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Chapter Text

The waves were extremely choppy tonight. That’s what Astrid thought from the center of the cell she found herself in. The sounds of the caged dragons above her gave her little to no comfort as the sound of their chains rattled with their every movement.

It has been a week since she was captured on a scouting mission to learn more about the man who had threatened her island. And a month since Drago Bludvist had sent the first wave of dragons to attack Berk.

There had been no warning, only the promise of complete destruction and dragon fire if her people did not submit to his will.

With the dragon raids stopping five years prior Berk had been unprepared, only barely managing to drive off the sudden onslaught.

Houses had been burned down, but luckily there had been no casualties to the attack of tooth and claw that always accompanied a dragon attack.

After that that first attack in years Astrid had thought back to when the attacks had first stopped. Everyone had been curious and her chief had nearly gone mad from the lack of anything to take out the frustrations of his missing son. At least until the rumors had begun.

Hiccup, his heir had disappeared without a trace the night before he was supposed to graduate dragon training. And with the raids ending soon after some Berkians had begun the rumor that maybe he had been the cause of them, that he was a curse upon the village.

Hiccup was the village runt and he was never where he should be, but he was still her friend. Astrid knew that every stunt he pulled, any damage he caused, and any mistake he made was because he was trying him best . He wanted to be the hear his father had been in wanted for the village and he put his whole heart into living up to those expectations.

In hindsight and with the weight of being, secretly, heir now on Astrid’s shoulders, she knew what it felt like. In an a way Astrid empathized with feeling like she was always falling short of everyone’s expectations. And she regretted every time she joked with the other teens that hiccup was useless.

Astrid was definitely feeling useless now.

It was her stupid and reckless decision to come out here alone to gather any information on Drago that Stoick could use. And now it will be her fault that he lost another heir. It will be here fault that Berk is destroyed.

She pulled on the chains that kept her partially suspended from the ceiling so she could lean against the wall and look out the porthole. It had been a couple of days since her last escape attempt. Her effort had only earned her the chains that kept her upright and some bruised ribs and she was tired. She looked across the darkening waves to the other ship that was docked near her homes shore. The rocky outcropping kept the ships well hidden from most raiding parties; as well as giving the branch of Dragos crew the chance to attack most the archipelago.

It has taken Fishlegs two weeks to figure out the best places to search for these ships, and another week for her to find them here while the others searched the other locations.

The dragons were chained so it should have been an easy task to kill them and disable the ships. But not she had accounted for the amount of men on the ship.

Once she was noticed breaking into the first trap she was surrounded. At least she managed to take out five of them before she was over whelmed and dragged to the brig.

She could see her axe on the table across from her cell, the dried blood still coating the steal like the stain this failure would be for her island.

A dark shadow moved quickly from the tops of the rocks that were the ships safe haven. A big bird, Astrid thought to herself as she drew on her strength again and pulled at the chains keeping her arms above her head.

They had clearly been damaged before. The metal being warped in some places and still blackened with ash in others. They had probably been used to hold down dragons in the past. So in theory she could break them.

She pulled letting out a grunt of pain with what the strain did to her ribs. It was definitely hard to breathe with the pain racing through her torso and shoulders like lightning. But she here’d the crack and squeak of the metal.

When breathing became nearly impossible and white spots started dancing in her eyes she stopped, to pant in the short shallow breath she could manage with her mangled ribs. Sweat stung her eyes and she resumed her position leaning against the wall and looking out the porthole.

The night air cool on her face cooling the sweat as she looked across to the second ship. The torches reflecting echos of light across the waves and the moon reflected brightly as Astrid felt the muscles in her arms stop shaking as she rested against the wall.

As she blinked her exhausted eyes she noticed something off with the other ship.

The torches were going out.

Straining to keep the ship in sight Astrid could have sworn she her the beginnings of a scream right before the sounds of metallic clicks began to echo from the vessel.

The very same clicks of gigantic gears that came from the cage that Astrid herself had gotten caught by.

She strained again against the chains trying to get a better view. Her friends had come for her.

She grinned through the pain as she pulled harder on the chains. Keeping the ship in sight as the metal groaned once again and breathing hard once more.

And then the roars began.

The great growling hiss of the monstrous nightmare echoed off the rock walls of the out cropping as dragons be vain to launch from the ship.

Her heart drop and her arms went slack once more. This wasn’t her friends. They would have never left the dragons alive.

A shadow crossed the moonlit reflection of the sea once more as the dragons began to fly north.

Away from Berk.

Why were they flying away from Berk? If the invasion was beginning again they should be heading right for her home.

Astrid could hear thuds coming from above her as she began her struggle anew

A scream if a man sounded muffled by the wooden deck had her redoubling her efforts as spots began to darken her vision once more. And the chain finally snapped from the ceiling. She felt to the floor. It took all the strength she had to remain conscious as the strain in her shoulders and back finally was released and she left out a crying relief

And then the same clicking of the gears behaving again. Louder this time as the vibration of the mechanism shook the bars of her cell. And the dragons began their roars again.

And she knew she was going to die here.

Bracing herself and taking her first deep breath in days Astrid stood up straight ignoring the pain that had been inflicted upon her. She would not die like a coward.

She was a Viking for Odin’s sake.

Would stand her ground and if she was lucky she could take a couple of men with her to Valhalla.

She would choke them with the very chains they restrained her with.

The door to the brig opened.

Astrid couldn’t see up the stair way but she heard miss matched steps as the sound of metal on wood echoed with the creaking carpentry as a softer squeak followed. The foot steps were lighter than the ones of her captures. So this must be a new threat. Fine by her they will die the same as any man.

Chapter Text

The figure in black stepped out of the shadows. And from what Astrid could see from the dim light of the moon that came into the hull from the porthole, he was not like any normal man.

He wore a kind of armor that she had never seen before, pure black dark enough for him to almost completely disappear into the shadows of the hill, only barest about of moonlight reflecting off the shine of the scale like pattern gave him away. Her wore helmet the covered his face, the same black scaliness to it making the odd ridges look like the dorsal scales of a dragon.

She couldn’t se a break in the armor, the only thing that marked him as not an inhumane beast was the metallic shine of the metal foot that creaked slightly as she walked. It flexed in a similar way to an ankle so the limp he had wasn’t nearly as pronounced as the one of Berks blacksmith Gobber. He must have engineered it himself since she had never seen a prosthetic designed like that before.

He began to look around the hull, digging through drawers in the desk that her axe laid upon. He pulled out what appeared to be maps and orders, shoving them into unseen pockets of his suit before standing up straight and he began to look on the desk top for any information he might have missed.

He moved her axe, handling it with ease as he used his left hand to put another document in his pockets. And then almost instantly he stopped riffling as his head turned to look at her weapon as if for the first time.

He lifted the axe up to the light as he tested the weight and heft of the blades. Noticing how it was perfectly balanced with the handle. Now in the light, he brought the gloved fingers of the intricate engravings along the base of the blades. And as if almost like he had seen a ghost he whispered to himself, “what are you doing here?”

“You know if you’re in the market for craftsmanship like that, you would be out of luck,” Astrid surprised herself by voicing her thought out loud. The only thing that surprised her more was the masked man’s reaction.

He jumped back, nearly dropping her axe as he braced himself against the table. Finally looking in her direction.

Astrid squared her stiff shoulders as she leaned against the bars of the cell. Partly to try and ease the pain in her ribs, and partly to look as if her had some control of this situation, she didn’t need this stranger to know just how badly she messed up. The chains on her wrists clanked against the metal as she met the masked man’s gaze.

He stared at her intensely as his brain seemed to come to terms that he wasn’t alone in the hull. Then as quickly as he lost his composure, he regained it. Repositioning himself on the desk in a casual lean as his grip tightened on the blade of the axe.

He was silent for a beat before leaning against the cell door and tilting his head and speaking up with a rough nasally voice that made him sound as if he didn’t speak much. “A Berkian, I haven’t seen one of you in years. What are you in for?”

That was not what she expected. If he wants to play, fine she could play too. “Funny. So is comedy a hobby or does breaking and entering not put food on the table.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned in slightly, “you know for someone in a cell, you seem awfully comfortable back talking the one person that could get you out. I’m guessing based on the buries you definitely did not sign on to be one of Drago’s goons.”

Astrid got closer to the man now, leaning in so that she could look him in the eyes. Under the shade of the helmet she caught a glimpse of green, “I would rather be tied to a rock and thrown into the ocean than work for that monster.”

He held her gaze as if he didn’t want a break from her full attention. In the silence of the hull Astrid could count his breaths.

At least until she heard the click of the lock.

She didn’t even notice that he had grabbed the key.

He pulled the door towards himself as Astrid took a step back. She didn’t trust this man as far as she could throw him. For all she knew this could be a trap. Trick her with a sense of security and then use her as bait to hurt Berk even more.

“How do you know I won’t kill the second you get within reach?” She asked the masked man as he started walking into the cell.

“You know there is an old saying from outside the archipelago.” He replied with a tension him his voice that didn’t translate to the near fluid movement of him long limbs,” “The enemy of my enemy-“

“Might kill us all,” Astrid finished without a second thought. She knew the saying well. Every Viking knew to be weary of strangers. Of how easily they could stab you in the back and leave with your kit and silver.

He stopped just as he had entered the threshold of the cell, the keys in his out stretched hand, “I was going to say ‘is my friend’ but thank you for reminding me of the kind of ‘person’ that comes from Berk. It’s a good reminder that some things never change.”

“Excuse me, but who the Hel do you think you are?” Astrid took another step back, squaring her hips and bracing for a fight. The chains in her wrist scarped against the floor as she raised her fist. She knew logically that in her condition, bruised and weak from lack of food, she would probably lose a fight with the armored man. Especially since he still held her axe in his right hand.

“I’m the one person letting you out of this cell before I sink both of Drago’s ships, so if I were you. I wouldn’t turn up my nose at an act of kindness” and with that he tossed the keys to her.

Astrid was barely fast enough to catch the ring and the loose keys jangled on the chains still on her wrists.

“Look I don’t trust you and you clearly don’t trust me.” He continued as soon as she jammed the key in the lock of her shackles. “But we both have a grudge against Drago.”

He backed out of the cell to lean against the desk once more, giving her plenty of space. Almost as if he was trying to appease a caged wild animal. “Here is what I suggest. You help me free the dragons, and I will take you back to Berk.”

With a clang the shackles and chains fell to the floor as Astrid began the rub her raw bloody wrists. If not taken care of soon the sore could get infected. “First, why do you think I am from Berk? There are multiple islands scattered throughout the archipelago. What makes you so sure I’m not a Berserker? Or a Bog-Burglar? Or even a Meathead?”

The man to his credit didn’t flinch when she began approaching him. She may be stiff but she could still move so she will take the small win where she could get it.

The man just sat further on the desk and crossed his prosthetic leg over the other. “Let me see.” He brought his gloved hand to his face and in a dramatic moment of expression from someone who she had never seen the face of of, he mimed stroking a bread as he angled his face towards the ceiling. “One, not once in this conversation have you denied that you weren’t from Berk.”

Moving his hand from the chin and holding it out in front of him. He was counting off in his fingers.

“Two, I have a fairly strong relationship with the chief of the Berserkers. So you are definitely not one of them. Three, you are far too smart to be a Meathead.”

Then he held out his right hand, as if he was giving it to Astrid. Presenting her axe like an snoggltoff present. “Finally, the carvings on this axe. I know someone from Berk who puts markings like this on his weapons. And if you are the girl I think you are. There is no way a Bog-Burglar would be able to pry this from your cold dead hands.”

With an ease. He pushed off the desk and closed the distance between them. And almost gently he put the axe back in her hands. “Am I right? Astrid.”

Her breath caught as her felt her heart be quicken in her vein. Who was this man?

She pulled away taking the axe with her. She had known he was a threat but how he managed to walk into Drago’s territory like it a traders ship. But now she needed to know just how dangerous he was. He was able to read her like a book. If he could figure that out what else could he know.

He could be the solution to Drago.

Doing her best to keep her voice stead as the relief of having her weapon back in her hand. She spoke up again, “if you know who I am. Who are you?”

“I am no one of consequence,” he replied quietly as he broke her gaze and turned back to the door.

Chapter Text

The cold night air felt wonderful on Astrid’s face as she made her way to the deck. The ability to move her body for the first time in days was a huge relief; despite the ache in his ribs and limbs. And having her weapon back in her hands made her whole again.

She had never verbally agreed to help him with his crazy plan, but somehow she knew she could trust him to get her home. And besides she had to get him to Berk. In her bones she knew he would turn the tide in the upcoming battle in Berks favor.

Following right behind the man in black around the mast. As he made his way back towards the cages. She kept her eye open for anything or anyone moving in the shadows. This time she would not be caught. But all was quiet as the two made their way to the first cage. He stopped at the lever, holding up his hand in silent signal that Astrid was supposed to stop as well. She kept her axe up; guarding his back as he pulled the lever.

There was no way this plan of his would go well, either he would get them caught by the patrol or the dragons would use their new found freedom and attack them. She kept her head on a swivel as the gigantic bear trap like cage opened wide and he climbed inside.

A minute passed and then two. In the dim light of the moon Astrid saw no movement except for the reflection on the waves. And then she heard the batting of large wings as the creature in the cage began to stir.

Quickly she turned around, reading herself to strike upwards at the dragon that would soon be upon her, the roar of the blood in here ears drowning out that of the two headed dragon that climbed from the maw of the trap. A Zippleback reaching its necks to the sky as they swivel around, checking every possible angle for escape.

One of the heads caught sight of Astrid and snapped at the other until both stared her down. It started to inch towards her as one head began to spark, the light from each ember reflecting menacing on its long needle like teeth.

Astrid spun her axe in her hand adjusting her grip as it got closer, the other head hissing now.

“Hey no,” called the man’s voice from inside the cage. “She won’t hurt you. FLY NORTH.”

The dragon turned both heads back to the cage as the man in black climbed out . Astrid kept her eyes on it as the began to chatter amongst itself before turning back to look at the two humans that now stood outside the cage. One really for battle and the other completely at ease.

It looked at them so for longer than Astrid was comfortable with, not moving as if it was gauging her next move. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the man slowly raising his hand until it rested on the handle of her axe.

What the Hel was he doing, they were both gonna die here. All because of his trust in a mindless beast that would eat her the second it got hungry.

He began to pull her axe down, fighting Astrid’s tense muscles as her instinct resisted. He looked from the dragon and back to her before hissing out, “Astrid, we don’t have time for this. I need you to trust me”

She blinked at his tone as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. He sounded so familiar that the shock of emotion had her loosening her stance and her axe fell to her side.

She knew then that she was about to die, and the only thing she could blame was her own weakness. The dragon turned its heads back towards itself as they went back to conversing.

Then unexpectedly they looked to the sky and flew away.

The axe slid further from her fingers and she heard the tips of the blades strike the planks of the floor. Astrid instinctively tightened her grip so she wouldn’t lose hold of the handle.

She felt the weight of a hand in her shoulder guard as she finally tore her eyes from the mouth of the trap where the dragon had once been. He was looking at her and an unreadable emotion flashed in his green eyes.

“They are animals like any other, they lash out if they feel threatened or trapped. They hunt for food.” He hesitated on his next words, as if what he was going to say was a secret he swore to take to his grave despite the weight rested put on his shoulders and conscious. “And the ones in your archipelago raided because they had to. They were forced to provide for another, almost parasitic, dragon. It was nearly as big as a volcano and if they didn’t bring enough food back to its nest. They would have been eaten themselves. They may have killed hundreds of us, but we’ve killed thousands of them. They defend themselves. That’s all.”

Astrid swallowed a lump in her throat as the seriousness of his tone hit her like a blow. Reeling as she thought on his words. Five years ago the raids in her home ended, no one could figure out why.

Did this man stop them?

Did he kill a dragon the size of an island?

He took his hand off her arm and started making his way towards the next cage when She built up the nerve to ask again.

“Who are you?”

He paused for a moment, at the second leaver, as if weighing his next words. “No one to be trifled with.” And with that he opened the second cage.

They went on in silence for a bit. Opening cages, Astrid watching for guards, but will all the racket they were making no one came to check on them.

With each cage opened she found her self more and more curious at what he was doing. She inched closer to each door. Peaking around corners and doors to watch as he unstrapped each beast. Removing muzzles off each of them. She had no idea why they weren’t snapping at the masked man. And he was in complete ease with the creatures. Like he didn’t notice their forearm long teeth inches from his throat.

Every time, the dragon flew away without any of the violence she had grown used to seeing from them.

Finally they got to the last cage.

As the hatch opened up, Astrid found herself following the man inside. A sky blue Nadder was strapped to the floor. Leather and chains held it the deck. Its spiked tail struggled to move in the few inches of slack it had managed to make for itself.

Seeing it reminded Astrid of her self earlier this night, but at least she had had a window.

The man looked back and noticed that Astrid had followed him inside, or perhaps he never took his eyes off her to begin with. It was had to tell with the mask.

He motioned her forward as he approached the dragons head. Making sure to stay out of its blind spot he approached, holding his hand out in looked to be a gesture of peace. The Nadder sniffed, thrashing slightly. Astrid couldn’t blame it for distrusting them.

In a soothing tone the man spoke up, “hey there girl.” He made sure to keep his distance but Astrid took not at the shifting size of the dragons pupils. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

And slowly he closed the distance with the dragon, putting first his fingers as if to test if it would snap them off despite the muzzle keeping the dragons jaw closed. And then his palm.

And the oddest thing Astrid had ever seen occurred. The Nadder relaxed into his touch.

Growing up around dragons Astrid had never seen one act docile. And unless she was hallucinating, and this whole night was nothing but a dream brought on by hunger in her cell, she could have sworn it whimpered.

The man turned back to Astrid and with his free hand. Beckoned her forward. As if in a haze she obeyed, putting her free hand in his as he lead her towards the dragon.

He took her hand gently, and brought it out in front of the Nadder so it could get her scent. And then to the scales of her nose.

The warm smooth feeling of scales and breath mesmerized her. The change in texture as the scales gave way to the nose horn.

And was she imagining it or did she leaning into the touch.

A laugh left her lips in a start and she brought her hand back to her mouth to cover her smile.

She had been around dragons all her life, but this was different. Exhilaratingly different.

The man stood back and watched with complete attention on her as Astrid reached around and undid the muzzle. And then they worked in tandem, undoing the rest of the chains.

Chapter Text

The Nadder took longer to take off than the Zippleback did. And it took every ounce of Astrid’s self control to not lash out when, in its first moments of freedom it took a second to approach her. It sniffed her like a curious dog would smell a stranger and nudged her backwards as it began to stretch its wings.

She felt off kilter as they climbed out of the cage back onto the deck. Her entire life Astrid had trained to take down dragons, and over the course of a few hours she had seen the destructive beast act in a way that was out of the ordinary.

If she got back to Berk. If the man in black hadn’t just been toying with her like a cat with a mouse, and kept his word to get her home. No one would ever believe her.

She looked around again and saw no guards. She began to worry about the complete lack of patrol on the deck.

Where was everyone? Were they about to be ambushed?

She looked over the rail of the ship and didn’t see the man’s boat. The faster they escaped the better. The longer she was on this boat the more Astrid felt like one of those trapped dragons.

“Are we done here? Where’s your ship?” Astrid asked in a hushed tone, paranoid that at any moment a hoard of Dragos men would step out if the shadows and over power hear again. She knew that if that were to happen again she would probably not survive another round of interrogation.

“No ship.” Her responded without skipping a beat. He grabbed her arm and began to lead her towards the front of the deck.

Wait what. What did he mean, “No Ship?”

Astrid tentatively followed his lead as she continued to look to each side of the boat. In the dim light of the moon she hadn’t noticed earlier. But, all the life boats were missing. The oars were piled next to the rails, but the dinghy’s were nowhere to be seen.

Quickly she stop and yanked her arm back. Bringing the masked man with it. His grip was stronger than it looked.

With him off balance it was an easy feat to get him on his knees and in the blink of an eye; her axe was to his throat.

“Is this a game to you? What do you mean no boat? And where are all of Drago’s men?”

She could feel his glare from behind the mask.

“START TALKING.” Astrid pressed as she put more pressure on the blade. The only thing stopping his blood from spilling was the dragon scales the adorned his leather armor.

She heard it then. A growl unlike anything she had heard before. She tore her eyes from the masked man just in time to see the shadows moving.

A large pure black dragon began to bound down the deck. Right towards her.

Instinctively she pushed the man behind her as she raised her axe to strike the beast. As it rose up on its hind legs, hissing at her as it spread its wings wide. Ready to maul her.

She was so focused on drawing first blood that she was unprepared for the full weight of the man to tackle her to the ground. His legs wrapped around her middle as her face made contact with the wood.

Her axe went flying from her hand as she wildly tried to pull away the arms at her throat.

And then he was rolling off her. Putting himself between her and the dragon.

“It’s okay bud,” he said in a calming tone, putting his hand on the Nightfury’s nose and practically pushing it away from her. “She’s a friend.”

The dragon hissed at her as she tried to regain her footing. Backing up to put some distance between herself and the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

It tried to push the man out of the way with his nose but he stood firm keeping one hand on strap that she hadn’t noticed before. And his other hand out in front of him. As if he meant to calm her in a similar manner as he did the dragons.

He looked to her once the dragon stopped bucking, though it’s green eyes still held all the malice of someone ready to gut another. “You just scared him.”

Astrid was dumbfounded by the statement she could laugh, but she didn’t dare take her eyes if the living shadow. “I scared him! Who is him?”

To her horror, the man let go of the dragon. Standing up straighter. And gesturing at her he said, “Astrid, Toothless.” Then he made the same gesture at the dragon, “Toothless, Astrid.”

The dragon snarled at her when the man was done speaking. Showing of its many sharp teeth.

A cloud move away from the moon in that moment. Giving her more light to take in the scene before her. And she noticed that the strap on the dragon was part of a saddle. In that moment Astrid knew who she was dealing with.

Merchants called him Rider, as if his real name would alert him of their presence and call upon his army of dragons. Only becoming known across the archipelago four years ago, his reputation has grown expeditiously as the rumor of a man riding a top a Nightfury went from being nothing but the ramblings of deranged shipwrecked sailors. To a tale parents would tell their naughty child in attempt to scare them into behaving.

He had the very same reputation as the beast her rode. He never stole food, never showed himself, and never missed.

“Well are you going to say anything?” He asked, breaking some of the tension in Astrid’s mind and diarrhea from her spiraling panic.

When she finally managed to loosen her jaw enough to speak the only thing she could think to say was. “You are insane.”

The man chuckled at that, and the muscles on the dragon relaxed slightly at the noise. “Oh I definitely am, but I’m also your only way off this boat. And I promise it won’t be sitting here for too much longer.”

And with that her climbed onto the saddle. With a metaling click the beast got into a take off position but it held firmly on the deck as the Rider held out his hand to the Viking.

“I never break a promise Astrid. I will get you back to Berk.” Another wave of recognition flared up in her mind at the cadence in his voice. Even muffled by the mask, she could have sworn she had heard it before.

Is it possible that they had met before?

That was the same thought that had her putting away her axe and taking his hand.

The dragons warm radiated through the saddle as she climbed up behind the rider. And she could have sworn the dragon tensed up the same moment she did. Clearly it was just as uncomfortable with her as she was with it.

It flared its wings as the rider cooed, “This is her first time Toothless, let’s take it gently.”

The beast made a noise she could have sworn was between a purr and a laugh And then without warning he launched them into the sky.

And all Astrid could do was scream as she felt herself sliding off the back of the saddle.

If anyone had asked her what it felt like to be thrown from a catapult while riding horses back she could now truthfully tell them. The twins would probably take notes if she survived the night.

Her screams harmonized with the wind that cut through the rocky outcropping as they rose higher and higher into the sky. And her fingers kept loosing their grip on the back of the saddle as the moon grew brighter and brighter the closer they got to it.

Making the mistake of looking down Astrid couldn’t even make out the outline of the boat they had just left.

“Easy Toothless, we need her to like us.” The riders shouted at the dragon through the wind.

And then they started to dive. gravity had its hold on them and the black mass beneath them urged them closer to earth as the once tiny cliffs that sprouted from the frigid waves got closer and closer. Like the hands of giants threatening to squash them like flys.

She felt herself lifting from the saddle as she lost her grip entirely and she screamed louder, “OH GREAT ODIN’S GHOST!”

And as fast as an adder; the Rider’s hand reached back and grabbed her waist. Instinctively she wrapped her arms and legs around his torso and held on with all her strength.

Then she heard the whistle.

The same whistle that every citizen of Berk dreaded hearing during a raid. One that was the precursor to months of reconstruction.

Astrid had to fight the urge to run. To let go and get far away from the oncoming blast. She shouted apology after apology to whatever god was listening, or even to the dragon beneath her. Her muscles shook with the effort. Her eyes reared and burned with the strength of the air in her face, but she couldn’t look away. Not when the Nightfury let out a blast of purple flames so powerful that it tore a hole straight through the ship.

Water flooded through the hole like a fountain and as the Rider urged them back up for another dive bomb; Astrid could see the hull crack in two as the ship sunk to the bottoms of the sea.

The second dive wasn’t nearly as bad as the first. She now knew what to expect. The anticipation of the climb, the weightlessness at the summit, and the pressure of the fall.

She kept her eyes open as long as she could as they fell closer and closer to the waves. This time she could see something she hadn’t noticed earlier. All the dinghy’s were on the waves. Drago’s men hog tied and bound on the seats. And not an oar in sight.

This time as the whistle echoed against the rocks and the crack of plasma basted off the wood planks and masts of the second ship; She found herself laughing.

As they climbed once more into the sky. This time not nearly as steep as the exited the outcrop and headed southwest. The night sky was cool on her bear arms and she found herself leaning into the back of the rider in front of her for warmth, as the dragon angled them up towards the clouds.

Hair that had fallen loose from her braid tickled the back of her neck as the flight calmed down. She loosened her grip on him slightly. If only to make sure he was still breathing. And his hand found its way atop hers.

The riders looked over his shoulder at her as he said simply, “don’t let go. I would hate for you to fall.”

A shiver ran down her spine as they broke through the clouds. And breath catching Astrid let out a gasp in amazement as the aurora painted the night in hues of greens and purple.

They flew for hours and as Astrid caught the first signs of the golden dawn breaking across the waves, she knew for certain that that night had changed everything.

Chapter Text

The sun was rising just above the horizon when Astrid noticed the dragon was getting closer to an island not much bigger than her village. At first she thought the exhaustion of the past few days was making her see things. She couldn’t remember that last time she slept. The ache in her shoulders from being chained to the ceiling was still prominent and throbbed with every movement.

When the sound of the wind receded and she could hear the waves she knew the riders was planning something.

She pulled back from the rider, her muscles feeling numb as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. She had been resting her head on his shoulder for most of the flight. She was sure to have a scale imprint on her cheek.

They were no where near Berk.

She let out a yawn as she looked around, trying to figure out where they were. “What’s going on? why are we landing?”

He stiffened at the sudden movement, as if he had forgotten she was there. He cleared his throat before sitting up straighter, “It’s a few more hours to Berk and you are exhausted. It will be a lot easier to eat on solid ground. Plus it will be good for Toothless to be rested up just in case.”

With that the dragon touched down on the small grassy island. The rider helped her off the saddle, grabbing and unhooking a saddle bag. And quickly as they landed, the dragon bounded off to a small stream near by and drank deeply.

The rider kept his hand on her arm and lead her to a circle of tree stumps. Once she was seated he pulled out a water skin and an apple and handed them to her. “Eat up and once you aren’t as shaky. You are going to tell me everything you know about Drago.”

She weighed the provisions in her hand before tossing them back at him. “How do I know you aren’t trying to poison me.”

He made an indignant sound as he caught them. “Oh for the love of Thor.” He raised his hand under his helmet and tugged down a strip of scale coated wool that had been coving his chin and throat.

Tilting up his helmet slightly, he brought apple to his lips and took a bite before tossing it back to her. Before uncorking the skin and taking a drink and tossing the water back. A drop of water trailed down his chin. Astrid spied a small scar in his chin and a tufted of brown hair before he readjusted his helmet.

“Satisfied that it’s safe?”

“Yes and I’m also satisfied that I can get a rise out of you.” And without any more protest she took a bite. The food instantly made her feel better and she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until the skin always drained and she had to stop herself from asking for more.

He quietly sat down on a stump near hers and handed her the rest of the pack. He must have noticed that she was still hungry.

Once everything in the bag was gone he spoke up again. “So, why is it that a Berkian warrior such as yourself ended up in the brig of one of those psychopaths ships?”

Astrid wiped the juice off her chin before averting her eyes from him. Why did he have to bring up her complete failure? She rubbed her raw wrists feeling the pain of scabs and sores. She was prideful, all Vikings were. And admitting that her home was facing the threat of total destruction would be a direct blow to hers. One more painful than the torn skin on her wrists, or to the green and purple bruises running up her torso.

But she knew that if she wanted to get the rider to help her she would have to swallow he own ego.

Her mouth felt dry again and she braced herself to admit her own shortcomings.

“Drago Bludvist is coming to Berk.” The rider stiffened as she began to speak, not taking his attention away from her. “A few months ago he sent us a message. A threat that if we don’t join in his crusade that he would burn us to the ground. That he take his dragon army and rip, tear, and burn his way through us.”

“Most of the older members of our chiefs council laughed at the threat, but Stoick took it seriously. He locked down the island, shored up our defenses. We thought that nothing could touch us. Berk had been in an era of prosperity for years. Ever since the dragons stopped raiding we have been able to secure trade deals, we’ve double our food supplies, and increase ships back to the numbers he had before we started looking for the nest. That was all before the attacks started. Is only been a few months but we are already running out of ideas to stop him. And I don’t know how long we will last.”

Astrid went in to explain how they guessed the location of the ships, about how her friends went out to search the other locations, and about how she went in alone. When she was done she met his gaze.

He hadn’t moved for her entire story. Not for the first time did she wish that he would take off his mask. Just to gauge what his emotions might be.

“You don’t know how much it hurts me to say this, but Berk needs help. It needs your help Rider. I would have never been able to get out of that cell without your help. And even if I could, there was too many for me to take on my own.”

The rider got up from his stump. Beginning to pace around the clearing. It almost looked like he was arguing with himself.

“You were able to outsmart all of Drago’s men. You were able to over power them and take not just one ship but two. And it only took you a few hours.”

Astrid got up from her perch and approached him. He was muttering to himself quietly and fidgeting with his gloves. She could have sworn he was saying, “my fault.” But he had walked too far way and too quickly for her to make out what he was saying. Especially with his helmet muffling his voice.

“If Berk had someone with even half the wit of yours we might stand a chance, but we haven’t had someone as clever as you in years. It kills me to say this but we need your help.”

She grabbed his arm then to stop him in his tracks and he lowered his head to avoid her gaze. But Astrid would not be ignored. She bent her knees and got closer to him while keeping a firm grip on his arm. Forcing him to look at her. “Rider please. I don’t want to beg, but Berk needs you.”

From under his mask she could multiple emotions flashing in his eyes. “Your chief would never allow me to help. From what I know of Stoick, he had more pride than you. And he hates dragons. There is no way he would allow me to free the ones that Drago has captured. He would never allow Toothless on his island.”

“What if I could convince him. Would you help us if he swore to not touch your dragon? Would you help if Drago’s dragons could be set free?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Astrid.” There was an unsteadiness to his voice as he gave his none answer.

“It’s not a promise, I know I can get him to cave. Stoick is not as prideful as you might think. The loss of a child will make anyone reevaluate their priorities.”

He took a step back at that, acting almost as if she had hit him. “What do you mean his son is dead?”

“I nerve said Hiccup was dead, but the chances are high that he is. How did you know he had a son?”

He broke away from her then taking a few steps back. She could tell that he was beginning to breathe heavy. He wasn’t telling her something. Berk was definitely a sore spot for him. “Everyone on the archipelago knows about Stoick the Vast. How is the greatest Viking ever born. And especially how his son was his biggest disappointment.”

She was enraged enough to punch him now. How dare he say something like that about her chief. About Hiccup.

She began to reach for her axe. And just her hand wrapped around the handle the rider moved. A knife that she hadn’t known he had was out and she had to yank her hand back to avoid it slicing her hand as it bounced off her blade and back into the dirt in between them.

“Enough talking. I don’t want to fight you and if we continue I know we will come to blows.” He stepped back again putting his hand to his face before letting out loud breath. And then he called his dragon.

The black dragon bounded back to his master as her reached down to retrieve his knife. It stared at Astrid with a mixed of malice and curiosity in its gaze.

“I promised I would take you back and I keep my word,” the rider was climbing back on beast now. Hooking himself into the saddle before holding his hand out to her.

She didn’t move.

He let out a grunt of frustration. Before speaking again, “look I will help in any way I can but without your chief meeting my demands I can’t do much. At the very least I can give you the notes I’ve gathered on him over the past year.”

Astrid stared at him for a moment before relaxing her muscles. “You were digging through papers on the ship. Collecting information.”

“Yes. Because I’ve been trying to stop Drago for years.” His hand was still outstretched to her. And finally she reached up took it in hers.

They were back in the air in a matter of moments. They spent the rest of the ride back to Berk in a tense silence.

By the time it was midday she could see the outline of her home on the horizon. The rider brought his dragon low to the water. If she reached down she could have felt the water rushing through her fingers.

She had to admit it to herself, it was amazing to ride on the back of a dragon.

He landed on an island a mile from Berks shore. One that Astrid had vivid memories of swimming to every summer when the weather was at its hottest. And racing too when the first frost hit as a part of the annual Berk swimming race. Unlike a normal race; the person who could stay in the water the longest was the winner.

From the shadow of the trees the rider let her off his mount.

“This is where I leave you. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to swim the rest of the way. I hope you understand that we would be shot on sight if we got caught. Even if we were doing a good thing like brining back one of there own.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try. I promise that Berk is not what you know.”

“Like I said, I will do what I can. Give me a week and I will bring back copies of all the notes and maps I’ve gathered from my raids. But beyond that.” He shook his head almost as if he was arguing with himself. “I can’t help unless I get the guarantee Toothless’s safety.”

And with that he launched back into the sky and disappeared into the clouds. Leaving Astrid to swim the rest of the way home.

Chapter Text

Stoick was tired.

He was missing one of his scouts. His best warrior on top of that. The rest of the parties had returned days ago, all reporting that they could not locate the ships.

At least now he knew where they were. He could take out the first few ships of Drago’s armada and finally draw blood from his enemy. Even though it would be a paper cut in comparison to the gashes Drago was dealing to Berk with his raids.

Right now he could only assume that Astrid had been captured by Drago’s forces and was killed in the line of duty. He didn’t have the man power to spare for a rescue mission. And he knew that the lass would rather die than reveal information about her home.

A wave of despair washed over him at that thought. He recalled how his son glanced her way every chance he got. Every small favor he went out of his way to do for her. And the extra effort he put into her request at the forge.

Back then; every interaction he spied reminded him so much of the beginning of his own great love story. Seeing Hiccup stumble over his words with his every interaction with Astrid, was some of the few times he could see himself in his son. It made it easier then to imagine the potential of his son. Now all he could see were the “what ifs?”.

It was the questions like that that kept him awake every night. The guilt that weighed on him like an anvil every time he tried to rest. He had not been able to sleep since the day his son disappeared. He had been so proud of Hiccup. He had finally grown up and had earned his place amongst his people by coming first in dragon training. He saw only the brightest future for his Hiccup. Finally, his biggest dream was about to become reality, he was going to kill a dragon.

And then over night, he disappeared without a trace.

The next morning when everyone was gathered to watch him triumph in the kill ring. But, he never arrived. At first they had all thought he had lost track of time in the forge, as he frequently did. And when no one found him there Stoick got worried.

He sent out search parties to comb the woods. All the teens had confirmed that he had gotten into the habit of exploring after every training session. Disappearing for most of the day. But he had always shown back up to the mead hall for supper.

None of the search parties found any trace of him.

And Stoick then ordered that every corner of the village be searched. The only clue they found was the empty dragon paddocks. Even if Hiccup were to be found, he would not be able to achieve his glory.

By the end of the week everyone in the village was staring at Stoick with pity. First his wife was taken by the beasts and now his son was gone.

Any planned expeditions to find the nest were put to a halt as Stoick shifted all his energy into finding his child. He went from island to island all around the archipelago with no sign of him.

And then one day, after about 3 months, when he had returned to Berk to resupply and to check in on the village, he got the news. There had not been a single dragon raid in that entire time he was gone.

Once the raids stopped, life became a muddled blur. Having to pivot from searching for Hiccup to managing a village that was experiencing surplus for the first time in his life. And by the end of the first year the strain of both tasks became too much for Stoick to do it all.

He couldn’t keep deferring his duties as chief only to come up empty handed in the search. So the trail went cold. Despite still sending out men regularly to find his child. No one had any luck.

And then Drago re-emerged.

Stoick stopped sending out search parties when the first and only warning was received. He didn’t want his child anywhere near his greatest mistake. Drago would take his sweet and scrawny son and feed him to his hoard of fire breathing beasts. And he didn’t know if he had the strength that withstand a loss that great.

And Stoick loathed to admit it but with the lack of regular raids, the Vikings he presided over had gotten rusty in the art of dragon slaying. Making the first of Drago’s raids all the more deadly. He could barely find the words when the first of the long ships were released out to sea and the flaming arrows flew to welcome his fellow warriors up to Valhalla.

And now he had to worry about helping set up Astrid’s funeral. A warrior gone too soon from this world. If Hiccup knew he would be crushed.

The plans to attack the ships she had located were well on their way to being completed when the doors to the mead hall were pushed open and before the council stood the very warrior that Stoick had presumed dead.

She looked like she had fought off a warband by herself. She had bruises covering her face, neck and arms. Her wrists were bloody and covered in scabs and blisters. Her hair which was normally tidy and tied back in a braid was a mess of blood, soot, and kelp. And the axe that hung loosely at her side had dried blood on the blade.

Her every step made wet squelching sounds as she dripped water onto the stone floor of the hall. And it didn’t take long for everyone to rush to get her in a chair. Once she was seated with a fresh water skin, she began to explain what she had been through.

The great hall was silent as Astrid told them about the cages. How the dragons were chained and muzzled. The told them about how she was overpowered and locked in the brig only to be beaten and chained to the ceiling. And then she told them about the rider.

Stoick held onto every word the lass said, committing it to memory as the tall tale of a man who tamed the trickiest dragon materialized in his mind.

He could almost picture him arrogant, cunning, and dangerous.

After Astrid finished telling them how he helped her escape in exchange for her help releasing the Drago’s beasts; Stoick sent the assembly away. Partly because the warrior looked exhausted. And partly to question her alone.

Spitelout, Gobber, and the rest of the young adults gave the most protest but ultimately relented . Shuffling out of the hall in a group.

Once Stoick could no longer hear his brother berating his nephew he knew they were safe to continue their conversation.

“Astrid I can tell that you aren’t telling me something. Did he do anything to you? If he did I will hunt him down myself.”

“He was mostly a complete gentleman. He was a sarcastic assling, but he didn’t do anything to me. Why, do I look bad enough that that twig could hurt me?”

“Twig? All the stories of him describe his as powerful.”

“Oh he is powerfully, just not physically. He padded his armor to look bigger than he is.”

“Oh and how would you have noticed that?” The Viking chief asked raising his eyebrow with curiosity. The lass had shown little to no interest to anyone on Berk. Always turning away her peers if they even hinted at anything more than camaraderie.

“That’s not important.” She said defensively as her cheeks reddened. “He is smarter than anyone on this island. And the way he controlled those dragons.”

“So he is like Drago. Astrid we cant trust him. We can’t trust anyone who is like that maniac.”

“The thing is Stoick, I think we might have to if we want to survive the war. And more than that.” Astrid pulled out her axe, slowly she began to trail her fingers along the intricate engravings.

Stoick remembered the when the Axe was first made. Her parents had commissioned it from Gobber when she had gotten into dragon training. And with his best friend being busy with keeping demand from the constant raids, he gave the project to Hiccup.

His boy was always getting into trouble unless he had a project to complete. That was the main reason he had Gobber make him his apprentice. It was an attempt to give him purpose. To harden him up. Hiccup had a soft heart, like his mother.

For weeks Stoick had to force Hiccup home every night just to get him to stop and eat. If he could have Hiccup would have worked on the axe until he physically dropped from exhaustion.

The man had to admit the weapon is a masterpiece. Perfectly weighted, with the runes of the valkyries prayer etched into the each side of the blade.

“The rider recognized this. Maybe he knows what happened to him. Maybe he is out there.”

Stoick stood up from his chair as he ran his hand through his beard. He didn’t have the energy for this. His heart felt torn. He longed to chase down the rider to beat some answers out of him. But he was duty bound to protect Berk. To insure his son had a home to return to.

He had to clear his head. He needed a tankard of ale to calm him down or better yet he needed to hit something. Anything that could calm the gallop in his heart.

His is out there.

Hiccup is alive!

Stoick didn’t notice that Astrid stood up from her seat before the fire. Not until he felt her lead him back to his chair.

“Chief I’ve asked him to help us. I can’t see any other way of survival without him. Without his dragons to fight against Drago’s.”

He fixed his eyes on the warrior before him. When has she grown into a leader. A general.

Not for the first time did Stoick regret that his son never got to grow with her by his side. Together they could have lead Berk into a bright future.

“Please Chief, we need you to make a deal with him. From what I can tell he is nothing like Drago. He will only ask that you don’t touch his Nightfury and that we release the dragons instead of killing them.”

He said nothing as the blonde stared him down. She was a proud girl. Stoick knew how it pained her to beg.

“Just think on it. He will be back in a week with the information he had gathered on Drago. If I could get him to hand over information without asking for anything in return, imagine how helpful he will be if we reciprocate.”

And with that she walked out of the mead hall. Leaving her axe on the table before him.

Chapter Text

If Astrid didn’t get her wet clothing off in the next five minutes she knew she was going to scream. There was only so much cold squelching and clinging that a girl could take. And she knew it would take a lot of effort to peel off her sodden wool shirt.

While she understood why the rider dropped her a mile off shore and left her to swim the rest of the way home, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t filled with rage with every stroke in the cold waves. Especially with how bone tired she was and the weight of her clothing and weapon making the swim more difficult.

It took everything in her to not fall asleep by the fire in the hall. The warmth and comfort of home had a way of smoothing over the edge of her fury. And her anger is what had kept her going for the past few days. She held onto it like a lifeline in the dark of the cell. And now she was reluctant to let it go now that she was back on her island.

Hopefully Stoick would take her seriously. She would have continued to argue her point until he got it through his head. They could not continue to fight the way they always had. But the exhaustion of the week was too great.

The memories of the flight raced through her mind as she made her way back to her house when she was waylaid by the twins.

They jumped out at her from the shadows. Draping their arms across her shoulders from either side.

Astrid, being too tired to fully register her friends, acted on instinct. Ducking out of their grasp before reaching up to take hold of an arm. And before she could realize what she had done, Tuffnut was on the ground.

Ruffnut being the closest to Astrid. Knew better than to get within grabbing distance when the bags under her eyes matched the stone path they took to the training arena. So she was a safe distance behind her. And grinning like she just got a snoggletog gift.

“Good to know your stint in the slammer didn’t change you,” Ruff giggled out when Astrid’s shoulders relaxed.

Astrid, taking a step back from Tuff, turned to her friend. “Guy I am really not in the-“

“See any bit marks Ruff?” Tuff wheezed put as he struggled to his feet. His throw to the floor had knocked the wind out of him and he was definitely struggling to catch his breath.

“None that are visible, dear brother. A further investigation must occur.” Ruff replied to her twin as she took Astrid’s befuddled expression as a sign that she had been disarmed for the moment, before pulling the warrior into a side hug.

Astrid pulled away again trying and failing to catch on to their conversation. As per usual.

“What are you idiots talking about?”

“The rider,” Tuff said while straightening, “everyone knows he was bitten by a Lycanwing.”

Ruff chimed in, “Yeah. And if you spent the last twenty four hours with him. The odds are that you are now infected.”

The warrior blinked at the two, in complete disbelief of the total buffoonery of them.

“Were you two dropped in a rock quarry when you were little? Because that can be the only explanation to why are the way you are.”

“Think about it Astrid. How else would you explain his wings?” Tuff exclaimed while spreading his arms out wide, in mock imitation of a dragon in flight.

She blinked at the boy. Slowly. Partly from physical exhaustion, partly from mental. “He didn’t have wings Tuff. He was just a man in a suit made of dragon scales.” She began to walk away from their insanity, but they followed.

“You must have just missed them, every merchant at the docks has at least one story of the rider flying without his mighty Nightfury steed.”

The twins voices were starting to blur together now. Like they were one person with only half a brain. Astrid knew she needed to get some rest, if only to recover some of the brain cells she lost whenever she came in contact with these two. “Look I don’t have the energy for your insanity. Go entertain yourselves with your boar pit. I will tell you more once I’ve had more than an hour of sleep over the course of three days.”

And with a final huff Astrid turned away from the twins and finally made it back into her house.

The first thing she went to work on was starting a fire. Her parents would normal have one always burning. However, as she grew her childhood home felt cramped and restrictive. Besides a house can only hold so many weapons between 3 people. Living on her own had been a breath of fresh air, but now it just felt cold. Just like her wet clothes and empty hearth.

Her hands shook with fatigue as she worked the flint. Getting first a spark, and then a small flame. Once the fire was strong enough to burn unattended she began to strip.

She took off her shoulder guards first. The iron of the metal was chilly in her hands as she reached for the sandbag she kept on her wall. Without flare her belt went in the bag next. As tired as she was she would not break her maintenance routine.

She got a pot of water over the fire started, and finished stripping, before she closed the bag and began to throw it on the floor. She could hear the grains of sand scouring the dried blood and sea sludge from the metal with every wack to the floor. Ensuring they wouldn’t rust.

After several good, mind numbing, tosses she let herself rest and bathe with the now warm water.

Once she was in dried clothes and the wounds on her wrists were cleaned and bandaged she allowed herself time to just sit as she took in the heat of her fireplace and the quiet solitude of her home.

Absentmindedly she reached into the sand bag and pulled out her belt. It was intricate in its design. Though it didn’t start out as a belt.

Astrid ran her fingers over the metallic bird skulls as she drifted into the memory of when she got the first one. She had found it in trader Johann’s ship when she was little. Her parents had taken her after she had hit her first target with an axe. It had reminded her of a history lesson where her ancestors had decided on their own crest.

As she had wrapped her littler fist around the little pendant, she knew it would be hers.

She wore it around on a leather cord for a few months. And then one day her dad told her to drop off some weapons for maintenance at the forge.

It had been Hiccups first week as an apprentice and he was only supposed to be sharpening. But when it was time to pick up her order, there was something extra in the packet.

The second iron bird skull was almost identical, and quite impressive considering he had never gotten a close look at it. It was the exact shape and size of hers and the only real difference Was a few minor details and the rougher edges.

The next week she had them tying back her twin braids.

And on it went, she would drop something off at the forge or put in an order, and like clockwork. Another one would show up in the order.

She had received her last one when she got her favorite axe.

Astrid fell asleep in her chair by the fire. Her belt loosely held in her hand; dreaming of the wind in her face and the sound of wings beating.

Chapter Text

One of the best parts about being above the clouds was that no one could hear you scream. The frustration of the last day lay heavy upon Hiccups shoulders as the weightlessness of the sky rose before him.

His sounds of discontent echoed atop the moisture pockets for miles as Toothless carried him back to the edge. He fell like he did five years ago when he was on the precipice of his last big decision.

Why did Berk still have such a hold on him?

As he lay on the back of his warm dragon, nothing but colors of the shifting sky above him; he felt his heart cracking again. Every sharp edge that he had spent years welding together as he made his own way in the world.

He had built himself up in the last five years. With no expectations. criticism, and no one left to disappoint; he had done the impossible.

And now like a cruel trick of fate, he was being called back.

He thought that he would have been relieved if he ever saw anyone from his old home again.

Possibly sad.

But seeing Astrid in that cell.

Bloody, bruised , and chained.

Made him feel the need to set the world on fire.

If not for the axe, he wasn’t sure he would have recognized her. Not with the black eye and split lip . Not with the blood that matted her hair.

He was positive the blood wasn’t hers. She was on her feet after all. And he had never seen anyone covered with that much red be as lively as her if they were injured badly.

But she was Astrid. She had always been the exception to the rules.

After all he never expected her to go along with him. The offer to help him was half hearted. After all he gave everyone the chance to do the right thing. And he would have taken her back regardless.

But she had gone along with him. She had kept up. She had guarded his back. And in the end she had freed a dragon.

Something no one else from Berk had ever done before.

Her smile as the Nadder had nuzzled into her hand was imprinted into his eyelids. And if his mind were to wonder I knew it would be reliving the sound of her laughter as they had flown away.

Years ago. that would have been the highlight of his life. And if she hadn’t told him of the threat to Berk; it might still be.

Drago had his eyes on Berk.

On his father’s home.

On the nest.

Chances are the mad man didn’t know what had occurred there. And Hiccups leg aches at the memory. The phantom pain of that day making his prosthetic ache.

He had to shudder off the thought. He had to focus.

Hiccup shifted in the saddle signaling to his best friend to go lower in the sky. The sun had set so they were in no danger of being spotted.

The dragon made a noise of concern and the boy sat up at that, giving him a reassuring scratch on the head.

It was almost a days flight to the edge and Hiccup used every moment of it trying to figure out what to do about this new issue.

He had learned about Drago right around the time he turned 18. He seen the aftermath of a siege on an island outside the archipelago.

There were no survivors, only the burnt, frozen, and torn bodies of humans and dragons alike.

The smell of the bodies had made him puke.

Ever since that day Hiccup had done every thing in his power to stop him. To end his reign of terror that, somehow, had made its way to his old home. To Berk.

Hiccup had hunted down Drago’s hunters, had trapped his trappers, silenced his communications network, and had stolen his supplies.

None of it had been enough.

He couldn’t help but think that this might be his final stand. That the Norns that were weaving the tapestry of his life were playing some sort of sick joke on him.

The prodigal son returns to the island that he had abandoned. The island that would have gladly abandoned him in return if they had known just how different he was.

He was the first Viking that wouldn’t kill a dragon. At least that’s what he told himself. A fresh flash of phantom pain seared his leg at the thought of the red death that used to control the nest.

It was going to be a long night he thought to himself as they landed at the edge of his dragon’s edge.

And probably a short rest of his life.

Toothless gave him a nudge as they entered the hut. Bounding immediately to his food troff to begin to rest after the unplanned return to Berk.

The boy made his way back to to his desk, over a years work of notes, plans, and ledgers from Drago’s army were scattered around the space. Maps pinned to the wall with knifes marking known spots where his fleets would make anchor. Most all of them were marked off with charcoal now. Hiccup saw them as progress in the war. As signs that he had things under control and wasn’t completely in over his head.

After last night he didn’t know what to believe.

He put his hand to his face. Gods he just needed to think. To breath.

Isn’t that why he left in the first place?

For some freedom.

His hand met the scaled panels of his helmet. He had forgotten he was wearing it.

In an instant it was off and flying across the room as Hiccup let out another growl of frustration.

He should have known this is where he would end up.

He should have seen the signs.

He glanced back at the ledgers and the maps. Now seeing the increased trading and raiding for what it was. Seeing the inconsistencies in outpost placements and hunting parties.

He should have known he could never do it alone.

And crouching on the floor of his base Hiccup Haddock made his decision.

Taking a deep breath and raising from his crouch.

He began to pack.

Chapter Text

Stoick’s head pounded under the metal of his helmet as the war council went on long. He had too much to think on.

Where to send the patrols? How many scouting parties he should utilize? The armory, the young recuits, and the emergency supplies.

But on top of the that, two thoughts prevailed.

The first being the only clue of Hiccups whereabouts in five years.

The second being that of the rider. And the possibility of his alliance and willingness to stop Drago.

The very idea of the rider vexed him. How the Hel did a man manage to control a dragon? Let alone a Nightfury.

He could vividly recall the screaming whistle of the beast as it would melt out of the shadows to cause destruction to his village.

No one had ever gotten a good look at one. The only reason they knew it even existed was the havoc it caused and brief glimpses of a living shadow as it darted out of the fire light.

Every single raid that a Nightfury had participated in had been at least twice as deadly as those with the usual scurge of Nadders, Gronckles, Zipplebacks, and the Monsterous Nightmare.

And yet this man, who by all accounts had stepped straight out of a saga song, had done it.

He had been the first confirmed person to ever control a dragon since Drago had attacked the great Althing of chieftains all those years ago.

It had been one of his biggest regrets that he had been the only survivor of that attack. A flash of the other leaders raced past is eyelids. Stoick pushed down thoughts. But not in time for a pang of mourning for the last great chief of the Berserkers washed over him.

Oswald the agreeable was a good man.

Stoick silently shook his head, moving his large hand from his temples to run down his beard as he began to tune back into the shouts of the meeting.

He brothers high pitched whine was what overwhelming the assembly at the moment.

“I am completely against this new maniac joining the fight. Who is to say he won’t just turn on us once we are weakened by Gods damned beasties?”

Astrid stood her ground as Spitelout talked, slamming a hammer on the table to startle everyone into silence. “Just because that is something you would do, doesn’t mean that is something he would do. He let me out of my cell with no offer of reward. And he brought me back home, miles out of his way, without complaint.”

“If you are too short sighted to see him as a possibility to end the war once and for are then you are no better than a pile of Dragon dung.” The lass still looked rough. She had slept for nearly a full day when she had gotten back. At least the swelling of her injuries had gone down her bruises had begun to fade.

“Why should any of us listen to the babbling of a teenager with a crush. If we invite one dragon to this island, then more will follow. The next thing we know we will be back to being as cursed with dragons as we were when Hiccup was here.”

The crowd went silent at Spitelout’s words. And all eyes were on Stoick.

He didn’t notice when he had gotten out of his chair. Nor did he know when he had crossed the room.

All the chief knew was that his brother was against the wall and his shirt was in his hands. Stoick could smell the cod on his breath as he bellowed, “KEEP YOUR SUPERSTITION AWAY FROM MY SON.”

The next thing he knew the Viking was on the floor, “I’ve told you before Spitelout, the raids ending had nothing to do with Hiccups disappeared. Watch your tongue before you find yourself on outcast island.”

His brother slowly rose from the floor after Stoick had made it back to his chair. The man spat on the floor, a glob of red tinged mucus landing where the chief had stood moments before. “Drago knows we are weak. You have no heir. Brother, Its safe to say I speak for everyone when I tell you to pick your successor. Your runt is long gone. It’s time to stop grieving for the leader he would have never been and choose from those who have always been more capable.”

Spitelout didn’t wait to be dismissed before walking out the doors of the hall. Though Stoick did elect to ignore the sight of the hammer that flew after him. As well as the sound of the metal hitting flesh as the heavy door swung shut.

The meeting was much more civil once the family dispute had been removed from the chamber. Though it ended without a decision being made.

Hours later only himself and Gobber remained at the table. The blacksmith looked just as tired as the chief as he sipped from his ale.

He had kept looking to his friend the entire meeting. Gobber had definitely noticed the Axe that Astrid had left on table. Hiccups axe.

Stoick just didn’t know who would bring it up first.

After he was sure his friend had long since finished his drink Stoick let out a loud sign, “out with it Gobber. I know you have something to say.”

And with a hollow thud of his tankard on the table and Gobber simply responded, “Not much to tell. I’m already sure you know the next corse of action. What I’m curious about is this. Why do you keep looking that that axe like it either a wee babe or a snake?”

Stoick was so tired. Tired of being strong, and tired of the loneliness that losing both wife and his son. Tired of the guilt he felt every time he took in a new detail of the weapon that he had neglected to notice when his son had spent weeks on it. Tired because he never truly listened to Hiccup when he was here, and now it was too late.

And so Stoick broke and told his oldest friend the reason for it. How that axe was now his only life line to his son.

After all he belong just as much to Gobber as he did to Stoick. His friend had been there all through out his sons life. He had stood by Stoick after Valka was taken. He had made Hiccup his apprentice. And after all it was his plan to get him into dragon training that had won his son his honor.

Gobber was just as much of a father to the boy as he was.

The Blacksmith let him finish venting before responding, “Stoick, are you sure he is the answer? That he is the key to finding Hiccup? It’s been five years for Thor’s sake. Who is to say that he hadn’t come across on of hiccups weapons from one of the merchant ships he has raided?”

Stoick took off his helmet then, he felt defeated by life.

And Stoick the vast never lost.

“What other choice do I have?”

The chief looked down at the floor then, “you know when I was a lad I knew who I was. Who I had to be come. I knew the steps it would take to succeed. To make this village thrive. But now, I don’t know what to do.”

Gobber took the moment to limp over to his friend and took his hand. As he thought about just how much he sounded like Hiccup in that moment.

“That’s not true Stoick, I think you know what you have to do. And that means I know what I have to do.”

Gobber sat by his friend as he filled his tankard again, “the guest hut will be cleared out by morning, and I’ll double check that the water barrels are full for when his dragon gets bored and starts blasting houses.”

Chapter Text

Astrid was now down an axe and a hammer. This week would not go down as her best for in terms of equipment management.

If there is any consolation both of the weapons had gotten blood on them as they had gotten used. And both were used to make an excellent point.

So all in all, this week would also not go down in history as worst in terms of equipment management.

She gingerly stepped over Spitelout’s unconscious body as she made her way back to her hut. Probably to get another weapon.

Her head was still cloudy from her unexpected flight.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how good the wind felt in her face and rushing through her hair.

She just needed to clear her head. She needed to move her body.

She would normally go to the training ring and spar any of the warriors that were nearby. But given that she was trying to avoid everyone. Her usual routine was off the table.

Instead Astrid turned towards the woods.

The sounds of nature combined with it’s the sound and reverb of a blade on wood always calmed her down.

She had grabbed the first thing she saw from her living room. A bandolier of knive. And headed into the greenery.

She found her favorite small glen east of ravens point. The trees where scattered a good distance away from each other in the grassy field. Making them perfect for target practice.

The evidence of her once frequent visits marred all landscape.

The rock in the middle of the glen had been moved by her one summer when she needed another challenge. The warrior had spent hours jumping and leaping from the bolder she took aim.

Astrid took her post at the top the rock. She was too sore to do her normal stunts. So, she stood still as a sentinel and flipped a knife in her hand. Taking in the vivid blue of the sky as she heard the sound of an animal, probably a boar, lumber deeper in the woods.

A satisfying thunk of the blade hitting a tree gave some satisfaction.

Thunk, thunk.

Two more knifes imbedded themselves millimeters from the first.

Astrid began to reach for another knife when she heard the definite sound of a fourth

Thunk.

It took her seconds to identify the new projectile in her target as a Nadder barb. The long spine stabbed directly in the middle of her three daggers.

Her stomach sank the moment she felt the warm head of breath on the back of her neck. Stiffly, the warrior turned around to face her now emanate death.

Astrid had once imagined she would die by dragon fire. But that was five years ago.

A year ago she knew it would be at the hands and blade of another warrior. After a long day of training she would often fall asleep imagining the feeling of a axe imbedding itself in her gut.

These past few days; she wasn’t so sure what the cause of her death would be.

All she knew was that her knives could never take down something this big and she was too far way to attempt an escape. But maybe, if she could get into its blind spot.

The sky blue Nadder was covered in swirling patterns of gold and red. Its yellow eyes seemed to be taking in every detail of her. Its large horned nose was sniffing her in curiosity.

Was it sniffing her to find out where to bite her first? What limb would be tastiest?

And then hits big nose was nudging her. It began to chirp as to rubbed its head into her torso.

Why wasn’t it ripping and tearing her apart?

And Astrid acted in instinct. Holding out her arms to push the dragon away.

That’s when she noticed the cuts along the dragons beak like nose. They were in the same spots where the muzzle had been in dragons Drago had trapped.

The Nadders pupils dilated at the added contact of her hands; and the warrior could swear it was purring as her nails dug into its scales.

Was this the same one from the boat?

It must be. Astrid thought to herself as she made the conscious decision to not make any sudden movements. Lest the dragon finally decides to have her as an appetizer.

Though she did increase the pressure of her nails across the scales, as if she was scratching a dog. A very large dog. With teeth as long as her forearm.

The beast delighted in the increase vigor of the scratches. Raising her head as if to directing Astrid to go under her chin. It seemed to adore when the nails got close to the cuts from the muzzle. Though the girl hesitated when the dragon made a noise close to a whimper when her fingers hit a particular red patch.

Finally feeling safe enough to tear her eyes from the Nadder Astrid looked back up at the tree, that a few moments ago had been used as her target practice. And noticed the barb stabbed in the direct center of the bark between her blades.

Then looking back the dragon, who was in a state of pure bliss with the attention, the warriors asked herself.

Why didn’t you attack me?

Was it aiming in that spot? Or had it just missed?

It continued to purr and chirp at her as the scratching continued on, and Astrid noted how the scales felt much harder that she had originally thought under her finger tips. Maybe the rider had the right idea using them to coat his armor. Some scales had fallen to the forest floor as a result of her attention. Making her smile at the thought of the man in black doing the same thing with his Nightfury.

Getting too caught up in the moment, Astrid increased pressure in her unintentional affection on the blue beast. Leading to another unintentional discovery.

The Nadder has a soft spot.

She must of hit a pressure point on the dragons neck, because one moment it was looking at Astrid completely content. The next, it dropped to the floor like a bag of hammers. It made a gasping purr as its eyes rolled back in its head.

A brief flash of memory crossed her mind as the scene before her mimicked on she had witnessed years ago.

Hiccup had done something identical in the training ring.

How could he have known about that spot?

She had to get away from here. She needed to think about this.

Before the Nadder could recover, Astrid fled the glen.

She made a b-line for her hut.

The moment she was inside she locked the door and slid to the floor.

It seemed impossible.

How did he know about the spot?

How did he know so many of the little ticks of the dragons?

She had found him weird during dragon training. And then infuriating when he started being good at everything that had to do with dragons.

Hiccup was… Hiccup.

Small, annoying, a try hard.

She thought back to the sweet runt that was the bane of her existence during that autumn.

“What did Hiccup get wrong?” Gobber had asked one night at dinner.

“He’s never where he should be,” she had replied.

She thought about all the questions that he had asked their first training with the Nadder.

The ones about the Nightfury.

Was Hiccup the rider?

The rider had recognized her in the cell. Had known she was from Berk. Had recognized her axe. The axe made by Hiccup.

It was too much of a coincidence.

Hiccup had disappeared without a trace. The rider has never been caught.

Now the familiarity of the rider made so much more sense. His ease at the sight of her made complete sense.

If that had been Hiccup, he would have been able to guess her next move.

She had known him. Had grown up with him.

Was he taken? Or, did he leave?

Now more than ever, Astrid wanted to know what was going on inside that big head of his.

He was smart enough to catch a Nightfury for Odin’s sake.

That would have made him the greatest hero in Berks history. Anyone else would have killed it.

So why didn’t Hiccup?

Thoughts of the Nadder came back to the forefront of her mind. Why didn’t that dragon act the way they used to?

Why didn’t any of the dragons attack like they used to?

The Nightfury had to have been the answer. Something about that dragon must calm down the others.

Astrid recalled how the raids always ended quickly after the Nightfury arrived. And she recalled how every merchant in the archipelago claimed that the rider could control dragons.

“The boy is cursed,” Spitelout still claimed to this day. Claimed this morning in fact.

It was true that Hiccup annoyed the majority of the island with his antics. But there was no way anyone actually believed he was cursed.

He just tried too hard, did too much, and went too far.

Was that the reason he left?

Did he get carried way by his own ambitions of taming a Nightfury?

Or, did they drive him away?

Chapter Text

He knew it was going to be a long week, but when the deadline he gave himself was over, Hiccup could say that the sleepless nights were worth it.

Hopefully.

It took him almost every second of that week to get everything together. He made sure that the copies over everything were clear and legible, knowing not every Viking had the same level of reading comprehension. He purposely left out the location of the edge.

If any of them survived this he wanted to make sure no one would be able to track him down again.

All he wanted after Drago was gone was to be left alone.

If not for his sense of responsibility, he wouldn’t even be here now.

He paced up and down the campsite on the small island a mile away from Berk. He felt like his heart might burst out of his chest. He was probably about to see his father again. His mentor. Everyone.

How much have they changed in the five years he was gone?

Did they even notice his disappearance?

For years he thought they would be glad to be rid of him. But something Astrid had said stuck in the back of his mind.

The loss of a child can make a man reevaluate this priorities.

Hiccup moved to run his hand through his hair to brush away the thought. Or he tried to. He had forgotten he was wearing his helmet.

Toothless was watching him with both a look of concern and amusement on his scaly face.

Hiccup knew that if anything were to go wrong that the dragon would do anything in his power to get him to safety. He knew what Berk was like. And he didn’t want to be there any more than Hiccup did.

They had landed there at the first light of dawn, and the boy hadn’t stopped worriedly pacing since.

It was now almost noon and it was getting increasingly clear that the dragon was getting tired of the humans antics.

He let out a noice of complaint as Hiccup paced by him for the umptheeth time that day. Shooting a small ball of plasma in a general area where the trek was about to continue. It did not deter the boy from continuing nervous habit, but it did slow him down a enough for him to finally start take notice of the world around him.

It slowed him down enough that he remembered to breathe.

The rush of blood to in his ears dissipated with the deeper inhalations, and he could start to make out the noise of the forest again.

He had missed the of nature that was in the archipelago. The smell of the woods and the bird songs was different on the other side of the fog bank.

No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. This place had engraved itself into his bones.

It was his home.

Finally he moved to sit down, ringing his hands to expel his remaining nervous energy while he waited.

Another hour passed and he moved on to fidgeting with his supplies.

Another passed and he began to tinker with his prosthetic leg.

By the time a third hour went by he was throwing the foot across the clearing, while his now equally impatient dragon chased after it.

He supposed it was his fault no one had arrived yet. After all he never said what time he would get here.

Long after he lost count of amount of times he threw the leg the sounds of twigs snapping began to approach him.

He stood up, keeping his balance on his one leg as he had just thrown his prosthetic.

Toothless would be back soon. He told himself that, doing his best to rally his courage.

And then he saw Astrid enter the camp site.

She still looked bruised and battered but much better than she had a week ago. At least she didn’t look like she was dragged behind a herd of Buffalord that were forcefully removed from their island.

“I thought we were going to meet on the beach.” She said like a matter of fact. If he wasn’t mistaken, she looked pissed at him.

Hiccup couldn’t help but smile at her behind the mask, she was always straight to the point. He raised his left leg and gestured to the space where his foot was missing. “Sand and peg leg aren’t the best mix, I didn’t want to risk any of these documents getting damaged by mismanagement.”

As her eyes moved from his leg and back to his helmet, hiccup could have sworn she paled.

Toothless chose that moment to bound back into the clearing.

The dragon padded back up to his rider, clearly acknowledging the warrior now in their vicinity. And without any flare, deposited the prosthetic in his gloved hand.

It dripped with slobber as Hiccup reached down to reattach it to his flight suit.

When he looked up he noticed the others that were now entering the glen. And he froze.

Stoick the Vast looked different than he remembered. His chainmail hung looser than it had when he had left. His full red beard was streaked with white. And he had a new scar going from his temple and curling down his barely visible cheekbone.

Those details didn’t distract him enough for the rider to ignore the hammer in his large hand.

Gobber entered next, Hiccup was relieved to see he still had his two remaining limbs. And only looked a little more wrinkled around the edges. Even his hook looked to be freshly sharpened.

Toothless tensed at the sight of the weapons and Hiccup had to put his hand around the saddle to keep him from lunging.

Swallow the lump in his throat he spoke softly to the dragon, “It’s ok bud.” And he was thankful that his voice didn’t crack with emotion.

Looking back up at the group the rider finally acknowledged them, “Stoick the Vast, I’m not here to fight.” And slowly he took his hands from toothless to show he was unarmed.

That dragon stood guard and ready incase the men made any move to attack. And the masked man walked to where the multiple baskets of maps, books, censuses, and ledgers lay in the clearing.

Hiccup picked up one of the large baskets, he felt the strain in the fibers as he brought it before the Vikings. “Like I promised, all the information I have gathered on Drago over the past year. I also brought my volumes of the books of dragons, and marked all the pages that would be of most use.”

Stoick didn’t say anything in response, he stood still as a stone statue, Hiccup was only assured he was breathing but the slight movement of his mustache hair.

To his surprise Gobber was the one who broke the silence. “Wait a troll forsaken minute. What the bloody hell do you mean by volumes? Everyone knows there is only one book of dragons.”

“Oh, you mean the one written by Bork the Bold? Yeah Ive read it. And let me say, it’s missing a lot of information. Drago has spent a lot of time out of these waters; and there are well over a hundred species of dragons out there. The three volumes I’ve written definitely do not cover all that are out there.”

Gobber gaped at the rider as he opened the first basket, it was full to the rim.

