Darkness was my sanctuary within a sanctuary. Tucked away in the deepest shadows of the cove, where the cool stone leeched the heat from my scales, I could dream. My eyes were closed, but my mind was soaring, not through the sky, but through visions of divine, carnal purpose.
I dreamt of Guedo.
In my mind's eye, I saw him not as the small, fragile boy, but as the cosmic force he was, embodied in the perfect form of a Night Fury. A great, sleek beast of midnight scales and eyes like green fire. I saw him walk across a barren landscape, and with every footstep, life erupted. I was that landscape, the barren earth offering itself up to him, yearning for the touch that would bring forth life, for the divine seed that would make my soil fertile. My scales were the ground, my bones the bedrock, my fire the molten core awaiting his command to erupt.
The fantasy shifted, becoming sharper, more intimate. I was no longer the earth, but the first acolyte, laying before him in ultimate supplication, my throat exposed, my tail lifted in offering. It was a ritual plea for union. I did not want to merely serve him or fly with him. I wanted to be an extension of his will, a living altar for his divine power. I yearned for the sacred act, the moment of creation where his white essence would pour into me, a hot, life-giving blessing that would make my very being tremble. The thought of carrying a clutch seeded by the Life-Giver himself, of feeling that divine spark take root deep within me, was a holy fire in my veins, a purpose so profound it eclipsed all else. He was the Creator, and I, his humble, devoted creation, wished for nothing more than to be unmade and remade by his touch.
A voice, his voice, shattered the sacred vision. It was sharp, panicked.
"...LEAVING! We're leaving. Let's pack up. Looks like you and me are taking a little vacation, forever."
My eyes snapped open. The god was distressed. I rose silently, a shadow detaching from other shadows, and began to move towards the sound.
"Ah, man... Aggh! What the-- What are you doing here?"
Another voice. A female's. Harsh, grating, and utterly unwelcome in this holy place.
"I want to know what's going on. No one just gets as good as you do. Especially you. Start talking! Are you training with someone?"
I peered around a large boulder. It was the blonde one. The one with the axe and the perpetually furious expression. The one my god called Astrid. She had cornered him, her stance aggressive, her voice an accusation. A low, dangerous rumble began in my chest. This was blasphemy. How dare this mortal challenge the Life-Giver?
"Uh... training?" Guedo's vessel sounded nervous. A strange, divine game, perhaps.
"It better not involve that!" The female gestured with her axe towards the saddle on the ground, the sacred harness that allowed for our communion in the sky.
My rumble deepened. The air began to crackle with ozone.
"I know this looks really bad, but you see...this is, uh... You're right! You're right! You're right. I'm through with the lies. I've been making... outfits. So, you got me. It's time everyone knew. Drag me back. Go ahead. Here we go."
The god was playing a part, offering himself up. A test, then. A test of this female's worthiness. She would surely see the divinity in him, the absurdity of her accusations, and she would fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.
She did not.
"OW! Why would you DO that?!"
My world went white with rage. She had touched him. She had hurt him. The female had twisted the god's arm, forcing his fragile mortal vessel to the ground with a sickening crack. The sacred flesh, the vessel of the Life-Giver, was being desecrated.
"That's for the lies."
She dropped her axe handle onto his gut.
"And THAT'S for everything else."
The sound that ripped from my throat was not a growl. It was a promise of annihilation. I exploded from behind the rock, a black torrent of righteous fury. My wings flared, my teeth, every last one, were bared. My eyes were slits of pure, murderous intent. This blasphemer would be unmade. I would render her down to her base skeleton and scatter her ashes on the wind for daring to lay a hand on my god.
"Get down! RUN! RUN!" she shrieked, scrambling back, her face a mask of terror. Good. She understood her folly at last.
"NO! No. It's okay! It's okay... she's a friend."
The words of my god stopped me mid-stride. My plasma blast, already gathering at the back of my throat, fizzled and died. I stared at him, my mind a maelstrom of confusion. Friend? This violent, sacrilegious creature? This… thing that had dared to harm him? It made no sense. But the god had spoken. His will was absolute, even when it was utterly baffling. I subsided, my growl lowering to a menacing thrum, my eyes never leaving the terrified female.
