V for Viking

Author's Note: Alright so this is my first chapter being fully written from the comfort of my dorm at the great University of Tennessee. That doesn't actually affect anything; it's just a milestone that holds a tiny sliver of personal significance.

This IS the Finale.

As always, leave your thoughts in the comments and since this is likely the end I want to hear your thoughts. Also, since this is the last chapter, I'm actually gonna proofread this one… :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Dullness. That's the first thing I can remember feeling. My vision was black and my head was pounding but I couldn't feel much else. My body felt dull. I couldn't even tell if my lack of vision was because my eyelids were closed. Sounds seemed distant and their muffled noises blended somewhere in a distant corner of my head.

I couldn't remember what happened or how I got like this. All I could think about was how good sleep felt right now; I should just rest. Stop trying to remember, or clarify, or focus, or fight.

I should stop trying to fight. It was that thought that sparked my mind back into action. I shouldn't stop trying to fight. I should start fighting. Whatever this is shouldn't beat me. I would never stop fighting.

And so, painstakingly slowly, I began to return to the world of the conscious. My head was still pounding but I was able to focus through it, though with some difficulty. Those distant noises were revealed to not be in a corner of my head, but far off sounds of battle, barely audible in my state. Feeling began to return to my body, and I found that I was lying on the ground. I started to separate the different levels of pain in my head; I found the ache to be a resultant of a blow to the side of my head.

Memory still eluded me and my eyes were—I did confirm—closed.

One of those I can change, and I did as I forced my eyelids to crack open. The sky was darkening from sunset. Sunset. Why did that feel familiar? Did I have plans at sunset? Was something going to happen at sunset? Was H-

Was Hiccup doing something at sunset?

My mind began to race back to me, though not completely. Sunset was when the battle was set to begin. Hiccup had cheated; he had to have conspired to have my announcement changed. He must be the reason my head hurts. He must have attacked me.

But as I fully opened my eyes and glanced around, I didn't see Hiccup hear to gloat. I saw Fishlegs.

I was relieved momentarily to see an ally and a friend come to my aid, that is until the last of my memories came back. Wasn't Fishlegs the one who attacked me?

He was. As my wits fully restored themselves, I remembered turning to be smacked with the hilt of Fishlegs' sword. Why? Did Hiccup somehow get to Fishlegs? Is it possible he turned him against me?

"G-good. You're awake." Fishlegs called out with evident nervousness, but also with a conviction and anger.

"Fish…? How could- Why would…?" I fumbled as I found my faculties still not fully restored. I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "Did he put you up to this?"

"He authorized me, yes, but it was my suggestion." Fishlegs replied. This left me with too many questions to ask in my current state. How did they meet? Why go along? What does he mean he suggested it?

"Why?" was all I could ask.

Fishlegs shook his head as if he was trying to shake a thought from his mind.

"I really think I could have supported you. I really do think you would have made a great leader, but I can't trust you. Not after what you did to R-Ruffnut in cold blood…"

My mind hung on that last sentence in two different places. Ruffnut? Cold blood?

"Ruffnut?" I asked, hoping that he would understand the question despite my broken sentences.

"You really don't even know? The morning that Hiccup came back, we got engaged…"

That news, while surprising that I didn't know it, did not come as a true shock. Or at least, under normal circumstances it wouldn't be a shock.

"I was… busy." I gave as an excuse, though it was true. I spent the next days doing all I could to stop Hiccup and I was so focused on that that I don't remember much of anything else that happened in that time.

"What do you mean 'cold blood'?"

"Don't give me that, Astrid. You knew she was following you. All you had to do was loose her; you didn't have to…to ambush her in that alley." He accused angrily while also struggling to mention Ruff's death.

"W-what? She attacked me!"

"You're not going to trick me, Astrid. I'm not stupid. You're not…you're not going to talk your way out of this." As he finished, he produced a knife from out of his belt; its intended use was made clear as he started walking towards me.

He had been lied to. He wasn't told that Ruffnut was trying to kill me. He was being blindly lead.

My mind tried to kick into overdrive, but in my current state my words couldn't keep up and I fumbled my sentences. Clearly he was tricked by him, lied to by him, and manipulated by him, and I need to tell Fishlegs that, but in my state I can't seem to remember how to say Hiccup.

