Chapter Text
That could be a normal day. Well, as normal as it was possible when you were living on the Dragon’s Edge with Princess Outpost and his demanding obsession with the dragon hunters. No Viggo's men had been spotted in days, though. Even the twins had behaved themselves lately − no unexpected explosions for like a week had to be their personal record and Snotlout had an anxious feeling they'd been planning something immensely awesome all this time.
For now, everything seemed perfect for Snotlout's beauty nap.
"Hey gang..."
And of course, Hiccup just had to come to the clubhouse and ruin this relaxing afternoon.
"What's now?" Snotlout groaned and shot Hiccup an unimpressed glare.
"Hunters?" asked Fishlegs from where he'd been preparing their dinner.
Much to Snotlout's relief, Hiccup declined.
"I've just got a T-mail from dad," he said in strangely flat tone. His hand found its way through his hair. A clear sign of uneasiness.
The riders, who now all gathered around their leader, shared a look. Whatever it was, Snotlout somehow hoped any news from Berk couldn’t be possibly any worse than the training Astrid intended to force them to do tomorrow.
"It's quite interesting."
***
Stoick has been spending most of his day supervising restoration of Berk's supplies and mediating in yet another trivial conflict between Mulch and Bucket and between few other couples as well. As much as being the chief could be ridiculously wearisome sometimes, Stoick would rather take dealing with grumbling vikings than an open war with hunters. Or so he'd been telling himself. It was hard to think like this, while listening to fifth most common argument on Berk yet again.
When Gobber stormed to the Great Hall screaming Stoick's name, the chief was rather certain he actually would enjoy punching some hunters in their annoying faces. This matter, however, seemed to be quite important.
"Are you sure, Gobber?" Stoick asked as they've been making their way to one of the sandy shores on uninhabited part of the island. "I don't have to remind you what happened last time the kids found a castaway on Berk, do I?" And given current timing, it was less than likely to be a coincidence, Stoick supposed. After all, sending a spy or diverse didn't come off as a ploy Viggo might have been above using.
"Aye." Gobber shrugged unhelpfully. "Never seen any dragon like this," he muttered. "It can't be a hunter if they ride a dragon, though."
"It's a serious matter, Gobber!"
Stoick didn't like it, not one bit. The last thing anyone needed would be a wild dragon rider working for hunters. The chief rubbed his tired eyes. It's all getting way too familiar.
Sure enough, laying on the sandy coast was a relatively small body of strange blackish dragon.
Its featured wings, Stoick noted, were clearly wrapped in a protective manner around something... someone, the chief corrected himself as he and Gobber came closer.
That was the kind of sight he'd prefer to never see again, even if this dragon wasn't a Night Fury and it couldn't be Hiccup under its wings.
A sudden growl stopped both men in their truck. The squeaky sound, though definitely one of a dragon, was nothing like Stoick had ever heard.
Before he could question Gobber about it, possibly the smallest Terrible Terror in existence flung above the black reptile.
It puffed its chest and started making more frantic shrieks. Despite its size, it looked like it was ready to protect whoever laid under other dragon's wings.
"Easy dragon," Stoick said and waved his hand in what he hoped was a calming manner, the one he had often seen his son doing.
There was a groan coming from the larger dragon. Then a shift. Stoick could hear Gobber's gasp.
"By Odin... Stoick, it's just a lad!"
True to Gobber's words, the wing moved to reveal an unconscious boy. It was hard to guess his age due to blood pouring out of his forehead and covering half of the kid's face. Judging by his posture, he couldn't be much older than twelve, Stoick thought. With his clothes torn and red hair messed with see water, this boy made a rather pitiful view.
And ironically enough, on the kid's chest curled up was yet another small dragon that looked more like a shriveled potato with fangs than anything else. Its eyes were open, sharply scanning the approaching strangers. For a second, Stoick though he could feel himself shivering.
