Two: Midnight
Astrid spun around in shock, reaching for her axe and finding her hand empty. The scream-Hiccup's scream-echoed through the wooden kitchen she found herself standing in. She spun-and found herself in the gown of a married woman, her hair no longer braided as a maid but knotted up like a respectable wife. She turned and winced, glancing down to see her belly swollen and round with child.
She stumbled backwards against the table, her face falling in horror. What was this? Some nightmare? Please let this be a nightmare!
The door slammed open and admitted her husband-Snotlout. She recoiled in shock as he advanced rapidly, grasping her and pulling her hard against his body, his tongue pushed in her mouth as he kissed her and hands indecently and possessively roaming her curves. His hand lingered on her belly, a proud smile twisting his face as a small foot kicked away at him. She winced.
"Hey, my Princess-is my meal ready?" he asked, reluctantly moving away from her and sprawling in a padded seat by the fire. "The little guy's nearly ready, huh? Only a couple of weeks, if Gothi is right. Though we took long enough getting him in there." He gave a grin. "Though I wasn't complaining, Princess. Those six months were some of the best of my life."
Astrid felt sick. What he was implying...what had clearly happened...was beyond her worst nightmares. She shook her head and balled her fists in anger. "Where's Hiccup?" she asked urgently. Snotlout's eyes widened in shock.
"Hiccup?" he said in confusion. "Why would you ask about old Useless? He was exiled by Stoick years ago-I think he may be dead now, eaten by a dragon or killed by an Outcast. The Chief made me his Heir...and my Dad instantly made yours an offer he couldn't refuse."
"Ugh! Give me my axe. I suddenly need to go training!" she announced. He grabbed her arm, much harder than necessary and she yelped. "Ow! Snotlout..."
"I thought we had finished all this nonsense, Princess, when we married," he said in a hard voice. "As part of your contract, you gave up all this warrior nonsense. Gobber shattered your axe at the wedding as a sign of this deal. You promised to be my obedient, submissive wife, the woman who will run my house, the mother of my heirs...and nothing more. Your role is to cook and clean and service my needs and provide me strong sons and saleable daughters." She backed away from him, shaking her head.
"No..." she breathed. He pushed her back, grasping her hair to keep her still as he leered in her face.
"Don't say we have to start this again," he growled impatiently. "You are my wife...and nothing more. And you will do only what you are told...or you will be utterly dishonoured and so will all your family." And then he slapped her.
She felt tears burn in her eyes for everything she had wanted, every dream she had worked for was gone, taken from her by the worst cruelty. She was trapped, the man she loved gone, her warrior prowess forbidden, her freedom stolen... She backed away from him, tears streaming down her face, her breath hitching in despair. How had it come to this? How had she agreed to this nightmare?
But she knew. Oh yes, she knew. Money. Her family was very poor: Snotlout's was rich and without Hiccup, there was no one else who would bid for her against him. She had been sold, effectively as a slave, to provide for her family, for her two younger brothers...and everything she had wanted had been cast aside like trash.
She collapsed in the corner, seeing no end to her torment, to her prison of a life without battle and excitement. Then Snotlout leaned over her and grabbed her hair, pulling her face up to meet his. "Don't worry, Princess," he said coldly. "You're never getting away from me."
oOo
Fishlegs heard Astrid's scream and he started. He was scuttling through the forest and he stopped, worried. A lot of things worried Fishlegs: that a man as big as him could scuttle was one of them, but also that he wasn't as brave as he should be, that no one took him seriously, that all he seemed to offer was knowledge and that one day they would decide he was expendable.
Of course, he had shown that within him was another side, just waiting to come out: Thor Bonecrusher, the persona had had temporarily adopted when he had been hypnotised to rid him of allergies to dragons (but, as it turned out, to Gobber's ear wax). Thor had been brash, cruel, arrogant, dismissive of Meatlug and mean to all of Fishlegs's friends. He had been the opposite of what Fishlegs usually was and though he was an impressive, courageous, decisive Viking, Fishlegs infinitely preferred being himself. He sighed. Just for once, he wished people would want to be with him for him. He knew that Hiccup had really wanted to be partnered with Astrid-who wouldn't?-but it didn't make Fishlegs feel any better that Hiccup had only taken him as a second choice. He forgot that Hiccup spent hours with him discussing new dragons, that Hiccup often came to talk to him anyway and was always kind and patient with a fellow dragon-nerd.
Scuttling forward, the mist swirled more densely around them and he began to mutter the statistics about the Smothering Smokebreath to cheer himself up...
"Smothering Smokebreaths...Mystery Class...um...attack 4...speed 8...armour 6..."
"You don't know anything!" a brash young voice called and he spun-to see one of the youngsters from Berk who he used to take for dragon history-Synnoeve. She was a bright-eyed and very self-confident young girl with fat blonde braids and grey eyes. He leaned towards her.
