Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Growing up, Astrid had always looked forward to the summer months. While the warmer weather was a welcome reprieve from Berk’s frigid winters, it was the longer days that had truly meant the most in her eyes.

Throughout her youth, those extended days were a ticket to freedom. They gave her the opportunity to fit in extra training sessions or to explore the labyrinth of woods that surrounded the village. No matter how high her chores piled up for the day, there still always seemed to be some time that was hers to control.

When she’d gotten a bit older and chores evolved into more serious responsibilities within the tribe, she’d grown to see those longer days in a new light. Shorter nights meant the window for potential dragon raids shrank significantly. This added a layer of safety and security, knowing there was less time to be spent worrying that her family would be harmed by an attack.

She’d grown to equate the sun with all of the good things in her life, cherishing every extra hour that it would shine above. On more than one occasion, she’d caught herself idly wishing that it would never disappear beyond the horizon. 

Things had changed greatly in the last year.

The sun was no longer a beacon of safety, nor a ticket to youthful adventures. If anything, it now served as a barrier of sorts. Each day, she felt her impatience grow as she waited for it to slip away at last. The longer the day stretched on, the more irritated she became – not that she’d ever admit it.

Astrid did not hate the day by any means, but she’d come to look forward to nightfall so much more. Skies that were once prone to raging dragon fire now gave way to peaceful stretches of starlight as far as the eye could see. Any shouts that broke out in the streets were those of vikings out socializing throughout the village – no longer those of warriors yelling warnings of impending attacks to their tribesmen.

Night now brought bonfires and social gatherings within the town’s bustling hall. It brought laughter and leisure and a general sense of calm throughout the village. It brought magic – both figuratively and in the most literal sense.

Astrid took her time weaving up the pathway towards Berk’s highest lookout point. It was becoming second-nature to make the ascent, having become a set part of her daily routine. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky in a warm swath of color. 

She could feel the satisfying strain of her day’s training with each stride, muscles still burning from the effort. Though dragon raids were now a thing of the past, Berk’s warriors still trained for battle – though the focus had shifted towards defense strategies against other tribes. Fighting men required a different skill set than fighting dragons.

Her trusty battle axe hung against her back, the weight both familiar and comforting. It would need a good sharpening sooner rather than later, but she’d been putting off asking the blacksmith to sharpen it. Though she trusted Gobber to complete the task well, she had her heart set on watching his apprentice take on the challenge.

As she rounded the corner of the lookout point, she was surprised to find it empty. Squinting out at the horizon, she scanned the skies for any sign of movement. Sure enough, a black shape began to grow in the distance.

As the shape drew nearer, she was better able to pick out the dragon’s silhouette. A familiar whistle tore through the air, the telltale sign of a Night Fury approaching at rapid speed.

Astrid stepped to the side, attempting to clear as much space as she could for an easy landing. Her brows drew together as she glanced between the setting sun and the dragon. 

“He’s not going to make it…” 

As if sensing her fear, the whistle intensified and the Night Fury picked up speed. The distance between them was shrinking quickly, but Astrid still worried the efforts would not be enough. Her muscles locked with tension, jaw clenching as she watched. She’d seen him fall from the sky once before and had hoped to never see it happen again.

Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the Night Fury reached the overlook. He did not slow, momentum forcing the dragon tumbling forward into a somersault as he hit the ground. As he rolled, the dragon was engulfed in a bright purple flame. It flared and burned away until a much smaller shape remained.

The dragon’s snarls cut off, replaced by a young man’s yelp as the new arrival skidded a few more yards through the grass before coming to a stop. 

Astrid let out the breath she’d been holding, heart still pounding in her chest. 

He made it.

“Cutting it a bit close there, don't you think?” she called out, keeping her voice carefully even. 

The man groaned in response, pushing himself up to his knees. He heaved his weight onto his right leg as he stood, not shifting onto his prosthetic left limb until quickly assessing it was securely in place. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to look at her, offering a toothy grin.

“Hey, I totally had that under control,” he drawled, “I made it, didn’t I?”

Astrid snorted, “You were about two seconds away from falling into the sea.”

Hiccup laughed, brushing the grass from his clothes. The tumble he’d taken had left him looking rather disheveled. He had a few blades sticking out of his messy auburn hair and there were noticeable grass stains on his tunic. “Worried about me?”

She had been, but he didn’t need to know that. Instead, Astrid rolled her eyes and moved to help free the debris from his hair. “You look ridiculous.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So?” Astrid prompted once she was sure she removed the last of the foliage. “What did you find this time?”

Hiccup’s face lit up, “A few more islands to the east – I didn’t have time to explore them too much, but definitely bigger than the ones I found last week! I’m going to add them to the map tonight.”

Astrid nodded, knowing that he’d be eager to chart his findings. His map – a passion project of sorts, inspired by his more recent hobby of exploring the waters surrounding Berk – was really beginning to take shape. Hiccup had always been an artist, and his rendition of each island, sea stack and obstacle near the Isle had become an item of fascination for many of the villagers.

“Oh!” Hiccup’s pitch shot up as he continued, excitement clear in his tone. “And I found this crazy ice formation – couldn’t get too close since I knew I needed to head back, but you should have seen it! It was massive – like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

An ice fortress? 

Astrid furrowed her brow. “Like a glacier?”

Hiccup shook his head, “No, no – this was something different! The ice was sticking out at all angles in these giant spikes! It didn’t even look natural.”

“Hmm.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to try and get closer. If I head straight there, I think I can buy myself an hour or so to explore–”

“Hiccup,” she held up a hand to stop him. “You agreed to be at the feast tomorrow, remember?”

His expression faltered, excitement visibly leaking out of his posture. “I’ll be there for the end…probably.”

“Hiccup, you can’t avoid the village forever.”

“Avoiding? Me? I’m not avoiding anything,” he countered, though his green eyes were no longer meeting her gaze. 

They both know it was a lie. 

In the six months since his secret had been revealed, he’d been careful to only interact with his tribesmen after nightfall – when he was human. Or, as human as Hiccup could be, considering the black scales that permanently blanketed his left arm. 

“Hiccup,” she sighed, reaching out and squeezing his forearm. “Everyone already knows you’re a dragon, so why are you still sneaking around like it’s a secret?”

“Knowing and seeing are two very different things, Astrid.”

“Hiccup–”

“I’ll try, okay?” He relented, though his tone was anything but convincing. “Can we please just drop it for now?”

Astrid grunted her agreement, knowing she wasn’t going to make any further progress tonight. No matter how much she wanted to push him, it was his obstacle to overcome. The Haddocks had always been a stubborn bunch.

She slid her hand down his forearm, twining her fingers in his. “Alright, fine – let’s head back,” she suggested, lightly tugging him towards the path to town. “I’ve got a project for you.”

“Oh?”

There was a deadly Nadder blocking the path leading from the woods to Berk. The dragon was tall, covered in blue scales and razor-sharp spikes.

It fixed its attention squarely on Hiccup and Astrid as they came around the bend, wings flaring.

Astrid paused, muscles locking in preparation for any potential threat. Though the dragons hadn’t been actively raiding their village, they were by no means tame. There was no predicting how the Nadder would react to the sight of two Vikings separated from the crowd. 

Hiccup released her hand, taking a slow step towards the dragon.

“Are you crazy? What are you doing?” Astrid hissed, watching with wide eyes. “Leave it alone!”

The Nadder cocked its head at Hiccup as he approached, but did not make any move to retreat or attack. 

“She’s one of the arena dragons,” explained Hiccup, eyes still fixed on Nadder. “I just want to see if she recognizes me.”

Astrid looked closer at the dragon, surprised to see that he was right in his observation. There were a few scars that marked evidence of their training sessions, including a slice by the nose that she’d be responsible for herself. 

Hiccup extended his left hand slowly, claws glinting in the moonlight. Astrid almost couldn’t watch, eyes darting between the dragon and her friend with unease. 

The chief’s son appeared to share her apprehension, turning his face away as he reached out.

Oh, gods…

The Nadder leaned in to sniff his hand, appearing more curious than cautious. Seemingly satisfied by what she found, the dragon pressed her snout against the scales of Hiccup’s palm for a moment, before leaning back in a more relaxed posture. 

“Astrid,” he whispered, sounding awed. “This is…”

“Incredible,” she agreed, stunned that the dragon seemed so comfortable in his presence. In the ring, the Nadder had always been on high alert, aggressive whenever approached by anyone. Now, it seemed so much gentler.

Though her boots felt like lead, Astrid forced herself to follow Hiccup’s lead. If this side of dragons existed, she wanted to explore it herself…not just be a witness.

The Nadder caught sight of her movements, squawking loudly and raising her spiked tail in warning.

“Astrid, don’t move.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Hiccup redirected the dragon’s attention, somehow managing to calm her down with a few soothing words. Though no longer spooked, the Nadder’s curiosity appeared to have been sated. With a few strong wingbeats, the dragon was airborne and headed out towards the sea.

“She must be able to sense the dragon in you,” remarked Astrid, wondering if that was the key to bonding with dragons. Perhaps they were only receptive to their own kind, putting Hiccup in a truly unique position.

“Or she remembers you taking a swing at her in the ring.”

“...right.”

She’d done that to all of the arena’s inhabitants…including Hiccup. She wouldn’t blame them if none could forgive or forget her actions.

As if sensing her distress, Hiccup reached back out for her hand. “Astrid, I’m just kidding,” he assured, “I think you’re right. She can probably just smell Night Fury.”

They could only guess, as contact with the dragons was so limited. Still, Astrid found herself feeling surprisingly disappointed that she hadn’t been able to approach the Nadder.

Astrid hummed, allowing the boy to lead her towards town. “I just wish we understood them better.”

Chapter Text

Stoick had finally grown accustomed to waking up at midday. 

It was an unusual schedule, and one that he’d had to slowly train himself to adopt some months ago. He’d always been one to wake with the dawn, eager to set off into Berk and take on his duties for the day just as his father had done before him.

A chief had many responsibilities, and he’d always made it a priority to complete them early so as to allow time to take care of his son. After Valka had been taken, he’d needed to be there to support what remained of his small family. While that same mentality still held true, he’d since had to adapt his schedule in order to accommodate his son’s new challenges.

Stoick spent his afternoons serving his people and ensuring all aspects of the village were running smoothly. Then, once the sun was down and the Night Fury magic rendered Hiccup human once more, he’d make his way to the forge to visit with his boy.

Those visits were often short, as Hiccup’s attention tended to be focused on his craft. The boy had always been one to lose himself in his passions, much like his mother. Still, it gave Stoick an opportunity to see his son, safe and at home in Berk. After five years believing the boy to be dead, that sort of reassurance had become priceless.

What Stoick most looked forward to were the hours just before midnight. Hiccup would return to their home, the two would share a meal and they were able to spend time together as a family before retiring for the night.

In those hours, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. Within those walls they were free – Stoick of his responsibilities and Hiccup of his curse – if only just for a while. There, they were simply father and son.

As sunlight streamed through the window, Stoick pushed himself out of bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching the stiffness from his muscles. 

He wasn’t surprised to find the house silent. In the last few months, Hiccup had taken to disappearing sometime around the time Stoick woke each day. Sometimes they caught each other briefly, but it wasn’t odd for them to miss one another entirely. It seemed Hiccup had inherited his mother’s innate curiosity, eager to explore in his free time. 

Unlike Valka, that curiosity was not limited to the confines of the Isle of Berk.

Wings had opened up a world of exploration Stoick never could have dreamed of – each night, Hiccup was eager to share his findings. He’d put his talent for illustration to use, constructing a one-of-a-kind map of the archipelago, illustrated from a dragon’s point of view. 

There were certain islands the chief recognized from his own sailings in search of the nest, but there were also many places he’d never seen himself. It was humbling to see how small Berk was amongst it all.

The back door to the house was slightly ajar, confirming Stoick’s suspicions. It was rarely ever bolted these days in order to make it easier for a Night Fury to come and go as needed. While Hiccup was able to push open the door with relative ease, he’d expressed that pulling it back open was a challenge without thumbs. He’d taken to leaving it slightly ajar so he could more easily navigate it. 

Stoick didn’t mind. He’d grown up in the chill of the Isle – a little draft inside his home was nothing of concern. 

Whistling a tune that had been relentlessly bouncing around his mind, Stoick the Vast headed off to town to address his people’s needs.

Hiccup hovered just at the edge of the woods, watching from afar as the last of his tribe finished trickling through the large doors of the town hall. The sun was hanging low in the sky, but it could be an hour or so before it set completely. 

In just a matter of minutes, the feast would begin. The very same feast that he had promised his father he would attend.

He’d had every intention of following through on his words…but now he wasn’t sure he do it. At least, not yet. 

Perhaps he could claim he lost track of time? That his flight back had been delayed by wind or rain or some other obstacle. No one would be able to call him out on the lie. Stoick would probably believe him…but he had a feeling that Astrid would see right through the excuse. She had an uncanny knack for reading him, a talent unlike anyone else.

They just didn’t understand. How could they? 

Yes, he’d saved Berk from the queen and the centuries-old onslaught of dragon raids. His tribe had welcomed him back with open arms, treating him far better than they ever had before – not that the bar had been set very high for that . 

Yet, their kind reception hadn’t quelled his own fears that their acceptance could wane. They’d taken his draconic attributes in stride, but they’d only ever encountered his human form. Pleasantries aside, it was not uncommon to catch someone staring at his curse mark – a visible reminder to all that he wasn’t quite human. Reactions varied from fascination to horror, but what Hiccup hated most were those whose faces he couldn’t read. Not knowing how he was being perceived bothered him deeply.

He knew his choice to put off the inevitable introduction of his dragon side for so long hadn’t helped matters. In waiting, he’d given doubt plenty of time to take root within his own mind. Would they really be able to live side by side with a Night Fury? Would the people of Berk be able to look him in the eye and reconcile the fact that he was the same person inside?

They knew what he was, on a factual level…but did they really understand? 

Astrid seemed to think so, as she continued to push him to take the leap of faith. While he didn’t want to let her down, the thought of confronting his people during the day still unnerved him. He’d never admit it, but he still had nightmares about waking up in the arena – only now, they knew who he was and they didn’t care. Now, they chanted for his demise by name.

They were just dreams, but they made his anxiety around the issue fester like an open wound. 

Hiccup sighed, settling back on his haunches. It was a relief to take the weight off his legs – balancing on three limbs for long had proven to be tiring. 

He’d wait til sundown, and then he’d slip inside. His father would be disappointed by his decision to wait, but he’d find a way to make it up to the chief.

Hiccup passed the time watching the sun dip lower on the horizon, once more reflecting on the significance it had taken in his life. His entire existence hinged on the sun and the moon, forever tied to their rhythm thanks to the Night Fury magic in his veins. He’d made peace with the cycle, though it hadn’t been easy – he’d tried to deny the permanence of his situation for five long years before choosing to take a new approach.

He hadn’t realized how much his denial had been weighing him down until he let it go, feeling freer than he had since he’d taken that fateful shot. There were still bad days, of course, where he longed for more control over his life and his body, but for the most part he was at peace with it. 

A tingling sensation began to spread through his body, like pins and needles just underneath his skin. In moments, his veins caught fire, burning away at his form as the shift turned dragon to man in a purple blaze.

Hiccup exhaled sharply, slowly pulling himself to his feet. He brushed the dirt off of his pants, straightening his tunic into something he hoped was somewhat presentable. With the wind whipping through the air, his hair was likely a lost cause, but still he combed his fingers through it a few times in the hopes that it wasn’t too much of a mess. 

He could already hear the lively sounds of the feast, growing louder and louder as he made his way through the moonlit street. There were few things Berk loved as much as a celebration, and the shouts from within made it clear the party was now in full swing.

Now or never.

Hiccup opened the heavy door a crack, slipping in as quietly as he could manage. Maybe he could pretend he’d been here all along…that he’d used the camouflage of his dark scales to disappear into the shadows…

“Oi! Hiccup – nice to see ya, lad!”

Or not.

“Hey, Gobber,” he greeted the blacksmith with a small smile. 

His mentor raised his pint, one of many interchangeable elements of his prosthetic arm. A bit of mead sloshed over the side, dripping onto the already sticky table.

The other men seated with his mentor offered respectful nods of acknowledgement that Hiccup stiffly returned. He was relieved when one of them pulled Gobber back into their conversation, allowing him to slip away further into the room.

Satisfied that any attention had been lifted off of him, Hiccup found a spot to lean against one of the building's thick pillars. There was comfort in its shadow, taking him back to a time not long ago when he’d watched his village from the safety of the forest’s treeline. He took a moment to survey the crowd, taking stock of the familiar faces.

Stoick was easy enough to find, seated on the dais in a position of honor. He was mid-story, arms gesturing wildly as he regaled the tale to the men seated around him. Considering Spitelout’s bored expression, it was likely a story he’d shared many times in the past. His father did have a history of repeating himself – if Hiccup had to hear the story about Stoick splitting that rock one more time, he was certain he’d lose it.

His peers were seated across the room, gathered together at a secluded table pushed against the wall. The Thorston twins sat on the far side, giving him a clear view as they dug into their food with alarming speed. Fishlegs sat beside them, eyeing the pair with thinly veiled disgust.

Astrid’s back was to him so he couldn’t see her face, but her tensed shoulders were a clear sign that she was moments away from losing her patience. Hiccup suspected Snotlout to be the source of her troubles, as he was leaning uncomfortably close to the blonde as he spoke. Astrid’s fingers were curled atop the bench, folding into a defined fist.

He supposed that was his cue to step in. Otherwise, his cousin was likely to leave with a black eye.

As Hiccup navigated around the fire in the middle of the room, a glint of metal above caught his eye. Curious, he turned his attention towards the ceiling, taking in the sight of the statue hanging overhead. 

It wasn’t new – Hel, it had probably been there for centuries. Yet despite its age...he’d barely noticed the installation in his youth. Now, the sight of a skewered dragon was impossible to ignore. The dragon depicted had a face screeching in agony, its head thrown back violently. A sharp blade ran through it with such force, it was sure to be lethal.

At one time, he’d found the statue unremarkable. Now, it was a bit more striking. 

A bit more personal. 

Hiccup swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from the gruesome depiction. It was just a statue, he reminded himself. Things had changed. Berk had changed.

“Hey Hiccup!” Fishlegs had spotted him, gesturing for him to join their table. 

He plastered a smile on his face, heading towards the group. 

“Hey guys…”

Trader Johann had been to many ports over the years, considering himself to be one of the most well-traveled merchants in the archipelago. His familiarity with so many different tribes had also made him privy to a network of news, gossip and secrets that was unrivaled. He’d become such a fixture at each port that tongues had become less guarded in his presence over time. A fact that he was all too aware of.

He’d learned early on that when he couldn’t trade in goods, he could trade in knowledge. Sometimes that knowledge was even worth more than the supplies he carted with him. 

Though…one had to be careful when trading information. There were some that would kill to protect their secrets and Johann was not willing to lose his head over a matter of coin.

There were a few chieftains that he trusted to keep his name clear, and one such chief was Stoick the Vast. Berk’s leader was well known as a man of honor, one who would never disclose a source – even under duress. With that knowledge in mind, Johann often reserved his biggest findings for the trips he could make to the Isle. 

He had a feeling Stoick would be interested in his latest revelation. After all, dragon poachers moving into the territory were sure to bring an element of danger with them. Killing dragons for defense was one thing – hunting them for sport was another entirely. 

Though Johann had no love for the dangerous beasts himself, he still couldn’t stomach selling wares made of their hides or bones…no matter how often the poachers tried to deal with him. He was happy enough to take their coin for trade, however…no matter how they came upon that money. Any paying customer would stay on his trading route, personal feelings aside. After all, Johann was a businessman first and foremost. 

Still…flagging their new location could be more lucrative than allowing them to stay. Any chief worth his salt would want to keep a close eye on a seedy operation setting up camp so close to his shores, so Johann set a course for Berk.

As he navigated the waves, he couldn’t help thinking that perhaps there were others who would pay well for this information. He never promised that his information was exclusive , just that it was true… Yes, there were other islands he could try, though reaching them would require a longer sail. After collecting his pay from Stoick, he’d adjust course and try his luck.

Chapter Text

Stoick’s thoughts were deeply troubled as he watched Trader Johann’s ship disappear off into the distance. Try as he might, he’d been unable to pry his feet from where they stood atop the docks, feeling weighed down by a new sense of fear.

Dragon poachers had set up camp only a half day’s sail away from Berk. 

Poachers were nothing new. There had always been a healthy market for dragon hide and bone, though it was far more popular in the northern islands than amongst their closest neighbors. It wasn’t too unusual to have a merchant come ashore hawking weaponry or cloaks crafted from the remains of slain dragons, though they usually did not stay long. 

Berk had never been a profitable stop for those sellers, as their history with raids made killing dragons an act of necessity rather than trophy-hunting. Few wanted another reminder of the predators lurking in the shadows. Those that did desire trophies took them from the creatures they had personally slain, using the remains as a mark of their own bravery and battle prowess – after all, there’d never been a shortage of dead dragons in Berk.

Stoick had never challenged passing groups of poachers in his territory in the past, believing that any thinning of the dragon population was a benefit for his tribe. He’d simply made it clear that they were not welcome on the Isle itself, wishing to avoid any run-ins between his people and the hidden traps many poachers tended to favor.

Such a lax approach would no longer be enough. Not when his own son was now at risk of being a target. 

Johann had given him a brief overview of the new encampment – seven men of varied origin, looking to collect rare dragon pelts for a buyer in the north. They’d recently encountered some resistance in the East – and had been quite tight-lipped about the details – before selecting this new location near Berk.

There was one thing Stoick knew for certain: no dragon was rarer than a Night Fury. Such a catch would be the ultimate prize to these new, unwelcome neighbors.

Hiccup was headstrong, a trait that seemed ingrained in the very DNA of the Haddock line. If Stoick were to insist he stay grounded…he suspected his son would do exactly the opposite, regardless of the looming threat. Or worse, he’d try and get a closer look at the operation himself. 

Stoick would have done the same in his place.

While Hiccup had a surprising knack for stealth, his curiosity could very well be his undoing. These were not casual hunters passing through on a routine hunting trip – this was a professional enterprise built upon years of experience. Their base was certain to be riddled with lethal traps to account for any unexpected visitors, whether those be viking or dragon. 

Still, keeping the information from him could be far more dangerous. If Hiccup were to stumble across them unaware…

Stoick shuddered, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to dispel the thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he finally turned away from the sea and headed back towards town. He needed to discuss his findings with Gobber.

Hiccup’s shift at the forge passed quickly and quietly. 

With little work to be done, he spent most of his time in the back room working on schematics for an updated prosthetic leg. Though Gobber’s clever creation had served him well, it had also made him wonder what else could be done to improve the design. There were so many possibilities to explore.

Until he got the ideas out on paper, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop thinking about them. So with a stick of charcoal balanced between his clawed fingers, he’d gotten to work breaking down just how the new leg could work. 

“If I shifted the gear over there…no, that wouldn’t work.” He muttered to himself, using his free hand to smudge at the charcoal and correct the mistake.

A throat cleared from outside the door, breaking his concentration. 

Hiccup glanced up, finding his father leaning against the doorway, illuminated by the torchlight. He had a pinched expression that Hiccup recognized all too well – there was something the chief wanted, and he wasn’t sure how to ask.

“Hey, Dad.” 

“Son,” replied Stoick, eyes scanning over the schematics. 

“New leg design,” explained Hiccup, gesturing to the art. 

“Is there a problem with your prosthetic?” Stoick asked, brow furrowing. “Why didn’t you say anything? Gobber can adjust it tomorrow if you leave it out before sunrise–”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Hiccup assured quickly, reminding himself that his father did not share his love for inventing. The man was used to tasks of necessity, not those simply born of curiosity.  “Just a slow night, you know…looking for a project to fill my time.”

“I see.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, knowing his father was only saying that to appease him. Idly, he wondered if his creativity had come from his mother’s side of the family.

“So, did you need something or…?” Hiccup asked, trying to cut the awkward tension. Stoick’s visits to the forge were not usually this stilted. 

“Aye,” admitted his father, wringing his hands against his chest. “There is something I wish to discuss with you, but it can wait until you’re done here. I don’t mean to interrupt your work.”

“Dad–”

“Just meet me at the house when you’re finished.”

Hiccup watched his father leave, baffled by their short exchange. His father had gone out of his way to seek Hiccup out, only to leave in minutes without saying anything of substance. 

What in the name of Thor was that all about?

He eyed his project, wondering if it was a sign to head home for the night. His interest had been piqued – working on the schematics for a personal project could wait. Setting his charcoal to the side, he stretched his arms above his head until his shoulder gave a satisfying pop.

“He sure left in a hurry,” a new voice remarked from the doorway, “What was that all about?”

Hiccup shrugged, pushing aside his half-finished drawing and wiping his hands on his apron. “I don’t know,” he admitted, meeting Astrid’s steady blue gaze. “Whatever it is has him pretty shaken up.”

“Stoick?” Astrid asked, disbelief leaking into her tone. “Shaken up?”

Hiccup snorted, beginning the task of clearing his work station for the night. “I know – I haven’t seen him this rattled since he found out about well…me.”

Astrid hummed, wordlessly stepping in to help reset the shop for Gobber’s morning shift. She’d spent enough time with him in the forge now to know exactly where everything belonged. 

“Did anything happen today that I missed?”

“Things were pretty quiet,” replied Astrid, pursing her lips in thought. “I suppose…Johann stopped in to trade for a bit, but he didn’t stay long.”

“A relief, I’m sure.”

“Hiccup!”

“What!?” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a laugh escaping. “Don’t tell me you don’t agree! His stories are an ordeal.”

“How would you know?” Challenged Astrid with a snort.

Hiccup had been forbidden from interacting with outsiders, including all of the visiting traders. Berk had accepted his secret, but there was no telling how other tribes would react. As such, he’d been forced to observe from a distance, always keeping his more draconic traits out of sight. Stoick had made it clear that he was determined to keep the secret contained to Berk alone.

“Night Fury hearing,” explained Hiccup, tapping his ear once before ushering his friend back into the main room of the forge. He closed the door with a click, sealing off his private room for the time being. “Got to admit, not very welcome when he’s in port.”

Astrid crossed her arms against her chest, a thoughtful look spreading over her face. “So did he say anything interesting today?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly here.”

“...right.”

“Figures I’d miss the one and only time Trader Johann actually says something remotely interesting – ouch, gods Astrid – why would you do that!?”

Astrid ignored him, focused on closing up the front of the shop. She turned her back to him and in a few swift movements, she’d secured the window with practiced ease.

Hiccup grumbled under his breath but moved to finish up the last of the chores. As he was setting aside the last of the cleaned tools, his hand stilled. 

“You don’t think…” his breath caught in his throat. “Could someone out of Berk have found out? About the curse?”

Astrid’s expression tightened as she considered the question. She was never one to just give false hope, instead always taking the time to weigh his words and share her honest thoughts. It was one of things he loved most about her, but it also meant she was quick to admit when she had no answers.

“Only one way to find out – go talk to your dad.”

“Poachers?”

“Aye,” Stoick rubbed his temple in circular motions as if trying to clear away the thought. “A seasoned bunch – they’ve taken up residence a half day’s sail away.”

Hiccup wasn’t sure what to make of the news. It wasn’t exactly ideal to have the group in their waters, but it wasn’t as if they were setting up shop at the docks. He didn’t understand his father’s panic.

“Ok…?”

“Hiccup, this is serious!” Stoick’s tone took on a bit more bite as he regarded his son with sharp eyes. “These men kill dragons for profit – they collect rare hides for trophies !”

