#a cunning bastard. the kind who's run circles around everyone his entire life

[princesssarcastia]

actually it really sucks that my sole living grandmother and, apparently, my father, are BOTH experiencing memory loss, and potentially the early stages of dementia, at the SAME TIME! wow! a bogo!

that old newspaper was right—life isn't just one thing after another. the damn things overlap.

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

To start this off this HTTYD WHUMP Collection, I'm taking inspiration from a whumptober list and the second on the list was Gutspill and I had a fucking brainstorm (do mind my french, I swear like a sailor and a trooper, I'm also British). I wrote this five days ago and finished it, but as I was highlighting it so I could copy it to move here, I accidentally deleted half of it so... after my five-day meltdown, I've finally finished it and I think I turned out even better than it did the first time. I hope you have a box of kleenex or whatever tissue brand you have in your country, this one is a corker.

(you can also find my works on my archive of our own, name in profile)

__________________________________________________________________________________

There is blood everywhere. It's on his hands, on his face, on his sword, the world has become a thing of blood and ash, they clog up his lungs and he's choking on it. But his blood, it boils in his veins like water over fire and his heart pumps it hard throughout his body, hungry and starved for flesh, for death. Snotlout is a warrior, born and bred, and there is a mercifulness inside him that has long kept this beast at bay. But today, on this battlefield where mercy leaves you dead, he can let the starved beast writhing in his chest out and allow it to sate its hunger. Just for today, just for one day, he'll be an animal.

The shores of Berk are red with blood and will be for days afterwards. The bodies, broken and bloodied, add a layer onto the sand like a second crust, piling upon each other and almost looking like some gruesome, horrible beast that stretches on for miles. Those muddy, grasping hands, those black, gaping maws, those dead, dead eyes. The sky is terribly blue and dragons soar down with fire in the chests, spewing it across the enemy like they are wild monsters again, like they've forgotten kindness.

Today, everyone has forgotten the tenderness of mercy.

Snotlout slashes his sword across a man's chest and blood sprays across his face. The enemy falls onto one knee with a cry and lifts his mace to retaliate, but he's too slow to stop the blade from plunging into his stomach. Through the slits of the enemy's helmet, Snotlout notices that his eyes are green and, before he dies, that they are full of fear. Those eyes will haunt him tonight, but today there is no compassion in his heart for those who dare to threaten his home.

Pulling his sword from the corpse, he looks in awe at how it steams from fresh blood. Snotlout's face is hot with blood that is not his own and he can taste it on his teeth, a coppery wash on his tongue. Blood tastes like lightning. Two men try to rush him, but he cuts one down with a swipe to his legs and the other he grasps by the neck, headbutting him angrily. He drops the unconscious enemy and impales the floored man through the back. More blood, but it's not enough the please the hungry thing inside him.

He hears a mighty battle cry and turns to see Ruffnut, braids matted with blood and bleeding from both nostrils, she looks wild like a creature. She feels it too, she's also got a hungry beast inside her, she's also been starved of blood. She grabs a man, pulls his back to her chest and slices his throat with a smile some would say is mad. Today, we are all mad, mad things are best at killing.

Tuffnut is not far from her and he's swinging in circles, fatally hitting anyone brave (or stupid) enough to get close to him. Snotlout watches Ruffnut kill again, and he's falling in love with her all over again as she buries her dagger to the hilt into a man's eye. He screams. She laughs and slices his throat too. Her face and chest are washed with blood from his squirting neck.

They catch each other's' gaze and, just for a moment, the starved monsters crawl back into the darkest corners of their hearts to allow the tenderness to come back. Ruffnut's eyes soften, those thunderstorm eyes lose their madness and gaze deep into Snotlout, conveying all the words that they both struggle to say. He lets out a short, breathy exhale because, Gods, she is so beautiful, she must be from a dream.

Suddenly, Tuffnut is in the picture and he looks both disgusted and displeased.

