warning: this chapter contains non-con related content
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The silence in the cove after the female, Astrid, had departed was a living thing. It was thick and heavy, filled with the unspoken horrors we had witnessed in the belly of the volcano. Hiccup paced back and forth on the small patch of grass, his silhouette a thin, anxious line against the moonlit stone. He muttered to himself, his words snatched by the breeze, but I could hear the recurring themes: "the ring," "a Monstrous Nightmare," "what am I going to do?"
I remained in the shadows, my body still thrumming with the adrenaline of our escape, my mind a churning vortex of fear and newfound purpose. The Queen's profane desire to use him as a tool had been a horrifying mirror, showing me the ugly truth of my own "devotion." The Guedo fantasy was a poison, a beautiful, gilded cage I had been building around him in my own mind. All that mattered now was the boy pacing in the moonlight. My Hiccup. And he was in more danger than he could possibly imagine.
He thought his greatest problem was a final exam in the kill ring. He had no idea that his very existence was a death sentence. The Vikings, in their ignorance, wanted to teach the dragon-taming boy how to kill. The Dragon Queen, in her terrible knowledge, wanted to enslave the Life-Giver. He was trapped between a hammer and a hellfire anvil, and he was completely, utterly unaware.
Frustration, hot and acidic, clawed at my throat. I had to tell him. I had to warn him. But how? I could nudge him with my head, warble a soft sound of comfort, but I couldn't explain the complexities of a tyrannical dragon monarch or the metaphysical properties of his own body. I was a prisoner in a cage of silence, rattling the bars to no effect while my friend walked blithely towards his own execution.
It was then that the memory surfaced, not as a whisper in the wind, but as a roar of ancient instinct deep in my blood. A tale of the First Time. A legend that spoke of the very first dragons, creatures of primal element and unbound will. The story unfolded in my mind, a fleeting image of a vast, star-dusted cavern, a sanctuary of my kind.
In the center was the giver, the great luminous night fury, coiled around a smaller, trembling creature, a small dragon, a mortal. This was the ritual of ultimate trust, of communion. The Life-Giver then offered a part of their own essence, a gleaming, potent seed, to their chosen.
The seed was meant to break the barrier between minds, to fuse their spirits into one, to ensure that the Life-Giver's power would not consume the mortal, but instead grant them clarity and strength, to share his voice with us, and to all. It was the key. The answer.
My mind reeled. A war erupted within me, a battle so fierce it made the fight in the Queen's nest seem like a childish spat.
One side, the pragmatic survivor, screamed that there was no other choice. This is the only way! He has to know! Would you rather his pride be wounded, or his body be chained to a rock for eternity? This is not a violation; it is a desperate act of salvation!
But another voice, the one that had felt the sting of shame in the Queen's cavern, the one that had sworn to protect Hiccup the boy , recoiled in horror. He is your friend! He trusts you! You just saw what the Queen wanted to do—to reduce him to a tool, a body, a biological function. How would this be any different? You would be forcing him, using him, taking what you need for your own ends. You would be proving the Queen right. You would become the monster to save him from another.
He slumped down onto a rock, his head in his hands. His scent, usually so clean and earthy, was now tinged with the bitter smell of fear. My friend was terrified, and I was his only hope. The war inside me reached its bloody climax. To protect the boy, I had to save the vessel. To save the vessel, I had to betray the boy. It was a horrifying, paradoxical choice. I had to commit a terrible act to prevent a worse one.
A cold, regrettable resolve settled over me. I would do this. But I would not pretend it was a holy act. It was a sin. A necessary, unforgivable sin.
I moved.
I emerged from the shadows with a speed that left no room for thought or argument. Before Hiccup could even register my presence, I was on him. I used my head to gently but irresistibly push him from the rock, laying him back on the soft grass. He let out a startled yelp, his eyes wide with confusion, not yet fear.
"Toothless? What are you doing, bud?"
I ignored his words. With a deft, deliberate motion, I hooked a claw under the waistband of his trousers and tore the fabric away, revealing his member. The sound of ripping cloth was shockingly loud in the quiet cove. His confusion instantly curdled into panic.
"Whoa! Toothless, stop! Get off!"
He struggled, but it was the squirming of a minnow against a whale. I pinned his shoulders with my forepaws, my weight a gentle but absolute anchor. I looked down at him, at his terrified, pleading eyes, and the part of me that was his friend screamed in agony. I silenced it. There was no time.