"We should take this boy to Gothi," he stated, looking again at the wound on kid's forehead. A sight like this wasn't generally anything new for an experiences warrior, on a child or not. Yet Stoick felt somehow disturbed. Head wounds were known to be tricky after all. But perhaps he was getting soft he supposed and he had only Hiccup and himself to blame.
"We question him, when he's awake," he decided. "We won't hurt him. We only want to help. He will need it," he added directly to the dragons before Gobber could say anything.
It took another few seconds − and several exchanged whiny growls − for the small Terrible Terror, still trying to block their way to the boy, to finally move away.
The blackish dragon was now awake as well, glancing at his unmoved rider with obvious concern.
Stoick sighed.
***
Even before opening his eyes, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third knew something was terribly wrong.
There was, of course, familiar warm radiating from his dragons. Awareness of their company has never failed to lessen his worries. Nevertheless, the lack of lingering dampness, ever so present in the last few months, was almost as disturbing as soft furs Hiccup could feel underneath his body.
Alarmed, he tried to fully wake up. Pain behind his eyes didn't help much. Wooden ceiling was everything Hiccup could see after a couple of blinks.
He sat straight up in sudden realization. His headache long forgotten.
"What in the Midgard?" he exclaimed in dragonese out of habit. His vision blurred, causing his surroundings to fade into one another. Sitting up didn't seem like the best idea now.
"Hiccup..." said the Wodensfang’s voice somewhere above his head. The dragon wasn't able to finish, as Toothless chose this moment to bounce awake and lick his master's face.
"Y-y-you're up!" small dragon announced happily. "H-hiccup issa mean master. Living p-poor Toothless a-all on his own!"
Hiccup smiled, being a bit more able to focus. It was good to see Toothless' alright. He glanced at the Windwalker still curled up fast asleep next to the bed Hiccup found himself currently in. To his relief, no new injuries could be spotted on the dragon.
He turned to meet Wodensfang's gaze. "Do you know where we are?" No one on the whole archipelago should've wanted to bring him to their house, not to let him stay alive for long and Hiccup was well aware of that. His hand automatically reached to touch his forehead, only to found a bandage had been put on there.
None of this made any sense. The last thing Hiccup remembered was one not so abandoned cave and few Red Rage driven dragons and a blow to his head shoving him off the Windwalker right to cold see.
The expression Wodensfang wore was impossible to interpret.
"We're on Berk," he said grimly. "It's not the Berk, I'm afraid, any of us know," he added before Hiccup could start panicking.
The boy blinked, too tired to be properly confused.
"What?" Whether it was just his concussion and remaining fever that blocked his capability of thinking or if he simply hasn't awaken yet, he wasn't sure.
"D-dragons here a-are mere b-b-beast!" Toothless started complaining, unhelpfully. "None can talk," he laughed. "O-o-overgrown animals!" Hiccup stared at his dragon as if he'd just gained second head. "And th-this big man issa not r-real Stoick!"
"Someone named as my father is here?" Hiccup looked at the Wodensfang. Perhaps the ancient dragon might've understood what's going on.
"Dragons and humans here seem different," admitted Wodensfang. "No dragonese, no war... It is not the world we know. As if Fate decided to sneer at us."
"But–" It's impossible, Hiccup wanted to say, but didn't. He knew by now, there's not a thing that's impossible, just improbable. Yet, the improbability of his current situation was too ridiculous. "But how?" he asked instead.
None of them knew the answer.
"We should be careful with what we'll tell people," the Wodensfang advised. "They may not be enemies, but they do know about us as much as we do about them."
Hiccup was going to ask how much his dragons managed to find out when he was unconscious – he didn't even know how long he was asleep for Thor's sake – but Windwalker jolted awake and all the dragons turned their heads to the entrance of the hut, alarmed by the upcoming sound the boy wasn't capable of hearing yet.
Hiccup's been looking for any sort of weapon, when the door burst open.