“I mean, gross, but why are you so worried about–”

“If word reaches them that a Night Fury has been spotted anywhere nearby, there will be a target on your back,” said Stoick, voice grave. “I cannot stress the danger enough – these men are not reasonable. They don’t just want to capture a Night Fury for the glory of it, they want to carve daggers from its very bones.”

Hiccup felt his stomach twist at the mental image, lips curling back in disgust. “Ew. Thanks for that, Dad.” 

“I need you to understand the gravity of the situation – until they leave our waters, exploring outside of Berk is not safe.”

Hiccup froze, narrowing his eyes as he processed the comment. It seemed to imply that his father was about to forbid him to leave the island, taking away his newfound freedom to explore. It sounded a lot like hiding, something that he’d been forced to do for five years already. 

The idea of returning to that kind of life, even with his village by his side…was unthinkable. Surely his father knew that?

“This new threat has also reminded me of the gap in your training,” continued Stoick, either oblivious to his son’s inner turmoil or choosing to ignore it. He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. “I’m going to arrange for you to make up the time.”

“Training?” Asked Hiccup in surprise, shifting uncomfortably in his own chair. “I thought we were done with dragon training – with the queen being dead, and all.”

“What? No, not dragon training,” corrected Stoick, looking horrified by the suggestion. “Weapons training. I would feel better if you know how to defend yourself.”

“I mean, a plasma blast usually works just fine–”

“Hiccup, every viking should know how to wield a blade!”

“With what?” He snarked, raising an eyebrow. “My teeth?”

“Not every opponent will strike during the day,” remarked Stoick, impatience rising in his voice. “You cannot always rely on your dragon form to keep you safe. Please,” his voice softened, ”Hiccup, I know that I cannot force you to stay put on this island. I promise that I will not ask that of you…but in return I–I need to know that you’ll be safe wherever you do go. Please do this for me.”

Hiccup felt some of the fight drain out of him at his father’s quiet plea. “Fine,” he relented, knowing that it was a fair exchange to keep his freedom to explore. If a few weapons classes would put the chief's mind at ease (and perhaps spare Hiccup another lecture) so be it.

Stoick exhaled heavily, relieved. He pushed himself up from the chair, moving towards the entrance to his bedroom. “Speaking of training – I have something for you,” he called out over his shoulder before disappearing momentarily. 

Hiccup’s attention drifted to the fire, idly watching the logs smolder. In the next room, he could hear his father rustling about in the room, evidently looking for something. 

“Aha!”

Stoick shouldered back into the room in a few quick strides, arms filled with a bundle of clothing. He dropped it in Hiccup’s lap, beaming with excitement.

“What’s all this?”

“It’s tradition to receive your own set of armor when you come of age,” explained Stoick, nodding towards the pile. “Since you were…gone at that time, I never got a chance to give it to you properly. Now seems like the right time to fix that.”

Hiccup fiddled with the armor in his lap, untangling it until he could make sense of it. It was a mixture of black and brown leather, comprised of several pieces that were meant to be layered. A set of buckles ran across the front to help secure everything in place. 

The leather was dusty, likely having been left untouched for years, but the quality of the craftsmanship was undeniable. It was clear that his father had wanted to gift him something special – even back when Hiccup had felt like a disappointment.

“Thanks, Dad,” said Hiccup, genuinely touched by the gesture. Knowing that his father had kept this, even after he’d believed Hiccup to be dead, spoke volumes of the man’s love for his son. 

Hiccup twisted the set further, freezing as he regarded the right shoulder pad. It had been decorated to match the sails of Berk’s fleet, depicting a dragon being impaled with two swords. 

His breath hitched.

Stoick followed his gaze, confused by the shift in his son’s expression. His eyebrows knit together as he puzzled out the reaction, blanching when the implications of the design finally clicked.

“I forgot about that bit,” he admitted, hastily reaching to take back the armor. “I’m sorry, son– I’ll have it replaced with something more...ah, appropriate for you. It won’t be ready for your first session, but you shouldn’t need to wear armor just yet. Gobber will be sticking to the basics of weapon handling before starting any real combat training.”

“Wait, it’s okay,” assured Hiccup, eyes still fixed on the shoulder pad. It was a common motif found throughout Berk, almost synonymous with the village. He knew his father had meant no harm. “You don’t have to–”

“I do,” insisted Stoick, depositing the armor by the door and wiping the dust off his hands. He cleared his throat. “Besides, it’ll be a good excuse to have this set properly cleaned. Now, as for your training. I’ve spoken to Gobber and we’ll start with sessions every other day so that you still have time for the forge. We’ll start tomorrow at sundown.”

 “Can’t wait.”

Chapter Text

It just had to be the arena.

Hiccup understood the practicality of the choice – after all, it was late and much of Berk was winding down for sleep. They needed a place to practice that was far enough away from town that it would not be a bother to the villagers. The arena was ideal: secluded, with ample space to move about and even designed with combat in mind.

It made a lot of sense. That didn’t mean Hiccup had to like it.

Stoick had insisted on leading the way – almost as if he suspected Hiccup would find a way to slip away without an escort. Though the thought was tempting, he’d already agreed to the training. He wouldn’t go back on his word for this, no matter how he felt about the situation.

There was a tightness in his chest as he stepped through the familiar gates once more, memories of his days trapped within resurfacing. He’d been gawked at, he’d been attacked and he’d been imprisoned in this very ring. It made his skin itch to be back within those walls. 

He hadn’t returned since he’d released the dragons from their cells. By the looks of things, no one else had either. The door from his first holding pen was still missing, a glaring reminder of the night he’d made his first escape. The night his father had uncovered the truth. 

The cell looked even smaller than he remembered, the floor now coated in fallen leaves and other debris the wind had blown in over time. The other doors were shut, having been sealed tight since the villagers first realized they were empty. His eyes tracked over the old Timberjack door, his second home within the arena. Gobber’s trick latch glinted in the moonlight, only recognizable to the trained eye.

While it had been quite some time since Hiccup had been in the arena, somehow in that moment, it also felt as if no time had passed at all. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the feelings, however, as he caught sight of an unexpected guest. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What?” Asked Astrid, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did you really think I’d let you have all the fun?”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. Astrid had to be the only person on the entire island who would consider extra weapons training to be fun .

“She’s ‘ere,” corrected Gobber, striding in behind the Haddocks with a grunt, “because you’ll need someone ta train with – I’ll be observin’ yer technique, but she’ll be th’ one duelin’ ya. No use in havin’ ya swing at th’ air.” 

Stoick clapped his son hard on the shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ve got business to attend to – a chief’s work is never done,” reminded Stoick. It was a sentiment he’d often repeated throughout Hiccup’s life, a constant reminder that the Haddock line had a deeper responsibility to the people of Berk. “Good luck, son.”

“I guess I’ll see you later,” said Hiccup, watching his father’s swift exit with relief. A degree of pressure had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that at least if he embarrassed himself horribly in the lesson…there’d be one less witness to see it happen.

“Astrid ‘ere will be yer main fightin’ partner,” explained Gobber, moving to unlatch a chest of weaponry. “Once ya get a good handle on it, we’ll see abou’ bringin’ in some others to ‘elp. Th’ more people ya duel, th’ better yer technique should be.”

The chest creaked loudly as Gobber heaved it open, the metal contents clattering together loudly from the force of the motion. Hiccup flinched at the unpleasant sound, rubbing his ears to clear away the painful ringing. 

“Most Vikings ‘ave a weapon o’ choice,” said Gobber, gesturing to the contents. “Like Astrid o’er there with ‘er axe. Before we can fin’ out what you favor, ya need to get a feel for each of ‘em.”

Hiccup nodded, stepping forward to join his mentor.

“Yer time in th’ forge gives ya an advantage,” Gobber continued, reaching down to dig through the chest. “Yer very familiar with all th’ weapons of Berk – ya kno’ exactly ‘ow they work. Most new recruits ‘ave to learn the in’s and out’s o’ them all, but I think we can skip tha’ part and get straight to th’ fightin’ bit.”

  Wait. What?

“Uh…my dad said we were just going to talk through the basics. You know, safety? How to grip the blades?”

“As I’ve always said – I believe in learnin’ on th’ job!”

Astrid started to laugh, attempting to conceal it with a forced cough. It wasn’t terribly convincing. 

Without warning, Gobber shoved an axe into Hiccup’s hands. It was heavy, and he lurched backwards a step as he tried to steady himself under the weight. “A little warning next time?”

He adjusted his grip on the handle, trying to redistribute the weight evenly between his hands. It was clearly an older weapon, as evidenced by the lack of a leather grip – a staple of Berkian weaponry throughout the last few decades. The handle was especially difficult to grip in his right hand, the icy cold of the bare metal biting at his exposed skin.

“I think we can rule this one out,” he protested, already feeling the strain on his muscles. There was no way he’d be able to hold it for long.

“No’ so fast! Ya ‘ave to at least try it ou’ first!” Gobber argued, narrowing his eyes as he regarded his apprentice. His eyes widened and he brought up his good hand to clasp his forehead. “Oh, Thor – I almos’ forgot! Ya need a shield! Can’t ‘ave Stoick thinkin’ I’m not properly preparin’ ya, now can we?”

Hiccup nearly lost his grip on the axe as a shield was thrust into his arms. After some careful maneuvering, he was able to slide his right arm through the thick restraints. It was heavy, but not nearly as bad as the weapon, which proved even more difficult to grasp with just one hand.

“I’m really not sure this is a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Gobber waved him off before turning towards Astrid, “Go on, take a swing!”

Hiccup sighed, heaving the weapon up into what he hoped was a defensive stance. He eyed Astrid warily, not sure he liked the small smile she was sporting.

Well, he thought to himself with resignation, at least I heal fast.

Astrid was no fool. 

Though he made a valiant attempt to cover it, she could tell that something was bothering Hiccup. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that he hadn’t wanted to take part in weapons training – in fact, that was the very reason she’d volunteered to assist. She’d hoped he’d be more at ease in her presence than he’d be if faced with any of their peers.

She’d been the first to volunteer, but not the last. To her surprise, Snotlout and the twins had also expressed interest in joining the sessions. Gobber had been enthusiastic about the prospect of having so many volunteers, but he’d only needed one to start. Since Astrid was the best warrior of the bunch, she’d gotten the honors.

She’d expected him to be resistant. She’d expected him to try to get out of the training. What she hadn’t expected was for him to grit his teeth and really try to wield each weapon – yet that was exactly what he did. 

Gobber was quick to note that the boy’s technique was sloppy and that his posture was weak. Hiccup didn’t have the arm strength that most of the more popular viking weapons required. Instead, he excelled where most did not. He was incredibly agile and fast, almost slippery in the way that he fought. He moved like water, flowing with an inhuman sort of grace.

It was quickly determined that he favored smaller, more precise weaponry. Astrid hadn’t been able to disarm him when he’d used the smaller daggers, making them the most promising choice for close-range fighting. She suspected he’d do just fine with a lighter sword, but was not able to test the theory as Gobber only had a heavy broadsword among his training supplies.

Perhaps that would be a project for him to explore in the forge.

“We can try somethin’ a bit more long range next time,” Gobber had promised, suggesting that Hiccup could excel with a crossbow or throwing knives. Night Furies were well known for their accuracy and the blacksmith seemed keen on testing whether or not that transferred to Hiccup’s human side.

Hiccup had been quick to agree, almost too quick by Astrid’s estimation.

Once Gobber had excused himself for the night, she confronted him. “Ok, out with it.”

“Huh?”

Throughout the training session, she’d noticed a careful blankness to his expression. That, combined with the lack of his trademark quips gave her reason to worry that whatever was eating away at him went beyond annoyance at being forced to train. While some of it could be chalked up to beginners' nerves, she suspected there was something else at play.

“What’s got you so keyed up?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hiccup.”

Hiccup sighed, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll wait,” she warned, crossing her arms. 

After a few moments of tense silence, he gestured broadly to the arena around them. “Fine. Just, you know…being back here. Fighting in here – I don’t know, I guess it’s just…freaking me out a little. I know that’s stupid–”

Oh.

“It’s not,” argued Astrid with a small frown, feeling a flash of annoyance at herself for not making the connection. Now that she knew, it seemed so obvious. “I think anyone in your position would feel the same.”

Hiccup snorted. “Would they?”

“Yes,” she insisted, voice firm.

The arena held a lot of history for Hiccup. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he must feel being back inside again, but she knew that it must be a mess of emotions to work through. There had been a time when he’d truly believed that he was trapped there, and that he might die within the walls. That level of fear had a tendency to etch itself into one’s very being, sometimes forever.

“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change anything. I still need to find a way to move past this,” Hiccup insisted, meeting her gaze with tired eyes, “I need to. It’s over – it’s been months! I’m fine. I know I’m fine. I can’t keep living in those memories, it’s not even…ugh!” 

In his frustration, Hiccup had kicked the side of the weapons chest with his good leg. Wincing at the impact, he glared at the offending object as if it had been the one to attack him . 

“Hiccup,” said Astrid gently, moving to help steady him as he teetered off balance. “You went through an ordeal in this place. I’d honestly be shocked if it wasn’t still haunting you.”

He grunted, looking away. “That’s just it, though. It wasn’t that bad…at least, not once you knew. I was perfectly fine coming back here on my own terms before – it wasn’t a big deal! I don’t understand what’s changed.”

“When you came back here, you believed it was your only way to stay in Berk,” she countered. “You were able to overlook the bad – and it still was bad at one point, don’t deny it – because you had no other options. That doesn’t mean it ever felt safe.”

His silence was agreement enough.

“You know,” she continued, guiding him to sit atop the weapons chest. “It’s not that strange for warriors to have strong reactions to battle sites. My father still refuses to go out by Raven’s Point – says he saw a kid get dragged there during a raid in his teens. He thought he could save the boy so he grabbed his sword and followed. Apparently the boy was in charge of shearing the sheep and, well…I guess he was covered in wool and a Monstrous Nightmare thought he was a sheep. It didn’t end well.”

Hiccup turned to her, horrified. 

“The point is,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Sometimes traumas stick with us. This place…it holds bad memories for you. That’s not going to just disappear overnight, but that’s okay. You might not be able to move on quickly – not in the way that you want, but maybe you can take control of it. Find a way to rewrite what this place means to you. You know…make good memories to overshadow the bad.” 

“Good memories?” He didn’t sound very convinced. “Like what?”

Astrid let go of his hand, instead gripping her fingers tightly in his tunic and pulling him towards her. “Like this,” she whispered against his lips, feeling his hot breath on her face. With a final tug, she brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

Hiccup hadn’t been able to sleep. Between the anxiety that being back in the ring had wrought and the sheer giddiness of his kiss with Astrid…his mind refused to be silenced.

He tossed and turned, trying in vain to find comfort in the thick nest of furs and blankets that had replaced his old bed. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation. 

His eyes traced the familiar patterns in the wood, a habit he’d adopted as a young teen. He’d had a habit of getting in trouble in those years, often being sent to his room in order to keep him out of the way while his father cleaned up his mess. It hadn’t been intentional, but he’d always been accident prone. At least the curse had given him a new grace that seemed to have fixed that problem.

Gods, he had spent a lot of time in this room.

Hiccup watched the fire race across his face, temporarily blinding him as he shifted in the dawn’s emerging light. He blinked a few times, taking in the scene once more with much sharper eyes. As a Night Fury, he could see the smallest cracks in the wood and even the glint of the nails between the boards.

He rolled to his feet as quietly as he could manage, mindful of Stoick sleeping below. His own sleep was a lost cause – he needed another way to clear his thoughts.

Hiccup crept down the stairs, pushed open the back door and slipped out of his home with practiced ease. Once outside, he stretched out his wings, shaking out the stiffness as soon as there was room to do so comfortably. Being up in the air had helped him sort out his thoughts  in the past – it couldn’t hurt to see if a flight could offer some relief now.

Perhaps it was time for a little bit of exploration. He had been meaning to check out that strange ice fortress for days.

Chapter Text

The ice fortress shone like a glittering beacon in the bright, midday sun. 

Stretching taller than the highest peak on the Isle of Berk, it loomed over the ocean with a formidable might. Large spikes of ice shot out and upwards, reaching towards the heavens like shimmering silver claws scratching at the sky. 

Most notably, something about it felt…off.

Unnatural.

Hiccup slowed his flight as he approached the fortress, keeping a wary eye out for any signs of life. There was a strange sort of stillness to the place, like something just poised to happen at any moment. 

He got the strangest sensation that he was being watched, ears swiveling in an attempt to pick up on any unwanted observers. Either he was going crazy, or his mystery audience was silent. 

Neither was a good option to consider.

Hiccup circled the grand fortress slowly, trying to get a feel for the true size of the structure. He banked hard to avoid a few sharp bits sticking out, cautiously tucking his wings in as he turned. It would not do to get injured this far from home.

To his surprise, the entire island appeared to be covered in the thick ice, all the way around. If there even was land beneath it, it was buried deep. He’d have thought it was solid all the way through, if not for a few gaps that he spotted here or there, all located towards the top of the fortress – well out of the reach of even the most zealous explorer.

At least that meant there would be no vikings to worry about.

Hiccup carefully touched down in one of the openings, peering down into the darkness. It seemed to be a tunnel of sorts, stretching on as far as his eyes could see. There were small, fragmented bits of light that suggested the path branched out in different areas, forming some sort of cave network.

Interesting.

The inside was smooth as glass, in direct opposition to the spiky exterior. Navigating down the tunnel proved to be a challenge in itself, as the ice was very slick in spots. He was forced to half extend his wings in order to maintain his balance, digging his claws into the ice where it was softest to add more traction. 

The deeper Hiccup made his way into the tunnel, the warmer the air became inside. Soon, the ice was melting away beneath his feet, giving way to a chilled grassy terrain. He was relieved to step on solid earth again, able to focus more on his surroundings and less on avoiding a fall.

SQUAWK!

Hiccup flinched, heart rate skyrocketing at the sound of a Nadder’s cry. Judging by the volume, it had to be close by. He tilted his head to the side, focusing his hearing on trying to pick up a clue as to where the dragon was moving – and froze.

Oh my gods.

It was not a single dragon, but many . Trills, warbles and squawks of all pitches filled the middle of the cavern in a lively mix of dragon chatter. Wing beats echoed in the space, a deep thrum that reverberated through the air. 

It appeared he’d stumbled upon some sort of large dragon colony.

A nest.

He tensed, cautiously extending his senses further for any sign of a queen. To his relief, there was no angry pressure against his mind, no aggressive call dominating the space. Something large was moving about, but he hoped it was simply a Timberjack or Titan Wing. Those were more common breeds, he reasoned.

Hiccup forced himself to keep moving forward, resolving that he’d just get a quick look at the nest before heading back to Berk. He’d come all this way…if he didn’t at least check it out, he’d be beating himself up about it later. Best to get his curiosity out of the way now – the last thing he needed was something else to lose sleep over.

There was light up ahead, growing brighter and brighter with every step he took forward. When he finally came to the end of the tunnel, his jaw dropped at the sight. 

The center of the structure was hollow, revealing that the icy exterior served as a glassy barrier around a shockingly lush island. There were waterfalls and rolling hills stretching off into the distance. For something that had appeared so threatening and cold from afar, it was surprisingly peaceful and warm inside.

Not to mention lively.

Everywhere he turned, Hiccup could see dragons moving about the nest. There were some species that he recognized from Berk, others that he recognized from the Book of Dragons, and still more that he couldn’t even begin to place! Big and small, the species seemed to move about in perfect harmony.

It was a staggering sight to behold.

Hiccup took a few tentative steps forward, keeping his wings partially unfurled in case he needed to make a speedy getaway. After all, it would be foolish to assume there were no dangers lurking about in such a wild place.

He was creeping closer to the edge of a nearby dropoff when he heard a sound that made his heart seize in panic. It was impossible – but unmistakably the sound of human laughter.

So much for being uninhabited. 

He swiveled an ear, trying to locate the source of the sound. It didn’t take long – the woman was making no effort to hide her presence.

Hiccup kept his body low to the ground, hoping to avoid catching her attention as he took in her appearance. The woman was at least twice his age, long auburn hair shot through with gray streaks. She was thin, and stood just a bit taller than he did as a human.

The stranger wore thick leather armor, but it was peculiar. The more he examined it, the more he noticed the patchwork job. It didn’t look like something crafted by a merchant or master…the rough stitching, mismatched colors and uneven lines made him suspect that she’d repaired it many times herself with whatever materials she could find. 

It was a strange choice, as most Berkians took pride in maintaining their armor. Hiccup had assumed all vikings felt the same way.

Another laugh bubbled out of the woman, her face splitting wide in a carefree grin. She was surrounded by a small hoard of baby dragons, each clambering eagerly for her attention – and succeeding. The stranger scratched their scales, taking time to pull each close and even play-wrestling with a particularly rowdy hatchling.

The match ended with her resting on her knees, wiping happy tears from her eyes as a baby dragon nuzzled against her side. It hummed at her, licking at her hands when she reached out to it.

Thor almighty… 

Hiccup couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He cast his gaze around, nervously looking for the mother of these baby dragons. He doubted she was far away from her hatchlings. Surely this odd woman would be in danger once she was discovered?

Yet, no dragon made any move to stop her. The few that did pass by only chirped out short greetings that seemed directed at the woman as if they knew her personally. Almost like she was one of them.

Who was she?

The strangest part of it all was an odd sense of familiarity that he couldn’t shake. Though he couldn’t nail it down, there was something about her that felt he recognized…but that was ridiculous…wasn’t it? He was confident that he’d never seen her before, yet something about the shape of her face and the color of her eyes tugged at something in his memories. 

Perhaps he’d known someone from her family?

At that thought, Hiccup scuffed. The odds of this woman having any ties to Berk were slim to none – she could be from the complete opposite end of the archipelago for all he knew! It was likely just his tired mind, playing tricks on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Cloudjumper!” The woman suddenly called out, voice full of warmth. She cast her eyes upwards, using the palm of her hand to shield against the light streaming in above.

Hiccup followed her gaze, taken aback by the sight. A large dragon with four wings was descending from a perch high above. It drifted down, stopping beside the woman and approaching her without any hesitation. 

The two seemed perfectly at ease in each other’s company, and the woman reached out to rest a hand on the dragon – Cloudjumper, he supposed. 

To his continued astonishment, the woman then proceeded to climb aboard the dragon’s back. Cloudjumper offered no resistance, even lowering a shoulder to make the motion easier for the woman. It looked very practiced, as if there were an everyday occurrence.

Perhaps it was.

Hiccup was at a loss. Whoever this woman was, she’d found a way to bond so thoroughly with a dragon that it trusted her to ride upon its back. That it welcomed her presence. If someone had told him such a thing were possible, he’d have denied it…yet, he’d just seen it himself. 

The trust appeared to go both ways, as the stranger appeared remarkably calm and content flying astride a massive dragon. 

In fact, she seemed happy. She seemed like she belonged there.

A wild thought began to bloom within Hiccup’s mind, growing stronger as he watched the pair. If this woman understood how to bridge the gap between dragons and vikings, perhaps she was the key. If he could just learn how she’d done it, maybe he could replicate that success in Berk.

It was probably madness, but he had to know: was such a thing even possible?

Hiccup’s plan to ‘stick to the shadows’ hit an unfortunate snag with the distinct lack of shadows.

The landscape was very open and airy, bathed in the light of the late afternoon sun. There were not many trees growing throughout the nest, making a good hiding place all the more difficult to come by.

He did his best to tail the woman without catching her attention, but it was quickly evident that stealth was a lot harder for a three-legged dragon than he’d anticipated. Every step he took seemed to echo in his ears, far too loud in the cavernous space. If not for the chatter of the other dragons, he suspected he would have drawn her attention in seconds.

The stranger and her dragon companion made a few stops throughout the nest, with the former dismounting and interacting with different dragons in each new location. She seemed to be checking in on injuries and cataloging the health of each group, murmuring softly to Cloudjumper as she worked. 

She encountered a diverse range of dragons, but her determination never wavered. No matter the size or ferocity of the species, the woman never hesitated to engage with them.

Her approach was always the same: a gentle spoken greeting paired with a low dip of her head, almost like a nod of respect reserved for a chief. For the smallest dragons, she even lowered herself to the ground, meeting them on their eye level. Then she’d pause to let the dragons make the next move. Time and time again, the creatures would willingly close the distance themselves, initiating contact with her.

She was not forcing the interactions. The dragons were choosing to bond with the woman.

It was enough to make Hiccup bite his tongue, the sharp sting of it proving that he was indeed awake. He shook his head in continued disbelief as he watched, a strange bubble of warmth in his chest. There was something about it all that just filled him with an indescribable sense of awe. 

In his state of wonder, he misjudged his next step, slipping on a stone hiding in the grass. 

He yelped, taken aback by the sudden rush of pain in his paw.

Oops.

“By the gods…” 

Oh no.

The woman had heard his cry, and she’d spotted him straight away. A black dragon in direct sunlight was hard to miss.

Hiccup tensed, taking a slow step backwards as the woman approached. As she drew near, she carefully dropped her staff to the ground, holding up her hands in a show of peace. 

“A Night Fury,” she breathed, moving towards him with slow, measured strides.. “In all my years…can you believe it, Cloudjumper?”

The four-winged dragon merely tilted his head, watching Hiccup with curious eyes.

“It’s okay,” said the woman in a soothing voice, only hesitating when she was within reach. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Looking into her eyes, Hiccup was surprised to find that he believed her words. There was something genuine in her expression that gave him pause. Nothing about her seemed threatening – if anything, her body language bordered on submissive. 

Her presence was soft and strangely comforting, but that revelation left him all the more confused. It didn’t make any sense – how could this complete stranger inspire such a feeling of calm? 

Was this some unfamiliar sort of dragon instinct he was reacting to, or was there something else in play?

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she whispered, crouching down as her eyes roamed over him with unbridled excitement. “A real Night Fury! Why, you’re even more beautiful than I’d imagined!”

Hiccup shifted backwards, growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

At his movement, the woman’s face fell, growing dark as she caught sight of his blunted leg. “Another victim,” she growled, “those poachers truly have no shame.”

Cloudjumper huffed in response, expelling smoke from his nostrils.

The woman cocked her head, expression clearing as she continued to study him. “Or perhaps you were born that way,” she wondered aloud, biting her lip in thought. “There’s no scarring, but still...”

The curse had come with a perk – rapid and advanced healing. As such, the cauterized stump had healed over perfectly. His leg ended in a straight line, skin and scales healing over it as if it had always been that way. In truth, it looked a bit too perfect to look natural. Though unusual to behold in either form, it had made fitting his human prosthetic a bit easier.

Hiccup took another slow step backward, keeping the woman and her dragon carefully in his line of sight as he retreated. As pleasant as she may appear, he knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. He would not risk the potential threat that came with turning his back.

“It’s okay!” The stranger assured once more, eyes pleading for him to stay. “You’re safe here!”

Hiccup felt oddly guilty as he ignored her, pushing the feeling down as he continued his retreat. He could feel the moment his claws hit the edge of a tunnel, scraping against the ice. Satisfied that he was out of her range, he turned tail and bolted into the maze. He needed to put some space between them before she had a chance to follow. 

He ran and ran, muscles burning from the effort as he navigated the twists and sharp turns. Each new path looked just like the others, making it harder to know just how far he’d gone. A desperate part of him just hoped he wasn’t going in circles – he feared each next turn would bring him right back to where he started. 

He was so focused on making his escape that he didn’t process the way the light was growing dimmer in the tunnels, slowly plunging him into darkness. In fact, he was genuinely startled when purple fire erupted around him.

Hiccup ground to a shaky halt, prosthetic skidding on the icy floor. He rested a hand against the ice wall, chest heaving as he tried in vain to catch his breath.

A deep feeling of dread rose within him. 

