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The Last Touch
A 'White Fury' One-Shot
RATED - T - Contains quite heavy violence, rather extreme blood and gore, suicide, and some suggested themes along with some language (in appropriate places, I suppose).
GENRE – Dark themed – Angst/Action
(SPOILER) SUMMARY: In the heat of a unexpected attack from their greatest foes, a rider finds himself by the side of his beloved dragon- for the last time.
WARNING: This is a DEATHFIC! Don't worry, though, its not Toothless dying here... OC's, ok? Still... THIS IS A DEATHFIC! A DEATHFIC!
I DO NOT OWN HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. THEY BELONG SOLELY TO DREAMWORKS ANIMATION SKG.
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I have separated this into parts, in order to save space, and make it easier to read. 
Part 1 A fleet of ships were approaching the home of the Dragon Riders. Armed with hundreds of men with weapons, alongside at least four dozen, chained, angry and ready to tear everything apart in their rage, armoured dragons.
To say that the Riders knew of the attack beforehand, would be an ugly and disrespectful white lie in itself, one that any dragon rider or their partner could see through.
Standing at the bow of the ship, foot resting on the rail, was a huge, dark figure, his bull-hook in hand.
“Sir! We are approaching the shore; what are your commands?” A soldier, armour clad from head-to-toe, strode forward, stopping in his caution (and smarts) a good few paces away; it was always a good idea among the slave-like soldiers, to be ready- ready to jump into the water, or grab their weapon and kill themselves before their master did (accident, or not) , or run as fast as they possibly could, and with a ton of luck, save their little asses- or at least one or two limbs...
As if on cue, the man growled, turning around slightly, his black, dragon-skin cloak the only real movement that was noticeable.
The guard gulped, tried to put on a brave face (he failed... Oh come on, give him some credit, he tried) and took one or two steps back, perhaps from experience.
“Begin preparations,” he spat, and then looked up, spotting a red dragon circling above the ships, “And tell those two that they need to see me before we make the first move.”
“Of course, sir.” The man quickly bowed his head, then turned and began giving orders. Somewhere down the line, someone yelled up to the dragon, and it released a jet of flame before locking into a dive. It landed with a resounding thud, on the deck of the structure, and then bowed its head in respect. A man rested in the saddle at the base of its neck, looking down at his lord with a cold glare that screamed death for all his opponents and enemies alike.
“Do we go through with the plan, my lord?” he growled, slightly bowing his head, in greeting and formality, or perhaps something else entirely.
“What do you think?” The Rider grunted, and nodded. With a rather gentle kick to his dragon's side, he raised his crimson red blade, and yelled out a word in a foreign language. Accompanied by a haunting shriek, the blood red Monstrous Nightmare stretched its neck, reaching to the dark sky. Not a moment later, it released a terrifying roar that thundered through the air, and this was followed by the sound of a incoming onslaught, and a massacre caused by fire, and weapons clashing.
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Everything had been fine. Normal. Even, perfect. Especially right now.
But he didn't know that a certain armada, their crazed and lunatic madman and serial killer commander, and his four traitorous dragon riders were approaching as he dreamed contently.
On one side of Rollan, his beloved Night Fury Starwish laid, her tail looped around one of her rider's legs, while its wing had the young man embraced in the warm darkness of it. The blankets ignored and rejected, laid helplessly on the floor, and on the other side of the Rollan was his girlfriend Catholine; her own dragon, a female Skrill named Verrassa, was curled up at the foot of the bed, her head resting on her rider's lap. All in all, a rather strange, but somehow comfortable tangle.
To say in the least, it was uncomfortable when a loud, horrific shriek of a Monstrous Nightmare rang out over the city, like a huge wave of death itself.
All four practically jumped out of their skin and scales, which of course, was... Interesting. Their yelps and indignant cries were silenced as a roar washed over them, followed by a sound they knew all too well;
Drago Bludvist was here.
Rollan didn't wait any longer after that. He quickly unwound his arms from around Catholine, and elbowed Starwish in the chest, who was already freeing him. As soon as her tail unwound from his leg, he sat up in a frenzy, trying to ignore the panic blossoming in his chest.
More specifically the source; the sound of dragons roaring. The flurry of orders being shouted. The sound of dragons swooping down to fight the attackers.
