Okay guys, so sadly, this is the last chapter of How to Be a Slave. It's been a great run for this story, I hope that you got insight to some Viking and Irish culture. I am still thinking about doing a sequel with some more Irish culture. I hope you enjoyed this story and I look forward to your feedback. Please review and thanks to those who already have.

Disclaimer, I own nothing.

Enjoy

How to Be a Slave

Epilogue

Her dragon landed on the charred ground, squawking and fluttering his wings as he closed them. She jumped off, her cloak covered her body. Her feet slowly crossed the haunted ground. The ruins were still visible.

A year and it still showed the blood-stained ground.

The Deadly Nadder screeched. Kacey turned.

"Sh…I'm fine."

Her Deadly Nadder grew protective over Kacey and wouldn't let her out of his sight. It was quite annoying but it was part of the bond that these two shared. Kacey took off her hood as her ocean blue eyes scanned the scorched land.

Rotting corpses, debris spewed, buckling walls, burnt ground and scattered belongings, Kacey could replay the traumatizing scene over and over again, through her eyes. Her foot stepped on a spear shaft, splitting it in two.

She felt her scabbier brush against her thigh as she quietly sauntered across the ground of the once-proud-standing village. The green grass turned brown, revealing a drought. She sighed as she finally stopped. Her feet that scraped echoed in the air as she drew in a shuttering breath.

Her body trembled and she fell to her knees. She knew this would happen when she saw him, she would start bawling like a baby, like every time the memory of her father came to mind. His flesh was being eaten by maggots, but she could still tell it was him. His tattered clothes and his scar gave it away. She allowed a few tears slid down her cheeks as she grieved.

"I miss you, Aithair." She mumbled to the corpse. Her hand gingerly touched the blood stain on his shirt, where he was stabbed.

"Kacey…argh!"

She slightly turned her head to face a sword that was buried under a pile of wood. She freed the sword from the wood, tossing it aside as she picked it up. It was the same design as the one Hiccup made her.

"Aithair, who where did you get that sword?"

"It has been passed down for many generations, Kacey. Since your great-great-great-great grandfather forged this sword from the rarest steel he found after Rome fell."

"What's written on it, Aithiar?"

"That, my daughter, is your ancestor's words. Chief of a Celtic clan*, he spoke these words when they were under attack by Romans*. Can you read it my child?"

"An áit a bhuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú*." She echoed, barely able to read the sketched words.

She stood up on a search. She pulled out a boned-shovel from rubble and walked back over to her father's carcass. Her dragon meandered up to her, warbling in confusion as Kacey not-so-gently jabbed the shovel into the mud.

She continued to dig a large hole which took a while seeing that the dirt was hard. The Nadder tried to help Kacey, it wasn't much help but the dragon was more than happy to assist his human.

She stuck the shovel into the pile of dirt before walking over to the body. She looked up at the dragon.

"Alright, want to help me with this?" she requested. The dragon squawked and his tail, scooping up her father's body and setting him down in the hole, careful so there wouldn't be any puncture from her dragon's spikes.

As the body was gently lowered, Kacey held her father's sword to her chest. She placed the sword onto her father's bony chest and much like Chief Hiccup did when his father died, she moved his hand and placed it over the hilt of the sword. She then stood up and looked at her father before grabbing the shovel.

"Slán*, Aithair." She spoke, gently dumping the dirt onto his body. She sniffed as she covered his body with the dirt. Now he only existed in her memory, never to see his body again. She smoothed out the soil with the help of her dragon and tossed the shovel aside. She walked over to a plank of wood, allowing her dragon to finish up smoothing the dirt. She stared at it before finding a spearhead and engraved her ancestors' words on it. She stuck it into the ground, right above her father's head and stood there, reciting a small prayer as tears continued to slide down her cheeks.

She sniffed and finally turned to her dragon who had nuzzled her in comfort.

"Hey boy," She said. She sniffed again. "I still haven't named you…"

The dragon crooned, hopeful that he would now be given a name. She looked at her father's makeshift grave and then at the dragon.

"How about Fergus?"

In honor of her father.

The End.

Irish History-

Clans-The Celts were the ancestors of the Irish. If you've read my stories about Saro, (How to Choose Sides and the oneshot collections, check 'em out if you wish). The Celts were a heritage during the Roman Empire. Their land was conquered by the Romans at around 62 BC by Julius Caesar. The Celts were divided into Clans, it was a little similar to the Vikings. Their clans were named by the last name of their leader so O'Douglas, O'Riley, McNamara and they were ruled by the High Kings (The Irish monarchy, this government continued during the Viking Age while the Vikings conquered Ireland)

Gaelic Translations-

An áit a bhuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú-Translation: Let your feet take you to where your heart is.

Slán-(Pron. Slawn) Translation- Goodbye.

And there you go! Thanks for all the great reviews.

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