"Uh, guys, big battle happening all around you," Tuffnut yells over the sound of war, gesturing around him with a blood-caked Macey II, "don't think this is an appropriate time to be making-love via eye-contact,"

An axe-wielding enemy charges towards Tuff and Ruff from behind. But before Snotlout can even open his mouth to warn them, Ruffnut throws her arm back and the man goes down hard and fast, a dagger lodged in his throat. Oh, by Freyja, he loves her so much. Ruffnut gives him a smirk, sharp and deadly, before charging away with a dragon-roar cry.

"See you on the other side, Princess!" Snotlout shouts and then the beast lunges out from the shadows of his aortas, he's back to being an animal again and races deeper into the battlefield.

His eyes catch sight of a monstrous opponent. The Commander. He's tall and wide, built like a mountain, decked out in black, hateful-looking armour and he's pulling his sword from the chest of a Berkian shield-maiden. Snotlout doesn't recognise her, almost mistakes her for Astrid from her blonde hair, but she's far too young, far too small, far too innocent to be here. Doesn't matter now, she's dead and being carried away on the backs of Valkyries to Valhalla. Still, she was too young.

Then, the all too familiar sonic-whistle fills the air and he watches the Commander look to the sky.

"NIGHT FURY!" A man distantly warns. Everyone ducks to the ground in fear. Snotlout remains standing. So does the Commander.

There's only a flash of Toothless, a black dart across the pale sky before a purple blast dives to the battlefield. The explosion is bright and blinding behind the dark silhouette of the Commander and a shockwave sends those already crouched down to the sand, but still he remains standing, unyielding. Snotlout also stands, unbowed.

His ears are ringing from the explosion but there's an anger in his chest, building and building and building, soon its going burst out of his chest. Warriors lay around them, disorientated and directionless, and the Commander turns to him, his only worthy opponent. Snotlout breaths violently through his nose, a deep rage coursing through his blood like a forest fire and there is nothing that will stop the inferno in him. His entire body is shaking, like a dragon ready to take flight. Gods, if he was a dragon; the world would be ashes at his feet.

For a moment, they size each other up. Dragon-fire reflects of the Commander's black armour and Snotlout's blade of steel becomes a spine of flames. Everything in his life has been leading up to this moment, this moment which will change the course of his life forever, this is what the Fates have planned for him. Prove your worth, Dragon-Rider, Fire-Swallower, prove your worth to the ones who believe you to be nothing.

Snotlout closes his eyes and wraps both of his trembling hands around the hilt of his sword. The sounds of battle are distant and his heartbeat pulses in his ear like a war drum. This is it. Let the beast free, let it out the cage, let it off the chain. Let it kill them all.

Snotlout opens his eyes and that unbridled rage comes forth in the form of a thunderous howl, tearing through his throat. He runs towards what could be his beginning or his end, either will be fine but he'll die proving he's something, something fierce, something brave, something worthy. The Commander too starts to run, charging towards him with his blood-shining sword and he's silent like death, his eyes shimmering like stolen sapphires beneath his helmet.

And as they get closer, Snotlout raises his sword into the blood-thick air and again roars his worth for all to here, a stream of fire bursting like dying stars behind him.

But the beast is a primal thing, while the Commander is a calculating thing, silent and cunning; Beasts are sometimes made to be fools in their wrath.

And as Snotlout brings his blade down for the kill, the Commander falls and skids across the sand, kicking it up to momentarily blind him. It takes him a moment too late to realise the grave, fatal mistake he has made.

As the Commander slides past Snotlout, he slashes his sword across his gut and the terrible feeling of his skin and flesh being carved open makes him halt on the spot. His ears are ringing again and there isn't even pain, there is just a hotness in his gut and the vague feeling of something slipping, he doesn't understand what's happening. Dropping his sword, he stares wide-eyed into the distant and gasps for breath, it feels like he's been hit in the chest with a war hammer.

Over the ringing in his ears, Snotlout hears the movement of feet disturbing stand and the whistling sound of a sword cutting through the air. In the distance, far away, he hears a woman screaming in despair. He thinks it might be Ruffnut.

That primal beast wakes up again and he isn't even thinking when he turns around, hands up ready to catch something. The blade of a sword falls into his grasp and it cuts through his leather gloves, digging deep into his palms as he pushes the sword from his face. He bares his bloodied teeth like a cornered animal and stares deep into the eyes behind the helmet, blue and angry and hateful; they gaze back.