He knew what he had to do, but that didn't change the fact he was heading out into a war-zone.
Starwish leaped over to her saddle, grabbing it in her jaws and skilfully swinging it onto her back. Rollan strapped it own in three swift motions, now suddenly grateful it was a bit run down and simple. He attached some securing straps onto its sides, then grabbed the emergency armour.
It consisted of light Gronckle Iron plates, to cover the dragon in the quickest form possible. The plates were easily connectible, making the job much more swift. In barely under two minutes he had secured the armour, and he hustled to equip himself with protection. His Night Fury had already spread her bat-like wings, back and saddle facing him.
Rollan quickly strapped on the back plates, and tail plates, before securing tail-fin protection. He then ran, grabbed his sword, and as he ran secured it onto his belt. He leaped into the saddle, as his soul-mate sprang forwards, and with what felt like less than a second, they were airborne.
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Starwish flew high, taking into attention the other dragons and their riders doing the same. As she watched below and around for any incoming arrows or weapons, Rollan surveyed the battle-field below, he knew as home.
He could now confirm it was indeed Drago Bludvist who was invading. He could recognise his wretched armada and his poor enslaved dragons, regardless of consequences or situation.
He was attacking with only men, for now, at least. Bolas and arrows alike screeched through the air, some hitting their marks. Rollan inhaled sharply, seeing one of his old-classmates being shot down, the dragon with a bola wrapped around one wing, and the rider with an arrow drove through his ribs.
“Starwish!” The Night Fury dove towards them, catching them barely a few inches from the ground. Screeches brought him out of his worry, as it was only amplified at the sight of bloodshed on both sides. Starwish gently laid them down, and they flew back into the battle, ignoring and blocking out all emotions, mainly worry and fear, to achieve their goal... At least, for now.
Multiple reactions came when at least a dozen Night Furies open fired at the fleet, causing such a high and shrill sound, that would leave quite a few untrained ears damaged, or at least throbbing, for weeks to come.
Indeed, the loud noise that came with Plasma Blasts caused yells of pain, terror and rage from the ships, as many were set alight.
Big downside? Well, he forgot something.
A small, totally unimportant, no-good (and that one is actually somewhat true...) something...
….......................
He forgot Drago had dragons.
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No time to think, plan or even realise it, not until it was too late.
The armoured, enraged creatures burst forth into the battle, like the feeling you experienced when a dagger pierced through your skin- Rollan knew first hand, the sharp, horrifying and burning pain, that soon turned into drawn-out throbbing agony- usually accompanied by unconsciousness, depending on the variables.
Except, here, the sharp and horrible pain was the ear-splitting roars, which instead transformed into the powerful and awful colliding of talons against armour, fire burning their victims, the sound of swords slicing, and finally, instead of (usually) the temporary beginning of a peaceful recovery, the butchering and slaughtering which lead to death, the fallen never to wake again...
The next few moments were all a terrible, and no doubt a bloody and mangled, blur, and by the end of Rollan's once-had-potential short-lived story, it was truly nothing but a montage of horrific flashing images, the light of Starwish by far most prominent.
He distinctly, very vividly remembered one moment (he really wish he hadn't); Starwish, seeing a hostile armoured Firewing rocketing towards two of his old teachers, Forrest and John; at a speed he really should have known would be unable to stop; so, on instinct, he pushed her towards them. That moment, a bola pinned them down, so instead of saving their loved ones, they were met with one of the most terrifying and gory experiences of their entire lives.
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Part 2 [WARNING- Everything ahead- This is what I'd call a bit... Graphic. Only proceed if you know you can handle the sound of bone showing, and insides... Yeah. Death scene ahead. -WARNING]
Crimson red blood splattered all over them, as the dragon charged into Forrest so violently, the Deadly Nadder's back armour was penetrated by the spine- causing a horrible ripping, groaning and screeching sound, as the metal tore, skin parted, bone revealed and cracked and snapped, as its blood smothered their old students. The dragon had rammed into Forrest's chest from slightly below, which the armour could barely stand in the first place.
Not a moment later, while the Deadly Nadder howled in agony and the rider in terror, barely keeping aloft, the armoured Firewing had gripped the dragon's rather delicate neck with its front claws, tearing long gashes into the skin. Its hind... Ugh... Its hind...