"Fish, please! Don't do- you don't know- you're being lied to by…by…" I struggled mightily to produce that name until eventually I went with whatever was close enough. "by that- that Haddock boy!"

Only a few feet from me now, Fishlegs stopped and chuckled at my inability to come up with a simple name.

"Boy? That's a large underestimate of Stoick the Vast, Astrid!"

"W-what? S-Stoick?" I asked, completely lost.

Fishlegs looked at me like I was stupid.

Stoick? Fishlegs betrayed me for Stoick? That would mean that Hiccup didn't have a hand in it. That would mean that…

It would mean that Fishlegs' betrayal happened naturally. It would be more evidence for Hiccup being right about this whole thing, about the nature of Vikings. It would be more evidence that I was wrong about the very people I've grown up with, about my own friends.

My mind started to spin with this new information but I found one caveat that allowed me to stay steady. Even if Hiccup didn't have a hand in this, he did still tamper with my statement, which means he feared that I would be right about the village as a whole. He was afraid they would listen to reason.

As I clung to this thought, I did everything I could to avoid thinking any further about the subject for fear that I might find something wrong with my last chance at being right. However, one singular doubt crawled into my mind: how had Hiccup done it? How did he swap my statements?

A thought crawled into my mind that I couldn't ignore: had Fishlegs been involved? Now that the thought crossed my mind I knew without a doubt that I would need an answer. I just needed to ask the right question—possibly my last question—to get Fishlegs to answer.

"So you…you were working for Stoick the whole time? You were…weakening us?" I asked, hoping that like most Vikings he would want to gloat about his achievements, and if he did, I hoped he would gloat about any sabotage.

I felt rather clever, despite my inability to fully formulate sentences and the fact that my most trusted friend was about to kill me and I didn't see it coming.

"As soon as you wanted to make your own army, I asked Stoick if I should infiltrate it. He loved the idea of having a spy; he doesn't yet even know of all the ways I weakened your forces…"

He started to gloat but stopped, and I need that answer!

"You weakened us? How?" I tried to ask cluelessly, hoping the thought that he was so sneaky would make him boast more.

"You really never suspected? Raids on Stoick never worked but ones on Spitelout did. How intel on Stoick always seemed to contradict itself. Or how your personal statement was magically sabotaged to sound like you were foolishly mocking Stoick? I wrote that to make sure deserters felt Stoick was the true best choice and you were just slandering him…"

And like that, my world folded in on itself.

Hiccup didn't cheat. He didn't think I was going to win. He may not have ever been concerned. He was… right. The village has torn itself apart with relative ease. He just pitted two sides against each other and they've doomed themselves despite my every effort to stop them.

I laid my head back in defeat. My eyes simply stared ahead at the sky, unfocused and unneeded. Absentmindedly, I let Fishlegs approach me without protest until he was standing above me. He was confused at my sudden change in demeanor but I didn't focus on him after that. Despite my state, something caught my eye. Up above us, in a tree, was a figure I recognized.

I knew what was going to happen next. He wasn't going to let me escape this easily, not after I came to terms with defeat. He was going to rub it in.

My eyes half-heartedly followed that figure as he dropped out of the tree—dagger first—and landed on Fishlegs, killing him.

My savior had arrived, and he wore the face of my only friend—and enemy—left in this world.

He pushed Fishlegs to the side to finish bleeding out—not that it would take long—and helped me up to my feet. I stood there and looked at Hiccup with dead eyes, held myself in a clearly defeated posture. Hiccup met my gaze and I knew that he could tell what I had just figured out. I expected a grin, or a joke, or a lecture, or a gloat.

Instead, I got a hug. A hug.

"I know what you're feeling. I remember that, when I first realized the truth, I needed a hug. I didn't get one then, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy…" he whispered to me.

When my shock subsided, I accepted the hug and buried my face into his shoulder while trying not to think about the situation. It wouldn't do me any good to dwell on anything but the kind gesture at the moment. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tightly, both venting frustration and filling the overwhelming need I had to hold onto something at the moment.

When I finally loosened my grip, I realized that together we were shaking. However, I wasn't the one causing us to shake.

"Are you…nervous?" I asked surprised (and muffled by his shoulder).

