Omphalos (Hiccelsa)

Chapter 37

On instinct, Calder snapped his leg back, letting the sole of his boot connect squarely with Unn's already misshapen face. His father howled as he stumbled back, and Calder watched with a sense of justice as blood spurted between the fat fingers on his face. He crumpled over, his injured shoulder finally connecting with his brain, and Calder's attention turned back to Ophelia.

She looked so pale; so awfully pale. He could tell she was still breathing because of the cool puffs of breath that exited her lips into the gradually cooling night on Berk, but it was growing weaker, and weaker.

He wanted to hit himself. No; he wanted that to be him! He'd seen this happen, all before, from the dragonesse. She'd shown Ophelia flying in front of him, the sword slicing through her stomach, and her falling on the ground. He'd been trying to stop what he already had a feeling was fate...

But the dragonesse hadn't shown him the ending. Ophelia might die.

The crushing weight of the choice he'd have to make fell upon him like a tsunami. Take Ophelia away from the fight, try to save her life, or finish Unn once and for all. His father, although right now indisposed on the ground, wouldn't stay there forever. He feared that by the time he'd dealt with the monster, Ophelia's eyes would be glassy, her usually rose-stained cheeks white.

Save Ophelia, or do what he'd been searching for his entire life?

His eyes flickered frantically between the two; Unn, Ophelia, Unn, Ophelia. Biting his lip, he chose. He felt stupid for ever considering one over the other.

Ophelia was lighter than usual, and he couldn't tell if it was just his imagination. As he scooped her up in his arms as delicately as he could, unsure wether he should pull the knife from her gut now or later, his father gave a gravelly cough behind him.

"Run boy. Never though I raised a coward."

It was a lure. It took every fiber of being in Calder's body to ignore it. But, when he looked at Ophelia, and her rapidly relaxing body, the fears and questions of war and his father's fate fizzled away.

Ophelia might die, and he'd never forgive himself. How could he?

Half-way up the ridge, after dodging people left and right, he stopped dead in his tracks, watching a whole new brigade of people streaming down the hill, yelling with loud stick things that made bangs and dropped enemies like flies. A wide, exhausted and relieved grin spread across his face.

By Odin; Randolph had done it. He'd found Ophelia's real parents. They were comign to save him. He felt a flash of triumph when he turned for a moment to see the fear and terror as some of the men ran the other direction away from the peculair noisy weapons. It was the sweetest sight.

But he'd enjoy the view later, if there was any view left to see. This calvary was doing quick work of the opposing side, and as they began to wan against the newest recruits, the dragons felt more confident to swoop down and help.

He had to say the astonished looks on the guard's faces were pretty funny too.

He went against the current of yelling men up the ridge, almost running smack-dab into a large person with broad shoulders and golden hair. He was aged, but still strong, and wielded the Berkian sword as if he'd practiced with it his whole life. Yet, when he saw Calder, his whole body just froze up. They were inches away.

His hand reached forward to almost touch Ophelia's cool cheek, but Calder jerked her away, unsure about who this guy was. Not just anyone could touch her, he thought with a flicker of anger.

"Who did this?" The man asked, his eyes rising in red fury, a kind of determination that Calder recognized quite well. It was the feeling he'd had directly after watching Ophelia fall, and as he'd kicked Unn's face. It was the sort of feeling of such unbridled violence; had Ophelia been taken care of by someone else, he would have ripped Unn's fingernails off and made him suffer, and wouldn't have felt guilty.

"Unn." Calder answered, spitting out the name, "Ugly guy. My hair color, about your size, scar circling his neck. Hard to miss." He had barley finished speaking before the large man had shoved him to the side, passing new guards as he tumbled down the slope. Calder bit the inside of his lip, preserving on. He could wonder about the strange encounter much later, after Ophelia was taken care of.

Up at the top of the ridge, far from the fray, was a woman who was setting up tents and helping the wounded into specific stations, mostly Vikings who couldn't see but were arguing they could still go back out and fight. His kind were stubborn in that way. He passed a furious Eret who was trying to explain that his entirely missing left arm, bleeding all over the place, wasn't that big of a deal.

"It's just a small flesh wound!" He defended, fighting against the woman who seemed to be in charge, "My wife is out there. I need to find her!"