[Oh gods... Cannot believe I'm writing this... Ok, I can do this... Read with caution, VERY sensitive stomachs, I recommend you do NOT READ THIS ON ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. [I'm being serious, please be careful] Got it? This is basically just me showing you how brutal death is at the hands- I mean, claws, of a dragon... And my dark mind... -WARNING]
...Its hind legs reached for the underside, somehow finding their way into a gap, and tearing off the armour in a tremendous show of brutal strength. In a single motion none could prevent, it pierced deep into the soft underside, tearing through it to the middle of the belly as the armour dangled helplessly, now drenched red and dripping.
The rider attempted to stab at the dragon in a rage of fury and grief, but the emerald green, now merged with wet hot and sticky red blood, Nadder had no time or chance, as his murderer had already slithered its head to the dragon's pouring and heavily bleeding belly, reached in with its entire head, and had viciously tore out the victim's liver.
As Forrest's body began to fail, the Nadder, flapping unevenly and pathetically in the air only a few inches from the bloodied ground, howled and screamed at his murderer, lashing out with his claws, successfully raking the killer's neck and chest, but the damage paled to be as white as a sheet in comparison to the previous butchering on his own life.
Another armoured dragon, what was probably a Thunderclaw, missing one foreleg, appeared and grabbed the frozen, mid-shock, man on the dying dragon's back (or, at least what remained), and brutally killed him, raking at his exposed neck and face as it smiled at his screams.
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Rollan would never truly understand why he just lay there, watching with wide, tear-brimmed and mortified eyes, doing nothing. Not struggling to get out of the ropes, trying to distract the dragons to help Forrest and his rider, or even calling for help (which in mid-battle, was never any good)... He just... Did... Nothing.
Well, he was going to change that- No, he would!
With an intensity he never knew existed in him, his hand found its way to his dagger, and with a struggle, he tore away the rope trapping them, somehow not noticing how he twisted his wrist... He had to get to them... Starwish roared, and freed them... Just as the sadistic fuck of a Firewing snapped the pleading, crying, howling and screaming Nadder's neck, finishing the dragon, like he should have done, saving him the agony. With a savage roar, the dragon raised his gruesome head to the blood orange sky, releasing a small jet of green flame.
Rollan, now full of rage and grief, tore across the ground at the Firewing, and like a tiger, pounced on it. The drive caused the dragon to tumble over, and Rollan ended up on top. Drawing his sword, he looked into the vicious killer's eyes, and saw one thing; savage, murderous hate. Not pain. Ok, that was a bit of a lie. But he saw no true fear, no will to live. That alone showed Rollan, what did the dragon have to lose?
Not caring what happened any more in the Firewing's treacherous life, he wished the dragon would go to hell and suffer for all eternity, as he yelled and drove his black sword straight through the dragon's chest, through the heart, until it touched the gory ground. His scream died in his throat, blocked by the incoming sobs, as he removed the blade, and stood, and whipped around to see...
Starwish, huffing and growling low in her throat, her snout and mouth dripping with the red life substance of a mangled Thunderclaw laying on its bloody side. Deciding he had seen enough of the gore and blood of his enemies, he cast a glance at his fallen companions, who had now collapsed. After crumpling to his knees, he crawled to their side, completely oblivious (well, not exactly on that level) to the huge puddle of red liquid he was getting smothered in.
He did notice the cruel destruction of Forrest's once handsome and beautiful look, the way his armour somehow hung from torn scales, some plates on the floor, all ruined... Just like the Nadder's life. He put a shaking hand on the dragon's head, then moved towards the rider a few inches away, his image disturbing, yet heart-wrenching.
“John?” Rollan whispered, lying on his stomach to get as close as he could to the man. The older rider cracked his eyelids open, which fluttered for a second, before closing again.
“Than-Thank y-youu... Rol-an...” He stammered, blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth as he passed into the void, leaving Rollan and Starwish to mourn.
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The sound of a pair of dragons clashing in a fit of combat above Rollan, snapped him out of his trance, and brought him to an important conclusion;
The battle wasn't exactly... Over.
