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Sea, endless sea. Waves crashing far below him, the noise of Asgard left far behind. It was so peaceful here.
And he was alone.
Loki's hair tossed in the freezing wind as he watched the sun sink beyond the horizon. No one had noticed his departure; he was quite sure of that. If they did, they wouldn't follow. The remote places of Midgard, untouched havens where humans didn't venture, were his to claim when he wished. Here he was free, free of Asgard's scrutiny, of its senseless revelry, of his brother's ever-growing shadow. How it smothered him.
His tolerance for Thor and his lavish parties was waning. It wasn't enough to conjure simple tricks for amusement and indulge in his own pleasures, not anymore, not when he had become so blatantly ignored in favor of the elder prince. Even Lady Sif, who had once looked upon the trickster with such fondness, had grown distant. Now it seemed she only had eyes for Thor, the bullheaded fool of a warrior who was oblivious to everything except his own desires. Perhaps that was why she was drawn to him – he was a fool. He couldn't lie to her, sway her, look straight through her and into her secret musings as if they had been laid bare.
Loki almost smiled. He knew it was his lack of restraint that had pushed her away. She had always been an open book to him while he was the eternal riddle that drove her mad. Perhaps to her, Thor was merely a reprieve. Perhaps he was nothing more to her than a proud stallion, strong and desirable and utterly witless, so easily led.
And yet, Loki knew his brother would be made king soon enough. The Allfather was growing weary. He dreaded that day, even if it was decades, maybe centuries, away. No one was more undeserving of a throne than the mighty oaf. He couldn't even wield Mjölnir on the battlefield without breaking something that never needed breaking or bashing his own soldiers. How could Odin ever expect him to rule Asgard in his idiocy?
A rustling drew him from his seething thoughts and he turned to eye the grove at his back. Something was moving toward him through the brush, something large judging from the padding of heavy feet. Strange – he hadn't expected to encounter any sizable animals on such a small island. Maybe it was a stranded bear. He kept still, eyes fixed on the trees and largely unconcerned. He could ward off a bear easily enough if it took an interest in him, although he had no wish to draw its attention.
Regardless, the beast drew closer, and Loki considered shrouding himself. He knew it would likely run once it saw him, especially with a few magical flairs if need be, but he was in no mood for a fight. It was only out of cynical curiosity that he chose to remain visible.
The head that emerged from the trees, however, was not that of a bear.
***
Toothless wandered the island's wild terrain, searching leisurely for anything that might be of interest. He had left his rider behind to toy with his maps. The archipelago they'd landed on seemed like any other, quiet and desolate, but that never deterred Hiccup from documenting their discoveries.
Even if he was confined to the ground, Toothless enjoyed exploring on his own. New territory always held the promise of a hunt for a young Fury. Admittedly, there was rarely anything to hunt on these little patches of rock, maybe the occasional bird that he never bothered catching. He preferred treasures over prey, things that didn't belong that he could bring back to Hiccup. His human had always been good at making sense of odd things that turned up in the wilderness.
A new scent, however, was always worth investigating. Cold winds carried smells up from the sea, mixing with the woody scent of island undergrowth. But there was something else there now, something unfamiliar.
Human? No, not quite.
Toothless lifted his muzzle to the wind, intrigued. He began meandering up toward the island's crest, following the scent intently. It led him into a thicket of birches and he picked his way between the trees slowly, concentrating hard. He sniffed at the ground, but there was no trail. How strange.
The scent was growing stronger, but following it through the dense grove proved challenging. He stopped and listened for a moment, ready to follow the smallest sound. He heard nothing except distant waves and the wind rustling in the canopy.
After shambling through the trees for some time, he stopped suddenly, well hidden beneath the shadows. He had come to the edge of the grove that led out to a sheer cliff. A man stood at its edge, looking in his direction. Surprised, Toothless sniffed quietly. There was no doubt the mysterious scent belonged to the stranger. He was not remarkable in appearance – tall and thin, just like Hiccup; pale skin, like the humans of his tribe. He wore a fine tunic adorned with polished metal ornaments and a simple cloak, all black and dark shades of green. Toothless wondered how he had gotten to this island. He hadn't seen any other dragons from the sky, nor any boats. Maybe he was stranded here.
Slowly, keeping low to the ground, the dragon moved out from the trees. He stopped again when the man caught sight of him. To his surprise, he didn't seem alarmed. He simply remained still, holding the dragon's gaze in silence. Toothless sniffed at him again. His scent was indeed like that of a human and yet so different. He couldn't make sense of it. It was muddled by some sweet aroma that hung about him, mingled with the familiar smells of leather and smoke and fermented drink.
Toothless stepped out into the clearing cautiously, eyes trained on the stranger. He couldn't see if he carried weapons and kept some distance between them, edging closer to the cliff.
