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Chapter Text

The icy blue eyes locked on her were unnerving.

Hiccup knew that Astrid had never particularly liked her, but her recent exploits in dragon training had turned the other girl’s demeanor towards her even sourer, glares had become happenstance, so had the seething looks.

Hiccup carefully glanced at the axe grasped tightly on Astrid’s hand, she knew for a fact that Astrid was too smart to come to take some sort of satisfaction while she was working on the forge, nor had she ever expressed any interest in tormenting her. But, as Hiccup had taken some of her glory from dragon training, the girl could not help but wonder if Astrid would start feeling tempted.

A flash of shame set her body alight, for a moment, words climbed to her throat, to explain why she was doing so well lately. Eyes as grey and dark as hers burned through her mind, she wasn’t fighting any dragon, not now and probably never, she could not stomach it, she knew. What people saw when she pacified the dragons with her touch? Hands coated in dragon nip paste; did they see a champion that frightened the beasts with her mere presence? A warrior with a poisonous touch?

The handle of the axe spun in Astrid’s fingers, she glanced to the side, lips pursed, as if considering leaving, then she walked forward and even with the window of the forge as a divide Hiccup couldn’t help but take a step back.

“Is Gobber in there?” She questioned her with a stiff tone, and Hiccup could only shake her head. Today had to be the day that Gobber had slept in, Hiccup lamented, she didn’t even know what Astrid needed the man for.

The blonde grit her teeth and groaned, and Hiccup’s next words were reflex. “Do you need anything?” Astrid eyes jumped to her, and Hiccup briefly squeezed her eyes shut, stupid talking fishbone! Astrid raised a brow at her, and Hiccup resigned herself to seeing her words through. “I could call him if you want or, if you need something from the forge, I can do it myself.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Astrid’s frown deepened and, as she raised her axe, Hiccup feared she would sink it into her head. She definitely would stand no chance.

Yet Astrid said, “I need better sharpening and lynching for the handle.” There was no intention to hand her the weapon however, and Hiccup realized that Astrid didn’t want to entrust Hiccup with her axe.

It stung, even if she would never admit it out loud, most Vikings had never batted an eye at her small form going back and forth inside the forge, but they didn’t also register that Hiccup the Useless was one of the two people that maintained their weapons on their best shape. Hiccup sighed.

She still tried, however. “I can do that in fifteen, if you want.” And, to her surprise, Astrid seemed to hesitate, or at least she thought she had, no matter hard how hard that was to distinguish on her unwelcoming expression.

Hiccup could not make out what she felt when Astrid laid her axe on the windowsill, something like shook, awe or disbelief. Her heart jumped on her throat, Hiccup had long forgotten the exact reason why she had wished for Astrid’s approval and even friendship for all these years, but the want never seemed to truly fade.

“I will be counting.” Astrid tersely said, prompting Hiccup to just pick up the axe and go on with it.

It was in better shape than most used axes she had ever seen, blade bright and handle clearly treated with care, no signs of rust or fractures on the metal, despite the reason why, Hiccup realized, the other girl wanted the axe treated by Gobber. There were the faintest nicks on the blade’s edge, easier to grind with the forge’s tools than it would ever be with a personal stone.

Hiccup took the axe to the grindstone, taking care to place the blade’s edge properly before pressing the pedal. This one had to be perfect, Astrid would have her head otherwise, this axe was clearly her most prized possession. Sparks flew and drowning of the shrill made it easier to ignore the stare pointed at her back like an arrow.

As she grinded the metal smooth her nail caught a divot on the handle, she glanced down, it seemed to be a small hole on the wood, clearly the reason why a lynching was requested.

Soon the gross part of the grinding was complete and, deciding to let the blade rest for a little, she moved on lynching the handle. Hiccup grabbed the finest lynch from the wall as she went, laying the axe on the table to grasp the handle more securely and proceeded to treat the wood.

It didn’t take much to realize that something was amiss, the small hole was dark, and lynching did not do much, she frowned, is it deep? She worried, Hiccup grabbed the thinnest piece of iron wire she could find on a stool on her left and proceeded to pass it through the hole, when it hit the bottom the length inside was almost the size of her small nail.

Not absolutely damning, the width was small too but letting that fester could break the whole thing in half with enough strain on it. Hiccup thought of every solution she could find, I could stuff the hole with resin? It was simple but efficient, probably the best.

After putting a small pot to the fire in order to let the resin simmer, she turned her attention to the blade, doing the thorough part of the sharpening. Her stokes were practiced as she oiled the blade, turning the iron shinier bit by bit. She grabbed the pot from the fire, the smallest funnel she could find and that iron wire to guide the resin in correctly.

The task required all her concentration, it had to be done fast to not let the resin cool down before it was due, but also carefully so as to not be sloppy. Hiccup sweated a little as she did it, Gobber had taught her the technic in passing, he had not done it in ten years, the awkward tool arm not adept to such precision, Hiccup had no such constraint, however, and the hole was soon filled.

Perfect, she concluded, doing the final lynching on the handle, and smoothing out the then hard resin. Hiccup cleaned the blade as she returned to the windowsill. “Just in time.” A voice said, it made Hiccup’s shoulders jump, when the girl realized that she had all but forgotten who the axe was from, she had to fight down a blush.

Hiccup cleared her throat, trying to sound more serious than she could actually be. “So.” She leaned forward to present Astrid the small bit of resin patching. “The blade was easy, but the handle had a problem, the hole was actually as long as my nail.” Now Astrid’s face had lost its hostility, the girl leaned forward to see better. “If I tried to lynch it out you would have no handle, so I patched it with resin. There were no cracks or fracturing anywhere, so this should be enough to glue everything together. But I would still recommend looking out for a while, if no cracks appear in the next few months, then you can deem it as safe.”

By then Astrid’s expression had changed completely, no longer was the anger present, but Hiccup could not tell if she was either looking at her like she had grown two heads or revealed herself as a stranger. Hiccup dry swallowed, unnerved by the intense look.

As she took the weapon from her hands, Astrid ran her fingers thought the blade, looking progressively more pleased, she spun the handle in her hands, felt for the patched hole by touch alone and murmured. “Huh, it’s like it has no hole at all.” Hiccup had to suppress a smile.

Astrid stayed silent after that, and Hiccup started to shiver as the other completed the inspection on her axe. When she finished, the teen’s mouth opened and closed several times before a single word came out of her mouth.

“Thanks.” It was mumbled out.

Hiccup watched as she walked way. She sighed, she wanted to see Mïdir again.

Chapter Text

Mïdir like Midnight.

On the earlier days of their friendship, Hiccup considered naming the night fury “Toothless”. It was a harmless name, after one of the dragon’s odd capabilities, yet she decided not to after enough pondering.

A name is a promise after all.

And she wanted better for Mïdir.

One could take a look at her, a veritable walking fishbone, and see how she came to that conclusion. She was a hiccup through and through, long bony limbs, no flesh and even less muscle, should she want to eat more, she would find herself disappointed by her meager appetite.

Mïdir would not suffer the premature loss of his teeth if she could help it.

The wind on her hair made it easy to push the thoughts away, underneath her Mïdir glided in place, bound by a rope on a large, old tree trunk. After a couple more wingbeats, Hiccup smiled, the pedal seemed to work wonders to fold and raise the tail correctly and, bit by bit, she noted down each one of the positions.

They tried once more, the wind picking strength, but Hiccup lurched forward when a loud snap reached her ears, Mïdir flew back violently, and she had to choke back both screams and fear, out of control, they went thumbling on the soft grass behind.

Hiccup and Mïdir both complained in their own ways, dragon and human, but as the night fury tried to sit, Hiccup realized she had fallen off the saddle, pulled along like a fish on a hook. Reaching into it, she tried to pull the ring off the hook, but it did not bulge. She peered up.

The fall had bashed the hook down, both pieces linked like chainmail.

“Great.”

The metal had really been locked together, no amount of pulling made the thick rings yield their new positions. Hiccup hissed as she considered the options, she needed tools that she did not have anywhere but the forge, never minding the fact that she did not even know what tool she might end up needing. Cutting the rope binding her and Mïdir would do Hiccup no good, as she had to straighten the hook to secure herself off and on the saddle. She could try to remove the saddle from Mïdir’s back, but she feared undoing the hard work she had already done until then.

Finally, finally, making Mïdir able to fly again was within her reach.

The dragon nudged her, and she ran her hand through his snout. A new idea made Hiccup pause and she was even startled at how unhinged and dangerous it was, a dragon inside the village? She laughed before realizing that, maybe, they could pull it off. Night would fall soon and with the cover of darkness a Night Fury could get alarmingly close without being detected, hogging the whole workshop as everyone was having dinner was more feasible than one could expect.

Am I really doing this? She paused as Mïdir pushed her with his head, encouraging her to move. She raised back on the dragon’s back and decided that they could do some glides to pass the time.

Her mind would one day be her damnation, she was sure of it.

Their predicament encouraged Hiccup to use the cord linking them as a lead, they had landed down on the edge of the trees near the village, the shadows as deep as Mïdir’s scales, sheltering them both.

The girl had led Mïdir through the most obscure paths she knew and yet, there she was: pulling the cord again after a man bid her goodnight. They had crossed less than a handful of Vikings, but her heart had leaped to her throat each time. Hiccup had hidden Mïdir in the shadows of houses, behind carts and walls until they had, at last, stepped inside the unlit sanctuary of the forge. Mïdir had been wonderfully quiet all the way there, and Hiccup had more than once chased away the urge to praise him.

She picked a simple, thick prong made of hard iron and guided Mïdir to the depths of the workshop, his tail noisily knocked down a bucket, but Hiccup didn’t pray it any mind, they were already there. No one would see.

Hiccup pushed all her weight on the prong for leverage and it quickly wedged itself between the hook and ring, simpler than she had thought, now she only needed to press down to raise the bent hook.

Hiccup should have paid more mind to all the noise. “Hiccup! Are you in there?” A voice called out and Hiccup almost choked on her own breath. Mïdir immediately tensed, fixing his dark grey eyes on the closed window, and in the screaming enclosure of her mind, she gathered the foresight to shout. “In a moment!”

With panicked steps she made Mïdir crouch down on the shadow of the windowsill as far away from sight as possible, hoping that only opening the right side of the window would keep him absolutely covered.

When she met the eyes outside, Hiccup almost cursed out loud. Loki is tormenting me, I’m sure of it. “Hi, hey, Astrid- What are you doing were this late? Gobber is having dinner right now?”

Astrid narrowed her eyes. “I should be asking you that. What are you doing in the dark?”

Hiccup leaned on the windowsill, clapping her hands together in hopes that it would hide their trembling. “I’m just preparing things, you know? For the next raid, you never know when one of those could happen.” Hiccup thought it was a good excuse, sort of, and that it would pacify Astrid’s curiosity. To her horror the only thing that faded was the animosity.

