Who would have thought, if there was anything, that Vikings held dear, if there was anything, that they'd entirely devoted themselves to, incredibly taken seriously, it'd be vengeance - Toothless wouldn't, apparently. Initially, he'd suspected nothing, even when Hiccup'd stepped inside the cove - her clothing tattered, soiled, just as the clothes she'd brought for him - wearing the smirk, which he'd inaccurately taken as joyous, ordinary.
He'd soon discover it, upon being taunted to get changed, and led by the woman to the Village, allegedly for the outing itself, the payback for the stroll he'd once bestowed her with, what should've been enough of the warning. As they'd arrived, the harvest moon illuminating their path, Hiccup appointed the way and guided them upward the hill, throughout the whole Village to the outskirts, where, when being enveloped by the pasturelands, they stopped by neglected field.
At that point, he'd crossed his arms, stared at the bare soil, and inquired, "Are you still insisting, that you haven't schemed anything?" subtly tilting toward her.
"Okay, I may have lied, but then, I ain't wanted to destroy the surprise," she justified and glanced at him, having her mouth curved into a wild smirk. "I decided, that after such a passage of time, I should return the favor, for showin' me yer world, by showin' ya part of mine."
"I thought that's behind us?" he pointed out, narrowed eyes at that lit face of hers. "I mean, you hold not hatred towards dragons, neither do I toward humans, not as much as previously, so," he shrugged.
"Maybe, but ye're still undervaluin' us, our toil and work," she stated, leaning her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes, when he'd just snorted. "Ya'll see, 's not as easy as it seems."
Taking that in his stride, he stank his nose in the air, asked, "And how, precisely?" and caught the hand rake hurled at him, gazed at it, puzzled.
"We'll work the land," she explained, whilst tying the messy bun at the top of her head, not even peeking at his annoyed self. "Ya'll quit struttin', at last."
"Somebody won't notice us?" he questioned, as if really concerned, as if really not just escaping the job. "That field must belong to somebody, doesn't it?"
"It does, 'though the owner prefers the company of the sheep, over anyone else," she stated, straightened and gazed at him, barely pitifully. "C'mon, ye're not afraid to get hands dirty, or are ya?"
"You wish," he snickered, his eyes fixed on her, smugly, "It'll be a piece of cake."
Sooner than later, he regretted these words, when the job, which turned out to be in a constant crouch, took the toil on his body, took the toil on his mind, and foremostly, took the toil on his honor, buried in the ground, currently. Everything pained him - his back creaked with each move, his hand shivered, browned by the dirt, his forehead flooded with sweat, and all this while Hiccup hummed under her nose, as if the work was the pleasure.
In point of fact, the job didn't appear exhausting - all it'd taken, was digging the soil up, ripping out some weeds, and scattering the grains, at the various levels of soil - however, in practice, each that point was outright grueling. Ultimately, when having gazed at the Hiccup's part of the field, how close she'd been to finishing, and then when noticing he'd not even reached the half, he straight up surrendered, tossed the hand rake far, and lay on the dirt.
Glimpsing that, the woman sniggered, exclaimed, "Already done? I've betted, that ya'll do three-quarters, at least," and added, as he'd flung his arms.
"Yes, I'm done," he panted, not much surprised when Hiccup crouched over him, soon. "Happy now?"
"Ya know, how do we call such examples as ya?" she inquired, the smile never fading off her face. "The weak blood - for such, there's only fightin'."
"What a trivia," he sighed, gazed at her, his expression defeated. "Bravo Hiccup, you've done it. You've won. I was wrong, and you were right."
"As much as these words caress my ego, I've not finished, yet," she declared, her forearms relied on her curled knees. "Actually, I've planned the entire night for us."
Afterward, he'd not replied, just grumbled, firmly pressed the back of his head into the soil, and muttered, "I hate you," his eyes shut, resting.
"Sticks and stones, buddy," she replied, standing up, whereas, when glancing at her, he'd seen her face, her smile, brightened by the moon's light. "Okay, so, ye're restin' now, I'm goin' to finish my half, and when I'm done, we're finishin' yers, understood?"
"More?!" he groaned, streaming his hand through his face, before stating, "I start to regret, that I'd not killed you when I had an occasion."
