Never had he felt that before, such a pain, such a misery, a headache equivalent to the tornado, tugging on his mind, his body, reminiscent of the pair of claws, scratching his skull, never allowing him peace. The first that he'd noticed, outside of the mentioned struggle, was the farther noise, being as though thunder, the eruptions capable of clearing lands by yards, although hushed by the shriek inside his very head.

It'd taken much toil on him just so to open his eyes, and when he had, he'd seen only the blurred image of the bent tree's trunk, soon also, his wing, curved in an unnatural, unbearable position, braided by dozens of dead vines. As he'd realized his situation, which precisely was hanging in the air, sustained by these ties only, he'd strained to recall what'd taken place - suddenly, the memory flooded his head the very moment his eyes met the stonelike ground, the war ground.

He'd remembered seeing the queen enter, how enormous she'd seemed, how terrifying when roaring, as though at the top of her lungs; he'd remembered the horrify that swallowed him at once, the never-experienced dread. The second he'd taken in sight of fleeing Vikings, he'd felt as well as stabbed - he'd hated these people, that had been the truth all along, he'd wished them the worst, although only then had he realized what it'd really, really meant.

He'd remembered turning his sight away, reducing his world to that beach, that extinguished cigar at the center of his attention, however, he couldn't help, but overhear, oversee the consequences of his actions, the crowd's fear. At that point, he'd found himself on the road to nowhere - as he'd had his eyes opened, he'd witnessed the detriment of innocents and, if it wasn't enough, when closing them he'd witnessed the detriment of the beloved one - at last, he must've done anything.

The petrifying, sharp pain had shot through his body as he'd stirred, merely extended his wing's membrane, the vines curling him tightly enough to refrain the blood's flow currently, stripping him out of the core vitals. It'd be easier to move, if he wasn't two fucking tons, he thought, and anyhow, as if his mind enjoyed answering his prayers, he transformed, wouldn't notice it until tumbling to the ground, not having any grasp on the vines, anymore.

Immediately, after meeting the soil, the cough jerked his lungs, and, without the ability to even raise his head, he'd merely stayed still, his hand, having the cuts at the wrist, gripping on the rough grass, his cheek plastered to the mud, his eyes at the mountain.

He'd remembered how he'd rushed to Stoic, how fastened his breathing was whereas bypassing the terrified mob, he'd remembered stopping by him, catching that face of his, the one he'd seen at the arena once - the fearful one. It'd been a while that they'd been staring at each other, before Toothless ordered Stoic to be freed, promised the help; of course, the older man opposed, although shut himself, the very moment the younger outright begged.

He's remembered when, suddenly, Stoic asked him to swore he'd help, swore on Hiccup's life, and while it'd appeared as if he'd been surprised by such a request, he'd been not, because, in actuality, he'd done it, already - he'd swore.

At that point, he'd been gaping at the blood, dripping from his head on the dry leaves, whilst being on all fours, his hands shakily upholding him, before finally, he'd found the strength in himself to get up, the slowest even imaginable. Managing to bear staying on his feet, he'd slid them, and so, moved forward step by step, finally yet, just as his blurred sight caught the queen, continually ruling the isle, he'd lost the feeling, completely.

Before he'd known it, he'd returned to the footing, his back, somewhat, locating the boulder to lean onto, his eyes centered on the bushes ahead, his breath uneven, his heartbeat loud, loud enough to reach his ears.

He'd remembered the very second he'd bolted upright into the air, how the cold, cruel wind smacked his face, how he'd felt the dozens of eyes on himself, the gazes of fear in most, however, also the one of furiousness, wildness. Since the beginning of his mission he'd decided - he'd not fight queen, he'd not had any idea how to, hence, he'd just focused on carrying Vikings to the safe place, the west beach's part, who actually allowed to be handled, because of the petrifying dread rather than trust.

He'd remembered rescuing over the ship's amount of Vikings, before the world stopped, and he'd been witness to the same, blond woman, who handed Stoic the torch, about to be whacked by the queen's spiky tail, ahead. She'd already been dead, he'd known that, yet, he could've not permitted the thought to himself, he must've done something, he must've saved her, she'd resembled Astrid, too much.