Astrid stepped ups and peered inside. “There is no way these are all copies.” Then unexpectedly she passed the trove of knowledge, getting into his face. She was very clearly trying to stare him down. “What is your game?”

Hiccup back up, making sure his hands were up to show he meant no harm. “No games, no tricks. I hate Drago just as much, if not more than you.”

“And yet you still won’t help us take him down. From the stories I’ve hear of you, Rider, I wouldn’t take you as a coward.”

She had him there.

For all the years he had spent learning about himself, hiccup always knew, deep down, that he was a coward.

He just couldn’t let them know that.

“A week is a long time to think, Astrid.” The rider stepped forward, he wasn’t going to back down from the warriors unspoken challenge. “You were right, it would be smarter to work together, strength in numbers.”

Astrid was close enough to touch now. But he continued.

“If you’ll have me. I will fight on your side. This might be our only shot at ending Drago’s terror.”

Stoick decided that that moment was best to finally speak. And the rough accent of the man tore off a scab deep in Hiccups heart. “Is that so? And what are your demands for us if we accept your help?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, the rider took note of the Chief palming his hammer.

Toothless growled at the action; and Hiccup had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could respond.

Coming up with his demands were the hardest part of the week. He wanted nothing to do with Berk. But he knew if he asked for nothing in return that he would be seen as suspicious. It would be likely that the Berkians may turn him if they survived the conflict.

He knew he had to sound in control of the situation.

He needed to be powerful.

And most importantly he needed Berk to remain cautious of him.

No attachments.

“No one touches my dragon.” The first demand was the easiest to come up with. “We prioritize freeing Drago’s dragon army. The more we release, the less he will have on his side. And I know they will hold grudges if they don’t just flee the battle entirely.”

Stoicks back straightened at that, he almost looked ready to protest, but in a rare show of restraint he held his tongue.

“I want full access to the forge. I have equipment that will need maintenance and repairs after a long fight. And it’s safe to say that I don’t trust others to do things to my specifications.”

Gobber raised he hook to his bald head and scratched behind his ear as he responded. “I can promise you access to most of the forge, but the back room is off limits. To everyone, not just feral dragon men.”

Hiccup nodded his head in acceptance, “fair enough. My last demand is that I be allowed to camp on your island. Once this fight is over, if I am ever in the area and need to rest. I want the same rights as any merchant or traveler to camp. And who knows I might even have things to trade in the future.”

Hiccup didn’t expect a yes. But the Chief begrudgingly nodded his head in agreement to the terms. And he lowering his weapon; he spoke, “Those are acceptable. But I will need you to answer a few questions of mine.”

The rider took a step back from Astrid. Who had yet to back off from her post near him. She hadn’t moved her eyes from him since she entered the clearing.

“Depends on what the question is.”

Stoick took a step forward. Hiccup knew that stance and facial expression well. It was the one of false calm before he had gotten yelled at. The one that said ‘I don’t know what you did but I know you are in trouble for it.’

And Hiccup knew he would almost always crack under that look.

“What do you know of my son?”

Chapter Text

It was a simple question. Stoick thought as he looked at the strangely armored man.

At first the chief didn’t know what to make of him. He walked around with all the unearned confidence and arrogance that Stoick had imagined he would possess. After all what else would a man, more like a boy, insane enough to trust a dragon.

Then the man in black spoke. And the tone of voice, no matter how muffled by that damned helmet, was definitely nervous.

How could it be possible that someone with the power over a limb rending, fire spiting, creature of death have something to fear from any man.

Stoick couldn’t get a proper judge of his character. He had definitely spent plenty of time around the islands of the archipelago. Based on his accent I could have even been from here.

The Viking hadn’t a clue of what tribe the rider could have belonged to. He wore no mantle of any that her knew. Only a simple etching of his damned beast on his shoulder pad.

The rest of his kit was as peculiar as his character. His mask, well similar to the helmets that his ancestors had worn when they had first landed on Berk, was embellished with ridges. That to Stoick, served no purpose other than to make him resemble the thing he rides around on.

The comparison was aided by the fact that his entire suit was covered by scales of deep black. The pair of man and dragon would be a most deadly threat at night, but in the light of day they stood out like a sore thumb.

And he still just stood there, still as a statue.

Almost as if he was caught off guard by the question that Stoick asked.

The sound is an owl hooting in the trees above marked the time of the silence.

By the third hoot the masked man finally spoke. “Your son-“

There it was again, the uneasy tone of voice. If he wasn’t wearing that helmet Stoick could have seen if it was a question or a statement. For now the words hung heavy in the clearing.

Stoick increased his grip on the hammer. Not knowing what he would do if he learned that his son was out there, alone, hurt, or even possibly dead. He elaborated, “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third. My only son. Gone missing these last five years.”

Surprisingly the muscles of the dragon relaxed slightly at the sound of his boys name. The beast even stopped its snarling.

A good sign that the rider did, in fact, know where he went.

Another beat of silence passed before the masked man’s fingers twitched, and without a hint of emotion said his reply. “Would he happen to be a small boy? One that has a bad habit of getting into trouble?”

Gobber, gods bless him, choice moment to speak up. And broke the tension, “Aye, that would be the one.”

“Where is he?” Stoick pressed as his impatience grew.

Yet more tense silence passed before the arrogant bastard replied, “I know that he is handy in a forge, and that he likes to travel. That’s all I can tell you now.”

Stoick knew in that moment that he would kill this rider with his bare hands. He would beat the location of his son out of him. And then the chief would kill him.

He unconsciously took a step forward, raising his hammer from where it hung at his side. When the rider continued, “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. But, we need to be focused on the threat of Drago Bludvist. If aren’t in this fight one hundred percent, then we stand no chance against him.”

Stoick froze as the babbling continued, “Besides, who knows where your son has currently set up camp?”

Stoick froze at that.

The riders had a point.

There was no point in running off to bring his boy home if there was no home to return to.

Gobber forced his friend to lower his hammer. Before speaking again. “You make some sense Rider, but that answer isn’t very satisfactory. At the very least tell us how the lad is.”

The rider looked between the two men before answering, “he has been having the time of his life.”

A fissure in Stoick’s heart cracked further at that. He could see the big crooked grin of his son in his minds eye. Hiccup didn’t smile often, but when he did, it could outshine the sun.

The answer would have to satisfy the Vikings.

For now.

“I would tell you more, but I don’t trust you. If Hiccup doesn’t want to be found then he will be hard to track. That is going to have to be a good enough answer.”

Stoick remained silent, definitely not satisfied with the answer. He left it up to Gobber to answer. His friend had always been the more agreeable one.

“Makes sense, but we will press again once this business is done.”

The riders nodded and Stoick could have sworn the masked man let out a sigh or relief. Before turning back to his beast.

To the chiefs surprise the dragon eased his demeanor. It moved from its crouch into a sitting position. It purred as the master began to stroke his hand down his neck and he began to quietly talk to it; “See bud, I told you things would work out.”

The dragon then began to lick the rider like a dog would its owner. The rider let out an indignant grunt, “Toothless stop, you’re gonna ruin my image.”

His helmet was knocked askew and a tuft of brown hair escaped before he readjusted it.

The rider turned back to the group, “so what’s the next step. I’m I camping here or on Berk? When are the strategies meetings?”

And thus, the babbling commenced.

From what Stoick had heard of the rider, every story must be false. The mysterious man who was rumored to be silent and deadly. Turned out to be a talker.

He went off for several minutes blabbering to himself. The dragon looked just as incredulous as the Viking as the riders chatter filled the clearing.

Either this man has too much time on his hands to think, or he hasn’t had a lot of contact with humans.

Probably both.

Chapter Text

Hiccup was still… well Hiccup.

If Astrid had any doubts that he was the rider before seeing him again. They are all gone now as he babbled his questions about their battle strategy.

She had regretted not telling the two men in the clearing her suspicions. But after his non-answer about her missing friend. She could gladly say she made the right call.

He could have come home at any time. And yet he chose to stay away. He chose to let everyone worry about him.

Now she needed to find out the reason why.

By the time he was asking questions about patrol rotation when Gobber interrupted him. “Easy there lad, don’t be getting ahead of yourself. We should get you settled in the guest hut back on Berk and give you the tour before we discuss guard rotation and trebuchet placements.”

The rider paused him his rambles. Moving his hand from his placement on his chin to run across the scaled hide of his helmet, as if he was going to run his hands through his hair. “Yeah that’s probably a good call. Are you sure that your people will be comfortable with us being so close by?”

Yep he is definitely Hiccup.

The blacksmith gestured at the man and his dragon, “Berkians have experience with beasts like yours. And besides sometimes is good to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“Oh so you consider me an enemy?” The rider tilted his head at the group as he asked.

Before the elder warriors could reply Astrid jumped on the opportunity, “Well you said it yourself, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. We will have to reevaluate the situation once Drago is taken out.”

The riders head turned to her then, and Astrid could feel his full attention back on her. It was almost insulting.

Did Hiccup write her off as a non threat? Or did he just find her so inconsequential she could fall off his radar?

“Fair enough,” the man in black replied back as he pulled on the saddle of his dragon. And with an ease she had never seen in Hiccup before, he climbed on its back.

“So is there a boat we are taking to the main land or is someone going to fly with me and give me the grand tour? It will probably be a lot faster if we fly.”

Her chief turned to her then, “Astrid, since this is your idea you ride with him, give him the tour. We will hold a council meeting when we get all these documents back to the mead hall.”

The large man turn to the boy and his dragon, “If you do anything to her or any of my people just know that I will rip your head from you body with my bare hands and do the same to your beast. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” the rider reply’s as he held his hand out for Astrid. Offering to help her on the back of the Nightfury.

She took the hand with no hesitation and she soon felt the warmth of the dragon through the saddle. She did her best to minimize contact to the man but she felt him tense the same second the dragon did.

Turning around to face her Hiccup said, “You are gonna want to hang on to something. She heard a clicking noise and she glanced down at what his hands were doing. He seemed to be strapping himself to the dragon.

In the light of day Astrid could now see the details of his armor and she was surprised to see just how many straps he had on it. To her it seemed like over kill but if it kept this insane man from falling off the back of a wing beast at altitudes high enough to make it hard to breathe, who was she to judge.

Astrid heeded his warning and wrapped her hand around a strap on the side of the saddle that she must have missed in the dark of the night.

Hunching his shoulders the rider padded the neck of his steed, “Alrighty Toothless, let’s make this ride a gentle one.”

The Dragon made a noise in reply and Astrid could see it raise up its head enough to glance back at them. And then without warning it was blasting into the sky.

She let out a yelp of surprise as the air and leaves of the canopy rushed by her at speeds she wasn’t used to. And then the warmth of the sun was brushing against her face. As they were gliding over the waves.

The smoothness and the speed was exhilarating. And Astrid began to see her home from an angle she never had before.

All the people in the square and at the dock seemed so small from up here. The light from the sun glittered on the waves as they approached. Astrid could feel the rider tensing up the closer the two got to Berk.

The last thing she needed was for him to bolt before they got there, especially since she was behind him on the saddle.

“Hey rider, I’ve been wondering.” Astrid asked without thinking and she could feel him flinch in front of her. Like he had forgotten she was there.

The thought of that vexed her, so she continued. “How did you manage to get a dragon to listen to you? I’ve seen the way Drago’s dragons act. And yours almost seems to be domesticated.”

Astrid felt his left leg shift as the dragon descended. Bringing them closer to the sea. Like they were a a ship preparing to dock.

“A good place to start is by feeding them. Most love fish, just be careful to avoid eel. They slimy creatures can grow to sizes big enough to eat dragons so most have an innate fear of them.” He replied simply. Adding more information than necessary. Probably to distract himself from how nervous he was to be back.

“And he just let you get close enough for the attempt? Like, without eating you?

The rider turned from the oncoming landscape to look at her. And Astrid caught a glimpse of his green eyes. “Well obviously, or else we wouldn’t be riding one.”

She couldn’t hide her smile at that. And all too quickly, the touched down at the docks.

The people that were around the docks were on edge at the sight of the Nightfury. But since it was, as its rider put it, on his best behavior, no damage was one and no one made a rash movements.

He helped her down and then the three of them began to walk around the village. Astrid gave the generic tour that most visitors got. Making sure to leave out key details. She didn’t have confirmation that this rider was Hiccup, but if he is then he wouldn’t need to be told where anything was. The village hasn’t changed much since his disappearance, even if he did.

If he knew she was testing him, he didn’t say anything.

When she was done the tour the council had begun filing into the Great hall.The rider hung to the wall, his companion at his side. As if they we’re still trying to melt into the shadow. And Astrid had to admit that he was definitely good at disappearing.

And then the fun began.

The whole assembly was in a uproar with the arrival of the dragon rider. Some of the elder ones couldn’t help themselves from hurling insults and some of the younger people assembled had to physically retrain their family members from lunging at him.

To his credit the rider didn’t flinch. He just kept leaning on his dragon with a nonchalant attitude that only further infuriated the more volatile members of the assembly.

Once they had gotten most of it out of their system, Stoick called the council to order.

He went over the brief negotiations with the rider and explained the terms of the agreement. Purposely leaving out the personal stakes the chief had with working with the man in black.

And finally Stoick let the stranger have the floor.

Any remaining hint that the man could be their lost, clumsy, heir disappeared as he walked into the light. In the silence of the hall his mis match steps echoed around them in an uneasy stillness as he pulled a notebook out of an unseen pocket of his armor.

And to the surprise of everyone the book unfolded into a large map. The parchment eclipsed the edges of the table. The span of it reached far outside the archipelago. To her surprise Helhiems gate was clearly marked, and mapped with such care and detail that could only be gained from an aerial view.

The sheer amount of islands would have put Astrid’s ancestors in a greed filled frenzy with the thought of how many lands they could raid and plunder. And they possibly had before they had settled on Berks shores.

Many of the land masses were unmarked, some were marked only with the kinds of dragons that had made the nests there. But what surprised Astrid the most was every marking on the map that denoted ships.

Everything from ship wrecks, to trade routes. And finally in a blood red ink, battle marks.

If the rider had been telling the truth, he had been a thorn in Drago’s side for a long time.

She couldn’t count how many of the red marks there were, but each one had a date next to it.

If the rider was Hiccup, the. He was definitely still causing damage where ever he went.

From his side the rider pulled a small device. From this distance Astrid could have sworn it was a sword hilt.

But where was the blade.

And with a flick of his wrist the blade extended from nowhere.

The Vikings around him took a step back as the riders pointed the sword at the map.

Astrid recognized the area, it was here she had been held captive. “Our alliance started on the two ships here. Scouting ships, roughly fifty men between them and twenty dragon.”

And thus the explanation began with no embellishment. The riders words were clear and concise as he discussed weaknesses in the vessels, the typical weaponry, and dragon species at Drago’s disposal.

He gave a quick explanation of his history with hunters, and steps he had taken to destabilize Drago’s operations.

And then the rider began to speak of Drago’s strategies. How he would find nests and use dragons to take out villages. Leaving no survivors.

He painted a grim picture of Berks future if they did not win this war.

“It’s safe to say that Drago’s true target would be the nest at Helhimes gate,” the rider pointed his sword in the middle of the fog bank. And every Viking in the room held their breath.

He knew where the nest was located. Where every raiding dragon that had plagued Berk for centuries came from. It had been her Chiefs goal to find it for most of her life. And here walked in Hiccup, a strange man who had been missing for years.

Holding the most valuable piece of information to her people. And now freely giving it to them.

“Whether he will be heading to it before he faces us or after, I do not know. On the island was a dragon unlike anything I have ever seen. A queen that could drawn in other dragons and force them to do her bidding. Or else they would be eaten by her. Chances are that he doesn’t know that the queen is dead.”

A collective gasps echoed the hall, and then the shouting started.

Astrid couldn’t believe it. If what he was saying was true then that would be the explanation to why the raids ended five years ago.

Hiccup had ended her villages war in dragons.

Hiccup had achieved the goal of all their ancestors.

Scrawny, clumsy, sarcastic Hiccup had given Berk five years of peace and prosperity.

And yet he never came home to revel in it.

Never came home to boast, or claim glory.

Never became the legend that would be sung around fired for centuries to come.

Anyone else would have done it in a heartbeat.

Why didn’t he?

The ruckus and violence of the revolutions went on for longer than Astrid would have liked. And she could see the rider putting away his sword and reclaiming his spot on the back wall. His dragon had decided that the meeting was a great time to take a nap. And he sleepily raised its head as his master returned to his side.

The dragon left out a large yawn that silenced half the council.

Everyone had been so engrossed in speech that they had forgotten that they occupied the same room as the offspring of lightning and death itself.

Strangely Astrid didn’t see any teeth in the beast mouth as it yawned.

Must be a trick of the light.

Stoick called the council to order again and the energy shifted from one of fear of distrust to grim determination at the odds they now knew they faced.

As Stoick’s voice boomed through the hall, he turned to the rider. “What do you suggest?”

If Astrid hadn’t known that the rider was Hiccup she would have mistaken his surprised pause, at being asked for advice, for arrogance.

“I don’t know all the information you have gathered on the army, so I can’t give a truly informed one. All I can say at the moment is you adjust your patrols and scouts accordingly. We keep an eye on the sea in between here and Helhiems gate. Point me in a direction and I will help where I can. But this is your island Chief. I can’t make decisions for you.”

The Chief said nothing in response, but he nodded his head in acknowledgment. And the meeting went on long into the night.

Chapter Text

From what Snotlout had seen of the rider, he was not impressed.

Where was the large, menacing man who could wrestle a Nightmare into submission?

Where was the man went deep sea diving with Seashockers, and walked on lava for nothing but the thrill of danger?

All he saw before the assembly was a a guy in a suit of armor with a pet. It was a very large and dangerous pet, sure. But from how it acted Snotlout doubted it would hurt a fly.

As the meeting went on, dinner was eventually served, and he found it peculiar that the rider kept his helmet on. He had slightly askewed his face covering to give himself access to his mouth.

He must be really ugly, Snotlout thought to himself as they ate. Overly glad that the mysterious man was not a threat to his prospect on the island.

At least that’s what he told himself as he kept stealing glances at the Nightfury.

Snotlout would never admit it to anyone in the village. But, dragons made him uneasy. Five years ago he was all for killing every dragon he could. He was going to use them as trophies to try and get Astrid’s attention.

Then his cousin disappeared.

He was part of the search party the was sent into the woods to find is cousin. And while no trace of Hiccup was ever found. Snotlout did come across an area that gave him pause.

In a small cove close to raven point, Snotlout found burn marks.

He, naturally, got out of there and made sure that there truly was no dragon in the little canyon by the lake before going back in and investigating further.

Most nights he wished he had just left that cove alone. Wished that he had never found it.

The burns were like nothing he had ever seen up close.

On the rocky walls of the crevasse, claw marks marred the surface of the granite.

And the most damning evidence of all, his small defenseless cousin had been eaten alive, the black scales that littered the forest floor.

Snotlout knew that the knowledge of his son’s demise would crush his chief. His father had talked non stop about how weak the man had gotten when his wife died. And Snotlout couldn’t do that to his uncle.

He couldn’t break his hero.

So he kept the cove a secret.

Snotlout picked up every scale her could find and chucked them into the lake. He scraped away every burn mark. He destroyed all evidence of his cousins death.

It was hard to sleep at night because of his choice that day. But what were a few sleepless nights in comparison to his father’s pressure.

Snotlout knew that his father wanted him to be chosen as heir. His father had proclaimed loudly and as often as he could that his son was better than Hiccup every chance he got.

Snotlout was stronger, Snotlout was larger, and Snotlout could take a hit.

While all of that was true, it never truly stuck right with him. The expectations could pull a a lesser man under.

And he hated to say it, but Hiccup was infuriatingly better than him at a few things. He was faster than him, he was smarter than him, and the kid was always slippery when it came to avoiding punishment. But that could just be because his father, despite all his expectations of his son, doted on him.

And he would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he was jealous of his cousin.

But that didn’t mean he wanted him to be eaten by a dragon.

A dragon with black scales.

Scales that looked a lot like the ones on the riders pet.

He told himself that he was just concerned that Berks new alley could be lying to them as the meeting went on.

The rider threw pieces of his meal to his beast and the sound of its large jaw snapping bone brought Snotlout back to being that scared kid in the cove. The one who lied to his family to keep more pressure from being put on himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fishlegs stared at the dragon in wonder. This was the first time anyone from Berk had really seen a Nightfury and he was fascinated.

All throughout the meeting he kept looking to the dragon and jotting down notes on the scrap paper he had brought. Maybe Gobber would let him revise the pages on Nightfurys in the book of dragons.

The dragon flicked its tail. Something pricked at the back of his mind at the sight of the tail.

It didn’t look right to him.

It was probably just the riders equipment and a trick of the fire light.

He would have kept staring at the dragon for days. He had never been this close to one without it trying to kill him before.

And then the mention of new books of dragons echoed through hall and all thoughts of the dragon feet away from him vanished from his mind.

Fishlegs couldn’t believe it.

The rider had brought updated books.

Multiple encyclopedias of knowledge that he would have never been privy to before.

He could barely contain his squeal of delight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuffnut was perplexed by the rider.

Where were his wings?

Where were his teeth?

Perhaps the helmet was hiding the worst of his transformation into being half dragon. Or the unthinkable could be true.

Maybe he was just a man in a suit.

After the meeting he would have to reconvene with his second in command. He needed a fresh perspective on this situation. And his chicken always had the best ideas.

Maybe they could come up with a way to knock off the helmet. It would be the best possible way to fully know if the rider had indeed been bitten by a Lycanwing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruffnut looked at the rider and thought. Was this what all the excitement was about?

Over the course of the past few days she had managed to get Astrid to talk about the guy. And he didn’t not seem that impressive now that he stood before them.

He was too skinny for her taste.

That dragon of his was a different story.

Her mind kept wandering to the possibility of mischief that she and her brother could achieve if they had a dragon. The sky would be the limit.

Oh all the places they could go and the things that could drop.

Not to mention the fire power. That alone had her salivating.

After the meeting was over, her brother dipped. Claiming that he needed to convene with his chicken.

He must have some serious thoughts.

She tried to catch up with Astrid, but when that girl had a mission she was nearly impossible to track down. Even if she was carrying a snack for later.

So there she stood on the steps of the hall watching the dragon and his rider head towards the guest hut.

Chapter Text

Astrid had no idea what she was doing.

For the past week her dreams had been plaguing her. Taunting her with the wide open sky, the sounds of wings beating, and the sun on her face.

And now. After feeling that again. After breathing in the salt air and the atmosphere; she might go mad.

She was already acting insane, so she might already be crazy.

She made her way through the forest. Back to her glen.

She hadn’t known why she had done it. Why she grabbed an extra fish from the great hall. Then again, she also didn’t know why she had asked the rider how he did it either.

Maybe Hiccup’s impulsive and reckless attitude was infecting her.

All she did know was the familiar weight of her shield at her back and a hand axe at her side was a comfort to her as she made her way back to where she last saw the Nadder.

Besides, what were the odds that it would still be there?

When she arrived the first thing she did was look around. There was definitive evidence that a large animal had been there recently. The footprints in the mud and the signs of something large beginning to nest were clear in the landscape.

To her surprise, the bandolier that she had abandoned on her last visit hadn’t been touched. It still lay on her rock. So, that’s where she made her perch.

She would wait until the sunset, she decided. Night is when wolves begin to roam and the boars get bold. There was no point in waiting longer than she needed to.

Setting the fish out in front of her she began to busy herself by sharpening her weapons. And soon the sound of metal on whetstone filled the air.

She started on the knives she retrieved from the tree. Taking care to oil the blade before running it along the stone. She really needs to be better at taking care of her blades. The ware and tear was noticeable, even to her.

She had made her way through every blade in the bandolier by the time she heard the rustling coming from behind her. And fasten than she could move Astrid felt the hot breath on the back of her neck.

She flinched away from the feeling as she turned to face the blue dragon.

Astrid was honestly surprised it was still there. It sniffed her up and down like it had the last time she had seen it. And it nuzzled against her, making happy clicks with its beak like muzzle.

She wondered to herself if this was how Hiccup’s Nightfury had acted when they had first met. She recalled how it acted with him earlier in the day. Playing fetch with his leg as the two shared the same ease In each other’s company.

Was the Nadder trying to play with her when it shot the spine in between her knives?

There was only one way to find out.

Slowly she reached down and grabbed the fish. Holding it out to the dragon with more gentleness that she had shown anyone in years.

She knew the risks in coming back out here. Astrid knew she could potentially lose her hand, if not her life, if the dragon decided to stop being so curious.

She thought back to the endless possibilities of the open sky and she resolved her fear.

She needed to feel that again.

Now she knew more than anything she had ever wanted before. Astrid wanted her own dragon.

She held her breath as the Nadder sniffed at the fish. It looked from the gift in the warriors hands and up at her a few times before it tentatively took it from her hands. And suddenly it threw it into the air.

Astrid leaped backwards in instant the Dragon moved, snapping the fish out of the air with the powerful crack of its jaws. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as the creatures large tongue escaped its maw and raced over its protruding teeth before looking back to her.

Astrid pulled her hands to her as she pushed herself backwards . Her eyes scanned the beast wildly, searching for where it would strike next.

The Nadder just stared at her for a long breathless second before she heard the universally known sound of hacking.

Just great.

She had poisoned her dragon. She was about to roasted alive because this on had to be a picky eater.

The Nadder approach her slowly has it gaged and wheezed. Astrid was in such a state of horror at what she had done that she could only stare in shock as the dragon finished its coughing fit and lowered its head into her lap.

Dropping a half eaten fish into her lap.

Astrid looked blankly at the dead fish. Feeling the warm saliva soaking into the wool of her shirt.

Not what she was expecting.

Not at all.

She looked up to at the Nadder, fully expecting it to be fully prepared to eat her for her unsatisfactory offering, or to have run off entirely.

It was still standing there, fidgeting slightly, staring at her with a hopeful look in its golden eyes.

What did it want her to do?

And then she heard laughter coming from behind her.

Astrid whipped her head in the direction of the ridicule. And saw two black figures stepping out of the bushes.

The rider was laughing at her.

HICCUP was laughing at her.

She was gonna kill him.

Right here.

Right now.

“Oh, is this bringing back memories,” he said in between his chuckles, “ this is not what I was expecting to find when I got here.”

Not being able to contain her indignation any longer, “YOU!!! I SHOULD CUT OUT YOUR TONGUE FOR LYING TO ME,”she shouted at the man in black. Moving to attack him.

The Nadder moved faster than her. Its tail wrapped around her torso, holding her in place.

Astrid couldn’t even manage to knock the fish head out of her lap.

And Hiccup was just standing there laughing at her. His whole body trembled with the effort of keeping it together. And his arms wrapped around his stomach and he struggled to keep himself up right.

“I’m sorry,”he said. She could tell he was holding back tears as he said it. A small snort escaped his lips as he composed himself.

“Oh it looks like you managed to get a souvenir from your stent on Drago’s boats. Now your questions make sense.” Hiccup continued as he walked closer to her.

She could feel her face turning red with anger and embarrassment.

The dragon nudged her again, clicking its beak at her, and keeping its tail around her torso.

Astrid had expected the spines to hurt as the entered her body. But the Nadder was surprisingly gentle with her. She didn’t feel a scratch. “Call it off me. Use that dragon mind control you have and make it let me go.” She demanded of the rider.

“No can do,” he replied a tone of amusement in his voice.

Oh, how she couldn’t wait to punch the helmet of Hiccup’s smug face.

“Your Nadder isn’t trained, I can’t make her do anything. What I can tell you is that it wants you to eat.”

“What?” she seethed as the question left her lips.

He had the audacity to chuckle again, “it’s gross I know. Toothless made me do it too. I think they have a thing about reciprocation. Nadders are especially fussy when they think something isn’t being taken care of.”

The blue dragon clicked its beak once more and nudged her again.

Astrid huffed as she stared daggers at the man in black.

He didn’t break her glare. “If you treat the dragon right, I can promise this will be the worst thing it will ever do to you. Earning a dragons trust is a hard thing to do, just like with people, sometimes the best way to start is by sharing a meal.”

She huffed again. But Astrid looked down at the fish in her lap. And a shiver of disgust rolled across her body.

The dragon had made sure to keep the warriors arms free, and if she hadn’t been too distracted by her confusion and anger she could have thrown her thrown her axe at the boy.

But, instead she picked up the wet fish. It was still warm from its trip down the Nadder’s gullet.

She looked at Hiccup and spit out at him, “just know that no one laughs at me and gets away with it.”

The warrior took a bite.

Chapter Text

Stoick didn’t know what to make of the rider. His demeanor kept fluctuating.

Any moment he could be cocky, skittish, or snarky.

He had been on his island for only a week. So far he had gone on patrols without complaint, discussing battle tactics with his generals in a cool headed tone, and keeping his dragon in line. But no matter what he did Stoick couldn’t find it in him to trust the masked man.

How can you trust someone who won’t even show his face?

By the seventh day the council had decided to assign extra training sessions. Sparing between warriors, meant to keep their skills sharp as the monotony of waiting on the next attack weighed heavily on his people’s minds.

Stoick had a selfish reason for requesting it. He had wanted to see just how much of a threat the rider was without that beast if his.

He was no where near as imposing as Drago, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t cause just as much damage as the mad man if he was separated from his Nightfury.

Stoick pulled Astrid aside as the crowd began to gather for the first round of sparing. He needed her to find the riders weak spots. The man was skinny but he was also armored and he surprisingly kept unseen weapons in his person.

If he could pull a sword out of thin air, what else could he have on him that the chief couldn’t spot? What kind of threat was he exactly?

After informing the lass of his plan she gave him a surprised look before looking at the man in black and back to him. “Are you sure chief?”

“He seems to trust you more than anyone else here, and besides you’ve seen him out there. You will know better how he operates. Find out his tells, and show that outsider that Berk is not to be underestimated.”

Astrid looked back to the rider as he examined the weapons wall in the arena, testing the heft and balance of a short sword before putting it back in its place.

Stoick could see her hesitation turn to fury as her grip tightened on her hand axe. “One condition, I’m using my left hand.”

The chief huffed at that, “everyone knows you are good, there is no need to draw it out.”

The warriors grinned at the larger man, “it’s the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right hand it will be over too quickly.”

He shook his head at the recklessness of the girl. He had argued before that the Hofferson lass is one of greatest fighters in the island. Her skills far outshone her peers and she had a single minded focus when it came to honing the craft of slicing a man from collarbone to groin. He has seen her hack through chainmail like it was butter.

But that often meant a normal fight left her wanting for more. She had never met her equal.

By the time Stoick and Gobber had gotten situated in the stands and everyone in the arena with their sparing partner the chief felt tense with anticipation.

It had been years since a show had been put on the arena except for the dragon training graduations. And even longer since there had been a tournament of any kind. His people were just as excited as him. And just as curious about their guest.

Since his first day here, Stoick had heard them whisper Seið when they referred to the rider. And the big man had to admit that having a fire breathing pet was a good way to start a reputation of being otherworldly.

Astrid was waiting in the of the ring for her opponent, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her axe hanging loosely in her left hand as she rolled her shoulders.

And in he walked. His metal foot clicking on the stone. He had one of the armory swords in his right hand. Stoick could tell from his throne that it was one of Hiccup’s creations.

Gobber had always taken better care of the ones his son had made.

The stands went silent as the fighters took their positions.

The rider lifted the sword with a practiced ease as his voice rang out with an unearned arrogance, “You seem like a lovely lady, I would hate to hurt you.”

Astrid’s manic smile rose on her face as she hefted her axe and she replied, “you seem smart boy, I bet you would hate to die.” And then she was on him.

In his youth Stoick’s own fighting had been compared to that of a bear. Full of strength and power. Being able to take a hit and dish it out harder.

Astrid was a wolf in a fight.

Strength and agility were perfectly in balance as she launched herself at her prey. Her snarling rage dripped from her teeth. Her blade became her claws as she tore into any other opponent.

What surprised Stoick was the agility of the rider. He moved with a speed the chief hadn’t expected, twisting and turning to avoid Astrid’s weapon. Raising his sword to block her blows.

He used the sword to keep his warrior at a distance. Waiting for opening and striking at her legs. Forcing her back.

It had been years since Stoick had seen the girl on the defensive.

But Astrid kept him on his toes. The two circled each other in a dance. Lunging and blocking with vigor.

The lass was smiling the whole time.

In between the cracks of blade on blade, Stoick could make out parts of a conversation between the fighters

“I have to say, you are very impressive,” the blonde said as she used the handle of her axe to block a swing of the riders sword.

“Is that so?” the rider replied as he twist out of the way of Astrid’s oncoming strike. The axe barely missed the armor the man’s thigh.

Astrid’s grin grew as she dodged a slash. The sword blade skimmed the metal of her shoulder guards. “You might even be better than me.”

The rider leap back from a kick aimed at his gut. “Then how come you’re smiling?”

“Cause I know something you don’t know.” Astrid said simply, he breathing hard but even as the fight continued. Looking up at the rider with a feral grin she continued, “I am not left handed!”

And in a fluid motion her axe was in the air. And high right hand rose to meet it.

Astrid redoubled her attacks with a new vigor.

Faster, stronger, and more ravenous.

The rider could hardly keep up his sword to block her every strike. He was being pushed back.

If he hadn’t been in a full suit of armor, Stoick knew he would be bleeding.

To the chiefs surprise the rider began to laugh. A bright, joyful laugh of some who seeks of the thrill of danger.

“You’re amazing!” He said with an air of amusement in his voice.

“What’s so funny?” Astrid asked as the rider leaped out of her grasp.

“I know something you don’t,” he twisted away once more. Making sure she couldn’t get past his swords reach.

“Oh, what’s that?” The blonde said the feral grin turning playful as she darted at him once more. Feigning to the right as the rider rolled left.

“Im not right handed.” And in a near perfect imitation of Astrid earlier move, the sword switched hands.

And on went the fight.

It went on much longer than any of the earlier matches, the two were just too evenly matched. Like two swirling storms meeting in the middle of a sea. Strong and wild enough to break apart armada’s.

The cracks and blows of their weapons rang out like the thunder of Thor the longer the fight went on.

Then finally the rider made a mistake.

Astrid broke into his defenses. And grabbing the front of his armor she physically pulled him from his feet.

Stoick had seen her throw grown men around before. Each time it shocked him.

The crowd screamed out in revelers ecstasy as the man in black was hoisted over her shoulder and slammed hard into the stone floor.

If the air was knocked out of his lungs no one could hear the riders gasps as the village boomed in the stands.

But Stoick couldn’t tear his eyes from the fighters. Not as Astrid moved faster than a Terrible Terror and slammed her foot into her opponent’s side.

Stoick could see her lips moving, but he couldn’t make out what she said.

And then she slammed the but of her axe into the stomach.

Chapter Text

“That’s for the lies,” Astrid grunted as her kick made contact with his ribs. Hiccup struggled to catch is breath as blackness tracked the edges of his vision.

And then her axe handle dropped heavily into his gut. Forcing him to expel the rest of the little air in his lungs. “And that’s for everything else.”

Looking up at Astrid, Hiccup only had one thought in that moment. Had the sun multiplied? Because it seemed to be curling around the blondes head like a halo of stars in the light of mid day.

Hiccup couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten hit that hard. Wait, yes he could. A flash of his berserker friend flashed in his mind as he struggled that catch his breath.

He struggled to his feet as the spots in his vision cleared. Out of habit he returned the sword to its place on the wall.

It had been a gamble to not use his usual weapon, but he didn’t want to reveal all his tricks now. Besides, one wrong move and his blade would be set ablaze and he didn’t want things to end too quickly.

What had she mean by “lies?” Hiccup kept thinking to himself as he made his way back to the stands

Hiccup rubbed his hand on the back of his neck as he watched the next fight. Oh did he want to take off his helmet, his sweat stung his eyes, and he knew he could breathe easier if he wasn’t smelling his own sourness. But he couldn’t.

Not out in the open. Not with his dad so close.

The feeling of a body plopping down next to him pulled him from his thoughts. It was definitely a human, Toothless was back at the guest hut, asleep by the hearth.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see who was brave enough to sit next to him. In over a week hardly anyone had willingly gotten close to him. Probably because his dragon was normally standing near by.

Surprisingly, it was his cousin.

He had grown since Hiccup had left. His shoulders were broader, and his jaw was squarer. He had the same stubborn expression in his face that he had always had. Only something was off with it. His eyebrows were knit together as if he was thinking.

That couldn’t be good. His cousin had never been much of a thinker.

They sat there in silence for the next two fights. Hiccup was only half paying attention as he watched his cousin go from tentative to squirmy. It was odd to the rider, he had never seen Snotlout nervous. Except for when he had to talk to his dad about anything.

Growing up he was all bravado and confidence. Even if his own thoughts and actions were to the detriment of himself or others.

Hiccup decided to put him out of his misery when the Viking began to fidget with his arm guards.

Leaning back in his seat and turning to him the rider said, “if you’re gonna say something, go ahead. I don’t bite.”

Snotlout jumped at the directness of his address. And Hiccup had to bite his tongue to keep himself from huffing at the ridiculousness of the encounter.

He knew his helmet and suit made him intimidating; he had designed it that way. But, normally once people spent time around him the shock of the scales died down.

And faster than Hiccup could blink; the twins appeared. Flanking his cousin on either side. He couldn’t tell who was more surprised, himself or Snotlout.

“What’s this I hear about biting, did you offer to turn my dearest friend into a Lycanwing?” Tuff said. No hellos, no pretext, not even an attempt at introduction.

Somethings never changed.

One of the most useful skills Hiccup has had to learn during his time away from Berk was the ability to think on his feet. He always had to have his next six steps planed out in his mind. And he needed to be able to pivot on a whim.

Without needing to think he put that skill to use now.

“The Lycanwing isn’t real,” the rider replied simply, “it was a myth made up by dragon hunters so they could hide secrets on the islands where the dragon was rumored to come from.”

“He peddles in falsehoods brother, he wishes to protect the secret of his kind. That’s why he wears his mask. As to not scare us Vikings away from showing him our kind hospitality.” Ruff announced as she put her arm around her brother.

The relief that crossed Snotlout’s face was clear as he jumped in on the twins idiocracy. “You know Tuff, your sister is right. I mean just look at his claws.”

Hiccup did not like where this was going.

He held his hand out in front of the trio to show he meant harm and yeah they did have a point, maybe his ensemble was a little too dragon like. “They are just gloves,” he defended his position as he stripped them off.

The group didn’t blink as the riders slid the worn leather and scaled material off his fingers. “Having fire proof clothing is kind of important when dealing the dragons that can light themselves and everything around them on fire at will.”

The twins attentions were captivated on the gloves, but hiccup caught his cousin staring at the scars on his hands.

Growing up often meant collecting scars. Becoming a blacksmith’s apprentice meant he had more than most of his peers. And choosing to spend the majority of his time with gigantic lizards with claws sharp enough slice through metal, ensured scars as being a fact of his life.

Tuff took one of the gloves in his hand and held it up to the light, “inconceivable, it’s like my entire life is a lie. What’s next? Are you going to tell me that you don’t have wings?”

“Not wings exactly,” Hiccup replied smiling under the mask. So the rumors of his solo flights have made it back home. He was hoping he could surprise them with his favorite party trick.

“Wait, what is that supposed to mean?” Snot asked. Clearly is original reason for sitting next to the rider was abandoned.

“You’ve heard what everyone has been calling me, Seið. Haven’t you heard that a magician never reveals his secrets.”

Ruff looked at him then, “is that why you hide your face. Do you have a real ugly mug? Or are you horribly scared and disfigured? I can tell you have a whole sleeper build going for you, now I’m curious what the rest of you looks like under all the leather.”

The rider backed up a bit from her as the last word rolled off her tongue.

Tuff turned to him once more, “so you haven’t been bitten by a dragon?”

Hiccup chucked at that, watching them their expressions went from joking to genuinely curious the longer he made them wait.

He decided this was the best time to make is exit.

The rider reclaimed his gloves and stood up from the stands. “You know I would love to tell you my tragic backstory, but I have other things to do.”

The group may not be terrified of him, but they didn’t follow as he walked away from the arena.

It was odd to have the three hold respect for him for once. He would have to think about this later.

Right now there’s a girl he has to see.

Chapter Text

Fishlegs was in researchers heaven.

The rider may be too intimidating to approach directly, but his notes were fantastic.

Maybe a bit scattered and unorganized; but very informative.

He let out a large sigh. He was going to have his work cut out of him.

So much information, but the system made no sense.

For over a week he had been looking through everything and getting it into something that could be deciphered.

He had to know about more dragon species that he had ever heard of. And he had more information about all these species than Berks book of dragons had pages.

Only none of the information had any order.

For Thor’s sake, Fishlegs couldn’t find any notes on Nadders. And they are fairly common dragons.

It took him days to get the encyclopedia separated from the ledgers and maps.

It was clear that this man was brilliant, but he was unfocused.

The only information that was put together in any way shape or form was on Nightfuries. Everything Fishlegs read made him more and more excited.

But something tickled the in the back of his mind. The rider’s drawings didn’t match his dragon.

Every other dragon drawing and diagram was nearly perfect. Except the Nightfury.

The head matched, the body matched, and the wings matched. It was the tails that were off. It was the tail that was off.

This really shouldn’t matter, but he couldn’t let it go.

So he organized the papers. He searched for any clue.

It took two days of non stop sorting to get the dragon documents organized. He did his best to separate them by class and species.

He could spend the rest of his of his life doing this. He had so many questions about how the rider conducted his fieldwork.

He found nothing to confirm his suspicions.

He would have to approach this from a different angle.

It was time to look at the other documents.

The much less interesting documents.

It won’t be fun, but it would be rewarding.

There would probably be nothing about this in the ledgers. He could look at them later.

It was the blueprints and schematics where he found something interesting.

There were multiple styles when it came to the blueprints. But one of styles was prominent.

Fishlegs pulled them all out to examine them closer. It was clear they had the same designer. And they weren’t like the others.

The ones that caught his attention had nothing to do with traps or ships.

then he found the blueprint to the riders sword.

It was truly a clever thing. Pole that are bent and sharpened into a blade. And designed so the segments collapse into a hilt. And if he wasn’t mistaken it looked like there are parts that could coat the metal in a flammable substance.

Had the rider found a way to collect the oil of a Monstrous Nightmare?

Fishlegs needed to gather the courage to ask the man about it.

But that would be after he found what he was looking for.

He began to look at the other documents.

It took a few more hours before he hit the jackpot.

Multiple diagrams of the Nightfury tails. Or the prosthetics for one.

A memory of his time in dragon training popped up in his mind. Gobber roasting a chicken over a hot fire after telling all the teens the story of how he had lost his limbs.

“It’s the wings and the tails you want. If it can’t fly, it can’t get away. A downed dragon is a dead dragon,”

The rider had found a way to get a dragon back in the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gobber couldn’t sleep.

It had nothing to do with the forge running at all hours of the night. The rider did good work, but he clearly wanted to work on his projects alone.

The insomnia also had nothing to do with the dragon the rider spent almost every moment with.

He had spent nights camped alone in the wilderness with dragons much worse than the black beastie.

It was the lads leg that had him thinking.

Gobber was sue that he had seen that design before.

It was a clever thing. A spring in the peg, to mimic the cushion an ankle provides, allowing for extra bounce in the step so that the limp isn’t nearly as bad as in all the pegs he had crafted through the years.

He had seen the plans before.

He had seen the prototypes before.

And he knew where both of those things were.

As silently as he could with his bad leg, Gobber lumbered to the forge.

The fire was dying down. Maybe the man in black had finally gone to get some sleep, people around the village had seen him up at all hours of the day. Always rushing off somewhere. And almost always with his dragon.

Still the large man crept inside. It’s been years since the last time he had to be sneaky in his own forge.

Hiccup had gotten into the habit of working too late into the night before he disappeared. There had been many a time when Gobber had found the boy asleep on in a work bench.

The blacksmith was surprised to find the rider in that same position. His masked head resting on the table. Slightly askewed to reveal the drool dripping from his chin.

Gobber gave him plenty of space as he made his way to the back room.

It was once just a store room, but after he had taken on his best friend’s son as an apprentice he turned it into the lads own work space. Partly to give the boy his own place to work in his own projects, and partly to keep him out of his hair.

It worked for a time to keep Hiccup out of trouble. He often spent more time there than at his own home.

After his apprentice disappeared, Gobber had locked up that room. The blacksmith made sure that none of his boys projects would be touched. If the boy came back, Gobber wanted everything to be where he left it.

But now something was in that room that he needed to confirm.

The door opened silently, the hinges had been well greased and maintained by the boy.

A layer of dust covered every surface of the room but that did nothing to cover the nostalgic smell of paper and iron.

He had to wipe some moisture from his eyes, from the dust.

Gobber went to a shelf in the back that had one of his older journals. The lad was always sketching when he wasn’t tinkering.

In the low light of a lantern the black smith began to flip through the older books.

The boy was brilliant.

Designs for canisters to hold Zippleback gas, not it.

A flaming sword; impractical.

Ah, prosthetics. jackpot.

The designs were so… Hiccup.

There was just a flare to it that he had never seen in a Viking before.

Why had he never thought to hide a knife in his peg before?

Gobber flipped the page and found what he was looking for. A very similar design to what the rider uses.

So the man in black was telling the truth when he said he knew Hiccup. The two must be close if the rider uses one if not more of the boys inventions.

Hiccup probably invented the man’s extendable sword.

Pride swelled in the blacksmiths chest at the thought of his apprentice. Just knowing that he was still Hiccup.

“He has been having the time of his life,” the rider said earlier.

Gobber could be satisfied with that. But oh boy did he miss the lad.

He was about to get up, to lock the room up again until his boy returned.

And then his eyes caught in the journal left on the desk.

It was well worn even though it looked newer than the ones Gobber had been flipping through.

Out of curiosity Gobber picked it up. He remembered seeing Hiccup with the a few times during his time in dragon training.

The first few pages had what he was expecting. Material lists, sketches of the boats in the harbor, shield designs.

It was the later pages that surprised him.

When had the boy seen a Nightfury up close?

Chapter Text

Hiccup has no idea who had draped the blanket over him at the forge, but that didn’t matter now.

He had to find out what Astrid thinks he lied about.

And then he had to make it up to her.

He knew she was mad at him. She had been avoiding the rider since he caught her in the forest with the Nadder.

He honestly couldn’t believe his eyes when the Viking offered the dragon the fish.

It shouldn’t have surprised him the way it had. He had recalled the grin of wonder on her face as they had soared throughout the clouds and over the sea. Astrid’s delicate hesitation as she had reached her finger out to brush the clouds.

Hiccup recalled everyone he’d had met in his time way from Berk. How they changed and grew right before his eyes. He had witnessed the cruelest people turn in his closet allies.

The look on her face has her hand pressed into the muzzle of the dragon.

Hiccup let out breath.

People change every day. He has changed.

He shouldn’t be surprised.

Hiccup tucked his peace offering under his arm as he and toothless made their way into the forest.

The clips of the bulky bundle clinking against the clasps of his flight suit.

The paths through the foliage varied in tracks. Most villages avoided the woods unless it was for a hunt or to gather kindling and lumber. The threat of running into a wild dragon was too big of a risk for anyone who wasn’t a trained killer. But he knew these woods like the back of his hand.

He heard the girl before he saw her. The sounds of her exhale after a hard throw.

Yep she is armed, that didn’t surprise him.

It would the sound of teeth scraping against a shield rim that stopped his heart.

WHAT DID SHE DO?

What went wrong?

The rider broke into a run. He had to stop her before she went too far.

He and his dragon crashed into the glen. Only to stop so abruptly that his dragon had to grab hold of him so he didn’t fall flat on his face.

Astrid was pulling on the edge of her shield as the Nadder had the other side in her mouth. The Vikings axe was still sheathed at her side but she was definitely struggling with the reptile.

“Stormfly if you want me to throw it again. You’re gonna have to drop it.” The Viking grunted as she pulled on the alder wood circle.

The Nadder made a happy chirp, clearly enjoying the game.

Safe.

The dragon was safe.

Astrid was safe.

Hiccup released a breath. Catching the Nadders attention. The blue dragon released the shield.

Letting the Viking win their game of tug-a-war, the strength she was exerting against the beast; pulling her to the ground with the thump.

The rider did his best to stifle his laugh. But he still caught Astrid’s attention. She rolled from the forest floor and shored up her shield.

The glare in her eyes gave Hiccup the impression that she was ready to bludgeon him with it.

Hiccup knew from experience that at shield could be a deadly weapon in the right hands. And anything is a weapon in Astrid’s very capable ones.

The Nadder, thankfully, looked excited to see them. Hopping a couple times before approaching Toothless. His dragon matched the energy and the two greeted each other excitedly, before bounding off to play in the brush.

He needed to say something.

Fast

Before she knocked out his teeth.

“Well looks like the two of you were having fun.”

Astrid straightened, keeping her shield up as she approached him. “What do you want?”

He held out his free hand, and gestured to the bundle under his arm. “Relax, I brought you something. I didn’t come her to laugh at you.”

She eyed him suspiciously, looking at the leather and straps in his arm. Hiccup could see the slight expression of shock and disbelieve as she motioned for the rider to put the bundle down on the rock between them.

He did what he was told. Without any sudden movements the rider put his notes on Nadders on the rock in from of her.

Astrid lowered her weapon as her eyes caught on the drawing on the top paper.

She dropped it completely when she saw the second item he carried.

The brown leather saddle was simple, Hiccup had no idea what kinds of modifications she would want or need. But he thought about the joy on her face as they flew through the sky with every stitch.

He was painfully aware that the girl had changed significantly in the five years since he had left. But that didn’t stop him from adding a spot to for her axe.

He backed away from the gifts, taking in every emotion that crossed her face. The confusion, the hope, and even the admiration in the craftsmanship.

Even if the saddle had been a rush job, he was still proud of his work.

“What is this?” She asked as she approached the items, her shoulders relaxing. She kept looking between him and his offering.

“That look you had in your eyes when we first let the dragons go. It was the same one I had when I met Toothless. The fact you are trying to befriend your Nadder, it’s proof enough to me that I can trust you.” He said simply, doing his best to not feel awkward at her penetrating gaze. It was almost like she was looking through him.

She picked up the saddle, holding it up to better inspect it, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. “If trust me, then why haven’t you taken off your helmet Hiccup?”

What did she say? He took a step back.

She didn’t break eye contact as she put down the saddle and hopped over the rock.

“That’s for the lies,” is what she said to him in the arena. When had she figured it out?

Who else had she told?

He felt the bark of a tree hit his back, and the world felt like it was squeezing in on him. And here she was stalking towards him like a wolf hunting prey.

“Do I need to repeat myself, Hiccup?”

“I don’t-“ he stuttered. Not sure how to get out of this. He could make out every shade of blue in her eyes now.

“You left.” She said, and Hiccup could now make out a new emotion cross her face.

Desperation

“Why?”

He broke at that.

He couldn’t lie to her.

With shaking hands Hiccup took off his mask.

He felt small under her gaze. He knew at any moment she would call him out as the fraud he is. She would go to his father and tell everyone about how he was nothing but the weak, scrawny, impulsive boy he had always been.

Astrid crouched to meet his gaze again. Her eyes racing over every detail in his face. The face that hadn’t changed, the coward that never changed. “Why did you leave?”

He needed to get away, he needed breathe. But all he could do was lower his eyes in shame.

Shame at his actions, shame that he had left, and shame that he had lied.

“Astrid, I-“ her hand was under his chin, slowly she nudged him to lift his gaze from the forest floor. Making him look at her. Scanning him for any other lies.

The scratch of her calluses made his knees weak.

His words caught in his throat at her intensity.

She had alway faced things head on. With a single minded focus. It’s why she was so good at hitting her targets.

“I couldn’t do it.” He managed to mutter.

A flash of confusion crossed her face, and understanding followed. And her hand was falling from his face as she backed up, giving him room to breathe.

“You were up for graduation. You were up to kill the dragon.” She glanced back at the two dragons playing.

He wished he could read her mind in that moment. To see all the cogs in her head coming together to form her opinion of him. To know just how badly he messed up.

“And you had him,” she gestured to the dragons. Her voice had gone soft as she turned back to Hiccup.

He gulped at that, his mouth felt dry as she kept waiting for his answer.

“I shot him down during that last raid before the training. No one believed me, so I went out into the woods. I found him, tied with a bola. And I couldn’t do it. I knew my father would have wanted me to kill him. And Toothless looked just as scared as I felt.”

Astrid’s brow furrowed, but she let him continue.

“Two hundred years and I couldn’t do what all my ancestors were able to do. What they had the courage to do. So I let him go.”

“He could have killed you, Hiccup.” She said as a matter of fact. That’s how the world worked after all.

“But he didn’t. I didn’t realize until later that I had ruined his tail. He couldn’t fly away. I had to make it right.”

Her head whipped back to the dragons, her eyes catching on the tail prosthetic connected to the saddle.

“Did you ever plan on coming back?”

Hiccup loosed a breath before responding. This had not been the way he ever thought this conversation would go. “It doesn’t matter,” was all he managed to say.

“Are you going to tell your father that you are back?”

He blinked at that, her question didn’t make any sense. Hadn’t she already told him. But her earnest expression had him second-guessing everything. “You haven’t told him?”

A small smile touched the corner of her lips as their eyes met. “Not my secret to tell.”

And then she was hugging him.

Her strong arms wrapping around her torso.

“Everyone missed you.”

It felt like a weight was off his chest with her words and he huffed out a laugh, “the bruises on my ribs are proof that your aim is getting better.”

And she was laughing to as she released him.

The dragons came bounding up to them then. Toothless giving Astrid a thorough sniff before nudging at her hands for scratches. Hiccup noticed her stiffen before she forced herself relax and slide her nails down the side of his dragons black scales.

The Nadder sniffed Hiccups hair before trotting back over to Astrid. It had the shield in its beak.

“Looks like Stormfly still wants to play. Hey, maybe you could help me get the saddle on her so I can attempt a flight?” The Viking said as she shifted her attention to the blue dragon.

All he could do was grin at the blonde as she went back to attempting to pull the weapon from the dragons mouth. Marveling in just how much she had changed in such a short amount of time.

“No can do. Toothless and I need to go on a patrol. Besides, if your dragon trust you enough she will let you put it on her.”

“Does that mean you will teach me how to fly?”

Hiccup hopped on the back of Toothless, shifting his leg so the two could take off from there. He slid the helmet back on as he did so.

“Lesson number one, will be the proper way to fall off the dragon.”

And then they were soaring through the foliage. And squinting into the sun.

He hadn’t noticed just how bright the day had gotten.

Chapter Text

Snotlout didn’t know what to do. He knew that he needed to ask the rider a question. His fingers ran over the smooth black scale in his pocket.

The man in black was an expert on dragons. He must be able to tell what kind of dragon killed his cousin from the scale alone.

All he needed to man up and talk to him.

He was just so… cool.

The way he swaggered into every room with the metal leg and the dragon. Like, who does he think he is?

Snotlout huffed out his frustration as he refocused his attention on porridge. It’s not like he cared what the man thought of him.

No, the only thing that mattered was that he could get some answers out of the rider.

There was no doubt in his mind that Snotlout could beat the answers out of him if he wanted to.

Then again the rider could take on Astrid. And no one could beat Astrid.

Snotlout took another bite, and frowned. He was definitely going to need a better plan.

He had just taken his last bite when the rider sauntered into the hall, his dragon in tow.

By his hurried steps everyone in the hall knew something was wrong.

Snotlout rushed from his bench and made his way to his father’s side at the top table. Barely catching the tail end of what the rider was revealing to his chief.

“Two ships, unmarked sails. But ballistas on deck had the unmistakable shine of dragon proofing that is prominent on the other side of Helheim’s gate.”

Stoick stroked his beard as he responded, “did they see you?”

“I was to high up, I doubt our alliance is known to Drago yet. This could be a good opportunity for reconnaissance.”

This was all happening to quickly. There hadn’t been one of Drago’s raids in a while. Snot had honestly thought the man had given up. And that his elders, and Astrid, were being paranoid.

“How far out our they from our waters?” The chief asked, the severity in his tone changing the mood in the hall.

“Flying, about an hour out. By boat, make it six or seven if the winds are on their side.”

“That’s too close for comfort Rider, get back out there and sink those ships.” Stoick ordered as he prepared to exit the hall.

Then the rider did something no one would have expected. Something no one would have done unless they had a dragon at their heels that obeyed their every command.

He disagreed with Stoick the Vast.

“Respectfully Chief, outright sinking them is bad call. They could have maps with the location of outpost or other plans that can be useful.”

If Snotlout could have captured the incredulous expression on his uncles face he would have. He hadn’t seen that glare since his cousin disappeared.

“Sneaking onboard is too risky a plan for someone to do alone. Especially in broad daylight.”

“I will be careful,” the rider replied and without being dismissed, he and his beast started making their way towards the door. Apparently hellbent on doing things their own way.

And that is where the argument began. Two stubborn Vikings yelling that their plan was better in the middle of the Mead hall. The villagers stood by, unsure what to do. Not many people have ever seen someone back talk their chief. And it was very clear that Stoick himself was not used to it.

Snotlout found himself looking to his father and Gobber to try and stop this. Weirdly the blacksmith was grinning at the exchange. His father, like usual looked like he was planning something.

Snotlout had a real bad feeling about it when he suddenly felt his father’s large hand on his back. Shoving him out of the crowd.

“Enough of the squabbling. Brother, why not let the lad go? Better yet, send one of us with him. That way we can keep him honest.”

The Chief and the rider turned to them now, temporarily distracted from their rancor at each other.

Snotlout needed to think of a way out of this. He wasn’t ready for this.

His father’s grip on his shoulder tightened, “in fact, my son would be the perfect choice for the job.”

He looked up at his dad, and then back to the two most intimidating men he had ever met. Doing his best not to balk at this chance.

Squaring his shoulder and puffing out his chest, “Uh, that’s right. It’s an important job, only sounds right that Berk sends one of our best.”

Stoick blinked at his brother and nephew.

Snotlout imagined the rider was doing the same behind his mask.

The Chief was about to shift his argument attitude to him when the rider spoke up.

“How fast can you be ready?”

The shortest Viking wasn’t expecting this.

No one ever trusted him with anything important.

He spudded, doing his best to maintain his overconfident, nonchalant tone, “I’m good to go now.”

“Perfect, let’s not waste any more time.” And with that the rider finally broke from the group. His dragon in his wake.

Snotlout began to follow him out, still in disbelief with what had just transpired. When his father gripped his arm. Hard.

“Don’t screw this up boyo.”

The Chief stepped in then, getting between the boy and his parent. “Go on boy, I need to have a long chat with my brother.”

With strong hand Stoick pulled Spitelout off his son and into a back room of the hall. Leaving Snotlout free to follow the man in black.

—

Riding on the back of a dragon was terrifying.

It moved at speed unattainable to any schooner he had ever been on. And with an agility only birds, bugs, and the beasts could hope to achieve.

But Snotlout could proudly say he didn’t scream when they launched themselves off the nearest cliff. Never mind the beetle legs that were currently lodged in the back of his throat.

The Viking elected to ignore the chuckle that sounded from the rider as they rose higher into the sky. Just as he elected to ignore just how long of a fall it would be into the waves below them. But the longer they flew on, the more the thought of the drop invaded his mind.

The sight of sails soon appeared on the horizon, just like the rider had said.

To Snotlout; they didn’t look menacing. They were bigger than most the ships in Berks harbor. But they could easily pass as large trader vessels.

The rider circled above them. And reaching into a saddle bag he pulled out a spy glass.

Were they not going to land to get a better look at them? One wrong move and they could both be tumbling off this gigantic lizard to their deaths.

Snotlout’s grip on the saddle tightened as the rider let go of the reins and held the tube to the eye hole on his mask.

“Those mounted crossbows are far too large for any fishing or trading vessels. And check out those tarps on the main deck. No normal Viking would stack their haul that high up on open water. Not without more supports to keep their spoils on board in the event of a storm.”

The rider turned back, holding the spyglass out for Snotlout. Almost like he wanted his opinion on the situation.

He gulped as he took one hand from the saddle. Luckily the rider kept his mount steady.

Snotlout could see what he was saying. The odd greenish sheen to the ballistas didn’t lend any confidence to their plan.

In fact to Snotlout this whole mission felt like a suicide trip. But he kept his big mouth shut for once as he kept surveilling their targets.

Multiple tarps covered the deck. He could see the shine of more metal from underneath them as the sea breeze picked up the corners.

Five armed men were stationed on each deck in various places. Too small a crew to be able to successfully maneuver the vessels. Meaning there was likely more in the rooms below.

“There is probably double the amount of guards below deck. Maybe even triple.” Snot said absentmindedly.

“There might be more out scouting as well, so we are going to want to make this trip fast. And leave their dinghies stranded.” The rider replied.

Snotlout felt the man’s left leg shift and soon felt the dragon begin his descent.

“Here is the plan, we sneak aboard one of them and take out the crew. We can’t alert the other ship while we are doing this.”

“Wait we are going now?”Snot protested as they dipped lower in the sky.

“No time like the present, besides the longer we wait up here the more likely it is that we will be spotted.”

Snotlout hated when someone used logic against him. He could never argue with it and win.

So he stayed silent. It’s not like he could convince the dragon to listen to him instead of its master anyway.

They approached the ships low and fast. Somehow timing their landing with the impact of a larger wave so the jostling of the ship didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

Snotlout gripped his hammer in his fist as he waited around the first corner. The rider was on the other side of the deck in a similar position. Both waiting for a guard to pass by.

The rider struck first, with a fluid motion his arm was around a mans throat, a gloved hand over a mouth, and metal foot to the back of a knee as the hilt of his strange weapon was striking the guards temple.

He was limp in the riders arms as the second man came around the other side of the boat. Without thinking Snotlout’s hammer slammed into the side of his jaw. The only sound he heard was that of bone cracking as he moved to catch the body.

Two down, three to go.

They tied the men up with rope they found on board and left their bodies in empty barrels that were put off to the side before moving onto the next two.

The Viking and the rider took to opposite sides of the ship and they crept their way towards their targets. Two men guarding the doors to the lower deck.

Wordlessly the rider signaled to him. Letting Snotlout know his intent to drop down on top of them. Quietly he got into position on the other side.

Holding out his hand, the man in black counted off.

One.

Two.

Three.

They fell together. Landing in a heap on the guards as their weapon struck heads.

Snotlout turned his attention to the prow of the ship, sure that the last guard would have heard the drop. Only to see the powerful tail to the Nightfury slamming into the last man.

He had to admit, the rider was very efficient.

They made their way down into the lower decks. Using much of the same tactics. Snot would take one side, the rider the other.

He followed the lead of the man in black. Not because the man was intimidating, but because he had never done a mission like this before.

If his father had been in charge, everyone within a five mile radius would have heard the battle cry’s of, “OY, OY, OY.” The moment the first body had fallen.

But here and now, it seemed that stealth took precedent over battle fame.

If everyone at home was a butcher, the rider was a surgeon.

Each and every one of his moves calculated in a way that was strangely familiar.

He couldn’t tell why, but he was reminded of when he and his cousin were little. How they would make a game out of sneaking around the village and try to break into the kitchens of the Great hall without being spotted.

While he was distracted by that thought, he entered what was once the brig.

The guard spotted him immediately, reaching for his sword while shouting for back up.

Snotlout was on him in an instant. His hammer striking at the hand that held the blade, and battering it away as he jumped upward.

His helmet smashed into the guards nose with a satisfying crack, and the man stumbled backwards. His sword clattering to the planks.

The next instant the hammer crashed into the man’s throat. Snotlout could hear the snapping of vertebra and the crushing sound of a collapsing windpipe. And the guard thumped to the floor. Gauging, gasping, and wheezing for breath.

His fingers were still twitching and clawing at his airways when he went still.

From behind him, Snotlout could hear the mismatched steps of the rider as he ran to the doorway. The sound stopping abruptly when he caught sight of the body on the floor, “Snotlout, what the-“ and then the rider saw what kept the Viking glued in place.

In the center of the brig lay two large chained Monstrous Nightmares. A black and red one with its eyes wide and empty. It was covered in long gashing wounds that laced along its limbs as it stared blankly towards the doorway. Its body grown stiff in rigor-mortis.

The second dragon, a reddish orange Nightmare, kept thrashing against its chains. It too was covered in cuts and lashes. But at least it was still alive. Still fighting.

It was clear that the only reason it wasn’t setting the ship on fire now was because of the large blocks of ice that hung suspended from the rafters above it.

Any lick of flame that came in contact with the block triggered its own extinguishing.

The Viking and the rider stood side by side in silent horror at the sight.

Sure, Snotlout had grown up with the expectations that he would kill dragons. He had trained to kill dragons. But this was just cruel.

Absentmindedly both warriors stepped closer to the thrashing dragon.

Snotlout, noticing his foot getting stuck on something. He looked down and saw a whip trailing from the body of the guard. The red stained barbs, sticking into the hide of his boot. The Viking shook it off as he walked past the corpse.

The Nightmare thrashed and growled as Snotlout and the rider got closer to it, doing its best to snap its large jaws a towards the pair despite the chains clamping it shut.

“We need to calm it down,” the rider said, holding the hilt of his weapon out front of the dragon.

Was the rider planning of slaying it? Was he about to put it out of is misery right in front of him?

The Viking didn’t think the man in black had it in him to kill a dragon. Not with how he dotes on his own.

And then the hidden blade in the hilt extended.

And Snotlout’s eyes went wide when the riders sword caught on fire.

Both his and the dragons eyes fixated on the blade like it was a beacon. The rider waves it around in the air before the dragon, drawing its attention.

Surprisingly the dragon stopped thrashing.

“Snotlout, I need you to keep his attention while I check if he is ok to fly.” The rider said, holding the sword between them.

A nonverbal command for the shorter man to take his weapon.

Wordlessly he took the sword. The hilt was warm to the touch, but it was lighter than expected.

“That’s it,” the man in black said to the dragon as he held out his hand to it. Letting the beast sniff him.

To his shock the beast didn’t even flinch when the rider began to approach him, it only stood his ground as the feral man brushed his palm to the dragons nose.

The Viking had no idea if the dragon was more fascinated with the flaming sword or was confused by the riders actions but it stayed still as the rider took his hand from it and backed away.

The man in black then walked behind Snotlout, and put his hand on the Viking’s shoulders. Like he was nothing more than a puppet to him. “Hold your free hand out, you need to do what I just did.”

“Hold on,” he protested as the dragon masters grip tightened on him. He was to stand to do anything but obey, “What are you-“

And then he was touching a dragon.

Chapter Text

The Nightmare was beaten up, but it’s wings and tail were intact. And it seemed lively enough to jump ship when it was time for the boys to release them.

Hiccup kept glancing from the injured dragon before him to his cousin. The Viking had been doing a good job at keeping it calm and distracted. He kept a gentle yet firm hand on the noise, keeping the flaming sword in a slight motion. With every slight movement of the dragon, his cousin flinched.

Hiccup hadn’t spent much time with Snotlout since his return to Berk. But from what he could tell, he was still his father’s son.

Still seeking approval from anyone he deems an authority figure, still stubborn, and still questioning every idea that he didn’t come up with.

That’s why Hiccup didn’t explain what he was doing when forcing Snotlout to help calm the dragon. For Vikings, seeing is believing.

Hiccup returned his attention to the dragon. His fingers ran long the chains keeping it restrained. They were stiff and caked with blood.

He frowned under his mask. Of corse this wasn’t going to be easy. The bastards were using the barbed chains. This liberation would not be fun for anyone. Especially the dragon.

“Hey Snot, I have to unchain him.” The rider said as he walked around to the body of the guard to look for keys.

“Wait! What?”

“I can’t in good conscience leave him like this.”

“How do you know it won’t just eat us the moment it’s free?”

Hiccup went back to the ends of the chains and began to unlock the. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

The first chain had slack in it now.

As carefully as he could, Hiccup be an to unhook the barbs from the dragons flesh.

The dragon flinched and hissed with the removal of every barb. Causing his cousin to do the same. But no one snapped.

Once the Nightmare noticed the first chain was gone he calmed down completely. Only slightly hissing when the spikes were pulled from its scales.

He had just finished the last chain when the dragon went still. This worried hiccup at first, he thought the dragon was going into shock. And then he heard Snotlout struggling with a restraint.

The rider turned around to see his cousin removing the muzzle from the Nightmares maw.

Time began moving in slow motion as the dragon began to move towards the Snotlout.

Snotlout fell on his ass as the beast raised its head. The orange dragon snapping its jaw with its new freedom.

Snotlout began to crawl backwards, forgetting Hiccup’s sword on the floor and his hammer at his belt as his back met the cabin wall.

The Nightmares face was now level to the short man’s. Snotlout breathing heavily as Hiccup could make out a muttered prayer to Odin.

And then the dragons tongue was out, licking the side of his face before it burst out of the doors of the brig. Leaving the Viking and the rider alone in the ships hull.

