Archive of Our Own ^beta

Astrid woke to the sound of a cell door clanging shut and someone yelling “tell your boss that I’m going to burn him alive!” Which, not a great start to the day really.

She groggily sat up, trying to get a look at the cell opposite hers. The guard (she thought he might’ve been called Kirk) was stood in front of the bars, blocking her view but for the top of a head, hair sticking out in every direction. He hadn’t bought a lamp down with him, leaving Astrid squinting in the near endless darkness that was the bowels of the boat.

“You can pass the message on yourself.” Maybe-Kirk replied. “Mr Grimborn has been waiting two weeks for you to show up.”

“Thought a prolific businessman would have better things to do.” The boy in the cell muttered. Astrid was certain he was still a boy, despite the rough edge to his voice, like he’d been chewing gravel. There was still something young about how he sounded, almost like naivety. It was the opposite of reassuring. A child. Another person that she would have to watch out for.

Kirk didn’t offer a response, just spat on the floor of the boy’s cell, and ambled back above decks. He left the hatch open, and Astrid basked in the brief moments of the afternoon sun upon her face before someone came around and shut it again. The boy sighed wistfully at Kirk’s back, as though hoping for something more than gloating.

With Kirk gone, Astrid could finally get a clear view of her fellow prisoner. He was tall, she already knew that, but she wasn’t expecting him to look so wiry and stretched out, like he would snap in half in a strong breeze. He was leaning heavily against the bars of the cell, and the reasoning for that became clear when she saw his feet. Or rather, the empty space where his left foot should’ve been. His leg ended just below the knee; pants neatly cuffed at the spot. The sun shone only on her half of the cells, leaving him still bathed it shadow. It obscured any details of his clothing or face, leaving him little more than an eerie silhouette, but Astrid could still make out sharp green eyes, watching her with the same level of scrutiny she was giving him. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

“Thor on a fucking Thunderdrome.” He muttered bitterly, after some time of them both staring at each other in silence. “Of all the boats.” With that fairly confusing and unhelpful admission, he slumped down to the floor, pressing his back against the wall adjacent to the cell door. He tipped his head back, glaring at the ceiling.

Astrid took his preoccupation and the (slight) change in light to continue her assessment of him. There was a red patch on his right shoulder pad. It wasn’t the symbol of any tribe Berk knew, but still, it struck a chord of recognition in her. The thought drifted off before she could catch it, leaving an uneasy feeling in her gut. His outfit was unlike anything Astrid has seen on any of her travels, dark and scaly in appearance with none of the bulk Vikings treasured in their own armour. He wasn’t from nearby. Nor did he look like much. Certainly not the sort of person Astrid would consider worth kidnapping, let alone someone who seemed worthy of a personal visit by Viggo Grimborn, or a two week wait.

There was something in his eyes, something that tugged at an old and nostalgic thread in her chest. The warning feeling in her gut only grew, set her on edge. She knew this boy, somewhere in the recesses of her unconscious. And he knew her back.

“Draw a portrait. It’ll last longer.” The boy said, not even opening his eyes as he spoke.

“How do you know I was staring at you?” Astrid shot back.

“What else in here could you be looking at?”

She didn’t really have an answer to that. There was nothing in any of the four cells, and until his arrival, her only company had been a cranky, muzzled Stormfly. Of her own accord, her eyes drifted over to Stormfly’s cage. He’d opened his eyes and followed her gaze. Curse the stupid light shining in her eyes and not his.

“Someone else is in here.” The boy remarked, but Astrid had seen him urgently lifting his head.

Astrid hesitated. There was no real harm in telling him, he was locked in a cell. And Stormfly could hold her own. Still, the idea of the admission only made the sick feeling in her gut grow. Her first rule of the Dragon Academy has always been to tell as few people about their dragons, or their bonds, as possible, least they end up hunted. This man was an enemy of Viggo Grimborn but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a friend. Shaking her thoughts away, she finally replied. “My dragon.”

The change in the boy’s demeanour was instant. He dragged himself into a crouch, gripping onto the bars for support. There was a wicked light in his eyes. “A dragon? Where?”

“The cell next to you?” Astrid replied, slowly, apprehensively.

Wicked light still glowing in his eyes, he turned in the direction of Stormfly’s cell and let out a low warbling sound, almost like that of a dragon, but wrong somehow.

From Astrid’s viewpoint, she saw the way her dragon lit up at the sound, shooting immediately upwards. She unfolded her wings, hopping from foot to foot as best she could in the cramped cell. Her jaw was moving beneath the muzzle Viggo had fitted her with (a useless precaution what as they were all in dragon proof cages) like she was desperately trying to reply.

“That bastard’s put a muzzle on her.” The boy murmured, back to speaking in Norse. He warbled something else, head tilted to the side. He was still crouched on the floor, and something in his silhouette made him look almost like a dragon.

Breaking his eyes away from Stormfly, he addressed her again. “Is she nodding?”

“Yes.” Astrid replied, the warning feeling in her gut only growing. He’d just spoken to Stormfly. In words that she knew. “You speak to them?”

“Yes.”

Astrid had only ever heard of one man who-

“You’re the Dragon Whisperer!”

“Is that what they’re calling me now?” The boy replied blandly. He offered her no denial, but his shoulder’s hunched, like he was trying to curl into himself.

“But you- you’re just some guy?”