"Erm...no, I'm very sure those are the stats for the Smothering Smokebreath..." he corrected her, his voice wavering.
"My Dad says you only got into the dragon riders because they needed a sixth rider for the Gronckle and you wouldn't be there of they didn't have one!" she told him. He shook his head.
"Actually..."
"What dragon is this?" she asked, pointing at a creature he had never seen-a blue-skinned streamlined creature with white stripes, four wings and bulbous yellow eyes. He blinked. He had never seen anything like it.
"I-I..."
"It's a Deep Diver. Everyone knows that!" she scorned. "What about this one?" And she gestured to a dragon hardly bigger than her hand in iridescent silver and gold. He gaped.
"I..." he muttered.
"A Jewelfist!" she said triumphantly. "Really! How can you claim to be the Logmaster when you don't know anything?" And she lifted the Book of Dragons and flipped through it. Every page was strange, covered with pictures and runes about dragons that Fishlegs didn't know and had never seen before. He gaped.
"I-I don't know..." he whispered.
"I'm sorry, Fishlegs, but that really won't do," Hiccup said sternly, walking up to stand behind the girl. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Synnoeve!"
"Sure thing, Chief!" she said with a grin and ran off. Hiccup faced Fishlegs with a frown and folded his arms. His expression was cold.
"I've given you every chance, Fishlegs, but your incompetence has really passed the point where we can excuse it," he told the larger boy. "You can't fight. Your dragon is too slow. You fail on delivering dragon knowledge and you are a coward. I'm going to have to remove you from he Dragon Riders and your post at the Academy, effective immediately. Please think carefully where you want to go next because we certainly can't keep you on Berk. We only put up with you when you had some use-but now...well, you're not popular and you don't have any friends..."
"But...Hiccup..." Fishlegs stuttered. "I-I thought we..." Hiccup fixed the husky young man with his piercing forest green gaze.
"What?" he asked directly. "You abandoned me when I was a boy, Fishlegs. You chose to be with the popular kids and didn't want to associate with Useless, leaving me with no friends at all for years."
Fishlegs stared at him in shock. Hiccup had forgiven him for that years ago. They had talked it through and the husky boy had apologised and made every effort over the years to make things up and be a good friend to Hiccup. "I-I thought..." Fishlegs said timidly but Hiccup cut him off brutally.
"I've done my best to be kind to you despite your betrayal but I really can't keep up the pretence any longer. As Chief and Head of the Dragon Riders, I'm giving Meatlug to someone who is worthy of her." Fishlegs shook his head, his eyes filled with hurt.
"Hiccup-no..." he breathed. "Please don't take my Meatlug!" Hiccup sighed.
"It's a shame you aren't like Thor Bonecrusher," he continued cruelly. "At least he would be of some use to the village. But you really...are nothing...Get your things ready to leave the village. You are exiled." And he turned and walked briskly away, leaving Fishlegs devastated. But as he turned, he saw the villagers watching.
"Useless!"
"Stupid!"
Fatty!"
"Coward!"
Fishlegs began to run away from the cries and taunts, wishing the ground would swallow him up. He had lost his friends, his role, his dragon...everything that gave him any sense of worth....
oOo
Snotlout heard the whimpering and sounds of running feet and wondered what was happening. He had heard various screams and feared his friends were in serious trouble...but all he could see was the dense swirling grey of the fog. He sighed. He was the strongest of the Riders and while his clever cousin was the accepted leader, Snotlout was still not convinced that Hiccup deserved to be the Heir and certainly felt that Astrid should be falling over herself to spend time with him, rather than spending the ridiculous amount of time she did with Hiccup.
It was the power thing, he sighed. While Hiccup was the Heir, while he was admired for being good with dragons, Astrid would still see him as the best option, the alpha male. But Hiccup wasn't the Alpha: Snotlout was. He had proved it, over and over in Thawfest. He was the winner for the last ten years, the unbeaten Thawfest Champion while Hiccup was a perennial loser. And even when he had Toothless, he still couldn't compensate for his physical weakness and lack of endurance. He could still see that first Thawfest after the peace with the dragons and his stunning triumph over the one-legged boy. And Hiccup had shown his true colours, being snarky and arrogant when he had the merest hint of success while Snotlout had always just conducted himself as a true champion should...
He blinked. He was back in the Arena, the sun was shining and Mulch was announcing the first event of Thawfest-the Sheep Lug. He smiled. If this was a dream or a vision, then it would enjoy reliving his triumphs again. So he willingly lined up at the start, a Berkian ewe across his shoulders. But when the clang of the starting bucket sounded. Snotlout felt as if he was running through treacle. Astrid and Fishlegs pulled away and even Hiccup was keeping pace with Snotlout-or was until he collapsed under his sheep. Snotlout staggered on, desperate and wondering if they had given him a sheep stuffed with iron ingots as a prank...when Fishlegs broke the finishing line first. The other boy's howl of triumph was like a knife in Snotlout's skull. No one could lug sheep like him-yet he had lost. He shook his head and stared up in confusion at his father.