Hiccup never thought he would see the day that he saw the stronger boy quivering in fear. He had a strange sense of satisfaction and pity at the sight. He decided then and there that he would never bring it up.

When Snotlout realized that he wasn’t going to get eaten, he composed himself. Pulling himself from the floor and dusting the dirt off his vest he said, “Yeah that all went according to plan, it was stressed enough. I didn’t want to be seen as a threat.”

The rider chuckled at his facade as he went to go pick up his now extinguished blade from the ground. “You did a good job, for your first time.”

The relief was almost instant in his face. And then his face fell in confusion. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘first time’?”

The riders holstered his sword as he made his way to the door, “oh that was just the first of the dragons we are releasing today.”

The incredulous snort Snotlout made brought a smile to the masked man’s face as he began to make his way to the rest of the cages.

His cousin looked equally as terrified when the man in black began opening the rest of the cages on the boat. The dragons acted like he knew they would when presented a chance to flee. They took it. Some only slowing to give the two men a sniff before bolting through the ships open hatch.

Hiccup knew it was a bad idea to let the dragons free now. If he wanted to be smart about this attack he would have waited until both ships had been captured.

But, he had known the look on his cousins face well.

One glance at the Nightmares and he knew that he couldn’t live with himself if it was forced to suffer any longer.

Now that the first ship was cleared, they needed to clear the second one fast.

In the light of day the dragons would be visible.

The element of surprise was gone.

The rider and the Viking raced across the ocean on the Nightfury’s back.

Snotlout screamed as the dragon swooped and banked to avoid bolas and arrows that were fired at them.

Hiccup could see the sails beginning to be raised as oars began to break the waves.

No. They wouldn’t get away.

“Toothless, aim for the sails.”

The dragon angled upwards as a violet glow escaped his mouth, the high pitched whine and conjoining the plasma as it burned through the fabric of a sails. Setting the woolen fibers ablaze, and cracking against the mast.

Sailors shouts rang out as the cross beam tilted precariously on the burning splintered beam. Hiccup could seem the soldiers rolling out of the way as the burning sail crashed to the deck.

“Hey Snotlout, this is where the fun begins,” the rider said as he directed his dragon into a landing dive.

Hiccup could see his cousin smiling now, his hand gripping his hammer as he readied himself for a fight.

There was nothing quite like the sight of a Berkian in a brawl. The Vikings of his home island took in hits like they took in breaths. And dished then out with even more vigor.

Snotlout had jumped from the side of his dragon the moment he could safely do so. Landing on top of two men. Only to roll across the deck and slam his hammer into the side of another’s head.

The blood and teeth were still flying when toothless landed on the other side of the ship and began to knock the surprised men into the sea.

Hiccups own sword was out now and he began to strike at the guards as furiously as a Speedstinger.

His own blade finding flesh and ligament. Knees and shoulders were sliced, and all the men could do was crawl across the deck. Trailing their own blood and singed flesh like a crimson snail trail on the wood.

For fight that was three on thirty it wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest.

Any survivors were piled into dinghies and set out to sea without oars. The dead were left where they were. They would end up at the bottom in the blue below anyway. It didn’t matter if they rolled them over the sides now or if they let their corpses burn with their ships.

Hiccup found his cousin scoring the drying blood from his hands and hemet in a barrel of drinking water. He had clearly used it as a weapon as his hammer was no where in sight.

Hiccup wanted to give the guy some props; when in a scrap, Snotlout was good to have in your corner. But either way the adrenaline in his veins, the Viking methods of clamping him hard on the shoulder or head butting with affection would not be good for the riders own safety. The last thing he needed was for his cousin to whip around and stab the horns of the helmet into his gut.

Toothless did the work for him. Walking around and nudging the shorter man with his wing.

As expected, Snotlout jumped. Wheeling around he swung out with his helmet again. Looking from another face to smash in.

Both the rider and the dragon took a step back. The man in black showing that he held no weapon in his hands.

“Woo, easy there. I’m not gonna fight you Snotlout.”

His cousins face fell and the fighting rage left his eyes as he lowered his helmet.

“I wouldn’t want to fight me either,” is all he said as he straighten, moving to replace the helmet on his head. “Are we done here?”

“We just have to search the captains quarters and release the rest of the dragons.”

“Right, I can handle the dragons.”

Wait, what.

“Dragons are my specialty.” Hiccup tried to argue. He didn’t think Snotlout would be stupid enough to try anything with them. But that didn’t mean he would get himself killed on accident just because he angered on by being himself.

“Like I’m gonna let you get all the glory fly boy. Besides, I would have no idea what to look for. I don’t waste my time with dumb books.”

Right, Hiccup had forgotten how much Snotlout had hated reading. When they were younger Hiccup was convinced that he didn’t know how to, that he only memorized a bunch of words and was coasting by on Fishleg’s brains for anything Gobber or anything other adult tried to make he learn.

Reluctantly he nodded in agreement, “be careful. Even if they are greatful for their release, they are still wild animals. Don’t antagonize them. Just open the traps and unchain them.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say mom.” And then Snotlout was racing across the deck towards the traps in the back of the boat.

Hiccup kept his eyes on him as he made his way to the first winch. Despite the deck being covered with blood the stout man only slipped twice. The rider was surprised he didn’t fall down.

Only when a brown Gronkle cleared the jaws of the first trap and started making its way away from the boats did Hiccup allow himself to move towards the captain’s quarters.

He found several promising documents hidden way in a compartment behind a shield on the wall. But the thing that caught his attention most was a map.

It looked like the map he had been making. He had recognized many of the islands and even spots a few that he had named himself. The smug feeling of satisfaction crossed his mind at the thought of people recognizing his contributions to the world.

No he needed to focus.

Something was off on the map. He would have to compare it to him own when he got back to Berk.

Quickly, he folded it up and slipped it into his suit.

He had been down in the office for longer than he should have.

For all he knew Snotlout had been ripped in two and both his head and his ass were currently sliding down the throats of a Zippleback. The dragon wouldn’t even know which ended was which.

Once again the rider was surprised to find no more carnage in the deck than when he had left. The last cage was open and a Zippleback was flying in the same direction as the Gronkle from earlier.

His cousin was spending his time waiting by digging in the pockets of the bodies. The rider didn’t miss the flash of gold finding its way into the short man’s pocket as he made his approach.

The rider made sure to make his steps more pronounced to announce he returned to the deck. Snotlout straightened him and turn towards his approach.

“I think we got everything, let’s sink the ships and head back. The chief and your father are going to want a full report on the mission.”

“What about the Nightmare we left on the other ship? The dead one?”

That was not a question he ever expected Snotlout to ask. He had never seen the Viking express empathy for anyone, let alone a dragon.

Shaking his head, he replied. “We don’t have the time or the power to move the body. The best we can do is sink the ship. It went out fighting, so the least we can do is send it off to Valhalla.”

Snotlout looked to the floor for a second, multiple emotions crossing his face before he reluctantly agreed.

This time Snotlout didn’t scream when the dragon took off into the sky, or when Toothless fired on both the vessels. Though Hiccup did hear a small noise of excitement when the second ship cracked in two.

The hulls of the boats were rapidly sinking to the bottom of the sea as the boys headed back to Berk.

Only the dark shapes of either gulls, or escaped dragons, and white fluffy clouds dotted the horizon as the sun began to sink.

Chapter Text

It took Astrid three days to get the saddle on her dragon.

The first day was spent by chasing Stormfly around the glen. The dragon must have thought it was a game since it kept chittering and squawking with great glee as the Viking kept failing her attempts to harness her.

The second day Astrid did manage to get the saddle on. But, the Nadder freaked out when the got to the point of fastening the straps.

The leather, no matter how soft, must have reminded Stormfly of the chains that had bonded her the before they had met.

Astrid had spent the rest of the day reassuring the blue dragon that it was safe and calming her down.

The third day Astrid achieved her goal.

The leather straps were tight enough where she was sure it wouldn’t fall off mid flight, but loose enough to ensure that it would not restrict her dragon in any way. And Hiccup had even included two extra straps for Astrid to attach herself to the dragon, belting her in place to keep her from loosing her seat.

It felt different sitting on the back of her own dragon than it did sitting on Hiccup’s Nightfury. For one thing Hiccup definitely had more control over his.

The moment Astrid had sat down, Stormfly began to hop around excitedly. She was very grateful for the straps then. She had heard horror stories of people getting thrown from horse back, Astrid knew getting thrown from a dragons back must be worse.

The Nadder flapped its wings as she began to circle the field, Astrid could tell the time in the air increase with the force of the wing beats.

She hadn’t planned on a test flight, all she wanted to do was see how the saddle felt.

But the next thing she knew was that her dragon was breaking through the trees.

The greens of the forest turned to the bright blues of a late afternoon sky in the blink on an eye as the dragon and Viking broke the tree line. And they kept rising in the sky as Stormfly angled herself towards the ocean.

Astrid was well aware that she had no idea what to do now that she was up here. In their last conversation with Hiccup he had told her that he never said he would teach her how to fly, only how to fall.

That didn’t make any sense to her. Why would anyone want to fall off their dragon? That would be certain death. Was Hiccup so mad at Berk, at her, that he would subtly tell her to kill herself?

He didn’t seem like that kind of person. He hadn’t changed all that much since her had left.

He had gained confidence. But he still wasn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge and let it fester.

Before she could think too hard on the boy, a large black blur entered her peripheral vision.

Astrid turned. The shadow was gone.

Stormfly began flying through the sea stacks around the back side of the island. The large rocks jutting out from the water.

And the sense of awe Astrid was experiencing far outweighed the stress of figuring out how to land. It was like she was seeing the world for the first time.

She glanced to the left and, for a split-second, she could have sworn she saw the shadow again.

Okay, maybe it was time to learn how to steer instead of just enjoying the ride.

The Viking shifted in her saddle. Moving her hand from the hand hold to point in direction she wanted to go, “Stormfly, let’s go that way.”

Astrid could see the dragon glance back and the dragon adjusted her flight path to the left. Astrid leaned with the dragon, doing her best to adapt to the new environment that was the wide open sky.

To the right she caught another glimpse of living shadow against the blue sky. Her dragon saw it this time, and together the pair shifted to follow. The sound of the wind rising in the Vikings ears as the Nadder increased its speed.

Together they glided through the thin mountains of rock that for hundreds of years have protected Berk from invading armadas of rival tribes. The oceanic seascape of her home is partly why the only successful raids on Berk have come from above.

Something about her first real flight had her felling nostalgic for her and Hiccups grand escape. And she was grinning now, her smile growing wider with every twist and turn through the stacks.

Astrid had read that Deadly Nadders were good trackers from the notes Hiccup had left her. Ant it seemed like Stormfly had caught the scent of the mystery shadow.

It lead her further and further away from Berk. Twisting through and above the rocks, taking swooping dives and banking hard when it seemed like Astrid and Stormfly had almost caught it.

After a while of the lengthy pursuit, Astrid was beginning to notice the chill of the air on her arms, and the sea mist was beginning to soak into the wool of her shirt.

The sun, which had been high in the sky when she had first set off, was much lower in the sky.

Before her lay nothing but open ocean, the deep blue of the sea contrasting the brightness of the sky. An infinite would lay out there. One with endless possibilities and adventures.

Astrid glanced back. At the labyrinth of rocks and braking waves that she had just navigated. At the seagull nests that she had never been high enough to see in the nooks and crannies of the familiar maze. To her home island that was rapidly becoming nothing but a mirage in the distance.

Was this what Hiccup had felt all those years ago?

The pull of something new and exciting.

Astrid had to admit, the hold of tradition lost its grip when you could look at it from a new perspective.

She pulled back on her dragon. Bringing the Nadder to a halt in the sky.

As intoxicating as this freedom was, Astrid still had a home to protect. A duty to her people.

If a war had never been waged, Astrid could see her flying up here for hours, and days, on end. Relishing in the limitless opportunities that flight could bring her. Wishing that things could be different and that she could stay up there forever.

But if things were different, this war had never been waged and she would have never have meet her Nadder.

She would have never known that dragons were more than just wild animals.

would have seen her friend come home.

“I don’t think we’re gonna catch it girl,” the Viking said calmly to her dragon. “We should head back to Berk.”

Stormfly squawked in protest. She was enjoying the game of chase just as much as Astrid was.

The girl stroked her scales as the dragon kept looking around for her prey. Wanting to continue on in her fun. But Astrid held tight to the reigns.

“Please Stormfly, they will notice if I go missing.”

The dragon squawked again, looking upwards now. And Astrid followed her dragons gaze. Only to find her runaway shadow.

If Astrid hadn’t known that the rider was Hiccup, she would have screamed.

He and his Nightfury were nearly invisible in the crags of the stone stack above her. The black scales near completely blending into the shadows.

Their only giveaway was Hiccups helmet-less face grinning at her. His crooked smile brighter than the sun. And Toothless’s bright green eyes

“Well aren’t you full of surprises. I thought it would be another week before you two were airborne.”

Astrid blinked at him incredulously as the two dragons made excited noises at each other, “how did you find us?”

“We had just finished a patrol when out on the far side of the island, when lo and behold, we spot your first joy ride.”

“Is that why you tricked us into a game of catch?”

“Just a crash course for steering. I know from experience that you always get what you want. So, what’s a better way of getting you two on the same page? I had to give you a target go after.”

Before Astrid could reply the black dragon let go of the rocks. Her heart dropped as she saw the two plummet towards the cold waves below. She gasped as she leaned forward in a vain attempt to catch them. Stormfly dropping a few feet as she moved with her rider.

Then the Nightfury wings caught the air stream that cut through the rocks like large black sails that soared on the in current as the boy and his dragon rose to meet her at eye level.

Astrid didn’t think it was possible, but Hiccup’s grin was even larger than before.

“And you said my first lesson would be falling.”

“Oh it will be.” And they two were racing off into the clouds.

Typical Hiccup, running off without exposing his plans to anyone.

Astrid and Stormfly followed him up. Partly because she had the urge to yell at him, and partly because she was curious about what he was going to do.

The rising sense of unease compounded the higher they rose. And not for the first time that day, Astrid found herself grateful for the straps the tied her to the saddle.

They were well above the second layer of clouds when Hiccup signals her to stop.

“Hiccup, what are you planning?”

“Unlike Gobber, I don’t believe learning on the job is the best choice for the most important dragon rider lesson.” The boy said and he sat up from his comfortable perch on his dragon.

Astrid furrowed her brow in confusion at his words. And then her heart stopped as he unclipped himself from his saddle. “You know there are many ways to fall, this is an intermediate level fall.”

Even Toothless looked concerned and slightly annoyed as his rider shifted his left leg and a sharp click sounded from the dragons tail mechanism.

And then the crazy man in black casually slid off his Nightfury and began his plummet to the hard waves below.

Astrid stared silently in horror at the rapidly disappearing figure of her friend before looking back up at his dragon.

The dragon black dragon too was just watching the boy being pulled down by gravity as it hovered in place. A second later he looked up to the blonde and gave her a gummy smile before finally diving to the rescue.

Stormfly followed close behind in the dive and Astrid’s hands tightened in the saddle. The pounding in her head accelerating with very inch closer to a certain death.

They were gaining on the boy, and to his credit she didn’t hear him scream.

Just a little closer, she could catch him. If only she was just a little closer.

She could make out each individual rocky outcropping now. If they didn’t catch him soon it would matter if her landed on the land or in the sea, gravity would still break every bone in her friend’s body.

Just a little bit closer now. She could make out the his brown hair blowing in the breeze now. “Stormfly, catch him. PLEASE.”

The Nadder angled itself so that her claws wet spread wide, ready to and willing to catch prey. Or, in this case, a dumbass with a death wish.

In the end she shouldn’t have bothered.

The Nightfury got to him first.

Hiccup let out an excited “whoop,” as he and the beast moved in perfect unison. Turning so that the boy could reattach himself to the dragons back in the moments before there were too close to pull up.

In a near fluid moment, Hiccup was back in the air.

Astrid could feel her own strap pull tight as her dragon corrected course. Her butt lifting an inch off her seat as the Nadder leveled out.

She was going to hit him, the moment they were back on Berk she knew she would punch his dumb crooked smile off is face. As he rose again to be at the same altitude as her, Astrid had just finished swearing to the gods themselves that Hiccup Haddock would have less freckles on his dumb face, solely because she would hit him so hard that they would disappear in a sea of bruising.

And then he was smiling at her again and just a little bit of her rage melted in her chest.

“I don’t expect you to do that in your first plummet,” he said with a nonchalance of someone who didn’t almost have a one way ticket to Niflheim. “But I think you get the idea. If you can’t trust your dragon to catch you then; I can’t in good faith let you fly with me in this war.”

Astrid stared back at him, astonished at his assumptions. She hadn’t put any thought of flying into battle. But the idea that she could be an avenging valkyrie for her people was sweeter than any mead she had ever tasted.

“And what makes you think that your father would allow me to fly with you?”

Hiccup tilted his head at her as they both turned back towards Berk. His smile going from mischievous to sweet, “you’re Astrid Hofferson. When have you ever not gotten what you wanted?”

Chapter Text

Three parts limestone.

Two parts sandstone.

One part iron ore.

And one spoonful of hardened Gronkle lava.

The strange recipe was hardly legible. Etched into the corner of an old blueprint.The paper was ink stained and weather worn to the point that Fishlegs couldn’t make out what the weapon on it was supposed to be.

The only thing he could tell was that the it was one of the rider’s original designs.

Fishlegs knew he would have to use all his courage to ask the mysterious man what the recipe was for. His curiosity was too big to be contained at the possibilities of whatever that material could be used for.

He had no idea where the rider could be at any give time. When he wasn’t patrolling the sky’s around the island he could practically disappear. The only real dependable places Fishlegs could think to find him would be either at the forge or the Great hall. But even at dinner time he tended to disappear into the shadows.

How did the man manage to know every hidden cranny of Berk?

It was almost as if he had grown up here.

Fishlegs could sit outside the guest hut where his chief had set up for the man, but hardly anyone has seen him go in or out of the hut. The rumor was that the masked man didn’t sleep.

Finally he decided to look for him at the forge. Everyone had seen the glow of the fire and heard the pounding of the hammer at all hours of the day and night. So it would be his best bet of catching the man in black.

Even if he wasn’t there now, he would probably be there later.

The heat of the forge was unbearable to the round man, if he had to be there for extended periods of time, but Fishlegs was experiencing an incredible feat of luck.

The riders black armor made him look like a cave shadow come to life as he stood before the flames of the forge. The metallic pounding of the hammer on the anvil kept in time with the Vikings pulse as Fishlegs inched his way closer to the masked man.

He must have been too engrossed in his work to have notice the new presence in the workshop.

Fishlegs was mesmerized by the focus the man in black had in his craft. He stood there in the doorway as the rider stopped his hammering and held up the axe head he was working on.

Something was off with the riders technique, the round boy could never claim to have anything other than the rudimentary knowledge on the craft of blacksmithing but he knew that a person should never take hold of any metal that was still glowing red during the tempering process.

But there the rider was using his hands instead of a clamp as he worked.

Everyone had noticed the dragon scales on his suit, and now Fishlegs knew for certain that they weren’t just to bolster his image. The scales must help insulate against the heat of forge. Maybe even dragon fire. The would help account for the man’s precision and control in the craft.

After a long moment of inspection the rider moved to take the scalding metal to the cooling barrel. The metal steamed and hissed as the orange glowing axe head brought the temperature of the surrounding water to a boil. The rider rolled his neck as he stood there, holding the metal in the liquid before abruptly freezing in place.

He must have finally noticed the visitor in the forge, his helmeted head turned in the direction of the door where Fishlegs was standing. And now the round man was the one who felt as if his every action was being watched through a spy glass. And he was overly aware of the amount of sweat that had collected on his upper lip stubble.

In the quiet of the room the rider cleared his throat before speaking, “Gobber’s not here, I think he went to go discuss something with the chief.”

That wasn’t what Fishlegs was expecting to hear.

Had people in Berk not been coming up to the man and asking him question after question?

It’s what Fishlegs would have done if he hadn’t been so engrossed by the dragon guides and blueprints the rider had brought.

Was the rider avoiding people on purpose or were they avoiding him?

“Um, actually I was looking for you.”

The rider looked back at the axe head in his gloved hand. It was no long the same angry bright red shade of a Monstrous Nightmare. “Is that so? You were put in charge of going through all the papers I brought, right? Is there something you noticed?”

Oh wow, the rider knew who he was. This was so exciting. Fishlegs knew he had to keep it together in front of this living legend or else his questions might be written off entirely. He didn’t want to be a laughing stock to the rider like he was to his peers.

“Yes, I found a old note of the bottom of a blueprint that I couldn’t quite figure out. I thought, since you had looked over it first. That you might know what it means.”

Quickly the rider tossed the axe on the table by the sharpener before crossing the small room. “Yeah sure, what did you find?”

Okay. Wow, Fishlegs couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken him this seriously before. Normally the moment he started blathering everyone would tell him to shut up. Maybe the solution to all Fishlegs social problems was to be too nervous to go off on a tangent.

The round boy spread the blueprint on the table in front of him and the rider. Sending a quiet thank you to Thor that his miniature quest had gone so well.

The rider said nothing as he looked at the diagram, Fishlegs had to point to the corner so the man in black could find the small note that he himself had almost missed. “You see this recipe down here. It looks like it a for some kind of alloy but I’ve never seen Gronkle lava as a component before.”

“Oh that’s where the recipe for Gronkle iron went. I was looking for that a few months ago.” The rider said with a concerning casualness for someone who just dropped the knowledge of a material that had the potential to revolutionize metal work on this island.

Fishlegs needed to calm himself down. He really didn’t want the rider to write him off as a fanatic of any kind. Even if the prospect of a dragon made metal was exciting.

“Gronkle iron? What’s that?” Fishlegs asked, doing his best to keep his cool.

“It’s a metal that is formed when a Gronkle eats these different materials,” the rider pointed to the first three ingredients. There it mixes with the Gronkle lava in the stomach and what the dragon spits out the newly made metal.

Fishlegs was flabbergasted, this metal could make a major difference in any upcoming battle if it was stronger than what they had now. “That’s amazing, I wonder what something made out of it could withstand if made by a proper blacksmith”

“I’m not sure what the exact limit is, but I do no it can withstand the blasts of a Nightfury,” there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he replied, the rider rolled up the blueprint and handed it back to the Viking. Clearly he wasn’t going to give anymore explanation without prompting.

“If it’s that strong then why aren’t we making any for the war?”

The man in black gestured back to the table where he had discarded the axe head. “I’ve been working on it but without a ready supply of fresh Gronkle lava it’s going to take a while. Making it in a crucible with the hardened rock takes a lot more work.”

Fishlegs looked at the table and he could see a pile of unsharpened weapons, the silver gleam of the metal was different from the weapons Fishlegs had grown accustomed to.

Fishlegs was practically vibrating now, the solution to their problem was so easy. “Well, you’re a dragon master. Why don’t we just get some Gronkles for Berk? That way we can have a ready supply.”

The rider looked at him now, and Fishlegs knew he had said the wrong thing. Even with the mask Fishlegs could tell that he was making the very familiar face of ‘are you kidding me.’

“Do you think Stoick the Vast would allow that? He barely tolerates Toothless. And that’s only because he is very well behaved. I don’t have the time to train a Gronkle to help in the forge.”

The rider had a point, his chief hated dragons, he blamed them for the loss of his wife and his son, they had raided their island for years.

But had the rider not proven that they were not all bad? That these magnificent creatures were more than met the eye?

“Wouldn’t it be worth it to ask? I mean the worst he can say is no.” Fishlegs meekly replied

The rider turned back to the weapons cover work table and pressed his palms against it, handing his head low. If it wasn’t for the tone in his voice Fishlegs would have sworn he was going to pick one up and hit him with it.

Instead he just said, “no Fishlegs, the worst he could do is kill my dragon and throw me to the wolves.” He let out a long breath before continuing, “I hate to cut this conversation short, but I need to go on patrol.”

And then he left the forge.

Fishlegs didn’t understand, what on earth could the rider have to be afraid of?

And whenever he didn’t know the answer, Fishlegs went out to find it.

He had read all the riders notes. And he knew a place in this island that would be a paradise for a hungry Gronkle.

This was the right thing to do. If he didn’t at least try; he didn’t know how he could live with himself.

The next day, Fishlegs began the long hike along the rocky coast of the island. He knew that they would probably not be found on the beaches of Berk. But if he couldn’t locate a Gronkle in the mountains forest where a variety of different rocks could be located along the cliff and ridges, then he would resolve himself to check the sea side caves the next day.

It took him most the morning to get to what he believed would be the perfect spot; plenty of trees for cover, a nice gentle stream, and most importantly there was a lot of rocks.

Fishlegs could spot multiple deposits of silicates, granite, and even some pyrite.

Now all he had to do was hide out and wait.

Fishlegs choose a bush close to the cliff edge, so that the lovely mountain breeze could cool the sweat on his neck from the long trek.

He never minded waiting for anything, the Viking found that often times that the best things in life took the longest to arrive. So he elected to look on the bright side.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day. The normally gloomy clouds were parting to let rays of a bright and cheerful sun light the clearing. The stream bubbled with a gentle consistency that harmony with the birds that were chirping in the branches above.

It was days like this that Fishlegs wished he could have a topiary garden.

Maybe when this war was over he could make himself his own secret garden that he could spend his free time in.

After two hours Fishlegs decide he should break into his lunch. The sun was high in the sky and he didn’t want the rumbling of his stomach to scare off any potential Gronkles.

It’s not that the round boy was jealous of the rider, he himself had often dreamt about what it would feel like to sit atop one of those majestic creatures. If only to learn more about them from an academic perspective. There was a whole wide world out there with so much information out there, that Fishlegs often felt trapped. Longing to learn and do more.

He as he sat in his shady spot eating his lunch, Fishlegs was too lost in thought to notice when the birds stopped singing. Or when the bushes across the stream started to shake in a rhythm of footsteps.

Large footsteps.

Fishlegs bit down on his own tongue, either to stop himself from screaming or because he was too distracted to notice that his lunch had slipped from his hands. As a large, round dragon lumbered towards the stream.

The Gronkle was brown like warm mud with eyes that shined brighter than dandelion petals. In direct light the boy noticed how some of her scales had a hint of green that was reminiscent of lichen on a tree.

In Fishlegs’ opinion it was one of the most beautiful dragons he had ever seen.

Now all he needed to do was figure out the best way to approach it. He hadn’t brought a weapon with him. He was betting on the dragon having an even temperament like the riders Nightfury.

He had never seen the black dragon out right hostile with anyone before. So it made sense that if he presented the positive, nonthreatening energy to his potential dragon. That the Gronkle would reciprocate.

He stayed glued in his spot as he watched the Gronkle drink from the stream, snorting with every large gulp.

It was perfect.

Once it had finished and began routing through the smaller rocks near the stream did Fishlegs went to move.

He went to sit up, only to feel a hand on his shoulder pulling him back down before he could rustle the bush he was hiding behind. Another hand covered his mouth, right as he was about to scream.

He flinched, expecting to feel a second set of hands shoving a live snake down the back of his shirt again, like the twins tended to do when they caught him unaware.

Instead he heard the riders voice, muffled by his helmet. “No sudden movements, it could misinterpret them as a threat.”

Fishlegs whimpered, but he obeyed and the rider removed his hands from the Viking.

He glanced at the rider through his peripheral vision, he must have come this way in a hurry, his hemet wasn’t sitting right on his head. Fishlegs could see tufts of messy brown hair sticking out from underneath the mash and the seriousness in his green eyes.

The rider pointed to the Gronkle as it was peacefully grazing on rocks by the stream. It obviously couldn’t hear them through its crunching.

“Look along its shoulders and tail, you see the darker brown spots.”

Fishlegs nodded as he took a second look as the dragon, along is body in what he had originally assumed to be its natural pattern he could see patches of deep brown, borderline black. They ringed around its limbs, body, and even its jaw.

“That’s dried blood. The locations are in the exact spots where Drago normally chains the dragons he traps.”

Fishlegs eyes widened in horror at the brutality that that magnificent Gronkle had gone through, his heart breaking for every other dragon that was still in Drago’s clutches.

“Fishlegs, you still have a chance to walk away from this, no one is forcing you to attempt training a dragon. We can find another way to get more Gronkle iron.”

The Viking gulped, suddenly aware of his own dry mouth, before shaking his head. The rider was giving him an out. The man in black wasn’t making fun of his crazy idea to get Berk a Gronkle.

“The most likely scenario is that it is skittish and will just fly away, the worst case is that it will attack. You need to keep in mind that it has been locked up and tortured for who knows how long. So if you are going to approach, you will need to be smart about it.” The man continued as he placed something in Fishlegs hand.

It was a bundle of grass.

Fishlegs bright it closer to his face to examine it closer. It looked like just a normal bunch of long grass, but it did have a unique smell; earthy with a strange burn to it.

“What is this?”

“Dragon nip. They like the smell of it. It can calm them down if you get close enough but too much can result in a dragon going a little nuts.”

Fishlegs gulped, “and how much is too much?”

The rider took a moment to think before he answered, “not entirely sure. I’ve only ever used about that much on a Gronkle; but it was near to impossible to get Toothless out a field of the stuff.”

The Vikings fingers curled round the bundle as he pulled it to his chest. Was the legend himself giving Fishlegs permission to attempt this?

He could still back out if he wanted to. Before it was too late.

The Gronkle still hadn’t noticed them.

He could leave before he did something stupid like approaching a feral animal.

A feral dragon that was big enough to eat him and could spit lava.

He shuddered as he looked back upon the dragon. Still munching on the rocks by the stream.

He could see its ribs, Fishlegs couldn’t ever remember seeing a Gronkles ribs before.

And just like that he knew what to do.

Steeling himself and pushing away his trepidation, Fishlegs got to his feet.

He approached the dragon slowly, keeping low to the ground incase he needed to roll out of the way of a a fire blast. The Viking was grateful for the dragon training Gobber had instilled in the teens. It made him good a not dying.

And while he was good at not getting burnt to death by dragon fire; he knew he was woefully inexperienced with calming one down.

Snotlout had proudly exclaimed his personal experience with the rider around the fire the right after his ship raid. He had surprisingly praised the man in black and his ability to keep something the size of a long ship with teeth as sharp as knives calm.

It was a good thing that Fishlegs had hung onto every word.

The Viking picked up a medium sized round rock. Not too big to throw, but small enough for the Gronkle to munch.

And as gently as he could, Fishlegs tossed the rock to the ground next to the dragon. Officially getting its attention.

The Gronkle whirled around. Its eyes that were half closed earlier, now open wide. It’s pupils contracting into slits. Ant it’s shoulders squaring as it let out a huff of alarm.

Fishlegs took a step back and put his arms up in the air, similar to how he had seen the rider do with some of the Vikings in the village when he accidentally provoked their anger, showing that he held no weapons. Doing his best to project his peaceful intentions.

It didn’t move.

The Viking took another step back.

The dragon eyed him cautiously but Fishlegs could see its shoulders slacken.

Very slowly, he sat down.

The dragon didn’t move.

Carefully, Fishlegs lowered his arms and reached for another rock. His hands landing on one of a similar size to the one he has first tossed.

He made sure to rub the bundle of dragon nip on the rock as he rolled it in his hands, making sure the dragon saw his every movement.

Then with even more care than before, he rolled the rock towards the Gronkle.

The creatures nostrils went wide as it caught a whiff of the herb on the rock, and Fishlegs could see the dragon’s slitted pupils expand with each inhalation.

It’s tongue spilled out of the Gronkles mouth as it finally took its eyes off of Fishlegs. Its full attention was now on his offerings before it.

The dragons thick tongue wrapped around the second rock at it brought it towards its large jaw. And in one bite the silicate was breaking on the dragons rock hard teeth.

A laugh escaped the Vikings lips as it went to devour the original rock. And he went to get another one for the dragon.

The dragon ate rock after rock that Fishlegs bowled to it. Inching closer with every bite. The muscles of beast melting into relaxation the more it consumed.

It was slow going at first but Fishlegs soon found that he was running out of rocks and the dragon was within arms reach now. He didn’t know if his pounding heart was due to his fear or his excitement.

He dared to glance at the bush where he had left the rider. Noticing that he had silently left the hiding spot and was standing close enough to tackle the Viking to the ground if anything had gone wrong.

The masked man gave him a thumbs up and motioned for Fishlegs to hold out his hand.

Was that all it took?

Is that how the rider himself had gotten a dragon?

Still unsure, Fishlegs took a step back, but he did what he was told.

Holding his hand out before him, the dragon began to sniff.

Fishlegs held his breath, waiting for the worst to happen. Waiting for the bite of a dragon of a level eight jaw strength to snap on his hand.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, the Gronkle pressed its nose into his palm.

The Viking giggled as its warm breath and scales warmed his fingers. The dragon seemed very content with its afternoon of snacks.

As quickly as it had let Fishlegs touch it, the dragon pulled away and lumbered back to the stream to take a drink. Now completely unconcerned by the round boy.

Fishlegs was so giddy that every bone in his body was buzzing. He was so preoccupied by his joy that he didn’t notice the rider had walked up behind him until he felt the hand clap his shoulder.

Fishlegs jumped at the contact, but he didn’t pull away from the man in black.

“You did good, but keep in mind that it will take some time for her to fully trust you. The dragons has been through a lot. So it will take some time to get her to fully warm up to you.”

He didn’t know why he did it, Fishlegs had never been one to invade a strangers personal space before. But, on that most exciting day of his life, he just couldn’t stop himself.

Fishlegs threw his arms around the rider in the biggest hug he had ever given anyone before. Even going so far as to pick the man up and spin him around as he just kept squealing out his thanks.

The rider was a lot lighter than he looked, and Fishlegs noticed that his armor was padded as if to make him look bigger.

He could hear the rider telling him to stop, and even the clank of metal on the rocky forest floor, but he was just too excited.

After a few more spins, and the riders clearer voice half wheezing that he could feel his ribs cracking, Fishlegs put him down.

The rider pulled away immediately, turning away and looking at the ground. His shaggy brown hair was sticking up in all directions from the helmet that Fishlegs had knocked off his head during the hug.

Fishlegs hadn’t seen his face, but he had known a skinny boy with shaggy hair.

It seemed impossible.

That boy was dead.

Eaten by a dragon.

He thought back to the Nightfury and how the rider had become a modern myth within the span on the last five years.

The same amount of time his friend had been missing for.

The rider kept his face turned away as he looked for his helmet.

“Hold on. Wait a minute, HICCUP?!”

The heir to the island stopped in his tracks, and shifted on his feet before sighing and looking up to face him.

Hiccup looked the same as he did before, only slight older. His hair was a windswept mess, he had a little bit of stubble, and freckles still dotted his face.

“Please don’t tell my dad.”

Fishlegs was more confused now than he had even been. Why did Hiccup leave?

Why did the allow everyone on Berk to think he was dead for all these years?

And why did he not want him to tell Stoick?

This what his chief has been wanting for years. He had held out hope that his son was alive. Before this war he was constantly going out looking for his son. Even when everyone else had long given up, Stoick had faith in his son’s ability to survive.

Fishlegs thought back to dragon training. Remembering how good Hiccup had gotten in just a few short weeks. Good enough to drop a dragon without even lifting an axe.

Not that most people thought he could lift one to begin with.

Hiccup took a step backwards, his hands forming fists only to open up again. The boy never did know what to do with his hands.

His lips were drawn tight in an awkward expression. “I can see that you are going through a lot of emotions right now, so I’m just going to let you come to terms with this.”

He began to walk away.

The wayward rider continued walking backwards into the trees, only stopping to pick up his helmet.

He was nearly gone before Fishlegs found his voice. “Hiccup, wait.”

The rider stopped and dropped his head. As if the forest floor was the most interesting thing in the world.

He didn’t even flinch when the shadows ahead of him started moving.

Fishlegs’ heart stopped when the Nightfury dropped from the trees. Its black scales had hidden fit perfectly in the darker parts of the forest. He hadn’t even known that that species could hang like a bat.

It dropped to the ground next to Hiccup, and the boy ran his hand hands along just head and neck as he moved to take his seat on the dragons back.

The rider ran his hands through his hair as he finally met Fishlegs gaze. “I know you want answers, but I don’t have the words to explain everything properly.”

His dragon looked up to Hiccup and made a concerned purr as the boy let out a frustrated huff, “If you are willing to hear me out there is a cove in Ravens Point. I will be there at dusk tomorrow. Just, please don’t tell anyone.”

Fishlegs didn’t know what to say, but he nodded in agreement.

Then in a great wing beat, Berk’s heir was flying off into the sunset.

Chapter Text

Snotlout ran his thumb across the black scale.

He was too cowardly to ask the rider about it, and it killed him.

He told himself that he would get another opportunity to ask about his cousin.

He told himself that he was just too preoccupied with taking the ships and freeing the dragons.

The dragons.

The memories, what Drago’s army was doing to them, haunted his dreams.

Often times his mind would wander to the living Nightmare.

He would remember the wonder he felt as his hand had pressed against its warm scales.

And then he would remember the horror he felt when he saw how long the barbs were on the chains that held it down in the brig.

He shook his head, doing his best to dislodge the memories. He needed to clear his head. But every time he would try to walk off his frustrations, he would end up back at the Raven’s Point.

Sighing, Snotlout sunk deeper into his seat. His dinner, half eaten, had gone cold awhile ago. Normally the ruckus in the Mead hall was comforting. Lately all the noise was too much.

The eyes the watched him around the island were too much.

His father’s expectations were too much.

When he had gotten back from the raid everyone in the village had praised his valiant efforts. The chief himself had complimented him. But his father only told him that he would need to do better if he had any hope of being chosen as Stoick’s heir.

His uncle still held onto the hope that Hiccup was out there.

And every time he was reminded of that hope Snotlout wanted to vomit.

Every day he asked himself; why had he hidden the evidence of his cousins death?

Did he think deep down that the weakling didn’t deserve a proper burial? Or, was he doing all he could to keep away from the responsibility of being next in line to be chief?

The scraping of the utensils on plates was grinding on Snotlout’s last nerves as the sounds and revelry of the Vikings around the hall made him want to pull out his hair.

Lifting his eyes from his plate, he spotted a shadow moving along the back wall. The rider and his dragon were leaving. He had never seen anyone sit with him for any of the meals. Come to think of it, Snotlout had never even seen him eating in the hall. Only ever him entering and exiting.

Did the guy know of a secret corner where he could eat in peace, free from the judgmental eyes everyone.

Snotlout was jealous of the man. Jealous of the freedom that he had.

If Snotlout had is own dragon, no one would be able to tell him what to do, or who to be. I could finally be free to make his own destiny.

Now might finally be a good time to catch the rider. He was tired of waiting for the answers to just magically appear. Getting up, the Viking made his way outside. he moved faster than normally in attempt to catch up with the rider but it was no use. By the time he was outside the man in black was no where to be found.

Not wanting to admit defeat Snotlout began walking mindlessly around the village. Looking in every shadow for the gleam of green eyes or a flash of a flaming sword.

The sun had still been up when he had first gone to dinner. The days were getting longer and longer as the spring turned to summer. And with the nighttime guard duty he had been assigned to this week; if he didn’t eat early, then he didn’t eat at all.

He didn’t have a destination in mind for his wandering, but after hearing his father’s shouting from the town center. He turned towards the woods.

Every single one of the over grown paths in the woods led to the same place. They had for five years. Not being in a hurry, Snotlout kicked a rock down the way. Kicking up leafs and with each of his pounding steps.

He knew from experience that the forest was dangerous; bears and wolves used them as hunting grounds. Bad tempered boars, that wouldn’t hesitate, roamed free. And of course there is still the threat of fire death from an ill-tempered dragon.

The image of his charred half eaten cousin flashed in his mind, and he kicked the rock harder. It flew down the path and ricocheted off a tree stump and into a blackberry bush off the trail.

That’s when he first notice how the normal sounds of nature had faded away the further he walked into the forest. The lack of bird song and cricket chirps reminded the Viking of all the times he had seen a bear walk beneath him as he and Hiccup had hidden in these same trees as kids.

It was like the world knew there was a predator near by.

That was fine with him. With the amount of anger that was simmering under his skin, Snotlout knew he was the most dangerous thing in this forest. What was it to him if the wild life agreed.

He walked on, ducking under branches and hopping on rocks to cross whatever stream got in his way. Deciding to take the long way around.

The forest only got quieter as time passed.

By the time the sky had begun to turn orange with the setting sun, Snotlout finally felt another presence in the woods.

Similar to how he had felt in the Great hall, Snotlout could feel eyes on him. He turned around, fully expecting to find that the twins had followed him. Or his father was doing his best to isolate him for another lecture on how he was a waste of time, space, and breath.

Instead he saw a wall of whitish scales.

His face fell as he looked up. The dragons stomach shifting from white to yellow, and then to orange and finally red as the Viking had to crane his neck to meet the eyes of the Nightmare.

Snotlout blinked at the dragon.

It blinked back.

No sudden movements, maybe it couldn’t see him if he didn’t move.

The dragon lowered itself into a crouch, making sure it was at eye level with the boy and he did everything in his power to keep himself from shaking in terror.

Snotlout didn’t remember the teeth being that big the last time he was in close proximity to a Monstrous Nightmare.

Like an idiot he didn’t take a weapon with him.

Ok Snotlout, it was time to think. What would his Father do in this situation?

Spitelout would punch the dragon in the face while chanting his own name.

That would definitely result in death.

What would Stoick do?

He would also punch the dragon in the face, but without the chanting. Insuring in instant death and a chance that his name would be left off the valkyries list when it was time for them to collect his warrior soul.

What would the rider do?

Snotlout took a step back, holding his hand out in front of him. “Easy there big guy,”He said his voice higher than his normally manly tone. He really didn’t want to make the thing think he was a threat.

He could feel the near scalding breath of the dragon on the tips of his fingers, but it didn’t get any closer.

Snotlout guessed that was a good sign.

He took another step back. With the dragon so close to him and the glare of the setting sun in his eyes he could only really make out what type of dragon it was and its coloring. But as he moved and the sun sunk lower, Snotlout was beginning to see details.

Details like the scabs on its nose and wings.

Wait, was this the same dragon from the boat?

Snotlout had thought it had flown off, far away from people who would catch him and torture him again.

The Viking took a third step back, this time the dragon moved with him. Pushing forward to keep pace with the bark haired boy.

He moved to the side, thinking the dragon was just passing through. It moved with him.

What was wrong with this dragon?

Slowly Snotlout lifted his hand and waved at the beast, “not that I’m not happy to see you, but you need to keep moving.”

The Nightmare tilted his head. And to Snotlout’s surprise, it pressed its nose into his Vikings outstretched hands.

The scales were just as warm and as smooth as he remembered them.

He wasn’t sure if it was a squeak or a giggle that escaped his lips, all he knew was that he was glad to be alone it here. He really didn’t want word of this encounter getting back to his father.

Reflexively he pulled back his hand. The dragon pulled back its head.

This was a good sign that it probably wasn’t going to eat him.

Maybe he could just walk away.

Beginning his trek once more, Snotlout attempted to walk away from the dragon, managing to walk another mile before caving and checking behind him. Still the dragon followed.

Seriously, what is wrong with it?

Deciding to ignore the dragon for now, Snotlout went on to his destination.

The cove was definitely not in the same shape that he had left it in.

The cove at Ravens Point had always been a quiet place. Other than the burn marks, the scale, and oddly an old shield that was wedged into the lower walls of the canyon like entrance. There was never anything remarkable about it before.

Tonight however, Snotlout could see the rider on dragon back. Holding his place in the sky like a sentinel above the lake as a Deadly Nadder flew next to him.

Snotlout ducked behind a rock. Half hoping the rider hadn’t seen him. Half hoping the rider would help get rid of his dragon stalker.

The Nigntmare, despite its massive size, manage to hide itself behind the same bolder.

What was he doing up there?

Snotlout squinted at the two dragons. What were they doing in his spot?

What were they doing in Hiccup’s cove?

He had half a mind to leap from his hiding spot and scream at them until they left. And he was about to do just that.

Except the Nadder turned in the sky. And Snotlout saw a person perched on its back.

Not just any person.

Astrid was riding a dragon.

His curiosity won out over his anger, and he hunkered down. Making sure he wouldn’t be seen but also that he had a clear line of sight.

The two dragons circled each other, almost playfully, rising slowly in the sky.

The rider and the blonde must have been discussing something that he couldn’t make out, but when they arrived at the tree level Snotlout could hear the man shout as he pulled his Nightfury away from Nadder.

“READY…. NOW!”

And then Astrid was falling.

Snotlout held in his breath along with his scream as he watched the warrior drop like a stone. Her limbs spread wide as she got closer and closer to the lake below.

Not even a second later did the Nadder begin its dive towards the water.

In the span of two wing beats, the blue dragon had Astrid in its claw and the Viking was pulling herself back onto the saddle as the Nadder slowed their fall.

Inches from the waters surface, the two rose back into the air, the girl whooping in excitement as the dragon took care to spin in their ascent.

Snotlout turned to the Nightmare next to him. Surprised to find it looking at him. As if they both had been watching the two riders playing, and had the same exact thought.

That looked like fun.

He imaged what it would be like to be the rider of his own dragon. Feeling the wind in his hair on the daily. He could ride something manlier than a Nadder.

Something like…

Snotlout turned back to the Nightmare.

Maybe he could convince the man in black to be a rider too.

He couldn’t see why the rider would refuse him. Snotlout was obviously the best Viking on the island. And if the man in black could lower himself to teaching little miss anger issues, then he should have no problem with someone of superior character.

He was just about to exit his hiding spot, ready to confront the two and ask to join in the lessons, when another two figures entered the cove.

And that’s when Snotlout started seeing red.

WHAT THE HEL WAS FISHFACE DOING HERE?

And when the Hel did he get a dragon?

The blond boy and, was that a Gronkle, just moseyed into the cove like they were invited or something.

Snot looked back up to the Nightfury and Nadder, hoping to see them chase that nerd away. He clearly didn’t have what it takes to be a rider.

Snotlout honestly couldn’t even fathom that the nerd was brave enough to get that close to a dragon, let alone two more.

Astrid and the rider guided their mounts through the rocky shore of the lake side, and Snotlout watched with bated breath for them to tell Fishface to piss off.

They were clearly talking about something but it was hard to hear with his vantage point.

As quietly as he could, he approached the group. Staying low to the ground and ducking behind rocks and boulders the Viking edged around the group.

Glad to see that he could see the humans now instead of just the large bodies of the dragon, he knew he had made the right decision.

He could now hear the dweebs millions of questions, like what was Astrid doing there? And, how long she had been learning to ride?

Like any of that information mattered.

He could see Astrid’s face now, for such a beautiful woman he could never figure out how she could be stronger than him and most other Vikings on Berk.

He shuddered at the memory of her coming after him with a bludgeon as he continued forward.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the top of the riders head. His brown helmet hair sticking out at all angles.

Was this really happening?

No one off Berk had ever seen his face before, all of the saga tales said that he wore the mask because he was either slowly turning into a dragon himself or that he had been badly burned by the very beast he had tamed.

And now he knew that at least two of his friends had seen it.

AND THEY HADNT TOLD HIM.

Snotlout had half a mind to jump out and start berating them right then and there. They knew how much he hated being out of the loop. How else would he come up with hilarious commentary about the mundane melodrama of their life’s if he didn’t know what was going on.

Two more steps and all thoughts of confronting them were silenced. He knew that face.

The riders face had been the one haunting his every moment for the last five years.

It was the face that his guilt and shame had been festering in for a quarter of his life.

The rider had the same face as his cousin.

This couldn’t be. Hiccup is dead.

This had to be some twisted dream. Snotlout must have fallen asleep on guard duty again and this was his brains way of telling him to wake up.

He punched himself, hoping the jolt of pain would be enough to wake him up.

The dragon next to him made a noise of confusion and concern. Had the big thing really followed him in his attempt to sneak up on the group? He was really starting to get annoyed by this dragon.

The group turned in his direction at the sound the Nightmare made. And the impossibilities of the day continued as he heard his cousins voice ring out clear, “Whoever is hiding over there, come out now.”

When had Hiccup become assertive?

There was no way any of this was actually happening.

Hiccup has always been… Well, Hiccup.

Clumsy, scrawny, and meek.

Sure if he was in a mood, he could sass the pants off of anyone. But he has never sounded imposing before.

Snotlout needed to get out of here. Now.

He didn’t want to think about this.

He didn’t want to be in this situation.

He heard the sound of the rider’s, Hiccup’s, sword extending. And then the sound of both Astrid and Fishlegs gasping as the blade ignited.

Any other time Snot would have laughed as Fishlegs stumbled back and fell on his ass. But how he was on the other side of a flaming sword that the rider definitely knew how to use.

Before Snotlout could make up his mind on what to do. The big dumb dragon decided for him.

The Nightmare grabbed him by the back of his shirt and carried him out into the open.

The dark haired viking shrieked in protest as he was unceremoniously hoisted into air. “No, bad dragon! I will turn you into a a pair of boots!”

As quickly he had been lifted, the dragon dropped him. The impact of the fall brought Snotlout to his knees. The rocky shore of the lake dug into his tendons. But, he wasn’t one to let a little pain be his downfall.

The rider, Hiccup, extinguished his sword the moment he saw that it was Snotlout that had been spying on them.

Astrid and Fishlegs stood still and silent at the sight of Snotlout and his own dragon.

They looked at him.

And he looked at them.

The moment was awkward and no one was sure what to do.

Snotlout felt like a kid again, caught red handed in the kitchens sneaking desert before dinner. The heat racing up his cheeks was as damning as the residue of honey on his fingers.

In the end he was pretty sure the gods saved him. Loki in particular, and Snotlout wasn’t sure if he would be grateful for the intervention for fear the retribution that was sure to be brought on him the next Loki day.

The twins popped up out of the adjacent bushes.

“Oh the melodrama of this moment is so entertaining,” said Tuffnut as he
Began to pull twigs from his hair. “Wouldn’t you agree Ruff?”

“I agree fully, dear brother, angst on this level has not been seen in many a moon.” Replied Ruffnut as she brushed dirt and dried leaves off her clothing. Though to Snots eyes he could see that her actions only rubbed the debris further into her tunic.

Everyone in the cove now had their full attention on the twins as they continued their monologue.

“The prodigal son, runs away from home and is presumed dead by those who did not truly appreciate him,” continued Tuff. “Only to return years later when his homeland is in the verge of total annihilation. But now he wear a mask to hide his identity,”

“And now his friends have discovered that it was Berks very own scrawny Hiccup that has been living amongst the dragons. And now they have all gathered to ask him to teach them his ways.” said Ruff. “Wow, looks like no one is winning the bet, Bucket and Mulch were way off on what those two kept sneaking off to the woods to do.” The long faced girl pointed two fingers at Hiccup and Astrid adjust before the twins took a bow.

“You know what that means Ruff?”

“We can keep all the gold from the bets and we’ll have enough coin to expand our boar pit!”

“Doubles will no longer be first come first serve. Multiple pits. Multiple boars.”

“Now I know why they say the house always wins!”

The twins head-butted at their excitement. Leaving the rest of the group just as confused as when the conversation just started.

Fishlegs was the first one to speak up, “Ummm… am I the only one who is still confused about what’s happening?”

Hiccup put his hand to his chin, “I’ve been gone a while so I don’t speak fluent twin, but I will say they were pretty accurate with their description of this situation.”

Astrid spoke up next, “what do you mean betting pool? What were they betting on?”

“Oh all sorts of things, my violent friends. Bucket and Mulch for instance thought you two were doing secret sparing lessons. You know since your round in the arena was so intense. But, a lot of people think you two come out here for some hot and steamy alone time.” Ruff replied like it was the most normal thing in the world to take bets on what here friends did when no one was watching.

“I’m not going to get into the details but I honestly think trader Johann has brought way too many romance novels to this island, because wow were the descriptions graphic,” finished Tuff.

Both Astrid and Hiccup reddened at that. Hiccup instantly averting his eyes from everyone. While Astrid looked like she was ready to murder the twins.

If Snotlout didn’t speak up now, he didn’t think he ever would, “hold on. You two nitwits do realize that if they were going at it out here. And if they had caught you. Astrid definitely would have murdered you and made it look like an accident.”

“Oh, I would have made them an example.”

“We took that into account during our cost benefit analysis,” Ruff said simply. As if anything they had just said was completely normal.

And then Astrid launched herself at the twins. Somehow she had grabbed hold of a branch that had been lying on the shoreline. And in an instant she went from standing, to crouching over a knocked over Tuffnut, hitting him repeatedly with the large stick.

Oddly his head made a hollow clanging sound as she bashed her makeshift weapon against his metal helmet.

It took both Hiccup and Snotlout to pull Astrid off Tuffnut. She screamed obscenities the entire time, kicking and scratching at anyone who got near her.

But the time they got Astrid off, Ruffnut decided that it was a good time to take a turn and she picked up the warriors now discarded branch.

Ruffnut smacked her brother with a similar power based on the hollow clangs, but no one made any effort to stop her.

Maybe with the twins distracted, and Astrid not actively trying to murder anyone, the rest of the group could finally figure out what to say to one another.

Snotlout is the one that asked the first question. “Is it true? What the twins said. Did you run away?”

Hiccup looked to the ground, it was the most Hiccup action Snotlout had seen the rider do.

“Does it matter? I’m here now.”

Snotlout had to roll his eyes at that. Even back from the dead his cousin hadn’t changed at all.

A scoff was the only response to that answer.

Astrid swooped into rescue by changing the subject, “Snotlout, when did you become best friends with a Monstrous Nightmare?”

“I’m not friends with it, he’s my stalker. I came out into the woods for a workout before gaurd duty and now he won’t leave me alone.”

The big red dragon didn’t look sorry in the slightest. He just went off to chasing after the other dragons who had decided to use all the human drama as a perfect opportunity for play time.

“It’s kind of amazing isn’t it.” Fishlegs piped in, “Just think five years ago we thought they were only mindless killing machines. And now one has seemed to bond to all of us.”

Suddenly, Snot could feel an arm drape across his shoulder and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Hiccup stumbled as Tuffnut leaned on both of them, “we don’t have one yet.”

“Yeah Hiccup, when are Tuff and I gonna get a field trip? We want a dragon too.” Ruff added as she draped herself across Hiccup’s other side.

“Woah, I never agreed to anything.”

“Isn’t that why you invited me down here?” Fishlegs asked. “You looked like you were teaching Astrid how to how to ride.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything.

“To be fair, when was the last time anyone has ever been able to tell me no?” Astrid added, nonchalantly.

Ruff look to Astrid and then back to Hiccup, “What do you say, are you gonna give us some lessons on how to go supernova in the sky on the back of fire breathing lizard?”

“Ruff that is a terrible idea,” Tuff looked to his sister, “I disown you.”

Snot turned to Hiccup, sure in the thought that he would turn those psychos down. Only he looked like he was actually considering it.

“You know Ruff, that’s not actually the worst idea.”

“Welcome back to the family sis.”

“I won’t be able to affectively look over the island all the time. Sooner or later, something will slip past me. But, if you guys can learn the basics. Patrolling will be a whole lot easier.”

Fishlegs squealed in delight at the prospect of riding a dragon.

“We have one issue, there is no way my dad would ever agree to let you guys do it.”

Hiccup was pacing now. He always did that when he couldn’t figure out the answer to a problem.

“You see Hicky, the answer is simple.” Tuffnut said, stepping out in front of the rider. Stopping his strides. “How about we just don’t tell your dad. I’m guessing that’s why you’ve been wearing a mask.”

“That has, wait Hicky?”

What were the twins even suggesting? Even if dragons were different from what they had all been told, that didn’t mean that any of this was going to be safe.

Snotlout had to put a stop to this.

Just before he said anything, the idea of having his own dragon forced itself to the for front of his mind. Hadn’t he just been think about how he wanted that freedom.

Snotlout turned to the dragons and watched them play. Maybe it would be the worst idea.

Once Hiccup manage to break himself from the idiots stupor he asked, “do you guys really want to do this?”

“Well, isn’t that why you’ve been training me?”Astrid responded, “For extra help.”

The rider turned to the rest of the group. His eyes seemed to be scanning the group for any hesitation.

“Alright. Every day you guys are to meet me here at dusk for dragon training. Name your dragons. Play with them. Feed them. No attempts at flying until I can get saddles made. And the most important thing is don’t tell my dad. If any of you reveal that it’s me under this mask, I will have Toothless through you off the tallest sea stack in the archipelago. Do we have a deal?”

Unsurprisingly Tuffnut responded first, “I’m with him, who else?”

The rest of the group let out an excited cheer. Snotlout was surprised he went along with it.

He had no idea how he would be about to keep Hiccup’s return a secret. The guilt of keeping his death a secret had been so hard on him that he could barely stand it. This was going to be ten times worse.

Hiccup called out to his Nightfury, and large black dragon broke off from the rest to bound up to him.

“Ruff, Tuff. You two are coming with me. Let’s see if we can find a dragon for you two to bond with.”

The twins let out equally annoying cry’s of excitement as they follow Hiccup onto the back of the saddle.

And as they flew off into the night, Snotlout was sure he could hear Tuff screaming that this was the greatest day of his life.

—

The following day a very happy Zippleback was waiting in the cove with the rest of the dragons. The twins hanging off each head.

When asked about the adventure, everyone involved just said that they all vowed to never speak of it for the rest of their lives.

Chapter Text

It has been weeks, and yet Stoick still didn’t know what to make of the rider.

He was quiet, which surprised the large man. Any other Viking he had known would have been shouting their superiority from the rooftops if they had been the one to control a Nightfury.

But here the rider was, doing his best to avoid everyone.

Sure, he took orders for patrol without complaint. And he brought back detailed reports on what he had seen on his flights. But beyond that, hardly anyone knew how to track him down.

Except for Astrid.

Stoick didn’t know how to feel about that.

The chief was glad that someone he trusted was keeping a close eye on the stranger.

What bothered him was the rumors that his people whispered when they thought no one could hear.

Rumors that the lass and the rider would sneak off to the woods every night.

It irked Stoick, the not so subtle looks that the other Vikings would give the two. And to a lesser extent the looks his people gave to him.

It was well known that his son had a crush on the girl. Just about all of the younger boys on the island did. It wasn’t like Hiccup ever had a claim on the lass.

Yet, for some reason the idea of one his own people choosing that dragon riding stranger made his blood boil like he had just been blasted with dragon fire.

Stoick wanted nothing more than to ignore the damned rumor. His problem was that everyone, mainly his brother, took it upon themselves to bring it up whenever they could.

“It’s just not right Stoick!” Spitelout would loudly complain every time the he would sit down with him and Gobber to discuss village matters in private.

“What the lass chooses to do in her free time is none of our business or concern,” Stoick would argue back.

“The rider has done nothing to earn our trust, yet you allow him to do whatever he wants. How do we know he isn’t seducing one of our best warriors to learn our weaknesses? Who’s to say that he won’t turn around and try to conquer us the moment Drago is out of the picture? I wouldn’t put it past him to be biding his time until we are at our most vulnerable!”

“You’re being paranoid Spitelout,” Gobber would always chime in. Stoick didn’t understand why, but the blacksmith always came to the rider’s defense. Maybe it was because he was finally getting through his back log of orders now that there was a second set of hands at the forge.

“You call it paranoia until the worst comes to fruition; and this whole partnership bites us in the ass like it’s a hungry Terrible Terror.”

“The only reason a dragon would bite anyone in the ass, with the rider on Berk, would be because someone antagonized him. And right now the only pest I see is you.”

“Mark my words Gobber, he relies to much on his wit and we will all die on that intellect that you and that love sick lass praise so highly.”

On and on, the two men would argue until theirs voices would be drowned out by the pounding headache this war and the rider had given the chief.

Gods almighty; they were worse than the teens ever were with one another.

Stoick was so tired of their whining.

“Enough!” He bellowed at the two men, hoping that his authority as chief would outweigh the squabble the two were constantly in.

Unfortunately all it did was turn their attention to the only other person in the room and it seemed like both vied for Stoick support.

“Stoick, what do you think? Has the rider given us any cause to distrust him? Has he not guarded berk since he has arrived and stopped multiple raids before they got to our shore?” Gobber asked, raising his bushy brows higher and higher with each of his damned questions.

“This is madness,” his brother pleaded with him, “listening to the whims of children. They have too much imagination then what’s good for them. Next thing you know, half the village will be tailing this rider that you’ve so stupidly invited to our home. The home of our ancestors, who fought, killed, and were murdered by the very beasts that the rider treats like a pet. You are turning your back on millennia of Viking tradition, and I can’t stand by and watch it happen any longer.”

Spitelout didn’t say another thing to either man, he just turned his back on them and left the warm hearth of the chiefs home.

At least that was one half of his head ache gone.

The other half seemed determined to hunker down. The chief could see the blacksmith pouring himself another tankard of ale as he angled his legs closer to the fire.

Sighing, Stoick rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know what to say to his friend. He had felt off course since stories of the rider first met his shores. If he was being honest with himself the unsteady feeling had taken root long before that.

“You want to know what I think?” Gobber asked after he finished a long slurp of his ale.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard enough of what you think.”

“I think the rider reminds you of him.”

Stoick looks up at that. Who was Gobber referring to?

Stoick confused look must have been enough to reason for Gobber to continue.

“Hiccup. Or at least, the rider reminds you of what the boy could have been. Or maybe it’s how he is now.”

How could his friend possibly imply that about his son?

Stoick was getting properly pissed now.

“My son is no dragon lover.”

“How would you know Stoick? He has been gone for five years. And even when he was here you only saw what you wanted to see in the boy.”

Gobber always went for the killing blow when it came to this argument. Especially when he was missing Hiccup. And like clockwork the blacksmith knew when Stoick would be missing his son the most.

But since the rider has arrived, since they had gotten their first hint of knowledge of their boy, his friend’s mind seemed to be filling with flights of fantasy.

“I am his father, I’ve known the boy since he was small enough to fit in my hand.” For emphasis the chief held his large hands out in from the other fire in the light of the embers he could see every individual scar and burn mark from decades of fighting dragons.

“No Stoick. I’m going to say this as a friend, but you haven’t truly seen your son since Valka was taken. I did my best to discourage it, Odin knows I did, but Hiccup has always been more like his mother than anyone on Berk wanted to admit.”

A wave of guilt and grief hit Stoick like a hammer with those words. If he hadn’t been sitting down already Stoick would have fallen to his knees. He felt as if all the wind was knocked out of him.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to say something. But out of some instinct Stoick knew he needed to embody his namesake. So the chief stayed quite. Doing his best to encourage his friend to continue.

Gobber took another long swig of ale. Possibly to steel himself for what he had to say. Possibly to give Stoick time to recover.

“Do you ever think about if things were different? About if he had never left?”

“Aye, I think about that often.” Stoick started, glad for the slight shift in the conversation. “He was doing so well in dragon training. From what I heard, Hiccup could drop a dragon without even lifting a weapon. I’d like to think he would grow into that strength of his. He was stronger than we ever gave him credit for. Especially for someone so small.”

“Aye the lad would hardly even lift a shield to one of the beasties.” Gobber replied as he leaned forward in his chair, warming his hand on the blazing hearth. “I don’t recall ever seeing a braver and more stubborn Viking in any other training classes. Hiccup must have gotten that from both you and Valka.”

All Stoick could do was nod in agreement. Reminiscing on the boy always hurt in a way no injury ever could. If he were to say anything else the chief knew his voice would break with every emotion this conversation had always brought up.

Grief was a complicated thing, and Stoick was well versed in its twists and turns. Yet somehow, the dark road could always find a way to blindside him.

The two men sat in companionable silence for a while longer, letting the fire burn down from a blaze to embers. Both ruminanting on the painful truths that their frustration at their missing boy brought up.

Gobber got up to leave when this ale was finished. His friend had given Stoick the opportunity to speak his peace. But the chief was a stubborn man, and he was done talking.

He watched as his friend hobbled back down to the forge. It was an odd sight to see the fire still burning in the late hours of the night. The rider must be burning the midnight oil.

He considered both points of view. Determined to keep a closer eye on the stranger from now on.

—

In following week the rider had done nothing to clear up Stoick’s confusion.

His dragon followed him wherever he went. Padding after the man in black like a well trained hound.

It reminded Stoick a bit of his own youth. His father had gotten him a wolf hound when he was not much bigger than Hiccup. That dog followed him everywhere, even slept in his bed. It had been Stoick’s companion for ten years It had broken Stoick’s heart when it had passed.

When the rider wasn’t patrolling the island he was in the forge.

While it was good that he was helping Gobber with weapons maintenance, the chief had no idea what the man could be needing the large amount of leather he had gathered from the scraps.

And if he wasn’t in the forge one of the teens would be stuck to his hip. This was a new development. From what he could recall, the rider was reclusive.

What could have happened that he was now opening up to his people?

After two weeks, Stoick was getting annoyed.

Now, instead of just Astrid disappearing into the woods. The rest of her peers were now doing the same.

Why were the youths flocking to him now like he was a carcass and they were starving carrion?

Was it possible that his boar-headed younger brother was right?

Every passing day Stoick noticed one or more to the teens following the rider around and hanging onto his every word. In a way they had never done for anyone else in the village.

After the first boat raid, where the rider had taken his nephew. He had been sure to command that a Berkian join in the destruction of any of Drago’s ships that had entered the waters of his tribe. There had been quite a few others since then and each one of the teens had been given a chance to prove their worth.

Gobber did his best to assure Stoick that the kids were just star struck. He would just keep reiterating that it wasn’t every day that the demon of sailor stories stayed in their island.

This did very little to calm down the chief.

After another week of the suspicious activity, Stoick had enough.

During one of the riders patrols the chief approached his brother.

“Spitelout, take some men into the woods. I want you to find out what the rider is doing.”

All his brother did was smile in response as he waved some of his lackeys to follow him. Looks like he had been waiting for this moment.

After three days the men had nothing to report. It was as if they all disappeared into thin air as the teen went further into the brush. Only to reappear by breakfast the next day

After five days. Spitelout’s men started bringing back scales.

By the end of the week Stoick had the answer to his question. And he was pissed.

Stoick had shown the rider hospitality. Had shown him kindness and give him a place in his hall.

And this is how the rider repays him. By going behind his back. Deceiving him.

The chief wouldn’t stand for this. Couldn’t stand for it.

He needed to confront the man in black.

The problem was tracking him down.

Spitelout’s men didn’t see the rider in the woods with the other teens, but they did see his influence.

Stoick was at a loss for what to do. He would normally go to Gobber but clearly the blacksmith had been won over by the strangers charm.

His people were now training dragons. As if they were common pets, and not humongous lizards that could eat a man whole.

Where had he gone wrong as a leader? Had he really lost so much respect from his people that they would go against a millennia of Viking tradition?

Stoick needed to put a stop to this before the madman got everyone killed.

Astrid had been wrong, the rider was just as much of a threat to Berk as Drago and he had played them all like fools.

The very next morning Stoick ordered a ship to be sent out to patrol Berk’s waters. He couldn’t leave his people defenseless from Drago as he banished his air support.

He knew the best place to catch the rider would be in the Great hall. So, Stoick called his top generals in early and he waited for the rider to arrive. After two weeks of watching them Stoick knew the teens would be following in his wake.

As expected, the group entered the hall. The riders black beast at his left and the teens in his right. It took them until the large doors closed before they noticed the lack of breakfast chatter.

Unsurprisingly the untrusting rider and his beast noticed solemn tone of the hall first. The two were synchronized in a way the chief couldn’t fathom. Followed close behind by Astrid, then Snotlout, and finally the others.

The rest of the group looked around the hall, expressions of concern and confusion coating their faces. Only the masked man figured out what this was about. The rider stared down the chief, not moving a muscle as his dragon barred its teeth. The black beast hackles raising as its eyes caught on the weapons each of the Vikings in the hall kept on their persons.

For a long moment, no one in the hall moved.

It was room full of Vikings all too stubborn to ask the real questions. Or to scared of what would happen if the alliance broke.

It was Astrid who broke the silence.

“Chief, what is this about?” She stepped forward angling herself to be between Stoick and the rider.

The rider tilted his head towards the lass before reaching down to place his hand on his dragons head. Stoick could tell if it was to calm the beast, or to signal it to be ready to strike.

“Is there a problem?” The man in black asked, his voice muffled by that damned helmet.

Why did Stoick ever think it was a good idea to trust someone that he had never truly seen?

Doing his best to maintain the short leash on his anger, Stoick palmed his hammer. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

The teens went from looking concerned to looking guilty in an instant. And Astrid fully put herself in between Stoick and the rider now. Implicating herself further in the riders schemes.

Still the teens stayed silent.

Stoick took it upon himself to continue. He would get them to break one way or another.

“Nothing happens on this island without me knowing about it.”

The dragon looked to its master, its toxic eyes going from ready to protect to ready to comfort in an instant.

Stoick could see the shoulders of the rider slump.

It was stratifying to see that Stoick was still scary enough to put fear into the hearts of men. Even those who played with fire and fang for fun.

Still the rider said nothing.

The leash on Stoick anger was growing shorter.

