced back at him, she glimpsed not him, but the man, whom she'd met by the Nadder's cage, previously - the compassionate man, the terrified man. "Please."
Sensing how his large fingers gripped her skin, with the intention of upholding her, with the intention of pleading with her, her eyes flooded, although her expression stayed closed up, as she stated, "Give me, at least, one reason to, and I will," and again, leaving him speechless, unable to answer, she yanked out of his grasp firmly, and walked off, forever.
He saw a monster, in the faded reflections of water, in the metallic, oval shields, and in the sharp, pointed blades, whether by accident or not, whether he'd like it or not - the monster of beige skin and acid, bright green gaze. He hated that monster, after all, he'd taken away his black scales which, under the glow of the sun, shimmered within the navy shade, his sharp eyes, much sharper than the mentioned blades, and his beloved, enormous wings which evaporated with each his appearing.
Notwithstanding the passage of time, the man, upon being abandoned by the woman, remained at a standstill, at the exact spot, just off the extinguished bonfire and a few steps away from the pond where he'd like to jump into. The voices echoed in his head, the majority belonging to him, although the rest sounded just like the woman's one would, every one of them repeating the same sentence - she hates you.
Never ever before had he expected himself to be bothered about such feelings, but here he was, shaken by the very idea of her nevermore wanting to see him, nevermore wanting to have anything in common with him. The concern, he'd experienced, he'd attempted to explain by the necessity, the actuality of her being essential so he could be unburdened with the curse, but he'd lied to himself, because there was more behind this, than that.
For the matter of the entire night, he'd been trying to answer her last request, as if she'd been continually standing there as if she'd never left, however again, even with the prolonged time, he not had the reply. Eventually, what rewoke him from his thoughts, was his very own stomach rumbling, and without having any other ideas, he wiped his face the last time, and transformed, being pleased later on by the privilege of the wings.
Consequently, within a single thrust of them, he'd propelled himself into the air, having in mind only one thought, only one urge -seaside breakfast, including the haddock, salmon, and his favored cod. Reaching the ocean, his orbs enlarged with excitement, he reduced the height of the flight and glid just over the blueish surface, periodically finding a shoal of fish, which members he ate, satisfied.
Out of the blue, when being at some distance from the isle, his mind returned to the Viking woman, whose name he'd not even known, the kind woman who must have a motive, over why she despised him only, and the woman who he'd lost. Ultimately, returning to reality, after being slammed by the wave of salt water, when realizing how packed his stomach was, he'd decided to come back, although in the middle of it, glimpsed the reflection of his and stared at it.
He saw a monster, however, it'd never been the form, but he.
Recently, for whichever cause, the days were sunny, not necessarily warm, but bright enough that one would be questioning that - today's noon not being different, within the lack of even one, dark, cloud. During that period, the man, or rather the Night Fury, hanging upside-down, once more on the same oak, slept, although the slumber was rather light, having in mind his constant introspections and reflections.
Only at some point had he alerted, sensing the presence nearby, and without much thought, growled, not even having properly glimpsed the person, however, once opening his eyes and viewing the very familiar woman, silenced. Dumbfounded, he eyed her, whilst she'd only rolled her eyes, the weak grin evident on her face, weak enough he'd yearned to say something mindless, mindless enough she'd ridicule him for it, like she'd always did.
Since entering, she'd not spoken a word, being much too focused on whatever she held, kneeling on the soil to unpack it, whilst he'd not lower his eyes off her, being much too curious over the matter of her, in actuality, being here. Sooner or later, comprehending reality, at once he'd come off the branch, in the middle air transforming, and while doing it tactfully, she'd not even glimpsed it, although, before either knew it, he approached her.
"I brought the clothes," she overtook him, upon watching him fight his thoughts, her features betraying nothing. "I've promised, haven't I?"
"Right," he replied, his eyes locked on her, attempting to read her, fruitlessly. "Although, have you really come here, because of mere promise?"
As if offended, the woman narrowed her eyes, not once gazing at him with them, and forewarned, "Ain't underestimate my will, for keepin' promises," however, the man hardened his expression at that, only.
"I'm seriously asking," he declared, kneeling down, leveling her eyes, at last witnessing them, when she gazed at him, puzzled. "I doubt you've come here, because of a fucking promise. Moreover, you're not obligated to show up anymore, so why-,"
"Ye've said please," she interrupted him, her face serious as she'd never been before. "That was enough."
Afterward, he'd not replied instantly, only stared at her, more precisely at her dark, green eyes, much focused, for whatsoever reason, on the green ground downward, while themselves being rather confused over the matter of what she'd been doing there.
Noticing, that with each second passed in silence, she'd been only getting more and more tense, noticing it as his chance to, at last, fix things between them, whilst straightening his back, he replied, "Thank you, much more than you may think," the gratitude and honesty overtaking his face.