"Nonsense. You'd get two feet before passing out!" She turned as she heard the frantic crunching of footsteps. Eret's whole face paled, and the woman rushed foward. Perhaps her look of absolute terror was mirroring his own, or maybe it was the fact of seeing a wounded warrior that seemed so young like this, or maybe it was something all together different that Calder would never know.

"She's hardly breathing." Calder heaved, trying to catch his breath, "Please, you have to save her." He said, and Eret made a strangled sound.

"Ophelia..." He murmured, "You're...alive?" He sounded shocked. The woman frowned, looking at Ophelia differently after hearing her name. Maybe she had been in Arendelle when she was young, Calder wondered. Either way, she called three other woman to her, and ushered Calder into the tent to set her down on a low bed roll.

"Is she going to be okay? She looks really sick. Please, you can save her, right?" He asked.

"I can't do anything with you lurking around me like a shadow!" The woman snapped, and Calder stiffened, "If you want to be helpful, go back and fight and win this battle."

Calder shook his head frantically, "No. I can't. She needs to wake up. I need to be here when she does." He said. There must have been a desperate tone to his voice that the woman recognized for something else, but at this point Calder still had not, because her eyes softened.

"Fine." She said, "Do you know how to cauterize a wound?" She asked. Calder raised his eyebrows.

"Yes?"

"Go out and get that dark-haired Viking to cauterize his arm. He'll bleed out within minutes if not attended to, besides, he seems to trust you." She said with a quickness to her voice, and Calder nodded, but still didn't want to leave, watching the group of women hurry around Ophelia's feckless body.

The woman looked up, annoyance clouding her face. "What are you standing around for? Go! After you do that, the other nurses will tell you where to put vikings. Talk some sense into some of them, please."

Calder stumbled back outside, to where Eret was still standing, holding his bloody stump. It still was dripping periodically, and Eert did look a little woozy. He objected as Calder sat him down, and unsheathed one of his knives from Eret's weapon holder.

"Just, stay still." He sighed, holding it in a fire in the middle of the assemblage, and before Eret could object, grabbed his arm and pressed the blade to the flesh.

"Oi! What the hell, mate!" Eret yanked his arm away, looking at the burnt flesh at the end of his stump, but luckily, it was not bleeding anymore.

"Nurser's orders." Calder said. Eret glared at him, grumbling about children before loping back off to the battlefield. His vigor to Tuffnut was familiar, her realized, as he looked back at the tent Ophelia was in.

Someone was snapping near his face. "You, Viking boy!" A woman was up near his body, "Are you going to go back to battle, or actually help around here?" She asked. Calder licked his lips.

The thirst of battle called to him like the sweetest fruit, for it was in his blood. It killed him to imagine his friends down there fighting their asses off, while he was up here. An yet? Ophelia, and the thought of her supine on the cot and her deathly pale face, dissolved all those feelings. He couldn't imagine trying to fight, always wondering if it was too late? If she'd already slipped away?

"Here." He answered after a moment of silence, plunging his sword far into the dirt, "What do you need of me?"

OMPHALOS

"Anna!" Elsa leapt up, "I...how...you...oh!" She threw herself at her sister, hugging her so tightly that it hurt her whole body. But oh, she didn't care. It was the most wonderful sort of pain she could imagine.

"Randolph came to us. He said you guys were in the middle of a war." Anna hugged her back, but began to retreat, "Which...we're sort of in the middle of right now. Hugs later?" She asked, smiling. Elsa felt tears on the edge of her vision and wiped the away.

"When did you get so logical?" She laughed, her throat dry from the emotional turmoil she'd experienced in a mere half-hour.

"When did you get so badass?" Anna motioned to her whole ensemble of clothing, "Wow." She winked.

Lykke was still screaming, and a small group of men hoisting the Southern Isles sigil on their clothing, and Anders came slicing through the group. HIs whole face lit up at the sight of Elsa.

"Queen Elsa!" He said. Elsa stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Anders, I didn't know you could fight." She said, jaw dropping.

"It's a little more difficult than mere fencing my dear, but not too hard." He said, "It's rather enjoyable, to be honest." He said, and Elsa's stomach curled in a wince. That sort of thing was something that Hans would enjoy. War.

Her eyes slid over to Lykke, who was being carted away by at least eight men. Anders followed her gaze.

"It's about time." He huffed, "I hate that all the people terrorizing you come from the Southern Isles. We're mostly good, you do realize?"

