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Chapter Text

I do hope you'll enjoy reading about the adventures of a budding trainer with a destiny greater than anyone could imagine!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything associated with the How to Train Your Dragon and Pokémon franchises.

Everyone on Berk knew that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was anything but a typical Viking.

Oh, he wanted to be. He wanted to be the great Viking savior of the world, big and strong. He wanted to do all of the wonderful things expected of him. He wanted to look at the world, figure out what was broken, and fix it.

But he wasn't a natural-born Viking hero. He had no Viking-like qualities at all. He was all brain and no brawn, which was evident in his lanky build, and he kept making a mess of things with his awkward clumsiness.

He was alright at managing weapons. But "alright" wasn't going to stop the war and kill all the dragons that were plaguing the villages all across the archipelago. He needed to be like all the other Vikings - big, strong, scary, and dangerous.

Hiccup was about as dangerous as a caterpillar. He knew that because his polar-opposite cousin had said so.

The series of events in which his life changed forever started on any ordinary evening. He was out in the forest, gathering firewood like his father had asked him to. Not because they were short on supplies, but rather so that he would be busy doing something actually productive instead of any sort of funny business in someplace he wasn't supposed to be.

He'd been out there for nearly an hour when he heard it.

A loud snapping sound, like the crack of a whip.

There were dragon traps set out in the forest, and one of them had just been sprung.

Hiccup glanced up at the sky. It wasn't dark yet. Dragons usually raided the village when the sun was down. Could they have come early? Or was there someone else in the woods, someone who might have stepped in the trap by mistake?

He could hear the faint sounds of something struggling, and the clinking of metal on metal. It could have been some helpless squirrel or wild boar that took a wrong step.

Against his better judgment, Hiccup stepped toward the sound and called out, "Who's there?"

Silence.

Then he heard a cry.

"SNIVY!"

That did not sound like a normal animal.

Dropping the sticks and kindling he'd gathered, Hiccup took off running into the trees, following the sound.

"Snivy Snivy! Vy Snivy!"

"Hold on!" he called out. "I'm coming!"

Tree branches and stray shrubbery scratched at his face as he ran, but he paid them no mind. He had a pretty good idea what sort of creature had been caught in the trap. If he was right, and there was no doubt he was, then the poor thing was probably terrified out of its wits.

Finally, finally, he reached a small clearing. And in the middle of it, as he anticipated, was a wooden contraption that consisted of a pendulum that was tipped upwards and attached to a metal net that currently held a small green creature captive about ten meters off the ground.

The little head that poked out through the net was slender with a long, pointed nose and brownish-red eyes that met with Hiccup's as he emerged from between the trees. The creature was slender, reptilian, its body green with a cream underside. A thin yellow stripe ran down the length of its back and tail, the same color as the markings around its large eyes. Two curved yellow structures that resembled leaves or small wings protruded from its shoulders and bent backwards. In spite of its snakelike appearance, it had four fully functional limbs; slender green arms with three fingers, and tiny, cream-colored, digit-less feet. On the end of its tail was a large, palmate leaf with three prongs.

He knew what it was. He'd seen its picture in a book he used to read before he hit puberty. It was called a Snivy, and it was one of countless creatures that lived throughout the islands, collectively known as Pokémon. (Why they were referred to by that shared name was a mystery.)

The Snivy was squirming every which way, its small hands grasping the thin metal bars as it searched desperately for an escape. The net swung around, and Hiccup could see the Snivy's tail had a long cut running down its length. It had probably been sliced by the metal net when the poor Pokémon got caught.

He couldn't leave it like that.

"Hang on," he said, stepping up to the trap. "I'll get you out of there."

"Vy?" The Snivy stared at him with wide eyes.

Slowly and carefully, Hiccup reached up toward the pendulum. But it was up too high for him to reach.

What I wouldn't give to be a foot taller...

What he did next was quite risky, and probably just plain stupid, but there was no other option - he grabbed onto the wooden structure of the netter trap and started to climb up. For once, Hiccup was glad he didn't weigh so much; he didn't want to think too much about what would happen if the mechanism fell over.

Once he'd climbed up high enough, he grabbed the rope to keep steady as he worked to disable the trap. "Okay," he muttered to himself, "engage the safety pin, dislodge the trigger strut, and..."

The net opened on the forest floor, and the Snivy came tumbling down with a startled and pain-filled cry.

For a long moment, neither Hiccup nor the Snivy moved.

Then the green snake Pokémon turned its head and locked eyes with him. Hiccup slowly climbed back down off the netter trap, nearly falling when he missed a step. The moment his feet touched solid ground again, he stepped toward the injured Snivy.

The poor creature was shaking like a leaf, obviously scared. Hiccup expected the Snivy to make a break for it, but instead the Grass Snake Pokémon crawled away, wincing as it moved its injured tail. Its wide eyes were fixed on him.

"It's okay," Hiccup told it in a calm voice. He knelt down on his knees in an attempt to match the Pokémon's height. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

He wasn't sure if the Snivy understood any of what he said. Pokémon were rather intelligent beings, at least according to some people, but a wild, untamed specimen could be as unpredictable as a regular forest animal. If Hiccup was going to help this injured Snivy, he needed to show that he wasn't a threat.

Whether the Grass Snake Pokémon understood him or not, its entire demeanor changed. It sat still, its injured tail curled around its legs, staring calmly up at him.

Hiccup scooted forward and slowly reached one hand out. His fingers brushed the cut on the Snivy's tail, and it winced in response.

"Sorry," Hiccup said quickly. "Just - hold on." He gently cupped his hands around the injured Pokémon's body and scooped it up. It squirmed a little, but otherwise made no protest as he tucked it underneath his fur vest and held it close to his body. The Snivy stiffened for about half a second before relaxing at the softness and comforting warmth the boy was providing.

"I need to get you to a healer," said Hiccup, more to himself than the Snivy. He pushed himself to his feet and started the long trek back home, grumbling sarcastically under his breath, "My father's gonna love this."

The village had a building known by many as "the Pokémon Shelter". It wasn't exactly an official name, but, if anyone asked, Hiccup couldn't think of a more appropriate title for it.

The local healer, who was older than probably everyone else on the island combined, specialized in treating people. Her former apprentice, Kyrie Eleison, specialized in healing Pokémon, which is why they ran the Pokémon Shelter.

When Hiccup arrived at the shelter, he was immediately greeted by the sounds of curious Pokémon. On one side of the room was a small pen where the smaller creatures could roam and play freely. Every now and again, someone would come in and watch the Pokémon in thoughtful silence, considering their options. Most of the Vikings had already chosen, or were assigned, a Pokémon to be their partner - whether for battle or simple companionship, their choice.

Come to think of it, Hiccup still needed to choose a Pokémon partner. Most children in the village made their choice at around age ten or eleven, but he was fifteen now and still without a Pokémon of his own. Whenever someone asked him why, his answer was always the same - he hadn't found the right one yet.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if perhaps this Snivy could be his partner. But he had a feeling that would be selfish of him. If the Snivy wanted to leave, then he had no right to force it to stay.

Hiccup expected to be greeted by the owner of the shelter, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Kyrie?" he called out. "Are you here?"

"I'm in the back," answered a voice.

If there was one thing Hiccup liked about Kyrie, it's that they didn't treat him with any disdain at all. Kyrie was older than Hiccup by ten years, and while they weren't exactly friends, the two of them did have an understanding of each other. On their eighteenth birthday, Kyrie had to deal with similar scorn from the other Vikings when they'd come out. For about six years after that, Kyrie and Hiccup had been in pretty much the same boat. Then Kyrie made the Pokémon Shelter, and now they made a living healing the Vikings' injured Pokémon and raising Pokémon from eggs to one day be given to new trainers.

It seemed almost unfair that everyone was now more accepting of them after they'd proven themselves useful to the tribe, while Hiccup was still basically treated like dirt. But he squashed that thought down as he crossed the floor into the little backroom where Kyrie worked.

Their back was facing the doorway when he entered. In front of them was a medium-sized wooden exam table on which they treated their patients, and it was currently occupied by a small, amber-colored, lizard-like Pokémon - a Charmander, Hiccup realized. Its signature flame on the end of its tail was alarmingly small, no brighter than a candle. It was sweating profusely, and it seemed to be shivering.

Kyrie turned to grab something on the shelf behind them and spotted Hiccup standing in the doorway. Their short, brownish-black hair stuck to their sweaty forehead and their grayish eyes blinked at him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hiccup said, "but this Snivy is hurt. Can you help him?" He pulled his vest back to reveal the injured Pokémon.

"Of course I can," Kyrie answered. "But he'll have to wait his turn; this Charmander has a fever."

Somehow, Hiccup couldn't help but find that a little bit ironic - a Fire-type Pokémon with an abnormally high body temperature. "Will he be okay?"

"She'll be fine," Kyrie corrected. "Once I give her the medicine she needs." They grabbed a mortar and pestle, threw in some berries and herb leaves into it, and started grinding them into a fine paste. "Shouldn't be too long now." They glanced at Hiccup and asked, "I don't suppose that Snivy is your Pokémon?"

"No," he answered, "I'm not even sure he has an owner. I found him caught in a dragon trap in the woods -"

Kyrie whirled around so fast they almost dropped their supplies. "A dragon trap?" they cried in alarm. "Why didn't you say so?!"

Moving quickly, but with the gentleness of a trained doctor, they set down the mortar and pestle, moved the Charmander over to one end of the exam table, grabbed the Snivy from Hiccup and then placed it on the other end of the table.

They wasted no time examining the Grass Snake Pokémon. Kyrie always started with the face, checking the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth (if the Pokémon had any, that is) for any abnormalities. Then they checked the rest of the head for bumps, cuts, or bruises, then the arms, the shoulders, the body, the legs, and finally the tail.

Kyrie sucked in a breath of air when they saw the cut. "What did this?"

"A netter trap," Hiccup answered promptly.

"He's lucky," said Kyrie. "It's mostly superficial. I'll bandage it up, and after a few days of rest he should be good as new." They retrieved a roll of cloth and a gauze dressing from the shelf and immediately got to work bandaging the Snivy's injured tail. "There's recently been an increase of Pokémon that have been injured in dragon traps. I keep telling the trainers that they need to be more careful about where their partners tread, but does anyone listen? No, everyone's more focused on the war and how to end the Arceus-forsaken threat."

Kyrie was the only person Hiccup knew who swore by Arceus, a mythical Pokémon said to have shaped the whole world, instead of the more traditional gods like Thor and Odin.

"Sni," the Snivy uttered. "Sni Snivy."

Across from him, the Charmander answered, "Char..."

"What are they saying?" asked Hiccup.

Kyrie shrugged. "Wish I knew."

Hiccup knew for a fact that Pokémon were very smart creatures, seeing as they were able to understand human speech and could communicate effectively with each other. He often wondered what the Pokémon in the village were thinking or talking about, but the only people he knew who could actually understand "Pokéspeak" were the Peaceables, who all lived on a whole other island.

It didn't take long for Kyrie to finish dressing the Snivy's wound. His tail was practically covered with cloth strips holding the gauze in place. Kyrie tied the cloth in a secure knot, then turned back to the Charmander.

"So," said Hiccup, "does this mean we're finished here?"

"Keep him someplace safe," Kyrie said by way of answer. "Preferably indoors, if he's comfortable with that. Feed him plenty of Oran Berries and make sure he gets lots of rest."

Hiccup nodded. "Thanks, Kyrie."

"Anytime."

Snivels had never once thought that Vikings could be anything other than big, loud, smelly, half-brained brutes who stormed the shores every day and chugged mead all night. And he certainly wasn't expecting that opinion to change the day he got himself caught in a dragon trap.

But, really, the last thing he expected was for some skinny miniature of a human to come to his rescue. Not that he was complaining, because that outcome was a thousand times better than being found by a Viking.

Of course, Snivels knew better than to stray too close to a dragon trap. But he didn't have it in him to just stand by and watch as another innocent creature got themselves caught because they were too young and too inexperienced to recognize the danger. So, he took the fall for them.

The suddenness of the pain combined with the stress of the situation might have killed him, if he hadn't been a Pokémon. But Snivels wasn't just an ordinary Snivy - he was a survivor. And because he was a survivor, he held on.

Some might call it luck, others a miracle, but the human that found Snivels caught in the trap was most definitely not a Viking. And for that, he was grateful. Had it been a Viking, they would have just disabled the trap and left the injured Snivy to fend for himself. Instead, the teenage boy brought him to a healer to treat the wound.

Snivels had been semi-conscious the whole way from the forest to the shelter, so his memory was a bit fuzzy at times. If anything, there was one thing he distinctly remembered - a sick Charmander lying next to him on a table. He remembered calling out to her, "Hello. I'm Snivels." And, for a moment, he'd thought he heard her weakly reply, "Amber..."

When he came to, he was curled up on an uncomfortably hard wooden structure with nothing but a thin blanket made of cotton. His tail hurt like crazy, night had fallen, and the room's only source of light was a small candle.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he realized it was the boy from earlier - the one who had found him in the dragon trap.

To the untrained ear, it sounded like the young human said something like, "Pú ert vakandi". But Pokémon had been around since long before dinosaurs roamed the earth; they'd been adapting and developing for more than three billion years. Therefore, every Pokémon species in this day and time had an innate understanding of all the known languages - including that of the Vikings.

Snivels knew exactly what his rescuer had said - "You're awake."

"Where am I?" he repeated. When the boy didn't answer right away, he asked, "Can you understand me?"

"Are you feeling any better?" the human asked, making no indication that he understood Snivels's questions. "Here, you must be hungry."

He knelt down in front of the Snivy and held out his hand, a small, round, blue fruit sitting right in the center of his palm. Recognizing it as an Oran Berry, Snivels grabbed it and took a bite - it wasn't much, but it would at least replenish his energy a little. It had been an exhausting day, and he was starting to feel tired.

The berry was gone in seconds.

Feeling better now that he'd eaten something, Snivels smiled up at the young human who had helped him. "Thank you."

Even though this strange human clearly didn't understand what Snivels had said, he did understand the intention. "You're welcome."

That made Snivels smile, but only a little bit.

"We don't normally see Pokémon like you around here," the boy continued. "Where did you come from?"

"Orre," Snivels answered, despite himself. There had to be a way to communicate effectively with this human, he just had to figure out how.

The boy shook his head, a defeated look on his face. "I wish I knew what you were saying."

So do I, Snivels wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn't do either of them any good.

"Well," said the boy, standing up and gesturing around the room. "Welcome to my home, I guess. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's actually better than most."

The wooden structure Snivels was lying on turned out to be a bed. Which wouldn't have been his first guess, because there was absolutely no soft, cushiony mattress to sleep on at all. Just a flat, wooden surface with a small pillow and a thin cotton blanket on it.

Other than that, the room was mostly empty, except for a small desk with a chair, lots of paper and a couple of writing utensils...and a set of stairs that led down to a lower floor.

"I understand if you're not comfortable here," the boy said. "If you want to leave, you can. I won't force you to stay."

Snivels shook his head. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't; not while he was hurt. He had to stay out of danger until he recovered from his little escapade with the dragon trap.

"Okay then," his rescuer said. "You should get some rest. Doctor's orders." He sat down at his desk and started doodling on one of the black sheets of paper.

Snivels watched this strange human with interest. He was vastly different than the Vikings - hulking mountains of men who could make the deadliest of creatures cry for their mommies. He was much quieter and kinder, and he smelled a lot cleaner, too. He certainly seemed like the kind of person Snivels could trust to take care of him.

The house was suddenly filled with the sound of a door slamming open and a man shouting from downstairs. The boy scrambled to his feet and down the stairs, out of Snivels's sight. He wondered what could be going on, but he didn't want to get in the middle of it.

That night turned out to be one of the longest nights in Snivels's life, if not the absolute longest. It was impossible to get comfortable on the bed, especially with his injured tail flaring up whenever he moved it or positioned it wrong or, worst of all, laid on top of it. He didn't know how he would ever get to sleep.

It got worse when the boy returned to the room and tucked himself into the bed. He wasn't a very big person, but he still left Snivels with less room to work with.

Snivels could only stay asleep for a few minutes at most. At one point, he gave up and tried sleeping on the floor, but it didn't really help much - no pillow and no blanket. So, back up onto the bed he went. This time, however, he bunched up a corner of the blanket that wasn't being used into a makeshift cushion and laid on top of that. It wasn't the softest, but it was definitely an improvement.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd fallen asleep, or for how long he'd slept, but he woke up to the smell of smoke. Then he heard the sounds of mighty roars and alarmed shouts.

Snivels's eyes shot open. It was the very early morning, with the light of dawn having yet to appear on the horizon. His tail still hurt, but he didn't care right now. Whatever was happening, and he had a pretty good idea what, he needed to get out of there.

He couldn't get himself stuck in the middle of another raid. Not after what had happened to...

There was a frightened bleat from outside, which snapped Snivels out of his reverie. There was no mistaking it now.

Snivels scrambled to the head of the bed, where the young human boy was still asleep. Fumbling in the dark, his hands somehow found the boy's shoulder, and he shook it with all his might.

"WAKE UP!"

The boy's eyes blinked open. "What? What is it?"

Another roar, this one louder than the last.

Quick as a whip, the boy sat up. Any remnants of sleepiness completely vanished as a look of fearful realization crossed his face. He practically threw himself out of bed, scooping Snivels into his arms, and rushed downstairs.

The main floor of the house was basically a spacious room with a fire pit in the center, most likely for a source of heat and for cooking food. Round shields adorned the walls, a table and a couple of chairs stood off to the side, and there were two large doors opposite of each other in the front and back of the house.

Aside from Snivels and his new human companion, the building was completely devoid of any living beings.

"What is this place?" Snivels asked without thinking. So many feelings were coursing through him at that moment - confusion, exhaustion, curiosity, and fear. It filled every fiber of his being, and he could tell the boy was feeling the same thing.

Snivels didn't know it just yet, but he and this strange human were about to set the world on a course that no one could have predicted...

"This is Berk."

Confession: I had to use Icelandic instead of Old Norse, but aside from variations in spelling and semantics they're basically the same. (I can't guarantee that the translation is 100% accurate; such are the consequences of using a free online translator.)

Please leave me some reviews!

Chapter Text

"Day" being the relative term here.

Hiccup awoke to the feeling of someone vigorously shaking his shoulder. When his eyes blinked open, he expected to see his father, but instead found a Snivy standing over him. He was confused for about half a moment, then he remembered the sequence of events from the previous day that had resulted in him bringing a wild Pokémon into his home.

"What?" he asked, muddled and still sleepy. "What is it?"

The answer he got was a loud roar from outside.

A raid!

Now fully awake, Hiccup practically flung himself into a sitting position. The sun hadn't risen yet; it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark of what he guessed was the early morning. He threw the blanket off, grabbed the Snivy, and bolted down the stairs.

His father was absent, as to be expected. If Hiccup was right about what was happening outside, and there was very little doubt about it, then his father had to be busy defending the village from the hostile invaders.

"Sni Snivy vy?" the injured Pokémon questioned, his voice wavering fearfully.

Hiccup was quite afraid himself. He didn't have a reason not to be scared. But he managed to cover it up with a layer of snark.

"This is Berk," he narrated, a sarcastic edge in his voice. "It's five days north of hopeless, and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery."

The Snivy in his arms shivered, either from nervousness or the thought of the cold.

"It's my village," Hiccup continued. "In a word - sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We've got fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests."

"Vy Snivy?" The Snivy climbed up his lanky arm onto his shoulder, perching there like a pet parrot.

"You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes," Hiccup said, walking to the door. "We have..."

He opened the door, and the outline of a huge beast appeared, hovering outside. Noticing them, it spat a wave of fire in their direction. Hiccup barely managed to close the door before he and the Snivy could be incinerated. The roaring flames licked at the edges of the door, the heat pulsed through the wood, and the two occupants were overwhelmed by fear.

Hiccup finished his statement in a whisper. "...Dragons."

It took a minute for the heat to die down, and even then the front door was still smoldering. But Hiccup had had plenty of experience with raging fire and intense heat, and he knew very well how to handle it. He yanked the door open, the Snivy still hanging onto him, and emerged into a scene of pure chaos.

The sky was filled with dragons, each a different size, shape, and color. Some of them scorched the ground with their fire breath, others grabbed hapless sheep that were grazing in the fields. The central plaza was practically an inferno, the flames eating away at the wood houses like swarms of termites.

Just ahead of Hiccup, a large birdlike dragon swooped down and snagged a sheep in its claws. Seconds later, a well-armored Viking ran in from out of nowhere and jumped up, grabbing the dragon's legs in an attempt to retrieve the wooly animal. Another dragon, this one green with insectoid features, flew in and clawed at the Viking's back. A pudgy brown dragon then flew by, its wings beating like a bumblebee's, with a Viking trapped in its jaws. The mighty warrior beat the dragon's face with a hammer over and over again, but the beast didn't relinquish its grip.

"Most people would leave," Hiccup commented. "Not us. We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues."

The Snivy made a sort of scoffing noise, which probably meant something along the lines of, "You don't say."

"My name is Hiccup," he uttered, as if all the chaos and fire happening around them was completely normal. When he noticed the Snivy looking at him like he'd just grown a second head, he promptly added, "Great name, I know. But it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls - like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that."

A fireball sailed in and exploded against the ground nearby, the force of the impact knocking Hiccup off his feet. His back hit the ground hard, and before he could blink a Viking warrior suddenly stooped down and bellowed in his face, then gave him a cheery, "Morning!" and charged off.

Hiccup scrambled back up and headed further into the village, the Snivy clinging to his shoulder like a lifeline (which, at that point, it probably was). As he ran, Vikings all over yelled to him, "What are you doing here?" and "Get back inside!" Ignoring them, Hiccup turned a corner, only to have a passing dragon nearly scorch him as it shot fire at the ground in front of him.

A hand flashed out and snagged the back of Hiccup's shirt. He could hear the Snivy cry out in surprise at the sudden halt, and the pair of them found themselves staring at the bearded face of the biggest Viking anyone had ever seen.

"Hiccup!" shouted the large man. "What is he doing out again?! What are you doing out here?! Get inside!"

He set the boy down, and Hiccup continued on his way, a thoroughly freaked out Snivy still on his shoulder. "That's Stoick the Vast, chief of the tribe," he informed the frightened Pokémon. "They say that when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders. Do I believe that?" He paused before answering with absolute certainty, "Yes, I do."

It felt weird to be talking to a Pokémon, especially one he'd just met the day before, but it was satisfying to have company for a change. Even if said company couldn't really talk to him.

His path was suddenly blocked by a hulking white bear with a beard made of icicles. The Beartic opened his mouth and breathed an icy-cold wind on the flames, snuffing them out.

"Stoick's partner, Brumous," was Hiccup's blunt introduction.

Avoiding another fire blast from a dragon overhead, he ducked into the building that he was hoping to find. It was a blacksmith's workshop, and it was already occupied.

"Oh, nice of you to join the party!" said the large Viking who was busy at the anvil. One of his hands was missing, replaced by a large hammer. "I thought you'd been carried off!"

Taking off his fur vest and replacing it with an apron, Hiccup replied, "Who, me? No, I'm way to muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all this." He flexed his pathetically skinny arms, trying to show at least a little muscle.

"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" the Viking asked jokingly as he replaced his hammer with a set of tongs.

Hiccup opened the window to the forge, and was met with a boatload of weapons in need of repair. "The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber," he breathlessly told the Snivy, who had hopped off his shoulder and was now sitting on a nearby worktable. "I've been his apprentice ever since I was little - well, littler." He nodded at a blue rock-like Pokémon that was hovering in the nearby corner, adding, "And that is his partner, Norward."

