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So close, so close. We hope. Hehehe. Yeah...they're on their own for now, unfortunately. Yeah, we can all go through it together, hopefully this chapter won't hurt you too much.

Journal 2, Entry 3: "Trouble in Paradise"

It took him a long time to realize that he had to open his eyes. He didn't remember ever closing them. In fact, it wasn't until someone gently prodded his shoulder that he found that he wasn't asleep anymore. He opened an eye only to quickly close it again against the blinding light.

A gruff but familiar voice drifted into his ears but he couldn't understand the words just yet.

He raised his hand to block out some of the light and blinked, squinting to see anything. It was difficult at first but soon his eyes adjusted and greenery that rivaled what he'd seen on Asgard greeted his eyes. After a few more moments of taking in the scenery directly before him, he started looking around.

He was in a field with a lush forest to his left and a little to his right was a village, most of which was taken up by an opulent Great Hall—even from here, he could hear the jubilant noise drifting out of its open doors. Finally he turned to the person he realized was still touching his arm. His heart stopped, or he thought it did—he couldn't feel much of anything, physically wise.

"Dad?"

Stoic grinned at his son, eyebrows raising when Hiccup threw himself into his arms. He chuckled as he held him. "You're not supposed to be here yet, son."

Hiccup laughed nervously but it quickly died as he thought back, taking longer than he would have liked to remember—his countenance falling. "Oh gods…Loki, Toothless…Astrid!"

Stoic's smile dropped and held his son. "They are fine and will move on with time. There is nothing more you can do now. You've made your ancestors proud. They won't shut up about you in the Hall."

"But-" Hiccup tried to argue, tears threatening his eyes.

Stoic shook his head and helped him stand. "You are in Valhalla now, son, tears do not belong here. Before you know it, they will join us as well. I am only sorry you came so soon, but I am proud of you, Hiccup."

Hiccup tried to smile but his heart still weighed heavy, guilt racking him that he left Loki and Toothless behind, not to mention everyone else.

Stoic turned his head away, gripping Hiccup's far shoulder and guiding him to the Hall. "Come, a few drinks and your sorrows will be far away. As I said; before you know it, they will be here with us for eternity."

Hiccup's shoulders still slumped, but he allowed his father to guide him and a small smile tugged at his lips. His father, his dad was back—or, he was back with his dad.

They entered the Hall and a deafening cheer sprung up. Immediately he was swarmed by people he did not know or did not recognize because they all looked so young now. He stuck close to his father. He may have gotten more used to the attention back on Berk, but that had taken him years and with people he knew and had grown up with. Now he was back to feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Stoic led him through the Hall, pausing briefly to grab two cups and shove one into his son's hands. "Hamish!"

Hiccup's head shot up, meeting the eyes of a tall and lithe blond, not terribly dissimilar to himself.

Stoic grinned. "Hiccup, meet Hamish the Second. Hamish, my son Hiccup the Third"

Hiccup's mouth was slightly open in shock.

Hamish laughed boisterously. "So you are the one to finally figure out my riddles!"

Hiccup blushed and looked down at his feet, muttering something unintelligible.

Stoic beamed proudly, clapping him on the back. "He is indeed! Just too modest to take the credit."

"I had help," Hiccup quietly objected.

Hamish grinned. "Of course you did lad—but it was still you who figured out my clues."

Hiccup glared at him. "That last one was a bit much though, don't you think?"

Hamish shrugged. "Needed to make sure whoever found it wasn't going to use it just out of greed."

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

Stoic turned to the crowded Hall. "A toast to our newest member and my son!"

It might have been several days or a few hours, time was impossible to tell in Valhalla. Hiccup met many old or ancient members of his tribe and others, all eager to hear his stories and he theirs. He often found himself musing about those he left behind but someone always noticed and drew him out of those thoughts, many of them agreeing that the first hundred years or so were usually the 'worst' years of Valhalla, and were quick to distract him again.

Food was never-ending and neither was the entertainment. Be it tales and Edda's in the Hall or something more physical outside, it was in those aforementioned times that he dearly missed Toothless. The skies were so blue and perfect for a flight…and he was grounded. It was irritating. His heart and being yearned for the sky the way most Vikings yearned for the sea.

Presently, Hiccup was laughing at a story. It was as outrageous as one of Gobber's stories about Thor rescuing him. The teller was red in the face as he recounted the tale for the unknown'th time, all those surrounding him were either laughing or playfully heckling him over it.

