Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

34: Return to Dragon Island

Return to Dragon Island

It was late and the Night Fury was making good speed through the choppy waters as Hiccup slowly emerged from the cabin, his hand gently pressed against his side. He paused as the deck lurched: his sea legs were still ropey and his side hurt more than he would admit even to Astrid. Gothi had been absolutely clear when he had spoken to her: he definitely shouldn't go on the quest, which was why he had totally ignored her. But he had been troubled by his cousin's distant manner and had lain awake even as Astrid and Arild had rapidly fallen asleep, Snotlout's expression preying on his mind.

Roar was at the wheel, his steady hand keeping the ship on her familiar course and he nodded to his Captain as Hiccup hauled himself up the steps and onto the Poop deck. With a weary sigh, he lowered himself to sit on the top step and stare forward to the bow and into the misty night. Bowing forward, he clasped his hands together and reran the final moments of the battle in his mind...

The final moments of his combat with Magne, his mind an incoherent fog of emotions as he executed ultimate revenge on the man whose jealousy had destroyed his life and future...the final thrust of his sword avenging that horrific banishment and rejection...

...his mind blank. As Magne fell, he felt...nothing... He supposed he should feel satisfaction, joy even, at the death of his cousin...should feel the exultation of victory and relief at finally ending it... But it changed nothing: he was still disowned, rejected and condemned and he had spent five years effectively in Hel... And Magne's death didn't change a thing...

...Astrid's scream as her father stood over her, his sword raised to plunge into her helpless shape...Astrid who had begged forgiveness...Astrid who had rejected him...Astrid who still loved him...Astrid who had saved him...the woman he loved... So without any thought, his hand had dragged the sword from Magne's chest and flung it with lethal accuracy to spit the traitor...and he had watched the man fall, watched Astrid's beautiful blue eyes widen with shock and sorrow and gratitude...

...and he had felt the satisfaction then. A death to save a life, not avenge one already lost. A death to show he would kill for her...

...Arild running to him, his wide green gaze traumatised by the savagery of battle, his desperate need to reach his father and feel the comfort of his arms...and the brief wonder at how he ever deserved this young boy's trust and loyalty even though they had literally bumped into one another, two lonely souls offering each other trust and companionship and hope...

...the man rising above him, roaring for his revenge, swearing to avenge his son by taking Hiccup's... The stark choice-watch his son die or do the only unthinkable but unavoidable action...seeing the pistol as he turned, his legs propelling himself forward faster than the sword was plunging into his son, spinning to present his back so he could hug his son as he died...the agonising pain as the sword slammed into his flesh, the warm body pressed against him...the silent moment as they stayed as they were, he on his knees impaled by his Uncle's sword, his son protected in his arms...

...the motion of his arm, cold and deliberate as he lifted the pistol and discharged it point blank into Spitelout's chest...the torment as the sword wrenched from his flesh as the man collapsed back, dead...the horror as the boy's face scrunched in pain and he lifted his bloody hand...then went limp...

...the fear as darkness claimed him that he had failed one he loved a final time...

"Cold night," a voice said immediately behind him and he stiffened. He hadn't heard anyone approach but he had been lost in the nightmare flashback. He nodded dumbly.

"Wind's still from the east," he croaked. "Won't help Drago." Snotlout settled by him.

"You think that matters?" he asked. Hiccup's gaze focus see on the prow and he nodded.