"K-kinda. Well, yes." He answered. As he did so, I realized that his head was not on my shoulder but instead looking straight forward, as if he was staring at something. Or lost in thought.

"No matter what happens tonight, in the morning…everything will be over for me. One way or another, Hiccup will not be in this world tomorrow."

I couldn't think of what to respond with. Part of me wanted to try to talk him out of it and part of me wanted to comfort him, but I found myself unable to do either. Nothing I could think of saying felt right. I lost. I was wrong. So why should I be in a position to say anything?

Instead, I just stayed there, in the arms of my enemy, trying not to cry.

Eventually, he tried to pull away from the embrace, and I realized that I shouldn't try to force my enemy to stay in a hug. I also had an internal debate over whether I was allowed to call him my enemy anymore.

"Come on, it's time. I made sure to save you a seat." He beckoned me towards the village, which I now realized was the reason the sky wasn't black. It wasn't that it was sunset; it was night and the sky was illuminated with fire from the village.

As we got closer, I found out why. Scores upon scores of dragons were carpet-bombing the village, leaving nothing standing (or alive). As we walked along the edge of the village, I realized that in order to lead me out of the trees Hiccup had offered me his hand and I still had not let go. Now realizing this, I rationalized that I was still in need of an anchor, that I was still unstable and fragile since the revelation that Hiccup was right.

But even deep down that excuse didn't make sense.

As we walked around the destruction I could only imagine what had happened to the poor souls on that battlefield. Were they fried alive? Murdered by enemies as they watched the dragons rain down? Or did they all band together to wage a futile fight against an endless army of beasts?

Does it even matter?

Once on the other side of the village we reached the cliffs that overlooked the docks, where there were a few people still alive. They were all trapped by a massive ring of fire that was being constantly relit by swooping dragons, effectively trapping these people in a field next to the cliff. Hiccup directed me to some of the trees outside of the ring and told me that I could sit in the branches and the shadows would conceal me.

As I walked off, a massive four-winged dragon swooped down and picked Hiccup up with his claws. That dragon then flew up and joined the circling dragons before shooting down and landing in the middle of that field. The remaining Vikings—about ten, including Stoick and Spitelout—backed up and made a circle around the dragon while drawing their swords, but were confused when the dragon took off, leaving only a man in its wake.

His armor was, I now realized, painted with symbols and markings that only a few of which I recognized. Words like "treachery" and "penance" were scattered among words from other languages. It rendered him unrecognizable from that day in the area with Spitelout.

"Welcome, all!" He announced with a flair of mockery that I have become very familiar with. "I'll have you know you are an elite group, that's for sure. Everyone in this ring of fire had a hand in the destruction of Berk! We've got generals, warriors, spies, and the two main men themselves! Let's give everyone a hand for their contributions!" Hiccup mocked, while beginning to clap in a manner that clearly was meant to anger those around him.

"Who the FUCK do you think you are!?" Stoick bellowed.

"Me? I'm your Culmination. I'm the Values you've bred. I'm the Knife that cut the strings keeping your peace upheld. I'm the Offspring of your ideals. I'm the Poison from your venomous bite. I… will be the Last of you.

"And Stoick the Vast, I am here to challenge you to the death."

Everyone was understandably confused and angered by his speech. I understood all the references and what he was getting at. Stoick merely grunted grabbed his hammer.

"Finally, he's shut up and condemned himself." Stoick grumbled to the cheers and laughs of the Vikings, even the ones who had sided with Spitelout.

As Stoick charged Hiccup, he drew a shiny sword and unfolded a matching shield from somewhere in his forearm-brace and stood ready for Stoick's blow. Instead of running Hiccup over, Stoick planted his feet and used his momentum for an upward, diagonal blow from right to left. Hiccup, being left-handed, reflected this blow harmlessly upward with his shielded right arm by swinging it the same direction as the hammer, causing the hammer to fly upwards and use Stoick's momentum against him. Hiccup continued this motion into a spin that allowed him to slam his shield into the small of Stoick's back and knock him over.

Angered, Stoick got back to his feet and gathered his bearings. As he stood there sizing up Hiccup, Hiccup wasted no time in taunting his father.