A redheaded Viking snorted into his mead. "Come off it now, that's a load of bluster. You're worse than Dalmar's boy." He shook his head, muttering, "Hammerhead sharks and yaks my grandmother's shawl."

The blonde snuffed. "Well at least I'm not crazy enough to think there's actually a land to the west called America, Erik. You want to talk about silly talk."

Erik bristled. "There is and I've been there! I spent many a month there."

Hiccup shook his head, looking up when Stoic came up behind him with a smile. "Come, let's get some air, these two will be at it now for hours."

Hiccup agreed whole-heartedly and followed him out. He walked through the odd village until they came to the large sparring ring, already filled with many Vikings having friendly fights—Hiccup questioned the friendliness of some of them and edged well away from them.

Stoic smiled at him and took an empty corner. "Alright, it's been some time since I've last had a proper spar with ya."

Hiccup snorted with a small frown. "I don't think that time when I was nine counts."

Stoic laughed. "All the better then! Come at me with everything."

Hiccup arched an eyebrow. "Everything?"

Stoic nodded, gripping his sword. "Everything."

Hiccup stood still for a moment before nodding to the side and drawing his sword, a tiny smirk threatening his lips. "Alright. You asked for it though."

Stoic's chest fluttered. This was the first time he'd ever heard Hiccup seemingly face something like a Viking. He thought it rather ironic that it was only in death that Hiccup finally did something the Viking way and not the Loki or dragon way.

Hiccup ignited the Dragon Blade—he'd been briefly confused when he found it attached to his leg like he'd never lost it. What surprised him even more was when he found that it never ran out of Nightmare gel or Zippleback gas, a pleasant surprise, but one none-the-less.

A few of the sparing Vikings stopped fighting, intrigued by the flickering blade.

Stoic and Hiccup stared at each other for a moment, waiting to see what the other would do. Hiccup noticed his father's eye twitch along with his right knee but kept his own body completely neutral. Stoic only now realized his disadvantage; Hiccup had seen him spar and fight his whole life—he'd only ever seen Hiccup fight while in the heat of battle…and on the back of a particular black dragon at that.

Stoic's eyes glazed just a hair with that thought and Hiccup struck. He almost didn't block his attack from the right, having shifted his weight left to spring. Right, he's a leftie. Hiccup skipped out of the way of Stoick's blade before he even followed through with his swing, but he did so and found Hiccup was long gone, already on his other side and swiping again.

He jumped out of pure instinct but missed Hiccup's dagger which just nicked his thigh—it was a spar, not a full on fight. Stoick whirled around to catch Hiccup but, again, he was gone.

It was only a second later that the Dragon Blade was even with his chest with the dagger by his arm so he could not try and rip the hand away. He stared at his son in shock.

Hiccup lowered his blades with a faint blush.

Stoic felt both utterly proud and exceedingly confused. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Hiccup sheathed the Dragon Blade and rubbed the back of his neck, oblivious to the whispering Vikings surrounding them. "Uh, L-Loki. He's pretty brutal with his training regiment. Especially after the Dýrsvell, er, Bewilderbeast's attack."

Stoic nodded. "I should hope so." His smile fell and clasped him on the shoulder. "I am glad he could teach you what I could not. Now come, let us go and celebrate your victory!"

The crowd around them cheered in agreement and Hiccup finally noticed them, cheeks flushing an even deeper red. Stoic laughed loudly at his son's discomfort and dragged him along.

*O*

Drink and food, story and sparring passed the 'days' away. Hiccup gave up trying to tell the time. It was impossible when the sky never changes and you never tire; and in a way, that made him upset. It made telling the time to when he could be reunited again with his friends, mother, Astrid impossible to tell.

He didn't wish for them to be here early or anything, but he did miss them. He missed Loki and Toothless most of all. When he had a little time to think some more, he wondered if he would ever see Toothless again.

There were no dragons or any animals of any kind here unless they were on the table…but no one hunted for them, they just appeared. Which would have weirded him out a little if he had not spent the last two years developing his own magic. Now he was mostly curious as to how it was being done.

But those thoughts were far from mind when he thought of Toothless. Surely he must come to Valhalla whenever he finally dies, right? He was his familiar after all, his chest ached at the thought of never seeing him again. A similar thought drifted through his mind of where did dragons go when they die? He'd talked to Toothless enough to know that most dragons were rather sapient. It was questionable sometimes when it came to Terrors or insect-like dragons such as the regular Fireworms and Grimora. But on the whole, many of them seemed more intelligent than many Viking's he'd met over the years.