The subsequent events he'd remembered briefly - he'd remembered the moment he'd pushed her away - surely, he'd broken the bone of hers - he'd remembered being hit, how he'd been sent flying away, and then, he'd remembered nothing, just the pang up his head, and darkness.

The same, harsh ache, just that moment, struck his skull the very second he'd barely skimmed his fingers against it, gaining on the bloody drops at their tips, also the headache, which resembled the one from getting up. Out of the blue, the loud noise, that oversounded his deafness, had been made just off, and soon, he'd regretted glancing at the reason, viewing the dictator, standing at her two feet, as though the reaper itself, about to wipe every being's existence off the island.

He'd been to die, he'd already known it, he'd known it since the very moment he'd been forced to stare inside the green eyes inside the cage, but it'd been just then, when he'd really realized that, and the fear overtook him, took a claim on him.

"…oth…ess!"

Everybody had been to die, he'd already known that, he'd made it happen, but it'd been just then, when the guilt set in, when he'd felt the dense blood all over his hands, when he'd heard these screams, within walking distance.

"Too…le..!"

At least, she'd live, he'd reassured himself, and so, gazed upward, gnashing his teeth when having the sky, his beloved place, obscured by the dark, black clouds, at last yet, he'd closed his eyes, resting, surrendering.

"Toothless!"

Never, never he'd expected to see the quoted woman then, who kneeled just ahead, the velocity of which speedstingers would be jealous of, her dark green, capturing eyes, in front of his, filled with the vast amount of concern. Thereafter, he'd not reacted much, rather than simply blinking, as if to ensure, whether he'd not confused reality with darkness, finally, however, whereas she'd not vanished in either light, he'd merely smiled, inched toward her, carefully.

"Hiccup," he greeted, although his tone indicated the question, which, fortunately, she'd answered with the familiar, lovely beam. "Hey, Sunshine."

"Hey," she replied, her hand cupping the side of his neck, before her eyes landed on his forehead, narrowed, worriedly. "What happened?"

"I-I ain't know, myself," he chuckled, aware of Hiccup's attention being at his injury rather than his voice, hence, sighed and whispered, as the ending, "Not as if it matters, right now."

Shortly after, neither spoken, words not having any necessary to be said, hence, the rather silence enclosed them, throughout which Toothless's attention, as though ignorant of his injury, fixed on Hiccup's hair, for any reason. The braid, loosely leaned at the space between her clavicle and shoulder, seemed not very belonging to her - coated with dust, obscuring its natural color, stained with blood - his blood - telling stories - their stories.

Soon, maybe from the blood loss, maybe the need itself, his mouth moved on its own, and he'd asked, "Have I told you, how beautiful you are?" whereas Hiccup reacted with tensing her shoulders, surprised.

"I guess," she answered, her voice audible from over his head, being as if the melody, the favorable noise. "Why the question?"

"I adore everything about you. Your eyes, your voice, hair, freckles, everything that's part of you. I so-, so regret that I've not said it before, I-," he confessed, paused when unable to withstand his choking voice, although, once having Hiccup's eyes appear in front of him again, asked, suddenly, "Is it going to hurt? Dying?"

"What?" she inquired, confused to the core, cupping his cheeks when having his eyes water ahead of hers. "Hey, hey, 's okay, everythin' is okay. Ye're not dyin'."

"I'm not?" he repeated, watched her shake her head, and as he'd taken in sight of the background, of their surroundings, it'd hit him, finally.

He'd lived - he'd had, for real, the view of the stone wall just off him, obscured by the dark, dry leaves of the trees, destroyed in most, he'd felt the real, frigid wind at his face - everything, the rocky ground, the dreadful rumble, it'd all been real. Hence, the woman, having her hands on his skin, the dark, stunning green eyes, hiding his entire world behind their color, the soil and blood staining her - it'd been real, and ultimately, that knowledge tore him apart.

