Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hiccup1puberty0) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-06-21 01:12 am
hiccup1puberty0) wrote in thearena2014-06-21 01:12 am
Entry tags:
Da da daaa, he's dead
Who| Closed to Bro
What| Hiccup shows up and then dies
Where| Main street
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| SPOILERS for anyone that hasn't seen the movie. Also death.
It was a lot to take in, all at once. Waking up in a strange place on a strange metal bed with people in strange armor yelling at him, being forced to strip and put on strange clothing, being told he had to fight to the death.
He had to fight to the death in a strange place, among strange people, and he didn't even know how he'd gotten there. And he was alone - no Toothless, no mom, no Astrid, no friends, no village - although that was almost a blessing since this was a nightmare he wouldn't have wished on anyone let alone the people he cared about most.
As he stumbled out into the fog, hyperventilating, he wasn't even sure it was real. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the stress of everything that had happened recently, all at once, giving him absolutely insane, very realistic surreal nightmares. After all, grief could do funny things to someone, right? He'd found his mother, temporarily lost his dragon, and lost his father all in the course of a day. He'd only had a few days to grieve, most of them filled with taking on his duties around the village with hardly any guidance at all, trying to help rebuild, putting his own feelings aside because his people needed him. He'd only had a few nights where he'd been able to crumble, with Toothless nudging up next to his bed as he cried, something he knew he needed to do for him to eventually move on from it.
It had been healthy grief, grief that would someday make room for peace and happy memories. It was grief that would someday make room for all of his father's love, something that he would carry with him to his own dying days. But grief was still grief.
So maybe he was just having the world's craziest dream in response to all that. That'd be something, wouldn't it? And he could wake up and tell Astrid and they'd have a good laugh about the weird stuff his brain sometimes got up to.
Hiccup thought that right up until he ran into one of the monsters and it opened up its massive jaws and tried to eat him. As he ran screaming, his voice thin and reedy, he decided that maaaaybe it was best to treat it as if it was very real.
In one of the houses, which was a house unlike any he'd ever seen, he found a meat cleaver and he clung to it as he made his way through the fog of a strange street, paved with even stranger stone, entirely clueless about what to do or why he was really even there.
All he could do was wish desperately that he'd find Toothless while wishing equally desperately that he wasn't there.
What| Hiccup shows up and then dies
Where| Main street
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| SPOILERS for anyone that hasn't seen the movie. Also death.
It was a lot to take in, all at once. Waking up in a strange place on a strange metal bed with people in strange armor yelling at him, being forced to strip and put on strange clothing, being told he had to fight to the death.
He had to fight to the death in a strange place, among strange people, and he didn't even know how he'd gotten there. And he was alone - no Toothless, no mom, no Astrid, no friends, no village - although that was almost a blessing since this was a nightmare he wouldn't have wished on anyone let alone the people he cared about most.
As he stumbled out into the fog, hyperventilating, he wasn't even sure it was real. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the stress of everything that had happened recently, all at once, giving him absolutely insane, very realistic surreal nightmares. After all, grief could do funny things to someone, right? He'd found his mother, temporarily lost his dragon, and lost his father all in the course of a day. He'd only had a few days to grieve, most of them filled with taking on his duties around the village with hardly any guidance at all, trying to help rebuild, putting his own feelings aside because his people needed him. He'd only had a few nights where he'd been able to crumble, with Toothless nudging up next to his bed as he cried, something he knew he needed to do for him to eventually move on from it.
It had been healthy grief, grief that would someday make room for peace and happy memories. It was grief that would someday make room for all of his father's love, something that he would carry with him to his own dying days. But grief was still grief.
So maybe he was just having the world's craziest dream in response to all that. That'd be something, wouldn't it? And he could wake up and tell Astrid and they'd have a good laugh about the weird stuff his brain sometimes got up to.
Hiccup thought that right up until he ran into one of the monsters and it opened up its massive jaws and tried to eat him. As he ran screaming, his voice thin and reedy, he decided that maaaaybe it was best to treat it as if it was very real.
In one of the houses, which was a house unlike any he'd ever seen, he found a meat cleaver and he clung to it as he made his way through the fog of a strange street, paved with even stranger stone, entirely clueless about what to do or why he was really even there.