The boy, the Dragon Whisperer, grinned then, his teeth almost glowing in the darkness. He tipped his head on its side. The gesture made him look like a dragon, or an overly curious bird. There was a different kind of intensity in his eyes to when he’d been talking to Stormfly, a quiet confidence. “Glad to have made such an impact.“ His voice was light, striking that familiar chord in her chest.

“Why are you here?” Astrid pressed on, ignoring his quip. The Dragon Whisperer was a man of legend. Dragon killing tribes feared him; Berk revered him as a man of myth (well, they did since Astrid had won them over on dragons). He rode a Night Fury, spent his days travelling the world, freeing dragons. Astrid had heard rumours that he was 10-foot tall, that he could rip the spine from a man with only his hands, that he was half god, or half dragon. The Dragon Whisperer was not the sort to sit pretty in a cell.

“To see you.” The boy said, like it should have been obvious to her.

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could reply, a shadow appeared in their little patch of light. Viggo. He descended the stairs slowly, two guards behind him, both carrying lanterns. There was an endlessly smug grin on his face. It left Astrid’s skin crawling. He walked towards their cells at that same slow pace, bodyguards at his shoulders. The whole ocean seemed to be holding her breath for this moment, waves silencing against the hull. All Astrid could hear was the click of Viggo’s heels and the soft breathing of the boy in the other cell. He’d stood up, swaying in time with the rock of the boat.  The angle left Astrid craning her neck to get a look at him, or Viggo.

“Mr Dragon Conqueror! What a pleasure of you to come aboard.”

That was a name she hadn’t heard before.

The boy offered no verbal response, just a longsuffering sigh. He was tapping his fingers against his legs, soft and quick. His exasperation looked different to how it had when he was speaking to her, heavier, like his annoyance at her had all been a ruse.

Viggo didn’t seem perturbed, carrying on as though this was exactly how he wanted this conversation to go. “It’s been far too long since you last stopped by, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten us. Forgotten your humble beginnings.”

The boy shot a glance at Astrid when Viggo said that, offered no answer again.

“We are, unfortunately, still missing- “

“What business.”

Viggo sighed in an almost fatherly manner. “Quick to the point as always. You’re ever so predictable.”

“Yet you continue to waste your breath on small talk.”

Viggo took a step closer to the boy’s cell. The boy hopped a step back in mirror, foot steady. “I hold no ill will towards you. I believe we could be allies.”

“You took my leg.” The boy said simply.

Viggo waved a hand dismissively. “Necessary precaution.”

The boy didn’t reply for a long moment, simply staring down at his hands, still playing that same tapping beat. There was a note of anger to it now. Viggo didn’t seem to have noticed.

“I know you can feel the pull. We could take over the world, if only you would work with me. Your ability to control the dragons? We could be unstoppable.”

“I’d rather gnaw off my own arm than ever shackle myself to the whims of a man like you.”

“Mm, doesn’t seem like you’ve got any limbs to spare.”

“Necessary sacrifice.” The boy spat out, anger finally leeching into his words.

“Wouldn’t get you out of working with me.”

The boy sighed again, this one longer and dragging more than any of the previous. “Viggo… We’ve been over this what, seven times? I will never help you. Nothing will make me change my mind. Give up.”

“No good businessman quits when his prize is within reach.”

“Good businessmen usually have more than two teenagers and a muzzled dragon on their ships.”

“This ship has been cleared out just for my esteemed guests.” He turned his wolf’s smile on Astrid, “Never mind worrying about my profits, every other ship of mine is stocked full of product.”

The boy hummed, like he was discussing the weather, or the cabbage crop, not the fate of his own future. “No they aren’t.” He waited half a moment. Every eye in the room was on him. “At least, they were all empty when I checked twenty minutes ago.”

“When…” Viggo broke himself off, rendered speechless for the first time Astrid had ever seen, the first time perhaps ever.

“Yeah.” The boy went on. His lips stretched into a smile, teeth too sharp. “Just before I looped back around and got caught by your brainless guards?”

“You- you planned this?”

There was a wicked look in the boy’s eyes, floating in amongst the darkness of the cell. “Of course I did.”

Viggo paused for a moment, shoulders heaving with the effort it was taking to slow his breathing. When he spoke, there was a slightly desperate edge to his voice, like he was trying to convince himself he had everything under control as much as he was the boy. “And what’s your plan for getting out? Steal the keys to the cells, bust your way out, then what? You have no leg, no backup, just a half-baked copycat and her idiot dragon.”

Astrid wanted to bash his head in with her axe. A single glance at the boy told her that he shared the same urge.

“Don’t you hear it?” The boy asked. He’d taken the step forwards to be standing right up next to Viggo, hands wrapped loosely around the cell bars. “Don’t you smell the smoke?”

Viggo took an aborted half step back. Now the boy mentioned it, Astrid could, and faintly, outside the cushioned walls of Viggo’s prison, she could hear the roar of a fire.

One of the guards disappeared up above deck of the ship. Barely half a second later he stuck his head back through the open hatch. “It’s all of them boss. All the ships.”

Viggo’s entire fleet on fire. And in the bare seconds Viggo had been below deck. The Dragon Whisperer did not match up to the myths in his appearance but this, his quiet conviction, the soft smile on his face as he razed destruction down on his enemies made Astrid think the stories had not done him enough. She knew now why Viggo called him ‘conqueror’. If he’d pulled this off just to pay her a visit Astrid shuddered to think what he could manage when truly crossed.

“Did the good businessman plan for this to happen?”