Regretfully, with a ghost of the old, possessive lust stirring in the depths of my being, I lowered my head towards his exposed member.
The moment my tongue made contact, the world exploded.
It was not a taste in the mortal sense. It was an influx of pure, raw information, a tidal wave of unfiltered divinity. The earthy, rain-washed scent I had grown to adore was now a flavor on my tongue, a concentrated essence of life itself. The Guedo-worship I had been trying to suppress came roaring back, not as a fantasy, but as an undeniable, empirical truth. This was the source. The very font of all creation, pulsating with untold power.
A wave of pleasure so profound it was spiritual washed through me. Every nerve ending in my body lit up with a golden, euphoric light, a delicious ache blossoming deep within. I was no longer a dragon in a cove, committing a desperate, terrible act. I was an acolyte at the altar, partaking in a sacrament of unimaginable holiness, my body trembling with desire. My mind, which had been a storm of conflict, was suddenly serene, flooded with a sense of rightness, of purpose, of communion. I was tasting the very soul of a god. And I wanted every inch of it.
With my front paws, I gently, but firmly, held his legs apart, creating more room for my head to move. My tongue moved with a reverence I couldn't control, exploring the slick, divine power. With every touch, the visions returned, clearer and more potent than ever. I saw nebulae being born, mountains rising from the sea, the first sparks of life igniting in the primordial ooze. I was witnessing the birth of the universe, and it was all concentrated here, in this single, sacred, engorged place.
Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the ritual, the communion, the overwhelming, ecstatic sense of connection, and the growing pressure of release. And then, the sacrament was given. A sunburst of pure life essence, a wave of a thousand flavors, washed over my tongue and flooded my mind. It was the taste of starlight and deep earth, of lightning and the first rain. I felt blessed. Purified. Anointed. My entire being vibrated with a pleasure so intense it bordered on oblivion. I had communed with my god, and he had poured himself into me.
And then, it was over.
The divine light faded. The cosmic visions shattered. The spiritual euphoria evaporated, leaving behind a cold, stark reality. I lifted my head and looked down.
Hiccup was no longer a divine figure; he was just Hiccup. His face was pale, his eyes wide and vacant with shock, shimmering with unshed tears, and his body trembled. This wasn't a god participating in a holy ritual, but a boy who had been assaulted by his best friend. The realization hit like a physical blow, stripping away any pretense of sanctity from the scene.
The full weight of my actions crashed down on me, heavier than any dragon's sorrow. The self-justification, the lie of the "sacrament," crumbled to putrid dust. I had witnessed the Queen's desire to use him as a tool, and in my desperation, I had done the exact same thing, perhaps even worse. I had desecrated him, using his body for my own vile ends without his consent. A wave of self-loathing, hot and acidic as bile, rose in my throat, threatening to choke me. The divine taste on my tongue suddenly turned foul, curdling into the bitter, metallic aftertaste of my monstrous selfishness, of my abject depravity. I had acted no better than the Queen, cloaking my repulsive desire in the guise of salvation.
I scrambled off him as if burned, backing away, my head bowed with a shame so profound it felt like a physical weight, pressing me into the earth. I yearned to apologize, to explain, but the silent cage still held me captive, a fitting prison for a monster like me.
Or was it?
As I reeled from my self-loathing, I felt… something new. A thread. A thin, shimmering connection that now stretched between my mind and his. The ritual, the unspeakable, horrifying ritual… had worked. I could feel his emotions—not just see them on his face, but feel them in my own mind. A chaotic storm of fear, confusion, betrayal, and a deep, aching violation.
I had to try. I had to use this bridge I had so brutally built. I focused all my will, all my crushing regret, all my desperate, screaming need to make him understand, and I pushed it down that shimmering thread. I formed the sound, not in my throat, but in my mind, shaping it with a precision born of pure desperation.
A single, perfect word.
« Hiccup? »
He flinched on the ground as if struck. His vacant eyes snapped into focus, staring at me not with fear, but with a new, dawning disbelief. He had heard it. Not with his ears, but with his mind. A clear, deep, resonant voice that was not his own had just spoken his name from inside his own skull.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at me, his mouth opening and closing silently. The terror on his face was slowly being replaced by an impossible, world-shattering question. I held his gaze, my heart pounding, pouring every ounce of my being into that fragile connection, praying he would understand. Praying he could ever forgive me.