"Of course." Elsa agreed hastily, "A unfortunate coincidence. Are you going to...?" She trailed off.

"Kill her?" Anders frowned "Yet to be seen. Not here, at least. We'll take her back home for a reasonable trial and well...we shall see." Anders whistled to a guard who had just stumbled away from a one-on-one battle, "Grab that hand. Might as well take all of our belongings." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. The young guard looked like it was the least desirable job in the world.

"I think we're winning, with your help." Elsa looked around, but did not relax. Not until every vermin scum was swimming away, raising their white flags. As the arrival of the help proved, the winners of war could change in a second's time.

Even so, as Lykke was carried away screaming bloody murder and obscenities at the guards holding her fast, a wave passed through the battlefield. It was a wave of uneasiness from their opponent's side for the first time, as Elsa saw before her eyes a third of the group start to detach from trying.

She had understood from the spewing hate in the battle, and bragging rights of Lykke's men, that they were mostly paid warriors. Few were particularly dedicated to her cause; and if they were, it was likely they were fighting for Unn or Drago specifically. Now that their promise of gold, land, and revenge for whatever they pleased was being carted away before their eyes, their perseverance began to wan. Slowly, their moves slipped up, a few started backing away. Some tried to even attack the guards with Lykke, but were plowed over swiftly by guns.

It wasn't long until most were abandoning all together, yelling and shoving past other fights as they streamed back into the cool water to where the boats were somewhat on fire.

For the first time in the many hours since the fight had begun, Elsa saw the glimmer of success at the end of the day.

But the disappearance of a third of the fighting force didn't deter the rest to much. Why would it? They were Vikings, and these men were the most violent and ruthless there was. Elsa stabbed a guy through his spine without thinking about it after watching one of Unn's men crack the neck of a child out collecting the wounded and dead. Her motherly instinct screamed in agony to watch the tiny, lifeless body fall to the ground, and she wondered whose tribe this boy hailed from? Anna spat at the man's body in fueled disgust.

"I know." Elsa said, frowning, shaking her head, "It's..." her throat dried, unable to speak.

"We can stop this by winning. I don't know if they'll be able to stand against our men much longer." Anna assured her with a note of positivity, but her body still shook like a leaf.

"Together." Elsa squeezed Anna's hand for reassurance, and Anna's smile was a thousand suns.

"Of course." Anna swung her sword around pointing it outward, "I think it's a little hot, Elsa." She stated loudly, obviously, "Perhaps a snow storm should cool things down?" She was grinning.

"Oh," Elsa felt the coolness creeping in from behind her, "I think you're quite right." The ice spread underneath her feet, racing across the torn-up grass like a fire, and the whole island seemed to drop by thirty degrees.

Before, Elsa hadn't even considered the possibility of being able to create such anger. She'd only done this once; with fear. While she was afraid now, it was not the same type of fear. She'd attempted once before, in her early years here, but was unable to. She had theorized then that she hadn't been able to create a snow storm because she wasn't' afraid enough, that she could want it deep down and it would appear; maybe it didn't work like that.

But now she realized, it did.

Maybe she needed Anna her, encouraging it, to juxtapose her first time. Because at the most core part, at the end of this, Hiccup could give her all the love in the world but nothing would feel as sweet and melt the ice as much as seeing her sister once again; alive, beautiful, and fighting with her.

OMPHALOS

Hiccup started laughing when the ice front came in, freezing certain people (the enemies) to the ground, and chilling the air. The wind was picking up, and soon it would be impossible to see, much less fight. His laugh was unprecedented, and it continued, like something was broken and he just couldn't stop.

Elsa was alive; it was glaringly obvious now. He was so relieved.

Toothless landed next to him, looking at the snow, frightened. He hissed fire at the coming storm, melting parts of the ice, and glaring at Hiccup.

"Buddy, we need this. I don't think we can fight much longer." Hiccup assured him, patting his back, "Elsa's alive, she's alive, Toothless."

Toothless sighed, because how could he be upset when his rider was so obviously elated by this snow, as odd of an occurrence it might be. He shot up off the ground, above the snow, where the other dragons were mingling, likely to inform them that yes-this was meant to happen.