All he could do was wish desperately that he'd find Toothless while wishing equally desperately that he wasn't there.
no subject
So obviously his first priority was to find a weapon. It seemed as if whatever god this universe had was smiling down on him- which sucked for that god, cuz he wasn't religious, so there'd be no praising to be had. He heard Hiccup scream- the first thing you don't want to do in an arena where everyone is out to kill you.
He headed in that direction, keeping out of sight as best as he could. By the time he found the source of the noise, Hiccup was disappearing into a house. He followed the guy after he left the house, and through the fog he could see that he was carrying something. Something that looked like a weapon. Somehow he knew following the guy would pay off- now he just had to get the weapon. Bro followed him quietly for a few moments, so silent you could hear a fly fart.
When it became clear that the guy he was stalking wasn't going anywhere specific and he wouldn't benefit from following him any longer, Bro decided to act. So he picked up a rock off the ground, before giving it a toss directly at the back of Hiccups head.
He had to get his attention somehow, after all. He also hoped it might jar him long enough to go in for a tackle or something without ending up with a knife in his gut.
no subject
He was quick, too. Maybe he wasn't the strongest of Vikings but when you were six-foot-one and made almost entirely out of legs, you could run fast, and his peg leg was made well enough that it wasn't that much of a hindrance.
The problem was that fog only blocked what his attacker could see. The sound of a spring creaking, and the click-clack of the metal hitting the ground carried, making the lack of visibility do absolutely nothing for him.
no subject
Bro was fast too, though not as fast as he was used to. The fog was a bitch, but luckily for him the guy he was chasing wasn't exactly the most quiet of people. It was fairly easy to stay on him. "Do you want to take another rock to the head? Because if you keep running then that's what you're gonna get." He sounded mildly annoyed.
It wasn't that he was a murderer or anything- he was a survivalist. If that meant killing random people he didn't know, then so be it.
Either way, Bro would chase him until an opportunity presented itself to tackle him, or some other method of getting him down.
no subject
Speed or reason or scaring his attacker off.
...okay speed or reason, those were the only things that could help him here.
He ducked down an alley, only to find it blocked off at the end, so he ducked into the side door of one of the houses, hoping to find another way out. There was nothing immediately nearby that he could block the way out with, so he ran through the house instead, looking for a door or a window and finding -
A boarded up room, doors and windows covered in wooden slats.
He tried hacking at one of them but the knife barely cut into it. His father could have probably just rammed through it with his body, but he wasn't his father. His way of dealing with things? Was trying to find another way.
That was what he turned to do but in the half-light of the room, beaming in through the holes in the slats, he saw that it was too late. Beyond the motes of dust floating in the beams of light was his pursuer.
"Stay back!" he said, holding out the knife. "I'm warning you! I will use this and - make it so the two of us match."
He shook his peg leg at him. Threateningly.
no subject
But ah- the kid wasn't entirely stupid. Bro shook his head, though. A small, confined place like a house was also the last place you wanted to be, but hey. At least it prolonged the chase a little. At least he didn't just give up and cower in fear. That would've lost him a lot of respect, even if he was annoyed that the chase was a thing at all.
He caught up with Hiccup as he was trying to hack the windows open with the butcher knife, and Bro felt a twinge of annoyance. Way to dull the fucking thing, you dumbass. He took a step closer, and that was when Hiccup turned around. The situation might have been hella serious and all, but the threat that came from Hiccup was too damn much for Bro to take.
He laughed. "Are you kidding me right now?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest and giving Hiccup an incredulous look. "I mean really. I have you cornered. Besides, how're you gonna manage that? I doubt you have it in you. At worst, I'll be Nearly Legless Nick."
References Vikings wouldn't understand.
no subject
"How do you know Nearly Legless Nikk?"
References non-Berkians wouldn't understand. (He herded yaks.)
Hiccup waved the thought away.
"Never mind that. Look, just because I don't want to kill you doesn't mean I won't if you push me. Trust me, that's not something you wanna do."
The way his posture changed, the way his face set, almost sold it. He was someone that had faced down a dragon the size of a mountain. He was someone willing to take on an army. He was able to show that in his shoulders and the line of his jaw.
"Don't make me kill you."
It was the eyes that gave it away. He was never able to make them any less soft than they were. They would always be the eyes of someone that looked into the eyes of a terrible beast, an enemy of his people, and saw himself.
He didn't want to kill this stranger. He knew this was someone else that was probably thrown into all this, too. While he was ready now to kill if he needed, at a point in his life where he understand that for some, there was no chance for peace, if this was someone else that had been captured and shoved into this, forced to survive, too...