"Just so you know, I was the one who attacked Gobber."

This information enraged Stoick and he charged again, this time with a loud, bone-chilling holler. Hiccup was unfazed and dodge-rolled to Stoick's side; this left Stoick within striking distance and he recovered to bring his hammer straight down onto Hiccup, who put his shield up to block the blow. The ensuing sound of a metal clang rung everyone's ears, even my own from my perch in the tree, and left one end of Stoick's hammer cracked in multiple spots.

The impact drove Hiccup's knee into the ground an inch, but he stood up after the blow without any difficulty.

"I also killed Spitelout's friends, along with others…" Hiccup announced directly to Stoick's face.

With his rage rekindled, Stoick swung his hammer (with the non-cracked end in front) and Hiccup bisected the strike with his sword, cutting Stoick's stone hammer in half. Now without a weapon, Stoick was mostly defenseless as Hiccup brought his sword back down in a swipe across the side of Stoick's thigh, forcing him down to one knee. When Stoick looked back up, he was greeted with a Sword being rammed into his abdomen.

Things were now eerily quiet for seemingly no reason. The fires still burned silently, but no dragons swooped down to refresh them. No on looking Vikings made a noise or dared to breathe. You could hear every word said.

"Who. The Fuck. Are You?" Stoick coughed out as blood started pooling in his mouth.

Hiccup walked up to him and crouched down into a squat to level their eyes before lifting his mask to show Stoick his face, but not allowing anyone else to see.

"I am the Sins of my Father."

Hiccup put his mask back on and pulled the sword out of Stoick—ensuring he would bleed out—and walked a few steps away before turning back to look Stoick in the eye. Stoick's eyes revealed immeasurable pain and confusion muddled by tears that welled until they forced themselves to fall. Hiccup dropped his sword and stumbled a few steps backwards before tearing his eyes away from Stoick's. He turned to look at me and I could see that same pain and confusion in his own eyes.

It just hit him. What he did. Everything he's done. Now that it's done, he can't hide from it any more. The softer, truer side of him I've been trying to reach in is control and can't comprehend what he's just done.

I can see it in his posture as the rest of the Vikings begin charging him. They're furious at him and he isn't doing anything to fight back. He's backing away from every challenge and he isn't attacking anyone, only defending.

Eventually, he's backed into a metaphorical corner and has to fight back, and starts by tricking Spitelout into stabbing one of his own men and then using Spitelout as a shield. Somewhere from within the flurry of blows being exchanged he is sliced in the stomach and stabbed in the arm but he keeps going. He keeps going and going until it's him and one man left, wrestling by the Cliffside. Hiccup gets a grip from behind and flips him over his head and off the cliff, but falls over himself.

I gasp and hop down from my tree and cross the now-dead fire ring, and as I approach the cliff I see a hand reach over and find purchase. By the time I'm there, Hiccup has climbed back up and taken a seat at the edge.

I sat down next to him, letting my feet dangle like his, and he just starts taking off his armor. He starts with his mask, removing it and staring into it before chucking it off the cliff.

He continues next with his left arm-brace (his shield is still lying by his sword and his dad's body) and takes off the right one too before chucking both of them.

He continues this complex process of removing armor with his chest and back plates, and chucks them.

He also removes his blood-stained under-shirt and launches it as well.

Now topless, he stops, since he never received a wound lower than that. He has a stab wound in his abdomen that he takes care of first, methodically burning it with a small match before sowing it up. He never speaks a word but his breathing betrays the pain. Next, he sews up the slice on his arm using the same method. He continues this process for all of the small nicks that he deems worthy, and once finished he chunks his small medical kit that was previously stored underneath his chest plate.

After that, he just sat there, staring off into the dark night and the black ocean. And I sat there, watching his face and eyes, illuminated by the still burning village.

"Well, I really fucked it all to shit this time, didn't I?"

There was no humor in his voice. It was solemn.

"Yes."

"And what do you make of all of…this?"

"I think... I think that you knew this is how this would end. You're too insightful not to have known. I think you even knew that it was all wrong. I just think you ignored that, or even accepted it, and did it because no one could stop you."

He never replied to that. He didn't affirm or deny it, but I felt it was obvious he didn't disagree.