“Alone?” The girl shot back.

“Yep.” When Astrid didn’t bulge, she started to ramble. “It helps me sleep. Sometimes I only get out that door when my mind isn’t running like a herd of spooked sheep, no matter how long that takes- It can take long.” It wasn’t like that was a lie either. A habit made, perhaps, in part by the nightly attacks on the village, after the body knew how to stay awake from sunset to sunrise, it would sometimes stay awake in silence.

Astrid blinked at her, the suspicion in her eyes simmering to embers. “Really? I didn’t notice.” Normally Astrid’s tone was stony, guarded, no nonsense, in that moment, however, it was almost casual, Hiccup’s heart dived and dipped inside her chest.

Did someone ever? Her eye twitched, and Hiccup pushed that bitterness down. She didn’t like when her mind did that. “Well, yeah? I guess I can be pretty sneaky when I want.” After saying that Hiccup wanted to slap herself across the head.

Only she and Mïdir were on the know though, the dragon’s tail hit her ankles. Astrid looked at her confusedly. “If you say so. How often does-“ she cut herself off to gesture at Hiccup and the forge. “-this happen?”

Was that genuine interest? Hiccup was taken aback, for an instant she thought that Astrid may want to ask about what she was doing during dragon training, confronting her in the dark, but the conversation would never get there if this was the direction Astrid wanted to take. “Sometimes a month, I guess. It’s the best way to keep busy, there are so many bent and dull weapons all the time. You wouldn’t believe how fast some guy can twist all our weapons in new and exciting shapes. Most can’t pronounce the number me and Gobber have to fix in two days.” Bucket struggling to say one-hundred and eleven always got a chuckle out of her.

To her shock, a snort came from the blonde, Astrid was shaking her head with a slight smirk. “Yeah, I can believe that.” She leaned back and, while her smile quickly disappeared, her stance was more relaxed than it had ever been around Hiccup. “Well, I’ll leave you to… doing your thing.”

“Y-yeah, thanks.” Hiccup’s goodbye was jerky. “… Goodnight.”

Astrid only threw a short wave before walking away, Hiccup felt that a fever dream had just ended, had Astrid been nice to me? She turned to find Mïdir peering at her, Hiccup felt a little bad for just leaving him there, waiting while her attempt to distract Astrid had gotten off track, the other girl’s presence was unique in straying her mind like that.

She tentatively closed the window and again guided Mïdir to the back of the forge, this time taking care not to knock anything over. From there setting the saddle right was simple, relatively speaking, it still took an hour to return the hook to its previous state.

By sunrise they were long gone.

Chapter Text

Everything we know about dragons is wrong.

Hiccup’s mind was consumed by the realization, she leaned over her table in thought, chest still waving, it had been hours since she and Mïdir had almost fallen off the sky, but her heart refused to truly settle.

So did her mind, she still remembered the little scales of the Terror under her fingertips.

The fact that her father was back did not help matters.

Everything they knew about dragons was wrong, she looked at the sketches of Mïdir from the corner of her eye, no longer the sharp chops of a dragon seemed frightening or intimidating to her, as some primal instinct had faded, the features of her best friend were now only soothing.

She fidgeted with her pencil, the crude coal tip brushing the wood with each descent. Dragons are not evil. She smooched her cheek on the wood of the table.

They are not.

It all quieted when she heard steps, she rose from the table blindingly fast when the hulking form of Stoick the Vast crossed the threshold.

“Father!” She stuttered, desperately pushing all her sketches behind her back. “You are back!” She choked on her next words, trying, and praying, to not let her father’s gaze stray. “Gobber is not here, so-“

“I know.” Two words from him and she was swallowing down hers, his voice was as grave and commanding as his everything else and the door gave away to his massive form with a stretch and the creaking of wood.

He adjusted his helmet. “I came looking for you.” He locked his dark gaze with hers.

“You did?” Her voice was still brittle, being so tall meant that her father could clearly see behind her, but he paid to all the drawings the same amount of attention he ever did. Her heart fell when it should feel more secure.

He never paid any thought to the inventions of her mind.

“You have been keeping secrets.” Maybe he did this time. Hiccup leaned over the table. It did not matter if the drawings were plain to see if she was losing the strength to stand up. “I have- I have?”

“Just how long could you think you could hide it from me?” He leaned forward.

“I-“ Her hands started to shake. All her next words were slow. “I don’t know what you are ta-“

“Nothing-“ He cut her again, Hiccup flinched, scared out of her wits, her body urged her to run. “-happens on this island without me hearing about it.” He declared like a sentence over her head.

“Oh.” She squeaked, looking through the corners of her eyes.

“So.” He walked up to her, the sheer heat radiating from his body was suffocating. “Let’s talk about that dragon.”

It was as if the chief of the village had used his enormous strength to pull Midgard itself from under her feet. Barely able to stand upright, a book she had closed escaped from her grasp, her elbow hit the table painfully, but the tears that threatened to gather in her eyes had nothing to do with that pain.

“Oh gods,” How was I so careless, so stupid. “Father I’m so sorry, I, I- was going to tell you.” She was lying, she noted. “I just didn’t know how to-“

Then, what cut her will to talk at its knees was not words or screams or the punch to her traitorous mug that she had expected, no. None of that came from Stoick the Vast.

It was laughter.

First low, but then full bellied, her father had to secure his hands on his waist to support such noise. Hiccup’s responding laugh was instinctive and fake in every way that stopped her from throwing up.

She couldn’t help but ask. “You, you, you are not upset?”

“What?” He exclaimed, leaning down with a big smile. “I was hoping for this!”

She had lost him. “I-” She quirked a brow. “You were?”

“And believe me, it only gets better! Just wait till you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time.” Any elation building on her breast shriveled and died as Stoick started to describe another act of unimaginable violence. “And mount your first Gronckle head on a spear. What a feeling!” Then he smacked her on the shoulder, and for a moment Hiccup wished he had just given her that punch.

“You really had me going there, daughter. All those years of the worst Viking Berk has ever seen! Odin, it was rough. I almost gave up on you!” You did! She did not have the strength to dampen those thoughts. The voice in her head was just her own. You and everyone! You all gave up on the “Worst Viking Berk has ever seen”. She fought not to cry, her mind unable to keep up with everything that was happening.

“And all the while, you were holding out on me! Thor almighty!” Her father grabbed a stool and sat. His massive frame nearly filling all her sight.

“Ahhhhh. With you doing so well in the ring, we finally have something to talk about.” He sounded expectant almost, but poor Hiccup couldn’t tell that apart from the buzzing in her ears.

As he stared, she struggled not to break, to scream or cry or simply drop dead, the mess the mind became worse than the twin’s most feverish dream. She wanted a way out—needed it. Finally, he had said, Hiccup could not say how exactly that word had slotted itself inside her head, but it was as if a part of her heart had died.

She looked up, but no Valkyrie came.

The voice of Stoick the Vast sounded again. “Oh, I...” Only then Hiccup was jolted from her stupor, realizing that she was supposed to say anything and how long the silence had extended. “I brought you something.” He handed her something familiar, a helmet, one that he shoved in her hands.

“To keep you safe in the ring.”

The helmet was the mark of a true Viking. “Wow. Thanks.” Hiccup hoped she did not sound as numb as she felt.

“Your mother would've wanted you to have it. It’s half of her breast plate.” Well, that’s uncomfortable. Hiccup grimaced as Stoick knocked on his own helmet and explained. “Matching set. Keeps her close, y'know?”

They did not seem to match at all but that did not deter the chief. “Wear it proudly. You deserve it. You've held up your end of the deal.” He beamed at her with pride, but Hiccup had little more than one thought running through her mind.

What deal? She felt so incredibly lost, like the man was speaking to her of another girl entirely.

She could not take it anymore. She rested the helmet on the table and faked a yawn, throwing her arms back, desperate to dispel their trembling. “I should really get to bed.” The drowsiness in her voice was lousy to the extreme.

“Yes. Good. Of course.” He started, Hiccup nodding desperately at every word. “Well... uh... good night.” He walked to the door.

“…Night.” She gurgled in a breath, after Stoick disappeared from her sight Hiccup still heard a series of clanks outside, but then they faded.

When Hiccup came back to herself, she realized that she was feebly trying to support herself on her table, chest waving up and down, and up and down, drawing breath so hard it hurt. She tried to blink through her tears, but soon more descended the valley of her cheeks. Trying to calm her breath made it worse, all she got in response was ugly sobbing that seemed to wreck the rest of her inhibitions.

Hiccup deigned herself to press her forehead to the table as she cried, running her hands so brashly over her hair that it ached and prickled, she grabbed the brown locks and pulled, so that the pain would distract her.

Her elbow knocked something hard, she turned to see the sharp horns of the helmet. The next moment she had thrown the thing to the floor with all her strength, the small moss it got had barely been worth the trouble. Hiccup slid to the floor, having lost all the strength in her knees, each new breath less gasping.

She hugged her knees and cried silently, her eyes staring forward but unseeing. The true mark of a Viking could not catch her eyes.

Chapter Text

The next days were weird, she had to use the forge on the crack of dawn to evade all the people wanting to talk to her. Often that turned out to be before the sun even rose, weirdly enough, that lead to more encounters such as this.

“Do you need anything more?” Hiccup asked nervously, as an icy gaze carelessly cut through her. Astrid rested her chin on her hands.

“You have been here really early.” She said in disregard of her previous question. At this point that didn’t even bother Hiccup, she had caught on fast that who lead the conversation would be who Astrid wanted to lead the conversation. This time it was herself.

“It is… quieter this early.” she simply said, stuttering in the middle. Hiccup did not want to explain more, this was the third time Astrid had stopped by the forge this time of the day, and not once the words they exchanged had strayed to what had been happening inside the walls of the arena. Hiccup wanted to keep it that way.

Astrid only hummed and Hiccup couldn’t help but cringe, instead of getting more used to the other’s presence, her palms insisted on sweating the longer Astrid paid attention on her, such as now, and that made it harder for Hiccup to work on the bolas. The other girl brushed her golden bangs back.

“The funerals will be today.” Astrid’s tone was no less sure, but it was softer. Somber. “Fishlegs said that they were preparing five ships.”

So was the number of new Vikings in Valhalla, the search for the nest had been another chapter in a volume of defeats. Hiccup took a deep breath, she couldn’t have possibly known that with her father’s elated demeanor, but soon word of the dead spread through the people on Berk as fast as the tales of Hiccup’s own exploits spread through the ones that returned. The fresh stares were starting to borrow themselves under her skin.

“Will you come?” Astrid suddenly asked.

Hiccup turned her head to her. She had to admit she had lost herself a little. “What?”

“To the funerals.”