After one final touch to his bloodied cheek, Rollan stood shakily, nodded at Starwish, and climbed on her back. Before she took off, his gaze swept over the awful mess behind them. John and Forrest's destroyed bodies, the horrific remains of the Thunderclaw, and the stabbed Firewing. He looked at the yellow-orange dragon longer, taking in its face- in the frenzy of it all, he hadn't even noticed it was completely bathed in crimson, hot and sticky Deadly Nadder blood, or how its right eye was ripped and mangled to a point where it had...
[Ugh, I can't write that.]
They took flight, and pushed those dark thoughts away... After all, Rollan had even worse coming...
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After that, it was his worst nightmare, only real. Now filled with a grief fuelled vigour, they took down opponent after opponent, especially Drago's dragons. He saw many others get gravely wounded- at one stage, his brother's cut clean off hand wound up falling on Starwish's head... Which was rather traumatising. He had been through a lot of that shit recently... It didn't help, when he saw Catholine and Verrassa get shot down while he was trying to dodge about twenty arrows...
But, truly and honestly, how could he of known that a blood red Monstrous Nightmare was approaching him in his blind spot?
How could he have known that it would break Starwish's wing?
How could he have known it had a rider?!
How could he have known what it would bring?!
How could he have known... It would be the last time they would be in the sky?
In a flurry of motion, it attacked, and all too soon, Starwish was falling, and they crashed. Rollan was thrown from the saddle and her back where he belonged, instead met harshly with blood-splattered, and cold ground. Starwish, despite how hard she tried, soon found herself unconscious, unaware of what was to come...
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Part 3 “Well, well, well... How predictable can it get, hmm? What's next,” the traitor, once the noble Dragon Rider Travis, walked casually towards Rollan, laughing. “Is your little Night Puny gonna come and save you? Hmm?” Travis laughed maniacally, clearly enjoying the whole scenario.
“Shut- Up.” Rollan groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and putting his arms in front of him.
“Why?” Travis teased, “Has your little dwagon got sensitive ears?”
“No, she's amazing, and I will-” Rollan attempted to get up, only to groan loudly, and clutch his chest. Something was wrong, severely wrong... Oh, were his ribs seriously broken...?!
“-And I will do what-” another groan, “-Ever it takes to protect her.” By now, he was forcing himself to hold himself together, as blood was beginning to escape from whatever wound (or wounds) he had sustained. Travis chuckled, drawing his sword and spinning it around in one hand. Broken ribs... Of all of the possible injuries...
“Also, it's Night Fury, and dragon.” Rollan spat, and Travis stopped laughing, frowning. “You really need to go back to school.”
“Oh.” The Monstrous Nightmare's rider said, as if it was the most insignificant thing ever, or he was an idiot, just told that sheep couldn't fly.
Rollan stared. Either this cold-blooded traitor was incredibly stupid, or simply playing dumb. It was definitely much more likely for the latter. Rollan struggled to stand, and had to rest his hand on a boulder behind him for support. He glared at the disgusting traitor, Rollan's normally warm, loving and playful sapphire stare, colder than ice.
“Well, that's just lovely, isn't it....” The man, now brought back to villainy, awoke his sick, evil grin, and stepped forward so he was only a lunge away from stabbing the rider's heart. Rollan flinched, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Starwish lifting her head. The Night Fury's eyes widened, and panic shot through her faster than she could fly against her older sister.
Starwish stood up.
Travis smiled, tracing his finger along the red blade, sickly grinning as it left a thin line of blood in its wake. He truly was mad... Enjoying, savouring, his OWN pain.
Starwish tentatively stepped forward, eyes locked-
-The rider brought his sword up, smiling at the terror Rollan had no trouble expressing.
Starflight started running, heart pounding. No, this couldn't happen! NO!
Rollan lowered his head with a pained moan, accepting death, and heard the sound of the sword being brought down, and the sound of a roar-
Wait, what?
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Rollan opened his eyes, dreading what he would see.
He gasped.
Travis lay on the ground, unconscious, about a metre away from the body of the Night Fury.
His Night Fury.
His dying Night Fury.
“STARWISH!” Rollan threw himself at her, pulling one her broken wing down from the way its stuck up in a horrifying angle. He pulled himself onto her neck, looking at her slack facial features in horror. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, surely, this couldn't happen?