It was hard not to hear all of the noises from outside - the courageous battle cries of the Vikings, the snarls and thundering roars of the dragons, and the cries of the wounded. There was a burst of light and heat, and another house was up in flames.

"See?" Hiccup commented wryly. "Old village, lots and lots of new houses."

Then, over the sounds of battle, he heard a Viking near the new fire hazard call out. Hiccup's heart skipped a beat, and he momentarily abandoned what he was doing to stick his head out the window. He was just in time to see a small group of teenagers - the group of teenagers - rush onto the scene with a barrel filled to the brim with water. A thrill coursed through him as he searched for a certain someone.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and seconds later the Snivy hoisted himself up onto the window frame. The Grass Snake Pokémon pointed at the group and asked, "Snivy Sni?"

"Who are they?" Hiccup guessed. When the Snivy nodded, he answered, "that's Fishlegs and his partner, Pad. Snotlout and his partner, Heat. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and their partners, Sarin and Ricin..."

Just outside the forge, the group of eight was rushing to put out the fire with buckets of water. A ridiculously chubby teen and his Lombre, a buff teen and his Magmar, and a pair of twins fighting over the same bucket with their Nidorino and Nidorina. All at once, the feuding foursome was knocked aside by the appearance of another.

A feisty feathered figure pushed the twins and their partners aside, obviously making room for someone. "That's Blaze, the Combusken," Hiccup said. He then pointed to a new figure who nodded at Blaze in thanks, shouldered past the Combusken, and then doused out a small fire with her bucket of water in one elegant motion.

"And that's her trainer," Hiccup paused and then called the girl by her name. "Astrid."

Merely a second later, another fireball came blazing in from above, framing her magnificently in an explosion of red and orange flame. Mesmerized by the display, Hiccup was completely ignorant of the others that regrouped to join her, his spellbound gaze focused solely on the most attractive girl this side of the archipelago. The blonde bangs hanging over her left eye in a way that seemed to summarize her beauty and awesomeness, the way she walked with her head held high, and her stunning blue eyes shining with immeasurable confidence and pride...

She was gone before he could get a better look at her, although he certainly tried his best, almost falling out of the window as he leaned farther out. What he wouldn't give to be even a fraction of what she was - strong, fearless, coordinated; everything a Viking should be. Privately, he thanked that random dragon for helping to deliver such a stunning spectacle.

"Oh, their jobs are so much cooler," Hiccup breathed to no one in particular.

The sound of someone snickering reminded him that he wasn't alone. He looked down and, to his complete embarrassment, saw the Snivy giving him an incredibly smug look.

...How much of that did I say out loud?

Suddenly, Gobber hoisted him away from the window and plunked him down inside the forge. "Oh, would you let me out, please?!" Hiccup complained. "I need to make my mark!"

Gobber snorted. "You've made plenty of marks," he told Hiccup, jabbing him gently with his tongs. "All in the wrong places."

Before Gobber could continue the conversation, Hiccup jumped back in. "Please, two minutes," he pleaded. "I'll kill a dragon, and my life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date!"

That last part made the Snivy snicker.

It was Gobber's turn to roll his eyes as he made a list on his fingers: "You can't lift a hammer, you can't swing an axe, you can't even throw one of these!" He held up a bola, which was quickly grabbed by a Viking outside the window. The Viking took aim and threw the bola at a passing dragon. The weapon snared the dragon's legs and wings, causing it to plummet to the ground with a dull thud.

"Ah," Hiccup said, moving over to a wooden contraption on wheels - one of his many inventions. "That is why this will throw it for me," he finished smugly, giving the device an affectionate pat. The launcher spontaneously unfolded at his touch and sent a bola hurtling across the room and colliding with Norward's head-shaped body. Unfazed by the attack, the Probopass folded up and went to sleep, clearly annoyed.

Gobber looked like he had enough. "Now this right here is what I'm talking about!"

"A mild calibration issue," Hiccup tried to explain, only to be cut off as Gobber continued.

"If you want to get out there and fight dragons, you need to stop all...this." He gestured with his hand and tongs.

"You just pointed to all of me!" Hiccup said, appalled.

"Yes, that's it!" Gobber said in a satisfied way. "Stop being all of you!"

Not wanting to be so easily swayed, Hiccup channeled his frustration into what he hoped came across as an intimidating glare. "You, sir, are playing a dangerous game," he warned ominously. "Keeping this much raw...Viking-ness...contained? there will be consequences!"

Gobber gave him a flat look, unconvinced. "I'll take my chances," he deadpanned, before casually slapping a dulled sword into Hiccup's hands. "Sword. Sharpen. Now."

Nearly staggering under the weight of the weapon that had been handed to him, Hiccup stumbled over to the grindstone and set the flat of the blade against it. The Snivy, who had been watching the exchange from the window, resumed his position up on the boy's shoulder, watching him work with interest.

"One day I'll get out there," Hiccup promised to anyone who was listening. "Because killing a dragon is everything around here."

He felt the Snivy's curious gaze resting on him, but Hiccup's eyes never left the sword on the grindstone. He watched the edge get even sharper and imagined it sinking into a dragon's hide, driven into a fatal wound by his own two hands.

"A Deadly Nadder or Flygon head is sure to get me at least noticed," he monologued.

As Hiccup griped to his new friend about his lack of social standing whilst holed up in the safety of the forge, the invasion outside was still going strong. Not all of the dragons and Dragon-type Pokémon were rampaging like mindless monsters throughout the village; some of them had a purpose in mind. Around one of the sheep barns, bird-like Deadly Nadders stalked, accompanied by Flygon, cawing and growling and squawking amongst themselves as they searched for a way in.

"Gronckles and Sliggoo are tough," Hiccup continued. "Taking down one of each of those would definitely get me a girlfriend."

Cue another snicker from the amused Snivy.

Nearby, some of the tougher dragons were raiding one of the food storehouses. A group of the portly dragons, each with a snail-like Pokémon on their back, greedily scooped up drying fish from the racks they hung from into their mouths. One of the Gronckles didn't bother with individual fish, simply uprooting the entire rack in its jaws before fluttering away like an overgrown bumblebee.

"A Hideous Zippleback and a Zweilous? Exotic. Two heads each, twice the status."

The food storehouse itself was the current target of a dual-headed dragon - one head sprayed flammable gas all over the vicinity, and the other ignited it with a spark or two from the back of its throat, blowing the building to smithereens. Its destructive work done, it swooped off, its aide, Zweilous, riding on its back, using Protect to block off any flying debris that might hit them.

Stoick and Brumous witnessed all of this transpire from their perch atop one of Berk's catapults, their best defense against a horde of this magnitude.

"They've found the sheep!" a Viking shouted. The Deadly Nadders and Flygon at the sheep barn had torn a hole in the roof and were making off with a sheep each.

Stoick was not about to let them get away. "Concentrate fire over the lower bank!" he ordered, triggering the catapult. A boulder smashed into the company of Nadders, knocking one out of the sky and scattering the rest.

At that moment, the air around the catapult was filled with the scent of burning wood. The smell was all over the village by now, but this was much stronger and had come without warning. It was close. Stoick looked around for the source of the new blaze, but soon stopped in his tracks. A flickering light was coming from beneath him.

"And then, there's the Monstrous Nightmare and Salamence. Only the best Vikings go after those. The Monstrous Nightmare has this nasty habit of setting itself on fire."

Stoick peered over the edge of the catapult tower, and a burst of heat and light erupted from beneath him as a flaming beast burst through the burning wood to sink its claws into the deck. Red-hot flames danced across its fireproof scales, its yellow eyes burning almost as brightly.

The Monstrous Nightmare snarled as it opened its fanged jaws in a roar that would make any other Viking soil his pants.

But Stoick wasn't just any other Viking. "Reload!" he shouted over his shoulder. Readying his hammer, he growled, "I'll take care of this."

He swung, striking the dragon in the head. Back and forth he bashed it, refusing to let the powerful beast get so much as a half-hearted snap in edgewise. It hissed, as though it were made of fire itself, and lunged in retaliation. Stoick, though, was relentless, avoiding its jaws and giving it one last stone-crushing strike.

Then, the dragon looked away from the chief, at something only it could see. It spared Stoick a final, murderous glance before swooping away as swiftly as it had come, taking its inferno with it.

And that was how Stoick knew that Berk's worst enemy had arrived.

"But the ultimate prize is the dragon that no one's ever seen before. We call it the..."

It was as though speaking of it had summoned it right to Berk. Without warning, a piercing screech tore through the village, getting steadily louder and louder.

A lone Viking hollered the unknown creature's name. "NIGHT FURY!"

"Get down!" another warned.

All across the village, Vikings and Pokémon alike ducked down, and a huge burst of blue flame shot down from the sky and exploded, taking the entire catapult down. There was a whistling noise as the unknown dragon shot by overhead, too fast and too dark to be seen. Stoick, Brumous, and the other Vikings and Pokémon manning the now destroyed catapult jumped to safety before the structure could crumble on top of them.

Hiccup continued in a whisper to the Snivy, now thoroughly spooked. "This dragon doesn't have a partner, it never steals food, never reveals itself, and" - another catapult exploded - "never misses. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why" - he stood up straighter in an attempt to look bold - "I'm going to be the first."

The Snivy looked at him with wide, fearful eyes.

Barely a few feet away from them, Gobber suddenly abandoned his tongs and replaced them with a sharp axe. "Man the fort, Hiccup," he ordered. "They need me out there." Just before he stepped outside, he said more firmly, "Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean."

Without waiting for a reply, the blacksmith let out a battle cry and charged out into the fray on his leg and a half.

As soon as he left their line of sight, Hiccup threw off his apron and replaced it with his fur vest, grabbed his homemade weapon - which he called "the Mangler" - and wheeled it to the door. "Let's go kill a dragon," he said to the Snivy, and rushed outside, towing his invention before him like an oddly-shaped wheelbarrow. He swerved this way and that, shouting apologies to each person and/or Pokémon he nearly ran into.

Flinching at a stray blast of dragon fire, the Grass Snake Pokémon uttered into his human mount's ear, "Vy Snivy Sni Snivy."

What I wouldn't give to know what that meant...

The last catapult tower on Berk stood on a lonely, quiet clearing a good distance away from the main plaza. Here, the sounds of battle were faint and barely registered in Hiccup's mind. Upon reaching the tower, he parked his cargo and set up the Mangler with practiced ease. In seconds, the protective casing was opened, the launcher erected, and the trigger pulled back. Finally, he aimed the barrel at the catapult tower, ready to fire at the slightest movement.

Snivels had to admit he was impressed with this odd human. What he lacked in brawns, he made up for in intellect. If Snivels didn't know any better, he'd say that Hiccup was definitely not a Viking.

But he was one of them - a scrawny miniature of one of them, but still. He strove to kill dragons, like every other human on this island called Berk. And now here he was heading out to the outskirts of the village to hunt for one of the rarest dragons known in Viking society - the Night Fury - and he was taking Snivels with him.

Snivels wanted it all to stop - no more fighting, no more stealing, and, most importantly, no more death. But he couldn't convey those feelings to the Vikings, not unless they had some level of understanding the Pokémon language. Considering how stubborn and ignorant they all were, the chances of that were very slim, if not none.

Maybe...he could try speaking in their language.

He'd heard of Pokémon who could communicate with humans telepathically, but that was mostly Psychic-types or Legendary and Mythical beings. The Snivy evolution line possessed no such ability. He'd have to speak verbally.

English would probably be the simplest to master, since his species' name was made up of English words. But the Vikings only understood their own language - Norse.

One step at a time. You can do it. "My name is Snivels."

"Vy Snivy Sni Snivy."

He didn't expect to nail it on his first try, but it was still disappointing. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Try again. Don't give up. You know what they say - with repetition comes perfection.

"Vy Snivy Sni Snivy."

Again.

"Vy Snivy Sni Snivy."

And again.

"Vy Snivy Sni Snivy."

He barely noticed when Hiccup stopped near the edge of a cliff to set up his contraption, and he ignored how his injured tail throbbed painfully every time he moved. He had to stay focused and keep trying.

"Vy Snivy Sni Snihvy."

...Was it his imagination, or did that last "I" sound less like "eye" and more like "ih"?

It's working!

Unfortunately, his little moment of personal triumph was interrupted quite suddenly by an explosion of blue fire. Just a second later, Hiccup was flung backwards; the young human collided with the ground, and Snivels was thrown off his shoulder and sent tumbling into the grass.

Snivels heard something snap, then the unmistakable screech of the Night Fury, and his heart sank.

The seconds ticked by, but it felt like forever to Hiccup. The Snivy was mumbling to itself, but he turned a deaf ear to it. This was his moment, and he couldn't afford any distractions. The catapult tower stood resolutely in front of them, shrouded in darkness without the illumination from the village torchlights.

"Come on, give me something to shoot at," Hiccup murmured, crouching into a ready position. "Give me something to shoot at..."

There was no movement in the skies - or was there? A nearly invisible shape blocked out the stars as it flew by, almost like a shadow. Instinctively, Hiccup knew that this was the dragon that he had been waiting for.

The Night Fury.

A screech rang out as it prepared to strike. Diving towards the catapult, the Night Fury's shriek reached its peak as it spat a bolt of blue fire straight at the structure. The flame hit its mark dead on, tearing through the wood and exploding violently. Desperately, Hiccup fired a bola at the dragon, the force of the shot throwing him and the Snivy backward. He was already waiting for the realization that his shot had missed.

There was the sound of rope slamming against flesh, a surprised shriek, and the outline of something caught in the bola began to fall off into the far-off forest.

"I hit it," Hiccup breathed, the implication of what he'd just seen dawning on him like the rising sun. He jumped up onto his feet and cheered, "Yes, I hit it! Did anyone else see that?!"

As if in answer, a large orange-and-black dragon clambered up over the hill, crushing the Mangler under its foot.

A Monstrous Nightmare. And right next to it was a blue draconic Pokémon with large red wings.

"Except for you guys," Hiccup finished in a snarky tone, already anticipating what was to come.

The Nightmare roared, and Hiccup took off running, stopping only to pick the Snivy up off the ground. He tucked the injured Pokémon under one arm as he fled, the Nightmare and the Salamence right behind him.

The Dragon Pokémon breathed a red-orange stream of fire at them, but missed. Scrambling, Hiccup ducked behind one of the giant torches. The Monstrous Nightmare opened its jaws and spewed a massive rush of flames that engulfed the torch. Despite his fear, Hiccup remained perfectly still. It was fortunate that he was able to avoid immolation on account of being small enough to hide behind the torch.

The flames burned themselves out, leaving Hiccup and the Snivy's hiding place thoroughly scorched. Moving slowly, Hiccup started to peek around the side, trying to see if the dragon was still there. It wasn't - but what he didn't realize was that it was right behind him, ready to bite his head off.

But it never got the chance. A sudden movement caught Hiccup's eye, and he turned to witness a shocking sight. Stoick the Vast had appeared from nowhere and was now battling the dragon in one-on-one combat.

Just a few feet away was Brumous engaging the Salamence in a similar duel. The Beartic sucked in a breath, then let it out in an intense Blizzard that left patches of frost on the Salamence's scales and wings. The Dragon Pokémon responded with a Flamethrower, but Brumous ducked under the flames and slashed his claws across the Salamence's legs.

Stoick, meanwhile, faced the Monstrous Nightmare without a hint of fear. The dragon roared loudly, a pathetic blast of fire, which didn't even reach the chief, spewing from its maw. The next blast was nothing more than a few embers. The Nightmare whimpered, looking less like a bad-tempered reptile and more like a kicked puppy.

"You're all out," growled Stoick, before letting loose with a series of kicks and punches. The Nightmare, deciding not to risk a fight without any of its fire, left. It was soon followed by the Salamence, whose hide was covered with slashes from Brumous's claws.

Once he was sure that the two dragons wouldn't be coming back, Stoick turned his attention toward the torch, which had been severely weakened by the Monstrous Nightmare's fire. It snapped, then fell to the ground, revealing a scrawny misfit of a Viking standing behind it.

"There's one more thing you need to know," Hiccup muttered to the Snivy.

The moment it hit the ground, the great bowl of fire that sat upon the torch toppled off and rolled away, doing major damage as it went. Vikings, Pokémon, and dragons alike scrambled to get away from the runaway torch.

Hiccup tried, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the mess. He winced as the torch continued to roll and crash throughout the village, causing damage wherever it went. He didn't need to turn around to know just how intensely Stoick was glaring at him; he could feel it. He shifted his gaze to the ground and sighed...

"Sorry, Dad."

Ah, gravity, thou art a heartless jerk.

The idea is that all Pokémon have an innate understanding of most, if not all, of the human languages, and need to learn how to pronounce its sounds, or establish a telepathic connection, in order to speak.

Also, our first glimpse of Hiccstrid, my OTP. It wouldn't be one of my HTTYD stories without Hiccstrid. We'll get to see more of that later. ;)

Be sure to review! I always appreciate the feedback!

Chapter Text

Have you ever looked into an animal's eyes? I mean really looked into them? Ever wondered what they might be thinking, or feeling?

Or what they might think of you?

Snivels stared wide-eyed at Hiccup. Did he just say...?! That simple, two-word statement gave him a pang of shock and disbelief so powerful it almost knocked him over. The only tangible thought he could manage was, How in the name of Arceus are those two related?!

The ball of fire that had once sat atop the torch that was now knocked down continued to roll throughout the village. It rapidly approached a couple of Vikings that had trapped a group of Deadly Nadders and Flygon in a net. The minute they saw the fire coming their way, they ran off, leaving the Nadders and Flygon free to escape. And escape they did, using the net to carry off a small herd of sheep that had also been under the net. Satisfied with their catches, the dragons all flew off, to where no one knew.

The Vikings and their Pokémon partners all watched as the dragons left Berk, all either disappointed or frustrated.

Snivels watched the dragons fly away, a sense of relief washing over him. As far as he could tell, no one had died. Except for the runaway torch, there hadn't been any casualties tonight. ...Not like the last raid he'd been unfortunate enough to get himself into.

Stoick was the first to take his gaze off of the dragons and shift his glare back at his son. It was only when Hiccup blurted hastily, "Okay, but I hit a Night Fury," did the chief react, grabbing the poor little guy by the back of his fur vest and dragging him off.

Snivels lost his grip and tumbled to the ground, stifling a cry of pain as he landed on his injured tail.

"It's not like the last few times, Dad! I mean I really, actually hit it!" Hiccup protested as he was towed along by his much larger relative. "You guys were busy and I had a very clear shot! It went down just off Raven Point, so let's get a search party out there before it..."

All of a sudden, Stoick halted, letting go of his son. Then he exploded, "STOP!"

The entire village was quiet. Among the crowd of gathered residents, Snivels spotted a concerned-looking Gobber with his Probopass hovering beside him with a half-asleep look on his face. Now that the fires were out, it was easier to see the sky getting lighter as the sun rose up from over the horizon.

"Just...stop," the chief repeated, quieter but no less furious. "Every time you step outside, disaster follows! Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter is almost here, and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup glanced quickly at the crowd that had gathered and, with a sprinkling of sarcasm in his tone, tried to relieve the tension. "Well, between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?"

Some of the nearby Vikings overheard, and were quite personally offended, judging by the several murmurs of annoyance. Snivels, on the other hand, turned his head to hide a smothered laugh. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself.

...On second thought, maybe he should have drawn some attention to himself. Perhaps then the poor boy would have been spared from the verbal wrath of the very unamused chief who was somehow also his father.

"This isn't a joke, Hiccup!" Stoick reprimanded, shaking his head a little. "Why can't you follow the simplest orders?"

Hiccup hastened to defend himself. "I can't stop myself! I see a dragon and I have to just...kill it. You know, it's who I am, Dad."

Snivels couldn't help but flinch fearfully at the word 'kill'.

Stoick let out a weary sigh. "You're many things, Hiccup," he said with a weary sigh, "but a dragon killer is not one of them."

For once, Snivels hoped that the Viking was right.

"Now get back to the house," Stoick ordered his miniscule son. He turned to Gobber, who had joined them in the middle of their argument. "Make sure he gets there," the chief ordered. "I have this mess to clean up."

Snivels watched as Gobber led Hiccup off. The blacksmith's Probopass - Norward, Snivels reminded himself - levitated after them. It was easy to feel sorry for the little guy, especially now that Snivels knew who Hiccup's father was. (He was still trying to get over the shock.)

The pain in his tail was excruciating, but he couldn't just leave Hiccup to sulk on his own. So, he followed them.

They passed the other teens and their partners. Of the five humans, Fishlegs was the only one who looked worried. His Lombre, Pad, had what might have been the most apathetic expression Snivels had ever seen. Astrid was sharpening her axe while Blaze was preening her feathers, neither of them paying much attention to what was going on. Snotlout and the twins, meanwhile, were laughing and otherwise making Hiccup feel miserable.

"Quite the performance," smirked Tuffnut, his twin sister snickering in the background.

"I have never seen anyone mess up so badly," Snotlout chuckled. "You know, that helped!"

"Thank you, thank you. I was trying," Hiccup said.

Snivels was one second away from Vine Whipping the arrogant jerk where it hurt the most when Gobber grabbed a handful of Snotlout's face and shoved him back. The Snivy grinned at the sight.

The walk back to Hiccup's home - the chief's home, Snivels thought with a shudder - was mostly in awkward silence. Norward trailed behind the blacksmith and his apprentice by about ten feet. Snivels was even further back - about twenty feet or so. As much sympathy as he felt for the boy, he didn't want to get too close to a man who smelled like the rear end of a Stunky.

"I really did hit one," Hiccup finally said. By this time, they were climbing the stairs leading up to the chief's residence.

"Sure you did," Gobber answered in that tone adults always use when they don't believe something a kid just told them.

"He never listens," Hiccup complained.

"It runs in the family," Gobber said by way of agreement.

Snivels wished he could say something like, "At least it's not 'vastness'," but he knew they wouldn't understand a word of his language. The amusement he felt from that ingenious phrase quickly faded, however, as he realized that neither Hiccup nor Gobber seemed to have noticed that he was following them. He couldn't blame them; they'd probably done this routine several times before and weren't used to having anyone besides Norward accompanying them on the way.

Had the Snivy listened to his instincts instead of his heart, Arceus knows how differently things would have turned out. But, despite everything in his right mind telling him not to, he rushed forward, weaving between the blacksmith's legs, and leapt up onto Hiccup's shoulder.

...Or, at least, he tried to. With his tail all bandaged up and still very much sore from the cut he'd sustained, Snivels's sense of balance was not up to par, so he only made it halfway. But it was still high enough for him to reach the boy's fur vest; he grabbed a fistful of the garment and, with a bit of straining, climbed up the rest of the way.

He heard Hiccup scream when he grabbed the vest, and he felt the boy squirm as he climbed up. Once he had secured himself on Hiccup's shoulder, the chief's son looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Oh," Hiccup sighed, looking relieved. "It's you. Got kinda rough back there; you okay?"

"I'm fine," Snivels answered with a nod. Any Viking would understand that, even with the language barrier.

They were on the front steps now. Snivels could feel Gobber's gaze on him; he was in full view of the blacksmith.

"Finally got yourself a partner, did you?" the two-limbed Viking asked.

"No," Hiccup said quickly. "He was injured by a netter trap, so I'm looking after him until he's fully healed. Kyrie's orders."

Snivels remembered Kyrie - their gentle touch, the calmness of their voice, and their medical professionalism. There weren't many Viking communities he knew of that had doctors who treated Pokémon, and Kyrie was probably the best Pokémon doctor he'd met thus far.

"Ah, yes," Gobber said. "Kyrie Eleison is rather strict about Pokémon care, ain't she?"

"Not she," Hiccup corrected. "They."

"Right." The blacksmith shook his head. "Still can't figure that one out."