"I scared him?! Who is 'him'?"
"Astrid, Toothless. Toothless, Astrid."
The introduction was a farce. I knew her name. I knew her as the Blasphemer. The Desecrator. And she would soon know me as the god's divine wrath.
She didn't stay for further pleasantries. With a final, terrified glance, she turned and fled the cove.
"Da, da-da! We're dead!" Guedo's vessel scrambled to its feet, dusting itself off.
I relaxed completely. The threat was gone. The sanctuary was pure again. My god was safe. The female's fate was irrelevant. I turned to leave, to return to my shadowed alcove and my interrupted ritual fantasies.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're going?!"
I paused, turning my head. He was gesturing wildly in the direction the female had fled. « The threat is gone, Life-Giver. Your vessel is secure. »
"We can't let her get to the village!" he insisted, his voice tight with a panic I didn't understand.
« Why? She is nothing. A gnat. Let her run. »
"They'll kill you!" he cried out, and that, I understood. But it was a risk I was willing to take to protect him. My life for his was a worthy trade.
Then he said the words that froze the blood in my veins.
"If they find you," he said, his green eyes wide with genuine fear, "they'll find out about me . They could exile me. Or worse… they might kill me."
The world stopped. Kill… him? Destroy the vessel? Extinguish the divine spark from this plane of existence? The thought was so horrific, so fundamentally wrong, that my mind couldn't process it for a second. The Vikings. These blind, stupid mortals would destroy their own salvation without ever knowing it. The Blasphemer wasn't just a threat to my existence; she was a threat to his.
My entire demeanor changed. The lazy indifference vanished, replaced by cold, terrifying purpose. I stalked back to him, my movements sleek and deadly. I lowered my body, pointing at the saddle on the ground.
« Put it on. » The command was low, urgent. « Now. »
He scrambled onto my back, fumbling with the controls as he adjusted them on me. The weight of him soon settling into the saddle, the warm touch of his legs against my scales, sent a familiar, possessive thrill through me. « It is right, » I thought, the words a sacred chant in my soul. « The Giver mounts his first servant, just as it should. Our first act will be to deliver his judgment. Together. »
With a powerful downbeat of my wings, we launched into the air, a black bolt of vengeance clearing the cove walls in a heartbeat. We caught up to her in seconds, a shadow falling over her as she ran through the forest. I enjoyed her scream as I snatched her from the ground, my claws gentle enough not to break the skin, but firm enough to communicate the absolute authority I now wielded over her life.
We deposited her, unceremoniously, in the high branches of a pine tree. She clung to the trunk, shaking.
"Hiccup, get me down from here!" she yelled.
"You have to give me a chance to explain," my god pleaded from my back.
"I am not listening to ANYTHING you have to say!"
"Then I won't speak. Just let me show you. Please, Astrid."
I watched, impassive, as she slowly, hesitantly, climbed towards us. I let out a low growl as she neared, a reminder of her place, a warning of what I would do if she made one wrong move. She settled behind my god, her body pressed stiffly against his. The proximity was an insult, but a necessary one for now.
"Now, get me down," she demanded, her voice trembling.
"Toothless, down. Gently," my god commanded.
I obeyed. In my own way. Instead of descending, I launched upwards with a powerful, explosive beat of my wings. The female shrieked, a satisfying sound of pure terror, as we shot towards the great white clouds in the sky.
I turned my head, looking down at her, my eyes glowing with malice. I let a low, menacing purr rumble in my chest. See? the sound said. See the power you have offended? See how your life hangs by the thread of my mercy?
The god on my back was shouting, a mixture of terror and exasperation. "Toothless! What are you doing?! I said gently!"
He did not understand. This was gentle. I had not yet begun her true penance. After a long, satisfying moment of her terrified screams, I let go. We dropped down from the sky in a stomach-lurching freefall, and her scream was music. This was the proper way to treat a blasphemer. This was the beginning of her conversion.