Hiccup had to remember the talk she had with Gobber and her father, the latter, more than he had ever done, insisted for her to come, to say farewell to “her people”. When he leaned into her space she had shamefully flinched, it made her agree too quickly.

“Yeah, I am. I, actually- my father already asked me that.” Her words were fumbled, and she struggled to tie the knots on the bolas as hard as Gobber said they should be tied. She considered not doing the right knot, if the bolas were faulty then the dragons could escape.

Perhaps.

“Do you want help with that?” Flinching at Astrid’s voice had already become old, Hiccup kicked herself right after. Astrid had raised her posture a little, and she clearly awaited an answer.

“You want to help me?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief away from her voice, at that, Astrid raised a brow in a way that quickly made her change her tone. “If- if you don’t mind, I guess?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Astrid replied dryly, and the sarcasm got a tiny snort out of Hiccup. She brought the bola to the windowsill so the blonde could help her from outside the forge.

She held one of the edges of the rope with the tips of her fingers. “It’s already tied right. I just need you to pull with all the strength you have.” She wagged the end of the bowline knot.

The smirk Astrid gave her made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, it broke so completely through her hard expression that Hiccup barely managed not to gasp. Her throat bobbed as Astrid took the rope from her fingers, the teen bracing her other hand over the metal edge of the bola.

The loud creaking that came from the rope moments later had her eyes shoot wide open, Hiccup took in the scene: Astrid’s muscles threatening to jump out of her skin, the strain on the rope becoming more apparent as the fibers were stretched with more power than Hiccup could ever manage.

“Hey, hey, Thor in a skirt, ease! You will rip the rope in half.” Awe and astonishment bled into her rushed words. Fortunately, Astrid stopped right after, but Hiccup did not understand why she was returning the bewildered expression.

Astrid rectified that soon enough. “Did you just call me “Thor in a skirt”?”

Hiccup’s mind blanked, unbelieving the very words that had come out of her mouth. She hadn’t thought them through, in that moment the way Astrid had pulled the rope so hard it almost broke was very much like Gobber’s own way of strongarming the knots secured. Clearly, the familiarity made the casual banter she usually had with the man leak onto her words.

Hiccup squeezed her eyes shut, her own body could not decide if it wanted to pale or flush, she probably had a messy combination of the two.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Even as she tried to play it dumb, like it hadn’t been a big deal, the cracks in her voice were telling.  Astrid was not meeting her eyes anymore, furthermore her shoulders started to quake. Hiccup’s first instinct was to think that the reason was rage, but a better look soon confirmed that was not the case.

Astrid poorly tried to contain her laughter as Hiccup stared. “That’s ridiculous.” The girl managed to snicker.

Hiccup sought to keep the expression on her face. “Comparing you with the god of thunder himself?” She gestured to the girl’s clothes. “I think he would like the metal spikes; they look quite shiny. Hmmn, yes.” Hiccup nodded very seriously. “They could poke a warrior’s eye out, I’m sure he would appreciate it.” That earned her a snort that Hiccup took in with no small amount of pleasure.

Astrid smirked. “Thor would like my spikes?”

“Love them, actually. I already see it: Thor would ride his chariot though the storm, see his enemy and drop on them sitting.” She made a casual gesture. “Then get up, clean the spikes and walk away.”

Astrid snorted and picked a leather strip with the aforementioned metal edges. “I’m not sure these can be used like that?”

“’Not sure’, that means that didn’t try it yet.”

“To kill with my behind?”

Hiccup shrugged a single shoulder. “Amongst other things.”

Astrid brushed a stray lock behind her ear, a smile stretching her lips. “That’s the craziest idea I’ve heard.”

“My creativity is, in fact, unending.” Hiccup easily shoot back.

Astrid rolled her eyes at her, but with no malice, then glanced over her shoulder and froze, the sun had already risen, and more and more villagers got on streets. Hiccup even heard some of them talk about her, which made her stomach clench painfully.

“Well then.” Astrid leaned away from the forge and Hiccup immediately felt the loss. “I guess I will be seeing you around.”

“Yeah- I mean, sure, see you later.” She said, fearing in what circumstances they would be meting again. Hiccup could only watch her go.

Later that very day Hiccup stood by her father on the tallest point near the docks, most of the village was in attendance for ceremonies, five boats were about to set sail, no matter that only three actually carried bodies. There was nothing to recover from the other two.

Stoick stepped forward and every pair of eyes gave attention to his imposing figure, he addressed the crowd in solemn tone. “On this day we say goodbye to strong men and women, those that hard fought for their friends and families, those who bled and bared their weapons in their final moments, will be rewarded with Valhalla!” He roared and the crowd responded in kind, clamoring for the great hall where they should stand by their ancestors until the end of all worlds.

“Their spirit will not have been for naught, that I assure you.” He increased his emphasis on every word said. “No, never! They paved the way that leads to the heart of terror and when we find it…” He had not been speaking of her heart, but Hiccup felt it was as such, the words a bloody weapon with the razor to her throat.

Stoick next words were seethed, a serpent’s tongue promising ruin.

“We will. Bleed. It. Dry!”

Hiccup was glad the frenzy of the crowd drowned any thought that she could possibly have, for her own type of frenzy would be an unsightly visage. Hiccup kept trying to swallow her spit through a clinching throat.

She should be mourning the dead, bidding them her farewell like every other Viking present, but for the life of her, she could not. She could only imagine Mïdir, his smooth scales ripped out by the hands of the crowd—the people that she was one day supposed to lead. Their call for blood and guts echoed in her ears even as it had long passed, reminding her of the gruesome fates Stoick had joyfully recalled days ago. They would do that to him, that and more, the deathly offspring of night and Hel herself would suffer the worst nightmares the mind of men could conjure.

When she thought of what she would do if push came to shove, the answer that occurred didn’t came close to scaring her, however. No matter if it should, no matter if it opposed everything that anyone had ever believed in.

That day, as Berk mourned the loss on their own, Hiccup stared at the ships turning to ash in the distance, unable to a worthy thought for anything not made of claw and scale.

Chapter Text

Her insides had clenched when her eyes had met Astrid’s outside the arena that very morning. The previous day had been a short respite after the funeral, the air still tasting of wet cinder, but by then the blonde’s demeanor had already been as closed off from her as it had been weeks ago. Hiccup knew it was coming, and today it was even worse, Astrid’s face was a stone mask with swords for eyes.

They had entered the arena together, but Hiccup, unwisely even by Viking standards, had stared at her father as the Gronckle was released. She was wearing the helmet today, knowing deep down that it had been only to please him, for the only thing it really shielded was sight away from her eyes. It was so big that her head swam in it.

Hiccup really started doubting her father’s breastplate story, the girl had gotten some odd stories of Valka from Gobber, but the man had never described her mother as… well endowed, for a lack of better wording.

In the moment, she was taking shelter from the Gronckle behind one of the many palisades scattered on the arena. Using mere wooden planks to escape a dragon’s fury was a short relief from the fire, which was clearly working as intended.

Hoping beyond hope that Astrid would make quick work of this, she swallowed her pity for the Gronckle at the end of the other’s wrath. Hiccup didn’t want to win this by any measure. The idea of hurting the Gronckle was sickening, the idea killing the Monstruous Nightmare was sickening, even the idea of seeing red coat Astrid’s iron was sickening, but it would not be the blood Hiccup drew, none the less.

A coward’s way out, a stray thought whispered. Hiccup’s lips quivered.

There was the fleeting reassurance that her father would be pleased even if she did not win, her achievements inside these walls were but fanciful illusions, she knew that, but he didn’t and, maybe, would never have to. What would be her life from then on was a new kind of mystery, but she didn’t want to dwell on it now.

Hiccup knew it would find her soon enough.

Her back leaned with the palisade when it rocked back, and she flinched when her eyes met Astrid’s, her presence fresh from a sideways roll.

Their eyes met and Hiccup hadn’t time to blink before the other girl rashly gripped the edge of her shield, pushing it down as leverage to get dangerously close to her face. Astrid’s lips peeled back, like preparing to spit venom. And yet she stopped. Frozen in place like a statue, ice and stone eyes suspended by each other, like the cold rocks on the shores of Berk.

The sneer disappeared like a sword being seethed and, incredibly, Astrid seemed to think beyond her initial judgement.

“Just…” Her tone was so settled, not unkind. Hiccup could only gape. “Stay here, and out of my way, alright?”

“Y-yeah, sure. Of course.” She awkwardly waved her axe-gripping hand forward. “Go at it.”

She was gone as she came, moving through palisades as swift as the wind, and Hiccup’s eyes couldn’t help but trail after her. Astrid Hofferson, expertly distributing the weight of her axe as she rolled, was the peak of Viking prowess: quick, powerful, and skilled. She is going to win, Hiccup relieved herself of some of the weight pressing through her skull. Yet, she was overcome with a surprising wave of melancholy, but she knew why this time, Astrid really was the shieldmaiden Hiccup could never be, that her father wanted her to be.

Hiccup moved a bit away from shelter so she could look at him and found the man with his eyes already on her, motioning with his head forward, an encouraging smile in his bearded face. Hiccup swallowed, put a little distance between her and the wood barrier, shield in front of her and axe loosely gripped in her right hand. She crouched and moved deliberately to the side, it looked like she was to participate in the fight, a tale-weaver’s farce.

Hiccup prayed to Týr that Astrid would put a swift end to this, there was only so long she could pretend.

Said girl swung at the Gronckle, a measured swipe, parallel to the ground, that clipped the scales in its side, it breathed fire with a roar of pain and fury, but Astrid had already rolled away, the palisade cleansed by the fire had been shielding no one.

Hiccup tried to hide her wince, the dragons enclosed in the arena shrieked in response to the Gronckle’s pain, a reptilian chorus, she could even hear the Nadder thrashing against the reenforced door. And she became afflicted by worry, how bad is the wound? Hiccup remembered the gentle eyes she had seen when her hand had offered it Dragon Nip, the lovely amber of a trader’s jewels. The memory made her crane her neck, eyes frenetically searching its side.

She saw only a cut in scales, barely deep enough for blood, like a cut on the rocks. Hiccup found her relief, and the Gronckle’s eyes found hers.

She froze, the slitted orbs were frantic, and anger filled. It headed in her direction; the buzz of fly-like wings drove her mind into a scrambling mess. It was not the first time this happened, yet the dragon seemed more out of it than ever before, like a mutt frothing white at the mouth. Her hold on her axe was about to give, the Gronckle likes the spot underneath the jaw, her thoughts sounded whimpery. Her bear-fur vest, the expensive fitting of an heir, could not temper the chills running up her spine. Her fingers twitched, the spasm of spider-legs.

Then she started to whistle.