Elsa was alive; one less worry on his mind. His mother popped into his thoughts next, and he frowned, for he hadn't seen her at all yet either. And he worried about her much more than Elsa. While she'd been a decent fighter in her youth, she was a grandmother now, and her age was beginning to show. She always denied it, bustling around and keeping herself agile, but after hours upon hours of continued fighting, he couldn't imagine she was faring well still.

Most of the battles were waring down. The enemies were reacting poorly to the storm, and the addition of all these people that seemingly came from nowhere but were wearing his symbols and fighting with him were really helping. He grabbed a man out of the blue, turning him to him.

"You, kid. Where in the hell did you come from?" He asked.

"Arendelle." The soldier broke from his grip, "Man, Vikings are intense!" He said, hopping from foot to foot before he went back into the fight. Hiccup stood, not processing.

Had he heard wrong? Arendelle? But...how?

A familiar cry broke him from his confusion.

"Mom!"

He turned and ran, pushing through the men, straining his eyes through the ice and snow to find her. Every female body on the ground gave him a moment of panic that it would be her, still bleeding, still warm. It made him look at the faces, something he'd been trying not to do until now, and he registered many as people he knew. Each one sat like a stone in the bottom of his stomach.

All these people dead. All...all partially his fault.

Suddenly, he came upon Valka. Not dead; thankfully.

She was, however, facing up against Drago. And she was failing. She was bleeding all over, and her arm shook holding the sword. Cloudjumper had come down, and was batting at Drago and shooting flames, but he too looked weary and tired.

"Take her out of here, you hear?" Hiccup yelled to Cloudjumper, "I will take this."

"Hiccup, I can still fight. I need to. This man he-,"

"I know what he did." Hiccup felt a sense of dread rise up in his throat, and he was back on the island, watching his mother cry over the cold body of his dad, "That's why I need to do this."

Valka seemed ready to argue, but Cloudjumper carefully grabbed her, and he wondered if she'd rebel against it. Finally, she relaxed, "Kill him." She whispered, "Don't go easy on him. No mercy."

The hardened expression on her face scared Hiccup, but he understood. In other situations, he might let the sinner atone for their sins, in punishment and capture, but death was something he was getting all too familiar with today.

And he could have never considered letting Drago go free; not this second time. He'd given him a second chance before, banishing him when Toothless became the Alpha, but clearly it had been proven to be a foolish move, since he was back to terrorize them. If he didn't finish this now, who knows if it might ever stop? Besides, there was still a darkness that had incubated all the years within him; the guilt, the regret, the anger, the venom that all was trapped away the moment his father jumped in front of the beam to save his son.

While the darkness of his own guilt had mostly been healed throughout the years by Elsa, there was still a nugget, a small shrapnel in his heart that seemed to overtake his limbs. He welcomed it. He needed this; this fury. He was tired, exhausted, thirsty, and bleeding. But this anger, it gave him strength. It reminded him what needed to be done, for his own sake.

He was going to burry his darkness with Drago's corpse. He was going to do this so it would never come out again.

"Hiccup. You still look the same." Drago acknowledged him, as Hiccup met his hard glare, "It's the eyes. Still the eyes of a little scared boy too far over his head." He mocked. Hiccup tightened his grip on his sword, shaking his head. He wasn't going to let Drago get into his head. Not again, not today.

Drago had kept his strength in the years away. He was still able to be a hard opponent against Hiccup. If either had been more rested, had a break, came late, then this fight might have been a different story. Being equally tired though, they were evenly matched. It held a stark reminder in the back of his head; that no matter how much he'd practiced over these years, refined his skills, in raw hand-to-hand combat, he was still only at the level of a man many years his senior. Seeing the way even Fishlegs moved with a sort of terrifying fighting way and he did not made him seize up in anger, frustration.

The sword Elsa had given to him on his wedding day clattered to the ground while he was thinking.

He couldn't afford to get distracted with his thoughts.

He went to grab it up, but Drago's knife came down squarely on the backside of his palm, the knife-tip making an awful grating noise as it went through the bone and muscles and dug into the dirt, inviting in infections and mud to the laceration.

Hiccup yowled in pain, and with a strength he didn't know he possessed, found it in himself to yank it from his hand throwing it aside. His dominant hand now useless, he fumbled to get a good grip on the sword on the ground, but it was easily kicked from his slippery fingers.

The wind was kicked out of him. Somewhere inside of him screamed that this, as much of a fighter he might not be, wasn't him. He wasn't' this weak. His father, the overwhelming thoughts, was getting to him. He'd gotten so used to shoving down the darkness that now he wasn't sure if he could let it out if he tried.

