Chapter Text
Toothless
0o0o0o0
The world didn’t fade to black. It faded to white–a cold, piercing hum that started at the base of my skull and vibrated down my spine, settling into my limbs like liquid lead. The Alpha’s call wasn’t a voice; it was a command that couldn't be ignored. Everything that was mine–my bond with Hiccup, the jokes he made, the smell of leather–was pushed into a tiny, dark corner of my mind, locked behind a door I couldn’t reach.
My body felt heavy, disconnected. I was a passenger in my own scales, watching through a glass veil as my head lowered, eyes mere slits, and my plasma began to charge with a lethal, rhythmic thrum.
Then, the world shattered.
The sound of the blast was muffled, as if I were underwater. But the snap of the connection–the moment the giant lost its grip on my mind–was a physical agony. The numbness vanished, replaced by a searing rush of sensation.
I shook my head violently, my ear plates twitching. I chirped, a small, questioning sound. The smoke was clearing. I expected to see him standing there, coughing and waving a hand, scolding me with that shaky, relieved laugh.
Instead, I saw his mother on her knees. I saw the Great Chief, hunched over a crumpled shape on the ice.
I trotted forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. Hiccup? I pushed past a jagged spire of ice, my tail swaying tentatively. I reached out with my snout, wanting to nudge his shoulder, to feel the heat of his skin.
“No! Get away!”
The roar was human, but it hit me like a landslide. The Chief shoved me back with a strength born of pure rage. I stumbled, my claws skidding on the frozen ground. I looked down.
He lay still. His green eyes were open, but they were dull, staring at a sky we would never fly together again. There was no rise and fall of his chest. The smell of singed wool and ozone–my ozone–choked my senses.
I did this.
The realization was a physical blow. A howl built in my throat, but it didn’t come out as a sound. It came out as a surge of something ancient, something buried deep within my soul. My scales began to glow, not the blue you would see on an Alpha Night Fury, but a blinding, ethereal white that felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside out.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I only knew that the universe was wrong. It shouldn't have been Hiccup. I threw my head back, flared my wings, and let out a pulse of raw, desperate energy, begging to the gods. Take me, take anything, just give him back.
The light was so bright it turned the world into a void of pure ivory.
When my vision finally cleared, I was gasping, my lungs burning. I blinked through stinging haze. The humans were still there, blown back, shielding their faces.
Where he had been, the ice was scorched in a perfect circle.
I crawled forward on my belly, whimpering. I expected to see nothing but ash.
But there, nestled in the center of the blacked ring, sat an egg.
It was large, heavy, and obsidian-black. I froze. My pupils dilated until the world went dark around the edges. I sniffed the air, my nose trembling. His scent–the woodsmoke and the leather–was gone, replaced by the deep, earthy smell of a nesting cave.
I let out a confused, broken croak. I looked at the Chief, then back at the egg. I had reached into the dark to pull my friend back, and the world had given me this: a cold, silent shell.
I stepped over the egg, shielding it with my body, and let out a low, warning growl. I was terrified.
I felt the crunch of boots before I saw him. The Chief was moving toward the circle–toward the black stone that had replaced hiccup.
I didn’t think. I didn’t reason. I just curled. My tail swept the egg closer to my belly, tucked into the softest part of my scales, and I snapped my jaws. The sound was a sharp, metallic crack that echoed off the ice.
“Toothless, move,” the Chief commanded. His voice was thick, broken by a grief that mirrored my own, but there was a hardness in it. He wanted to take the egg. He wanted what was left of my best friend, his son.
I didn’t move, I snarled, a low vibrating rumble that started in my chest and made the air between us shake. Stay back. He didn’t understand. I didn’t even understand.
Where was he? My nose searched the air, frantic and twitching, but the scent of the boy was fading, replaced by the smell of this… thing. This shell. My mind raced, clawing at the void. Had the light consumed him? Had the ancient spark in my soul turned a human to stone? No. This was a Night Fury egg. I knew this shape. I knew the texture. But there were no more of us. I was the last.
Unless I had simply made a monument out of his remains. A cold, black coffin to mock me.
The grief shifted. It wasn’t a weight anymore; it was fire. It was a searing, white-hot heat that demanded a target. I looked up, past the Chief, past the weeping mother.
The Great White Alpha loomed over the battlefield, a mountain of stolen power. And on its head sat the man in the hide of my kin. The man who had used my body to kill hiccup
I didn’t care about the egg for a moment. I didn’t care about the laws of the sky. I launched.
I wasn’t flying; I was a projectile of pure hatred. I didn’t need the Alphas' permission to be king. I was the Alpha of nothing now. I slammed into the giant's face, my claws digging into the pale, scarred flesh. The hum tried to start again in my head, that cold, beckoning command, but I drowned it out with a scream that tore at my throat.