Behind him, Snivels thought he heard Norward grumble, "You don't have much room to talk."

"Anyway," Gobber continued, "I'll be expecting you in the forge this afternoon. Got a whole boatload of weapon repairs to catch up on, and I could use an extra set of hands." That last sentence was said in a very accusatory tone. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the blacksmith wasn't at all happy about his apprentice leaving the forge unattended.

Hiccup sighed resignedly and moaned, "I'll be there." Then he opened the door and walked inside. The door shut behind him with a light thud.

But the instant Gobber was gone, Hiccup quickly headed for the back door.

"What are you doing?" Snivels asked impulsively.

"Stay here," he said by way of answer. He paused for just a moment to set the Snivy down on the dining table. "I have to find that Night Fury before it escapes."

No! Snivels knew full well what Hiccup wanted to do. He couldn't let this strange mini-Viking leave; he had to stop him from trying to kill the Night Fury, if they were even still alive.

A green vine shot out from somewhere under the Snivy's yellow collar and wrapped around Hiccup's wrist with an iron grip.

"You can't kill that dragon," Snivels cried. "He's just as much a victim of this war as you are! Don't you see? Killing those creatures doesn't make you better than them! They have feelings, and they can think for themselves. Haven't you ever wondered WHY they keep taking all the food? Or what they're doing with it? Or that maybe they wouldn't have to steal if you self-centered Apricorn-heads didn't take so much for yourselves?! You're not just hurting the dragons, you're hurting EVERYTHING! There has to be a better solution to this problem than mindless violence!"

The whole time he'd been speaking, Hiccup's expression hadn't changed in the slightest. He stood there, halfway between the table and the back door, looking calmly down at Snivels.

In the heat of the moment, the Snivy had forgotten about the language barrier.

"You don't understand a word I'm saying." His voice cracked multiple times as he spoke. "After all that craziness we just went through, you still can't understand me. I thought...I hoped you were different, but now...now, more than anything, I'm afraid you might be just like all the other monsters on this island."

Finally, Hiccup reacted. He carefully untangled the vine from his wrist and walked up to the table, bending down a little to match Snivels's eye level. "I know you're worried," he said. "But I've been a screwup my whole life. Just once, I want to do something great. Something that will make my father proud of me. Something worthy of Astrid's attention. And that Night Fury could be the chance I need. If I don't take that chance...I'm nothing."

"That's not true," Snivels said fiercely. "You can be whatever you want to be. Just because everyone else in this village kills dragons doesn't mean that you have to. Haven't you ever wished you could be something else? Something other than a Viking?"

Again, no reaction. At least, not the one Snivels had wanted.

"Just wait here," said Hiccup. "I'll be back soon. I hope." That last part was uttered under his breath, but Snivels still heard it. Then he stood up, sped across the room and flung the back door open.

He was gone before Snivels could even blink.

He's really gonna do it. He's gonna kill the Night Fury...or he's gonna die trying.

And I can't even warn him.

Hiccup had left the door open in his haste. Snivels gazed outside longingly; he could see the forest waiting at the top of a grassy steep that was effectively the backyard of the chief's home.

If his tail didn't hurt so much, he could run and run and run through the trees without ever looking back. Then again, if he hadn't been injured in the first place he wouldn't even be in this mess.

I'm here because Hiccup was kind enough to help. Now he's the one in trouble, and I'm the only one who knows about it.

I have to stop him, before he does something he might regret later.

But when he jumped down from the table and onto the floor, his tail practically exploded with excruciating pain, and it made him collapse. He wouldn't be able to make it very far in his current state, but he didn't have time to wait for his tail to heal on its own.

If he could just make it outside...

The sky was a whole canvas full of colors - the receding black and dark blue of the fading night, the pink and orange and yellow of the rising sun mixed with the natural light blue, and the white and light gray of approaching clouds. Anyone else would stop to admire the beauty of the scene, but Snivels didn't have the time to rest...and everyone knew how ungodly ignorant Vikings were.

Snivels couldn't figure out for the life of him how a whole race of people could be so TERRIBLE at listening. It was like they didn't even notice, or care about, the consequences of what they were doing. Did it never occur to them that there were apex predators that thrived primarily on a seafood diet? Or that there were innocent little critters that actually lived in the trees they cut down to build their homes with? And what about all of the wild berries and nuts that they picked for themselves? Wild Pokémon like him needed to live off of SOMETHING, after all.

Stupid, ugly, pigheaded brutes! Not to mention GREEDY and INCONSIDERATE! As if the whole world - no, the whole UNIVERSE revolves around them! Of all the self-centered, idiotic, fat, axe-swinging, mead-chugging, Granbull-faced, Garbodor-scented,  Apricorn-headed,  outlandishly-named dragonslayers I have ever had the displeasure of encountering, that hairless yak-bear freakazoid they call their chief is undoubtedly the WORST!

Once he was finished with his internal rant, Snivels dragged himself over to a little patch of sunlight that was streaming in through the oncoming clouds. (It was probably going to rain soon.) He settled into the grass and lifted his tail, the large leaf on the end fanning out in full view of the sun.

He wouldn't call it a pulse, and throbbing seemed too harsh a word. But the solar energy was coursing through him; it filled every part of his being. He felt less tired, less hungry, less sore. His tail itched terribly as the cut knitted itself closed under the bandages.

The Snivy evolution line couldn't normally learn Synthesis, but Snivels had picked up a few tricks on his travels. He'd found that this method of healing worked best in full sunlight, which was why he hadn't used it earlier - it wouldn't have been as effective in the very early morning when the sun hadn't even come up yet.

Finally, after almost a day of chaos, the pain ceased, and he could move his tail freely again. There was still a numbness to it, but it would fade after a while.

Now that he could move without feeling like someone was sticking him with a thousand hot needles, Snivels had to find Hiccup before he found the Night Fury.

But the forest was so vast; Snivels didn't have the whole layout of the island memorized but it was easy to see that more than half of it was composed of wilderness. Hiccup, not to mention the Night Fury, could be anywhere in those woods.

It was time to put that long nose of his to good use.

Snivels remembered Hiccup's scent quite clearly - the slightly sweaty fabric of his clothing (at least it wasn't soaked with mead like the Vikings' were), the smoke and sharp sting of metal from when he worked in the forge, and a small trace of the charcoal he used to write with.

He breathed in deeply, searching for those smells.

There was still an afterscent of smoke from the dragons' fire. His mind flashed back to the explosion of light and heat that had nearly decimated the younger Vikings and their Pokémon partners. Were the Pokémon really so loyal to the trainers who chose them that they'd willingly fight and kill the dragons who needed all that food so badly? And what about the Dragon-type Pokémon? They were practically their brethren. How could Pokémon stand even the thought of killing each other?

Snivels couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the knowledge of how the war had started and why it was still going on now had been lost to the Pokémon that were being raised in captivity. If it hadn't, then the Pokémon he'd seen in the village so far didn't seem to be making much of an effort to communicate that information to the Vikings.

He'd learned from stories told by his parents, who had learned from their parents and so on. He wished he could pass those stories on to the Vikings, especially now that he'd met and interacted with one of them. But even if he could talk to them, would they listen to him?

Focus, Snivels. Find Hiccup now, work on communication later.

He sniffed again.

Smoke, fish, dirty livestock, burning wood, bloodstained metal, my bandages, the grass, pine needles off the trees...There you are!

Hiccup's aroma was leading right into the woods, which sort of slanted uphill from the village. Snivels didn't know which area of the forest was Raven Point, but he could count on the scent to lead him there, and then hopefully he could save Hiccup and the Night Fury from hurting each other.

Snivels took off running, as fast as he could go, straight into the forest, following the trail of Hiccup's scent.

No more running and hiding. If there's anything I can do to stop this war, then I'm gonna do it.

And if I fail...at least I can say I tried.

The Great Hall was a very aptly named building; even a newcomer could discern it from the array of wooden structures that made up the village of Berk.

It was large enough to fit the entire village population inside, although when they actually did - such as now - they had to cram in a bit. The eating tables that usually stood on its stone floors had been moved aside to accommodate the mass of Vikings and Pokémon that had gathered inside. Enormous pillars stood like towering sequoias within the massive chamber, carved intricately with decorative patterns, and along the walls hung colorful tapestries depicting Vikings emerging victorious in battle.

Every, and any, Pokémon that entered the hall was quite easily unnerved by the trend amongst the decorations glorifying combat - the dead or dying victims were all some kind of dragon. A decapitated Dragonite here, a disemboweled Gronckle there, everywhere you turned your head, there was a dead-eyed dragon or Dragon-type Pokémon being bested in battle.

Even the more experienced Pokémon like Brumous, Stoick's Beartic who he'd trained and raised from a Cubchoo, couldn't help but imagine themselves in place of the Dragon-types. It made them sick just thinking about how they were being forced to fight each other. Sure, the concept of battling wasn't new to them - they battled all the time to help each other get stronger so they could survive and, under the right circumstances, evolve. But it was not in their nature to kill, at least not that way.

In the very center of the hall was a huge round slab of stone with a fireplace carved into its center. The edges of the stone were rimmed all around with wood, providing a table on which to hold council. Directly above it, there hung an enormous golden statue molded into the shape of a serpentine dragon, known as the Grapple Grounder, with a sword piercing through its body.

Stoick and Brumous stood at the head of the table, looking grimly across the room at the many faces gathered with them. Most of those faces displayed worry, even those of the higher-ranking Vikings that stood closest to their chief. It filled Stoick with a great regret, and frustration, knowing that his people were suffering. It was up to him to lead them to a safe and prosperous future, a responsibility that he, and all the other mighty chiefs before him, did his best to uphold.

A mighty chief like him was not easily swayed, however, so long as the prospect of victory was within his grasp.

"Either we finish them, or they'll finish us!" Stoick decreed, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. "It's the only way we'll be rid of them!"

He was speaking, of course, of the dragons. The raids had been getting more frequent lately, and greater quantities of food were being lost in them. After tallying up the damage in terms of stolen food and property destruction, the council could very well agree on the fact that this most recent one had been particularly severe.

But on the bright side, there had been minimal injuries.

Stoick turned his eyes downward at the map of Berk that lay in front of him, to a foggy region labeled 'Helheim's Gate'. "If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home."

With a single smooth motion, he grabbed a dagger and plunged it into the map, its blade piercing Helheim's Gate. "One more search," he decided. "Before the ice sets in."

His declaration was met with uncomfortable silence. Beside him, Brumous shifted, looking unsure.

A man in the back yelled, "Those ships never come back!"

"We're Vikings!" Stoick said exasperatedly. "It's an occupational hazard! Now who's with me?"

No one spoke up, although there was an abundance of anxious muttering.

"All right," Stoick decided, standing to his full height. "Those who stay will look after Hiccup."

The result was instantaneous. Every hand in the Great Hall shot into the air and a roar of supportive shouts almost deafened the chief. His only reaction was a satisfied, "Now that's more like it," uttered to no one in particular.

The meeting was then dismissed, and the villagers, Vikings and Pokémon alike, filed out of the hall's immense double doors. As they left, Stoick and Brumous approached Gobber, who was casually sitting on a bench near the back of the hall, a tankard of mead attached to his prosthetic arm, from which he sipped heartily as the chief approached him.

"I'll pack my undies," he said, making a move to stand up and leave with the others.

"No," Stoick answered. He motioned for the blacksmith to settle back down. "I need you to stay and train some new recruits." He then sat on the other end of the bench.

Gobber rolled his eyes and fiddled with his tankard-arm. "Perfect," he muttered. "And while I'm busy, Hiccup can cover the stall! Molten steel, razor-sharp blades, lots of time to himself...what could possibly go wrong?"

Only now did Stoick allow his exhaustion to manifest in the form of a sigh. "What am I going to do with him, Gobber?" he asked wearily.

Brumous let out a grunting sigh as he lay down beside the nearest pillar. Norward was also there, hovering a few feet off the ground. The two Pokémon looked at each other, their expressions reading, Well, we might as well get comfortable 'cause this is gonna take a while.

"Put him in training with the others," was Gobber's blunt reply.

Stoick thought he was joking for a minute. "I'm serious."

"So am I," the blacksmith answered.

"He'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage."

"Oh, you don't know that."

"I do, actually."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't!"

Brumous rolled his eyes. Two of the mightiest Vikings this side of the archipelago were arguing like a pair of five-year-olds trying to grab the last cookie in the jar. This is getting nowhere fast.

Stoick got up and started pacing. "You know what he's like. From the time he could crawl he's been...different. He doesn't listen...he has the attention span of a sparrow...I take him fishing and he goes hunting for...for trolls!"

"Trolls exist!" Gobber declared, pointing emphatically with his tankard. "They steal your socks. But only the left ones. What's with that?"

With another sigh, Stoick reminisced, "When I was a boy..."

(Gobber rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, "Here we go...")

"...my father told me to bash my head against a rock, and I did it. I thought he was crazy, but I didn't question it. And you know what happened?"

"You got a headache?" was the blacksmith's sarcastic guess.

"That rock split in two," Stoick answered his own question. "It taught me what a Viking can do, Gobber. He can crush mountains, level forests, tame seas! Even as a boy, I knew what I was, what I had to become..."

He sat down, slumping in his seat, and he turned to Gobber with eyes filled with concern. "Hiccup is not that boy," he finished.

There was silence from Gobber, before he said firmly, "You can't stop him, Stoick. You can only prepare him. I know it seems hopeless, but the truth is, you won't always be around to protect him. He's going to get out there again! He's probably out there now!"

Stoick wanted to argue against that, but found that he couldn't. Instead, he considered that, maybe, it was high time he did something to start preparing his son for the future.

Little did either of them know, Gobber's claim was a lot more accurate than they thought.

Hiccup did wonder sometimes if there might be more to dragons than they all thought. But it was always squashed down, deep inside, whenever he heard the other Vikings conversing, or bragging, about the feats they'd pulled off in the heat of battle, and what sort of dragons they'd faced off against, and any scars they'd sustained from the wretched beasts, and whether or not the dragon they'd fought had survived. Everyone would listen with such great intensity and say such wonderful praises, and Hiccup would wish that it was him they were listening to and congratulating for a job well done.

Which was why he was out in the middle of the forest right now. He had no knowledge of where he was exactly, but he knew it had to be somewhere around Raven Point - the region he'd seen the Night Fury plummeting toward.

But, of course, he only succeeded in getting himself completely and hopelessly lost.

After Odin-knows-how-many hours of wandering around in the woods, he was no closer to finding the downed - and hopefully dead - dragon that had crashed somewhere at Raven Point. With a defeated sigh, he marked an 'X' on the hand-drawn map in his open notebook, alongside a plethora of other 'X' marks, then scribbled all over his map and snapped the book shut in frustration. He tucked the book away into his vest and groaned, "Oh, the gods hate me. Some people lose their knife or their mug. No, not me! I manage to lose an entire dragon?!"

He decided to take out his frustration on a tree branch in his way, slapping it with all of his might. Unfortunately for him, it slapped him back, causing him to cringe.

When he looked up at the offending tree, he noticed something that drained his temper immediately. The tree had been split in two; the top two-thirds were intact and resting against the ground, while the bottom part was split into a jagged mess. It looked as if the tree had been struck by lightning, except for three important details: the tree wasn't burnt, there hadn't been any storms recently, and there was a deep furrow in the earth that stretched from the foot of the tree to the top of the next slope. The track of plowed dirt clearly wasn't natural, and had been dug recently.

Hiccup went sliding down the track of exposed soil and followed it up to the crest of the hill. It got steeper at the top, prompting him to get down on all fours to climb the rest of the way. His hand reached the top, and he pulled himself upwards...

...to find himself staring at a massive black shape in the middle of a clearing.

Instantly, he hit the ground by reflex, terrified that the dragon had noticed him. He didn't hear any reaction though, so he cautiously peeked over the top of the hill. The Night Fury wasn't moving, as if it were unconscious...or dead.

Hiccup slid his fur vest aside so that he could grab the knife strapped to the belt, the only weapon he ever carried with him. (It was also the only weapon he could carry, but he liked to ignore that technicality.) Gripping the knife with such force, Hiccup ducked and ran as fast as he could for the nearest boulder. Pressing his back to it, he cautiously slid around its circumference and risked another peek.

The dragon hadn't moved.

Overcome with a surge of courage, Hiccup boldly stepped up to the dragon, taking the time to examine it. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see exactly, since no one to his knowledge had ever seen a Night Fury, but if he had to give it a label it would probably be the most "non-threatening" looking dragon he'd ever seen.

There were no spikes, no horns, no barbs, no visible fangs sticking out of its jaws, no anything sharp and pointy. Its claws were stubby and had rounded tips, unlike the razor-sharp talons most dragons had. It was pitch-black all over, but the scales were so smooth they looked almost like skin. Its head vaguely reminded Hiccup of an axolotl's - wide and flat with two mobile ear-like appendages on the back of its head. A finned tail stretched out behind it, and its wings were broad and quite majestic, even while pinned to its body with the bola he had shot at it.

"I did it," Hiccup murmured in awe, which quickly gave way to elation. "Oh, yes, this...this fixes everything! Yes, I have brought down this mighty beast...!" He lifted his foot and planted it firmly on its side...

...prompting a reaction from the very much alive Night Fury.

Hiccup's elation evaporated as quickly as it had arrived, and terror surged back through his system as he threw himself against the boulder. The Night Fury shifted its leg, kicking feebly at his touch. Its body rose and fell with its breaths, strong and steady now that it was fully conscious.

Breathing hard, Hiccup held his knife out in front of him, prepared to defend himself if it suddenly attacked. He gave the Night Fury the once-over, trying to determine where to strike in order to kill it. He suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched, and he soon found himself looking into the dragon's vivid green eyes.

They both held each other's gaze for a few seconds; Hiccup was fascinated, and the dragon seemed curious.

After a tense moment, Hiccup looked away from the dragon's eyes and readied his knife. "I'm gonna kill you, dragon," he muttered. "Then I'm...I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father."

There was no response from the Night Fury. Not that he was expecting one, anyway.

"I'm a Viking," Hiccup said simply, then glared at the dragon. "I'm a Viking!" he repeated, raising his voice. Then, knife clutched in both of his hands, he held it high above his head, prepared to end the dragon's life with one stab.

But something made him stop.

The memory of the Snivy stuck and injured in the netter trap flashed through his mind. The way the Grass Snake Pokémon had looked at him with such fear and such intensity in its eyes, Hiccup could completely see himself in that kind of situation.

He once again looked into the Night Fury's eyes; they were wide, as if the dragon was afraid. They widened up a little more as the dragon waited in anticipation for what he would do.

Cringing, Hiccup squinted his eyes shut and once again raised his knife high. He heard the dragon's moan, and the gentle thud as its head slumped to the ground. It had given up, and was waiting for him to claim its life.

As for Hiccup, he was trying desperately to summon the courage to bring the blade down.

But each time, his body refused to move. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Not with the image of the Night Fury's innocent, frightened eyes branded into his memory.

How would you feel if you were shot out of the sky? asked a voice from somewhere in the back of his mind. How would you feel if you woke up in the middle of a forest all tied up with ropes? How would you feel if there was some person standing over you with a knife about to plunge into your heart?

There was only one answer, and the realization shook him to his core.

You'd be scared.

Finally, he gave up, just as the dragon had. His arms went slack, his hands loosening their grip, and his head dropped so that his eyes stared shamefully at the dirt underfoot. His false bravado was no more, shame taking its place.

He was no Viking.

"I did this..." he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. He turned to leave, but barely took two steps before he stopped and glanced back at the helpless dragon. It was just lying there, waiting for its life to end.

The pathetic sight made Hiccup suck in a breath in preparation for what he was going to do next.

His body moved on its own: lunging at the Night Fury, dropping to his knees, picking up the ropes and cutting them furiously. He felt the dragon tense as it realized what was going on. There were only three more ropes to cut... Now two... Now only one...

The Night Fury pounced. Hiccup was seized by one of his front legs and slammed against the boulder behind him. Gasping for breath, terror blazing through his veins, he dared to stare wide-eyed into the dragon's face. No longer were its eyes wide and scared. Now they were narrowed and focused, and carrying with them an undercurrent of ferocity.

The eyes of a true predator.

They gazed at each other once more, this time with their positions switched - with the Night Fury standing over Hiccup, preparing to finish him off. After what felt like an eternity, the dragon raised its head and snarled, and Hiccup braced himself for the pain and the darkness. It lunged, and...!

It unleashed an ear-splitting screech that rendered him half-deaf. Then the Night Fury tore off into the woods, free once more. Hiccup opened his eyes and saw its silhouette through the thickening mist as it suddenly careened into a tree. A second later, it was gone.

Hiccup numbly picked up his knife. Somehow, he found the strength to get back to his feet and started for the village. However, five steps later, the adrenaline's effects faded entirely, the knife slipped out of his fingers, and he pitched forward.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Really, a lot of the trouble here, and the trouble that's still yet to come, could have been avoided if just one of the Vikings did a better job of paying attention to what's going on around them (and, in this universe,  listening to the Pokémon) .

Also, yes, the Snivy evolution line really can learn Synthesis, either by Move Tutoring (Black 2 and White 2, Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire, or Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon) or breeding (Scarlet and Violet); I did my homework on that. (If you're not familiar with that idiom, I mean I did the research necessary to obtain that information.)

Interestingly, Snivy's Pokédex entry states they can photosynthesize, and yet they can't learn Synthesis via leveling up. Just another one of the many mysteries of Pokémon.

Review, follow, or favorite, and I'll update ASAP!

Chapter Text

FRIENDSHIP

ALL LIVES TOUCH OTHER LIVES TO CREATE SOMETHING ANEW AND ALIVE

Snivels probably would have found Hiccup a lot faster if it weren't for a couple of unforeseen complications.

Number one, the boy's scent kept zigzagging back and forth all over the woods. And two, the Snivy's bandages kept getting caught on low-hanging branches and shrubbery.

Stupid Vikings and their stupid dragon traps!

He'd gotten stuck again, this time in a prickle bush. (What was a prickle bush doing on Berk, anyway?) The more he struggled, the more tangled he got in the branches. He tried taking the bandages off, but Kyrie had done their job well. The knot was tied tight, and there seemed to be infinite thick layers of cloth that wouldn't come off fast enough, no matter how he grabbed and peeled at them.

His Vine Whip kept getting tangled in the branches when he tried to maneuver them, and it was no use to heal the dozen or so small cuts on his body with Synthesis while he was still stuck in the prickles. And neither of the other two moves he knew how to use would be much help.

Snivels would never make it as this rate. For all he knew, Hiccup and/or the Night Fury could be dead right this very moment.

I can't give up. I won't give up!

Up in the trees, he could hear the local wildlife scampering and flittering across the branches and among the leaves. With any luck, one of them could be a Pidgey or a Skwovet or really any kind of commonly-found Normal-type.

"Help!" Snivels called out. "Can anyone hear me? Please, I need help!"

No answer. Nothing but the chittering of squirrels and the chirping of sparrows.

Snivels couldn't just sit there and wait for someone to happen by and find him stuck (again). Not while Hiccup was out there getting into Arceus knows what kind of trouble. He had to get free, no matter what it took.

When he heard a twig snap, he thought one of the prickles had broken off. But then he heard the rustling of leaves and realized with a jolt that something was headed right toward him.

If it was a wolf or a wild boar, he was in no position to defend himself from an attack. As the sounds of rustling and snuffling got closer, he fervently prayed to Arceus that whatever was coming was a fellow Pokémon, or something harmless like a deer or a rabbit.

After a long, tense moment, something small and red and scaly nosed his way through a cluster of bushes. The little reptile stumbled forward on two legs, his proportionately sized wings and long tail brushing against the leaves, causing some to scatter. His big green eyes blinked at Snivels.