“No, no, no, no no no...” the young man crawled round to her other side, and saw the red jewel sword launched deep into her chest. Rollan, trembling, reached out to caress the side of Starwish's triangular head, the way he would as they fell asleep on a night... But Starwish wouldn't wake up ever again, no matter what.
The Night Fury's watery eyes slowly creaked open, and Rollan broke down, trying to hold his composure pathetically, which obviously failed.
“Please don't leave me...” Rollan whispered, sobs raking his voice. The black dragon weakly and gently licked his cheek, and Rollan stared at his quivering bloodied hand, and then at his Night Fury.
He reached out, and gently allowed his hand to hover in front of her snout. A moment later, a cold, bloodied, scaly snout pressed into it, and when Rollan opened his eyes, they shared one last look into one another's eyes. With a pained moan, she laid her head down, and left the world for a better place.
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Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since the battle, and Starwish's death. Three weeks since death and hell had came to Rollan's doorstep, way before they were due.
Self-harm. Pain. Grief. Push others away. Don't ever forgive yourself. The five key things in Rollan's shut down mind at the moment.
Rollan's room was trashed, and seriously uncharacteristic. Once, it had been the 'tidiest' and 'most professional and clean' room in all of the Dragonus Kingdom, according to the other riders, but now... It was the complete opposite. and On his wall, written in his own, self-caused blood, was a tally of how many days had passed. His books, clothes were everywhere, and they were accompanied by everything else in his room. His desk was smashed and torn apart, the papers on the floor and mostly shredded...
The only things Rollan hadn't destroyed were his drawings of Starwish.
He was laying on his bed, one of those drawings in his trembling hands. Fresh, new tears joined the page's front, already mottled by the countless tears he had shed already.
Rollan touched the recently cut gashes on his arms, and then looked over to the knife he had left under his pillow, just peeking out in sight. He sighed, and turned his head to stare up at the wall blankly.
There wasn't any point, really. Tonight, he would make it all end... Tonight, he would gaze upon the moon, and genuinely smile for the first time in forever, knowing he would soon be reunited with his soul-mate, and the one who held the key to his heart.
Tonight, he would commit suicide.
What did he have to lose? Nothing he would stop for. He had never met his parents (his foster ones had abused him, so...),Catholine was dead, his brother had passed away a few days ago to infection- the ones that he loved more than anyone else... Except her. He had loved Starwish, more than life itself.
And he had failed her. He had lied- he hadn't protected her, from that insensitive traitorous bitch, no matter what... Right now, he couldn't care less about his broken ribs, or even the little amount of blood he had left. He basically ignored his laboured breathing. He practically looked at blood like it was a cup of water.
But...
It would all end tonight.
The agony, grief, and everlasting guilt, would end tonight, when his life slipped away.
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The next morning, a woman walked through the door, and her heart tore, as she saw the limp body hanging by the neck. Sending up a prayer to all gods above, she gently lifted him down, and sat as one by one, the riders and dragons prepared a funeral, that would be watched from the clouds above, by the reunited Rollan and Starwish.
And, with the final ring of the bell, Rollan whispered, 'Thank you all... We're watching you all from the clouds above, and we love you...' Starwish cooed, simply satisfied that she now had her beloved rider, back where he belonged.
Rollan smiles. 'But I couldn't stay away from her any longer, for I knew that final touch, couldn't indeed be my last.'
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A/N:
PS- I recommend reading the story first. 
Ok, so... What do you think? Too dark? Too long? Drawn out?
I personally wanted it to be a tug-at-the-heartstrings type of story, but I don't know how it really turned out. After all, we don't even know the characters, to be honest...
This is part of my up-coming AU, 'White Fury', and set a good 40 or so years before. [Don't question Drago... That, WILL be explained for another time... There is a good reason, I assure you] Basically, I am just trying to show how horrible the fights were, and how heavy. If you so choose to read the upcoming AU, and its stories, you'll probably wind up finding, it was a lot worse back then. There's all reasons for this and that, well, maybe not some things, but yeah.
Please, if you can, leave your input on the One-Shot, I'd love to hear whatever you have to say. 
Crystallion12
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what a story. Now I hate drago even more.great job writing the story. 
I really hate paranoia. 
That type of hate. And this is how it ends: 
Not cool man, not cool.