Chapter Text
Prequal:
It has been 5 years since the move to New Berk, and more importantly, the loss of dragons in the archipelago. Across the sky, a lightning storm lights up the night. In the warmth of the Chieftain’s hut, her home, a tired yet sleepless Astrid Hofferson gazes through the window toward the clashing bolts streaking the clouds above.
Taking a deep breath, she sighs, “Well, it’s now or never.”
Prepared for what is to come the young blonde turns her head from the dark and gloomy window and starts toward the front door, hand reaching for her prized and cherished battle-axe as she strides by. Upon feeling the familiar weight in her hand she brings the well-maintained blade up to her sight, pausing in her step for just a second before hardening her resolve. This has to work; it is the only thing left she can possibly do. If even this won’t work then she will have failed her best friend completely, and that is simply not an option. She clenches the leatherbound handle tighter as her eyes narrow in hard determination and her whole body tenses with emotion.
With her passion, fears, faith, and desperation overtaking her body and soul, Astrid carries only her axe as she climbs through the dark to reach the highest point of the island. The winds rage around her, howling in terror as the storm thrashes their island. She is fully aware of the dangers of climbing so high during a lightning storm as vibrant as tonight’s, but that is exactly why she needs to do it. She needs to get as close as she can while they are here, so they can hear her plead, and answer her prayers.
Astrid Hofferson, the bloodline of the fearless Hoffersons, was never one to lean too heavily on the gods, always preferring to fight and fend for herself. She likes to believe that she is a pride to her tribe and crest, capable of more than most any, and respected as such. There is nothing she can’t handle and nothing she fears, but she knows now she is wrong. There is something she cannot handle, something she fears. No matter what she tried, how many times, or for how long, nothing was working. The misery spread to her like the plague and with no leads as to cure the cause, and the symptoms only growing more dire. Having nothing else to lose, she finds herself turning to the Gods for their aid. Lest they answer her prayers as she climbs closer to their realm.
Her hands are raw and bloodied from the climb up the northern cliffs, and her exposed skin and face are red from the wind's lashing. With a labored grunt, she pulls herself atop a small plateau that is level and clear except for one lonely tree stump near the center. She steadies her breathing and walks up to the oak round on the highest point of the island. She feels the cold from this altitude sharply pelting her body now and pushes all of that out of her mind. Looking at the stump, she sees the markings she carved fresh and unaltered. This is what she has been waiting for, preparing for. From the depths below and all around her, she is surrounded by the dark electrically charged clouds. Thick tendrils of light flash powerfully all around her in the dark. She does not think of the pain radiating off her skin, and she does not entertain any fear that she will die by lightning this night. She instead steals a deep and cleansing breath, recentering herself, and fills her head, heart, and soul with her cause. Readying herself, she raises her head to the Gods. Eyeing the storm above before resigning to her knees, and preciously laying her axe on the smooth oak round Gothi helped her decorate just for this moment.
Hands together and eyes closed, she bows her head and begins to pray, “Oh Thor Odinson, Ruler of Asgard, God of Thunder, and the noblest of warriors please accept my most cherished possession, beloved axe o’ mine, and in turn hear my plight and plea!” She bellows so as she may be heard over the rambunctious thunder. “My love is lost and his life is lifeless! Please! Help him to remember who he used to be! To return him to who he once was!” She yells, hands clenching tighter as her desires are released. With neigh a breath's break she continues, “To help him want to live and grow again! To find happiness again! Please, I beg wholly for your aid!”
After a moment of nothing happening, she opens her tightly shut eyes and untenses the merciless grip her hands held. With wide eyes she stares at her knees below, rigid and waiting. Something is bound to happen, a sign will surely appear. She followed every procedure Gothi told her to, spoke formally, and submitted entirely. Pride be damned as she prostrates at the lowest point in her life, anything if it would summon the Gods to her aid.
But there is nothing still. No otherworldly clap of thunder or words carried on the wind. Not even a change in the barraging lightning’s musings.