Viggo made a sound that might have been a growl, lurching forward to wrap his fingers around the collar of the boy’s shirt. “I will take great pleasure in killing you. Maybe I will feed you to-“

The boy cut him off with a sharp whistle, head tilted towards the hatch like he was listening for a reply.

Astrid copied the action, straining her ears for something other than the crashing of the waves against the ship’s hull and the creaking of the rest of the fleet as they succumbed to the flames ripping across their decks. And then she caught it, a sound no-one on Berk had heard for five years but a sound they would never forget.

The high-pitched whistle of a night fury tearing its way through the skies.

Viggo caught it a moment after Astrid, dropping the boy’s collar and wrenching a crossbow from the arms of one of his guards. He turned to the hatch just as something blocked it out, the guards’ torches extinguished a moment after, throwing them into total darkness. All Astrid could hear was her own shallow breathing, and a soft clinking sound like someone feeling around a ring of keys. And then the growling started.

It was low at first, but gained quickly in volume followed soon after by a soft purple glowing that illuminated the space just enough for Astrid to see that the cell opposite her was empty. She pushed forwards against the door to her own cell, aiming for a better view, only for it to swing wide open, ring of keys hanging out of the lock.

From the bottom of the steps another light joined the first, casting enough of glow across of the cabin to see by. The boy was settled atop the night fury, a sleek black dragon with wide bat-like wings and teeth that put even Stormfly’s to shame. He was holding aloft a flaming sword, his other hand rested casually atop the night fury’s neck. Unholy offspring of lightning and death itself felt apt a description.

“Steal the keys to the cells, bust my way out, what was next…” The boy mused. He’d strapped a complicated looking metal prosthetic onto his leg, which fit into a stirrup on the side of the dragon’s saddle, ropes attaching down to a red prosthetic tail wing, painted with the same image as the boy’s shoulder pad. They matched. “oh yeah, this-“

The dragon shot a blast of something, purple glowing light that burned hotter than any fire Astrid had ever seen, at Viggo, turning his cocked crossbow into smouldering splinters. He shot another blast mere seconds after knocking Viggo and both his guards into the back of the cell. The hit knocked one of the guards out cold, the other slow to get up, but Viggo was back on his feet in seconds.

The boy launched himself off his dragon’s back just as Viggo unsheathed his sword. The dragon spared them half a glance and then turned to Astrid, biting gently on her arm and pulling her out of the cell. The contact didn’t hurt, even though Astrid had had a full view of the dragon’s impressive teeth only seconds before.

The night fury smiled at her, wide and gummy. Retractable teeth she noted. He nosed at the keys still hanging from her cell door, then tilted his head towards Stormfly’s cage. Astrid took the hint.

The moment she got the door unlocked Stormfly was hopping right up into Astrid’s space, inclining her head for her to remove the muzzle. Astrid made quick work of it. With the muzzle thrown back into the corner of the cell, she threw her arms around her dragon’s neck. She could still here Viggo and the Dragon Whisperer sparring behind her, and the night fury had taken up post in front of the cell door, guarding their reunion. Stormfly nuzzled into her hair.

“I’m so sorry girl.” She whispered, blinking away the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

Stormfly clicked back, poking her beak into Astrid’s hair.

From outside the cell the boy spoke up, the first she’d heard from either him or Viggo since their fight had begun. His voice was light, sounded barely puffed; whereas Viggo was breathing loud enough that Astrid could hardly manage to ignore it, and was clutching his ribs like they were broken. Might’ve been, with the knock he’d taken. “She says you have nothing to be sorry for. You will both be together. Always.”

“What a nice platitude.” Viggo ground out, glancing away from his fight to sneer at her.

The moment seemed to be all the Dragon Whisperer had been waiting for, he slid out of the way of Viggo’s grasp, just in time for his dragon’s tail to send Viggo crashing into the yawning opening to her cell. The boy swung the cell door shut, locking it with the ring of keys he’d picked back up at some point.

“Thank you Toothless.” The boy said, extinguishing and sheathing his sword, running both hands down the sides of his dragon’s face and pressing their foreheads together. Astrid still hadn’t got a good look at his face.

“You named a night fury ‘Toothless’?” She asked, incredulous.

“Retractable teeth.” The boy said, gaze not leaving the dragon, Toothless.

“You will never keep a hold of them. Either of you.” Viggo hissed. His hair was dishevelled, and his gaze was venomous. Instinctively, Astrid took a step closer to Stormfly.

The boy grinned, turned around to face Viggo. Despite crouching, he seemed the far more together of the two, the set of his shoulder’s stiff, the tilt of his head just the right side of cocky. “If you say so.” He said. He practically vaulted back onto his dragon’s saddle, setting his feet into the stirrups. Without turning his head, he chirped to Stormfly.

Astrid didn’t need a translation for what this one meant, especially not when a second later the boy took off, Toothless a blur as he shot up above decks.

Astrid jumped onto Stormfly’s back, shooting a final glance and a ‘Eat shit’ at Viggo before following the Dragon Whisperer out.

The boy was already high in the sky, zipping in and out of the clouds in seconds, moving faster than Astrid would’ve thought possible. A Godsdamned Night Fury. Her and Stormfly followed at a much calmer pace, stretching out her dragon’s tired wings. They were both just glad to be back in the sky again, to be away from that infernal boat.

It was a beautiful day, warms skies, just enough of a breeze to tickle her hair. It was the kind of day Astrid would’ve woken up early on, the kind of day where she’d disappear off somewhere before the sun had finished rising, just her and Stormfly and the open sky.

