Chapter XV

The Fifth Task

The next three days seemed to blur in front of Hiccup's eyes, like the bleeding of colours. They seemed to flash past in a blitz of pain and second-guessing. But – Hiccup supposed – that was supposed to be the point.

Having woken up to the sound of chirping birds and warbling terrible terrors, Hiccup had spent the best of an hour curling up around Jack and pretending the world beyond them didn't exist. It was a childish luxury, but after his day yesterday, Hiccup had consoled himself in that he thoroughly deserved it.

The world beyond didn't allow it for long, though. Soon, Heather had come to rouse him, holding a wooden cup of honeyed nettle tea. Hiccup had given her a wan smile, and muttered thanks, before letting himself be dragged back into reality, away from Jack again.

It was thanks to Verdis and her rite of 'Compassion' that Hiccup and Toothless spent the following two days camped out in the Realm of Verdis; a preserved forest that was said to still hold the lingering powers of the Green Phoenix herself. Hiccup had heard many tales of it; the forest was the home of the leafmen – tiny warriors sworn to protect the enchanted forest and its residents. There were rumours of fawns and centaurs that walked the glens, but no one had witnessed such things in years. Finally, there were the unicorns.

That – according to the rite – was Hiccup's goal. The blood of a unicorn.

Hiccup had yelled. He had protested. He even stamped his foot. The idea of killing such a pure, innocent creature was downright abhorrent. It was sick, and cruel, and went against every single one of his morals.

At that point, Stoick had simply put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, saying "Our ancestors did not care for sentiments, lad. It is the unicorn, or Jack…"

Hiccup had stiffened, with a pained look written across his face. Stoick might as well have taken his arm, pulled it behind his back, and twisted until he'd wrenched the limb clean from its socket. With a sigh, he'd nodded before setting off to get supplies, glaring at the heavens as he went, as if he could glower at the phoenixes themselves. Rite of Compassion? Hiccup's left foot.

He'd spent the best part of those two days in the Realm of Verdis hacking through dense, wild thickets and brambles. His burns and bruises had barely healed, but each morning and night, Toothless – his lone companion in his quest – had been pretty damn adamant to slobber all over Hiccup, until he was satisfied his Knight would make some improvement.
Hiccup appreciated the gesture, yes. Dragon saliva all over his clothes? Plastered to his cheeks? Turning the tips of his hair into gungy, sticky clumps? That, Hiccup could live without.

It had taken until noon on the second day, for Hiccup and Toothless to track down a unicorn.

It hadn't been by any happy coincidence either. Hiccup had grimaced when he had spotted the sparkling trail of blood, slipping through the trees and undergrowth of the emerald wilderness. Toothless had cooed at him sadly, sharing a pitiful look with his rider.

"Come on, Bud," he muttered, taking a deep breath as he pushed himself forward. "Maybe it's just a case of putting the poor thing out of its misery."

The unicorn was badly wounded, yes. But when Hiccup and Toothless finally found it, the injuries – much to Hiccup's chagrin – were hardly life-threatening.
Hiccup had sat by the wounded creature, whose leg had been gashed open at the flank and left to bleed, for most of the afternoon. He'd simply sat by and watched it pensively, his thoughts clashing inside of him, spinning in circles.

The creature was pure white, its fur seeming to glisten with starry veins of quicksilver, like Estoralia under full starlight. It heaved shuddering breaths, sometimes giving whimpering whinnies as it did. It seemed to be staring up at Hiccup imploring, its thick lashes fluttering over deep, striking blue eyes. Didn't most horses have brown eyes? Of course, unicorns had to be infuriatingly different.

The greatest difference of all, of course, was the spiralling silver horn that protruded from its forehead – a princely crown among the equine world. The horn sparkled like its fur, but the raw power emanating from that horn was something else. Hiccup couldn't go too close to it, regardless of how much he wanted to touch the beast, to learn and explore. There was something too reverent, too pure, too good about the creature. Hiccup felt dirty in its presence; tainted and raw, defiled by dark things. Something stirred and jarred horribly in his stomach. A gnawing, hateful feeling that he'd felt this before.

He shook the hateful thought away. He knew why it was there.

Why did the unicorn have to look so much like-

Hiccup looked away. He couldn't do it. His father's words rang in his ear: "It is the unicorn, or Jack…" But why did it feel like in killing one, he'd lose both? He hunched over himself at the unicorn's side, shuddering as he fought back the self-loathing.

In these tasks, Hiccup was being forced to see every dark aspect of himself. The parts of him he'd tried desperately to push aside and hide away. But now, the wounds were ripped raw; he felt like a fourteen year old again, standing in front of a beautiful, pure, twelve year old prince - his hand still tingling from their first touch - knowing he would never be good enough to deserve such a Sel'a as Jack.

He was impure. He was a half-hearted patch up job, having been broken like a toy. His hands and heart were already filthy.

So Hiccup would be damned if he was going to smear them even more, by soaking them in unicorn blood.

-:-

"Hiccup?" Astrid gave him a worried look as he dismounted from Toothless' back, his face set and unreadable. He didn't answer her. Instead, he marched into the temple, his hands clenched at his sides.

Heather wasn't in the main chamber. He found her quietly cleaning Jack as he slept, wiping a soft cloth over his brow. Jack didn't even stir. Hiccup didn't give pause as he swept into the room, knocking the glass beads as went. Spectrums of technicolour spun on the walls, as Hiccup stared down at Heather fathomlessly.

Her voiced wavered a little as she asked "Did you get it?"

Hiccup continued to stare at her, his eyes seeming strangely bright and cat-like in the dark, candlelit room. He looked almost like Toothless, when the dragon was deciding whether or not he should let his opponent live. Astrid watched from the doorway, her hand resting on her axe. She loved Hiccup like a brother, but if he flew into some rage at Heather…

Wordlessly, Hiccup held out his hand, and dropped a small vial into Heather's lap. Inside, the viscous, shimmering liquid sloshed a little. Heather's lips tightened. "You killed it."

