Thirteen: Lightning and Death Itself

And then the creature opened its eye, the acid green globe fixing on his face. He paused, just for a moment because the sleek black dragon was nothing he had seen before...and in that second, he saw it.

Fear.

The creature was afraid. Bound, helpless, facing death with no hope of rescue.

Exactly how he had felt a few short hours earlier when the men had cornered him...and again when facing the dragon...

...but it had given him its trust, touching his hand and giving him a small noise before flying away...

...and sparing him.

He shook his head. No! This is your chance! Maybe your last chance. Don't screw it up, Hiccup. This is what you always wanted...

As if this would make the slightest difference. They would claim he found it dead. They would call him a coward and a liar and a disgrace. He would kill the dragon that no one had ever seen...and no one would believe him.

It's Useless, lying again. Remember when he claimed to have shot down a Night Fury before and it was just a gull? And he destroyed three houses in the process? And now he suddenly kills one on his own? Ha! He must have found it dead from a disease. Burn it before he kills us all!

He lowered the sword and covered his face with his hand.

"I did this," he moaned, shoulders slumped. He knew there was more to dragons than just mindless savagery. The Nadder had protected him from Svein. The Gronckles had been protecting an injured female. And he knew the Night Fury never raided, never took any food. He stole another look into the despondent eyes...

...and finally, with utter defeat, he saw himself.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I did this and it wasn't fair. I hurt you because I was desperate to be accepted...but the truth is-I will never be accepted. I'm not a Viking. I'm just a screw-up...a mistake...a Hiccup." And then he leaned forward and used the sword to slice through the entangling ropes before flinging it away and standing back, his eyes closed and empty hands held in front of his chest. He heard the dragon move, the swift snap of the remaining ropes, the leathery sound of it scrambling to its feet and turning on him. He heard a huff of breath, short and angry.

"Make it quick," he whispered.

The blow slammed into his middle, still bruised from Snotlout's attack and he went down with a thud, cracking his head against the rock behind him. His eyes snapped open in terror as the creature leaned right over him, pupils tightened to narrow slits and back arched in fury. Its mouth was open, ferocious teeth inches from his face and he could feel the intake of breath, expecting his death.

"Goodbye, Astrid," he murmured.

The roar hit him like a blow, his head reverberating and vision greying with the solid impact of sound. A hand desperately brushed its scaly face just for a second and the dragon stopped, pupils widening in shock. And then it pulled away, leaving the sprawled shape slumped against the rock. Head spinning and limbs feeling like jelly, Hiccup stared as the creature leapt into the air, flapped its wings twice...

...and then sagged to the left, vanishing behind another ridge.

And then everything went black.

oOo

He had no idea how much time had passed when he regained consciousness. His ears were still ringing and there was a faint buzzing audible. He blinked and looked at his hands in shock. He was still alive. Three times in one day! Boy, Thor really must have some plans for him! And then he realised his head was pounding, his neck was incredibly stiff from the horrible position he had been lying in and there were globlets of saliva sprayed all over him from the roar. He brushed his hand across it: sticky and very tenacious. And I bet that doesn't wash out, he thought randomly.

Levering himself up, he looked at the cut ropes of the bolas and sighed. It had worked perfectly. He finally had an invention that did exactly what it was intended to do...and he could never tell anyone. He didn't want to hurt dragons again-because even the Night Fury, the most ferocious, dangerous dragon in the world, hadn't killed him.

If you meet one, hide and pray it does not find you.

Well, it found me-or more accurately, I found it, and it didn't kill me. Something makes them aggressive. Maybe Vikings running at you with axes and swords shouting 'Argh!' will do that? But even when I had threatened to kill it, it spared me.

And then he crouched down, staring at one of the bolas. It was heavily stained with blood, cool and sticky. He turned his hand over, his face stricken. It had been wounded. He had wounded it. He stared in the direction it had gone, recalling the erratic flight and wondering if its injury had caused the weird dip to the left.

Only one way to find out, he told himself. "This has to be the most insane thing I have ever done..."

And then he headed off in the direction the dragon had gone...