Low tone and melodic like one of the birds that nestle deep in the forest, the ones with bright feather-ends. Mïdir had been enraptured the first time he heard her, precious, stone eyes wide, his gaze drifting between her and the canopy of a tree where the birds sung in the wee hours of the morning. Then he started circling around her, an ear-appendage almost pressed to her lips, his cute frustration when she started to giggle.

The Gronckle was not dissimilar in its reaction, but slower, a sluggish fire-splitter in every regard. The wings had carried its body some feet near her, and its eyes were wide now, head tilted in the confused wonder she had bet into.

Outside the arena Viking had their own roars, cheering for the girls locked inside with the fire breathing beast. She recognized Gobber’s voice in it, the dragged “Get it lass!” of his familiar baritone.

She suppressed a shudder, angled her axe away from both of them, the sharp head grazing the ground, the slightest whisper of metal, and counted the seconds until the pupils of the Gronckle widened, recognition blossoming as it stared at her face, hidden under the shadow of the helmet.

One of the wing-ears of the dragon twitched and Hiccup stopped whistling when the sound of planks rattling became more apparent, seeing a bright shadow darting between covers. Astrid was closing in.

The Gronckle saw as well and came closer to Hiccup as response, oblivious to the way the human’s mind blanked. The iron of Astrid’s weapon caught in the sunlight, and fear set soft, human skin alight with fear, not for herself, but the trembling dragon, woefully weak and depleted and tired. It was terrifyingly easy to envision the arc the axe would carve in the sky itself and then into flesh, cutting away to reap life off of scales.

Hiccup’s hand was under the Gronckle’s chin, and she couldn’t remember putting the axe down, but, in the other, the shield covered what she was doing. She hit the spot, pressed hard enough to bruise her fingers, and the dragon dropped from flight, knocking down her shield in its descent, tipping her to the side, helmet flying away as a rattling battle cry reached her ears.

When rightened herself, the Gronckle was belly up on the floor, the crowd was howling a deafening cheer, and Astrid, ice eyes so, so incredulous, stared gapingly at her, axe and body stopped cold.

Hiccup watched—she could only watch—as Astrid’s face fell, her whole body did, sagging and shocked. And her expression morphed into anger, bright and furious, but also frustration and outrage, and loss and sadness.

Astrid Hofferson looked like defeat.

And Hiccup felt ill, looked down at the twitching Gronckle. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Wait! Wait.” Stoick the Vast addressed the crowd behind her. Not hearing him, Hiccup watched Astrid’s muscles stiffen and hands shaking with rage as they gripped the axe like a lifeline.

Their eyes met, and Hiccup started to step back. “I- I, I’m- “ She wanted out of there, out of the killing ring of Vikings and dragons. She backed out but instead got lifted by the scuff of her tunic.

“Not so fast.” Gobber said as he placed her down to face Gothi, gazing down at them. Where did he come from? Hiccup despaired, wanting to rip herself off of him.

“I- I have to go.” Her words barely stuttered, and her shaking became worse when a feverish voice reached her ear.

“Where? Where could you possibly have to go right now?” Hiccup’s heart almost gave out at the venom in Astrid’s voice, she turned to find the blonde in all but her face, eyes colder than Niflheim itself.

There was no answer she could give the other girl and, as a small mercy, she didn’t have to even pretend; her father’s was the law. “Okay, quiet down!”

“The elder has decided.” He spoke.

They all stood to attention, turning to old Gothi, dwarfed by the brawn of a dozen Viking warriors, looking down on them from outside. Gobber stood behind both girls, then raised his hook over Astrid’s head.

Please. Hiccup’s mind wheezed like a dying animal. Please.

But Gothi shook her head, and her soul went with it.

The crowd gasped. Hiccup stole a glance, saw the way Astrid’s eyes widened, face devoid of feeling, and was dimly aware of the shadow of Gobber hand over her own head.

And Gothi nodded.

Hiccup closed her eyes like those who mourn do, felt it in her teeth the way Astrid ground hers, face closed, perhaps now forever to her. Because Hiccup knew, knew that this was important to Astrid, knew even some of the reasons why, and felt all the guilt, starting to lick at her mind, growing thrice over.

What have I done? She asked herself, not only because of Astrid, but for herself, for Mïdir, for the fear of spilling the blood of the innocent.

“Oh, ye have done it!” Gobber lopped his remaining arm around the waist of his apprentice, delirious with joy for her, genuine and sweet enough to hurt, citrus over a gaping wound. “Ye have done it, Hiccup! Ye get to kill the dragon!” He shook her in in a cheer.

No, I can’t! She felt that in her bones. Surety, both sad and bitter, that drew the scattered specks of  her will together. I will not kill a dragon. It was her truth and her ruin. She could not feel her face. The realization that there was only one path she could take—Hiccup could see it in her mind’s eye, pitch black and scaled.

Berk was cheering for her, Snotlout and Tuffnut and Ruffnut hauled her over Fishlegs’ shoulder, the boy walking in a parade intended for her victory, the fact that they would never do this before not lost on her.

“Haha, that’s my girl!” Her father grinned at her, congratulated her from behind the prison of the arena, smile wider than she had ever seen it.

“Yeah.” She cracked, but could not manage a smile, or at least she thought not, the thing that her face curled into did not feel like a smile. And the cheering was so incredibly loud, she could not even hear herself.

“Yes.” Hiccup gasped, tried to raise a fist. “I can’t wait.”

Mïdir. Mïdir. She repeated in her mind, for now she knew their fate, together they would be at last . Her best friend was her comfort, the only from then forward.

Chapter Text

Hiccup counted her breaths, then counted more, starting again, until Fishlegs let her down and the crowd gave up on suffocating her with praise, opening the slightest gap only a walking fishbone like her could squeeze through.

And Hiccup ran, while waving away everyone, without direction and foresight, not caring where her legs would carry. To Helheim with it.

She followed the suspended wooden walkways of the port, winding down in the oldest and most scarred parts of Berk, on the shadowed back of the Great Hall, where houses remained charred, and stone cracked, and the cravings cut on the mountain side layered with sot and ash.

Her gaze found engravings from over a century ago and more, perhaps old as the village itself. Her ancestors were clad in armor and iron and horns of helmets from dragons and beasts only found in the depths of the Yggdrasil. They had in common the might of someone larger than life, a presence palpable enough to be eternalized in stone-likeness, however covered by time.

She uncovered it with the tips of trembling fingers, dragging more on the wall as her pace fizzled out, her small chest quacking with the effort of every breath. She laid her hands upon the carvings but could draw none of the strength she had seen there. “No… no, no, no.” Hiccup shook her head as she muttered, a pitiful attempt to deny reality. Her eyes threatened to spill water over her face.

Her head tilted low and limp, the tips of her fingers pale like ice. She tried to focus on the outside of her head, on her green tunic and too big pants, the fine hairs in her boots, her feet felt cold and numb, but still clammy. The breeze was pleasant, the sky silver with clouds.

She leant on the wall, the top of the skull pressed to a sword handle of an old warrior, and kept breathing, methodical and slow, until she felt utterly boneless. Maybe she could not even manage to be a fishbone in the end.

“How did you do it?” The words so clearly reached her ears when she could hear her desperation no longer. It was rattling soundlessly inside her skull.

She swiveled her neck and found Astrid, her back to the silver light of the sun, shoulder-pads gleaming white hot. A warrior with a settled face, stone cold of determination, on the edge of the wooden path like she had fallen from the sky.

Retrieve your Valkyrie Freyja, the thought came umprompted.

“How did I do what?” She rasped, feet steadier on the ground but infinitely more tired, her body resting on the wall even more, a propped-up thin board, uncaring of the dirt matting her furs.

Astrid frowned harder, and she took a step forward. “Do not play dumb with me. I know something is up, maybe they can’t see it, but what you did is not normal.” Another step, as if she wanted to close the distance between them torturously slow.

Hiccup’s next breath was shuddering, thoughts scattered, but knowing one thing, that despite all the sourness and vitriol radiating from Astrid, she was, by all means, absolutely right.

“Not even your father can do something like that, I’ve never heard of any Viking doing something like that.” She tried to catch Hiccup’s eyes, to fix them in place with ice.  “So how?”

Suddenly, she wanted to laugh. Barely managed not to. “Never hear of a Viking doing that huh?” Hiccup muttered, half detached and certainly not expecting an answer. Astrid clearly understood that. Her arms crossed tightly over the woolen blue. Waiting.

 “… I guess that makes sense.”

Astrid arched a golden brow. “What does make sense?”

Long overdue, perhaps, a morose and stilted awareness started to lap at the forefront of her mind. It laced her bones with iron, the brittle kind, but iron, nonetheless. Propping her psyche on it, Hiccup stood straighter, just barely to properly face Astrid and sparring the murals from her clawing. “You are… absolutely right Astrid, no Viking would do that, it’s not…” She gesticulated, still a little lost—the conclusion was revealing, but not magic. “… the way, you know?”

Astrid leaned back, taken by surprise, confusion clearly written on her face. Yet it passed quickly, a new doubt arising. “The way?”

“You know.” Hiccup shook her head, searching to properly explain herself. “Wielding a weapon, a shield. Being strong and skilled and fearless.” She counted, and then it was her own eyes seeking inside Astrid’s, those impossible blues. “The things you do. The things I don’t- well, more like can’t do."

Astrid seemed to both uncoil and get even angrier. “If you are trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.” She leaned into her, took another step inside her space, only a little more and they would be able to reach each other.

“No.” Hiccup shook her head. “There is not making it better, for me or you.”

The eye shadowed by the bangs seemed particularly fuming. “You have it better. You get to kill the Nightmare.”

“I’ll not.”

Hiccup’s sudden words pressed on the air like a giant’s foot and, for their trouble, were met with silence. This time she didn’t shy away from looking at the blonde, seeing the words land inside her head, how high her brows jumped. “What does that even mean?” She started. “You won.”

“I suppose.”

Just beyond arm’s reach, Astrid leaned in, insisted. “So, you get to kill the Nightmare.”

“No.”

Astrid blinked once, then did it again, unwinding all her muscles, now bewildered beyond any rage. “What does that mean?” Then her arms gesticulated around, to convey sarcasm, perhaps. “What are you going to do then, forfeit?”

Mind more in tune than ever, Hiccup didn’t even blink. “Something like that.”

Aghast is the word Hiccup would use to describe her latter, because, for the first time in her life, she saw Astrid Hofferson splutter. “Wha- what?” She finally took a step back, Hiccup’s verbal barrage at last landing a staggering blow. “You can’t give up on- on something like that, are you crazy?”

A more mischievous part of herself found Astrid’s lack of composure particularly endearing, it was detached, however, the feeling just skimming over her brain. Crazy, huh? Well, with everything I have been doing… “Probably.”

Poor Astrid though, she clearly didn’t know what to do with herself, still as a statue, but Hiccup had the vivid impression she would pace if she could, if two steps left wouldn’t end into a watery abyss. Her mouth opened and closed like a beached fish, no words reaching her lips, and her eyes stared, searching.