"No. No, no, no," he murmured as he'd pulled Hiccup's hand away from his face, then stood up, not even hearing Hiccup's disallowing at that point, as if even ignorant of it. "This can't be right."

"Toothless, what ye're-?" she asked whereas he'd already been stumbling away, and as he'd almost tumbled at the clearing, ran after him. "Toothless!"

Soon, she'd been back by him, clinging to his side, whilst he'd appeared unpleased by it, couldn't even bring himself to gaze at her, and finally, when he did, she'd nearly flinched under the fury and misery of his eyes.

"You should not be here," he rasped, his breathing so hastened, that it could've been mistaken for the panic attack itself. "You know why I've agreed on that, you surely know! Everybody here's to die, don't you understand?!"

"Of course I do!" she replied to his adamant voice with hers, although her body wouldn't express anger, rather only adhered to his, upheld his tottering stance. "I've come to die, too."

"Why? Why would you ever do that?" he questioned, staring at her, broken to pieces. "Why'd you ever risk yourself for the people that would never do the same?!"

"Ain't ya understand it? I've not come for 'em, I've come for ya!" she shouted, her eyes narrowed, however not due to anger, rather only the hurt, the pain. "I've come because-, because I love ya!"

With that short sentence, within quick confession, the world appeared to have stopped, the surroundings quietened whilst, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, Toothless just stared at the woman, her words echoing through his head. At that point, not having any strength to watch the reaction, Hiccup looked away, her eyes shadowed by the fear, the guilt, and soon, she continued speaking, not bestowing the man with even one, brief glance.

"Since the moment-, since the moment ye've said that to me, since then, I've regretted every minute, every second, that I'd not said it back," she admitted, her voice faint, very aware of the pair of acid eyes at herself, gaping cautiously. "At that time I was just, I was scared, terrified with the thought, that ya could've loved me, that anyone could. I've believed ye've just misunderstood it, misunderstood the love," she explained, then dared herself to gaze at the man, inhaling when viewing his vague expression. "I'd understood it wasn't true, the second ya'd allowed yerself to be beaten by my father," she recalled, having her eyes watered by the marks of it, the purple bruises and swellings up the man's face. "I'm so, so sorry, for everythin' that happened. I love ya, I-, it wouldn't have happened if I just-, I-,"

Thereafter, there weren't any other words, and she'd dropped her head, sobbed, afraid of what was about to happen, having been able to just imagine the man's thoughts, wonder about them, fearfully. Never, in her entire life, would she predict what happened next - slowly, very much slowly, Toothless slid his hand underneath her messed up hair, and rested it at the side of her head, holding it dearly.

Subsequently, as Hiccup lifted her gaze up, her glistening eyes widened, witnessing the man's gentle smile, all the more when he whispered, „I love you, too," and fixed everything.

Within the next few seconds, the woman's face was painted with an unfeasible amount of emotions - she'd cried, smiled, and trembled, all at once, however, wouldn't move, probably too afraid to. Observing everything, the man kept on grinning, levelled their eyes, and, at the picture of her joy blended with uncertainty, embraced her, whereas she'd allowed him, allowed to be swallowed by his arms.

There weren't any kisses, any tension, there were only they, their urge to linger close, whilst Hiccup clinged onto Toothless's side, while he streamed his hands through her back, occasionally getting his fingers knotted by her hair - it was peaceful. Out of a sudden the explosion nearby interrupted the moment, and the only thing they could've done was to protect what was the closest, tighten their holds, loosen it only, when being sure that the other still breathed.

Afterward, primarily, they'd skimmed one another's face, looked out for any fresh bruises, until later, their eyes traveled to the reason for the fusk, namely the blazing fire just off. Despite it, Toothless's eyes much more stayed at what was over the flames - Nightmare, the very same he'd threatened once, gliding through the black clouds within Viking on his back, whose sight remained on the battlefield.