He almost fell over the edge of the rocky cove, arms windmilling as he stared down and scrabbled back from the abrupt edge. Below him was a neat little valley, containing a small lake, mossy ground-and one Night Fury. As he watched, it tried to flap its way up-but it sagged to the left and slammed into the turf with a painful-sounding thud.

Emerald eyes widened as Hiccup peered cautiously over the edge and saw what appeared to be an opening down and to his left. Cautiously, he backed away and followed the line of the lip of the cove, then found it: a narrow crack between two rocks that opened out onto a small ledge . Thanking Odin that he was a skinny guy-because there was no way on Midgard that Fishlegs would ever be able to make his way through-Hiccup scrambled onto the cliff and looked down. The Night Fury was licking at his tail, a pained sound leaving his mouth. Now he could see properly, as he crawled to the edge, Hiccup realised the left tail fin was badly mangled, deep rips in the membrane lying between small supporting bones that had clearly been snapped and wrenched from the tail itself. Glancing at his own mangled hand, he winced in sympathy.

And then a crazy idea formed in his head: he had done this and he owed the dragon the attempt to put it right. If the bones were broken, they would need splinting. And he could guess that the membrane would never heal unless it was sewn back together. He sighed. It was simple medicine-or maybe just smithing-that he knew he could manage...provided the dragon would allow him to come close. He had to win its trust.

But how do you gain the trust of a dragon you have shot down, maimed and trapped?

He crouched on his haunches and sighed, seeing the dragon despondently walk to the lake and snap at a couple of small silvery fish. They escaped easily with a flick of the tail that caused the dragon to make a grumbling sound and Hiccup stared. It was hungry! Of course it was hungry! It had flown a raid and been shot down by some skinny loser. It was now trapped, starving and desperate.

"I know how to gain its trust," he murmured and backed away, heading back to the village.

It was dark and very cold when he got back and he headed straight for the forge. Gobber had closed up long ago and was no doubt in the Great Hall, downing Mead with his remaining friends and complaining about his apprentice being absent due to injury. He sighed. He was about to steal valuable materials from the forge, the kind of thing that had gotten him stuck in jail not that long ago-and he really didn't want to be in jail while Snotlout was there. That really would be his vision of Helheim.

He found his battered satchel stuffed in a bucket, almost forgotten and sagging but one of the few things that the twins hadn't found and burned-not that it was of any real use to the young outcast. Then he peered at the forge, finding it banked. It didn't take long to pump the bellows and fire it up, then find a few shards of broken sword that he could hammer down into rods as thick as his little finger, carefully finished to not have any sharp edges to dig into the soft tissue of the fin and a small loop at both ends. Then he found a stiff needle for sewing leather and a smaller needle for sewing heavy cloth and brought them both, along with threads. Finally, he sneaked to the back of store number one and grabbed a basket of fish.

Sighing, he stashed his kit behind Astrid's house in the wood store and wearily dragged himself back in. She was sitting by the fire, a covered bowl just near enough to the flames to keep it warm and two mugs of warmed mint tea waiting, steam curling from the freshly-brewed infusion. Seeing him approach, she looked up into his face and sighed, rising easily.

"No good?" she asked and he sighed.

"It got away," he admitted. Because I let it, he added silently. She gently rested a hand on his shoulder, her eyes sympathetic.

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely. "Maybe you just need stronger ropes on the bolas?" He nodded. "I know this meant a lot to you...but you did shoot it down. That's something, isn't it?" He nodded, though the slump of his shoulders told a different story. Eyes softening with sympathy, she pulled him to the fire. "Your hands are freezing," she said gently, sitting him down and handing him the bowl. "I got this for you because I wasn't sure when you would get back." He managed a small smile then, feeling guilty for not being truthful but knowing she wouldn't understand. To Astrid, it was black and white: Vikings and dragons were enemies and the only good dragon was a dead one. What he had done was treason and all he would earn from her was hatred and betrayal.