It frustrated and saddened him to not know if he might ever see him again—that feeling was made worse when he realized that it was very possible he'd never see Loki again either. He realized after the first 'day' that wherever the gods went when they died was not here—or at least—nowhere near here.

At least he had his father for now and later his mother and friends would be coming. It was a small comfort but the only one he had.

He sat in the corner holding a near full cup of mead, staring blankly into the crowd of cheerful Vikings. He felt… well he wasn't entirely sure, but it felt wrong. He was in Valhalla, he should be happy and rejoicing, drinking and being merry like the rest. But he wasn't, too much weighed on his mind, and not all of it was his existential after-life-crisis.

He was worried about Loki. He remembered the night that he thought his father was to die and his friends told their silly what-if stories but then Loki told of his own, if he'd never met him. There was nothing silly or fun about it at all. It was dark and a continuing spiral of despair—and he couldn't help but remember that look deep in his patron's eyes just before he… he died.

His thumb traced the groves of the mug he held as he thought.

Then there was Grimmel. Was he still at large? Was he still gunning for Toothless in some sick plan to use him to goad Loki into freeing Hela? What about Berk? Was the Warlords' army headed for them again? It was massive and he held serious doubts if they could take them all on their own, especially as they were trying to cope with the power shift. They were Vikings, they handled that sort of thing rather well, but it still took a little time.

The chair near him squeaked, prompting him to finally look up. "Hey Dad."

Stoic frowned at his son's forlorn face. "What's wrong Hiccup?"

He took a breath, briefly meeting his eyes before staring at the table. "I-I don't feel happy, I guess. Everyone here doesn't have a care in the world anymore but—I can't get Berk or Toothless or Loki out of my head and…"

Stoic sighed and leaned back, brows drawn together in thought. He understood. When he first arrived, he'd been worried how Hiccup would handle the jarring handing over of the reigns, not to mention if he would defeat Drago or not. But those thoughts and feelings had inexplicably been driven away rather quickly. It had been this place. Valhalla did not seem to let those feelings remain. It was to be a final place of rest, where souls could go after lives full of those things to finally have respite.

"Maybe it has something to do with you being Loki's Chosen. I felt those things for only a short while before they did not bother me anymore." He grabbed Hiccup's hand, wanting to make sure this was communicated properly. "Please don't take this in the wrong way, son. Somewhere I still worried for you, about you, but I am finally at peace—I wasn't, am not, able to stay in that state of mind. Let alone for how long you are."

Hiccup nodded, understanding. "I don't fully get what being Chosen has done either."

Stoic smiled at his cheekiness and stood, bringing Hiccup up with him. "No more of these thoughts for now, let's-"

All chatter in the Hall ceased, no one even dared to whisper, and all eyes were locked onto the entryway where a woman in blue garments and silver armor sat upon a winged horse. She gazed around the room before speaking when she did not find her quarry. "I seek Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Loki's Chosen."

Stoic's grip on Hiccup's shoulder tightened. He didn't feel like he should be afraid of the woman. Valhalla didn't want him to be afraid of her—but she was seeking out his son so he was immediately on edge.

Another Viking, one Stoic had come to know rather well, spoke out. "Why do you seek him? Who are you?"

She smiled. It was warm and inviting but Hiccup couldn't help but eye the swords and daggers on her hip and legs. "I am a Valkyrie and I come to escort him to Valhalla, per the All-Father Odin's request."

Hiccup's breath shook, gripping Stoic's hand a little tighter. This isn't Valhalla? Then where am I?

Murmurs broke out in the Hall before they started making a path between her and Hiccup.

Stoic was the only one not to move, both too shocked that his son was being granted full access to Valhalla as well as stubbornness and sorrow that he would have to let Hiccup go.

She did not enter the Hall further but stared at Hiccup who was almost hiding behind Stoic.

He wasn't sure he wanted to go. Yes, sometime in the distant future he would most likely be reunited with Loki…but he would never see his friends or family again—probably. He wasn't sure which one was the proper answer…could he even refuse the summons?

Stoic sighed and stepped away from Hiccup, much to his surprise. "Go, son." He tried to smile but for once it actually looked a little forced. "You've earned your place among them."

"B-but, what about you, mom, Astrid, Ruff, Tuff-"

Stoic stopped his rambling by grabbing his shoulder. "They will be happy for you. I know I am. I am grateful I got to see you again. Now go—you've made me proud to call you my son."

Hiccup fought back tears and rushed forward to hug him one last time, only pulling away when the horse whinnied impatiently. Slowly, he broke away and walked towards her, fighting to keep his head held high.