He'd be murdering someone just as innocent in all this as him.
no subject
And for the first time, Hiccup was at least manning up and not acting like an idiot. He could respect that- but at the same time, he was good at reading people. Part of the reasons he wore sunglasses all the time was to hide his own eyes, which could betray how he was really feeling. That, and they looked cool.
But he knew enough about eyes to be able to read Hiccup's, and he knew the threat wasn't sincere.
Bro's eyes darted around for something he could use, before spotting the remains of a rotten board that had fallen off the wall. He picked it up quickly. "The difference between you and I is that one of us would actually follow through with that."
With all the force he could muster, he swung the board at Hiccup's hand in the attempt to knock the knife out of his grasp.
no subject
Clearly, he was used to having to duck and dodge things, used to situations that involved being attacked.
But he was well and truly cornered now, back to a corner rather than just a wall. It was kill or be killed and this wasn't exactly a weapon that you cold use on someone non-fatally. And then what, run around and try not to die? Even if he survived to the end, they said they'd only let one live, which meant he'd have to kill or be killed, and he didn't even know if that was true. He didn't know who the people who brought him here were or why they were doing something so horrible.
He held up his other hand and yelled, "Stop! Just for a minute. Please. I'll give you the knife, just -"
He couldn't do it. He couldn't just kill someone. Whatever this horrible game was, he didn't want to play, even if it meant -
"I'll throw it to the side. I just - all I want is a minute, okay? To get my head together." His voice was trembling. "Can I least have that?"
no subject
Unfortunately, Hiccup managed to get himself cornered completely, and Bro scoffed. Good going, he was nearly starting to root for you. And then the pleading started, as Bro began to advance on him with the board raised. That made him stop, if only to cringe at how dumb it sounded. If there was one thing Bro really didn't like, it was pathetic begging.
He pressed a couple of fingers to his temples and shook his head. "Can't you just, y'know, face death with dignity and grace and shit?" he asked, his voice exasperated. "I mean, come on. You're gonna die. It sucks, yeah, but it's the luck of the draw. Getting your head together is just gonna make it suck more."
But ugh, fine. He guessed a moment or two was something he could do. One last wish, or whatever. "Fine though. Whatever. Just call me the fuckin' make a wish foundation. Go ahead, do whatever you need. I'm watchin' you though and if you do anything I disapprove of, I'm bashing your head in with my wood."
...Heh. His wood.
no subject
And to look around the room for anything at all he might use to get away, knowing he wasn't going find anything and not sure it would even matter if he did get away.
Did it, really? If he'd been pulled into this sick, disgusting thing by some weird otherworldly force.
They'd told him to kill. They'd told him, a Viking, the Chief of Berk, the son of Stoick the Vast - a man who had never done anything he didn't want to do while alive, especially if it was immoral - to kill.
He wasn't sure his father would've made the choice he was about to make. He was absolutely sure it was the last choice either of his parents would've wanted him to make.
But he wasn't playing this game. He was a chief, the leader of his people. Why should he bow to something so absolutely insane when he shouldn't bow to anyone?
He was a Viking. Vikings didn't bow.
He looked upward, mentally sending a little prayer to the gods.
"Dad," he said aloud quietly. "Get a place ready for me at the table, okay?"
Did it count as dying in battle if he was letting someone else kill him? But what if letting someone else kill him could be considered a way of fighting back against something worse?
Oh well. He was going to find out soon enough.
He tossed the knife on the floor next to Bro.
"I'd ask if there was any chance you'd let me out of this but I'm pretty sure I already know the answer and I'm not sure the answer even matters if the only way out is killing other people that are trapped here."
no subject
"Oh geez..." he murmured, shaking his head. He tried not to interrupt too much though, because whatever, whatever, Hiccup felt the need and he wasn't gonna deny a guy his last wish even if a part of him wanted to. Just damn, how awkward. This was one of those situations where you stood there pretending not to exist. Or tried not to laugh. Maybe a little of both.
When Hiccup finally tossed the knife down onto the floor, Bro was quick to pick it up, before scoffing at Hiccup's words. "Yeah, I think the answer's fairly obvious, to be honest," Bro said with a shrug. "I mean, consider it a mercy killing. You're obviously not cut out for this shit, y'feel?" Yeah, it sucked and all, but those were the breaks.