The Snivy stared back at him. He recognized the critter instantly. "Red?"

At the sound of his name, the dragonet gave a delighted squeak and rushed forward. Three more baby Dramillion, each a different color, charged out of the bushes after their big brother.

"Green! Blue! Yellow!" Although he hadn't been actively thinking about it, the knowledge that the quartet of siblings hadn't been victimized by the dragon traps brought Snivels great relief.

There were far too many dragonets who had lost their parents in the war, and vice versa. The four Dramillions had only been a few days old when Snivels found them. They'd just lost their mother, so he'd taken it upon himself to look after them. ...But that's a whole other story.

Red stopped just short of the prickle bush, trembling with excitement at the sight of Snivels, even if the Snivy was stuck in a prickle bush. His younger brother and two sisters skidded to a stop behind him, tripping over each other's talons and crashing into Red.

Snivels laughed with delight. "You guys have no idea how happy I am to see you're okay!"

"Snivels!" chirped Yellow, the youngest of the bunch. "You is okay!"

"I will be okay just as soon as I get myself out of this prickle bush," the Snivy quipped. He tried to squirm, but all that accomplished was getting the bandage even more tangled in the branches.

"Snivels is stuck?" asked Blue.

Snivels sighed. "Yes, I'm stuck."

Red, being the oldest sibling, didn't waste any time. He stepped up the prickle bush, grabbed one of the branches with his teeth and pulled. It took quite a bit of straining, but eventually it broke off with a *snap!*

"What are you doing?" asked an alarmed Snivels. "Be careful!"

The red dragonet spat out the branch and bit the next one. He was quickly joined by Green, who practically pounced at the bush and tore at the branches with her own teeth.

Snivels watched with anxious eyes as the two dragonets snapped the branches off one by one. If either of them got even the tiniest splinter...

But their efforts were working. Now that the branches were out of the way, Snivels had more wiggle room. He could see Blue and Yellow hanging back, the former's wing outstretched to prevent the latter from charging forward to join their elder brother and sister in assaulting the offending bush.

Red's teeth closed on the off-white cloth of Snivels's bandages that were still tangled up in the prickles. He gave a strong tug, and there was the sound of fabric tearing.

All of a sudden, Snivels was tumbling out of the bush and onto the soft grass. The bandage and gauze, Kyrie's handiwork, were still tangled in the prickles.

Snivels barely had time to breathe before he was smothered by about ten dozen dragon kisses from the four young Dramillions.

"Guys!" the Snivy half-sputtered half-laughed. "St-stop! Okay, that's enough!"

The four dragonets each gave him one last lick for good measure before backing up a few steps. All of them, Yellow especially, were still trembling with excitement.

Now that he could breathe again, Snivels picked himself up off the forest floor. He smiled at the quartet of siblings. "How did you find me?"

What followed was a jumble of chirps and squawks in a language that was almost incomprehensible to the human ear. Aside from fellow dragons, Pokémon were the only creatures that could innately understand Dragonese.

From what Snivels could tell, Red, Green, and Blue were each telling their own account of how they'd tracked him down. Yellow, on the other hand, was enthusing how happy she was that he was here and he was okay and how sorry she was that she almost got them caught in the trap.

The four dragonets collectively fell silent under his gaze, a mix of disbelief and impatience. The kind of look that said, Alright, you've had your fun, now what really happened?

Glancing at his younger siblings, Red admitted the truth.

"We is lucky."

That, Snivels believed. He could imagine it clearly - the four young Dramillions returning to the scene where the netter trap had been set and finding it empty. They must have been pretty worried, maybe even terrified, when they couldn't find him. And by sheer chance, they just happened to be near enough to where he'd gotten stuck in the prickle bush to hear his cries for help.

Then, from another part of the forest, an ear-splitting screech echoed through the trees.

Yellow gave a cry of fright and curled up under Red's wings. "Scary noise! Me no like."

Snivels felt a chill go down his spine. There was only one creature he knew that could make a sound like that - a Night Fury. And where there was a Night Fury, there had to be...

Hiccup!

He'd nearly forgotten; the poor young human was in trouble!

"Guys," Snivels said in what he hoped was a calm and soothing voice, "listen - there's someone in these woods who might be in trouble. He needs my help, understand?"

Green tilted her head. "Can we come?"

Snivels was silent as he weighed the pros and cons in his head. On the one hand, confronting an unfamiliar dragon, especially one as elusive and powerful as a Night Fury, could be quite dangerous. On the other hand, the four baby Dramillions shouldn't be left alone in the middle of the forest where there could very well be other traps for unsuspecting dragons to walk into.

Not to mention it would probably be better for all of them if Snivels could actively keep an eye on the little ones.

"Alright," he conceded. "But follow me and stay close."

The quartet of siblings nodded obediently.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly where in the vast forest the roar had originated from based on sound alone. But Snivels still had an advantage - Hiccup's scent.

Mostly clean fabric, smoke and metal, with a dash of charcoal.

The scent trail was leading deeper into the woods, and it was rather potent. With any luck, Hiccup was somewhere nearby.

Snivels wasted no time following the trail of Hiccup's distinct aroma, stopping only to utter, "This way," to the four little Dramillions.

There was still some zigzagging, but not as much as before. Wherever Hiccup had been headed to, he seemed to have elected to take a more consistent path. And as Snivels got closer, he could detect other scents - the earthy aroma of fresh dirt and broken wood, the dry and smoky smell of dragon scales, and a touch of iron.

Blood has iron in it.

But whose blood was it? Hiccup's...or the Night Fury's? Snivels didn't know which would be worse, but, as much as he didn't want to find out, he was the only one who could save them both.

Those next few minutes of tracking Hiccup's scent were probably the most stressful few minutes Snivels had ever known. He was calmed somewhat by the muffled sound of Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow's footsteps on the dirt and grass behind him. They were making good on their word to follow him and stay together. As long as they did so, they'd be safe.

It felt like an eternity before he found the first sign that they were getting close to their destination.

A rather large tree had been split in two, with one half standing upright, and the other bending down toward the ground. It looked as if the tree had been struck by lightning, except that it wasn't burnt. There was a huge track of plowed earth running beyond the tree and vanishing over the next hill.

"What happen?" Red asked.

It was clear to Snivels what had happened - something big had plunged out of the sky and violently skidded to a halt. And Snivels knew exactly what that something was.

"Wait here and stay hidden," he told the dragonets. "I'm gonna check it out."

Hopping over the fallen tree, the Snivy followed the track of dirt to the top of the hill. Rounding an exposed tree root, he turned back to see the four baby Dramillions huddled together. They watched with wide, frightened eyes as he climbed up to the crest of the hill.

Snivels didn't know what he was expecting to find when he reached the top. But what he saw was quite jarring.

Ropes were strewn across the forest floor; there was no sign of a dragon. And lying facedown, just a few feet away from a large boulder, was the scrawny form of a teenaged human boy.

Oh, no.

Had the Night Fury killed Hiccup? Was Snivels too late?

With tentative steps, the Snivy crept down the slope. Maybe the Night Fury was still nearby; there was still a trace of dragon scales in the air. But what exactly had happened? Did the dragon break free? Was the dragon hurt? If so, how badly?

Dragons didn't attack without reason, Snivels knew. Whatever condition Hiccup was in, the Night Fury had acted in retaliation.

The whole time Snivels had traversed the short distance from the top of the small hill to the bottom, Hiccup hadn't moved. Not even a little.

He didn't smell dead. And he didn't smell like iron, either. Which meant that smell had to be the Night Fury's blood.

Now that Snivels was standing right next to the body, he pressed his leafy hand on the side of Hiccup's neck. Much to his relief, he could feel the steady thrum of the boy's pulse under his fingers.

He's alive.

But where was the Night Fury?

Anyone else would have assumed that the dragon had broken free of the bola and attacked his would-be killer. But Snivels knew better than to make assumptions. There was something about the scene that didn't quite add up.

The ropes...

The remains of the bola that had been launched from that weird cannon thing, or whatever Hiccup might have called it, were the only visual clue that a dragon had even been there. From the way the trees and the ground had looked, Snivels had to guess it was a pretty rough landing.

He was still trying to get over the fact that a Viking had actually succeeded in downing a dragon as swift and elusive as a Night Fury. Then again, Hiccup was clearly no ordinary Viking. (If he even was a Viking at all. Was that big chief guy really his father? Like, his father-father?)

I better get a closer look.

Treading lightly, in case the Night Fury was still nearby, Snivels left the unconscious Hiccup lying in the dirt and approached the damaged bola. He grabbed the nearest rope and lifted it up off the ground, examining it closely.

That's interesting.

The ends of the rope weren't frayed at all - they'd been cut cleanly, perhaps by a claw, or a tooth...or a blade.

There was the unmistakable musty scent of metal, mixed with the mild twine of rope and salty human sweat. Something was glinting in the morning light, in the dirt next to Hiccup's body. A weapon, maybe?

...Well, that was a stupid question. Of course it had to be a weapon of some kind. Even a complete and total idiot would know better than to go out hunting for a dragon without something to defend himself with. And as far as Snivels was concerned, Hiccup was practically a genius.

Now that he had no further need for the bola, Snivels let the cut rope fall to the forest floor. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together now - the Night Fury crashed into the woods, all tangled up with ropes, probably injured in the fall. Hiccup finds the dragon, but instead of killing the poor creature he sets them free.

But why did he let the dragon go? And where was the Night Fury now?

Snivels would have to figure that out later. Right now, Hiccup needed his help.

He hadn't seen or smelled anything unusual or alarming while he was checking for Hiccup's pulse. The young Viking(?) must have passed out from the shock of whatever had happened. If the Night Fury had retaliated, there wasn't any sign that they had. ...Except maybe for the faint smell of salmon mixed with fiery dragon's breath.

Speaking of dragons...

"It's okay, guys," the Snivy called. "You can come out."

Red was the first to pop up from over the top of the hill, his eyes searching for Snivels. As the oldest of the dragonets, the responsibility of the safety of his siblings would fall unto him whenever their parents weren't around. But since the war left them with no mother and no father to take care of them, someone else, in their case Snivels, had to fill the parent role instead.

Snivels waved to get the red dragonet's attention. "Down here."

Almost the moment Red's eyes landed on the Snivy, he took off running down the hill. ...That is, if you could call it running. The slope was a bit steep, so the baby Dramillion slipped a little on the way down.

Green, Blue, and Yellow soon followed. The littlest and most excitable of the dragonets lost her footing entirely and went tumbling head over tail to the bottom of the hill where Snivels was waiting. The unexpectedness combined with Yellow's rather adorable, dazed expression provided some much-needed levity to the situation, as Snivels chuckled at the sight.

Now that they were all gathered, Snivels's attention quickly returned to the unconscious Hiccup. He tried to remember what he'd learned about what to do when someone faints. Usually when a Pokémon fainted, it was from exhaustion and sustaining too much damage in battle. The main course of treatment for that was rest, medicine, and plenty of nutrition-packed berries.

Considering the fact that the patient in this particular case was human, he doubted that was the necessary treatment. But they could at least turn Hiccup onto his back, so his face wasn't in the dirt.

Bracing himself against Hiccup's shoulder, Snivels beckoned the four dragonets to come closer. "Help me flip him over."

The quartet of siblings lined up behind him, bracing their shoulders against the unconscious boy's body.

"On three," Snivels said. "One..."

He tightened his grip.

"Two..."

They all tensed up in preparation.

"Three!"

All five of them gently pushed. Well, Snivels hoped they were being gentle enough. It was a slow process, but sure enough Hiccup's body was rolling over. He was on his side now...and then with one last good shove from his five little helpers, he flopped onto his back.

Snivels barely had enough time to catch his breath before he heard a soft groan...and he saw Hiccup's face twitch.

He's waking up.

Briefly, Snivels was relieved. But then it occurred to him - how would Hiccup react when he saw the four dragonets? Dramillions didn't come to Berk often, if at all. They lived on a whole other island quite a way away. Had any of the Vikings on Berk ever seen a Dramillion?

After what he'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours, it was incredibly hard for Snivels to imagine someone as kind and selfless as Hiccup hurting a dragonet.

We'll be alright. Snivels was certain of it. I can trust him.

"Hiccup?"

The last thing Hiccup remembered seeing before he'd blacked out was the Night Fury flying deeper into the woods. And that was right after his poor eardrums had been assaulted by the dragon's loud, screeching roar.

When he came to, he was lying on his back (which was weird, because he was pretty sure he'd fallen flat on his face). And he could hear something; it was faint at first but gradually became clearer as he neared full consciousness.

"Sni-vy?"

Wait. What was the Snivy doing all the way out here? Had he really followed him this whole way? And how?

Hiccup forced his eyes open, and found himself staring up toward the sky.

How long had he been unconscious? It didn't look like much time had passed. But with the kind of luck he'd been having lately, his father was probably back home waiting to chew him out for disobeying his orders for the umpteenth time.

"Sni-vy?"

There was something odd about the way the Snivy had said that - a sort of vocal spasm exactly in the middle, sandwiched between the two syllables.

It sounded like...a hiccup.

He tried to sit up, but his whole body felt numb. It took him a minute to regain control of his limbs; his arms and legs tingled as they moved. No sooner after he'd sat up, his head started spinning.

"What happened?"

The Snivy shrugged. "Snivy vy."

Then there was a sort of squeaky chirrup sound unlike anything Hiccup had ever heard.

Gradually, the throbbing in his brain subsided and his swirling vision slowed to a stop. To his surprise and bewilderment, there were four little dragons standing less than five feet away from him.

Hiccup yelped and scrambled back. His hand found the knife he'd dropped in the dirt and grasped it like a lifeline, ready to strike in case the dragons tried to attack.

But they didn't. Instead, they ducked and hid behind the Snivy.

He stared, dumbstruck. He'd never seen dragons like them before. Bipedal, small arms, short thick neck, small head, long tail, not much bigger than a cat. What kind of dragons were they, and what were they doing on Berk?

Wait a minute.

Was this the same Snivy he'd rescued? It didn't have a bandage on its tail, and now that he had a good look at it there were small scratches on the Grass Snake Pokémon's body, but its tail was completely unscathed. It couldn't be the same one...could it?

"Um," Hiccup tried to speak. What could he say? "Is...is that you, little guy?"

"Vy," the Snivy said, nodding.

But how? Pokémon were very resilient creatures, but even they couldn't heal from such a serious injury that fast. Unless...

"How did you...?"

The Snivy followed his eyeline to its leafy tail. Then it nodded, as if remembering something. With slow, graceful movements, the Grass Snake Pokémon raised its tail up. The green leaf caught a beam of stray sunlight and glowed.

Hiccup watched in amazement as the Snivy's whole body glowed green and sparkled. Before his eyes, the scratches on the Snivy's body disappeared. After a few seconds, the glow faded and Grass Snake Pokémon was completely uninjured.

That was Synthesis, wasn't it?

So, the Snivy could heal himself. He didn't need Hiccup to look after him anymore; he could stay here in the forest where he belonged.

But what about those little dragons? Why weren't they attacking? And why did they seem to know this Snivy? There must be a story there.

...Was Hiccup even awake?

He wasn't sure what he'd dreamed and what was real. Perhaps he was still passed out on the forest floor. Or perhaps he was asleep in bed, back home. Maybe this was all one long nightmare.

But Hiccup was sure he could remember working with Gobber in the forge in the early morning. And the talking to Stoick had given him when he made a mess of things once again. And Astrid's perfect figure silhouetted against an exploding fireball. That was definitely real.

Hiccup stood up on shaky legs, tucking his knife into his belt. The Snivy stared up at him calmly.

Was the Night Fury real? The ultimate prize a Viking could get, felled by a lucky shot from the Mangler. The large dark shape lying motionless in the clearing. The iridescent green eyes boring a hole into his skull.

No, that had to be real. Hiccup couldn't have conjured that from his own brain.

"So," he gulped, "are these...friends of yours?"

The Snivy nodded again. Then he turned to the small red dragon and stroked its muzzle.

Hiccup decided it was best to not question his own sanity at this point.

"Well, you're all healed now," he said. "So, I guess this is goodbye." He backed away slowly, stopping only when he accidentally bumped into the boulder - the same one he'd hid behind while approaching the downed Night Fury. "See you around...maybe." That last part was uttered under his breath as he turned away and headed back from whence he came.

He didn't know why he felt so disappointed. He was never going to keep the Snivy anyway. That Pokémon was born in the wild, so he belonged in the forest, not in a village full of loud, angry Vikings.

Still, it felt nice to have a companion alongside him for a change as he went about his usual routine. Even if said companion seemed to have some sort of affiliation with the enemy.

He probably couldn't tell anyone about the strange dragons he'd seen. If they didn't believe him about the Night Fury, then they certainly wouldn't believe his claims that he'd potentially discovered a new species. Plus, he wasn't supposed to be out in the forest in the first place.

Maybe he should have stayed home like he was told. It was all so simple then - kill dragons or be killed by dragons. But he had to go out, to find the Night Fury. And he went and messed the whole thing up, like he always did.

Well...it was fun while it lasted, I guess.

Even if Hiccup never saw the Snivy again, he'd never forget them. He didn't want to.

Snivels watched silently as Hiccup trudged up the hill, away from him and the dragonets. Their encounter had gone a lot better than he thought it would. Even if Hiccup had tried to attack the four baby Dramillions, he'd have to get through Snivels first.

On a side note, there were worse things to be called than a 'little guy'. Still, it'd be nice if he could at least tell Hiccup what his name was.

He'd been working on that, right before the Night Fury was shot out of the sky and everything spiraled out of control. There were so many unanswered questions to what had transpired, and now Hiccup was leaving him behind in the middle of the woods.

Snivels absentmindedly scratched the sweet spot on Red's neck that all dragons had. Now that he'd seen a slice of Hiccup's life in a Viking village, it was impossible to not feel sorry for the poor kid.

No one had mentioned anything about Hiccup's mother, not even Hiccup himself. And none of the women in the village had tried to intervene when Stoick was scolding his son. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened to her, with a war going on and everything.

Which meant that Hiccup didn't have anyone - no friends, no mother, no proper father - to support him. Except maybe Kyrie. But that wasn't nearly enough.

Snivels couldn't leave him like that. Not after all that Hiccup had done to help him.

Finding his way back home would have to wait. The Pokémon of Orre could take care of themselves, and there was another need greater than his that had to be fulfilled.

"Guys," he said, his voice cracking a little in anticipation of what he was about to do. "That boy...Hiccup, he needs me. I know I promised to find you a new home, but the truth is I don't know how to get to Orre from here. Even if I did, I can't just let him go it alone." He turned to Red. "Your siblings will look to you now. Take care of each other, protect each other. I don't know when I'll see you again, but it might not be for a while."

He hugged each of them around the neck - first Red, then Green, then Blue, and lastly Yellow. He could feel his eyes getting wet, but he blinked the tears away. He had to be strong, for himself and for the dragonets.

"Miss you, Snivels," Yellow crooned.

"I'll miss you, too," Snivels said.

It took him longer to let go than it should have. But he did, because that's what he had to do.

"Good luck," was the last thing he said to them before he turned and ran.

He glanced back only once, to make sure the dragonets weren't following him. They couldn't come to the village; the Vikings would surely kill them without hesitation. He did see Yellow try to run after him, but Red grabbed her tail in his mouth to stop her.

Red was smart and responsible, he'd know what to do. And he understood what Snivels had been trying to convey.

This was something he had to do by himself.

"Hiccup!"

Snivels could see the lanky form of the young Viking (who was not really much of a Viking at all) up ahead. He saw the boy stiffen at the sound of him calling out his name in the Pokémon language.

As he neared, he realized Hiccup had stopped walking. Slowly, the boy turned around.

Snivels slowed into a walk. The sight of Hiccup's eyes widening to the size of dinner plates made him smile. This boy had already sacrificed so much - his time, his energy, and now his happiness - for his wellbeing, and he'd never expected anything in return. If there was only one person Snivels could trust on this island, it was him.

He stood at Hiccup's feet, looking up at him hopefully.

You helped me. You have proven you are worthy. I trust you.

I choose you...to be my trainer.

Hiccup's eyes lit up with realization, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards into his own smile.

Originally, there was only Blue, but then a lightbulb went off in my head and I added the other three as a reference to the first installments of the Pokémon video game franchise. In order from oldest to youngest: Red, Green, Blue, then Yellow.

As for how Snivels met and befriended them, that's a story for another time.

Now, how about that new trailer for Legends Z-A? Is anyone else excited to return to Kalos? Who knows what new adventures await?

Speaking of which, it's time for a new legend to begin...

Reviews are very much appreciated.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Axe to Grind

For those of you who may not know, this is based on one of a few deleted scenes from the first movie. If you haven't seen it yet, I'd recommend checking it out.

Hiccup and his new Snivy had returned to the village just in time to see Stoick, Brumous, Gobber, and Norward exiting the Great Hall. The chief's Beartic had been the first to notice that the heir of Berk wasn't alone.

It was excusable that no one had noticed the small green Pokémon sooner, with the dragon raid going on and everything. But it was hard for anyone to not notice the Snivy while he was hitching a ride on Hiccup's shoulder.

Of course, Brumous had to point out the development to his master. The chief always wanted to know about something right away.

Stoick had stared down his nose at the two, frown lines etched into his features like a stone carving. "What. Is. THAT?"

The Snivy had looked calmly up at the chief, his twitching tail the only hint that he was upset.

Hiccup had gulped and said, "He was hurt, so I helped him."

He was quite fortunate that Gobber had been there to testify the fact that the Snivy had been with them as he and Norward escorted Hiccup home, and even before that when they were working on weapon repairs during the raid. Because if Stoick thought he'd found the Pokémon out in the woods after the mess he'd made that morning...he'd be in a boatload of trouble.

The chief had then given his son an exasperated shake of the head and muttered something about discussing it later before he and Brumous marched off to see to the building repairs. No sooner after they'd left, the blacksmith and his Probopass had waved Hiccup over so they could get to work in the forge.

Right at the current moment, Hiccup was pumping the bellows with all his might. He had to keep the fire going if the metal that was sitting in the coals had a chance of being forged in prime condition. The Snivy watched the blacksmith's apprentice work from his place on the service window, which was about as far away as he could be from the weapons and hot coals without outright leaving the building.

It wasn't too strange that a Grass-type Pokémon would want to distance themselves from fire, seeing as it was one of their elemental weaknesses. What was unusual, however, was how much mumbling the Snivy was doing.

Hiccup grabbed the tongs and hurried the container of liquid metal over to Gobber. He poured it into the mold, careful not to spill a drop, and let Gobber heave the gigantic, spherical rock over to the anvil.

It felt good to be back in the forge; it was like his natural habitat. Hiccup could work the bellows or sharpen blades or whatever else needed to be done without ever stopping to think about things he wasn't supposed to.

...Until Gobber pretty much ruined it.

"Chin up, lad. You've been looking down ever since your father told you off this morning," the blacksmith said with a highly inappropriate amount of cheer.

What with the whole near-death experience in the woods, plus the encounter with the strange new dragons and the Snivy following him home, fresh in Hiccup's mind, he'd actually managed to forget that morning's scolding. But of course Gobber just had to remind him of the incident with the usual tactlessness of a true Viking.

It was moments like this where Hiccup wished he could disappear.

"Don't take it to heart, kid," Gobber said, in what he probably thought was a reassuring voice. "It's his job to be tough on everyone!" He cracked the rock down the middle, revealing a now solid, but still burning hot, sword.

"I'm not everyone!" Hiccup protested, then caught himself. Where had that even come from? It wasn't like him to lose his temper. He sucked in a breath and let it out after a silent count to ten. "But...it doesn't matter. The man's impossible to please." He grabbed a set of tongs and tossed it into the blacksmith's waiting hand.