His eyes trailed down shamefully and glanced over at me before going back to the dirt.

"And…what do you think of all…this?" He asked, dejectedly gesturing to himself with his hand.

It wasn't a question I could honestly answer. I don't really know where to begin to answer it.

But I can try.

"I think that you are, simultaneously, the greatest and worst person I have ever met. I have never hated…or loved…anyone as much."

He looked back up shamefully and we made eye contact for a fleeting moment. It was heartfelt and real but painful and wistful. It was surreal. Even given everything recently, it was the most confusing thing I have ever experienced.

If I had to summarize the emotion that look shared, I would say it was the sadness of a missed opportunity. The shared feeling that, in another life, we could have had something amazing. The feeling that if things had transpired differently, we could be happy. The feeling that maybe, if I wasn't as angry at him or as dedicated to beating him at his own game, that I could have realized what was right in front of me…

Logic wasn't the way to save Hiccup. There was no amount of rationalizing or arguing that was going to change his mind. I wasn't going to talk him out of his priorities. I should have given him a new one. Even in his cave it was there, in the background: a tension between us that I should have recognized.

All I had to do was be there for him.

I never recognized the pull we had on each other. He was hurting and alone and I was the first person he met that he didn't want to kill. I was the first person he opened up to.

How could I have not seen that?

It feels so obvious in hindsight. There's only one reason that he would chose to open up to me so easily, and let me try to stop him. He gave me the chance to prove him wrong and, if I could, stop his goals. The only reason he would do that is if I was more important.

He loved me and was reaching out for my help.

Hiccup stood up and walked back a few steps, and I stood up to follow him. I stood there watching him staring at his handiwork. I could see him grimace and it make my heart wrench to watch him. And I realized something.

I could have loved him back but was blind.

That's all it would have taken. If I hadn't been so foolish I would have realized that stopping him wasn't a matter of the mind. It was a matter of the heart and I missed all opportunities.

As he turned around to look back at me, I decided not to miss another opportunity. By the time he fully faced me I had already reached him and closed the distance between our lips. It was short-lived, only lasting maybe ten seconds, but it finally conveyed what had been left unsaid.

"What…what was that for?"

"That's my way of saying I'm sorry. I could have helped you stop this but I chose to fight you instead. If I had done that sooner...this may never have happened." I choked out, losing the fight against my tears.

Hiccup was taken aback, but settled into himself readily enough. He thought it over, I could tell, and didn't have anything to add.

"So…now what?" I asked, eyes still glassy.

"I think there's only two options. After all I've done, is…is there any chance I can convince you to fly away with me? Leave this all behind and start over. Have a chance to make up for all I've done or make a new life together somewhere and put this all behind us. If I did that, would you go with me?"

I thought it over, much longer than I needed to because I didn't want to rush to a decision, but my answer was easy.

"I…can't. No, I can't go with you after all of this. I may love you, but I don't think I could ever forgive you. We couldn't have a life together… I'm sorry."

He took the news with a sad face but did not seem very surprised. I feel that, deep down, he knew that I couldn't, but I can't blame him for asking. It is a tempting offer, but it would dishonor everything I've stood for to do so.

Well, more so than kissing him did.

"Then… well, I guess we duel then. One last time, winner takes all."

"Or at least what's left. Which is?"

"The other's life…" He answered quietly.

We sat there and looked at each other for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. I decided to walk up and give him a quick, meaningful hug; I did it more to assure myself that whatever happens next isn't personal. It's just our only option.

As I broke off and backed up a few steps, he pulled out two swords that were folded into each of his thigh-plates. They were thin and slightly curved, but looked like they would cut through anything. He tossed one to the ground in front of me and as I went to pick it up, a Nadder landed nearby with a saddle on its back and multiple weapons hanging from it.

"Go ahead and arm yourself with whatever else you want. You won't find better weapons anywhere."

Once I picked up his sword, I was amazed at how light it was. I've seen Hiccup cut through other swords and stone hammers without denting his weapons, but if they can do that and are this light? You don't even have to be a great swordsman to win any duel.

I went to Hiccup's weapon array to find all of the other weapons to be of comparable quality. I made sure to arm myself with plenty of daggers and knives, and also took a backup sword that folded in on itself and stuffed it in my waistband. Once we were finished arming ourselves, Hiccup sent the Nadder away but it only flew to the edge of the clearing before sitting down to apparently watch us.