He's going to die, oh that's okay, but by the Gods is he taking this bastard with him.

Snotlout releases one hand to immediately grasp at the Commander's armoured wrist. The blade digs further into his hand, hot blood tracks down his arm. It is only due to the rage and adrenaline burning through him that allows Snotlout to twist the Enemy's hand till it near breaks before dislodging the sword from the cursing man and, as quick as lighting, he wraps his fingers around the hilt and does a half turn.

The sword is plunged deep into the Commander's stomach. Snotlout lets go of the stolen sword and allows it to fall with its owner behind him. He smells blood and ash, tastes it too. Gods, he's choking on HIS blood and he doesn't know what to do. Looking down to his stomach, Snotlout is full of horror as he sees his guts partially hanging out of the slice in his belly. He touches them with his hands and they come away red, hot, steaming.

"The Commander is dead!" Someone cries, "Retreat! Back to the boats!" Others chime.

Snotlout falls to the bloody-encrusted shore on his back and stares up the terribly blue sky, disturbed only by dark rising smoke and the shadows of retreating men that leap over his body. His breath is loud in his ears and he can feel the blood pouring from him, soaking into his tunic and running down his sides to stain the sand beneath him. There should be fear in his heart, but he can only find the sweetness of victory, the relief that the battle is over and they came out the victors.

A body skids beside him and he looks up to see Ruffnut, eyes white and wide with fear as she stares at his stomach, at the blood that pours and oozes, a never-ending river draining from his body. The tide will come in soon and wash it all away. Maybe it'll take his body too, the sea stealing him away and dragging him to the ends of the Earth, it sounds like a peaceful end.

"Gods, you idiot, what have you done?" She whispers, voice raw from screaming, from terror, and he watches in a dull sort of morbid curiosity as she pushes the exposed intestines back inside him.

The pain is suddenly everywhere as his cut flesh is disturbed and his body goes into spasms, agony setting his nerves ablaze and making tears sprout in his eyes as he shakes his head side to side. Snotlout lets out a broken scream, by Gods, won't he just die already. When the torment simmers down, he opens his watery eyes to see Hiccup knelt opposite Ruffnut, his hands using the fabric of one of Toothless' spare tails to stem the bleeding as he shouts orders to people. ("We need Gothi here! Now please!")

"Did we win?" He croaks stupidly, because he knows that they have but he wants to here it, wants to make sure it wasn't some illusion from his deluded mind.

Hiccup snaps his head to him and those green eyes are vast with panic and dread, but still a smile cracks across his cousin's face as his trembling hands are stained with his blood, stark against his pale skin.

"Yes, we won," Hiccup breathes, then swallows, "Thanks to you, Lout, we won and they won't be coming back, you did great, you were amazing! And you have to keep being amazing now, okay? You have to stay awake, just for a bit longer,"

"I-I don't think-" Another bout of pain, another agonized yell.

Ruffnut pauses for a brief moment, her hands hovering over his gut as she looks at him with anxious eyes, but she's an experienced healer and knows that the more time she wastes, the more blood he loses. The higher the chance she has of losing him. She continues to cut open his tunic so she can start to bandage him up. Snotlout recovers and regains his breath, body sweating and shivering from the pain.

"I don't think you can fix this," He whispers honestly, because there is so much blood and he feels so tired, Gods, there's a hole in him and it won't stop bleeding.

The sun is starting to set and the stars are faintly beginning to shine in the darkening sky, it's making everything feel like a dream, nothing feels real. Hiccup stares at him with low brows and a firm face before he replies, determination shimmering in his eyes as he looks back down at the blood-sodden fabric in his hands.

"Of course, I can,"

Ruffnut and Hiccup briefly share a look over Snotlout's bleeding body, she can see the dread beneath his determination, she can see his doubt. So can Snotlout.

"Where is he? Where's Snotlout?!" Comes a harsh, familiar voice and Snotlout watches as his dad pushes through the crowd circled around him, Chief Stoick and Gobber close behind him.