Night had come, leaving him trapped inside the nest.

Chapter Text

This was bad.

Scratch that – this was very bad.

Hiccup froze, holding his breath as he listened carefully for any sign of the woman’s pursuit. He could feel his heartbeat pounding erratically as the fear continued to sink in. 

The tunnel was mercifully quiet, save for the distant echoes of the dragons moving about within the heart of the nest. Still – he was no fool. 

Grasping at the bottom of his tunic, Hiccup used a claw to slice through the fabric, removing a strip from the bottom. He lowered himself to the ground, wincing as the chill of the ice bit through his clothes. Carefully, he wound the fabric strip around and around the bottom of his prosthetic foot, creating a thickly cushioned pad around the metal.

He hoped it would help muffle the sound of his steps as he ventured through the tunnels.

After rising and taking a few tentative steps, he was relieved to find that it was working. As an added benefit, the extra traction made balancing a bit easier on the slick surface.

Hiccup surveyed the dark tunnel ahead, brow furrowing as he realized his mistake. In his rush to escape from the stranger, he hadn’t really paid attention to where he was heading. Now, he had no idea where he’d ended up…or how to get back to more familiar territory. 

Just great.

For a moment, he considered simply turning around and attempting to figure out which turns he’d taken, ideally retracing his steps. After a moment of tense deliberation, he ruled that idea out as too risky. If the woman had been following, he ran the risk of walking right into her path.

Instead, he decided that he’d be better off continuing the same way that he’d been heading. With any luck, he’d stumble upon a fork in the road that would lead to the outside. 

He knew from his flight that most openings were located high above the sea, so it made the most sense to look for branches of the tunnel that sloped upward. Surely one had to lead to the outdoors. Of course, there were issues with that plan as well – even if he managed to get out, he’d find himself dangerously high above the sea.

Hiccup hoped there’d be a ledge or something he could pull himself onto, just to fully escape the nest. From there, it was a matter of finding a safe way to climb down – or a shelter he could slip into for the night, to guard against the wind.

He crept along the tunnel, mindful to keep his steps slow and deliberate. Though he could do nothing to calm his heart racing away in his chest, he was able to keep his breathing quiet and in check. Stealth was key to his safety. 

Coming to a fork in the path, he paused. Looking left to right, he couldn’t discern which would be the more likely route to find an exit. Both sloped similarly, each twisting off into the distance. He took the left option on a whim.

The tunnels were harder to navigate at night, lit only by shards of moonlight that broke through small holes in the ice. Hiccup found himself squinting into the darkness, longing for Night Fury vision to help see the path ahead.

Hiccup crossed his arms against his chest, trying to hold back a shiver. What he would give for a fire…

When the path branched off again, he stumbled to a halt.

The tunnel ahead was occupied by a large Monstrous Nightmare. The dragon’s eyes immediately narrowed when they landed on him, and it wasted no time slinking towards him. With every step the dragon took, Hiccup was forced to take another quick one back in order to maintain the distance.

Oh, Thor.

His back hit a wall. 

Hiccup blanched, realizing he’d done exactly what the dragon wanted. His hasty movements had cornered him against a stretch of the ice, far from the other tunnel openings. He was stuck, with nowhere to run, unless he could manage to find a way past the Nightmare.

The idea wasn’t appealing.

Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, ducking his head towards his chest and moving his hands up to shield his face. It had been a while since he’d been burned, but he was no stranger to the pain. He braced himself, listening for the telltale sound of dragon fire igniting. 

Curiously, it did not come. 

There was a bit of heat, but only the bit that came from the warm breath of the Nightmare, who had leaned in closer to study him.

Hiccup forced his eyes open, peering up through his fingers at the dragon before him. The Nightmare was calm, posture fully relaxed. The dragon’s eyes had widened, pupils dilated out in a clear sign that it was feeling neither angry nor threatened.  

Strange. The only other time he'd seen a dragon behave like this had been when he and Astrid had encountered that Nadder from the arena…

Hiccup tentatively extended his left hand, stopping inches from the dragon’s snout. Like the Nadder, this dragon put up no resistance and instead leaned into his touch, closing the gap between them. It hummed, closing its eyes in contentment. 

Hiccup’s breath caught in surprise.

What was the connecting line here? Was it truly the dragon scent on him that made the difference with these creatures, or was there something else that he was missing? Some connection he’d overlooked? In both instances, he’d simply offered his hand to the creatures, closing his eyes in a show of trust.

Much like the strange woman’s technique, he now realized.

Was it really so simple? Did dragons truly value a show of trust so much that they’d give their own in response?

Hiccup’s curiosity burned. There was only one way to know for sure. 

Astrid’s going to kill me for this, he thought to himself as he slid past the Nightmare and deeper into the tunnels.

It was time to find a few more dragons.

Hiccup’s experiment continued to yield the same incredible result. 

Every dragon he approached – Nadder, Nightmare, Gronkle, Zippleback and more – was willing to offer the same level of respect and trust that it was shown. After a few successful encounters, he’d even tried switching hands, wondering if the lack of scales would make a difference.

To his surprise, it did not. 

While he suspected his scent was the same for either limb, the sight of his skin had to be more foreign for the wild dragons. A few regarded him with deeper curiosity, sniffing at his fingers with enthusiasm, but otherwise treating him the same.

“Ok, that’s enough,” he laughed, inching away from a particularly curious Terrible Terror. It had been attempting to burrow under his tunic, cold scales like ice against his skin. He’d had to peel the small dragon off his body and deposit it forcefully back onto the floor, realizing quickly that no amount of reasoning would do the trick.

His heart felt surprisingly light in the wake of his experiences. Interacting with dragons, gaining their trust like this…was exhilarating. 

It was fulfilling.

It made him feel whole .

A few hours in, he took a turn that led back into the core of the nest. He’d nearly forgotten about the stranger – heart jumping in his chest as he caught sight of her standing at the edge of an overlook, her back facing towards him. 

Hiccup pressed himself tightly against the side of the tunnel, careful to stay out of sight as he observed the woman. She was alone, leaning her weight on her staff as she observed something below.

What is she waiting for?

A sudden thunderous noise filled the nest, the deep timbre of it shaking the ground beneath his feet.

Hiccup startled, watching in horror as something massive rose from below. Water pooled off the giant as it rose higher and higher, exposing the face of the largest dragon he’d ever seen.   

“Oh my gods…” he whispered to himself, unable to believe his eyes. 

Another queen?

Though clearly a different breed than the Red Death, this goliath was no less intimidating. With giant tusks framing its face and towering height, it was a terrifying sight to behold. What struck Hiccup most was the dragon’s presence. There was a certain aura about it, a feeling of power and age in the air as if an ancient force was watching.

It was deeply unsettling.

The woman dipped into a low bow of respect, murmuring something that Hiccup couldn’t pick up from the distance.

To his shock, the giant dragon proceeded to dip its head in what could only be an acknowledgement of the stranger’s gesture. It then expelled a breath of icy mist, dusting the woman’s clothing in a thin layer of snow.

A dragon of ice within a maze of ice. 

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Somehow this…ice-spitter had to be responsible for the creation of the strange fortress. 

The woman straightened up and spoke again, shifting her weight off of her staff. Though she stood no taller than the dragon’s eye, she seemed completely unphased by the massive creature before her, even as it turned away. The ground rattled once more as the giant dived back down with a loud crash, disappearing from view.

Once more Hiccup found himself dumbstruck by the woman’s ease in the nest. 

Just who was she?

The gods really do hate me.

Hiccup had finally found an opening to the outside world. The problem? It was a sheer drop off, located near the highest point of the icy fortress. There were no ridges or ledges that he could leverage to make an escape, the area around the opening having melted enough under the sun that it had smoothed out when it refroze. 

Escaping on foot was not in the cards. As he had feared, the fortress was only able to be accessed with a pair of wings.

Hiccup stared out at the stars, emotional and physical exhaustion weighing heavily upon him. Somewhere, under those same stars, he knew his father would be worrying about his absence. 

Astrid might be…

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It would do him no good to dwell – though he’d made it to the edge of the nest, he was no closer to making his getaway. The fortress was like a web he’d gotten stuck in, and no matter how much he pulled at it, he couldn’t get away.

Resigned to the knowledge that he’d have to wait till sunrise, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He’d need to get some rest – making the flight back in his current state would be too dangerous. If his strength were to give out over the open sea…

Gods.

As much as he hated to admit it, he’d need to find a safe place to sleep until dawn.

The trader had brought troubling news – the sort of news that could not be ignored.

Queen Mala did not like to get involved with quarrels that lay outside of her island, knowing that doing so took away from the defense of her own people and the local dragon population. They were her responsibility, and they would come first. 

Always .

However, she could not simply sit still and let this new band of poachers wreak havoc on the archipelago. What the hunters were doing was appalling, and she would be remiss to ignore it now. 

She would not afford to be hasty, as rash actions could cost lives – but knew further investigation was needed to assess the threat. 

She knew just the ally to reach out to.

Chapter Text

Astrid was surprised when Hiccup didn’t join her at the lookout point at sundown. In the months since he’d started exploring off-island, he’d never once failed to meet her at nightfall. 

Yet, after seeing his distress in the ring…she supposed she couldn’t blame him for needing some time alone to clear his thoughts. She just wished he’d at least thought to leave a note warning her so she wouldn’t waste her time.

It did make her wonder if perhaps she’d been a little too hasty with that kiss. He had already been overwhelmed that night – she may very well have tipped him over the edge. 

Even with that small flutter of fear in her heart, she couldn’t bring herself to entirely regret her actions. Her timing may have been a little off, but the sentiment of the gesture still held true. She genuinely cared for him – of course she wanted to help him find a way to banish his demons!

Still…it was possible that Hiccup regretted the kiss and was now avoiding her. The very thought of it stung, knowing that her impulsive actions may have altered the dynamic of their friendship. She’d never wanted to risk what they had.

If Hiccup needed space, Astrid would give it to him. If that meant a night to herself, so be it.

Her resolve nearly crumbled when she passed the darkened forge. It was one thing for him to skip out on their nightly meeting…but to blow off his shift? That wasn’t like him.

Astrid paused near the closed door, wondering if she ought to go pay the Haddock home a visit. There had to be a perfectly good explanation for his absence and a quick chat with Stoick could dispel all her worries.

No.

It felt like an intrusion. Hiccup may have become her dearest friend, but he didn’t owe her anything. Though…she knew she was going to demand an explanation anyway. Whether he gave it or not was up to him. 

For now she’d leave it alone. After all, she had no right to go barging into his home life uninvited.

With a disappointed sigh, she set her shoulders and turned up the pathway towards her home. Perhaps it was best to just call it an early night.

Ingrid Hofferson, in addition to being a well respected warrior, was also the finest seamstress in all of Berk. It was a trade that dated back generations in her family, having built up a reputation throughout the village for unbeatable craftsmanship. 

Astrid had developed a knack for the work at an early age, though she had little love for it. It was hard not to become an expert, considering her mother had been roping her into projects since she was old enough to competently hold a needle.

In the days of the dragon raids, she’d had plenty of excuses to skip those duties. Nothing took priority over protecting the village, and her help was often needed elsewhere. Now, in a new era of peace, there were fewer days that she could find an acceptable reason to decline Ingrid’s requests. 

Astrid had always had the heart of a warrior…not that of a seamstress. Though she could find value in practicing her stitches, in her mind the skill would aid far more in stitching up wounds than fabrics.

She’d barely been surprised when Ingrid had intercepted her on her way out of the house. A rush of orders for summer cloaks had come in and her mother wanted to knock them out today. It had been disappointing, since Astrid had really wanted to swing by the forge to ask Gobber about Hiccup’s absence, but she couldn’t refuse her mother’s request.

It grated on her nerves.

The duo sat out on the grassy hill in front of their home, where Ingrid had strung different layers of fabric across a series of clothes lines. A few small work tables were set out around them, topped with various spools of thread and a collection of needles and knives to aid with the task at hand. 

Ingrid always insisted on stitching by sunlight, claiming that the shadows cast by flickering torches were more likely to result in uneven rows of stitches. Astrid hadn’t seen a difference in her own experience, but it did feel nice to have the sun on her face.

They worked in comfortable silence, finishing the first few orders with ease. It was all very routine – each order called for some small variation of a light, traditional cloak to aid against the chill of the night’s wind. At this point, either of the Hofferson women could complete the task in her sleep.

Astrid set aside another finished cloak, mechanically resetting her work station and preparing to ask for her next assignment. The sooner she finished, the sooner she’d be free for the day. Her words died on her lips as she caught sight of an approaching shadow.

Something large and winged was passing overhead.

Though dragons flying over Berk had become a daily occurrence in recent months, the sight of it still set her nerves on edge. She’d never forget the sight of the creatures descending upon the village in a fiery swarm, pillaging their livestock in service of the queen. 

Still, a wild dragon hadn’t landed in Berk since that monster’s defeat. There was no reason to be afraid now. Astrid waited for it to soar past, just like they always did…but to her surprise, the shadow instead began to grow. 

For that to happen, it had to be getting closer. 

She snapped her neck up, momentarily blinded by the sun. Her muscles tensed, preparing to defend herself if needed as she furiously blinked the white spots out of her vision. 

Her axe was back in the house, but there were a few knives within arms reach that she could make use of if needed. It wasn’t ideal, but she prided herself in being able to competently wield most weapons. She’d make do.

The dragon landed before her, leaving a cool gust of wind in its wake. Astrid brushed her disheveled bangs out of her eyes, taking in the sight of the Night Fury before her.

 Oh. 

Thank the gods.

“Hey,” she greeted breathlessly, tension dissolving. A part of her wanted to tell him off for frightening her…but that would mean admitting she’d been afraid to begin with, which she refused to do. Instead, she forced a small smile as she allowed her heart rate to return to normal.

It was a surprise to see Hiccup out in the village in broad daylight, but a welcome one. He hadn't been too receptive to the idea in the many times that she'd suggested it. She couldn't help but wonder what had prompted this sudden shift in attitude.

Hiccup shot her a toothless smile, eyes wide and bright. He started warbling something at her, sounds quick and eager as they spilled from his throat.

“Slow down!” She said with a laugh, raising her hands in a gesture for him to stop. “You know I can’t understand you like this.”

He sat back on his haunches, expression souring at the reminder.

No matter how hard he tried, the Night Fury vocal cords just didn't translate to speaking Norse. The more comfortable he'd gotten as a dragon, the more he seemed to forget that detail. Out of habit, he'd often just try and speak with her...almost like he'd forgotten the language barrier between them. Astrid took some satisfaction in knowing that around her, his walls were down enough that he could forget himself like that, especially knowing how high he kept those walls inside the village. It was sweet, and she valued the vulnerability he trusted her with.

“Tell me tonight?”

He snorted, nodding in response. He’d be patient, if only because he had no other choice in the matter.

“Must be something big to have you so worked up,” she remarked. “Haven’t seen you this excited since Gobber gave you that new hammer.”

He rolled his eyes in response, stiffening when he caught sight of something behind her.

“...Hiccup?”

Oh.

In her relief that it hadn’t been an attack, she’d completely forgotten her mother’s quiet presence off to the side. Judging by the rapidly narrowing pupils of his eyes, Hiccup hadn’t noticed the woman either.

Ingrid Hofferson stood slowly from her stool, depositing her half-finished project on the table beside her in a jumbled heap. For someone who cared so deeply for her craft, the rough treatment spoke to her rattled nerves.

Hiccup’s eyes darted back to Astrid, who shot him a look of encouragement. 

Ingrid took a few tentative steps towards him, looking wary. Hiccup swallowed hard, but bobbed his head up and down in a defined nod.

“But…it’s really you in there?” Ingrid’s eyes roamed over his face, searching for signs of the blacksmith’s apprentice she’d grown to know. The one she’d heard so much about from her daughter. "You understand me?"

Once more, Hiccup nodded. This time, he purposefully locked eyes with the woman and held her gaze.

Astrid felt a swell of pride for her friend. This was a big step for him – outside of herself, Gobber and his father…he’d avoided interacting with the villagers in this form. While this encounter may not have been his choice, he was handling it remarkably well. 

His bravery had pleasantly surprised her – she’d half expected him to flee. Though he’d more than proved his valor to the village, he’d still been skittish in the aftermath. 

“By the gods…” Ingrid’s voice was full of wonder as she leaned closer. 

Astrid couldn’t fault her mother for her astonishment. She’d been just as thunderstruck when she’d witnessed the truth, back in the ring. It was a hard concept to wrap one’s mind around. It was something that should be unthinkable...something found only in a legend or myth that had been passed down and exaggerated over time. Yet, it was Hiccup's reality – and it was impossible deny, especially once one saw the deep intelligence in his eyes.

Not to mention, her mother had been fighting dragons for several decades…being so close to one she wasn’t trying to kill had to be surreal. There had to be a level of instinct Ingrid was holding back, mixed with her own intrigue. 

Still…she was getting a little too close to the boy for comfort.

“Mom,” cut in Astrid. “You’re freaking him out.”

Hiccup shuffled in place, shooting Astrid an exasperated glance. He clearly hadn’t liked the implication that he was panicking inside. She’d have given him the benefit of the doubt…had his wings not been twitching nervously since her mother’s approach. 

Ingrid cleared her throat, stepping back. “Forgive me, Hiccup. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Hiccup raised a paw, trying to wave off the comment. It was a rough gesture, but easy enough to recognize the meaning.

A corner of Ingrid’s lip twitched up, a telltale sign that her mother was trying her hardest not to laugh. There was something undeniably funny about seeing one of the most feared species of dragon acting blasé of all things.

“Speaking of offenses…I hope you have a really good explanation for not showing up last night,” said Astrid, crossing her arms.

She’d been expecting him to duck his head in shame, or give some sign of regret at being called out. Instead, he bobbed his head up and down vigorously, eyes brightening as his earlier excitement leaked back into his expression.

Interesting.

Astrid hummed, accepting the answer for now. 

Stoick was beside himself with worry. Hiccup had never returned home the previous night, and his room remained empty when Stoick awoke from a fitful sleep. 

Had the poachers caught sight of a Night Fury? Was Hiccup in some kind of trouble?

His mind was a mess, conjuring up image after image of his son at the mercy of the hunters. He’d explicitly warned Hiccup. He’d tried to stress the danger of their arrival...had he not tried hard enough?

Had he failed his son?

Stoick moved through the motions of his day mechanically, struggling to complete even the simplest of tasks until eventually Gobber sent him on his way. He’d tried to protest at first, but after the blacksmith insisted, he’d finally relented. A distracted leader wasn’t much of a leader at all.

His mind continued to churn, dread pooling in his belly.  If he’d somehow managed to lose his son…it was unthinkable. He’d just gotten used to having his son back in his life. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to move on from losing him again.

Stoick was no stranger to heartbreak, but there was only so much a man could stand. The grief of losing his family, piece by piece over the years, had fractured something in him. If he were to lose Hiccup again…he feared he would truly shatter, once and for all.

He wandered the village streets aimlessly, eyes fixed dejectedly on the path ahead of him as he walked. Aside from a few casual greetings to passing tribesmen, he was silent, lost in his thoughts. 

Dragging a hand down his face, he exhaled heavily. Dwelling on his fears would do no good – what he needed were answers. Stoick had always been a man of action and it seemed he may have to leave Berk to seek them. If the poachers had taken Hiccup, he vowed he’d raze their post to the ground, leaving no survivors. 

He was halfway through drawing up a plan to do just that, when he heard a strange sound.

Low, echo-y and distinct – the unmistakable sound of a Night Fury’s laughter. Or, at least, Hiccup’s laughter. There really was no telling if real dragons attempted such a sound themselves.

Thank Odin!

The pressure in Stoick’s chest finally released and he found himself hurrying up the hill towards the Hofferson residence. 

Of course he’s with Astrid. Now that he’d tracked down his son, he felt foolish for not thinking to check the warrior’s home. It had been clear since Hiccup’s return that the boy shared a strong bond with the young woman – it made sense that he’d seek her out.

Another Night Fury laugh reverberated through the air, offering more comfort to the chief. He now felt a bit silly for assuming the worst, grateful he’d discovered the truth before dragging his men into a needless battle. It appeared that there’d been no danger – he’d simply overreacted. 

His son had been safe and sound on Berk all along. 

Sure enough, when he reached the top of the hill, he caught sight of Hiccup laying on the hill outside the Hofferson home. He was focused on Astrid, who was giving him an amused look.

“Hiccup!” He called, voice somewhat shaky with relief.

His son’s head snapped up in alarm at the sound, relaxing when he caught sight of his father. Hiccup inclined his head in greeting as the chief made his way towards them. 

“Hello, Stoick,” said Ingrid, who was perched a ways away from their children. She had a thick swatch of black fabric draped over her workstation, a sharp knife in hand that was paused mid-slice. 

“Hi, Chief,” said Astrid, “what brings you by?”

“Afternoon, Ingrid. Astrid. I was looking for Hiccup.” Stoick nodded towards his son.

The Night Fury tilted his head in a gesture Stoick had come to assume was an invitation to continue. If it meant something else, his son had never corrected him.

We should really discuss that at some point.

Truthfully, there were many things they needed to discuss, but Hiccup still got a bit slippery when they focused too much on those things. 

“He’s been keeping us company while we work,” said Ingrid, finishing the cut of the fabric. She set it aside, tapping her fingers idly on the table. “Probably wishing he hadn’t stopped by at all – I’m sure it gets a bit dull to watch us sew after a few hours.”

“It’s plenty dull to begin with,” muttered Astrid, rolling her eyes.

Hiccup snorted, knocking his snout playfully into her shoulder. She shoved him back with a grin.

“Only fair, I’d say,” countered Stoick with a conspiratorial grin, “considering how much time you’ve spent with him in the forge. Only Hiccup finds that exhilarating.”

Hiccup’s tail swished, eyes narrowing in warning.

Stoick supposed he may have embarrassed his son enough for one day.

“Well,” he relented, “except perhaps Gobber. He did spend an hour telling me about his favorite wrench the other day.”

The Hofferson women laughed, and Hiccup rolled his eyes. There was no denying the blacksmith’s passion for his job – they’d all been on the receiving end of his rants at one point or another. It was all part of the man’s unique charm.

The joke had also reminded him of another matter.

“Oh – and Hiccup? Speaking of Gobber – he’s cancelled your training session for tonight – something about a bad batch of stew, though it’s strange as no one else seems to have had any issue with it,” Stoick shook his head. He suspected an excess of mead was the more likely culprit. “You’ll pick up where you left off in two nights. Since you’ll have the night off, he’s asked that you take an extra shift tonight and complete the projects he was supposed to get to today.”

Hiccup looked predictably pleased with the announcement, eyes bright as he hummed in response. It never took much convincing to get his son to the forge. Now that he thought about it…it was likely that was where the boy had been all night. He’d probably fallen asleep at his workbench, like Stoick had done at his own desk on countless occasions. 

Thor, I am an overprotective fool. Stoick mused.

It seemed that his worries, much like his temper, had a way of getting away from him in times of stress. 

“Right. Well…uh, I’d best be going,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hiccup, we can talk over dinner tonight.”

Chapter Text

“Alright, spit it out. You look like you’re going to spontaneously combust if you wait any longer.”

Hiccup cast his eyes around the forge once more, ensuring that they were alone. The streets of Berk were quiet for the night; they had been steadily emptying out as he finished wrapping up Gobber’s workload. Regardless, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. 

“Come on,” he urged, nodding towards the back room. “I don’t want any eavesdroppers.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, following him back into the more secluded space. As soon as she’d cleared the threshold, Hiccup yanked the door shut. In a fluid motion, he flipped the latch, locking them inside.

“What are you…” Her voice trailed off as he continued to assess the door.

His eyes darted towards an old chair that was shoved into the corner, and he nodded to himself. Grabbing it, he pulled it towards the door and wedged it tightly underneath the knob. It felt more secure than the latch alone, and should prevent anyone from barging in unexpectedly.

Well…anyone except, perhaps, his father. When the chief set his mind to something, he continued to defy Hiccup’s expectations. The man’s impressive strength was hard to gauge sometimes, especially when he was particularly motivated. 

“Should I be concerned?” joked Astrid when he finally turned around, eyes shining with amusement. “I mean, trapping me in here with all these weapons…”

Hiccup snorted at the implication. “Congrats, you’ve uncovered my master plan,” he said dryly, “Never mind that you’re literally the one training me to fight.”

“Can’t say I’ve done much training – we’ve only had one session.”

“Exactly!” He agreed, grinning at her. “I’d never stand a chance.”

Astrid pulled the bench out from underneath his desk, sighing when she uncovered a mess of papers scattered all across it. “You really need to organize this place,” she chastised, pulling the mix of charcoal drawings and schematics into a neat pile before depositing it on the table. 

“Why would I do that? I know where everything is,” snarked Hiccup with a crooked smile. In truth, he only had a rough idea of where half of his work lived in the clutter of the shop. No matter how many times he cleaned his workspace, it never lasted long.

When inspiration struck, he had a tendency to shove everything out of the way as quickly as possible – even if that meant placing things in less conventional spaces. Like the time he’d put a set of Gobber’s instructions under a candlestick…only for the dripping wax to melt all over the paper, ruining it. He’d been too embarrassed to admit to his mistake, faking his way through the assignment using the few words he could still read. 

Mercifully, he’d never repeated that mistake.

Astrid took a seat on one end of the bench, gesturing for him to join her on the other end. He dropped down unceremoniously, crossing his legs and sitting sideways so that he could face her directly. 

“Ok,” he started, frantically trying to organize his thoughts. “Where to begin?”

“The beginning?” Astrid asked, giving the same suggestion that she had back when he’d struggled to share his secret with her the first time. Judging by her wry grin, the reference was intentional.

“Iwenttotheicefortress!” He blurted out, words slurring from the speed of the declaration.

“You wanna try that again?”

“The ice fortress,” he clarified, this time much more slowly and carefully. “I, uh…went to check it out.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s definitely not a glacier! It’s a massive dragon’s nest,” explained Hiccup, using his arms to try and illustrate the size. “The ice is like a shell, but the inside of the island is completely alive! There have got to be hundreds of dragons living in there–”

Astrid’s eyes widened. 

“–and there’s this creature in the center of it! I’d guess it’s even bigger than the Red Death!”

“Another queen?” Astrid asked with dread, face draining of color. “So close to Berk?”

Hiccup shook his head, “No, I don’t think so – at least, there was no mental pull that I could feel there. I think this might be something different entirely. Astrid, it breathes ice ! Ice, can you believe it? I’m honestly not even sure it is a dragon.”

“What else could it be?”

Hiccup shrugged, hating that he didn’t have a better explanation to offer. That strange aura he’d felt in its presence had been unlike anything he’d experienced before – powerful, immense and distinctly ancient. “I don’t know,” he admitted with reluctance. “All I can say is it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen or learned about in Berk.”

Astrid bit her lip, eyes lighting up with interest. “That’s something. So what, did you stay there all night trying to figure it out? It probably would be good to know what we’re dealing with, just in case it ever leaves that nest, but that’s still pretty reckless…even for you.”

Hiccup shook his head, “No, I only saw it for a few minutes – and honestly? I tried not to get its attention.” 

“Smart.”

“I do have my moments,” he said, allowing some mock indignation to leak into his voice for a moment before becoming serious once more. “There’s more.”

Hiccup launched into a brief explanation of the stranger he’d found living on the island. He did his best to accurately detail her bond with the dragons of the nest, still marveling over the ease in which she interacted with the different species. 

For a moment, he toyed with the idea of downplaying his own encounter, not wanting to get chewed out for letting his recklessness expose his presence…but he couldn’t keep it from Astrid. Despite his reservations to share the experience, he forced himself to talk through the close encounter that had ultimately sent him fleeing into the tunnels.

