Under Pressure

Chapter Four: To the Death

Hiccup set his left hand on the pommel of his sword before picking up his Gronckle Iron shield. He still wasn't used to holding his weapons with the opposite hand. Yesterday's grueling practice thankfully gave him some familiarity, but if he survived this he vowed he would never fight with his right again.

Before exiting the tunnel entrance, he gave Astrid one last kiss. His heart pounded when he pulled away and the fear in her eyes wasn't lost on him. But she was determined as well. He prayed he would be as strong as she.

The moment was broken when Dagur cleared his throat loudly. "You realize we are supposed to be fighting before the sun comes up, right?"

Hiccup lightly brushed Astrid's bangs out of her eyes, stroked her cheekbone, and abruptly walked into the arena. The lump in his throat broadened with each step and he continuously tried to swallow it down. He finally lifted his head and stood tall, facing his opponent, his rival. His mortal enemy.

"Don't feel bad," Dagur droned, teeth gleaming in the dusk. "Your trip to Valhalla will be glorious. If it makes you feel better, I could kill Astrid as soon as I'm finished with you. She would put up a fight big enough to earn herself a warrior's position. Then she could join you."

A surge of anger spiked through Hiccup's chest and suddenly, he wanted to hit him. Fueling his adrenaline, he forced into his mind every bad word, every attack, every single time Dagur tried to hurt him from the time he was a little boy up until he was an adult. Suddenly he felt ready. In his mind's eye he saw the fearful looks his children had given him before he left. He imagined the future they would have if Dagur killed him. That future couldn't happen. Not on his watch. He didn't know how he was going to win. He still was unsure if it was possible. But he'd be cursed forever if he didn't try.

"Your face is splotchy. Been crying have we? You never really were a real man anyway." Dagur taunted with a mild chuckle.

Hiccup gripped the strap of his shield angrily. "Real men aren't afraid to show love and devotion, Dagur. But you wouldn't understand what that means."

"Real men shouldn't show weakness." Dagur retorted. "Unfortunately you have been showing weakness since the day you were born. Small, weak, helpless. You were never even meant to be a real man. I think the gods got you confused."

Hiccup felt his neck and ears burn with his anger. He tried to cap it; he didn't want to be unfocused when the fighting started. But he let the emotion surge through his blood, his limbs beginning to shake in anticipation. The adrenaline pumping through his body would only make him stronger. While Dagur rambled, he was only giving Hiccup more time to prepare. Every second counted after all.

Kara and Frederik stood at the head of the arena from their seats, grasping each other's hands tightly. Dagur continued to fire insults at Hiccup while the rest of the group's eyes turned upward to the neutral party.

The Meathead chief pressed her lips tightly together to wait for Dagur to stop talking for three seconds. He never did, so she finally shouted, "Fighters ready!"

Hiccup backed up a few steps, drawing his sword and facing Dagur. Dagur followed suit, a wide, confident smirk on his face. The Berserker didn't even have a shield with him. His suit was decked in daggers big and small, a sharp hatchet was strapped to his left shoulder and his sword hung from its scabbard at his left hip. His armor rattled as he moved and his helmet seemed to be his only smart form of protection. Still, Hiccup gulped.

Kara closed her eyes for a moment before raising her voice strongly. "May the best chief win. Good luck." A mere beat later, the gong sounded...

Xxx