My world had shrunk to the size of the patch of grass I was lying on. My body was a foreign country, a place where something irrevocable had just happened, a trespass so profound I couldn't yet map its borders. My mind was a ringing silence, a void where thoughts tried to form but collapsed under their own weight. He had… Toothless had…
My best friend.
The torn fabric of my trousers was a cold, damning draft against my skin. The grass was damp beneath my back. The moon was a cold, indifferent eye in the sky. These were the only facts I could cling to in the swirling vortex of unreality. Everything else was gone. Trust. Safety. The simple, uncomplicated joy I had found in this cove, with this dragon. It had all been ripped away as surely as my clothing.
And then, a voice spoke in the center of the silence. It wasn't a sound that came through my ears; it was a thought that wasn't mine, planted directly in the soil of my consciousness. It was deep, resonant, and saturated with a regret so heavy it felt like a physical weight.
« Hiccup? »
I flinched, my whole body jerking. The voice was impossible. It was like hearing a rock speak. I pushed myself up on my elbows, my heart hammering against my ribs not with fear, but with a sudden, sharp spike of utter bewilderment. My eyes locked on Toothless. He had backed away, his magnificent head bowed low, his posture a portrait of misery. He hadn't moved his mouth. He hadn't made a sound. But the voice had been his. I knew it with a certainty that defied all logic.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. What could I say? Did you just…?How did you…?What did you do? The questions were a logjam in my throat.
« Sit up, » the voice came again, softer this time, pleading. « Please. I… I must explain. »
The sheer impossibility of it all momentarily overrode the shock of the violation. Driven by a desperate need to understand any part of what was happening, I obeyed. I sat up, pulling the tattered remains of my trousers around me, my movements stiff and clumsy. I felt like a stranger in my own skin.
Toothless took a hesitant step closer, his green eyes luminous with a sorrow so deep it hurt to look at. « I am sorry, » he began, the thought-voice trembling. « For what I did. I am more sorry than my mind has the words for. But you would not have listened. And you had to understand. You are in danger. »
He began to show me. It wasn't like listening to a story. It was like having memories—his memories—poured directly into my brain.
I felt his indignity at being shot from the sky. I experienced his grudging acceptance of my fish offerings. I felt the spark of warmth, the inexplicable connection, the first time I touched his snout in the cove. And then I felt… the scent. He pushed the sensation into my mind, and it was overwhelming. The smell of rain-washed earth, of life, of a power so immense and primal it made the world seem new. He showed me the fragmented visions he'd had: the volcanic caldera, the fields of jeweled eggs, the being of light walking among them.
And he gave me the name.
« Guedo. The Life-Giver. The one who dominates not through fear, but through the promise of life. Our god of fertility. »
The words hung in my mind, alien and absurd. Fertility god? Me? Hiccup the Useless? It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. A bitter, hysterical laugh almost escaped me. This was a dream. A nightmare. I had hit my head when he'd pushed me down. That had to be it.
But he wasn't finished.
He showed me our flight with Astrid, but from his perspective. He showed me the moment he felt my own attraction to her, and the horrifying, world-shattering realization that followed: I didn't know. The god didn't know he was a god. He was just a boy. He projected his shame, his sudden understanding of my vulnerability, and it was so potent, so raw, that I felt an echo of it in my own chest.
Then came the nest. I was back in that hellish cavern, but this time I felt the terror of the assembled dragons. I felt their hopeless pity. And I heard the Queen's psychic command, a wave of pure tyranny that was more than just words; it was a feeling of being mentally seized, appraised, and categorized like livestock.
« BRING THE VESSEL TO ME. IT WILL SERVE THE NEST. ITS BODY WILL BECOME MY FACTORY. ITS SEED WILL BE MY PROPERTY. »
The Queen's intention, her desire to turn me into a breeding tool, a slave chained to a rock to mass-produce her armies, slammed into me. The abstract horror I'd felt while witnessing it was nothing compared to this. This was the raw, unfiltered intent, a psychic wave of objectification and enslavement. And it was all directed at me .
The explanation was complete. The memories faded, leaving me back in the quiet, moonlit cove, the silence rushing back in to fill the void. But the silence was different now. It was filled with impossible, terrifying knowledge.
My mind scrambled for purchase, for any rock of logic to cling to in this ocean of insanity. It was a joke. A trick. Dragons couldn't talk. I wasn't a god. I was Hiccup, son of Stoick the Vast, the village screw-up. But… the Terrible Terrors. The way they had gathered at my feet, purring in adoration. The way the dragons in the ring had become suddenly docile at my approach. The way the entire nest had frozen, whispering a name, when we arrived. The way they had attacked us, their claws gentle, their minds screaming apologies. The evidence was all there, a trail of breadcrumbs leading to this single, monstrous conclusion.