“...and thank the gods I did,” he muttered, wringing his hands together. “I wasn’t paying any attention to the time. I didn’t realize just how late it had gotten! If I hadn’t gotten out of there when I did, she might have seen me change.”

Astrid brow furrowed in worry. “Are you sure she didn’t see anything?”

Hiccup exhaled heavily, bobbing his head. “I took off into the tunnels. If she followed me at all, she gave up pretty quickly.”

“If she is some kind of dragon expert, she probably knows that trying to keep up with a Night Fury would be stupid,” pointed out Astrid. 

Hiccup had other suspicions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to voice them yet. The woman had displayed a strange level of respect for the dragons of the nest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman had let him go simply because that was what he had wanted.

Shaking the thoughts away, he pushed himself to share the final confusing moments he’d witnessed: the woman’s meeting with the mammoth creature of the nest.

Astrid was silent for a few minutes, contemplating all that he’d shared. He could practically see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to make sense of the world within the ice nest, just as he’d been trying to do all day.

It was a puzzle inside a puzzle, but no matter how much he examined them…the pieces didn’t fit together to form any picture that made sense in his mind. Who was the stranger? Why was she there? What was the creature lurking in the depths…and what connection did it all have?

“You said she’s bonded with all of the dragons there?” 

“From what I saw? Yes.”

Astrid stood, starting to pace in the confines of the small room. 

Taking advantage of the now empty space on the bench, Hiccup stretched out his legs. He idly toyed with one of the straps securing his prosthetic in place, thoughts whirling. Without looking up he admitted, “...I think she might be the key to understanding dragons.”

Astrid halted, weighing his words. “We don’t know anything about her.”

That was fair enough, he supposed. One day’s observation was not enough to get a real picture of who the woman might be. To make assumptions about her abilities so quickly would be foolish.

“You’re right,” agreed Hiccup with a sigh, “but there is still a small chance that she could be – we can’t just ignore that.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I need to go back,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “I need more time. If I’m right, there’s so much we could learn from her.”

Astrid remained skeptical, but she couldn’t deny the appeal of the mystery. A viking living in harmony with a nest full of dragons was just unthinkable. Whoever the stranger was, her story had to be extraordinary in order to land her in such a position.

Still, it was best to be cautious. 

“I don’t want you getting your hopes up,” she insisted as she trailed him towards the forest’s edge. His long legs and eagerness had widened the gap between them and now he was several paces ahead. “It could have been a fluke! Or, did you consider that maybe she’s just crazy?”

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder, pausing to meet her eyes. “She seemed pretty sane to me.”

Astrid huffed, finally catching up with him. “Alright fine, let’s say that you are right,” she said. “What happens then? Even if this woman is the key to understanding dragons, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

She could see the passion blazing in his eyes as he asserted, “I want to bring that knowledge here, to Berk. I mean, Astrid…can you imagine what this place could be like if we were allies or even friends with the dragons?”

It was an ambitious thought, but she could see the value in it. While the dragons were no longer their enemies, their constant presence hadn’t become any more comfortable for most of the village. The two species maintained a somewhat tense coexistence on Berk, but they remained two separate factions…each harboring a deep distrust for the other. 

If they could break through that, perhaps they could unite the island. 

From a more practical perspective, having the dragons on their side could be also strategically useful. Enemy tribes would be less likely to risk an attempt on their shores if they knew an army of fire breathing reptiles guarded the coast. 

Not to mention…there was something awe-inspiring about the creatures. On a selfish level, Astrid had to admit that she wanted to learn more about them herself. 

“It would be pretty incredible,” she said.

Hiccup beamed at her easy agreement, and she felt a spot of warmth rise in her chest at the sight of his crooked smile.

“Still,” she continued cautiously. “What if it can’t be learned? There might be something special about her that we don’t know, something that protects her from the dragons. Maybe that weird creature did something to her, I don’t know! It’s just…it might not work for anyone else.”

Hiccup’s expression turned guilty before he admitted, “It worked for me.”

Astrid blinked, taken aback. “You tested it!?"

Her friend looked away guiltily, resuming his walk towards the woods and studiously avoiding her gaze. “Well, I had some time to kill when I was stuck there all night,” he said. “I may have run into a few dragons…”

More like ‘gone looking for them’, knowing him.

“To be honest, the first time was an accident, but after that…I guess I just had to know. I did my best to copy what I could pick up from her technique, and the dragons all responded the same way. That’s gotta mean something!”

“Maybe.”

“Oh come on, what do you mean ‘maybe?’ How else could I get that close to so many wild dragons without so much as a scratch?” Hiccup asked as he veered off the path and deeper into the woods.

Astrid ducked under a low branch, careful not to let it snag on her hair. She hadn’t yet asked where he was taking her, but if the brush got any thicker she was going to demand an explanation.

“Hiccup, dragons have let you close to them before, remember? Maybe they just don’t see you as a threat, what with…well, you know.”

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“You know what I mean!” She elbowed him in the side. 

Hiccup was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the forest floor as he navigated around a fallen tree. “Yeah, I do know what you mean,” his voice was softer, less certain. “I’m not exactly normal, am I?”

Astrid felt her chest seize at the words, regret filling her. Hiccup had made a lot of progress in accepting his cursed state, but every now and then she could see a flicker of doubt rise up. Growing up, he’d always been a bit of an outsider to begin with…Astrid suspected the roots of his insecurities stemmed far earlier than the curse.

“No,” she agreed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to face her. “You’re not normal, but that doesn’t make you lesser. If anything, you’re more.”

That gave Hiccup pause. There was a flicker of real emotion in his eyes for a moment, disappearing just as quickly as he plastered a wooden smile on his face as if everything were fine. 

If he didn’t want to talk about it, fine. 

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Astrid hadn’t been this deep in the woods since she was a child. They’d long since passed any landmarks she’d recognize.

He hesitated.

“Spit it out, Haddock.”

“Well, I wanted to show you,” he admitted, “but if you’re right…it won’t prove anything.”

Show me what–

Oh.

Hiccup wanted to show her the technique he believed was key for earning a dragon’s trust. He wanted to give her a window into the revelation that he’d had on the island. He wanted to share this new secret with her.

It was a sweet thought, but one that was quickly soured by the guilt she felt in rocking his confidence.

“Maybe it would,” she relented, unable to believe she was about to suggest the idea circling her mind, “if it wasn’t you who tried it.”

Hiccup blinked, taken aback by the implication. “You?”

“Why not?” 

There were a thousand reasons she could think to answer her own question, but she tabled them for now. If Hiccup really believed in this theory, there had to be a reason. She was willing to take a leap of faith for him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking doubtful. “You’d have to completely disarm yourself around a dragon – no axe, no hidden daggers. Are you really ready to do that?”

“I’ve done it before.” She crossed her arms with a smirk.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve already established that I don’t count.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. “All jokes aside, you’d be putting yourself in a pretty dangerous place if I’m wrong about this. Are you sure you want to do this? I really don’t want to be the reason you get hurt.”

“Then let’s hope you’re not wrong,” Astrid countered with a look of steel, gesturing for him to lead on. The longer they wasted talking about it, the more her resolve eroded. She needed to get this over with before her nerves caught up with her. 

Hiccup’s own flights over Berk had given him a good idea of where the island’s local dragons tended to dwell. Some preferred to stick to the coast, while others sought out more secluded environments. The Gronckles had completely taken over the far side of the island, turning his old hideout into a haven of sorts. The rocky terrain had proved ideal for their dining habits, and the colony was flourishing.

He’d briefly considered taking Astrid there, but it was a long and grueling walk in the dark. He told himself that was the core reason for his decision and that it had nothing to do with an unwillingness to revisit the place.

After ruling out the Gronckles, he’d scrambled to find another option. His mind kept taking him back to the encounter they’d had with the Nadder on the trail to Berk. Astrid had seemed particularly fascinated with the blue dragon, so it seemed like the most fitting option. 

It also didn’t hurt that he’d already been successful in approaching the dragon once. Knowing that the dragon wasn’t prone to attacking strangers made her much more appealing.

The Nadder favored a spot deep in the heart of the woods. She had built a home within a small cove, tucked safely away from the walking paths. As such, it wasn’t the easiest place to get by foot, but it wasn’t impossible. 

Hiccup was relieved when they finally broke through the trees at the lip of the dropoff. He’d been navigating based on his memories of the terrain from above and was beginning to fear he’d taken them in the wrong direction. 

A quick glance of the ledge revealed that the Nadder was there, lazily drinking from the small pond inside. The dragon’s back was to them, posture relaxed and unthreatening.

“You remember what I taught you?”

Astrid hummed her agreement.

“Right,” he nodded, fingers anxiously tapping against his sides. “Good. I still think I should come down there with you.”

She shook her head, dismissing the idea. “If she sees or smells you, it could change everything. You want to test this theory of yours, right? The only way to know for sure if it works is if you stay here.”

“But–”

“No,” she said firmly, grabbing his arm and forcing him to remain still. “I’m trusting you, now it’s your turn to trust me .”

With those parting words, Astrid turned and started making her way down the sloped ravine. 

Hiccup sat, resigned to do as she wished. He knew there was no point in arguing once she’d set her mind to something. His eyes tracked her path down into the cove with waring trepidation and anticipation. She turned around a bend in the path, disappearing from sight. 

Much as he loathed to admit it – she was right. If his cursed nature was the only reason the dragons were willing to trust him, it wasn’t the great discovery that he’d hoped it to be. It was possible that he and the woman of the nest were just outliers, protected by their own strange circumstances.  

It needed to be tested by someone else before sharing anything with Berk. It would be irresponsible to put his people’s safety at risk over a hunch.

Below, he caught sight of Astrid as she entered the cove. Her blonde hair shone white in the moonlight. She’d listened to him and ditched her axe somewhere along the path down – he only hoped she’d taken his words to heart and left any smaller blades behind too. 

The Nadder jolted up, having heard the footsteps approaching. The dragon turned to face the viking girl, raising her wings high in warning.

Astrid did not visibly flinch, but even from the distance he could tell her her posture was rigid. She was on guard, like a bow about to snap.

Slowly, she sank to her knees and turned her head towards the ground, breaking eye contact with the dragon. It was a show of submission, and much more than he’d asked her to do. Then again, Astrid had always been one to push the limits when faced with a challenge. 

Hiccup held his breath as he waited for the Nadder to make a move. The dragon hadn’t attacked, but she hadn’t moved any closer either.

“Come on…”

Astrid lifted a hand, slowly as if not to spook the dragon. Without looking up, she extended it towards the Nadder, fingers outstretched.

The Nadder quirked her head, shuffling forward a step.

“That’s it…”

The dragon’s curiosity won out, and she closed the distance to where Astrid kneeled. After an exploratory sniff, the dragon bumped her snout into the outstretched palm. 

Gods.

“It’s true,” he breathed, feeling his heart thump away in his chest. He felt equal parts amazed, vindicated and relieved in that moment. “It’s really true.”

Astrid lifted her head, turning her attention to the Nadder. She slowly pushed to her feet, reaching out and brushing her fingers along the scales of the dragon’s jaw. 

Seeing the calmness of the interaction, he decided it was time to go join them.

After nearly tripping over a battle axe thrown in the path –  thanks for that, Astrid – he made his way into the cove. His presence immediately caught the attention of the Nadder, but after a quick sniff she dismissed him as a potential threat. 

“This is amazing,” whispered Astrid with near giddiness, “ She’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed, though the sentiment wasn’t for the Nadder.

“You were right. If this is just the start…you have to go back.”

Hiccup stared at the dark water of the pond, seeing the tension in his own reflection. Though it had been his idea, there were also obstacles involved with going back to the nest. In order to properly shadow the woman, he’d need to be gone longer than a day.

“I can’t tell my dad,” he stated, knowing the man would have objections. “He’d never allow it.”

“If you don’t tell him, he’ll tear half the village up looking for you,” Astrid pointed out, moving to scratch at the dragon’s neck. “That doesn’t work either.”

Hiccup groaned, running his hands through his hair in frustration. They were on the brink of a groundbreaking discovery, but it was just out of reach.

“I’ll think of something,” he promised, more to himself than Astrid. Casting a glance up at the moon, he frowned. “But, speaking of my dad…I’m beyond late meeting him. I’d better go before he sends out a search party.”

Chapter Text

He’s late.

Stoick eyed the lukewarm pot of stew contemplatively. It was never quite as good reheated, but it also wasn’t meant to be served cool. Neither option was appealing, but if his son didn’t arrive soon, he’d have to make a choice. 

The door banged open, interrupting his thoughts. Hiccup slipped through, face brightly flushed and chest heaving with each breath – clear signs that he’d run to the house.

“Lose track of time?” 

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” wheezed Hiccup, still attempting to catch his breath.

Stoick didn’t press the issue, instead focusing his attention on serving them each a hearty portion of the meal. He carried both bowls over to the table in silence, nodding for his son to follow.

Hiccup took a seat, eagerly reaching for the stew. He wasted no time digging in, so Stoick quietly did the same. It was a comfort meal for them both, taken from an old family recipe. As it had been Valka’s favorite meal, Stoick still made it weekly in her honor. It was a small way to keep her memory alive.

“So what did you want to talk about?” asked Hiccup after a moment, twirling his spoon between his fingers. 

Stoick set his own meal aside, clasping his hands together atop the table. “You didn’t come home last night.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened, a flash of guilt washing across his features. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

It wasn’t an explanation, nor was an opening to request one. It was a careful evasion, using a technique that Hiccup had learned from Stoick in his youth, meant for speaking with foreign chiefs and dignitaries. 

So he had been paying attention to those lessons on leadership after all. Stoick wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by that revelation or the fact that Hiccup thought it would work on his father.

It seemed he’d have to be more direct if he wanted answers. 

“Hiccup,” he insisted, “where were you?”

His son looked away, eyes flickering around as if searching their home for an answer to give. It was maddening. “Uh…”

“It’s not a difficult question.”

“Well…it sort of is a difficult answer.”

Stoick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. His theory about a late night in the forge was looking less and less likely. “Oh?”

“I don’t want you to be mad,” hedged Hiccup, finally daring to meet his father’s eyes.

“I won’t be.”

“Suuuure, you won’t,” drawled Hiccup, but he finally relented. “Fine. I lost track of time when I was out exploring…got stuck on another island and had to wait til dawn to fly back.”

“Thor’s hammer! How–”

“–you said you wouldn’t be mad!”

Stoick closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. He had promised to control his temper, but it was hard to keep his word after learning such news. His son had been stranded on a foreign island, alone and defenseless, and he’d had no idea.

“It’s not anger, it’s concern,” corrected the chief, regarding his son with weary eyes. At this rate, his son was going to put him in an early grave. “If something happened to you out there, no one would be around to help. No one would even know how to find you!”

Hiccup shrugged, “I’m fine. There wasn’t any danger.”

“This time, perhaps. Next time you may not be so lucky!”

Hiccup leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and staring pointedly at the bowl before him. “I get it, sorry – it was a mistake. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Good.” Appeased by the promise, Stoick switched gears. “There is one other thing I wish to discuss with you. This morning, I received an urgent summons for a gathering of chieftains.”

The letter had been a surprise, hand-delivered by a representative from the Berserker tribe. It hadn’t said much, simply insisted that Stoick be present in three days' time on the designated island. Based on the location, he’d have to leave in the early morning to stand a chance of meeting such a tight deadline.

“You’re leaving.” 

Stoick nodded, “By dawn. I know this is sudden, but you must understand that I have a responsibility to represent Berk to our allies. Oswald hasn’t asked for much in the many years that I’ve known him, but he’s always been quick to offer his assistance to us when we’ve needed it. I owe him this.”

The chief braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions, knowing Hiccup’s curiosity was hard to sate. To his surprise, the boy simply nodded in acceptance, expression unreadable in the flickering candlelight.

“Ok.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” continued Stoick with genuine regret. Though they’d shared a few months of peace since reuniting, he was still reluctant to part ways for any length of time. Having Hiccup back still felt surreal, and an irrational part of him worried the boy would disappear once more, like smoke through his fingers. “I am sorry, son. I wish I could take you with me, but…”

“I understand,” said Hiccup with a tight smile. “Too dangerous for people to know about me and all that. It’s fine, really.”

Stoick’s stomach twisted with guilt, as it did whenever the subject was brought up. Keeping the secret from outsiders was a necessary evil, but it still pained him to do so. His son had proven himself a true hero to his people – clever, brave and formidable. Any other viking chief would proudly show off such a son, giving him the credit and respect he was due.

Yet, Stoick did not have the luxury of doing the same. The truth of his boy’s heroics had to stay contained within Berk’s borders, lest they risk other truths being uncovered. It was all for Hiccup’s own good, but it still felt wrong in a way that he couldn’t shake. As if he were shaming his son instead of celebrating him.  

It also left the matter of succession a messy business. Stoick longed to reinstate Hiccup’s birthright and make him the true heir of Berk once more…but after several long discussions with his son, he understood the impracticality of the decision. A leader who was only ever seen after nightfall would raise suspicions from other tribes. 

Then of course, there was the mark. Stoick’s eyes drifted to his son’s dominant hand, taking stock of the onyx scales that disappeared up his sleeve. It could be hidden, he supposed, with a thick set of gloves that could contain the claws…but eventually that too would become a source of gossip amongst the other tribes. It was only a matter of time before there was a slip up.

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed, as if guessing his father’s line of thought. “We’ve been over this.” 

“I’ll be asked about an heir,” said Stoick, already dreading the inevitable conversations. It had been one thing to endure those questions when he believed his son to be dead – it would be a new challenge entirely having to navigate them now that he knew the truth.

“So you’ll tell them it’s Snotlout,” said Hiccup with a bland shrug. “He was meant to take my place, wasn’t he? It’s his right by blood.”

“His claim does not surpass your own.”

“Dad.”

“Snotlout has grown into a fine warrior,” admitted Stoick, “but he is no leader. Other tribes may see that as a sign of weakness if I claim him as heir. I don’t like the thought of creating that impression amongst the tribes, especially if word were to spread. It could put a target on the island.”

Hiccup nodded, looking contemplative. “Alright, so maybe not Snotlout. What about Astrid?”

Stoick rolled the idea over in his mind. The Hofferson girl was a brilliant warrior. She had a fiercess to her that inspired loyalty and obedience from her peers, certainly a good trait for a chieftess. Though she had no blood tie to the succession, he had little doubt that she could step up to the position if needed. 

Plus, if things continued to progress between his son and the warrior…maybe she’d have a legitimate claim on it in time. After all, marrying into the bloodline would solve that issue…perhaps they could both lead the tribe. Astrid could very well be the face of the tribe to outsiders, and Hiccup could remain safely on Berk without having to abandon his birthright entirely. 

Perhaps they’d tell the outside world that when they’d found Hiccup alive, he had become very sickly in his time away and could no longer travel. Surely the other leaders remembered how scrawny the boy had been in his youth – they’d teased Stoick about it on more than one occasion. It wouldn’t be that big of a stretch. 

Time would tell if the young pair were truly headed down that path, but Stoick would keep the idea tucked in the back of his mind. Just in case.

“I’ll consider it,” he agreed after a moment. He would not make such a decision in haste, but he could see the merit in Hiccup’s suggestion.

After dinner, Hiccup excused himself under the pretense of heading to the forge. Stoick’s attention was preoccupied with hastily preparing for his upcoming sail, so it wasn’t very difficult to slip away. 

The streets were fairly quiet, with most villagers turning in for the night. There were a few stragglers wandering about, most having come from a night of drinking with friends. Hiccup paid them no mind, absently scanning over their faces as he passed. 

When he reached the center of town, he was surprised to see a familiar figure sitting on the steps of the hall. 

“Fishlegs?”

The blonde jolted, clearly not expecting anyone to be around at the late hour. His eyes scanned the dim area, squinting until he caught sight of Hiccup. 

“Oh, hi Hiccup,” he greeted easily, climbing to his feet. He took the last few steps down to join him, steady balance making it clear that he had not been amongst the imbibing crowd.

Hiccup had planned to go straight to Astrid, to inform her that their window of opportunity had come sooner than expected. It would have to wait. If he rushed off now, he was confident his father would be informed of his behavior. 

As much as he liked Fishlegs, the boy didn’t always know when to play things close to the vest. Hiccup couldn’t blame him – it wasn’t the boy’s fault he’d never needed to keep secrets. 

“What are you doing out so late?” He asked, attempting to keep his voice casual. In all his nights wandering the town, he’d never seen the other boy around at this hour. “Everything alright?”

Fishlegs shrugged, scratching behind his ear. “Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I thought maybe a walk would help.”

“Did it?”

“Not really.”

Hiccup hummed. Sleep was evasive more often than he’d like to admit. It was strange, but he almost felt comforted by the other boy’s admission, finding that for once…he could actually relate to his peer. That revelation took a small but satisfying chip out of the wall of his inner doubts. 

“Well, don’t give up just yet,” suggested Hiccup, nodding towards the path. “Want some company?”

Fishlegs looked surprised by the offer, but it was soon replaced by a tentative smile. “Are you sure? It is pretty late.”

“That’s kind of my specialty,” reminded Hiccup, without any bite. “You know, lots of moonlight, palest viking around…”

Fishlegs nodded easily, not commenting on the blatant curse reference. Instead, he simply set their direction towards the docks. It was one of the most well-trodden streets in town, perfect for navigating in the dimmer light. 

Hiccup fell into step, relishing the feeling of the salty sea breeze on his face as they grew nearer to the water. It was one of the many things he’d missed living on the far side of the island, as most wind there was blocked by towering stone.

After a few minutes walking in silence, Fishlegs spoke, “I had a nightmare.”

Hiccup glanced over, “I’m sorry. What was it about?”

“The raids,” admitted Fishlegs, swallowing hard. “I know they’re over, but I swear it felt like I was right back in the middle of one.”

The raids had plagued Berk for so long, a memory-induced nightmare was nothing new. It was a shame that even with the new era of peace, those dark days continued to haunt the village in sleep.

“Did something happen to make you think about the raids?” Wondered Hiccup. In his experience, usually there was a trigger of sorts for these sorts of things. There hadn’t been any attacks, so something else must have set the boy off.

Fishlegs bit his lip, slowing his pace. He eyed Hiccup carefully, looking as if he were mulling something over in his mind. Subtly was never his strength. 

“What?”

“I’ve been working on something,” he said carefully, sounding nervous, “something I didn’t exactly get permission to do.”

Hiccup raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the admission. It wasn’t like Fishlegs to break the rules.

So much for not being good with secrets. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised, curious to know what would drive the boy to take the risk. 

Fishlegs studied him for a moment before nodding. “The Book of Dragons,” he explained. “It’s been bothering me lately – I can’t stop thinking about it. Ever since the raids ended, I’ve noticed several inconsistencies in what it says and what I’ve observed – it doesn’t add up.”

“Well, the dragons were under the queen’s thrall when it was written,” said Hiccup, coming to a stop at the water’s edge. “It probably had a big influence on how they acted. Whoever wrote the book didn’t know any better.”

“Exactly,” agreed Fishlegs, moving to take a seat on the dock. He hung his feet off the edge, reaching into his vest to retrieve a small notebook. He gripped it tightly in his hands, fingers drumming against the cover.  “But we do. I’ve been keeping an eye on the different species we’ve seen around Berk, and so much of what the book says is wrong.”

“Is that really surprising?” Hiccup took a seat beside him.

“Maybe not, but everyone is still treating it like a source of truth. I…I want to rewrite it. You know, create the first true Book of Dragons,” admitted Fishlegs, passing his notebook to Hiccup. 

Hiccup blinked, surprise washing over him. He flipped through the pages at random, taking in the boy’s meticulous notes and rough sketches. True to his word, it seemed to be an encyclopedia of local dragon knowledge, citing each observation that was made.

Nadder, Zippleback, Terror…each entry was filled with details ranging from eating habits to scale shapes. While details on methods of attack and weaknesses were still included, they were a small component of a larger analysis. True to his word, Fishlegs called out inaccuracies in what had been previously taught and what had been proven in recent months.

When he got to the entry on Night Furies, he paused in surprise. Like the original book of dragons, the entry was blank save for a title and a small illustration in the corner.

Fishlegs followed his gaze.

“I thought maybe it was better that way,” he explained, forehead creasing. “Having a record of weaknesses could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands…and honestly, it just didn’t feel right.”

“Thanks,” said Hiccup, feeling a rush of gratitude towards the other boy for his consideration. He traced a finger over the rough sketch, a silhouette that he was all too familiar with. It gave him an idea. “You know, if you want any help with your project, I’d be more than happy to work on the drawings for you.”

Fishlegs’ eyes widened. “Really? You’re not upset?”

Hiccup shook his head, closing the book and passing it back with care. “Not at all. I actually think it’s a great idea. In fact, next time I’m out exploring a new island, maybe I could fill you in on whatever dragons I see?”

The boy nodded feverishly, face lighting up in excitement. 

Astrid was woken up by a bright stream of sunlight breaking through a small opening in her window. It was odd, as she was certain that she’d fully closed it the night before.

She sat up, blinking away sleep as she examined the window that was ajar. She hadn’t latched it, but she knew that the wind hadn’t been strong enough to force it open. She’d heard none of the loud whistling that would come with such gusts.

Tearing off her covers, she padded over towards it, catching sight of a bit of paper lying on the floor. She bent down, turning it over in her hands.

Astrid. 

Her name was scrawled out on the side in a familiar script. 

She unfolded the note, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. As she read through it, she felt a mix of surprise and irritation. While she understood the importance of Hiccup taking advantage of this sudden opportunity, she wished the absolute muttonhead had just woken her up to give her the news himself!

Shaking her head, she folded up the note and slipped it in between the pages of the book on her nightstand. There, she was confident Hiccup’s plans would remain secret.

Covering for him could be a challenge, but she couldn’t deny there was a bit of a thrill to the prospect. Gobber would be the hardest to appease, but as Hiccup had reminded in his note – their sleep schedules were different enough that it could work if she played her cards right. She’d just have to find a way to excuse him from weapon’s training. 

Cracking her knuckles, she rose to her feet. Hiccup was likely long gone by now, but she resolved to pass the Haddock house just in case she could catch him for a quick goodbye. 

Astrid dressed quickly, strapping her axe into place on her back in a fluid motion. She wasted no time setting off into town for the day.

Chapter Text

Trader Johann’s return voyage always came with a sense of deja vu. His route wasn’t an exact copy of the initial sail, but still took him past several of the major trading islands. He never stopped at any port – usually in a rush to return to his own home. The faster he sailed, the more time he had to rest and restock before setting off once more.

The life of a trader often felt nomadic, but he did take pleasure in those short stretches of time he could buy on land. 

He tracked his progress through the sighting of those manor islands. Each one represented the amount of time left in his trip, and upon seeing each he could estimate how much longer it would take to make the journey. Berk was always a welcome sight, knowing it meant that he only had two days left to endure.

It was just after sunrise when he finally saw the Isle coming up off the bow. The village harbor was mostly empty, the streets inactive in the early morning hours. 

Well…mostly inactive.

A dark shape was quickly ascending into the sky, just beyond the village borders.

A dragon? Johann wondered with mild interest. 

Berk was no longer at war with dragons – it was a fact known across the archipelago. Opinions varied on the wisdom of the island’s decision, but Johann had seen the peace on its shores for himself. Whatever the tribe was doing was working to keep war at bay.

Still…they were dangerous creatures. It seemed awfully sloppy of Stoick to allow such beasts to take up residence so close to the homes of his village. 

Before he could get a good look at the winged creature, it shot off into the distance. Johann was momentarily taken aback by the speed, as the dragon moved too fast for his eyes to track. 

The sound, however, was unmistakable.