"Thanks," he mumbled, eating the hot food. The moment he began, he realised how famished he was-and that made him only feel more guilty at the plight of the Night Fury...but he knew he had a basket of fish behind the house and he could make up for his actions tomorrow. Then he smiled at Astrid: she was amazing and was still putting up with his sorry excuse for a house guest when by all rights, he should be back in his freezing cold little room behind the forge. He really didn't deserve her. But she gave him the tea and they sat together in companionable silence until she explained what she had been doing-and that three more families wanted his fire-control system fitting. He gaped.

"They do know it was designed by me?" he checked and she smirked.

"Yup. First thing I tell 'em!" she said smugly. "And it doesn't put them off because they can see it's working. Even the Chief was impressed-though I think he's still sore at you shouting at him..." Hiccup groaned and slumped back, staring at the roof and sighing.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true," he groaned.

"Though you do know the Berserkers are due to visit in a couple of weeks?" she reminded him. "They've had the Treaty signing at the Chief meeting the last three years but this year, Chief Oswald the Agreeable and Dagur, his son will be signing it here. And the Chief knows Dagur will want to see you."

Hiccup's eyes slammed open and he shook his head urgently.

"If I ever heard an argument against pretending to be the Heir, that's it!" he gabbled urgently. "Astrid...Dagur used to torture me when we were younger. He thought I was his plaything and he beat me, burnt me, hung me upside down from a tree, trapped me in a pit, tried to drown me, used me as knife practice...Gods, I have nightmares about him every few weeks. I can't deal with him again!"

"Hiccup..."

"Let Snotlout deal with him!" Hiccup protested. "Gods, that would be fairer...I don't know who would have the worse time. Hey, I might even feel sorry for Dagur...no, scratch that..."

"Snotlout is in jail," Astrid pointed out, secretly alarmed that he was so discomposed. They had all known that Dagur was weird, violent and sadistic but none of them had understood how badly he had treated Stoick's young Heir...and then she shook herself. No one had known because no one was a friend to younger Hiccup and he had not only suffered, but suffered alone.

"Then Dagur can visit him there," Hiccup replied sharply, sitting up. "I'll go hide in the forest. Possibly for weeks until I'm sure he's gone..." Covering his face, he gave a heavy sigh. "And I know that the Chief will come and put pressure on me to deal with that lunatic and honestly, I can't do it, Astrid. I have tried...Thor, I couldn't have tried more...but I can't do this." She wrapped her arms around him and he leaned against her.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I shouldn't have brought it up." His arms closed around her.

"No, I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm not really helping, am I? I can't do anything, I'm invading your home, I shot down a dragon but let it escape...and now I'm such a coward that I can't face another Heir from Berserk..." She rested her head against his.

"You performed brilliantly as the acting Heir, you were horribly attacked by Snotlout and hurt, you still managed to shoot down a dragon and you're so welcome here because I won't have you freezing in the forge when I have a nice warm house to share! As for Dagur...well, we all know how strange and dangerous he is!" He gave a small shrug.

"Thanks, Milady," he murmured then shivered. There was a bitter wind blowing through the village and even Astrid's house was feeling cold away from the fire. He sighed. She had a new house, without any other possessions or any chance to insulate or modify it and it wasn't too warm. He looked up. "You can't sleep upstairs-you'll freeze!"

"I'm a Viking," she reminded him with a proud smile. "I can stand a little cold..."

"Sleep down here," he said softly, the memories of the day, of his impending deaths swirling around him. He had said goodbye to Astrid at least twice and he felt a deep, overwhelming desire to keep her close through the dark hours of the Berk night. "Please?" She stared at him, seeing his pleading emerald eyes and swatted his shoulder.

"You, sir, are suggesting that I, an unmarried maiden, sleep with you?" she teased him and he blushed bright red, right to the tips of his ears. His emerald eyes widened and he looked shocked.

"I-I-I-I n-n-never even su-suggested..." he stammered and she grinned at him in amusement.

"Mutton-head!" she chuckled, seeing him almost rendered speechless. "Don't get your hopes up!" He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing, then managed a offer a small smile.

"Managing to resist all this raw Vikingness?" he mumbled. She grinned.

"Okay-I'll get my furs," she said and nodded. "It will be a bit warmer, to be honest." He finished his tea as she sped up the stairs and brought her furs down-and then he gestured to the bed. She shook her head.

