Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was applause. Fishlegs stumbled, was left reeling, fell backwards onto his rear. He had the oddest sensation of having been thrown or shoved, but back into his body, like he hadn’t been there in the first place. But how…?

“Fishlegs, is that you?” The voice was weak and pained, but undeniably Snotlout’s. 

“Why wouldn’t it be me? Oh my Thor! Snotlout!”

Fishlegs only just realized that his friend was chained to a table by one hand, the other quickly swelling as if he’d broken it. Wherever they were was dim and smelled of blood. Snotlout’s blood, clearly.

“D-don’t say that name.” Snotlout sagged, leaned his head on the table. “Ever again.”

Fishlegs was quick to run over. “What happened?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Snotlout groaned. “They still think you’re torturing me.”

“Why would I…?”

“So you don’t remember anything?” Snotlout lifted his head. His nose was crooked and black and blue, his right eye swollen shut. “Y-you wanted to use Bonecrusher to help the Outcasts.”

Fishlegs’ stomach sank to his feet. “Guessing it didn’t go the way we wanted.”

Snotlout shook his head, a small sob leaving him. “I’m just… I’m just glad you’re back. I’m glad you’re you.”

“How’d you get me back?”

“Broke my hand to get it out of the cuff,” Snotlout said. “Then, you know, clapped three times.”

“You broke your own hand ?” Fishlegs was horrified by all of this, unsure of what to do. Presumably he was still on Outcast Island, and here Snotlout was having been tortured by his hands .

Wait…

His hands…

Fishlegs looked down to see blood all over them. He would have shrieked, but remembered Snotlout’s plea to stay quiet. His fingers trembled.

“Snotlout, I’m gonna get you out of here,” Fishlegs said, determined.

“How? There are bandits and mercenaries everywhere.”

“Um… I suppose I could pretend to still be Bonecrusher,” Fishlegs said. 

Snotlout laughed a little, then winced and groaned. Clearly that had hurt him.

“You? Acting as some bloodthirsty, power hungry ass? Yeah, I don’t see that working.”

“We have to try. We can’t just be stuck here.” In any other circumstance, Fishlegs would have been upset about Snotlout’s lack of faith in his acting skills, but now wasn’t the time for something so petty. This was life or death. Truly. 

“Okay,” Snotlout wheezed. “Step one: please unchain me.”

He sounded so weak, so… broken , and that hurt Fishlegs down into his soul. He’d hurt his friend. He’d tortured his friend. Maybe it had been Thor Bonecrusher, but it was still his hands and his body. Thor had used him to get to Snotlout.

Oh gods, what else has he done?

“Y-you said power hungry?” Fishlegs asked as he began searching the cell for a key. It had to be around here somewhere.

“Front right pouch,” Snotlout told Fishlegs. “Key.”

Fishlegs was quick to go fishing around in his pouch, and he did indeed find a key there. It fit Snotlout’s remaining cuff perfectly, and soon, he was unchained.

“And yeah, power hungry,” Snotlout went on. “Bonecrusher declared himself the leader of this group.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“Maybe it’ll be easier to get you out then,” Fishlegs said. “To get us both out.”

“Don’t forget Meatlug,” Snotlout said, sitting up straight and whimpering as he did. 

“She’s here?!” Fishlegs forgot about keeping his voice down. “Is she all right? What happened?!”

“She’s fine, she’s fine.” Snotlout clutched his abdomen. “Oh yeah, he broke something .”

Guilt once again tried to swallow Fishlegs whole, its teeth clamping down. He almost didn’t get away, but he had to focus. Guilt was not helpful right now. So, for now it receded, ready to devour him once this was all over.

Fishlegs helped Snotlout to his feet. He wanted to carry him, but that wouldn’t work with the parts they had to play.

“Everything good down there, boss?” a rough male voice asked from their left. He was farther down the hallway. “The screaming stopped. Did you accidentally kill him?”

Fishlegs cleared his throat and put on his best “manly” voice. 

“No. I just think it best if he be relocated.”

Torchlight bathed the space in orange as the bandit came over to the cell and opened the door. He raised his eyebrows, taking in the scene.

“Relocated where?”

Fishlegs remembered the secret entrance to Outcast Island. Maybe with Meatlug, they could get out that way.

“To the sea,” Fishlegs said. He gave what he hoped was a dangerous smirk. “I find it’s a good place to drown and get rid of bodies.”

The bandit laughed. “Oh, it sure is. Let me accompany you.” He looked to Snotlout. “Just in case he tries anything.”

“He’s in no shape to try anything,” Fishlegs told him, nerves etching their way down his face in the form of sweat.