The ground was icy, and he slipped a bit trying to get up, the cool felid now slippery with the sanguine blood running between his fingers.

His father hadn't bled; not a drop of blood had been shed that day from him. It had all be internal; someone had theorized once when they thought Hiccup wasn't in the room that his insides has been burned into non-existence by Toothless' power.

And here he was, bleeding. Bleeding all over the goddam place from a hand wound- and hell, he might lose his hand after this too, you know- and that's how his father should have gone. Not protecting a kid like him that hadn't even been the most grateful son or easiest but in a flying flame of glory, with actual scars to prove his worth to Valhalla, not just the coldness left in his body that looked like-when they put him on the pyre- he might merely be asleep.

His father had always been there for for him, up until the very end. And currently, Hiccup wasn't even sure where Ophelia was. She could be dead- Unn claimed she was dead- and he was powerless and left alive and that made him more angry that any other thought in his mind.

And it was the thought that he was almost sure Drago had something to do with that too.

It was everything that came crashing through to him all at once, an anger so hard it made him stumble when he tried to stand again, and he wanted to hurt Drago. He wanted to see him bleed out on the ground. He wanted his men to look at his mangled body and have no doubt in their minds he was dead, not sleeping, but dead and cold and never coming back. Never hurting anyone, enslaving dragons, messing with their thoughts...controlling them.

A sword was half-frozen in the ground, the ice creeping up the hilt. He made a desperate lunge toward it, having the smallest realization that it was his father's own sword- the one his mother had taken out fighting with her- and he forced his bloody fingers to lock hard around the handle.

He heard Drago's war cry as the man came at him, sword raised, and Hicucp knew that he could dive away- and loose the only weapon he saw right now so perfectly there- or try to get a hit in.

Yanking with all his might, he broke it free from the icy hold, and swung up and around just in time to slice all the way up Drago's body. There was the moment of surprise, of shock, as the sword came up like slicing water, up his chest and over his neck. Drago didn't see it coming, not in the realm of possible outcomes, for his arrogance had been too steep, and Hiccup had been too angry to let anything else happen.

Just like that, it was over. Drago was dead.

Just like how quickly it had been over for his father.

As Drago fell down, blood draining onto the frosty dirt, Hiccup's whole body felt like jelly. His good leg gave out underneath him and he felt his whole body just sort of fall almost down to a horizontal position, but his elbows kept his body up.

The anger drained from him too, leaving his body like malleable clay. Around him, the din of war grew quieter as more men fled back to the water. There were joyful calls of triumph that vaguely entered his mind; the war was over.

Hiccup did not move, he was immobilized to the spot where he sat. He felt the coldness recede, a warmth of fall return. He saw the water running down the slope, mixed with blood, as it all slid toward the ocean, the incoming waves frothy pink.

There was a thunder of footsteps beside him, a familiar clanking sound. He turned to see Gobber, breathless, staring at Drago's motionless body.

"Hiccup..." He whispered, and knelt next to the chief. He unclasped Hiccup's fingers from the sword hilt, and Hiccup registered the clank as the sword fell from him. His hand, now released from it's one job, fell numb and painful at every minuscule movement.

Hiccup cried.

Now that the anger was gone, that little shred of darkness defeated, all that was left was the crippling sadness about Stoick dying too soon, too young. He'd never gotten the chance to properly mourn, not with the war against Drago then, and then afterwards shoving it all away, but he felt it all come back to him like he was young again, the day it all happened.

Gobber let him embrace him, patting Hiccup's back knowingly. "It's over, you did it." He murmured quietly, and Hiccup didn't even try in this moment to pretend like everything as okay and he could just get up and move on.

He saw now, with a nod to his past self, this was what he should have allowed of himself all those ages ago. Mourn properly for all that he'd lost.

And now, he cried for those dead in this battle too.

Soon the tears dried themselves, and he felt a bit lighter. He felt better, stronger, more able to face things as they were bound to come in these coming days after where everything here needed rebuilding and many people would need comforting. He couldn't have very well expected himself to be able to help them when he himself was too saddened by his own anguish.

Gobber led him up to a place where medical tents were set up, and people were all being attended to. Gobber led him right up, and people moved away like the broken sea to let him pass. Even in those fighters he did not know, a current passed through with the unspoken knowledge of his status.