"No." Hiccup growled. Both Heather and Astrid's head snapped up to look at his face properly. He looked furious. But not at himself. Hiccup breathed out sharply before gritting out "The unicorn I found was wounded. I treated its wounds, and then wrung out the bloody rag. It will have to do – I could not kill something innocent."

There was a long pause as his words settled in the room. Finally, Astrid took a step forward, eyebrows furrowed. "Anyone else in your position would have," she spoke lowly. "So why not you?"

Hiccup shot a look at her that would have made lesser men cower. "I would not. I looked into the creature's eyes, and…"

Astrid gave him a dry smile, raising an eyebrow. "Let me guess… you saw yourself?"

Hiccup shook his head. "No. Quite the opposite." He hesitated, before his shoulders sagged and his eyes drifted to the floor almost shyly. "I saw Jack."

"And you are the first to pass this task because of it." Heather said softly.

Hiccup's head snapped up as he stared at the both of them, waiting for some cruel punchline. It never came.

"You… you are serious?"

Heather nodded. "Any blood forcibly taken from a creature as pure as a unicorn will lose its power instantly. The darkness of the act nullifies the pureness of the power. But if what you say is true – that you obtained the blood through an act of kindness," Heather beamed at him, "the power would have only been made stronger."

With that, Heather got up and bustled away, taking the vial with her and calling back "Could you finish where I left off, Hiccup? The fourth Rite is not until tomorrow!"

Hiccup frowned after her, turning to Astrid. She smiled at him warmly, the fear in her chest easing as she watched the worry lines on her friend's face slowly melt away, leaving only bemusement. "What did she mean by 'finish where she left off'?"

Astrid quirked an eyebrow, looking at Hiccup quite pointedly, before then looking at Jack, then the wash cloth, then back to Hiccup's face, which – to Astrid's utter amusement – had turned an adorable shade of pink at her implications.

"Oh."

-:-

When Hiccup woke the following day, it had been to an ice-bucket to the face. Sputtering, he'd glared up at Gobber, only to recoil. The man looked down upon with flinty eyes, something Hiccup had never really seen before.

"Up, lad," he said quietly. "Today is your test of Strength."

The reception he had from the rest of his tribe was just as cold. It was highly unsettling – Astrid wouldn't look him in the eyes, Heather was no-where to be found, and Valka wouldn't say a sentence two words long all the way through breakfast. His father wasn't anywhere to be seen either.

Hiccup's first thought was that the unicorn blood hadn't worked after all, that he had failed, and they were all scrutinising him for it. His heart missed a beat at the thought, and a familiar churning started in his stomach, curdling his insides and steadily turning them into a tangled mess. His breakfast went down in lead-like lumps. He wasn't even sure what he was eating.

His mother had vaguely pointed him to his room, where she'd set out his now repaired armour once again. He'd tried to ask her about Jack, about the blood he'd given to Heather – begging her for some sign that everything was still in order. She wasn't forthcoming.

He'd set about putting on his armour, his heart like a heavy clod of iron ore in his chest. He felt sluggish and uneasy, his fingers shaking slightly as he did up the clasps on his wrist-guards, adjusting the buckles over and over. It was a delay tactic – he was putting off the inevitable. But for some reason, despite the lack of looming threat – be it burning volcanos or Jack's life – this Rite seemed to bear far more weight than the others.

It was the Fourth Rite. The Task of Strength.

It was the task set for his people by the Blue Phoenix, Fares. The insane, vengeful God of Protection, who failed his siblings when they needed him most. If anything, Fares was nothing but a failure, who killed himself in the attempt to redeem himself. So why – why in the name of Fares (Yes! Hiccup saw the irony!) – was this task so important to him?

Because, a little whispered in his mind, you've spent years trying to make yourself stronger, so that the past can never repeat. If you fail, it might mean you are still not strong enough?

Hiccup pushed away the voice with a small snarl, picking up his sword – Endeavour – as he left his room. He was stronger. He would beat this task.

-:-

Stepping into the Academy, Hiccup frowned. The entire tribe was present, it seemed. But his father was still no-where in sight. Neither was any dragons, for that matter. Hiccup had been tossing around ideas in his head as to what the task may be, and the best idea he could come up with – having had Valka tell him the task was to be held at the Academy – was that he would be pacifying some raging, dangerous dragon.

But no – of course it wouldn't be that easy. Hiccup should have known better. After all, he'd been an accomplished Dragon Whisperer since the age of ten. Nothing in life would have been that easy for him.

Hiccup's fingers tapped a tattoo against his sword hilt, his weight shifting from one foot to the other anxiously. Waiting… he hated it. It was easier to let time pass when he was busy doing something. But when there was nothing to fill that void of time, Hiccup couldn't help but feel his shoulders hunch in agitation.

Finally, someone – Hiccup guessed his would-be opponent – stepped into the ring. The entire village gasped. Hiccup stared, unblinking. This had to be a joke, please Fares on high let this be a joke.

Stoick was entirely decked out in his battle-gear, his war axe – a great, double-bladed thing that had a heavy, deadly swing that Hiccup had seen cleave a rock in two – swinging from his father's side. Chainmail glinted in the sun, his dark breastplate like carved onyx. As Stoick came nearer, he shucked his heavy, fur cloak, revealing his bare, great arms the size of tree trunks. The chief wore nothing upon his head, other than his royal circlet – a band of moon silver, embellished in Mûnthic runes, with a tarnished, faded firestone set in the centre. Evidence of Stoick's own participation in his Rites.

Hiccup swallowed hard. "Dad… what is going on?"

Stoick's eyes were like steel; none of the fiery compassion or fierce love Hiccup had known his whole life. It was like a sword to the gut, or a spell of ice wrapping around his heart. Hiccup gripped the hilt of his sword a little tighter. "Tell me what is happening!"

"Your fourth Task, Hekairen," Stoick replied tightly. "It is a test of strength. Of conviction. There are no clever riddles, no ulterior options, no smoke screen hiding the truth of your task -
You must fight me, prove yourself a worthy successor to my crown…" Stoick heaved a shuddering sigh then, the weight of his next words seeming to be too heavy a burden to carry.