Spitelout was scowling and already mouthing threats at his son. The entire Jorgensen clan and their adherents were lined up, arms crossed and faces like thunder at his failure. He felt his heart sink but lifted his chin and approached the logroll. The others were already there and he scrambled up-but he felt far less stable than usual and when the log began to move, he found his arms flailing and he overbalanced first. He stared up in shock: he had never lost the logroll and he had the indignity of watching his cousin almost win-before he fell and Astrid took the prize.
He stared at the scoreboard in horror. There was a point painted by Fishlegs's image and one now by Astrid's-but nothing by his. By all rights and justice, his image should have two points by now. Something had gone seriously wrong. Was there a conspiracy against him-maybe to allow the Chief's precious little runt to win? Had he been sabotaged? He scowled and met an equally ferocious scowl from his father. He shook his head and grabbed his axe for the axe-throwing contest, twirling the weapon in his hands and lining up his aim. He lined up and smirked at Hiccup, then he lifted and threw his axe.
It missed the target completely. Snotlout gaped as Hiccup gave a good throw on target-but didn't quite reach and the others all missed-except Astrid, who scored a hit right in the centre of the target. She was awarded the victory and Snotlout had the indignity of watching the second point painted by her name. He walked away-to find his arm grabbed by his father.
"What the Hel are you doing?" Spitelout sneered.
"Dad-I don't understand!" Snotlout protested. "I'm trying really hard. We've practiced as we normally did. How can I not be winning unless the others are cheating?"
"I don't care!" Spitelout snarled. "Did I ever tell about the time I almost lost Thawfest?" Snotlout cheered up-but not really. He knew from his memory how this would go.
"No, Dad?"
"Because it never happened!" Spitelout spat. "No Jorgensen has ever been beaten. And if you aren't a winner, you aren't a Jorgensen!" Snotlout felt his breaths hitch in horror: he would be disowned if he lost. And there were only the dragon events left.
The next day went exactly as his memory recalled: Hiccup managed a perfect run on Toothless in the obstacle course and was awarded full marks and his first ever Thawfest point. In the trick competition, Snotlout's ended in horrendous disaster while Hiccup scored the full nine points from the judges and top place-and another Thawfest point, tying with Astrid. And the final event, the shoot and fly, was a horrible disaster for Snotlout but a triumph for Hiccup and he scored his third and winning Thawfest point. Snotlout felt physically sick as he watched Hiccup awarded the medal by his beaming and gloating father and even worse as Astrid draped herself over the victor and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. It was official: Hiccup had stolen his victory and his girl.
He was dragged from his reverie by a rough hand on his shoulder, a cuff to the back of the head and a furious voice that roared in his ears.
"LOSER!" Spitelout bellowed. "By the Gods, I should have drowned you at birth. You have shamed seven generations of Jorgensons by losing. I cannot have you as a son any more. As of this hour, you are cast from the family. You have no name. You are NOTHING!"
And he walked away, past the gloating Hiccup and his fawning friends, leaving Snotlout literally with nothing...
oOo
Tuffnut stared into the grey gloom. It was really hard to see anything and all he had heard was the screams and cries of the others-but not the one he feared. He frowned: he was careless and generally dedicated to causing chaos but he wasn't totally stupid and walking into whatever fate was befalling the others in this impenetrable fog was the stupidest thing he had heard of.
"BUTT-ELF" he shouted.
"Yeah!" Ruffnut called back at him from the gloom.
"This is stupid, sis!" he shouted.
"Er...duh!" she yelled back. "Why are we walking into the fog?"
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Tuff shouted.
"Fill Hiccup's hut with fish as a Loki day prank?"
"Er, no...but yours is way better!"
"So what we you thinking?" Ruff called to him, stopping walking.
"That we should get the Hel outta here because I cannot see anything and the chicken would NOT approve!"
"You know that's almost sensible!" Ruff called to him.
"And they call us idiots!" Tuff scoffed. "D'you wanna come over here to me?"
"Well...as long as no one else can see us..." Ruff admitted and kept walking towards his voice until she appeared from the gloom. "Okay, what now?" Tuff frowned and looked like he was in pain.
"I...think...we should...retrace...our steps..." he said very painfully. Ruff's face twisted in a disturbing smile.
"Brilliant!" she told him and they shared a relieved grin. Then both began to walk backwards through the shadowy forest, side by side, heading back for their dragons.