After the very few minutes her patients would allow, she pauses in her waiting and whips her head to the sky, a wet scowl lining her features. “Please! You have to listen to me!” She screams desperately, tears threatening to overflow.
“You don’t understand, he needs he-elp! H-he’s not himself! He. He hasn’t been *sob* been in years! He’s m-my best f-friend! Please!” Astrid all but cries out loud, pushing her words through raw emotion. “I-I tri-tried everything I could! But… But I can’t do i-hi-hittt! *sob* I can’t do it!! I can’t fix him! Please Thor almighty! I NEED him, the village ne-eds him! Please help Hi Hi-Hiccup *sob* Help Hiccup before he kil-be before he kills himself! He can’t live on like this! Please! I am begging you! Help him to live again! Y-you have to! PLEASE!” Astrid barely gasps out before falling forward in a gut-wrenching cry, pounding her fists on the ground next to the carefully crafted wooden altar in front of her.
The human girl cries for only a moment before a superiorly radiant light engulfs her senses, and simultaneously, a deafening roar of thunder pierces her wind-burned ears. With a startled gasp, she raises her head just in time to see the entirety of her axe glow a bright light blue. Only for it to soon fade, leaving no trace of the supernatural behind. Darkness again settles around her and the lightning seems to lessen in intensity, although only slightly she notices. For a long moment, she does nothing but stare. Is this the sign she has been hoping for? Did the gods hear her?
Bewildered, yet hopeful she tentatively reaches a hand for her axe, only partially illuminated by passing streaks in clouds. It looks as though nothing has been burned or damaged even though it was just struck by lightning. Running her abused and calloused fingers over the smooth surface reveals a little warmth but that is all. Experimentally she lifts the axe and feels no difference in the weight or balance of the weapon, but she knows the mighty bot is a sign that the Gods have heard her plea. It has to be. To further prove she isn’t dreaming, the oaken altar underneath has been scorched black, all except the shadow where her axe lay. Standing strong otherwise, with the carved runes still visible, and the bark unaltered. With fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, tears of hope, the young blond hugs her axe to her body. She pleads still for Thor Almighty to have heard her, for the Gods to send aid, for this all to have worked, for her hopes to come true.
“Please be a yes, please be a yes”, she whispers in an attempt to reassure herself. “Please, be a yes…”
~~*~* 12XX years later, 2012 AD *~*~~
It’s a beautiful snow day in the little town of Burgess, or at least it’s supposed to be. Instead, there is a boisterous lightning storm darkening the sky and ruining all the hard work one Jack Frost put into today’s aesthetic. Not one to let something as small as some clouds get him down, Jack finds himself instead indoors. Playing with Jamie and Sophie in Jamie’s room.
Through the background of a certain winter spirit’s light-hearted velvet laughter, Sophie jumps up and down on Jamie’s bed with a toy dragon soaring in her hands, “Haowwwlll! Gruff-gruff!” She speaks for her plastic creature.
“Jack stop laughing!” Jamie scolds, “You’re just encouraging her! And Sophie, dragons don’t sound like dogs! They are fierce and loud! Like GRRAAAAAAA!” He exclaims as he raises his clawless hands to either side of his head, only causing Jack to laugh harder and Sophie to join in.
Jamie levels an unimpressed look while his companions are laughing before his lips twitch into a smirk, “Oh I bet you wouldn’t be laughing if you ever came face to face with a real dragon!” Jamie goads, getting in on the fun.
Jack raises a single brow to the boy, “Jamie, I’m a Guardian, what could a silly little dragon do to me?”
Jamie’s eyes light up at the chance to A. talk about dragons, and B. try to out-debate Jack. “Well for one thing most dragons are HUGE!!” He expands upon by spreading his arms high and wide, “Most dragons are at least double the size of an average human. They are also almost indestructible since they have really sturdy scales and skin while their claws are so sharp, they can…” Jamie continues with matching hand gestures.