"He just doesn't want to appear like he's playing favorites," Gobber told him. He took the red-hot sword in the tongs and carried it over to the anvil.

"He's covered in that department, believe me," Hiccup drawled. Moving quickly, he brushed off any tiny remnants of debris that rested on the anvil with a sweep of his hand. "If I didn't live in the same house as him, I wouldn't even know he was my father."

The red-hot sword was placed onto the anvil with a loud *clang!*, making him jump back.

"Have you told him that?" the blacksmith asked with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Wha- of course not," he shot back. At a gesture from Gobber, he removed the hook from Gobber's prosthetic and switched it with a strong metal hammer. Then he donned a pair of thick, heatproof gloves and grabbed the hilt of the still-hot sword, turning it like a roast on a spit as the blacksmith hammered away. "We barely even make eye contact. And when we do, he always has this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich."

Almost the instant the hammering had ceased, Hiccup took off the gloves, tossed them aside, and then whirled around with an exaggerated swagger, doing his best imitation of an indignant Stoick the Vast.

"Excuse me, barmaid!" he complained in a thick accent. "I'm afraid you've brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fishbone!"

From his place in the service window, the Snivy doubled over laughing at his trainer's theatrics.

Gobber chuckled before moving the freshly-made sword to the bucket of water he used for dousing the fire. "You're thinking about this all wrong," he said conversationally. "It's not so much what'cha look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand!"

That didn't help at all.

"Thank you for summing that up," Hiccup snarked.

The blacksmith gave him a sympathetic look. "Look, the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you're not," he advised.

"I just want to be a Viking," Hiccup sighed. "Is that too much to ask?"

Norward had taken up his usual place in a quiet corner surrounded by scrap metal. The Probopass made an indecipherable noise in response to Hiccup's question.

"Now, I mean, there's the Viking way, and then there's your way," Gobber continued, as tactful and sensitive as ever. "And your way makes grown men uncomfortable."

Rolling his eyes, Hiccup sent Gobber a deadpan look. "Speaking of uncomfortable, I'd like a new conversation, please."

"Alright," Gobber conceded. He flashed his apprentice a smug look, and said way too suggestively, "How's it going with the ladies?"

"Oh yeah, way to get the mood back on track," Hiccup snarked.

"Aw, come on," the blacksmith grinned. "I've seen the way you look at Astrid..."

Even just hearing her name was enough to make Hiccup's heart flutter. But he wasn't going to let anyone know about that, especially not Gobber. He'd never hear the end of it if they found out.

"Please," Hiccup half-sighed half-scoffed, "Astrid wouldn't come near me if she was on fire and I had the only bucket of water in town."

"Hey, can I get this sharpened?"

Hiccup froze. There was no mistaking that voice.

Standing right there in the entryway, with the aura of a Valkyrie, was the girl he'd just been talking about. Cool, confident, and flawless as always, with her trusty axe resting on her shoulder and Blaze standing loyally at her side. Her sky-blue eyes were looking right at him, and for a moment he felt like he'd been hypnotized.

"Astrid! H-Hi, Astrid!" Hiccup blurted. Oh, sure, real smooth. Way to go, genius. He tried again, and this time he somehow managed to actually form a more coherent sentence. "Hello there, welcome, wh-what can I do for -"

Her axe sank into a crate right in front of him, splitting the wood with a crunch loud and sharp enough to shut him up.

"Hey," he gasped, thoroughly impressed.

Astrid was giving Gobber an expectant look. Hiccup expected the blacksmith to just take the weapon and complete her request...but instead, Gobber paused, glancing between him and Astrid. With every awkward second that ticked by, the more Hiccup felt the panic spread. Don't do it Gobber just sharpen the axe oh gods above don't leave us alone don't leave us alone don't you dare -

An exaggerated cough split the humiliating silence as Gobber, to Hiccup's utter horror, began to edge toward the exit. "Uh, my, erm...manly apprentice will, um, service all of your needs. I have to...go...get...some...I'm just gonna go outside."

His palm met Hiccup's back and shoved, sending him flying forward with a shout. He ended up flat against the crate with Astrid staring in befuddlement. Gobber sent him a glare that screamed Just woo her you absolute dunce before marching out of the shop.

"Pass..." Norward grumbled, rolling his eyes.

That actually helped to break the tension in the room.

Hiccup stood up and, putting on what he hoped was a brave face, held out his hands. With great reluctance, Astrid handed over her prized weapon. But, try as he might, he couldn't support the weight of the double-bladed axe. After a single second of straining, his arms gave out and the head of the axe was dropped to the floor with a crash.

She makes it look so easy...

"Okay," he chuckled nervously. "One razor-sharp battle axe, coming right up."

He dragged the weapon toward the grindstone; he could feel Astrid's gaze on him as he moved. "Careful, that's my mother's," she warned.

Hiccup knew that sharpening the axe should be an easy task. He'd sharpened so many blades over his apprenticeship that he could do it in his sleep by now. He set the axe down for a moment and grabbed the hand crank on the grindstone. Turning the crank was an easy task for Gobber, but Hiccup needed to put a lot more effort in to get it rolling.

While he worked on that, he watched Astrid wander around the shop with bored curiosity. As he tried to keep his eyes from doing their own "wandering", Astrid suddenly caught sight of the Snivy sitting in the window, who greeted her with a casual wave of the hand. The blonde girl stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable.

Hiccup gulped as he observed their lengthy staredown. Neither moved an inch nor said a word. Knowing Astrid, she was probably sizing the Snivy up, trying to determine how much potential he had as a Pokémon. A small, doubtful part of him worried that maybe she thought the Snivy was too skinny and weak, but Hiccup squashed it down before it could bother him too much.

Finally, Astrid responded to the Snivy's gesture with a curt nod and strolled right up. "Is this your partner?" she asked, without turning to look at him.

"Uh, yeah," Hiccup replied. His arms had started to get tired, so he released the hand crank to give his (possibly nonexistent) muscles a break. "Long story short, I saved him from a dragon trap, took him to Kyrie, turns out he can heal himself; I tried to set him free but he kinda followed me home."

The blonde crossed her arms and asked, "What's his name?"

Hiccup shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I'm trying to think of the right one."

Arceus must have been waiting for him to say that, because that was the moment where everything Hiccup thought he knew about Pokémon was turned upside-down.

Snivels had known from the start that leaving Red and the others in the forest had its risks. They could very well stumble into another trap, or be discovered by a hunting party, and he wouldn't be able to save them. But he also knew that, as a Snivy, he could never raise them properly. They needed to be cared for by other dragons who could teach them how to survive.

He just hoped there was at least one dragon nearby who'd be willing to take in four orphaned dragonets.

Relatedly, Snivels had noticed that Hiccup had neglected to mention seeing the Dramillions. Which made sense, seeing as he wasn't supposed to have gone out into the woods after all the chaos that had happened early that morning. He'd already gotten himself in trouble once that day, but twice? Nobody would want that.

Snivels had only been half-listening to his new trainer conversing with the village blacksmith. Now that he had a trainer, it was more important than ever that he establish a means of effective communication.

Maybe if he tried focusing on just one word at a time...

Snivels.

That is my name.

My name is Snivels.

"Sni...Sniv...Sneye...Snih...Sniv...Snivee...Sniveh..."

He took just one break from his self-lesson on pronunciation, and was rewarded with the sight of Hiccup doing a near-perfect imitation of the chief. Now that was entertaining.

Then the girl showed up.

The memory was still fresh - the explosion of light and heat, five human figures and five Pokémon silhouetted against the inferno. How could anyone forget a spectacle like that?

And now here was Astrid, the girl Hiccup was in love with, asking to have her axe sharpened. And there was Hiccup, stumbling over his own words like the lovestruck teenager he was.

It was actually quite fun to watch.

FOCUS SNIVELS.

"Sniveh...veh...el...vel...els..."

All of a sudden, there was Astrid hovering over him like a Mandibuzz circling her prey. Panicking internally, Snivels instantly went quiet. After a long, tense moment of contemplating what he should do, he settled on a friendly hand wave.

It felt like an eternity before she responded with the curtest of nods. Snivels didn't like the way she was looking at him, with such a judgmental gaze. He could tell just from that alone that she was the kind of person who expected nothing less than perfection.

Then Astrid started asking Hiccup some questions without even turning around to look at him. That was probably the biggest indignity Snivels had ever witnessed, especially when it involved the offspring of a respected leader (even if the leader in question was a Viking).

But one question stuck out to him - "Hvað heitir hann?"

What's his name?

He had to answer.

"Sniv...els!"

What the -?! Had Hiccup heard right? There was no way...he couldn't have...could he?

This had to be a dream. He was probably still passed out in the woods. It was the only explanation for why Astrid was here in the forge with him, and how the Snivy had said a word that wasn't its species name.

If this was a dream, it was the most realistic-looking dream Hiccup had ever had.

He pinched himself. Hard.

OW!

This wasn't a dream.

"Snivels," the Snivy said again, pointing to himself. "Snivels!"

Hiccup's ENTIRE BRAIN stopped working. It just rolled over and lay there, suddenly full of nothing after all the excitement that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours. His mouth was all, hello? any thoughts? and the response was apparently, no, just flop around like a fish out of water for a little while.

Maybe he was losing his sanity. All the stress with the raid, the Night Fury, everything must have broken his poor brain for good.

Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he remembered that he wasn't alone. He couldn't see Astrid's reaction, but Blaze and Norward's eyes were practically bugging out of their heads.

By some miracle, Hiccup managed to regain enough of himself to ask, "You heard that, too, right? It wasn't just me?"

Astrid didn't acknowledge him in the slightest; her focus was entirely on the Snivy. "What...did you say?"

For half a moment, Hiccup thought she was talking to him. That is, until the Snivy made a big show of rolling his eyes and stated emphatically, "Sniv-els!"

"Snivels?" Hiccup repeated.

"Snivels!" the Snivy said again, puffing out his chest and looking rather proud of himself. Then he pointed and stuttered out, "Ih...ick...huh...Hic!"

Oh! Snivels was his name.

Hiccup's mind raced, trying to make sense of what he'd just witnessed. A talking Pokémon? It didn't seem possible. He'd heard tales of Pokémon that could use telepathy, but that most definitely wasn't the case here. This Snivy could talk-talk, using his actual mouth and vocal cords.

This changes...everything, he thought, his heart pounding with excitement and a hint of fear.

The sound of Astrid clearing her throat snapped him back to reality. If she'd been surprised by Snivels's declaration, she didn't look like it; her expression was completely neutral. But she'd been trained as a warrior, and warriors needed to be level-headed in even the most chaotic situations.

"Well?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Are you gonna sharpen it or what?"

Oh, right! The axe.

"Of course," Hiccup answered quickly. The grindstone had slowed down quite a bit since they'd started talking about Snivels.

Speaking of which...

"Just for the record," Hiccup said as he resumed turning the hand crank, "I didn't know he could do that." He glanced at Blaze and Norward and hesitantly asked, "Can either of you speak?"

Both Pokémon shook their heads.

"Busken."

"Probo."

"Just checking," he uttered, mostly to himself.

There was a lull in the conversation as Astrid took a sword off of the nearby wall and examined it, twisting her arm as she observed it from different angles. Hiccup finally got the grindstone going and placed the axe's blade against its surface, expertly honing it to a fine edge. The Snivy - Snivels, Hiccup reminded himself - was mumbling under his breath again. Other than that, pretty much everyone in the room was silent. He had to make it less awkward somehow.

"So, I saw you guys on fire patrol last night," he threw the comment out there, giving a small cough. "Looked like a good time."

"Yeah," Astrid replied, placing the sword back where she had found it. She didn't even glance at Hiccup, but he was too delighted that she was actually making small talk with him to care. "I didn't get burned, though."

A voice from the window interjected unexpectedly. Snivels was speaking a whole other language that was neither Pokéspeak nor Norse. Hiccup recognized it as English, the primary language of the Peaceables and other local humans. But how could a Pokémon know the language?

Clearly, there was more to this Snivy than he thought.

Hiccup didn't know enough English to get the whole of what Snivels was saying, but he could understand a few simple words. Namely, "good", "bad", and something about dragons and fire. Other than that, the only English phrases he knew were "hello", "goodbye", "yes", "no", "I don't know", "please", and "thank you" (and Snivels hadn't said any of those).

An awkward silence fell once again, this time with a feeling of tension that made Hiccup's skin prickle. He wracked his body with a forced cough and resumed sharpening the axe in his hand.

"Yeah, I would've been out there, too," he replied to Astrid's comment about the fire brigade, "but I was out downing a Night Fury. So, yeah, pretty busy." He put emphasis on his casual remark, like his words were muscles he wanted to flex.

"Really?" Astrid asked, sounding more curious than disbelieving. "Well, where is -"

"O-Oh, no, it...it got away..." Hiccup admitted, trailing off. That was true. No need to mention he'd lost his nerve and cut the dragon loose. He didn't mean to, but Astrid was straining to reach a weapon mounted just out of reach, giving Hiccup a rather interesting view.

Then he realized how creepy that must have looked, and he snapped back to his sharpening, quick as a whip. "B-But it won't be back any time soon, believe you me!" he claimed. He eased back into his work and continued, "Yeah, you know, this apprentice thing is just my, sort of, on the side...uh, I'm mostly just here to bulk up."

He couldn't believe his luck. He'd been in the same room with his crush for almost five minutes now, and she didn't even mind. In fact, she was positively chatty! The gods must have been smiling down on him for once. Maybe this was a sign that things would start to turn around for him. If so, then the gods certainly worked in mysterious ways, assuming they had anything to do with how or why the Snivy was talking.

"Lift some iron and...stuff," he continued, risking another look at her. "Become one with the steel -"

CRRRRRRKKK!

The horrific splitting noise drew Hiccup back to his handiwork, his eyes widening in panic. Exactly one-half of Astrid's valuable battle axe had just been granted an extra-special bonus feature - a gigantic chunk taken off its blade.

Oh, dragon droppings.

Glancing left and right, Hiccup put the damaged weapon down. Snivels, Blaze, and Norward had all flinched at the noise and were now staring wide-eyed at the broken blade. What in Arceus's name did you do?!

By some miracle, Astrid didn't seem to notice - she was still looking around. Hiccup half tiptoed, half speed-walked toward where Gobber kept the spare weapon parts. He knew Gobber had a replacement blade for Astrid's axe, if he could just...

He spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, Hiccup felt the horror of potential embarrassment course through his entire being when he saw Astrid heading to the back of the shop.

He tried to protest, but his objections were in vain, as Astrid was already pulling back the curtain to reveal a smaller side room. Hiccup was all too familiar with it - it was his private workshop, after all, something Gobber had granted him in order to keep him out of trouble. He watched with increasing despair as Astrid took it all in: the table covered with blueprints, the model catapults, the sketches plastered on the walls.

Hiccup felt a tiny part of himself die inside.

"What is all this?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, uh, th-those?" Hiccup replied. While she was distracted, he snatched the replacement blade and hurried to dismantle the original. Keeping up the babble so she wouldn't hear what he was up to, he blathered, "N-Nothing. Just some stuff I'm working on. It's j-just, uh, confidential upper-level development. I-I-I can't really talk about it, so..."

He heard the sounds of shuffling paper, but didn't pay them any heed while he worked frantically to get Astrid's weapon fixed before she noticed. Then her voice spoke out in a bemused tone.

"'The Mutilator'?" she questioned, a sheet of parchment in her hand.

Hiccup sighed, resigning himself to giving her an explanation. "Yes, it basically uses twin-weighted counter-levers to launch crisscrossing blades in four different directions."

He slid the replacement blade into a vise and tightened it, locking it in place. So far so good, all he needed now was to screw in the handle...

"How do you hold it?" Astrid went on, still examining the sketch.

"You don't, you shoot it," Hiccup corrected. He slotted the handle to the replacement blade and started to screw it in, slowly but surely restoring the weapon to its former glory.

"Oh," Astrid said, disappointed. "Well, I'm more of an old-fashioned 'take it down with an axe and then lop its head off' kind of girl. Kind of the Viking way, right?"

"Go Vikings," he drawled.

Hiccup paused to inspect his work, right on time to see Astrid enter the shop again. He quickly removed the newly-repaired axe from the vise and scrambled back to the still-spinning grindstone to sharpen the blade, sweat dripping off his forehead so profusely that he was sure it would have started forming a puddle on the floor.

Fortunately, Astrid was pacing around the shop with new impatience. "Ah, I can't wait to get started tomorrow," she exclaimed. "We finally get a chance to show them what we've got. I'm so excited."

"Excited? Why?" Snivels inquired in perfect Norse - a huge help for Hiccup, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Astrid scanned each of them with a confused look. "What, you didn't hear?" she asked. "They're pulling men to crew the ships."

Genuinely confused, Hiccup asked her, "And you're happy because...you...like to wave goodbye?"

That earned him a snort of laughter from Blaze.

Astrid, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. "No, stupid. They need replacements to defend the town. We start training in the morning! We'll be fighting dragons!"

Oh, double dragon droppings. Hiccup took his hands off the axe, staring at nothing. Had she said "we"? By "we", had she meant her and the other teens? Not him too, right? The sight of the Night Fury's jaws rushing at him replayed automatically in his head, and he knew he was turning pale. He felt himself die inside a second time.

"Hey Astrid!"

A voice from outside cut off Hiccup's thoughts. Glancing out the window, he saw that Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins were gathered outside the forge. They'd all brought their weapons along, and their respective Pokémon partners were practically at their heels.

"You coming to practice or what?" one of the teens called out - probably Snotlout, from the underlying arrogance in his tone.

Astrid didn't reply to her peers' urging, instead marching right up to the grindstone and holding out her hands in a wordless demand for her weapon back. Trying not to blush at the shieldmaiden's proximity, Hiccup obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on the axe. Astrid took the weapon and weighed it in her hands, a speculative look in her eye.

"This feels different," she commented. It wasn't an accusation, but it still got Hiccup's nerves prickling.

"O-Oh," he stammered. He coughed and tried to steady his voice so it didn't sound too suspicious. "Yeah, I rebalanced it. Tightened it up. Uh, finessed it. We're a full-service outfit in here."

"Huh," Astrid said by way of answer. "Thanks." Unconsciously, she reached up and brushed her wayward bangs out of her eye.

As she rushed back out of the shop, Hiccup raised a quavering hand in farewell. "U-Um, s-sure."

"Combusken!" Blaze declared, flinging herself after Astrid.

The shieldmaiden and her Combusken disappeared out the doorway, and Hiccup could hear their voices fade away gradually as they and the others left for a practice session or whatever. He let out a sigh that was equal parts wistful and disappointed.

He wanted to join them; more than anything he wanted to belong. No one in the village, not even his own father, wanted much to do with him, if anything at all. Astrid, on the other hand, was everything a Viking should be - strong, fearless, coordinated, and pretty much the exact opposite of poor little Hiccup. He didn't deserve her, especially not after what had just happened with the Night Fury.

I love you, he would never say. You're everything I've ever wanted to be. I know I'm not like the other Vikings, but I can't really help it. Don't hate me because I'm different. Don't think I'm as useless as they say I am. Don't look at me like everyone else does, like I can never amount to anything, please.

Hiccup shook his head to clear the thoughts away. Gobber would probably be coming back now that Astrid was gone. He still had a full day of weapon repairs ahead of him.

From his place in the window, Snivels shook his head and chuckled. "Wouldn't come near you, my tail!"

Astrid had never really believed that Hiccup was useless.

Well, he wasn't particularly very useful, that much was certain. But no one was really, truly useless. At least, that was what she heard.

It had been refreshing to talk to him, Astrid decided. Definitely better than having to put up with Snotlout's arrogance, or Tuffnut and Ruffnut's stupidity. Not that she'd ever trust Hiccup to have her back in a fight; he clearly wasn't cut out for that.

She lifted her axe experimentally, enjoying how it felt as light and sharp as ever, even if there was a slight difference she couldn't put her finger on. Hiccup wasn't bad, she supposed. He was nice, if a little weird, and he seemed to be competent when it came to blacksmithing. She did find it hard to believe he was the chief's son at times. But, then again, so did everybody else.

There was something off about that Snivy - Snivels, she reminded herself - that he'd taken as his partner. It had talked! As in, an actual human language, not the usual recitation of its species name. How was that even possible?

"Did you get a load of Useless back there?" Snotlout's guffawing pierced her musings. "What a loser!"

By now, it had become a natural reflex for Astrid to ignore anything the oafish Jorgenson said. He was a boastful, shallow, mutton-headed, and all-around egotistical bully who thought picking on people weaker than he was made him look big and strong. But really, he was just pathetic.

When she'd told him that, he'd just waved it off like it was a bad joke or something. In fact, if it were a snake and it bit him right in the face, he still wouldn't notice. Snotlout was so convinced that he was a perfect example of a Viking, it was practically a delusion.

What I wouldn't give to hit him where it hurts most...

"So, babe," he sneered, waggling his eyebrows at her, "what do you say to some good old combat practice?"

Scratch that. I'd slice that ugly face of his clean off.

But she couldn't actually do that, lest she bring grave consequences unto herself and, more importantly, her family. So, she had to settle for the next best thing: "I'd rather swallow a live eel."

"Good one!" Ruffnut grinned. "I should totally try that sometime."

"Especially the zappy one," Tuffnut said. "That'd be totally riveting."

"Um," gulped Fishlegs, "I don't think that word means what you think it means."

Maybe Astrid should have stayed at the forge. Sure, Hiccup was a very peculiar individual but at least he wasn't pushy. The whole time they'd been talking, he'd never once tried to ask her out or include himself in her activities. It was nice, knowing there was at least one person on Berk who respected her boundaries. ...Or maybe he was too afraid of her wrath to even think of stepping over that line.

Perhaps it was a bit of both?

Not that it mattered, because Astrid already had her whole life planned out - ace the training, kill her first dragon, win the war for the Vikings, bring honor to her family name, and never get married or even have a boyfriend ever. Because, to her, a shieldmaiden was supposed to be a strong, independent woman with no weaknesses whatsoever. Having a husband, or kids for that matter, would be too big a distraction. Not to mention, she hated even the simple thought of doing housework.

"Combusken?" Blaze sounded worried.

Astrid hadn't realized how tense she'd gotten. Her grip on the handle of her axe was so firm, her knuckles had turned white. The other four people, who weren't technically her friends for similar reasons as to why she was completely uninterested in any lasting relationships, were talking amongst each other.

Or, more accurately, Snotlout was shouting at Tuffnut and Ruffnut to stop laughing at his failed attempt to flirt, while Fishlegs was musing aloud about what would most likely occur if one tried to swallow a still-living electric eel. Their Pokémon said nothing, aside from the occasional declaration ("Magmar!"), sigh ("Lombre"), or snarl ("Nido!").

"Combusken?" Blaze said again.

"I'm fine," Astrid replied bluntly.

Her partner didn't look convinced. Astrid had to admit (several times, in fact) that Pokémon were smarter than "normal" animals. But were they really so smart that they could learn to speak?

Then it dawned on her - no one would believe a Pokémon had talked. There was a sort of unspoken rule that Pokémon couldn't talk, at least not the way people could. If she tried to tell anyone, they'd think she was crazy; her reputation would be ruined forever.

Of course, who's to say that Snivy wasn't yammering away at someone else right now.

Or maybe that little Hiccup was sneakier that she thought. He must have taught his Snivy to talk somehow, and was only playing dumb to trip her up, to make a fool of her. Well, she wasn't going to fall for it.

Once again, Snotlout's voice brought her back to reality.

"What do you think, Astrid?"

Her only answer was a scoff. She hadn't been listening to the conversation, not when there were more important things to be doing. Dragon training started in the morning, and those four muttonheads were chatting amongst each other when they should be practicing.