We stood ten feet apart and prepared ourselves. We agreed that I would remove my armor from the waist up, so I was standing in my normal battle garments and he was still shirtless. We both held one of his matching swords from earlier and readied ourselves for the fight.

And then he charged. I charged back, and our first blow crossed directly in front of us and left us deadlocked, pushing back against the other. No headway was made so we both backed out of it before Hiccup took the initiative. I let him, as I wanted to test how mobile he could be with his earlier wounds still fresh. He went for a downward diagonal blow that I parried, forcing him to reposition himself before his next blow. This one was almost identical but with an added feint that caused my parry to miss, and I had to lean back to avoid being ended then and there. I wasn't completely fast enough, and he cut a hole in my shirt and bindings that went from my left shoulder down and over to my right hip. I blushed a bit as the cut created a flap that folded from its own weight, which would have revealed my bindings had he not cut through them also. Because of this…wardrobe issue… everything from my left shoulder to my right hip was exposed, including a small cut made during his slice and my entire left boob.

As embarrassed as I felt, I knew that having that flap flopping back and forth would annoy me so I made a quick decision to cut the whole flap off before it got any bigger, and I sliced it with my sword. I looked up to find Hiccup blushing more than I felt that I was while also doing a poor job of not staring. I wasn't extremely mad—I mean, what could he do?—as earlier I may have down the same while he was stitching himself up.

But right now, he was distracted by it, and if I could use my boob as a weapon, why not?

I pressed my attack which forced him back to the real world where he was now quickly giving up ground. I had knocked his sword out of his hand when I had lunged at him and now he was trying to dodge my blows. He threw his hips backwards to narrowly dodge a horizontal slice but I stepped into the next one to make sure he couldn't dodge backwards. As I brought it back to do another horizontal attack, he dropped straight to his back and let the blade harmlessly pass over him before kicking up with his feet and knocking my sword out of my hand with one foot while also knocking away the backup sword in my belt with the other foot.

In my surprise I fumbled for one of my daggers but forgot that his feet were still flailing as he took out my legs and knocked me to the ground. He scrambled to his feet as I fell, and once I looked up he was standing above me with his own dagger. He tried to bring it down on me, but I reached up and kicked him in the chest with my feet and knocked him back into his back (again).

We both scrambled to our feet and the same time, each with a two new daggers held in the traditional daggers stance. Blade facing out, ready to swipe.

He attacked first with the dagger on my right and I caught his elbow with my forearm and held it out to the side. He tried to use this to slice at my stomach from the left but I thrust my wrist in behind his and pushed it outwards, forcing his momentum to make him spin to my right. I pushed with my right hand before releasing his arm and used my newly freed right hand to leave a long slice down his back before delivering a swift kick to knock him on his face.

He let out a yell when I cut his back and grunted as he hit the hard ground, but he bounced back up quickly. Now, I needed to outlast him before his lost enough blood to pass out, or at least get close to where his reactions would be slowed. He knew this two, and launched himself at me with renewed vigor, hoping to end the fight before it got that far.

He ran at me and threw one of his daggers at me, hoping I would dodge sideways and be unprepared for when he rammed into me. Instead, I rolled forward and ended up behind him, with Hiccup unable to stop his momentum in time to hurt me. I took one of my extra daggers and flung it at Hiccup, and surely enough as he stopped to come back at me my dagger inserted itself into his lower abdomen. It didn't hit anything vital but it stuck deep enough that removing it would only further doom him.

As he staggered backwards and inspected his new wound, I ran up kicked him back onto his back. His groans grew louder now, and he began to see how the fight would end. He scrambled back up to his knees but stopped as I held my dagger against his throat.

He looked up at me and made eye contact, and suddenly I began to freeze up. I had won. It was over. The only option left was to finish this. It was almost a kindness to end it for him, but deep down I felt uncertain if I could do it while staring into his beautiful, if desperate, green eyes.

"P-please. Don't make me wait any longer." Hiccup choked out, but it didn't help. Hiccup asking me to go ahead—telling me it was okay to kill him—didn't help my emotional state.