“A Night Fury,” murmured Johann in surprise, raising a hand to stroke his chin. It was one of the rarest, most legendary dragons within the archipelago – one very few had ever seen and lived to tell about. 

This was an interesting development...and one that he was sure was worth a fortune. Such a stealthy dragon could have evaded Berk’s notice, hiding right under their noses. Surely Stoick would certainly want to know about this threat. 

Johann assessed the harbor once more, noting with disappointment that the chief’s ship was absent. It was rare for business to draw the warrior away from his home – clearly luck was not on his side today.

Oh well. There were others who would take interest in this news. 

He’d just have to find another buyer. 

Sneaking back into the ice fortress was just as easy as it had been the first time. Hiccup was relieved, as he’d carried a bag of his belongings along in his teeth this time. A dragon with baggage was sure to be a strange sight and he had hoped to avoid any attention. 

He’d kept his supplies limited to the bare essentials, wanting the bag to be small and light enough that it could be tucked away into whatever hiding place he could find. He’d managed to fit a spare outfit, a waterskin, thin blanket, some basic food rations, a notebook and a single charcoal stick inside. Hopefully that would be enough to get him through his stay.

He wasn’t quite sure how long that would be. By his estimation, it would take Stoick three days to reach the gathering, one to two more for whatever the meeting actually entailed and then another three to return. That should give him a little under a week to observe the stranger without risking his father finding out he’d gone, but there was no guarantee.

Hiccup adjusted the strap of the bag in his jaw, careful to keep his teeth retracted. He didn’t want to risk cutting through the cord, knowing that doing so would make it that much more of a pain to carry on the return trip.

He wandered the tunnels, keeping a sharp eye out for any smaller gaps in the ice that a dragon would not be able to fit through. If he could find one, it would serve as both a great place to store his belongings out of sight and a safe place to retreat during the night without fear of being disturbed. 

The task proved to be harder than he’d anticipated. While there were a few gaps here or there, but none of the caverns were big enough to house a viking. 

Hiccup had nearly given up hope when he’d stumbled upon an opening that could work. Getting down to eye level with the gap, he could see the space within was big enough for him to stretch out for sleep. The entrance would be a tight squeeze to get in and out of, but he’d manage so long as he was careful to exit before sunrise. Otherwise, he’d be trapped inside. 

Dropping the bag on the ice, he used a paw to shove it deep into the opening. Then, he took a claw to the wall, scratching out three lines side by side to mark the entrance to his hideout. While he couldn’t risk drawing an ‘H’ in plain sight, the numeral was a good enough nod to his initials that he’d recognize it later. 

Hiccup took a moment to look at the surrounding tunnels, scratching a few more marks in to help direct him towards his new base. Once he was satisfied with the wayfinding system, he set off towards the center of the nest.

As he crept out into the heart of the island, he found himself in awe once more. His memories hadn’t done the place justice, and he suddenly felt very small within the cavernous space.

A Terror rushed past him, nearly knocking into his feet in its haste. Hiccup flinched at the sudden movement, reminded that he was not alone.

Act natural.

The thought made him snort, smoke expelling from his nostrils. As if he had any clue how to act like a real dragon…

Still, he forced his muscles to relax, loosening his stride as he made his way towards the heart of the nest. The dragons he could see were all calm and content. Showing any sort of tension would only make him stick out more, and he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.

Hiccup found himself drawn to the highest overlook, where he’d previously seen the stranger come face to face with the goliath. Idly, he wondered if it was wise to try to get another look at the creature, but the pull of his own curiosity was too strong to ignore.

As he crested the hill, he got his first look at the true scale of the beast. He dug his claws into the ground, eyes widening as they traced the gigantic form in the waters below. He could see the edges of wings, though they were short and stubby in a way that suggested they were not used for flight. If anything, they looked more akin to fins.

A water dragon?

It was possible. Scauldrons and Seashockers were the most common found around Berk, but with the depths and immensity of the ocean…it made sense that there were far more species lurking somewhere below the surface.

He just couldn’t believe something so large existed at all.

As if sensing the weight of his gaze, the creature began to twist in the water below. With a loud rumbling noise, it heaved itself upward until it was eye level with him. 

Hiccup felt his heart stutter in his chest, a shiver running down his spine as the goliath caught sight of him. The ancient aura that he’d come to associate with the dragon was so much stronger when he was trapped under its gaze, and he noticed an intelligence behind those eyes that nearly sent him reeling.

He didn’t dare move, worried that any action would set off the creature’s wrath. The last time he’d been face to face with such a massive dragon, he’d nearly died. Standing before such might once more left him feeling breathless and unsure, the ghost of the Red Death’s flames flickering in his memory. 

“If something happened to you out there, no one would be around to help. No one would even know how to find you!”

His father’s fearful words surfaced in his mind, and Hiccup finally understood them. If something happened here now…he’d never get to say goodbye to his loved ones. Only Astrid would know where he’d gone, and he trusted her to keep the secret. 

Perhaps this trip had been a mistake. Perhaps he’d miscalculated. 

The creature tilted its head, squinting at him as if it were assessing his very being. Hiccup had the strangest feeling that it could see right through him, seeing the truth of who he was beneath the guise of the Night Fury body. 

It leaned towards him, movements slow and steady as it exhaled a thick cloud of frost in his direction. The harsh chill of it against his scales was enough to shake him from his stupor, and he stumbled back a few steps in surprise. 

“Oh, you came back!” A bright voice exclaimed from behind him, “I’d hoped you would, but I wasn’t sure–”

Hiccup snapped his neck towards the sound, finding the strange woman standing just a few paces away. He hadn’t heard her approach, having been too transfixed with the giant of the nest. 

The giant. He’d turned his back on the giant.

He whipped his head back towards it, stunned to find that it was gone, having retreated without any sort of attack or confrontation. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Oh, don’t worry about the Bewilderbeast,” remarked the woman, taking another step closer. “He likes you! After all, he’s just accepted you into his nest.”

Hiccup let loose a low growl of warning, trying to keep the woman at bay. 

She paused, dipping her head in easy acknowledgement of his wishes. She dug the end of her staff into the dirt, leaning on it for support as she watched him with obvious interest. 

Hiccup shuffled his feet, looking away. He’d come here to observe her, and yet somehow the tables had turned and he was the one under scrutiny.

“Early twenties,” the woman murmured to herself, “younger than I’d thought.”

How did she know that?

Hiccup forced himself not to react, worrying that she would pick up on his ability to understand her words. It reminded him a bit of his time in the ring, where he’d had to fool the villagers into believing he was just another dragon. 

Unfortunately for him, this woman seemed to be far more knowledgeable on dragons than his village had been. He’d have to be more convincing this time around. 

Hiccup watched a few passing dragons from the corner of his vision, trying to make note of their mannerisms. If he could mimic them well enough, perhaps she wouldn’t notice anything amiss. It was worth a try.

Setting aside the feelings of humiliation, he lifted a wing and twisted to groom it. He felt foolish, but it was a behavior he’d seen from nearly every species so it was a safe bet to fall back on. As he cleaned his scales, he kept his ears angled back, attention fixed on the woman behind him.

He’d promised his father he’d be more careful, and he would. 

He would not let his guard down.

Astrid was bored.

She’d known that Hiccup had become a fixture in her life, but she hadn’t realized just how much time they spent together until he was gone.

It had become a habit to finish all her tasks early to ensure she was on time to meet him each night. Tonight, she found herself at a loss. There was no one to meet, no plans to rush off to – just the reminder that she had to keep up the ruse.

To avoid any suspicion or unwanted questions, she’d still trekked up to the outlook point. There, she’d sat and watched the sunset in silence, lost in her thoughts. 

The stars were bright above Berk, the crescent moon’s reflection glittering on the waves below. The wind was light, stirring at the few strands of hair that had broken free of her braid. She brushed them out of her eyes in annoyance, tucking them loosely behind her ears.

She hoped that Hiccup had made it safely to the nest, and that he was learning all that he’d hoped to learn. A small part of her was jealous, wishing that she could be there to see it herself. That she could share in this adventure with him. 

It was illogical, she knew that. She would be a liability – just one more thing he’d have to worry about. An unfamiliar dragon found sneaking about a mysterious nest was one thing. A viking girl was something else entirely – likely to be seen as an unwelcome intruder.

Astrid pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her forearms around them. She tried not to linger on the thought too long, but she couldn’t deny her worries. For once, Hiccup would be safest during the day. She feared what would happen if he were discovered during the night.

He’d have to sleep at some point, and that would make him vulnerable.

Vulnerability could easily get one killed.

Gods, she grimaced. This line of thinking would do her no good. 

She needed a distraction, but it was too early in the night for her to return to the village without Hiccup. She’d need to stick to the woods for a while to avoid any questions.

Astrid pushed herself to her feet, brushing the grass from her skirt. A crazy idea had wormed its way into her mind, and she found herself taking off towards the secluded cove that Hiccup had led her to.

Her thoughts kept taking her back to the Deadly Nadder – now she’d allow her feet to do the same. The dragon had shown her its trust before, she wondered if she could push that trust just a little bit further tonight.

Hiccup was doing his part to learn about dragons…perhaps she could do the same.

Finding the cove was not as easy of a task as she’d assumed. She knew it was deep within the woods, far off the path taken by most Berkians. Unfortunately, that left a lot of forest to narrow down. The villagers had a few common paths, worn down throughout the generations, and saw little reason to venture off those well-trodden spaces.

She’d been distracted that last time she’d been to the cove – first by Hiccup’s antsy behavior, then by her own sense of wonder in meeting the Nadder. Keeping track of how to get to and from the secluded space had been far from her mind.

Now she wished she’d memorized it. 

“Ugh!” She swatted a low hanging branch out of her way. 

If anything, all her wandering had done was get her lost. She didn’t recognize her surroundings anymore, too deep in the trees to guess where the closest footpath lay.

Astrid paused, taking a moment to unsheath her axe. The brush was too thick to see anything clearly, so she began to hack away at it as she walked. The path of severed branches would also serve as a wayfinding system if she needed to retrace her steps.

It was a strange feeling to be out, alone in the dark. Six months ago, she never would have dared take such a risk. Especially without informing one of the warriors of her location.

Now, she wasn’t afraid. She was frustrated – that was undeniable, but she wasn’t afraid. That, in itself, was a victory.

Astrid continued to slice a path through the woods until, finally, the trees began to thin out. She was ecstatic to see a bit of moonlight ahead, hurrying towards it. 

I did it!

She’d found herself at the lip of the cove, not too far from where Hiccup had led her previously. Not wanting to waste any time, she strung her weapon back into place, making the trek down into the clearing.

“Hello?” She called out, casting a careful look around as she entered. While she hoped to find the Nadder, there was no telling what other wildlife could be nearby. Dragons weren’t the only predators in the forests of the Isle.

Of course, there was no answer. She felt a bit foolish.

Gods, I’m talking to dragons like they understand me.

It was hard not to, considering how much time she’d spent with Hiccup. Somewhere along the way, she’d begun to believe they were more intelligent than she’d been taught.

A squawk broke through the silence, startling Astrid. She spun, arm lifting towards her weapon before she stilled. It was the Nadder, staring right at her from a few paces away.

“Oh, hello,” greeted Astrid in surprise. “Where’d you come from?”

The Nadder cocked her head, wings shuffling against her back.

I’m doing it again, she realized. She took a tentative step forward, extending her hand slowly towards the dragon.

The Nadder sniffed twice before closing the distance, much less cautious than she had been the last time. Instead, the dragon shoved her head into Astrid’s palm with force, rubbing its scales against her fingers.

Astrid laughed, surprised but delighted by the eagerness. She scratched at the scales without further proding, a smile stretching across her face.

“You’re a lot friendlier than I expected,” she admitted, once more addressing the dragon.

The Nadder sighed in response, muscles relaxing under Astrid’s touch.

“If we’re gonna be friends, you’re gonna need a name,” she determined. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘the Nadder.’”

The idea of naming a dragon was thrilling in itself – she’d probably be the first in all of Berk to do so. She briefly toyed with the idea of following Berk’s superstitious naming practices, but it didn’t feel right to give the beautiful dragon a hideous name.

It needed to be something grand enough to do the Nadder justice, without being too flowery for a fire-breathing creature. Fire. The obvious answer was something to do with fire, or the elements.

Perhaps she could combine a few elements? Maybe using counterbalanced elements to represent the duality of what dragons were versus what vikings had always believed. Fire and water. 

“What about Stormfire?” Astrid paused, then wrinkled her nose. “No, that’s too much.”

She liked the idea of a storm – it represented multiple elements through wind, rain and lightning. Adding fire to the end of it seemed redundant. 

Astrid hummed, “What about Storm….heart? Wings? Fly? Wait, I kind of like that one. Stormfly?”

The blue Nadder cooed, which Astrid took as a sign of acceptance. 

“Stormfly it is,” she decided. 

After spending a little over an hour with Stormfly, Astrid noticed a shift in the dragon’s behavior towards her. Now, the Nadder was willing to look away and break contact. She no longer had to keep Astrid in her sights at all times.

It was a clear mark of trust, and one that Astrid cherished. She must have passed some test, earning Stormfly’s acceptance that she was not a threat. After all, a dragon rarely ever turned its back on the enemy.

She lingered in the cove, trying to decide what her next step should be. Perhaps she should bring fish the next night to see if Stormfly would accept food from her? It might further endear her to the dragon.

It probably wouldn’t hurt. Then, perhaps she’d let Stormfly make the next move. 

With a regretful sigh, Astrid decided that she should probably head home. She’d gotten very good at measuring time – being friends with someone bound to the sun and moon made it impossible not to be. 

“Goodnight, Stormfly,” she called, feeling a strange pang in chest as she left the friendly dragon once more.

Chapter Text

To Hiccup’s relief, the woman didn’t hover beside him for too long. All it took was a pair of chattering Terrors to draw her away, but not without one last, long meaningful look. Her expression made it clear that she was not going to forget his presence in the nest any time soon. 

Just great. His chances of staying under the radar had evaporated. 

Hiccup watched her leave in the periphery of his vision, only relaxing his stance once her back was fully turned. He eyed her warily, wondering if it was even worth trailing her now, or if he should wait until she’d had time to be sufficiently distracted.

He opted for the former, reasoning that he only had so much time in the nest. He couldn’t afford to waste it. 

Hiccup was eager to put some space between himself and the unsettling creature – the Bewilderbeast , she’d called it – in the depths below. He took flight, seeking out a higher perch where he could watch the woman further from a less accessible place.

It wasn’t hard to keep track often stranger’s location – wherever she went, Cloudjumper was never far behind. The four-winged dragon was unmistakable, sticking out even amongst the diverse menagerie of species filling the nest.

Hiccup settled down on the ledge, trying to make himself comfortable. From the high vantage point, he’d be able to keep an eye on most of her movements without having to follow. He squinted down at her, trying to memorize the way she interacted with the dragons so that he could record it all later. 

Still…whatever words he strung together wouldn’t be able to do it justice. He curled his paws, wishing that it was night so that he could draw out what he saw below. 

The woman’s calm demeanor persisted until a long horn sounded from outside the fortress. Immediately, she leapt onto Cloudjumper’s back and directed her companion up and through one of the gaps in the ceiling.

Hiccup stared after her for a moment, startled. Shaking off the surprise, he pushed himself to his feet. He took off after her, slipping out of the nest as quietly as he could manage. Just outside the wall of ice he paused, pumping his wings as he looked around. 

Cloudjumper was below, resting atop the deck of a large ship. The woman had dismounted and was speaking to a man in strange black and silver armor. 

“...nearby? I just drove them off a few weeks ago!”

“Yes, our intel suggests they have set up a new base,” the man said, voice gruff and serious. “I’m afraid it only gets worse.”

“Worse?”

“They’re recruiting,” the man spat, scowling. “I stopped at a few ports on my way here, and I’ve seen it for myself. They’re offering any warrior interested in joining up a position in their ranks and a generous share, so long as they bring a dragon pelt to prove their skill.” 

The woman swore, fists clenching at her sides. “How many are there now?”

“Our source said seven men–”

The woman inhaled sharply. “Seven? It was only four before.”

“Indeed. If left unchecked…who knows how many more will join? We’d hoped you could stop them from getting too comfortable. Perhaps drive off a few potential recruits?”

She hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought. 

“Queen Mala sends her regrets that we cannot interfere directly, but it is not our way.”

The woman nodded, shifting her stance. “I understand. I would not ask her to break her vows – I would not ask any of you to do so,” she said, then sighed. “Throk, I cannot make any promises until I’ve seen the threat myself, but I’ll do what I can to slow their operation.”

The man – Throk, Hiccup assumed – bowed once, low and respectful. “That is all we ask,” he assured. “We are just thankful for your help.”

The woman set a hand on Throk’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “That’s what allies are for,” she said, voice gentle. “Now, head to the nearest port while there’s still daylight, alright? Tell Mala that I’ll send a Terror mail update once I’ve had a chance to do some reconnaissance.”

“Very well, my lady. The Defenders of the Wing wish you safety and success in your mission.”

Defenders of the who?

The woman dipped her head in a quick nod of acknowledgement before striding back to her dragon. 

Hiccup took that as his sign to disappear, rocketing back down into the nest before she could spot him. His previous lookout point had been claimed in his absence, so he was forced to find another. This one was lower down, just a short leap to the grass below.

It wasn’t long before the stranger returned to the nest. She was in a hurry, guiding Cloudjumper swiftly towards another opening in the ice. 

A few minutes passed and Hiccup wondered if he should follow. There was more risk that he’d be seen or cornered by the woman within the tunnels, but after her strange exchange with the foreign warrior, his interest was peaked. 

Hiccup didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Cloudjumper emerged once more. On his back, the woman had donned a strange, painted helmet. It was covered in long spikes, almost dragon-like in design.

The duo wasted no time, slipping outside of the nest in seconds. 

Hiccup watched them go, taking note of the colors of the sky above. Following would be unwise, as he was likely to strand himself out in the cold overnight. He’d have to make use of her absence in another way.

His attention snapped back towards the tunnel they’d briefly visited. If the woman had retrieved her helmet from within…did that mean that she lived there? It would make sense for her to carve out her own nook within the fortress, setting aside a private place to slip away.

If so, it could very well be the perfect place to uncover more about her.

Hiccup pumped his wings, darting towards the tunnel. Since there was no telling how long the stranger would be gone, he wanted to be quick in his search.

At first glance, the tunnel looked like any of the others. The walls were ice, the light was dim. As he walked, he noticed that there were no offshoots to this tunnel. Unlike the maze surrounding it, this passage seemed to be completely self-contained. 

The walls were smoother than the rest, almost too smooth. It made Hiccup wonder if this particular tunnel had been created intentionally, unlike the rest. With a bit of dragon fire, perhaps Cloudjumper had helped craft this pathway.

Hiccup kept walking until he came upon a small, rocky cave. His suspicions were quickly confirmed – this had to be the woman’s home.

One corner was occupied with a thick tangle of furs and blankets. To the untrained eye, it looked like a mess of fabrics that had been haphazardly thrown together. To Hiccup, it looked much more familiar. The makeshift bed wasn’t too different from the one he now had back in Berk.

There were large baskets lining each of the walls. The ones nearest Hiccup were open, and he observed a few wrinkled tunics piled inside. 

Several warped pieces of wood had been nailed together to create a rough desk in one corner, though there was no chair to accompany it. A smattering of weathered books and scrolls littered the surface, along with a stack of parchment.

Hiccup waited for his veins to ignite before striding over to investigate, carefully thumbing through the contents for any clues as to who the stranger was. There were a few sketches, a few to-do lists…nothing particularly helpful. 

He moved on to the books, flipping through each quickly. They were annotated – it appeared the woman liked to write in the margins and underline sections that stood out to her. There were notes in several shades of ink, suggesting that she had reread each many times over.

Just how long had she lived here?

Hiccup set the last book down, careful to leave it as he had found it. He didn’t want to leave any signs of his visit behind.

The scroll felt soft in his hands, as if the parchment was handled frequently. Curious, he unrolled it, spreading it out across the desk. 

“My dearest Stoick, if you are reading this…”

Hiccup blanched, losing his grip on the scroll. It rerolled, shaking as it settled into place again. Had he read that right?

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, reaching for it once more. His father was likely not the only Stoick in the archipelago, not to mention the larger world. Perhaps it was a popular name in other regions.

Taking a deep breath, he reopened it, this time bracing for the familiar name. 

“...know that I have never stopped loving you. Fate has taken me far from our home and from our son, but my heart will always be with you…”

Hiccup bit his lip, feeling somewhat guilty to be intruding on such a personal letter. Still, he was fascinated by the stranger and fueled by his own need to know. The letter was clearly old and worn – and never sent. That mystery was interesting enough to keep him invested. 

“...dragons! They’re so much more than we were taught. I see myself in them…”

There was a whole section dedicated to explaining her love and respect for the dragons. It was bewildering to read, as Hiccup had never seen anyone so clearly put into words the awe and wonder of interacting with a dragon. His own feelings were reflected in her words, captured in a way he could never have penned himself.

“...I fear that I can never return home, though it pains me to admit that to you. If you knew the truth…I know you would wonder how I could do this…how I could leave you to raise our son alone. For that, I am deeply sorry. Losing you both will always be my greatest regret. I pray my actions do not harden your heart, but I must follow mine now…I cannot allow the dragons to be slaughtered, and I know that Berk will never change its ways…”

Hiccup’s stomach dropped, a deep sense of foreboding settling within him as he took in the name of his village. A woman from Berk, who had left behind a man and child. A man named Stoick…

There was no question, only one woman fit that description.  

His mother.

Astrid’s first challenge in covering for Hiccup was getting them both out of weapons training. She’d planned for it throughout the day, rolling different excuses around in her mind to determine what Gobber would be most likely to accept without argument.

In truth, she probably hadn’t needed to put in that much effort.

All it had taken was a suggestion that she wanted to give him some pointers by herself…and Gobber had been quick to agree. He hadn’t been able to resist a quick joke about enjoying their ‘alone time,’ paired with a conspiratorial grin. She’d brushed that off with a roll of her eyes, choosing to just be grateful that she’d gotten her way.

So long as he didn’t notice Hiccup’s absence, she’d let him think whatever he wanted. She’d kissed him in the ring once – it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe she’d do it again. Besides, she wasn’t ashamed of her feelings and no amount of teasing was going to change that. 

Once satisfied that her work in maintaining the ruse was done, she’d slipped away for the night. She watched the sunset from the lookout point once more, reveling in the beauty of Berk’s shore at dusk. There was something wondrous about seeing the colors bleed across the sky. 

She idly wondered if somewhere out there, Hiccup was watching the same sunset.

Once it was fully dark, she found herself following her instincts back towards the secluded cove. As crazy as it was to think, she genuinely wanted to visit Stormfly again. A part of her briefly toyed with the idea of doubling back to sneak a fish or two for the Nadder, but she couldn’t take the risk of being spotted alone in the village.

Even without the peace offering, her presence seemed to be enough to satisfy the dragon. This time, the Nadder required no encouragement upon seeing Astrid enter the cove. Instead, Stormfly made a beeline for her, eagerly greeting the viking girl. 

“Hey girl,” Astrid returned with a smile, pressing a hand to the Nadder’s neck. “Miss me?”

Stormfly squawked in response, leaning into her touch for a moment. 

“Me too,” admitted Astrid, realizing just how much she’d been looking forward to seeing the dragon again. 

Though she couldn’t fully describe it, she felt a sort of bond had begun to form between herself and the Nadder. The more time they spent together, the more connected she felt to the creature, like they understood each other on some deeper level. 

Like they weren’t so different.

Stormfly shuffled a few paces away, slowly and deliberately stretching out her wings. Based on the stance, it looked like the dragon was preparing for flight. 

Astrid was a little disappointed by the realization. While she couldn’t blame the dragon for wanting to take advantage of the nice night, she’d hoped they could spend some time together. It had helped her feel a bit less lonely before, and a part of her ached at knowing she’d be left behind again.

To her surprise, the Nadder did not take off as expected. Instead, the dragon crouched low to the ground, her wings extended out. Stormfly cocked her head, fixing one bright eye on the viking girl with a look of anticipation. 

“What?”

The dragon pumped her wings once, then tilted her head once more. 

Astrid furrowed her brow, trying to decipher what the dragon was trying to tell her. She took a step forward, trying to see if she was missing something obvious from her vantage point. If she had been, it still wasn’t clear.

Stormfly cooed, bending down further towards the ground and angling her back towards Astrid.

She can’t possibly mean for me to…no. 

Yet, she couldn’t think of anything else to explain the behavior. Astrid took another step forward, placing her hands on the dragon’s exposed back. It would be beyond reckless to climb up, but she’d already come this far, hadn’t she?

Astrid Hofferson was not afraid of taking a risk…so why did her knees feel shaky?

Pushing aside that thought, she heaved herself up onto Stormfly’s back. For a moment, she found herself shuffling awkwardly as she struggled to find a comfortable position against the blue scales. 

The last time she’d been on dragonback, Hiccup had been saving her from the wreckage of a ship. It had been a fast, terrifying experience borne strictly out of necessity – one that she was certain adrenaline alone had gotten her through.

This…this was different. 

As Stormfly straightened out, Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? This was a wild animal, and she’d willingly put herself on the dragon’s back! 

Gods, have I lost my mind?

She reached out to grip the spikes on the dragon’s head, already feeling her leggings sliding against the smooth scales beneath her. Just as her fingers closed around the spikes, Stormfly flapped her wings, rising up above the ground.

Astrid leaned forward, shrieking in surprise. She tightened her grip, knuckles growing white from the effort.

Stormfly ignored her cry, instead taking to the night sky with a few fluid wingbeats. Soon they were sailing above the island, tiny specks of torchlight marking the buildings and streets below.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. 

That’s…amazing.

Hiccup was angry. 

All these years – he’d mourned someone who wasn’t lost. Someone with the means to return home, but who had chosen instead to allow others to believe in her death. Someone who had chosen to abandon him.

He was sad. 

Stoick had never fully recovered from losing his wife, having lost a part of himself in the process. Knowing what he knew now…Hiccup’s heart hurt even more for the man, who had suffered all this time…for nothing. Throughout his childhood, he could recall several moments where he’d witnessed the man grow teary and break under the weight of memories. He’d seen what the sheer pain of it all had done to his father, and it troubled him greatly. 

He was elated. 

His mother had lived. He’d felt the hole in his family throughout his life, desperately wishing that he could have had the opportunity to know her. Now, he knew that she was alive and within reach. 

He was confused. 

The stories of Valka’s abduction were all clear on one thing: she’d been taken by hostile dragons, assumed to have been killed soon after. How could such a scenario evolve into her living in this sanctuary for dragons, at home and at peace with all the creatures within?

Hiccup felt so many things at once, the full force of it left him nearly numb. It was as if all his competing emotions had cancelled each other out, twisting and hardening into a shield of sorts around his mind as they wove together. 

He couldn’t dwell on this – not now. It was too much.

After the revelation in Valka’s chambers, he’d been quick to retreat to his own hidden space. He’d intended to write it all down, to capture every bit in detail…but the charcoal stick sat frozen in his hand, just inches from the page. 

The words wouldn’t come.

Hiccup groaned, resting his head against the ice wall behind him. It seemed his curiosity had once more landed him in a life-altering situation. This one came with a lot less magic, but perhaps just as much heartache. 

The gods hate me, he mused. It was becoming a mantra of sorts, as he continued to find himself in overwhelming situations. 

A part of him wished Astrid were there, longing to get her thoughts on what he should do with this new information. Even if she didn’t have a clear answer, she might be able to help him sort out his own jumbled thoughts. 

Alone, he had no idea where to start.

