Work Text:
The Grave Of Viggo Grimborn
Softly running a hand across the dragon’s neck, giving a light scratch to the forever itchy spot by the spine, Hiccup got gingerly off of the saddle, leg creaking slightly with the strain, legs and back aching. Toothless flopping onto the grass, scales marking soft scratching sounds as the grass rippled in the harsh wind, claws digging in the rocky dirt.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry bud, that was further than I thought it was going to be.”
Toothless flopped over with a hrrrr and Hiccup stumbled as toothless’ wing slapped him, winding him as he tumbled onto the grass.
“Ok, I deserved that.” Hiccup wheezed, armour digging in uncomfortably from his slumped angle, as he pushed himself upright, ignoring the dragon who was huffing out unmistakable laughs from the ground beside him. Toothless stretched out, curling in the shape of a crescent moon to lay his head on hiccups lap. Hiccup lightly scratched under the dark dragons chin, as he sighed with contentment, a soft happy growl rumbling from the dragon.
The island they had landed on was small, green and lush, with small stunted trees from the cold sea breeze.
Struggling to push the tired dragons head off of him, he pulled the hastily glued together map out of an inside pocket of his armour, hesitantly extracting a short pencil and leaning forward, Toothless curving out the way, green eyes blinking at him uninterested.
Stretching out the map, Hiccup frowned, tracing the route they had been taking, and sketching the small island in.
“Hey, I wasn’t far off course. We’re close to Dragon's Edge here actually.” Hiccup hummed, attempting to work out their angle. Toothless grumbled.
“No need to worry, we’ll stay here tonight. Who knows, maybe there’ll be a new dragon species in those caves.” Hiccup murmured, spotting some caves hollowed into the rock at the foot of the cliffs they were on. A rocky beach sloped off steeply into the deep cold water.
“We’ll shelter there tonight. Come on bud, let’s go.” hiccup started forward, carefully picking his way through the rocky grass, Toothless sticking close to him, an ever-present shadow. When Hiccup slid slightly on the terrain, Toothless was there in an instant, head supporting his best friend as best he could.
As they worked their way down the sheer cliffs and through thick tussocky grass, they drew closer to the base of the incline, and towards the small opening in the rocks. It was well above the tideline thanks to the steep gravelly beach.
“We better check its uninhabited before setting up camp for the night. It’d be just our luck to set up camp at the entrance to the home of a family of thunderdrums, or a whispering death.” Toothless let out a low displeased growl at that, as Hiccup picked up a piece of nearby driftwood.
“Ok, light it up, bud.” Toothless fired a small soft plasma blast which ignited the tip of the branch. Toothless snout pushed into his hand, they slowly entered the cave.
The sound of the sea seemed almost muffled, as though something was holding its breath. The walls were damp, solidified stone drips glistening in the torchlight. Lifting the torch a little higher, Hiccup was surprised, but glad to see the back of the cave curving to a stop.
“Well, that could have been much worse, right bud?” Hiccup hummed, Toothless pushing his nose against his hand a little more firmly. Suddenly the dragon stiffened, and Hiccup could feel the slits of Toothless’s nostrils flair against the calloused skin of his palm. Hiccup tensed as well, ready to pull his sword from the sheath on his waist. Unbidden, Toothless slowly, hesitantly paced forward, eyes seemingly fixed on something in the crease where the rock met the earth at the back of the cave, shaded, even more so now the dragon obscured what he may have been able to see.
“Bud, what’s wron-” Hiccup moved forward, and saw what the dragon was staring at so intently, “oh.”
In the shadows at the back of that small sea cave, on a lonely island in the middle of the sea, was what could only be described as a gravestone. Why the person hadn’t been given a viking funeral, Hiccup didn’t know. No mound, from the size of it, no burning either. Maybe they were no viking.
In the stone seemed to be some slight engravings, algae creeping over it, and highlighting the words, almost cruelly. As he leant forward, holding the light up, it threw the notches of the engraving into sharp relief, and it felt like his chest stopped working.
‘Here is Viggo Grimborn. A hero’s death with sword in hand.’
“Viggo?” Hiccup knew he must have died. He had seen the man, with arrows sticking from him too deep for even a dragon to recover easily from, run into the enemy brandishing swords with a dragon with him. And the blast of lightning from the skrill, nobody could have survived that. He knew, he knew he must have…
He wasn’t crying, but he felt… hollow. That man had been his enemy, truely, but he had genuinely changed. And he had died for them. Actually died.
Seeing a grave for the man, it just made it final.
He didn’t realise he was on his knees until he heard toothless’s concerned coo, and turned his head to meet his dragons eyes, green looking into green, understanding, inexplicable understanding, passing between them.
Hiccup shuffled a little, and his knee knocked something. Lifting the torch where it had been burning softly beside him, he saw what looked like a bundle of hide, tied with coarse rope, that may have been used on a ship.