"Or die."

Silence.

Hiccup stared, stunned at his father's words. He couldn't mean… he couldn't possibly…

"A fight…to the death?" Hiccup replied slowly.

Stoick's face remained hard as iron. "Draw your sword, Hekairen."

Hiccup shook his head once, as if he hadn't heard properly. He couldn't have heard properly. He stared at the dusty ground of the arena beneath his feet, feeling the eyes of the entire tribe upon him, waiting with baited breath. He couldn't meet their eyes. No – he refused to meet their eyes. This – this was inhumane! Barbaric! They couldn't truly expect him to- to-

Hiccup raised his head, fixing his eyes on his father as he whispered "Why would you do this?"

"Hekairen." Stoick growled.

Hiccup ignored him, raising his hand and pointing a finger as he began to shake where he stood. "You knew. You knew that this was one of the Tasks, yet you declared the Rites to take place? You were writing your own death sentence – or mine – and you knew it. You knew it!" And with that, Hiccup drew his sword before flinging it across the arena.

It clattered against the rocky structure, skidding to a rest at the foot of the wall. Hiccup ignored it, more focused on the searing betrayal, fury, fear and nausea that seemed to be scorching him from the inside. He doubled over and clutched his stomach from the pain, but it only seemed to grow – crawling up from his belly and tightening at his throat, like an animal clawing to be let out. He had to let it out.

Stoick could only stand and watch impassively as his son began laughing hysterically, his whole body wracked with tremors as he bent double. Hiccup's face had turned red, but there were no tears. Between the events of Mount Lavlo, nearly losing Jack, and nearly losing himself, perhaps there were no tears left.

"What is wrong with all of you?!" Hiccup yelled out, his hysteria turning suddenly into fury, like a leather cord stretched to its full capacity, before snapping and whipping out in backlash at a deathly, decapitating speed. "Why would you do this?!"

He took a deep breath, finally looking around at his tribespeople with an expression of sheer disgust written on his face. "You think patricide is a show of strength?!"

"HEKAIREN."

Hiccup's head snapped back to Stoick, who was now red in the face, his heavy axe now in his hand, poised. "This is not the choice of our people. This Task was set to you by Fares. Now stand and fight me! Take up your sword!"

"Are you telling me that you killed your own father?!" Hiccup screamed back. "Did he kill his father too?!" He shook his head violently, a bitter, hateful smile on his lips as he snarled "You know what I say to Fares and his task? Shecla men. Shecla men vesa men Sacramen[1] – he is cruel and selfish, and a failure of a God. I refuse to become d'Relva Kex on a throne built upon the spilt blood of my forefathers. Your blood, Dad!"

At that, Stoick's face seemed to fall before hardening entirely. "So be it."

There was barely any time to blink – despite his size, Stoick was fast, and before Hiccup knew it, he'd just avoided the downward swing of his father's axe, his instincts as a Knight kicking in at the last second. He spun out of the way, staring at his father with new eyes. His cheek was stinging, and something warm was trickling down his neck. Dazed, he put one finger to his jawline, on the trickle's path. His finger came away crimson.

Stoick glared at Hiccup fiercely. "What pride you must have, son, to think it is my blood that will be spilt today."

This wasn't the Stoick Hiccup had known. This was a different man. This was a man Hiccup had only heard tales of – a warrior laying siege to the walls of Arendelle, smiting the traitors of his God and patron without mercy. The blood of his foes was said to have watered the earth. To this day, the clay of that battleground – the mouth of Hermis – was said to be tainted with red.

Hiccup lowered his stance to the defensive. He tried to disassociate himself from the situation. This wasn't his Dad he was about to fight, it was a rampaging dragon that needed to be pacified. His eyes narrowed with focus. He dug his heels a little deeper into the dirt, grounding himself. His fingers twitched at his thigh – it would take a split second to reach for his throwing dagger.

This was self-preservation, he told himself. He was not about to murder his own father.

But there wasn't any time to linger on those thoughts – not when Stoick was already charging, axe spinning in his hand. Hiccup ignored the voice that cried out against this whole situation, screwed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and lunged for the sword.

-:-

Everything hurt.

Everything.

Where even was he? He couldn't see a thing, not even his hand in front of his face. Was his hand even in front of his face? He tried to move it, just to be sure. A small, broken gasp slipped from his lips. Fares above, that hurt.

"I would not try to move if I were you."

Heather?

"You were badly wounded when we got you here," a dry chuckle. "At least no-one can say the Chief plays favourites."

Lips, cracked and dry as bone. He winced as he spoke. "My…father?"

"Yes, you dumbass. The Chief – your father! The guy who would rather bind you to the Sea of Clouds with a curse than risk you coming to harm again! Fares, Hiccup, you are an idiot!"

Astrid.

"He is alive?"

"Yes. As are you, obviously."

Hiccup frowned, then hissed as the numerous cuts and bruises on his face pulled with the muscle. He tried to pry his eyes open, only to find he physically couldn't open his right eye due to swelling. "Someone please tell me what is going on," he growled tightly. "If it was a fight to the death, one of us should be dead."

An exasperated sigh. "And here I thought you were a clever guy, Hiccup."

Again, Hiccup frowned and tried to open his left eye. The light was blinding at first, but finally he was able to make out where he was. It was the infirmary, with Gothi's medic worktable in the corner, covered in scattered herbs and various implements meant to chop, grind and puree the roots and leaves into something useful. It was the same room he'd brought Jack to, the night he'd rescued him from the Besikians. Heather was sat in the solitary chair at his side, whilst Astrid leant up against the wall, glaring at him. Hiccup met her glare beadily. "I am a clever guy, and you are a stubborn ass. Now tell me what is going on."

Astrid rolled her eyes at him. "The Chief was never going to let either of you die. It was a test of conviction – could you kill to make sure you were the next Relva Kex? To protect your people? Answer – No. You failed Fares' Rite."