"Quit the moan, old bastard," she mocked, walked backward to her tools, jabbed into the ground just off. "The sooner we'll end, the sooner ya'll get rid of me."
"I'll kill you tonight," he crooned, his eyes bored into her, fiercely.
"I adore ya also," she responded with the joyful melody in her voice, outright skipping to her target.
That night promises to be long, both thought - the man, whilst receiving yet another of Hiccup's orders, stiff but also taunting, and the woman, whereas hearing another of Toothless's groans, shortly followed by the words of complaints. Fortunately, before either could've slaughtered the other, they'd finished with the field, which was sowed from the farthest corner to the nearest, and of course, just as Hiccup'd sworn, the pause was barely momentary, before they moved on.
Their next stop, as if she'd decided to ridicule him only more, was the forge, anyhow, notwithstanding the freezing temperature outside, heated, so even the formerly grayish gravel appeared red, burnt to the depths. Immediately, Hiccup arranged everything for work, whereas the man allowed her to take the lead, himself eyed each corner, each detail, which had previously been overlooked by him, such as the mere screws on the floor, the hanged pans, and metal pots.
Eventually, his eyes traveled to the woman's toiling self, to the warmed oven behind her back, to the black, leather apron, which was linked to her waist, and to the green eyes, focused on whatever she'd worked on. Rather instantly had the dark, forest shade absorbed him, the diversification of the floral pigments, the connotation of nature, of what's been the nearest to him, and the woodland serenity, which it'd been yielding.
At some point, much to his cluelessness, Hiccup gazed at him, faintly smiled, but sweetly enough to race his heart, make him stumble, and, giggling shortly, approached him, her hands squeezing the brown fabric, firmly. When having a stance just before him, she handed the cloth to him, which he recognized as the one that she'd always worn, of a better spread than her current one, the safer one, and reading the stubbornness out of her, he put it on, even voluntarily.
Ultimately, she'd illustrated each step of their upcoming job - the production of the sword - and while he'd endeavored to act bored, each of her words filled him with interest, curiosity which he'd never expected from himself. Soon, they took on work, or rather he did, much because the woman refused to help him anyhow, out of the plain payback, out of vendetta of naming her job worthless, even if not straightforward.
At the very beginning, from the piece of metal sheet, he'd resected the snippet on the shape of the sword's blade, then, when having it heated up to lava redness, he aligned the edges, again and again sticking them with a hammer. In the meantime, not shifting an inch, Hiccup observed him cautiously, initially watching over his clenched, large hands, then fixing her eyes on his face, his gnarled, dense brows, his aquiline nose, and the sharp, acid, green eyes.
At last, the sword attained on the form, and when detecting so, when glancing just over the man's shoulder, who downright leaked with sweat, she'd halted him, placed the cool palm on his overheated forearm, and collected the creation of his. Afterward, she'd inserted it into the oven, where, under the influence of flames, it was about to earn the sharpness, before she gazed at Toothless, who, streaming his back against the wall, settled down, drained to the core.
"Ye've done well," she stated, sitting down just beside him, her smile bright. "Ye're cut out for blacksmith."
"You think?" he chuckled, his forearms leaning on his bent knees. "If so, then I'm no longer the weak blood, am I?"
"Ye've never been," she confessed, out of the blue, her features clouded by shame. "I-, I lied, actually."
"Nothing new," he remarked, although hearing not any giggle, not even any mere snort, asked, "How?"
"Well," she began, squeezing her hands on her knees, "the truth is, about the weak blood, 's actually the opposite of what I'd said," she acknowledged, reducing her eyes to the floor. "'s, when ya ain't know how to fight, that ye're weak blood. For such, there's only work on the land, fishin', and blacksmithin'. For such failures. For such as me."
"You're not a failure, Hiccup," he pressed and shifted nigher to her, their sides grazing each other. "You've never been, and you'll never be."
"Ain't pity me, Toothless," she muttered, evidently intensifying her clasp. "Everybody knows it, not in vain is my name Hiccup, the weakest in the flock, useless."