The boy swooped back down to cruise alongside her. The wind was whipping the hair back off his face and he was grinning wildly, green eyes alight. He looked young like this. Astrid could almost forget what he’d just done if not for haze in the air and the taste of smoke resting on her tongue. There was something familiar about the curve of his brows, something that struck in her gut. He looked like Stoick on the rare occasions he still smiled. But smaller, with the dark brown hair Astrid’s parents said Valka had had. He looked like-

“Hiccup?”

The boy smiled softly as he looked over at her. “Hi.”

Astrid stared at him incredulously. The silence stretched out between them for a long beat. “What?” She burst out, turning in her saddle to glare at him. “What the fuck do you mean ‘hi’? You’ve been dead for three years and here you are playing dress up? We mourned you! You fucking asshole Hiccup. Your dad was crushed when you died. We all were! Gods, why wouldn’t you just come back?”

Hiccup’s reply was quiet but quick off his tongue. He didn’t seem surprised by the outburst, but his dragon, Toothless, was keeping a careful eye on her. “I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Of course we cared. That’s not the real reason.”

Hiccup turned to face her, and somehow, despite the expression being familiar, Astrid was still taken aback by the fire burning behind his eyes, by how quickly it had sparked. “I was scared.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him even as she felt the anger leaking out of her. “Scared?”

He didn’t turn away, didn’t stutter out a weak excuse like the Hiccup of three years ago would have. He kept on staring back. There was a sharp, angry look in his eyes.

“I was scared I’d go back, and you’d kill Toothless. Scared you’d kill me. Scared you’d all have died, and it was my fault for leaving. Scared you’d- Scared that you would turn me away, tell me that everything had gotten better without me there to fuck it up.”

Norns. Astrid paused, didn’t know what to say when faced with how raw his voice was. She’d known Hiccup hadn’t been close with anyone in the village (it had been impossible to miss, even after his ‘death’. His eulogies had been cold, empty platitudes), had known that his relationship with his dad was rocky at best, had known how cruel Snotlout and the twins were to him. She’d just… never really thought about it. And here Hiccup was, three years later and he- he hadn’t come back because he thought they were all better off without him. If anyone had been made better by the time apart, it was undoubtedly Hiccup. He looked steadier than he had when they were kids. He held himself taller, freer. Astrid couldn’t imagine how being a terrorist was easier than living on Berk, but then, she’d never had to live on Berk as Hiccup.

“Half the village is decked in things Stoick and Gobber have pulled from your journals. Weapons you’ve designed, an irrigation system, fire prevention. We’re thriving because of your ideas.” It wasn’t the platitudes she was looking for, wasn’t the words she wanted to offer him, wasn’t the answer he needed, but it was true. And that would have to be enough.

Hiccup didn’t look like he believed her, staring vaguely off into the distance.

“Come back.” Astrid said, soft enough that she wouldn’t have known her voice had made it across the wind without the tell-tale tale sign of Hiccup’s shoulders stiffening. “Come back home. Let me prove it to you.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and Astrid let him. Gave him the chance to run his words around before he spoke them. When he did speak, his voice was soft, almost wavering, the voice she remembered. “I don’t know how to live with people. It’s too much.”

“Just for the night then. Hear me out and then you can fly off into the sunrise.”

He leant backwards, lying flat atop Toothless’ back. The sun was just beginning to set, drawing Hiccup awash with orange light. His hair seemed to glow golden. He seemed to glow, alive in the same way a storm, a fire, was.

“What does my father say about me?” Hiccup asked in lieu of answering.

It was a test. Still, the answer came to Astrid easily, the words already having formed themselves somewhere in her head. “He hasn’t been the same since you left. He just sits in his- your house. He’s quiet and broken and he looks old. With you dead and the dragon raids stopped he just doesn’t have a purpose anymore.” A thought struck Astrid then. “You stopped the raids.” It wasn’t a question. The moments the words were out of her mouth she knew they were right.

Hiccup didn’t try to deny it, not that she had expected him to. “And lost a leg for my troubles.”

“How?”

“This muttonhead bit it off.” Hiccup said, rubbing his hand over Toothless’ flank.

“No, I mean- How’d you stop the raids?” His words caught up to her. “He bit your foot off?”

“I just had to kill the queen.”

“The queen?” Astrid asked, letting her second question fall away unanswered.

“It wasn’t- I’ll show you. It’s on the way.” Neither of them acknowledged the admittance to returning. Or the way they had both instinctively turned towards Berk the moment they were clear of Viggo’s ships.

They settled back into silence, Hiccup still lying prone against Toothless’ back, Astrid leaning forward to rest her head against Stormfly’s horns. Just the wind tickling the ends of her braid and the slow rhythmic flapping of dragon wings. Astrid wondered if Hiccup visited Berk, if it was still the place, the home, he turned to on days when everything else felt too far.

“We’ve never gotten this close to being back.” Hiccup said, as though he’d taken the thought right out of her head. “I was always worried that I’d get close- and- and my resolve would just- crumble. That- That I’d come crashing back to Berk to- I don’t even know- beg you all to give me a chance- give him a chance.” He was sounding more like the Hiccup of her youth again, stumbling across his words like he was dying, like it was a race to finish the sentence. Astrid wondered if it was the proximity to Berk, if breathing in this air made him back into that scrawny fifteen-year-old boy, or if it was her presence doing that.