“How long did you think you could hide it from me? How long did you think it would take for me to find out about those dragons?”

The teens faces relaxed. And the rider took a step back in relief.

This is not how Stoick wanted this conversation to go. Clearly he was on to something. The rider had a bigger secret. One that he definitely did not want the chief to know.

“Oh thank Thor,” Tuffnut exclaimed as he lifted his head to the sky. “I didn’t know how much long I could last.”

Ruff smacked her brother, clearly annoyed with his antics.

Once again Astrid stepped up. “It’s my fault. I forced him to do it.”

What surprised Stoick most was that each of the teens followed suit in taking the blame for this turn of events.

Their words and excuses came tumbling out of their mouths in an avalanche of lies. All so they could cover for the rider.

How could he have brain washed them so completely?

Still the rider was silent.

His refusal to take accountability only confirmed his guilt in Stoick’s eyes.

A large crack echoed in the hall as the chief slammed his hammer down of the arm rest of his chair, silencing the teens. Their punishment would come later.

The rider was still his biggest concern. The man in black and his devil didn’t so much as flinch at the action. Nor did they back down as Stoick stood.

Clearly he was a man used to getting his own way.

Unluckily for him, so was Stoick. And Stoick was bigger than him.

Spinning the hammer in his hand again, Stoick asked, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Before the rider could try to talk his way out of this, his dragon moved.

Bolting up into a sitting position, its head flaps stood straight up on its head. Almost like the ears of a started cats.

The rider put his hand on the beast chest as he turned to it, asking it what was wrong.

The dragons eyes focused into slits as every Viking in the room heard the roar.

It was loud enough for Stoick to assume it always multiple dragons all shouting at the same time. Only it lacked the cacophony of tones that normal raid normally brings.

The rider turned towards the doors as the dragons scream drowned on. His dragon follow him as he began to make his way to the Great halls exit.

“It can’t be, I killed it.”

Stoick could barely make out the riders words over the dragons cry.

Faster than he had ever seen the rider move before, he was on the back only his beast.

He turned to Stoick then, his demeanor shifting from one kind of fear to another as he said, “Evacuate the village. I will hold it off as long as I can, but if it gets here there will be no survivors.”

And then he was off.

The twins had somehow managed to get to the doors without anyone’s notice.

The massive double doors were open wide for the riders escape.

In the dim light of the foggy morning, Stoick could look out on the sea from where he stood.

And all the blood in his face drained as he saw the rocky sea stacks moving.

Chapter Text

Hiccup was falling.

The very air around him was hot enough to boil the moisture from the air, from his skin.

The Red Death’s death song enveloped him as he fell.

Fell from the sky. From the back of his best friend. From the very life he had done so much to keep.

He could feel nothing but the hot blast of the explosion and a sharp pain in his left leg. Toothless’s teeth breaking the skin and cracking the bone as his best friend did everything in his power to keep a scrawny wimp from the worst of the flames. The worst of the fall.

It was as if time reversed the moment the roar could be heard in the Great hall.

Hiccup shifted his weight off his prosthetic as he moved to face the doors. His leg throbbed with the weight of the memory.

He acted without thinking, hopping onto his saddle and bolting out the door. If he had said something to his father before leaving he couldn’t remember. All he could focus on was the pounding of his own heart and the probability of his own imminent death.

He had to stop it before it got passed the sea stacks. He couldn’t let it get either blasting distance of the shore; or else Berk would be burnt to a crisp within moments.

Hiccup didn’t notice the shift in light as he rushed from the hall into the misty morning air. Nor, did he notice the cold that came with the speed and altitude he flew through.

He kept his eyes focused in his search of the threat. His heart rate matched the speed of Toothless’s wing beats as they entered the fog banked stacks.

Now, more than ever, he reminded of his time in Hellhiems gates

The roar sounded again and Hiccup shifted his leg as Toothless made a sharp right and then a left as the two weaved between the rocks.

Hiccup could see it now.

The dragon of his nightmares.

It wasn’t the Red Death. But it was a dragon of the same species.

Where the Red Death had grown fat and happy in its volcano paradise. Gorging itself on the hard work of the other dragons. Its scales tinged red with its hunger and fury.

This one was emaciated. Its skin and scales hung from its frame, hiccup could count its ribs as it made its way towards his home. The dragons green scales looked sickly in the light that managed to break through the fog.

Toothless had remained unspotted as they circled with massive dragon. Allowing Hiccup to get a better look at it.

It was missing a front leg and three of its six eyes. At least half of its teeth had been broken and lay rotting in its mouth. Black saliva dripped from its maw into the sea below.

Worst of all were the festering wounds. Large gashes covered it from head to tail. Most of which were inflamed and leaking puss.

The smell made Hiccup want to vomit as he wondered how the Hel that thing was even alive, let alone strong enough to attack Berk.

It’s shoulder knocked over a sea stack and it turned to bellow another ear splitting roar. Fire erupted from its mouth as it thrashed in the sky in pain and anguish.

Toothless barely managed to dodge either blaze as he pulled upwards.

In its condition, there was no way that this dragon had much longer to live. And if managed to escape the maze of fog and bolders it could be the end of everything Hiccup knew.

Doing his best to gather both his courage and resolve, Hiccup stole a breath, and then two before giving Toothless the silent order to dive.

The black dragon pulled in its wings and the two plummeted towards their certain death. Twisting to avoid its anguished thrash. And then they were in the water, torpedoing under the giant as they came up in front.

They knew from experience what it was like to be caught in an inferno and Hiccup was taking every precaution he could to insure that tail wouldn’t burn again.

One second the two disappeared beneath the wave and the next they were in front of this Green Death. Twisting to face it head on as the Nightfury let out a blast of its own.

Plasma collided with the dragons humongous chin and it staggered in the air. The rider could see the one eye in its right side roll back into its head as it tried to get its bearings.

Toothless banked as Hiccup could hear the telltale whistle of another blast. The Nightfury whirled and twisted left as it aimed for the wing.

The crack of the beast reverberated on the stacks the same instant the Green Death lunged. Its teeth clattering together as the dragon and his rider pulled upward.

Rocks came hailing down on the giant as it let out another scream.

Well, they succeeded in getting its attention.

They dove again. Dodging its powerful jaws and falling rocks. Shooting the thin skin of its wings as the Green Death let out another blast of near toxic flames.

The fumes and smoke burned Hiccup’s eyes as he shifted lower in the saddle. They had to be faster.

The Green Death chased after them, destroying sea stack after sea stack. Sending down an avalanche that the rider and his Nightfury narrowly avoided.

Hiccup could feel the air around them heat up as he heard the release of gas in the back of the Green Deaths throat. And Toothless twisting again to face the giant. Releasing two blast milliseconds after each other.

One landing on the back left eye the other hitting the right wing membrane.

The Green Death screamed once more as it released another torrent of fire and ash. Lighting up the rocks around them.

The Nightfury dove once more into the waves, turning to appear on the green dragons left side as it blasted it again on the wing joint. And rider pulled him back, giving the silent order to ascend.

They had to get away from the shower of rocks that had been pelting them at every turn. Hiccup had felt one or two bounce off his helmet as they directed the giant away from Berk.

They needed to do what they did best and disappear.

With another plasma blast Toothless drew its attention to the open air. And just like last time, the giant followed the Nightfury and his rider into the heavy cover of the clouds.

They rose higher and higher into the sky and the warm humidity of the flame evaporated fog and sea water quickly as turned cold as ice on Hiccup’s soaked flight suit.

Good, if the plan worked the same way this time then he was more than ready for the firestorm ahead.

Toothless made sure to fly slow enough to not lose their pursuer as they exited the fog bank. Increasing his speed periodically to keep the Green Deaths rotting teeth at bay only to slow down just enough keep it interested in him and not the island they were protecting.

Hiccup dared one look behind him as the air grew thin. He could see ships in the waters below just as well as the oozing puss leaking from the Green Deaths empty eye sockets.

He hadn’t the energy to actually believe that his father would listen to him for once in his life. But he hoped that those ships contain the villagers and that Berk was evacuating.

He could even make out some ships that made it past what remained of the rocky maze that Hiccup had used as a battle ground.

If it were up to Hiccup, he would have sent everyone to the other side of the island where they could hide in the forest.

The gas was building open maw of the green death once again.

Hiccup shifted his leg as Toothless’s tail contracted and the two were spinning out of the blast zone.

The smoke added to the clouds of what looked to be an oncoming storm. Hiccup felt the beginnings of rain patter on his helmet and soaking the loose strands of hair on the back of his neck.

Shifting his leg again and the two faded into the cloud.

The Green Death moved and turned slower than Red Death. No doubt in pain from the large gashed that raced down its starved form.

It hissed in pain and frustration; from the loss of its first meal in a while, and from the pain of the rain washing the dark infected puss from its wounds.

Its large wings displaced the dark clouds as it let out yet another loud sickly roar. Only to be silenced by strikes fast as lightning.

Bright purple plasma came at it from all angels. Briefly illuminating the dark source just before the Nightfury melted back into storm clouds black as starless sky.

The giant screamed as another blast of plasma hit its wings, burning holes in the membrane as the joints along its shoulders began to falter.

In an act of desperation it spewed another inferno of its toxic flames. aiming for nothing as it thrashed willingly in the clouds. The fire engulfing the moisture in the air as a loud crack of thunder rumbled as loud as its fury.

And out of its two remaining left eyes it spotted its prey.

It lashed out in their direction, snapping and screaming as the Nightfury nimbly dodged in the air. But the Green Death would have its supper.

Hiccup twisted to looked behind him. Making sure the dragon was following. And then he gave the signal.

Toothless dove.

Wind whistled in his ears and pulled at the riders suit. He could feel the icy breeze through rips and tears made by the rocks, but that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was that this ended before it hit Berks shores. That he put this sickly, starving dragon out of its misery.

The rocks of the remaining sea stacks were approaching rapidly now and Hiccup could just make out the sound of expelling gas through the whipping wind and roaring fury.

“NOW!” Hiccup shouted as he pressed his body closer to his dragon.

Toothless twisted to face the Green Death and in less than a second a blast of plasma struck the back of its throat. Igniting the building gas that was to be their death.

The giant spread its wings wide to break its descent as the heat and pressure built within it. Its already damaged membrane burned as large holes tore its way through the body of the great beast.

Fighting its momentum was as useless as fighting gravity.

Toothless moved out of the way. The wind catching on the Nightfury’s wings as he and his rider got pulled back up into the sky by the rising heat and gale force winds.

Wings moved faster than they had before as Toothless fought to get him and his rider out of the blast zone.

Fire erupted in all directions as flesh and bones collided with the stacks. Molten rocks and ash rained down into the sea as what was left of the barrier crumbed and fell with the force of the fall.

Yet the rider and his Nightfury rose from the ashes. Scales deflecting the flames as the climbed above the blazing heat.

The rain pour down like a blessing from Thor as they made their escape. Quenching the insatiable hunger of the giant as well as its fire.

They did it.

Hiccup looked down to see the ocean and storm swallowing the devastation they had brought to the landscape.

He turned to the ships still on this side of the stacks and let out a triumphant scream.

Not one Viking had died today. For once in his useless life Hiccup had done something for the good of his tribe.

He had thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, he could finally face his father. Hoping the reckless bravery of this fight would last until he landed on the soil of his home.

So preoccupied by this own thoughts of the future, Hiccup didn’t notice the arrow until it struck his shoulder.

A bola wrapped around Toothless the same moment.

And now, Hiccup was falling.

Chapter Text

Standing on the cliffs of Berk, Stoick couldn’t believe his eyes. The rider and his beast flew straight into the wall of fog that disguised the maze of mountainous rocks and towers that had served as a barricade for his island.

His people were standing around in a similar state of shock as the first flames erupted. The contrast of the blinding light against the falling rocks in the fog made the hair on the back of the chiefs neck stand up straight. He could swear he could the sound vibrations of the roar from here.

Then came the barrage of lightning.

Bright flashes of purple accompanying the telltale whistle of death itself shown through the blanket of mist that blocked the whole spectacle.

In the flashes Stoick could make out what was heading their way.

A dragon the likes of which he had never seen before. Larger than a mountain and angrier than a volcano.

And yet the rider went out of face it alone.

The teens made their way to the cliffs edge beside the chief and he could hear them talk amongst themselves as they took in the fight.

“This is crazy. There is no way he can beat that thing on his own.” Astrid said.

The rest of the teens agreed with her exclamation.

“I like crazy,” said Ruffnut said loud enough to be heard over the murmuring of the crowd.

Astrid pulled her group into a huddle and in a few hushed tone they seemingly made a plan.

Stoick would have done something to put a stop to it, if Gobber hadn’t pushed his way next to him.

“What on Odin’s green earth is-“ he stopped mid sentience as another blast of purple shown through the fog, lighting up the silhouette of Berks doom.

The rider was right, he should evacuate the village while they had the chance. While the rider was buying them time with his life.

Yet, he couldn’t move from his perch on the cliff as a guilt-like vice wrapped around his heart.

He had over reacted with the rider. Planning on banishing him or even keeping him as a prisoner. For what? Insuring that his people were familiar with dragons?

What kind of leader would burn a bridge that quickly with someone who was voluntarily risking his life for them?

“Is that?”

“The rider attacking a a dragon large enough to eat a Roman legion. Yes, yes it is.”

“You do realize that we need to go help him?”

Stoick looked out and the flashing bank of fog, then back to his village. His people.

He had to do what was right by them.

He needed to evacuate them.

“No Gobber, we need to get everyone far away from here. Use what little time the rider has given us and escape.”

“Stoick you can’t be serious? When have you ever run from a fight?”

“We don’t have time for this madness.” Stoick shouted as he turned from Gobber to the rest of the village, “To the ships! We need to evacuate.”

Gobber grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “So let’s be clear. You, the most decorated dragon killer Berk has ever seen, are running. All while your son, the smallest of us all, goes out to face that monster.”

Stoick whipped around to look out of the fight once more as more flashes of fire and lightning destroyed the seascape off Berk’s shores.

Could it be?

Spitelout chose that moment to speak up. “Gobber you must have truly lost your mind if you think Hiccup the Useless could ever have the stones to risk his life for anyone.”

“Stoick, all his equipment is Hiccup’s designs? His office had detailed notes of the Nightfury. He knows the island like the back of his hand. The teens trust him like he has always been one of them.”

“Hiccup is long dead Gobber. And good riddance.”

Stoick wheeled on his brother now, taking the wool of his tunic in his large hands. “One more ill word about my son and I will rip you apart with my bare hands and feed you piece by piece to a flock of Terrors.”

Stoick could make out the small black shape of the Nightfury shooting into the sky. The island-sized dragon hot on his tail as it let out another furious shriek.

“Vikings! Ready the ships! Those of you willing to fight for your homes and your family are with me. Spitelout take everyone else to the far side of the island.”

Stoick couldn’t believe that the masked man was his son. But Gobber seemed so sure of it that his conviction was all Stoick needed.

Besides if he knew anything about Hiccup, it was that he was always the best at attracting trouble. And that goliath was the most trouble Stoick had ever seen.

The crowd split off with his words. The elderly, injured, and children heading off into the woods while every warrior made for the docks.

Anticipation and dread set the tone for the fight as they unmoored the boats and Vikings took their places at the oar benches.

With every stroke the scent of smoke, methane, and decay grew stronger.

Another roar sounded from the gigantic beast in the sky and Stoick couldn’t tear his eyes away as the gigant plummeted from the sky.

From behind, he could hear Gobber shouting for everyone to hit the deck, but Stoick couldn’t move. His eyes were locked on the small figure just before the giant.

The rider.

His last hope of finding his son.

Falling like one of Odin’s ravens shot from the sky.

Faster than an adder, the rider and his dragon twisted and shot a final shot, straight into the mouth of the beast.

Then most remarkable thing occurred. The giant began to ignite from the inside out.

Stoick stared in awe and horror as the giant burned. Its wings turning to paper like ash as it attempted to slow its descent.

And then it collided with the sea stacks. Its massive frame bursting in a humongous explosion as it destroyed what was left of the rocky spires.

The force of the impact set the sea raging as the storm and down in full force. Stoick had to take hold of the railing to keep from being thrown from the ship and the rain and waves soaked into his bearskin cloak.

As the dust and flames settled, Stoick looked out onto the wreckage. What was once a sprawling natural maze of rocks and caves that had protected Berk for generations was nothing but rumble. The remnants of the large towers; were now just boulders sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Through the clearing smoke Stoick searched for any sign of the rider. His black suit and dragon would be nearly invisible.

But there he was. Flying out of the eye of the storm. As triumphant as Thor himself after defeating the giant Hrungnir.

The Vikings behind the chief cheered at the sight. Surely this was a battle for the saga songs. In the span of a single morning, the rider had proven he was every bit the legend that he was promised to be.

That’s when the arrow hit from behind.

The rider jerked to the side with the shock of the attack. Accidentally pulling his beast into the path of a flying bola.

The Nightfury thrashed as he plummeted into the sea like a stone.

Gasps of shock sounded from behind Stoick as the smoke cleared enough to see beyond the wreckage.

There on the other side of what was once the stacks was a fleet of ships. All bearing Drago’s crest.

Stoick should have known. He should have seen the signs.

That giant was just a distraction.

Something to weaken his forces or wipe Berk out entirely. But, Drago hadn’t known the rider would be on the side of Berk.

He didn’t know how easily the man in black could take out his beast.

All of Berk’s warriors were still at full strength.

Still ready to fight.

Stoick raised his arm, hammer held high into the sky and he yelled out the Viking war cry.

All ships surged forward to meet their enemies in the field of battle. Every Viking knowing that they would either live to see another day or see their fellow warriors in halls of Valhalla.

Out of the corner of Stoick’s eyes he saw something fly towards the fight. He whirled ready to signal to his archers to shoot down whatever fire breathing devil was heading their way. Only to hold when he saw people on the backs of dragons.

Flying towards the fight was the teens.

Astrid leading the charge on the back of a Deadly Nadder, Snotlout on a Monstrous Nightmare, the twins on a Zippleback, and bribing up the read was Fishlegs on a Gronkle.

They charged fearlessly into battle, quickly outpacing the ships.

They were great warriors. Stoick would have to trust them to take the lead in this fight. Even if he didn’t trust their beasts. If they behaved with even a fraction of the honor of the rider’s Nightfury, Berk would be in good hands.

Stoick turned to the water, looked for any indication of where the rider crashed.

Floating about three yards from the boat was the riders helmet. The dark mask and frills sticking out of the waves like a buoy.

Stoick knew what he had to do. What his honor demanded he do.

He had betrayed the rider, or was about to. And still the rider saved his home.

Thinking on what Gobber had said, no truly believing it, he took his final breath.

If he was wrong, what was the harm? Stoick would still be doing the right thing.

Gobber would still be there for his son after he was gone.

‘I’d swim and sail of savage seas with ne’re a fear of drowning.’

That is what Stoick had promised his love when she agree to marry him. And now he would meet his end doing that very thing.

Stoick jumped over the railing of the ship and sank to the bottom of the ocean.

Stoick had long since been accustomed to the weight of his heavy chainmail brynja. He had never known a day in his adult life when he hadn’t worn it. Being a Viking had its occupational hazards and Stoick had to keep himself safe for the sake of his family and tribe.

It was later in his life when the weight of his bearskin cloak was put on his shoulders, along with the title of chieftain.

The weight and responsibilities of both had been holding him together for the last five years.

Now they would do nothing but drown him.

There was a reason merchants and sailors rarely wore armor when they sailed. Falling over board would be a one way trip to Niflheim.

The salty brine of the cold sea soaked through his woolen undershirt as the pressure of the depths pushed on his eardrums.

The precious last bit of air compressed in his lungs as the fathoms took him. But in the dim light that pattered in from the surface, Stoick could see him.

His thin frame struggled against the ropes of the bola. His right arm tied arm at his side as a trickle of blood floated up from the arrow sticking out of the back of his armor.

He was struggling with his left arm to his mouth. Like he was trying to pull off his armor with his teeth. In the dim light Stoick could see a glimpse of silver.

His son was struggling for a knife.

Stoick fought with all his might against he oppressive weight of the sea. If it was the last thing he did, he would save his son.

He swam to the boy and the struggling dragon. The beasts eyes were wide with fear as it pulled against the rope.

Stoick must have caught his son’s eyes because he yanked his arm away from his mouth. Releasing a bubble of air with the movement.

He was running out of time. Hiccup had already been down here too long. He needed to move.

Now.

As quickly as he could, Stoick pulled the small dagger from the sheath on his son’s arm and began to slice through the rope.

Hiccup’s arm was free first, and Stoick didn’t hesitate to try to pull his son from the dragon. Even now he needed to get his son away from the threat. Away from the creature that took Hiccups mother, his wife.

But the boys left leg wouldn’t budge.

Stoick looked down, only to see the metal of the saddle had melted to his son’s prosthetic leg.

His son had lost his leg.

He didn’t have time to wallow about that. The air in his lungs was burning and the pressure of the depths was making his eyes feel as if they were about to pop out of his head.

With each movement Stoick could see the trickle of blood leaking out of Hiccups armor grow thicker. Forcing himself to slow down. He didn’t want to hurt his son.

Hiccup motioned for Stoick to keep cutting at the ropes just before he reached up to his shoulder and broke the shaft of the arrow.

It was like Stoick had never seen his son before. For a moment he didn’t see him as the babe he had raised or the teen he struggled to contain.

Instead he saw him as the rider. The man who single handedly tamed a Nightfury. The man that had just killed a dragon the size of a mountain.

For once his Stoick’s gods-forsaken life, he listened to his son.

He cut and tore and the ropes that hand contained the unholy creature of lightning and death itself. He could see its toxic green eyes constrict at the sight of the knife, only to relax as it felt its bonds loosen.

It regarded him for a single cautious second before grabbing him with his sharp claws. Even underwater he could hear each individual talon scraping against the metal of his brynja as it pulled him to the surface.

For his entire life, Stoick knew he would killed by a dragon. Never in his life did he ever think he could be saved by one.

Yet here was one, pulling him from his watery grave and carrying him back to his ship. The moment the dragon broke the surface of the water both Stoick and Hiccup began to sputter and gasp for air. But the dragon didn’t hesitate to fly straight for a Berkian ship.

The battle was raging on and it looked like Drago’s armada had been dealt the worst of the damage. Most of his ships were burning as his dragons fled in massive waves. Each ship the teens targeted lasted only long enough for the dragons to be freed before Drago’s army of beast began to attack his own ships.

Stoick’s son silently directed his dragon to deposit him in the deck.

The landing was rougher than Stoick had seen the dragon act before. But, since it had just rescued him from a water grave, he wasn’t going to complain.

The mechanism that locked Hiccup’s leg in place in the saddle creaked and squeaked with every minute movement the boy made. But even with the damage and warping of the metal, the engineering held together.

Stoick could see his son surveying the battle. The boys mind working a mile a second as he calculated his next course of action.

He was sopping wet and his armor was ripped and tattered, but he was alive.

Stoick wasn’t sure what to expect when he at last saw his son again. In the back of his mind, the chief had hoped he would finally begin to take after him. Finally get some muscle on his stick thin bones. But Stoick’s was just happy to see him alive and healthy for the most part.

“Looks like we are winning. I’m gonna go help where I can,” Hiccup said plainly as his hands tightened on the pommel of the Nightfury’s saddle.

His son gave him a worried glance before adding, “I’m sorry for lying. We should talk when this is all over.”

And before Stoick could pull himself together enough to reply, Hiccup was launching himself into the sky.

Chapter Text

Astrid strained in the saddle as gravity threaten to take her. Silently, she thanked Hiccup for the inclusion of the straps that held her in place as Stormfly twisted midair; narrowly dodging a bola.

With the few weeks that her and her friends had been riding dragons, they were nowhere near as skilled as their resident runaway. But she was confident in her and her dragon’s abilities and bond.

“Stormfly, Spine Shot!” She commanded as the Nadder flew in lower to the ship that was firing on them.

In less than a breath, multiple barbs were launched from her dragons tail, imbedding themselves in the deck of the ship, the ballista, and the men. Before Astrid could even hear the sound of Drago’s soldiers chocking in their own blood as they tried in vain to pull the keratin spikes out of their chest and necks, Stormfly set fire to the rest of the mounted cross bolts.

Astrid turned her eyes on their next target as the bright sparks of the magnesium flames melted through the planks and metal of the ship.

The wind pulled at the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid as the fight continued.

Nearly every ship in Drago’s fleet were in various states of destruction.

Snotlout had taken aim at the sails and oars, blocking their means of escape.

Fishlegs had taken it upon himself to destroy the catapults and ballistas. Melting them to the deck with Gronkle lava while the flames and heat burned its way through weapons.

And the twins, being the masters of chaos themselves, threw themselves into release duty. Rolling into every ship with a manic zeal which resulted in the fleeing of Drago’s captive dragons and multiple explosions.

The acrid scent of burning metal and flesh mingled with the desperate cry’s of the crew and the roaring inferno that Berk’s riders inflicted upon them.

Astrid did what she was best at and aimed for the people. It didn’t matter what form of weapon she wielded; knives, axes, a bow and arrow, a sword, or even a dragon. She was sure to never miss her target.

Stormfly and her completed sweep after sweep of the ships. Taking out as many of the soldiers as they possibly could. Shooting them with spikes, slashing them with her axe, burning them, even throwing them overboard.

A logical part of her brain kept telling her to slow down. To take prisoners to interrogate later. But she wasn’t going to. Not after she saw the bola take down Hiccup.

She wasn’t sure why he had jerked into the line of fire. Her and the riders had been too far away. But she had seen her friend fall.

If it hadn’t been for Stoick jumping in after them, she would have been the first to dive to save her friend. But that would leave the others short in the fight. So she pushed on, fueled by her anger.

Stormfly lurched to the left as another ship began to fire arrows at them. The volley only stopping as the twins dove low, a cloud of gas trailing behind them. Igniting with a single spark as they rolled and twisted mid air.

The battle was chaos. Only Astrid’s bird eye view gave her perspective on where she was needed most.

The heat of the dragon fire ensured a layer of sweat coated her skin and she struggled to see through the smoke that made its way into her eyes. But still she fought on.

The dragons of two more ships made their grand exit and Astrid could feel a shift in the air as a shadow moved far off in her peripheral.

“He’s up!” Astrid shouted, relief loosing the vice like grip of worry in her chest.

Through the clang of metal and the screams of Vikings, a full body shiver rushed through her as a new sound enter the fray.

A shrill whistle, followed by the gruff shriek of the Vikings below her.

“NIGHTFURY, GET DOWN!”

Not even a second later, a blur of pure night descended from the clouds. Its arcing movement swooping nearly level with the sea as a blast of purple plasma erupted from its mouth. Powerful enough to break through the hulls of two ships.

The sound of wood cracking and screams of terror echoed on the ocean as Drago’s men jumped over the sides of the crumbling ships. The vessels splitting in two with the force of the Nightfury’s attack.

Behind her she could hear the Berkians cheering as the army to her back was revitalizing with a boost of moral. There was no way they could fail with a Nightfury on their side.

Astrid was about to go in for another dive when she caught another glimpse of shadow out of the corner of her eyes.

Turning she could see Hiccup rising up to fly beside her. His hair was a sticking in every direction with how the salt water fired in the wind, and he was a little pale, but he was lively. Which is more than she could have hoped after getting shot down.

“Nice flying milady.” In a feat of an agility that would probably take Astrid and Stormfly years of practice to achieve, he flew above her and twisted in his saddle. An unsettling scrapping sound started as he moved his leg. And in the next moment they were upside down. Wings carrying them with the breeze as they glided close enough for their dragons wings to touch.

A warm drop of sea water dripped onto her arm as he righted himself to fly next to her.

“Where’s your helmet?”

“Knocked off in the fall.”

“Your dad?” She had to ask. She had seen him dive in after him.

“He knows.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Not sure, I took off before he could say anything.”

“What are you gonna do?” Astrid asked, here eyes scanning the battle below. It was clearly wrapping up.

Hiccup was clearly doing the same. His eyes hardened as another flock of dragons escaped the remaining ships below. “Not sure, I’ll figure that out later. Ready to finish this?”

Before she could answer he shifted his leg in the saddle, the scraping sound followed the movement and he was diving again. Basting another ship out of the water.

Even in the heat of battle Hiccup was still Hiccup.

She moved to brush the water drops he had shed off her arms. And was surprised when her fingers came back bloody.

Astrid turned back to the battle and spotted the reckless boy putting his all into winning the fight despite the fact he was injured.

—

Hiccup was no where to be found when the battle finally ended.

It didn’t surprise Astrid with the state of his equipment and the inevitable conflict with his father he seemed dead set on putting off.

There was no way he could run far with the damage to his saddle, so Astrid decided to check the forge first.

Being on dragon-back ensuring that she could get back to the island before any of the boats. And the fact that the adults were fishing up any survivors for questioning also gave her hope that she could talk Hiccup off the edge of bolting… Again.

She could hear the sounds of his frustrated grunting and tools being knocked off tables as she came around the side of the forge.

“Toothless, please work with me.You’re making this harder than to needs to be.” Another crash sounded as a draconic chuckle followed, “thank you for nothing you useless reptile.”

Astrid had to stifle a laugh as she took in the scene.

Hiccup was pressed flat against the side of the Nightfury, a hook in his left hand as he gripped onto the saddle with his right.

The leather that normally attached to the dragons tail prosthetic dragged on the ground behind them as Toothless spun in slow circles. A big gummy grin crossed the dragons face as his human tried in vain to reach the metal clasp on the front of the dragons chest using one of Gobber’s hooks.

The dragon caught sight of Astrid in the doorway and stopped his spinning to sit and stare at her. Astrid couldn’t tell if it was because he was still distrustful of her or if Toothless way trying to be in his best behavior now that they had an audience.

The dragon sat and flicked his tail as Hiccup finally caught the hook on the clasp.

Before she could ask what on earth he was doing, Hiccup pulled the clasp open. With the weight of his body hanging off the side of the dragon and the force of gravity he hit the ground the a thump as the saddle slide from the dragon.

Toothless looked unfazed by the sight of his human lying face down in the dirt. He just did a dragon version of a laugh before moving to leave out the back door of the forge.

Hiccup, to his credit, didn’t skip a beat as he raised his head and looked the direction the dragon went, “what a true friend you are.”

His movements were stiff and the lines on his forehead were furrowed in a way that told of pain.

Astrid decided in that moment that she was done waiting. “Maybe he just wanted a second alone after carrying you around all morning?”

Hiccup attempted to bolt up immediately at the sound of her voices, managing only to tangle himself more in the leather straps of the saddle.

She couldn’t help the smile that came to her face with how flustered he was. “Need a hand?”

Hiccup managed to get himself untangled as he pulled on his legs. “More like I need a foot.”

He removed his prosthetic, saddle still attached, and handed it to her. Immediately Astrid could see what the issue was. The metal bits were all twisted together. Almost like someone had taken a hammer and whacked at the separate pieces until they were one device. Her fingers came back black from the door and dust that coated the extra mangled parts.

The post of the foot even looked like it had been melted to the gear shift with an ugly solder job done to it by an uncoordinated toddler.

Astrid tried to move the foot along the different tracks that would work Toothless’s tail only to feel resistance and gear the same horrible scraping sound from before. Upon closer inspection, she could see multiple rocks stuck in the mechanism.

“Wow, you’re lucky it held out long enough to get back.”

She looked up to see him rubbing his shoulder. “You say that, but with the amount of bruises I know I will have in the morning, I don’t feel to lucky.”

Hiccup pulled his hand away and frowned at the blood in his fingers and moved to wipe them on his pants. Before attempting to unbuckle his shoulder pad with one hand.

Astrid had noticed that he wasn’t moving his right arm like normal, now she knew why.

“How bad is the shoulder?”

His fingers slipped on the buckle as he looked up to her. “It’s only one arrow. It’s fine.”

She moved without thinking. Going to his side and covering his hand with hers. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Sitting this close to him, Hiccup had the same expression that he always had as a kid when he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. The glint of fear that he was about to be in trouble. But he didn’t protest as her fingers made quick work of the straps.

The padding of his armor had done a great job of protecting his flesh from the worst of the injury. From the outside Astrid could feel the splintered end of the broken shaft.

Using one of the knives left around the forge, she cut a small slit in Hiccup’s undershirt to get a better look at the damage.

Only the arrow head had punctured flesh. The widest part of the metal tip was pulling on his skin as a trickle of blood leaked from the wound, staining the green wool of his undershirt red.

“You’ll live, but it will definitely need a stitch or two. Do you want me to pull the whole thing out now or do you want to wait until we get back to your hut so we can clean it properly?”

He raised his brow at her and gestured at his left leg, “I’m not a stranger to pain Astrid, do what you think is best.”

In the blink of an eye, Astrid’s hand was his shoulder to brace him as she yanked the arrow out of his flesh.

Hiccup grunted as a fresh stream of blood leaked from the wound. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” she muttered as she tossed the arrow in the table.

Sitting up, he rolled his shoulder. “Not the worst thing I’ve ever felt. Can you reach in the saddle bag? I keep a spare in there in case.”

In the bag she found what he asked. Handing it to him, she watches as he moved to twist it on. Its was definitely an older design but to him, it was a once loved piece of equipment.

He struggled to his feet, Astrid helping him as much and he would let her. She only let him go when he was steady in his feet.

“Great, you’re mobile. Now, what are you gonna do about your secret being out?”

“Not sure, all I know is that I can’t run from my father this time.” Hiccup took a test step to make sure the prosthetic was securely in place. His limp was slightly more pronounced but it wasn’t worse than any of the times Astrid had rolled an ankle.

“If your saddle wasn’t busted you would be halfway out of the archipelago by now, wouldn’t you?” Astrid said as they made their way out of the forge.

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“You do realize that I would hunt you down and drag you back here?”

He chuckled at that as he leaned into her side slightly. “You would have to catch me first.”

“I don’t know. Ive been told I’m very persistent.”

They had made it back to the guest hut before Hiccup noticed that was where Astrid was leading him.

Before he could ask her what they were doing there, Astrid pulled open the door and pushed him inside. “Clean yourself up,” she ordered, “I will be back with some food and a needle and then we can figure out what you are going to say to Stoick.”

Hiccup blinked at her, she could tell he was confused by what she had but he didn’t look scared.

“I’m not hungry.” He replied, a loud grumble sounding that exact moment to contradict his statement.

“Lie to yourself all you want Hiccup, just never lie to me.” Arching her eyebrow she continued, “now go take a bath. You smell like rotting meat and burning wood.”

—

It took her a little bit to find the med bag in the back of her cabinet and snatch some bread and mead from the kitchens.

But by the time Astrid had made her way back to the hut Hiccup was clean, wearing pants, and tending a fire in the hearth.

He turned to her as she entered eyeing the small med bag on one hand with curiosity as she handed him the loaf.

“Sit and eat, I told you that you would need stitches.”

Hiccup did what he was told and took a seat on a stool by the fire as Astrid handed him the bread and skin of mead. Quickly she moved another chair to sit behind him as she spread out her kit.

His skin was still damp from the bath and the blood hadn’t slowed its flow.

She dabbed at the wound and poured some water on it for a better look.

He flinched with the touch. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

She huffed at him as she moved to thread her bone needle. “Would you rather go to Gothi? Be outside where everyone will stare at you like you’re a ghost?”

“No.”

“Then hush. I’ve tended my own wounds for years, and this isn’t too bad.”

He was silent after that and she went to work.

She could feel him stiffen under her fingers as she poked the needle through, but he didn’t complain. She worked in silence as Hiccup quickly sipped from the skin.

It was a relatively small wound, it normally wouldn’t have taken Astrid long at all to patch. But she took her time. Considering the placement of every stitch as if she wanted to minimize the mark she made in his skin.

He was a Viking, same as her. Neither one of them were strangers to scars. But the idea of marring his skin didn’t sit right with her.

By the time she was done, his cup was almost empty. She gestured for him to hand it to her as she put the needle in the table beside her. “This might sting a bit, but I’m almost done.”

He nodded as she poured the rest of the mead in the wound, and he hissed at the sting of the alcohol before she dabbed away the excess before covering it with a salve of yarrow and honey.

“There you go, all done. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re thinking about?”

He lowered his head and his shoulders slumped, “about how disappointed he is going to be in me.”

Stoick disappointed in him? After what he had just accomplished?

“You do know that you just, single handedly, saved the entire village from being razed to the ground by a dragon the size of an island? Why would he be disappointed?”

“Because I’m still not what he wanted me to be. That I’m not a dragon killer. That I ran away.”

“I would say that big dragon is pretty dead.”

He shrunk further into himself then, “I hope everyone saw that, because I’m not doing it again. Killing two of them is enough for me.”

Without thinking Astrid rubbed his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. Hiccup had always been the sweet one on the island. The one most likely to nurse an injured animal back to health. Stopping that giant would have been a hard choice to make.

“Well we can cross that reason off your list. Let’s go back to your first one; why would he be disappointed in you as a person?”

He looked up at her now, he normally soft green eyes harsher than she had ever seen them. But she knew the anger wasn’t pointed at her.

“Astrid look at me. Do I look anything like the son of a chief? I’m too small and gangly to fit any expectations that come with being the son of Stoick the Vast. Before I left, he would always look at me the same way someone looks at the waitress when they skimp on the meat in their sandwich.”

Without skipping a beat he squared his shoulder and deeper his voice in impression of his father; “EXCUSE ME BAR MAID, IM AFRAID YOU BROUGHT ME THE WRONG OFFSPRING.” He raised his hand and began to count off on his fingers, “I ORDERED AN EXTRA LARGE BOY WITH BEEFY ARMS, EXTRA GUTS AND GLORY ON THE SIDE. THIS HERE. THIS IS A TALKING FISHBONE.”

Astrid had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the impression. She knew for a a fact that Stoick would never say anything like that about his son. But, she had to admit the mannerisms were spot on.

She squeezed his arm in reassurance as her hands moved up to his hair.

He began to visibly relax as she began to run her fingers through the damp strains.

“Well if you stopped skipping meals you would probably be larger.” Astrid said as she looked at the barely touched bread. “He’s probably just concerned because you get too engrossed in a project and don’t really take care of yourself.”

Taking her words as a warning, Hiccup began to pick at the loaf again.

“As for guts and glory,” she continued. Her fingers separating the strains of hair before beginning to twist them together. “You have become rather infamous for raiding ships on dragon back. I would say that pretty damn brave.”

He hummed in response but didn’t say anything further.

Tying off the small braid she made in his hair continued as she got up from her seat to kneel at his side. “You want to know what I think?”

He lifted his head slightly to meet her eyes.

“I think you intimidate him.”

This got a laugh at of him as he shifted in the stool. His hand moving to cover his mouth in an attempt to keep control of himself.

“Me, intimidating?” He laughed again. A loud, almost manic laugh as his arms wrapped around his sides, he was doing his best to keep from doubling over.

Astrid waited for him to regain his composure as he shook with amusement over her statement.

“Really funny, Astrid. Imagine that, Stoick the Vast being intimated by a guy who weighs less than a hand full of grapes soaking wet.”

God’s his smile was infectious.

“Think about, you are at least ten times smarter than anyone else in the archipelago. You have designed a flaming sword, you’ve been to more islands than any Viking in generations, and you have a pet Nightfury. How many other people can say that they have accomplished even half of what you have done in the last five years?”

This made him freeze. Was he really so unused to complements that someone just stating the fact that he is an impressive person would shut him up.

He took in a long breath, “none of the matters because I ran away. I abandoned everyone because I am nothing but a weak cowa-“

Astrid would never say she was proud of what she did next, she didn’t even realize what had happened until her fist made contact with Hiccup’s gut.

The wind was knocked out of him with the force of her fist and he doubled over, falling out of his chair.

He laid there, catching his breath, as moved from crouching beside him to sitting on the floor. He looked at her with a befuddled expression of confusion, most likely waiting for an explanation for her violent reaction.

“You ran away. So what? That doesn’t matter.” Astrid held out her hand to him, a signal that she wasn’t going to hit him again. “What matters is that you came back.”

She couldn’t read his expression, but he took her hand anyway. Allowing her to help him to his feet. He took a step back and began to rub his neck as Astrid forced him to meet her gaze. “You didn’t have to come back, but you did. That is what matters. So I’m going to ask you again. What are you going to say to your father?”

Chapter Text

It took them hours to go between the wreckage of what was once the attacking ships. Stoick’s warriors were busy rounding up the few surviving soldiers of Drago’s fleet.

He should be elated that they had won. That a large section of Drago’s war-band has been captured and destroyed. That Drago no longer had the weapon of mass destruction that was the behemoth of a beast that had nearly made it to their shore. But his heart wasn’t in it.

His mind kept him glancing to the sky, searching for his son.

Hiccup, his pride and joy. He had been home the entire time.

He had been on Berk for over a month, and yet he had kept his distance. He had kept himself as far removed from the village as possible.

Why?

Why had his boy left?

When had he become a dragon master?

Stoick couldn’t reconcile that the strange and solitary rider had been his kind and clumsy son the entire time.

The thoughts were too much for him. And he could feel the weight of Hiccup’s lies pressing down on him just as hard as the sorrow that had come with his disappearance.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about this now, he had the rest of the fleet to secure and his own wounded to tend to.

Hiccup was injured. The sight of the blood in the water around had branded itself onto Stoick’s brain.

He should have been there to protect him.

Hiccup should have never been in that situation to begin with.

What kind of father was he that he couldn’t protect his small and fragile boy?

A chief protects his own. And yet Stoick had been unable to protect his son.

Failure left a bitter taste in the chiefs mouth as he did his best to push down him own turmoil. Now was not the time for it.

Still, he found himself looking to the sky for any glimpse of shadow far into the afternoon.

—

It was close to supper time when Berk’s warriors made it back to their shores. The villagers, who had returned to their homes after Snotlout had given word that the fighting was over, were still celebrating in the streets.

Stoick did not feel like celebrating. Despite the tremendous victory of the day, he felt as if his heart had been twisted out of shape.

He wasn’t sure how he ended up at the forge or for how long he had been there; all he could bring himself to do was stare at the bloody broken shaft of the arrow laying in the work table next to the riders discarded shoulder pads.

When had it all gone so wrong?

Things had finally been going well when Hiccup had gone.

Stoick couldn’t understand.

What had he done to drive his son away?

He would burn the world, would capture hurricanes and tidal waves, lasso the sun for Hiccup.

Had he done such a terrible job of showing his dedication to his child, that his only family had thought his disappearance wouldn’t be noticed?

He would have continued down the spiral of self hatred had Gobber not made himself known. Announcing his presence with the rattle of metal and the rustle of leather.

He let out an impressed whistle as the blacksmith spread the discarded saddle on the work table beside Stoick. “Take at look at the craftsmanship on this. Even as beat up as it is, it’s quite impressive.”

Stoick glanced over to see his friend stick his hook into the gears of the machinery and dig out a hunk of rock before taking his hand and moving the prosthetic leg along the metal paths. The saddle made a clicking scraping sound as the leg post notched into a different gear.

Gobber looked up at him as the saddle made one last click, “the boy has come a long way, hasn’t he?”

Stoick nodded in reply, feeling as if someone had their hands wrapped around his throat.

His best friend had known his boy was home and he hadn’t said anything.

How long had Gobber been coming to the rider’s defense? How long had his friend kept this secret from him?

The chiefs large hands tighter in the black helmet that he had fished out of the sea. The black scales and ridges leaving impressions on his skin.

Gobber seemed to know exactly how Stoick was feeling. He continued to fidget with the saddle as he continued. “He never told me if it makes it any better. I had my suspicions after seeing some of his equipment. It made me take a look back at Hiccup’s old designs. I found more than I was looking for in one of his old notebooks.”

Stoick could feel his shoulders slump as the realization that they could have known where his son was years ago if they had just looked a little closer.

He could feel his heart breaking all over again with the overwhelming weight of his own failure.

“If it’s any consolation Stoick, I don’t think he will be going anywhere for a while.”

“Why did he leave in the first place?” He wasn’t sure how he found his voice, or how he managed to hide the majority of his own devastation, but he had to know.

Stoick could see the same level of desperation in the eyes of his friend as he asked the question.

“Remember when he was small?”

Stoick raised his brow at his friend. Where was he going with this?

“Well smaller. And he spent a month carrying around a box with a wee baby bird in it.”

Stoick did remember. Hiccup was around five or six. And whenever Stoick had had a free moment his boy would beg him to go exploring together. Those days in the woods were some of his fondest memories.

Hiccup tripping over his oversized tunic, lunging at low hanging tree branches with his small wooden practice sword.

He remembered how his boys face fell when they came across the bird with the broken wing. It had fallen out of its nest.

Stoick had done his best to explain to Hiccup it was too injured to make it back up itself. That the right thing to do would be to end its suffering quickly.

But his son’s lower lip had quivered and his big green eyes got watery.

“Can’t we help it dad? It’s little like me. Can’t we help it get better?”

He began to sniffle.

And just like that Stoick’s resolve broke. Hiccup’s heart was the biggest in the island, and he couldn’t be the one to put a crack in it.

As carefully as he could Stoick picked up the injured bird and put it in is boy’s tiny hands. With a broken twig and a loose thread from his tunic Stoick showed Hiccup how to split the birds wing.

Hiccup had taken full responsibility for the sparrow. He took care of it until it was strong enough to fly on its own.

Stoick had never been so proud of his boy. It was the first sign that he had the makings of a great chief, a great leader.

Gobber’s voice dragged Stoick from the memory.

“I think that dragon is his new sparrow. You must have noticed the beasts tail. The boy did a great job of disguising it, but one of the fins is a prosthetic.”

Gobber pulled an old journal out of his pocket and flipped to one of the middle page. And clear as day was Hiccup’s handwriting scrawled around the drawing of a Nightfury tail.

Stoick was no blacksmith, but as chief he had to know how to read a schematic. He could see the different measurements, weights, and materials that would needed to construct the device.

By the Gods, his boy was clever.

He had never been one to abandon anyone in need. Apparently, not even a dragon.

Until he had abandoned his tribe.

Once again Stoick couldn’t possibly fathom why Hiccup would leave.

He played back the last memories he had of his done from just before he disappeared.

Pulling him from the forge after he had once again skipped dinner to work on Gobber’s back log. Sending him to help Gobber during the raid the very next morning. Stopping the Monstrous Nightmare from eating him after he had disobeyed orders. Hiccup lying about shooting down a Nightfury with his infernal contraption.

“It’s not like the last time dad. This time I really, actually, hit it. It crashed down just about Ravens Point. Let’s get a search party out there.”

Odin help him, Hiccup had been telling the truth.

That was the same day that Gobber had convinced him to let the boy into the kill ring.

After the council meeting Stoick had noticed just how shaken the boy was. He had just assumed the guilt of causing such a large mess during the raid had been bothering him. But now he could see it for what it was.

“Dragon training. You get your wish, you start in the morning."

Oh how Hiccup’s face had fallen with the words. “Dad, I can’t kill dragons.”

Stoick’s guilt compounded as the dots connected.

When he had returned from his last failed mission to Hellhiems gate it seemed like everything had turned around. Hiccup had even earned the honor of killing the dragon.

What Stoick had mistaken for nervous anticipation on his son’s face he could now see had been dread.

Gobber was right, Hiccup was his mother’s son.

He had captured a dragon, and let it go.

That’s not what Vikings do. If that was how things worked then the tribe would have died out long ago.

Everyone knows a dragon always goes for the kill.

But the Nightfury didn’t. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself had spared his son.

Valka had always preached that dragons were more than they had thought.

Hiccup had proven his wife right.

Stoick would never hear the end of it when they were finally reunited, either in this world or the next.

This was all too much for him. Somehow he found himself on a stool. He tried to take a deep breath, to focus on the now, but there was so much dust that it made it hard to focus.

Throwing his helmet on a work table he ran his hands through his hair, he could feel his large fingers getting caught in the thick plats of his braid.

It felt like the walls were closing in on him as the light shifted around him.

He could hear Gobber place a tankard on the table next to him. “Take a moment and catch your breath Stoick, I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you until you’re ready.”

Stoick could hear the latching of the door and then Stoick was alone in the dark of the old store room. Nothing but the light of a lantern illuminating the drawings tacked to the walls.

He hadn’t been in this room since before Hiccup had left. Glancing up at the work desk he could see the two helmets side be side.

His was perfectly polished and well worn. Hiccup’s had a lay of dust coating it.

He had done everything he could to protect him. And he had failed. Just like he had failed to protect his beloved Val.

Most night, he could find her in sleep. He would wrap one of her many long braids around his large hands, just to feel the long strains slide through his fingers as he followed her around the village. She would always lead him who to the highest cliffs of Berk and together they would look out over the ocean.

On especially windy days, which were her favorite, she would hold her arms open as if she was waiting for the wind itself to lift her to the heavens.

Years before, Stoick had the irrational fear that one day Thor himself would take notice to what a treasure she was and take her for himself.

And most nights, his dreams ended with him screaming as that great owl eyed dragon swooped down to take her away. The fields of Berk burning as his son cried in his arms.

For the last five years, his every nightmare ended as his boy was taken by the same beast that stole his love.

Now he didn’t know what to think.

His son had left.

He had done everything to keep him safe. To keep him out of trouble.

He made sure he was familiar with weapons and fire with his blacksmith apprenticeship. That had ended with him making a flaming sword.

He had spent countless hours trying to teach him sword fighting. Only for him to be unable to teach him properly.

He had signed him up for dragon training. But inside if learning to kill a dragon, he had learned to ride one.

Gobber’s words from years ago echoed in his head. “You can’t always protect him, you can only prepare him.”

But Stoick hadn’t even been able to do that.

Everything Hiccup had done, he had accomplished, he had done on his own. And the only thing that could compete with his overwhelming feeling of failure; was the pride he held for his son.

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. Wasn’t sure when exactly the exhaustion of the last twenty years had finally taken him. All Stoick knew was that the lantern had gone out and the sounds of hot metal being coxed into submission by a pair of expert hands that sounds from the other side of the door.

Through a crack in the door Stoick could make out the two figures working in the forge.

The smaller man tightened his grip on the small hammer as he knelt on the leather of the saddle. The metal post that held the prosthetic to the seat glowed as flames raced up the middle of it. The flames had a liquid quality to them and Stoick saw how the embers fell to the dirt floor like water droplets. Fizzling out and leaving a greenish coloration in its wake.

The dragon stood next to him. Its large gummy mouth holding tight to the prosthetic as saliva slowly dripped to where the metal had been warped.

Stoick could hear his son say to the beast, “Hold it steady bud.” And then the hammer collided with the white hot rod.

Sparks flew as Hiccup swung the hammer back for another strike. The post stretched and bent in the direction of the strike.

The dragon seemed unfazed by the noise and didn’t move a muscle until the post finally snapped.

As soon as the foot and the saddle had been separated the dragon sat up straight, its large tongue twisting the prosthetic in its mouth as its saliva quenched the flames. Stoick could see the smile on Hiccup’s face as he watched the dragon begin to chew on the equipment like it was a prized toy. And without looking, Hiccup poured a bucket of water over the remaining flames before getting to his feet.

Stoick had forgotten how, at home, Hiccup had looked in the forge. How the tension the boy always seemed to hold in his shoulder seemed to melt away in the blaze of the fire.

When he was young, Hiccup was never a good sleeper. On any given night, Stoick could count on the fact that Hiccup would crawl from his bed. And Stoick would find him curled up by the embers in the hearth by morning.

Picking up the saddle, Hiccup brought it back to the table. The dragon followed after him. And the boy spared it a scratch on the head as he reached for a tool.

His son was right here. But, for all the world it felt as if he was thousands of miles away.

So much had changed in the last five years. Yet here Hiccup was. Sure he had lied, but that didn’t mean he was different. When it mattered most he still swore to protect Berk. And when they needed him most, he saved his people from certain destruction.

Stoick stood and watched for another moment as Hiccup’s deft fingers disassembled his broken equipment. His brow furrowed in consternation as the Nightfury happily chewed on its new toy in front of the fire of the forge.

Steeling his nerves Stoick took a deep breath and exited the old store room.

Hiccup didn’t notice at first, to focused on separating the broken scape of metal from working parts and chunks of rock. But a Nightfury noticed straight away.

It moved from its relaxed position by the fire, to one of crouching caution as it dropped the mangled prosthetic.

Hiccup looked to the dragon and in a split second his expression went from one of amusement to concern. Faster than Stoick had ever seen his son move before, Hiccup whipped around and put himself in between the chief and the beast.

“Ahh, Dad!” He stammered as the same expression of guilt he always had whenever he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing plaster his face. “Um, Gobber’s not here.”

How many times, in the weeks he had been back, had he made that face under that mask?

All this time, the riders awkwardness and tendency toward avoidance hadn’t been arrogance. It had been that of a child afraid of being scolded.

The expression pinged some guilt in Stoick’s already heavy heart. The last time he had seen that expression was during his last conversation with his son. Why hadn’t he noticed it before.

He had come back from his hunt for the nest; only to be bombarded with praise for his son. At the time it seemed like the first time the village had ever had anything good to say about the boy. And the moment he went to congratulate Hiccup for his achievements in the kill ring, he practically shut down.

Handn’t Hiccup said the same exact thing to him five years ago?

Stoick could see where this conversation was heading go before it even began. He had to make a decision.

Lay down his own hurt or lose his son again.

From behind him, the dragon moved to keep a close eye on the Viking. Its lizard like body rising up from the ground to peer around its rider. Doing its best to sneak around to his side in solitary.

Hiccup, without even having to look, reached back and gave the dragon’s head a shove as if trying to tell it to stay behind him without words.

Stoick didn’t need to be a dragon whisperer to tell that snort it gave in response was one of annoyance. But, it stayed put.

His boy still looked the same. Yes he had grown, but even with all that had changed him Hiccup was still his son.

He still wore a green tunic that stood out brightly under a brown vest. He must have outgrown his fur one, since the one he wore now was one of woven leather that covered his chest.

The only two real differences he could see in his boy now was the small braid in his wind swept hair.

He had always hated braids. So, Stoick was glad he was embracing new things.

And his missing foot.

Hiccup stood before him with his left leg positioned behind him as if doing his best to make sure Stoick didn’t see it.

The sight prosthetic made Stoick feel like a failure once again, but he knew that now was not the time to ask his son about his past injury. Especially when the loss of the limb didn’t seem to bother him all that much.

This conversation was going to hurt. Conversations with Hiccup almost always did. Hiccup had always been so much like Val that they always had Stoick pushing back a tidal wave a grief.

Somehow, without him realizing it, something had twisted and festered between them like a wound that had had been denied treatment for too long. Sometimes, the best way to get to heal was to pull away the rotted bandages and tissue and reopen the lesion.

Stoick could do this.

He needed to do this.

“I’m not here for Gobber.” He finally managed to say, doing his best to brace himself for whatever vitriol his son had built up for him. “Son, we need to talk.”

Almost immediately Hiccup’s shoulders slumped and he directed his eyes to the ground. He rocked back in his heel slightly as he let out a long breath.

He responded in a tone of complete remorse, “I’m so sorry Dad. I couldn’t keep up my end of the deal.”

Stoick had forgotten about the deal he had made with Hiccup. That he would be allowed into dragon training if he had behaved himself and didn’t get into any trouble.

“I couldn’t do it Dad, I don’t have what it takes to kill a dragon. And you were so proud of me, and I couldn’t disappoint you again.” He continued in a very un-Hiccup like manner. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, but they were his words nonetheless.

Stoick remained silent. He should have realized long ago that talking over his son would get him nowhere.

Hiccup began to pace then, running his hands through his hair as he kept between Stoick and the dragon. “God’s, it’s so messed up,” he loosed another breath, “I regretted leaving the moment I did, but I thought it would be better for everyone if I stayed away. I couldn’t disgrace you anymore, I wouldn’t cause anymore damage to the village. Besides it wasn’t like a lot of people would miss me. I was nothing but the village screw up. The annoying runt that had a nasty habit of surviving.”

Was this how his son saw himself. His brilliant boy who was too smart for his own good.

Stoick’s mind immediately flashed to his brother and all the nasty thing he had said about his son. Stoick should have cut out Spitelout’s tongue decades ago.

“I should have been honest from the beginning, but I didn’t know how you would react. So, I was going to try to break the news slowly once this whole mess with Drago was finished. I can see now that I was wrong about that too.”

The Nightfury sat still and watched Hiccup pace with concern it’s its eyes. Only pausing occasionally stop to stare daggers at Stoick.

If Valka was right, and dragons were smarter than a regular animal, this one would definitely be holding a grudge against him.

Hiccup stopped pacing when he was done with his explanation and gave him a worried, guilt filled, glance as his voice quieted and quivered. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? You should be furious.”

Stoick was at a loss for what to say. Where his wife had been good with words, he had always been a man of action. He could clearly see that his son was hurting, had been hurting for a while now. And he didn’t have the words to comfort him.

Oh what he would give for just one more day with Val. She would know what to do.

Hiccup stared at him, brow furrowed. No doubt his mind was racing through every worst case scenario. Stoick’s own mind often did the same when dealing with conflict, it’s part of the reason he was such an effective chief. It helped in avoiding so many unnecessary conflicts.

That skill would not be useful in this situation. Overthinking and avoiding conflict is how they had gotten into this mess in the first place.

Stoick moved without thinking. Closing the distance between him and his son. And in a single breath he wrapped his arms around his son.

Hiccup stiffened for a long moment before feeling the boy join in the hug.

Stoick could hear the dragon make an excited chirp and Stoick ever the warrior kept one eye on the beast in case it had finally decided that now was a good time to make them into dinner.

How Hiccup didn’t seem the least bit concerned by the dragon, Stoick hadn’t had the slightest idea.

They stood in the hug for a long moment, and Stoick could feel the weight of the loss lifting off his shoulders. The moment he felt the slight dampness of tears soaking into his shirt was when he finally got up the courage to speak.

“I was never angry. I was terrified of you being out there all on your own.” His own voice was quivering now as he felt his boy begin to shake and Stoick tightened the hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen and that I wasn’t there for you.”

Stoick’s own tears were pricking the corners of his eyes now.

“You could never be a disappointment Hiccup. I am so proud of you and I always have been. I am so sorry that I have ever made you feel any different.”

He could feel Hiccup relaxing now. As if he had also carried the same grief these past years and it had now been lifted.

Stoick only held him tighter. Desperately clinging to a vital piece in his world he had begun to think was lost forever. Closing his eyes to savor the moment.

“Ow.. Dad… you’re breaking my ribs.” he could hear his son say in between gasps that Stoick couldn’t tell if they were from laughing or crying.

Something warm and smooth brushed against his large arm and a puff of hot breath had Stoick’s eyes opening wide as he moved to get his son out of the line of fire.

Hiccup, completely unconcerned with having a dragons maw inches from his face, only laughed as he wiggled out of Stoick’s grasp.

Stoick stared in utter disbelief as the boy calmly put both hands on sides of the beasts face and calmly said, “It’s okay bud, we’re all good.” The dragon blinked its wide eyes at Stoick’s son and opened its mouth in what the chief could only describe as a gummy smile.

Stoick knew in that instant that life in Berk was about to become a lot stranger.

Chapter Text

It took three days for the village to settle down after the battle.

Three days for a council meeting to be called to reassess a plan for the situation.

And Snotlout knew it wouldn’t go well. Especially once the news got out that Hiccup was the rider.

His ears were still ringing from his dad’s angry yelling. Snotlout had never seen his father so furious.

He was expecting the beating. For the lies as well as for putting himself in a dangerous situation by trying to ride a dragon.

Even though the raids had stopped years ago, Spitelout had never stopped spouting vitriol about the reptiles. And after the battle it was no different.

His father had pulled him aside the first night after the raid. And Snotlout was very glad that Hookfang was no where nearby. I dreaded what his dad would do if he was alone with him.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY, CONSPIRING WITH THAT FREAK AND HIS DEMON.” He had shouted, and to be honest Snotlout thought his father was being fairly tame for the circumstances.

Spitelout held him by the arm as his continued his lecture. And Snotlout was sure that a hand shaped bruise would be forming with the strength of the grip.

“I thought you were smarter than this boy, more cunning. How do you ever expect to be chief if you bow down to the whims of a fucking lizard and its rider. Do you have a death wish? After everything I have done , all for you to betray me all for a weak complement of an outsider. I could have sworn you had more dignity than that. Where in the nine realms is your pride?”

Snotlout didn’t respond, he knew he had no excuse. And besides, anything he said would just make the situation worse.

He managed to brace himself right as the his father’s fist struck. The air was knocked out of his lungs as the punch reverberated off his rib cage. It took all his strength to stay up right.

“Use your brain boy. Those beast won’t hesitate to turn you into supper the first chance they get. This is a world of tooth and claw. Remember how hoards of them would rip and tear through our lands, sheep, and people like we were no more fragile than sheets of paper.”

The second hit him by surprise as the back of his father’s hand made contact with his temple, forcing him to stumble back.

“Just think for once in your life Snotlout, if anything happens to you, Berk’s whole future is doomed. Gobber has gone absolutely mad, he claims that God’s forsaken rider is the damned pipsqueak Hiccup.”

All Snotlout could do was gulp back his surprise at the claim.

When had Gobber figured it out?

Spitelout raised a brow and his son’s expression.

It was all the larger Viking needed as confirmation in the claim. And suddenly his anger went from that of a scared parent who was disappointed in their kids dumb decisions, to indignant fury.

Snotlout had always wondered why his father ever expected him to explain himself if he was never given the chance in between Spitelout’s fits of rage.

After what had felt like hours, Spitelout finally got down to the meat of his lecture. “Listen here boy, how much longer are you going to entertain this bloody circus? How much this show goes south? The weakling is lucky to be alive right now. How much longer till his luck runs out?”

His father took a long breath and looked to the sky. As if, looking for a sign from the gods that he was getting through to his son before continuing. “Snotlout, you are my only son, and an assling. Don’t be a fucking idiot as well.”

His father had stormed out of the hut with the same violent swiftness of a summer storm, and Snotlout had been avoiding him ever since. Which wasn’t hard to do since the whole village was still celebrating.

The news of Hiccup’s return spread like dragon fire, coupled with the victory over the dragon the was now being dubbed as The Green Death, had mead flowing for several days.

Unsurprisingly, Hiccup was avoiding everyone.

Not as much as he was before, but he still spent most of his time locking himself away in the forge or out in the woods.

His armor must have been damaged in the battle. He had switched from where all black to a strange leather suit with far too many straps to be actually useful. Topped with a black breast plate and matching shoulder pads.

The outfit was far less intimidating, but still people gave him and his dragon a wide-birth wherever they went.

Astrid had taken it upon herself to patrol in the mornings and had assigned everyone else shifts until Hiccup was back in the saddle.

Finally, once the celebrations had begun to die down, a council meeting was called.

Snotlout did his best to avoid his father, electing to sit with his fellow riders instead of with his family.

His father still shot him several dirty glances throughout the meeting, ensuring a constant uneasy feeling a guilt was coating him.

At the top of the dais, Hiccup looked equally as uncomfortable. With his identity being revealed as the rider he no longer bothered with the mask. And Snotlout could see how hard he was trying to not squirm under the gaze of everyone in the Great hall.

His dragon was still behind him, which gave him some reprieve from the curious crowds. Everyone was still too nervous to get close to a Nightfury and Hiccup was clearly using that to his advantage.

Even with the added bonus of being the one who saved the whole island, he was still a subject of scrutiny.

Snotlout’s father being the most vocal of riders critics.

“This is ridiculous, Stoick. You expect us to blindly follow that brat. You used to punish us with by making the lot of us watch over him whenever you were off island.”

From where he was standing, the whole hall could see how Hiccup kept doing his best to avert his eyes from the crowd as he leaned against his dragon. Anyone who only knew him by his dragon rider reputation would think that he didn’t care about comment.

Why would anyone who could get a Nightfury to do whatever he wanted; care about the words of an old man who never had anything nice to say about anything?

But, Snotlout knew that his cousin was experiencing that same feeling he had every time he conversed with his father. The shame of never being about to meet expectations.

Before today, Snotlout was honestly angry with Hiccup’s request to not reveal his identity. But now, after hearing the villages fresh waves of insults and trepidation flung his way, Snotlout had understood.

“Stoick,” Spitelout continued, “the boy is clearly psycho and insane. Why else would the beast not attack him the way they attack every other Viking? I mean just look at him.”

Spitelout waved his arm in Hiccup’s general direction. And Hiccup finally piped up with a very sarcastic, “you just gestured to all of me.” Which was pointedly ignored by the adults in the room.

“And you expect us to allow some of our own to attempt to do the same. Allow our children to be at the mercy of dragons who will turn them into appetizers the moment their stomach start to grumble.”

An axe struck the table inches away from Spitelout’s chest, and Snotlout had to suppress a laugh as his father stumbled back and fell out of his chair.

Out of the corner of his eyes Snotlout could see Astrid moving back to a more relaxed stance and she put her hands behind her back. And away from her now empty weapons belt.

“ENOUGH,” bellowed Stoick as he slammed his hammer down on the arm of his chair. “I’m not asking you to trust him because he is my son.”

A pang of jealousy prickled the back of Snotlouts neck at the look of pride in the Chief eyes as he glanced at his son.

“I am telling you to trust him because he knows dragons better than anyone else on the island. And even if it sounds insane and impossible, Hiccup claims the dragons that the rest of his group has gathered can be trained.”

Just then, the twins spoke up.

“If you want to see our awesome new skills, how about we have some fun with it?” Said Ruffnut as her and her brother stepped forward.

“Yeah, why not make a new game? All of us,” Tuffnut waved his arm back at the rest of their group, “completing an obstacle course on the back of our dragons. If we can prove we can work together with our dragons, will this dumb argument be over?”

“Yeah and we can take bets on the event since everyone loves a competition,” Ruff added.

“Besides, who doesn’t want some entertainment?”, Tuff finished a little too menacingly for anyone in the hall to be comfortable. Clearly, they had been thinking about this for a while.

After a brief pause, the crowd seemed to grasp the twins suggestion and then everyone was a buzz with excitement.

The only thing Berkians loved more than a good brawl or a stiff drink was a competition. Snotlout could remember just how excited everyone had gotten for the Thorsday-Thursday celebrations every year. So the idea of another thing to celebrate had everyone’s hopes high again.

Everyone was so loud that it was hard to hear when Stoick began to speak again, he had leaned over to Hiccup as if in private conversations but the acoustics of the hall made sure that some of the words were still broadcast to everyone.

“They are too excited,” the chief said as the following words got swallowed by the sounds of best already being placed.

Hiccup responded with, “If we take the cage off the kill ring.”

A brawl broke out, overcoming the rest of Hiccup’s suggestion.

Finally, as Stoick raised his hammer to call the hall to order once again, Snotlout could make out Gobber saying, “I’ll start work on a catapult that shoots straight up. But, what will we use for targets?”

The hammer came crashing down once more and the crowd came back to its senses.

“ALRIGHT ENOUGH OF THAT,” Stoick boomed over the crowd as everyone stopped mid action. “I WILL CONSIDER THE GAME.”

And, surprising everyone, the chief laughed before continuing, “It would be good for morale. Now, if everything is settled-“

Spitelout spoke up again, “NOTHING IS SETTLED, CHIEF. A GAME? YOU CANT BE SERIOUS.”

Snotlout had never seen his father look so incredulous. His face, which normally only fluctuated in different shades of red in accordance with his anger, was almost purple as the aura of his rage carried through the hall.

“WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR AND YOU WANT TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN WITH A GAME. DO YOU REALIZE THAT WOULD BE GIVING DRAGO THE PERFECT TIME TO ATTACK US? WHILE WE ARE ALL DISTRACTED WITH THE BOY AND HIS DELUSIONS.”

Another voice piped up from the back of the crowd, “What if Drago has more dragons like the Green Death? How can we possibly defend against something like that? What if it’s more than we can handle?”

Astrid stepped forward to take the question, “That is why we have been training. For more eyes in the sky, and more fire power. If Drago has dragons then it only seems fair that we level the playing field.”

Another person, from the left side of the hall, spoke up, “and if that’s not enough?”

Hiccup and the Nightfury shared a glance and then suddenly the dragon was pushing his rider forward. It was clear from the expression on the boys face that he had an idea, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that Snotlout knew all too well.

Finding his voice, Hiccup spoke up for the first time in the whole meeting, loud and clear. Making sure that no one in the Great hall could mistake his words. “We could contact the other riders. There are plenty of islands outside the archipelago that hate Drago as much as we do. We could ask for their help to boost our numbers.”

Everyone in the hall went silent at that.

There were other riders.

Other tribes that Hiccup claims would be willing to defeat a common enemy.

Snotlout couldn’t believe it. But the longer Hiccup stood on the dais in silence, conviction burning in his green eyes, the more likely it seemed.

He was out there for five years. He had explored more of the world than anyone currently living on Berk.

Taking a glance at the maps on the wall and seeing all the islands that Snotlout could never even have imagined were out past Hellhiems Gate; he began to have hope.