She reached down to help him up, which he accepted, the horse is taller than Toothless!

He turned around as they left, spying his father in the astonished crowd—nodding to him with a smile.

The horse took off and he soon lost sight of the Great Hall and the village altogether. They continued to fly up and up until it looked like they were going to pierce the sky, it grew darker and darker until it was near black. He gasped as a membrane slid around him, tingling as if searching for something but let him pass with the Valkyrie.

The blackness lasted for a few beats of the horse's wings. His grip tightened ever so slightly around the Valkyrie as they passed through the night, grey clouds of an odd mist-smoke swirled around them until, finally, a star lit the horizon. As they quickly drew nearer to it, he realized it was not a star but a golden, glowing door. The winged steed reared and slowed down before entering the door at a calm, uncaring pace.

They entered a crowded and somehow even louder Great Hall than the one he just left on not-Valhalla. The room quieted quite a bit as everyone turned to look at their newest member. A woman frowned upon seeing him behind the Valkyrie. "A bit young, is he not? Has Asgard come into some great calamity that they now call children to arms?"

His cheeks flushed brightly at that, but he didn't know what to say to that or what and how much he should say. He opted to keep quiet and quickly dismount when the Valkyrie pulled her mount to a stop and nodded for him to do so.

Most of the Hall's eyes were on him now and he stood rather awkwardly, jumping when the Valkyrie suddenly shouted for all the Hall to hear. "Hiccup Lokison, Odin has welcomed you into Valhalla. May you enjoy an eternity of peace and delight."

With that, she left through another set of golden doors with bright greenery peeking through.

Asgardians were murmuring to one another about the new addition, many of the women wearing looks of pity. A regal man who bore a minor resemblance to Thor, stepped forward and asked Hiccup who was standing very still and rather uncomfortably. "Lokison? Has the youngest prince sired a child already? There have been very few deaths after the Asgardian-Jötunheim war and the purging of Hela's troops. Tell us of the happenings of Asgard."

Hiccup bit his cheek, fiddling with a finger. "Uh, well, I-I'm not exactly a Lokison…Loki Chose me but I'm not his blood." He shifted uncomfortably. "No one's, uh, called me that before actually."

Many of the women scoffed as did a few men, one responding, "Chosen, birthed by blood, it makes little difference."

Another nodded. "To share magic in such a way makes bonds even stronger than blood."

The very first man waved a hand and hushed them with a look. "Where do you hail from and what stories do you have to bestow upon us? You must tell us. It has been centuries since any new blood came!"

"Thank the Norns for that," A grey haired yet still young looking woman muttered.

Another chuckled. "Yes. While we do not wish for the death of the living, it is only natural and you do tend to grow tired of the company once you've heard their regales a thousand times too many."

A couple of men snorted in indignation but many laughed lightheartedly.

Hiccup apparently didn't answer quickly enough for them because one man pushed through the crowd, staring at him. "You are rather small. You must be from Vanaheim."

Hiccup looked down, cheeks hot. He wasn't ashamed to say he was from Midgard but it would be awkward—from what he gathered, there were no other Midgardians in Valhalla proper. "I-I-I'm from Mi-Midgard."

"What?" A heavily armored man asked, holding his ear towards Hiccup. "I think I might actually be aging here in Valhalla."

Hiccup looked up and set his nerves. "I'm from Midgard. And my name's Hiccup Haddock, Loki's Chosen."

The Hall was silent in shock. The first man stepped forward, face hard. "I am Buri, first King of Asgard. How did you die, Lokison, to be permitted into Valhalla? It is unheard of for a mortal to be accepted beyond Fólkvangr."

Hiccup squared his shoulders and looked Buri in the eyes but tried not to be challenging, just sure of himself. "Trying to protect my people and all of Asgard from a maniac that slipped away from Odin's manhunts."

There were some confused looks passed around. Buri and another man who resembled him shared concerned glances before eyeing Hiccup hard, silently commanding him to continue.

Hiccup sighed quietly. "Loki refused to kill Odin and release Hela." Several gasps filled the hall, the two of the gods eyebrows shooting up, Hiccup ignored them and continued. "So, as retribution, I guess, Grimmel killed me. And it's not like I asked to come here, my dad and everyone is or will be at—not-Valhalla, Fólk-vangr you said?"

Buri nodded, but his eyes were distant with new thoughts. Several pairs of feet shifted uncomfortably, one man finally speaking up. "Grimmel survived?"

