Splitter- English Version

14. Demons claws

Viggo leaned casually against a massive wooden post with his arms folded. He looked at Hiccup. Watched his chest with pleasure as it slowly rose and fell. He was never the type to particularly desire physical things. Although he had to admit that there was something about Hiccup that evoked an unexpected side of him. Sophistication, boldness and patience were qualities he greatly appreciated in him. Few of his opponents met the exact standard required to prove themselves as a great leader. Well, and he would prevent it. He would prevent Hiccup from ever going down that path. The story would end here. He would crush once and for all the hope that Hiccup had raised with his revolutionary idea of treating dragons like friends. Everyone would know. Dragons and humans would forget Hiccup and his naivety and everything would be normal again. And that goal wasn't just worth celebrating. His abdomen spasmed pleasantly at the thought of finally being able to satisfy his narcissistic desires. Slowly, he walked towards the sleeping Hiccup. He hung limply in the ropes, just like hours before. His head was still slumped downwards. He knelt in front of him on the dusty ground and threw his coat back a little. It was a grotesque picture of two men, Viggo looking like the good Samaritan who would free the prisoner at any moment. He grinned at the thought. Of course he wouldn't free his toy. He wasn't a hero. That wasn't his destiny. Never had been. He was the troublemaker, like Loki was - with a touch more violence and suspicion. He looked at Hiccup's gentle features, reached out cautiously to touch his cheek, but let it drop again. He sighed and looked around the room. His gaze lingered briefly on his favorite strategy game, "Club and Claw". Oh, what the hell, he thought. What did he have to lose? His demons wanted to play too. He traced the strangulation marks on Hiccup's neck with his index finger. A few hours ago, he had taught him manners in this spot. The feeling of power flooded through him again. He bit his lower lip. If he wanted, he could end it at any time. Only he would determine its end. His hand moved further up. He lifted his chin carefully. Hiccup's body jerked briefly and his eyes shifted restlessly in their sockets. He was still asleep. A whimper escaped his throat. Viggo grinned. He gently ran his thumb over his chapped lips and watched longingly as they began to quiver under his touch. He was about to lean down to finally taste them when his eyes fell on Hiccup's scar on his chin. How could he have missed that detail? His thumb moved to the spot that drew a small tear across Hicks' flawless face. He passed over it a few times. It wasn't particularly large and wasn't immediately noticeable from a distance. Scars told stories, and he loved stories about the painful pasts of his adversaries. He would ask him about it when he woke up again.
There was so much he had to elicit from Hiccup before he died. Apart from the strategically valuable things.
He stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. He would have to look for some water. His protégé should not die of thirst during his stay. Only he would decide on his death. No one else.
He stepped outside.
It was already dusk and he enjoyed the cool evening air. He soaked it up and it manifested itself in him, as if a new part of himself was forming.
He saw his brother Ryker rushing towards him.
"Brother, another base has been attacked! We must defend it! We need the recipe for the Gronkele Iron now!"
"Brother," said Viggo placatingly, "I'm sure we can help our outpost in other ways for now." But Ryker wasn't listening to him.
He drew a dagger and strode menacingly towards Viggo's quarters.