The next morning, Hiccup had just enough time to roll out of his small hideaway before sunrise. It was pure luck that he’d gotten out of the space when he did, as the confines of the cave didn’t provide much light to guess the time. Any longer and he would have been trapped.

The close call grated on his already frayed nerves as he stalked towards the heart of the nest. A small bit of resentment had taken hold overnight, festering like an untreated wound.

He spotted the woman – no, his mother – immediately, feeling his lips curl back into the beginnings of a snarl. He wanted to go to her – to demand an explanation for her choices, but knew he could not. 

Instead, he was forced to observe, seeing her with fresh eyes. Now that he knew, the familiar feeling made sense. The shape of her nose, the color of her hair…it was nearly the same as his own reflection. The part of her he recognized was the part of her he’d inherited. 

Valka: the warrior chieftess of Berk. The most widely whispered tragedy in the history of the village. A story of heartbreak and despair – used by many parents as a cautionary tale to keep their children inside and away from the raids.

A lie.

Hiccup knew that wasn’t fair. The people of Berk didn’t know the truth – they didn’t lie, they’d been misled.

That didn’t make it better.

Valka looked healthy and happy, at peace with her surroundings. There were faint laugh lines around her eyes, but the way she carried herself was very light. Grief and guilt did not weigh her down. If anything, she seemed…free.

Hiccup shadowed her, no longer bothering to feign otherwise. He was by all accounts a legitimate dragon, after all – what could she possibly suspect?

It was a few hours before she caught sight of him, excitement giving way to confusion as she took in his posture. He could feel the tension in his body, muscles taut and ready to spring away. 

Valka raised her hands in a placating manner, speaking in slow and soothing tones. “Something got you rattled, dear? It’s alright, you’re safe here.”

Hiccup snorted, smoke expelling from his nostrils. It left an unpleasant burning sensation in the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard in an attempt to clear it.

Valka was still watching him, puzzlement clear on her face. She cast her gaze widely around the nest, likely looking for the cause of his distress. If only it were that simple.

He settled to the ground, laying his head down on his crossed paws. It felt silly, but he hoped the subdued pose would be enough for her to lose interest. There was only so much he could learn about her if she was distracted by his behavior. 

Still, looking into those kind eyes was like a fresh blow to the chest. There was such warmth and concern within them, it was hard to reconcile that with the woman he now knew her to be.

Such kindness towards a dragon, but none for her own family. It didn’t matter if he was both things – she didn’t know that, and it made all the difference in the world.  

Cloudjumper warbled, mercifully drawing his mother’s attention away and towards a member of her flock.

Her flock. Like she was the mother hen to a whole nest of dragons. 

It stung like rejection. Hiccup felt a tightness in his chest, unable to stomach watching her and her new family any longer. He rose to his feet, slowly making his way across the grassy hills in a sort of daze. When he reached the familiar tunnel, he didn’t pause, slipping into the shadows. 

Hiccup’s mind was so focused on his inner turmoil that he failed to notice he was being watched. From across the cavern, Valka’s keen eyes tracked each step, expression unreadable.

Chapter Text

There was something odd about the Night Fury.

Seeing a Night Fury at all was strange enough in itself, but the dragon’s behavior was another matter entirely. Most dragons new to the nest were admittedly a bit cautious at first, but were soon soothed enough to take advantage of the sprawling expanse of the nest. 

Even the most skittish dragons settled in once they were welcomed by the Bewilderbeast. It was in the nature of the dragons to feel safe in the king’s presence, knowing that he watched over and protected their nest. She’d never seen one look concerned by the welcome before…yet the newest arrival had been visibility rattled.

Then, of course, there was the way that it hovered. Valka could often feel the weight of the dragon’s gaze on her. Whenever she’d turn to catch the Night Fury’s eye, he was always watching with pupils narrowed to near slits. 

The behavior wasn’t necessarily aggressive, but it was worth keeping note of in case things shifted into more dangerous territory. She suspected the dragon was more anxious than angry, considering the way he had reacted both to her and to the Bewilderbeast. 

The Night Fury was missing a limb. Perhaps he had come from a traumatic situation, and that abuse had taken away his willingness to trust others? Though the thought saddened her, Valka could understand. She’d seen many horrid injuries in her days, often being the one to offer treatment to the wounded dragons that made their way into the nest. Each time, her heart ached to see them suffer.

Perhaps, with time, this new dragon’s fears could be eased. The nest was a utopia for dragonkind, outfitted to address the needs of each species that called it home. With the added protection of the Bewilderbeast, there was no in-fighting to worry about. It was a safe, secure home for all who chose to dwell there – Valka had done everything she could to ensure that over the years. 

The Night Fury just didn’t understand that yet. 

Valka was determined to keep an eye on the dragon’s progress, curious as to when he would finally settle. Perhaps if she identified any emotional triggers etting him off, she could help speed up the process. 

Discretion was key, as with any skittish animal. As such, she did not outwardly watch the Night Fury. Instead, she kept a mental note of where she felt she was being watched, catching glimpses of black scales out of her periphery throughout the day. 

He never got too close, but his attention never wavered. She supposed he was curious, seeing a human within a dragon’s domain. She was a rarity in that sense.

In a way she enjoyed the steady company. Most of the dragons in the nest were fairly independent, only seeking her out for play or to have injuries assessed. They’d long since accepted her role in the fortress, interest having waned over time. 

Being the focus of such a legendary dragon’s attention was also a bit of a thrill. It took her back to her early days in the nest, when the sight of the Bewilderbeast had left her feeling overwhelmed and ever so small.  

She’d been a different woman then.

Valka went about her daily duties, humming old shanties as she worked. Music was one of the things she missed most from her days in Berk, as her new companions had no need or interest for it. Over time, her memories of the sounds of the village instruments had grown hazy, but she never forgot the simple melodies. 

“...on savage seas…” 

She was determined to keep it so, singing or humming the few she knew best each day to cement them in memory. There were very few things she could hold onto from her old life, and she was intent on preserving them.

She was just just wrapping up her chores for the day when she felt the weight of the Night Fury’s gaze suddenly disappear. Curious, she turned to look for where it had gone.

In the warm and fading sunlight, she caught sight of a patch of dark scales disappearing into one of the tunnels. 

Valka was torn. Though she prided herself in not overstepping her boundaries with the dragons, her curiosity had been spiked by this new arrival. The outsider was an anomaly, and she supposed it was her duty to ensure the new dragon would not stir up trouble for the rest of the residents.

She deliberated internally, biting her lip as she went back and forth on her choices. It wasn’t until the sun had set that she found herself striding towards the tunnel, mind made up.

Once she’d checked up on him properly, she’d leave the fury alone. 

Valka kept her steps light and quiet as she navigated the ice labyrinth, mindful not to spook the dragon in her approach. The claw tracks were easy enough to follow, as one uneven pattern was distinctly different from the others. 

She slipped down the corridor, picking up her pace. The tracks led her to a fork in the road, and when she turned, she was faced with a baffling sight.

There was no dragon to be found. Instead, a human figure was crouched low on the floor, midway through slipping into a cave of sorts.

An intruder – here? How is this possible?

Valka cleared her throat loudly, alerting the stranger to her presence.

The figure jerked, hitting his shoulder hard on the ice. It was a young man, she observed, as he pulled himself up and away from the cave with a wince.

He was tall and wiry, clothed in a simple red tunic and dark trousers. Wide green eyes regarded her with warring fear and surprise, blocked only by a few strands of messy auburn hair. The boy’s body language was rigid, and he was quick to cross his arms tightly across his chest, burrowing his hands in his armpits. 

Odd.

“Who are you?” She wasted no time with pleasantries, having had little need for them over the years. There was a deliberate sharpness to her voice, cutting right to the chase.

The young man blinked at her, face draining of color.

“I said,” she insisted, “Who are you?”

Still the boy did not respond, only shaking his head a few times, expression shifting into something akin to panic.

Perhaps he does not speak Norse? She wondered idly, unsure why else he continued to evade the question. 

“Oh. Uh…well…”

Or not.

Valka strode forward, using her staff to shove the boy roughly against the wall of ice. She held him in place, staff barring him from making any moves. “You are trespassing in this place. I will not ask again.”

She leaned closer, glaring in impatience.

The boy wavered under her gaze, twisting his head to look away. In doing so, his chin caught a bit of moonlight. There was a scar – long, thin and distinctly shaped. She’d know it anywhere. 

Her grip on the staff faltered. It clattered to the floor, all but forgotten.

With shaky hands, Valka reached out towards the boy, voice breaking. “Hiccup?”

Hiccup had often dreamed about what it would be like to meet his mother. Though he’d believed it to be impossible, he’d spent many hours of his youth fantasizing about a happy reunion for his family. Sometimes, it was a weepy affair, and his father was a changed man in having his wife back. Other times, she’d see just how miserable he was growing up in Berk, and she’d whisk him away to start a new life elsewhere.

Even after he’d been cursed, he’d still entertained those fantasies, although they had evolved. He’d imagine her there by his side in his makeshift home, someone to comfort him and rescue him from his solitude. Someone who didn’t resent him for being cursed – who loved him unconditionally. 

Throughout it all, he’d seen her as an unwavering bastion of love and acceptance. Someone who’s arrival would bring him both joy and relief. Someone who would fix things.

Reality had a strange way of turning his expectations on head. 

Standing before his mother now, something that he’d once believed would be a miracle…he found himself filled instead with disappointment. That perfect picture of her had shattered, leaving behind the harsh truth.

“So you do remember me,” the words left his mouth before his mind caught up to them. “Imagine that.”

In all the ways he’d imagined meeting her again…he’d never anticipated that his first words would be an accusation. Then again, he’d never thought she’d chosen to abandon her family. 

To abandon him.

His tone may have been harsh, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Valka jerked back as if she’d been struck, stumbling a few steps. Her hands fell to her sides, confidence bleeding out of her posture. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, her eyes darted away from him, fixing on where her staff lay discarded on the floor.  

Hiccup took advantage of her distraction to discreetly pull his sleeves down, obscuring the sight of his left hand. If he could keep the mark out of sight, perhaps he could still escape with his secrets intact. 

“A mother never forgets.” Valka managed after a moment of silence, fidgeting with her armor.  

“It would almost be better if you had,” snarked Hiccup, raising his eyebrows. “Amnesia would at least explain why you abandoned…your tribe.”

Abandoned me.

Though unspoken, Valka seemed to grasp the deeper meaning. Her face crumbled, but she gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I suppose that would make things easier,” she agreed, “but the truth is never easy, is it?”

Hiccup said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I didn’t…Hiccup, you must know I didn’t choose to leave you. I loved you. I loved your father. Berk was my home, I never planned to leave it.”

“Dad told me about the night you were taken,” admitted Hiccup, leaning back against the tunnel wall. “We – well everyone on Berk – thought you were dead. Probably eaten by the dragon that took you.”

Though that had been the most common theory, upon learning about the Red Death…he’d feared she might have been another one of the queen’s victims.

Valka nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, that is what I’d expect Berk to believe,” she muttered under her breath.

“Clearly that wasn’t the case,” continued Hiccup, using his right hand to gesture roughly towards her. “It doesn’t really matter now. You might not have chosen to leave, but you chose not to return.”

“Hiccup–”

“Dad needed you,” he cut her off sharply, “I…I needed you.”

All those years of mourning, of wishing for her to be there…and for what? She’d been less than a day’s journey away. She could have returned at any time.

“I am sorry, Hiccup…truly, I am. When I was brought here,” her voice was quiet, hesitant. “I would have done anything to come home to you, but things changed. You have to understand – Berk was a battlefield my entire life. There was no peace, no understanding…just endless bloodshed and carnage. I’d always been taught there was no other way, but there is! The dragons are intelligent, peaceful beings–”

“I know.”

“–and I couldn’t return to that life.” She blinked, mind catching up to his words. “You know?”

“I know. The raids are over,” he said shortly. “Berk doesn’t fight dragons anymore.”

“Impossible.”

“No, it’s true,” he promised, “There was a queen controlling them – turns out, that was the only reason they were ever raiding Berk. Once we got rid of her, they all calmed down. Now they just sort of live in the woods nearby. We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us.”

Valka looked surprised by the admission. “Is that so?”

Hiccup nodded. 

“Huh,” she mused. “I didn’t think it was possible…”

“Well, it is,” he said, pushing off from the wall. He leaned back down into his cave, retrieving his bag before straightening up, “and I really ought to be heading home. You know…back to my family.”

If Valka was bothered by the dig, she didn’t show it. Instead, she moved to block his path. “You’re leaving?”

“That’s the plan – been here long enough.”

“But you just…” Her eyes darted between him and the opening in the ice, brow furrowing. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to find your letter,” he retorted, slinging his bag over his shoulder and maneuvering around her. 

“You were in my chambers?”

“Is that really the concern right now?” Hiccup asked, spinning to give her an incredulous look. “I think I’m entitled to a little snooping, considering everything.”

For a moment Valka looked angry at his words, but it was quickly replaced by a grim acceptance. “You’re right, of course. I suppose I cannot expect your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness is earned.”

Hiccup started down a path blindly, not sure of his own plan. He knew there was no easy escape from the fortress, but he couldn’t bear to admit to his own helplessness. Not now.

Hours passed.

Hiccup continued to steadily evade his mother, listening intently for the sound of her presence. He was familiar enough with the cave network now that he had a rough idea of what offshoots led to dead ends, careful to avoid any places he could be cornered.

A traitorous wave of guilt had been building since he’d left her, eating away at him. Part of him longed to take back his harsh words and see if they could mend their fractured relationship, but he pushed it down deep. 

If she’d wanted a bond with him, she’d had twenty years to try. 

Hiccup told himself that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d come to the nest to learn about dragons – and he had. Observing Valka had helped him understand the creatures better, and how best to interact with them. Though he’d still hoped to learn more…he’d gotten what he wanted. There was no reason to stay.

…right?

It was a relief to feel the familiar tingling in his veins, knowing that he’d soon have the freedom to escape. 

“–Hiccup!?”

Oh gods, no.

He panicked, picking up his pace. He hadn’t heard her coming, her footsteps almost as light as his own. 

In his rush, Hiccup wasn’t as cautious navigating the path ahead. He didn’t see an uneven patch of ice jutting from the floor until it was too late – his prosthetic caught on it, ripped out of place. He lost his balance, finding himself crashing to the floor.

No, no, no…

“Hiccup!”

His heart pounded as he realized just how close she was to him now. There was no way he’d be able to–

Fire erupted around him.

A gasp.

Valka had seen many mystifying things throughout the decades. Dragons were known to be mysterious creatures – each species having its own secrets. She’d seen camouflage so complete it seemed like true invisibility, dragons who could lull their prey into a trancelike state and even others who could channel lightning itself.

None of those discoveries prepared her for the sight she’d just witnessed.

She’d been following her son through the winding tunnels – a more challenging feat than she’d expected, for the boy moved with an unnatural speed and grace – when she’d seen him trip over something and fall. She’d been about to call out and offer help when he’d suddenly ignited.

It was a strange purple fire that seemed to catch from under his skin, smoldering away at his form with a violent intensity. She’d been horrified, watching as her son was devoured by the hungry flames while she stood powerless to help. 

The blaze did not last long, flickering out in a matter of minutes. She’d tried to brace herself mentally for the sight of a charred body, but instead found herself gasping at what was revealed. Hiccup had disappeared completely – there was no ash, no bone, no sign of injury. 

In the spot where he’d lay, the Night Fury was slowly rising to his feet.

Valka stepped forward, anxiously scanning the tunnel for signs of her son. A boy didn’t just vanish. 

Her boot knocked against something, the item making a clanking noise as it tipped over. Looking down, she noted that it appeared to be some sort of metal prosthetic leg – fitted with an odd spring coil mechanism likely to give it more maneuverability than the traditional peg leg. 

How had it gotten into the nest? The only other person who’d been inside had been–

Hiccup!

Cursing herself for her distraction, she turned her sights back on the tunnel ahead. The Night Fury had spun around, repeatedly glancing between her and the metal leg with wide eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, she lowered herself to the ground, retrieving the prosthetic. The dragon growled, apparently unhappy with her action. He took a step towards her, sliding a bit on the slick floor. 

Valka’s eyes caught on the dragon’s blunted limb – a missing left hind leg. She glanced down at the prosthetic, a strange suspicion taking root. Indeed, it was designed to replace a left leg. The base wasn’t too wide, meaning the wearer likely had thin legs. 

Hiccup had been awfully lanky.

She glanced back up at the dragon, searching the Night Fury’s eyes for confirmation. It was a wild theory, but she’d long since ruled out anything as impossible.

Hiccup had disappeared in a blaze of purple fire. This dragon had appeared just as suddenly. 

Both appeared to be missing the same limb.

“Hiccup?” She asked aloud, when it became clear she’d need to prompt him.

The Night Fury sighed, posture slumping. He bobbed his head in a slow nod, not meeting her eyes. Instead, he turned, reaching down to retrieve a bag in his teeth.

Hiccup’s bag.

“Incredible,” said Valka, excitement leaking into her voice. She moved closer, circling the Night Fury with wide eyes. Her gaze roamed over her as she walked, not stopping until she was in front of him once more. 

He dropped the bag at his feet, reaching out and gripping the prosthetic in his teeth. Valka had forgotten she was holding it, releasing her grip and allowing him to take it. The Night Fury –  Hiccup! – gently maneuvered it into his bag, using his teeth to pull the flap of it closed once more. 

“My son is a dragon,” she whispered, tone laced with wonder. 

Hiccup didn’t meet her eyes, instead shrinking in on himself. His wings tightened against his back, head dipping low. It was clearly a defensive posture…but why? Was he ashamed?

Valka stepped closer, reaching out a hand hesitantly. “Is it alright if I…?”

She’d never seen a dragon shrug before, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. After gaining his approval she moved forward, reaching out to gently cup the side of his face. She rubbed her thumb in slow circles, hoping the motion was comforting.

“Incredible,” she said with a small smile. “To change one’s shape so entirely…I never imagined such a thing was possible! You can change between your two forms at will?”

Hiccup snorted, shaking his head roughly. He leaned over, using a claw to scrawl out a rough circle surrounded by branching lines. 

A sun?

He then scratched out a semi-circle that was much harder to identify. If she were to hazard a guess, based on the previous illustration, it might have been a crescent moon.

He gestured to the sun and then to himself, flaring his wings behind him for emphasis. He then gestured to the moon before motioning to his bag on the floor. 

After repeating the motions again, Valka understood. 

“You are bound by the sun and moon,” she guessed, seeing him nod in confirmation. “In the day you are a dragon, and at night you are human?”

Another nod.

“Amazing,” she said, rocking back on her heels in excitement. 

Hiccup looked startled for a moment before narrowing his eyes.

“In my time here, I’ve always felt a kinship with the dragons,” she continued, “that this was where I belonged…that my very soul was more in tune with them. But you…you truly have the soul of a dragon! What a gift you’ve been given.”

Hiccup scoffed, eyeing her like she was crazy. She supposed, considering his upbringing in Berk, he may not see how much he’d be blessed. 

“The stories you must have!” She shook her head wistfully, “I can’t begin to imagine…and what it must be like to see through a dragon’s eyes? To be able to fly!? What I’d give for that kind of freedom…” 

Valka leaned down, retrieving the bag and throwing the strap over her shoulder. The full weight of it reminded her that he hadn’t intended to stay, dampening her elation. 

“I’ve disappointed you, Hiccup. There’s nothing that I can say that will erase our history, and I know that,” she said, eyes pleading, “but our future doesn’t have to be that way. You must have come to this place for a reason – whatever it was you were after, please let me help! At the very least…stay until tonight, let’s talk about all this. Give me…give me another chance to be the mother you deserved.”

 A wave of emotions raged in his eyes and for a few tense moments, Valka feared he'd refuse. Then, to her astonishment, he dipped his head in agreement.

Chapter Text

Hiccup made a point of avoiding Valka for the rest of the day. While he’d agreed to give her a chance to speak to him, he certainly wasn’t about to give her the chance to speak at him when he couldn’t respond. 

That…and he really needed some time to clear his head before there were any more earth-shattering conversations or revelations. 

It struck him as odd, the way she’d reacted to his transformation. In every other instance where a loved one had found out about him, there’d always been a heaviness to the revelation. Whether he was met with sadness, pity or regret…the weight of his secret always seemed to hang over the conversation like a looming storm cloud. Yet Valka…she’d seemed strangely thrilled by the possibility, as if his curse were something to celebrate.

Granted, his mother didn’t know all the details – not yet. Without all the pieces, she failed to fully grasp the way his control over hi own life had been ripped out from underneath his feet in a single night. How his bodily autonomy had been lost over a single shot he’d taken at a passing dragon, leaving him forever at the mercy of the solar cycle. 

It was unlikely that she’d considered the isolation that it had driven him to…the years of his life spent hiding in fear of his own people, horrified both by what he’d become and what his tribe might do to him if they found out.

How could she? She hadn’t been there.

Hiccup growled low in his throat. While on some level he appreciated the fact that she had accepted his insane situation, the speed in which she’d done so almost felt…dismissive. 

Well, she is a crazy, feral dragon lady, he reminded himself. 

It was clear that Valka had become far removed from other humans in her decades within the nest; as such, he supposed it was possible that her understanding of them had dwindled over time. If that were the case, maybe she didn’t realize just how odd her reaction had been or how uncomfortable it had made him.

Still…making peace with himself had been a long and difficult battle. To have it all reduced to a mere expression of awe over flight rubbed him the wrong way. It was so much more than that.

Almost as an act of rebellion, he remained carefully out of her sight throughout the day. He clung to the deepest shadows of the cave network, seeking shelter in the darkest patches he could find. He napped fitfully, never fully able to let down his guard, lest she surprise him.

When the shadows grew longer, he made his way grudgingly back towards the center, beelining for where Valka had tucked his bag aside for the day. When the shift came, he was quick to retrieve his prosthetic from inside and secure it back into place, wanting to be mobile for whatever lay ahead. 

“If I may ask…how did it happen?”

Hiccup swore, craning his neck upwards to see where Valka sat perched on Cloudjumper’s back. The dragon hung from a ledge in the ice, silent enough that his presence had gone unnoticed. As Hiccup watched, his mother used her staff to slide down from the height, returning to the grassy floor in a smooth motion.

“...huh?” He managed, taken aback by her sudden appearance.

Valka wrung her hands together as she approached. “Your leg,” she clarified. “What happened?”

Oh.

“Battle wound,” he replied simply, trying not to let the memories resurface. “I, uh, lost it when I helped end the raids.”

When I killed a dragon. He kept that bit to himself, unsure of how his mother would react to that knowledge. He’d told her they’d taken care of the queen, but he hadn’t revealed that he’d dealt the fatal blow. Her clear affinity for dragons made him worry that sharing that detail would not go over well.

Valka settled beside him, wide eyes transfixed on where his hands fidgeted with the prosthetic. She’d caught sight of the mark.

Deciding it was best to just get it over with, Hiccup held up his hand and wiggled his clawed fingers. “Curse mark,” he stated flatly. 

“Curse?” She asked, reaching out and running her fingers lightly against his open palm.

Hiccup frowned and withdrew his hand, “well, yeah. I thought that much was obvious.” He lowered his voice, muttering to himself. “I wasn’t born like this, though maybe you’ve forgotten.”

Valka inhaled sharply. Evidently, he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d intended.

“Hiccup, no apology I could ever give would satisfy you. Not fully,” she said, holding his gaze, “so I will not waste our time together trying. What has happened has happened, and no words can change that.”

Hiccup grunted.

“It’s true,” she insisted, “but I am here now. I want to listen. I want to hear your story, but I can’t do that if you won’t let me. You have to give me a chance.”

It was a fair point, he conceded. They wouldn’t get far if he couldn’t move past his own feelings of rejection.

“I wasn’t very popular in the village growing up,” he began reluctantly, staring down at his hands in his lap. “I mean, you can tell just by looking at me that I didn’t exactly inherit dad’s strength, so I wasn’t any good at being a traditional viking. Dad wasn’t sure what to do with me, so he stuck me with Gobber when I was pretty young. I think he hoped the discipline of the forge would do me some good.”

He’d been skeptical when his father had first insisted he apprentice for the blacksmith. The job did require a certain amount of physical strength, and it involved a lot of risk in terms of sustaining burns or cuts. At the time, he’d been thrilled by the idea of potential danger. He hadn’t begun to imagine the creative possibilities the experience would unlock.

“I got pretty good at it,” he admitted, remembering the way Gobber’s eyes would light up in genuine surprise that first year. Neither one of them had expected him to excel at the craft, but it soon became clear that he was a natural. “Started spending most of my free time in the forge, even when Gobber wasn’t there. Since I didn’t really have any friends, no one said anything about it…and truthfully, I don’t think dad even noticed.”

It had been a relief. He could disappear within those walls and be left completely alone. No teasing, no taunting, no lectures…just time to focus on something he was good at. The forge had been his sanctuary.

“Long story short – I got bored of just sharpening blades and making repairs,” continued Hiccup, absentmindedly picking at the nails of his right hand. “I started making things up, you know, inventing stuff. Not everything worked and there may have been a few mishaps in the village here and there…but when a project did work? Oh, it was the greatest feeling! I wanted to make something the whole village would actually respect, so I decided to create a new weapon to use in the raids.”

Valka frowned. “Like what?”

“It was designed to sling bolas,” he explained, grimacing as he pictured the ill-fated device. He’d never asked what happened to the invention, and a part of him hoped it had been destroyed in his absence. “I couldn’t throw them myself, so the thought was that the invention could do it for me. It was that or something to wield an axe for me, but I couldn’t make any of those ideas work…”

Valka opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head and cut her off. 

“Don’t ask,” he said, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He’d nearly lost a few fingers on those experiments, and felt they were better left forgotten. “The point is, I had this crazy idea that if I took down a dragon during the raids, everyone on Berk would accept me and everything would be better! You know, like it was supposed to be my ticket to some perfect life.”

“I take it that was not the case?”

“No,” he admitted. “I finally got the Thors-damned thing to work, dragged it all the way up to the overlook and even managed to clip a Night Fury on the first shot!”

Hiccup reached up, grasping the neckline of his tunic. “It came after me, dug its claws in around my heart and shot me through with lightning.” He yanked the fabric, pulling it down so that she could see the way the scales swept up and over his shoulder, snaking off to meet the points where the claws had impaled him. 

Valka’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening as she took in the sight. He knew it was a jarring sight to behold, the way ink black scales seamlessly gave way to pale, freckled skin. 

“I thought I was going to die,” continued Hiccup, remembering the way the electricity had flooded through his veins. He released his grip, allowing the tunic to fall back into place. “Instead, I woke up as a dragon – just outside of Berk. I ran, obviously, but I didn’t fully understand the curse until the sun went down that night. Well actually, it took a few days to really understand. I kept thinking that every time I changed back to myself, it must be over, but…no, it turned out it was permanent.”

It had been the most emotional few weeks of his life. He remembered the feverish hope he’d felt each sunrise as he eagerly anticipated the feel of the rising sun on his bare skin, only to be met with crushing devastation when scales took its place. 

The transformation had also been so much more painful in those early days, the near constant ache of his body only serving to worsen his internal turmoil. He’d been a mess, finding himself in tears most nights. The memories were hard to revisit.

“I spent five years hiding from everyone,” continued Hiccup, clearing his throat to force the tremor from his voice. “I taught myself how to fly, took a few trips to nearby islands and you know, just tried to find a cure. Once I realized that one didn’t exist, I kind of resigned myself to that being the rest of my life…but I still missed Berk, and I guess I couldn’t let that go. Any time we had a raid, I’d sneak over to watch everyone while they were too distracted by the chaos to see me.”

“Clever.”