Hiccup nodded and crossed his arms, scowling at the floor. "Yeah, been hiding on Midgard."

Concerned murmurs filled the Hall until the first man commanded loudly. "Settle down! There is nothing we can do now but offer up prayers to the Norns." He turned back to Hiccup, much calmer than many. "Come, you must have some stories to share—let us return to feasting and drink!"

*O*

The Asgardians were quickly distracted again by their never ending feast and most forgot Hiccup was there, which he was fine with. It gave him time to regain his barings, again. Valhalla proper was even grander than the not-Valhalla he left but he felt more alone. Even though he'd only been in not-Valhalla, or Fólkvangr as they called it, for only a little while, he'd had his father, the knowledge he'd see his friends again and was getting to know the people of his past as well as others. It was surprising how many hiccups were in Fólkvangr, both of his name's predecessors!

He hadn't really gotten to speak to them before he'd been… taken away for a lack of a better definition. Time was as non-existent in Valhalla as it had been in Fólkvangr. He spent the first while just exploring and collecting his thoughts again as well as his nerves. To be the only Midgardian in Valhalla, surrounded by the gods…

A few Asgardians and Vanir had spotted him watching them and all but drug him inside to be a part of the eternal feasting. He managed to slip away near the back, having a clear view of the golden frame that was the door he entered through.

He jumped when a lady sat next to him, a few others joining as well. He gripped his cup of untouched wine tightly, staring at them with small amounts of uncertainty. "H-hi, can I help you?"

The first woman giggled at his awkwardness. "You are cute for a mortal."

"Oh gods," Hiccup whispered and nearly plunked his head into the cup.

Another woman laughed. "Yes, mortals tend to be that way…but that is not what we came for."

Hiccup almost sighed. "Thank Loki."

They giggled at his choice of words, making him blush more. The oldest, or so she appeared, cut off their antics. "It has been so long. Please. Tell us your story."

A brunette nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Chosen as you may be, you must have done some amazing things to be allowed into Valhalla."

Hiccup shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "I-I guess I've done s-some stuff. I'm from Berk-"

He told them how he met Toothless and took down the queen, though with far less dramatics and flair than the twins or even Fishlegs would have given it—sticking pretty much to the facts of what happened and when.

By the time he finished, a small crowd had gathered round, listening in fascination as he told his tale. An older man with grey hair but still with a strong body frowned and began asking about the Red Death's physical description.

Hiccup frowned, head tilting, but answered him, describing it in more detail than before.

Many gathered looked a little ashen or surprised at Hiccup, the man shook his head in disbelief and mild horror. "How did a Dýrhyrr come to be on Midgard!?"

Color left Hiccup's face, the Red Death wasn't from Midgard? "A-A what?"

Another warrior answered since his comrade was now lost in distressing thought. "A Dýrhyrr, a beast from Muspelheim."

Hiccup nodded. "I think I remember Thor mentioning they had dragons…or something like dragons," His eyes widened and he shivered.

An older man with a staff spoke with confidence if not a little exasperation. "They possess some magic. It is how they controlled the lesser dragons of their realm. It is not out of the question that it accidentally fell through Yggdrasil. It was far more common millennia ago when magic was more highly viewed and practiced."

He turned and glared at Buri and the man standing near him which Hiccup had come to learn was Bor. Buri waved him off. "It is a woman's art. The men belong on the field of battle with swords and axes—not cooped up in a secluded hall with a scrying bowl."

Several men and women glared at him for that comment but none felt like poking that proverbial-dragon further.

Bor nodded, impressed. "If you did that as a child even among your own people, you must have led quite the life. What else have you accomplished?"

Hiccup squirmed, eyeing the Hall—most were now gathered to hear the new stories.

One of the men who'd drug him into the Hall to begin with laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Do not think you shall be escaping so easily! You are the first new blood in centuries. Tell, tell!"

Hiccup groaned. "The gods hate me."

Many of them laughed while the woman who first brought her little posy to him smirked. "No, we quite enjoy you."

Hiccup grunted, head connecting with the table and earning more amused chuckles.

*O*

He managed to slip away from the horde after he left them reeling with the Bewilderbeast—Dýrsvell revelation. He'd skipped over most everything in-between except for a few bits of when he and Loki met and some shenanigans the quartet of tricksters pulled. They didn't need to know everything.