"And I know it not," he countered, capturing her hand and rubbing his thumb along the lines of it, gently. "Today, you've shown me, that there's more to the Vikings. You've shown me, that they're not vicious brutes only, who attain everything with their fists. You've shown me, what they're really capable of, what you're capable of. You're able to create the plant, out of a mere grain, you're able to construct the tools, not only weapons, out of pieces of crap. It's incredible, it's remarkable, amazing," he elucidated, whilst Hiccup's eyes were locked on him, touched. "Look, if somebody says, that the plain ability of fighting is better than this, if they're even able to compare it, then their opinion never mattered, and will never."
"Nobody had ever, ever praised me like that, I-, thank ya," she replied, beamed at him, cheered, "and I'm sorry, for the lie. Honestly, I, merely, just wanted to feel better and take solace, but then, ye've done such good work, I-I felt guilty, like a fuckin' fraud."
"It's nothing, besides, you should know already, that it takes more to offend me," he reminded, summoning the bright grin on his face, so rare, so cherished by the woman, who returned it at once.
"If so, then the next time, I'll try harder," she responded, and out of a sudden, leaned her head at his shoulder, much to his puzzlement.
Rather immediately had he turned into the pillar of the salt, unable to react anyhow, his hand further in her grasp, her hair brushing the skin underside his ear, stopping any other move, stopping any other breath. Only at last, he settled himself down, eased each muscle, even allowed himself to tighten his palm around hers and rely his cheek on her hair, what felt normal, what felt natural, what felt genuine.
"Since we're confessing, there's something I should tell you," he began, but even for her interest, Hiccup remained still, although listened, closely. "Do you remember, when a few weeks ago, I locked you with that dragon?"
Instantly, she snorted, and answered, "How could I forget that?" the grin audible in her voice.
"Well, so, the truth is, I've never left, then; I've told you, that I will, but I've been throughout the entire night by that entrance, actually," he revealed, inducing the woman to contort her head, gaze merely at him, with the side of her eye, whereas his eyes were fixed ahead, continually. "I must've stayed there, I couldn't risk you massacred, so I've been listening to everything, each word, each consolation, each and every display of your compassion, and if being honest, afterward I just-," he paused, inhaled shortly, "I just, hated you only more."
"Ye've hated me more, 'cause I was empathetic toward the Nadder?" she inquired, her eyebrows knotted by confusion.
"Yes, but then, put yourself into my shoes," he insisted, inching his head away, just so as to find himself eye-to-eye with the woman. "Since that all started, I've made many harmful choices, cruel choices, about beings, who'd never been brutal for me, without much of a reason. At such moments, I've always tried to clarify myself, persuade myself, that I wasn't really to blame, but the damned, vicious witch, who had brought it all on me, cursed me," he illustrated, remorse transforming his face. "I felt justified then, I felt as if I had a reason, for being like I was, and then, I met you, and you were not what I envisioned, but an ordinary, gentle, sympathetic woman, who had never been at fault."
"Freak and worthless?" she added, repeating his own phrases from ago.
"Well, yes-," he agreed, chuckling when glimpsing as she'd narrowed her eyes, although maintained the amused smile. "Foremostly though, you were the opposite of what I've thought, and if so, when by that cage, whilst you've slept with that Nadder, I questioned if I ever had a reason, if it wasn't I who was damned and vicious, from the very beginning itself," he admitted, shifting his eyes over her shoulder, anywhere else than her own. "For a few more days, I managed to convince myself, that it was a lie, a lie of the remarkably excellent witch, although after you've healed me, treated me from that arrow, when watching you leave, I realized, understood finally, that I was the one being cruel, I was being vicious, I was-, I am a monster."
Subsequently, as if aware she was about to oppose, he'd washed his face out of any emotions, released her hand, depriving it of the warmth he'd vested her with, and crossed his arms, his eyes fixed onward. At the very notice of that, Hiccup curled her knees to her chest, not much certain of what should she say, of how should she react, and over and over, kept on gazing at him, until having enough, wanting to say anything, she started, quietly.
"Ye're not a monster, and ye've never been one," she noted, and tilted her head, so as to appear in the range of his view, frowned when he'd avoided her sight. "I know, that ya ain't believe me, but if so, say me, who am I then? Who am I, since I acted similarly-, since I acted the same as ye've. Am I a monster also?" she confessed, and only then, had he merely glanced at her, at last. "Maybe-, just maybe, we're both monsters; maybe, we've both justified ourselves, accused the one another's inaccurate, cruel-coined self for everythin'; maybe, we've been selfish, fraudulent, but to be honest, I consider we've earned it, to be like this."