His dad pauses at the sight of him, dulled eyes glazing over as his chest expands with his shocked inhale, his axe slipping from his loose-fingered hand as he crumbles to the sand, crawling over to him. Snotlout has never seen this look on his dad before, never seen him broken like this, and it's making him realise how bad of a state he is in, how a jaded warrior like Spitelout can be brought to his knees just by the sight of him.

"Dad," Snotlout says quietly, he has never felt so relieved to see his dad in his life.

"I'm here, boyo, I'm here," His dad answers as he sooths his scarred hand over Snotlout's head, pushing away stray strands of blood-slick hair with a tenderness he has never shown to possess. (Spitelout lost all his kindness when his wife died, she took his heart with her)

"I'm sorry, my boy," He whispers, voiced choked from the sobs lodged in his throat, his other hand coming down to rest against Snotlout's jaw, "I've been a cruel man to you and I know-"

"Dad-" Snotlout interrupts, not wanting to hear his father's regrets because he can see them in his pale eyes, writhing around like trapped birds begging to get out. His dad, unsurprisingly, doesn't listen.

"I know it's too late now, but- But I don't want you going believing that I wasn't proud of you," And Snotlout gasps shakily at those words because that is all he's ever wanted, isn't it? His dad's acceptance, the knowledge that he wasn't some burden, that he was loved, "because I am, Snotlout, I am SO proud of the man you've become, a man I could only dream of being,"

Tears drip from his dad's eyelashes and the wetness that's gathered in Snotlout's eyes finally break over, pouring down the side of his face as his throat tightens up. He can feel Ruffnut swathing bandages aground his abdomen, the terrible pain nothing compared to the relief in his heart that if he dies today, he dies with everything he's ever wanted. He'll die like how good men should; worthy, accepted, loved.

"I'm not scared, dad, I'm- I'm not scared," Snotlout reassures, voice tight as more tears spill over, he needs his dad, everyone, to know that he's no afraid of dying, "I'm not afraid anymore,"

His dad smiles with quivering lips and lowers down to press his forehead against Snotlout's, he closes his eyes and he feels like a child, protected in his father's embrace, calloused hands cradling his jaw and head. This is goodbye and Snotlout only feels like he's just got his dad. But it doesn't matter, at some point in his life, his dad was proud of him and this small moment is enough. His dad presses a kiss to his head.

"I'm proud to call you my son," He whispers against his blood-caked skin and suddenly Snotlout knows what it is to be a son, knows what it is to be whole.

With hands hesitant to let go, Spitelout stands and stumbles backwards from his son, not daring to take his eyes off him. Stoick wraps a comforting arm around his back and takes hold of his bicep, squeezing it sympathetically.

Snotlout can see the others standing there too, watching him die. Astrid has her shaking hands over her mouth and tears streak through the grime on her cheeks, he hates that he's caused that strong woman so much grief. Besides her, Fishlegs stands with his war hammer clutched in his grasp like it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart, his face taut with sorrow and sadness. Tuffnut has his arms thrown up over his head and his teeth are bared in anguish, staring between Ruffnut and his broken body as his tears fall, gathering along his jaw.

He wants to apologies, but he feels so weak. It's nearly time to go.

Hiccup is still, sat back on his ankles with a despondent and grief-stricken look on his face as he watches Ruffnut securing his bandages, adding more layers as more blood seeps through, her hands frantic in their movement. And Snotlout thought he was the stubborn one, surely, she can see he's times up.

"Ruff-" Hiccup starts with a sob-choked voice but Ruffnut is shaking her head feverishly, face full of denial.

"No, we just need to get him out of here to Gothi's, she'll stitch him up and he'll be fine-"

"Sis-" Tuffnut steps forward, trying to reason with her.

"HE'LL BE FINE!" Her scream echoes around them all and it's so ferocious, so heartbroken, so desperate, he swears the stars will fall upon them.

Taken aback by the savageness in her eyes, Tuffnut quickly steps back and Ruffnut goes back to fussing with bandages, drawing more out from a compartment in her side armour so she can stem the flow. It won't work, he's lost too much blood. Snotlout know it, she knows it. He's too tired to do much, but he has to make her understand that this is it for them and he doesn't want to die without telling her.