“Maybe I just want to see one of these dragon riding bastards meet their end,” the bandit said. “Or are you going soft, Bonecrusher?” 

Fishlegs scoffed. “Me? Soft?” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Question that again, and you’ll see how soft I am.” He was trying his best to get rid of this man. He would only ruin their escape. 

“Uh, um, sorry, boss.” 

“Now, where’s my Meatlug?”

“Your Meatlug?”

“The Gronckle, you idiot.” 

“Oh, I’ll fetch her for you!” 

Then the bandit was leaving, and Snotlout and Fishlegs were alone again. 

“Good job, Fishy,” Snotlout whispered. 

“Thanks,” Fishlegs whispered back. His nerves were still tightly wound, but at least he knew he could make a convincing Thor Bonecrusher. It was definitely better to be the leader than working under someone in this kind of situation as well.

Which, Fishlegs was still reeling from. How had this happened? Why was he working with mercenaries and bandits instead of helping the Outcasts? Why on Midgard had he tortured Snotlout?!

He supposed he would get the answers to all these questions later. Now was definitely not the time to talk.

The bandit returned with Meatlug, who seemed happy to see Fishlegs. Fishlegs wasn’t sure how to act around her. She was still by his side this time, unlike the first time where Bonecrusher had completely pushed her away.

Fishlegs longed to have Meatlug carry Snotlout on her back, but he couldn’t give him any of the comfort he deserved. Instead, barely acknowledging Meatlug, and not saying thank you to the bandit (though he almost did out of sheer politeness), he made his way out of the cell, practically dragging Snotlout with him. 

Fishlegs knew the layout of Outcast Island. He knew how to get to the secret cavern entrance from here.

Though, there was a problem. The bandit was trying to keep in stride with him. Fishlegs admitted it was nice to have light down here, as the man still carried a torch, but he would rather he be gone. 

“What’d you get out of him?” the bandit asked Fishlegs as if Snotlout wasn’t there. 

Poor Snotlout. He was trying to keep up and stay in Fishlegs’ grasp, but was clearly struggling. A litany of moans and groans and wordless complaints left his mouth. Fishlegs wanted to stop, take him into his arms, and console him. He would get the medical attention he needed once they were out of here.

“Not much,” Fishlegs said, shrugging one shoulder. “He has a big mouth, but not much of a brain.”

The bandit laughed over this, so Fishlegs just chuckled. Meatlug made a whining noise behind him. Fishlegs knew that she was concerned about Snotlout. Why wouldn’t she be? 

One more turn and… there! The cavern opened up before them, the torchlight shimmering on the dark water. 

And now came the part where Fishlegs didn’t know what to do. He was unarmed, while the bandit carried a sword. He supposed he could just have Meatlug tail-bludgeon him.

“Ooh, the fun part,” the bandit said with twisted glee. “These Dragon Riders have been a pain in the arse for a long time. I’ll be glad to see one of them go.” 

“Actually, we’ll be going now,” Snotlout said. “Different type of go.”

“What?” The bandit looked utterly confused.

“Meatlug!” Fishlegs called.

Before the man could cry for help, Meatlug was swinging around and hitting the bandit hard in the abdomen with her tail. There was a crunch as he went flying, torch rolling out of his hand and into the murky water below. 

The bandit didn’t move or get up. Fishlegs didn’t even know if he was still breathing. That didn’t matter to him right now though. Only Snotlout and their escape mattered.

Meatlug laid down to let Fishlegs help Snotlout onto her back, and then mount her behind him. Snotlout made a lot of sounds of complaint, but didn’t utter a word. That worried Fishlegs. He hadn’t been joking about the big mouth part. 

“Snotlout, you ready?” Fishlegs asked. 

Snotlout nodded. “Y-yeah. I can do this. We can do this.” 

“Meatlug, go fast,” Fishlegs said, patting her on the side. He didn’t want Snotlout to have to hold his breath for too long. He wouldn’t be able to get in a good gulp of air beforehand because of the surely-broken ribs.

Meatlug was happy to oblige. She’d probably despised him for working with the bandits and mercenaries.

Well… despised Thor Bonecrusher.

Soon, they were in the water, Meatlug having taken a quick dive. She swam as fast as her legs could carry her, using her wings to propel them faster. Fishlegs kept an arm around Snotlout the whole way through, as he could only hold on with the one good hand. 

Then they were bursting through the surface and into night, and Snotlout was leaning over Meatlug, gasping for breath. Fishlegs lightened his hold on him, but didn’t let go completely.

“You okay, Snotlout?”