Until the sound of his father laughter echoed through the hall.

“Oh really,” Spitelout stated in between chuckles, “What other tribe would willingly go up against a mad man who controls an army of fire breathing beasts?”

As if embodying the reputation of the brave Dragon rider, Hiccup didn’t stand down like Snotlout had expected him to. There was an anger in his expression that Viking had never seen in his cousin.

“The Berserkers,” Hiccup said with a matter of fact tone that boarder-lined on arrogance.

Gobber chose that moment to speak up then, always the one to try and decrease the tension the room. “No one on Berk has heard a word from the Berserkers since their chief vowed to hunt down the rider and mount his head on a spike.”

Spitelout laughed again.

Stoick turned to his son then, concern clear in his faces ‘what did you do?’, expression. “Hiccup, you can’t be serious.”

Hiccup put his hands up, “I promise Dagur has mellowed out since then. He hasn’t tried to kill me in years. Besides if he does go a a little deranged I know both his wife and his sister wouldn’t let him do anything to hurt Berk.”

Echos of everyone repeating the words “wife” and “sister” bounced around the hall as everyone began to question the kind of life the chiefs son had lived for the past five years.

“Oh, and if that’s true, how do you propose we contact your other tribes?” Spitelout asked, his annoyance at the rider was on full display. “It’s not like we can just spare a boat and the men to sail it for weeks on end until they stumble upon them. And I don’t think the chief will want you out of his sight, so don’t even suggest that you go by your lonesome.”

Without breaking the stare, Hiccup brought his fingers to his mouth. Three sharp whistles rang through the ceiling rafters.

Toothless sat up straighter and shot his rider what could only be annoyed look as three Terrible Terror flapped into the Great hall from the open doors.

Hiccup didn’t move a muscle as they draped themselves across his arms and shoulders. “Have you ever heard of Terrror mail? You tie a letter to a the horn of a Terrible Terror, give it an item with the recipients scent on it, the little guys will be on their way to make a delivery.”

Stoick looked very concerned at the dragons now using his son as a perch, but like everyone else in the room he was transfixed by the way Hiccup commanded the smaller dragons and the room.

“It’s how I’ve been communicating with the Berserkers, the Defenders of the Wing, and the Wingmaidens for years. If we want allies, then they will be the best ones to contact. I’ve helped them enough times that I’m sure they will come if I call.”

To Snotlouts shock and admiration, it was clear to everyone that Hiccup had won the challenge that his father had set for him.

Nobody won a challenge against Spitelout, except Stoick.

His father took a final look at Hiccup and grumbled back to his seat.

Hiccup turned to the chief, one of the Terrors had made itself comfortable on his head as he said. “So, what do you say dad? It’s your decision to make. Can I send for them?”

Snotlout could hear the silent, ‘do you trust me?,’ that was baked into the question.

And, not for the first time, Snotlout was jealous of his cousin.

Chapter Text

Astrid wasn’t sure how they managed it. But somehow Hiccup, Gobber, and the twins had gotten to ancient chain cage off the arena.

The teens now flew over the open air space of the kill ring as Hiccup began instructing them on different ways to move as a team.

There was a group of people gathering in the stands. The braver villagers that had their curiosity winning out over their fear.

The entire exercise was beginning to feel like a show, and Astrid was now full aware of the fact she had only been riding for a few weeks.

Everyone except Hiccup looked uncomfortable in their saddles. Toothless and him were flying circles around everyone else… literally.

“Ruff, Tuff; you are flying the same dragon with two different heads. You can’t go in opposite directions from each other,” he called out as he glided past them.

The new mechanism on his saddle that moved Toothless’s prosthetic seemed to be working flawlessly as Hiccup adjusted his leg so the two of them could hold their place in the sky.

Spending a few hours in the sky every day, along side everyone taking a shift in patrols had really begun to improve the groups skills.

But, none of them could hold a candle to the ease Hiccup had in the air. Even with the shield he had on his back, he maneuvered around like he was born up here.

Astrid had found him in the forge that afternoon fiddling with it. He was clearly doing anything he could to avoid being around people. It’s not like a shield actually needed the clamp and screwdriver that Hiccup was reaching for before she had grabbed him and pulled him to the arena for another training session.

She had to admit the shield was beautiful. Large enough to cover Hiccup’s whole upper body, the thick wooden planks of it had a thin sheet of metal covering the front of it. And unlike the normal designs found on the ones Astrid had worked with her entire life, Hiccup’s had the same symbol that was on his shoulder pad.

A Nightfury curling in on itself.

Multiple times that day Astrid had to pull her attention away from the eye catching piece of equipment. Especially since the light kept reflecting off its metallic surface.

The sun moved across the sky as the hours passed and more and more people came to watch their progress. With the wind blowing mist up the cliff side and the sounds of the gulls echoed across the waves. Astrid could say it was a pretty great day.

Then the shouting started.

Immediately Astrid rolled her eyes at the arrogance that laced every single crusty syllable that left Spitelout’s ugly mouth.

Astrid watched as Snotlout shuddered as the shrill, rusted blade grinding against an uneven stone, tone of his father’s voice echoed around the walls of the arena.

Gods, she hated him.

The smarmy attitude, his face, and even the sound of his voice.

Everything about man made her want to puke.

Her hands itched for a weapon, but she had left her hand axe at the forge to be sharpened later. And killing someone just for the crime of being insufferable was generally frowned upon.

Astrid felt her eye twitch in annoyance as the assling went on with his shouting.

What could that bastard possibly want now?

She urged her dragon lower in the sky so she could make out the nithing’s rant.

Hiccup was already hovering low enough that they could converse. Anyone could see he was trying to talk the conniving worm down, and Astrid could see he was getting more and more annoyed with Spitelout’s mere presence the longer the conversation went on.

“And you call yourself a dragon master,” Spitelout spat as his words slurred together.

Was he drunk? Clearly this was the tail end of the conversation.

Astrid spotted Snotlout approaching the further side of the crowd just before a small group broke off in the direction of the Great hall. Hopefully to get Stoick.

“Yet you strap yourself to the beast. I bet you are scared the lizards would throw you off first chance it gets.”

Hiccup clenched his jaw and Astrid could see him beginning to fidget with his saddle straps. “If you don’t have anything better to do Spitelout, I would love to demonstrate some of tricks I’ve learned over the past few years.”

Toothless’s tail fins spread out and then Hiccup was standing up in his saddle.

The ocean wind that rose off the cliffs rustled his hair as he looked upward. His eyes met hers for all of a second before he called out, “hey Astrid. Catch!”

The crowd of Viking gasped in horror as the heir to the chief acted on impulse.

The Nightfury rolled its eyes as Hiccup leapt from its back.

Astrid leaned forward instinctively into a dive. And in the span of couple of heartbeats, Stormfly’s talons wrapped around Hiccup’s middle.

As if he had been doing it his entire life, he shimmied from the Nadder’s grip and climbed up behind her in the saddle. “Thank you Milady,” he said cheerfully. Almost as if he hadn’t been in the middle of a scream match just a moment ago.

His hand wrapped lightly around her waist, and Astrid swore that the chill sea air had lost all its bite.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Astrid hissed over her shoulder and she moved one hand from her pommel of her saddle to hold onto his arm.

Why wasn’t he strapping into her seat? He hadn’t even moved from crouching to sitting.

“Just an impromptu flying lesson,” he flashed her a crooked smile, “it might be useful to switch dragon’s midair. Can you circle around and get above Fishlegs?”

She matched his grin, “I don’t know, can you keep your seat?”

His grip tightened on her waist and she could feel his other one grab a strap in the saddle.

Astrid urged Stormfly forward and they dove closer to the crowd, gaining speed. Her hand shifted on his arm and her fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife in his brace.

Unsheathing it. She flipped in the air and caught it by the tip of the blade.

“Astrid, what are you-“

In the same instant she pulled up on the reigns she threw the dagger.

Turning in the saddle, her grin widened as Spitelout’s indignant shriek echoed on the walls of the arena. The blade imbedding itself in both his tunic and the wooden stands behind him.

Hiccup laughed as Stormfly twisted in the air.

“What was that for?”

She grinned back at her friend and said simply, “he’s Snotlout’s dad.”

“Fair enough.”

They rolled in the air as Stormfly summersaulted over their friend. She felt the tug of her saddle straps as gravity pulled her out of her seat.

Hiccup didn’t seem to be affected by being turned upside down in the slightest.

They leveled out just above Fishlegs and Meatlug and Hiccup shifted behind her

Astrid felt the cold and dampness of the day return the moment he took his hand away.

“Thank you for the lift,” Hiccup said with a nodded and straightened to standing. He saluted her as he walked backwards into the open air. Dropping to the Gronkle directly beneath her.

Fishlegs shrieked and jerked as Hiccup landed behind him. But they stayed upright and in the air.

Astrid had Stormfly doing lazy circles as the watched the scene continue.

Hiccup must have given Fishlegs the same explanation to his dragon hopping because in the next moment they were in the move.

She held her breath as she watched the progress. Fishlegs was a steady rider, but Hiccup refused to sit still as they moved.

Slipping from the back of the saddle to hanging off the boulder-like ridges of the rocky dragon like a mountain climber.

The twins didn’t seem to notice what was going on. They were too preoccupied arguing over which one of the dragons heads was better. And from the look of things, it was about to get physical.

It took Fishlegs and Hiccup two turns around the Zippleback before Ruff and Tuff had stopped their bickering to give their friends a confused look as they separated from each other.

Meatlug picked up speed as they rose above the twins, tilting to a diagonal angle in the air.
Without thinking the twins copied Fishlegs maneuver, and Hiccup released his feet from their perches, so he was just hanging by a hand.

Astrid continued to watch as Hiccup gave Fishlegs and thumbs up and he dropped onto the wing of the Zippleback.

His body slid down the length of the dragons wing as the twins rushed to level out. But Hiccup was still on the move. His hands grabbing hold one of Barf and Belches back spines. The more experienced rider pulled himself to his feet, as he directed the twins to loop around to Snotlout.

The twins had never been more obedient, probably because they had never seen anyone act more unhinged than their friend was in that current moment.

Hiccup didn’t flinch as they picked up speed. Bounding up the back of the Zippleback as the twins dove towards Snotlout.

Astrid held her breath the closer they got to the Monstrous Nightmare. Those two imbeciles were going to crash.

Snotlout flinched and urged Hookfang forward as the twins shouted, “NOW,” and pulled upwards. Barely avoiding a collision.

In an instant Hiccup was jumping between the heads, the momentum of the twins throwing him upwards as he flipped between them.

Astrid swore as her friend almost missed his next landing site. His arms barely catching hold of Hookfang’s tail as Snotlout surged forward.

There were more gasps from the crowd below as Hiccup swung midair.

The winds were now picking up speed and pulling at anything not strapped down tightly.

But Hiccup’s grip stayed firm as he swung his body weight forward, moving up the Nightmare’s tail spines like they were tree branches.

The dragon hissed in protest but didn’t do anything as Hiccup reached its back legs.

A wave of relief washed over Astrid as she watched Hiccup finally find a foot hold and pull himself up onto the back of the red dragon.

“Is it just me, or is Hiccup kinda hot now?”

Astrid jumped, jerking Stormfly to the wind and whirling on whoever was as behind her. She was so preoccupied watching Hiccup practically dancing on the back of the dragons, that she hadn’t noticed Ruff and Tuff sneaking up beside her.

Astrid wasn’t sure why but Ruff’s words bothered her in a way they never had before.

“If you look at him in certain light I can see it,” replied Tuff to his sister’s question. “But, I do believe a vital error has been made.”

“Oh for sure, he didn’t quite make a full rotation on the flip. Points should be deducted from his final score.”

“That is true but that’s not the error I have uncovered. How have we never seen Hiccup’s potential for chaos before?”

Ruff turned from watching Hiccup and Snotlout doing a lap around the arena, “are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We should corrupt him!!” They said in unison just as another booming voice echoed long the rocks.

“HICCUP, GET DOWN FROM THERE.” Stoick’s worried bravado reverberated in everyone eardrums as the chief captured everyone’s attention.

Hiccup and Snotlout broke from their conversation at the ruckus below them. Both freezing at the angry look that the chief was giving them.

“I think he is in trouble,” Tuff said as he leaned forward to get a better look.

“Let’s get a closer look” suggested Ruff as she moved along with her brother, “I think a good father son argument will really add to the plot.”

The twins urged Barf and Belch to the floor of the arena, and Fishlegs followed quickly after. Knowing him, he would not want to seem insubordinate to the orders of their chief.

Astrid stayed up the longest, making sure that Hiccup and Snotlout would do what they were told. She could see Hiccup pointing to where Toothless glided and hovered aloft on the wind coming up from the cliffs.

With his locked tail, the Nightfury was clearly struggling to stay in the air.

Then the Nightmare was moving, Snotlout leading Hookfang to the air above Toothless with a reluctance of someone who knew they were about to get scolded.

Meanwhile, Hiccup calmly walked backwards along the back of the moving dragon. His arms outspread as he weaved in between the red spines.

As Snotlout pulled Hookfang to a stop, all Astrid could do was roll her eyes as she watched the son of the chief step out onto the dragon’s wing and casually make his way to the edge. The membrane bowing more and more the close he got to the wing tip. Until it couldn’t support his weight anymore.

Hiccup calmly plummeted as Toothless moved to meet him halfway.

As Hiccup’s hands grabbed hold of his pommel, Toothless flared his wings out wide to slow their descent and within moments they were twisting as one unit in the sky. Completing a full Victory lap as Astrid and Snotlout landed in front of Stoick.

One look at the frazzled and worried man was enough to know that they were all about to be in big trouble.

Stoick never tore his eyes away from his son as he hung upside down in his saddle, the light of the sun glinting off the silver of his shield as he directed the Nightfury towards the group.

Astrid held her breath as she noticed the straps flapping behind him. How is he holding his seat without his safety straps being attached?

He landed next to the group and Stoick didn’t hesitate to approach them.

Hiccup didn’t seem phased by his father’s irritation as he asked, “hey Dad, is there a problem?”

Stoick put his large hands to his temple and rubbed at his flesh, as if he was feeling the beginnings of a headache. “What did I say about your uncle? And about flight trainings?”

“Hey, I can’t control the man. If he wants to seek us out to scream at the sky, that’s his problem.”

Stoick let out a very loud and exasperated sigh, “I told you that training would only be allowed, if you can do it safely. Falling off a dragon is not safe.”

“Technically I was jumping, so I definitely had a plan of how to catch myself. It was perfectly safe. Besides, if I wanted to demonstrate something dangerous I would have recruited some people to shoot arrows at me as I did it.”

Everyone in the arena stared blankly at his statement. Years ago, Hiccup wouldn’t dare say something like that to his chief. Sure, he would occasionally back talk his father, but he had never said something quite as unhinged as that.

Stoick looked to the sky, as if, quietly praying to Odin for the strength and wisdom to deal with his unruly child. But, Astrid caught a slight glimpse of a smile that peaked out from under his large beard.

There had been a shift in Stoick’s demeanor ever since it came to light that Hiccup was the rider. The chief’s steps were lighter, and his eyes no longer held the haunted looks of someone who had lost everything.

The chief took a few deep breaths, clearly doing everything in his power not to loose his composure, before he spoke again. “Do I want to know how you obtained that skill?”

Hiccup only smiled as he replied, “No you do not.”

“We will discuss this later,” the chief stated after another long breath, “right now, I need everyone to lock up their beasts. Johann’s ship was spotted close to port. And, I’m sure everyone is aware how skittish the man is.”

Everyone nodded their agreement with the order and began moving to put away their dragon. Snotlout muttered a complaint about how annoying the trader was but he didn’t argue as he dismounted off Hookfang.

Everyone except Hiccup, whose face had fallen from its mischievous grin to one of dead seriousness.

Hiccup turned to the group before saying, “who was on patrol this morning? I had asked everyone to tell me if they spotted any ships approaching.”

The seriousness of his tone concern Astrid. What was this about?

The twins raised their hands at the question, “it’s just Johann. We wanted to be the first ones to greet him when he docked,” said Ruff as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

Tuff continued, “Yeah we wanted to see if had had put any thought into our suggestion that he start up a franchise. He could have a stall on each island where he could sell his wares. Though Trader Johann’s isn’t catchy, so we were gonna pitch the shop name ‘Trader Jo’s.’ What do you think? Ruff and I thought we could get about thirty percent if he helped him set it up.”

Hiccup put his palm to his face and his voice came out muffled as he said, “oh this is bad.”

“What’s wrong?” Astrid asked, concerned by the look on his face.

Hiccup looked up at everyone now, determination in his eyes as it was clear he had the beginnings of a plan. “The problem is that Johann is one of Drago’s top informants. He is a lying, backstabbing, maniac who tricks people into thinking he is a coward so they let their guard down around him. And now he is almost here. Did anyone read the ledgers I brought? His name was at the top of all of them. He is, currently, how Drago is able to afford his army.”

Everyone stopped dead at the information that was just revealed.

This was clearly a surprise for everyone.

Hiccup just rolled his eyes as he hopped off Toothless back and made his way to the cliff’s edge.

The arena sat in a crumbling cliff that had once been connected to greater Berk, but after years of storm and dragon damage one of the only ways to get to it was via a bridge that crossed over the entrance to Berk’s port.

No one could get in or out of Berk without someone at the kill ring knowing.

And anchored nearby was the Traitor in question. He flew the same merchants flag that had always flown, but from here Astrid could tell that something was wrong. Astrid had never seen him anchor outside Berk’s harbor before.

“What is he doing?” She asked Hiccup as he pulled his spyglass from Toothless’s saddle bag.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” He responded before turning back to the twins, “were you spotted when you were out?”

Tuff scoffed as Ruff replied, “do not underestimate the sneakiness of one Barf and Belch.”

“Okay, I need you two to bring me the longest piece of rope you can find and four sets of hand cuffs.”

The twins didn’t question Hiccups orders. Clearly as intrigued as everyone else for his next move they ran to the arena’s supply closet.

“Hiccup, what are you thinking?” Stoick asked, as he approached his son.

Astrid hadn’t seen that level of angry on the chief since Hiccup had first disappeared. The way Hiccup had described Johann had been enough for the man to know that the merchant had hurt his son before. And he was beginning to turn as red as his beard with the rage that came with that fact.

Hiccup took a long look through the metal tube with his brow furrowed before answering, “we can’t let Johann into port, and there is a good chance that he may have set out raiding parties already. He is too important to kill, but he may be willing to sell out Drago. So, we are going to have to capture him. And since this is the twins mess they are gonna be the diversion.”

Right on queue the twins reappeared with the rope and the cuffs. Without skipping a beat, Hiccup directed Tuff to tie one end off the rope off ten feet up the nearby flagpole.

Astrid watched as Hiccup took a short arrow out of a sheath on his thigh, she hadn’t noticed was there, and tie the other end to it.

Once the rope was secure Hiccup removed the shield from his back.

Everyone watched in confused amazement as the moment he put it on his arm and the silver circle expanded. The panels spreading out wide to reveal a bow was built inside it.

Astrid blinked at the device, it was almost impossible. That wasn’t just any bow built into the shield. Hiccup had imbedded a North-bow inside it.

The primary weapon of the Meathead tribe, the bow had been known to be able to shoot arrows further and with more power than any other bow in the archipelago. The Meatheads guarded their weapons with the same ferocity as they used them to guard the Meathead public library. Which, ironically, had been closed to the public for decades.

How the Hel had he acquired that?

Hiccup notched the arrow and turned his body slightly to the right and upward as he let the line fly.

For a single moment, Astrid had thought he was going to miss the ship entirely. But then, the flapping of the flag above her caught her attention. It took everything in her not to blink as she witnessed the wind pull the arrow and line towards Johann’s boat.

Astrid snatched the spy glass away from Stoick. He had been watching his son with the same level of amazement as Astrid had for the shot.

She got the glass to her eye the moment the rope went taut and instantly she knew it had hit Hiccups intended target. She could see his the end of the rope and the fletching of the arrow sticking out of the mast of the ship.

Hiccup put down the shield as he began to give directions. Astrid couldn’t help but watch as it folded back in on itself until it look like a normal shied once more.

“We need to set up a perimeter. Fishlegs and Snotlout do a sweep of the island. Make sure there are no raiding parties already here or on their way. Astrid, sit back and wait for my signal. I need someone ready to scoop up Johann and bring him back here. We can put him in one of the empty dragon cages for now.”

“Hey, hold on.” Interrupted Snotlout, “I’ve always hated Johann, I want to be the one to grab him.”

Hiccup arched a brow at his cousin, for a moment he looked like he wanted to disagree; but he just shrugged his shoulders and conceded to the request before turning to the twins.

“Ruff and Tuff, you two are going to distract him. Take one pair of the cuffs and attach it to the line. There is a chance he won’t know that you guys have specifically been training dragons so the zip line will catch him off guard. Keep him talking. When the time is right, the three of us will strike and one of you will use the second set of handcuffs to restrain him. And be careful, he will have a knife up his sleeve and he won’t hesitate to use it.”

“You had me at zip line,” said Ruff as she locked a cuff on the top and jumped off the cliff holding the other end.

Tuff was grinning so wide it looked like he could explode for excitement, “Hiccup, you beautiful genius. I could kiss you on the mouth right now.”

Astrid felt her eye twitch in irritation as Tuff did the same with his cuff and followed his sister down to the ship. Woo-ping with joy every foot he descended.

Snotlout mounted his dragon before shouting, “I just want it on the record that I was right about that annoying bastard.” Then he launched into the air, keeping low along the cliffs edge, doing his best to stay of sight of the boat.

Hiccup turned to his dragon and pulled the bar that locked his tail for gliding, “stay here bud, it’s too bright out and you will be spotted if you come with me. You know the signal.”

Toothless let out a large noise of complaint before grumpily marching to the cliffs edge and crouching in wait.

Hiccup followed him to the cliffs edge, only for Stoick to pull him back. “Son, this is to dangerous. If Johann is as big of a threat as you claim then I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Hiccup turned to his dad. Taking in the concerned look on his face before saying, “Look I know you are concerned. However-“

Hiccup never finished his sentence. Catching his father off guard, he bolted to the cliffs edge.

Stoick moved to chance after, but his years away from Berk had made Hiccup too fast for his father to keep up.

Astrid and her chief watched in horror as Hiccup threw himself off the cliff. Nowhere near the zip line.

Toothless made no move to catch his rider and Astrid couldn’t tear her eyes away as her friend plummeted.

Stoick was holding to Astrid, doing everything in his power to keep upright as he watched his son fall to his death.

Only he wasn’t falling.

Horror turned to confusion and then amazement as Hiccup flew.

Astrid’s knuckles turned white on the spy glass as she remembered she was holding it and she brought it back up to her face.

Extending out from Hiccup’s sides were a pair of brown leather wings that caught on the wind that blew upward along the cliff side.

Hiccup rode along the wind as if it was his to command as he glided to Johann’s ship.

Chapter Text

The wind tore and whipped at the tanned yak leather that made up the wings of Hiccups flight suit. Despite his suit being one of his older ones, it still held up as he angled himself towards the mast of Johann’s ship.

No arrows yet.

Meaning the twins were doing their job and keeping everyone on board distracted. Or, there was a trap waiting for him.

The strain of the glide pulled at the stitches in his shoulder; but it felt good to feel the sea air in his hair as the wind worked against gravity, urging him forward in a controlled descent.

He did everything he could to slow the glide, the closer he got to the ship. He would only get one shot at a landing, so he prayed to Thor that his plan would go off without a hitch.

Moving as fast as he could, Hiccup reached for the loose rope hanging from the main mast. The force of his fall causing his whole body whiplash as the line when taut.

Gods he hoped no one would look up from the deck to see him swinging here.

He slammed into the mast the same instant a large way knocked against the hull. And hissing through the pain of the impact , Hiccup shimmied up the rope and pulled himself on top of the mast rigging.

He crossed his legs around the cross beam so he could strap down the wings. Looking down, Hiccup watched as the twins had Johann’s attention fully captured.

The trader seemed to be trying to keep his cowardly reputation intact; and Hiccup enjoyed seeing him sweat and squirming as the blonds bombarded him with question after question.

Every time Johann began to go off on one of his made up travel tangents, one of twins would change topics.

It was truly an amazing thing to behold.

As quietly as he could, Hiccup began to saw at the top of the rope with one of the arrows had had strapped to his thigh. The task would be much easier if he still had his knife, but the look of Spitelout’s face when Astrid had pinned him to the stands was priceless.

“Johann, is it true that the rider once surfed down an erupting volcano on the back of a dragon?” Asked Tuff. And Hiccup was now clearly aware that if Johann knew he was here, then so did Drago.

Johann stuttered a bit before saying, “I’m not sure. It’s a mariners tale for sure. Why not ask the rider yourself? I’m sure he would love to tell the world of his exploits. Though, I will say that does remind me of my travels to the Roman city of Pompeii!”

“Ah Pompeii, Shompeii. One exploding city is just like the next. If the rider was on Berk, do you think we would leave his side? The destructive potential of the man would be enough for the two of us to be glued to his hip.” Interrupted Tuffnut. “Now Johann, it’s is imperative that I know the truth. Did the rider truly steal the prize potato from the Hysteric tribe?”

Ruff smacked her brother on the back of the head. “Forgive my idiot of a brother, Johann, everyone knows that the potato doesn’t exist. Just like America, it’s a myth told by fools, for fools.”

“That is not true sister. I have reason to believe that the Earth is not flat like we have all been told. And instead, it is as round as the moon and sun.”

As the twins argued back and forth with each other, both trying to convince the trader of the increasingly insane logic of their arguments, Hiccup tied the end of the rope into a snare.

Running the length through one of the pulleys holding up the sails, he slowly lowered the loop.

When the trap was all set up Hiccup turned his attention back to the twins.

How was he going to get them to get Johann in the right spot?

He couldn’t drop something. The twins might not see it and there is a chance the noise would attract Johann’s attention. A bird call would also be risky.

Internally scolding himself, Hiccup cursed. He should know by now to not into a situation with a half baked plan. He had been riding high from showing off in the arena.

Never in Hiccup’s life had he ever been viewed with that much enthusiasm from the people he grew up with. And now they were all going to realize how much of a failure he still was.

The always slightly sarcastic voice of Tuff pulled him away from the spiral of self doubt. “You know, if you are interest in my theories on heliocentrism, I can give you my notes. I will apologize in advance for the chicken-scratch. My proofreader has terrible penmanship.”

“Your proofreader is a bird with a brain twice the size of your own!” Interjected Ruff.

Hiccup wasn’t sure how long the twins could keep Johann talking. He wasn’t sure how long they had distracted the man already.

Looking to his wrist, Hiccup flipped up the metal cover that covered the small device imbedded in the arm guard.

He had found the mysterious ticking thing on one of his adventures outside the archipelago. After spending hours fiddling with it he had learned the purpose of most of the seven arms that spun around the face of the tiny thing.

One arm always pointed north and another measured longitude. One arm for tracking the hours of the day, another for minutes.

After having the thing in his possession for a year he had discovered that an alarm the rings off the Hooligan national anthem could be set on it that made the ticking louder the closer to the time set.

It had been almost an hour. And from the sounds of it, the twins could definitely go on for longer.

The sun caught on the metal cover and Hiccup winced as the light reflected back into his eyes.

That might work!

Hiccup angled the metal disk towards Tuff the moment Johann turned to Ruff. “The topic of your scientific research is quite interesting,” Johann stuttered. “But, what does any of this have to do with the rider?”

The light of the disk hit Tuff squarely in the eye. Only he didn’t blink. He didn’t even flinch.

Ruff groaned loudly before saying, “Gods Johann, you are the one who brought up the rider. Sorry for trying to engage you in a stimulating conversation about the guys rumored exploits. Gods forbid we be considerate of the interests of others.”

Tuff moved the drape himself over Johann shoulder, “you know you are being quite rude.”

“I have half a mind to sue you for emotional damage.” Added Ruff as Tuff used his hand to grab Johann’s beard and lock his head in one place.

Hiccup used the switch to angle the silver disk towards Ruff, flashing the sun into her eyes.

Luckily the plan seemed to work this time, and the blonde glanced up to the rigging and then back down to where Hiccup needed them to lead their target.

“Don’t worry my dear merchant. If she does take you to court; I will represent you on the stand. I have been on trial more than any other Viking in Berk’s history. So, I know what I’m doing.”

Ruff draped herself over her brother, added more weight to Johann’s back as she began to lead the two across the deck. “Tuff, you are Berk’s leading legal expert. So, before this argument gets out of hand. I say we all take a calming moment to look out at the ocean discuss all of our options. You know Johann, Tuff and I are the Thorston designated mediators. So, I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

A single look between the Nuts and they were moving instep with one another. Practically slithering towards the mast with Johann in tow.

It was a very impressive feat to watch; even if their mischievous energy made Hiccup’s skin crawl.

Hiccup made a mental note to never get on the bad side of Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

To his credit, and the credit of his acting abilities, Johann was only starting to look frazzled. Throughout the twins time waylaying him and whatever he had been planning to do, Hiccup had noticed how he kept glancing to the sides of the boat and down at the cargo hold. The frustration in his eyes getting more and more pronounced the longer either one of the twins talked.

And now as the twins dragged the man towards the sails, Hiccup could see Johann’s carefully crafted mask of the bumbling merchant slip.

“Looking out at the waves and pondering all the disagreements one has in their life is an excellent way to pass the time,” Said Johann as all hints of his jovial voice were gone from his tone. “But there are other ways to deal with annoyance.”

They were so close to the snare. Just a few more steps.

A glint of silver slipped out of the merchant’s sleeve into his hands.

If it was even possible, Tuff’s voice held even more amusement as he said, “oh boy don’t I know it. Our parents would end every disagreement with a dance. Ladies first.”

Then he was twisting the merchants arm as he spun out of his grasp.

Johann’s dagger dropped to the deck of the ship as Ruff shifted the older man as easily as a child playing with a doll.

“And now we dip.” Said Ruff as she threw Johann into the snare.

Johann shrieked as the trap pulled tight around his legs and he was suddenly airborne.

Hiccup rolled off the rigging. Using his body weight to pull the snare tight. Hoisting his target upward.

Holding tightly to the rope, Hiccup unsheathed the inferno with his other hand. Drawing out the blade and stabbing the flaming sword into the canvas of the sail. Breaking his fall.

The impact jolted up Hiccup’s metal foot and instinctively he bent is knees to soften the landing. From the other side of the burning sail He could see Johann flailing as a second knife entered his hand as he tried to reach for the rope that kept him suspended.

Hiccup let go, hoping the fall would disorienting the merchant enough that he could be disarmed and captured.

But almost faster than he could perceive, Johann had cut his ankles free from their bindings as he fell back to the deck.

The merchant rolled as he fell, taking the brunt of the impact on his shoulder before bouncing back up to his feet, knife at the ready.

“Hiccup Haddock, as I live and breathe. I never thought I’d see the day where you would be back in these waters,” chimed the trader as the two men began to circle one another. “Where’s your pet? Has dear old daddy skinned him and hung his scales over the mantle yet?”

Hiccup said nothing as he raised his sword and squared his feet.

Johann continued when he realized his opponent wasn’t going to fall for the bait, “oh, are we not going to chat? What a shame, our conversations are always so stimulating.”

Then the trader was moving, rushing forward in a lunge as his grip tightened on the blade.

The twins moved faster.

Before Johann could get within arms distance of the dragon rider, Ruff was striking at the older man’s knees with the flat of an oar. Tuff was the same, smacking the bearded man in the face with the wooden staff.

They were upon him faster than it took to hit the deck. Holding him down as the other pinned his wrists.

Johann was chained before the sail could finish burning. His face, bloody and bruised from the twins assault.

Hookfang dove in a moment later, scooping up the merchant before turning back to the cliffs.

Hiccup could hear his cousin laughing as he kept his dragon low to the surf. Occasionally dipping the man in the sea, ensuring Johann would be cold and wet when he was locked up.

Hiccup turned to the twins then, extinguishing his blade in the crook of his elbow before pointing the other side to the sky. A cloud of Zippleback gas escaped from the butt of the hilt before igniting with a single spark.

Ruff and Tuff looked at him in admiration as he turned back to compliment them. “Great job, Toothless will be gliding here in just a second. All we have left to do is search the ship, hopefully we will find something useful.”

By the time they had all split up and reconvened on deck, the dragons were there. Ready to take them back to Berk.

The twins had found and disabled several booby traps in the hull, Tuff bragged about the Thorston ability to untrap a booby as they flew away from the ship. Ruff, grinning in agreement as multicolored gems stuck out from beneath her teeth and weighed down her pockets.

Hiccup had only found another map. It was similar to the one he had found on his first raid with Snotlout. He could tell there was something wrong with the markings. He just couldn’t tell what.

When they all arrived back, the dragon cages were full of men. Astrid and Fishlegs had rounded up a full raiding party that had attempt to invade from the north. Now, more of Stoick’s men were out searching the woods for stragglers and any traps they might of laid.

It was after checking in the prisoners that the first blow hit him.

Hiccup felt the punch clear through his armor. Strong enough to make his entire arm go numb for a second as he turned to face his assailant.

In the dimming light of the setting sun stood Astrid Hofferson. And Hiccup could see a blazing determination in her eyes as she moved to pin him against the stone walls of the kill ring.

Confusion flooded his brain as he stared at the girl in front of him.

Why would she do that?

He was about to ask her the very question when she spoke up.

“That’s for scaring me.”

Hiccup sputtered at that. What could she possibly mean that he had scared her? He was the least threatening guy in the island. And she could and definitely would beat him up if given a reason.

Could she possibly be talking about his leap from the cliff?

He did that kind of thing all the time. Why would she possibly be scared for him? It’s not like living on Berk was a safe thing to do. And no one had ever really cared about his safety before.

He blinked at her. Trying his best to nonverbally ask everything that ran through his head. But the only thing that came out his mouth was, “is it always gonna be this way with you?”

Astrid looked around for a second, as if checking to see if they were alone.

Oh Gods there are no witnesses, she was going to hit him again.

Hiccup braced for the impact of her fist as a hand reached up and grabbed him by the collar. Astrid was pulling him down to her height. And then the next thing he knew was the her mouth was on his and time stood still.

For what felt like eternity and no time at all she was kissing him and Hiccup had forgotten how to breathe.

His knees felt weak as she pulled way from him. And turning back towards the village he could hear her say over her shoulder, “and thats for everything else.”

Chapter Text

Stoick was at a loss for what to do. Ever since he was a boy he had had a his life in Berk planned out. He was supposed to protect his tribe. He would be a strong chief, a loving husband, and a caring father.

Nothing was going according to that plan.

He couldn’t blame his son. Hiccup had always been Hiccup.

The only plans that worked when he was involved were his own.

It had always been that way.

They had tried for so long to have a child.

Years of longing, loss, and heartbreak that led to their son.

He came early into this world, born on February twenty ninth. He was so tiny that Valka feared he wouldn’t make it. Secretly, Stoick thought the same.

He would never tell his wife that. She was so weak from the birth, and Stoick thought that another loss might take her from him too.

He had to be strong for his wife.

That night he sat by his wife’s side holding his son. He was smaller than his hand. And he seemed to struggle with every movement, every breath.

Hundreds of years ago his ancestors would have left this kind of child in the woods or floated them off to sea for the Gods to deal with them. This world is one of tooth and claw. Only the strong belong in such a world.

Stoick hated himself for even considering that.

What was supposed to be one of the greatest moments of his life was filled with nothing but dread and misery as he waited for this tiny child of his to succumb to his own weakness.

He would have stayed there, sitting in his own sorrow, if not for his father in law.

Old Wrinkly was a strange old man. For the longest time he was the village soothsayer. The worst soothsayer Berk had ever known, but no one was going to tell him that. And not just because he was Valka’s father.

The old man leaned over and gave his daughter a kiss on the head before walking around to take his first look at his grandson. Valka was in such a deep sleep that she didn’t even notice he was there.

Old wrinkly took one look and the writhing, fussy baby in Stoick’s hands before saying, “oh you have a little fighter on your hands.”

Stoick didn’t even dare to hope that was the case. Not when he had seen babes twice this one’s size pass on.

The old man put a supportive hand on the chiefs shoulder before asking. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen in his future?”

Stoick couldn’t even muster the energy to roll his eyes at the old man who couldn’t even predict the outcome of a bashyball game.

Old Wrinkly took Stoick’s silence as permission to continue his rambling. “He is going to have twice the heart as anyone else on this island. He may have to work twice as hard, but the future looks bright for him.”

Stoick pulled the baby closer to his chest, doing his best to settle him. But his general fussiness had evolved to wailing as he struggled to get comfortable.

Stoick looked up at the old man as the tiny baby tangled his fist in his beard. “He is just so small,” those were the first words he had said in hours and his voice was ruff and hollow.

“So what?” Replied the chiefs father in law as he arched a bushy white brow. “Size is not an indication of strength. Just because something isn’t perfect, doesn’t mean it’s worth any less.”

“What if he doesn’t make it?” Stoick asked, doing everything in his power to keep the fear from his voice.

“He will, can’t you feel the determination just dripping off him. I have no doubt that he will accomplish anything and everything he sets his mind to. And I just know he will do it his way. It might be a hiccup in your plans Stoick, but I have faith you will adapt.”

Stoick’s, still unnamed, son quieted down at the statement. His sobs turning into hiccups as he settled himself in the arms of his father.

Stoick knew right then and there that that was going to be his name. It was a family name after all.

It was a Hiccup after all that was the very first king of the Vikings, and was the great-great grandfather the Stoick’s own ancestor Grimbeard the Gastly.

And Grimbeard himself had named his own son Hiccup after he became the second Viking king of the archipelago.

So, grasping onto the smallest thread of hope the Old Wrinkly had presented him with. Stoick the Vast named his son Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third.

A rather large name for a rather small boy.

He had vowed right then and there that he would do everything in his power to protect him. And for fifteen years he was successful in keeping that vow.

Now he didn’t know what to do.

How could he protect his stubborn son from himself? How could he stop Hiccup from throwing himself off cliffs and allowing fire breathing beasts the size of long ships from gathering around him as if they were sheep and he was their shepherd.

Stoick hated to think it. But, his son made him uneasy now.

It just wasn’t natural for Vikings a dragons to be civil with one another. And the fact that Hiccup and his Nightfury seemed so codependent on each other bothered the chief.

He was proud of his son.

Finally, the boy seemed to be thriving in the world. After years of Stoick struggling to teach him how to be a proper Viking; sword flighting, archery, raiding, and naval strategy.

What Stoick couldn’t teach him in fifteen years, Hiccup managed to learn on his own in five.

That fact only stung a little bit. Stoick was a busy man as well as a chief of a whole village. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. Multiple times he had recruited other villages to try and teach his son when Stoick was to preoccupied to do it himself.

It didn’t irk the man at all that someone off island was able to do what he could not.

At least that’s what he told himself as he watched his son practice in the arena. Hiccup and Snotlout faced off in the arena, and Stoick couldn’t be more proud and more annoyed at his sons abilities.

Stoick clenched his fist as he witnessed Hiccup perfectly execute the Grimbeard Grapple.

“I told you so,” said Gobber from his right side.

“Told me what?” He asked back, not wanting to tear his attention away from the match. Partly because he was concerned for his son’s safety, they were using real swords, and partly because it was an entertaining match.

“The boy is left handed, that’s what his problem was before. You kept trying to teach him to use his right hand.”

“He can use both hands equally as well,” replied Stoick as the scraping of metal blades caused him to wince.

“Not equally. Look at how he favors his left side, he is able to put more power into his swings as he grounds with his right foot. He wouldn’t be able to hit as hard if he used his right hand.”

Stoick watched as his son demonstrated the very thing Gobber was describing. And he internally winced at the reminder that his son was missing a foot. Being able to spread out toes and ground through the foot was a big part of fighting with fists. And Hiccup’s lack of the limb would affect his balance in other ways.

Though, you wouldn’t know it by just watching the match.

Before, Hiccup always seemed to be overcompensating. Either he was always overstepping or freezing when it was time for action.

Now Stoick watched his son’s every measured step. Hiccup pivoted on his prosthetic with a practiced ease as he batted his cousin on the back with the flat of his blade.

Snotlout stumbled, but righted himself as he positioned himself for another charge.

They continued around each other for a while longer, Stoick could tell his sons heart wasn’t in the fight. For the past few days if he wasn’t in the forge or trying to train new riders, Hiccup was obsessing over the maps found in the raids.

Stoick hadn’t allowed him out on patrols since the reveal. Every time a Hiccup had volunteered, the sight of the arrow embedding itself in his son’s shoulder flashed through his mind.

With how the boy had begun to avoid him, more than usual, Stoick knew that his son was frustrated.

The match was just finishing up with a Terrible Terror landed on his sword arm. Pulling Hiccup off balance as he moved to block.

Snotlout’s blow had Hiccup in the ground, groaning in annoyance. The Terror, who had saved itself by flying off just as the boy hit the ground, landed on Hiccup’s head and craned its neck as its big yellow eye bored into the riders.

Stoick was moving now, the need to get to his son, protect him from the dragon that was inches away from devouring Hiccups face flooded through his brain.

Why wasn’t Hiccup moving to pull the creature off himself?

The Dragon just sat as still as a statue on top of his son’s head as its thin forked tongue poked from its maw and slid down its own eyeball.

Now that he was closer, Stoick could see that something was tied to the dragons horn.

Hiccup sat and quietly removed the item. Before holding it up for everyone to see.

Stoick was close enough now to make out that it was a roll of parchment. A silvery green wax seal in the middle kept the letter sealed.

The Terror, now free from its task as a messenger, spread its small wings and flapped off towards the woods.

Stoick breathed a sigh of relief at the dragon’s departure, and Hiccup pulled himself to his feet.

“Looks like we got our first reply.” He said with a nonchalant attitude. Handing the letter to Stoick.

It was addressed to his son.

When they had first sent off the three letters, both Hiccup and Stoick had written their own requests. Hiccup, because he knew each recipient personally. And Stoick, because he was Chief of the Hooligan tribe.

And Hiccup was the only one to get a response.

This couldn’t be good.

Stoick handed the roll back to his son as soon as he saw the neat swirling letters of his son’s name inked into the parchment. And Hiccup broke the seal.

After a brief skim of the contents, a smile broke out on Hiccups face. He passed the letter back to the chief before saying. “Heather is on her way. Which means Dagur won’t be far behind. We should probably wait for Dagur’s full reply before we know for sure how many of the Berserker’s are coming as well. He was off island at the time the letter was received, probably visiting his wife.”

The letter was much shorter than what Hiccup just explained. It simply read.

“It’s about time you asked for help, we are on our way.”

No further explanation of who the ‘We’ were. There wasn’t even a real signature. Stoick noticed the impression of a rare dragon pressed into the wax. A Razorwhip if he wasn’t mistaken.

Gobber looked over at the letter now, apparently he had followed the chief into the ring. “You got all that from two sentences? It’s not even signed.”

Hiccup shrugged, “Heather the unhinged is straight to the point. If she is ranting, then she is probably planning on killing somebody.” He laughed to himself, “you should have seen her when she was trying to kill Dagur, she wouldn’t shut up.”

That statement raised so many questions but Hiccup just turned to walk out of the arena.

The feeling of befuddlement seemed to get worse the next day.

Stoick had finally gotten around to interrogating Johann. The uncanny valley feeling in the cell, that originated from the merchant as he seethed in his cot, made the chiefs skin crawl. There was something unsettling about the man when he wasn’t bumbling around discussing his travels.

Stoick didn’t like to think about his capture.

Didn’t like to think about how his son jumped off a cliff.

Didn’t like to be reminded of his own terror at the thought of his son plummeting.

Sure, Stoick had heard the tale of how the rider would often fly beside his dragon. But he didn’t think much of them, they were just stories told by sailors of what little they could see in the dead of night. Never in his wildest imagination did Stoick think anyone would be able to ride the wind like Hiccup did.

He should have wondered at all the rumors.

Should have asked questions.

Stoick frowned at the merchant as his rage began to simmer. He had asked questions.

For years, Stoick had asked Johann for any news in the location of his son. For years, he had begged the man to aid him in his search.

And this entire time Johann had know where Hiccup was. Had traded with him. Had betrayed him.

Stoick wanted to do nothing more than throw the slimy excuse for a worm off the nearest cliff. But, Hiccup said he could be useful.

They stood outside the bars of Johann’s cell.

Stoick holding on to the cold metal so hard that his knuckles were turning white with the force of his repressed anger.

Hiccup and his Dragon, standing as far back from the man as the halls would allow. But Stoick could see a similar rage set in the slop of his son’s brow. Not even the boy’s presence could make the dragon retract his teeth.

No one wanted to be believe that Johann of all people could be capable of betraying Berk. He had been known as the merchant with the boring, long winded, stories for so long that the villagers were incapable of shifting their view on him. But Stoick knew that if his optimistic and trusting son was treating him as a threat, then Johann may be nothing more than a venomous snake that had been hiding in the grass for far too long.

No one spoke for a long while, as everyone seemed to be marinating in the mutual hatred of the moment.

Johann’s eyes bounced between the chief and his son, as if he was not sure who to address first.

Finally, it was Hiccup who broke the silence. “If you’re looking for another angle to exploit, Johann. Your not going to find one. The game is over.”

“But master Hiccup,” Johann said as his face shifted from one of annoyance to one of amusement. “I thought you liked games?”

“You remember what happened to the last person who played games with me,” replied the rider with a seriousness that Stoick had never heard from his son. “And Viggo was much smarter than you. Do you think Drago will go as easy on you as he went on him after his failure?”

Stoick could honestly say that he had never heard his son threaten another person before. And the seriousness of Hiccup’s tone had the hair in the back of the chiefs neck rising.

Johann didn’t seem to be unsettled at all by the threat. “Why Hiccup, you and I both know it wasn’t Drago who betrayed that business man.”

“And what would happen if that fact made its way to Drago’s ears. I don’t think he would appreciate the person who cost him the majority of his income. If my math is correct, Viggo’s death decreased Drago’s gold by about sixty percent.”

Johann gulped at that figure.

“You know there is only so much a man would be willing to do to do out of fear,” Hiccup continued. “And if Drago can’t afford to feed his army, then sooner or later they will abandon him. The same way his dragons abandon him every time I raid his ships.”

This was not the direction Stoick thought the interrogation was going to go. And he never expected to hear about the logistics of supply chain management from his son. But from how the merchant in the cell was beginning to sweat, Hiccup had found the right angle.

Johann began to fidget in his seat. “I didn’t think you have it in you to be so cruel, Master Hiccup.”

“And I don’t think you realize how much I don’t appreciate being thrown off cliffs, or locked in the den of a wild dragon, or stabbed. So from my perspective, I have every right to leave you stranded and alone on an island full of ravenous Speedstingers.”

JOHANN DID WHAT?!?

Stoick was livid. His own rage erupted from a simmering blaze to an inferno.

How dare the nithing lay a finger on his boy?

Stoick was through the cell door before he had time to think. The traitor held in the air by his shirt collar. The chief was going to do whatever Johann had done to Hiccup and then more.

“WAIT DAD, NO!!!” Hiccup was behind him now, pulling on his arm. “We still can use him.”

Johann was pulling at his fingers as Stoick’s grip tightened on the man. The Traders feet began to kick at the chiefs torso. “Easy there Stoick,” he began to beg.

“I would shut up if I were you Johann,” interrupted Hiccup, “there is only one reason he isn’t called Stoick the Vengeful.”

Dropping the man, Stoick whirled on his son. “Was that a crack about my weight?”

There was an amused look in Hiccups eyes that broke through the seriousness of the moment. And the two of them turned back the Johann who was crawling backwards on the floor of the cell in an attempt to get away from them.

Only in the dark of the cell; he didn’t notice the large shadow moving just out of reach of the firelight. The Nightfury opened its toxic green eye and the bright reflection only amplified the sickly green tint of fear loathing that had settled onto Johann’s face.

The dragon didn’t care, its lip curled backward and it snarled as it showed its bright white teeth in the darkness.

“Johann,” Hiccup said as the Dragons snarl lowered to a hiss, “there are many ways this can go for you. Either you can be smart and cooperate. Or things could end very badly for you. There is a whole list of people who want to see you dead. And if you don’t tell us what we want to know, I have no problem turning you over to the highest bidder.”

Johann stilled at the boys words, but he didn’t say anything.

“Now,” continued Hiccup as he pulled out one of the maps taken from the raids, “I know something is off about these maps. And you are going to tell me exactly what it is.”

It was a solid offer. Firm, yet merciful. Yet there were clear consequences laid out in it if Johann failed to comply.

The rush of pride Stoick felt for his son was strong enough to hold up the sky. He had always known that Hiccup had what it took to be a great leader, a great chief.

But lingering in the recesses of his mind was the thought. Stoick had failed in bringing that out in his son.

Johann’s laugh pulled Stoick from the beginnings of another spiral. Unlike the jovial laugh the chief was used to.

This laugh was maniacal in nature, horse and crude in a way that made Stoick’s skin crawl.

“Oh you have no idea what is coming for you.” Johann said in between spouts laughing and coughs as he struggled to catch his breath. “I won’t tell you anything, boy. You think you’re so smart, but you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.”

The coughing laughter went on just long enough for Stoick and Hiccup to know the traitor wouldn’t say anything else to them.

And with a single look from its rider, the Nightfury smashed its tail down on Johann’s head. The metal clasp made contact with his temple as the force of the blow knocked Johann’s skull into the stone wall of the cell.

He was out cold.

Hiccup let out a long breath as he turned to the door of the cell, “well that was a bust.”

“Not everyone can be reasoned with son.”

“Clearly,” Hiccup stopped at the threshold and ran his hand along the door frame before turning to face him for the first time that day. “Gobber isn’t going to happy to hear that you ripped a perfectly good door of its hinges.”

There was a hint of amusement in his son’s exasperated tone and Stoick couldn’t help but smile at that.

Chapter Text

If he didn’t get off this island soon, Hiccup thought he was going to explode.

Why wasn’t his father letting him go on patrols?

He was the most experienced rider, had the fastest and most agile dragon, and he knew the area like the back of his own hand.

Yet he was stuck on Berk.

It was almost as if no time had passed. People still tended to avoid him at all cost, when they weren’t staring at him. His father kept giving him busy work in an attempt to keep him out of trouble.

And Hiccup had had just about enough of it. It had only been a week. How the Hel could he keep putting up with this for the rest of this war?

After everything he put his dad through, he wanted to follow his orders the best he could. But, the lack of time in the air was driving him insane. And with what felt like everyone’s eyes on him, it was hard not to feel like he was anything other than a bug that was about to be stepped on.

The lack of freedom chafed at him.

He normally would have pushed back. It’s what he had always done. It’s not like Hiccup didn’t already have a reputation for going off to do his own thing with little to no regards to the wishes of others.

But every time him considered it he would remember the look of devastation on his dad’s face when the man walked in on him taking out his stitches.

Hiccup had watched Stoick’s eyes dart over every single scar he had collected in his time away. The burn scars and cuts of his forearms were to be expected, Hiccup was a blacksmith after all.

But Hiccup could see every worst case scenario play out in his father’s mind as he gleamed the teeth marks and lightning scars that had accompanied the slashes and punctured marks that decorated his chest and shoulders.

Hiccup wasn’t sure why his father looked so hurt at the sight of the scars. They were Vikings after all. Getting hurt was an occupational hazard. A person who left this world unmarred was unheard of.

It felt good to know that his dad still cared for him. Years ago, Hiccup had felt like he was one wrong move away from being disowned. And while the relief that that was not the case did take the weight of his father’s disappointment off his shoulder, it still felt as if he was walking on eggshells any time he was around the man.

It was exhausting.

If he figured out the map problem that would at least be something. A direction to go. But since he was stuck on this problem, it was adding to his frustrations of being stuck on this island.

It seemed that, no matter what he did or accomplished, nothing would ever change. Hiccup’s father would be over bearing, his uncle and his goons would heckle him any chance they could get away with it, and everything else that could go wrong would go wrong.

He thought he had Johann right where he wanted. But, because he had stupidly admitted his own failing in figuring out the maps; instead of tricking the traitor into saying it out loud, he ended up with nothing to show for his capture.

Hiccup had almost forgotten just how terrible it felt to be laughed out of a room.

Logically, Hiccup knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. But that didn’t mean the failed interrogation didn’t hurt his ego.

He looked at the maps side by side on his work table in the forge.

And slammed his head into the table again.

His stick of charcoal rolled off the side and fell to the floor.

They made no sense.

Hiccup knew his own maps were as close to perfect as he could make them. He had had a dragons eye view of every new land he had ever visited. And he had taken the time to explore most of each new island on foot.

He knew that Johann’s maps made absolutely no sense.

None of the islands were in the right place, there were random nonsense notes jotted down in empty spaces next to doodles that Hiccup just couldn’t make heads or tails of.

So there he sat, alone and the forge, wallowing in his own failures.

He blamed his own self pity on why he didn’t notice the group that came into the forge until it was too late.

“Hiccup? Are you in here?” Astrids voice was almost swallowed by what was the noise of the rest of the group that began to echo on the wooden beams of the structure.

“Play with us, Hiccup!” Said both twins in unison as they rounded the corner.

Snotlout was right behind them, holding his head up to looked around with his fingers laced behind his head. “Quit locking yourself here in the dark and come check out what we’ve been setting up for the race.”

Fishlegs trailed in behind the rest, “yeah, it’s just about time for another dragon lesson.”

Hiccup just closed his eyes tighter and continued to bonk his head on the work table.

He really didn’t want them to see him like this. For some reason, they all seemed to still hold some kind of respect for him. Before everyone on Berk learned he was their chiefs runaway, the village did too.

Now he was back to being just a hiccup. The resident screw up.

Sometimes a fake reputation is all a man has.

He continued to slam his head on the table.

The group stopped the moment they caught sight of Hiccup. He could hear their whispers in between thumps.

“Guys, I think he has finally lost it,” whispered his cousin.

“How long has he been in here?” Asked Fishlegs.

“Nah, he is perfectly fine,” said Tuff, “that’s how the Thorston’s jog the mind. Though we normally hit each other with sticks.”

“See the Thorston’s have unusually hard heads,” continued Ruff, “so much so that other Vikings have used our skulls for helmets. Observe.”

There was the sound of a small commotion as a hard piece of wood, probably the hilt of an unassembled axe, came into contact with something hallow.

“See, hard heads.” Said Tuff, completely unfazed by the assault.

At least until he collapsed unconscious ground.

If their goal was to get Hiccup to stop what he was doing, they succeeded.

Lifting his head from the table, Hiccup turned to the group. “Not now guys? I’m really not in the mood. I need to figure this out.”

Astrid tilted her head as she raised her hand to her chin. “Ah Hiccup, maybe it’s time for a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break, if we don’t figure out these maps then we will be completely in the dark for the next attack.”

Snotlout pushed to the front of the group, “we will definitely be in the dark if you knock yourself out using the twins method for getting an idea. You have something on your face, by the way.”

Bringing his hand to his face, Hiccup pulled a loose sheet of paper from where it had been stuck to his forehead. From how the charcoal was smudged on it, it was safe to say that the black dust had also made its mark on him.

Everyone took advantage of the moment Hiccup took to wipe the pigment from his face to look at the two maps on the table.

On the left was the accurate one Hiccup had made.

On the right was the problem map.

“Um Hiccup, I think I see your issue,” said Ruff as she stepped closer to the table, “the writing is backwards.”

Tuff sat up just a Ruff moved to hold Johann’s map up to the light, “it also looks like they shuffled all the islands around.”

Hiccup looked at the twins in shock. There was no way they figured it out that fast.

Everyone gathered around the table as the twins took it upon themselves to work on the maps. And instantly they got to work.

Without asking for permission Ruff and Tuff began to cut Johann’s map apart using knives they found lying around the forge.

Holding up a cut piece Tuff showed it to everyone before placing it over a matching section of Hiccup’s on map.

“Umm… How did you do that?” Asked Snotlout as he looked at all the slices of the map that the twins were expertly overlaying on the table.

“Observe.” Said Ruff as she stopped what she was doing and pulled a stack of parchment out of her waist coat and held it out for the group to see the rudimentary drawing and squiggles.

Tuff glanced at each drawing for less than a second as Ruff discarded each piece of paper with a dramatic flare. “A boat… a pineapple… Mom.”

Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, and Fishlegs stared at the twins in stupefied silence as they completely reassembled the map.

And to Hiccups astonishment it was actually accurate now. The notes still looked as if they were written in a different language, but the random squiggles now looked as if they had some meaning other than that of artistic freedom.

Hiccup could laugh at how some of the weight of this problem had been lifted off his shoulders in less than a couple of minutes. Somehow managed to keep his voice from breaking with relief he said the to the twins, “this is incredible.”

Crossing his arms and leaning casually on his sister as she continued to lean over the map Tuff replied, “kinda shocked you didn’t notice it earlier with that big brain of yours.”

“Well, I’m not perfect,” was all hiccup could say to that almost compliment.

“What?! No?!? Whose portrait will I hang above my bed to gaze upon whenever I need inspiration?” Said Tuff as he over dramatically pretended to swoon.

He must have expected his sister to catch him, but she was too preoccupied angling a small mirror down at their project and making her own notes on a spare piece of paper. She stood up straight just as her brother hit the floor.

“I got the first few notes written out the right way, but if you want the rest of it decoded it’s gonna cost you.” Ruff handed Hiccup the first slip of paper.

He was surprised to see that what he had though was a random sequence of letters and characters that were different then the runes he was used to reading was a completely different alphabet. It was one he could kind of recognize but it would take him some time to translate.

Before Hiccup could even consider his options, Fishlegs took the slip of paper out of his hands. “This looks a little like Latin, but the phrasing is all wrong. There is no way this correct.”

“Es español, pero sigue insultando nuestra inteligencia.” Replied Ruff.

Tuff continued his sister’s statement in the same language, “Sí, ¿dónde está la biblioteca? Rodeas con las patas de un pez.”

“I would ask how you guys know anything that comes out of your mouth,” Snotlout as he backed up a pace. “But, I’m too scared of what the answer might be.”

Hiccup was a little intimidated by the twins as well. He knew he could probably decode the rest of the map by himself but translating it would take too long. And if someone else had the answers, that means he could finally have something to do.

He would finally know what direction to go.

“What’s your price?” Hiccup asked, hoping the twins wouldn’t let this leverage they had over him go to their heads.

“Dragon racing.” Tuff said as he spread his hands wide on the table. “The course is almost completely decided on.”

His sister continued the thought, “we want full creative control for the rest of the game.”

Astrid and Snotlout protested loudly at the idea. Both claiming about how unfair it would be if they could control the game.

Fishlegs was the only one on their side, “hey if the track is decided on then it’s not like they can really change anything else. What else do we have else to choose? It shouldn’t matter what we use to count points.”

For what they were going to do for him, Hiccup was relieved with how reasonable the request was.

“Done, now what do the notes say?”

The twins leaned back over the map, each one holding small mirrors and writing directly on the paper. It seemed that most of the islands had their own notes about them. And Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat when he saw The Edge and all Johann’s notes on his defenses.

He said a silent prayer to Thor that the group wouldn’t notice that particular island. Specifically how it was missing on every map that Hiccup had given to Berk.

What Hiccup was unable to do in weeks, the twins were able to figure out in under an hour.

The notes in the map were, for the most part, short. Just little list of environmental warnings and what kinds of dragons could be found each island. Hiccup had his own system that was very similar.

However, two island stood out. An island that Hiccup had never had time to truly explore, and Melody island.

The hairs on the back of Hiccups neck stood up when he saw the word ‘extracted’ written under the shape of that dangerous island.

What could Johann possibly get from Melody island?

It was a death trap.

The home of multiple deathsong. Anything worth taking from the island would be guarded by the amber spitting dragons. And there was no way Johann was risk getting caught in their trap. The threat of getting eaten alive, like a moth caught in a spiders web, by a large reptile was not one that a person with a will to live would consider lightly.

The other island puzzled Hiccup.

It was only a few hours flight from Berk. He had been to it only once. And from what Hiccup could tell, it was perfectly safe. There were some odd burn marks littered around the island. But other than that, there was nothing really of note.

Hiccup noticed the arrows pointed to the island and he knew instantly that that was his next step.

He was speechless. All the energy that he had felt drain from him with each of his compounding failures came thrumming back through his veins in an instant.

“This is amazing,” Hiccup said as he resisted the urge to run out of the forge immediately to begin the flight to the island, “I don’t know what to say.”

Tuff just clapped his hand on Hiccups shoulder as he said, “don’t thank us friend, it will take too much time away from the sheep we need to paint.”

And without another word the twins left the forge.

Hiccup wasn’t far behind them. Racing in the direction of the Mead hall. If he left as soon as possible he could be back before supper tomorrow. And Hiccup didn’t want to waste a moment of this prospect of freedom.

“Hold on Hiccup. What are you planning?” Astrid said as he she followed him up the steps to the hall. Hiccup hadn’t noticed that she kept up with him.

“I’m not planning anything.” They were in the hall now. It was almost completely empty this time of day, so luckily he would have little it no obstacles on his way out.

“I know that look in your eyes. That’s your scheming face.”

They entered the kitchen and immediately He began to put provisions in a small bag. “I gotta go check it out,” was all he said as he cinched the bag closed.

He turned to the door, only to see Astrid standing in the middle of it. Her arms crossed.

“Are you forgetting something?”

He paused at the determined amusement in her eyes. And now Hiccup was suddenly aware that this was the first time that they had been alone together since she kissed him.

He still didn’t believe that had happened. There was just no reality that He would have ever dreamed of her kissed him.

What did she mean by it?

There was no way that she actually liked him. And she hasn’t brought it up since. She could have found he anytime since to talk about it. But she hasn’t.

Odds were that she was just trying to throw him off his rhythm, the same why he had done to her when he jumped off the cliff.

Well, two could play at that game.

He approached her slowly, still not entirely sure of his plan. If he was wrong about this there was a high possibility that she would kill him and make it look like an accident.

She didn’t budge from her place blocking the door. She glanced up at him as she placed her hands on either side of the door frame. It struck Hiccup as odd that he was now taller than her.

Knowing he only had one shot at this, Hiccup moved.

Leaning down, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

Her eyes went wide as her hands slipped from the door frame.

Seizing the opportunity, Hiccup slipped past her.

Whatever shock she was experiencing didn’t last long. She was hot on his tail as he made his way back outside. “That’s not what I meant Hiccup.”

He glanced back to her without slowing his pace, and he couldn’t help his own smug smile as he spied the dusting of pink on her cheeks. “What did you mean then?”

“You need to tell your dad where you’re going.”

Hiccup stumbled.

The moment Astrid mentioned his dad, his prosthetic foot slipped on the stone steps. The weightlessness that he had been feeling since the map had been solved evaporated instantly.

He twisted as he fell, knowing if he caught himself with his hands, he would more than likely break a bone.

Astrid reached out and caught him by the wrist just before he hit the ground. And with a single hard yank, she pulled him back to his feet.

Gods, she’s strong.

He had already begun formulating his plan as he got his feet back under himself. He couldn’t let his dad know he was going. His father didn’t want Hiccup out of his sight, so leaving Berk would never be an option. At least not while Drago was still out there.

Hiccup didn’t even want to think about how his father would react when this was all over and it was time for him to leave again.

He dusted himself off as Astrid once again put herself in between him and the make shift stables. “Trust me Astrid, he won’t even know I’m gone,” he lied as she tried to move around her.

She moved with him as her finger began to poke him in the chest, “somehow, I seriously doubt that.”

Without thinking his own finger met hers and he tried to reassure this stubborn girl in front. “He will probably think I’m just working late at the forge.”

Her eye shifted immediately from his face to where their fingers met and Hiccup noted how her brow shifted underneath her fringe. And if he wasn’t mistake her voice slightly shakier than its usual self assured tambour, “and if you get hurt out there, how do you think he will feel if you don’t come back?”

“I’ve done this kind of mission hundreds of times before. So why worry him? What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And what don’t I know?” His dad’s booming voice sounded from behind him. And Hiccup jumped in alarm as he whirled around to face him.

The only explanation for the chiefs inconvenient timing must be the fact that Hiccup was cursed.

Or he was too distracted by the beautiful girl in front of him to notice the gigantic bear of a man that was always lumbering around the village.

He began to stumble over his words, doing his best, and was failing to not sound guilty as he came up with any kind of excuse that could get him away from this conversation. When Astrid spoke up.

“We think we figured out something to do with Johann’s map. And Hiccup and I were about to go plan a reconnaissance trip.”

His father’s naturally stern expression shifted to one of doubt as he took in Astrid’s words and Hiccup own look of guilt. Clearly he wasn’t going to buy this excuse. But as he glanced between the two of them, he continued to play along. “Oh yeah, and why were you planning on keeping that vital information to yourselves?”

Hiccup began to sputter once more, and Astrid once again came to his rescue. “We wanted to make sure we had a clear plan in place so that would be one less thing for you to worry about chief. The less time the council has to argue about the details, the faster we can move on Drago’s operation.”

Odin bless this girl, and her quick thinking.

If his dad could accept a half truth about planning, then he probably wouldn’t be as mad at Hiccup when he got back.

Unfortunately, Hiccup should have known there was no way he could ever be that lucky.

Stoick glanced to the provisions in Hiccups hand. And the same worried look that the chief almost always had when something considered Hiccup reentered his eyes. “We need you on the island, son. You aren’t going.”

And just like that, Hiccup’s glimpse of hope and freedom were crushed under his father’s boot.

Five years ago, that would have been the end of the conversation. What Stoick said was law on Berk. No one ever had had the stones to disobey the chief.

Except for his son.

Hiccup was tired of staying put. And he was itching to fly.

Forcing down his nerves, he squared his shoulders and met his father’s gaze. “Come on dad, I’m the obvious choice to check out this lead.”

“I said no, Hiccup,” insisted his father as he refused to see the logic in his son’s argument.

“It would be a quick in and out, what could possibly go wrong?”

“You could get hurt. You could be killed?”

“We’re Vikings, it’s an occupational hazard.”

“When are you going to start acting responsibly? Your island needs you.”

“Berk never needed me before. And how is wanting to stop a threat before it makes it to these shores irresponsible?”

Stoick took a deep breath then his eyes closing as squeaked shut. And for a split second, exasperation showed clearly in his face for everyone to see. “Why can you even attempt to follow the simplest orders? All I ask is that you stay in the island where it’s safe.”

Hiccup was tired of being in the receiving end of that look.

For the longest time he had thought that it was just his father’s natural expression. The same way the twins always looked like they were up to something and Snotlout always had the look of someone who thought they were better than everyone else.

Not even trying to hide the frustration and exhaustion in his voice, Hiccup mustered up the response, “it’s who I am Dad.”

Dropping the provision, Hiccup pushed past both Astrid and his father.

He needed to get away. If not from the island, then from the village.

He found Toothless with the other dragons. The makeshift stables were close enough to the arena that their would be easy access to them invade if an emergency, but far enough away from the village that most of the people on the island weren’t nervous wrecks about them uncaged.

His dad had argued with him about locking up the dragons, but him and the teens stood firm against it.

The dragons were playing with one another. Hopping around the dirt stamped area as they wrestled with one another. Hiccup spared a small smile for the Zippleback that was warring with itself over a shield. Both Barf and Belch tugged at the rim.

Toothless stopped his wrestling with Meatlug when he noticed his boy draw near. He was getting just as antsy as Hiccup was with the new rules they had been trying to follow.

The black dragon hated to be grounded just as much as his boy.

“Hey bud, let’s go for a quick patrol.” Hiccup said as he began to adjust the straps of his flight suit.

The dragon looked ecstatic, his big green eyes went wide as his pupils dilated. Toothless’s warm muzzle nudged at Hiccup’s hands as he moved to invite the boy to climb into the saddle.

Hiccup was just climbing onto the saddle when the group came strolling into the clearing.

Great.

Just what he needed. More people to see how much of a failure he was and question his every decisions.

Why couldn’t people see that he just wanted to be left alone?

“Hey I thought the chief grounded you.” Called out Snotlout as the group headed right in his direction.

“If your dad finds out he is going to be upset,” piped in Fishlegs.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he finally reached the end of his patience,” added Ruffnut

Snotlout turned to the group before correcting, “Shoe, cause you know.” then he began to hop up and down on his right foot.

“Oh thank you for reminding me,” Tuffnut said to Snotlout before turning his full attention back to Hiccup. “If you die in this war, can have your leg?”

“Why the Hel would you want his leg?” Snapped Astrid.

Tuff only shrugged before saying, “why wouldn’t I want his leg?”

“Just taking Toothless to stretch his wings. If my dad wants to be mad about this then that’s his problem. It’s not like I can stay here forever.”

Unexpectedly the group stopped and stared at him in horror.

Fishlegs was the first to speak, “wait what do you mean not staying? Are going planning on leaving again?”

“Well, yeah. I only said I would stay until Drago was dealt with.”

Everyone shouted out in protest at this. And Hiccup could have sworn that his cousin screamed, “NO, I WILL TAKE YOUR OTHER LEG!” Though it was hard to make out individual voices in the cacophony.