"This is Chief of the whole thing, Hiccup." Gobber introduced him to one of the nurses, and lifted Hiccup's hand, "And well...yeah."

The woman sat him down immediately, worrying over the hole that went through one side and out the other, and tried to get him indoors, but he insisted on sitting outside to be able to see the ragged people return. He liked to also look across the bay too and see the enemies who had survived struggling to get of this island before they were captured or killed. The day was just changing from dark to morning; and it was crazy to imagine nearly 24 hours ago, this battle had begun.

While he couldn't tell how many of the turncoat tribesmen were left, he guessed not many, because he knew from other experiences those that felt betrayed fought a little harder against those sorts of people. He wouldn't be surprised if Hobsag's whole tribe was gone at this point, but he did feel a little bad, as he nursed that thought. He'd met some men on an occasion or two from all the tribes that had chosen to fight against him...to think that their best case scenario right now was a merciful capture was a grim thought. Yet, this is what happened to the loses or a war, he reminded himself.

Someone handed Hiccup a ladle of water and he drank like the thirstiest man on earth, so they kept them coming. Many people came to nod their respects to him, even those that weren't his own tribe or even- as it seemed- his own time. Something had changed amongst the people, although he couldn't place it.

He didn't know how, but yes, there were people from Elsa's tribe-erm, kingdom- here. It reminded him to find her, after he was released.

As the woman worked sewing his hand, he spotted Calder buzzing around helping others across the medical clearing. A wash of relief tingled down to his toes; Calder was alive; that meant that was a good chance Ophelia and the others were too. Maybe he hadn't lost her!

After what seemed much longer than the fuss about a little wound, even Toothless who had came to his side was whining at, he was told he was good to go. Any other wounds on his body was easily fixable and non-threatening, and he told the woman sternly to help the others before him, chief or not.

He stood on shaky legs to go to Calder, stumbling out into the main open area where everyone was congealing to re-find each other, and felt his leg metal leg lock. Sighing in frustration he leaned down to un-clog the cogs, and something came out of nowhere, hitting him like a projectile.

"Oomph!" He hit the ground hard, and blinked against the rising sun, feeling someone hug around him like this person was never going to let him go.

His first guess was Elsa, but she would have kissed him, so his next assumption was Camacazi. But when he came to a half-sitting position, then standing with the person, he saw blond hair with graying bits in it, and his heart rose up in his throat.

"Astrid..." He whispered, and by muscle memory, hugged her back. No, but his own will. It had been so long for this too, and he didn't even know how she'd came back, but she had.

But when he pulled back to look into her eyes, and she was crying, he recalled so much had changed.

For a couple seconds, they just took in each other's faces. It was hard to act toward her bitter or uncouth, because even though they had literally grown apart by years and time, it wasn't so long ago they ere not merely lovers, but best friends. And he'd come to miss things about her, thing he never thought he'd get to see again.

"You look...so grown up." Astrid spoke first, her voice rough with age.

"And you..." Hiccup was honestly a bit overtaken by her appearance. There was no way they were the same age anymore; no, she had to be at least a good ten years a head of him now!

"Where have you...how..." Hiccup tried to from a question, but the words clogged up in his throat, but she got the point.

"An Omphalos, give or take 1000 years ahead. I managed to, I think by fate, end up in Anna's castle, albeit after about ten years of wandering around. Which means I'm finally older than you, Hic." She said hitting his arm in an oh-so familiar way, and he actually laughed. In their dating years, it had always been a roll of her eye when he reminded her that despite for most of his life being shorter, he was indeed almost a whole year older than she was.

"You're hurt!" The shock escaped Astrid's lips and she grabbed his hand gingerly, her fingers tracing circles around his palm. It made him feel funny; it was sort of a romantic move. But he let it go- maybe he was misreading it.

"It's fine. You know, awesome battle scars. Are you okay?" He searched her, for she was drenched in blood, but a grin escaped her.

"Not mine," She rubbed some blood from he neck, although it didn't do much to change her blood-stained appearance, "Odin, I missed fighting so much! The fencing people in Anna's castle are seriously amateurs, and the guards never wanted to fight me. Scared, I think." there was a glimmer of amusement in her face, and it made Hiccup chuckle.

She was still rubbing his skin, and he jerked his hand away a little too fast for common responses.