"Listen-I can't watch you sleep on the floor while I'm on the bed," he said softly, his voice edged with guilt but she pointedly laid her furs by the hearth, sitting down by him. Giving a small smile, he lowered himself to sit by her, eyes locked onto hers. "We sleep here or we sleep on the bed," he murmured. "Um...if you want to..." She peered up at the bed and smiled.

"It is rather draughty down here," she admitted "And it would be nice to have a warm body to rest against..."

"Hmm...I was thinking the same," he admitted with a bashful smile as she scrambled up and launched onto the bed, dragging her furs over her. Hiccup achingly pulled himself up-and gave a groan of protest. "Hey!" She grinned.

"Hmm...I'm liking this bed-it's very cosy," she said smugly and he sighed.

"It's all yours, Milady," he said gently and gave a small bow, then began to back away-but she snared his wrist and pulled him close.

"Oh no, Mister Promised-get your scrawny shape over here!" she ordered and he arched a definite eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure I could be shamed and exiled for sleeping with my Promised before we're wed..." he protested as she dragged him forward so he collapsed across her. She giggled.

"Stop messing around!" she ordered him as he crawled to his side of the bed and slid under his furs. He was still stiff and sore but he managed to slide in next to her-chivalrously taking the side away from the fire. The air was chill, an icy draught coming round the bolted door. Astrid threw another log onto the flames and then snuggled down against Hiccup. He blushed scarlet and scarcely dared breathe but Astrid gazed over at him and huffed. "Remember our survival lessons, Hiccup? Shared body heat?"

"Aargh? I mean, yeah?" he gabbled but she scooched closer, smiling at the warmth radiating from his embarrassed shape. Carefully, she pulled the furs over them both and snuggled up, wrapping her arms around him. Very carefully, he wrapped his arms around her. Thor, don't let anyone come in and see us. Please?

"You are lovely and warm," she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. "I should have thought of this before..."

"I may have combusted if you had..." he mumbled, lying stiffly next to her. Her face stretched into a genuine smile.

"There are no raids, the door is locked and it's too cold for anyone to be messing around," she reassured him softly. "Now, let's get some sleep. I'm exhausted and we both have work tomorrow." And somewhere in the fog of embarrassment, he felt her fall asleep against him. Cautiously snuggling closer, he ghosted a kiss on the top of her head and then wrapped his arms around her. Despite everything, he had ended up somewhere in his best dream, lying peaceful and sort of safe in Astrid's arms. But somewhere, out in the dark, there was a dragon waiting...and Hiccup knew, as sleep claimed him, that doing what he planned would probably lose him Astrid, his nascent acceptance and probably his life.

oOo

They both woke in the cold dawn, snuggled close, still fully clothed, furs pulled high and air cold in the little house. Astrid grinned at him as he yelped on waking, finding Astrid Hofferson wound determinedly around him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. And finding himself in that amazing position, his resolve almost-almost-wavered...but his sense of guilt in shooting the Night Fury down was strong enough to overcome all his misgivings. But guessing this was his only chance, he briefly tightened his arms around her, feeling the slight tightening of her grip as she returned the hug-before pulling away. He really hoped that was a look of regret on her face at having to leave the warmth: he certainly mourned her loss and was resigned to never experiencing that magical embrace again. Wearily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up as well.

Astrid smirked at him as he cast her sideways looks from under his bangs and eventually, she burst out laughing, seeing his expressive emerald eyes widen almost comically. "Okay, sword boy-what is it?' she asked in an amused voice. And to her shock, he blushed scarlet.

"Sorry, sorry," he gabbled. "I...erm...was just stunned...at how amazing you look in the morning..." She stared at him, searching his words for his instinctive sarcasm-and finding none. His words were totally sincere. And then she raised her hands, realising her hair was askew, bangs sticking all over and wisps escaping the braid, as usually happened overnight.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him bluntly. "My hair is a complete bird's nest!" Hiccup gave a small smile.

"I hadn't noticed," he breathed and it was Astrid's turn to blush. "You are always stunning to me." Smiling, she dipped her head and turned away, inspecting the pot of boiling water. Swiftly, she sloshed water over a mint and pine mulch that passed for morning tea and handed him a mug.