This surprised Hiccup. Never in his wildest imagination would he have pictured anyone on Berk, other than his father and maybe Gobber, actually caring that he was here. Yet here were his peers, actually looking upset at the idea of him leaving.

Something inside Hiccup softened at that idea.

If he was the same naive kid he was before he had met Toothless he might even have had hope that these guys actually liked him. And not just liked what he could do for them.

They might be grateful for his help now. The definitely enjoyed the dragon riding lessons.

But Hiccup had been burned before. And he never wanted to feel that way ever again.

“Come on guys, you can’t be serious about wanting me to stay. I will just mess everything up like I always do.”

He didn’t give them any time to respond. Shifting his thigh in the saddle Hiccup urged Toothless into the air.

Away from his shortcomings, away from his self doubt, and away from the judgement of everyone on Berk.

Somehow Hiccup found it easier to breathe when he was up in the clouds.

If he could; he would stay up there forever, just watching the clouds drift by. Feeling the sun rise and fall as the days pasted him by.

One of the greatest joys, Hiccup found in his time away from Berk, was that he didn’t have anyone to disappoint. Everything he did was solely for himself and his dragon. And he didn’t have an entire tribe questioning every move he made.

Was he lonely? Yes.

Did he wish desperately to be able to talk openly with anyone that he had grown up with? Sure, but he had Toothless.

The cold mist of the clouds brushed against his face as Toothless rose higher and higher into the clouds. And soon the sound of wing beats were drowning out all the frustration Hiccup had been feeling since that arrow had knocked him from the sky.

Together the boy and dragon rose higher and higher; until the air felt thin. And together they fell.

Toothless tucked in his wings as the pair leaned backwards in the air. Allowing gravity to cradle their necks as the roaring of the wind grew louder in their ears.

From up here, Hiccup could see for miles and miles. And knew that if they went higher still that they could even see as far as Helheim’s gate.

Past the wall of impregnable fog was a world where they didn’t have to answer to anyone. And the pull of that freedom was so strong that Hiccup debated leaving that very moment.

Berk had been just fine without him. Who’s to say it couldn’t survive the oncoming war.

But Hiccup had made a promise. And he didn’t want to break another deal with his father.

Shifting his thighs again, Hiccup and Toothless began to spin as they plummeted towards the sea. The light blue of the sky mixed with the dark blue of the ocean, the hues mixing together the closer the two got to the deep dark below.

Hiccup needed to come up with a new plan to check out that mystery island.

Slipping away would be no good. His father had apparently been keeping a closer eye on him than Hiccup had thought. So any movement further than the closest patrol would be reported back to the chief. And the last thing Hiccup wanted to do was distract his father; who should be focusing on matters more important than his impulsive child.

The roaring of the waves mixed with the whipping of the wind and Hiccup crouched lower on his dragons back as he felt the tail mechanism shift once more.

Wings shot out as the updraft from the sea pushed against black scale covered flesh.

A minor splash of wing tips and claws grazing the surf and the waves had Hiccup blinking away salt as Toothless leveled out and the two found themselves matching pace with the gulls and puffins of the bay.

They glided through what little remained of the sea stacks. Twisting and turning in the ruins of once was a natural barrier that had protected Berk from raiders from the north.

‘I did this.’ Hiccup thought to himself as he spied the deep black blood stains that freckled the landscape. It was all that remained of the Green Death.

There had been too much death already, too much suffering.

The need to get ahead of the next attack struck Hiccup like a hammer on an anvil. If he could stop it before it arrived- then more people could be saved.

Hel, less people and dragons would be put in danger to begin with.

Why couldn’t his father see his reasoning?

The boy and his dragon flew around for an hour longer. Until the riders face grew numb with the beginning chills of winter that was creeping its way to the shores of Berk.

They landed on one of the tallest remaining stacks to watch the sun set.

Toothless had scooped up a school of fish as they flew. And now he was devouring his pile with glutinous abandon as his rider sat and thought about his issue with his father.

Stoick the Vast is a stubborn man. There are only a few ways to get him to change his mind.

Hiccup could try tricking him. While he was a great chief, and was in the possession of years of experience, he was still like any other Viking warrior on Berk.

Very susceptible to guile.

When Hiccup was a young child he had been able to trick his father on multiple occasions in order to get out of trouble. How the man could think that a completely charred throne was the latest in interior design trends completely boggled Hiccup’s mind now that he was grown.

But, Hiccup had already tricked his father during the course of this war. He still felt guilty for pretending to be a complete stranger for weeks on end. Seeing such a great man brought so low by his own absence was something that no one would be able to unsee.

He couldn’t do that to his hero. Not again.

Hiccup could try and force Stoick to see reason.

One of the best ways to get a Viking to obey orders that they really didn’t want to obey, was by beating them in a competition.

But in order to do that, Hiccup would have to play by the normal Viking rules. And even though, he was leagues better at most of the classic Berkian activities than he was when he left five years ago. He was still a rather small Viking. And he didn’t need his pride and reputation hurt more than it already was.

That just left the option he had originally decided on.

He would need to slip away.

Preferably he would need to be there and back before his father had noticed his absence. But with Stoick keeping such a close eye on his runaway son, this was going to be quite a challenge.

Even now, Hiccup could hear the wingbeats of one of the other dragon riders approaching his thinking spot.

He had no doubt in his mind that his father had sent all of the teens to come and check on him.

It seems that Hiccup couldn’t even get a few hours of alone time any more.

Turning his head, Hiccup could see the blue wings if the Nadder spread wide as Astrid landed next to Toothless.

The Nightfury, to Hiccup’s astonishment, looked genuinely happy to see there pair. He was normally protective of his food and would snarl at any dragon that came close to him as he ate. But this time, he perked up his head and let out a happy chortle as Stormfly came bounding up to him.

He didn’t share, but that was part for the course when it came to Toothless.

Astrid walked over to the edge of the stack, and let out an appreciative whistle as she looked out on the sun setting off into the distance.

It was a truly beautiful sight to behold, and Hiccup couldn’t take his eyes off her as Astrid nearly glowed in the dying light of the day.

“I have to admit, this is a great thinking spot.” Was all she said as she took a seat next to him. Her feet dangling off the edge of the rock as she leaned back to watch the sunset.

This confused Hiccup slightly. If it was any of the other teens, they would be call him a complete assling and trying to haul him back to the main island.

Hiccup had acted like a complete jerk to everyone today.

He was expecting a beating.

Yet, Astrid just sat next to him quietly. Her only movement was a gentle swaying of her feet as the breeze picked up around them.

Suddenly, Hiccup was all too aware of his hands.

Should he be leaning back on them as they watched the waves? Should they be serving as a resting spot for his chin as he pondered his next move? Should he attempt to intertwine his fingers with hers?

No, that last one is stupid. She would push him off the cliff.

Ultimately, he settled on keeping them in his lap and trying not to encroach on her personal space.

It was nice to sit there in silence with her. But the longer they sat, the more the dread began to pool in Hiccups stomach.

Why hasn’t she said anything yet?

The sun was just barely visible over the horizon now. And he was doing his best not to squirm when he finally asked her, “are you here to drag me back?”

She didn’t tear her eyes from the view as she replied, “I’m supposed to.”

“Why haven’t you yet?” He asked as he did his best to sound like he isn’t expecting to berated or hit at any second.

She let out a small hum as she slowly closed her eyes to bask in the warmth of the last rays of daylight, “you needed a break.”

“Oh.” was all he managed to say as he felt his shoulders finally relax.

She really had a way of making everything feel much simpler than it actually was. And as a overthinker, Hiccup really appreciated that skill. She saw things as they were and not how they could all go horribly wrong.

After a little while longer she finally asked, “So, what’s your plan to going to the mystery island?”

Was he really that predictable?

He did his best to play off his response as nonchalant. But by now, everyone knew that Hiccup was a terrible lier. “What makes you think that I have a plan?”

She looked at him now; and the rays from the setting sun haloed her eyes like a ring of fire as the caught in the golden plats of the smaller braid in the side of her head. “Because you’re you. You always have a plan.”

Hiccup sallowed hard at the sincerity in the statement. It has been a while since someone looked at him with an expression of found determination. And he felt his own brow soften at her words.

“And what if my plan goes wrong? If you haven’t noticed, I have a track record of making bad decision.”

“Hiccup, you make a thousand decisions a day. Not all of them are going to be good ones.” She stated in a matter of fact tone that only comes with being comfortable in your own skin. “What’s important is that you continue to make decisions. Things will turn out alright in the end.”

And just like that, Hiccup’s last worries about his next steps faded away and the two sat in silence as the sky began to fade to purple.

“He really doesn’t want me to leave the island.”Hiccup said after another moment of calm silence.

“No one wants you to leave.” She replied, “not unless you’re going to come back.”

“Spitelout would probably disagree with you.”

“Spitelout can choke on a chicken bone and die suffocating in a hole.”

Hiccup smiled at how fast she said that statement. It was almost as if she would say that same thing to his face if she was ever given the chance. “Such violent words directed at one of the tribe council members.” He joked as drew in his leg to rest and arm in his knee.

“Yeah well, he is Snotlout’s dad. He deserves it.”

Hiccup gave Astrid the smallest shove as she moved to get a better look at the amusement in his tone. “I’ve noticed that the two of you really don’t get along.”

“Well, I don’t need to like him. In fact, if he got struck by lightning I would probably cheer.”

“Oh is that so?” Hiccup arched his brow in question.

“I don’t like how he treats people. He walks around the island like he is better than everyone else. He treats his own son like crap. And he talks about you like you are worse than any plague the island has ever seen.”

Hiccup felt his heart do a somersault in his chest at that. He didn’t know that anyone had stood up for him like that. He thought over every interaction Astrid and Spitelout had had over the last few weeks. Just about every time he had opened his mouth to talk bad about a Hiccup, Astrid had thrown something at him.

And most of the time she hit him.

He really didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him, or standing up for him behind his back.

On an impulse, Hiccup reached out to push a loose stared of hair out of her face. And he could have sworn her breath stilled for just a moment be for he said, “that’s very sweet of you Milady.”

She sat there for a long moment after he had pulled his hand away. Long enough for Hiccup to start to think he had done something wrong. Then suddenly her arm shot out and punched him in the chest as she said, “well you know me. I’m a charmer.”

Her aim was impeccable. She managed to land the strike right in the center of his flight suit release.

The stabilizer fin shot out of his back as the small bust of pain reverberated in his chest.

Hiccup let out a grunt of surprise as a burst of laughter escaped Astrid’s lips.

If he could bottle that sound and get drunk on it every night he would.

“What is that?” She asked as she was in him in an instant. One arm was holding him still as the other pulled gently on his flight suit. There was pure amusement in her voice.

“Hey careful with that, the calibration is sensitive,” he laughed as he began to wind in the fin.

Her eyes didn’t leave him for even a second and he gave her the brief explanation to how the flight suit worked. He even got to his feet and opened one of the wings at his side to show it to her.

The look of wonder on her face was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

She looked like she was about to say something else when both dragons perked up and stared at something that was coming in over the horizon.

Moving quickly, Hiccup refastened the wing of his suit before pulling the spy glass out of Toothless’s saddle bag.

Whatever was coming was moving fast. And I the dying light it was hard to see exactly where it was. He was about to hop on Toothless to intercept it when an irregularity in the reflected light reflecting off the water caught his eye.

For a second it looked like the reflection of metal.

Toothless let out a noise of excitement.

And instantly Hiccup relaxed.

Astrid was already moving to Stormfly. Strapping into her saddle as her hand reached for her axe, when Hiccup said, “looks like the first of our guest are here.”

Astrid shot him a confused look as he hopped into Toothless’s saddle just as the realization dawned on her.

“Your letters?!” She asked excitedly.

Getting outside help might just turn the tide of this war. That is why Astrid had asked the rider for assistance back when this whole war had started.

“Yep. Now come on. I think you two will really get along.”

They flew out to meet Heather. And Hiccup was honestly glad to be able to see his friend again. She was crazy in the way all berkserks were crazy. But she was the most level head of all of them.

Hiccup honestly couldn’t believe his luck that she would be the first to arrive. She would definitely make a better first impression than Dagur. And most everyone on Berk already knew Dagur.

As expected, the long silver razorwhip flew close to the water. Using the growing silver tones of the rising moon to camouflage her and her rider best she could in the growing light of twilight.

Hiccup had almost forgotten just how protective Windsheer was about Heather.

Hiccup gave Toothless a signal and his dragon let out a blast of plasma. Aiming for the water ahead of where she was heading.

Heather saw the signal and soon the three of them were hovering in the sky just on the outskirts of Berk territory.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Heather shouted above the waves. Her pleased smile was visible even in the growing shadows of the night.

“Glad you could make it,” Hiccup said politely as the dragons greater each other in turn.

He was about to apologize for asking her to come all the way out here to help clean up his mess when she stopped him.

“Please,” Heather said as she drew out every syllable of the word in an almost mocking tone, “don’t you dare say anything like ‘oh you didn’t have to come,’ or ‘I’m sorry to ask this of you.’ You have helped me deal with all my family drama and political problems. Fair is only fair.”

It was at that moment that Heather caught her first full glimpse of Astrid.

She looked to the blonde. Then back to Hiccup. Then back to Astrid before looping back around to him. Instantly her friendly smile shifted to one of feline mischief. And Hiccup knew he would never hear the end of this.

“Hiccup,” she said in mock offense, “this is so rude of you. You haven’t introduced me to your friend.”

Silently he cursed her family and their inability to not touch things that don’t belong to them. Then he cursed himself for the multiple sketches he had made of Astrid over the years. They must litter every single one of his journals.

Astrid took it upon herself to make the introduction. And if Hiccup wasn’t mistaken she sounded annoyed.

Heather took no offense. Too amused at the situation she thought she had caught Hiccup in to notice anything amiss.

Say what you want about the Berserkers. They took things in stride. Well at least when they were made mad by fits of rage filled insanity.

An idea struck Hiccup then.

The perfect way to get off the island.

“Hey Heather,” Hiccup said, derailing what looked to be the start of a tense conversation with the two girl. “I’m going to need a huge favor.”

She gave him a confused look before saying, “it must be huge if you are asking for two favors in a row. What is it?”

“I need you to keep my dad distracted for let’s say twenty four to forty eight hours. I got a lead on something as he won’t let me go check it out.”

“Is it something actually important or is it just a Hiccup side quest that will go horribly wrong until you can out think the issue?”

Hiccup scoffed at that, “hey, all my side quests have been important.”

She made a ‘I seriously doubt that, but whatever floats your boat,’ face before saying. “Sure, why not. But, you need to promise you won’t be mad.”

Oh no, what did she do this time?

“Heather?” He asked doing his best to not sound bother nervous and annoyed.

“I may have let Eret know that you need help. And he may, or may not, be on his way with a flock of Night Terrors.”

Hiccup groaned aloud at that. But now was not the time to complain about allies. Berk needed all the help it could get.

Chapter Text

The only light that night was coming from the Mead hall as everyone celebrated the arrival of aid, a small lantern that could be seen in the open window of the chiefs hut, and the moon.

In the shadows of an alcove, Astrid sat atop her dragon.

Waiting.

With everyone in town distracted, now would be the perfect time to check out the hunch.

Astrid had to admit that Heather could be distracting. She didn’t know why almost everyone in the village immediately began to fawn over her.

She comes waltzing in all the sudden and she already had half of Berk willing to walk on hot coals for her. In the span of a few hours and with a flip oh her hair, all eyes were on her.

It was almost as if she had everyone hypnotized with her big green eyes and inviting smile.

It made Astrid want to pull out her own hair.

She didn’t know why her fuse was so short these days.

Maybe she needed some action just as much as Hiccup did.

Something moved in the dark.

Out from the highest windows of the chiefs hut, an inky black limb reached out and grabbed hold of the outreaching shingles of the roof. In a fluid motion, the rest of the body followed soundlessly as Hiccup pulled himself onto the roof.

The motion triggered a larger shadow to move beside him. And Astrid noticed for the first time that night, that Toothless had been lying in wait.

The moment they launched into the sky, Astrid urged Stormfly to follow.

She could barely see a thing. The night had a way of making Berk hazy. Astrid could see how easy it was for Hiccup to slip way the first time.

The two completely disappeared in the night.

That didn’t matter to her.

Hiccup’s notes had been throrough, and had illuminated her to an interesting fact.

Nadders are fantastic trackers.

There wasn’t anywhere that Hiccup could go, where Astrid couldn’t follow.

The further away from the island, the more the moon reflected on the water. And the night became clearer.

About an hour of flying later, she could make out the dark shape speeding over the waves.

Toothless’s wings were steady and straight as he and his rider cut through the night.

Astrid urged Stormfly forward, determined to catch up with the pair as the two made ripples across the ocean with how low they flew.

The closer they got, the more excited Stormfly seemed to get.

Either she really likes the thrill of a chase or a good race. Astrid felt the same as her on that front.

They were close enough to separate the two figures now. Hiccup laid flat on the back of the Nightfury in attempt to be as aerodynamic as possible as the two cut through the night.

It took them longer than Astrid would have thought to notice they were being followed. As if they shared a single minded determination to get to their destination.

Being as quiet as she could, the Viking waited for the rider and his dragon to notice them. Keeping right on their tail, matching their every wing beat.

The further they got from Berk, the more Hiccup seemed to relax. Shifting from lying down to sitting in a fluid motion as he and his dragon glided through the air.

Wild dragons were more abundant out here and Hiccup didn’t spare them a passing glance.

They weaved around rocks and through holes in the clouds as if they were an obstacle course that he had run a million times.

At one point he throughly impressed Astrid by flying under the wing of a breaching Thunderdrum without touching it or the water below.

She brushed off droplets from the cold sea that has sprayed on her already chilled arms as she did her best to keep up.

It was some of the hardest riding Astrid had ever experienced. Partly because she didn’t have much experience riding dragons, and partly because Hiccup seemed to thrive on making things harder for himself.

It was a good thing Astrid loved a challenge.

Not to be outdone, she signaled her dragon to go even faster.

Stormfly let out an enthusiastic chirp as the she rushed ahead of the Nightfury. Astrid spared a glance back at Hiccup’s confused face as she began to reach for her buckles.

Sending up a quick pray to Thor that she wouldn’t embarrass herself. She stood up in the saddle. The force of the wind and the flapping of the Nadders wings had her knees shaking with the force of staying up right.

But she was strong and proud. Even if it killed her, she would not fall.

They approached an outcropping of sea stacks that bordered a small chain of islands. And Astrid set her sights on the perfect one.

The large rocky structure jutted into the sky like a great stone arch way. Almost as big as the doors to the Great Hall.

“Come Stormfly, just like we’ve been practicing.” She called to her dragon as the blue Nadder rose in the air. Aiming for the very top of the structure.

Holding out her arms for balance, Astrid jumped. Just as Stormfly dove for the empty space in between the spires of the stack.

She pumped her legs mid air just as her feet met the flat top of the rocks, and then she was running. Bolting to the other end of the natural archway.

Just as quickly as she landed, the crumbly rock was nothing but a platform behind her as she leapt once more.

Stormfly was right where she expected her. Zooming out of the gap and upwards to meet the warrior mid air.

Astrid’s arms reached, grasping for the saddle.

She didn’t land quite right, she fingers fumbled with the straps of the saddle and her momentum pulled her sideways.

She reached for anything to hold onto. And her fingers met talons as Stormfly’s claws became her life line.

Gravity was doing its best to pull her from down into the ocean below. But Astrid’s grip held.

If she could throw Fishlegs over her shoulder with one hand, she could keep her grasp her dragon.

Stormfly pivoted in the air just as Astrid swung her legs. Shifting her weight so she could reach up the leg. Nails dug into scales but the dragon didn’t even flinch as Astrid continued to climb.

Once her had a grasp on the saddle, things got a lot easier. Hands finding perches and hand holds that were thoughtfully placed by the boy she followed out here. And Astrid was once’s again in her right full seat, clipping the safety straps to her belt.

It wasn’t their first attempt at that trick.

After Hiccups impressive performance, Astrid knew she needed to step up her game when it came to dragon riding.

She was a Hofferson, Gods damnit, success was in their blood.

Her parents had drilled in the need to excel into her at a young age. She would not and could not fail.

So she had practiced.

Every day she would get up early to ride. Every patrol she would push herself to be better because she had to be.

And so far her hardworking was paying off.

From below, Hiccup and Toothless raced ahead as they corrected to course back towards their intended destination.

Lifting up his helmet, Hiccup met her eyes as he said, “nice flying, But what in Thor’s name are you doing out here?”

Without breaking his gaze, Astrid reached down to her saddle back and tossed him the contents. “You forgot something.”

He reached and fumbled with the burlap sack, but his fingers caught in the drawstring before it slipped from his hands.

His brow furrowed as he realized that it was the bag of provisions from earlier that day.

He looked up to here in a silent question before saying, “it feels heavier than it was earlier.”

Trying to maintain an air of nonchalance Astrid examined the wool wrapping around her arms that braced her wrists before pulling them tight. “You didn’t think I would let you go that easy.”

He looked confused for a moment before worry entered his eyes.

Before he could ask another question Astrid took it upon herself to answer everything he had yet to say. “No I didn’t tell anyone what you were doing. When we are discovered to be missing in the morning. Which we will be. There is no way that your father won’t want to make sure you are really home. Stoick can be mad at the both of us.”

Hiccup’s shoulders slumped in relief for a moment before his expression hardened once again. “You do know that this isn’t a pleasure trip. I don’t know what we might find, but it will most likely be dangerous.”

She found it cute how he worried about her.

Cracking her knuckles, Astrid shot him a sly smile. “Awe Hiccup, don’t you know I live for danger.”

She urged Stormfly forward, dead set on having the last word in the conversation.

It only took a single stunned moment before Hiccup was rushing ahead.

Thus began their game.

They raced to the mystery island. Both doing their best to out maneuver the other. They spun around each other doing barrel rolls and somersaults in the sky as the darkness of the night faded away and the sun rose over the horizon.

Astrid looked to Hiccup just as they caught their first glimpse of the land. And she noticed for the first time, the hint of red in his hair. Only visible in the light of dawn.

They landed a little ways off the first cliff they saw. The forest cover was thick so they wouldn’t be spotted easily and it was close enough to a stream for the dragons to drink from. It had been a long night and a long flight; they must be exhausted.

Astrid began to stretch the moment she was out of the saddle. Willing blood back into her chilled stiff limbs. She did hadn’t known it would be so cold in the sky.

If there was anything dangerous in this island, she wanted to be ready for it.

They decided to scout out the surrounding area on foot at first. Giving the dragons more time to rest before they looked over the rest of the island.

As they walked Astrid’s hands slid over her weapons. Taking inventory of what she had packed in her rush to leave the island.

Two seaxs in her belt along side a hand axe. A couple of knives were tucked into her boots, and her battle axe. She would have felt better if she had a shield with her, but she thought it would have limited her maneuverability and thus elected to leave it behind.

Glancing at Hiccup, she saw he only had the ridiculously small dagger on his arm and the extendable sword on his thigh.

How the boy was planning on an assaulting a secret stronghold that was most likely here, by himself, with only the bare minimum of weaponry and a dragon; Astrid would never know.

At least he was wearing his scale suit. The tears from the battle of the Green Death had been stitched up and it looked like he coated the leather in a fresh layer of black paint.

Astrid couldn’t help but notice how different Hiccup seemed to hold himself out in the wild. His steps seemed much more assured and he held his head higher than he ever had on Berk.

He moved like a dragon in the prowl as he searched over the landscape. Taking in every detail of the island as if he was hunting for prey.

Hiccup made sure to point out the strange burn marks that littered the island. They were like nothing Astrid had ever seen before. And she noticed how Hiccup’s eyes shifted from cautiously curious to a nervous unease the more the saw of the marks.

Did he know what made the burns? Astrid wondered to herself for the first hour of their scouting. He looked to me lost in thought as they trekked deeper into the forest. Lines of worry began to etch themselves into his forehead the longer they walked.

Finally Astrid had enough of him worrying in silence. “Alrighty, out with it. What lives here?” She half asked, half commanded as she knelt down next to a mark he was observing up close

He looked like he was deep in thought, his right hand was held to his chin and his left brushed against the soot stained dirt. But, he raised his eyes to her when she spoke. “Nothing good.”

Astrid shoved him then, “clearly.” She scoffed while rolling her eyes at him, “Explain it to me like I’m the twins.”

His eyes softened at that, and she could tell he was holding back a chuckle as he straightened back to standing.

He stood up, bushing the charred soil off his hands before extending one out to her. For some unknown reason she took it.

He didn’t let go as they continued on walking, but he did start explaining exactly what was running through his head.

“You know how different dragons and dragon classes have different kinds of blasts. And almost no dragon has that the same blast as another. Well when I was here last time, I had no idea what made that burn. And I was in too much of a hurry to stick around long enough to find out.”

As they walked Astrid couldn’t help but notice that his thumb had begun to make small circles on the back of her hand. She liked the felling of his rough callouses as they lazily brushed over her knuckles.

“Well, it wasn’t until about a year later when acquaintances were forcibly made with this particular breed.”

When they came across a log that blocked their path, Hiccup wordlessly helped her over. All the while, never letting go of her hand.

“Drago had hired a mercenary named Krogan, and -“

She didn’t notice that Hiccup had stopped walking until the force of her stride had their hands separating.

Looking back, Astrid could see a look of horror cross his face.

Whipping around, ready for a fight, she caught sight of what had upset him.

A field of syrup colored rocks lay before them. The light reflected off them in a way that almost made them translucent.

Moving to take a close look, Astrid could have sworn she could see the disembodied wing of a dragon trapped inside.

She circled the rock, only to find a patch as white as bone and the crystalline surface stained red.

The trail of unfamiliar prints and blood went off to the south. Along with the unmistakable mark of something large being dragged away.

Around the field she could see similar bodies parts of dragons and humans alike, trapped in the bleeding stones.

Looked back at Hiccup, Astrid knew her face held a similar expression of horror. “What is this?”

In a solemn tone, Hiccup replied. “Deathsong amber.”

“I take it that this wasn’t here last time.”

“No it was not.”

“And you know that how?”

“The call of a Deathsong is very memorable,” he said pausing to take a closer look at the trail they had discovered, “it has this was of attracting dragons, similar to the Green and Red Death. Only, once something gets close enough it spits out a liquid that hardens almost instantly once it makes contact with its prey. Trapping it.”

Astrid looked back out at the field of rocks. The same horror struck her then, a feeling that Hiccup had experienced at first sight.

“Its jaws are powerful enough to break through the amber and it eats its prey alive. But, I have seen dragons and people alike, completely shriveled up inside the casings. I’m not sure if they were drained or if the Deathsong just forgot its meal. So I tend to avoid islands with signs of this particular dragon.”

Looking back at the blood splatter, something wasn’t adding up.

From what Hiccup was describing, it didn’t seem like a Deathsong would drag away its kills like this.

Something else must have gotten her first. Or, maybe he just hadn’t gotten to that part of the lecture.

She crouched down beside Hiccup and took a closer look at the foot prints.

It was hard to tell with weather and time, but she could have sworn that they couldn’t be dragon tracks.

Without prompting, she began to follow the trail. The tree cover would persevere it better. And hopefully whatever had done this would be close by.

“Astrid, Wait!” Hiccup whisper exclaimed as he moved to follow her. “If a Deathsong is here, then our dragons aren’t safe. We need to get back to them before they are pulled in by the thrall.”

Astrid brushed him off.

This was a hunt, and Astrid was always good at tracking her prey.

The blood splatters were heaviest at the amber, where the initial spurt was released.

Either the dragon had bitten off its own wing escape, or something else had gotten to it first. Claiming the Deathsong’s meal as its own.

Somewhere in the tree line Astrid found her first real clue that something was off about this kill.

The trench that the body had made in the dirt completely disappeared. And there were no signs of any remains.

Hiccup noticed too, and all his protests ceased as his curiosity won out over his precautions.

The trail continued through the brush, the blackening blood standing out in stark contrast to the green of the grass and heather. And it didn’t take long to discover what had taken the kill.

Wagon tracks had dug into the dirt and the blood droplets littered the landscape around it. Alongside boot prints.

Multiple men, and judging from the signs of struggle and the dragon they grabbed did not appreciate its abduction.

At least one man was injured, what was clear from the staggering steps of the prints that led away the wagon.

The longer they followed the worse there odds seemed.

A second wagon track met up with the first one and on instinct she drew her hand axe.

This wasn’t good.

She could feel Hiccups hand in her shoulder as the sounds of thrashing could be heard in the distance.

They were coming up on their targets. And Astrid could feel every muscle in her back and arms itching at the prospect of a fight.

Keeping low in the bushes, they had a clear view of their camp.

If Hiccup had been keeping Astrid from jumping into a fight unprepared when they first came upon the clearing; now Astrid had to do the same for him.

Field was littered with cages.

Most filled with a type of dragon Astrid had never seen before.

Almost turtle like appearance. The brightly colored beasts were every hue of a forest fire. And their huge flat bodies thrashed against their green tinted cages and chains. Four wings flapping violently in each trap as the men began to drag out one of the strange dragons own kind.

In the middle of the camp were wooden post the size of tree trucks. Two of them had dragons tied to them, the great yellow reptiles strapped down and chained in the dirt as their wings and neck frills flexed in frustration. Large angry red marks peppered their scales as this different, more lizard like, breed of dragon chafed against its bonds.

Drago’s men dragged a red turtlish dragon in between the lizard like ones. It’s large eyes spinning in its head like a whirlpool as it thrashed and struggled against chains and amber the covered its mutilated body.

The two yellow dragons snapped their jaws in their muzzles as a cry Astrid had never hear before cracked out of their throats in a chocking breath.

The voice of the larger one was wild and unknown to the girl. But Astrid could have sworn that the younger dragon sang out the Berkian national anthem.

Hiccup must have noticed the similarities in the melody as well. His horror at the scene quickly shifted to anger and disgust. And Astrid had to increase her grip on his arms to keep him from charging into the clearing.

They couldn’t tear their eyes away from the camp as the two, what Astrid assumed were Deathsongs, tongues escaped the confines of their muzzles. Not when those same tongues shout out like a needle into the flesh of the red dragon.

Astrid watch in horror as the sharp but fleshy appendages began to expand and contract as the Deathsong’s sucked down the blood of the newly captured dragon in great gasping gulps.

The speed in which the turtle like dragons skin and scales began to sag had Astrid saying a silent prayer to Odin just as the wildly spinning eye slowed in pace and panic. It didn’t take long for the struggling to cease. And as quickly as it started, the yellow dragons finished their meal.

The other flat red dragons began to thrash harder in their cages, probably wondering if they would be next, as Drago’s men dragged away the corpse. The three remaining wings made deep gashes in the dirt as the body was pushed to a cliff edge. Astrid flinched as the red mass was pushed over the side. Wincing at the bone crushing thud it made as it crashed against stone.

She counted twelve men.

Twelve men had managed to capture two Deathsong’s. And then used them to capture the rest of the turtle like dragons. At least seven of them.

Five of the dragons were chained differently than what Astrid had seen before. The metal wrapped around the dragons torsos and heads, leaving the wings and tails free to move in their own.

Hiccup began to tremble with furry the longer they watched the camp, and Astrid made the decision to leave. There was a silent struggle at first to pull the rider way from the cages. His desire to help the dragons was strong enough to taste. But he conceded after Astrid pointed out just how out numbered they were.

A heavy weight hung in the air as they made their way back to the stream.

Stormfly and Toothless were still there. Dozing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

The contrast between the two camps compounded the decision that Astrid had made the moment she saw the cages.

The sight of the dragons thrashing in confinement. The men that had beaten them and were attempting to break them. The chains that rattled, pulled, and marred the limbs of strong creatures that only wanted to be free.

Everything about that camp reminded Astrid of her own time at the bottom of that boat.

She had been caged, beaten, and left for dead by the same type of men that were now doing the very same thing to the dragons on this island.

And she would not leave here until they were all dead.

Hiccup paced back and forth by the stream. Wringing his hands and muttering to himself. “This is really bad. I thought Krogan had been taken care of.” Along with a few other unintelligent things.

Astrid sat by Stormfly and patiently honed her weapons on a small whet stone. Waiting for him to finish.

His face kept fluctuating from worry, to angry, and then his scheming face. He was planning something. Astrid knew that one thing with certainty.

So she waited.

Toothless did the same. Moving from charred spot in the dirt to sitting up right to watch his rider. His tail flicked back and forth at the same pace of Hiccup’s back and forth pace on the sandy shore of the stream bank.

Astrid kept an ear open and an eye on the forest. Making sure they weren’t followed. But the longer they waited, the more angry she felt.

How long had this been going on?

How long have those Deathsong’s been forced to capture those other dragons?

How much longer could they last like that?

Checking each blade was sharp enough to cut a falling feather in half mid air, she decided she had had enough waiting.

Stormfly stood with her. Both her and her dragons muscles were ready for action. Like any good weapon the only way could be properly utilized is if they were aimed at a target.

Her movement must have alerted Hiccup, jolting him from his thought spiral. He turned to her then. Anger and uncertainty clouded his eyes as he said, “we need to leave.”

All Astrid could do was stare at him as she felt her muscles tighten in response to her anger. That was not what she had expected to hear. After all these months she would have never expected Hiccup to leave anyone like that.

Her brow furrowed and she widened her stance in protest. She wasn’t going to accept this. Not after what she had seen.

Clenching her jaw and biting back every insult that rushed immediately to the front of her mind; she simply responded, “no.”

Hiccup frowned at her. His panic shifting to confusion at her response.

“Astrid those were Singetails, and those men were Drago’s flyers.”

She didn’t say anything. She kept waiting for a better explanation as she glared at him.

“His flyers are dangerous and they out number us. Even if we could fly circles around then, the kind of power they hold with five dragons they’ve conditioned would be too much. We need to get other riders.”

Astrid stayed silent. Crossing her arms as she refused to break her stare.

“Astrid, we are not enough to handle this.”

She had had enough of the excuses. “OH YAK SHIT. How many more of those dragons will they trap and brutalize in the time it takes us to convince your dad to lift a finger?”

Hiccup took a step back at the rage in her voice. But Astrid continued.

“What’s happening here needs to end today. Before they capture every dragon on this island.”

Once again the conflicting emotions flashed on his face. “Astrid, Singetail’s can shoot fire balls from multiple parts of their bodies and they practically have eyes in the back of their heads. You are a good rider, and your bond with Stormfly is ten times stronger than that of the captured dragons and Drago’s men. That won’t matter here. If you are spotted, the flyers wont hesitate to shoot you from the sky.”

Astrid had skimmed some of Hiccup’s reports and was only vaguely away of the flyers from the more recent ones. Dragon hunters that captured dragons and forced them to do their dirty work. They were Drago’s answer to the rider. At the time she had never seen a Singetail, and she hadn’t had the time to look further into the species. But from what she had read, Hiccup had found a way to handle them.

“Then I can stay on the ground. There were twelve men and only five dragons. We divide and conquer. You draw off the ones that can fly; and I can take care of the rest.”

He paused at the suggestion, worry being shove aside to make room for more planning.

“Hiccup, you are the cleverest Viking in the whole archipelago. Not to mention a dragon master. Are you telling me that you can’t outsmart these bullies?”

His mouth opened and closed in a fishlike manner. He wanted to object but it was clear that his thoughts were still racing. He looked like he was about to come around to her thinking for a moment before his face scrunched up again in worry. “What, no. That is still seven on one.”

“I can take them,” said with certainty.

“Did I not find you beaten and chained in a cage a few weeks ago?”

“They caught me by surprise, I would like to return the favor.” She shrugged her shoulders doing her best to down play that embarrassing moment in her track record. “Besides, I took out at least five of them before they got me.”

He paused at that before pivoting his argument. “What if I can’t keep the flyers distracted long enough for you to take care of the rest in the camp?”

“With that dramatic flare of yours, you are kind of hard to ignore.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slight at that and his eyes softened.

She returned the smile. After all, she loved getting her way. “Now that you are done thinking of how everything could go wrong. What are we going to do?”

“Something stupid.”

She shoved his shoulder at that. Her grin widened as she replied, “we’ve already done that by sneaking off and landing here without a plan or backup.”

“Then something crazy.”

Hiccup knelt down and pulled out his dagger then. Beginning to sketch out the enemy camp in the dirt. Toothless gave him a funny look before going to grab a long stick of his own.

Chapter Text

Crouching low in the brush, Astrid flipped the knife in her hand.

The men in the clearing milled around, none the wiser to where she stalked them from.

All she needed was Hiccup’s signal.

They had one shot at this and she would not fail again.

The dragons in the cages and chains rattled. The men were keeping all eyes on the reptiles instead of the perimeter.

Stormfly was near by, her ears filled with wax to not be drawn in by the call of the Deathsongs. Meaning Astrid wouldn’t be able to call her for any assistance. If she needed to run, she could. But, Astrid was never one to run from a fight.

It didn’t take long for the telltale whistle of a dive bombing Nightfury to ring through the campsite.

Drago’s men turned left as they shouted, “NIGHTFURY! GET DOWN!”

Bodies rolled to the side and threw themselves out of the way just as a living shadow came upon the camp.

Two loud shots of purple plasma crashed into camp. Cracking off the metal of the largest cage in one second and setting the large tent on fire in the next.

As fast as they were upon the camp, Hiccup and Toothless were rising back into the heavens.

The men in the camp were in a state of chaos. Some running to put out the blaze of their camp, others rushing to Singetails.

That’s when Astrid steped out of the bushes. In a flash the knife in her hand was racing through the air with the same speed and accuracy of a Nightfury.

The blade pierced the eye of the first man at the cages. He hit the ground hard and skidded in the dirt as another soldier barreled into the fallen.

Limbs tangled together in a heap as Astrid let her second dagger fly.

A scream of pain was nearly drowned in the chaos of the camp as another man stumbled clutching his hand to his collarbone. Struggling to pull the weapon from where it was wedged in his flesh.

Without hesitation, Astrid drew out a hand axe and a seax from her belt as she lunged into the fray.

The surprise attack had worked. The whole of the camp was an unorganized mess. And no one had even noticed Astrid until two of the men were lying dead on the ground.

Hiccup spun back around to do another dive bombing and a bolt of plasma struck the same cage he had aimed for earlier. The door swung open and the dragons inside bolted immediately.

A man charged at Astrid, shield rim raised high as if to bludgeon her with it. But his movements were obvious.

Hooking her axe on the rim, Astrid shoved the alder wood circle off course. Leaving her opponent wide open to her strike.

She plunging her seax into the chest of the soldier and she could hear the blade scraping against the metal rings of his brynja.

She was unable to revel in the gasping sound of lungs being punctured. Two more men were on her in a second.

Kicking the body at one of the men, Astrid raised her hand axe to block the swing of the other man’s sword. Her seax plunged into his stomach as she moved to slice open his flesh.

The men, now understanding what was happening, were moving towards their chained Singetails. Four of the fliers managed to make it into the air before Astrid could stop them.

The sun was high in the sky and in the clear blue of the day. And Hiccup and Toothless stood out like a sore thumb in the light. The flyers were following them the instant they forced their mounts from the ground. Leaving four more men for Astrid to handle.

Shaking off the body of his fellow soldier, the first man was on her again. And the hot wet blood on her hands made it hard to keep her grip on her seax.

Dropping the blade, Astrid grabbed her new opponents arm and twisted until she heard his shoulder pop. She could feel his arm being pulled from its socket as, in one fluid motion, she threw the man over her shoulder.

He hit the ground hard, and Astrid didn’t hesitate a moment as she brought her hand axe down on his throat.

She could feel the air heating up as the sky above her began to fill with flames. But, Astrid didn’t dare take her attention away from her four remaining opponents.

The two men that were tangled near the cages had regained their footing now and were beginning to charge at her.

Putting her foot on the body below her, she yanked hard on her weapon to pull it from where it had lodged in the dead man’s spinal column.

A sword swung at her head and Astrid rolled out of the way. Hacking her blade into the unprotected inner thigh of the swordsman, cutting into flesh and bone as arteries squirted hot sticky blood everywhere.

As he fell to the ground, unable to support his weight on his leg, that was now damaged beyond repair, Astrid brought the axe down where his neck met his shoulder. Speeding up the rate in which he would bleed out.

Hoisting her axe high as she reoriented herself, Astrid threw it hard at an oncoming attacker.

The weapon lodged in oncoming the swordsman’s chest and he let out a groan of agony as he stumbled. Just as the sound of something hitting the ground hard behind her echoed in the clearing.

Astrid ignored that.

Pulling her last seax from her belt, Astrid moved fast. Stabbing it into the side of the closer man as he fell into the heap of his fellow soldiers.

A sharp scraping of metal on metal sounded in her ears and she felt the sting of a blade scrape her arm.

The new attacker looked at Astrid with hate filling his remaining eye as blood raced down his face in a red stream. His bandolier of daggers was missing three. His aim would be way off.

Raising her seax, Astrid beckoned her opponent forward with her free hand.

The man sneered at her as he flipped the long knives in his hands. Holding one in a stabbing position and the other in the slicing position, he lunged at her.

She kept to his left. Taking advantage of the man’s blind spot as she lead in around in circles.

Weaving to dodge one knife, she would block the other with her own blade.

The man’s movements were sloppy, but strong as he attacked her with every ounce of anger in his body.

Waiting for her opening, Astrid grabbed the man’s left hand mid swing and jerked it hard and fast, snapping the bones in his wrist.

Just then another large thud came from the left, and Astrid ignored that sound as well.

One-eye’s knife clattered in the dirt as she heard the sound of another Singetail cry. She slammed her fist into the one eyed man’s nose and it made a disgusting cracking sound before she yanked herself away.

She barely had time to move out of the blast zone as a fire ball crashed right into the spot where she had once been standing.

The last man she had yet to face held onto the chains of a red turtle like dragon as it came at her from above. Fire rained down on the camp as the soldier put pressure on his injured shoulder.

Taking her attention away from the one eyed man who now lay next to a flaming crater, clutching his burned and broken face. Astrid bolted for the tree line.

She had to get to Stormfly. If this last man wanted to take this fight to the sky, then Astrid wouldn’t balk from the challenge.

She hated to leave the soldier with a pulse, but he wouldn’t get far with those injuries

She kept her seax in her hand as she rushed through the brambles, dodging the fire that the flyer shot from above. The leaves and branches above her began to smoke and smolder with each crashing strike. But they did their job of blocking the worst of the blaze.

Astrid weaved left and right as she avoided the flames. Searing dirt pelted her with every blast, but she didn’t slow her strides. Not even as the heat became unbearable, and the smoke stung her eyes and filled her lungs.

She ran nonstop for half a mile until she made it to the spot she had left her dragon.

Stormfly had been hopping around the clearing anxiously as she waited for her rider. The wax blocking the dragons ear holes made it so Stormfly was unaware of the bloody battle that Astrid had just waged against the hunter camp. But the blasting and the smoke had her on edge.

Astrid made sure to keep out of the Nadders blind spot as she skidded to a halt. While being clearly happy to see her human. The nervous energy brought on by the air assault made it difficult for the Viking to climb in the saddle.

She barely had time to grab hold of the pommel before the blue dragon took to the sky.

The slick blood on her hands made it hard to keep her grip as they raced into the open air. And the knife in her hand made it so Astrid couldn’t clip into the saddle.

Stormfly jolted left and it took all Astrid’s leg strength to keep in the saddle as raging heat brushed her shoulder and upper arm.

That shot was too close for comfort.

Glancing backward, she could see the flyer hot on her tail. Her shoulder guard smoked as the metal changed from burning red to silver in the rapidly cooling air.

Without thinking, she reached upward with her seax and cut the leather strap that kept her shoulder guards in place.

The force of the wind tore the burning armor from her in an instant. And the searing heat disappeared immediately as they rose in altitude.

The blade slipped from her hand the next instant as Stormfly quickly banked to dodge another blast.

The speed increased rapidly and Astrid clung onto the pommel of the saddle as the Nadder spun.

The Singetail wasn’t deterred by the fancy flying. It didn’t matter what direction they turned, or how fast they flew. The flyer couldn’t be shook.

Struggling to reach while still holding onto the saddle Astrid took out the wax plugs that blocked Stormfly’s ears.

The dragon made a relieved squawk as they were removed. And Astrid didn’t waste any time commanding the Nadder to shoot a barrage of spines.

Stormfly’s tail whipped back and forth as they dodged more blasts.

A quick look back and Astrid could see the flyer moving to dodge the spines. The Singetail protested as the soldier yanked hard on the chains. The metal left angry marks on scales that were already rubbed raw.

The hatred from the dragon had its rider growing angrier and angrier. Making their movements sloppier than they were before.

Another barrage of spines had the Singetail jerking. Several spines managed to lodge themselves in the links of chains that ran across the red dragons wide underbelly.

But still, Astrid couldn’t shake the flyer.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Hiccup having a similar problem as two Singetails chased him.

She could see him racing upwards, higher and higher as Toothless deftly dodged blast after blast.

One of the Flyers was gaining on Toothless; and just as Astrid was about to turn to assist them. Something strange happened.

They sharply turned upwards, as if their destination was the sun itself. The Singetails struggled to follow, but now one was almost close enough to bite Toothless’s tail.

A cloud a green smoke began to paint the sky behind the Nightfury, leaving a direct line of where the rider had has dragon had once been.

The Singetails followed the trail closely until their vermillion scales couldn’t be made out in the verdant cloud.

And as quickly as the strange green mist appeared, it ignited in a flash of fire that threw Hiccup’s pursuers sideways.

Astrid could see the one that had been closest to Hiccup plummet into the ocean with a large splash that could have capsized a medium sized boat. But, the other one had been further away. The Zippleback gas, that Hiccup had somehow managed to bottle and dispersed, had thinned out the further the Nightfury flew from its starting point.

Shaking off the blast, the Singetail continued to chase the rider. Toothless didn’t even stumble with the force of the blast. Continuing his ascent further into the heavens.

Then something even stranger happened.

The Singetail stuttered mid-flight. As if it couldn’t get enough air in its lungs the higher to ascended. It quickly lost speed the closer it got in its pursuit of Toothless. Until it froze completely.

It was that moment that Astrid had remembered what Hiccup had told her about the Singetail before the attack.

The Singetail could not last long in the higher atmosphere.

Just like in the deepest part of the ocean. The pressure, or lack there of, made it hard to breathe. And with the Singetails ability to make multiple blasts of fire, they needed a lot of air.

The wide heavy form of the dragon dropped like a stone, and Astrid could make out the flyer flailing on its back, trying to rouse the stunned beast.

Hiccup didn’t waste a moment.

Quickly, the Nightfury turned in the air and dove towards the falling dragon. The long black form shooting straighter than an arrow through the wind as the hunted became the hunter.

Astrid had just dodged another blast as she saw Toothless turn.

The black dragon had grabbed the flyer right off the back of the falling dragon. And without any hesitation or flare, Toothless threw the man sideways.

The splash the soldiers body made was minuscule in comparison to the dragon that quickly followed it.

Knowing that Hiccup was safe, Astrid turned her full attention back on her own problems.

Stormfly shot off another barrage of spines just as Astrid urged her upward.

The air went from bitter to biting on her bare arms the higher they rose into the sky. But Astrid refused to let go of the pommel.

Stormfly spun, twisted, and jolted in every direction to avoid blasts of fire. And Astrid’s muscles shook with the strain of holding on. Her fingers were so cold that she could have sworn the blood on her hands was turning to ice.

The air was starting to get thinner and it took more and more effort to draw in a full breath. Astrid’s lungs burned in the bitter cold of the thin air. But, still Stormfly flew higher.

Just as Astrid’s vision was beginning to darken around the edges, she heard a horrible gasping that cut through the roar of the wind.

She whipped her head around to see the struggling Singetail. The flapping of its wings grew weaker and weaker until they eventually stopped moving all together.

Astrid could see the creatures eyes bulging with the strain of keeping awake just before they rolled backwards in its head.

The flyer let out a shriek of anger and fear as the red dragon began its uncontrolled descent.

She had done it.

Instantly she pulled on the saddle. Changing Stormfly’s course so breathing could be easier again.

They kept their sights on the falling flyer. That’s when Astrid noticed the Singetail seemed to be regaining consciousness. The flyer, despite his injury, had managed to keep his seat.

The soldier held a whip in his bloody hand and brought it down hard on the flesh of the Singetail. The sharp cracks of pain must be bringing it back to consciousness.

Astrid decided right then and there that she had had enough of him. She would end this right here and now.

She reached her numb right hand behind her back and grabbed her long axe. Her stiff fingers gripping the throat of the weapon like a vice, just as her left hand let go of the saddle pommel.

As Stormfly got closer and closer to the flyer, the blackness in the edge of Astrid’s vision shifted to red as her anger and adrenaline became too much for her.

Without thinking, Astrid threw herself from the saddle.

The wind whipped, pulled, and tore at her clothes. Her battle axe was raised high in a rage filled defiance as she tumbled through the sky. And Astrid could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart and the sharp crack of the whip as it made red splattering contact with the Singetail’s flank.

Looking back and reflecting on her reckless actions, Astrid was surprised her aim was as true as it was.

She hand somehow managed to swing her blade down just as the dragon regained full consciousness. The flyer didn’t even know what hit him until the axe finished splitting his collarbone.

Rings of mail and droplets of blood pelted Astrid’s face and arms as her momentum pulled the flyer from his seat.

On instinct, Astrid held out an arm to hold onto something, anything. The blinding red killing rage had disappeared from the corners of the vision now as her fingers clung to any ounce of hope and defiance of gravity.

But the corpse was pulling her down. The bones of the soldiers ribs and sternum clung onto her blade. Almost as if the man was determined to take Astrid to Hel with him.

Somehow, her wet numb fingers found a perch in the chains of the Singetail. The force of her jump and the weight of the flyer threaten to yank her arms from their sockets.

But Astrid Hofferson was many things; prideful, stubborn, protective of what she had decided was her’s. But most importantly, Astrid Hofferson was too angry to die like this.

She kicked at the body lodged in her axe. Doing everything in her power to keep her grip on the magnificent weapon as she tried to dislodge it from the blade. The horrible dripping wound made wet squelching sounds with each movement. And the fresh coat of blood on Astrid’s hands made it hard to keep her grip.

She could feel the chain and the axe slipping from her grasp. But she refused to let go. Even with the Singetail jerking in painic and pain from the days events.

Astrid let out a loud yell as she forced the muscles in her arms to move. Pulling the body closer to her as she gave it another great kick.

The dragon banked that very instant, and the jolting of the dragon and the force of impact finally managed to dislodge the flyer.

The relief in Astrid’s arms was immediate as the body crashed to the island in a wet splat that painted the new crater red.

Sweat was mingling with the blood on the hand that she used to hold onto the chains of the red dragon. And she knew she couldn’t keep holding on forever. Her shoulders stung and burned with the effort she had exerted and her already tired muscles were beginning to give out of her.

Her hands were so cold that she couldn’t sheath her weapon to get a better hold.

She looked up at the chains, searching for a better handhold, any handholds. But all she could see was Nadder spikes that had managed to get tangled in the metal as the flyer had chased her dragon.

The red dragon’s underbelly was scared and bleeding from all it had been forced to endure.

This wasn’t all Astrid had noticed.

The metal of the links were worn and beginning to crack. The wear and tear of the flyers abuse had taken its toll on the equipment as well as the dragon. And Astrid could see the weakness in the links.

The muscles in her back were screaming at her now and she could feel her grip being to fail her. Especially since the dragon kept trying to shake her and the shadows were once again beginning to pass the corner of her eyes.

She knew, logically, that she should drop her axe. She could then use her other hand to regain some semblance of safety until she was low enough to drop to the sea.

It was a heavy weapon that, with all the action going on and the wet numbness of her fingers, she would never be able to slip back into its sheath.

But that was her favorite axe.

She had memorized every detail of it. Every sweeping curve and solid edge. The intricate details, down to the exact wording of the Valkyries prayer that had had been carved into the iron. Even the little small metal bird skull that had been welded onto the end of the knob.

She had never found its equal. And she knew that it was be very unlikely that she would ever find another weapon like it.

Instead, Astrid readjusted the grip on the throat of the axe.

She would only have one shot at this.

Using the last of the strength in her arms, Astrid swung her weapon.

The clanging of metal and her war cry harmonized the instant the blade made contact with the rusty chain. And as if she had willed it to happen, the restraints crumbled into clumps of reddish silver dust.

The remaining links began to slip from the Singetail the second her grip failed. And for a short instant, the relief in her arms and the feeling of weightlessness had almost made her oncoming death worth it.

And then she began to scream.

Her arms and legs punched and kicked wildly in the air as she plummeted. Searching or anything to hold onto.

Oh gods, she thought as her screams were drowned out by the roar of the wind and the crashing waves. She was going to die.

She could feel the beginning of sea-spray peppering her skins; and all she could hope for was that she could manage to hold onto her axe when she died. No warrior could go to Valhalla without their weapon.

She was still flailing when she felt the claws on her ankle.

Her momentum shifted as a creatures scaly grip began to tug at her. And as suddenly as she plummeted, she began to rise.

She felt as if her stomach had become lodged in her throat with the force of the grab. But so elated at the prospect of living another day that her screams of terror had stopped almost instantly.

Loose strains of sweat soaked hair, blood, and sea salt stung at her eyes as she tried to focus on her rescuer. Her neck strained as she tried to force herself upward. But her eyes were finally able to focus on the large black dragon that held her life in its talons.

“DID YOU GET HER?” Hiccup shouted to be heard over the rushing wind and a soft rolling purr came from the dragons throat as Toothless greeted her with a gummy grin.

She met that smile with her own and the Nightfury readjusted his grip on her.

In a minor toss she went from being held aloft from her ankle to having talons wrapped securely around her torso.

She quietly thanked the gods that she wasn’t being held by her shoulders. They felt as if they were on fire.

She was covered head to toe with soot, sweat, and blood. But she had no doubt that her arms were burnt to high heavens.

It didn’t take long for Hiccup to circle back round to the camp. He must have been satisfied that the flyers had been dealt with.

The decent was gentle, Toothless dropped only when she was about a foot from the ground. But that didn’t stop Astrid’s knees from buckling. She could just barely catch herself before stumbling completely into the dirt.

She was completely exhausted.

The muscles in her back and shoulders screamed at her at the same ferocity that they had when she was chained to brig ceiling.

The only difference now was that the pain was the sweetly satisfying kind. The pain that is earned after hard labor and a job well done. And not the sour, soul sucking kind that would break a lesser warrior.

She breathed in. And breathed out. The air was clean; it still smelled a bit of the acrid smoke and blood, but it is nourishing nonetheless the less.

Astrid didn’t even notice Hiccup kneeling next to her until the she felt his gloved hands brushing against her bare shoulders. She had to bite back a gasp of pain.

He noticed her wince and immediately pulled his hands away before saying, “oh Gods Astrid, are you out hurt?”

The blood that had painted her arms, covered her wounds almost completely. So she didn’t know how bad it actually was.

Burns were tricky like that. The pain lasted long and the worse they were the colder you felt. Astrid had known a man who’s entire hand had been charred to a mangled crisp who claimed that the couldn’t feel a thing.

Given that her arms hurt quite a lot, she figured it wasn’t that bad.

She tried to brush Hiccup off as she struggled to her feet, “I’m fine.” clenching her teeth to avoid from hissing, she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to stretch out some of remaining tension. “Besides, it’s only fun if you get a scar out of it.”

The concern didn’t leave his expression as he rolled his eyes at her as he too got to his feet, “yeah right. Pain, love it.”

‘What a sarcastic ass,’ Astrid thought as she smiled at him.

Hiccup’s helmet was off and she could see that he too was covered in sweat and soot. His hair stood out in every direction. Otherwise he was unharmed.

Stormfly landed next to them the next moment, and Astrid reveled in her dragons concerned chirps and nudges. Deciding then and that that is was really nice that everyone in their travel party cared about her.

She looked about the camp as she caught her breath. Glancing at the now empty cages that had held the Singetails. She felt a rush of pride that they had been able to stop the capture and enslavement of more dragons.

Astrid wondered if Hiccup was feeling the same as her, and she could see that his eyes were trained on the piles of body’s that Astrid had left in her wake. The blood that leaked from them turning the dirt underneath into a red tinted mud pit.

Quickly counting the dead she could, she saw that she hadn’t held back in the slightest.

Hiccup let out a whistle of apprehensive appreciation for her handy work before saying, “you were definitely playing with me during that sparing match.”

Astrid let out a gasp of mock offense at that before saying, “excuse me Dragon Master, do you know how hard it is not kill someone when you’ve trained your whole life to do so. I wasn’t playing with you, I was practicing my self restraint.”

He let out a low chuckle as they began to walk the direction of the craters and corpses, “you know I often forget how terrifying you can be.”

“Awe thank you.”

Glancing over the dead once more, Astrid was struck with just how effective Hiccup’s plan had been. Her own piles of the first dead was bracketed by two impact craters that each held the broken and burned bodies of the first two flyers Hiccup downed.

So including the other three dead flyers, and the seven that she had hacked and sliced her way through. That should make all twelve of Drago’s men.

But Astrid only counted six that littered her warpath.

Where was one-eye?

Hiccup seemed to notice how quickly she was back on edge. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to lift her axe into a guarded position, but every moment set the nerves in her arms screaming. And she wish desperately that she had not dropped all her knives earlier in the battle.

“There were twelve here originally, but I’m only counting ele-“ a dagger came flying from the bushes. Cutting a shallow line in her forehead and slicing through the leather of her headband.

His aim was still off from the loss of his eye, but that didn’t make Astrid feel any better as blood began to stream into her vision.

Hiccup cursed in frustration and his strange hilt was in his hand.

Blinking away blood, Astrid watched as the blade extended and ignited in his grasp. In a fluid motion Hiccup threw his weapon.

It arced in an almost spear-like fashion toward the man. The sword dripping the near liquid flames behind it as a dazzling combination of heat, light, and smoke marked its trail through the air.

It struck the tree right by One-eye’s head. The long blade singeing the man’s ear and hair with how close it had gotten.

He flinched away from the blazing weapon and was preparing to roll forward, in case Hiccup had another one of those strange weapons.

Toothless had other ideas.

The black dragon let out a mighty roar as a blast of plasma exploded the dirt ring where the soldier was about to roll.

The man froze where he stood, knowing he was as trapped as the dragons that were once Drago’s cages.

Wiping away the blood from her forehead, Astrid could see the man’s bandolier was empty. His last dagger dropped from his hands as Hiccup slowly stalked up to him in a predatory manner. Toothless growled menacingly as he kept pace with his rider.

The closer the two figures in black got to the man, the more he shook. Either from the shock of his injuries, the loss of the energy that had kept him fighting this long, or from the sheer terror of being this close to the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

Astrid couldn’t tell who was angrier; Hiccup or Toothless.

There was a coldness to their rage that Astrid had hardly seen before.

Her own rage had her blazing like the braziers in the Great hall. Hot and crackling, always in the verge of tipping off the edge and burning those around her.

She could see now that Hiccup’s rage was a targeted kind.

Sharp, deadly, and crackling.

Perhaps that’s why she had hardly ever seen it before.

No matter how everyone at home pushed his buttons. No one had ever been able to stir up the storm that now buzzed under his skin.

It reminded her of lightning. Beautiful to look at from afar, but one spark could set entire islands on fire.

One-eye looked around the clearing nervously as he realized he was now surrounded. His remaining eye kept darting from the rider and his Nightfury, to the bodies that littered the camp, and back to Astrid and she hoisted her axe higher despite her burning shoulders.

The soldiers expression shifting from terror to despair, and finally seething hatred with every wink.

At some point during his leisurely saunter towards the last man standing, Hiccup drew his sorry excuse for a knife.

The flash of sunlight that reflected on the sliver metal caught One-eye’s one eye. And suddenly that little blade was the most dangerous thing in the world.

Astrid’s silently wondered if Hiccup had rigged that blade to ignite as well.

The rider didn’t say anything as he got closer.

The closer the dragon and rider got to the soldier, the more the sweat poured down the man’s burnt and blood soaked face. The Háls of his throat booped up and down like a buoy in rough waters and the scent of burning hair became more prominent in the air.

Over the low but shrill growl of the Nightfury, one eye managed to finally get out some words. His dry, cracked, and bleeding lips trembled and stuttered as squeaked out. “You can’t win this, rider. We weren’t the first legion of flyers here; and we won’t be the last.”

Hiccup put his hand the on the flaming blade of the tree lodged sword before leaning in close to the man. Astrid could see the one eye flick between where Hiccup’s fingers gripped the burning metal and the face of the rider who had him cornered.

“Is that so. How do you plan on doing that without any Deathsongs?” Hiccup said to the soldier. And suddenly all the mariner myths of how terrifying the rider was made sense to her. She had never once heard him speak in a cold and hateful manner to anyone. But, this war band had pure venomous vitriol dripping from his every movement.

“From where I’m standing,” continued Hiccup, “you are nothing but a scared worm of a man. Talking a big game while being out of pieces to play.”

With a shaky voice that was definitely an octave higher than what it had been earlier, and definitely faster than anyone with any real confidence would talk. One-eye said, “I’ll have you know that fear is not in my vocabulary.”

“Perhaps, but it’s in your eye.” Hiccup said as he cocked his head.

“I wo-“ The smell of piss began to cover up the scent of blood and ash just had the man shuddered out more pointless words. “I won’t talk.”

Hiccup rose to his full height then, Astrid hadn’t even noticed he had to hunch to be at One-eye’s level. The rider towered over the soldier as he replied, “oh you will talk, it just won’t be here.”

As fast as an adder, Toothless’s tailed whipped through the air. The metal part of his tail prosthetic slammed into the side of the man’s head in a painful clang.

The man’s head ricocheted off the edge of the flaming sword and his flesh singed and sizzled as he fell. Just before the burn was doused in the puddle of the man’s own piss.

One-eye was out cold.

Astrid approached her companions, using the woolen wrapping in her arms to staunch the bleeding of her shallow head wound, just had hiccup moved his gloved hand from the blazing blade to the hilt of the weapon.

The weapon came out of the blade with hardly any effort. The flames had turned the surrounding wood of the tree to burning cinders.

As fast as the blade had extended from the hilt, it retracted. Smoke escaped from the detailed dragon craved into tool.

It was truly amazing.

Hiccup was amazing.

He turned to her then; and Astrid could see his anger turn to worry in a single blink.

Was that whole dramatic scene all because the man had cut her?

Astrid shrugged off that thought immediately. There was no way she was important enough to him that he would scare the piss out of someone for a small cut.

Without taking eyes from her, he asked, “Are you okay?” He brought his hand to where she held the cloth to the wound. Hesitating for a moment before pulling off his gloves.

She tilted her head upward so he could get a better look at the cut. And slowly she removed the cloth and replied, “it’s just a scratch.”

He nodded to her as one hand held her head steady and the other gently moved the hair away from cut so he could have a better look.

They stood still for longer that Astrid would ever admit. Just like she would never admit that she liked how his steady hands, gently but firmly, directed her head. Or how she liked the roughness of his callused fingers on her skin.

Once he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to bleed out, he removed his hands from her face and gave her back her personal space. For a split second, it looked like it pained him to do so. Or maybe that was just how Astrid was feeling.

Together, they turned back to the carnage of the camp. Looking from their man in the ground, to the piles of bodies, the burning tents, the craters and cages, and finally Deathsongs still tied in the center of the clearing.

“So, what do we do now?” Astrid asked has she held the cloth to her head. It would be a while before the bleeding stopped on its own. But she hadn’t the mind to care about that as the sweet taste of victory coated the moment.

“Now,” Hiccup said in reply, “we search what’s left of the camp before we head back to Berk. My dad will probably want to question our prisoner.”

Astrid nodded in agreement of the plan before asking, “and the dragons?”

“They’re too dangerous to leave here. And probably too dangerous to take with us. I’ll have to think about a good place to take them before we leave.”

“And when are we leaving?”

Hiccup crooked his brow at her, clearly amused by her thorough questioning. “After we rest up a few hours. It’s a long flight back and I don’t need you falling out of your saddle again.”

Astrid jokingly scoffed at that, but her amusing matched his own as they went to search the camp.

Chapter Text

The whole village was a whirlwind of excitement for the arrival of their first alley.

Unlike when the rider had first arrived, it was as if the sight of a new dragon rider was an omen of good fortune.

Perhaps people were just excited because not a lot of them had ever seen a razorwhip in the flesh, or maybe it is because the Berserkers have a reputation of being vivacious and stimulating when times were good.

It was always a good thing to be on civil terms with that tribe. They were great to have on your side of any fight, and terrible to be on bad terms with.

Stoick had made it a point to become full on allies with their chief Oswald the Agreeable back in his youth. The man had been the embodiment of his namesake.

After the last great Althing of chieftains, his death weight heaviest of Stoick’s mind. The guilt is why the, once close, relationship with wild tribe had dwindled to near indifference over the years.

How had Hiccup managed to befriend not only their new chief, who had already tried to kill him multiple times, but his sister as well?

That was something Stoick would have to ask his son about next time he talked to the boy.

When that would be, Stoick hadn’t a clue.

Hiccup had gone back to avoiding him whenever he could. The boy had been hard to track down before he managed to do the impossible and train a Nightfury to obey his commands. Now it was next to impossible to get time alone with his son.

He had been clearly upset that Stoick had forbade him from patrolling the sea and surrounding islands for signs of Drago’s next attack.

But the boy had recently been shot.

Of course he wasn’t going to let them fly off to some unknown island. Especially since he had just returned to him.

What kind of father would Stoick be if he allowed his only child to go out while he was still healing? He didn’t even want Hiccup training other riders. But a hard punch in the gut by Gobber and Hiccup’s big, hopeful, green eyes had Stoick conceding.

For the last several days, every time Hiccup had asked to do more than work in the forge or at the training arena; Stoick would flat out refuse.

He remembered the deep crimson the filled the water near his son. Remembered the dropping of his own heart when Hiccup ran off the edge of the cliff and shuddered.

He needed to keep his family safe.

Stoick knew he was being over protective. It was plain as day every time he saw Hiccup’s disappointed scowl as every refusal. The boy was just as eager to cause trouble as he was when he was smaller.

It was maddening. And painfully, it reminded Stoick of his wife.

Valka was the very same way.

Always acting without thinking. Head always in the clouds.

That is how, on multiple occasions, she had gotten herself into trouble. If Stoick wasn’t around to ground her, Val’s creative problem solving would often draw in a spectacle.

Stoick could still remember how, on one occasion, Valka tried to save a sheep that had wandered out of its pen and somehow ended up on a unmoored dinghy.

She managed to keep her balance while running sideways on a drifting log across the bay. Stoick could have swore that she controlled it with just her hips and the log rolled and rolled under her swift feet.

Using a long fisherman’s staff, Val had hooked the loose rope on the boat and deftly directed her log back to the docks.

For years after, she swore she would have made it back to shore dry if it wasn’t for Spitelout attempting to help her.

Oh gods, how she hated asking for help.

Val always insisted that she could do everything on her own.

She never forgave Spitelout for her unplanned dip in the bay. She did however, take great pride in the event that was added in the Thorsday Thursday games.

Stoick didn’t like to think about how Hiccup’s walk along the dragon backs reminded him of his wife.

Especially since it was a dragon that took her from him.

Shoving that thought aside, Stoick tried to focus on the new guest.

Hiccup lead her around the village and the two of them seemed to have collected an entire gaggle of gawkers.

It was no secret that the men on Berk were suckers for a pretty face. And this Heather was a beaut.

Hair as dark as raven feathers with her lean athletic body covered with armor fashioned out of large Razorwhip scales.

Stoick would have sworn that Snotlout fainted the moment she waved at him.

How, on Odin’s green earth, was she related to Dagur the Deranged?

From what Stoick could remember of the young chief; Dagur was crass, impulsive, and rather petulant.

The two didn’t even look alike.

The only real similarity was their green eyes.

The same eyes as Oswald.

When comparing the two to their father, Stoick could see many similarities.

Where Dagur had gotten his father’s bulk, Heather had his coloring. And apparently his even temper.

Just before dinner, Stoick caught glimpses of his son giving the grand tour of the village. He smiled as Hiccup listed some of the highlights of home.

“This is Berk, it’s twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death.”

It was good to hear that his son still took pride in his home.

The whole village was in the mood to celebrate. After the death of the largest dragon Berk had ever seen. And with the prospect of a new sport, who wouldn’t want to celebrate?

Drinks were flowing long into the night as everyone gathered in the Great hall to meet Berk’s first guest.

Oddly enough, Stoick didn’t see his son in the midst of the crowd. He would have expected Hiccup to remain close to his friend.

Stoick tried to brush off his concern. Hiccup had always been solitary creature. Never one to enjoy a large crowd.

The later the night went on, the more Stoick worried.

Stoick knew that he was just being irrational. Hiccup was probably back at the forge working on more of Gobber’s backlog. The boy was gone for five years, he had a lot of work to catch up on.