A piece of parchment poked slightly out from the bundle. Hesitantly, Hiccup pulled it loose, the fire flickering making it hard to read, but he could just see the swirly runes, showing Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. He barely registered Toothless rubbing the flat of his head softly against him and bounding out the cave, coming back moments later dragging a log half the length of himself, Hiccup seemingly frozen, staring at the parchment.
The dragon pounced out again then back again a minute later, maw filled with dry driftwood, well mostly dry, maybe a little slobbery, which he dumped on the log, allowing a sliver of plasma out to light the fire.
It burst upwards, the driftwood catching straight away, and throwing the room into sharp relief.
The sudden flare of light and heat snapped Hiccup out of his freeze, and he glanced around.
“Right… right, sorry bud. Let’s leave this here for a moment, and get dinner, then we can… we can look at it later.” Toothless hummed in concern, as the boy, well man, 19 years now, tucked the letter in the hide again, and slid onto his back.
Throughout the entire time toothless was fishing, Hiccup was distracted, even more distracted than he had been on the journey here, trying to escape from responsibilities and crushing, all consuming pressures, that he didn’t feel he would ever be able to live up to. He’d been spending more and more time with the dragons, feeling more safe with them than with vikings at the moment. Now, with the discovery of… Viggo, he had so much more on his mind, all he could think about was how he suspected him even to the end. He had every reason to, of course. But he couldn't even give him the courtesy of belief. Half zoned out, Toothless did most of the prompting for his rider, and caught as many fish as quickly as he could, then turned tail and headed back to shore. Hiccup wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want Hiccup accidentally pitching them into the sea with a distracted fin movement, or out of concern, but it didn’t matter too much right then and there, he was grateful nonetheless.
Skidding to a stop right outside the cave, Hiccup grabbed some of the fish, trying not to grimace at the slimy texture from the dragon’s saliva, pulling a small knife from his armour and prepping one of the fish for himself, half out of muscle memory than true hunger. Taking a small piece of driftwood, he speared the head and entered the cave again, propping it by the fire to cook. The was a strange amount of wood on the small shore, it must be where tides converge.
Sitting in the firelight, only the slightly nauseating gulping sounds of Toothless eating his catch filling the cave, he waited, the firelight flickering, the bundle feeling like a physical presence at his feet.
Finally, once they had both eaten the slightly bony fish tasting of sawdust to the man, he went to sit down, Toothless surging forward to lay behind him, and support him.
Pulling the package in front of him, he pulled out the parchment and unfolded it, beginning to read aloud, whether for Toothless or himself he wasn’t sure.
Hiccup,
I write this now with the belief that I may not escape the other side alive. Thank you for trusting in my plan, even when you had so many reasons not to trust.
There was an escape plan, you see. The skrill seems determined to keep me alive, and I have plans to take a boat away from here, no matter how injured I am, so I may spend my last moments on the sea, like I spent most of my life.
My boy, I say this with truth. You were a worthy adversary, and a worthy ally, and I wish I could have seen that sooner.
I have faith that should I not survive this, you shall defeat Krogan and Johann. You are stronger, braver and more like me than you want to believe. Believe in that, and I hope that you should have won.
I carry my sword in my hand as I write this and wrap the fur around one last thing from me. Maybe one day, we shall meet at the gates of Valhalla, if I have done enough to get there. I am sure that you shall go down fighting, and winning, dear Hiccup.
Remember to play Maces and Talons, and to continue improving.
Thank you.
Viggo Grimborn.
Underneath, in a barely legible scrawl were more words:
To whoever Hiccup is,
We found this man on the shores of a small island, in the wreck of a small boat, and we have buried him here. We hope one day you shall find him and find peace, whoever he may have been to you.
Fisherman Sven
Hiccup couldn’t speak anymore. His throat had clogged up. Pulling the fur forward, he unwrapped it, and two small pieces of metal hit the floor with a dull thud.
Reaching out, realising he’s almost shaking, he picks up the Viking Chief piece, and the Marauder Chief.
He clutched them tightly, the cold metal feeling like it was burning into his skin, as the words washed over him again and again as he thought it through.
Slowly, deliberately, he rewrapped the pieces and the parchment in the fur, and slid it into one of Toothless’s saddle bags.
He knew he had responsibilities, and things to do, and he had even more reason to pursue them now, but his time would come, he was sure. Just not yet. Laying a hand on Toothless’s warm dry scales, he took a deep shuddering breath. Mind swirling, he sat in the cave staring at the grave of a businessman, an enemy, an ally, and a man who could have changed.
Knowing that now, he would never have the chance.
But maybe the heroism in his final moments was enough. The compassion he showed. The care. It wouldn’t undo years of hurt, but with no chance to redeem fully, maybe that would have to do.