Jack nods along attentively, yet still unwilling to yield, all while trying not to laugh at the barking dragon flying up and down on the bed next to him.
“… some even breathe frost like you! Though most breathe types of fire that can melt pretty much anything.” Jamie concludes, a little out of breath from ranting out loud.
“Haha, alright Jamie you win,” Jack concedes with a raise of his hand, “Even I would struggle against something that breathes fire like that.”
Grinning from his win the younger boy reassures his spirit friend, “Don’t worry Jack, since you are really fast, you would be able to avoid a dragon's fire until they reach their shot limit!”
Curious of both how Jamie seems to have such specific knowledge, and where this new obsession came from, the spirit asks the child, “And how is it someone who has never seen a dragon before knows so much about them?”
As if a switch is flipped, the child turns and runs to his desk, “I found this book in the library in town! And after reading it I looked online, and saw that it is a novel based on the actual Dragon Master Hiccup's Journals! It’s all real Jack!” He exclaims out of breath as he holds the book up. The winter spirit playfully leans in to inspect it. On the cover is a drawing of a teenager with a prosthetic leg leaning against a large sleek dragon, black as night. It reads How Vikings Trained the Dragons.
“Huh,” Jack skeptically breathes as he takes his chin in his hand and leans back, “Are you sure this isn’t some fictional teen fantasy drama book?”
“No, it's not,” Jamie huffs before plopping down on the ground where he stands, “C’mere, I’ll show you some!”
Jack easily gives in, loving the fun in Jamie’s eyes, and goes to sit on the rug next to him, leaning against the bed. As Jamie starts to read Sophie makes her way over to rest on Jack's crossed legs. For the rest of the day they listen to Jamie retell the stories of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III and his Dragon riders. How he befriended the creatures that hunted his tribe, freed their kind, and enlightened his own. A story of a fictional boy whose life seemed almost as complex and full as if these were the retellings of an actual boy and his struggles with mythical creatures in Viking waters. It told of a great loss and gain in his family as well as his fight with freedom and responsibility.
Though Jamie says this is a true story, Jack has a hard time believing it. Humans? Taking care of vicious, deadly, fire-breathing dragons? No way. No matter how long ago this was, and even if dragons were real then they still wouldn’t give in to humans!? Still, though, Jack is curious about the little Viking prince, the cunning and daring rider of the all-powerful Night Fury. Fictional or not, Jack is invested now and excitingly waits for Jamie to spill Hiccup’s happy ending. After all, he has gone through so much. And no matter how strong a boy can be, one can only be brought down so far, before they ultimately get back up and live happily ever after, as all legends in children’s stories should.
In Jamie’s story, however, the beloved dragon master rose from his loss and became chieftain of one of the largest and most powerful Viking tribes, one said to be blessed by Thor himself. The one-legged child became a great man and led a prosperous people. The wars of the archipelago all fought and mysteries unraveled. Peace for humans and dragons alike was finally obtained as the tribes came together under Hiccup’s principles. It seemed a new Golden Age of the dragons was well underway. That is, until one day, for no apparent rhyme or reason the Great Dragon Master, Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, Founder of New Berk, Leader of the Alliance of the Archipelago; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III vanished with all the dragons in tow, never to be seen or heard of again.
“… It's said that he watches over the dragons in their realm, protecting them from human threats forever more.” Jamie concludes with a heavy breath before closing the book in his lap and smiling at Jack, “Though that is just speculation since his journals don’t say what happened to the dragons, or why he disappeared. Aren’t dragons cool though? And Hiccup Dragon Master! Oh, I wish I could meet him! But what if he can’t leave the dragon realm…” Jamie mutters on, too concerned with his thoughts on the book to notice anyone else in the room.
Jack laughs lightly at the young reader, happy that he has found something that interests him so much. Still lingering in immersion, Jack recalls the abrupt ending. He feels as though it would have been better to end it with talks of peace and prosperity. Why would the young Chieftain suddenly leave all he has built? What could have happened to their world that forced every single dragon to disappear?