Unable to resist his curiosity then, the man gazed there also, knitted his brows at the other riders, flying without rhyme or reason around the queen, visibly annoyed with the occurrence, straining to repel the attackers, vainly. Ultimately, having seen enough, Toothless glanced at Hiccup, whose face, surprisingly, was painted with a smile - only later, when she gazed at him, she answered his nonverbal, numerous questions.

"They'd come with me, to help," she explained, when seeing Toothless's uncertain grimace quickly added, "Everythin' is goin' to be okay, now. Ya'll see."

Consequently, he'd not replied, nodded only, held her tight as she'd leaned her head at the crock of his neck, before whispering, suddenly, "We should be to ones helping them."

"No, I should be," she stated, stared at him whereas he'd furrowed at her, opposing. "Ye've done enough, already."

Thereafter, the man would've argued, would've kept his ground, if it weren't for the green eyes, scanning his head, also a newborn guilt, that just prevented him from it, ordered him to simply listen.

Hence, he'd just followed her as she'd leaded him, sat at his previous spot by the boulder, while she'd kneeled by him, kissed his temple, and whispered, "Try not to fall asleep, love," but wouldn't stand up, stopped by his grasp on her forearm.

"Hiccup, I -," he started, his heart, suddenly, gaining on velocity. "Promise me-,"

"I'll be back," she responded, griping his fingers with her other hand. "I promise."

"Please, sunshine. I don't-, I don't want-,"

"Ya'll not lose me," she promised, snuggled closer to him, her voice sweet as she'd said, "Ya couldn't lose somethin', that's already yers."

And so, barely waiting, the woman inched toward the man, before, as gently as achievable, kissing him, her hands landing on his shoulders after he'd released her, lessening his to her waist, holding her dearly, scared of letting go. Eventually, however, all the while the scared screams, the loud eruptions allowed themselves to be known, Hiccup drew away, beamed the last time at Toothless, before, finally, standing up, changing as she'd drifted away, and disappeared in distance.

At that point, at that dreadful, very much horrifying point, he could've just prayed, to the gods he didn't believe in, and hope.

It'd been all his fault, that thought, that very cruel yet true thought, runned around Stoic's head, just as his body did around the battlefield, trying to lead the battle that's already been lost, trying to survive. At that point, he'd regretted so many - he'd regretted not listening to Gobber, he'd regretted not listening to Gothi, not listening to his daughter, heck, even not listening to the Night Fury - he should've listened.

Despite everything, he'd tried explaining himself, after all, his actions were never in his self-interest, but the interest of his people, of the village he'd grown in, which guided these traditions in him, these choices, he'd meant only well. Unfortunately, even though he'd found thousands of such explanations, he'd still be in the same spot, surrounded by smoke, screams of his charge, he'd still be the same loser, at the edge of dying.

It'd been rather known, he'd been accused of many, however, the scare wasn't one of these accusations, because, even currently, he'd stared into the immense dragon's eyes, without any fright, any hysteria. Consequently, there wasn't wonder why the Chief didn't follow his people to hideout - at the very end, he'd just wanted to compensate, rescue whoever needed it, so much as to lose his life by it, managing to empty the beach, actually.

Hence, he'd been about to give up, comforted by the thought of saving half his people, the other half saved by the black dragon, which, soon later, perished himself - he'd believed that, allowing himself to die, he'd repay the Fury, anyhow. And so, just like that, after ensuring himself, there wasn't anyone to help more, aware of the death's sight at himself, he'd just kneeled, awaiting the judgment, to see the gate's of Helheim, soon.

The moment he'd felt hot, nauseous breath at himself, he'd thought of his family, of his daughter, who'd never forgive him for his sins, of his wife, who he'd been to see soon, he'd thought of everything, until actually asking himself, how, the fucking damn, he's been still alive. When opening his eyes, he'd expected anything, anything, but the young lads, including the infamous Astrid, on the dragon's backs, flying around the furious monster, irritating it, distracting it.