He quickly learned that this Valhalla, much like the main realm it was created for, was a planetoid and actually much smaller than Fólkvangr. There wasn't much to wander and learn in the place. There was a large sparring ground and the Great Hall was massive, but the only other place of interest was the field where the Valkyrie horses grazed. Beyond it was nothing but a solid wall of blue. It was like literally touching the sky, nothing could pass through.

He quickly grew tired of the raucousness of the Hall. Their stories were interesting but they seemed to repeat unbearably and without the need to sleep, it was all too easy for them to stay up through the 'night' and try to outdo one another with tales that must have once been true but were now so exaggerated they were only funny if you were drunk off your rocker.

Loneliness grew within him and he sought more company from the horses than the gods. So, in the peacefulness of the fields, he started practicing his magic again. It had been small things at first, manifesting his magic into a ball of light just to see if it was even still possible. He was elated to see that it still was, so he fished his small notebook from where it was always safely tucked by his chest. He stared at the script written in it, notes and exercises Loki had written down for him to practice.

It was a small wonder to him that it had ended up in Valhalla with him but he was grateful for it. He shook those thoughts from his mind temporarily and focused on his hand. Fear prickled his spine again and he checked around him for the third time to make sure no one was around. They may have accepted a Midgardian into Valhalla but he had serious doubts how they would react if they learned of his magic's other half. After ensuring that, yes he was alone and no one was coming, he returned to focusing on his blue hand.

He'd been trying for several 'days', pulling on that ghostly memory of the warm flesh that Loki had made appear. He frowned as he focused. It was so odd and, wrong to think that his previous skin was now foreign. But he'd grown used to the subtle chill that always lay just beneath the surface. Thinking of the previous heat his body radiated made him a bit queasy.

He glared at the ground, now occupied by a horse—oblivious to Hiccup's conundrum. He took a breath and put those thoughts out of mind. Surely there was something warm I didn't feel uneasy around…He only had to think for a second before his eyes lit up—Toothless!

With renewed vigor, he focused on his hand—thinking of the heat Toothless radiated and how it was comfortable and right. His breath stuttered when his fingers paled white before taking on a pinkish hue—his excitement ripped away his concentration and they quickly faded back to pink.

He didn't care about that though, I did it! He jumped up, a fist thrown in the air.

A few nearby horses looked up, startled and curious, then went back to grazing.

He ignored them and took a seat again, focusing on the feeling—keeping his emotions in check this time. After a while, he managed to change both arms fully, holding it for almost a minute before dropping it again.

He took several deep breaths, grinning the most he had since leaving Fólkvangr and his father—probably since dying if he was being wholly honest. He'd still been a little sad on Fólkvangr but for a few, precious seconds, all that was driven from his mind.

Still on a high, he turned around, expecting to see Loki sitting nearby and grinning at him. His shoulders fell along with his joy when nothing but grass and uninterested horses greeted him. He stood there for a minute, blinking back tears, before sighing and leaving. Once the place of respite now a place of a painful reminder of his isolation.

He wandered back to the Hall and the sparring ring, deciding to sit and watch at the latter for a while. He took a seat well away from many ogling women and several more—it was hard to tell if they were Valkyries or simply the female warriors from some of the realms—betting that they could take on certain men.

He was uninterested in all of it. It wasn't any different than at home, one Viking blustering and saying he could take on another—be it from truth or just their need to engage in something violent. His face wrinkled. Everything here reminded him of home in one form or another and all of it in the cruelest way—all of it saying that it wasn't home while reminding him he could never go back.

"Lokison!"

He finally looked up, just now realizing that they'd been shouting for him several times over. He hid his grimace. That was another thing, while he didn't mind being identified as Lokison, it was yet another reminder of how much was taken away from him.

They waved him over with broad grins. He shook his head and quickly left. After his few tales, they'd been eager to spar with him, promising to take it easy. He didn't want to spar though. He wanted to draw, to forge, to practice his magic with Loki and cause some harmless mischief with the twins—and if he must spar, he wanted to do it with Loki or Astrid. But all of these were denied him, they held no part of the afterlife—least of all in Asgardian Valhalla.

He eventually wandered into the Hall and sat in a darkened corner that nobody would come near, given its proximity to the door, and listened to the same tales yet again. He couldn't help but stare at the door to Valhalla, tears threatening to fall again.

He took deep breaths, trying to fight them off. He slid down the wall until he sat with his knees to his chest and buried his face, finally allowing himself to cry silently. He wanted home so badly, Loki, Toothless, his father—he wanted anywhere but this prison he was condemned to.

Whelp...yup. Poor Hiccup. R&R and have a great day!
Dýrhyrr=Beast of Fire