“Where have you been then?” She’d been thinking it already, knew he couldn’t have stayed with anyone Berk knew. She couldn’t, didn’t want to, imagine him alone. Didn’t want to think of Hiccup as how small he’d been then, living on a remote island, only a dragon for company.

Who was she kidding- of course that was what he’d done.

“I live on an island out past Breakneck Bog, outside your archipelago. I was only ever here to visit friends.” He replied. Proving her completely right. “I think Viggo burnt it down.” He didn’t seem upset by that, like getting his house burnt to the ground happened as often as the moon changed.

“You don’t live with these friends?”

“They don’t allow men on their island. First time I met them they tried to cook me into a stew.”

“Should send them Snotlout.” Astrid murmured.

“Is he still-“ Hiccup waved one of his hands vaguely- “Snottish?”

Astrid snorted unattractively. “He’s a lot better now, doesn’t even try to buy my hand in marriage anymore.” Although that was for another reason.

“Yakshit.” Hiccup replied, sitting back up. “There is no way.”

“Really!” Astrid repeated, laughing. “We’re friends now.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Everyone’s different. It’s weird. The twins haven’t burnt a house down in two months and Ruffnut’s betrothed.”

“Ew.” Hiccup scrunched his nose up. Astrid supposed his reaction was normal. He knew Ruffnut as a fourteen-year-old force of merciless chaos. Gods, they’d all changed so much. Hiccup probably found her as weird and off putting as she found him. “How’s Gobber?”

There it was. The question she’d been expecting since she’d first guessed who the man across from her was. She knew Gobber and Hiccup had been close, knew the blacksmith acted as more of a father to the boy that his own dad had. “He’s good. Hit him hard once there was no more need of weapons, but now he makes saddles. He’s never taken on another apprentice though, keeps that back corner as a shrine to you whenever he and Stoick aren’t looking through your plans.”

“Everything I left behind was terrible.” Almost guiltily, Hiccup pulled a book from his pocket, thick and well worn. “This is everything I figured out on Berk, but I’ve added more since. A map outside of the archipelago, a new book of dragons.”

“Fishlegs is working on one of those too.”

“We’ll have to compare notes.” Hiccup replied, tucking his journal back away.

Something warm bubbled up in Astrid’s stomach. He was coming home. The boy 15-year-old her had been in love with, albeit older and different in ways she didn’t quite understand, was coming back.

He shoved a hand back through his hair and Astrid’s eyes followed the movement, catching on the lightning bolt scars tracing his fingers up into his sleeve.

“How’d that happen?” She asked, gesturing at it.

Hiccup glared down, like he’d forgotten the scars were there. “A village down south thought Toothless was cursed because lightning kept nearly striking him. ‘Thor was angry at a demon living amongst his sons’ or something. I tried to tell them it was striking the metal on his tail, no-one believed me, I tried to show them that they were wrong, lightning struck. Almost died.” He added, as if ‘almost death’ was an afterthought.

“Do you go to any islands and not almost die?” Astrid asked.

She smiled at his affronted look, and then burst out laughing as his face settled into an expression of dawning surprise.

“Everyone’s tried to kill me.” He said, sounding nowhere near as horrified as a declaration like that warranted. “Wait- No. She put me in that pit of speed stingers.”

“Pit of speed stingers? I need to know that-“

Toothless cut off the tail end of her sentence with a low warning growl. Stormfly responded back in kind.

“What is it?” Astrid asked, looking to Hiccup.

“That fog bank up ahead? Dragon island.”

Astrid knew the one he was talking about without even looking, had flown carefully around it enough times. Something about the dead silence of the air around it, the sharp cut off of fog, had always given her the strong impression that this wasn’t a place to be.

Beside her, Toothless had slowed to a crawl.

“Sure you still wanna do this?” Hiccup asked, and Astrid had a feeling the question was directed at the dragon as much as it was at her.

She nodded and Toothless chirped something low and rude sounding.

“Ok then.” He turned his gaze back to her, eyes sharper than they’d been even in the bowels of Viggo’s ship. “We should take the fogbank fast. It gets disorienting if you stay in there too long.”

Astrid nodded again. Hiccup repeated the gesture back at her, grim determination painted across his face. Then he was off like a shot, leaning forward over Toothless’ head. Astrid urged Stormfly after them.

The two looked like a perfectly shot arrow, sleek and well-tuned as they streaked through the air. It was almost like they were one, two halves of the same soul that had been lost from the other. Two halves of the same whole who’d gone crashing into the fog without her.

“Asshole!” Astrid shouted, urging Stormfly even faster in an attempt of catching them.

Even at her fastest, Stormfly had no hope of catching up to a Night Fury, so Astrid settled for chasing flashes of Toothless’ red painted tail as they slipped through the fog, trusting Hiccup to lead her way out. The tail slipped away, leaving Astrid alone in the fog for a moment before she broke through it, emerging with a gasp out the other side. She didn’t think she would’ve been able to do that alone. The fog had left her skin crawling, a chill settled into her bones.

The island was about a third the size of Berk but looked more like a pile of exploded rocks. There was a collapsed volcano at the island’s centre, blown apart as though a giant had stuck an arm up through the middle. Laid out in front of it like some kind of exhibit was a different rock, glittering white and towering up out of the ground. It was on the largest of these that Toothless had landed, him and Hiccup twenty feet off the ground in a small round opening.

Astrid landed just above, at the top of the rock. “What are we looking for?” she called down to him.

Hiccup stuck his head out of the recess, holding on to Toothless for balance. “She’s smaller than I remember.” He said mildly.