"It's okay, Astrid. I need you to do this…" He choked out further, only making my tears come back.

He looked up into my eyes one last time and smiled—a sweet, heartbreaking smile, as if he was watching someone precious to him—before lowering his head and accepting his fate.

He then tried to stand up and attack me. He popped up extremely quickly but was slow with his attack and I instinctually stuck my dagger into his chest. He didn't want me to feel guilty, so he gave me no choice.

He dropped his dagger and stumbled backwards, but I was there to catch him and gently rest his head against the ground. He reached up with his hand and played with a strand of my hair that had fallen down, and I started to cry and lost track of his hand until I felt it again: grabbing my left boob. I looked down shocked and my face turned red, and I'm sure his would have if he had any blood to spare. He let go as I look at him funny, and simply smiled as best he could.

"Sorry. Always wanted to do both of those…" he defended himself feebly. Despite the situation, I found it in myself to smile at his comments. "I guess I can die peacefully now."

Those were his last words, and I'll never been sure if they were a joke or not. Leave it to Hiccup to have his last words be sarcastic, after all. But I also feel that he meant it, too, so I guess it wasn't just a joke.

I closed his eyelids, or what I think were his eyelids as I could see them through my teary vision, before just sitting and weeping. Not crying, but truly weeping over everything that had happened.

I finally found it in me to move when the sun began to rise over the horizon. I backed away from the scene, and as I did Gronkles began to fly down and coat all of the bodies with molten metal, until all of them were buried underneath and within large piles of metal, with Hiccup's being built up until it was a large mound taller than myself. I felt if that was the burial these men were to receive, the least I could do would be inscribe their names on their tombs.

For Hiccup's, I felt more should be added. I sat for a moment and thought of what could do justice to this scene; after all, for anyone who came and found Berk gone, they would need to know what happened.

Eventually, I settled with this carving.

Here lies the Last Heir of Berk

Whose grief caused him to go Berserk

He drew his Sword against his own Town

And now they all lie with him in the Ground

He had the Heart of a Man

And a Dragon's Soul

But he was betrayed by Vikings and

He lost all control

Now he has Taken down all but I

Astrid, once Faithful, once Loyal, now the only Remaining

And to my village I waved my goodbye

As We took up the Fight at the end of Day's Light

And I avenged my home as just as the fire was waning

Now I give them both a funeral they're undeserving of

The Village is Ash

And I am the Last

And must cry "Goodbye, My Love"

That was the best I could do as with the little time I had before the metal cooled, but I felt it at least somewhat preserved the legacies of all sides.

I turned around to find Hiccup's Nadder from earlier with her saddle sitting there, practically begging me to climb aboard. I walked up to it and found that there was a letter sitting on the seat, pinned to the leather by a small dagger. The dagger itself was gorgeous, inlayed with gold inscriptions and precious gems along the handle, with the words "My Queen" worked into the pattern.

Underneath the letter was a new long-sleeved shirt with hooks that seemed designed to connect to the saddle. I took off what remained of my shirt and used it to make makeshift bindings before sliding the new shirt on. It fit surprisingly well.

The letter started off as an inventory of all the supplies in the saddle, along with instructions for the other dragons with saddles which apparently held more treasures. Beneath that was a handwritten note.

Astrid,

If you're reading this, then I was write about you. I can't predict the events leading to my death, but I know that it was at your hands, and I'm not surprised. I'm leaving everything I had to you; not like there is anyone else, but you are my first choice.

In the innermost pouch of this saddle is a book. I have updated it throughout the years with all the knowledge of riding, taming, and dealing with dragons I know, along with the directions to my various homes and hideaways. It is yours to do as you wish.

Good Luck, Goodbye, and Thank You

Hiccup

P.S: This is Stormfly. You two will get along great!

The waterworks came back, so I had to wipe my eyes as I read the letter. I climbed into Stormfly's saddle and realized it fit me rather well. I decided to reach into that pouch and pulled out the book.

"How to Train Your Dragon, huh? He never could name things well… Except, maybe you, Stormfly." Stormfly squawked in what seemed to be appreciation. "Well, where do you want to go?"

I don't know why, but I could have sworn I felt a voice whisper:

Let's go find Home.

And I couldn't agree more.