“Mm… Never-never been better.” The pain in his voice was so palpable that Fishlegs’ heart broke. They were both free, but had to deal with the aftermath of it. “Now take us back to our camp.”

“Wait, you guys camped on the island?” Fishlegs asked. “I don’t know where that is!” 

“Yeah, we have like, half of it, I think? Less than half, maybe. Whatever! Let’s just go! Meatlug should know the way!”

Snotlout patted Meatlug on the head, and she turned and began flying towards a secluded area of the island that Fishlegs had hardly noticed before. There was light from a central fire, and figures of people and tents around it. There were the dragons he knew there as well, who alerted the Riders to their approach.

Fishlegs wished he could have brightened when they came closer and he could make out his friends’ faces, but instead, he was met with hostility.

Hiccup had his sword drawn.

“What do you want, Bonecrusher?!” he called out, and oh boy, he looked angry—furious, even. 

“Wait, no! It’s Fishlegs! It’s me!” 

“Yeah, guys, swords away,” Snotlout said. “It’s him.” 

They let him land, and the mood didn’t improve. Fishlegs dismounted Meatlug, and then he and Hiccup were helping Snotlout out of the saddle.

“What in Thor’s name happened?” Hiccup breathed, looking at Snotlout with a mixture of compassion and horror. 

“D-don’t ever… don’t ever say that name again.” Snotlout made a whimpering noise. “Please.”

“Alright, alright, no, uh, more of that then,” Hiccup said. “Guys, get Snotlout a chair.”

The Dragon Riders rushed to do as they’d been told, and Hiccup helped hold Snotlout up. Fishlegs realized that Snotlout probably didn’t want him touching him now that he didn’t have to be. 

Fishlegs just backed up and stood by Meatlug as a chair was brought out and Snotlout was made to sit by the fire. He wanted to join them, to help, but he felt like he couldn’t help. He hadn’t helped here! He’d hurt instead! He’d hurt Snotlout and who knew how many others because he’d wanted to help. He’d wanted to use Thor Bonecrusher.

And look where it got you , he chastised himself. 

Fishlegs sat down hard on the ground beside Meatlug. He watched everything through blurred vision.

His fault. All of it. All of this was his fault. 

There were pained noises from Snotlout as his injuries were treated. Usually Fishlegs would be in charge of that treatment. But again, he felt like he shouldn’t be touching Snotlout, not after what he’d done to him.

Or had it been Thor? Could he really separate himself and Thor Bonecrusher? Or were they one and the same? Did he have a darker part of his psyche that he just wasn’t aware of? Was he capable of all this himself? 

Fishlegs wanted to rip his hair out and scream. Instead, he settled for taking off his helmet and throwing it against the nearest boulder with an angry yell. 

Then he realized that there was silence save for the crackling of the fire.

“Fishlegs… what he did, it’s not your fault,” Astrid said. She had come over to him, and she crouched down to be at eye level. “And you’re back. You’re you .” 

“But what if it was just me the whole time?!” Fishlegs cried. He abruptly rose, began pacing. He nearly knocked Astrid off her feet. “What if I’m Thor Bonecrusher and Thor Bonecrusher is me?!”

Snotlout flinched every time he said the name, and guilt ate away at more of him. He’d forgotten to keep it from his lips. 

No one seemed to know what to say to that, until Hiccup came forward. He tentatively laid a hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder, and Fishlegs let him.

“Look, Fishlegs. Yes, Bonecrusher did some awful things, but you would never in a million years dream of doing what he did. You would never torture someone.”

“But… I did.”

“ Bonecrusher did,” Hiccup insisted. “You are the most gentle, compassionate person I know. You don’t have any of him in you.”

Fishlegs didn’t know what to say. Was Hiccup right? Was it true that Thor Bonecrusher didn’t truly exist inside him?

“Oh, this is a lot.” Fishlegs sat down on the rocky ground again, suddenly feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Meatlug noticed, came over to let him lean his back against her. “This is a real lot.” He rubbed at his forehead where a headache was starting to take shape. 

“I’ll give you time to sit with it,” Hiccup said. He gave him a warm smile that Fishlegs felt like he didn’t deserve. And then he and Astrid were retreating back over to Snotlout.

Fishlegs was alone. Well, not truly. He had Meatlug, and his friends were mere feet from him. 

And then there was the issue of Bonecrusher. 

How alone was he really if he had that monster lurking in his head? The others had said he wasn’t in there, that he was a fabrication of hypnotism.

But what if…?

What if he wasn’t?

What if he was Thor Bonecrusher?

And Thor Bonecrusher was him?