The Gift Of Power | Wattys 2020 (Dance of Power Trilogy: Book 1)

Silent Screams And Wildest Dreams

11K words in this bad boy. Whew...
Also *Lemon Alert*

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When they had reached the island, the sight of the pre-assembled funerary vessels was a sobering one for Hiccup. As the Hooligans had prepared to attack the nest, though they may have been hoping for victory, they had also been expecting death to return home with them. This knowledge brought an unexpected flash of emotions and memories right along with it. If they had not reached Dragon Island in time, how many of the people he had known most of his life would now be dead? How many already were, despite their intervention?

The fallen were given their proper rights and send off that evening. Thankfully there were not as many as he had feared. As honoured guests and heroes, Hiccup and Ilweran had been permitted to join the villagers on the cliffs overlooking the docks while the small wooden ships were set adrift far below. The Riders and their dragons all offering respect and condolences for those who had been lost, as they watched the pyre fires burn. The dark waters lapping at the symbolic vessels while the gentle waves reflected the orange light. Calling the Valkyries down to carry these worthy souls to dine with Odin in Valhalla. Of course Hiccup knew that this was not really the case. Everyone went to Niflheim. They just didn't know it yet.

These sad tidings were followed by a gathering in the Mead Hall to discuss the events of the raid. Hiccup excusing himself shortly after the initial phase of this meeting. Muttering a quiet apology to Ilweran as he left the poor man to answer the villagers' questions on his own. Ilweran had just waved him off with an eye roll of understanding before turning back to Stoick. Hiccup couldn't help feeling a little bad for ditching his friend, but he had just never had much patience for sitting through these preliminary talks. Even when he was supposed to be training to take over as chief some day.

It wasn't like anything important ever happened at them anyways. It was mostly just a time to repeatedly share dramatic and often embellished accounts of what had transpired. Hiccup had no desire to hear of his deeds, or field the attentions and admirations of both male and female Vikings alike. This glorified story time always preceding what felt like endless questions about trivial issues that only served to feed the village gossip. Any real discussions would not start until the following day. After they celebrated the warriors return to Valhalla tonight, that is. Viking funerals were not sad affairs. Especially when those that were being honoured had fallen in battle.

Hiccup was also enjoying his current anonymity. If he spent too long standing in the great hall answering questions someone was bound to recognize his voice. As he had raced to save Astrid, it hadn't really occurred to Hiccup what might happen after he and Toothless got to the nest. Although, even if he had taken the time to wonder, it was unlikely that this possibility would have made the list. The Hooligans despised everything about dragons! After years of running, who would've thought that Hiccup and his night fury might now have to face his whole tribe and possibly work in close proximity to them. Now it looked like he would be forced to keep up this masked charade if he wanted to avoid the uncomfortable reunion and necessary lies.

So far Hiccup had done pretty well controlling his tone and actions. Carefully maintaining the image of a polite and diplomatic stranger. Though he had seen Gothi shooting him speculative glances during the funerary rights, and her expression alone had made Hiccup almost certain that the old wise woman knew who he really was. Her eventual gentle smile and nod in his direction had confirmed this, but so far she was keeping it to herself. It hadn't really surprised Hiccup that she had figured him out, since nothing got by that woman. Still, he had managed to keep his cool around everyone else.