"I don't have time for this," she decided.

And so she stalked away, ignoring the protesting shouts of her peers as she left them in the dust. She glanced back only once, at the sound of rapid footfalls, and saw Blaze hurrying after.

If there was anyone Astrid could trust to have her back, it was her Combusken. She didn't need any friends, they would only slow her down.

This is it. No more fooling around. No more fire patrol; no more working on the sidelines while everyone else fights the real battle. Her whole life was going to change. She could see it now - her, a mighty Viking warrior, leading a charge of soldiers into battle, slicing off dragon heads and wings and tails with her trusty axe, winning the war once and for all.

She was going to be a hero, the tipping point of the war, after she completed dragon training and became a real Viking.

And it would all start tomorrow morning.

If you ask me, it's too bad they chose to exclude that scene from the final cut. Not only would it have been a refreshing breather after the tense encounter in the woods, but it also gives the impression that Astrid might have actually kind of liked Hiccup, if only a little tiny bit, before all the chaos that is dragon training.

Now, some of you may have noticed that the Pokémon have been relegated to the background, especially in Astrid's POV. This isn't a mistake on my part - if you've played Legends: Arceus, you might remember that, in the ancient past, most people were afraid of Pokémon mostly due to not knowing as much about them back then.

Similar problem here: the Vikings don't know enough about Pokémon to understand the true extent of their sentience (and it doesn't help that these Vikings are pretty stubborn and ignorant about most things). To them, Pokémon are basically like superpowered pets.

But that's more inclined to change now that Snivels can communicate with Hiccup. You ought to know, they're gonna change everything.

Comments help to keep fanfiction writers motivated, so please feel free to drop one my way.

Chapter Text

Shout-out to P-Artsypants for showing us what might have happened if Hiccup had gone first.

The moment when Snivels had managed to say a word - his name - in a human language was one of great triumph. Finally, he could communicate with the young Viking(?) who had saved him.

It had actually taken him less time that he'd feared.

He still needed to practice, though. He'd practiced the whole time Hiccup and Astrid were talking, so he could speak their language by the time the axe was repaired, and she and Blaze left the forge to join their peers.

Snivels didn't know what sort of reaction he was expecting when he finally spoke, but he hadn't thought it would cause Hiccup to question his own sanity. He'd seen the boy pinch himself, and he knew what Hiccup meant when he'd asked Astrid if she had heard the same thing he had.

Astrid had taken it much better than Hiccup. She didn't ask how it was possible, or if she was going crazy herself, and she didn't try to chase Snivels off, or anything worse than that.

All in all, he'd consider that to be a rather successful interaction.

Then Snivels saw the look of longing on Hiccup's face as he watched Astrid and Blaze leave with the others and felt a pang of sympathy. He'd seen firsthand all the hardships this poor boy had to endure on a regular basis. It was bad enough that Hiccup couldn't meet the standards of the society he was born in, but he was also the son and heir of the tribe's leader.

Hiccup was effectively trapped in his father's shadow - and quite literally, at that. It was no wonder why he had tried so hard to make something of himself by downing that Night Fury.

Why did he let the dragon go?

Snivels could talk to him now, he could ask Hiccup anything, and yet he couldn't find the words. How could he after their interaction with Astrid had served to remind them both just how out of place Hiccup was in the Berk community?

And yet...

"Astrid wouldn't come near me if she was on fire and I had the only bucket of water in town."

That discouraged statement had been proven wrong almost instantly.

Snivels chuckled. "Wouldn't come near you, my tail!"

It didn't have the desired effect. Hiccup just stood there staring down at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. After a minute, he said numbly, "You're talking. You're actually talking."

"We're always talking," Snivels answered solemnly. "You just haven't been listening closely enough."

From his spot in the corner, Norward nodded. "Indeed. I have spoken many times, and no one, not even my master, pays any attention."

It showed. Hiccup glanced at the Probopass once, and that was pretty much it. He didn't understand Norward at all.

I can help him understand.

"He said he's spoken a lot, but everyone ignores him because they don't understand what he's saying."

Hiccup's reaction to that piece of news was immediate. Snivels never would have thought that this admittedly scrawny misfit of a Viking could ever look any smaller than he already was, but that's pretty much what happened. Hiccup's shoulders slumped so low Snivels thought the boy's hands would touch the floor.

The young trainer turned to the Probopass, his head hung a little. "I'm sorry, Norward."

"You don't have to be," Norward said, even in spite of his awareness that Hiccup couldn't understand him. "It's not your fault. Besides, I'm used to it by now."

But you shouldn't have to be, Snivels wanted to say. Used to it, that is. Why do Vikings have to be so stubborn? Don't they know we have feelings, too?

As if those thoughts had summoned him, Gobber sauntered into the forge, merrily whistling a tune. "So," he said with a grin, "how did it go?"

That, as Hiccup had said earlier, got the mood back on track.

"Great," the younger trainer drawled. "Thanks a lot."

"Happy to help," Gobber answered. Judging by his tone, he meant that genuinely.

Apparently, Hiccup's sarcasm was a second language that hardly anyone else understood.

The sound of clanging metal filled the room as the blacksmith and his apprentice resumed work. Norward sighed and lowered himself to the floor, watching longingly as his master worked his smithing magic.

"Look at it this way," Gobber said as he hammered a bent sword back into shape, "you're still alive, ain't you? If she didn't kill you, then she must like you!" He gave Hiccup a teasing wink.

Hiccup had been rummaging through the pile of damaged weapons trying to find which one would be the easiest for him to repair. He turned to Gobber, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of a good rebuttal. After a while, he sighed and said, "Snivels, help me out here."

Me? Snivels gawked. What does he want me to do?

Gobber looked confused for a minute before his eyes fell on the Snivy sitting in the service window. "So, you named him Snivels, eh?"

Snivels scoffed and puffed up his chest. "I was named by MY FATHER, thank you very much!"

(Of course, all the blacksmith heard was, "Vy Sni Snivy VY SNIVY, Snivy vy Sni!")

Now it was Hiccup's turn to gawk. "B-but...you...I could have sworn...Snivels, please, say something! Anything!"

"Like?" was Snivels's blunt reply, and in Pokéspeak, of course.

"Hiccup," said Gobber in a lightly scolding tone. "Don't be ridiculous. Pokémon can't talk; everyone knows that."

If Snivels had to give a label to what Hiccup did next, he'd probably call it 'wilting'. Why? Because the way the poor boy drooped was reminiscent of a dying flower.

Honestly, Snivels didn't blame him for looking so depressed. Hiccup had probably been yelled at and scolded all his life, and now Gobber was basically telling him he must be crazy. He'd be pretty bummed out, too.

He wished he could tell Hiccup that he wasn't crazy. But he couldn't do that right now, not while Gobber was around.

There was no telling how any of the adult Vikings, who had been fighting and killing dragons for years and were convinced that Pokémon couldn't talk, would react to hearing Snivels flawlessly speaking their language. They'd probably want to cut him open to try and find out what makes him tick. Or, more likely, they'd think he was an abomination, some kind of doomsday sign, and have him tied to a mast and shipped off the edge of the world (which, as every well-educated Pokémon knew, was impossible because the world is round like a sphere and therefore doesn't have any edges), or worse, executed.

But that was only part of the reason. The rest of it was because he was still fuming over what that Arceus-forsaken Astrid had said earlier.

"I didn't get burned, though."

"That's good, isn't it?" Snivels had blurted, and rather indignantly at that. "Only bad things come from killing dragons, especially when there's fire involved."

But he'd said all that in English, so chances were the Norse shieldmaiden didn't understand a word of it. Which was just as well, since that statement would've raised a lot of questions Snivels wasn't ready to answer yet.

The afternoon seemed to last an eternity. Snivels got increasingly bored as he watched Hiccup scurry and scramble all over the forge, sharpening swords and axes, helping Gobber forge new weapons, and cleaning the equipment. All those tools and weapons made for one purpose - to kill dragons.

Eventually, the Snivy had to give up his place on the windowsill as Vikings stopped by to ask about the status of their weapons that needed to be repaired, or their orders that needed to be fulfilled. He'd already attracted a fair amount of attention to himself today, and did not want to be subject to any more odd stares than he deemed necessary.

And so, he joined Norward in the far corner, away from all the ruckus, curling up on the big red hat-like magnet on top of the Probopass's head. For a while, the two of them sat there in awkward silence, watching Gobber and Hiccup toiling about.

Finally, Snivels decided to break the silence. "So, what's your job here?"

"My job?" Norward said, sounding equal parts confused and sad. "I don't have one. Well," he added in a slightly amused tone, "unless you count keeping watch for any imaginary trolls who want to try and steal my trainer's socks."

Snivels looked at him like he'd just grown an extra nose. "You're the blacksmith's partner," he said incredulously, "and you don't do any smithing?!"

"I tried once," said the Probopass. "Almost burned down the whole forge. Everyone thought Hiccup was responsible, so he ended up getting grounded for a month, and I couldn't tell them the truth because -"

"Because the Vikings don't understand our language," Snivels finished. He shifted his gaze to Hiccup, who was struggling to lift a mace up off the floor. The little misfit already had it rough with trying to live up to his father's legacy, and on top of that he was being blamed and punished for things he didn't even do.

Dragons getting killed, Pokémon being relegated to glorified pets, children losing their parents and vice versa, Vikings treating their own kind like trash...everything was all messed up.

Arceus, where did it all go so wrong? How can I fix it? Please, tell me.

The whole rest of the afternoon they were in the forge, Snivels prayed to every Legendary Pokémon he knew of. Even the ones he wasn't nearly brave enough to talk about, like Giratina and Darkrai.

Finally, the last of the weapons was fully repaired and they could call it a day.

Well, except for one last thing.

"We should probably go talk to Kyrie," Hiccup said, more to himself than to Snivels. "They'll want to know how you're doing."

Snivels didn't even hesitate. One good jump was all it took to reach his trainer's shoulder. It was the best he could do to convey how much he wanted to give a proper visit to the local Pokémon doctor.

Kyrie Eleison most definitely seemed like the kind of person Snivels could trust.

(Plus, he was wondering what had happened to the Charmander - Amber, he remembered - Kyrie had been treating when Hiccup had brought him in.)

If anyone asked him what he remembered about the shelter, Snivels would estimate its location as being somewhere between the forge and the docks. It made sense to him - some Pokémon lived in the ocean, so they'd need access to a water source while they were being treated by the doctor.

It felt nice to be riding on Hiccup's shoulder; Snivels had a better view of his surroundings up off the ground. It was comforting, in a way, to be at eye level to some people.

But as quickly as Snivels's mood had brightened, it was darkened that much quicker by the sound of condescending laughter.

Lo and behold, standing on the other side of the plaza were the other four would-be Vikings. The brawny one with the twisted horns on his helmet - Snotlout - was the source of the laughter and was pointing right at Hiccup. His Magmar partner - Heat - had his arms folded across his chest and was silently staring.

"You see that?" he guffawed. "Little baby Hiccup's got himself a little baby Pokémon! Where'd you find that puny thing? In a vegetable garden?"

THING?! Snivels wanted to scream. Never in the whole of his life thus far had he ever been so insulted. What does he think I am, a piece of chopped liver?! Well, I never!

"For your information," Hiccup said boldly, "I saved him from a dragon trap."

Snotlout's laughter ceased, but his bullying didn't. "Oh-ho," he chuckled, "so you're a hero now, huh?"

Snivels noticed the biggest one - Fishlegs - was looking at him rather intently. For a moment, Snivels thought the bulky teen was sizing him up, like Astrid had been earlier. But there was curiosity, and a glimmer of excitement, in Fishlegs's eyes.

"Is that a...yes, it is! That's a Snivy!"

"A what?" Tuffnut asked. He and his twin sister were using some spears to pick at their teeth, which was probably the most unsanitary act Snivels had seen in a while, if not ever.

Their Nidorino and Nidorina (Snivels was uncertain which one was Sarin, and which one was Ricin) were sitting at their heels, looking every which way except at their trainers. Snivels thought he heard one or both of them utter something like "Idiots" under their breath.

Fishlegs reached into his pocket and pulled out some sheets of scrap paper. His hands trembled with excitement, and he wound up dropping a few papers. Pad, the Lombre, picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to his trainer.

"Thank you," Fishlegs said quickly. Then he recited, "Snivy, the Grass Snake Pokémon. Cool, calm, and collected, Snivy uses photosynthesis to collect energy with the leaf on its tail."

Snivels felt a tiny bit better. Well, at least someone gets it.

"So what?" Snotlout said rudely. "Fifteen different types of Pokémon, and Useless picks a Grass. That's the lamest of the lame!"

"Actually," said Fishlegs, "there are eighteen types."

Technically nineteen, Snivels thought to himself.

"Wait a minute," Hiccup cut in. "Weren't Astrid and Blaze with you guys?"

Now that he'd mentioned it, Snivels didn't see the blonde or her Combusken partner anywhere. He could still smell their scents, but they were quite faint. They must have left a while ago.

"Oh, she was," said Snotlout. "But she couldn't handle all of the awe-inspiring awesomeness that is Snotlout Jorgenson." He flexed his arms, and an arrogant smile curled across his ugly mug.

Heat puffed out a cloud of smoke and grumbled, "Yeah. He wishes."

For the love of Mew. Snivels gently nudged Hiccup's cheek with his elbow and waited until he was sure Hiccup was looking at him to roll his eyes. His trainer looked startled for a moment, but then the corners of his mouth lifted into a sort of grin.

Fishlegs shuffled nervously. "Truth be told, she specifically said, and I quote, 'I don't have time for this'."

Snotlout's grin did a one-eighty, and he elbowed the larger boy in the stomach. "Nobody asked you, Guppy-legs!"

"Hey," Heat cried, "leave him alone!"

From a Viking's point of view, however, it sounded like he was egging Snotlout on.

"See?" Snotlout declared. "Heat's had enough of you, too. So, do us all a favor and shut up!"

His sudden yell made the twins flinch. "Sheesh, who died and made you chief?" asked the female.

"I'm the strongest of us," boasted Snotlout. He listed off each statement on his fingers as he spoke. "I have the best Pokémon. I'm going to win the training like I win everything else. I'm an heir to the chief. I'm going to lead this tribe someday and be in charge of all of you losers."

"Me, me, me, me, me," Snivels mocked in a hilariously similar tone of voice.

Everyone looked at him with different kinds of expressions - Heat was startled, Sarin and Ricin were smirking, Pad was appalled, the twins were indifferent, Snotlout was confused, and Fishlegs and Hiccup looked inquisitive.

"Um," Fishlegs gulped. "No offense, Snotlout, but...it kinda looks like you're being made fun of."

Now Snotlout looked mad. "Why, you little -!"

Things would have gotten very ugly really fast if Hiccup hadn't interjected with the oldest trick in the book - he pointed over Snotlout's shoulder and shouted, "Look, a distraction!"

It was no secret that more than ninety percent of all the Vikings were sorely lacking in the brains department. And, most fortunately for Hiccup and Snivels, that included the self-proclaimed 'awe-inspiring Snotlout Jorgenson'.

The pig-faced boy, plus the twins, whirled around to look where Hiccup's finger was pointing. "What? Where? I don't see it! Where is it?"

Fishlegs, however, wasn't fooled. Neither was Pad, nor Heat, nor Sarin and Ricin. They watched silently as Hiccup booked it right out of there, Snivels hanging on to his trainer's shoulder like a lifeline.

That was the last they saw of the bullies that day, though Snivels thought he heard Snotlout yell "Hey!" as they ran. (He might have just realized he'd been tricked.)

Snivels hadn't been able to get a good look at the shelter before, what with his consciousness drifting in and out thanks to the wound he'd sustained from the netter trap. But now that he was fully healed, it was easy to spot the right building - it was the only one in the village with a medicinal herb garden on the porch.

When he and Hiccup entered the shelter, Snivels smelled Kyrie before he saw them. Their scent was composed of Oran Berries and mint leaves, a soothing aroma.

Kyrie's physique wasn't very Viking-like at all. Their slender body and slight curves were a clear indication that they were born female, but all of the other adult women on Berk that Snivels had seen so far were just as big and brawny as the men. It was refreshing, in a way, to know there were other people besides Hiccup who weren't all Viking.

The Pokémon doctor wasn't alone, Snivels realized. Standing not too far away from Kyrie was a young brown-haired girl who looked to be about ten years old. She, too, was completely average-sized.

...Could they be multiracial? It was a fairly well-known fact that Vikings had been, er, crossbreeding with the local tribes as far back as when they'd first sailed to the archipelago. Maybe these people looked different because of their ancestry.

Every head in the room - the two humans and the Pokémon playing in the pen - turned to look Hiccup and Snivels's way as they entered the shelter. It was like someone had shined a spotlight on them.

"Greetings, Hiccup," Kyrie said politely. "Didn't think I'd see you back here so soon. How's our little friend doing?"

Friend. Snivels couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him that. Well, anyone besides Red and his siblings, that is.

"He's fine," said Hiccup. "All healed. And, before you ask how, I just found out that he can use Synthesis."

Kyrie's entire face lit up. "Synthesis, you say? I'd heard Snivy could learn that move, but I've yet to see it."

It was clear Kyrie loved Pokémon. Why else would they have become a doctor? And they were so enraptured at hearing that Snivels could use a move that most other Snivy couldn't.

"So, what brings you here?" Kyrie asked. "Besides getting away from all the chaos that is day-to-day life in the village."

"Just wanted to let you know how Snivels is doing," Hiccup replied.

"Snivels?" the young girl echoed. She looked up at the Snivy with wide brown eyes. "That's a cute name. Did you pick it out?"

Now was Snivels's chance. If he didn't do it now, it would only get more awkward.

"Actually," he said proudly, "I told him."

Oh yes, here were the awestruck faces he had been waiting for. Kyrie seemed to be on the verge of floating right off the ground and hitting the moon.

The little girl recovered her voice first. "He can talk!"

"As of today, yes," Snivels said. "And believe me, I'm just as impressed as you are."

Kyrie smiled at him. "Remarkable," they breathed. "I've heard of Pokémon who can talk, but that's usually the big guys, all legendary and everything. This right here is something else. Snivels, was it?" When he nodded in confirmation, they told him, "I get the feeling you could very well be the link to us better understanding Pokémon as a whole."

Snivels bowed his head at them. "Thank you."

Hiccup put one hand to his face and rubbed it in a dazed way. "So, I'm not going crazy?"

"Nope," Kyrie said with a grin. "You're just as sane as we are."

Kyrie was acting quite different than when Hiccup had first brought Snivels to the shelter. It was like there was two versions of them - one was an intelligent, professional doctor, and the other was an amiable older sibling type who would tease the younger generation in a good-natured way. The contrast was almost jarring.

"But he didn't speak to Gobber," said Hiccup. "Why didn't you talk back there?" he asked Snivels.

"You know how you reacted," Snivels answered. "How do you think the blacksmith, or even your father, would have taken it if a Pokémon started speaking to him out of the blue?"

He could see the gears turning in Hiccup's head as he processed that response. He'd been living amongst these people all his life, so of course he would know how someone like the chief would potentially react to something as unusual as a talking Pokémon.

After a while, Hiccup admitted, "Fair point."

"This is so cool!" the little girl enthused. "I didn't even know Pokémon could talk! Don't worry, I won't tell anyone; I'm great at keeping secrets." She held her hand up to Snivels. "I'm Frida, by the way. Frida Lynstagard."

"Nice to meet you, Frida." Snivels smiled. His own hand wasn't big enough for a proper handshake; the best he could do was grab her index finger. "Are you here to choose a partner?"

Frida shook her head. "No, I just like to help out." Then she turned to Kyrie. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask - Why don't you have a Pokémon of your own?"

Kyrie knelt down to match the ten-year-old's height, a gentle smile gracing their lips. "Because I've always felt that choosing one Pokémon over all the others wouldn't be fair. Every Pokémon is magnificent in its own way. They all deserve our respect and care, not just the ones we choose to call our own."

"That makes sense," Hiccup said. "Still, wouldn't it be easier to have a partner to help you with your work?"

"My job is to help all Pokémon," Kyrie said by way of answer. They stood back up to their full height, about a foot taller than Hiccup.

"Speaking of which," said Snivels, "how's Amber? Is she alright?"

The Pokémon doctor smiled and pointed toward the playpen. "See for yourself."

It was a fairly simple structure; the pen's fence was about three feet tall and made of handcrafted wood that must have taken Kyrie hours to carve. Inside was a medium-sized wooden basin for Water-type Pokémon to splash and swim around in, and the floor was covered with blankets and pillows of different colors and sizes. There were bowls to eat and drink from, and toys to play with - a tiny leather ball here, a small tug-of-war rope there.

The pen was occupied by several different Pokémon. There was a Growlithe chewing on what appeared to be a Rare Bone, a Snorunt and a Bergmite and a Swinub chasing each other in a circle, an Aron nibbling on some stray nails, a Crabrawler and a Mankey having what looked like a friendly spar, a Mudkip splishing and splashing in the water-filled basin, a Treecko playing catch with herself by bouncing a ball off the wall, a Sobble buried in a layer of blankets trying to hide from the world, and...there she was.

The amber Charmander was sitting in an orange cushion, away from the other Pokémon. Snivels had only gotten a glimpse of her the day before, but she looked so much better - she was awake and alert, and the flame on the end of her tail burned brightly. Her big blue eyes caught his, and he thought he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said to no one in particular.

The dismount from Hiccup's shoulder to the floor of the shelter seemed to take forever. It was like time had slowed down. The playpen fence, the barrier between him and her, seemed to tower over Snivels's head. He wanted to climb over, or slip through the bars, and join her.

But was that what Amber wanted? She looked nervous, maybe even afraid.

She needed her space, that much was certain. Snivels could comply with that, no problem.

"Hi Amber," he said. "Um...how do you feel?"

There wasn't any need for him to speak a human language when this particular interaction was just between him and another Pokémon. He could fill Hiccup in later, if he had to.

"Much better," Amber replied softly. "Kyrie says I still need to rest, though."

Snivels smiled at her. "I'm glad you're okay." Then he looked sheepish. "So, I'm guessing you heard all that."

"Pretty much," said Amber. "How did you learn to talk like a human?"

"I'll admit it wasn't easy," Snivels said with a shrug. "But the real trick is getting them to listen."

He wasn't trying to joke, but that last comment made Amber burst into a fit of giggles. Seeing her smile and laugh made Snivels feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"So, where do you come from?" he asked conversationally.

Amber shrugged. "I don't know. A lot of us were hatched in breeding centers or trading posts." She nodded at the other Pokémon in the playpen. "We don't know who our parents are, or if they're still alive." Her gaze fell to the floor. "I was kept in a cage. Kyrie found me and brought me here to the shelter. None of the Vikings want me for a partner because they think I'm..." There was a long pause before she choked out the last word. "...defective."

"Defective?" Snivels was scandalized. As far as he could tell, she didn't look different from any other Charmander. "How?"

"They all say that Charmander are supposed to be orange," Amber explained. She looked down at her hands sadly. "My color is amber; that's how I got my name. I've been here for months, but no trainer will choose me because they think there's something wrong with me."

"So they're judging you for something you can't control," Snivels realized. He glanced back at Hiccup, who was talking to Kyrie. He knows exactly what that's like. "Well, I don't care what they think. You're perfect just as you are."

Amber looked up at him, her eyes wide and a little blurry, like she was holding back tears. "That's so sweet of you to say."

"And I mean it, too," he said. "If those metal-headed jerks don't like the way you look, then that's their problem, not yours."

He could see some of the other Pokémon looking their way from the corner of his eye, and he could hear Hiccup and Kyrie conversing in the background, but his focus was primarily on Amber. He wanted her to know, in that moment, that she really and truly mattered to someone. That she mattered to him.

