"Give me a reason, Viggo – please give me a reason," Heather murmured to herself as she circled through the air around the two men, every nerve of her body straining to resist the urge to incinerate the dragon hunter here and now. If he made a single, even remotely threatening move towards Hiccup, it would be the last move he ever made. She wasn't surprised that he seemed to know this, as he was careful to keep that boulder between him and Hiccup and either remain seated or, when he stood, to keep his hands visible so the girls could see he had no weapon. Of course, he probably also knew how infuriating that was!

"What's going on down there?" Heather finally said aloud. "What are they talking about?"

"Stay on guard," Astrid warned her as a way of keeping her calm, although she was burning with curiosity, too.

The girls watched Viggo lean over the parchment he'd pulled out, but they couldn't hear him say, "I am willing to memorialize this deal now and end the bloodshed. Are you?"

Hiccup didn't buy it for a second. He glared at his enemy, not considering whether he should take the deal or not, but wondering what Viggo's ulterior motive was. What was he trying to trick them into doing this time? It would take more time than Hiccup was willing to spend standing in this field to figure it out. He realized that Viggo was simply asking for an answer now, not demanding it. Feeling like he was therefore playing right into his hands but unable to see any alternative, Hiccup finally told him, keeping his voice as flat as he could, "I'll need to think about it."

As he expected, Viggo showed no sign of impatience or disappointment but replied in a tone of utmost contentment, "Of course, of course – all leaders should receive counsel. But in the end, it's up to us, isn't it?"

Without waiting for permission, Hiccup wordlessly took the map, but Viggo made no move to stop him – he obviously didn't care how long or how closely Hiccup examined it. Looking forward to being able to think more clearly once he was away from the man, Hiccup rolled up the map and prepared to leave. Just after he had assumed they were done, however, he heard Viggo ask casually, "By the way, how's Heather? Bearing up well after losing her brother, I hope?"

Hiccup felt his blood speed up as if he'd just gone into a hundred-foot dive. The sight of the field and sea around him was swallowed up by a vision of smoke and flame, the sound of explosions surrounding him from all sides. He willed his mind back to the present, forbidding any part of his face or body to move and betray the rage, shame, and grief the words had stirred up. He had never before had so much difficulty restraining the desire to lunge forward and strangle the person in front of him. Was this what Dagur felt every day, every minute since he'd decided to stop giving into that impulse? The thought made Hiccup determined to find the strength to force himself to stay still and silent, even as he thought it would be easier to control a wild Whispering Death.

He might have saved himself the effort – Viggo looked perfectly satisfied by the effect of his words. His smug grin deepened as he closed his eyes briefly, shook his head, and clicked his tongue. "Such a tragedy. I'm so sorry for your loss, dear boy – it must have been quite a shock. I know it was for me. Who would have ever thought that Dagur the Deranged would be the one to save all the dragon riders from my brilliantly constructed trap? Well, he fought bravely – no Viking could hope for a better end. I don't believe I've yet congratulated you on your fortunate escape that day. Still, I would advise you not to grow complacent – he won't be there to save you again."

Hiccup felt his fists clench around the roll of parchment and his eyes narrow in murderous fury, but he was powerless to stop them. All the guilt he'd felt that day and for days afterward had returned in full force. Viggo's meaning could not have been clearer: Take the deal before you make a decision that will cost you and all your friends your lives when no one is around to sacrifice himself for you. You've already gotten one person killed – how many more people are you willing to let die to keep fighting me? It was impossible to say whether his hatred for the man before him or his disgust with himself for falling for his last trap was strongest at the moment. Which of them was more to blame for the results of that day? He could feel the guilty, grieving part of his mind winning as it told him that maybe agreeing to the truce was the right thing to do after all.

Fortunately for Hiccup, the very memories Viggo had brought up held him back. Dagur was right – everything Viggo did was a trap. Nothing he did or had was what it appeared to be on the surface. He could never be trusted. Hiccup's desperation to outsmart him had made him reckless last time; it would be unforgivable if he let it happen again. Dagur's final warnings to use his brain and question what seemed too easy revived his resolve to find out Viggo's real intent before he did anything.