Pushing down his unease, Stoick continued to host.

By the time it was nearly morning, he found himself trudging home. The embers had died down in the forge. Stoick noticed, as he walked through the dark village. Hiccup must be at the hut.

His home was quiet, much like had had been the past few years. Silently Stoick was relieved.

His son must have finally left that dragon outside.

Stoick still didn’t trust the beast. He was well aware that, at any given moment, it could decide to snap its powerful jaw down on his son. Or if it chose to, it could burn the whole island to the ground.

And yet Hiccup babied it.

It made no sense to Stoick. How could the boy had any semblance of control over the offspring of lightning and death itself?

It followed him everywhere. To the Great hall, the forge, the stables.

Everywhere.

Stoick’s heart nearly gave out on him the first night Hiccup had spent back in the hut.

He had gone up to check on Hiccup in the middle of the night. Still in disbelief that his boy was home. Only to find that damned lizard lying in the middle of his sons bed. Spread out as if it owned the whole hut.

How Hiccup had gotten the dragon in the house, without Stoick noticing, was a complete mystery.

Stoick had made a sound of utter shock at the sight. Which cause the dragon to jump, back arched as if it was just a large cat, and knock his son to the ground.

When Stoick had asked Hiccup, why the hell that thing was in his house. The boy replied with a simple, “you try telling him no,” before climbing back on top of the dragon and falling back asleep.

Stoick hadn’t slept that night. And hadn’t slept well every night since.

He had tried to set a ‘no dragons in the house’ rule after that. Only for him to find his son camped out at the stables the following night.

With a deep sign he conceded that one dragon in his house was better than his son being outside with a whole flock of predators.

Stoick did not like that dragon. But he had to admit, it was very well behaved for creature of death and destruction.

Sometimes, Stoick could almost swear it acted like a normal pet instead of the demon he knew the creature to be.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about it tonight. The house was quiet, no sign of the creature slithering in his son’s room. Only the dim light of an oil lamp in the window gave him any indication that Hiccup was in fact there.

So for the first time in long time, Stoick slept easily. Knowing that things were going his way for once.

He only noticed that something was off at breakfast.

Hiccup was not there. Nor was his dragon.

Stoick kept glancing at the door and back to the table of teens. No one seemed concerned that his son wasn’t showing up, but that didn’t stop the worry from settling in Stoick’s bones.

It wasn’t unusual for Hiccup to skip a meal. Oftentimes Stoick had to force his son to take breaks from whatever project he was working on. He would have to make sure Hiccup ate something that afternoon.

The whole morning, Stoick spent his morning going over battle details with Heather.

The girl was as bright as she was fierce. And Stoick was shocked at the high level of praise the warrior had for Hiccup.

She could tell in an instant what parts of Berk’s defenses were planned out by his son. And even brought up ideas of his that Stoick had shot down. The chief half wondered if his son had put her up to implementing more of his ideas, and half wondered is she is where the ideas originated.

They went over logistics of where to house the incoming armies. She had guaranteed the help of the Berserkers and a tribe unknown to Stoick. Claiming the only reason they had yet to receive Dagur’s reply; is that he needed to get a full account of army he was bringing to the fight.

That didn’t sound like a Dagur thing to do. To Stoick it seemed very wise and sensible. It was almost impossible that the young chief could have changed all that much from the deranged boy he had known as a child.

Stoick took her words with a grain of salt.

The Berserkers were merely civil with Berk now. Even if Hiccup claimed to be on good terms with Dagur. It was highly unlikely that he would want to risk the lives of his people.

A chief protects their own.

That’s the way things had always been.

But Heather insisted, and it turned out she could be just as intense about what she set her mind too as her brother.

So Stoick humored her figures.

The morning had been spent deciding on campsites and increases in fishing and guard schedules, it was time for afternoon sparing sessions.

Stoick had lost track of time, and had completely forgotten about dropping lunch off for Hiccup, as he made his way to the arena to overlook the training session.

The whole village was excited to see what kind of fighter their guest was.

Sure she came riding in on a Razorwhip, but that didn’t mean she would be able to keep up with the ground forces.

The very concept of dragon riding was still new to Berk. And many people would not respect a person who could not hold their ground with a weapon.

The crowd was abuzz with excitement. The twins were up first today in the sparring roster. And being that Berk was a civilized Viking society, everyone agreed that twins counted as one person. That usually gave them a leg up in any fight, but that also meant that any twin fight was twice entertaining, and challenging.

Heather didn’t look at all phased by the prospects of fighting the twins. She just flashed a feline grin as she unsheathed her axe.

The weapon looked wickedly sharp. A thick shaft of wood that held the jagged metal blade was not like that of a traditional axe. The metal head of the weapon appeared to be made out of reclaimed metal with neither the toe nor the heel aligned in the way a proper long axe should be.

It almost looked like it was made by someone without any resources. And Stoick silently hoped it wasn’t one of his son’s creations.

The twins circled the berserker, a spear in the hands of one and a mace in the hands of the other. From high up in the stands it was always hard to tell them apart.

They circled the raven haired girl, talking loudly to one another. using their own form of language disguised as stupidity to throw off their opponents.

“What is she smiling about?” One asked the other.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Replied the one with the mace.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” one spun the spear.

“Yeah, we don’t want your cookies.” And then they were on her.

The loud clanking of metal and wood echoed in the stone walls of the kill ring. It was often said that the twins weren’t fully human. Either too smart for anyone to fully understand them or so dumb that the only reason they had survived this long must be divine intervention.

Moving like gremlins around one another, they leap and lunged at their victims. One feigning one direction while the other closed in to strike.

Using their similarities to distract and confuse as they played with warriors like they were dolls.

Heather didn’t miss a beat when it came to parrying there two opponents. Twisted rapidly from one attacker to the next in an instant. Jumping from one foot to the other as she kicked and slashed in either direction, keeping them both at a distance.

Hooking the heel of her blade on the shaft of the spear before throwing one twin into the other.

Grabbing the helmet horns of one and directing them as if they were a bull so she could use them as a human shield.

Truly a marvelous fight to witness.

The blonds seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.

They had a natural talent and for getting under everyone’s skin. And they seemed to make figuring out the most effective way to do so, a game between the two of them.

In between the lunges and grunts; Stoick could hear the two of them talking. Loudly. No one could ever fully be sure if it was between themselves, their opponents, or even Loki himself.

They chortled and laughed, flirted and insulted. Doing what they did best. Mentally wearing down anyone on their vicinity.

Heather didn’t seemed to be bothered by the chattering. Her face kept a cool mask of focus as she dodged and blocked the onslaught of slashes and jabs.

The berserker was good. No doubt gaining her skills and focus from years of experience and also being the sister of Dagur the Deranged.

But she was still outnumbered, and the twins were relentless. Either one pushing and pulling her around the ring. Doing their best to ware her down.

Just about the time the twins should have struck a winning blow, Heather embodied her namesake.

The large jagged axe split apart. Revealing a second blade that unhinged from the first. Increasing the length of the weapon’s shaft, doubling what it once was, as she shifted from fighting with one blade to beating off the twins with two.

The twin sided blade spun in her hand, cutting the spear shaft in two as she aimed a kick right into the gut of the mace wielding twin.

The twins were too shocked to do anything.

Before the one with the mace hit the ground, Heather whirled on the one with the now broken spear.

The now double sided axe spun in a circle and she angled it away from her opponent and she pressed in. Moving the blade like the ocean moves with the tide, in a strong and fluid moment, the berserker threw her weapon.

In arced in the air as it curved towards one of the mounted wall targets. Finding its place in the shoulder of the wooden dummy.

The crowd gasped at the move and then everyone was standing up in the standard and cheering as Heather landed a solid right hook on the jaw of the last twin standing.

The fight was won.

And Stoick knew in that moment that Hiccup might have been right about calling for backup.

If the rest of his allies fought as well as this one girl, then Drago wouldn’t stand a chance.

Stoick looked around the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of his son. Wanting desperately to share in the exciting moment as the next sparing match was about to begin.

Only he was no where to be found.

He couldn’t possibly have been in the forge all morning, could he?

For the rest of the sparring matches, Stoick kept glancing over the crowd. Yet there was no sign of Hiccup.

He couldn’t possibly still be mad about being told to stay in the island. It was such a minor thing. The boy had already done enough for the war. Berk needed him here.

Stoick needed him here.

The last thing the island needed him to do was to run off again.

The patrols could be done by someone else. The scouting could be done by someone more capable and less frail.

No more of this nonsense of Hiccup being the best choice for missions.

Stoick’s worry only grew stronger as the fights ended. And by mid afternoon he could taste it as he finally made his way to the forge.

The first this Stoick noticed in the forge was the piles on unsharpened weapons lying on the back work tables.

The chief smiled at the sight of Gobber’s nearly completed backlog. It was good that his oldest friend finally had some help around the workshop. It had far too long since he had allowed anyone to help in the heat of the forge.

After Hiccup went missing, Gobber refused to let anyone do more than sharpen a cooking knife. The blacksmith had taken the boy’s disappearance harder than anyone else on the island.

Well, other than Stoick himself.

It didn’t take long for the sound of a hammer crashing down on hot steal to ring in his ear and Stoick found himself looking around every corner of Gobber’s stall for his son.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find him. Yes he was small, and could hide easily behind the girth of other Vikings or large equipment. But it wasn’t like he could disappear entirely.

Why couldn’t Stoick locate him?

He wouldn’t disobey a direct order from his chief again. Stoick was sure of that. he had to be somewhere on the island.

The pounding of a hammer on an anvil began to mimic the pounding of his own heart as Stoick found Gobber by the hearth.

The man was working tirelessly to shape a chunk of molten metal into something useful. But he lifted his head at the sound of a visitor in forge.

As if his old friend could read his mind, Gobber said without prompting, “The lad isn’t here.”

Stoick felt his face fall instantly. Partly because Gobber was able to read him so well. And partly because Hiccup wasn’t there.

Doing his best to not sound disappointed. Stoick asked, “Why did you think I was looking for him? Can’t a chief check out the status of the islands only forge?”

Gobber scoffed as he dipped the hot metal into a water barrel. “Oh please, you have been hovering over the boy since the moment you knew he was back. No wonder why he sneaks off for extra patrols every day.” The loud hiss of steam took over the blacksmith’s reply.

Stoick nearly dropped an unsharpened dagger had had absentmindedly picked up in an attempt to seem not so overbearing. “What do you mean he goes on extra patrols?”

Worry laced his every word, but he didn’t care.

Holding the unrefined weapon to the light in an attempt to figure out his next move in its construction, Gobber replied. “Yeah he goes out most afternoons. But who can blame him. The life of a celebrity is very stressful.”

“I specifically told you to keep an eye on him.” Stoick couldn’t believe the betrayal of his closest friend. The chief thought he knew his friend better than that. Gobber had never gone against his orders so deliberately before.

“Will you stop with the worrying, Hiccup knows what he is doing. I didn’t think that letting him out to blow off steam would do any harm. Besides the boy was pacing around the island like a caged up animal. If he didn’t have something to keep him occupied, I was pretty sure he was gonna start gnawing on the walls.”

Putting down the dagger, Stoick’s large hands shifted to another weapon, a short sword, on the table. Testing its weight he said, “I thought you were supposed to keep him occupied here?”

Gobber tossed the metal in him hand back in the flames of the hearth, “I’m doing my best Stoick, but you don’t seem to realize just how much of the time at the forge is spent just waiting. Before Hiccup would keep himself busy with his own plans and blueprints. Keeping to himself. But now, I think he is just itching for some action. He wants to be out there, that’s a good thing.”

Stoick wanted to argue, but he knew that he didn’t have a leg to stand on.

For years he had wanted his son to be more active in the village. He wanted Hiccup to interact with his peers and have a, positive, impact on his community.

He had just been so shy and meek.

And now Hiccup was doing just that.

He was actually participating in tribe activities.

Stoick should be proud.

But it seems that nothing could stop the worry that had dug itself under his skin.

Trying to distract himself, Stoick turned back to the weapon in his hand.

It was well constructed; clearly some of Hiccup’s work, but something was wrong with it. Stoick tested the weight and swung it halfheartedly in the air. Noting the lightness of the weapon.

Was his boy getting sloppy? It was about half the weight of the usual weapons to come from the forge. No proper Viking sword should be this light.

Gobber must’ve notice the chiefs confusion at the sword.

Switching out the attachment in his arm from a hammer to a hook he said. “Hiccup has been playing with a new metal. Claims it’s stronger than steal with only a fraction of the weight.”

Stoick furrowed his brow in confusion. “That’s impossible. I could probably snap this sword in two without breaking a sweat.”

“I thought so too, then the boy had his Nightfury fire upon one in the yard.”

Gobber gestured to the open area behind the stall and Stoick’s eyes widened at the crater just outside. The dirt looked as if it had been displaced by an explosion, the grass around the hole was charred, and in the center stood a blackened sword. Other than the discoloration; it looked to be in perfect condition.

It must be some trick. A lie. Stoick had seen what the blast of a Nightfury could do. Almost nothing could survive a direct hit.

“If the sword is a sturdy as he claims, why is it still out in the crater? Why has it not been added to the armory?”

Gobber patted the Chiefs shoulder with his good hand before saying, “he said it was a reminder that things can be stronger than they appeared. I swear the boy is every bit the stubborn, boar headed Viking you ever were.”

And just like that; Stoick was dismissed from the forge.

He spent the rest of the day in a stupor. Going through the motions of meetings and his other chiefly duties. But his heart wasn’t in it.

Maybe he had been too hard on Hiccup. Too over protective.

The boy had survived alone for five years. He had tamed a dragon. And Stoick had to admit, he had begun to grow into a man.

Every time he looked at his son, it felt like a hand was constricting around his heart. He was a man now of twenty summers. But to Stoick he will always be that tiny infant he rocked to sleep all those years ago. He will always be the gangly boy with too much energy and a talent for getting into trouble.

Hiccup will always be Hiccup.

He would talk to his son at dinner, he decided. They needed to work together to find a way forward. They needed to come to a compromise.

One that allowed Hiccup more freedom to help with the war, while keeping Stoick’s peace of mind intact.

Only, Hiccup wasn’t at dinner.

Stoick scanned the crowds that gathered in the Meade hall, only to see no sign of his son.

No shaggy brown hair, no green eyes that saw more than he would ever let on to. No Night black dragon that trotted after him like one of silent Sven’s beloved sheep.

Where was he?

He looked to the teens table. Everyone seemed to be having a good time talking to Heather. The boys were clearly all trying to show off to her. Parading around like they were in the running to be the prize boat at the Thorsday Thursday celebration.

Heather seemed more occupied with the twins than with Fishlegs or Snotlout. They kept pushing journals in front of her and talking wildly.

Stoick would wager that they were explaining their strange betting system that they had trapped most the island with. Or explaining the rules of the boar pit. Who could tell with the twins?

Stoick found it odd that Astrid wasn’t sitting with them. The chief had thought the warriors would be fawning over the Berserker’s double sided axe while in the midst of trading battle stories.

Thinking back on the day, Stoick hadn’t seen Astrid anywhere.

That was odd, she never missed a sparring match. If it wasn’t her turn in the ring, she was usually off to the side making mental notes on every move each fighter made.

Something was going on, and Stoick didn’t like it.

As the night went on, there was still no sign of the two. And Stoick could feel the worry clawing its way up his legs to his back. The thought of Hiccup running away again had him wanting to tear the island apart until he was found.

The thought of losing his boy again sent a wave of grief and guilt down his throat so thick that he felt as if he was drowning in it.

People began to trickle their way out of the Hall at the end of the meal. And Stoick couldn’t stop himself any longer.

He beckoned the teens to one of the smaller private rooms in the back of the Hall.

All the familiar faces had similar expressions of confusion.

Heather on the other hand, had a knowing flash of entertained guilt spark in her eyes before schooling her features to match the others.

Yep, she knew where they were. And had been keeping everyone too busy to notice their absence.

Just like a Berserker to be used as a distraction.

Every saga song that detailed Viking wars had verses detailing how chiefs would have the Berserker take the attention of whole armies. Only for small groups to slip through enemy lines to win the true battle.

That’s why it was one of the most used tactics in the game Maces and Talons.

Hiccup had definitely learned enough strategy in his time away from Berk to use it well.

Stoick would have been impressed; if not for how angry he was at the deception.

The group filed into the back room and took their places at the round table. Everyone was silent. Waiting for the orders or lecture they were used to receiving from the adults they encountered.

Except the twins. Who wasted no time in drawing phallic doodles in the dust that had accumulated on the table’s surface. Illustrating how out of use the room was.

Stoick let them stew in the uncomfortable quiet as he starred the group down. Making it clear this was a scolding rather than a mission.

And just as one was about to build the courage to ask what this was about, the chief spoke. “I gave you one job, and you couldn’t even do it right.” His voice was one of clear frustration and annoyance

They all jumped in their seats and Stoick slammed his fist on the table. A cloud of dust rose with the impact and everyone was coughing now. Found their best to keep their full attention on the chief as their eyes began to water at the irritant in their midst.

Finally Snotlout croaked out a a rough wheezing response of, “What are you talking about?”

This made Stoick even angrier.

Were they all so easily distracted by shiny objects, in this case a beautiful girl in silver armor, that they had completely forgotten about one of their own?

“Where is Hiccup?” The Chief growled out the question.

Every single one of them stilled at the question. Stoick could see them thinking back to when they last saw his son.

Finally Snotlout had the guts to answer, “wasn’t he at the forge all day? He was acting like a dragon had shit in his helmet all week. I thought it best to leave him alone until he cooled off.”

The group looked to Stoicks’s Nephew and then quickly shook their heads and loudly agreed with the excuse of why they had all shirked their duties.

Putting his large hands back on the table and leaning in closer to the group. Stoick said with a cold fire, “Hiccup hasn’t been in the forge since yesterday.”

The truth had all the teens faces, minus Heather, dropping instantly.

Stoick turned to the newcomer then.

And her amusement just about had him seeing red.

He was just about to blow up at her when the girl said with a smirk. “Last I saw, Hiccup was doing something with Astrid.”

She turned the group then, addressing everyone now. “What is up with those two? When I arrived, Astrid kept glaring at me like I interrupted something.”

Instantly the twins were alert and pulling out their betting ledgers.

“Oh, that is interesting that you bring that up.” Said Ruffnut as her eyes fixated on the Berserker.

“You see Hiccup has had a crush on Astrid since like,” continued Tuffnut as he counted on his fingers, “forever. Just about everyone here has made an attempt to flirt with her; but she never showed an interest in anything other than breaking things and people.”

“It’s been said that Astrid was born angry and that she will probably die angry.” Interrupted Ruff, “but now; it seems our girl is experiencing emotions other than anger, disgust, or platonic indifference.”

Both twins flipped their ledgers towards Heather, “we’ve been taking bets on how long it will take for the stop of them to stop dancing around each other.”

“It’s clear from how much Astrid stares at his butt that she wants him. But, Hiccup hasn’t seemed to notice that it’s time to make a move.”

Snotlout scoffed at that, “yeah right. There is no way that Astrid will ever like anyone. If she is choosing to spend extra time with Hiccup it’s because one of them is confiding in the other about a major medical issue or a gambling addiction. In fact, I would put money on gambling.”

Tuffnut pulled out a stick of charcoal and held it to the page. “Is that so? The buy-in on the betting pool is a chunk of hack silver. I will warn you: if there is any attempt to interfere with the results of the bet, for example by meddling or corrosion, will be immediately disqualified, and your silver will remain with the house.”

The price of the betting had everyone gaping at the twins.

Hack silver and gold was hard to come by. Brackets made from raid gotten silver. Vikings would be gifted them by their chiefs or leaders of war bands as a sign of a job well done.

The honor of the rings made the metal more valuable than coin.

To pay with it, is to physically hack the rings of metal apart and to rebend them to fit back on biceps, wrists, and swords until the whole prize had been spent.

Stoick couldn’t believe that anyone on Berk would care that much about on island drama that they would risk honor won silver that way.

Finally, Snotlout laughed an uncomfortable laugh. “You have to be joking. There is no way I would waste thank kind of coin on this stupid bet.”

“Am I laughing?” Tuffnut said in a dead serious tone. “Seriously, am I laughing? Sometimes I laugh when things aren’t funny.” Then the boy twin cackled a mysteriously sinister laugh before returning his normal nonchalant demeanor.

Ruffnut piped up then, “Snotlout just because Astrid rejected you so many times and so hard that you ended up at Gothi’s hut for a week of treatment. Doesn’t mean she is heartless. You gotta admit that you were the common denominator in all your failures. It’s the first step to growth.”

Heather gave the group a long stunned look before saying, “Okay. I love whatever the Hel is wrong with you guys.”

The twins turned back to Heather then, with actual sincerity in their voices, and said at the same time, “That might just be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to us.”

Ruff instantly wrapped the Berserker in a big hug before continuing. “You are now officially a Thorston Cousin.

Tuff ended the exchange with actual tears in his eyes, “We will go to war for you.”

Thor, help them all.

Hardly remembering the reason they were all on in this room together. Stoick couldn’t believe that Hiccup trusted the twins with a butter knife, let alone a dragon.

Stoick turned to look to his son, wanting him to steer the group back on course. They would, probably, listen to him.

Only for Hiccup to not be there.

Hiccup was missing.

That’s why Stoick had everyone in the room.

Slamming his hands on the table again, and sending up another cloud of dust, Stoick bellowed. “ENOUGH. What does any of this have to do with where Hiccup is?”

The teens got real quiet again as they shot worried glances between one another.

After a long pause, it was Fishlegs who spoke up. “Umm, he has been stressing over Johann’s map. Maybe he went to go check out what we figured out yesterday.”

He wouldn’t. Not after Stoick had specifically ordered him not to.

Heather’s expression went from being pleased by the entertainment the other Vikings provided, to wide eyed. Almost as if, they figured had it out.

What had Hiccup said yesterday. Something about stopping a threat before it made it here.

Stoick had a brief flash of his son facing off against the Green Death just out of reach of the island. And his blood went cold.

Did Hiccup go to face another behemoth? Did he go alone?

The sight of his son being chased by a dragon the size of a mountain forced its way to the front of the chiefs mind.

The arrow puncturing his shoulder.

Blood in the water.

“If it makes you feel any better,” piped up Heather. She must have recovered from shock of them figuring out Hiccup’s plan. “He said he would be back in under forty-eight hours.”

Snotlout shot up from his chair then, knocking it to the floor in a loud crash. “Not fair! You distracted us with your big brown eyes.”

Stoick couldn’t believe the audacity of the lass as the berserker batted her verdant eyes right at the shorter boy. “They’re green, and relax. He does this kind of thing all the time. Besides, I’m pretty sure Astrid followed him. So it’s not like he is alone out there.”

Heather kept talking, still trying to keep them all distracted while Hiccup was off on a strange island. One full of Drago’s men and dangers that Stoick couldn’t even imagine.

He had had enough of all the distractions.

The large man stormed out of the room.

He had to plan the rescue mission. He needed to ready ships and gather then men.

But first, he needed to know where he was going.

The map was on Hiccup’s work table. The scapes of Johann’s were pinned in place by smaller training daggers. Stoick examined it closely, figuring out the best route.

There was a piece of Johann’s map laying off to the side. A island not marked on Hiccup’s, a place labeled Dragon’s edge.

It sounded dangerous, but Stoick would worry about that later.

There was a note pinned to the map. Marked in Hiccup’s small tight scrawl.

Almost as if his son knew Stoick would come looking for him.

He made sure to leave a clue on where he was going this time.

‘Six hours there and six hours back. Should be back in forty eight hours at the most.’

From the distance alone, Stoick knew it would take more than more than three days by boat. And that is if the wind was on their side.

And Hiccup had a days head start on them.

The men would have to row continuously to keep. The would have to take shifts at the oar benches.

The chief was just thinking about supplies and shift rotations when Gobber came up behind him.

“Oh boy, what’s the problem now Stoick?”

Letting out a long breath, Stoick vented to his friend.

Gobber broke out the ale as Stoick told him everything.

His struggles to reconnect with his son, his worries about Hiccup’s safety, and that the boy had convinced the berserker to cover for him as he ran off. Again.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The chief said as he looked down into his tankard.

“I can see that,” replied the Blacksmith as he took a long sip from his own cup.

“I take him fishing and he goes hunting for trolls.”

“Hey trolls exist. They steal your socks, but only the left ones. What’s with that?”

Of course Gobber would be sassy about it. Stoick swore that is where Hiccup got his attitude from.

Slamming his ale on the table he began to rant. “When I was a boy,”

“Oh here we go,” interrupted Gobber either to himself or to whatever god was listening.

Stoick paid him no mind as he continued, “my father told me to bang my head against a rock. And I did it. I thought he was crazy, but I didn’t question it. Do you want to know what happened?”

“You got a headache.” The eye roll was audible in the statement.

“That rock split in two. It taught me what a Viking could do Gobber. He could crush mountains, level forests, tame seas.”

Stoick let out a long sigh as the weight of the same old complaints filled the air and mingled with the crackling fire of the forge.

“Why won’t he listen?”

Gobber put a hand on his shoulder then squeezing it reassuringly. “He’s twenty and a Viking. Can you imagine a worse combination. Don’t you remember what you were like?”

“Not helping.”

“Look Stoick,” his friend said with an uncharacteristically serious tone. “He was out there alone for years. I know you don’t like it, but it happened. He has his own ways of doing things and we are just going to have to trust that he knows what he is doing. You won’t always be around to protect him. He’s gonna get out there again. Hel, he is out there now. The lad is determined to become a hero the hard way.”

Refilling their tankards to two Vikings sat in silence for a good before Stoick found the words to say. “It may be the hard way; but it’s his way.” Stoick had never missed his father in law more than he did in that moment. Old Wrinkly would know what to do, even if the old soothsayer never knew the future.

“Look Stoick, he said he would be back. Let’s before we do something rash like send out a warband that will lessen the island’s defense during a war. At least until we know for certain that he is in trouble.”

Taking a deep breath, Stoick finally agreed with the blacksmith.

He could wait a few more hours. He waited five years for his son to return. He could wait a little longer.

Gobber waited with him at the kill ring. It was the most likely place for them to land. Hiccup would have to water his beast if he wanted to pretend that he was just hiding somewhere on the island. An exhausted dragon would be a dead giveaway that he had been gone.

Stoick spent hours brainstorming the perfect punishment from his son’s disobedience. Gobber would pitch in creative spins to each and every one of them.

Finally at dawn, two dragons crossed over the cliffs of the ring and landed in arena.

A small shadow almost instantly hopped from the back on the Nightfury and ran to the side of the Nadder.

The riders must have not noticed the Viking that sat just on the outskirts of the ring.

Hiccup helped Astrid from her saddle.

Stoick was just getting up to reprimand the both of them when Gobber pulled him back down.

Stoick was just about to direct his fury at his friend when Gobber blurt whispered, “hold on Stoick, don’t embarrass the boy in front of Astrid. Not when she is looking at him the way Valka used to look at you.”

What was he going on about?

Look back at the two Stoick wordlessly watched as the warrior took his son’s hand and hopped from the saddle. She was smiling at him and he back at her. Hiccup was clearly giving her instructions, but the lass had a mischievous look in her eyes.

Did the twins have some actual merit to the betting pool?

“You know,” whispered Gobber, “when I gave Hiccup all of Astrid’s projects at the forge. I only hoped that the girl would be nice to him. No one with any brains, treats their blacksmith badly. That just insures shoddy workmanship.”

Oh so that’s why Spitelout always had the worst weapons in the village.

“Now I’m thinking we could have an early spring wedding. When the snow is still on the ground but the flowers are just starting the bloom.”

Hope entered Stoick’s heart at he watched the two in the ring.

Astrid reaching out a lightly punching Hiccup in the chest. Something popped out of the back of the boys black suit as she let out a soft laugh.

Stoick could see his son pretending to be annoyed as he readjusted himself, but his eyes were bright as he refused to look away from her.

The lass was just about to pull away when Hiccup held out his hand once again. Astrid turned back and handed something to him. The rising sun flashed in the metal as Hiccup took it. And then Astrid was leading a prisoner out of the ring.

Stoick couldn’t believe it.

It seems that Hiccup had been right to go.

Chapter Text

The indignant noise that sounded from Snotlout’s mouth came out of nowhere. Just like the ball of mud that was now sliding down his face.

His first thought was that he was going to kill him. Hiccup was a dead man walking. Er, well flying.

His cousin flew out of range and she reloaded another mud ball into that weird shield of his. The words, “YOU’RE OUT” dying in the roar on the wind as he launched his next clump at Fishlegs.

Snotlout had decided that this whole training exercise was stupid after the first ball of mud beamed him in the shoulder.

Now he thought Hiccup enjoyed making everyone look incompetent.

How the Hel was anyone supposed to succeed at this exercise?

Hiccup was on the back of a fucking Nightfury for Thor’s sake.

Earlier that morning Hiccup had pulled everyone to the kill ring.

Still being mad at him for ditching them yesterday. Snotlout had crossed his arms and waited for an apology.

You can’t just leave whenever you want and saunter back in like nothing happened.

Only, Hiccup had the audacity to ignore the fact that he had left them. Yet again.

Snotlout had only half listened to the instructions. A whole lot of, “no longer going easy on us,” and, “low level flyers.”

Hiccup could shut up for all he cared.

The only thing her really absorbed from the lecture was that they were all supposed to try to knock Hiccup and Heather from their saddles. All while they threw mud at them.

It should have been easy. It was four on two, five of you counted the twins as full people.

But no one could catch them.

Each splat of mud was a new insult, and Snotlout swore that the black dragons chortling laugh was personally mocking him.

Wiping the grit and grime from his face, the Viking looked up as he adjusted himself in Hookfang’s saddle.

It looked like Astrid was having a difficult time as well. The silver Razorwhip was right on the Nadders tail as the blonde pulled at the pommel of her saddle. Just barely missing getting pelted with dirt.

With the way the blue dragons tail flicked, it almost looked like Astrid was shooting spines back at the berserker.

Heathers laugh echoed around the kill ring as she lined up another mud ball.

Snotlout thought that all berserker must be insane as he began to search for Hiccup once more.

Snotlout swore that he was gonna teach that runt a lesson. Even as the runt in question shot out from underneath him.

The Viking swore as he jerked on his dragon’s horns, causing the Nightmare to growl in complaint at the sudden redirection. But they narrowly avoided more mud to the face. Even if the top of his helmet scraped the cliffside as Hooky corrected their course.

Through his glare, Snotlout could see Hiccup. Who standing in his saddle as Toothless leveled out.

The show-off wasn’t even strapped in.

“Come on, you have to do better than that if you want to throw me from the saddle.” The pipsqueak chimed as he once again pulled back on his shields drawstring.

Oh, he was just asking for it now.

Snotlout glanced at his dragon. Hookfang glanced back at him. Both were covered in mud and were tired of being shoved around.

It’s time to show what a Jorgenson was made of.

The Fangster was in agreement.

Hookfang let out a mighty roars as he began to chase after the Nightfury.

His hands tightened on the horns and Snotlout could feel himself and Hookfang beginning to act like a team.

They flew up, down, left, and right.

Spinning to avoid more blasts of mud.

The power in each twitch of the Monstrous Nightmare’s muscles was exhilarating. And the more he they flew together the more the overcast sky and coolness of the open air faded away.

Right now, nothing else mattered than teaching his little cousin a lesson. Showing him that he wasn’t any better than the rest of them. That Snotlout wasn’t someone that should be shoved to the side like filth.

Hiccup was supposed to be different than everyone else.

That’s what his dad kept ranting about at every waking hour of the day it seemed.

“Listen here Boy-o,” he would say. His anger as pungent as a yak on a hot day. “That pipsqueak must have everyone under some kind of spell. Why else would so many of us be willing to ignore millennia of proper Viking tradition.”

Snotlout would usually nod his head and agree with the man just keep him from turning his rage on the closest target. Which was him most of the time.

Honestly he was just glad his dad would still talk to him. He had been so afraid that, if he had gone along with the crazy scheme of training a dragon, his dad would disown him entirely.

Snotlout had even gone so far as to pack a bag of him most treasured belongings and hid them in the cove. Just in case Spitelout kicked him out of the hut.

It’s not that Snotlout liked his basement room, but it was his space for Thor’s sake. He wasn’t like Astrid, he didn’t have people that would help him build his own house. Even if his design taste was impeccable.

He would usually hide down in that basement whenever he knew his dad would be home the same time he was. Doing his best to not draw attention to the fact that Spitelout had a captive audience.

That plan only worked about half the time.

“This is ridiculous!” His father would drone on and on, “Stoick always did have more hope than was healthy for a Viking. But he always seems to forget the knife’s edge he stands on. He is the chief for Odin’s sake, he should be smarter than this. Tougher too, what happened to the old Stoick that would fight a dragon with his bare hands and win? His will alone should be enough to get that disaster son of his in line. Get him to stop this nonsense of ‘befriending dragons.’ Like those beasts are anything more than gigantic vermin that have been a scourge on the archipelago since the death of Grimbeard the Gastly.”

It was rants like this that had Snotlout thinking his dad was a bit of a hypocrite. It’s not like Spitelout had been able to do anything about his son being civil with a dragon.

“I swear Stoick should have left that runt in the woods for the wolves to deal with when he had the chance. It’s what a real Viking would do. Only the strong can belong. You know your own ancestor Grimbeard the Gastly did that with his own runt. Now that was a true Viking hero. No wonder why he was the last king of the archipelago.”

Snotlout wanted to argue that no Viking in Berk had abandoned a runt in the last hundred years. He also wanted to argue that in the last few years Hiccup had grown to be the tallest of his peers. Or at least bring up the total body work out that dragon riding was. But that would just earn him another punch in the gut and his father’s ire turned on him.

He was getting really tired of holding his tongue.

But since he couldn’t stand up to his father, at least he could stand up to his cousin. He knew he was stronger than him. And Hiccup had a far more peaceful attitude. There was no way anything would get physical by picking a fight with the bean pole.

Snotlout scanned the cloudy sky for the annoyance. Getting more and more frustrated at the fact that the Nightfury blended in with the dark clouds that were beginning to roll in.

If it began to rain, he would have absolutely no chance of beating Hiccup at his own game.

But then again the rain would help was off the dirt that was coating his body.

Hookfang jerked to the left and Snotlout had to clench his burning thighs tighter on the saddle to remain upright, as another blob of mud sped past his ear.

There you are, he thought as Hookfang speed up to their target.

Hiccup and Toothless were flying effortlessly. As if they were the same being. His cousin still in the half sitting half standing position. Safety straps loosely flapping in the breeze behind him. Showing off even more, as if he thought that he was better than the rest of them, as he readied another mud ball.

What was even the point of the saddle straps if he wasn’t even going to use them? Did Hiccup think everyone here was so incompetent that they needed to be physically tied to their dragons?

Snotlout must have growled his frustration, because the next they he knew was that Hookfang was harmonizing with him as the air suddenly shifted from cold and bitting to pleasantly warm.

The Viking squinted as sun must have finally broken through the clouds, temporarily blinding him. But the weather didn’t seem to affect his awesome beast. And Hookfang pulled in his wings for a dive.

When his eyes had adjusted, he smiled at the sight before him.

Hiccup’s green eyes wide with shock as he missed his target entirely.

Guess not even the great dragon master can ignore thousands of pounds of pure red scaled muscle barreling towards him at incredible speeds.

From somewhere to his right Snotlout could hear Fishlegs gasping in what he could only imagine was amazement. And the twins cheering from above him.

And honestly, why wouldn’t they? Snotlout was quite the Viking. And probably twice the rider of any other people here other than Hiccup and Heather.

Astrid was alright, but the one glimpse at the burns and blisters on her shoulders, was proof enough that she had a long way to go before she was at his level.

He could feel himself flush with pride as he caught sight of Hiccup scrambling to lower his helmet right as Hookfang’s claws extended.

And oh, was that fear he smelt?

Why wouldn’t anyone be afraid of his awesome skill?

As his dragon plucked Hiccup from his saddle, he noticed something that extinguished all pride in the moment from him.

Light was reflecting off the black scales of his cousins armor. And it sure has Hel wasn’t sunlight.

Snotlout had been on the fire brigade for years. He knew dragon fire when he saw it.

And for the first time, Snotlout now realized why everyone was so shocked.

Hookfang had set himself on fire.

That hadn’t been fear he was smelling. It was his arm hair burning.

No wonder why everything felt toasty all of the sudden.

He was starting to ask himself or the God’s, whoever was listening, why the Hel he wasn’t currently fully burning alive? When Heather flew beside him.

“Um, Snotlout. I think you won the game. You can extinguish your dragon now.”

Hiccup shouted something that Snotlout couldn’t make out due to the roar of the wind and his helmet. And as quickly as Hookfang had caught fire, the flames extinguished themselves.

Man he loved his dragon. Gobber had undersold the Monsterous Nightmare when they had been in dragon training. How come the blacksmith never told them that this type of dragon had such perfect control of its temperature setting? Snotlout was barely singed.

Snotlout had the idea to try cooking yak stakes using dragon fire, when something round and silver spun toward Heather.

The Berserker caught Hiccup’s shield with a practiced ease; right as he wiggled out of the red dragons claws and plummeted towards the hard rock of the arena floor.

All the riders shouted in alarm as their friend dropped like a stone. Immediately both Snotlout and Heather moved into a dive.

One of them would be fast enough to catch him.

Hiccup was faster.

Black painted wings shout out of his cousin’s Draconic flight suit and he caught the updraft that was ever present on the cliffs of the arena.

He rode the wind as if it was a dragon keeping him aloft. And with a supernatural ease, Hiccup glided to the flag pole.

Everyone watched in shock as his had caught hold of the whipping fabric and rope. It broke his fall with a great ripping sound and he used the remaining material to lower himself to the stands.

It shouldn’t be possible to act so natural about the feat. But Hiccup didn’t even make a fuss about the feat. No shouting out to boast his awesomeness. He simply dusted himself off and retracted the wings on the suit. Before gesturing for everyone to join him in the middle of the ring.

Damn him.

And not just because it will probably take hours of lock stitching, probably with some cross stitching thrown in, to repair the flag in a way that would make it presentable again.

The Nightfury landed first to land in the kill ring; not being able to stay in the air long without his rider. Followed swiftly by everyone else.

Everyone was filthy. Hiccup and Heather had mud caked up to their elbows. While everyone else appeared to be the worst players of boar pit known to Viking kind.

No doubt to onlookers, they made a very strange looking flock.

Hiccup took a long look the group before speaking; either counting heads or checking for injuries. Snotlout couldn’t be sure.

“Good job today everyone. Especially you, Snotlout. Now, can anyone tell me what this exercise was for?”

Snotlout was torn between beaming at the compliment or punching his cousin in the face.

How can one guy have so much audacity in such a scrawny body?

He spends the entire morning making a fool out of everyone; only to praise them the moment he is caught.

The twins both raised their hands at the same time before shouting, “MUDBALL FIGHT, EXTREME VERSION. Not to be confused with the classier snowball fight.”

Astrid’s hand went to her face as she shock her head at their stupidity. “We are in the middle of a war you imbeciles. Why on earth would we be having a mud ball fight?”

“But Astrid, we weren’t on earth. We were in the sky.” Pointed out Tuffnut.

“Which, by all accounts, makes the activity far more interesting. We will make a sports man of you eventually,” continued Ruff and she finished their tangent.

Fishlegs raised his hand next. “Our goal was to grab one of you off your dragon. And since you just came back from the place on Johann’s map, it’s safe to assume that it has something to do with that.”

Snotlout’s eye twitched with annoyance. Gods just get on with it. He was so sick of rambling.

Fishlegs stopped with his meandering drabble and gasped suddenly. As if he finally found a piece to the puzzle Hiccup so annoyingly layer out for them.

“WAIT, does this mean Drago has his own riders?”

Hiccup gave Fishlegs an approving nod, “they’re called flyers. And-“

His expression shifted quickly from that of the smooth talking hero that he tricked everyone into thinking he was. To that of an incredulous babysitter as he turned to Heather and asked, “Has no one read my reports?”

The twins groaned loudly at that.

“Read? While we are still alive?” Interrupted the Ruff.

“Why read books?” Interjected Tuff, “when you can just kill the things the books tell you stuff about.

“I’ve read your dragon notes about five times,” added Fishlegs.

Snotlout remained silent as he seethed at his cousin.

Hiccup ran his hand through his already messy hair to make is exasperation more exaggerated as the group all replied to his question.

Heather just smiled at the scene, “Hiccup, you have to admit that your reports can be long winded at times”

“I will never apologize for being thorough.” He composed himself once more. Squaring his shoulders as he went on to finally explain what this whole morning was about. “Well Fishlegs, do you remember what my dragon notes said about Singetails?”

In an instant, Fishlegs went from looking like an overweight puppy who was about to be scolded, to beaming with excitement. Which could only mean one thing. He was about to info dump.

Great, more blabbering.

The nerd talked on an on about this type of dragon. Going so far as to pull out his deck of dragon cards and reading off the dragons statistics.

The fact that Hiccup let Fishface blather made Snotlout want to hit something, or someone.

Just when Snotlout though the dweeb would go in talking for the rest of eternity, somewhere around the lecture on the dragon’s theorized eating habits, Hiccup put his hand of to silence him.

“Great explanation Fishlegs.” And turning to the rest of the group, Hiccup finally got to the fucking point. “Drago had a band of men capturing Singetails, chaining them, and forcing them to carry troops. Astrid and I took out their base of operations, but who knows how long they had been camped there and how many dragons they captured before we could put a stop to it. Today was your first taste of how to deal with the flyers. The amount of mud you got covered in is how much fire you could have been hit with if actual flyers had attacked. The time for goofing around is over. Tomorrow Heather will use actual fire instead of just mud.”

They all stared at Hiccup in shock. There was no way he would actually go through with it. He didn’t have it in him.

“Your goal will be the same. Knock us off our dragons.” He continued, “Snotlout had the right idea today. He surprised me with the move of setting himself on fire. While you clean up today, I want all of you to think about the training you have done the past few weeks. Your strengths and your weaknesses. Come up with a plan to throw us off our rhythm. And lastly you will need to trust your dragons even more than you already do. The flyers aren’t bonded to their Singetails. The moment they are thrown the dragon will fly off. So the easiest way of setting them free is to remove the rider. If you can catch me then you can definitely catch the flyers.”

Gods, why won’t they all just shut up?

Having heard just about enough of the pointless chatter, it was Snotlout’s turn to speak. And he would make sure that everyone knew that he was not one to be ignored. Even if Hiccup had just praised him.

“Oh, and why won’t you, the Great Dragon Master, be firing on us?”

Hiccup’s eyebrows shot up at that. Like the rider had the gall to look confused at his question. “While both the Razorwhip and the Nightfury have different fire types than the Singetail. The Razorwhip is far less deadly if something goes wrong while we are practicing.”

Heather looks offended at that statement, “Less deadly? Windsheer can melt the flesh off a man a hundred feet away.”

Fishlegs squealed in delight at that little tidbit about the Razorwhip but was ignored by the group as Hiccup said. “True, but Windsheer’s blasts don’t explode. So, I figured it would be a better starting point.”

Why does he have to be so patronizing? When did Hiccup turn into such a know it all?

“I don’t know Hiccup, it might be a good thing for them to learn how to dodge a Nightfury. You have Toothless shoot at you all the time.”

Oh so Hiccup did think he was better than everyone else.

Hiccup held up a his hand and beginning to count of his fingers, “first of all, him helping in the forge does not count as shooting at me. Second of all I spend the majority of my time with this dragon so I know his tells. If he is going to shoot at anyone that will survive a blast it will be me.”

Heather raised a well groomed brow at the rider now, “oh yeah, what about your solo flights?”

Hiccup ran his hand through his hair looking exasperated at the line of questioning, “he isn’t shooting at me then. He shoots under me so I can ride the shock wave of the explosion.”

The whole group gaffed at the argument. Well, everyone but Snotlout; who scoffed at the audacity of his cousin.

Of course Hiccup would trust a dragon over the people who grew up with. Over family. Over him.

The sad thing was, Snotlout didn’t even judge him for it. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, everyone would choose any option that wasn’t him.

Oh well, that was old news.

The least the guy could do is apologize for leaving. For leaving five years ago. For leaving two days ago. For leaving again in the future.

Snotlout bristled at the thought of being left along again with no one but his father for company. And the idea made him want to hit something…

Or someone in particular.

He was just talking himself into doing so when two Terrible Terrors landed on Hiccup’s shoulders and began to nuzzle themselves into his neck.

Hiccup really did try to ignore them. Doing his best to continue his never ending lecture as the small greens dragons attempted to crawl down his flight suits neckline.

Something about seeing a myth cringing and trying to keep his composure while holding back a laugh from two tickley lizards really changed the mood of a conversation.

Snotlout definitely could not recall a single thing his cousin had failed to convey since the Terrors began nesting on him. Not that he was listening anyway. But now he had half a mind to train a flock of terror to do that very thing on command. It would be such an easy way to get everyone to shut up.

Apparently the affection of the small dragons river dancing on his shoulders became too much to ignore and Hiccup had to stop his ramblings.

Toothless actually looked jealous with how Hiccup gave the small dragon’s affectionate belly scratches as he took the letters that were tied to the beasts.

Once the little guys were properly satisfied with their given scritches they flew off back to the trees and Hiccup pocketed the mail.

Turning back to the group and doing his best to compose himself Hiccup went right back into his lecture. Gods, will it never end?

“Look I know you guys might have struggled with this today, but as you clean up I want all of you to think about the ways you will do better tomorrow. Trust in the bond you are building with your dragons. Utilizes their strengths and be mindful of their weaknesses.”

Gods the arrogance on that guy. He has had years to get good at this; and we have only been at this for a few weeks.

“Now I have to go bring these letters to my Dad. Remember what I told you to do, clean up and start collecting the scales your dragons shed. A council meeting will probably be called today to discuss everything we found at the island and how best we can accommodate the incoming tribes. I will see you all there. Great work today.”

And just like that he began to walk out of the ring, like he was the most important person on the whole damn island.

What right does he have to order everyone around? What right does Hiccup have to command that they do chores as menial as sweeping up dragon scales?

He left. He forfeited that privilege the moment he decided to never come back.

Snotlout hadn’t even realized that he had followed Hiccup out of the ring.

Everything about the guy was irritating to Snotlout. The odd outfits, the complete disregard for others, the swagger in his step that was made more apparent by the metal leg.

When they were out of ear shot of the others, Hiccup turned around. And the rider had the audacity to look confused as he said. “Hey, Snotlout, what’s up?”

Hiccup may have spent years alone out there in the world. But today, Snotlout would show his baby cousin the true meaning of family.

The smack was a light one. At least in comparison to what his father had given him over the years.

It still caught Hiccup unaware and he stumbled back.

He looked even more confused than when he had first notice that Snotlout had followed him out of the ring. He sputtered out, “WHAT was that for?”

What a jerk.

Putting his hands on his hip, Snotlout was ready to stand his ground, “you expect us to just blindly follow your orders after you abandon us. AGAIN. Is this gonna be how it is for now on? Things don’t go your way, so you fly off.”

Hiccup flinched at that statement, but that was the only reaction he seemed willing to give him. “Is that… that’s not… Look I don’t have time for this conversation right now Snotlout. I can see you’re mad. But, we can discuss this later when you’ve had time to cool off.” He tried to walk away again.

OH NO. Snotlout would not be blown off like this.

“Oh I see how it is. The future chief is a coward.”

Hiccup stopped in his tracks at that. And Snotlout could see his shoulders squaring as the, normally slouching boy, unfolded to his full height. “What was that?”

Finally, Snotlout words seemed to strike true. “You heard me. I’m not done here.” Doing his best to imitate his father, he continued, “If you want us to listen to you. You are gonna have to prove you are strong enough to face me. So come on. HIT ME.”

As the words left his mouth, a small voice in the back of his mind began to whisper ‘this is a mistake.’

Snotlout ignored it.

His dragon was back in the ring with all the others. Hiccup had no Nightfury to rely on. Only the strength of his own puny arms. And Snotlout knew he could easily withstand anything hit his little cousin threw at him.

Looking exasperated, Hiccup only rolled his eyes at him as he was struggling to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. “I’m not going to fight you.”

Snotlout smacked him again. Harder than before.

Hiccup was clearly readier for that blow than the other, the action hardly seemed to phase him as he once again took a step back. But he was starting to get mad.

Good.

Snotlout was sick of dealing with the pretense of civility that the guy had tried to trick everyone into thinking he had.

Tired of Hiccup pretending his was better than every other Viking in the archipelago.

“Come on. HIT ME. You know you want to.”

Snotlout could see Hiccup’s eyes lock on something behind him briefly, before he finally made his decision.

The rider stalked up to him, and pushed his finger into his chest before saying, “Fine.” There was a menacing coldness in the tone that did not strike confidence in choice Snotlout made to confront the run away. “Just remember, you asked for this.”

Finally.

Snotlout watched as Hiccup got into a proper fighting stance. Feet wide, hips squared, and arms up. Saw as his cousin led with his right hand.

What he didn’t know is why his mouth was filled with the aftertaste of blood and dirt. For a moment he thought his dad must have made lunch. But, that didn’t explain how he had ended up napping on the ground outside the arena.

Or the three weird pinkish white stones that stood out stark on the path to the kill ring.

As he sat up, he absentmindedly ran his tongue across his teeth. Surprise by the pain he felt in his jaw and the thick flavor of iron he got for the small action.

Looking back at the pebbles, Snotlout couldn’t believe what had happened. Hiccup had punched him so hard that he knocked out three of his teeth.

Hiccup… the stringbean… the toothpick… the pipsqueak.

When he got his hands on his skinny neck, the boy would be sorry.

Whirling around, Snotlout couldn’t see him anywhere.

As the world came back into full focus he could now notice that he couldn’t hear the chatter of the others back in the kill ring either.

How long had he been out for?

“Tuff it appears that you were correct in your guesstimation on how long it would take him to wake up.”

“You should never doubt my expertise when it comes to head injuries Ruff.”

Of course, leave it to the twins to appear out of nowhere.

Glancing upward, Snotlout found them sitting on the upper edge of the ring. “What do you two nitwits want?”

They jumped down at this.

Landing right before him, Ruff and Tuff immediately crouched as if to get on his level.

Oh, Hiccup might have to wait. The twins were rapidly raising up on Snotlout’s list.

“Two things my dear friend,” said Tuff as he moved from crouching to lying flat on his stomach and playfully kicking his legs. “One, Hiccup wanted someone to wait with you until you were up, to ensure A you got this.” The boy pulled out a hunk of ice from his waist coat and handed it to him.

“And two,” continued Ruff, “we wanted to see if there would be any long term damage of getting knocked out in a single punch by a guy who deals with thousand pound dragons on the daily.”

“What an unexpected spectacle.” Laughed Tuffnut as he rested his head on his hands and continued to kick his feet, “I mean Hiccup is still is skinny, but we never in a million years expected Thor’s mighty hammer to meet Snotlout’s paper jaw.”

Pressing the ice into his throbbing face, Snotlout decided right then and there that he was going to kill the twins one day.

“Are you guys done kicking me while I’m down?”

Ruff cocked her head to the left before saying, “you are already so short I don’t think you can get much lower.”

“Yeah, maybe someone could give you uppies so you can finally see what you’re missing half the time.” Continued her brother.

Ruff sat up straight at the suggestion, raising her hand to the sky, “I volunteer Tuffnut!”

A large, humorous, grin broke out on the boys face, “sure, what time works best for you?”

Snotlout’s face throbbed more with the force he rolled his eyes with. “Shut up you two. Don’t you have anything better to do? Actually where is everyone else?”

Tuff spun in the dirt, going from lying down to sitting in a single motion as he made a cloud of dirt dust over the three of them. “Well after we all watched your spectacular failure of an emotional outburst Astrid went out on a patrol, Fishlegs and Heather went to go over notes that apparently; ‘we all neglected.’” Tuff did some overly exaggerated finger quotes before continuing, “ and Hiccup got you the ice and went to go give the letters to his dad. He said that he had to go check on something in the cove but that he wanted everyone to go over our strategies for tomorrow’s training at dinner.”

Wait… the cove.

Snotlout could head him off there. Finally give the one legged brat a piece of his mind. And some payback for the missing teeth.

But hold on.

Snotlout eyed the twins suspiciously, “if everyone else had stuff to do, what are you two knuckleheads waiting here for.”

Both twins shrugged their shoulders before saying in unison, “plot purposes.”

And before he could ask a follow up question, they bolted. Their job, or lack there of, done for the moment. Leaving Snotlout only slightly less confused what when he came to.

Heading towards the cove, Snotlout nursed both his bruised jaw and ego. The ice was helping numb the throbbing in his face, but it did nothing for his pride.

He hadn’t been back to the cove since the battle with the Green Death. And to be honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted to go back since he found out Hiccup was the rider.

Everyone training dragons there for the first few weeks had felt like trespassing on his secret place.

Back when he had thought Hiccup was dead, the cove had acted like his sanctuary. A place to hide when his father’s expectations were drowning him.

Now it felt wrong to come near the place.

Like the last five years of his life were nothing but a lie.

That didn’t matter now.

Snotlout was a Viking for Thor’s sake. He could withstand a little discomfort for the chance of getting the apology he deserved.

The path was well worn, and he had walked it so many times that he could find his way to the cove blindfolded.

But the closer he got, the more he felt as if something was off.

The familiar sounds of wildlife slowly began to fade away until Snotlout began to suspect he was not alone out here.

It reminded him of how he and Hookfang began their partnership. And subconsciously the Viking began to glance towards the sky; searching for red dragon.

That’s why he didn’t notice the rock on the path.

His foot caught on hard stone and with the power of his own eagerness, Snotlout accidentally launched himself down the slopping path. His body tumbling and scraped on brambles as he rolled down the hill. His chunk of ice landing in the bushes as the trail leveled out and the brown haired boy slammed face first into another large rock.

Strange, he hadn’t remembered there being this many boulders littering the path ravens point.

Peeling his face off the smooth stone, Snotlout had absolutely no idea what he was looking at.

It shouldn’t be possible for light to shine through solid rock. Yet he could clearly see the slightly distorted and yellowish path he was supposed to be following through the large obstacle that had broke his fall.

Then he noticed the large boar encased in the stone. Stop writhing in violent fury. No doubt terrified about the golden rock that had miraculously captured it better than any net ever could.

Snotlout scrambled to his feet and backed away from the animal until his back was flat against the cliff walls of the cove.

Nothing natural could have done this to the boar.

He could hear rustling in the trees above him, and Snotlout did his best the press himself into the cracks of stone behind him.

Something very large and yellow dropped down to the forest floor. Right where Snotlout had once been standing. It moved too fast for Snotlout the get a good look at it, but nothing could mask the sound of crunching rock and the sudden silencing of the terrified boar.

That last glimpse he had of the brown creature was of its pink-tinged, foamy spittle coating the remains of its amber cage as the yellow monster dragged it into the bushes.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

Snotlout stood in complete and utter shocked silence. The only thing he could do was force himself not to shake in terror, not wanting to do anything that could attract it back to him.

He had never seen anything like it before. And there had never been a single tale about a creature such as this. Knowing he was alone out in the woods with that thing, made him really regret that his last hours with his friends and family had been where he was bitching and moaning about his unfair life.

In hindsight, his life was pretty good. And he really didn’t want it to end the same way the boars just did.

But he couldn’t pull himself away from the cliff face of the cove. Snotlout tried to reassure himself.

It didn’t look like it had noticed him before, maybe all it wanted was the boar?

That had him inching along back to the opening of the cove. Moving as slow as Fishlegs flew in an attempt to not draw attention to himself.

He hadn’t landed far into the cove after he tumble in. It wouldn’t take long to get out.

The sound of his own heartbeat was so loud in his ears, that he didn’t notice the snapping of twigs to his right.

The stretch of packed earth that he could easily run back to the safety of home, was so close. Snotlout could see the path back to the village.

Out of the brambles; something hard, warm, and wet struck him in the chest. The wind was knocked from his lungs as his back slammed into the cliffside and Snotlout could see stars dancing in his vision as he whipped his head to the side. Doing everything he could to catch a glimpse of the monster that was going to devour him whole.

He couldn’t move. Whatever just hit him glued him to the rock better than any adhesive that the twins had ever conjured up for Loki’s day.

All Snotlout could do was scream as a dragon poked its large, yellow, alligator-like head out of the bushes. Purple frills jutting out from the side of hits head like butterfly wings. An oddly sharp tongue ran over surprisingly blunt teeth as it eyed him hungrily as it began to sing.

Its call was unlike anything Snotlout had ever heard before. Its lilting tones both sickly sweet and menacing at the same time. And in a brief moment of horror, he must have imagined its voice matching the notes of the Hooligan national anthem.

It eyed Snotlout with a curious look as its big eyes that were somehow both bug-like while expressing the excitable enthusiasm of a puppy.

The Viking screamed again as it clicked its teeth in a way that reminded him of scales. Gets snap of its jaw matching a different note.

The dragon cocked its head and did its best to mimic the shrill scream that tore at Snotlout’s throat as it got closer and closer to him.

A second yellow head broke through the bushes closer to the cover entrance. All the commotion must have drawn the first one away from its meal of candied boar.

And this one didn’t look nearly as curious as the first one. It’s glared daggers at the Viking as it sharply chattered something to the musical one.

Snotlout hoped it was saying something along the lines of, “don’t eat that one. You don’t know where it’s been. Plus look at all the dirt on it, there is no way that this human would be tasty.”

It looked like the first one was just about to reply when a shadow burst into the cove and tackled the second one. A Nightfury rolling the unknown dragon away from Snotlout while snarling an almost protective growl at the pissed interloper.

Yellow dragon number one just rolled its head and chimed a playful chirp. Was this dragon breed used to this sort of thing happening?

Then Hiccup strode into the cove.

A confusing combination of anger, fear, and relief flooded Snotlout’s system as he watched his little cousin take in the scene.

Instantly beginning to crouch as he held his hands out wide. Doing his best to present himself as non threatening while remaining ready to move at the slightest change of the dragons temperament. The riders eyes racing between his own dragon wrestling, the yellow one in front of him, and Snotlout stuck to the cliffside.

Then he did something unexpected.

Well… unexpected even for Hiccup.

He began to sing.

Singing was a common pass-time across every tribe in the archipelago. To the point that it was uncommon for any Viking to have a bad voice.

Well; apart from Humorously Hotshot the Hero’s adventuring team. Which was made up of him, his wife Tantrum the Hero, and her ten back up fiancés.

Hiccups voice was leagues better than that group of tone deaf Vikings, but it was no where near as good as Snotlout’s own voice.

So at least Snotlout could still say he was better a than Hiccup at something. Even though right now did not seem like a good time for show-tunes.

“I have never cared for castles, or a crown that grips too tight. Let the night sky be my starry roof, and the moon my only light.”

Snotlout remembered the song fondly from his childhood. All the kids of the village would run around singing at as they pretended to look for the lost kingdom of Tomorrow.

After the first verse the yellow dragon cocked its head and began to copy the melody. As if singing to back to the rider. Very please with itself and the game Hiccup was distracting it with.

Beginning the next lines, Snotlout could see Hiccup making his way towards him. Keeping his movement slow and deliberate. His measures steps masked by the harmonizations between him and the dragon as his left hand drifted to his hilt.

It took the whole song for him to get to Snotlout’s side. The whole time the Viking kept getting more and more confused with the fact that Hiccup’s dumb plan was actually working.

As the yellow dragon happily chirped and sang its version of the last lines of the song, Hiccup leaned over and whispered as his flaming sword extended. “Your turn to keep it distracted.”

It took everything in Snotlout to not laugh at his cousin right then and there. And he let that incredulous feeling show in every fiber of his being as he replied in a strained whisper, “What? Are you crazy? Why can’t you keep doing it?”

Hiccup snapped back with the same fire he had shown earlier in the day, “FOR THE LOVE OF- because I have to cut you free. And if I’m distracted I could hurt you.”

Snotlout wanted to argue that this whole plan of his was stupid. That there was no way that his little sword could cut through solid rock. But the cove had gone silently.

Shifting his eyes back to the dragon, the boys could see that it had finished its verse. It sat before them on its haunches, and Snotlout could see that at its full height it reached over ten feet tall as its hypnotic purple and yellow wings twitched impatiently. Like it was waiting for another turn.

The first song that popped into Snotlout’s head was one that he had made up as a kid. Whenever his parents would argue he would lock himself in his room and try to come up with different ways to drown out their shouting.

“I killed my first boar when I was just a boy. A big old battle axe was my favorite toy. Each of my enemies, they all have been destroyed. For I am Snotlout. Oi, oi, oi .”

Without missing a beat, the dragon picked up on the melody. Singing back the tune in delight it became to excitedly spin around in circles. Excited to have some new music.

Hiccup, seemingly satisfied that the song was working, put his hand in the golden rock that was trapping the Viking, as if to brace himself before he stabbed into the rock with the flaming blade.

Snotlout flinched, expecting the metal to either bounce back or shatter with the strike. But to his astonishment the blade sunk inside. The rock surrounding it looking like molten glass in the weapons flames.

It was slow going, the strange substance melted like decade old honey over a low flame. And it didn’t help that Hiccup seemed to be taking his damn time in slicing through it.

Snotlout sang through his own glory song, the ballad of broken heart bay, the Hooligan nation anthem, and most of the hero song. Pausing every verse to let the dragon sing along. All the while, hunks of amber fell off the crystalline cage.

He was starting to think that this whole event was some kind of punishment by Hiccup. Revenge for having his reign of terror challenged by a superior man. Then he could feel a breeze on the back of his neck. Flexing Snotlout found that he could move now.

One more verse and he would be free.

Putting his all into last lines, letting his own tenor ring out in the cove as his vocal cords began to feel horse. Snotlout sang, “You are never alone if the sea is your friend,
Riding the waves of impossible quests. 
If it doesn't end well, then it isn't the end,
For a hero... is... forever!”

Hiccup yanked Snotlout away from the cliff wall as the dragon echoed back the verse in its strange hypnotic call. And in a swift motion the blade was drawn back into the hilt of Hiccup’s sword. He flipped the device in his hand and pointed the weapon’s butt to the sky.

A cloud of green smoke escaped into the air. And Snotlout was beginning to think that might be a ventilation system on the thing. Until in a single spark, the cloud erupted into a flaming explosion.

Great… NOW Hiccup tries to scare the thing off.

The yellow dragon didn’t seem intimidated by the show of force. Stopping its joyful spinning and noise making to look at the two boys curiously.

To their right the bushes rustles and panic rose once again up Snotlout’s throat as the threat of a the second yellow dragon became more likely.

Instead the smooth black scales of Toothless popped up like an overly large lemming. His large green eyes darting from the humans and back to the wild dragon. Checking for either injury or threat.

The singalong lizard seemed delighted with the extra company. Bouncing on its long limbs.
Toothless met the excitement with his own, but Snotlout didn’t miss how the Nightfury angled himself to be in between the boys and the yellow dragon.

It might just be a trick of the light, but for a second, Snotlout thought that the Nightfury’s spine appeared slightly blueish as they reflected what little daylight broke through the overcast sky.

While watching their new musical friend get along with the offspring of lightning and death itself was cute and all. But, it still felt like something was out in the woods.

Hiccup must had had the same thought, when the two settled down, the rider was at the Nightfury’s side. Running his gloved hand along his side to get its attention before making a bunch of weird symbols with his hands.

Either Snotlout had gone completely nuts, or Hiccup was using VLS.

The rider spoke as he signed to the dragon, and the Viking thought it was more for his benefit than the dragons. “Good job bud, let’s get out of here before the other one gets back.”

Toothless made a noise of agreement, and the two were moving as one. Hiccup hopped into the saddle with the smoothness of someone who had done it a hundred times.

Just when Snotlout thought he was going to be abandoned, yet again, the rider held out his hand. A silent invitation for a quick get away.

Clearly he was trying to keep face, it would be bad for his heroic reputation of anyone found out he left an alley behind.

If Snotlout pride was too damaged by the whole day to say no.

Climbing behind his cousin with zero hesitation, he was struck with an odd emotion. Last time he had been in this position; he had been dying for a chance to be alone with the rider. To ask what had killed his cousin. Now, all he wanted to do was yell at the guy.

Toothless launched into the air the moment Snotlout was secure. Something long, hard, and metal bounced against the boys legs as they flew away.

Risking a glance back, Snotlout saw that they had left just in time. The second yellow dragon bounded back into the clearing the moment they were out of blasting distance. And it looked annoyed. The last thing he saw as the Nightfury climbed into the dark clouds was the angry one batting and the musical one’s face as if to scold it.

They didn’t stay in the air for long. Once they were far enough away from the cove, Hiccup brought them back down to the island. Landing on one of the higher points on Berk. The clearing was far away from the village. Years and years ago, it had been known as the Berk Dueling Grounds. The stakes of bloodstained birch wood that were hammered into the ground to designate the fighting grounds. But ever since the kill ring had been changed from where fighters trained to kill dragons, all fights had been moved to there.

Surprisingly, there was now a lack of deaths when it came to duels for honor or revenge.

Hiccup practically leaped from the saddle. And Snotlout could feel the silent order to get off as well.

He didn’t say anything, just started fiddling with Toothless’s saddle. And scratching his dragon on the head affectionately.

The Nightfury shook his head with what looked like relief before blinding into the bushes.

Snotlout waited for the screaming, the yelling, the disappointed scowl that he had perfected.

None of that came.

Instead Snotlout only got a concerned, “are you alright?”

HOW DARE HE?

Snotlout couldn’t help himself. He let out a loud annoyed scoff before saying, “Oh, I don’t know. HOW DO YOU THINK I AM?”

Hiccup pulled something from the saddle before whipping around, “okay, what is your problem today?”

Snotlout had officially had it.

“Gods you are so smug.”

The guy had the nerve to look offended as he sacked in a very undignified way, “ME?”

Does he need everything spelled out for him? Counting on his fingers, Snotlout began to lost off his grievances. “Hiccup is so smart, Hiccup is so brave, he killed the Green Death, he trained the dragons, he’s got the metal leg!”

Hiccup had the nerve to look even more confused now. “Metal leg? That’s what’s bothering you? That’s where you’re going?”

“NO, it’s everything the leg is attached to. You leave, fake your own death. And then show up again five years later after we have all mourned you just expecting us to follow your orders with no questions asked. And then you have the nerve to just run off again. Abandon us again. Without telling anyone. What do you expect us to all mourn you again?”

Finally it was all out. Everything he had wanted to say to his cousin ever since he found out he was alive, since he found out he was the rider.

Hiccup was silent for a long moment, his arms dropping slightly as he held a metal rod aloft in his hands before saying softly, “I didn’t think any of you would mourn me.”

Any anger Snotlout had for his cousin, in its place rushed a wave of confusion. How was it that Hiccup could sound so defeated and small in that moment?

Hiccup; the son of the chief. A man who clearly loved him.

Hiccup; the dragon trainer. Rider of the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

Hiccup; the cleaver one. Always able to come up with plan of the fly and scheme his way out of trouble.

How can someone that smart, that impressive, be so fucking stupid?

In the small breath of silence that few between the boys, a web of lightning flashed over them. It reflected oddly over the long pole in Hiccup’s hands; and Snotlout thought for the briefest moment that his cousin was holding a spear. Thunder clapped in the distance, the cracking boom had both of them jump with a start that broke them from their stupor.

In that moment, they weren’t just a Viking and the rider. They were both just boys that had a lot to work through.

Snotlout could remember clearly, just how many times his father had come home laughing at every mistake Hiccup had mad when they were smaller. How one of the biggest punishments on the island had been being in charge of Hiccup. And he knew in that moment that whatever pressure he had felt from his father to be perfect over the last five years; Hiccup had felt the same thing.

Strange how the weight of unrealistic expectations can change a person.

Loosing a breath, he looked to his feet before saying to his baby cousin, “I’m the one who found the cove. Back when you first disappeared.”

Realization dawned on Hiccup’s face at the statement, but Snotlout didn’t give him a moment to reply.

“There were so many burn marks and loose scales that I thought you had been attacked and carried off. I should have known something was off by the lack of blood.”

Head hanging low, even as he squared his shoulder. Doing his best to brace himself for the answer he knew was coming. Hiccup asked, “did you tell anyone?”

The guilt in his tone was all the apology that Snotlout had needed. He knew better than to expect anyone to actually take accountability for anything.

Shaking his head he answered, “No, I think that would have broken your dad worse than your disappearance.” Snotlout tried to meet Hiccup’s gaze, but the boy kept his eye locked on the ground in shame.

Thunder cracked again, closer this time, and Snotlout knew it would start raining soon.

Slowly, Hiccup raised his head. There was still a look of shame in his expression, but under that Snotlout could see a resolve, that five years ago, he would have never noticed in his cousin’s eye. “Thank you Snotlout. I really can’t say it enough, but I never meant to hurt anyone. I know now that I did, but-“ he paused for a moment trying to come up with the right thing to say before reiterating, “thank you.”