***
Loki stood motionless, the urge to shroud himself renewed as he took in the form of the great winged creature eyeing him from the trees. His experience with dragons was sparse and he had never come face to face with one of Midgard. This one was not especially large as dragons went, but it was impressive nonetheless.
As it turned to stalk along the tree line, his eyes fell to the complex saddle positioned on the beast's neck. Straps connected to metal rims that encircled its shoulders, housing stirrups and thick cords that ran the length of its sides and tail. One fin at the end of its tail appeared to be artificial, a scarlet copy of its black twin. Odd – this dragon was tamed. Of course, this didn't mean it was friendly.
“Where's your rider, beast?” he asked calmly, hardly expecting a reaction. To his surprise, the dragon halted, the odd plates on its head springing up. It raised its head and cocked it to one side, making a soft rumble in its throat. It sniffed at him again and after a moment it kept moving, keeping to a wide circle but getting closer.
“Stay back,” Loki warned.
The dragon stopped immediately.
“I don't want trouble, do you understand?”
It raised its head again with a warble. Then it stepped back, turning so it could face him directly. Its shoulders sunk and it seemed to relax and it continued to stare at him.
“Go away,” he said. “Go on.”
The dragon did nothing.
“I'm not going to run if that's what you're waiting for.”
The dragon blinked, then, in a rather doglike fashion, slowly lowered itself into a sitting position that looked almost comical.
Loki was not amused. “Is this your island? Do you want me to leave?”
The dragon didn't react.
“Do you even understand anything I'm saying?”
The dragon cocked its head, its plates once again springing up like the ears of a startled cat. Now he almost dared to believe it did understand. It was a local dragon, then, if it could respond to Norse. He wasn't aware the Northmen had tamed dragons, much less rode them. How long had it been since he last visited Midgard?
He was intrigued by the creature, but while it no longer seemed especially threatening, its presence was becoming a nuisance. “All right, go on. Go back to your master, or wherever you came from.”
The dragon pointedly sniffed at him again, then drew its head back and made a low noise.
“I said go on,” Loki barked sternly. “Go away.”
The dragon rose, still entranced by his scent. Then it lowered itself close to the ground and took a cautious step forward, staring up at him and warbling softly.
“Stay back.”
The reptile turned its long body to bring itself another step closer, then stopped and rumbled at him. When he did nothing, it braved another step.
Relenting against his better judgment, Loki slowly extended his hand, offering it to the beast. It drew back sharply, eyeing him with obvious suspicion. “Come on, then,” he said, “if you're so curious.”
Hesitating, the dragon inched forward. With it so close, and well aware that it could easily kill him now, Loki couldn't help but take in its unique form – a great, broad head like a gigantic salamander, scales as black as the night itself, eyes as green as spring leaves, piercing and intelligent. It was almost beautiful in its own right.
With startling gentleness, the dragon brushed its cool nose lightly against his upturned palm, its eyes almost closing as it breathed in his scent. Then its pupils narrowed and, in a motion so swift that Loki flinched away, it shot backward, lowering its head again to stare him down.
“You're an odd one, aren't you?” He composed himself quickly, smiling in spite of himself. “So am I.”
“Toothless!”
The dragon's head snapped toward the grove. The voice that drew its attention – a young man, by the sound of it – was nearer than Loki preferred. He had no desire to mingle with humans. Clearly this island was not as desolate at the moment as he had presumed. “You'd better get back to your master.”
The dragon looked back to him with a low, rumbling trill.
***
“Toothless!” Hiccup's voice was closer now. Toothless once again looked to the trees, uttering a low call. He wasn't sure whether to go after his rider or wait for him to come and meet the stranger by the cliff. Perhaps a human could make better sense of him.
But when Toothless turned back, the man was gone. Bewildered, the dragon quickly bounded to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the water. There was no sign of him down there. Maybe he had gone under? No – he hadn't heard a splash. He hadn't even heard the man move. He sniffed at the grass where he had been standing, finding only a lingering scent. What was he?
He warbled loudly when Hiccup called for him again, then stalked around the thicket, baffled.
“Toothless?” Hiccup came stumbling through the trees moments later, wholly oblivious to the dragon's encounter. “What are you doing, bud? Did you find something?”
Toothless shook his head with a rumble of frustration. He reared up and sniffed the air, looking over the brush and through the trees, but no trace of the stranger remained.
“What is it, bud?”
With a defeated warble, the Fury returned to the cliff and peered down again, just to be sure. Then he lifted his gaze out to the sea, huffing softly. Hiccup came to stand beside him and looked down at the waves breaking against the rocks. “What did you see?”
Toothless sat back on his haunches. He wished he could tell him about the strange man – how he looked, how he smelled, how he vanished as if he'd never been there at all. He had never seen such a clever trick.
Trick.
Yes, that was what he was. A trickster.