Even with these questions in mind, Jack has to admit, though he is not really a reader, preferring to have fun in this world than one of text, he decides he really likes this story. It could also have a little to do with the fact that he has never been read to before, but hey you can’t fault him for that.
Coming back to the moment Jack looks down at the little sleeper in his lap. She would probably be more comfortable sleeping in a bed. So with a steady grip, he lifts her up, though less cautious of her toy dragon she was holding, letting it slide out of her grip and fall under the bed. Jack lays her on Jamie’s bed before he crouches down to reach for the dragon. After a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get a hold of the pesky plastic creature. As he is pulling it back he elbows a hard ball living under the bed, and notices it roll towards him.
When Jack sees what he hit, his eyes go wide. Dropping the dragon on the ground again the pale teen swiftly grabs the orb for a closer look. There’s no doubt about it. This is one of North’s portal globes. But how does Jamie have it? In an attempt to answer that precise question he turns to his brightest light, “Hey Jamie, where did you get this?”
Said light was curled on the rug with a pillow in the same space he was previously sitting, seeming ready to follow his little sister to a post story nap after tiring himself out in his fandom excitement. With half-lidded eyes, he raises his head a little to see what his wintery friend is holding before shrugging and plopping his head back on his pillow and crossed arms. He had never seen the orb before.
Jack purses his lips, “Well have you seen Santa Claus recently? Or any of the others for that matter?”
“Hmmm. No. The last time I saw anyone other than you was when I lost my tooth back in Easter.” Jamie mutters as he continues to drift off.
Well, this was curious. Jack knows North typically carries a few orbs with him on the rare occasion he ventures out off season. Could one have fallen out of his coat when he got knocked out way back when? It’s possible… Wait, has Jamie not cleaned under his bed since then?! You know what, that’s not his area of expertise so he’s going to let it go, Jamie is a kid after all.
“Hey Jamie, this is someone else’s and they lost it so I’m going to return it, okay?” Jack proposes as he stands with the orb in hand. Jamie only mutters an approving hum as he catches hold of the beginnings of sleep. Jack smiles at the little Bennetts’ before dropping a blanket on each of them and flying off into the stormy evening. He is looking forward to bringing this orb back to North. The look he will have on his face when it’s JACK chiding him to be more careful! Oh, this is going to be great!
Jack laughs to himself as he rides the icy winds to the Pole unafraid of the lightning above since it never seems to target spirits passing through. At first, he thinks of what to say to North, the best way to get a rise out of him. But as the trip draws on, he starts thinking about that story again, about a land of dragons and the Dragon Master still fresh in his mind.
“Hiccup…” He practices the sound on his tongue, more invested in the tale than he thought he would be.
What an interesting character though, such a brilliant and daring youngster with such a trying life and strong bonds. Jack only remembers what he learned from his baby teeth, and he thinks his life might not have been as difficult, to be honest. Well other than the crippling loneliness, but that is improving now! A little…
Lost in his thoughts Jack doesn’t react fast enough as the winds suddenly turn on him, flinging him to the side and forcing the orb to roll out of his hands.
“No, no, no!” He chants as he flails his arms out in a useless attempt to reach the falling orb, not noticing the swirling image of a stone dragon and a boy blooming within its crystal shell. He can’t mess up and let this fall somewhere in town! He has to catch it, but the winds won’t listen to Jack at all.
He tries in vain to reach his body across the sky desperately, until finally the wind's chill surrounds him and returns their favor, gliding him towards the orb. The orb that is currently opening a portal to who knows where. Great.
Just as Jack is forced through the portal by the wind, a massive bolt of lightning strikes the energy field and it surges! Crackling into an explosive light and plunging the white-haired teen further into the unknown. As the portal vanishes, all that remains is the deafening roar of the thunder that shakes the glass windows of the buildings below.