At that point, when after a phrase of feigning indifference, his eyes locked on hers, as he asked, "How?" his face articulating vulnerability only.
"Ye're even askin'?" she inquired and huffed, briefly. "Toothless, when just as children, we've been endowed, cursed with the assignment, which wouldn't be handled even by the wisest. When just as children, we've been chosen by Gods, for a fuckin' mission, we've not even believed in! When just as children, we've been put through shit, and why?! Why?!" she yelled, pressing her palms into her eyelids, whereas her nails punctured her forehead. "It feels as if we're excused, it really does, 'though, the guilt stays, no matter what."
Shortly after, the silence enveloped the room, leading to the oven's cracking being the only noise, the only constant around, whereas the man had his furrowed brows centered on the woman, who remained still, coiled in herself. The entire space, at that point, was enclosed by the tenseness, the anxiety, that outright overflowed out of Hiccup, her fatigued heart, her dread, her memories of the worst moments, which he'd read from one stir of muscles.
Eventually, as if wishing to comfort the woman, he'd, much slowly, grabbed Hiccup's wrist, although hadn't foreseen, that as an alternative from her forehead, she'd stab her nails into his own skin, suddenly. The very moment that occurred, when realizing that, her face was transformed by fear, pure fear of his reaction to that, however, it wasn't anything spontaneous, rather nothing, other than clenching his jaw under the pain.
Immediately had she released his hand, which covered was by the reddish marks afterward, whilst he'd not ever released hers, held it cautiously, before lessening it to his lap, where he'd stroked it, much gently, and much comforting. Hence, the woman allowed herself to loosen, unknot her body from the clamp, and dropped her limbs freely, as her attention fixed on his touch, his even breathing that she'd followed, his calm self that sustained her peace.
Ultimately, after a matter of a few minutes, their eyes met, and for so, when the dark green of hers, squeezed with regret, blended with the bright green of his, crammed with understanding, it was enough, to know it all, to see it all. Thereafter, when receiving his approval to do so, or rather even invite, as he'd been first to summon her, she nestled her forehead at his shoulder, as if hiding from the outside world, whereas he'd rested his at her head, what was normal, what was natural, what was genuine.
Soon, they'd find out, that the sword, which throughout the whole time was being left in the oven, melted entirely, however, that didn't matter, but the thread of understanding, which they'd just initiated, which they'd treasured.
"Let me guess, you'll lock me there, won't you?" Toothless realized, his arms knotted atop his chest, rather a smirk painted on his face when gazing at Hiccup.
"I swear that's not it," she countered, leaning her hands on the hips and narrowing her eyes at his stubborn self, "besides, I've said already, that the work's done for today. Ain't ya trust me?"
"You're asking me that, as if you didn't know the answer, by now," he remarked, returning the favor of her drilling eyes by narrowing his just as well. "It's no, of course, and saying that just so we're on the same page."
In response, the only that Hiccup'd done was roll her eyes, and whilst disregarding the act, the man took in the sight of around - the arena's rock borders, loaded with expansive scratches, of the chains, ruffled by the slight wind, and above all, of the cage. The last mentioned was about to be opened by the woman herself while she'd stood just off it, although Toothless's disapproval, justified by his suspicion toward her behavior, refrained her, at that point.
"Give it a rest, lastly," she grumbled, lifted an eyebrow when he'd just snorted, not even attempting to hide it. "Ya'll quit moanin' if I go first?"
"Alright, let it be," he agreed, at last having moved forward from the front of the entrance. "Since you're insisting so much."
Afterward, she must have bored her eyes into him initially, before doing anything else, in this case, extended the cage's opening widely, and entered inside, not even bothering to gaze, if he was heeding after. Of course, such a thought, to lock her there, likewise previously, crossed his mind, although, ultimately, the curiosity prevailed, and he'd stepped inward, much unaware of what to expect, what to prepare himself for.
What he'd have never foreseen, was the sight of Hiccup, kneeling close to the Nadder, who appeared outright joyful, thrilled by the visit itself, despite very much being enclosed by the heavy, metal chains. As the woman's hand traveled through the delighted dragon's scales, when listening to how she'd purred pleased, the man grounded his jaw and looked away fast, although the sting in the chest stayed.