Hiccup took a couple of deep breaths, fire fanning to cinder, her own resolutions turning tiring, like the drop after fleeing from a Nadder. She felt lightheaded, almost.

“I- Hiccup?” Came a tentative voice, and the girl in question realized that her gaze had turned unseeing. She blinked and saw the girl that had come to the forge at the crack of dawn, shoulders untensed, face shy of open, bangs windswept. Astrid. Just Astrid.

She was nice to look at, no matter how unfamiliar this one expression was.

“Look… it’s fine.” A hand adjusted the spikes of her skirt, voice impossibly soft. “I just- let it get to me.” Hiccup’s chest clenched painfully. She had never seen Astrid like this. “I wanted to win, it’s that. I really thought that I would win, so it’s hard to accept that it didn’t go as planned.”

She was almost rambling.

Oh. Hiccup realized then; sight as distorted as a spyglass. She sounds worried.

“No, no.” Hiccup tried to placate her, both arms raised. “It’s just what is fair, I believe. You have been training all these years, why would I deserved to win after barely trying this whole time?” I have been trying, she lamented, I tried so hard. “Really I-“ She swallowed, throat suddenly tight and eyes prickling hot. “I have had enough; I don’t think I received this much praise my whole life. Everything will be fine for me now, after a performance like that.” Hiccup tried to shrug it off, but it probably looked like something a dizzy chicken would do.

It was easy to tell, however, that the words didn’t blend well with Astrid’s beliefs. Her hands clenching over and again, the corners of the lips turned down. She eventually expressed her dissent. “That’s… that is not how it works.” Her voice was higher than it had been a moment ago, but no less temperate. “Just-“

“Astrid.” Hiccup dared to cut her off, taking two steps forward. She wouldn’t be able to take any reassurance from Astrid. She would break. So, Hiccup set her hands on the other’s upper arms, felt the warm skin beneath, how her muscles jumped. Hiccup looked up, to the newness of Astrid’s conflicted and tenderly surprised expression and tried to weave the most soothing tone she could. “Believe me, alright? I would never be able to face the Nightmare without, you know, completely losing my mind. It would use me as a toothpick.” She joked and, to her absolute relief, Astrid’s lip twitched up once.

She patted her on the arm, releasing her hold and taking a step back. “Really, the Nightmare is a whole different beast, only a true warrior deserves the right to fight something like that. The honor.” Hiccup snorted, genuine. “I can barely set my axe upright.”

Astrid huffed, but she was not looking at her. “If that’s the problem I can help you with it.”

Hiccup nodded jerkily, looking over her shoulder, heart starting to pound harder, its own death march as the clouding in her thoughts was suddenly blown away. The day was burning out, and she had to move fast.

“Look, I will figure something out, alright?” She started to move back, hoping it would hide the shaking in her legs.

Astrid flinched then, cadence picking up. “Wait, Hiccup-“

“Really, Astrid, believe me this time.” Hiccup walked backwards faster, unwilling to hear Astrid speak more in that voice. “It’s going to be alright.” She tried not to gasp.

Finally, she gave the other girl her back, unable to know if more words had been proffered, not surprised that her pace broke into a run almost instantly. Frantic and long strides that were not followed.

Astrid could only watch her go.

Chapter Text

It was the third time Hiccup almost ate the floorboards. The final stretch of sundown had been a frantic dance of back and forth, a twirling of indecision and questions looping over and over inside her head. What should she take? What does she absolutely need to take? What can she find on her own? In the wild, not much, in truth.

The basics first, however. The drawings of Mïdir could not be left behind, those not crucial had quickly become ash on the fireplace. The absolute destruction of the art had been its own ruin in her chest, they had been done with care and thought, small steps in the pair’s journey.

For herself, the goods became an unending list. She had picked a waterskin of a decent size, but the fact that she could end it in a single evening was beyond concerning, so she raided one of her father’s chests, not even shying from the word, and looted the two biggest she could find, just in case.

Two new daggers, one which made its immediate way into her waist, the original was a rusty piece in a lake at this point. Furs, line, dried meat, some grain, paper, spare parts for Mïdir’s tail, some tools. All the more, trying to put everything in the basket was probably the most extensive exercise in organization she had ever done, and the lack in practice earned her a late departure and a buddying headache.

Fitting.

Hiccup strained her arms to place the basket securely at her back, the thing heavy and bloated, and double checking if she had misplaced something around. Nothing, she realized with a pause, then shuddered, gods, this really is it.

She was not cold in any measure, her fur vest was over the leathers that secured her to Mïdir’s saddle, but her fingers felt cold in spite of it. The little feeling on them made her fiddle with the handle of the back door, wincing every time it slipped, until she managed to open it, slowly, at least that.

Cost clear. The Chief’s house was relatively alone in its elevated position, a benefit of chiefdom, and all Vikings were on the Great Hall, celebrating the night away like the Ragnarök was tomorrow. Gobber had invited her to what was basically her own party, of course, but a bunch of half-formed excuses tumbled from her mouth, tiredness, nervousness, preparations for “the great day”, the works, all because she was pilfering a small hammer from the forge. The last excuse was truthful, technically, and she got the hammer anyhow.

At this point, noise was not a concern, and being seen was a small improbability, the bird’s eye view gave her a way to make sure no one was looking in her direction, that no one was outside even. Still, Hiccup very carefully stepped outside, looked in every conceivable angle, even up should a rouge dragon try anything funny, and only then slithered into the woods.

It had never been a nerve-wrecking trip before, including the days when she didn’t know Mïdir wouldn’t rip her head off, but now her knees wouldn’t stop shaking, and she had to stop herself from breaking into a run. Loki wouldn’t spare punishment for that blunder; she was sure of that.

When she reached the clearing her breath was a panting mess, like Hiccup’s mind bending itself in knots was manifesting as physical consequence. There wasn’t a better method of travel in the world than on a dragon’s back, she would bet on it, but where would she even go? Never had she heard of a place that made peace with dragons, not even in fable. She was not just exiling herself, sans Mïdir, what expected her was most likely isolation.

Gods, she was exiling herself.

“Mïdir?” Hiccup called as she scraped her way down, desperate to drown out her own spiraling thoughts. “Come here boy!”

Under the light of the moon, his scales almost flickered silver as he bounced his way to her, clearly happy, warbling all the way, his joy made her own ripple up like ricochet.

She reached her hand. “Hi.” She whispered as he leaned forward in her hold, her fingers stoking his brows, he crooned. Her next smile had teeth. “Hi buddy.” Her nails ran extensively between the divots of his scales. “H-hey.“ No matter how much she tried, her voice still cracked, then sobbed. It was like her body was crunching and breaking as her chest hollowed out. Dimly, she heard the night fury make a sound she didn’t know he was capable of as the dragon shoved, gently, his snout in her stomach, the long head propping her entire torso up. Desperately, Hiccup looped her arms around the corners of his maw, leaning her head in the slight barbs on the top of his neck. She squeezed her eyes shut and fat tears rolled down her face.

Her best friend, now and she wished for forever, made not a complaint as she wept her heart out, only nuzzling her with all the gentleness a dragon of his caliber was capable of. The steadfastness of his affection was an otherworldly anchor, gracing her mind with a new wave of conviction.

“Yeah,” she decided, rubbing her cheek on his scales one last time. “This is what is best for us.” She sniffled, leaned back and vigorously rubbed him between the eyes, just the way she knew he liked. It caught him off guard, getting out of him a pleased, whole-body shudder.

Hiccup wiped her face with a sleeve. “Thank you Mïdir.” His only response was a stare with wide, grey eyes. “I’m better now.” That was true at least, and he seemed to know it too.

She walked around him, finally taking the basket off her back, which felt heavier now, and dear, Mïdir held all the weight with only his head. That’s a strong dragon.

“At least I know it will not be a problem.” She raised it in her arms and Mïdir bent around and sniffed, curious. “No fish this time. From now on-“ she grunted as she hauled it up and looped the straps on the far end of this side of the saddle. “- we will have to fish on our own.”

He tilted his head, the universal tell for confusion, it seemed. “Yep, we are-“ She had to swallow a bit before finishing. “-leaving. We are leaving, like, forever.”

Mïdir’s response? Ear-appendages perked to maximum height, pupils turned to slits and wings dropping so suddenly they almost smacked her across the head. Hiccup almost laughed.

She poked him between the eyes, and he went so cross-eyed Hiccup had to actually laugh, a bit more hysterically than she wanted. “Yeah!” She snorted. “You are not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

While how much he came to understand her speak was debatable sometimes, he clearly caught the meaning of these words, stomping his paws on the ground and shrieking at the moon.

“Hey!” She put a finger in his face. “Party latter, you know: when we are not in the island filled with Vikings?” His jaw shut with a loud crack, but he was vibrating in place. Not stopping as he basically shoved the side she usually climbed onto her face. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She took a step back. “I just need to check your tail first.”

In the next stretch the night fury was a draconic mess of emotions: eagerness, nervousness, impatience—he bounced so hard she had to tell him to stop two times, the poor thing was delaying himself without noticing. Yet, all the gear was as pristine as it could be for being kept outside.

She would have to keep it that way, in the foreseeable future.

Hiccup let his excitement wash over her, gratefully even, as some tenseness in her shoulders all but evaporated. He would be with her all the way, either as the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, or as her best friend in the entirety of Midgard. She peered at his toothless smile and gave one back.

No turning back. Hiccup was all in.

The finality of it was light over her skin, and Hiccup reveled in the way existence itself closed in around her. Mïdir was now under her, his beastly power traveling up from her feet in the paddles, and, yes, this was the most powerful dragon known to man. She carved that truth in her mind. Hiccup felt beyond secure around him, from the first time her hand touched the scales.

There was mourning too, a hollow grip around her heart, but, as the movement of her foot made Mïdir soar with a gigantic leap, the stars seemed to envelop the earth, and a prosperous feeling had her whole being in a vice-grip.

Maybe this was what being a dragon felt like.

Chapter Text

As the air rippled through her skin, frigid in the dark, Hiccup wondered how hair was stuck to the head. It was a scattered though, no need to deny, but as Mïdir picked up speed, the might of a Night Fury unbound, the shapeless currents seemed to press her back with the might of a giant.

She felt a little weightless too, that particular impression familiar at this point, Hiccup had been making note of the occurrence any time it surged the last weeks. As sure as the rise and fall of the sun, every time Mïdir ascended too fast there went her little head into the clouds.

Literally too.

She looked over her shoulder, squinted her eyes to the light of the moon, making sure, yet again, that the basket was secure in the saddle. Maybe it was paranoia, Hiccup stared at it for a moment long enough for a strand of her hair to slither inside her mouth. She turned her head straight again and spat it back out.

