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Several decades had passed since their ancestor Hiccup had rode the first dragon. A night fury at that, the dragon they knew the least about at that time. Ever since that first adventure, the Vikings had started adopting the dragons, looking after them, caring for them. Instead of killing dragons during dragon training, the kids learned how to choose their dragon and trained with him. It was supposed to be a very special bond between a dragon and his rider.
Gregory had been a huge disappointment to his grandfather. Hiccup had hoped that they not-so-young-anymore lad would’ve found a dragon by now. Greg had managed to become a healer so that he could look after the different dragons when they got sick, but his own dragon? No, not yet. Mainly it was because no bloody dragon wanted to be his pet. The Healer was cruel, cynical and made fun of everyone and everything. He spotted even the smallest thing and you could count on the boy to ridicule you in front of everyone you cared about. He thought everything boring, and that was the excuse he used when his grandfather asked him for the bazillionth time why the lad hadn’t adopted a dragon yet. It was all so boring, according to Greg.
The Viking was out in the woods someday - one of the dragons had gone missing and they had suspected an accident - so the Healer had been sent out to go look for it. They could’ve sent any of the other Healers in the village, like he mentor for instance, but Hiccup had insisted that he should go. He said he had a good feeling about it. So Greg had left in the early morning to go look for the lost pet.
When he still hadn’t found any sign of a dragon when it got to the late afternoon, Gregory was ready to give up. He had reached a clearing in the woods and sat down on one of the rocks. His leg had started to protest - the boy had lost part of his leg the first time he had tried to choose a dragon - so he carefully put it on a rock so he could rest it. He sighed loudly, making sure the world knew perfectly well that he was bored and needed company, even though he would never say that.
He was starting to close his eyes as he heard the sound of wings and before he even realized it, he was back on his feet. He knew this couldn’t be the pet he was looking for - the time between two flaps of the wings took much longer - so he looked up to see whose dragon it was. He made sure he had no weapons visible on himself before he moved his hands up in a surrendering gesture, like the teachers had taught him.
Another Night Fury landed - a healthy one this time - and Greg was temporarily blinded by the beauty of the beast. He obviously took great care of himself, since every scaled glowed in the light of the late evening sun. The dragon slowly took a few steps forward, growling softly, making it perfectly clear to the human that if he made one wrong move, he’d be dead. So Gregory didn’t move and just hoped that the beast would go away and leave him alone. It took him very much by surprise that the dragon gently pushed his snout against Greg’s outstretched palm.
"Have you gone mad? Dragon, you should really find someone else, someone who won’t insult you when you pick him. Now piss off." Greg started to wave with his hands, chasing the beast away.
The Night Fury glared angrily at the Viking and hissed, his teeth showing. Greg took a few steps back, not wanting to be eaten by the dragon in front of him.
“Alright, please, don’t eat me. I’ll try to be nice.” Greg sighed. If he had to find a dragon, then he couldn’t do worse than a wild Night Fury who seemed to understand him better than some of the Vikings in the village.
The dragon relaxed and Greg couldn’t help but notice how cute the dragon was when he wasn’t trying to kill the man. The Night Fury sat down on his behind and his eyes, which had been narrowed angrily before, were now wide with excitement about this human. He wanted to lick the Viking, but he was scared the man would push him away. So he just purred softly, hoping the man would get his need to be petted.
But Greg wasn’t in the mood to be touchy and feely with his dragon. He almost never was. This Viking was not that sort of man. He preferred to study people and dragons from a distance rather than actually come in touch with them. But somehow this dragon seemed different. He didn’t make any attempt to get any closer and cuddle with him, like so many other dragons seemed to want to do.
“Right. So you really want to be my dragon?” Gregory asked skeptically. “You know I’ll just insult you all the time.”
The Night Fury seemed to shrug before he sat down next to the Viking and closed his eyes. He didn’t touch him but he was just there, a reassuring presence for the man. He smiled and sat down as he got the book out of the bag he had been carrying. The two of them enjoyed the silence for a couple of hours – the dragon moved around from time to time, but apart from that the clearing was perfectly quiet.
When the sun started setting, Greg got on his feet again. He smiled at the dragon next to him who had lifted his head to see what the human was going to do. This time the Night Fury moved closer to the man, asking to get a little bit of contact. Only one touch was enough. Greg sighed and shook his head. He supposed that he could do it, but only this once. He gently placed his hand on the dragon’s head and petted it once. Or maybe twice. But definitely not more than that.
The dragon purred again and looked at his Viking with his big, brown, round eyes.
“I should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” Gregory smiled as he petted the dragon once more. He just couldn’t help himself.
The Night Fury looked up expectantly while he nodded. He gave Greg another toothless grin while he stepped closer.
“Well then, let’s go back home and tell everyone about you. Maybe they will finally leave me alone then, huh?” He didn’t believe a word he said, but at least he could try.
The dragon nodded and got up again, so that he could follow the other one. He purred in agreement and Greg gave him another grin.
“Come on then, you big ugly thing.”
The dragon growled softly as he stepped closer to the man.
“I mean, Wilson.”