"So anyway," he said, "You got a preference here?" He mimed slicing his own throat, and then mimed slicing at his belly. "Or a hidden third option? I'm not picky, y'know. I'd hate to kill you in a way you didn't approve of beforehand."
no subject
"It's not that I'm not cut out for this," Hiccup said slowly. "That's making it sound like it isn't a choice or that there aren't some people I'd be willing to kill."
A chief protected his own. He understood that now. He understood that peace was well and good and all, but the people that didn't want peace needed to be taken care of and yes, that sometimes involved killing. Innocents deserved to be protected and the madmen and monsters couldn't always be swayed with words. It was a lesson hard-learned, one that came along with tremendous grief, but he'd learned it.
"But I'm pretty sure the people that threw us in here aren't going to be running around where I can try to kill them and I'm not going to kill some other random person thrown into all this because some weird, crazy people I've never met before in my life told me to." He moved away from the wall, standing up straight, throwing back his shoulders. "I don't know why this is happening but I'm not playing their game. I'm a Viking and we don't do anything we don't want to do."
He gestured to the left side of his chest. "That's a heavy knife. You can probably get my heart with a good chop to the chest."
If it got punctured, he'd bleed out quickly enough, and it'd probably be less traumatizing than being beheaded or having his guts fall out into his hands.
He held out his arms, fist clenched, shoulders held back, chin raised, ready and waiting.
He hadn't had a choice in being dragged to this place but he could control this. Choosing to die rather than kill. Choosing to do it with dignity. Choosing not to be controlled by some weird, otherworldly, insane, murder-happy group of people, even if it meant he was about to pay the ultimate price for it.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. "I'm ready."
no subject
"Probably is the key word here," he stated. "You whacked the windows with the knife, I'm pretty sure that dulled it more than a little." Still, he shrugged. Hiccup had picked his way to die so he'd follow through with it.
It felt weird, though, killing someone so willing. But hey, he was doing what he had to do to survive and all, and he was putting someone who would only get into trouble out of their misery. That was a good enough reason for him. He was playing to win, anyway, regardless of how short of a time he'd been there already.
"I feel like I'm stuck in a bad anime," he mused, letting out a light chuckle. This was probably the most stupidly dramatic situation he had ever found himself in- but despite that, he lifted the knife and swing it hard at Hiccup's chest, aiming precisely where he knew he would do the most damage. His attack was strong, and regardless of whether the knife was dull or not, he definitely did some damage.
no subject
He didn't really have time to be that scared before he started to lose consciousness, and by the time blood started spilling over his lips from the lung that had been punctured by the blow, he was barely breathing enough to cough all that much.
Somehow he managed to sit upright against the wall as he bled out, though, his eyes gazing off into the distance at seemingly nothing.
In reality, he was picturing the most comforting thing he could think of: the view from above of a rocky, green island under a bright sunrise. The home he loved, filled with everyone he loved in it. Tears pricked his eyes as he thought of what he was leaving behind.
I'm so sorry, Toothless.
Astrid and his mother, Gobber, his friends, they'd all grieve, probably figuring he'd been kidnapped and killed by some enemy, perhaps someone angry about Drago, but at least they'd get by without him. Astrid could replace him as chief and probably be better at it than he could have ever been.
But it was Toothless that would suffer the most, not knowing or understanding where his rider had gone.
I'm sorry.
Unfortunately, this was the way it had to be. Just like he'd stayed his hand when he'd had his chance to kill a downed dragon, he had to do it here. He wouldn't have been himself otherwise.
With that last thought, his mind finally flew off and away to some distant place, and the world went white with a sunset that would never end.
no subject
So he felt guilty, but at the same time he didn't. In a way, it was just business.
He pulled the knife back, letting it hang in his hand at his side as he watched Hiccup die. What should he do? Offer something comforting? Just watch? He didn't have any popcorn, so watching seemed a little morbid.
"So, uh, again. No hard feelings or whatever," he offered, though by that point Hiccup seemed a little distant, so he didn't really expect much in reply. Still, he didn't really want to leave him. Not until he was good and dead, because who wanted to die alone? So when Hiccup finally seemed good and dead, Bro decided he could leave.
With a sigh, he bent down and cleaned the butcher knife off on what little bit of cloth wasn't bloodsoaked on Hiccup's outfit, before turning and heading out.