Hiccup didn't know what sign he gave that he'd made his decision, but Viggo apparently figured it out somehow because he waited as if not wanting to interrupt his thoughts (or maybe he just didn't want to spoil the effect of his words) before saying, "It's just you and me now, Hiccup. We can both win this game. It's up to you. I admit, I would be sorry to see it end, even if my profits wouldn't be. It's so rare that great thinkers of our caliber find a worthy opponent, isn't it?"

There he went again with the flattery and gushing about the joys of "the game," as if he was sharing a mutual pleasure with a best friend! How arrogant could one person be? Did Viggo honestly think Hiccup found this fun? That he enjoyed risking his and his friends' lives to protect dragons from his army? That he respected someone who killed dragons for profit and valued his opinion? That he was honored that the madman considered him "worthy" enough to accept him as an adversary?

Hiccup knew, as he had since they'd first met, that if he told Viggo to spare the compliments, that he took no pleasure in this game and never had, that it made him sick every time the man called him his "worthy opponent," it would only make the game more fun for him. If he believed it. But Viggo acted as if he did believe it so sincerely and thoroughly that he would probably accuse Hiccup of being in denial. The most Hiccup could do was ignore all the ridiculous comments. Occasionally, like during the Buffalord incident, he got the satisfaction of knowing Viggo was disappointed by his non-reaction, by his own failure to get his enemy to show he was enjoying the game as much as he did, but that was all. Hiccup doubted he could ever make Viggo believe that if he had to have an arch enemy, he never would have chosen him. He much preferred fighting...

He'd done it again, revealed something, because Viggo suddenly asked him, "Do you still wish to continue?" He thought Hiccup had changed his mind about his offer, but what he'd just realized had nothing to do with that. It was, however, something he thought Viggo should know.

There was a brief pause of silence, then Hiccup said, "I wonder who you think has the best chance of winning this game if you're willing to end it in a draw."

Viggo's proud grin only broadened. "Confidence – I like that."

Hiccup allowed himself to smile now. "Why shouldn't I be? I mean, if Dagur the Deranged could see through Viggo Grimborn's plans, I should be able to." That did it. The reaction was nothing more than the instant disappearance of the smile, a hardening of the eyes, a stiffening of the limbs and shoulders, but it was more than enough to assure Hiccup he was aiming at the right target. "I am sorry to see him go so soon. He was a true friend after all, and one of the bravest, noblest warriors I've ever known. It's too bad we never got the chance to fight side-by-side. All we have are the years we spent fighting against each other. It's because of Dagur that the dragon riders found the Dragon Eye. That we left Berk and became the defenders of the archipelago. Without him, we'd just be a bunch of friends who like riding dragons and never left home. He made us what we are. He made us become stronger. I know he made me a better warrior. Nobody who didn't know him well would ever think so, but he was crafty. He made me think, look at things from different angles, take chances and try things I never would have considered. I can't imagine a more interesting arch enemy... or a worthier opponent."

With that, he turned around and walked away. Because he did so, he would never know he missed the chance to see what no human being had ever seen: Viggo Grimborn clenching his fist in frustration.

"How did it go?"

Ryker only asked the question out of custom, fully expecting the meeting would have gone just as well as his brother had predicted before he'd left. Hence his confusion when Viggo walked past him without looking at him, answering only with a curt, "As expected," as he entered his tent without taking even a moment to gloat over his latest victory or rave about how brilliant his opponent was.

This required elaboration. Ryker followed him in. His brother looked as serene as ever, but there was something off about him. Had Hiccup acted as he'd predicted, he would be playing with those stupid game pieces with that exasperating grin on his face like he had just made a record profit; had he not, he would be sitting down with his brow furrowed and his chin in his hand, calmly trying to plan the best countermove. Instead, he looked rather like he had the day they'd arrived to find a pile of rubble where they had last seen an impregnable marble fortress.

Viggo turned around to face who had followed him inside. "Prepare for departure," he said. "It shouldn't take Hiccup long to decide to go meet our friends, and we need to be ready and waiting when he arrives. Let me know when the ship's ready to cast off."

That meant he wanted to be alone until it was time to leave. Knowing better than to ask questions, Ryker left to carry out the orders but not without feeling only more confused. He couldn't figure out how his brother had looked just now. There was something odd in his eyes and demeanor – not exactly disappointed, or frustrated, or confused, or surprised, but some combination of all of the above. If it had been anyone else, he would have said it looked... almost like... jealousy.