Hiccup took a couple minutes to let that soak in. He'd…failed. A sigh, and he closed his eye. "Forg." He muttered, opening his eye again to stare up at the ceiling again. "Granoraforg[2], to be exact. Why in the name of all five phoenixes do these tasks have to be so damn convoluted?!"

"Because the phoenixes are hmshecs[3]?" Astrid replied with a shrug. Hiccup gave her a dry look. "Not that it matters anymore," she continued. "The Chief says that the last task is a simple one."

Hiccup barked out a laugh. "Oh yes – very simple! I just have to go into the Realm of the Phoenixes, find Jack, and bring him back home. I could do that in my sleep!" He attempted an eye-roll before fixing his one working eye on Heather. "Hey - got any sweet lavender poultices?"

Heather pursed her lips at him, unamused. Astrid shook her head, with her own – more successful – eye roll towards the heavens. "That is not all you have to do, Hiccup."

Hiccup was incredulous. "No, please, do tell Astrid! What else, exactly, am I supposed to do whilst wandering the land of the dead, looking for my half-dead Sel'a, and then trying to figure out a way back?"

Astrid gave him a very level look. "You have to ask the Moon Dragon for her blessing."

Hiccup paused, as if making sure Astrid was actually being serious. When she made no move to retract what she had said, he snorted, shaking his head. "Blessing… to be Chief, right?" he turned away from the two women, still reeling from their words. "To think – I never actually wanted to be Chief. If I had stayed in Caruselle- OW!"

A hard punch to the shoulder, and he was back to glaring at Astrid again. "What was that for?!"

"For saying stupid things? For thinking in the past? Hindsight is a cruel and wonderful thing, is it not? But we are here and now, Hiccup. So keep your head here and now. We need you, the tribe needs you, and Jack needs you." She gave him a hard look, before her eyes softened, and Astrid looked down on him imploringly. "For Fares' sake, Hiccup. We are going to war…"

Hiccup blinked up at her, before his face seemed to crumple. Yes – he and his father were still alive. But for how long? And what's more, the battle to pull Jack from wherever his soul had wandered to seemed almost futile – there was no way he could stop the Carusellen prince from following him into battle, Hiccup knew. Was he going through all this, just to lose all he cherished through bloodshed?

Hiccup nodded sadly, his eyes meeting Astrid's again. "I know, Astrid. I know."

-:-

"So, how exactly does this work?"

Heather turned away from the Moon Temple altar, and gave Hiccup a small, comforting smile as she handed him a tiny flask. In it, he could see a swirling mass of liquid, partly a deep, tar-like black, the other part a familiar, sparkling silver that seemed to be rippled through the potion. Hiccup stared at it for a moment, before giving Heather a disparaging look. "Really?"

She shrugged. "To be fair, Jack's potion was a lot worse."

"I imagine it was," Hiccup grumbled as he stared into his flask, "given that it was meant to kill him."

Heather shook her head, eyes coming to rest on the still figure that was once again resting on the altar's surface, face peaceful. "Jack was never in any danger of death."

Hiccup's head shot up at that, staring at her. "What."

Heather shrugged one shoulder, looking sheepish. "I mean, yes – the potion was deadly, but the time limit we gave you was… not exactly all the time we had. There would have been ten minutes to act if your potion had failed. There would have been consequences though…"

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow at that, eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Heather looked a little uncomfortable as she replied "Well, the second antidote would have been administered straight to the bloodstream. It would have been violent. The affects would damage Jack's connection to the Moon Dragon. And – in turn – to you."

Hiccup's eyes widened as something inside him trembled. "Damage?" he whispered.

Heather nodded grimly. "Nothing irreparable, but your bond would never be the same." She hesitated, her eyes flicking from Hiccup's face to the stone floor beneath her feet. "Just take your parents as an example…"

Hiccup's heart dropped to his stomach. "My… my father failed that trial." He didn't need to see Heather nodding to know it was true. It made sense – there was a distance between Stoick and Valka that had always seemed odd for a kindred pair. Valka would spend weeks away from Berk Mountain, exploring the rest of the Archipelago, and Stoick would seem indifferent to it. Hiccup knew his parents loved each other deeply, but at the same time it wasn't as easy a relationship as it should be. Like a broken vase tentatively pieced back together – still beautiful and treasured, but never ever the same as it had once been.

Hiccup's chest clenched at the thought of being so distant to Jack. "Thank Fares I did not," he murmured softly. His eyes fell upon Jack's sleeping form, and his heart seemed to squeeze even tighter.

Heather gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I knew you would not. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses – you are not as burly or brawny as your father, but you are wise, intelligent and brave. All valuable traits as a leader and Chief."

Hiccup gave her a wan smile. "At least someone thinks so."

Heather shook her head with a sad smile of her own. "Fares – someday you will yourself as everyone else does," she tapped the bottle in his hand pointedly "Perhaps Jack will help."

Hiccup nodded absently as he turned the bottle over and over in his hands. "So I drink this – then what?"

Heather shrugged, "Then it is up to you. It is your task."

Great. Hiccup rolled his eyes skyward again, the gesture twinging a little as his right eye was still horribly bruised. He glared at the vial critically, before practically wrenching out the stopper and upending the bottle's entire contents down his throat. He recoiled a little at the taste – it was disgustingly bitter and sickeningly sweet at the same time. Perhaps it was the unicorn blood?

Hiccup pushed that thought away extremely quickly. He didn't want to think about what he'd just dumped into his system. He screwed his face up in disgust, swallowing furiously to try and get the bile off his palate. "That was unpleasant," he muttered with a grimace, giving Heather a wry look. "So now wha-"

Heather leaped forward to catch Hiccup as he swayed on his feet. It felt like vertigo, if that was even possible for someone who rode dragons near daily. He groaned as Heather half-dragged him to the serene room, his vision blurring in front of him.

"Now," Heather said with a note of finality, "as I said – what happens next is up to you."