Fucking lunatics, he'd cursed then, although couldn't help the bright grin, slipping onto his face, couldn't help hope, that warmed his body, couldn't help joy, because he'd known, it'd been all his child's doing. Well, sometimes hope doesn't come very in handy, when facing a situation that necessitates focus, and so, Stoic found himself almost stomped by a massive foot, if it wasn't for dark, swift shadow.

For a second there and then, he'd really believed he'd flown, that he'd grown himself a pair of wings, finally yet, he'd realized he'd been taken captive by dragon, the Night Fury nevertheless, however, for the very first time, such alternative seemed almost too blissful. Having two, black paws, stabbed into his clothing, he couldn't have seen his savior much, though would've felt the dragon's struggle with upholding them - thus, he wasn't very surprised when being outright dropped onto the ground, hard.

Nevertheless, despite the harsh landing, as he'd been on his fourths, he'd laughed, really laughed, meanwhile the exhausted Night Fury, who was panting just off him, glanced at him, raised a brow, questioning the man's sanity.

"To be completely honest, I thought ya'd be as well as dead, although I'm even glad for bein' wron', that time," he chuckled, loosened his shoulders for the very first time since hours, then gazed to the dragon, admitted, "I can't believe what I'm 'bout to say, but, thank ya. Thank ya, I-," and stopped suddenly.

As if by the influence of his common sense, after all this madness he'd been witness to, at last, time slowed down, all the rapid situations ceased, all the thoughts, and he'd only stared at the Night Fury, abruptly, outright reversing in time. Those eyes… those eyes didn't belong to the monster, he's once tortured - no, those eyes belonged to the child that would've fallen asleep on his lap, to the woman that would've bid farewell to him before travel, to his biggest sin.

Immersed in memories then, Stoic almost missed it, when the Night Fury turned from him, was about to soar into the sky, however, he couldn't allow it to go - he couldn't allow her to go. "Hiccup!" he screamed, thereby stopping the female, who stumbled by the start, gaped at the man shocked, now.

Finally, at that point in time, when the two simply stared, Hiccup changed, making Stoic's heart lose a beat, at the very end yet, she'd been still his daughter, having his eyes, her mother's hair and freckles, being theirs. Eventually, something happened, because the woman began rotating a ring on her finger, although wouldn't take her eyes off him - by that second, seemingly detailed act, he'd known, they'd never be the same, she'd never be.

"I should've told ya-,"

"No, ain't explain yerself. I should be the one, doin' that," Stoic interrupted his daughter, who broke the silence first, then, slowly, he'd stood up when continuing,"So many times ye've tried to show me yer struggles, I should've seen signs," he sighed, watched his daughter knot her brows, and, at last, said, "I'm sorry, for everythin'."

Afterward, Hiccup didn't reply much, tightly crossed arms on her chest, before asking, "And ye're-, ye're not disgusted with-," although didn't finish the thought, pursed her lips together, suddenly.

Primarily, Stoic wouldn't do anything, inhaled loudly, before moving toward her, stopping just ahead, and, without much of a warning, girdled his arms around his daughter's shoulders, holding her dearly in an embrace. In the meantime, however, Hiccup stayed still, didn't return the father's act, although closed her eyes, exhaled the tension out of her shoulders, only later gazed up at Stoic, as he'd begun, quietly.

"I couldn't ever imagine, what ye've gone through, how ye've hurt," he said, then glanced at her, and smiled, weakly. "I'm proud of ya."

That sentence, as though being a magic spell, immobilized the woman, who searched her memory now, in pursuit of those words, although, when finding none, when aware he'd said that for the very first time, forced a smile on her face. Later on, she'd opened her mouth to speak, but her voice quickly overtook the queen's roar, which shook the island, hence them also, while they'd looked at each other, their eyes speaking thousands of words.

"Go, and be back," Stoic ordered then, releasing her from his grasp, before adding, at the very end, "I love ya."

Likewise previously, having some darkness inside her very eyes, she'd not replied, nor answered, nodded only within the tension of her muscles, and soon, set off, disappeared before he could've said anything more.

The men, never leaving their sights off her, watched her through the entire time, watched her as she'd broken promises, and fulfilled cursed prophecy.