Operation Phoenix

Chapter Forty-Six: Together: Part One, Hiccup

Okay but LOOK AT THIS ART I PAYED AN ARTIST TO MAKE FOR THE BOOK like !!!!! How??

The strap tightened against the fabric of his pants, resting on his hip and would fit underneath the lip of his jacket. It seemed no matter how much he adjusted, it always felt uncomfortable, like it wasn't meant to be there. It was supposed to hold a knife, but he had yet to be given the blade that would rest inside the holster. It itched to be taken off, and he wasn't sure if the discontent was because of the deal he'd agreed to, or if it was because the strap really was crappy. Either way he didn't particularly like the feeling. Nimble fingers yanked on the armor that was laying across his torso, which would keep him from being injured—like shot or stabbed. Despite the protection, his bruised ribs screamed against the pain of it. The person behind him was tightening it, to make sure nothing could get through it. A few times he nearly gasped at the restrictive feeling, but bit his tongue.

He felt Rapunzel step back from him and look him over, concern etched across her face as she assessed the articles. Her thumbnail came to rest in between her teeth as she tried to think of something else—anything she was missing.

"Rapunzel..." He said, looking down at himself and then back to her.

"A boot holster too." She concluded, not looking him in the eyes and nodding to herself. "We can put a small gun in it just in case the—" she'd turned to walk towards the items laying on her desk, only to be yanked back by the chains around her wrists. She turned back to look at the trail of it, now taught from being pulled to the end of its length.

"It's okay Rapunzel." He said as she became silent in her sadness.

Raps stared at him, looking even more worried than she had before. She sighed, hard and stepped back from her desk strewn with articles of armor. She wrung her hand around one wrist, and Hiccup could suddenly see the bruises and red marks wrapped around them—like dark lines symbolizing her capture... her entrapment. It reminded him of the bruises he still had, though he'd been stitched up, his black eye still remained. Purple, yellow and blue coated his jaw and cheekbones, his arms looked like they'd been painted with them—and he didn't even want to look at his chest or his back. Gothel had told him he'd cracked a few ribs (which had been reset, thanks to the nurses) and bruises organs, from the few glances he got it was pretty bad.

"Hiccup... this is crazy, you shouldn't have to do this. At all. Tell her you'll make another deal, tell her—"

"I can't Rapunzel." Hiccup said and approached. He placed a hand on her shoulder in reassurance, he squeezed, trying to tell her nonverbally that everything would turn out okay—though he wasn't sure if it was more for himself than for her. The chains rattled as she pushed a piece of hair from her face, blowing air from her puffed cheeks in an attempt to calm her nerves.

"Are you sure you can even kill him? Black, I mean."

Hic found himself at a loss for words. During this entire endeavor, nobody had ever asked him if he had been even willing to kill anyone—if he'd wanted to at all. In his mind, killing was possibly the worst deed to be done, and yet it never seemed that far away from his fingertips. Hic understood the weight of the situation, that killing someone didn't rely on whether he wanted to or not. He didn't have a choice in this matter, he had to because it wasn't about what he desired—it was about the survival of his people, of his friends and family. In his heart he wished he could sit down, talk to King Black and fix whatever rift had sent their districts floating away on separate icebergs, but logically he also understood that Black would never be willing to step away so easy. For the people, the man's death might be easier.

"Yeah," Rapunzel sighed in response to his silence. "Killing has never really been your thing, has it?"

"Well it hasn't been yours, either." Hiccup answered, sending her a warm smile.