I charged my plasma, not at the eyes, but at the root of the great ivory tusk. One blast. Two. Three. I began to lose count as I fired blast after blast into the tusks, going well over my shot limit. The tusk–the symbol of its dominance–snapped with a sound like a dying mountain.
The giant recoiled, a pained, trumpeting roar shaking the floor of the sea. It turned, defeated, and vanished into the dark, frigid depths.
But I wasn’t finished.
I landed on the ice, my claws heaving, my eyes locked on the small, pathetic figure of the man with the hook. Drago Bludvist. He was screaming something, waving his arms, trying to reclaim a power he never deserved.
A small, flickering thought tried to surface–the image of a boy with a lopsided smile who believed in mercy. Who believed that everyone could be changed.
Hiccup wouldn’t want this.
I snarled at the thought. Hiccup isn’t here. I had felt the light leave him. He was gone, and the world deserved to burn for it. He wasn’t here to stop me. He would never stop me again.
I didn’t use plasma. I didn’t want it to be quick. I lunged, my jaws closing around the man's throat before he could even raise his hook. The taste of salt and iron filled my mouth. I didn’t let go until the thrashing stopped. I didn’t let go until the world was quiet.
I spat his life onto the ice and turned back. My heart was a lead weight. I need the egg. I needed the only thing left of the circle, even if it was just a lie made of scales and shadow.
I sprinted back to the scorched ring.
It was empty.
My breath hitched. I spun in a circle, my tail lashing, my eyes wide and wild. “No,” I croaked. Not again. I couldn’t lose the egg, too.
I looked toward the shore, toward the silhouettes of the humans. The Chief was walking away, his shoulders hunched, his hands cradling the obsidian egg against his chest as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. Valka walked beside him, her hand resting on the shell, her head bowed.
They were taking it. They were taking the grave I had made.
I tried to roar, to demand they bring it back, but my legs gave out. The adrenaline that had fueled my rage evaporated, leaving only a hollow, aching cold. I collapsed onto the ice, my wings dragging, my forehead pressing into the frozen ground where he had died.
A sound escaped me–a broken, high-pitched sib that no dragon should ever make. I closed my eyes, the image of the black egg disappearing into the distance, and let the darkness finally take me.
0o0o0o0
A sharp, rhythmic pressure against my shoulder pulled me from the dark.
Nudge, Poke. Nudge.
I groaned, my eyelids feeling like they were weighted with lead. For a heartbeat, I thought I was back in the cove, and a clumsy hand was about to drop a fish on my head. But the air was too cold. It smelled of salt and blood.
I opened my eyes to see Stormfly’s bright, intelligent face hovering over mine. She let out a series of rapid, melodic chirps–a “happy” sound–tail wagging slightly when she saw my pupils focus. Behind her, I could see Astrid. She was turning away, wiping her face with the back of her hand, her shoulders shaking in a way she thought she was hiding.
I looked past them. The sky was a bruised purple, the sun dipping below the horizon and bleeding orange light across the wreckage of the ice. The great ships were already small silhouettes on the water, their sails full of the evening wind.
The boats. The egg.
Panic surged through me, a cold jolt that brought me to my feet so fast my head spun. In my blind rage, I had let them take it. I hadn’t even checked–I hadn’t listened for a heartbeat, hadn’t felt for a spark. What if it needed heat? What if, letting the Chief take it away, I had let the last embers of Hiccup’s memory go out?
I tried to launch myself into the air, my wings snapping open, but I only went a few feet before my tail betrayed me. The left fin stayed limp, dragging in the slush. I tumbled forward, chest-sliding into a jagged shard of ice.
A growl of pure frustration tore from my throat. I looked at my useless tail, then at the distant ships. I was a bird with one wing.
I turned to Stormfly, my eyes pleading. I let out a low, urgent warble, gesturing my head toward the horizon. Help me. Cary me.
She tilted her head, her pupils widening as she sensed the desperation radiating off me. She looked at Astrid, then back at me. With a sharp, commanding squawk that made Astrid jump, Stormfly stepped over me. She didn’t wait for permission. She let out another loud cry to her rider, signaling that she was moving, and then she lunged.
Her talons locked firmly around the base of my wings and shoulders. It wasn’t the most comfortable grip, but I didn’t care. With a powerful beat of her wings, we rose.
The battlefield shrank below us. The bodies, the ice, the remains of the man I had slaughtered–it all became a blur of white and grey. We were moving slowly, weighted down by my bulk, but we were moving.
I watched the lead ship, the one carrying the Chief and his silent burden. Stoick would reach the docks of Berk long before we did. He would take that egg into the Great Hall, or perhaps to the forest, or perhaps… I didn’t know.
I just stared at the distant speck of wood on the water, my heart thudding in a slow, painful rhythm against my ribs. Stay warm, I thought, a silent prayer directed at the black egg miles away. Just stay warm until I get there.