“Who?”

“The Red Death.” Hiccup replied, gesturing around them at the bone-like rocks they were stood upon.

Bonelike.

Mother of Thor. This was the Dragon Queen. Astrid was standing on her skull. She glanced at the bones behind her, could now make them out as ribs, each one as tall and wide as a full-grown tree. Hiccup was stood in her eye socket, him and Toothless both fit comfortably in the space there. The enormity of this dragon came rushing over her. This was a mountain, a monster. And- “You fought her? Odin’s fucking ghost, Hiccup you’re insane!”

He shrugged. “She was enslaving the dragons. I knew she wouldn’t stop until she was dead.” He spoke so plainly, there was something in his voice. The Red Death had been bad, so he’d killed her, and the whole situation was as plain as that.

“Weren’t you scared?”

It wasn’t the Vikingly question to ask, but Hiccup certainly wasn’t a Viking, and despite her best efforts Astrid felt that she wasn’t quite one either.

“I spent the first fifteen years of my life terrified over things I couldn’t stop. Fighting her was the most scared I’d ever been, but it was a fear I’d chosen.

Astrid had no response to that, no platitudes to dampen the wound in his words.

The fog seemed to be creeping in further, arms reaching out to draw her in. The entire island was silent past their breathing, not even a fly buzzing. It was, simply put, creepy. Terrifying even.

“Come on. We should keep going if we want to get back before dark.” Hiccup went on, as though he couldn’t bear to stay on that island any more than she could. Probably even less than she could.

They lifted off together, Hiccup keeping his gaze firmly ahead. Astrid couldn’t tear her eyes away from the skeleton, towering and colossal even as the rest of the island shrunk with the distance. She tried to imagine Hiccup at fifteen, leaving the only home he knew to cross the ocean and fight a beast that could’ve swallowed him without notice. It shouldn’t have made sense. Hiccup had been tiny and weak and too distracted to ever get anything done. He was still thin now, unreasonably so given who his father was but he was tall and made of wiry muscle. His attention span hadn’t much improved, but he seemed more alive than Astrid ever remembered. Like her memories were only the shadow of him and now she was finally seeing the whole picture.

The journey back through the fog felt much faster, easier. She knew Hiccup would be there. Trusted he would be ahead of her even when the flash of Toothless’ tail disappeared into the clouds.

They broke out the far side mere seconds after each other, neither pulling to a stop, Stormfly still tailing Toothless as they shot through the sky. Ahead of her she could hear Hiccup whooping, hands thrown into the air as Toothless pulled into a tidy stop. She echoed after. He was mad, but it felt like magic to be flying through the air beside him.

He was smiling softly when she pulled up, head tilted to the side. Unbidden, she smiled back.

“I should’ve come back.” He said, voice low, almost mournful.

“And we should’ve given you a chance.” Astrid replied. “They’re mistakes, and it happened. Move forwards.”

“Didn’t expect the past three years to turn you wise.”

“Didn’t expect them to make you tall.”

“Does this mean I’m taller than Snotlout now?” Hiccup asked, and Astrid didn’t even need to look to know how he’d be smiling, the right side of his mouth lifted up, eyes narrowed. It was weird, three years and it felt like nothing had changed, but in the same breath, she barely recognised the boy beside her.

“He’s barely grown since you last saw him, the twins have been using him as an armrest since they hit fifteen.”

Stormfly piped up with a chirp and whatever she’d said made Hiccup chuckle.

“Hook fang?” He asked her, sounded the name out from its parts.

“Snotlout’s dragon. The five of us, we all got the dragons from the arena.”

“You picked up flight pretty quickly then.”

“Stormfly kidnapped me while I was mock fighting her once. After flying once I couldn’t stop myself from-“

“-from looking at the sky, always wishing to go back?” Hiccup finished. “I know the story, ours just started with me shooting him out of the sky.”

“That Night Fury,” Astrid realised. “You’d actually shot him down.”

Toothless crooned something and Astrid turned to Hiccup for a translation.

“I’m not saying half of those words.” And after a pause. “Do not call me a loser!”

Stifling a laugh, Astrid asked “What?”

“The heavily edited version of what he said is ‘I should have bitten your head off and played chase with your eyeballs’.”

“I’m glad Stormfly’s more polite.”

“She’s older. Curve of her horns?” Hiccup mimicked the shape in the air in front of them. “She’s mid-thirties? Middle aged for a dragon. This dickhead is the same age as me. That’s why he’s the way he is. Probably why Hookfang is so moody too.”

“Stormfly told you?”

“Yeah, her words don’t- there’s no Norse translations for them but- she thinks he's an idiot.” He shrugged.

“Dragons have words we don’t?”

Hiccup nodded. “Feelings mostly. Terrible terrors have three different words for-“ He paused, waved a hand like he was hoping to catch the right words. “-‘I want cod now’ specifically. There’s 37 different words that just become hungry in Norse. They’ve also got plenty of words that I can’t even guess at the meaning to, but the look on Toothless’ face when he says them is the same as how Fishlegs looked the first time he said fuck.”

“Y’know, he’s actually only said it once since.” Astrid remarked. “The first time Snotlout kissed him, he pulled away and practically shouted it at him.”

“Snotlout’s kissed him?” Hiccup echoed, face a perfect mask of confusion and horror. Gods, if he was going to have an issue with them just because they were two boys Astrid was going to push him into the ocean, Night Fury be damned.

“Yeah.” She folded her arms across her chest, levelled him with the glare she usually reserved for Gustav. “Problem?”