It took a moment, but the inescapable awkwardness appeared soon after, as they stared at each other. Astrid held her gaze, while Hiccup felt he eyes float to the ground.

"You know our engagement was never officially ended." She said quietly. Hiccup snapped his head up, frowning a bit.

"Everyone declared you dead, Astrid. Grounds for destroying of pretense."

"Well," She said bitterly, "I'm not dead."

"You expected me to wait." He realized all at once "You out of everyone should have...have..." he blubbered, "You know how the council is."

"I know, they would have forced you eventually, but couldn't I hope that you ignored them all, because you loved me? Or after all these years you still do?" There was a shining moment of hope in her eyes, one Hiccup felt awful that just just couldn't entertain. Not anymore, not after all these years with Elsa, who he was 110% sure was his soul mate.

"Oh, Astrid." His voice was gentle, and she stiffened, "I'm married to Elsa."

"But couldn't' you...maybe you..." Her voice was shivering, breaking.

"I had four kids with her, it wasn't out of merely duty. I...we..." He sighed, looking at the ground. He was always shit in talking during moments like this, the awful ones, "I love you as you, but not in the way you want me to still love you. I suppose you knew where I was in exact detail when you were gone, but I don't think after awhile- even when I didn't know Elsa- I wouldn't have been upset if fate had brought you to someone else."

"There was never anyone else. There never could have been." Astrid said firmly, tough trying to maintain her strong tone.

And he wondered, briefly, in that moment, if it was possible other people could have soulmates that were already matched too. The world was an imperfect place, so it might have been the double-edged sword in life that while he and Elsa might have been soulmates, perhaps he was Astrid's, but Astrid was not his. It might be impossible in most cases that these clashes would ever face, but now...he really truly did wonder.

But there was also an accusation in her tone, a sort of anger at Hiccup for falling for Elsa when it was clearly marked as meant to be, as if that sort of thing could be ignored. He became defiant, rising up to stand tall, and now he was taller than she was.

"I'm not going to apologize. I love Elsa more than I love life itself, more than my own well-being. More than all of Berk."

It struck a chord with Astrid, because she was obviously recalling all the times he'd put Berk before her, saying that it was always going to be his first and foremost choice, but now he'd seen how wrong he was. That it was impossible to think that anything other than perhaps his own children with Elsa, or Ophelia which he'd raised with Elsa, could be more important than the beautiful white-haired woman.

"I see." Astrid stumbled back a bit, biting her lip.

"I'm...well, I'm sorry." He meant it.

"I know." Astrid sounded defeated, as she ducked her head, "I just need time to be alone. Process it, you know?" She questioned, and Hiccup understood. He almost said, 'we can still be friends' but he didn't' really feel like getting socked in the stomach. He was pretty sure her fist would still be just as painful as before.

He did hope, however, in time she'd forgive him and get over her pain, for now that she was back, he wanted to talk with her like the old times, and reconnect with their platonic relationship that they must have had underneath the kisses and hand-holding.

His eyes fixated on something across the field; Elsa coming in, arms slung around Anna- at least what he recognized from Ophelia's descriptions of her- and he didn't even feel his own feet moving until he was right up in front of her, inches away from her face. Her whole face broke with joy, and she grabbed his hair and pulled him into a shattering kiss. His hands wove into her dirty hair, one of her fingers knotting in his braids, the other sliding down his back to pull him closer. He pressed himself up against her more, wanting to feel every curve of his body to reassure himself she was fine. She was bleeding as much as he was, but Odin's Gift she was breathing and her kisses were the most addicting taste on the planet.

"Ahem!" Anna coughed behind them, and Hiccup felt Elsa hesitantly and unwillingly pull away, and even after their kiss ended, they were still inches apart, breathing in the scent of each other, eyes closed and enjoying the moment. That is, until Anna tapped his shoulder.

"Hi!" She said, waving jovially when he turned to her, still pulling Elsa to him because he didn't want to see her leave ever again, "I'm your sister-in-law. And I get you guys fought a way, but please get a room before you start going at it here and all." She winked, and Hiccup expected Elsa's face to blush red with embarrassment. Instead, she laughed, swatting her sister's arm.

"Anna!" She chastised.

"Oh, like I can't guess what the whole island will be doing tonight." Anna chuckled, "You guys included."

