I quite like the taste of the ocean.

It tastes of salt and a tinge of forlornness.

The lip of the ocean rises above the sands, only to fall within itself again. The tranquil waves soothingly massage my cheek.

There floats within its foams - a touch that echoes the bare hints of a whisper; that everything's going to be okay.

A mother tending to and calming her babe, scaring the monsters away after a bad, bad dream. A mother that one could only ever wish of having.

It was no later than a second that the ocean drove back, allowing me to revel at a new set of grains, eager to greet me - less than usual, this time.

How... underwhelming.

It was only a matter of time before the ocean comes to collect them again, letting me revel in front of me another cohort.

A smell sneaks into my nose, refreshing and gorgeous.

Amazing, the ocean...

It's ample opportunities.

Slowly, I crane my head to the side, heeding the ocean's every whim.

"Counting all of us now, are we?"

I flinch, shattering my enchanted gaze of the blue.

The grains. The gods-damned grains.

Their eyes eagle me, distaste in their tone.

"Gods, Hiccup," they all jeer, scorn present their rough, pale faces - apoplectic and disgusted. "Have you sunk rock-bottom."

Meekly, I could only ever reply to them: "Does it l-look like I-I have a-anything better to d-do?"

...

Wait...

What?

I audibly sigh, realisation soon dawning upon my pathetic excuse for a brain with the force of a hurricane debris.

By Odin's grace, help me, I am anthropomorphising sand.

I decide to agree with the sand's sentiments, as degrading as it was.

The ropes around my wrists are getting looser now; the wear and tear, gnawing away at the material.

It still stubbornly bears my arms, keeping them firm and rigid, limiting any semblance of mobility, as was intended; though, the tightness thankfully is not as tight as the first few minutes were.

Blood struggled to flow then.

Gods know what would happen if that were still the case.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, an amputee.

The mere thought gets under my skin. I just hope it doesn't get to my left hand when that happens.

However, knowing my luck, it will happen sooner than I expect. If only I had the energy to let out a chuckle.

It is getting darker now.

The once blue sky, now mixing with a comforting yet oddly melancholic hue of yellow. A little white starts to form from my ragged breath.

I can't feel my toes.

The foundations of the ropes that bond my legs and hands slowly shrouds itself into the depths of the rising waves.

The only part They didn't constrict was my neck.

It was so that I turn and stare hopelessly at Them as They skip away, coldly, methodically, back towards the comfort of home.

To relish in my suffering; to draw mental images in Their minds of their victim staring at the floorboards that connect the beach to the village.

To swim gleefully in the thought of my mental fortitude shattering to pieces as they walk slowly away... to the taste of freedom.

They angled my head facing the pathway to the village, after all.

Figures.

Exploiting the freedom to my neck, I savour what little light there is left to marvel at the vast blue.

The sheer wonder of the never-ending mass presents before me, as if I am, for once, worth some semblance of existence.

I hear it calling to me.

Beckoning, begging me to come forth.

To become one with its foams.

To paddle in eternal bliss within its deepest depths.

To feel like I worth something.

To consume me...

...

No. No.

Gods.

Never think like that again Hiccup. Never.

But...

I just feel so famished.

So parched.

So utterly drained.

The fact that the waning thought of death is slowly controlling me as I tire... it makes me break a cold sweat.

I... I can take Snotlout's harassing.

I can take the petty punches.

I can take the fact I am the worst Viking on the island, if not the world. All of that never bothered me.

And yet, being stranded here. All alone.

Against my will.

At the mercy of the tides.

With all the time in the world for myself.

To contemplate my existence.

To ponder.

All without any exertion of physical violence done to me...

That breaks me.

I shudder.

A subtle, weak colour of orange soon materialise from the frailty floorboards. Frenzied, frantic breaths were all my hearing could muster.

The colour reverberates with the ground. Somebody is heading my direction.

But I can't be bothered.

I am just...

Tired.

Tired and numb and...

Hysterical.

My head feels like the inner workings of a clockwork, slowly screeching to a halt as its surface soon wears.

I cannot hear the breathing now. Only soft, slowly silencing beats with no substance fill the void.

All I could think about now are the bright, shimmering stars in front of me. They are calling out to me.

Calling out by name. Soon, they got louder. More bombastic.

More eloquently dramatic.

Then, as a reward for my patience, the star-dotted sky opens up for me a majestic panorama in spectacular, awning wonder. Effortlessly, it grabs hold of my limp body.

Almost as gracefully as a swan.

It slowly, slowly lifts me into its never-ending abyss.

Where hopes and dreams may perish.

I let it.


A/N: There's a lot of build-up in this story towards the eventual Hiccup/Night Fury TF.

If you are new, give the story a shot! If you want, you can follow or even review this fic - any form of support motivates me to write! You may never know - you may like it.