“Snotlout. And Fishlegs?” He repeated dumbly, gesturing vaguely with his hands as though to illustrate his point. Astrid wasn’t convinced he had a point. “Norns how did that happen? And Fishlegs likes him back?”

Oh. Well that did make a lot more sense. Hiccup knew them as a shy frightened Fishlegs and Snotlout the overconfident (wannabe) ladies man. “Loves him more like.” She replied, quelling the fight boiling in her gut. There would be no-one pushed into the ocean today, at least, not yet. “They’re the most talked about couple in the village. It gets quite tiring hearing about them all the time.”

“No-one on Berk’s giving any trouble over them?” Hiccup asked, and there was something more than curiousity in his voice.

“Not really, Mildew did for a bit but that doesn’t matter anymore, not now he’s been outcast.”

“He was working with Alvin from in Berk?”

“How’d you know?”

“Alvin made regular attempts to get his hands upon the great Dragon Master.”

“Wanted to get me too. Kidnapped me to try force me to train dragons for him.”

Ahead of them, the sea stacks that surrounded Berk began poking up at the horizon. Astrid knew Hiccup had spotted them too, saw the way he stilled, wrung his hands together nervously. To her they were a breath of relief, a welcome sign. She was home. Viggo had not won this fight and she had gotten away with more than Berk could’ve ever bargained for. Hiccup. The Dragon Conqueror.

It was clearly not the same kind of reprieve for Hiccup. He’d pulled a mask from one of his saddle bags. It was a streamlined thing, clearly made for speed in the air more than any aesthetic reason. He was running his fingers carefully along the grooves in the leather. He looked frightened, an expression that Astrid had never seen on his face before, not even when they were kids, when he was climbing out of burning buildings or running from enraged dragons.

“They aren’t going to like me.” He said quietly, gaze locked on his hands. “And I don’t know if I’m going to like them.”

“You’re an idiot. Your father’s always liked you, he was just too stubborn to figure it out until after you were gone.”

Hiccup didn’t reply, but Astrid saw him putting the mask on. With it, she could only make out his eyes, even more startlingly green in the early evening light. “I’ll go in first. Play damage control. Stormfly’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

He nodded. His voice was muffled when he next spoke, the mask putting a worn edge to his words. “Why’d you pick Stormfly?”

Astrid shrugged, confused that this was the question he was asking, and now of all moments. “It felt right.”

They fell back into another bout of silence, cruising over the sea stacks. Berk wasn’t yet visible on the horizon, but Astrid felt as though she could feel it ahead of her.

Hiccup pulled back. “I’ll fly above. It’s dark enough no-one can see us.”

Astrid agreed, watched as the pair shot up into the sky, disappearing quickly between rolling clouds and the darkening sky.

She flew the last half hour to Berk quickly, cutting the shortest route and taking advantage of the winds and air currents she knew just as well as the trees down on Berk. Hiccup and Toothless kept pace the whole way, just out of sight but close enough she could feel them.

The village came into sight bright and alive, yet none of the guard flew out to check her. They’d gotten sloppy. She’d have to speak to Snotlout about that. She touched down without issue, swung herself off Stormfly’s back in the middle of the main square. Stormfly chirped and wandered off, heading for the stables, or an unsuspecting school of fish.

Gobber was the first one to see her, sticking his head out of a half-closed forge. He baulked at the sight of her, blinking like he thought she was a mirage. Then he let out a cheer, crying “Astrid’s home! The general has returned!”

With that, the flood gates opened, half of the village pouring out of their houses. Snotlout appeared at her side with a whoop, throwing an arm over her shoulder. Fishlegs appeared a moment later, wrapping his arms around them and lifting them both off the ground. “I knew you weren’t dead!” He whispered into her ear, and Astrid could make out a wet edge to his voice.

There was a whole crowd around them now, cheering and wishing Astrid well and asking where she’d been. Something thudded to the ground behind her, a sound Astrid instinctively knew was a dragon landing. The crowd went silent immediately, bar for the oh-so-familiar sound of weapons being drawn.

She extricated herself from Fishlegs’ grasp, turning to face the dragon (and the man) she knew would be standing there. Toothless was low to the ground, teeth bared and back arched, looking all the demon that a Night Fury was believed to be. His tail was curved around, body forming a title circle with Hiccup at its centre. He was crouched down, looking more dragon than man, one hand on the empty hilt at his side.

“The Dragon Conqueror!” Someone hissed, and the name quickly travelled through the crowd.

Hiccup looked to her, eyes wide behind his mask.

She shoved through, stepping between Hiccup and the crowd. “He helped me. You will not harm him.

Turning around, she hissed. “I told you to stay hidden.”

Hiccup glared, hand still loosely on the hilt. “Your dear friend Hookfang was threatening to fry me.”

Astrid saw now that he wasn’t scared, that he had no reason to be. He probably hadn’t even needed to come down. Why he wanted to be unarmed and alone in front of a horde of irate Vikings was beyond her. But then, most things Hiccup did were.

“What is your agenda?” Snotlout asked, shoving an axe in Hiccup’s face.

Hiccup unsheathed the hilt at his side, levelled it back at Snotlout. With the press of a button a blade extended, igniting in a smooth flowing motion. At his side, Toothless growled. “I want a meeting with your chief.”

“And he will be getting one.” Astrid added, glaring at Snotlout. He was leagues better than he’d been at fifteen, but that pig-headed streak still carried through him. Astrid wagered that it always would.