"That's alright, I guess, I'd do that for anyone," she remarked, and within the lapse of another stillness, added, pointing to the folded shirts. "Those are my father's, however, I believe they'll suit ya."
"If you insist," he noted, as he seated himself, studying the pieces of cloth, although rather shortly after, his eyes caught a glimpse of a briefcase, and asked, nosy, "What's it for?"
"Oh, that's my sewin' kit, I've taken it by mistake," she explained, opening the mentioned briefcase, and presenting its inside, involving yarns, wools of various colors, measure tape, also needles. "I use it, whenever I'm in need of new clothes, or if I damage the current ones, what happens often, honestly."
At that point, he'd seen that smile, that bright grin, for which he'd been so impatient, and which relieved him, at last, and desiring more, he upheld the conversation by asking, "Could you, if so then, make me a new tunic?" while she gazed at him, surprised.
"Well, sure, why not?" she suggested, however, before he could say another word, went on, "Though, if I was to do that, I'd must to measure yer body, specify the lengths, maybe even form the sample, by settin' it with needles-,"
"I trust you," he confessed, the woman widening her eyes at him, shook up, while he'd only straightened, nodding his head, as if persuading himself. "I do really trust you."
Thereafter, as if frozen, as if unbelievable, the woman gaped at him, neither blinking nor moving, her jaw slack, whilst he knitted his eyebrows confused, unable to tell, whether he should just wait for her reaction, or help her, medically. It got to the point, that he must've waved his hand in ahead of her face, at last bringing her back to reality, within her smile had grown, brightened to the stage where he'd questioned, if he'd view such a delight in one, again.
Ultimately, when the moment passed, she narrowed her eyes at him, at once alerting him, as the woman was about to ridicule him, which she did by stating, "Ye're aware that if ya'd said that hours ago, the argument wouldn't have a place?" to which he reacted by hardening his expression, not amused, resulting in a burst of Hiccup's giggle.
Rather immediately after had Hiccup gotten on with her work, whilst the man came to regret his decisions, having to uphold his arm in the air, merely so the woman was able to circle his biceps with some tape, later on muttering to herself. Since the beginning, she hadn't seemed to be bothered by him much, being in her own, imaginary world, having done something behind his back, and whatsoever that was, he'd only desired for her to be faster.
In the meantime, his eyes stared at the lessening sun, begging it to blind his vision, put his senses down to sleep, even if he'd exactly known, the whole incident, even if not on purpose, was just a simple punishment. He deserved it, he repeated himself, whenever the urge to vent came, alas very often, although then, having remembered that he'd asked for that himself, each time he'd finally loosened, even glanced at her, curious of what she'd been doing.
Ultimately, she'd been done with the measuring part, and whilst he'd been more than alleviated by that, sooner than later, he found out, it was going to be only worse because now, she prepared the previously mentioned sample. Attaching the various materials to his skin, she'd marked, with needles, the creases of the tunic, precisely where they were supposed to be sewn, such as underneath the armpit, by the sides, and the neckline, until, vexed by the constant panics of his instinct, he asked, finally.
"Have you finished, yet?"
"Not yet," she informed, her voice high-pitched by the irritation, and inhaled rapidly when he squirmed. "Ain't fidget that much, or I'll jab ya with the needle."
"Can you blame me? All the while, I feel it grazing my skin, and I swear, I'm fucking about to-," he explained and paused, once sensing how the tiny blade impaled his skin, even if for so shortly. "Did you just stab me?"
"Should've kept quiet," she pointed out, the smirk audible in her voice. "Also, quit the moanin', I'm almost finished."
"Almost finished, or in the middle of work?" he inquired, gazing at her from underneath his elbow, whilst she worked on his side and shrugged, not much satisfying him within. "You know what? I think, I actually changed my mind. Just give me those father's shirts, and we'll be done."
"Can't do, I cut them," she notified, pursing her lips together, while he tensed, the annoyance fuming out of him. "Where from ye've thought I've got fabric for this?"
"You're unbelievable," he groaned, getting punctured as a punishment, rather mean punishment, although grumbling it off, asked, out of nowhere, "What's your name?"
"My name?" she repeated, stunned by the sudden query, although answered it, plainly. "'s Hiccup."
"Hiccup?" he cited, haven't been able to restrain the snort, and chuckled, amused. "Really?"
"Vikings believe, a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls," she explained, when grabbing the lacking cloth, although shortly after proceeded with the sample. "'s tradition, besides, what's wron' with Hiccup?"
"It's not a name," he scoffed, when glimpsing her roll her eyes. "It's a sound that throat does."
"Even if so, then what? There are worse," she stated, then lifted an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Now, what's yer name? Let me guess, the destroyer of the world, the doom of humanity?"