"Where's your husband?" Hiccup watched Elsa step away, between he and Anna with a twinge of protectiveness, but he let it go. Anna scratched her head.

"Not really sure." She said, "But his head is as hard as a rock. He's not dying anytime soon." She seemed blasé about it all, "So...I like your place." She nodded to the half-burnt trees and torn-up ground.

"It's looks better...when a war didn't just happen." He winced.

"Well obviously I would hope so."

He grinned; all those years of Elsa insisting she was exactly like Camaczi had been the most accurate comparison anyone could have made.

Across the clearing, families were reconnecting all together. He saw Asmund searching through the crowd, and flagged him down.

"Hey bud, let's find Jari, right?" He said, and the young boy nodded enthusiastically.

"He might be at the medical tents. Lykke got him pretty good on the arm." Elsa frowned.

"So what happened that crazy woman?" Hiccup searched the ground for her.

"Lykke? Well, Anders came and got her. He's the king of the Southern Isles, and well, what they decide to do with her is the least of my concerns." Anna replied, and Hiccup agreed. To never hear her name again would be far too soon, even if it was only just now he knew her name. Once was more than enough to hear it.

They indeed found Jari being bandaged up at a med tent. His whole arm was a bloody mess, but Asmund thought it was the coolest thing in the world his dad would ahve an 'awesome scar', and the smile that this garnered from Jari was one of the best things Hiccup had seen yet. He pulled his only son close to him, and Elsa nodded toward the center again.

"Let's go over here, they should have their moment like anyone else." She suggested, leading them away.

They saw Snoutlout and Fishlegs, Thuggury and Ylva, and also Ragnar milling around, looking just happy to be alive.

"Wheres Cazi?" Hiccup wondered out loud, thinking of Jari and Asmund, "Hope she made it.

"You're kidding. If I had to bet on only one person making it out of this alive, it would be her!" Elsa exclaimed, and Hiccup mumbled in agreement.

He spotted her not far from the med-camps, flitting around to touch base with a lot of her girls from the Bogs, seeing their damage and hugging her friends. Hiccup's gaze slid back to Amsund, recalling the moment in the battle he'd seen. Asmund was explaining something with excitement, and pointing to Camacazi, no doubt telling his father about how a chieftess had saved his life, and knew their names!

Jari stood suddenly, and he searched until he found Camacazi. He strode with purpose across the clearing, and Camacazi saw him coming out of the corner of her eye, and her face changed to confusion.

He spun her around and kissed her in front of everyone, and the whole clearing cheered.

"Knew he was the father!" Snoutlout was saying to Thuggury enthusiastically, "Guess who owes me 10 jewels!" He nudged Thuggury happily in the side.

"How did you not know your own cousin was the dude?" Ragnar blinked in surprise, staring at the Meatheads leader.

"Well...I..." He tried to defend himself, but just groaned at his loss, "I'll figure out how to repay you after all this." He graciously admitted to Snoutlout, who was grinning ear to ear.

"Phew!" He looked back at Hiccup, "I knew that look you gave me eight years ago was right!"

"What?" Hiccup frowned.

"I asked you if the father was Jari. You gave me a weird look, and that's how I just knew it was him. Good thing too, because Thuggury was betting 30 jewels it was this other guy! I don't even know where I'd find that much stuff."

"Uhmm...you're welcome I guess?" Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck.

They were close enough to hear Asmund's first comment by the time he'd followed his father to where he still was in Camacazi's embrace.

"So...this is my mom?" He asked, and that's when Hiccup realized for that young, he was a pretty astute kid.

Camacazi couldn't even speak, but she got down on his level and hugged him close. Her whole body shook with tears.

"That makes me so happy." Elsa whispered, wiping her own tears away, "It's about time!"

There was some grumbling from the older bogs, that Hiccup heard.

"Tradition is that we don't know our fathers," One older bog hissed, "This goes against everything we set ourselves up for!"

"Oh shut it," Another bog cut in before Hiccup could intervene, "We just fought a war with almost all the tribes. And won. The very fact we all pulled together is pretty unthinkable, so I think a lot of the old traditions can go to hell." She said, leaving the woman gaping, "Besides...they're so cute."

They walked away, and Elsa was nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, changes are coming. I think it's the beginning of a new era." She realized, with a little smile on the corners of her lips. Hiccup nodded in agreement.

"Maybe it's time for whatever comes. I think it is."