"Thank you, Snivels," she said. Slowly but surely, her smile returned. "That really means a lot to me."

They very well could have gazed into each other's eyes until the end of the world, had Kyrie's voice not brought them back to reality.

"Well, it's getting late. You should head home before the chief comes barging in looking for you. ...Again."

"Sounds like we're leaving," Snivels sighed. "I guess I'll see you around."

He didn't want to think about how unlikely it was that they'd be able to see each other on a regular basis. If no one in the village wanted Amber for a partner, she could very well be confined to the Pokémon Shelter for the rest of her life. She'd never get stronger, never evolve, never have any lasting friendships or romances.

If only he could offer her a better life, the kind of life she deserved.

"Yeah." Amber was still smiling, but it was a sad smile. "See you around."

With great reluctance, Snivels turned his back on the playpen and approached Hiccup. Frida was no longer around; she must have left while he and Amber were talking. Snivels waited until his trainer had noticed him standing right at his heels before leaping up onto the young not-Viking's shoulder.

As Hiccup walked out the door of the shelter, Snivels glanced back at Amber, fervently hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he saw her.

Hiccup wasn't really ready to go home and face his father, who was probably still furious about the mess he'd made that morning. Stopping by the Pokémon Shelter and getting Kyrie up to speed on Snivels's recovery had seemed like a good idea at the time. And perhaps it was, because now he could be sure that he wasn't going insane - Snivels really could talk.

He watched as the Snivy conversed with the Charmander in the playpen, who Kyrie had been treating for a fever just the day before.

"How does a Fire Pokémon get a fever anyway?" Hiccup wondered aloud.

Kyrie chuckled before they answered, half-jokingly and half-seriously, "Only by the single most annoying illness known to all - the common cold."

"I can second that," said Frida. Then she glanced out the window. The sky was tinged with orange and pink as the sun began its descent over the horizon. "I should probably go. My parents won't be happy if I'm late for dinner."

She quickly hugged Hiccup's waist, making him stiffen. He didn't normally receive physical affection from anybody, least of all a ten-year-old girl.

"See you later!" Frida said cheerily. With a skip in her step, she headed out the door into the fading light.

Hiccup was in no hurry to leave. Stoick would be mad at him whether he arrived home on time or not. Surely, he could spend a few more minutes at the Pokémon Shelter.

And so he told Kyrie everything - about sneaking out the back door and finding the Night Fury in the forest; about the four strange little dragons; about Snivels following him home; about the discouraging conversation with Gobber while working in the forge; about Astrid needing her axe sharpened, Snivels talking to them both, and the encounter with Snotlout and the others before arriving at the shelter.

The Pokémon doctor waited patiently until he was finished with his story. "So, you got to have an actual conversation with Astrid?" they asked. "Congrats. I always knew you had it in you. And nice job on the axe; I couldn't have done it better myself."

Hiccup felt his face heat up. "Am I the world's biggest idiot or what?"

"Idiot? No," Kyrie said, grinning. "Lovesick puppy? For sure."

"Well," he grumbled, "I'm glad one of us is enjoying this."

Kyrie hummed in understanding. "So, you had a rough day, huh?"

Hiccup made a noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a scoff. "Understatement of the year," he said. After a moment, he elaborated, "My whole life, I've been living in my father's shadow. Literally, in fact. I keep trying to amount to something, and so far all it's gotten me is deprivations of dinner, grounded too many times to count, cleaning out a chicken coop with nothing but a spoon, and yelled at in front of the entire village. That Night Fury was probably my one chance to fit in, and I went and messed that up, too. I just...I wish I knew how to make everything better, instead of worse. Why can't I be a real Viking?"

He hadn't mean to pour it all out like that. But hardly anyone ever listened to him, and he'd desperately needed to get it off his chest. If not to Kyrie, then who else would be willing to hear him out?

Apparently Snivels, judging by the sympathetic look on his face.

There was about a minute of thoughtful silence before Kyrie asked, pretty much out of the blue, "Have you ever seen a Venusaur bloom?"

They didn't wait for Hiccup to answer before providing a much-needed explanation.

"On my eleventh birthday, my father took me out hunting for deer. When we separated, I stumbled upon a small clearing and saw it happen - an Ivysaur bathed in the morning light, each petal slowly opening to its full splendor. Never before, or since, have I ever seen such wonder. I knew then what it was I wanted to do. I worked tirelessly, studying for countless hours, trying to better my understanding of the Pokémon around us. And I discovered a few things about myself I hadn't known before. The day I turned eighteen, the day I came out in front of everyone...it was truly liberating. I'd never felt so free in all my life. I could finally be my real self.

"I built this shelter with my own two hands, slaving day after day, spending every coin I'd ever earned. Just like the Ivysaur, I had evolved into a better version of myself. I have dedicated my life to the welfare of Pokémon, great and small. Even today, I am still learning more about them. Because if there's one thing that all Pokémon have in common, it's this - they are full of mystery, and wonder. We've barely even scratched the surface. And as long as I'm doing what makes me happy, it doesn't matter what other people think of me."

"No offense," said Hiccup, "but what does seeing an Ivysaur evolve have to do with my problem?"

Kyrie actually laughed at that. "My point is, you're your own person. Your father can try, but he can't control what you do any more than he can control the weather." They laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If you really want to fight dragons, then we can't stop you from trying. You just have to decide if that's the kind of person you want to be."

That...was actually some really good advice. Much better than most Hiccup had received over the course of his life.

"Well," Kyrie said, glancing out the window, "it's getting late. You should head home before the chief comes barging in looking for you." After a pause, they added, somewhat amused, "Again."

Hiccup sighed. He was gonna be in for quite the earful when he got home.

His gaze fell to the floor, and there was Snivels waiting at his heels. Without any prompting whatsoever, the Snivy leaped up onto his shoulder in a single bound.

When Hiccup walked out the door, the cold evening air sent chills to his bones. He trudged home as slowly as possible, pondering Kyrie's words the whole way. One thing was certain - his father had been right; he was no dragon killer.

But what else could he possibly do? If he wasn't a dragon killer, then what was he?

"Hang on," Snivels said suddenly. "Snotlout's an heir to the chief? Are you two related?"

For about half a second, Hiccup wondered what had brought it on. Then his mind flashed to their earlier run-in with the other four young Vikings. "We're cousins," he admitted. "Unfortunately."

The Snivy gaped at him for a good long while. "It's official - I'll never understand how human genetics work."

"Yeah." Hiccup laughed mirthlessly. "You and me both."

When they finally arrived at the house, Hiccup pulled the door open...only to freeze in the doorway.

Stoick and Brumous were already home, the chief crouched over the fireplace and poking at its coals while his Beartic lay asleep by the back door.

The last thing Hiccup wanted was to provoke an interaction with Stoick. Moving slowly, he shut the door as noiselessly as possible and then silently snuck past his father and up toward the staircase. He'd just started climbing up the stairs to his room when...

"Hiccup?"

He froze and replied hesitantly, "Dad..." There was no escaping it now. "Uh, I need to talk to you, Dad."

Clapping his hands together, Stoick admitted, "I need to speak with you, too, son."

They both took a deep breath and spoke, unfortunately at the exact same time.

"I think it's time you learn to fight dragons."

"I don't think I want to fight dragons."

"What?" they asked in unison, sharing a confused glance.

Stoick was the first to recover. "Uh, you first," he offered.

"No, you go first," Hiccup counter-offered, climbing back down the stairs.

"Alright," the chief sighed. "You get your wish. Dragon training. You start in the morning."

What?! Hiccup's mind went reeling, and he staggered back a little. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Snivels had turned pale, and his eyes were wide with shock.

"Oh man, I should have gone first!" he exclaimed in panic. Frantically, he tried to think of an explanation. "'Cause, you know, we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings. But do we have enough..." His mind blanked. "...bread-making Vikings? Or small home-repair Vikings...?"

His babbling was cut off by an enormous weight being dropped into his arms - a rather large axe. Hiccup was just barely able to keep the weapon steady, balancing it across his elbows.

"You'll need this," Stoick informed him.

Trying desperately not to drop the heavy axe, Hiccup changed tactics and told it to him straight. "I don't want to fight dragons," he quavered.

"Ah, come on," his father chuckled, clearly thinking it was some kind of joke. "Yes, you do!"

"Rephrase," he tried again. "Dad, I can't kill dragons!"

"But you will kill dragons!" Stoick assured him.

"No, I'm really very extra-sure that I won't!" Hiccup nearly yelled. He was getting really desperate.

Stoick's expression grew suddenly grim. "It's time, Hiccup."

"Can you not hear me?!" Hiccup asked, his voice breaking with fear.

"This is serious, son," Stoick interrupted. His voice was so heavy with anger that if it had any physical weight, it would have made a Snorlax seem as light as a feather.

Stoick took the axe from Hiccup. "When you carry this axe," he said, "you carry all of us with you." He handed the axe back to Hiccup. "That means you walk like us," - he adjusted Hiccup's posture - "You talk like us, you think like us. No more of...this," he finished, with a vague motion at his son and slight abhorrence in his voice.

"You just gestured to all of me," Hiccup complained with a roll of his eyes.

Stoick ignored that. "Deal?"

His grip slackening on the axe, Hiccup gave his father a resentful look and replied, "This conversation is feeling very one-sided..."

"Deal?!" Stoick repeated, more harshly.

Hiccup knew well enough by now that once the chief's mind was made up, nothing would change it. Snivels had remained silent the whole time, and honestly Hiccup didn't blame him. A talking Snivy would only make the situation so much worse.

There was no way out of it.

"...Deal," he answered in a small voice. He had a feeling he would regret it later.

But Stoick was satisfied. He swung a basket onto his shoulder and muttered, "Good." He reached for his helmet, which Brumous, who must have been woken up by the yelling, handed to him. "Train hard," he said as he and his Beartic headed for the door. "I'll be back...probably."

"And I'll be here," Hiccup said. "...Maybe."

The door shut with a final click, leaving Hiccup standing in the middle of the room with a weapon he didn't have the strength to hold, feeling even more helpless than when he'd been at the Night Fury's mercy.

There was a minute of pin-drop silence before Snivels commented, "That was harsh."

"Really?" Hiccup said dryly. "Thanks; I couldn't tell."

A pause. Then: "Are you going to be sarcastic the rest of the night?"

"You know what?" Hiccup threw up his arms in defeat. "Yes, I am going to be sarcastic the rest of the night. A dragon almost killed me, my own father thinks I'm a joke, the girl I'm in love with is way out of my league, a Pokémon is talking to me, and now I'm probably going to get mauled by the same kind of creature that almost killed me. I will be sarcastic until further notice."

I can easily imagine Hiccup saying something like that. Anyone else?

I based Amber's color off of how Charmander appears in the most recent mainstream games. In Gens I thru V, and the anime, they're sort of a deep orange. But from X and Y onward, their pigmentation is lighter. And, while I'm on the topic of making references to official Pokémon media, Kyrie's recount of an Ivysaur blooming into Venusaur is based on dialogue from The Electric Tale of Pikachu manga. (For the record, I very much prefer the anime.)

Bonus points for if you can spot the reference with the name Frida Lynstagard. Why another new character, you may ask? I have my reasons.

Reviews are always appreciated, so, if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to hear your feedback.

Chapter Text

"If you have to choose between a sword or a shield, take the shield!"

Nine years later, we get Pokémon Sword and Pokémon Shield. ...And the irony of it is, I played Shield before Sword! (Yes, really.)

"Welcome to dragon training!"

Those were the words Astrid had been waiting for as she watched Gobber push the iron gate upwards, allowing it to slide easily out of their way. "No turning back," murmured the blonde as she and Blaze strode down the tunnel and past the entrance. Not that she wanted to turn back, because why would she?

The arena was made of solid stone and built like a giant bowl, almost as spacious as the Great Hall. Instead of a ceiling, the area was covered by an immense chain-linked net, preventing the caged dragons that were used in training from flying away while at the same time providing a clear view for any spectators.

Astrid was at the front of the pack, her loyal Combusken just a step behind her. Blaze had been tense since that morning, which Astrid had chalked up to anticipation. Right now, as they crossed the threshold into the arena, she could see her partner was trembling. Probably from excitement, she guessed. Things were about to get real; they'd just taken their first real steps into becoming warriors, and, hopefully, one day, war heroes.

If it were up to her, Astrid would be participating alone. No one on Berk was a better fighter than her. But it wasn't up to her, which is why the four muttonheads, plus their own Pokémon partners, were walking in behind her.

Snotlout always had a certain swagger in his step, but now he seemed to be acting extra arrogant. He carried a mace, which he had hoisted over his shoulder like he'd seen Astrid do with her axe sometimes. She deliberately avoided looking at him as she and the others surveyed their surroundings. The last thing she needed was for that pig-faced troll to start thinking they could be equals. She did, however, glance at Heat. The Magmar was holding his head high, likely to save face from being in such close proximity to the biggest egotist this side of the archipelago.

Trailing behind Snotlout on either side were Tuffnut and Ruffnut. Both twins were carrying spears and wearing matching sadistic grins, their eyes shining with eagerness for the inevitable bloodshed. At their heels were Sarin and Ricin - the Nidorino with Tuffnut, and the Nidorina with Ruffnut.

Then there was Fishlegs, armed with a stone hammer. He wasn't much of a fighter, but his knowledge on dragon statistics would be a useful tool. Pad, meanwhile, looked about as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Just outside the mesh, on the arena's edge, stood Kyrie, who was on standby in case any of the Pokémon needed emergency treatment. And hovering next to them was Norward, who'd wanted to spectate the rookies on their first day of training rather than follow his trainer into the arena for reasons that eluded Astrid's comprehension.

"I hope I get some serious burns!" bragged Tuffnut.

"I'm hoping for some mauling," his sister piled on, "like on my shoulders or lower back."

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," Astrid agreed.

"Yeah, no kidding right?" said a sardonic voice from the back of the group. "Pain...love it!"

There was no mistaking who that was. Astrid would know, she'd spent a good five minutes talking to him the previous day. Which wasn't a lot, but it was the longest she'd ever spoken to someone within her age group.

Everyone collectively turned around to see an unenthusiastic Hiccup trudging after them, carrying an axe much too big for him. And on his shoulder, looking like he was completely above it all, was Snivels.

"Oh great," Tuffnut griped. "Who let him in?"

Astrid wasn't really mad, per se, but she wasn't happy either. There had to be some kind of mistake. Stoick the Vast knew better than anyone that his son was completely unfit for dragon slaying. He didn't belong in training, and he especially didn't belong on the front lines. So what in Odin's name was he doing here with them?!

"Let's get started!" shouted Gobber, closing the exit behind him and sealing them all in. "The recruit who does best," he continued, "will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village."

He twisted his hook-hand at the word 'kill', to demonstrate his point, which made Hiccup flinch.

A real Viking NEVER flinches.

"Hiccup already killed a Night Fury, so does that disqualify him?" Snotlout asked in mock seriousness. The twins couldn't contain themselves and burst into laughter.

Of course, Astrid knew full well that Hiccup didn't actually kill a dragon, let alone a Night Fury. His lack of any of the normal Viking qualities made such a task impossible. Maybe, just maybe, he'd been lucky enough to shoot it down, but the mysterious and powerful Night Fury wouldn't have stayed down for long.

Gobber gestured for the teens and Pokémon to all line up in front of the far wall. A series of big wooden doors were lined along it, each of them locked shut by means of a thick log holding them closed, further reinforced with bands of solid iron. Muffled, fearsome growls, squawks, and roars came from within each cage, and the doors rattled at the force. As far as Astrid was concerned, those bloodthirsty reptiles were itching for a battle.

"Behind these doors," lectured Gobber, "are just a few of the many species you'll learn to fight!" He proceeded to list each dragon, and accompanying Dragon-type Pokémon, by name as walked past each of the doors. "The Deadly Nadder and the Flygon."

To which Fishlegs muttered, "Armor: 16; Pokémon super weak to Ice-types."

"The Hideous Zippleback and the Zweilous."

"Plus 11 stealth times 2; Pokémon immune to Psychic-types."

"The Monstrous Nightmare and the Salamence."

"Firepower: 15; Pokémon immune to Ground-types."

"The Terrible Terror."

"Attack: 8, Venom: 12!"

"Can you stop that?!" Gobber bellowed, effectively shutting Fishlegs up. Then, more calmly, he rested his arm atop the final door's lever. "And the Gronckle and the Sliggoo."

"...Jaw Strength: 8; Pokémon hard to grip," muttered Fishlegs, just barely loud enough to be heard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Snotlout exclaimed, jumping forward with sudden urgency. "Aren't you gonna teach us first?!"

Tension spread amongst the trainees like a winter wind. Gobber was shifting his arm, his fist now firmly clamped around the lever that controlled the cage containing the Gronckle and Sliggoo. Fear spiced the air. They all knew what was about to happen.

But Astrid wasn't afraid. She tightened her grip on the handle of her axe. Bring it on.

"I believe in learning on the job," the blacksmith smirked.

Then he pushed the lever down.

Snivels had woken up that morning to the feeling of something nudging his back. He'd been in the middle of a rather pleasant dream, the kind you don't want to wake up from - the sun had been shining, filling the air with warmth and light, and he'd been racing the shadows of passing dragons across the vast fields of Orre.

"Five more minutes, Father," he'd grumbled sleepily. "I don't wanna go to school today."

The something, or rather someone, had nudged him again, a little harder than before. He'd heard them say his name...but it hadn't sounded like his father's voice. And they hadn't been speaking the Pokémon language, either.

"Snivels? Come on, wake up."

When Snivel's eyes fluttered open, he'd found himself in a strangely familiar windowless room. Gradually, his half-asleep brain had caught up to the present.

He wasn't on Orre; he was on Berk. In a Viking's house. With his new trainer.

"Dragon training. You start in the morning."

The chief's words had pounded into his skull like the incessant beating of a drum. Hiccup was supposed to start in dragon training today, and while it wasn't explicitly stated Snivels had good reason to believe that, as Hiccup's Pokémon partner, he was expected to accompany him.

Once he was fully awake, Snivels had sat up and stretched himself. He'd spent the night curled up at the foot of Hiccup's bed, using an extra blanket as a cushion between his body and the hard wooden surface.

"Is it time to get up already?" he'd asked.

"We shouldn't be late," Hiccup had said by way of answer. Then he'd sighed, "No matter how much we don't want to go."

"Do we have to?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Chief's orders."

That was as far as the conversation went before Gobber had practically barged in from downstairs to see if Hiccup was awake. Then the blacksmith had led them past the outskirts of the village, to a large arena carved out of the rocky landscape.

Right now, they were standing in the middle of it. Or, rather, Hiccup was standing in the middle of it while Snivels was hitching a ride on his shoulder. The sky was completely overcast by gloomy gray clouds, as if to reflect the shared feeling of hopelessness between the two of them.

It didn't help that the other trainees were regarding the Snivy and his trainer like they were a couple of pesky flies buzzing around people's heads.

The sound of the entrance gate being pulled shut sent a chill down Snivels's spine. There was no way to escape now.

"Let's get started!" Gobber declared. His jovial nature clashed with the sobering atmosphere. "The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village."

"Honor" was nowhere near the right word Snivels would use to describe such an event. He knew as well as probably everyone else in this Arceus-forsaken deathtrap that an angry dragon was a real force to be reckoned with. And if you were to back that dragon into a corner, you could be very sure they would fight their way out.

Snotlout seized the opportunity to jeer Hiccup, which, combined with the twins' laughing at the poor guy's expense, made Snivels's blood boil. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling some choice words at them.

At least there was some sympathy from the Pokémon. Blaze was glancing between Hiccup and Gobber in clear incomprehension of the blacksmith's sanity. Pad, Heat, Sarin, and Ricin all looked at Snivels with concern, but in a more "glad I'm not that guy" sort of way, and stuck close to their own trainers.

It didn't last long - a simple, wordless prompt from Gobber was all it took to get the group to fall in line.

"Don't worry," the blacksmith whispered to Hiccup, draping his one good arm over the boy's shoulder. "You're small, weak - that'll make you less of a target! They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead."

If he was trying to make Hiccup feel better, it clearly wasn't working. Nevertheless, he pushed Hiccup into line next to Fishlegs with a pat on the back. Hiccup struggled to not drop the axe, and the much larger trainee shuffled away.

Snivels glanced uncomfortably at the chain-link ceiling. It was bad enough that they were going to get throttled by rightfully angry dragons; did they really have to have an audience for it? He was calmed somewhat when he noticed Kyrie watching them from the stands above.

The air was filled with the scent of fear; Snivels could feel Hiccup trembling under his touch. From what he could tell, Astrid was the only person who didn't look even the slightest bit nervous about the situation.

She is either crazy-brave...or just plain crazy.

Gobber was addressing the trainees again, but Snivels wasn't paying attention. His focus was on the cries of the dragons emanating from behind the doors.

"Let us out!"

"This is barbaric!"

"You monsters!"

"What are you waiting for?!"

"Just get it over with already!"

They didn't sound angry at all; they were terrified. And rightfully so - they'd been downed, captured, crammed into these cages for the sole purpose of being assaulted by young Vikings, with no chance of escape. They didn't want to fight, let alone be killed, but soon they would have no choice. By the end of it all, one, or possibly two, of them would be dead.

Then what'll happen to the others? Snivels couldn't imagine the Vikings just letting the rest of the dragons go once training was finished. Sooner or later, they'd all be killed.

A shout brought Snivels's attention back to Gobber. His arm was resting on the lever next to the cage that, judging by the scents, contained a Gronckle and a Sliggoo. A wave of dread washed over Snivels as the reality of what was about to happen sank in.

Snotlout was filled to the brim with hot air.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut clearly weren't the sharpest spikes on the Nadder.

Fishlegs was a fact-spouting nervous wreck.

Astrid was misguided at the least, and a potential sociopath at the most.

Hiccup couldn't be more out of place if he tried.

...And they were all about to come face-to-face with a dragon, plus a Dragon-type Pokémon, with no fighting experience whatsoever.

"I'm gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the universe," Snivels said despairingly.

Gobber pushed the lever down, and, with a loud grinding sound, the log that held the cage door shut was lifted by a retracting chain.

Hiccup barely had enough time to think, maybe I should have stayed in bed after all, before the cage doors exploded open as the Gronckle exited at a full-tilt flight that nearly threw its Sliggoo companion off of its back. Everyone scattered as the stout dragon bumbled around clumsily.

"Today's lesson is about survival!" Gobber shouted over the chaos he'd unleashed. "If you get blasted..."

The Gronckle bumbled forward at full speed and slammed into the wall when it failed to turn in time. Undeterred, it got up and licked a few stray stones up off the arena floor and swallowed them. The Sliggoo, meanwhile, looked completely unharmed despite having been squished between the Gronckle's hide and the stone wall.

"...you're dead!" Gobber added. "Quick, what's the first thing you're going to need?"

"A doctor?" Hiccup took the opportunity to snark.

"Plus 5 speed?" Fishlegs guessed.

Astrid, naturally, got the correct answer. "A shield!" she shouted, to which Gobber directed the teens and their Pokémon towards a rack bearing various shields on one side of the arena.

"Your most important piece of equipment is your shield," the blacksmith lectured. "If you have to choose between a sword or a shield, take the shield!"

For as long as he could remember, Hiccup had never even touched a shield in his whole life. He had no idea how he was supposed to hold it, or if he'd be able to support it and the weight of the axe at the same time. As he struggled to secure his chosen shield, Gobber practically shoved it into his hands and pushed him back into action.

Naturally, Tuffnut and Ruffnut began fighting over a shield that they both wanted. Sarin and Ricin each sat at their respective trainer's feet, wearing matching expressions that screamed, "Really?! Right now?!"