Truthfully, she was expecting some hurdle, some calamity, penance for her self-inducted exile, some god would think hey, you can’t just do that; and strike them both down out of spite.

Alas, nothing like that happened. It was a perfectly nice night, with little clouds and dry in the way that made flying a leisure, that made it easy to think with the lull of wingbeats. Her travel plans were harebrained and barely sketched, which meant that they were very, very subjectable to changes.

Solid ground and fresh water. She listed. Isolated enough, but sustainable? Some trees and plants would be nice, Mïdir can fish or hunt for both of us, but I can’t just eat fish all the time. Those were the normal ponderings, the necessities of a person, but there was a more pressing concern. Where? Should we settle on a deserted island, south, east, or west? Well, not in the north, I don’t want even colder.

They could even make their way to the Great Land southeast. Mïdir would have to make stops for sure, and she would have to forage for water and firewood, but it was a temptation. Land for scores? Hiccup couldn’t even imagine it, that’s why she wanted to see it. Perhaps it would be easier for her, and they could settle by a deserted shore, so Mïdir could have his fish.

Better cross east too, with my luck we’ll drop inside Helheim’s Gate. In hindsight, that thought would be a thoroughly ruinous jinx.

Underneath her Mïdir started to shiver, as if suddenly shot by Höðr, and the worry that came with it startled Hiccup out of the circling musings. “Mïdir?” she uttered, hunching to lay a hand on his neck. The girl registered the raising jumpiness of his muscles, and her heart jumped to the throat when he shook her hand away. “Mïdir, what’s wrong?”

A useless question, a dragon could not answer her kind, and she doubted the jerky turn into the dark was one. Hiccup desperately clutched the strip of the saddle with both hands as the Night Fury picked up the speed inherent to his kin.

Hiccup’s eyes were assaulted with fog, almost beating them completely close. Instinctively, she tried to steer Mïdir upwards again yet was met with an undesirable surprise. From their right side came a draconic shriek out of the banks, and the Night Fury had to veer to not crash into the Monstruous Nightmare that revealed itself as the source. However, that particular maneuver almost sent them headfirst into a Deadly Nadder just by their side.

Hiccup, heart stuttering and pressing the sides of her throat, barely prevented an utterly gutless noise from escaping her. Wisely keeping quiet and pressing herself down by reflex, the girl looked franticly back and forth as roar after roar raised from the beyond, and figures with it.

“Mïdir.” She reached a hand to the side of his maw, fear in the form of a whisper-shout. “You have to get us out of here!”

He shook her away again and Hiccup had to contend with the dread that arose, so painfully aware that now they were not partners in flight as before. Hiccup was merely an impotent passenger and Mïdir a dragon rendered to whatever urge took him.

And to her bewilderment it only got worse, as the banks thinned, draconic shapes started to bloat her vision. Her hands shook in their grip, what is this? By the gods, are we in the middle of a flock of dragons? Hiccup peered around, noting bounties amidst claws and fangs, dangling sheep, massive codfishes, borderline eviscerated boars, and even wooden barrels, surely pilfered from a village.

Hauling their kill, the conclusion hit her like a stray arrow. She met the eyes of a Zipperbacks’ two heads, the slits narrowing upon gazing on her, and she pressed herself down so hard her chest hurt. Hiccup looked forward, futilely, sick to the stomach as the hoard grew in numbers, like the raising army of the dead, but fire bound.

The dread didn’t stop. Like a wave they veered down as one and Hiccup didn’t realize that a sound escaped her. Mïdir darted between two monuments of rock above water, then flew right on a curve as the other dragons followed and contouring the next rock far too sharply. The girl narrowed her eyes, attempting to see. The uncontrollable shaking down her spine replaced by wild, morbid curiosity.

Mïdir ducked under a dark protrusion and then—a burning glow reflected on the corners of their eyes, a stream of red that pierced the white of the fog and moon. Hiccup’s gaze followed that fiery snake, slithering up to a mountainous peak smeared in that same crimson. No, Hiccup turned to rock on Mïdir’s back, no, no, by Thor.

Helheim’s Gate. This had to be Helheim’s Gate.

Then Mïdir dived right into it.

The opening was a chasm the hoard of dragons squeezed through, but Midir was so impossibly fast that Hiccup could barely take in the dark before her sight was coated in red. It was a pit. An enormous cavern with dragons peaking from every single crevice, and all overlooked a bottomless well of fog that waffled the putrid smell of fire and rot. The nest. This was the gods’ forsaken nest, the source of dragons, the thing that haunted the archipelago and the minds of all Vikings—and her father. And Hiccup had been brought right into it.

Mïdir darted to the side, making landfall in the sheltering shadow of a rock, a literal wall between them and the abyss. Hiccup could appreciate that, at least. She observed the movements of countless dragons, how they flew in circles above the fog and how- are they dropping their food in it?

They were. One after another, no matter the species or size, without fail every dragon would make an offering to the pit, food that would feed villages for weeks dropped like rotten cabbages. Hiccup would lie if she said that the sight was not shocking, but, more than anything, it was frustrating. “This much food for nothing…” The mumble was filled with resentment.

She could not make a lick of sense from it too, especially when a Gronckle, lone and skinny and clearly exhausted, fluttered above the pit like a drunk bird. She grimaced at the effort the poor thing had to make to regurgitate a single, slobbered fish. It even scratched itself, Hiccup could see the little details of the scales peeling off, bluish, maybe a little mangy.

The next moment, the very next bloody moment it wasn’t there anymore.

A gargantuan, horrendous dragon had just locked its jaws around the thing and it just- disappeared. Leaping from the abyssal fog like it melted from it. Hiccup leaned back, so shocked she was almost slack. She stared, not an iota of feeling in her extremities. Its eyes—it had six, and they might be the most lifeless things she had ever seen.

It started moving down and Hiccup woke from the nightmare within the nightmare. “Mïdir, we need to go.” The words blurred with panic, which mounted and mounted as the receding head stopped, sniffed, and twitched. The eyes were turning to them. “Now!”

With her foot heavy on the saddle pedal, Mïdir leaped, it made Hiccup’s stomach flip, and the thunderous chomping of massive fangs put bile on the back of her throat. The whole mountain erupted in a glut of wingbeats and the explosion of a thousand roars. Hiccup looked over her shoulder—just for a moment she could see between the gaps of the torrent of dragons, a poor Zipperback was being dragged down to the depths of Hel’s domain. M­ïdir was fast, the fastest, but nothing would keel the terror that that thing would drag them down too.

They rose out through the top as Hiccup wove a thousand pledges to the gods on the tip of her tongue: rites, deeds, sacrifices. Whatever they wished. Whatever would keep that thing down there and spare her and Mïdir from that torturous fate. The drawback of such a thing, however, was that she couldn’t quite know which of the ludicrous promises had been the one that did spare them when the night’s madness faded, the dragons around them becoming more sparce, noise fading. No titanic dragon on their tail or erupting out of that mountain. It stayed there, in its nest.

The nest.

The dragon’s nest, this was it. Hiccup’s chest was heaving up and down, Mïdir was the one moving, struggling, he was the one that deserved to pant, but the horror kept stealing her breath. It would hardly come, even as coherency returned to her. Directionless, Mïdir flew through the night, sans them, it became dark and silent from all sides.

What was the purpose of this?                   

Why did Mïdir bring her there? Did he even want to take her there? It didn’t look like he did. Shudders ran up her legs, the saddle was trembling as the dragon under it. She hunched forward in the saddle, bangs fluttering in the wind with her panting breath steadily dwindling. Hiccup laid a hand on the scales of Mïdir's neck, took a deep breath, felt him do the same. “Maybe, we should-“, she coughed twice, “-stop. Rest a little. Come on.”

Her foot changed the position of the tail, and Mïdir didn’t fight it, gliding lower till they were above the calm sea. The fog was rapidly being blown away and, for that, she was thankful. No dragons, no boats, not even fish, the waters were the mirror of the moon and stars and nothing else.

A rock will be enough, she thought distractedly. She only needed to let Mïdir touch down and rest. Clear her head.

Her eyes flittered around wildly, yet that didn’t do anything but make the time before they found something even more unbearable. A rocky islet, with no beach or plain surface was their first and only stop for the night. Mïdir found a vaguely bowl-shaped spot and dropped on it with a heave. He shot his head, while Hiccup unbound herself from the saddle, but did no move to get off.

The Night Fury laid on his belly, ear-appendages twitching still.

Was this her punishment? Hiccup pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, pushing the memory of what she saw to the back of her head. The red of the nest blossomed behind her eyelids. Did the gods deign to show her the truth of the scourge of dragons now that she was leaving? She hadn’t thought of it. She hadn’t taken a god’s forsaken moment to think of why the dragons did what they did, as aggressively as they did. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She had been with Mïdir for weeks, she had fed him and had him hunt with her on his back. Hiccup saw how seamlessly he could live out of the ocean’s bounty. No need to steal food.

And yet she hadn’t thought of it.

A queen. A tyrant. A monster that commanded and feasted on its horde. With that Gronckle, Hiccup saw that failure to comply was death, eaten whole and alive. She shuddered. That was what her father was looking for, death itself? No Viking had ever found it, the fog and dragons impassable obstacles, the rocks a maze. Maybe they would never find it.

Please don’t let them find it, Hiccup begged, not sure to whom or what. To something that would have the power that she did not have.

She ran her hands down, pulling at her eyelids till her hands were in front of her mouth. She would have to leave knowing it all. The abominable truth. Mïdir turned to look at her, eyes half-closed and tired.

Hiccup hunched forward and screamed.

Chapter Text

Hiccup woke up with the sun high and a crick in her back. The foresight to unsaddle Mïdir did little in the great scheme of things. She rolled her shoulder, the sound it made not dissimilar to an old creaking wheel. Hiccup winced and smacked her dry lips. Mïdir was lounging behind her, a wing even loosely draped over her. He looked…

Normal.

She was stunned, although that made no sense. Of course he would have recuperated from yesterday, it wouldn't be the first time Mïdir had seen the nest. But Hiccup couldn’t imagine that being “normal”, surely that would drive anyone raving bloody mad. Vikings would, at least. Frothing at the mouth and raving mad. Hiccup could barely make herself think about it.

Six horrendous eyes flashed on the back of her eyelids. Don’t.

Hiccup got up on wobbly legs and stretched as good as she could, not looking forward to flying for days. Didn’t think about that. She took a better look at the rocky outcropping and found nothing but shrubbery and moss.

“Should really have eaten before leaving.” Yet she hadn't, the nerves of what she had been about to do made her awful appetite rear its head, or not rear anything, actually. She was positively ravenous now.