“You trust him?” Snotlout asked her.

At her nod, he retracted his axe, settled for glaring openly at him instead.

Hiccup drew his flaming sword back a second later, extinguishing it and tucking it back away Toothless chirped something that Astrid instinctively knew was rude, but stopped his growling.

“Stoick’s in the great hall.” Fishlegs told them. “Be careful though, he’s been sad.”

“Be careful he’s sad?” Hiccup repeated. Astrid could tell that the note in his voice was surprise, that he still didn’t think that he was going to be welcomed once he took the mask off. Still didn't think anyone cared. To Snotlout though, the impression was clearly different.

“None of your business foreigner.” Snotlout said, still glaring.

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands placatingly, eyes squinted like he was smiling behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

Snotlout and Fishlegs walked on ahead, hand in hand. Astrid fell into step beside Hiccup, Toothless pulling up the rear with a hiss and a swipe of his tail.

“Stop causing problems.” Astrid murmured to him.

Hiccup gasped in mock outrage. “I would never!”

“This isn’t a game Hiccup.” She said, voice low enough that Snotlout and Fishlegs would have no hope of overhearing. “You being alive will mean a lot. It means a lot to me, and it will to your father too.”

“You know how I said fighting the red death was the scariest thing ever? I change my mind. It’s this. It is absolutely this. Let me be rude to my idiot of a cousin and his idiot of a boyfriend please. It makes me feel better.”

Astrid mulled over his words for a moment. “Have you always been this irritating?”

Toothless stuck his head in between them, chirped. Astrid didn’t need a translation to know he was agreeing with her.

“I will paint you pink.” Hiccup shot back.

The doors to the great hall loomed over them, carved with the images of great Vikings of old. Hiccup was glaring up at them with a gaze that could ignite fires.

“Pet dragon’s gonna have to wait outside.” Snotlout told him.

“You can tell my brother that yourself.”

Snotlout looked to Astrid like he was expecting a translation.

“He can speak their languages. They speak ours.” She turned to Hiccup. “Do all dragons know Norse?”

“All the ones that live near humans.”

“Ask the dragon.” Astrid said.

Snotlout sighed, but turned to face Toothless, “Can you wait outside?” He said, slowly and loudly, as though he was speaking to a baby, or an exceptionally stupid yak.

Toothless warbled a reply that somehow involved sticking his tongue out at Snotlout.

Hiccup snorted but translated without prompt. “He’s threatening to eat your face. But he’s willing to sit out.”

Fishlegs elbowed Snotlout, silencing whatever reply he was cooking up. “Good. Chiefs up the back.”

Hiccup nodded, looked to Astrid to follow with. She nodded back, stepped forward in time with him and slipped through the doors. She felt more than heard his sharp intake of breath, and slid her hand into his, squeezing it lightly. He smiled, didn’t pull away. A warm glow formed in her gut, one that was very unwarrior-like.

Most of the rest of the village stepped in behind them, following the scent of any kind of excitement they could get.

Stoick was sitting up at the far table, mug of mead in front of him. Staring dead ahead. He looked like he always did, big, tired, grey, and-

“Fuck. He looks so old.” Hiccup whispered.

She tried to look at Stoick through his eyes, but she couldn’t remember him looking any other way. It was just vague memories of a fiery beard and laugh that shook the room.

“Chief?” She called up at him. “We have… a visitor.”

Stoick looked up, blearily blinked his eyes. “General Hofferson.” He started, and Astrid could practically feel the tension bleeding out of him at the confirmation of her safety. “It’s a pleasure to have you back with us.” He glanced over Hiccup lazily, eyes darting back to her almost immediately. “Tell your friend I don’t want to make a trade deal.”

Hiccup stepped forward. Astrid let their joint hands tug her along with. “I’m not here for a trade deal.”

Stoick stood, lifted his axe from where it lay beside him and stepped carefully around the table. “What business then?”

Hiccup took a slow shuddering breath. Stoick raised his axe. Hiccup reached up to his mask with his free hand, pulled it off his face in one clean movement. Their eyes met, gazes sharp in the same way. Stoick froze, axe clattering to the floor. The hall stuttered into silence.

“Son?” He whispered, voice breaking. The single syllable carried across the entire room, settling over it like a blanket.

“Dad.” Hiccup replied, voice barely wavering. His whole body was tensed like he was preparing to run at the first sign of this going wrong. Astrid gave his hand another squeeze, hope he got her meaning from the gesture.

“Son.” Stoick repeated. “Your alive!” He swept forward, pulling Hiccup into his embrace.

He let out a yelp at the sudden contact, but a moment later Astrid saw him sinking into the contact. Stoick set him back down after a long moment, holding him at arm’s length as he stared unabashedly at his son. A lot of staring, especially when it came to the metal foot.

The doors to the great hall crashed open, Toothless swooping in and landing at Hiccup’s side, mouth aglow with purple light.

“Hey- Toothless!” Hiccup exclaimed, eyes finally leaving his father’s, before switching back to the dragon’s language.

Whatever he said placated the dragon, who sat himself down in a manner befitting a sleepy cat.

Stoick looked from boy to dragon and back again. Trailed his gaze slowly across Toothless’ saddle, the worn lines of Hiccup’s clothing, the matching crests. “You’re the dragon conqueror?”

“I hate that name.”

“And you’re back?”

Astrid turned to see his answer to that question. It seemed half the village was holding their breath for that answer.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Always, my boy. Always.”