The Soul of a Dragon

Chapter 35

Hiccup

Despair and panic – that's what's rushing through me right now. Where is she? Where? No way that she decided to go with him. No.

However, a small voice in my head whispers: she doesn't belong here – with you – she's with her true family now.

I pinch my eyes shut so hard I start to see blurry shapes. We've been flying for hours to no end. My helmet is pressing into my skull, my hands are numb from clutching Toothless' saddle, the leather of my armour is weighing heavier and heavier by the second, and my left leg has fallen asleep.

Great. Just fucking great.

"Hiccup," someone calls me but it sounds like a distant echo. "Hiccup!" Something thuds against my upper right arm, causing dull pain. But it may as well have been my imagination playing tricks on me.

I notice something dark skyrocketing towards my face and, thank Odin, my reflexes urge my body to press itself flat down to avoid impact. What the-?

Yes, now I'm awake again – but irritated. "Okay, who was that?" I turn around angrily. "Tuffnut!"

But he pleads his innocence by immediately raising his arms.

Someone clears their throat and my frown shifts towards a certain blonde. "It was me, dimwit," Astrid says smugly with crossed arms and an arched eyebrow. Great, I know that look. And I don't particularly like it.

"I had to do something. We've been flying endlessly. And you were not here with us anymore," she explains whilst pointing to her head. Then, she adds with concern in her sky-blue eyes, "You almost fell asleep."

I notice the pity in the rest of the gang's faces. That's when the exhaustion finally hits me with the force of ocean waves striking the Berkian shore on a stormy day. The dryness of my eyes – and eyelids that feel like they're being torn down by stones. I have lost any sense of control over my limbs. And the growling of my stomach tells me I haven't eaten anything in what feels like days.

Nevertheless, the mantra inside my head continues: where is she, where is she, where is she.

I know it's not healthy, this obsession. But I don't care. I promised to take care of her – to protect her. And that innate feeling of needing to be near her and to shield her...I can't ignore that. She belongs with me.

Throughout my inner monologue, I didn't take my eyes off Astrid. Judging by her worried expression, I know she can read my thoughts by simply interpreting my face. That's why all she does is nod sorrowfully and motion for the others to continue flying.

Malcom

That was a close call. Really fucking close. Thankfully, Grimmel decided to (finally) show up. He's always had a flair for dramatic entrances. I mean, not to judge – I do, too. But this time he definitely went a step too far.

Anyway, the past is in the past.

Though, when I carefully look at Vara right now, sitting across from me in Grimmel's giant (not burnt) hut, I can see the emotional turmoil killing her from inside. And that makes me want to punch something. I am no longer surprised by these...urges when it comes to her – somehow, she is the only person who has managed to really get under my skin.

I fiddle with the hem of my sleeves. I'm wearing a new vest (not entirely new, since it belonged to some rich know-it-all old bastard who repeatedly hit his much younger wife) but it's covered in mud and blood (not mine) now. Yesterday-Malcom would have screeched like a little girl, but today-Malcom doesn't care one bit.

In my head, there's also an emotional chaos going on. But, compared to Vara, I know who those people were – and why they were here, threatening us. Threatening her.

After Grimmel dropped that heroic line (sense the sarcasm) about them not harming his daughter, I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. Yes, Grimmel is the closest thing I have to a father figure. But that doesn't mean I see him as my father. I may know the cold-ass bastard for almost my entire life, but that only taught me one thing: Grimmel does not care.

He cares about nothing. Or at least I thought so. He is grossly obsessed with killing all Night Furies and, afterwards, taking control of all dragons. So, yes, maybe I need to correct myself. The only time I have ever seen Grimmel show any sign of emotion is when he is killing a dragon. I remember the first time I have witnessed that. The sheer passion and obscene delight in those eyes. It's...unnatural.

However...

The only time, yes. That is, until Vara announced she is his daughter and...he protected her from the warlords. When he (so dramatically) stepped out from the smog and threatened the three warlords who are actually (or were, I guess) his accomplices, and one of his abominable dragons shielded Vara from a dagger thrown by Griselda, I saw something in Grimmel's icy eyes that shocked me to my core: fear.

That doesn't mean I feel for the pointy-headed vampire. And it also doesn't convince me that there's anything resembling humanity in him. No, I'm not that stupid.

But I can certainly understand the feeling. As soon as the dagger left Griselda's hand, almost too quick to be perceived by the naked eye, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. I am nothing like Grimmel, no matter how long I've known him, but we do apparently share one priority.

And I'm still looking at her – illuminated by the weak firelight of Grimmel's fireplace. Her dark locks reflect the warm light beautifully. And those chestnut eyes glimmer with confusion. I could stare at that pensive frown any time of the day.

Grimmel's raspy chuckle tears me from my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot him pouring himself something to drink. "You and I are more alike than one might guess." He slowly walks over to the chair across from Vara, next to the fireplace. I, sitting on the large couch in the middle of both of them, don't miss the appalled expression decorating Vara's face.

Grimmel chooses to ignore it – or he simply doesn't notice. Either way, the amusement is clearly apparent in his sharp grin.

"We are nothing alike," Vara spits out forcefully. I raise my eyebrows at the quiet anger lingering in that tone.

Again, Grimmel doesn't pay any attention to that. Instead, he bursts out in laughter. In my entire life, I have never heard him laugh this fully and loudly. Unnatural, is all I have to say.

After he collected himself, he waves off her statement with a bubbly voice, thick with his unmistakeable accent, "Please. The courage, the pride, the adamancy. You stood up to those three idiots without a doubt. I saw myself in you."

Despite what I can only guess is going through Vara's mind right now, she doesn't show any sign of emotion nor response.

But this only seems to spur Grimmel on. He leans back sluggishly in his chair and, for a moment, observes the softly crackling fire. All the while, he slowly taps his fingers against his glass which is resting on the chair's arm. A dangerous smile tears at the corner of his lips yet again as he speaks, almost growls, "The fact that you've been able to hide from me for eight years proves that you're my daughter, Vara."

No response. But those chestnut eyes flicker with every emotion possible. And I am not the only one who notices.

Though suddenly, Grimmel's smile fades and the familiar cold demeanour is back.

"And, as you know, family sticks together," a long glance at Vara and then another in my direction, "which is important considering our current predicament."

Vara doesn't look like she's going to inquire, so I ask for both of us, "What predicament?"

Grimmel watches me silently whilst continuing to tap his fingers against the glass. Similar to a devil, his thin-lipped mouth slowly forms a malicious grin. "The chief has come for his woman."