Subsequently, he'd allowed himself for the rather weak grin, before falling silent, and replying, "I don't have a name, actually," staring at some point in the distance.
"Better the terrible name, than the lack of one," she remarked, although soon became serious, gazing he'd delighted only slightly. "Why ain't ya have it?"
"In contrast to human, dragon don't name their hatchlings," he elucidated, somewhat frowning at the word hatchlings itself. "That'd be odd, in terms of our one-word communication."
"True, but ye're usin' communication of more than one word, now," she pointed out, almost laying on the soil, her forearms upholding her from that. "Why ye've not chosen yerself a name, then?"
"Honestly, because I believe a name should be given rather than chosen."
At that point, she lifted herself up, inching closer to him, and inquired, "On that note, could I be the one to name ya?" her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Probably, though I'm afraid of what you'd have come up with," he admitted, and, at once when having glimpsed that she'd drawn away from him, straightened, gazed at her with hope. "All done?"
"All done," she announced when putting down her needles, and giggled, at the very view of his relieved grin. "Keep smilin', and I'll suspect ya of havin' a stroke, or even worse, feelings."
"Funny," he snorted, whilst rolling his eyes, although hadn't he enjoyed the freedom much, as Hiccup, soon after, approached him again, and he groaned, "What now?"
"We're pullin' off the sample, so I may sew it," she explained, and once he'd not moved an inch, narrowed her eyes. "C'mon, I need yer help, so the needles won't detach, otherwise I'll need to start over."
It took her a while, more precisely one long, piercing glare bestowed on him, before he'd actually obeyed, and within his support, as carefully as possible, they pulled the fabric out of him, without much issues throughout. Afterward, she'd begun sewing, paying barely any, as if not none, attention to the man, who, whilst being half-naked, wasn't much concerned with her either, relishing the bright sun that warmed up his skin.
Eventually, when the quietude around lengthened, and when being edgy by the recurring stinging of the needle, which was held by her, the woman paused her job, inhaled irritated, and having heard the chuckle from his side, glared at him, pissed. Exactly then had she spotted it - the necklace hanging off his neck, relying on his chest, made out of the tooth, the fang which sizing was equivalent to her very finger, and which she'd not caught previously, while being secreted underneath his shirt, most probably.
Subsequently, suddenly reclaiming the joy of the spirit, she continued the tunic, whilst noting, "It ain't resemble the human tooth to me," the grin illuminating her faces
Immediately, the formerly casual expression, altered and hardened, as the man's eyebrows curved into a frown, and he sighed, "You know it," his voice low and faint.
"If so, then to whom that tooth belongs, or rather belonged?" she wondered, humming when staring at the sewn lines of cloth. "Wolf, Bear, maybe even squirrel?"
"It belonged to the dragon," he answered, stroking his forehead, and added, "We're both aware of that, so quit the ridicule."
"For that matter, it must be yers, ain't it?" she remarked, her teeth exposed within her bright smirk. "Well, after all, the Night Furies are famed for their sharp, lon' fangs."
"It's not mine, and may you fucking stop?!" he snapped, streaming his hand through his face as he continued, "I don't want to talk about it, not now, not ever, so please just-," he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, the rest of his words being muttered out, "just cut the talk."
"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't ask again," she promised, gazing at him shocked, fretted, guilted for pressing on a clearly sensitive, maybe even hard subject, and in order to seal his thoughts of it, gently smiled at the idea. "Toothless."
"What?" he asked, skimming from underneath his palm at her, confused. "Toothless?"
"Yes," she affirmed, and then, pointed at him with her chin. "Toothless."
"Me?" he inquired, knotting his brows at her, letting his arms pummel on the ground, as he gaped at her for the answers. "What does that mean?"
"It means nothin'," she elucidated, gathering herself up and approaching him, within the finished tunic in her grasp. "However, 's yer name, now."
"Are you serious?" he snorted, lifting his brow at her, amused. "You've not come up with anything worse?"
"I like it," she confessed, putting the tunic on him through his head, whilst he obeyed, like a docile doll, "besides, I may not know the history behind it," she continued, and, without much permission, took the necklace out, for the view of the sun, drawing it by the black string, "I know, 's much meaningful, and without a reason, ya'd not make any dragon toothless, under any circumstances," she stated, her eyes within a beam staring at his puzzled, amazed ones. "It suits, also I've got to keep to the traditions, or else I might blame myself, for the rest of my life, if ya'd be attacked by a wild troll!"
As the reaction to her latter comment, he rolled his eyes, although the corner of his mouth turned itself up, and muttered, "Toothless," tsking it, as if still unbelievable, and groaned, "Fine, but I hate it."
"I know," she replied, the beam never slipping from her face. "I counted on that."