Hiccup probably would have cussed at her, calling her infuriating and stupidly cryptic and just as bad as the damned Phoenixes. He would have, had the potion not decided that was the perfect time to kick in fully. Instead, in a slur more befitting a man who had just drank an entire barrel of mead, Hiccup warbled out "Fares help me, I am going to need it."

-:-

White.

Everything around him was white.

Pure. Clean. Like fresh linen. Unspoilt. Unsullied. Fathomless, like the clouds that swirled around his fingertips as he and Toothless swooped through the cloudbank. The ethereal barrier between the Mûnthan tribes upon their mountain summits, and the dark depths of what lay below. It seemed like another world, beneath the creamy, wispy seas. A underworld, filled with dark paths and forest. The trogs thrived there, hidden under a blanket of cloud every day, never facing the pure sunlight, never traversing the mountains that surrounded them.

Is this how the gods felt about the rest of the world? That this – the Realm of the Phoenixes – was a haven above and beyond the reaches of a dark, mortal world? It was plausible. Hiccup could understand the reasoning.

It just made him feel even more on edge at the thought. Because he was the absolute opposite. Even as he trudged through the swirling mass of light and air, he had to stop himself from glancing backwards, to see if there really was a trail of grime smeared in his path.

His skin itched. He never felt so repulsive than he did now, walking through the halls of heaven. Everything he'd experienced, every little mistake he had made, every horror he had witnessed – lived through – seemed to cling to his skin like a coat of grit.

And the white was endless.

"Jack! Jack, are you here?" No reply. "Jack, if you can hear me, say something!"

"Hiccup?"

He spun on his heel, his head snapping to face the familiar voice, only to stop short. It was definitely Jack in front of him, but something was off. Something was wrong.

Firstly, his attire made Hiccup pause. Never had he seen clothes like it – leggings that looked like the colour of doe skin, yet they certainly weren't breeches. His tunic was even more puzzling – long-sleeved and baggy, with a hood at the back. But that wasn't the worst of it.

Worst of all was his eyes.

Still a vibrant blue, but there was no warmth there. None of the kindness or the curiosity, or humour and compassion that Hiccup had come to know. His eyes were like ice – cold and shuttered, like an artic blizzard that wouldn't let you see five paces ahead. Hiccup took one step back. "Jack?"

A slow smile curled over Jack's face as he took a predatory step forward. "Oh, Hiccup. I found you…" he cooed. In a flash of light, a strange sceptre appeared in Jack's hand. The top of the sceptre curved like the crescent moon, flashing silver sharpened into a formidable scythe. The end of the sceptre tapered into an equally deadly blade. Hiccup stumbled back a little more.

It was a trick. It wasn't the real Jack. This had to be part of the test.

Hiccup fumbled for his sword, only to find himself completely disarmed. The Phoenix Realm had robbed him of all arms, leaving him only the linen tunic and breeches he now wore. Completely defenceless.

Panicked, he faced 'Jack' again to find the imposter had come even closer. Dangerous, frozen eyes flashed. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you…" he murmured softly, raising the sceptre. "One day, you'll understand."

It felt like slow motion, watching as Jack – this strangely dressed, cold, indifferent replica of Jack – swung the sceptre downward. Hiccup couldn't move, frozen by the stare his 'Sel'a' was giving him; pure hate. Hate, wrapped in despair and anger and frustration. As the scythe hit, Hiccup could swear he saw a flash of pain behind this imposter's eyes.

There was no pain, though.

As soon as the scythe met its target, the whole of this image – the imposter and his terrible weapon – seemed to disintegrate before Hiccup's eyes. Hiccup gasped for air, acutely aware that he'd being holding his breath the entire time. He swallowed, his mouth dry like sandpaper, and ran one shaking hair through his hair. Cold sweat clung to his fingers.

Trying to move forward after that was near impossible. Echoes of Jack's voice taunted and teased Hiccup everywhere he turned, but the moment he looked in that voice's direction, there was nothing to be seen.

How long had he been here now? Time seemed to stand still here, in a lonely, blinding demimonde of whispers and pureness. The air whistled around him, not quite warm, not quite cool. Just a kiss of existence. Hiccup couldn't help but feel so disorientated, like if he didn't concentrate hard enough, he too would evaporate into the existential netherworld.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been looking, but eventually he saw something beyond the curling mist; something that looked strangely like leaping flames. Brows furrowed, Hiccup quickened his pace. He wasn't sure he should go closer to the signs of violence and destruction, but at this point it was the only sign of life around. He'd take what he could.

When he got there, the scene was not the carnage he was expecting; nothing so grand flames leaping from derelict buildings, or pools of molten lava, or even a burning bush. In some aspects, what Hiccup found was far worse.

It was simply a line of fire. A line of scorched earth, where flames danced and jumped, creating a wall of heat between him and the other side. Beyond the flames, Hiccup could see a scene of woodland; dark, looming trees and broken, twig-covered undergrowth. Given the task, Hiccup thought it would be Jack waiting for him beyond the wall of flame.

We don't always find what we seek.

Hiccup inhaled a sharp breath, his eyes widening. Beyond the flames stood a familiar face. A face he'd never wanted to see ever again. It was a face that haunted his memories, clawing at his insides like a furious poltergeist, a constant reminder of his past. His weakness. His uselessness.

Dark circles, like shadowy moons beneath bloodshot, tired eyes. Parchment skin, wafer thin and stretched over protruding bones, bruised in places, scarred in others. Dirty rags swamping the small, skeletal body. The shudder-inducing clink of chains, rattling as the figure breathed in and out, regarding the Munthan prince beyond the fires.

The figure smiled. It was a sad, tired smile, but it was genuine.

"Valhael, Hiccup." His fourteen year old self greeted.

-:-

Jack glared at the woman venomously. "Are you serious?"

Perfectly, she replied stonily.

Suffice to say, Jack's stay in the Realm of the Phoenixes had not been a restful one.

