Stand Down

The leader of the Berserker’s found his vision blurry for a moment after he hit his head. But when he  refocused, he was staring at a jagged blade aimed right between the eyes. He was pinned to the ground by a firm foot on his chest. 

“Stand down.” Hiccup's voice was ragged with panting breath. 

"No." Dagur refused. 

The blade dove to the left, slicing his cheek. "Stand down!" He urged, harsher. 

"Never!" Dagur called again. 

The blade danced right and pierced his eye. Dagur attempted to get up, but Hiccup leaned in closer and pressed harder on his chest. His eyes shone with the wild fire of brutality. Blood seeped from his pores like sweat. His tone was like a serpent, hissing quietly in warning as he dictated on last time, "stand down." 

"You'll have to kill me." Dagur spat. 

It should have been simple. Drive the sword into Dagur and kill him, and by that, simultaneously rid the archipelago of one of the greatest threats to peace, save his tribe, and keep Toothless safe. 

If the idea was so simple, why were his hands shaking with unease? He wanted to kill Dagur, he really did. After all, the lunatic had tried to kill him on more then one occasion. It would be better this way. 

Still, Hiccup had never killed anyone before. Even in this brutal world of Vikings, he had never purposefully hurt a human being. His only death, to anything, was the Red Death, and there was no avoiding that. 

But this was a human. He had a heart and a soul...somewhere deep down inside. Never the less, Hiccup was pensive. Would killing Dagur make him a murderer?

Dagur grinned a terrible, meaty smile. "Come on, kill me. Kill me!" He egged. 

Hiccup's nose flared, but his hands held fast. Dagur did this on purpose. If he couldn't have his army or even a single Nightfury, he wanted Hiccup to suffer in his soul. He knew how he felt about killing. He wanted to bring him to such inner conflict, such compromise, he would feel it for years to come. 

Hiccup grit his teeth. It was decided, he would do it. Right between the eyes. It would be easy. 

Wait. 

What was he thinking? 

So what if this was best? So what if this stopped Dagur for good? Sooner or later, another evil would arise, and then what? Would he kill him, too? Would he justify murder over and over until his hands were stained with blood? Did he have the right to judge the actions of another? To condemn them to death?

He hated the fact he had to justify his actions. 

"What in Thor's name are you waiting for, son?!" Shouted Stoick from the stands. 

Resolved, Hiccup clutched the knife tighter. "Fine." He knew what had to be done. He raised the blade, and plunged.