"Um...I'll just head upstairs and fix my hair...um...right..." she said, blushing and racing up the stairs to the loft, leaving Hiccup completely disconcerted. Was Astrid blushing and flustered? He sipped his tea and ran his fingers through his wild auburn hair, trying to smooth the tousled locks down a little...but a small smile tilted his lips. Her smile made his chest flutter just a little with warmth and he sighed. He was going to throw it all away with his stupidity...but he owed the Night Fury a debt. And he was nothing if not stubborn. He would not turn back on the silent promise he had made.

So after a quiet breakfast of bread and yak jerky, they had separated: Astrid had early training with the fire crew while Hiccup was going into the forest-ostensibly to get some practice in but in reality, to see the dragon. So he waited until she was out of sight before he fetched his satchel and the basket of fish from the wood store and trudged achingly up the hill and into the trees. It took him almost no time to reach the cove, his crowded thoughts distracting him as he walked the surprisingly familiar pathway through the mossy pine forest, the damp grey morning smelling of moss and pine needles. He took a deep breath in, momentarily dispelling the stench of fish-and then he headed through the crack and into the cove.

At first, he didn't see the dragon-but then he located the black shape, curled up on a scorched patch of ground at the far side of the small lake. Taking a shaking breath, Hiccup scrambled carefully down to the cove floor and looked across to the dragon to see acid-green eyes crack open-and then the dragon jerked up, his shoulders arching a little. Carefully, he rested the basket of fish down and then, without ever taking his eyes from the dragon, he slipped his satchel over his head and unfastened his knife, tossing both by a nearly boulder. And then he grabbed a large, impressive looking salmon and held it towards the dragon.

"I know you're hungry," he said gently, taking a small step forward. "And I know you're hurt. And that's my fault. I-I wanna make it up to you. I want to help."

The dragon looked into his earnest face, reading fear and anxiety...but also genuine determination. And the Night Fury sensed compassion. This was the human who had decided not to kill him-and had released him when he had expected death. And the human who had found him in this cove.

The Night Fury was extremely hungry.

Inching forward, the dragon extended his neck and flicked his eyes up to inspect the human's pale face...and then snatched the fish. Hiccup watched as he polished it off in two starving bites, guilt welling in his chest. Hunger he knew all too well from times of shortages and times when there was food-but it was denied to him deliberately. Drawing back, the dragon paused and sat back on his haunches as the young viking facing him backed away and grabbed another slippery fish-a large cod-and inched forward, his arms extended.

"I know you're hungry and I want to help," he repeated. "Please-I mean you no harm..." The dragon inspected him, his pupils widening from narrow slits to wider, more oblong shapes and it snatched the cod, taking three bites this time to dispatch the large fish. Hiccup stared over his empty hands at the Night Fury and offered a small smile. "Ya want more?" he asked and the dragon gave a little warbling sound. Hiccup managed a small smile as he bent down and fished out a large eel. The effect was instantaneous: the dragon gave a roar and scrabbled backwards, looking fearful.

Fearful? The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself was scared of a dead eel?

But Hiccup leapt forward and grabbed the slimy thing, flinging it away said the scrub and raising his hands to calm the cringing dragon. "It's okay, it's okay!' he gabbled urgently. "I-I don't like eel either! Bleurgh! I'll get you another salmon! Please..." The dragon dropped back to its feet, eyeing Hiccup warily until he produced another large salmon. Slowly, it inched closer, taking the salmon from his hands and licking its lips eagerly. All the way through, Hiccup kept up a constant monologue, his voice calm and bright, his wide green eyes observing the creature.

"I know you're trapped and your tail is injured," Hiccup said, fetching more and more fish from the basket. "And I did that. And what was I thinking? I mean, I know you guys aren't all that we thought! You are intelligent and you fight to defend yourselves...and you protect others. I mean-I don't think you raid at all, you just protect the others while they do the raiding. So logically, you should starve-but you don't. I think you understand me. So I want to help heal your tail and get you back in the sky." He stared into the big green eyes. "Just trust me."

