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The only thing Hiccup knows for certain is that everyone he loves and cares about will be dead. The battle was a bloody one, and it doesn’t seem to be ending. He’s seen Fishlegs and Meatlug shot down with a flaming boulder, the twins netted and speared, Snotlout diving into smoke on Hookfang, faded into terrifying obscurity.
He himself isn’t doing so well. A sword still sticks out of his shoulder, and he can’t bring his muscles to move it, can’t open his mouth to call for help-
Now, one other thing becomes certain. He can’t move . He fell from Toothless, landed on the deck, and got stabbed soon after, but surely it wasn’t enough to paralyse him.
The thought fills him with dread. How will he ride on Toothless, hold and kiss Astrid, hug his friends, read and write and draw and explore again?
Not like I’ll live that long, he thinks rather depressingly, but it is true. His head’s already foggy from blood loss. He slightly wishes someone would hold his hand and keep him company while he dies, but his friends are either all dead, or in a similar state.
He begins to visualise meeting them all in Valhalla: tragically young, but reunited in life and death. He imagines their arms falling around each other, another ‘group hug’ as Tuffnut calls them. He imagines them walking off into the blindingly bright clouds somewhere while they reminisce on what they could’ve done with their life: ended the war. Married. Had kids. Been chief, in Hiccup’s case.
Instead, here they are, nineteen and dying amidst smoke, all alone.
At least I’ve assassinated Viggo, Hiccup thinks with triumph. The image of him spluttering blood as Astrid drove her axe through his throat lingered in the back of his mind.
He knows the Defenders of the Wing, the Wingmaidens, the Beserkers and Berk’s A-team to finish the war themselves. He can only hope the end of the war with them, and Viggo Grimborn, the hunters, Krogan, Johann, and the flyers, will end forever, and bring about a new era of peace.
He thinks faintly of Toothless, the sight of him being captured, his soft, green eyes looking at Hiccup as he was hopelessly entangled in a dragon-proof net. Hiccup knows he won’t be killed. A selfish part of him wishes he was, so he won’t have to think about the horrors Viggo, Krogan and Johann will inflict upon him.
“ Hiccup! ” Someone cries, their voice wounded. He recognises the voice istantly, and immediately wishes it was someone, anyone , else.
“Astrid?” He speaks his first words since he was stabbed.
She begins frantically pressing down on the sword wound, her hands encircling the blade. Blood seeps through the cracks in her slender fingers. “Hiccup, you’re gonna be okay, I’ll get you on Stormfly, we’re gonna get out of here, we-”
“They’re all gone, Astrid,” he says softly. “Fish. Snot. Ruff. Tuff. I saw them go down.”
An expression Hiccup can’t name falls across Astrid’s face. Sorrow? No, far deeper. Regret she wasn’t there for their dying moments, gratitude they died in battle so they can go to Valhalla, anger they died so young, and not in peace, surrounded by their friends and family, and their dragons.
So transfixed on the expression on Astrid’s face was Hiccup, that he failed to see the axe flying towards her, failed to open his mouth and scream, until she was coughing blood.
The blade was as firmly lodged into her back as the sword was in Hiccup’s shouler. She gave him a first horrified, then saddened, then calm look. Why are you calm, he screams in his head. Why can you smile about this, what about this is happy, you’re dying, please don’t die, please don’t go, I need you, I love you, please pleasepleaseplease-
A miracle happens. His hand, the one from the uninjured arm, slowly lifts, and travels across to her. It rests in the palm of her hand, his fingers touching her calloused fingertips.
He’s glad this is the last memory he has of her: warm, soft, brave.
He takes a deep breath, and his eyes open long enough for him to see Krogan stab Toothless through the heart, before he closes them.
See you in Valhalla, bud, is the last thing he thinks before the world goes dark, and Hiccup Haddock becomes a legend.
When he opens them once again, six familiar faces are looking at him: five human, one dragon.
“Hey, babe,” one says. “We were waiting for you.”