With what little strength he has, he raises his hand and cards his hands into her hair, the part he's latched onto is silky smooth and free of blood, pure. Tugging her braid, Ruffnut turns to look at him, her wet eyes are wild with grief and anger and her lips are curled into a snarl tight with both sadness and rage.

"Don't," She growls, voice wavering, grabbing his hand to pull it away as she looks back to the already soaked through bandages, but he hasn't long left and he wants her to know, needs her to know, he needs to say it one last time.

Snotlout takes her hand into his and rubs his thumb over her bleeding knuckles with a tenderness that aches deep inside him, Ruffnut pauses and turns her head to him, looking hopeless and afraid.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," He breathes repeatedly, his mind is going dizzy but he doesn't need to think, he just needs to feel and the words come out on their own, drenched in his love and adoration for her, "Ruffnut, I love you, I love you, I love you, only you,"

With her head tilting, the tears dribble down her blood-slick face and over her trembling lips as she finally understands that this is it, sobs racking her body as she crawls swiftly over to him. They kiss because it's the last time they will hold each other again and it feels like freedom, feels like coming home. He touches her face gently, branding her eyes, her lips, her hair to his memory in hopes that he keeps it when he goes. If he can't live without her in life, he can't live without in death.

"Snotlout," Ruffnut begs with a keen, her quaking hand weaving through his hair, and he smiles at her, his hand falling from her face.

"It's okay, Princess... you can let me go," He murmurs softly.

Gods, he's going to miss seeing her in the morning, going to miss her barking laugh, going to miss the feeling of her hair in his hands as he braids her hair. He's going to miss her so much; he'll die again in Valhalla from the pain her absence.

"I don't want to," She weeps, shaking her head, cradling his face in her hands, "I don't want to let you go, Mutton-head, don't you get that? I can't!"

"You ca-can," He cracks, tears mixing with blood on his face, and he squeezes her hand, "Let me go,"

And with that, she slips her hand from his. She's taken the first step, she has to do the rest on her own now.

Suddenly, the sky is trembling with a roar and the Earth shudders as Hookfang lands upon the battlefield.

The Dragon's hide ignites when he sees his Rider and he kicks up bloodied sand as he races over to Snotlout, warriors scrambling out of the beasts frenzied path less they be trampled. Hookfang comes to him with alarmed noises in the back of his throat as he dances lightly around his Rider, a dreadful look in his eyes as he tries to find out what's wrong with him. When he sees the blood, an awfully sad wail leaps from his maw and his flames die out. Gods, Hookfang already looks sodden with grief.

"Hooky," Snotlout murmurs tiredly and he turns his head to look at him, his fire-streaked eyes are slitted in horror and with a desperate whine, digs his snout under the Rider's arm before lifting it up, but it falls limply back to the sand.

Get up, Hookfang is begging him, get up, get up, let's go home now.

"I'm sorry, Hooky," Snotlout apologises brokenly, shaking his head, "I can't,"

The Nightmare tenderly nudges his muzzle against Snotlout's red cheek with a guttural purr, the familiar warmth of his scales helps to ease his hurting heart. He lifts his head and again stares at Snotlout with that look, asking him to come home. Snotlout softly shakes his head, blinking away tears so his vision isn't blurry. This is the last time he's going to see his best friend; he can't waste a single second. After a moment, the desperation in Hookfang's eyes morphs into acceptance.

Weakly, Snotlout lifts his hand and holds it out to Hookfang, too exhausted to stretch it out any further, but his friend understands and meets him halfway. Gods, it's like the first time they touched all over again and there is a deep grief in his heart, he's never going to touch Hookfang again, he's never going to fly again. He'll fly with the Valkyries, but he'd choose Hookfang over them any day. He'd chose dragons wings over honour any day.

"You're my best friend," He says softly and in Hookfang's eyes, he sees himself. He doesn't have to say more, doesn't have to pour his heart out his mouth for Hookfang to understand, he just has to look at him and it's enough.

Looking to the sky, he feels his heartbeat slowing, feels very tired.

"Thank you," He breathes weakly and closes his eyes.

Snotlout's palm slips from Hookfang's muzzle, fingertips dragging against the scales like they don't want to let go before they fall, and his hand hits the sand with a sense of finality.