After lying about the place fuming for a while, he'd managed to get himself lost whilst wandering around, stumbling into places he should never have gone, seeing memories he'd truly wished he could forget. He'd seen the night of Hiccup's enchantment in full, unable to escape the scene unfolding before him. He'd wretched repeatedly throughout, dry heaving at the blood that pooled over the altar, dripping in silent streams to the temple floor. He'd heard his fourteen year old Sel'a beg for mercy. Pleading his Father to stop. Worst of all, the memory would not let Jack comfort young Hiccup when it was all over. He was merely whisked away to witness the next horror.

And the next. And the next. Wars that ripped the North and South apart at the seams. The sight of a furious, screaming bird of flaming vengeance, plunging into a heart of choking darkness. The sound of screaming pain as each Phoenix fell to the Plague, entombed in shadows that their flames may never burn again.

He had seen the walls of Arendelle fall, the attackers filled with righteous rage as the Seeker's Guild fled for their lives. He could almost make out the faces of Val and Ralf, faces determined even as their bodies shook with fear. That wasn't the worst revelation though.

The worst was that Arendelle's attackers were Mûnthan. And Hiccup's father had led the charge.

Jack's feelings weren't just mixed – they were pulled apart in so many directions, Jack would likely need a compass of his own to find them. As he wandered through the dust and debris of this ghostly Arendelle – the broken building and burning remnants like scars littered on the pristine snow beneath his feet – Jack could feel his heart ache. This had been Vanela's home. Reduced to ruin. Brought upon by Storekin of Berk.

And it hurt to think it, but was this a fate shared by the kingdom of Caruselle? Would Jack return home and find his palace, his people's citadel, his fields and forests, in the same pitiful state? Blackened and desolate, with not a soul to mourn for it except a Prince without a throne.

That was where she found him, knelt in the vision's dirtied snow, his eyes blank and staring as the lost city of Arendelle burned around him.

Jack?

At first, he hadn't moved. He didn't even acknowledge her.

Jack, what do you see?

A sigh, like a rattling breath of one dying. "I see Arendelle brought to ruin. I see people that have cared and protected me, running for their lives. And I see Stoick – Hiccup's father – wielding the bloodied blade."

For a long time, she said nothing. Just the gentle kiss of warmth on his cheek told Jack she had not left him. Then, when she spoke, she sounded tired. So very tired.

The sight before is a dark picture indeed, when you only know what the history books tell you. Historians of the South tell condemning tales, and the Mûnthans of the North are too proud, too stubborn to correct them.

At that, Jack finally turned to look the Moon Dragon in the eye. "Are you telling me this was justified? All this pain, and death, and suffering?" His face started to turn a blotchy red as fury built up in his chest. "Nothing justifies this! Nothing!"

She gave him a sad smile, nodding slowly. It is not in our nature to wish hate or pain on anyone. But let me tell you the truth, Jack. Let me explain why you are here.

… Jack wasn't sure how long he had listened to the Moon Dragon's tale. Time was of no meaning or matter on this plane of existence. But her story… it was impossible. It couldn't be true. There was no way.

And then there was the task. Just a small task. A task that – apparently – Jack now had to uphold. And no, of all things, he was not to share this task's nature with Hiccup.

And now he sat before the Moon Dragon, in all her glittering glory, gaping at her in disbelief. He shook his head slowly. "Of all the things you just told me, I find that the most unbelievable."

She quirked an eyebrow. What do you find hard to believe? The task is not a difficult one. Even with the longevity of the task, it is simple enough.

"Not that!" Jack hissed. "I want to know why. Why give me that task in the first place? Wouldn't the world be better if-"

No. She stated, the word cutting straight through his argument like a machete. Jack, the world you know has become accustomed to the magic it has. Having such pure forms of magic roam the Earth once again – the power vaccum it could cause would be catastrophic. She gave him a hard, meaningful look. It is best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Jack snorted. "We aren't talking about dogs, Jacquelina. We are talking about something that could finally end the Black Plague."

Her face hardened at that, and suddenly the air around them seemed to turn dark and icy cold. Would you risk it? What would you give for that, hm? Would you give the life of your family? Your friends? What about Hiccup? What about any chance of living peacefully? If the stones awaken – even one – then I can promise you this:

Her piercing blue eyes met his, pinning him like the sharpest arrow. Jack gulped, meeting her gaze as she spoke. You will never know peace. You will have an eternity of torment – of love and loss and sacrifice. Is the price worth it? Do as I say, Jack. Do not let the stones wake.

Her words settled on him like heavy stones, filling his heart and weighing it down. He glowered his eyes and bit his lip furiously, before finally nodding. If this was his choice, his task, his destiny, so be it.

Hiccup would never know.

-:-

"You aren't real." Hiccup growled. His younger doppelgänger rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?" he asked, adjusting the bronze manacle on his left wrist nonchalantly. Hiccup could only stare at the slave boy incredulously.

"What do you want?" he snarled, dearly wishing he had his sword at least. The doppleganger regarded him for a moment, watching as his fists tightened and loosened again. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Why do you want to attack me?" he asked quietly. Hiccup stopped short at that. The fourteen year old shifted from one foot to the other, trying to look unfazed. But his skittish hands betrayed him, fluttering nervously at the clasps on his wrists. "I am unarmed. I don't even know how to fight." A nervous laugh. "I never was much use in a battle…"

Hiccup could only watch the boy as he seemed to fold in on himself, wrapped in a stifling blanket of self-depreciation and loathing. The boy scratched at his skin absently. "I was never much use at anything, to be honest." He said with a small smile. The cheer in the teenager's voice was false. Hearing it made Hiccup want to wince.

The doppleganger then gave Hiccup a pointed look. "You didn't answer my question." At Hiccup's blank look, his younger self sighed. "Why do you want to hurt me?"

Hiccup frowned deeply. "Wouldn't that be a bit self-destructive?"

The doppleganger laughed. "I know, right? So now I have another question." The boy stopped his scratching and took a step forward. "Why do you hurt yourself regardless?"

Hiccup blinked down at the young boy, confused. "What?"

The slave shrugged one shoulder. "Y'know – all the anger you have for yourself. The hate. The guilt." He tugged on the bronze collar circling his neck. "We never put this on ourselves, you know. Or these chains. This was not our fault."