The Night Fury sniffed at the tall young man, his very sensitive nose smelling pain and blood, the scent of a female and the smells of iron and fire. The male who was facing him wasn't an alpha-nowhere near-though he was persistent and calm. The dragon sat back on his haunches once more as the young Viking inched closer. Quietly, the young man extended his left hand, heavily bandaged, towards the dragon.

"I know what it's like to be hurt," he said quietly. "I know what it's like to feel...trapped and hopeless. And I will help you. I want to treat your tail." He gestured with his bandaged hand. Then he closed his eyes, bowing his head. "Please, trust me...and let me help you."

There was a long pause and he felt his shoulders sag. The posture had worked with the Nadder, however inadvertently. Hiccup realised he was making himself vulnerable, trusting his safety to the dragon...and he hoped the dragon would accept the gesture. He could literally hear his heart pounding in his ears, his throat was dry and his hand aching...until he felt painful pressure against his bandaged palm, his fingers pressing onto the dry, warm scaly face of the dragon. He let out a relieved, shuddering breath before he dared to crack his eyes open a sliver and peer up at into the acid-green orbs, staring into the quizzical dark pupils of the dragon. The dragon pressed harder and the young man lifted his head, staring into the scaly face with a sudden astonished smile.

"Hello," he said gently, his other hand rising to stroke the dragon's jaw. "It's good to meet you, bud." The dragon gave a small croon and Hiccup felt the vibration through his touch. The dragon opened this mouth slightly, revealing toothless gums...and he started. "Toothless, eh? I could have sworn you had..." The teeth snapped down as the dragon darted past Hiccup and snagged another salmon. "...teeth," he finished and found a small laugh in his voice. But once he had eaten all the fish, Hiccup fetched his satchel and gestured to the tail...though the dragon kept flicking his wounded extremity away. Exasperated, Hiccup paused-and then determinedly unwound the bandage from his mangled left hand, finally exposing the battered flesh, still black with bruising and swollen with the breaks from Snotlout's vicious stamp. Tentatively, he offered the hand again to the dragon and this time, the Night Fury sniffed it. He gave a small growl.

"Yeah," Hiccup sighed, wincing as he waggled his fingers. "I know how you feel. But I can help..." Carefully, he dropped to a stiff crouch by the mangled tail and got a good look at it. Three of the supporting bones in the tail fin were snapped and a large rent tore through the membrane. Gently, he drew out the fine metal rods he had crafted and lay then alongside the fractures, looking askance from the dragon, which sat, watching him warily. With a shaking hand, he found the needle and heavy thread and paused. "This may be sore, bud," he admitted as he swiftly threw a stitch through the membrane, tying the struts next to the broken bones to act as splints. Toothless gave a grumble but endured the discomfort until Hiccup had finished.

Sitting back on his heels, the young Viking realised he was sweating. And it wasn't just the fact he was treating a ferocious dragon that could kill him with one heavy swipe of his paw-no, it was also the stark fact that Hiccup was quietly committing treason in helping a dragon. He looked at his trembling hands and took a long breath...to find the dragon gently nuzzling him. It crooned in an almost reassuring manner. Hiccup looked up, green eyes tired. "I still need to repair your membrane. You up for it, bud?"

Quietly, the dragon gave him a lick and Hiccup nodded, grabbing the finer thread and deftly sewing the tears back together, finally nodding and sitting back on his heels. The dragon gave his toothless smile.

"So...Toothless," Hiccup murmured. "You have retractible teeth? I guess it makes them last longer and protects them?" The dragon nudged Hiccup as he whipped his tail away, the affected fin hanging limp and not moving as the uninjured one did. Emerald eyes trailed over the tail and he sighed. "Hope that works," he said as the dragon rubbed against his shoulder. Slowly, he levered himself to his feet and tenderly stroked the scaly face. The dragon looked up into his eyes and nuzzled against him, but Hiccup's eyes trailed to the limp half of his tail and sighed.

"Okay," he said to steady himself, his head almost spinning at the fatal choice he had made. "I've made my choice. I promise I will see you healed-and you will fly again."