Rain began to patter on the dry dirt and Snotlout’s bare arms. The smell of petrichor lay heavy in the air as Hiccup readjusted his grip on the pole.

For the first time during this whole conversation, Snotlout took a closer look at it.

At a quick glance it looked like a normal spear, but the tip was wrong. Hammered long and flat like a shovel head, the too long shaft glinted gold in the dim light that broke through the heavy cloud cover.

Not knowing what else to say, Hiccup walked to the middle of the clearing before stabbing it into the dirt. The long body of the thing standing straight and tall in a way that contrasted with how Hiccup clearly wanted to fold in on himself and disappear.

Not being able to help himself, Snotlout asked “what is that for?”

Hiccup flinched like he had been expecting a blow, or more uncomfortable conversation. But as he turned around, it was clear he was glad for a change in the conversation. “A storm is coming in. And I’m just trying to make sure that if any lightning strikes, it won’t be near any buildings.”

That made no sense. Maybe Hiccup had gone mad during his time away. Nothing could stop a lightning bolt.

Confused Snotlout asked, “so, you are leaving an offering to Thor unattended in the middle of a field of dirt?”

Hiccup chuckled at that before saying, “kind of. I learned the hard way that lightning really likes metal.” Pulling up his shirt sleeve, Hiccup showed Snotlout a nasty scar that ran up the length of his arm, “I’m not sure if Thor likes just any kind of metal, but I know he like gold, iron and steel, quite a lot from how many times I have been struck or nearly struck.”

Snotlout looked had his cousin like he had just sprouted another head. Like seriously, what had his life been like the last few years?

“Does that actually work?”

Leaning to inspect if it was standing straight enough, Hiccup replied “I’m not sure if it will, but it’s not like it will hurt anyone.”

Something he had said struck up some curiosity in the shorter boy. Before he could get too in his head about the ridiculousness of his question he asked. “Wait, how did you get enough gold to find out it attracts lightning?”

Shaking his head and letting his shoulder relax, Hiccup answered. “I’ve been trying to stop Drago’s army for months, and going against dragon hunters for years. I’ve found that taking their money can hurt them even more than destroying their ships.”

Snotlout could picture it. Hiccup, who always had a nack for destruction, laying in wait for Drago’s ships. Swooping in under the cover of darkness and robbing them blind before blowing everything up.

He wondered if Hiccup had ever chose to use any of his days of freedom to stalk the sky’s over the shipwrecks, waiting to see if any of Drago’s men would be sent to dredge the water for sunken supplies and treasure. Only for a second bombing to come from above. Destroying even more of the armies resources.

Snotlout had to shake his head hard to dislodge the thought. He didn’t want to think about all the adventures his cousin had with his stent of freedom.

In a brief moment of self awareness and clarity, the reason why he had lashed out fell off the top of his tongue. He just didn’t have the forethought to keep his mouth shut, “Do you know how lucky you are? You’ve gotten to go places and do things that most will only hear about in stories. No matter what you do, your dad will be proud of you.”

Finally turning around, Hiccup gave Snotlout a long, surprised look before saying, “you’re joking right? I’m not lucky. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t have spent a month stranded at nest doing everything to keep the brunt stump of my leg from getting infected while living off of nothing but fish and whatever rations from past expeditions washed up on the shore.” He shook his head in disbelief before continuing, “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Snotlout tried and failed to not look at his cousins metal leg. Suddenly feeling silly for envying it.

Hiccup let out a long breath, as if he was debating with himself before saying. “You know you don’t have to stay here. You have your own dragon now. After this war is over you could go wherever you like. Have as many adventures as you could ever dream of. Or if you just need some time away from here, away from the pressure.” He ran his hands through his already messy hair as he offered, “there is plenty of room on my island.”

Stunned by the revelation, it took everything in Snotlout to not step back at the thought. Plans already beginning to form in his head. He could go anywhere. He could have his own place away from his father. Have his own life. His own hut, where he could put up a monument to his own greatest. He could see the gigantic ‘S’ on his mantle place now.

At the same moment, he was reminded of his mother. Snotlout couldn’t remember a time where his parents had been happy together. Most of his memories of early childhood had been of them screaming at each other.

Then one day it all stopped.

His mother hopped on a trading ship that was headed towards the Murderous Mountains. She said she was going to visit family up there and she would be back in two months time.

Two months turned to four.

Then eight.

Then a year.

She would send letters. Every time Johann would make port Snotlout would be one of the first people to clamber aboard. Doing his best to ignore whatever dumb boring story the annoying trader would tell, just so he could get any news from his mother. Hoping every time that she would be coming home.

It took three years before he realized she was never coming back. And it took three years for Snotlout to believe that he was the reason for that.

Spitelout started drinking after she left. Or he had just stopped trying to hide it. But he moved on. When Snotlout was eight his father tried to court some of the women around town. Nothing came from the attempts. And even now Snotlout would catch glimpses of his father’s own regret.

He was his fathers son after all. Neither of them were satisfied with their lot in life.

Knowing that he still had a lot to think about, Snotlout thanked his cousin.

Chapter Text

He needed this to go well.

After two days of waiting for a storm to pass, Hiccup really needed this to go well.

Dagur, Mala, and Atali had finally sent their reply. He knew for certain that they would be arriving. And by the sounds of it, the would be arriving today.

Looking over the cliff of the training ring, Hiccup wrung his hands. Sending up silent prayers, hoping that things would work out.

He should really be in the forge right now. Sharpening swords, patching armor, or forging knifes. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from the cliffs edge.

Any moment his allies would be arriving. His allies who had made peace with dragons. His allies, who would definitely be butting heads with the more stubborn of the Hooligans.

While most Vikings here had come the tenuous terms with him and his dragons. Hiccup knew that the moment things went slightly wrong, the island would turn on him.

It didn’t help that Spitelout kept exacerbating things. Every chance the man got, he was stirring the pot. Bringing up the old Viking ways and how things used to be. Having the village reminisce fondly on how things were five years ago.

Trying to push away the thoughts and fears. Hiccup kept staring off into the horizon. Willing that everything would turn out all right.

He could see sails through this spyglass. Symbols growing clearer with every mile the fleets traveled.

Berserkers, Defenders of the Wing, and the Wingmaidens inching ever closer to lend aid in this fight.

Hiccup felt as if he stood on a precipice.

One side being sturdy ground and the other being a sheer drop to the rough waters below.

Normally Hiccup liked this feeling. It was that same adrenaline pumping threat that pushed him to invent. To outthink his problems. To defy the odds that were so often against him.

But today, he knew he needed to tread lightly. One wrong move and he would be pushed off the edge. Without a dragon or wing suit to save him.

It didn’t help that he was feeling more and more stressed about the Deathsongs in the cove. He regretted bringing them back to Berk, but he couldn’t leave them on Singetail island. Especially when they so weak and injured from the flyers.

There was no doubt in Hiccup’s mind that the Singetails would seek revenge. But he couldn’t just leave them there to be killed.

He should have checked out the surrounding islands, but he hadn’t mapped out the area well enough to know if any of the islands would be a good temporary habitat.

He should have taken them to the nest. But that was at least three hours past Berk. And Hiccup didn’t think they were strong enough to fly that far.

He should have taken them to The Edge. But, that was a full days trip there and another day back. And there is no way his dad wouldn’t notice his absence.

So he had reluctantly stuck them in the cove where he could keep an eye on them.

It was just temporary, he told himself. Just until he knew they were well enough to fend for themselves at the nest.

Still, it had been a close call with Snotlout the other day.

He hoped the the arrival of the other tribes would be a big enough distraction that he could slip away to the nest for a few hours. If he timed everything right, he could leave tomorrow at breakfast and be back before lunch.

No one needed to know that he had brought two incredibly dangerous dragons back to Berk. Well, except Astrid and Snotlout who both already knew.

The feeling of anticipation and dread didn’t dissipate as Hiccup made his way down to the dock.

Dagur was the first to arrive, announcing himself with a the loud excited shouting of, “BROTHER!!” Before jumping head first off his dragon.

Hiccup braced for impact just before he hit the dock, the wooden planks reverberated like they had been struck by a cannonball as Dagur tucked and rolled himself to his feet.

Within seconds, Hiccup had been picked up into one of the Berserker chief’s bear hugs before being spun around at least twice and deposited back onto the deck.

Good to see that some things never change.

Dagur was still as lively as ever.

Marriage was doing the Berserker some good.

His red hair, cropped short, was not longer a mess of uneven patches. Like he had been cutting it himself with a rusty seax in the dark. His blue claw mark tattoo that covered one eye and the labyrinth of scars that crisscrossed his jaw line were pulled tight as he the grinned at the rider. His green eyes sparkling with mischief as his Triple-Stryke landed next to Toothless.

The two dragons acknowledged each other, red eyes meeting green, before they chortled cheerfully. Sleuther’s three segmented scorpion tails clacking together as the dragons moved to wrestle one another.

“Good to see you too, Dagur. I can’t thank you enough for this.”

In an instant the Berserker chief’s large, strong hands gripped the rider’s shoulders with enough force that Hiccup could feel the pressure of finger tips through his leather shoulder guards.

“HICCUP!” Dagur shrieked rather indignantly before his expression changed to become gravely serious, “there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. After everything you’ve done for me, my family, and my tribe. Helping you reconcile with your father and take on a psychopath is the least I can do.”

Hiccup tried to brush off the weight of his words and the expectations that kind of loyalty would mean with a forced laugh as he tried to extradite himself from Dagur’s grip. “Does this mean you will finally start using the saddle I made for you as a wedding gift?”

Without warning Hiccup felt Dagur’s attempt at a playful shove just before the chief put his hands on his hips and laughed maniacally at the sky.

By the time it took Hiccup to right himself Dagur had already schooled his features to near bored indifference as he answered, “No, don’t be ridiculous. Now come on and let’s get these ships moored, I’ve been away from my beloved Mala for far too long.”

Hiccup wasn’t sure that the five minutes that it probably took for Dagur to mount his dragon, and fly over here from the fleet constituted as a long time. But Dagur was a little insane; so Hiccup wasn’t going to argue with him.

Hiccup signaled to the other riders as Dagur flew off to rejoin his fleet. Together, the Berkians worked to bring the ships into the harbor.

Berk wasn’t used to housing this many boats. And it took most of the morning to find space for everyone.

By the time all the ships were docked, a huge crowd had formed on the cliffs by the dock. Everyone was curious about the riders ‘allies”, though hardly anyone truly believed they would show up.

Hiccup was led his father onto the deck of the head Berserker ship. Neither batted an eye at the warriors adorned with heavy chains that milled about tending to the quartermaster’s commands.

Most berserker warriors wore the chains as extra weights to help build up their muscles; plus they came with the added advantage of intimidation as whole armies threw them aside in the heat of battle. Giving the war-bands a second wind as voluntarily restraints were removed and the warriors could fight on with greater strength than before.

Stoick did seem surprised at the large dragon that sat idly by as Dagur did one arm pull ups on the door frame to his cabin.

Hiccup noticed his father’s eyes went wide as the chief scanned the Triple-Stryke’s massive claws and three, pincer tipped, tails.

Stoick didn’t say anything or try and dissuade his son from approaching the unfamiliar dragon. Which was progress, Hiccup silently thought to himself. Even if his father did move a little faster; as if to put himself in between his son and the dragon.

Dagur, seemingly distracted by doing his one arm pull ups, spoke to himself as he completed the exercise. “Work for me baby. Work for daddy,” the berserker said to either his own muscles or his crew.

It was always hard to tell with Dagur.

The Hooligans there staring at the Berserker, waiting for him to either finish his set, or notice their arrival.

Finally after another 6 reps of the man pulling himself up on the doorframe, Dagur turned to the Hiccup and Stoick and smiled that deranged smile that signaled to the world that no one at any given time could predicted his next move.

At first it looked like he wanted to rush forward and tackle Hiccup into another bear hug that would probably crack the smaller man’s ribs. But one glance at Stoick had Dagur actually rethinking his violent and needy introduction. His father’s ability to raise his eyebrow and having everyone reconsider their actions, never ceased to amazing Hiccup.

Toothless was the first one to approach. Bounding up and pouncing on the Triple-Styke before it was ready. Causing the two dragons to tumble across the deck. And the sound of playful snaps and growls joined in with the chorus of manly grunts and the rattling of chains.

Dagur laughed at the dragons and said, “this is going to be so much fun.” Just as Hiccup smiled back at his friend.

The look of concern never left Stoick’s face.

The Berserker chief must have noticed Stoick’s unease. Turning to face him, Chief to Chief, he said. “Stoick! Long time no see, I think the last time I was here was about five years ago to sign that treaty.” There was a slight awkward pause as Dagur took a breath to see if anyone would jump into conversation. No one did do he continued, “good to see that you and Hiccup reunited. Good thing too, I’m pretty sure the time agreement on the treaty has passed. Without him, I don’t think I would have mustered the troops as fast as I did.”

He held out his large arms to gesture at all the Berserker ships that had made it into port. And doing his best to sound as crazy as possible. Dagur added, “though I do apologize for our late arrival. We had to dig out our old supply of dragon proof chains. And then we were about halfway here when I realized SOMEONE forgot the dragon proof winches. So, we had to turn back to get them.”

As he said the last bit Dagur’s eye twitched as Hiccup could hell he was starting to hold back a temper tantrum.

Dagur took a look and deep breath just as one of the men spoke up behind him. “Sorry boss, won’t happen again.”

Oh poor, stupid, Savage. He really should have learned by now.

To his credit, Dagur really tried not to explode.

The Berserker took another deep breath before shrieking to Savage, “how many times do I have to ask you, WHAT IS THE POINT OF DRAGON PROOF CHAINS? IF WE DON’THAVE DRAGON PROOF WINCHES?”

Dagur quickly glanced around the deck, as if he was debating one the best thing to throw at his right hand man, before the expression of, ‘fuck it,’ crossed his face as Chief moved to cross the deck at record speeds to throw Savage overboard.

Before the guy had even hit the water, a rope was thrown off the rail for him get a hold of. Clearly, Dagur throwing people off the boat, happened frequently enough that the crew had a system in place to prevent to many of them from dying at the hands of the deranged.

Stoick never took his eyes off Dagur, even as he positioned himself to be in between the unstable man and his son. Quietly he asked Hiccup. “Are you sure that this is a wise decision?”

Out of nowhere, a new voice sounded in the clamor of grunting sailors and rattling chains. Clear and calm as the windless sky’s warm summer day, “his passion is quite breathtaking isn’t it?”

Stoick whirled around to face the new voice. And Hiccup did his best to ignore how distressed he was by the newcomers silent footsteps.

As the two Hooligans were distracted by the barely contained rage of a mad man, they hadn’t noticed a gangplank had been set across the railings of a neighboring ship. And swiftly crossing the wooden beam was Mala and Throck.

As quickly as he had been driven to anger, Dagur’s excitement filled his voice as he squealed, “MY BELOVED!” And the deranged man slid on his knees across the wooden deck, landing directly at Mala’s feet.

Mala didn’t seem at all surprised at her husband’s rambunctious behavior, though a small smile quirked her lips as she held out a hand to the muscular man. And like a dragon with a toy, he took it with glee as he looked up at her in reverence just before kissing up her arm.

Just as he was getting to her neck, Mala put up a hand to block his assault of affection, “not now darling, I need to greet our hosts.”

Dagur’s face fell for a brief moment, before she planted a kiss of her own on his forehead and she stated, “We can continue later.”

That promise of later had Dagur looking so excited that he almost flew a lap around the ship without the aid of a dragon. And it was just the thing to calm him down.

Bringing himself back to his full height and composed himself. It was only a fraction of both the height and composure of his wife, but it was more than Hiccup could have hoped would come from a situation like this.

Turning back to the Hosting Chief, Mala did her best to reassure Stoick. “Don’t worry about Savage, he is placed on this ship to specifically be my husband’s punching bag. A designated fool has done wonders for the Berserker’s moral.”

Looking to everyone as if in search of approval, Dagur added. “I haven’t had an attempted coup in almost a year.”

Mala gently patted his hand as she gave him a small grin. “Yes, and this is Savage’s punishment for the last coup. But, he is compensated appropriately for the job.”

From over the railing; a soaking wet Savage shouted, “I’m saving up to send my kids to Flashburn’s school for sword fighting.”

Everyone turned to the sodden Viking that had just flopped back in the deck and was gasping for air like a fish. Just as Dagur asked, “Wait, you have kids? I don’t remember signing off on your paternity leave.”

Simultaneously, Mala said, “but you don’t have children.”

Savage looked at the two and sheepishly smiled, “maybe someday.”

Dagur’s eye twitched again as he looked to his wife for permission.

Mala nodded.

In an instant, the Berserker chief was stomping back across the deck to hurl Savage overboard again.

Hiccup did his best to hold in his exasperated sigh. This was not going the way he needed it to go.

Luckily, Mala had the foresight to take control of the situation. Turning to Hiccup’s father, the queen said with a calmness that could never be achieved by her husband. “Pleased to meet you, Chief Stoick. Your son is a great man, who has aided my people many times. And The Defenders of the Wing are looking forward to returning the favor.”

Hiccup had never seen Mala as anything other than regal. A complete polar opposite to her husband. Her tall stature, made more towering by her perfect posture. Armor and leather were well maintained. The twin swords at her side kept sharp and at the ready. And her short cropped hair was never out of place.

Stoick seemed surprised with the calm demeanor of the queen before him. But he recovered much quicker than he had before with his reintroduction to Dagur.

With a respectful nod of the head he replied, “I should be the one thanking you. This war with Drago isn’t yours, but you and your people are willing to fight it.”

Refusing to humble herself in the face of Stoick’s vastness, she never broke her penetrating gaze. “On the contrary. Drago has been hiring the dragon hunters that have been plaguing my people for years. It’s only logical for us to come together to end this tyrants reign of terror.”

Stoick’s eyes softened slightly. Clearly relieved that he was talking to a respectable adult with a level head on their shoulders. A rare occurrence for Stoick the Vast. “Well said, I look forward to collaborating on ending this threat Chiefess?”

The two rulers shook hands as Throk introduced his queen at last. “Queen Mala, ruler of the Clan Caldera, General of the Defenders of the Wing, and Chiefess of the Berserker tribe.”

Stoick arched his brow at the man at Mala’s right. Doing his best to try size up what kind of threat he could pose, while simultaneously trying to be respectful to their new allies.

Now it was the Queen’s turn for introductions. “And this is Throk, he is my second in command and leader of my armies.” Mala turned to the red haired man and gave him a kind smiled before dismissing him to take care of the rest of the fleet.

Throk had just made it to the dock when the last leader landed on the deck.

Its was Atali’s arrival that really put Hiccup’s father on edge. Stoick had seen Hiccup glide off the cliff. But he had never seen anyone true fly the way the Wingmaidens did.

Hiccup could hardly it when he first saw the angel-like women in the clouds.

The Silver armored Chieftess practically floated to the ships deck. The baby Razorwhip clinging to her back, flexing its wings as its near blind eyes looked lovingly up at its protector.

“Ah, good. Everyone is all in one place.”

Just as Stoick was mouthing “what the Hel” to himself, Hiccup jammed his elbow into his dad’s side. Knowing it would barely feel like a nudge to the big man. And gave him the universal look of ‘please try and be cool.’

“Good to see you Atali. I hope the trip through fog wasn’t too hard on the Razorwhips.”

Atali gave the young dragon an affectionate scratch on the head as its silver serpentine body wrapped around the woman. “It wasn’t hard at all. The babies were a bit chilly in the damp air, but it was nothing that some extra attention couldn’t solve. Besides, they won’t have to deal with the threat of being eaten by any male Razorwhips out here. This trip will practically be a vacation for the little ones.”

Hiccup gave a the Chieftess a nod before trying his best to take control of the smaller gathering of leaders.

He didn’t have the charismatic strength of Dagur. The collective air of noble empathy of Atali. The hard-earned military calmness of Mala. Or the sheer and all encompassing presence of Stoick the Vast.

He was just Hiccup after all.

But he had discussed the best campsites and guard rotations with his father before everyone had arrived. And in his own awkward way, did his best to articulate and plans to the newcomers. Hoping that they would listen to his suggestions before they got to land and learned exactly how much of a loser that he really was to the people of Berk. Hoped they would listen before they lost all respect for him.

There was some objections, naturally each leader would have their own thoughts on how best to use their strengths. And especially thoughts on the different tribes customs and rules. It was a bit of a shock to Hiccup that the only one that any big complaints was Atali.

But after being told that she could use the sacred stew as a threat if any man gave her girls any trouble; she relaxed.

Who knows, maybe it will teach Spitelout a lesson.

What surprised Hiccup the most about this meeting was how everyone was getting along. He had expected his father to put up more of a fight. To use his usual, “Berk is the best,” attitude that he normally pulled when the Meatheads or the Ugly-Thugs came to visit. But he was almost agreeable for the meeting. and soon they were giving the leaders the tour of the island.

Hiccup would blame Stoick’s good mood on the every growing pile of surprises that he was coming to terms with. It’s hard to dwell on growing anger and annoyance if you need to quickly pivot to the newest problem in this never ending struggle that is life as a Chief.

Eret son of Eret had arrived with his band of trappers a little after lunch. And Hiccup had decided that it was best to not introduce group to his father straight away. With everything going on, Hiccup didn’t want the fact that Eret used to be one of Drago’s men to get out to the rest of the village. So the group was put under Heather’s command. And thus, camping with the Berserkers.

She was the one to invite them after all.

Before Hiccup knew it, everyone was going off to make camp and settle down before dinner. And he found himself back in the forge.

Hiccup had just finished stitching some scale covered leather to some freshly forged Gronkle iron armor, when the first voice bounced off the wood and canvas walls of the workshop.

Dagur’s laugh echoed the old pace just as he said, “I don’t know how you did it. I mean, you guys would have been so bored with Hiccup gone.”

“You have a point,” replied Tuffnut, “there were a jarring lack of explosions these past few years.”

“Come on guys, it wasn’t all that bad,” said Fishlegs in a defensive tone. And the guys began to take up every available seat in the workshop.

“Bad? A overwhelming fire builds character, Fishface.” Added Snotlout as he laid back on a table.

Eret ran his hand across his tattooed jaw as a near horrified look of understanding finally caught up with him. “You know, meeting all of you, really clears up a lot of why he is the way he is.” And the trapper just gestured vaguely Hiccup’s direction.

He rolled his eyes as the rider did his best to discreetly hide his project. Hiccup simply said with his usual sarcastic, almost mocking, tone. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Eret just gave a sly smile as he said, “come on Chief, don’t be such a spoil sport.”

“Not a chief.” Hiccup said as he suppressed his desire to let out a petulant groan. He had been trying to get some work done before dinner. Hoping that by being ahead in everything in the forge, and having Heather and Dagur available for dragon training, that he could slip away to take the Deathsongs to the nest. But now, he would have to entertain guest.

Doing his best to hide his annoyance about the interruption. Hiccup slipped on his dragon scaled gloves and began to play with a handful of red hot metal that had was beginning to melt in a crucible. The iron was the perfect texture, similar enough to clay that, with the right tools, Hiccup could mold it into whatever intricate shaped his nimble fingers could imagine before it hardened and cooled.

He had spent hours learning the sculpting techniques, back before he had ran away. Using whatever clamps, rods, and chisels to make are without touching the burning metal himself.

After he had left, and had made his dragon scaled armor and gloves, he perfected the art. The dragon scaled insulated his hands from most of the heat; allowing the molten metal the slip through his fingers like honey.

Hiccup never enjoyed the customer service part of being a blacksmith or the never ending politics that came with being a chief. As much as he loved his dad and Gobber, Hiccup never felt like he would fit in either of those positions. A sickening combination of confinement and fear of never measuring up always sat heavy in the back of his mind.

So, it ground on him when Eret and his men called him chief. Yeah, he had helped them get away from Drago and given them a place on the edge. But, a few huts and a boat house didn’t make a village. It barely made an outpost.

It also bothered Hiccup when Dagur kept badgering him about making custom weapons. It’s wasn’t that he was opposed to doing so, but after years of complaints and accidents in Gobber’s forge. And the complete lack of trust in Dagur’s impulse control. Hiccup thought it smart to not handout any of his special projects.

Not being comfortable enough to tell everyone to leave him alone, Hiccup plastered on his best expression of ‘I’m kinda busy but sure I can add more to my plate,’ and said. “So whats up? Is there a problem with the camps or something?”

Fishlegs spoke first. “Nothings wrong. We were just about to head to dinner and thought you might be getting hungry.”

“Yeah and we don’t want to get yelled at by your dad. Like we’re were the other day when you slipped away with Astrid,” added Snotlout. He still sounded bitter but there wasn’t the undercurrent of anger that had been there the day with Deathsongs.

Hiccup was about to shake his head to apologize about that again when someone else spoke.

“Yeah, I’m keeping my eye on you Mr.” Interjected Tuff, “My good eye.” And for emphasis the lone twin used his fingers to pull apart is eyelid so everyone could see the rounded edge of where his eye sat in his skull.

Too confused to apologize, Hiccup asked. “Wait, you’re telling me you have a bad eye?”

Leaning back with all the confidence of someone stating the obvious, Tuff pointed at Hiccup’s feet. “Are you telling me that you have a bad leg?”

Hiccup kept absentmindedly rolling the molten metal around in his hands as the memory of Tuff’s flinching gaze on Johann’s boat. “Touché.”

“Um, I believe it’s pronounced ‘toosh.’” Interrupted Snotlout as a look of superiority crossed his face.

“It’s not.” Added a slightly annoyed Fishlegs. The correct pronunciation of words has always been extremely important to the smarter boy.

“Well, I’m just here enjoying seeing other people boss you around for once.” Said Eret as he stretched his long arms behind his head. “You never told me just how much a string bean you are comparison to your father.”

“Wow, I’ve never noticed that before. Thanks for pointing that out,” replied Hiccup sarcastically as his hands pinched and pulled at the metal. The material bringing to take shape as it cooled in the air.

Dagur let out a small chuckle, “and I’ve just been thinking back on how things were before.”

Great, now Dagur was thinking. Never a good sign. Dagur thinking either led to a breakdown, a blow up, or him trying to wander away on a spiritual journey where he would come back into Hiccup’s life at a random time with a new thought that Heather probably had when she was twelve. “Hey remember that time when we went swimming. And you tried to drown me.”

Chuckling again Dagur replied. “Ah good times, but look at us now. All growed up. And I hear you are quite the ladies man.”

Immediately, Hiccup flexed his hands as his eyes went wide in surprise. “I’m sorry, but what are you even talking about?”

The small sculpture that was taking form in his hand warped with the change in pressure and sat lopsided in his palms. It’s wonky lines bothered Hiccup, even though he didn’t have a plan when it came to making it. The metal was just something for his hands to fidget with and to distract the unwanted company for the project on the table behind him.

Toothless had been lounging lazily by the forge fire before guest had arrived. But now held his head up in cautious curiosity. Green eyes watched the whole scene unfold before him as his person was getting more and more exasperated by the minute.

With a quick hand signal to the dragon, Hiccup held out his gloved hands for a low flame. As the beginning of heat seeped ever so slightly through the gloves as a small, yet concentrated, purple flame blazed out of the Nightfury’s mouth. Reheating the meal in Hiccup’s hands.

There. Now he could fix a problem.

The boys from Berk had been looking at Hiccup with shock and awe as the quiet exchange had happened.

Eret glanced at him with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes as his reached to scratch at the collar of his shirt. Disturbing the fabric just enough so that this too a a burn scar peeked out above the hem.

Dagur didn’t even bat an eye. Letting out an entertained half huff of a chuckle before saying, “I’ve heard about the betting pool going on here. And I’ve seen all your drawings of that blonde with the axe that you kept glancing at all morning. Admit it brother, you’re in love.”

The water in the barrel next to Hiccup steamed and hissed as he immediately jerked at the words, the metal turned from bright orange to a shinning grey as the heat was absorbed by the liquid. Helping to cover the sound of his indignant spurting at the Berserker’s accusation. Hiccup could feel his cheeks bringing to burn with the same hot intensity as the fire behind him. “EXCUSE ME!”

Everyone raised their brown at his indignation.

“Dude come on, you aren’t even trying to hide it.” Said Snotlout as he tried to balance one of the loose seax that had been lying around on the palm of his hand.

Hiccup really hoped he didn’t take a closer look at it.

Eret leaned forward, his interest in the conversation piqued once more. “I’ve never seen you so flustered boss. She must be special, cause I’ve never seen you even look twice at a lass before.”

“I’m not-“ the rider tried to explain. Only time be cut off by one of the other boys.

“It doesn’t matter if anyone likes that she-beast. I don’t even think she is capable of any emotion other than rage.” Cried Snotlout as he placed the seax back on the table. “And I should know, I’ve asked her out just about a hundred times. And she once broke my arm because I was quote-unquote ‘breathing too loud.’”

“That’s because you are you.” Added Fishlegs to the conversation. “You seem to know the best ways to ignite her wrath.”

Tuff chuckled at that, “yeah, remember when you took her new set of knives and said that you would only give it back if she agreed to kiss you.”

Snotlout looked to the floor sheepishly at the memory. “She dislocated my wrist, shoulder, and hip before throwing me into the harbor.”

Dagur grinned widely at this information.

Eret just put his fingers to his temple as if to ease a head ache.

Both said at the same exact time, “you really know how to pick them.”

They were getting it all wrong. How did they not see that Hiccup had absolutely no chance with her.

He had to put a stop to this. Now.

“It’s not like that. Astrid and I are just friends.”

Fishlegs waggled his brow at him then. “Oh yeah. Then what were you making a second ago?” And with a wave of his large hand. The larger boy gestured to what Hiccup held in his glove.

He hadn’t been making anything interesting. Just using the molten metal like putty to stay busy while people were in the forge. But as he held the small figure out to show the group, the shock of the small metal Nadder head caught him off guard. He simultaneously wanted to throw it back in the crucible to melt down again, and thought that the little thing was the perfect size for a clasp for her armor repair.

Tuffnut let out a long whistle, “the evidence does not support your defense. And I know I think or two about evidence. I hold the record for the most amount of trials in Berk history.”

Snotlout smacked the lone twin on the arm. “More like, most convictions in Berk History.”

“That is true, yet I still have not achieved the coveted achievement of being banned from an island.”

Hiccup whirled his head to face his cousin. “Wait, you were banned from an island?”

The stout boy up his hands in defiance. “It wasn’t me. I’ve been trying to tell people that Astrid is mean. And apparently, only the Bog Burglars agree with me.”

Eret looked up towards the sky and let out at groan before muttering, “of course that would be the kind of girl you go after.”

Dagur, on the other hand, was laughing so hard that he was close to toppling over. Letting out a wheezing, “oh this is great. Family dinners will be so much fun.”

Hiccup wanted to ask more questions about that, but Fishlegs interrupted the thread of thought.

“I don’t know Snotlout. Ever since Hiccup came back, she has been a lot nicer.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t made me cry in over a week. That might be her personal record.” Added Tuffnut.

“It’s impossible for that girl to be nice.” Insisted Snotlout.

Rising to the challenge, Fishlegs asked. “When was the last time she punched you in the face? Or bruised you in any major way? Or better yet, when was the last time she had you limping towards Gothi’s hut?”

Snotlout looked like he wanted to argue. But he couldn’t.

In fact, he actually looked like he was thinking about the question.

“Hmmm. Probably before the first ship raid in the war.”

“The one where she got captured.” Suggested Fishlegs.

Snotlout gave that another thought before saying, “wow, Gothi must think that she finally killed me.”

Doing his best to catch his breath after all the laughing. Dagur said, “I really can’t wait for the double dates we will have Hiccup. You and your Astrid, and me and my beloved Mala. Oh the damage we will cause.”

“What? No!” Hiccup continued to protest. “You guys have it all wrong. Astrid and I are friends, and that’s it. Besides, there is literally nothing spectacular about me that would draw her attention.”

All the chattering and laughing stoped in that moment. Good, maybe they stop all this madness.

With the most serious look Hiccup had seen from the Berseker that day, Dagur said with no ounce of amusement. “You gotta be kidding, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

Tuffnut held up his hand to signal it was his turn to talk. “I’ve seen this before, it’s a classic case of imposter syndrome.” Quickly moving to grip Hiccup’s shoulder, he continued. “Don’t worry Hiccy, we’re all here for you. Together we can somehow convince all these naysayers that you are more than a malnourished runt. With bad hair, strange teeth, and a twig for a neck.”

Jerking away, Hiccups back hit the table as he asked, “wait, what’s wrong with my teeth?”

At the same moment Fishlegs picked Tuff up by the back of his shirt and deposited him in the arms of Snotlout as he moved to hold back the insane blond. “Nothing, this moron still isn’t convinced you aren’t a Lycanwing.”

“All evidence must be considered before determining the falsehood of any claim.” Shouted Tuffnut as he tried to struggle out of Snotlout’s grasp.

The scene was enough of a distraction, that Hiccup didn’t notice how close Dagur had gotten until he slapped a hand on the scrawny man’s shoulder. “Hiccup, I really think you are selling yourself short. I mean, where is the confidence? You tamed a Nightfury for Thor’s sake. How much harder could it be to ask out a girl?”

Raising a brow, Hiccup looked questioningly at the Berserker, “well first of all, Dagur. She isn’t just some ‘girl’.” He didn’t use the air quotes lightly. “Okay, she’s Astrid. A perfect warrior, a perfect Viking…”

Stoping himself before he voiced aloud the last bit of his sentiments towards her. Hiccup took a breath before continuing. “She deserves the best, and I am the farthest thing from that.”

Dagur’s face fell at that, and Hiccup almost swore he saw a tear begin to well up in the crazy man’s eye. “Brother I never took you for a romantic before. Those words were sweet enough for Berserker bees to make honey out of.” A deranged smile crossed Dagur’s face as an idea must have entered that terror nest that is his brain. “I’ll tell you what, brother. Since Berk loves a good wager. Let’s make a friendly bet. Because I want to see you as happy as I am with my darling Mala, I bet that you can get that girl to like you back. If I lose, I will start using a saddle when I ride Sleuther into battle.”

The idea of Dagur finally strapping himself to his dragon, had Hiccup intrigued. “And if I lose?”

A twinkle entered the Berserker chief’s eyes as he said plainly, “we have to get matching tattoos.”

Internally Hiccup groaned. He should have known that this could be another plot of Dagur’s to become closer as ‘brothers.’ Most Viking war parties marked themselves in a similar fashion as part of a team building scheme. It was a way to say to the whole world that you were brothers in battle if not in blood.

He should have turned away the thought immediately. But the idea that Hiccup wouldn’t have to worry about his friend being knocked off his saddle mid flight. That someone else would not plummet into the never ending plume of fire that nearly took his own life.

Without hesitation, Hiccup took the bet.

Clapping another large hand on Hiccups shoulder, Dagur let out another cackle of a laugh before saying. Great, now that that’s settled. I’m going to give you the same advice my dad gave me in regard to life and women before he disappeared. Remember stanza sixty nine of the Poetic Edda. Strive to live by it.”

Snotlout raised a quizzical brow at the Berserker. “What kind of advice can a dusty old poem have about getting chick to like you?

“The kind of advice that pairs well with the skills I learned from years in prison. Eating nothing but porridge without a spoon. And leaving nothing but a sparkling clean bowl, Snot-Hat.”

“Hey, thats not my name. It’s Snotlout.”

”bless you, and cover your mouth the next time you sneeze.”

And with that, the group was ushering Hiccup out of the forge. And Hiccup had to admit that he was hungry.

Tuffnut managed to break out of Snotlout grip by the time they made it to the stairs. And draping his arms over Hiccup’s shoulder, said. “Hiccy, I’ve been watching you walk. And, lose the limp. No one is gonna want to marry that.”

Just about having enough of this conversation. Hiccup let out an indignant, “I have a prosthetic leg.”

Tuff didn’t even bat an eye. “Yeah, well I have a parasitic twin. And you don’t see me limping around about it. Now come on, puff out that chest and move that butt to the left a little bit.”

And with a smack on the ass, the group entered the Great Hall.

Chapter Text

The sound of the axe chopping into the hard wood of the tree echoed satisfyingly through the clearing.

Astrid found herself throwing it again and again as the afternoon went on.

Hurling sharp objects always made her feel better. And if she didn’t calm down, she knew her temper would cause another international incident.

She wasn’t sure exactly why she was so pissed today.

Maybe it was the healing burns on her shoulder. The red skin tight and itchy. Bothering her with every flex of her arms.

Maybe it was the lack of armor. Her favorite arm guards had been busted during the siege on Singetail island. And her older ones were too small and chaffed against her burns.

Or maybe it was all the women that has just arrived on the island.

Normally, Astrid loved it when any of the women-led tribes came to visit. It meant she didn’t have to put in nearly as much work into keeping the boys in line.

But there was something about the way these new tribes were so familiar with Hiccup that prickled at the back of her neck.

She was being ridiculous. There was absolutely no logical reason for her to be mad at Berk’s new allies. They hadn’t done anything wrong or meant to piss her off.

But for some reason, instead of being useful in the welcome party, Astrid was out in the woods. By herself. Throwing her axe into a tree. And trying not to explode.

Spinning the long axe in her hands, she felt the weight of the metal and the wood. Her fingers found their regular spots along the weapons throat. The sharp edge of the blade brushed against the rivets of her skirt and she stretched out her arms and back. Clinking softly as she focused her eyes at the tree before her.

Taking in a long breath in. She readied her throw. Muscles and tendons loosed and tightened at her command. Her feet planted firm, knees bent, core ready.

The next instant she was releasing her breath and the weapon was flying. The blade and handled twirling in the air as Astrid and put more force than necessary into the throw. The raw skin on her arms stung with the movement. But the muscles in her arms, back, and shoulders relished with strength they exuded.

The blade struck the tree with another hard thwack and a small explosion of splinters. If she kept going at this rate, the tree would topple over before she calmed down.

Before the weapon could settle in the trunk of the tree, Stormfly hopped across the clearing. Happy chirps escape her maw as the blue dragon yanks the weapon from the target.

In a fraction of the time it would have taken Astrid to extract the weapon from where it was lodged, the Nadder was prancing back with the axe in her mouth.

A game for a girl and her dragon. Both enjoying getting out their restlessness.

She was just raising her arms in preparation for another throw, the muscles in her arms came back coiled like springs ready to snap, when she heard the distinctive cracking of twigs.

She wanted to dismiss the noise as just being some animal in the woods. Only no wild animal would dare to get close to the warrior and her beast.

Could it be another dragon?

In the time that Hiccup had been back on Berk, she had never seen a dragon attack another unprovoked. A wild dragon would attack a person in a heart beat. But, Astrid had Stormfly with her so she assumed she was safe.

Another crack of a branch.

Not a dragon. The footfalls were too light, nowhere near the shear stomping power of a gigantic reptile.

Leaves rustled as another crack sounded.

Just as Astrid had decided that it was probably a person making their way towards her. Heather came into view.

Great, just great.

Now, a stranger had found her hiding spot.

For a second, Astrid considered throwing her axe at the Berserker. Not to kill. But if she could time it right to where the butt of the handle connected with the head. That could give Astrid a bit more alone time as the raven haired girl was unconscious.

The Berserker waved at her, and Astrid decided against her plan of inflicting head trauma.

Thinking to herself as she waved back, ‘there’s no way I could come up with a good excuse for the action anyway.’ And ‘I really don’t want to cause another international incident that results in being banned from another island.’

“Hey Astrid, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Heather said with a feline smile.

Why would the raven haired girl be looking for her? They had hardly spoken since she arrived.

Had something gone wrong already? Was Spitelout and his cronies making trouble already? Had the twins blown something up and or glued someone to something? What did Snotlout do or say now?

Not wanting to display her worry to what Heather’s statement could mean. Astrid replied, “really, what for?”

Heather hoisted up her weapon, “Word around the island is that you are the best with an axe. And to tell you the truth, my brother’s men are absolute rubbish. I was hoping you would want to throw together.”

Immediately Astrid’s anger at the world softened at the compliment. And she often thought that everyone around her was absolute shit at wielding an axe. So she understood the struggle.

She had heard about Heather’s skill in the arena. And could honestly say she was sad to miss it.

This could be the perfect opportunity to size up their guest. And it would be a good thing to learn about this girl’s strengths and weaknesses.

One never knew when the would need to take down another person, and it never hurt to be prepared.

Making an attempt to be friendly, Astrid invited the Berserker to join her.

She could honestly say she was surprised with how easy it was to get along with Heather.

They spent a couple hours practicing with their axes. At first in crossing them in a friendly sparing match. Heather was more agile and quick than she was expecting, and the double sided axe was tricky to figure out how to counter. But the girl couldn’t match Astrid in strength.

If it was a real fight, the blonde wasn’t sure who would come out on top.

Once they were out of breath and a pleasant ache began to settle their muscles, the girls switched back to throwing their weapons. In between the satisfying thwacks of the metal on wood they chatted.

And it was some of the most satisfying conversations Astrid had had in years. No dumb joke, no offensive comments, and no historical tidbit from two hundred years ago that had nothing to do to do with what was going on. The Vikings discussed favorite fighting forms, other weapons they favored, and the best ways to strike a man down.

This girl was absolutely fascinating. And Astrid loved to hear about all the adventures that she had had. She was especially the way Heather described making her axe.

How she had salvaged scrap metal from the ruins of the village she had grown up in before it had been raided. How she had vowed to hunt down and kill the people responsible for hurting her adopted family. About how Oswald had separated his two children before his death as a way to protect them.

The single sided axe was ruffled and wicked sharpe. The blade separating into two as she spun it, allowing her extra reach and flexibility in a fight.

Then she asked Astrid about her weapon. And she had to sheepishly admit that it was a gift from her parents for getting into dragon training.

She asked if she could take a closer look at it, and the dregs of her anger began to stir once more. No one touches her axe.

Before she snapped she had to reminded herself that Heather was not Snotlout, she would not use it to clean in between her toes. And Heather was not a Bog Burglar. She would not steal it to either sell it or put on her mantle as a trophy.

Reluctantly, Astrid handed over her axe.

The moment it left her grip she could feel her palms itching to have it back, and she suddenly felt more naked than Snotlout every time there was a torrential rain storm.

Heather held the wooden shaft of the axe as carefully as one might hold a new born. Carefully admiring the craftsmanship ship of the blade. After a brief inspection of it, the girl looked up. Surprise shown in her green eyes as she asked, “Did Hiccup make this?”

The reaction made Astrid uneasy as the urge to yank back the blade had her balling her fingers into fist. “Yeah, before he was the rider he was a blacksmith apprentice. Why are you so surprised about that?”

Heather began to run a finger over the carved runes in the blade. “He literally never makes custom weapons for anyone. Like, he had made us weapons, but they were so generic that we could get the same thing from the northern market. And he would fix our weapons if they break. But, there isn’t any of the flare that his own gear has. Dagur and I have been practically begging him for something custom. Hel, I’d take a fancy eating knife at this point.”

The gesture had Astrid hearing the pounding of her heart. The need to get it back beginning to crawl up her throat.

Without needing to be asked, Heather handed back the axe. And Astrid felt a rush of relief to have the familiar wood grain of its throat at her fingertips. For a brief moment she felt like she was whole again the world began to come back into focus. “Huh, well it was a long time ago. He probably figured out that it saves time to use the same molds for most weapons.”

Astrid raised her arms to throw the axe again.

“You and Hiccup are a thing, right?” The Berserker asked with a slight raise of a brow.

Astrid jerked mid swing. The axe went flying into the brush with all the strength she had. “WHAT?!” Twisting at the comment, she lost her footing and tumbled off her perch on the rock.

How on the Gods green earth did she come to that conclusion?

It didn’t take her long to right herself. Stumbling to her feet, Astrid did her best to correct the raven haired girl. “What no, we’re-just friends.” She hated the hitch in her voice at the words, just as much as she hated the heat the was beginning to creep its way up her cheeks.

More snapping of branches echoed in the clearing behind her. In her embarrassment Astrid must have been too distracted to notice the crunching. And before she even had a chance to turn around she could her Ruffnut’s raspy voice.

“As you can see here ladies, this clearing is the perfect location of a girls only boar pit. It’s wide enough that we could easily accommodate doubles. “Oh hey Astrid, wow I’ve never seen your ears that red. What did we miss?”

Red began to enter Astrid’s peripheral as she whipped around. Eyes locking on the group of intruders.

Two of the women, Astrid didn’t recognize. Must be some of the new arrivals to the island. But then there was Ruff; and the smug, shit-eating grin plastered on her long face.

If she moved fast, she could put the twin in the dirt before everyone else could react. A hard enough hit to head and no one would remember her indignation.

One of the strangers spoke before Astrid could strike. Adorn with silver armor with her red hair pulled back in a singles braided tail and a silver head dress, the warrior asked. “Hello Heather, are you and your friend here to hear about the Hooligan sporting events we can experience while we are camped here.”

Suddenly, small hands were lightly gripping Astrid’s arms. “Oh I’ve already heard the whole spiel Atali. Astrid and I were just having some girl talk.”

Instantly every warrior, but Astrid, in the clearing perked up at the mention of the dreaded “girl talk.” And she knew in that moment that she was trapped.

“Oh lovely,” chimed the other stranger. Back straight and head held high as she said, “it has been forever since I’ve talked to anyone who wasn’t just a soldier or an enemy. May we join you, I would like to get to know all my allies better.”

As if that as all the invitation Ruff needed, she plopped her ass on the ground before them. “Ah Hel yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to girl talk. I always expect it to have more alcohol and breakfast food around. And also for it to happen at lunch time.”

The silver warrior looked over at the lone twin awkwardly before saying. “I’m sorry but girl talk is normally only held-“

Before she could even finish her statement, Riff pulled off her helmet and pushed her brains away from her face. “Hey, I’m more woman than you’ll ever be.”

It took Atali a moment to process this. “Ah, I apologize for the error.”

Ruff spared a quick glare before returning to her normal jovial self. The twins were often mistaken for one another, so she won’t take the mistake to heart.

After a brief introduction of everyone, Astrid found herself sitting in a circle with the other girls, wanting nothing more than to be doing literally anything else.

Whatever calm she had felt when she was alone was gone now. And Astrid was now overly aware that if she didn’t keep a firm hand on her raging temper, that things would go really badly for the start of this alliance.

At least her axe was still out of her grasp. Probably laying in a bush nearby after her last, abysmal, throw. The lack of having it at arms reach would keep her from lunging at the first sign of provocation.

The short haired warrior, Mala, was the one to ask the question Astrid had been dreading.

“So, what were you two talking about before we interrupted you?”

Before Astrid could answer and try to steer the conversation away from the embarrassing topic of her feelings.

Heather answered, “I was just about to ask Astrid, how she managed to get Hiccup to make her a custom axe.”

Both strangers perked up at that and asked simultaneously. “She has WHAT?”

All eyes were on her now, and Astrid could feel the crushing weight for becoming prey to the women’s ravenous curiosity.

Normally Astrid would be proud to show off her well maintained-weapon. But the exception of their hungry gaze had her nerves on edge.

Doing her best to keep an air of her usual confident bravado. She shrugged, “it was along time ago. He was still perfecting his craft. It doesn’t mean anything.”

As if on cue, Stormfly decided that that was the perfect moment to pop out of the brush. The axe in question brandished in her teeth. The dragon took one look around the clearing at all the girls, stomped over to Astrid, and deposited the weapon at her feet before flapping off to joint the rest of the dragons at the stables.

A cheeky grin crossed Ruff’s face then. “Wait, isn’t that the axe that got you banned from Bog Burglar island?”

Heat rushed to Astrid cheeks at the reminder of one of her lowest moments. And an amused glint entered Heather’s eyes.

“Oh, now we gotta hear this story.”

Suddenly feeling very defensive her actions from that day several years ago. Astrid grabbed at the weapon before her protectively as she said. “Hey, they took a risk trying to steal from me. And they learned I’m not an easy mark.”

Ruff chuckled. “Hey, everyone knows the risks when going to that island. You shouldn’t have brought your most prized possession. And don’t you think that breaking both that guys arms was a little overkill. I mean, I thought it was funny. But when the chief himself has to stop you from amputating hands, I think you went a little too far.”

Having no real defense for her temper, but being too proud to really feel sorry for her actions, Astrid held her head high as she averted her eyes from the group. “Well, they learned to keep their sticky fingers to themselves.”

Biting her lip in embarrassment for her past actions, and all the trouble her anger issues had gotten her, she waited for the judgement of the women in front of her.

Waited for them to say that she was too intense.

Instead, the women all shook their heads in agreement.

“Quality weaponry is hard to come by,” said Atali.

“You were just defending your honor as a warrior,” added Mala.

“I’ve done worse for less of a slight,” finished Heather.

Astrid decided right then and there that she liked these girls. And even let out a small laugh at the vindication their support gave her.

The other girls joined her in the chuckle before Heather asked again, “but seriously, how did you do it?”

“Yes, I too would like to know. My husband is completely envious of Hiccup’s shield and has been trying for years to get one of his own. How could I convince Hiccup Haddock to make one for him?” Added Mala as she leaned closer, very interested to learn the answer.

Astrid was just about to answer once again that it was a long time ago and that she doubted Hiccup would make anything for her now. When, Ruffnut interrupted.

“Isn’t it obvious? Hiccup is in love with her.”

On instinct, Astrid hurled a nearby rock at the lone twin. Nailing her in the forehead.

Ruff had barely released a cry of “Ouchy!” Before Astrid began her denial.

“It’s not like that, we are just friends.”

Rubbing the now read mark on her forehead, Ruff grinned at other Hooligan. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Astrid rolled her eyes at the statement as the other girls had genuine looks of confusion across their face. Which is a look the twins normally get when they spout nonsense around strangers.

“I’m sorry, but what does that even mean?” Asked Atali.

That earned the silver clad warrior one of the twins devilish grins. “The Nile is one of the rivers located in one of the country that surround the Mediterranean sea. And probably the most famous one. Followed closely by the Tigris and Euphrates rivers that make up the fertile crescent. Which is where the country of Persia was settled upon.”

Every girl gave Ruff a slow blink of confusion. As no one thought that the geographical location was the thing that was being question about the twins past statement.

Heather gave her a tentative smile, “uh Ruff, I think she meant the other thing.”

The long faced girl smacked her face in the same red spot on her forehead, “OHHHH. I forget you guys don’t know the lore. Well, Hiccup has had a crush on Astrid since,” stopping her sentence, Ruff began to count on her fingers. “Well, forever. And it’s highly debated now that that is still the case. Even after he ran off to be come the big bad dragon rider.”

Gearing up to hurl another rock, Astrid said plainly. “Don’t listen to her. Her and her idiot brother have been riling everyone up to feed their stupid betting pool.”

“Oh is it stupid Astrid? Or do I have evidence?” And with a flick of her wrist. Ruff pulled Hiccup’s journal out of nowhere.

“Wait, how did you get your your hands on that?” Heather asked with equal parts amusement and incredulity, “He has it strapped to his arm bracer.”

“I grabbed it when we were trying to explain the rules of dragon racing to our new friends.”

Astrid remembered that happing this morning. She had walked into the training ring to try and sneak in another patrol. Everyone was gathered around a slate board.

“One sheep equals one point,” announced Tuff as he pointed a stick to the rules. “And if you rip a sheep in half that means you only get half a point.”

“Hey, no to ripping sheep in half.” Said Hiccup with a sense of growing exasperation.

Both twins shouting their objections, claiming that it was unfair to try and impose restrictions on the point system now.

Ruff had gotten to her knees and was practically begging Hiccup to let them keep the half point rule. Clinging onto him in a way that made Astrid want to strangle her.

Hiccup shook her off while trying to explain. “Silent Sven is letting us use his sheep for the game. And if we kill his sheep, then we won’t get to play anymore.”

The girl twin pulled herself off the dusty floor of the arena after that, muttering about how Hiccup was no fun. but the twins let the matter drop after that.

All the girls in the clearing smiled at the journal in Ruff’s hands. Hungry curiosity in their eyes.

Mala spoke first, “We really shouldn’t look at it, it seems private.”

“It would be a breech of his trust.” Added Atali.

“He’ll forgive us,” encouraged Heather.

And that was all the permission Ruff needed to open the journal.

Each page was covered in Hiccup’s charcoal scribbles. Diagrams of inventions that none of them had any hopes of understanding. Detailed sketches of unfamiliar dragons that made their nest outside the archipelago. Maps of island chains with tunnel systems that had so many twists and turns that they were sure they were meant for trap those who entered like a labyrinth of stone. List of supplies and tasks that could stretch on for miles if it was compiled in an organized manner.

But what surprised Astrid the most, was the multiple drawings of her. All captured moments where she hadn’t been paying attention. One of her sharpening a seax on Singetail island. One of her trying to pry a shield away from Stormfly during one of their game. One of her leaping off a ledge, reaching to grab a saddle strap.

Astrid was now overly aware of the racing of her own heart.

“Oh wow, these are amazing. I didn’t know the boy had that talent.” Whispered Atali as the group stared at the drawing.

Mala nodded her head in agreement. “Indeed, his use of perspective and shading is surprising. Especially given that his other sketches look to be crudely drawn in comparison.”

Both Heather and Ruffnut said nothing, deciding that a mocking smile in Astrid’s direction would be good enough to get their point across.

Astrid hated the eyes on her. They felt like the eyes of a predator waiting for a moment of weakness. Waiting for the perfect time to strike with a snide comment.

It was part of the reason Astrid had never bothered with a relationship before. She already wasn’t a patient person that was willing to compromise. And the idea of having the people around her judging her for the company she kept made her skin crawl.

“Oh this really changes things for the betting pool.” Cheerfully claimed Ruff as she flipped another page in the journal. “Odds of Hiccup actually making the first move just went up.”

That was the last straw for Astrid. Before she knew what she was doing; she had Ruff by the collar of her shirt. And was throwing her across the clearing.

The burns on her arms screamed at the influx of activity, but the warrior didn’t care at the moment. “SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HEL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Astrid screamed as her hands reached for her axe. “Are we all just entertainment for you? Is your own love life that abysmal that you have to meddle in everyone else’s business?”

Ruff rolled to her feet, using the momentum of Astrid throw to do a backwards somersaults until her back slammed into one of the axe scared trees. “Hey I was married once. Had a great weekend with the dude but we would have never lasted long term. I was just too much to handle and honestly prefer a guy with beefier arms. I did get a fish gutting station out of it though.”

The tips of the axe blade dug into the dirt as Astrid stomped over to the nosy girl. Arms ready to execute an underhanded swing into Ruff’s jutting jaw.

It was that sound that seemed to snap the girl out of her snarky stupor, “hold on, you can’t actually be mad at this? A least mad enough to kill over. Don’t you know how much my death would ruin the Hooligan economy? In the event of Tuff or my death; all the coin in the betting pool will automatically go to the charity for Christian raiders. Those churches have it coming. They hate us for how we keep seducing their wives with our good hygiene habits.”

Astrid wanted to laugh at that, the twins are some of the grossest Vikings in Berk’s history. She tightened her grip on the axe. Rolling her wrist in preparation for the swing.

Oh how she will enjoy this.

Hands were gripping Astrid’s raw shoulders now. The contact sparking new itching discomfort on the raw skin with the strength of the grasp.

“Hold on, she didn’t mean anything by it.” Hissed Heather as it seemed to take all the dark haired girls strength to hold Astrid back from striking down this jokester.

“She never means anything with the nonsense she says. I’m just sick and tired of her treating my emotions like some sort of spectacle.” Astrid growled out, “how would you feel if you knew that everyone was watching your every move and was betting on if you were going to sleep with everyone you ever spoke too?”

She tried to pull her arms away from the Berserker. But it was as if all the fight drained out of her the moment she starting voicing het complaints.

Ruff used the distraction of the Berserker to hide behind a tree. “Hey it’s not my fault that you are emotionally constipated. Everyone is just shocked that you have been in a good mood lately. And I swear Hiccup is the only person you have ever said anything nice about.”

Astrid jerked again, barely held back from lunging at the girl. “I’m not nice. I’ve never been nice. And I never will be nice.” She hissed as Heather dug her nailed into the burns.

“Hold on ladies, there must be a better solution to this scuffle.” Chimed in Atali as she added her own grip to holding Astrid back.

“If what you say is true Astrid? Then why don’t you humor me a bit. I have an idea that might help illuminate the cause of your frustration.” Spoke Mala as she rested a hand on Astrid’s arm.

The slight pressure sparked more of the stinging itchy irritation on her shoulder.

“If you aren’t nice like you’ve claimed, how about when one of us says a name of one of your companions, you say the first word that comes to mind. That might clear up any confusion for Ruffnut about your true feelings. And lay to rest the validity to her betting pool.”

Having just about enough of the crowd and the sting of the burns, Astrid jerked away from everyone. Long axe still dragging in the dirt as she attempted to right herself.

A quick shrug of her shoulder had the wooden throat of the weapon rising in her palm until Astrid could feel the metal head against her thumb. All the better to slice at the next person who tries to grab her.

Without an answer being given to the queen, Ruff blurted out “YEAH, tell us how you really feel about me.”

Without even thinking, Astrid growled out, “IRRITATING.”

The long faced girl raised a brow, probably expecting something worse to be said. “Okay, now do Tuff.”

Huffing out more frustration, Astrid responded. “Exasperating.”

Ruff was smiling now, “Snotlo-“

“Pig,” said Astrid before the name had finished leaving Ruff’s lips.

Laughing now and slipping away from the safety of the tree trunk, the Thorston girl continued. “Fishlegs.”

It took Astrid a little longer to think of anything to say about that boy. Sure his was quieter than the other people on the island. But that lead to him not leaving much of an impression. “Boring,” she ultimately said after taking a second to think.

“Now, Hiccup,” said Heather beating Ruff to the punch. Clearly this girl was far more interested in Astrid response to that name than any of the others.

What did Astrid think about Hiccup? Had he been annoying and a danger to himself and others in the past. But, his time away from Berk had clearly changed him.

Not knowing exactly the right word to say, but also not wanting to give the group the satisfaction of the time it would talk her to figure it out. Astrid said simply, “challenging.”

This answer earned a laugh for Ruff, “oh, and everyone knows how you love a challenge.”

That laugh only made Astrid want to punch her more. She took another step in the twin’s direction. Then stopped herself. She had already made a complete ass of herself here in front of the guests. And she was tired of the humiliation that Ruff was determined to make her feel.

Sending a final glare in Ruff’s direction before growling out, “I don’t need to take this anymore. And you know what? I hope that the next guy that catches your eye; won’t even give you the time of day.”

Astrid could threaten the girl with violence all she wanted, and Ruff would just laugh it off. But, the idea that she could be ignored by anyone is something that would truly hurt her.

And with an angry huff, she was stomping out of the clearing. Branches, bushes, and dead leaves crunching under each of her pounding steps.

The absolute gall of some people. How can anyone be so flagrant about their emotions like that. It was a careless and reckless way to live.

Growing up, Astrid’s mother had given her only one bit of advice on matters of love. “Never risk your heart. Risk your bones instead. You only have one heart, but you have hundreds of bones. You can live with shattered bones, but most can’t live with a shattered heart.”

She didn’t take any precautions to hide her bad mood. Everyone who knew her would know to keep out of her way. And hopefully any strangers would clearly see the rage in every fiber of her being, and the axe at her side, and know to steer clear.

She could see the bustling village through foliage, and only now considered putting the axe in its sheath. It had just clicked into place at her back when she heard the voice of one of the girls calling to her. Astrid’s own stomping and pounding fury had distracted her from everything but her own anger.

Great. Now what?

Did they now realize how close she was to murdering someone?

“Astrid, wait.” It was Heather.

Clenching all her muscles to prevent herself from lashing out immediately, Astrid turned around.

She could see the black haired girl shudder as the glare that was, no doubt, plastered on her face

Steeling herself for either a physical altercation or a verbal lashing, Heather said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be such a sore subject.”

Astrid said nothing, but she could feel her glare soften slightly. At least someone had the courage to apologize. The blonde could count on one hand, the amount of people who had genuinely felt bad about invoking her rage.

Sometimes she felt as if everyone on Berk thought that making her mad was the highest form of entertainment. And they wonder why Astrid never wanted to spend time with most of them.

“We didn’t mean to make you mad, we weren’t making fun of you or your feelings. If you don’t like him, that’s fine.” Continued the Berserker, her hands held out to show she meant know harm. “Just hypothetically, if you do like him. Stop wasting time, life is too short to not be honest with the people you’re close with.”

And those last words, Heather was walking back towards the clearing. Probably to see if Ruff was alright.

Astrid thought about those words as she walked back to her hut. As she sharpened her axe and put in up on her wall.

Thought about them as she took the seax’s out of her belt. They didn’t feel as right as the ones she lost on Singetail island. She didn’t need them to go to dinner anyway. And with the way she was still feeling, it would be safer for everyone is she was unarmed.

She ate alone in the Mead Hall. Not wanting to start a fight with the guests or with her friends. She watched as everyone laughed and drank to the alliance. Watched as the group of boys that surrounded Hiccup, kept giving him tankards of ale and talked animatedly with one another. Up until he excused himself from the mess.

After a few hours of watching everyone laughing and enjoying their time together, Astrid had had enough.

The village was quite as she walked towards her hut. Everyone either at their station or in the Great Hall.

Except for Hiccup.

The fire was still burning at the forge when she walked past. And she couldn’t help herself but to peak in. Curious to see what he was doing this late.

There wasn’t the usual sound of hammer on anvil or metal on the grind stone. The only thing that indicated that someone was still working was sound of cursing.

Poking her head around one of the canvas walls of the forge, she could see the Hiccup passing back and forth in front of a work table. Thumb in his mouth and curing softly as his dragon chortled with amusement in front of the table.

Not wanting to startle him more, Astrid knocked softly on one of the wooden support beams. “Hey,” she said with surprising softness for how she had been acting all day. “what are you doing in here when your friends are still partying?”

Hiccup jumped at the sudden noise as if he hadn’t been paying attention to the world around him. Which was normal for him whenever he had a project.

What wasn’t normal was how he stumbled and began to scramble to hide what he was working on behind his back.

“Hi, Astrid.-“ he swayed left slightly as he turned to face the new face in the forge, putting more weight on his good leg as he used to table to keep himself steady. “Hi Astrid, hi Astrid. Um…what are you doing here?”

Oh. Now she had to see what he was up too.

Approaching slowly, not wanting to startle him more, a small smile began to touch the corners of her lips. “Didn’t I just ask you the same question?”

His eyes were slightly unfocused as he reached back to make sure his project was out of her sight. “Yes you did. But I’m always here.”

“With everyone that arrived today, I would have thought you would take a night off from your secret projects.” She was within arm distance of the table now. A quick lunge and she could see what he was hiding.

It took him a second to respond. “They don’t need me to have a good time. And it’s not like I’m much fun at parties.”

He slowly grinned at her as he put even more of his weight on the table. And it became very clear to Astrid why Toothless was sitting guard at the fire.

Hiccup had been drinking.

“Is that so?” She asked slyly, making a show of crossing her arms and standing taller on her toes to meet his gaze. She had never seen Hiccup drunk before. And she was curious about how the mead would affect him.

He gave her a guilty grin before his eyes went wide and a hind of excitement had him standing straighter. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here.” Suddenly his hands were on her elbows. His calluses barely avoiding the red skin of her upper arms. “Close your eyes.”

Too shocked to really do anything but gape at the man, Astrid let out a confused. “What?”

“Close your eyes-“ he repeated. A bit of the fogginess leaving his expression. “I have a surprise for you.”

Caught off guard but the rider’s earnestness, she tried to pull away. But his fingers held firmly on her forearms and he moved with her. “You do know that I don’t like surprises, right?”

His unbreakable gaze stayed in her had he pulled her gently towards the table. “If you don’t like it, then you can hit me and I will never surprise you again. Just close your eyes.”

Cautiously, Astrid obeyed. The second she did, Hiccup’s ruff fingers slid from her arms.

There was a small sound of rustling and the clanking of cabinet doors opening and closing. Then the ghost of a touch was brushing against her collarbones as something soft and warm resting in her shoulders. Gentle hands were clicking a metal clasp into place and she could feel blades sliding into the sheaths at the small of her back.

Just as she felt him gently tugging at her braid, releasing it from where it had been trapped under what he had adorned her with and was being pulled to rest over her shoulder, did he say. “Open your eyes.”

Being overly aware with every light touch of his fingers, Astrid hadn’t notice how he had tugged her in front of the one mirror of the forge. Gobber kept a large one in the back for any armor orders he receives. And now she could see just what Hiccup had been preoccupied with earlier.

He had made her new shoulder guards.

The ones he had worn to Singetail island had been damaged beyond repair, and all of her older ones were too small and chafed against her burns.

Somehow Hiccup had gotten them to fit perfectly. The metal shined bright in the dim light of the forge. Running her fingers along the inside of the armor, Astrid could feel the dragon scale lining that added a slight layer of cushioning if she were to where them alone.

But right now, they contrasted beautifully with the fur shrug he had placed underneath it.

She was just turning to ask him what the garment was for when she saw him holding out matching fur arm warmers. His grin was sheepish and endearing as he quietly said, “you rub your arms like you’re cold after a long flight. If you don’t like it or think it will interfere with your movements, it detaches from the armor.”

Astrid couldn’t speak without her lip trembling. Silently she took the arm warmers from him and slipped them over her forearms before turning back to the mirror. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her arms. Seeing if there was any impingement to her movements. A large hood on the back of the shrug jostled slightly. Without even needing to pull it up, she could tell it was large enough to not mess up her hair.

Then slowly she was reaching towards the blades he had placed in her sheaths.

Matching seax’s, both better quality than the ones she lost on the island and the ones she left in her hut. Intricate knot work carvings down the blades and the handles padded with read and blue ribbons. Matching her long axe perfectly. Even down to the metal bird skull on the hilts.

Just like the metal bird skulls that rested on her collarbones. The sculptural detailing adding to amount of effort Astrid could tell he put into this gift.

Replacing the blades on her back. Astrid found herself reaching for the clasp at her sternum. The silver Nadder that rested just above her heart.

“If you don’t like it, I can make any changes you like. I just thought-“

Before she had time to think, to second guess herself. Astrid’s arm shout out and her first grabbed at the sliver of woolen tunic that was poking out from his woven leather vest and black chest plate. Pulling him down to her level so she could plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

Her ears were as hot as his alcohol warmed cheeks as she barely managed to whisper, “it’s wonderful,” without her voice breaking at the utter thoughtfulness that was this gift.

Just as fast as she pulled him to her, Astrid hoisted him back up. His back hit the work table with enough force that a bucket of dragon scales tipped over on its side. Splicing the multicolored keratin disks across the wood of the desk.

The Vikings winced at the clatter the bucket made. Both moving on instinct to clean up the mess they made.

Neither one glancing up to meet the other’s eyes.

Once she had managed to compose herself enough, Astrid spoke up to break the tension. “So… this is what you’ve been doing in your free time?” Making a show of putting a handful of rainbow scales back in the bucket. Her free hand, pushing a piece of unfinished leather armor forward.

The arm guard on the table had the beginning of an orange and red scaled mosaic racing up the leather.

Clearing his throat, and then huffing an awkward laugh, Hiccup muttered out. “Yeah. I’ve been making outfits.” His uncomfortable posture made it clear that he wasn’t used to explaining his projects before they were done.

He took a deep breath as if to brace himself to be scolded before continuing. “I just thought that if we are going up against Singetails. that it would be good to have an extra measure of protection.”

Finally looking up at her, Astrid did her best to meet his pleading gaze. “Please don’t tell my dad about it until I’m done. I don’t want him mad and lecturing about how I’m wasting my time when I could be making more weapons. He is already going to be pissed about me slipping away tomorrow to relocate the Deathsongs.”

This shocked Astrid. Why would he think that the Chief would be upset over fire proof armor? The innovation seemed like a very logical tool when going up against fire breathing reptiles.

But what shocked her more was the second part of his request. “What do you mean you’re slipping away tomorrow? Where are you even going?”

Voice raising in pitch, Hiccup began his hurried explanation. “Just for the morning. With all the new people on the island I don’t want anyone having an accidental run in with our musical friends. I’m gonna take them to the nest at Helhiems Gate. I should be back before lunch. I just don’t want to worry my dad.”

His last statement had Astrid letting out a small involuntary laugh. “You’re always going to worry him. He’s your dad, it’s his job to worry about you. But if you are so concerned about his nerves, why don’t you take him with you?”

“What? With all the guests on the island, he’s needed here to make sure everyone is settling in properly. And besides, that would mean I would have to tell him about the dangerous dragons we brought back. And that will just add more stress to his plate.”

Astrid rolled her eye as the excuses. But she could see the cogs in his head beginning to turn at the suggestion.

Once the scales were cleaned up, she heading back to her hut. Feeling much lighter than she had when she had gone to dinner. Her mind kept racing with thoughts of her new blades and armor. So much that she had trouble falling asleep.

Her thoughts echoing the light caressing of fingers across her collar bones and at the small of her back.