"Get your hands off my shield!" demanded Tuffnut.

"There's like a million shields!" his sister argued.

"Take that one," he suggested. "It's got a flower on it. Girls like flowers."

Ruffnut suddenly tore the shield from his grasp and slammed it on top of his head. "Oops," she said with mock regret. "Now this one has blood on it."

They were too engrossed in their little sibling spat to hear their Pokémon's warning cries. So they completely failed to notice that the Gronckle was zeroing in on them. It shot a lava blast that exploded against the shield, throwing the feuding twins to the ground. The blast was soon followed by a light blue beam of energy - Dragon Breath - from the Sliggoo that hit their Nidorino and Nidorina dead on.

"Tuffnut! Ruffnut! You're out!" Gobber announced to the dazed twins. To those still standing, he went on, "Those shields are good for another thing - noise! Make lots of it to throw off a dragon's aim!"

All around Hiccup, the remaining trainees began to strike their shields with their weapons. He emulated them as well as he was able to with his heavy axe, joining the chorus of thuds and clangs echoing through the arena. The Gronckle shook its head and growled, confused and agitated by the din.

It didn't seem to have any effect on the Sliggoo, though. The Soft Tissue Pokémon launched another Dragon Breath, forcing the trainees to scatter.

"Now," Gobber kept up the lecture, "every dragon has a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?"

"Five?" Snotlout guessed.

"No, six!" Fishlegs claimed, raising his shield arm. He didn't see the Gronckle turn toward him, at last having a target to lock on to.

"Correct, six!" Gobber praised. "That's one for each of you."

Hiccup saw the Gronckle's mouth glow and heard the hiss of another lava blast, and he scurried over to the forgotten shield rack and ducked behind it, raising his shield to block the "entrance" to his hiding place. A roar, followed by a girlish scream, told him that the Gronckle had scored a hit with its second attack.

"Fishlegs, out!" Gobber announced, then demanded, "Hiccup, GET IN THERE!"

Upon hearing the angry cry, Hiccup inched back out into the open, shield first - only for another lava blast to explode against the wall right next to him. The rush of heat against his face was so strong and painful that Hiccup obeyed his instincts and dove right back into his hiding place, praying that the training would soon be over.

Then he noticed that his shoulder felt surprisingly light, and he realized that Snivels was no longer there. Had he been annihilated by the lava blast? It was just his luck - he had a Pokémon for barely one day and he'd already lost them.

Wait.

Was that a flash of green he just saw?

He scrambled out into the open to look for Snivels, just in time to see the Gronckle and Sliggoo going after Snotlout, Heat, Astrid, and Blaze.

"So, anyway," the Jorgenson jabbered flirtatiously. "I moved into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime and work out. You look like you work out."

Astrid wasn't paying any attention to him whatsoever. She and her Combusken dodged an incoming lava blast with perfect precision, while the distracted Snotlout didn't see it coming. He ended up running away unscathed, albeit minus a shield and with his Magmar paralyzed by the Sliggoo's Dragon Breath.

"Snotlout, you're done!" called Gobber. From the tone of his voice, he seemed to be entertained by the occurrences.

Of course, Hiccup snarked to himself. Nothing says "entertainment" like watching us run around like a bunch of chickens.

He felt his heart skip a beat when Astrid's series of rolls brought her right up beside him. For just a moment, his fear of being locked in the arena with a swarm of angry dragons was forgotten. This was probably the closest he'd ever been to her, except perhaps for just the day before when she'd handed over her axe to be sharpened.

It quickly dawned on him - they were the last two trainees standing. That had to count for something, right? Maybe he wasn't a complete and total failure after all.

"So I guess it's just you and me, huh?" Hiccup asked her, somehow managing to keep his voice from trembling.

Astrid's eyes widened at something, and she replied with a short, "Nope, just you!" before darting away.

Before Hiccup could react, the Gronckle blasted at his shield, knocking him to the floor. His axe dropped from his hand and the shield, which was miraculously still in one piece albeit with a large black spot where the fire had hit it, slipped off his arm, landing on its round edge and rolling away like the wheel of a wheelbarrow.

He was defenseless. And there were two dragons still loose in the arena.

Terrified out of his wits, Hiccup scrambled to his feet and chased after the runaway shield, all while the Gronckle's wingbeats thrummed behind him.

"One shot left!" Gobber shouted.

Hiccup barely heard him. He could hear the Gronckle's thrumming wings as it closed in on him. He needed the shield, he almost had it, just...a little...further!

Veering to the side, the Gronckle blocked his way, separating him from the shield and chasing him towards a wall.

"HICCUP!"

Whirling around in response to Gobber's shout, Hiccup found himself face-to-face with the angry Gronckle. His back hit the stone wall, and he realized he was trapped. The Gronckle's rotund body took up his entire line of sight, blocking all escape with a wall of teeth, scales, and fury. It bristled with rage as it snarled at him.

This looks familiar.

Then the Gronckle opened its mouth one last time, orange light building up within. Hiccup cringed and shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the painful, burning end to come.

Snivels had to admit that being unevolved had its advantages. With an irritated Gronckle bumbling above their heads, no one would notice the much smaller Snivy scampering about at their feet.

He had to get a closer look at how the cage doors were locked. If he could figure out how to open them, maybe he could set the prisoners free. Then the dragons could fly and fly without ever looking back.

It seemed like a good plan. But there was a setback. The cage that contained the Monstrous Nightmare and its Salamence companion didn't have a lever next to its doors. The Vikings must have set it up differently, which was surprisingly smart considering how stubborn and dense they were.

Snivels didn't have time to look for the release lever for the last cage. The Gronckle was running out of shots; the training would be over any minute.

*BLAM!*

Three shots fired, three to go.

He was standing directly in front of the cage on the far right. The doors on the far left - the Gronckle's cage - were still wide open.

"Who's there?" snapped a voice from behind the closed doors.

Snivels must have jumped about a foot into the air. He recognized the squawk - this was the Deadly Nadder's prison. But had anyone else heard it? Probably not, judging by the amount of commotion the Gronckle and her Sliggoo comrade were producing.

"I know you're there," the Nadder said in a low growl. "I can smell you."

"Snivels," he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he clarified, "My name is Snivels."

"What are you doing in this place?" asked a friendlier-sounding voice from the same cage. The Deadly Nadder's Flygon partner, no doubt.

"Believe me," Snivels said, "I don't want to be here. We were kinda forced into this whole training thing."

*BLAM!*

Four down, two to go.

"'We'?" the Nadder asked, sounding curious.

"My trainer and I," Snivels explained. "He's not like the others. I'm not even sure he's really a Viking at all. We won't hurt anyone, I can promise you that." He took a step closer to the doors. "Just hang in there a little while longer. I don't know how, but I'm gonna try and stop this war. No matter what." He paused. "What are your names?"

*BLAM!*

One shot left.

"Stormfly," the Nadder answered.

"Dragonfly," said the Flygon. "Please remember us. No matter what those Vikings do to us, any of us, here in the arena, please take care of our families."

Snivels felt his heart sink. These dragons had families who loved them and were probably worried sick about them...if they were even still alive. He wouldn't know where to even begin looking for them. But he couldn't just leave Stormfly and Dragonfly trapped in this prison without some sort of reassurance.

"I'll do everything I can," he said. "I promise."

"HICCUP!"

Snivels turned around so fast he thought he'd get whiplash. The Gronckle had managed to corner Hiccup, who had lost both the axe and the shield, against the stone wall of the arena. The poor guy had nothing to defend himself with.

"This is your fault!" the Gronckle snarled at him. "My cousin would still be alive if it wasn't for your stupid tribe!" Her mouth opened, and the distinctive hiss of a charging lava blast filled the air.

She was losing herself to her anger. Snivels had to do something, and fast. There was no time to think; he had to act.

Two green vines shot right out from his collar, fast as lightning. They wrapped around Hiccup's torso, gentle but firm. Snivels yanked with all his might, pulling Hiccup down and away from where the Gronckle was aiming.

The lava blast hit the wall right where Hiccup's head had been barely a second ago. Clearly shaken by what had just happened, he glanced up at the dragon...and then down at himself.

Snivels retracted his Vine Whip, and his whole body went lax with relief. Hiccup was looking at him in astonishment, probably wondering where he'd been and what he'd been doing the whole time.

The Gronckle, however, was still angry. She snarled again and took a step toward the defenseless Hiccup.

"No, stop!" Snivels screamed. He scurried right over, throwing himself between his trainer and the dragon. "He's not the enemy!"

Now it was his turn to be trapped and helpless with the Gronckle glaring down at him. The dragon's snout was mere inches away from Snivels's nose, her growls ringing in his ears. But he couldn't afford to back down.

"I know you're not a monster," he said boldly. "Now, please, let him go."

"Meatlug, listen to him," the Sliggoo pleaded from up on the Gronckle's back. "Plumptail wouldn't want this."

Snivels caught a look of longing in Meatlug's eyes. More than anything, these dragons wanted to go home to their families, to live peacefully, he was sure of it.

The moment was quickly ruined, however, by Gobber's absurdly late intervention. The blacksmith tugged on the side of Meatlug's jaw with his hook hand, dragging her away. Snivels watched helplessly as the Gronckle struggled in a vain attempt to pull herself free, the Sliggoo staying loyally on her friend's back.

"And that...was...six," Gobber grunted, struggling to keep the Gronckle under control. "Go back to bed, you overgrown sausage and snail!" he suddenly yelled at the thrashing dragons, throwing them back into their cage and shutting the doors behind them. Once the cage was locked again, everyone finally had a moment to get their breath back.

Snivels surveyed the trainees. None of the humans were hurt, but judging by the little yellow static jolts emanating off of Heat's body it was clear the Magmar had been paralyzed by the Sliggoo's Dragon Breath. Above them, he saw Norward looking shell-shocked and Kyrie clutching the iron bars that blocked them from jumping into the arena. Astrid was the only recruit left with a shield in hand, and Blaze looked completely unharmed.

It was pretty clear to Snivels who had won the first round.

"You'll get another chance, don't you worry," Gobber muttered to the trainees.

Another chance to do what, exactly? Snivels thought sardonically. You think you can just lock six people and six Pokémon in a deathtrap arena and expect all of them to come out unscathed on the first try? These idiot Vikings must be more delusional than I anticipated.

Then, turning address the whole class, Gobber wrapped up his lesson. "Remember, a dragon will always..."

He turned to Hiccup and leaned in, a deadly serious expression on his face. "Always," he enunciated, "go for the kill."

Snivels tried, but he couldn't hold back the snort of mirthless laughter that statement had prompted. Apparently, the Vikings were also blind as well as stupid. Had no one seen that Meatlug didn't immediately attack him when she had the chance?

Hiccup had to have noticed for sure; he'd been right there when it happened.

Satisfied that he'd made his point, Gobber hoisted Hiccup up by the arm and left the arena, followed by the trainees. Blaze gave him and Snivels one last look before rushing to join Astrid.

Snivels, however, stayed behind with his trainer. He could tell from the look on Hiccup's face that the gears in his head were turning. Gobber's statement didn't add up at all with what had undoubtedly transpired with the Night Fury out in the forest.

Hiccup had set the dragon free, that much was certain. The Night Fury had every reason to be mad at him, assuming he'd known that this scrawny miniature of a Viking was the one who'd shot him down in the first place.

But he'd let Hiccup go. A simple repayment - you spared my life, so now I'll spare yours.

Meatlug, however, had let herself be consumed by rage. She'd allowed a tragedy of the past - the loss of a family member - to cloud her sense of reason, if only for a moment. And she'd probably been scared out of her wits, surrounded by enemies with no way out. The only thing she, and all the other dragons here, could do was fight.

There hadn't been anyone else in that forest clearing except for Hiccup and the Night Fury. Neither side had had anyone to help if things turned ugly. No one to force their hands (or claws), no one to tell them what they should or shouldn't do, no one to put an unnecessary amount of pressure on their heads. The decision had been entirely the Night Fury's to make, and he'd made it in his own time.

Meatlug hadn't had that luxury. Her time was limited, she had only one shot left, and there'd been potential threats everywhere. The stress of the situation, and the memory of her dead cousin, had fueled the fire in her belly. It had been too much for her to handle.

Snivels dared not to think about what might have happened next if he hadn't pulled Hiccup out of the way in time.

Because once the line between innocent and monster is crossed...there's no going back.

Kyrie knew they could trust Frida to look after the Pokémon at the Shelter while they were away. The ten-year-old girl was one of the few friends they had on Berk, and probably the only person besides Kyrie themselves who really understood what Pokémon were like.

Originally, they were going to ask Hiccup to watch over the Shelter for them. But he turned out to be a last-minute addition to the roster of teens who'd be participating in dragon training. Which meant that with each session there'd be six Pokémon - a Snivy, a Combusken, a Lombre, a Magmar, a Nidorino, and a Nidorina - for Kyrie to keep track of and treat for any injuries acquired in the fights.

Kyrie had neglected to participate in dragon training themselves. Their one true purpose was to help save lives, not end them. They did still stop by the arena to watch the sessions, if only to provide medical treatment for the Pokémon when and if they needed it.

For that matter, Kyrie never left the Pokémon Shelter without their pouch of special berries grown in the garden that took up most of the Shelter's backyard. They had more than enough Cheri Berries to cure Heat of his paralysis. After a good rest, the Magmar would be as good as new.

When they heard that Hiccup and Snivels would be participating, Kyrie knew they had to be there; they had to make sure that neither the Snivy nor his trainer sustained any serious injuries. Their heartbeat had quickened at the sight of Hiccup getting trapped in a corner by the angry Gronckle, and it was to their immense relief that the last lava blast had missed its mark.

They'd promised to look after Hiccup, and they had every intention of keeping that promise.

Kyrie wasn't sure what they were expecting to find when they returned to the Shelter, but the sight of Frida buried under a pile of playful Pokémon made them smile. They'd been planning to add a large, fenced area outside for the Pokémon to romp around in. Until they had the proper supplies, the playpen would have to do, as long as the Pokémon were let out to exercise at least once every day. (That being said, the fence wouldn't be so much about keeping the Pokémon in as keeping any intruders out.)

"I take it everything went well?" Kyrie asked.

Frida had to extricate herself from the dogpile of Pokémon before she could answer. "Mostly," she admitted. "I fed them and gave them fresh water, just like you said. But, uh..." Her gaze fell to the floor. "When I opened the playpen, Amber mighta...sorta...ran off. I wanted to go look for her, but I couldn't leave the other Pokémon. I'm really sorry."

Kyrie knew she was expecting them to be disappointed. But really, she'd done a much better job than she gave herself credit for.

"It's okay," they said, gently ruffling her hair. "You did the right thing by remaining at the Shelter. If Amber wants to leave, that's her choice. We have no right to force her to stay here."

"Do you think she'll be alright?" asked Frida.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Kyrie said. "Pokémon are tougher than you'd think. And, besides, if Amber ever gets into trouble, we'll be here to help."

Amber knew she couldn't stay at the Pokémon Shelter. As much as she appreciated Kyrie taking care of her, she had no future in that building. No Viking on Berk would ever want her for a partner. Maybe she'd make a few friends, but the other Pokémon would eventually be taken home by new trainers, while she'd remain there, probably for the rest of her life, alone.

There was only one moment in her whole life she ever felt truly happy: the day before, when she'd officially met Snivels. He'd made her laugh - had anyone else ever done that? He'd made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He'd made her forget about her troubles, if only for a minute.

He'd made her feel like she actually mattered to someone.

That's why she was wandering around the village, looking for any sign of the Snivy. She wanted to feel that way again.

Amber noted with relief that the village seemed quieter and more empty than usual. Which meant less judgmental faces looking at her - from the Vikings, not the Pokémon. She didn't need any more reminders of how her color was different than normal Charmander.

" I don't care what they think. You're perfect just as you are. If those metal-headed jerks don't like the way you look, then that's their problem, not yours."

Snivels's words filled her with hope. She had to see him again. Whatever the future had in store for her, it wouldn't be complete if he wasn't there with her.

Somewhere far out over the ocean, there was a rumble of thunder in the gray clouds.

Amber shuddered at the sound. She hated rain.

But she hated being alone more.

Steeling herself, the amber Charmander continued her trek through the village. Maybe she'd find shelter when the storm reached Berk, but for now finding Snivels was her top priority.

A dragon will always...always...go for the kill.

Hiccup was back in the woods now, staring town at the shredded remains of the ropes that had once held the Night Fury.

"So, why didn't you?" he wondered.

Hiccup frowned to himself as he weighed the bola in his hands. He squinted through the trees, remembering the black dragon vanishing through them after it had abandoned him.

"Why didn't you?" Snivels asked from his place atop the boulder the Night Fury had pinned Hiccup to just the other day. "You had the dragon at your mercy, and you let him go. What made you change your mind?"

Whatever answer Hiccup had prepared in case that question ever came up, it died in his throat. It wasn't that he didn't want to admit that Snivels had a good solid point, because he did and it wouldn't be fair to say otherwise. But there was something else at play, too, something inside him. Like he wasn't a hundred percent sure that killing the Night Fury was really what he wanted.

And, apparently, killing him wasn't really what the Night Fury had wanted. He'd been at the dragon's mercy, like how he'd had it, and it had chosen to flee rather than finish Hiccup off. Gobber had delivered that last warning to him with one hundred percent certainty, and yet here Hiccup was, kneeling amongst evidence that pointed directly to the contrary.

He needed to find that Night Fury again. Otherwise, he'd never get an answer to this mystery.

"How are we going to find it?" he asked, more to himself than to Snivels. "It could be anywhere by now."

"Him, you mean," Snivels said, sounding offended. Then he answered, "Same way I found you - by tracking his scent."

The Snivy hopped down off the boulder and lowered his nose to the ground. Then he started sniffing.

Hiccup watched awkwardly as Snivels circled the area. He'd been wondering how the Snivy had managed to find him out in the middle of the forest, but there hadn't really been an appropriate time to ask.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't asked about the four strange dragons yet. What were they? Where did they come from? And how did Snivels know them? He'd have to remember to ask about them later.

Snivels had started heading in the same direction Hiccup recalled seeing the Night Fury flying in. His curiosity overriding his sense of reason, Hiccup followed the Snivy deeper into the forest. Surprisingly, he noticed that the dragon had left a clear path behind - when he looked closely, several trees looked like they had been damaged. The pattern continued on in a mostly straight direction, so he followed it. Briefly, he wondered why a dragon would fly into so many trees when he could have avoided them.

It wasn't long before they came to a tall, rocky wall that rose from the earth to block their progress. Or, at least, that was what it seemed - Snivels quickly found a small crevasse in the wall that created a downward-sloping path further into the woods. Hiccup followed him between the rocks, his hand sliding along one wall to steady himself. Along the narrow path he crept, until...

...he emerged in a paradise.

He stood on the edge of a huge crater-like structure that sunk about sixty feet beneath the forest floor. On one side of the cove was a gigantic tree whose roots grew over the edge and dangled toward the bottom, where an enormous lake flooded half of the cove floor. The water was crystal clear, enough so that Hiccup could see the lake's bed even from this height. The rest of the ground space was taken up by mossy boulders and a carpet of grass, completing the tranquil image. Sunlight broke through the clouds above to illuminate this secret haven with an idyllic glow.

Okay, Hiccup had to admit that the view was incredible. But it wasn't what he was looking for.

"This was stupid," he sighed to himself.

"Maybe not," Snivels said. "Look."

Something was glinting in the sunlight, catching the corner of Hiccup's eye. Scattered beside him on the ledge were several flat, black objects rather like river stones. He picked one up, feeling the smooth, shiny surface under his fingers.

Wait, these are scales, aren't they? he wondered. He peered harder at the object in his hand. He hadn't seen a dragon scale by itself up close before, so he wasn't entirely sure.

All at once, there was a shrieking roar and a huge black shadow that came shooting up from below. Hiccup instinctively fell back, watching as the shadow passed by, heading for the rim of the crater. Looking straight up, he saw the Night Fury practically right next to him, scrabbling with his claws at the stone that made up the walls of the gorge.

Failing in his attempt to climb up, the Night Fury quickly glided away on silent wings, only to crash-land on the banks of the lake. Once the dragon had touched down, Hiccup crawled further down the edge of the cove, his curiosity stronger than his instincts.

But as he watched the Night Fury, it became clear that something was wrong. The dragon spread his wings and leapt into the air, only to succeed in nearly colliding headfirst with the wall in front of him. He was losing altitude, flapping and flailing every which way before skidding to a halt. He tried again, hurling himself up along the sides of the cove, but only got about halfway before he seemed to tire and crash land.

An inspiration struck Hiccup, and his hand dove into his fur vest to retrieve his charcoal and notebook. He flipped it open to an empty page and, taking repeated one-second glances at the Night Fury, sketched out a rough outline of its figure.

"Why don't you just...fly away?" he breathed, setting his book down.

The Night Fury spat a blue bolt of flame at the ground in what Hiccup would've thought was vehemence, frustrated that he wasn't able to fly. And the reason for that was crystal clear as Hiccup eyed the dragon's tail - only the right side had a rudder-esque tail fin.

Was it torn off in the crash? Hiccup wondered. He lifted his book, smudging out his sketch where he had drawn a left tail fin.

"Makes sense," came a voice. Hiccup knew it was Snivels, but he turned to look anyway. The Snivy was now standing right next to him, eyeing the Night Fury with a sympathetic look.

"Any creature with a large tail depends on it for balance," Snivels explained, speaking quietly so as not to attract the dragon's attention. "See how that fin looks like the rudder of a boat? That must be how he steers. If he can't steer, he can't fly right."

True to that fact, the Night Fury tried to fly one last time, only to crash even harder. From his and Snivels's vantage point, Hiccup saw the dragon go limp, as if he were giving up. Then he watched as the Night Fury crept to the edge of the lake and thrust his head in, only to come up empty.

Is it...he trying to catch a fish? Hiccup asked himself. If he was, that effort was fruitless as well.

He sighed quietly. This magnificent creature was suffering because of something he'd done. Granted, he didn't know about the missing tailfin until just now, but the dragon was hurt and hungry and probably scared.

Hiccup knew because that's how he would have felt in that situation.

The realization made his muscles go lax, and his grip on the charcoal pencil loosened. Too late, he fumbled for it, only to see the stick fall with a clatter onto the rocks below.

He stiffened and dared not move a muscle, his eyes already moving toward the Night Fury. With a jolt of fear, Hiccup saw the dragon's vivid green eyes staring right back at him. The Night Fury stood statue-like, as though waiting to see what he would do. For several seconds, both sides stared at one another, and the cove's silence was as though the gods were holding their breath.

Was that a hint of recognition Hiccup saw deep in those orbs?

With a tiny jolt, the dragon tilted his head ever so slightly. He seemed to share Hiccup's curiosity.

At that moment, a single thought crept through Hiccup's mind: Are dragons really just pests to be killed? ...Or are they something more?

One of the things I like most about the encounters with Toothless is that it shows how dragons have the capacity to be humane, even toward those they view as enemies. It goes to show that you don't need to be human to have humanity.

On a related note, Snivels's perspective has allowed an exploration of what the dragons in the arena are really feeling. I think it's easy to look at an animal and think that they can't feel anything because they don't seem to be as smart as we are (and I use the term loosely). But it's been repeatedly demonstrated in both the How to Train Your Dragon and Pokémon franchises that the titular non-human beings are fully capable of thinking and feeling for themselves, and some of them might even be smarter than humans. Quite a game-changer, isn't it?

In other news, the live-action remake of  How to Train Your Dragon is almost upon us.  You can say whatever you want about it, but I think it'll be interesting to revisit the story in a new way. (Come to think of it, that's basically what I'm doing with this crossover.)

Reviews are always appreciated.