Denial was a fortress, but the facts were a siege engine, and my walls were crumbling.
Disgust came next, thick and choking. A fertility god. Not a god of thunder, or war, or the sky. A god of… that . The thought made my skin crawl. It was a deeply personal, biological brand that re-contextualized every interaction I'd ever had with a dragon. The deadly nadder's nuzzles, the gronckle's affectionate purrs, even Toothless's loyal companionship—was it all just instinct? A primal response to a scent I didn't even know I had? It cheapened everything. The friendship I thought I had built on trust and understanding was suddenly cast in a new, grotesque light. They didn't see a friend, or a master, or an ally. They saw a purpose. A function. A walking, talking bag of divine seed. The shame was a physical heat that spread from my chest to my face. I felt like an object, a thing to be used, first by the Queen in her monstrous fantasy, and then… and then by Toothless, in his desperate, violating ritual.
« It was the only way, » Toothless's voice whispered in my head, as if sensing the direction of my thoughts. « The legend… the old story… it said the essence of the Life-Giver, when shared, could break the barrier of language. I had to make you hear me. I had to make you understand before she found you again. »
He took a step forward and did something that shocked me more than anything else. He knelt. The magnificent, proud Night Fury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, lowered his head to the ground before me, his wings tucked tight against his body in a posture of complete and utter submission.
« Forgive me, » he pleaded, his mental voice cracking with anguish. « I saw her plan for you, and I was terrified. I saw her twisting the idea of you into something horrible, and in my fear, I committed my own horror. I failed you. As a friend. I failed you. Please, Hiccup. Forgive me. »
I stared at him, this incredible creature, my best and only friend, prostrate on the ground before me. He had violated my trust, my body, my very sense of self. But he had done it to save me from a fate I couldn't have imagined, a fate he had risked his own life to pull me from. He had used me, yes, but only to give me the knowledge I needed to survive. It was a twisted, terrible, paradoxical knot that my mind couldn't untangle. How could I forgive an act so profound in its violation? But how could I not forgive an act so profound in its desperation to save me? It was a terrible, brutal math. The cost of my safety had been my innocence, and he had been the one forced to pay the price.
I didn't have an answer. The words didn't exist. So I did the only thing I could.
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs unsteady, and walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around his massive, bowed head. I buried my face in his warm, smooth scales, the familiar scent of him a strange comfort in this new, terrifying world. It wasn't a hug of simple forgiveness; it was a desperate clinging, two broken, confused friends holding each other in the ruins of what their friendship had been.
"It's just… it's all so confusing," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
He remained motionless for a long moment, and then I felt him relax under my touch, a deep, shuddering sigh passing through his body. He didn't speak again. He just let me hold on, accepting my confusion as the only answer I could give.
We stayed like that for a long time. The moon climbed higher, and the initial shock began to recede, replaced by the cold, hard reality of the morning to come. The kill ring. The Monstrous Nightmare. My father. The entire village.
An idea, sparked in the chaos of my mind, began to take shape. It was insane. It was reckless. It was probably the stupidest plan I had ever had. Which meant it was probably my best one. The dragons saw me as a god. The Queen wanted me as a tool. The Vikings saw me as an outcast. All of them were trying to define me. It was time I defined myself.
I pulled back from Toothless, my mind suddenly clear, my purpose sharp. "The ring," I said, my own voice sounding strange to my ears. "Tomorrow."
Toothless lifted his head, his eyes questioning. « We will leave. We will fly away from here, forever. It is the only way to be safe. »
"No," I said, shaking my head. "No more running. The Queen wants me. The Vikings want me to kill a dragon. Running won't solve anything; it'll just postpone it." I looked towards the entrance of the cove, towards the distant village of Berk. "She wants to use me as a tool. A weapon. Fine, I'll be a weapon. But I'll be my own weapon."
I turned back to him, a wild, fierce hope igniting in my chest. "If I am what you say I am… if these dragons really see me as their… their god… then the one in the ring tomorrow, the Monstrous Nightmare… it won't hurt me, will it?"
A flicker of alarm sparked in Toothless's mind. « Hiccup, no. It is too dangerous. You don't know what it will do. Its fear of the Vikings, of the arena, might overpower its reverence. It's not a tame dragon; it's a terrified one. »
"But it might not," I insisted, my voice gaining strength. "This is my chance, Toothless. This is how I end the war. Not by killing a dragon, but by showing them. By showing everyone that they're not what we think they are. That there's another way." I placed my hand on his snout, looking him directly in the eye. "I'm going to walk into that ring tomorrow, and I'm going to face that dragon, and I am going to show my entire village the truth."
Worry, deep and profound, radiated from him. « It is too great a risk. Your vessel is too fragile. »
"You have to have faith in me, bud," I said, a small, determined smile finding its way to my lips. "You showed me who I am. Now let me show them."