It so happened, that his eyes landed on the bucket, which must've bypassed his notice, and which Hiccup'd drawn the fish out from, as she praised the Nadder, "We're lookin' very good today, are we not? Ye're not lettin' these Vikings harm easily, right?" feeding her with the fresh meat.
Stunned, Toothless stared at her each move, each act, unable to comprehend, disbelieving his eyes' correctness, even stumbled forward, so as to gaze more, crouched beside the woman, so as to prove the reality. Thus, whilst the man gaped at the euphoric dragon, Hiccup'd been glancing at him again and again, in the meantime hadn't ceased providing the creature with food, although eventually, having enough of the silence, she broke it.
"Yer words, that I'm overlookin' their sufferin' out of scare, they'd touched me," she confessed, her face straight, her eyes at the Nadder's spikes. "That day, I understood how much I could do, and how little I was doin', and since so, I've decided to change that. Every day, when havin' an opportunity, I come here to treat them, feed them, every and each dragon, just so as to ease their stay here, at least a bit," she explained and gazed at him, the anxiety crossing her face. "I know that's not a lot, I know that I could do better, but that's how much I may give, for now."
"I don't think that's little, honestly," he admitted, wearing seriousness all over himself. "If anything, I am surprised, amazed to ever witness such sight of a human caring for a dragon, although I shouldn't be much, since it's you," he stated, however, once Hiccup'd grinned, not even a second later, he claimed her satisfaction away. "As if you couldn't withstand the day without caregiving. Embarrassing."
"Thanks," she replied, the irony audible in a lowered voice, although when after they'd laughed the situation off, grunted, as if asking for seriousness. "Anyway, I'd also taken ya here, 'cause I have a rather ask. There's one dragon, that I haven't visited yet, and to be honest, I'm scared to, so maybe ya could, for me?"
"How do you ever manage without me, at all?" he teased, then rather instantly changed the tone of his voice. "Seriously now, that's fine. Just say what am I to do, where, and you got it."
And so, that's how, merely after wrapping the conversation up, Toothless found himself in the front of the locked cage, perhaps the largest, best secured one, having the gashes on itself, that themselves were rather a warning from entering. Not much troubled, he'd pulled the lever, which activated the opening mechanism, and soon, the lifted gate revealed the captive - Monstrous Nightmare, whose reddish-orange scales were brightened by the moon.
At very first, when gazing at the male, Toothless stared at him as if frightened, as if startled, stood perfectly still, whilst having his hands squeezing fish in fists, his jaw grounded, and his heartbeat enclosing the entire space. Currently, his head was overflooded with memories, of when as a child, of when being almost eaten alive by a relative of the Nightmare in front, and so, the panic and fright filled his veins, although only briefly.
Eventually, after a matter of minutes, when he'd managed to settle down, he'd taken the steps ahead, instantly raising awareness of the dragon of his presence, who snapped his golden eyes at him and growled, at once. Notwithstanding the obvious threat, Toothless'd never hindered his pace, stared at the dragon, his eyes fiercely piercing the creature, to the point, when he'd been the predator, and the Nightmare'd been his prey.
Ultimately, while locating himself over the beast, as the man kneeled down, the dragon gazed away, and lowered his head to the soil, although hadn't stayed that way for long, because Toothless grabbed his curved, grayish-black horn, and forced him to look up. Soon, the dragon's eyes, which were crammed with confusion, even a mere fright, came upon the man's, filled with hatred and contempt, and whereas the Nightmare strained to drag his eyes away, Toothless spoke, his voice deep and low.
"Listen to me, because I very much know, that you understand each word I say," he started, strengthening his grip, tilting the horn, so the dragon snarled with pain. "If you ever dare to harm that woman, if you ever even think of that, I swear, I'll rip your wings off, and shove them down your fucking throat."
Afterward, for a while more they'd been gazing at each other, and once the Nightmare's expression demonstrated agreement by narrowing his eyes, only then had Toothless tossed him the fish, which the male ate, cautiously. Finally, the man released him, jolting him down, and stood up, just so as to stride away, back to the entrance, his heartbeat racing, his breathing uneven, and his trembling hand pulling the lever down, at last.