“I thought so too,” he said, rolling his eyes, “but I didn’t count on falling debris. Got clocked in the head pretty hard one night – knocked me out. Gobber found me the next morning, after sunrise.”

Valka stiffened, furrowing her brow at the implication. “He attacked you?”

Hiccup shook his head. “Thankfully, no. I think if it had been anyone else, I’d probably be dead…but Gobber was in charge of dragon training. He thought having a Night Fury in the ring would be helpful for everyone to learn.”

“That whole training practice is barbaric–”

“Trust me, I know better than anyone,” he interrupted. “I got to experience it. The cell door was impossible to open from the inside, so I thought I was really stuck there. Luckily, Astrid decided to do her job of feeding the dragons a bit earlier than usual–” 

“Astrid?”

“Hofferson,” he explained, watching as understanding flood Valka’s face. 

“Ingrid’s daughter?”

Hiccup nodded. “She was the top of the training class, so she was the one Gobber assigned to fight me. They had her on feeding duties too…she told me later it was to try and earn my trust.”

“There is truth in that theory,” agreed Valka. “Many dragon species would be more trusting of a food source.”

Ignoring the spark of excitement he felt in that new knowledge, he forced himself to keep going. “Astrid found me in the cell and it didn’t take her long to recognize me, but it was long enough for sunrise to come. As you’d probably guess, she had some questions, but she came around pretty quickly – even offered to break me out of the ring. I couldn’t let her take the fall for my escape though, so we came up with a plan to make it look like I’d escaped on my own.”

It had been a good plan – he was still proud of it. Hiccup was even convinced that it would have worked, if they’d had just a little more time. 

He said as much before explaining, “I guess we were too loud. Dad showed up and saw the mess we were making, which was bad enough…but then he saw me. I had to tell him the truth. He didn’t believe me at first – I mean, it sounds crazy – but once he saw the shift with his own eyes he came around.”

Valka scoffed. 

“No really,” he insisted, not liking the dismissal of his father’s efforts. “It was hard for both of us, but he really tried. Even convinced me to move back home for a bit. Of course, that plan ended up being way too risky and just led to Gobber finding out and me moving back into the ring.”

“They made you go back!?” His mother asked, drawing herself up angrily. 

“For the record, Dad was against it.  I’m the one who insisted. It was too dangerous to stay at home, both for me and for them if we were caught. But Gobber rigged the pen’s door that time,” he rushed to explain. “I could get out whenever I wanted! We just needed a cover story that no one would question and that was the easiest one. I mean, where else would a dragon live in Berk? Besides…I was only there for a little while.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to justify it all to her. Why should she act outraged on his behalf? Still, he kept going. 

“Eventually there was another raid, but what matters there is that it ended with me explaining my theory that there was a dragon queen. Dad told the village and in true Berkian fashion, the boats were readied by morning.” Hiccup rolled his eyes at the memory, “They needed a dragon to find the nest, so I volunteered. From there, we fought the queen and won…but I got hurt, and well, the entire village saw me shift. Woke up about a week later at home – Dad had to fill me in on the rest.”

It had been so strange, waking up in Berk to learn that everything had changed. That they’d won.

“All of Berk saw you change?”

“Yeah. I had expected the tribe to exile me when I realized it…but they didn’t. Everyone’s actually been nicer than ever,” it was still strange to him. “Since then, I’ve just been readjusting to everything. I moved back home and I’ve got my old position back in the forge. Honestly, it’s been great. I’ve even started exploring a bit – I’m trying to map out the territories and islands near us.”

Valka shifted her weight, humming lightly as she considered his words. “Is that what brought you here?”

“Maybe the first time,” he admitted, “but then I saw how you worked with the dragons here. I thought you might be the key to understanding them.”

A wide grin split across his mother’s face, and she reached out to squeeze his arm. “Why didn’t you just say so? If it’s dragons you wish to learn about, I can help you! And with your gifts, imagine what we could learn together!”

Gifts.

Hiccup arched an eyebrow at the choice of phrasing, but didn’t fight her on it. Whatever she wanted to call it was fine, he supposed, as it didn’t really change anything. 

Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone who liked what he’d become, as opposed to those who’d been forced to accept it. 

“I don't have a lot of time. Dad doesn’t know I left, and I really need to be getting back in a few days to keep it that way.”

Valka nodded, “Then we’d best get started.”

To Hiccup’s surprise, spending time with Valka became easy very quickly. The more time he spent with her, the more the icy chip on his shoulder seemed to thaw out. 

In a way, his mother was a kindred spirit. She’d also been an outsider in Berk, one whose  gentler nature set her at odds with her in the village. She recognized the beauty in her surroundings, filled with an insatiable need to learn more that mirrored his own thirst for exploration. She had an open mind, never dismissing any thought or opinion he voiced even if she didn’t agree. 

It was nice, seeing those pieces of himself reflected in another.

Valka’s passion for the dragons was also inspiring. She’d had to teach herself everything that she knew about the species, having had no other guide in the matter. A trip to her chambers had revealed several worn notebooks hidden away, filed to the margins with observations throughout the years. 

He’d been blown away by the findings. There was a single dragon that ate lava and protected an entire island! Another species used bits of metal to construct its own unique body armor!  

She’d also seen fit to share her story, saying it was only fair since Hiccup had shared his own. It had been eye-opening to hear about her early days in the nest, and he’d felt a twinge of sympathy when she’d described coming to terms with her own isolation. It had felt familiar.

Perhaps she understood what he’d been through better than he’d assumed. Her solitude was the closest that anyone had come to experiencing his own self-exile, and he couldn’t help seeing himself in those stories of loneliness and confusion.

That realization softened something inside him. 

“It’s not too late,” he blurted out, interrupting her lesson on migration patterns. “I mean…you could always come back with me. To Berk.”

Valka’s grip slid on the notebook and she had to fumble not to drop it completely. “Hiccup, I can’t–”

“You can,” he pressed, already imagining how much it would mean to his father. “You said it yourself, you didn’t want to be part of the fighting anymore. The fighting is over – we’re at peace with the dragons! You can come home!"

Valka solemnly placed the book back into its pile, reaching out with both hands to grasp his shoulders. “I know it is not the answer you want to hear, but this is my home now,” she expressed calmly, gazing steadily at him. “I have duties here, responsibilities that I must uphold. The dragons here need me. Even if Berk is at peace…”

Despite her denial, there was a wistfulness to her expression that Hiccup couldn’t dismiss. 

“The dragons were fine here before you were brought here,” he reminded, reaching up to grasp her wrists. He gently removed them from his shoulders and said, “and that means they’ll be fine after you go. That ice…giant…thing will take care of them, won’t it?”

“The Bewilderbeast.”

“Right,” he said, waving it off, “based on what you’ve been saying, every nest has an alpha. The Bewilderbeast is this nest’s alpha, not you.”

Valka looked taken aback by his words, but she nodded. “Aye, I suppose that’s true.”

“And Berk is at peace,” said Hiccup. “If you don’t believe me, why not go see it for yourself!?”

“Perhaps one day.”

“What does that–”

“Hiccup,” her voice suddenly sharpened. “Drop it. That’s all I’ll say for tonight.”

Hiccup spent the morning dozing. As he no longer had a reason to hide, he’d sought out a thick patch of grass, directly in the sun. The warmth was comforting, lulling him into an easy sleep.  

That peace was disturbed by a pair of high pitch screeches echoing through the cavern.

Hiccup tried his best to cover his ears, wincing at the volume of the cry. His eyes snapped open, scouring the nest for the source of the noise.

Valka raced past him, kicking up dirt as she headed towards the new arrival.

A small Zippleback was stumbling across the grassy terrain, swaying dangerously before eventually collapsing on its side. One of its heads lifted to regard Valka warily as she drew close, the other not rising from the ground. 

Hiccup pushed to his feet, shaking off his drowsiness and padding over to join his mother. He was curious to see how she’d aid the injured dragon.

Catching sight of his approach, the Zippleback hissed and snarled in warning. Its eyes were wild, and it leaned as hard as it could away from him.

“Stay back,” cautioned Valka, as she did the opposite. She moved to calm the dragon, quickly establishing a connection. After doing so, she circled it, breath hitching when she reached the hind legs.

What? Hiccup was dying to know, but he kept his feet obediently rooted in place. 

Valka bent down, fingers tracing something on the dragon’s leg. She swore.

Hiccup whined, not liking to be left in the dark.

“She’s been branded by poachers,” his mother explained, voice rising in anger. “This specific mark is what they use to designate breeders. They’re treating this magnificent creature like common cattle!”

Hiccup cocked his head, both surprised and confused by the revelation. His father had made it sound like the poachers simply killed all dragons in their care…why in the name of the gods would they want to create more?

Valka glanced up, reading his reaction with surprising ease. It was refreshing, considering he felt like he was playing charades with his loved ones most days. “Some islands sacrifice dragon  hatchlings as part of their ceremonial rituals,” she explained. “They believe it’s good luck to provide such an offering to the gods – as if there could be anything good to come from such cruelty – and are willing to pay handsomely for those hatchlings."

Hiccup scrunched up his nose, stomach twisting in disgust. Berk had killed dragons to protect their home…they’d never done it for any sort of pageantry. 

No wonder Valka was so furious.

“She’s in surprisingly good shape for her situation,” his mother appraised, patting the dragon’s side reassuringly. “Honestly, it’s just a miracle that she got away before they clipped her wings. She’ll recover in time.”

Valka drifted away from the Zippleback’s side, coming to stand beside him. “I must go,” she told him, sounding apologetic. “If there’s one dragon branded like this, there will be more trapped in the base. I need to free the lot before any wings do get clipped. Downing a dragon is often a death sentence.”

Hiccup nodded, having heard the same sentiment in Berk many times.

“I’m sorry to leave you so suddenly,” she expressed, “but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Will you stay?”

Hiccup didn’t want to be left behind – he wanted to help. He spotted a patch of dirt, attempting to scrawl out the runes for ‘help.’ 

Once satisfied, he gestured to himself and then the rune, repeating the motions until Valka understood. 

“No,” she said sharply, surprising him with the vehemence in her voice. “It’s far too dangerous for you to be there and I can’t afford to be distracted worrying about your safety – it could get us both killed!. Stay here…wait for me.”

Hiccup growled, low in his throat.

“Please?” Valka amended before motioning for Cloudjumper to join her. “If not for me, then for the good of those dragons?”

He huffed, swallowing down his disappointment. He laid down, resting his head on his paws.

Hours passed.

The sun set, and Hiccup found himself pacing inside the fortress. 

Shouldn’t she be back by now?

He felt useless, once more wishing he’d been able to go with her to help. He wished he’d fought harder to join her – surely a Night Fury could be of some use in a rescue mission! If he could defeat something as mammoth as the Red Death, how much of a problem could a group of ordinary men really be?

Enough of a problem that she’s not back yet, the rational side of his brain supplied.

Hiccup rolled his shoulders, trying to shake out some of his restless energy. No amount of wishing was going to change the past – he’d been left behind, and he had no way to get to her now.

Unless…

He eyed a group of dragons across the way, taking note of their size and wingspan. It was a longshot, but could be worth trying. Valka was a dragon rider, perhaps he could be too. He wasn’t sure how she’d trained Cloudjumper to allow it, but he knew the basic principles of her other techniques.

A crashing sound drew his attention away from the group to where Cloudjumper had landed. The Stormcutter was breathing heavily but otherwise appeared uninjured, leaving Hiccup to wonder why the landing had been so rough. 

Valka stood, stumbling as she dismounted. She took a few shaking steps before collapsing to her knees. 

Alarmed, Hiccup ran to his mother. “What happened? Where are you hurt?” 

Valka turned her arm, exposing a shallow slice on her wrist. The skin around it was pale and blotchy. “Poison,” she managed to grit out. “I underestimated them.”

“Oh gods,” alarmed, Hiccup knelt down, reaching for her injured arm. “What do we do? Is there a healer we could get you to–”

“No ordinary healer will be equipped for this particular blend. I’ve seen it before,” she said, shaking her head. “Cloudjumper, fetch Mala.”

Huh?

While Hiccup was puzzled by the command, the Stormcutter was not. The dragon wasted no time, barreling out of the fortress in seconds. 

“Mala?” He asked, helping his mother to her feet. He slung her arm over his shoulder, taking on the brunt of her weight. If this mystery person could provide an antidote – great, but the open wound could still become infected in the meantime if it wasn’t properly cleaned. He needed to get her to one of the streams to wash it out.

“A friend.”

“How wonderfully cryptic – that explains exactly nothing,” he snarked back, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

Getting to the water required them to go down a rocky slope, and Hiccup could feel his balance slipping with every step. The dry stones were one thing, but once they reached the damp ones it was another matter altogether. 

“Almost there,” he promised.

When they finally reached the bank, Hiccup was relieved to be able to let go of Valka. His muscles burned from the effort of supporting the both of them, and the strain on his back had not been pleasant. 

He felt lighter – so much so that he misjudged his next step, losing his balance. He threw out his right hand, using it to catch the brunt of his fall. The edge of the rock he hit was sharp, and he felt skin tear across his palm. 

Hiccup hissed under his breath, forcing himself back to his feet. Upon inspection, his palm was slick with blood – a large gash spanning the width of it. 

Just perfect.

“That looks bad” Valka observed with concern, “I can tend my own wound, really – you should go bind that now! There are bandages in my chambers–” 

Hiccup shook his head, already feeling the skin knit back together. “Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, dunking his hand in the stream for a moment to allow the blood to rinse off. Once satisfied, he held his palm up for her to see.

The wound was no longer bleeding, the skin continuing to heal.

“Huh?” Valka blinked at the sight, shaking her head. “What? No…no, of course that’s impossible. Hiccup...I’m seeing things. This poison must be making me hallucinate, which means it’s working much faster than it should be–” 

“No you’re not hallucinating,” cut in Hiccup, “this is part of the curse. Just a side effect of having Night Fury magic in my veins.”

He wished he could use that same magic to heal his mother now, but he could not wield the magic himself. Instead, he’d have to help her the old-fashioned way. Steeling himself, he reached out and gently grasped her arm in his left hand, guiding her hand towards the stream. 

Valka flinched when the cold water hit her bare skin, but she didn’t pull back as the wound was cleaned out. Her attention was still fixed on his rapidly healing injury.

“Incredible.”

“It does come in handy,” he agreed. 

Valka hummed, eyes less focused that they’d been minutes ago. 

“So, now you know you don’t have to worry about me getting hurt. I’m pretty durable,” he continued, deciding to push his luck. “The next time you go out there, you should let me come. Let me help.”

There was a pause, and Hiccup worried his mother’s silence meant the poison was progressing faster. He hadn’t thought to ask her what signs to look out for, or how much time they had to address it.

“Mom?”

“Alright.”

Chapter Text

Astrid’s luck had finally run out. 

After a long and frustrating day, she’d felt she needed to take a long walk to clear her head. It had seemed like a great idea…up until she passed the forge and found herself unceremoniously yanked through the open doorway. 

Her training kicked in, muscles tensing as she prepared for a fight. Then her eyes settled on Gobber, and she knew that trouble lay ahead.

It was rare that she was on the receiving end of the man’s disapproving gaze, but now she found herself under the full weight of that somber expression. Dread pooled in her belly as realization kicked in – there could only be one reason he’d be upset with her now.

He knows.

“Ya got some explainin’ to do, lass,” Gobber stated firmly, not an ounce of his signature humor in his voice. 

“Huh?” She cocked her head, raising her eyebrows in question.

While playing dumb was far from one of Astrid’s preferred techniques, it could get her out of a bad situation. She wasn’t above taking the risk. 

“No.” Gobber snapped, shaking his head. His lips curled down in a frown. “There’ll be non o’ tha’ denial tonight. Hiccup is missin’, and if anyone knows where tha’ boy’s gone, it’s you.” 

“Missing?” Astrid asked, trying to keep the strain from her tone. She wracked her brain, wondering what could have possibly brought on this new suspicion. She’d been so careful. “What are you talking about? No, of course he’s not missing. I just saw him last night! If you can’t find him, he’s probably out exploring, like always.”

“I kno’ my apprentice,” argued Gobber without pause, “and ‘e never misses a shift.”

“I’m sure–”

“No’ a single tool was so much as shifted last nigh’,” Gobber insisted, cutting her off. He gestured widely around the room with his hook, eyebrows furrowing. “He never came in. Now, lass, I’m givin’ ya one more chance to tell me wha’s going on.”

Astrid felt her mouth go dry. Swallowing hard, she scrambled for an excuse, “I’m sure he’s just been busy with other things. He’s got a long way to go with weapons training, and he can’t exactly practice during the day. And besides, he’s still working on that map of his – you know how he gets with that thing!”

Gobber scuffed, tapping his fingers against his side, “do ya think I’m a fool, Astrid?”

“What?” She sputtered, surprised by the accusation. “No, of course not.”

“Then don’ keep insultin’ me with these lies.”

Astrid exhaled heavily, feeling as if there were a deep pressure settling on her chest. She’d found herself in a particularly tight spot: she didn’t want to betray Hiccup’s trust, nor did she want to lose Gobber’s respect. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with her excuses or evasions, so doubling down on them was unlikely to do her any good.

It was best to tread carefully. If the blacksmith truly believed his apprentice had disappeared once more, he’d likely see fit to alert the entire village. It would be enough to whip the tribe into a full-blown frenzy and considering Hiccup was trying to avoid attention, that would be a catastrophe. One that Stoick would undoubtedly hear about upon his return. 

She needed to find a way to diffuse the situation, or at least to contain it. 

Astrid knew Gobber meant well. He cared deeply for his apprentice, that much had always been obvious. His intensity now was a reflection of that very sentiment. She wondered if he’d be willing to keep the secret…or at least part of it, in order to respect Hiccup’s wishes. Still…

“Now’s th’ part where ya ‘fess up to wha’ you kno’, lass.”

Ancients. She’d have to take the risk. 

“He didn’t want anyone to know,” she admitted, unable to meet Gobber’s gaze any longer. Her eyes swept over the forge, taking note of its current state. She’d grown used to seeing it only after Hiccup had started his shift, feeling no need to visit during normal hours. Seeing it now, in the wake of Gobber’s shift, she could spot clear differences in how things were arranged. 

Gobber’s mess was less…chaotic than Hiccup’s. Tools were stacked in piles rather than scattered across open surfaces. Tools still on shelves were grouped differently, more precisely organized by size and use.  

She cursed internally, wishing she’d had the foresight to check on the forge. It hadn’t crossed her mind, but now it felt like a sloppy mistake…after all, she knew Hiccup’s schedule better than anyone. Of course he’d have gone to the forge! If she’d known how obvious it would be, she’d have reset the shop herself.

“Astrid, I ‘ave a responsibility to look ou’ for ‘im while Stoick’s away,” Gobber prodded, “I need to know.”

“He…” Astrid paused, trying to find the best way to give Gobber the information that he needed without completely sacrificing Hiccup’s privacy. She steeled herself, meeting the man’s eyes once more. “He wants to know more about dragons. He can’t learn that on Berk so let’s just say he’s…chasing a very promising theory. He needs a few days off-island to see it through.”

Gobber searched her gaze, looking for any sign of a lie. After a tense moment, he sighed heavily, shoulders visibly deflating.  His voice was strained when he responded, “tha’ boy’s gettin’ too damn reckless for ‘is own good.”

Huh?

Whatever Astrid had expected him to say…it hadn’t been that. She’d expected a bit more prodding, maybe even a little anger. She’d just admitted that she’d let him leave without telling anyone, and that she’d covered for that absence!

Reading her confusion, Gobber said, “Well, it’s no’ like I expect ya to be able to stop ‘im from goin’ anywhere,” he snorted, “Th’ boy’s as stubborn as ‘is father after all, and a Night Fury to boot!”

It was true. If Hiccup really wanted off Berk, it would be quite a challenge for anyone to stop him during the day. The tribe wasn’t exactly trained in restraining dragons. At least, not without doing them any serious harm. And if someone were to accidentally injure the chief's son, quick healing or not…well, they’d be sure to suffer the full force of Stoick’s wrath.

Only a fool would take that risk.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone else,” she pleaded, biting her lip. “Hiccup should be back before the chief, so no one has to know he was ever gone!”

“And if he isn’t?” Gobber challenged. “I’ll no’ be makin’ any promises before ya explain it all, Astrid. You need to tell me everythin’ ya know abou’ where ‘e’s gone and what ‘e’s doin’.”

Gods…

“Where in Thor’s name are ya takin’ me?”

Astrid kept her pace steady, rolling her eyes at the man’s words. Though he was putting up quite  a fuss following her through the woods, she knew he was far too curious to resist following. A part of her wondered if all his complaining was just a manifestation of the blacksmith’s flair for the dramatic.

“This way,” was all she said in response, following the path that she’d now committed to memory. 

Gobber grunted, but she could hear his uneven gait continue to advance. 

Astrid was relieved when she reached the dropoff. The whole way there, she’d been battling with the small part of herself that feared her whole idea was a mistake. Now she could silence those whispers, if only because it was too late to back out of the plan.

She was really doing this.

Gobber huffed when he caught up with her, taking a moment to pluck off the leaves that had caught in his tunic. He eyed the cove below, arching an eyebrow dubiously. 

“Would ya look at that,” he said, irritation bleeding into his voice. “Did ya really drag me all th’ way ou’ into the woods for some bloody sightseein’? What does any o’ this ‘ave to do with Hiccup?”

Astrid couldn’t blame him for his impatience. She hadn’t felt comfortable sharing much of Hiccup’s discovery, so the bits she had shared didn’t do much to assuage the man’s fears. 

“I’m going to show you why Hiccup’s gone,” she explained, feeling a rush of nervous energy build inside her. What she was about to share, she’d only ever experienced with Hiccup. Bringing in someone else, someone without an innate fascination for dragons…was a gamble. “You wanted an explanation, so let me show you.”

“The ‘why’s no’ so much the problem, so much as th’ ‘where.’ ”

Astrid sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I can’t tell you where! I couldn’t even if I wanted to – I honestly don’t know. He only told me what it looked like, not where it’s located. He didn’t even add it to the map!”

That gave Gobber pause. “Is tha’ so?”

She nodded, hoping he could see the sincerity in her face. “Yeah,” she admitted, “but even if he had told me, I wouldn’t tell you. He’s trusting me with this, Gobber. Surely you have to understand that – I mean, you’ve kept secrets for Stoick, haven’t you? Things that weren’t yours to share?”

Astrid knew he had – after all, the man had been one of the first to learn of Hiccup’s cursed status. He’d had to keep that massive secret under wraps. 

Gobber watched her for a long moment, contemplating her words. Some of the agitation had leaked from his expression and he appeared to be reassessing her, as if she’d surprised him. “Aye,” he agreed. “Tha’ I ‘ave.”

“Learning about dragons means a lot to Hiccup,” she continued carefully. “It’s not just curiosity – although that is part of it, of course, because it’s Hiccup –  but it’s also…personal. He needs to do this, and no one else will.”

Her words seemed to strike something within the man, as his expression shifted to something more understanding. The fight had finally died out of him when he replied, “I suppose I can’t fault the boy for needin’ some answers. It must be hard…bein’ the only one like ‘imself. He does a good job o’ hidin’ it, but I’d imagine…”

Astrid nodded, having thought the same thing herself. Despite being surrounded by loved ones, there had to be a level of loneliness that went hand-in-hand with the curse. In being a dragon amongst vikings. 

She only hoped their efforts to befriend the dragons could help ease that, helping Berkians gain a real understanding for the creatures. 

“He needs to do this,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. Then, before she lost the nerve, she gestured for him to follow her. “Now, let me show you what he’s learned so far.”

Hours later, when Astrid had finally climbed into her bed for the night, she found herself reflecting back on the night with an almost giddy sense of relief. 

It had taken some carefully extracted promises, but she’d gotten an unarmed Gobber to quietly watch her interact with Stormfly – without any intervention. She’d thought the man would break his word when she’d clambered onto the Nadder’s back, but he’d only let his jaw hang open in stunned surprise. 

After demonstrating a few tight circles in the air, she’d directed Stormfly to land. It wasn’t the most impressive flight by any means, but it was far more than any Berkian had ever seen. She hoped that would be enough to impress the blacksmith.

It had.

Only after her demonstration did she dare reintroduce Stormfly and Gobber. He’d been wary of approaching the former training dragon without his trusty hook, but had agreed to the risk after seeing how calmly the Nadder had interacted with Astrid. 

Seeing the wonder and joy in the man’s eyes had been something special – she only wished Hiccup had been around to see it for himself. She was certain the boy would be elated to see his mentor’s awestruck reaction, especially considering the man’s complicated history with the training dragons. There had been a clear shift in his expression, one that showed he’d been willing to reevaluate his long-held opinions.

“Incredible,” he’d admitted.

Astrid had used the opportunity to explain that Hiccup had learned this much when he was out exploring, and that he believed it was just the tip of the iceberg. She made it clear that she agreed, pointing out her own progress with Stormfly.  

“Aye,” Gobber had agreed, looking contemplative. “It appears we may ‘ave a lot to learn, after all. Perhaps…perhaps it’s time we consider a new type o’ dragon training.”

Valka continued to grow paler as the hours ticked on. Hiccup had bound her wound with some bandages he’d retrieved from her chambers, but he’d been careful to keep it loose. He wanted to protect the injury without creating an extra obstacle for the mysterious ‘Mala’ to have to navigate around. 

They needed to get the antidote to her as fast as possible.

After taking care of her wound, Hiccup had helped move Valka up to a grassy hill to rest more comfortably. To his alarm, she’d seemed even weaker on that journey…leaning like a dead weight against his shoulder. The poison was progressing. 

He sat beside her, trying to stamp down his internal panic as they waited in the night’s quiet. Much of the nest had settled, save for a few nocturnal species milling about. It made the waiting feel all the more ominous, as any sudden sound could fracture everything.

Hiccup’s own breaths felt deafening to his ears, hitching as worst-case scenarios surfaced in his mind. He’d only just found his mother and now fate may take her away once more. It was a grim realization. 

Finally, the distant sound of wingbeats came into focus. The noise grew louder and louder until the Stormcutter dove down into the nest. 

Hiccup exhaled heavily, lurching to his feet. 

Thank the gods.

To his surprise, there was no one on Cloudjumper’s back. His fears grew as he considered that the dragon may not have been able to find Valka’s ally. Or worse, that ally hadn’t been able to help.

Cloudjumper shrieked, angling down towards him. With that movement, Hiccup noticed the dragon had something clutched in its back claws. 

The Stormcutter landed oddly, bearing the brunt of the impact on its front wings before rolling onto its side. In doing so, the figure of a slim woman was revealed. The stranger was quick to extract herself from the dragon’s grip, finding her footing on the grassy hill.

“Thank you,” she said, addressing Cloudjumper directly. She dipped her head low in a respectful bow. “It was a great honor to fly with you today.”

The woman stood tall, with bright blonde hair cropped short and a regal set of black and gold armor. She carried herself in a way that distinctly reminded Hiccup of many of the chieftains he’d met in his youth: both determined and fiercely confident. Whoever she was, he was willing to bet that she was a leader amongst her tribe.

“Mala?” Valka asked, voice sounding breathy and full of urgency.

The woman – Mala – spun to face them. Her eyes barely slid over Hiccup before latching onto Valka’s slumped form. She wasted no time in rushing over, dropping to her knees beside Valka throwing her satchel down between them. 

“How long has it been?” She asked, digging through her bag with urgency.

“Less than a day,” rasped Valka, “perhaps twelve hours.” 

“The same poison as the last time?”

“Yes.”

Mala nodded, pulling out a series of jars and vials as well as a large wooden bowl. She lifted each vial, appraising it, before carefully adding a portion of the contents to the bowl. 