She had half a mind to reach for her stored rations, yet she knew that would be an awful decision. Dwindling her supplies the very first day? Not a good omen. Hiccup wouldn’t get anywhere at that rate. She scanned her surroundings more thoroughly and decided the shrubbery and moss would have to do, even if she had to pick the islet clean. Mïdir’s fire can light it up, no problem, the problem was getting everything in her hands first.

Some of the shrubs were easy to get. The rock was not plain, but most of it wasn’t steep either. The moss she scraped with a dagger, sliding beneath and slicing her roots off the rock. She threw it all behind her, some of it landed on Mïdir’s head like improvised hats. He glared at her every time, now definitely awake and even grumpier than ever. She smirked at him and beckoned him over. “Come on, sleepyhead, help me here. Aren’t you hungry? The sooner I’m done, the sooner we can go fish.”

He tilted his head, confused but hungry too, he shook sleep and debris off of him and climbed near her with the sinuous grace of an eel. She patted his head and hopped on the saddle, foot limp on the pedal. “Just help me get the rest.” Hiccup muttered. “Then we can go.”

Everything was easier in the back of a Night Fury. Mïdir climbed and descended the rock faces she would never be able stand on without dropping to sea, digging his claws in the cracks and holding still while she cut and yanked. The final pile was a bit lacking, but enough. When Hiccup finally told him to go, he jumped into the sky so hard her back touched the edge of the saddle. She sputtered and gasped, remembering at the last moment to put the tail right. He chortled at her with his rough, dragon-y laugh.

“Jerk.”

Said jerk rode the wind fast and high, scanning the water with vision Hiccup could barely imagine having. When he dove, she held her breath and lay flush to the saddle. Mïdir broke the ocean’s face, the world turning dim in her ears, water coming up uncomfortably up her nose, but only for a moment. With a beat of dark wings, the Night Fury flew off like a loosened arrow.

Hiccup sputtered and gasped, combing away her wet fringe while peering down. Mïdir had two big fish in his claws, the impaled scales leaking red back to the place they came from, the little that would return to the sea. Hiccup coaxed him to drop them with a flyby of the islet. They dived two more times to get enough to satisfy a dragon his size.

“Woah, well,” her chest heaved. “I think that that’s enough, huh? Let’s go back?”

Mïdir looked back at her, and her stomach dropped when she saw what could only be described as the jagged line of a smirk. “Wait—“ He didn’t. The dragon flew up and up, faster, then tucked his wings and let himself fall. She screamed, but her voice turned garbled when he started to spin, blue on blue spun in her vision, the bile in her stomach dropping to the bottom.

“Mïdir!” She shrieked, and her chest smashed to the saddle when he opened his wings, gliding over the water like nothing happened. Hiccup could hear him laugh. “You stupid reptile,” she groaned, “I could just dry by the fire.” At least she was only damp now, and running her mouth could be taken as an invitation to be dipped in the ocean like bread in mead, but far less tasty. Not even a hungry dragon would consider a salty fishbone.

The shrubs and moss smoked more than burned, watery and hissing, in turn, her breakfast suffered the same fate. Impaled on the biggest stick of shrub, a twisted thing that threatened to turn the insides of the fish into mush, it smoked and roasted slowly. Hiccup tended the fire with the careful tip of her dagger. Mïdir had slurped all of his portion in the time she struggled to skewer hers and was now basking in the sunlight.

Hiccup took in the sight: a rock at the end of the world, blue sky, blue water, and the faint white line of the horizon. It felt so scheduled, so peaceful, that when her mind strayed to the night before, she couldn’t help but blink. Worlds apart they felt, Helheim and Asgard—no, Folkswargen, fields not of gold grass but of gently lapping ocean—yet they were the same reality, and that hell wasn’t even too far away, they could reach it once more in less than an afternoon, Berk not that much more. The world felt small on dragon back.

Berk.

How are they reacting right now? Before, Hiccup had tried to not dwell on it, she had to get it done, no time for spiraling. Yet it was now less heavy than… the other thing. In truth, she couldn’t begin to fathom it. Hiccup had taken enough of her things to be noticeable if someone were to pay a smidgen of attention. However, she had not left a trace of her intentions, not a trail, they wouldn’t even find a boat missing. Hiccup could imagine burly Vikings scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders.

Gobber would probably rave that it had been a troll.

Hiccup looked back to the fire, rotating the skewer as she saw the skin of the fish darken and flake, blinking when she realized she didn’t feel much of… anything.

It didn’t feel real.

Leaving. Flying. It was so easy, it hadn’t been then, when she was packing, but now the threads bidding her to Berk were as cut as the bola that had once bound Mïdir. Both were undone by her hand. Her mind’s eye flitted to the nest once more, burning red and dark all the same. They wouldn’t find it, she hoped, not as they were now at least, only a dragon could find the way to the nest.

The bottom of her stomach dropped. Dragons. Berk had dragons, five confined to the arena. Is the Nightmare already dead? The possibility made her ill, Hiccup had left for that exact reason, but it sickened her like she had wielded the weapon all the same. A sudden idea had her dropping the dagger to palm her face, the skewer lowering enough for the sparks to lick at it. Stupid, you could have released them before leaving. It would have made it look like the dragons were responsible for her disappearance, would have made it look like she had died even, but she should have anyway. A pang rippled through Hiccup's chest. Guilt, stinging and heavy as rock. “Here I am,” she muttered, “protecting one dragon and letting five more be axed.”

Behind her Mïdir rustled, and she could feel inquisitive grays fixed on the back of her head. Her shoulders sagged, and she bent her spine so she could look at him by throwing her neck back. “Hey, I think we need to make a detour.”

The wind was cold, and the night was even darker than the one before, making Hiccup’s heart lurch and shoulders jump when the sound of waves came from far enough away to be confused by the beat of distant wings. Mïdir didn’t share her nerves, fortunately, riding steady, body straight, and eyes forward. Hiccup tried to imitate him as best she could.

It was deep into the night, enough that she could hope that there wouldn’t be many people outside, and the skies were lonely, with no dragons coming to raid. “Alright, Mïdir, we fly over the forest to the arena. We keep to the shadows, releasing the dragons must be easy enough.” If there were no guards, that is. Normally there wasn’t, the guards kept watch over the food and the ships and the armory. The dragons in the arena were dangerous, and Hiccup knew someone would go check briefly during the night to verify nothing was amiss, but she was hoping Mïdir would keep his ears peeled. “I will be counting on you.” She patted him on the neck, and he warbled in responsive instinct.

They left a bank of fog behind, and Hiccup could see the back of Berk, the cliffs, and the forest. Mïdir was flying high enough to clear them. She adjusted the pedal to spur him forward in a faster glide. Her heart was pounding, and she kept telling herself, We go in and fly out, in and out, I probably can count the steps I need to make, while they flew over the forest. It did make her feel a little better, the oh-nothingness she had felt that morning giving way to a slight weary tremble.

It didn’t take long to realize that something was off. Too many lights in too many odd places, some even in the forest. “What the…” She shifted the pedal, and Mïdir flew even higher, the torches and lamps turning to flickering firelights. There were so many, the whole village perhaps. She could see them by the docks, on the outskirts, approaching the cliffs, and even by Mildew’s house. Hiccup felt Mïdir's neck shift left and right as he began to growl. “Shhh, shhh, it’s fine, I think… I think they are looking for me.”

Maybe I should have written that letter, she winced. But surely, they had noticed her things missing, right? Maybe. No way to be sure unless she asked, and Hiccup definitely wasn’t going to do that. There were no lights close to the arena, not much to check there. Hiccup felt relieved, although she had other concerns now. “This can turn into a mess really fast.” If they saw something, or if the dragons weren’t as calm as they needed to be, it could turn into a battle she couldn’t control, and risking the dragons dying would defeat the purpose of her coming.

“Alright, Mïdir, we drop over the arena right there,” she pointed, leaning close so he could hear her in the wind, “as straight down as you can without making that, huh, sharp noise of yours, we don’t want to alert anyone with the whole village outside.” Mïdir grunted. “Come on, nice and steady.”

With a last, deep, trembling breath, Hiccup shifted her foot, and the Night Fury leaned to the side, beginning the descent in a loop that had her braid whipping her in the face, almost in the eyes. I’ll cut it off, she thought off-handedly, a task for later. The roofs of Berk became a little clearer, and Hiccup noted with disconcert that she already felt like a stranger, a trespasser in a place that she lived in a day before.

They looked down. “See anything?” She murmured in Mïdir’s ear, and the dragon responded by dropping even lower. “Guess not,” Hiccup mumbled.

The Night Fury touched down with but the click of claw on stone, tucking his wings close and leaning down for her to dismount. Hiccup didn’t immediately, too weary for that, feeling as if her father was going to pop from behind a rock that could barely conceal one of his meaty thighs. I’m being stupid, she shook her head. Mïdir’s senses beat hers a thousand to one, she was willing to bet on that. Hiccup couldn’t ask for a better watch.

As Hiccup tiptoed to the back of the arena to loosen the pin that bound the Monstruous Nightmare’s cell closed, she heard a shuffle beneath that almost had her jumping, then to the incline that was the entry to the arena. She braced herself for a floor and walls slick with dark blood, proof of killing. There were none. Through the spiked gate of the arena, she saw gray stone and closed doors. She breathed a sigh of relief. Vikings could be very hasty, and she was half expecting them to shove Astrid in the arena immediately after not finding her.

But they were trying to find her. Hiccup couldn’t think of another explanation for the bizarre behavior. She didn’t know what to think of it. Touched? Guilty? The nerves made those emotions hard to parse.

She carefully began pulling the lever, hearing the click-click of the chains as the gate was pulled up. It seemed obscenely loud and interminable, her shoulder jumping each time till it finished. “Mïdir,” she hissed with haste. Hiccup could not see him but knew he could hear her. “Watch out if anyone heard that.” Then she walked inside.

The girl could feel a bit of a shift in the air as her feet carried her inside, beyond the heavy doors. No doubt the dragons were awake now, if they even were before. Hiccup had thought long and hard about how she was going to do this with as little noise as possible and had concluded that there was only one way to start.

Hiccup walked silently to the Gronckle’s door, laying a hand on it. “Hey there, remember me?” She said, hearing the muffled sound of dragon claws on stone. “It’s me, um, Hiccup. Guess I have never told you my name.” She let her fingertips glide across the hardwood and metal door until she could feel the lever on her other hand. “Now I’ll need you to be silent. Like, shh-shh-silent, got it? I’ll open the door slowly… gods I don’t even know if you can understand me…” And Hiccup began pulling the lever before she could second-guess herself. She tried to do it slowly, but the barebones mechanism that held the hinges close was the snappy, tension losing sort, and the doors flew wide open at the halfway point.

Hiccup sucked in a breath, but there was no desperate run or fly-off or triumphant roar of freedom, she even doubted the Gronckle inside for a moment. But surely there it—he? Hiccup couldn’t be certain—came rounding the door with wide shy steps and wide, fearful eyes.