Hiccup's eyes narrowed. "I know."

The slave's face scrunched up in distaste. "Really? You know? So why do we continue to wear the chains of our past, even to this day?"

Hiccup bristled at that, hands digging into the linen of his breeches, just to give himself something to hold onto. "Says the vision reminding me of exactly how pathetic I was six years ago!"

The doppleganger flinched at that, before its face crumpled sadly. "There you go again. You despise us and our past. But that is not what this is." The figure gestured to itself.

Hiccup glowered at the doppleganger. "Then what do you mean, exactly? Explain."

The doppleganger pointed at the flames. "That is what is blocking our path. Anger and hate and guilt – all little bricks in the wall preventing us from moving forward. What you see before you" it pointed at its own body again, "is merely a reflection of what those flames represent. No matter how old we get, you see us as this."

Hiccup couldn't help but quake at the creature's words, which seemed to strike him like blows to the stomach. It was right. Again, Hiccup forced himself not to look back. His skin still itched. The doppleganger gave Hiccup an imploring look.

"Trust yourself for once, please. See us as others do – a leader, a warrior, a peace-keeper. A friend, a beloved son, a wanted Sel'a."

Hiccup only blinked once, but the vision before him had changed. Only slightly, but it was enough to make Hiccup's breath hitch. A baggy tunic and too-tight breeches. Bandaged wrists, and a bruised neck, but not a chain in sight. Well – one chain. But not bronze, silver. With a familiar circular pendant hanging from it, around the doppleganger's neck.

"How long has he waited for us?" The small boy asked softly. "How long have we pined for him?"

"Stop." Hiccup muttered, his shoulders beginning to shake. The doppleganger shook its head.

"We have to find him, and this is the path forward. Are we going to fail him again?" Hiccup shook his head angrily, but his throat was too thick to speak. So instead, his younger self spoke, gently. "All you have to do is step through. Ignore the anger and hurt. Put aside the hate. Jack doesn't need a wounded slave."

Hiccup nodded slowly, his eyes set before him as he straightened, looking his other self in the eye. "He needs a knight," he responded lowly.

Before him, beyond the leaping flames between them, Hiccup could see his younger self nodding, an encouraging smile on its face. He took a deep breath, before letting his hand hover close to the flames. It hurt.

Hiccup yanked his hand back, eyes narrowing at the flaming barrier. "Don't think about it!" the doppleganger called. "It feeds on your self-hate and doubt! This is your crucible, Hekairen – your baptism through fire. I know you can do it!"

Hiccup gave his other self a stricken look. He could barely make the boy's face through the flames now. "How?! How do you know this won't go horribly wrong?!"

A toothy grin, barely visible through the fire's blaze. "Because even if you don't believe in us, Jack does. And I do too."

Well. That was that, then.

Hiccup knew what he had to do. He couldn't go back, not without Jack. Forward was the only way. No self-doubt. No what-ifs. No hate or anger or fear. With one last gasp of breath, Hiccup scrunched his eyes shut and thought of Jack.

And stepped forward.

And again. And again.

He could feel something. A strange tingling over his whole body – rippling up his spine, down his arms and legs, tingling on his scalp and in the creases of his eyes and lips.
When he stepped out of the flame, he finally opened his eyes and breathed deeply.

It was… gone. A weight felt like it had been taken from his shoulders. His skin no longer itched or burned. It felt like the flames had burnt away the layer of grime that had stuck stubbornly to his skin since he'd arrived here. He felt free, like he could breathe easy for the first time in years.

His eyes sought out the doppleganger, expecting to see the dishevelled, dirty fourteen year old he'd been speaking to before.

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

The doppleganger was beaming at him, his eyes alight and sparkling with a happiness Hiccup hadn't known would look so vibrant on his face. And it was his face.

The doppleganger was at least his own age now, if not older. It was dressed oddly though – that armour was not of Carusellen make, regardless of how brilliantly it gleamed silver. The velvet cloak around its shoulders was reminiscent of the cloak Jack wore; dark blue with intricate, embroidered peonies. On its brow it wore a silver circlet, and from its left ear dangled a single earring, with a tiny, carved silver feather. Lastly, around its neck was that familiar compass. It was easy to spot, as the doppleganger's cloak was pinned back with a very elaborate clasp… one Hiccup was sure he had seen before…

Then it hit him. It was a peony, with a crown encircling its base. He'd seen it worn by Jack's father, many years ago.

It was the symbol of the Carusellen King-Consort.

The doppleganger glanced between Hiccup's stunned face, and its own chest. He gave Hiccup a secretive smile. "Now, you can see yourself as everyone else does."

"My father doesn't see me wearing that." Hiccup mumbled, dazed.

The doppleganger laughed. "True. But you don't see yourself as chief, do you?" It quirked a brow at him. "Otherwise, I'd be wearing Berkian colours."

Hiccup shook his head numbly. "I like the Carusellen colours better…"

The doppleganger gave him a considering look, head cocked to the side. "I can see that… but… hmm…" he frowned deeply. Hiccup felt his fingers flexing with a brand new bout of nerves as this new rendition of himself regarded him. Finally, it fixed Hiccup with a meaningful look. "Are you sure blue is your colour?"

Before Hiccup could reply, the figure seemed to fade away into nothing. Hiccup lunged forward, trying to grab at the apparition before it dissolved – he had to make it explain what it meant by that! But it was futile. The figure's elaborate robes turned to smoke in his fingers. Hiccup growled, frustrated.

Obviously, there were no clear answers in the Realm of Phoenixes.

"Hiccup?"

Hiccup resisted the urge to groan, fling his head upwards and ask the phoenixes why? – mostly because he was already in their realm, so looking upward would be pretty pointless. So instead, he turned to face the voice that sounded remarkably like Jack, expecting it to be a ruse again, or maybe another violent fake.

This Jack was stood still, dressed in his usual blue silk attire. He looked pleased to see Hiccup – and not in an 'Oh good, you're here. I can kill you now' way either. He moved to Hiccup's side, not seeming surprised when Hiccup didn't move or respond. He hummed, smiling a little wanly. "They tricked you too, huh?" he asked, prodding his Sel'a's shoulder.