The wind whipped past my ears, but I barely felt the chill. Hanging there in Stormfly’s grip, suspended between the dark sea and the darker sky, there was nothing to do but remember.
My mind drifted back to the small things. The way he looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his hands smelled of charcoal and grease, and the way he had looked at me just days ago when we realized we were the same age. Twenty years. We were supposed to have decades more. We were supposed to grow old together, two broken things making a whole.
He was the only human who had ever truly seen me. Not as a monster, not as a weapon, but as a friend. And I was the one who had ended him.
The guilt was a physical weight, heavier than my own body. If I had been stronger, I could have fought the Great White’s voice. If I had been faster, I could have turned my head. If I had just had the willpower to scream no inside my own mind, he would still be laughing. He would be adjusting my tail fin right now, complaining about the wind shear.
Instead, I could only see the way he looked on the ice. Still. Pale. The light in his green eyes was extinguished by a fire that came from me. I had vowed to protect him. I had vowed never to let harm come to him. And I had been the one to deliver the final blow.
I was so buried in the suffocating darkness of my own thoughts that I didn't notice the jagged cliffs of Berk rising out of the mist. I didn't see the torches of the village or the somber crowds gathering at the docks.
The sudden jolt of my paws hitting the soft, damp grass of a hillside startled me. Stormfly released her grip, her chest heaving from the effort of carrying me across the ocean. She nudged my side, a soft, sympathetic chirp vibrating in her throat—a "you're welcome" that sounded more like a goodbye.
"Thanks," I croaked, the word barely a sound.
I didn't wait for her to respond. I didn't look at the village. I didn't look at the stars. I turned and sprinted.
My claws tore into the dirt, propelling me up the familiar path. My heart was a frantic drum in my ears. Every muscle in my body ached, but I pushed harder. I had to get to the house. I had to get to the Chief’s home—our home.
I didn't think of it as the Chief’s house. In my mind, it was still Hiccup’s. It was the place where he worked on his maps, where he fell asleep at his desk, where he would toss me a scrap of fish when he thought his father wasn't looking.
I skidded around the final corner, the wood and stone structure looming ahead of us. The door was heavy, shut tight against the night air, but I could smell the faint, lingering scent of the forge and the sea. And beneath it all, that strange, new, electric hum was calling to me from behind the walls.
I didn't know what I would find inside, but the desperation to reach that black shell—to see if my miracle was a lie or a second chance—was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
0o0o0o0
I didn't wait to knock. I didn't have the patience for handles or latches. I slammed my weight against the wood, the hinges shrieking and wood splintering as the door gave way under my desperation.
The house was silent. Empty.
The hearth was cold, the ash grey and lifeless. I wandered through the downstairs, my claws clicking hollowly on the floorboards. The scent of the Chief and the mother was here, heavy with salt and sorrow, but the house felt like a tomb. My hope withered with every step. If they had taken the egg to the Great Hall—or worse, buried it—I would never forgive myself.
I climbed the stairs, my movements slow and heavy. I reached his door. I nudged it open with the tip of my snout, careful, instinctively trying not to disturb the blueprints or the stray pencils he always left scattered about. I didn't want to break the memory of him.
Then I saw it.
It was sitting off to the side of his bed, looking small and lonely on the floor. The obsidian surface caught the moonlight filtering through the window, shimmering like a dark star.
I scrambled across the room, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. I didn't care about the mess anymore. I reached the egg and pressed my ear against the cold, hard shell. I held my breath, closing my eyes, praying to every spirit of the sky and sea.
Thump.
It was so faint I thought I had imagined it.
Thump... thump.
A heartbeat. It was weak—a tiny, flickering spark in a vast ocean of darkness—but it was there.
Relief washed over me so fiercely I nearly collapsed, but it was immediately followed by a cold, sharp realization. I was not a parent. I had been a hatchling once, but I didn't remember the details. I knew eggs needed heat. I knew they needed protection. But I had no idea how to raise a Night Fury.
I looked at the egg, then at the cold floor. I couldn't leave it here.
Using my tail, I gingerly curled the tip around the shell, lifting it with more care than I had ever used in my life. I carried it over to my stone bed of coals in the corner of the room. I took a deep breath and let out a low, sustained burst of plasma—not a blast, but a glowing, steady heat that soaked into the stones until they pulsed with a dull red light.
I nudged the egg into the center of the warmth. Then, I curled my body around it, my wings draped over the sides like a heavy, leathery blanket. I pressed my chin against the top of the shell, feeling that tiny, rhythmic thump against my jaw.
The adrenaline once again broke. The weight of the day, the blood on my teeth, and the image of his pale face came rushing back. I closed my eyes, sobbing silently, my chest heaving against the egg, until the warmth of the coals and the tiny heartbeat finally lulled me into a dark, fitful sleep.