“Hey there,” she whispered, and he looked at her, pupils narrowing in the single moment he didn’t recognize her, then blowing as wide and dark as the sky.  Hiccup huffed through her nose, mouth smiling. “Hi, I’m glad you are happy to see me.” She moved forward and extended her arm and palm, her eyes meeting the Gronckle’s because he had already thrust her enough. He came waddling like a cute, yet big, baby yak. Some weariness in the shifty eyes, but soon her hand was greeted with warm, brown scales. “Hi.” She crooned, free hand moving to scratch. It made him happy, tongue peeking through massive chops.

“Well, the easy part is done.” She looked over her shoulder while scratching absentmindedly. The night was dark, the shadows darker, but she heard no movement from outside, lone dragon or not-as-alone Viking. Hiccup looked at the Gronckle leaning on his face, big eyes looking at her. “I need your help right now, releasing your friends, that is.” No reaction. Hiccup elected to just guide the Gronckle with her hand as she walked to the Nadder enclosure. “Hey, greet your friend. Tell her it’s fine.” Hiccup gestured with a hand, and the Gronckle seemed apprehensive, looking at her through the corner of its eyes before crooning a small noise to the closed door. One came in response.

“Alright, alright.” Hiccup approached the lever. “Be silent now,” she told the Nadder behind the door. “Remember how nice it was when I scratched you? If you want me to do it again, you will have to be very quiet and follow the lead of your friend.” The Gronckle was in front of the door with enough space for her to pull the lever. It was immediately different, a restless shuffle she could hear and eager chirps that concerned her, yet the Gronckle responded with quieter croons that had all that energy quelling a little.

When the door opened fully, the Nadder still came out with a fast and heavy bound that had her skin prickling, a great head tilting up and down and around until it found her. Her blood fled when the Nadder armed its tail, spikes jutting out threateningly. “Hey, hey, shhhh,” she brought up her open palm soothingly, “calm down, I’m a friend, we have to be quiet.” The Gronckle might have repeated her sentiment, because after a couple of soft noises the Nadder shuddered, wings and tail and settled down less threateningly, head bobbing in what could be confusion.

“Good girl.” Hiccup praised, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. A she-dragon, unlike the Gronckle, it was clear, the bottom jaws of the males were very wide and blocky, but the ones of the females were a bit more graceful and pretty, in her opinion. Hiccup supposed that Nadders and humans had that in common. “Girl, come here, come with me and your friend.” She reached a hand that the Nadder tentatively touched. Hiccup looked at the entrance and noted all the time she was taking. Every moment was a gamble.

The Terrible Terror was no problem, when she opened the little door and it saw the other two dragons waiting peacefully, it planted its little butt on the ground and yawned, looking more bothered that she had awoken it than anything.

The Hideous Zippleback was downright odd. They had greeted her with a plume of green fume, ready to blow her out of the arena door, yet the Nadder had taken a step forward with a fulminating look in her eyes and the Zippleback had turned to her like Hiccup was the better option.

Perhaps the dragons could feel what was going on better than they could understand it, maybe that was better—less doubt, more feeling—but Hiccup was still wary about the Monstrous Nightmare. Gobber had once told her it was burning red and big and pissed-off all the time, and that had her hairs stand on end. Hiccup knew all the dragons from before, and they knew her in turn, even throwing an eel at the Zippleback had not erased that connection. But the Nightmare was truly a blank slate, and it was the most dangerous of all to boot.

Hiccup only needed to undo the lock of the door since she had already loosened the pin on top, and she made sure to coax the silent dragons closer in order to do that. They were a statement: four dragons not attacking the little Viking. Maybe the Nightmare would consider the weight of that. Or think her too much of a walking fishbone to be of concern.

It was mostly silent behind that door, but it didn’t comfort her all that much, just made her unsure of what to expect: calmness, anger, or just murderous intent.

She had to open the gates anyway.

What greeted her was not fury, but worse, a predatory slink forward, slender neck pulling the doors open with a rumbling noise in the back of its throat. Mouth puffing smoke, scales puffing smoke, eyes thunderous and yellow-sick with rage.

Hiccup took a step back, then two, hands up and unarmed. Thor, if it lights itself, it will alert the whole village. She retreated between the Gronckle and Nadder, a nervous laugh building up. “Ha, come on now. Don’t you see all of your friends?”

Hiccup roved her hand around for good measure, and its gaze followed to all the other tense and confused dragons. It really doesn’t matter if it doesn’t like me, she thought, it just needs to not attack or make a ruckus. It’s the last one.

The Monstruous Nightmare growled, and a response came from outside the arena. Hiccup’s head snapped. Mïdir, claws hooked on the rock beneath the protective metal bars, looked down like a black wraith, the eerie pale glow of the night the only means she knew his eyes were narrowed and angry.

There was a lump in her throat. “Mïdir, don’t.”

The red dragon took notice of its contender, turning to growl at the unfamiliar presence outside the arena. Hiccup thought fast, and it really didn’t matter if the Nightmare didn’t like her, she hooked an arm over the Gronckle’s neck, carefully laid a hand on the Nadder’s chest, and then stepped back.

They followed without protest, although the Nadder startled and tried to catch her eye. “Mïdir, stop, we need to go.” She could see a long slender shape whipping faster behind the shadow. “Mïdir.”

The Night Fury came readily, although not for the reason she would like. Standing over her shoulder, glaring and growling. Heart on the back of her throat, she pressed her back to the black dragon, felt the Gronckle and Nadder anxious to be so close to the offspring of lightning and death itself.

So dramatic, in hindsight.

Mïdir had no choice but to follow her awkward shuffle backwards if he wanted her away from the Monstrous Nightmare. In turn, the big, pissed-off dragon became just a little less pissed off, slinking forward wearily.

“It doesn’t matter,” she told her best friend, “We get out, these two will too and the rest will follow.”

For a breathless moment, Mïdir seemed to ignore her. Ignore the puny little fishbone and her small squeaky voice, telling him things she couldn’t understand about creatures that tore into each other so solve small inconveniences. But then he did, shuffling, losing tension, nosing at her head and breathing sulfur into her hair.

She sighed, long and boneless. “Let’s… let’s just get out of here.”

Chapter Text

Hiccup thought she would throw up over Mïdir’s shoulder. It would fall to the sea for some unblinking creature to indulge in, heedless of her plight. She managed to keep her stomach, but not her nerve. Coming down from an almighty shiver that had nothing to do with the cold wind whipping at her face.

There was unspilled bile on the back of her throat, acid and foul. She stuck her tongue out. “Blegh.”

Mïdir made a similar sound.

“Sorry about that.”

He crooned.

Another sound to her right. The Nadder rode the wind with a jubilant flutter of her wings, eyes squinted in what Hiccup believed was delight. To her left was the Gronckle, wings an insectile blur of movement. Behind her the Terrible Terror was trying to hitch a ride on the Zippleback, Hiccup could hear them growling at the diminutive pest.

The Monstruous Nightmare was near, somewhere. Hiccup had seen him a couple of times in the past hour, following.

A weird, draconic brotherhood. Hiccup didn’t know what to make of it. She had thought they would fly off like birds did at the first sight of freedom, with such haste one would doubt any planned direction—the Gronckle caught her eye and proceeded to stick his tongue out in happiness—but she supposed they might have grown attached.

It didn't deter anything. They could feed themselves, Hiccup reckoned. High in the clouds was not the domain of man, her presence notwithstanding, so there was no fear of a burly viking or morally dubious hunter setting sights on her new entourage. The problem, as it happened, was that, like the previous night, Hiccup returned to contemplating where to go next.

Please no nest this time.

Just her own budding fatigue, but if she chanced an islet, Hiccup was under risk of having six dragons trying to land over each other, and she needed no seer to know it would go awry near immediately.

So they tried to keep on. Mïdir was better rested, but the other dragons were not. Hungry and cooped up for far too long, they began to lose their breath right before sunrise, a heave and shudder in their powerful chests, eyes losing the ecstatic lustre. They had to touch down lest they drop beneath the waves.

Worry had been steadily mounting on the pit of her stomach when three pillars appeared over the line of blue. Trees that waved like friendly hands in the wind. A little isle. Hiccup sighed in relief.

She needed not to direct them there. Upon detecting it, they cried out loudly enough to chase the drowsy relief out of her. Hiccup leaned her head down to look into a rocky eye. "How does some rest sound, hmn?"

Mïdir acquiesced with a huff, chest rocking with an angry sound when an arrow of red darted past them. The Nightmare went left, so she tilted the Night Fury right, wings gliding over a rockface so steep it looked like a massive ramp, with planar faults in the rock wide enough to be the footholds of a climbing giant.

He dropped on one such near the water. The ocean was close enough to spray her pants and drown out the noises of the other dragons. Somehow, it was like being at one of the rockier beaches of Berk, hearing the wind and the waves. Mïdir plopped down with an echoing thud, the pricked-up appendages on his head betraying the apparent rest he was taking, curled up behind her.

Hiccup commented nothing of it. Sitting on the rock, head turned to the sea, she hugged herself around the legs and laid her stiff chin on her knees, beholding the line of fire gathering in the horizon.

Gaze fixed vacantly on one of the most gorgeous moments she had ever seen, Hiccup couldn't quite gather her thoughts. They fled her as did the rats in a sinking ship, undiscovered and disgusting whenever she glanced them. She wanted them, but she also didn’t. Mostly, Hiccup wanted them to cease the maddening, misgoverned way they sliced through her.

What a mess it had turned into, her already unrealized plans of flying peacefully down to a warmer coast and settling down with a belly full of fish and sunlight, fingers stuck in whatever mechanism struck her fancy. Broad strokes, one of the nicest realities she could think of.

A nest Hel's mind couldn't design, and a beast so immense it could swallow all of them whole.

"Knowing all that for nothing." Her voice was jagged and bitter. No warrior could slay a thing that size, and no other dragon was its equal. Mïdir fled it, and inadequate tributes were cannibalized with no heed of prior efforts. How many times had that Gronckle served its ruler? How many times had it hunted and raided and gone hungry just to satisfy an appetite that was not its own? Hiccup looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was the Gronckle on the top of the slope, cozy on the ground and staring anxiously, as if expecting her to disappear.

The tyrant of the nest could beckon it on a whim, and the poor creature would be as paralyzed as Mïdir had seemingly been to resist. And despite the flurry of wings of that cruel moment, Hiccup was sure she saw a Zippleback be devoured for no reason at all.

It stung.

A cool wind fluttered her hair, and the first beam of golden fire singed her eyes, rising over the rainbow colors of the water. "I don't think I want to be anywhere near here anymore."

She looked forward again, closed her eyes, and heard Mïdir breathe behind her. The rock was hard and damp under her, and there was sea salt on the back of her tongue.