At his touch, Hiccup could feel the warmth spread through him, like finally feeling the sun's heat again after a long winter. He looked down at this Jack with new eyes. "That…is really you, isn't it?"

Jack clicked his tongue, exasperated. "Well, this is good. You can't even tell if I'm real or not. Heavens preserve us."

Hiccup finally laughed, before grabbing Jack around the waist and hugging him tightly. "Fares, I'm so glad you are alright. Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere!"

Jack let himself burrow into Hiccup's embrace, sighing gently. As long as he was here, in Hiccup's arms, things would be okay. That, and Hiccup couldn't see his eyes – eyes that Jack knew were now probably dark with secrets. Fares, how he was coming to hate the Moon Dragon. How could she ask this of him? And to keep it from Hiccup? That went against everything had ever asked Hiccup for.

How could he expect Hiccup to earn his trust, when he was keeping secrets from him?

-:-

Ancient goddess of love or no, Jack had a very strong urge to punch Jacquelina in the face. He glowered up at her, whilst Hiccup at his side looked somewhat confused. He had started to do the whole respectful ritual of bowing and announcing yourself and your intentions, but Jack had simply told him it wasn't necessary.

Alright, perhaps he snapped rather than told. But really, after their earlier conversation, Jack wasn't feeling one jot of respect right now.

The Moon Dragon had merely given Jack a fond look, like a grandmother amused by her petulant grandchild's antics. But Jack did catch the warning in her eyes – a cold glare, barely noticeable for anyone else. Hiccup wouldn't have seen it, but to Jack the message was clear; Stop sulking, you'll give the game away.

At this point, Jack really didn't care.

He'd barely been paying attention to the conversation between Hiccup, but then he heard his name being mentioned, and he immediately perked up. "Sorry, what?"

Jacquelina gave him a berating look. I was just saying – Hiccup found you beyond his own realm for a good reason.

Jack rolled his eyes. "We already talked about this."

Hiccup nodded in agreement. "Yes – I had thought the same thing; if I was meant to stay in the Archipelago, why did I find Jack in Caruselle?"

Simple. The Moon Dragon responded. You weren't.

"Weren't?" Hiccup asked, again puzzled.

You were meant for greater things than the Archipelago, Hekairen. I'm sure – after your time here in the Realm of my husband and his siblings – you know this to be true.

Hiccup blinked up at her, before his cheeks seemed to flush a little. He choked slightly, coughing as he looked back up at the Moon Dragon, flustered. "Are- are you saying that vision – the one from the fire – it could become truth?"

Jack gave Hiccup a questioning look, which Hiccup ignored. Regardless, the blush in his cheeks travelled down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. Even if Hiccup refused to share, the sight of him so flustered – Jack had to admit – was adorable.

The Moon Dragon gave Hiccup a kindly, knowing smile. Yes. It is possible. It is the path your heart seeks the most after all.

That piqued Jack's interest even more. He gave Hiccup a beseeching look, but the Mûnthan Prince, for all his lack of composure, still refused to meet Jack's eyes.

It is for that reason, she continued, that I will not give you my blessing, Hiccup. Hekairen D'Relva Berk Munthos, I hereby decree you unworthy of the title Tribe Chieftain.

If the circumstances had been different, Jack might have found mild amusement in how quickly Hiccup's face went from flush red to sheet white. But the circumstances were as they were. And Jack was not amused.

"Wait. What?" he growled, glaring at the glittering moon goddess once more. "He has been made to face fear and flame, his own inner demons, the most ridiculous riddle known to man, plus weigh and question his own morales and fight his own father, for Fares sake! All for you to decree him unworthy?!"

By the end of his tirade, Jack knew he was screeching. But this was the last straw. She could throw her Fares damned secrets at him, force him to keep a distance between himself and Hiccup, even demand Jack's silence when everything in him screamed otherwise.

But no-one, not even a Goddess, could tell Hiccup he was unworthy.

Not on Jack's watch.

The Moon Dragon watched as Jack practically leapt to Hiccup's defence. Even Hiccup looked a little taken back by it, his eyes a little wider than usual, flicking between Jack's set determination and her own passive expression.

With a sad smile, she sighed and shook her head. I have asked too much of you, Jack. Forgive me. She turned to face Hiccup again, the bitter smile on her face still there. Hiccup, this is my gift to you; You are not worthy of a mountainside tribe in the middle of the Sea of Cloud. You are worth so much more, and a great destiny awaits a soul like yours.

Jack gave her a look that was a mix of outrage and disbelief. She laughed bitterly at his expression, and moved to stand before Jack, her hair flowing gracefully out behind her. He glared up at her, daring her to make an untoward move.

My gift to you, Jack, is ignorance. I will lock away your memories of this place and all that occurred here. You will get them back when the time is right.

Before he or Hiccup could do anything – protest, demand answers, even make a clever remark – she had already swept her hand across Jack's forehead, wiping clean the memories of the misty netherworld. He tried to clutch at the memories, for despite the distance it put between Hiccup and himself, that information was critical to defeating the Black Plague. It was the key.

"Why…" Jack whispered woozily. "Why tell me…then…this?"

As the world seemed to fade in an out, he could barely hear the Moon Dragon's reply. You were not ready. Neither of you. Now – I have answered all your questions.

The earth seemed to spin beneath his feet. Jack could feel the world tilting, or was that him. He blindly reached out, and his hand somehow found Hiccup's – warm, long fingers with burns and callouses. He smiled, despite himself. Then, he could feel himself falling…

It is time you both went home.

[1] "Fuck him. Fuck him and his Rite." - Hiccup

[2] "Shit… Dragon shit." – Hiccup (who is feeling extra eloquent today).

[3] "Because the phoenixes are dicks?" – Astrid. (At this point I'm just using Mûnthan as a means of swearing without actually swearing. I have a whole two pages on Mûnthan slurs – might as well use em!)