“Probably best to do a dose and a half,” murmured Mala, more to herself than her patient. She continued to add to the bowl, biting her lip in concentration. 

Hiccup recognized a few ingredients from his visits to Gothi’s home, though he was certain he’d never seen half of the herbs and flowers Mala was using. More puzzling still were the vials of liquids – some thick like sap, others appearing almost like water.

She pulled a blunt, stone object out her bag and proceeded to grind the ingredients together into a thick paste. 

It smelled awful, and the more it mixed, the more potent the smell got. Hiccup felt his eyes water, having to blink away the wetness. He was grateful it was night – he couldn’t bear to think of how much worse it would be for a dragon’s senses.

Mala separated the mixture in half, scooping half of it into a cup. “Drink this,” she instructed, passing it to Valka.

Hiccup’s stomach turned as he watched his mother drink the concoction – if it tasted half as bad as it smelled, it had to be absolutely foul. 

Mala stood, bringing the bowl with her as she approached a large, flat rock. She dumped the rest of the mixture onto it, before turning her attention to Cloudjumper. 

“If you would?”

The dragon needed no further prompting, setting the mixture on fire. It burned quickly, flames dying out in a matter of seconds and leaving behind a grainy, ashy substance. Bits of it glittered, as if they’d been crystalized by the heat. Mala gathered up a handful of the charred mixture and returned to Valka’s side.

“Unwrap the bandage,” she instructed, acknowledging Hiccup for the first time, though her attention appeared fixed on sorting through the mixture. 

He did so quickly, hands shaking as he fumbled with the wrappings. Still, he was able to get them off and moved aside. 

“Done,” he said. 

Mala nodded, turning her attention back to her patient. She began to press the burned mixture into the wound, caking it into the cut until a thick layer coated her wrist. She reached a hand out blindly towards Hiccup, who dropped the wrappings into her outstretched fingers. With practiced ease, Mala bound the materials securely around the injury.

“That should do it,” said Mala, dusting off her hands. She gave Valka an appraising look, posture loosening. Her voice remained brisk and businesslike as she spoke, though the urgency had faded. “I’ll keep an eye on you for an hour to make sure your body isn’t fighting the antidote, but as it’s been less than a full day since you were poisoned – I’m rather confident that you’ll recover. This remedy has yet to fail a human or dragon.”

Hiccup’s relief was nearly eclipsed by his surprise. Had she just implied that she, or perhaps her people, had healed dragons? It appeared his mother’s allies were just as interesting as she was.

“Once again, I am in your debt,” said Valka, a tight smile stretching across her face. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, but she still looked far from healthy.

“There is no debt between friends,” dismissed Mala, shaking her head. She busied herself with returning her supplies to her satchel, glass bottles clinking together. “Though I do wish you’d try harder to avoid those poisoned blades. We haven’t studied the effects of multiple poisonings on the body…we’ve never needed to – please do not give us reason to change that.”

Valka rolled her eyes but said nothing. 

“Thank you,” said Hiccup, taking advantage of the lull in conversation, “for saving her.”

Mala glanced over, attention fully focusing on him for the first time. Her gaze was strikingly sharp, boring into his features as her eyes began to sweep over him. “Ah yes, who are you?”

“Mala, I’d like you to meet Hiccup Haddock,” explained Valka, “My son.”

“Your son? But, I thought…” Mala shook her head, expression softening. “Forgive me, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Introductions are in order. I am Mala, Queen of the Defenders of the Wing. It is an honor to meet any child of Valka’s.”

A queen? Should he bow?

“Uh, it’s an honor to meet you too, Queen Mala.” He racked his brain for the etiquette lessons he’d been given in childhood, trying to recall how one might greet a foreign leader of such high status. Nothing specific came to his mind in that moment and he didn’t want to hesitate too long, so he settled on stretching out his hand to shake.

The polite smile died on the queen’s face, a gasp slipping through her lips.

Mala took a startled step backwards, swiftly drawing a weapon from her belt. A deep crease had formed between her brows, and her voice was venomous when she spoke. “You dare to craft clothing from the pelts of dragons?”

Huh?

Hiccup followed her gaze, taking in the sight of his outstretched left hand. 

Oh…well, that’s a new one. 

Mala seemed to think his hand was a glove, fashioned from the hide of a dead dragon. It was the first time he’d gotten that assumption, but now that he considered it…he could admit it was a more logical leap than the truth.

“It’s not clothing,” interjected Valka, catching on as well. “Those scales are Hiccup’s own.”

“Impossible.”

Hiccup gripped the bottom of his tunic in his other hand, swiftly pulling it up and over his head. “It’s true,” he assured, shivering as the night air hit his bare skin. He felt awkward and exposed, but he could think of no faster way to quell the woman’s doubts. "I know it's, uh, weird and all...but this is me."

Mala approached him slowly, weapon still raised threateningly in her hand. Her brow remained furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as she considered the seamless blend of skin and scale with critical eyes. 

Hiccup gripped his tunic tighter in his right hand, trying not to let his fear show. For as kind as the queen had been to his mother, he feared that kindness would not be extended to him. Mala clearly possessed a warrior’s heart and would not hesitate to fight if she felt the situation called for such measures. 

He was stuck by the knowledge that he was unarmed and essentially at her mercy. With his mother in her current state of recovery, he was on his own. Suddenly his father’s insistence on weapons training didn’t seem quite so crazy.

“May I?” Mala nodded towards him. 

Hiccup blinked, surprised she’d even asked. “Uh, sure.”

The queen tested the line where the scales began, nails tracing around them as if looking for an edge to slip under. Looking for proof that he was wearing the scales…that they weren’t a part of him. 

Mala made a sound of surprise when she found none, but didn’t give up. She shifted her attention to his arm, first attempting to bunch up the scales by his elbow and then at his wrist, as if the whole thing were merely a complicated sleeve. 

Hiccup had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, feeling like the whole exercise was ridiculous. No clothing or armor followed the lines of the body that naturally.

Finally, Mala drew her blade to his arm, moving so quickly he didn’t have time to react. In seconds, she’d slipped the blade under a scale by his elbow, removing it in a single fluid motion. 

“Ouch!” He tried to pull away, but her trip only tightened.

“Hiccup?” Valka asked, sounding much steadier than before. “Mala, is this really necessary?” 

The queen didn’t respond, grip remaining tight on Hiccup’s arm. She seemed frozen, fixed on sight of the injury.

HIccup followed her gaze, seeing the dark Night Fury skin that had been exposed by the slice. The cut itself was healing, but a few beads of blood clung to the line. She’d cut far enough to draw blood and she hadn’t found human skin – instead, she’d found dragon skin.

“How?”

“It would seem a Night Fury saw fit to bless my son,” explained Valka, who was shakily making her way over to them. She placed a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, “that same dragon’s magic now runs through his veins.”

Mala sheathed her weapon, attention shifting to Hiccup’s nervous face. She considered him for a moment, and the silence did little to comfort him, instead launching his racing heart into overdrive.

“Remarkable,” She finally spoke, cutting the tension. “It would appear that I have misjudged you greatly, Hiccup Haddock. If it is true that the dragons honor you, then you must be someone very special, indeed. I apologize for my actions and for any fright that I’ve caused you.”

Hiccup exhaled, feeling his face flush. Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that . “I, uh, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m really no one special–”

“Do not be so quick to judge yourself,” interrupted Mala with a raised hand, looking thoughtful. “Your very being has been reforged by a dragon’s magic, and that is no small thing. I expect it means your life will burn quite brightly, and that we can expect to see great things from you in the future.”

He shuffled his feet, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Just a year ago he’d thought that he had no future – now queens of foreign lands believed that he was destined to have a remarkable one? It was…hard to envision.

Mala seemed to read the doubt in his face, giving him a wry smile. “It is never easy accepting one’s destiny, is it? You are not the first, nor will you be the last to feel this way. Do not let it burden you – it is not a weight that you should feel hanging over you, but rather an opportunity to seek something outside the ordinary. Should you ever need guidance, or a place to explore that destiny, you will always be welcome amongst the Defenders of the Wing.”

“B-but…you don’t even know me,” he sputtered out.

“The judgement of man is flawed,” she said firmly, “but amongst my people, the judgement of dragons is absolute. You have been judged by a dragon, Hiccup Haddock, and blessed by its magic in a way that I have never before seen. That is all I need to know.”

Blessed.

He wanted to correct her, to explain that the curse hadn’t been some kindness offered to him by a dragon. Perhaps if she knew that it was all fueled by revenge …that a dragon had cursed him for his actions…she’d feel differently about his worth. She didn’t have the whole picture. Hel, she didn’t even know about the transformation. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he locked his jaw to keep quiet. Instead, he gave a quick nod to acknowledge her words before stepping away, taking the opportunity to pull his tunic back on. No matter how this woman regarded dragons, his secret was meant to be just that: a secret. It was so important to his father to keep the knowledge contained...he didn't want to be the one to risk letting it spread. His mother knowing was one thing...but a stranger? He couldn't take that chance. 

When he looked back, Valka and Mala were exchanging a quick embrace. 

“You seem to be healing up just fine,” said the queen with a satisfied smile. “So I’ll leave you to it. I hate to leave so soon, but your son can watch over you in my absence. I think it best that I head back to my island before sunrise…things were a bit of a mess when I left and I worry that my absence will only escalate the situation.”

“A mess? Is there anything I can help with?” Valka asked, swaying slightly on her feet. 

“Nothing that you need concern yourself with. You must take time to rest and recover, I can handle things,” insisted Mala. She turned to Hiccup, nodding once in farewell. “Until we meet again, Hiccup Haddock.”

“Your majesty.”

Mala bent down, retrieving her satchel. Without any fanfare, she slung it over one shoulder and strode off towards Cloudjumper. The dragon had not gone far, laying a few paces away and watching Valka’s recovery with anxious eyes.

The queen bowed deeply to the Stormcutter, voice almost reverent when she spoke. “Great dragon, if it pleases you, would you return me to my people?”

Chapter Text

Astrid was starting to get antsy. 

Only a few short days remained until the chief was expected to make his return to Berk, and she hadn’t seen any sign of Hiccup. While she could respect his desire to take advantage of the full opportunity, she also wished he wouldn’t cut things so close. 

Granted, it could take Stoick longer than planned to return…but it could easily go the opposite way. If the chief returned to Berk’s shores to find Hiccup missing, she did not want to be the one cornered about it. Considering their friendship, she doubted he’d pick anyone else to interrogate.

A bit of fear gnawed at her gut, reminding her that she didn’t have any real answers. She didn’t know if he’d made it to the fortress or if he’d had any success learning about the dragons. She didn’t even know if he was safe. 

If only there were some way she could get a message to him and check in with him, but it wasn’t as if she could follow him.

Wait.

Astrid pursed her lips, turning the wild idea of her mind. It could work, but it was also a reckless long shot…which somehow made it all the more enticing. Some part of her just wanted to know if it was possible .

Oh, gods. Hiccup was rubbing off on her. Her lips twitched up into an involuntary smile, unexpectedly warmed by the thought. 

“What would he do?” She muttered to herself, squinting at her reflection in her axe’s blade as if she’d find the answers hidden there. She was meant to be training, but it wasn’t going well. Her swirling thoughts had made her aim embarrassingly unsteady and her swings clumsily unbalanced. She was grateful that no one was around to witness the mess of it all.

It wasn’t a hard puzzle to figure out. Hiccup would easily take the risk if he thought it could help her – of that, she was confident. The real question was: was she willing to do the same?

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. A year ago, the answer would have been no. But now? For him?

Of course she was. It was Hiccup.

With a groan, Astrid holstered her weapon. She set off at a quick pace, determined to reach the cove as soon as possible. If she was going to go through with this plan, she needed to get moving before she lost her nerve.

“Are you sure that I cannot change your mind?” Valka asked, tightening the straps on her armor. “It’s not too late.”

Hiccup shook his head hard, refusing the offer to back out with ease. He did not want to be left behind again.

Valka’s expression made it clear she didn’t approve of his choice, but she nodded her acknowledgement of it anyways. She'd already agreed, so she couldn't forbid him from coming along. “Very well, but I need to know that you'll listen to my instructions to the letter while we’re out there. If I tell you to flee, you flee. There will be no unplanned heroics – is that understood?”

He nodded, flexing his wings in anticipation.

“I counted fourteen men on my last mission,” she said, picking up her helmet and bracing it against her side. “With the speed at which their operation is growing, it would not surprise me if there are even more now. We cannot afford to underestimate them or their numbers.”

She drew her fingers to her lips, whistling loudly. In a matter of seconds, Cloudjumper had swooped down and taken his place beside her.

“We’ll try to save as many dragons as we can,” continued Valka, determination in her voice as she slid her helmet into place, “by any means necessary. It’s a grim business, my son, but holding back can get you killed. These men are beyond help, beyond reason. They have no honor or code. If it comes down to it, you must choose to protect yourself at any cost.”

Hiccup felt his stomach flip at the implication. While he wanted to rescue the dragons and cripple the poaching operation, he had no desire to take a life if it could be avoided. Even if those same men wished him harm.

He didn’t answer. It wasn’t a promise he felt he could make. If his mother noticed his discomfort, she gave no sign.

Valka took her place atop Cloudjumper’s back, beckoning towards him. “We’ll stay above the cloud cover until we reach the base. Once we arrive, I want you to maintain that altitude until I say so. Cloudjumper will drop me a ways behind the base, and I'll go in the rest of the way on foot to scope things out. I don't want any dragons to be seen until I know exactly what we're dealing with, so it's safest to do it this way. Do not engage until I say, alright?”

He grunted his agreement.

Astrid’s heart was pounding as Berk faded into the distance behind her. 

Her knees were pressed tightly to Stormfly’s neck, hands clutching tightly to the dragon’s spikes. She was glad she’d had the foresight to tie a rope between her waist and Stormfly’s neck, granting her a little bit of a safety net.

It wasn’t like riding a horse – balancing against the slick scales took constant effort. Idly she wondered if a saddle might make the experience more pleasant, but she was quick to dismiss it. Who would ever make such a thing for a dragon? 

The islands below were familiar shapes, matching up precisely with Hiccup’s map. It was strange to be able to recognize them so easily, since she’d never seen them from this angle herself. She could tell he’d done an impressive job capturing their likenesses – not that she was surprised. He’d always been the most artistic one in the village.

Once Astrid had finally passed over the last of the islands from the map, she felt her earlier burst of confidence begin to waver. This was madness. She had no idea where she was headed, and she was officially reaching uncharted territory. All she knew was that she was looking for ice …somewhere in the archipelago.

Great, she thought with irritation, that just narrows it down to pretty much everywhere.

Astrid had one clue to go off of – she knew the general direction that he’d flow off in. It was a start, but it failed to account for the distance he traveled or if he’d deviated off to either side during his journey. He could fly there in under a day, but he was a Night Fury and speed was relative . It was hard to calculate just how long that would take a slower species.

The realization was feeding into her doubts, highlighting just how out of her expertise she was going. She was a warrior, not a tracker, and she’d been cocky in assuming she could take on this task with no experience. 

Worse, the open sea and sky were starting to look the same in all directions. Had they turned at some point? Where exactly were they now?

If she was lost, she was no good to Hiccup. She was no good to anyone if she failed. 

I have to succeed.

“Maybe we should land for a bit?” Astrid suggested after another chilly hour in the air, muscles burning. A thick fog had amassed in the air below, making it difficult to see the passing world in any real clarity. She doubted she’d be able to recognize the fortress through it and she didn’t want to risk passing it by.

The wind snatched her words away, but to her relief Stormfly seemed to catch them. The Nadder began to make her decent, veering towards a small sea stack below. 

When they reached solid ground, Astrid all but fell from the dragon’s back. It was a relief to feel the soft grass beneath her boots, to steady herself on the earth. 

Flying was exhilarating, but it was also exhausting. She could finally relax her muscles, taking joy in rolling her shoulders and cracking her wrists. Her palms were scraped and sore from clutching the spikes, and her knees felt like jelly. 

Surely there had to be a better way to ride a dragon? Now that she’d had a taste for it, she didn’t want to give it up. However, she’d prefer to do so without needing to cling on for dear life.

Though she’d previously dismissed the idea as crazy, now a part of her wondered if a saddle had promise after all. She did know a smith with an interest in dragons. 

At that thought, she stilled. What would Hiccup think of such a suggestion? Dragons were far more intelligent than any other creature vikings had come across so perhaps it would be wrong to treat them that way. Not to mention…to someone who was a dragon, would it be insulting to even ask? 

She bit her lip, resolving to bury the idea in her mind. For now, she would keep it to herself. 

Astrid arched her back, stretching her arms overhead to address the soreness in her shoulders. Once satisfied, she let herself slip to the ground, shifting her attention to stretching out her legs. 

She just needed a little break, and then she’d be back on her way.

“They must have transferred the dragons somewhere else,” Valka informed Hiccup when she returned, expression grim. “I searched everywhere but I can’t find so much as an egg.”

Hiccup tilted his head to the side, mindful not to lose altitude as they hovered above the clouds. His wings were starting to burn from the effort of staying in place, and he hoped they'd be making a move soon.

“I don’t like this,” she admitted, tapping her fingers against her helmet, “they’re changing their patterns – evolving. These operations are always simple, they don’t change. I don’t know what it means…” 

Hiccup didn’t like to see her shaken about the discovery. On the flight over, she’d seemed confident and completely self-assured.

He didn’t like to consider why the change had her so rattled.

“They’ve gotten smarter,” she continued, a bit of steel entering her voice as she donned her helmet, “but we can still damage their operation. Hiccup, I want you to blast their defenses. Take out any catapults, crossbows or other long range weapons. Do not get close enough to let the short range ones near you. Cloudjumper and I will take out the supports for their fortress. They can’t operate here if the camp is underwater.”

He warbled his agreement.

Hiccup was glad that he’d had more practice with the plasma blasts in recent months – it made him more confident in his ability to aim now. Though the average viking believed a Night Fury couldn’t miss, he knew with an embarrassing level of certainty that it was definitely possible. 

Cloudjumper dove down. When Hiccup followed, he got his first good look at the infamous base. The wooden fortress was perched half on and half off a sea stack, wooden beams running down into the ocean below. It was a patchwork construction, silhouette uneven and clearly constructed with haste. 

A long dock spanned one side of the structure, with a ramp leading up from the water towards a group of empty metal cages. Thick layers of soot and scratches coated the cells, evidence of the previous residents and their attempts to escape. 

It painted a grim picture. 

Any hope they’d had of catching the poachers unawares dimmed in seconds. A man was stationed as a lookout, and he caught sight of the approaching dragons rocketing through the clouds. A yell rang out, followed by the jarring toll of an alarm bell.

It was all very precise, as if they’d been expecting the attack. Hiccup supposed it was fair for them to be on guard after Valka's other visits, but he hoped they didn't have any tricks up their sleeves.

He tried not to dwell on it, reminding himself of his task. Valka was counting on him to take out the long-range threats. He scanned the deck of the base carefully, looking for catapults. If his father’s lessons were any indication, they were likely to be at the corners and along the perimeter…

A-ha!

The catapult exploded with a satisfying boom, flinging bits of splintered debris high up into the air. Nearby poachers threw their hands defensively above their heads, shielding their faces from the onslaught. 

Satisfied, Hiccup swooped away, angling himself back up to a safer vantage point as he sought out his next target.

There!

Soon, he lost himself in the rhythm of it: find a target, fire a plasma blast and then escape to higher ground. Repeat. It was kind of fun, having a chance to practice his aim in this way. His throat burned with the ashy taste of his plasma blasts, but for once the sensation didn’t bother him. It was a good kind of burn. It felt right.

A few of the men had tried to hit him with their blades whenever he drew too near, but his quick reflexes and Night Fury speed were enough to spare him any injury. 

He could hear other explosions in the distance from time to time – undoubtedly the sound of dragon fire. He hoped Valka was holding her own against their enemies, but he knew she would not appreciate him losing sight of his task to check up on her. 

It turned out, he had no reason to worry. 

When the base began to shake and the men’s yells shifted from anger to genuine fear, Hiccup knew that his mother had been successful. The fortress started to tip dangerously to one side, wood support beams groaning loudly under the effort.

“It’s going down!”

“To the boats!”

“Move, you idiots – now!”

It was satisfying to watch the poachers abandon their weapons and scatter, pushing each other out of the way in their rush to escape the collapsing fortress. 

One man was caught in the path of a sliding cage, unable to get around it as it came crashing towards him. Hiccup winced as the man was dragged under the waves, unsettled when he didn’t reappear. With his keen hearing, he could hear the moment the screaming cut off into a strange gurgling noise...and then petered out. Though he hadn’t dealt the blow, he felt responsible for the man’s death.

At any cost. Hiccup snarled, once more upset with the methods his mother employed. Were they really doing good if it came at the cost of lives? Wasn't there a less aggressive way to help the dragons?

To his relief, there didn’t appear to be any other noticeable casualties, though it seemed that wherever the poachers had taken the dragons had left them at a disadvantage: they now had only one ship docked at the base. As such, they were forced to crowd tightly together on its deck. 

The fortress gave one last horrible groan before finally giving out, splintering and crashing towards the waves. The momentum pulled the bit anchored to the sea stack free, dragging it into the depths of the waves. The water rippled and churned with the impact, sending a massive wave rolling out. It rocked up against the ship, nearly tipping it on its side.

Men cried out in alarm, rushing to steady the sails and right the ship until the sea calmed once more.

In minutes, evidence of the base had been reduced to a stray pieces of wood that broken off the structure in the collapse. They bobbled loosely at the surface of the water, an echo of what had stood tall in its place. It was jarring to see the total destruction of something, but Hiccup knew it was for the best. Without a base, the poachers would be forced to slow their efforts and regroup. 

Still…despite the cause, it didn't sit right with him. Hiccup wanted to be a builder, a creator – not a destroyer. It left a strange pit in his stomach.

A sharp gust of air drew Hiccup’s attention. He turned, watching as Valka and Cloudjumper swept up towards the clouds at a dizzying speed. 

I guess that means it’s time to go.

He pumped his wings, preparing to follow them. 

“What are you fools waiting for? There’s a at least one longbow below deck, I expect you to shoot that blasted beast down now before he gets away!” 

Hiccup’s attention returned to the ship, realizing they must be talking about him. He let another plasma blast build in his mouth, racing past them and firing a single warning shot near their sails. It didn't do any damage, but it was close enough for the men to feel the heat of it. He noted with pleasure that it was enough to startle the poachers out of action. No one dared make any further move to go below deck.

Good.

As his eyes swept over the deck, they caught on one man. Unlike the others, he did not seem cowed by the warning shot. Instead, he was scrutinizing Hiccup with an uncomfortable level of interest. Like he knew the miss was intentional.

Perturbed by the attention, Hiccup launched himself up after his mother. 

Astrid had decided that she would wait out the fog, giving herself and Stormfly some well-earned time to rest and recuperate. 

She dug a few strips of dried meat from her bag, knowing she needed to eat to keep her strength up, and offered a few pieces to the Nadder. To her surprise, Stormfly turned her nose up at the meat. The dragon took off, returning minutes later with a mouthful of fish. The duo ate in silence, both drained from the journey.

By the time the sun hung long on the horizon, Astrid was relieved to learn that the decision to stop had worked out in her favor. 

Standing on the edge of the sea stack, she squinted at the glittering structure in the distance. From what she could tell, it did fit Hiccup’s description well enough, though she wished she had a spyglass to know for certain before they wasted any time. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing was a mirage brought on by her wishful thinking.

“What do you think?” She asked Stormfly, “Is that really it?”

The Nadder only chirped happily, nuzzling her face against Astrid’s shoulder. Her breath was hot on Astrid’s neck, a welcome reprieve from the evening breeze. 

“Yeah. Only one way to know for sure,” she decided, rolling her wrists and reaching out for Stormfly’s back. The dragon stilled, allowing her to pull herself up with ease. “Let’s go, girl.”

Mercifully, it wasn’t a long flight. Soon they were passing over the spires of ice, circling the towering nest. Just as Hiccup had said, the place gave off the distinct aura of something unnatural. She shivered, pulling herself tighter against Stormfly’s warm scales. 

“So how do we get in–ah!”

Stormfly suddenly banked towards the ice, and Astrid squeezed her eyes shut in terror. Was the dragon really going to risk impaling them on the sharp wall of ice?

But the impact never came. 

Stormfly stopped, muscles fully relaxing. That had to mean they were no longer be flying…right? Astrid cautiously cracked open an eye, taking note of the strange surroundings. They were in some sort of tunnel, made entirely of ice. The fading day’s light streamed in from behind her, illuminating the beginning of the maze ahead. 

Stormfly hadn’t tried to crash them, she’d found an opening . 

Astrid relaxed, taking in her surroundings more calmly. Hiccup had told her about the network of tunnels surrounding the nest. If there’d been any lingering doubt that she’d found the right place, it had just been put to rest. She slid off Stormfly’s back with renewed confidence, beckoning for the dragon to follow her deeper into the tunnel. 

The ground was slick and she had to move more slowly than she liked in order to maintain her balance, feeling her boots start to skid on parts of the ice. Idly, she wondered if she’d have been better off staying on Stormfly’s back, as the dragon did not appear to be having the same issues. Then again, Stormfly had carried her this far…it was only fair that she pull her own weight now.

She supposed the only way to get through a maze was to take the turns as they came and see where they led. Astrid beelined for the first gap she saw, hurrying around the bend.

“Oh gods!”

She skidded to a stop, finding herself face to face with a small green Gronckle. It blinked at her, looking as startled to see her as she had been to see it. The dragon cocked its head to the side, assessing her. It sniffed the air, noise echoing loudly in the cramped space, before narrowing its eyes and beginning to advance towards her. 

She suddenly felt like she was back in the arena, being held under the predatory gaze of an unfamiliar dragon. It took all of her concentration to not draw on those years of training and unshealth her weapon.

It’s probably just curious, she reminded herself, though her heart was slamming away in her chest. There’s no need to panic.

“SQUACK!”

Stormfly’s cry rang through the space as she moved to wedge herself between the Gronckle and viking. The Nadder raised her wings high, posture threatening as she let loose a loud string of clicks and snarls. Astrid clamped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth at the noise. 

Whatever message Stormfly was trying to communicate to the foreign dragon, it appeared to be received quickly by the Gronckle. The dragon lowered its head in a display of submission, turning tail and making a hasty retreat. 

“Thank you,” said Astrid, grateful for the Nadder’s unexpected protection. Though she still wasn’t sure the Gronckle had actually meant them any harm, it was nice to know that someone was looking out for her in this strange dragon nest.

Stormfly leaned into her touch, cooing at the praise.

Astrid eyes the tunnel ahead, skeptical about the wisdom of continuing on the same path. She’d rather not run into that particular Gronckle again, if it could be avoided. Instead, she decided that she’d take the next offshoot that she came across in order to put some distance between them. It was better to be on the safe side, in this unfamiliar place.

She’d only taken a few steps down the new path when she noticed the sharp, echoing click of dragon claws coming from somewhere up ahead. The sound was growing louder by the second, telling her that the creature was heading towards her – likely drawn in by the commotion that Stormfly had drummed up. 

She edged closer to her dragon, hoping the Nadder’s protective streak would continue and the dragon would keep her safe through this next encounter. If not, she supposed she could try to use that technique Hiccup had shown her for taming dragons, but it felt risky. She’d only ever tried it with Stormfly, in a time when she knew Hiccup was there to back her up if needed.

What if she didn’t remember everything now? What if she made a mistake when it mattered?

It wasn’t worth the risk. She’d have to put her trust in her dragon.

The shadows ahead started to knit together, growing darker and darker as a large shape filled the path. Soon, she could make out the gleam of a large set of green eyes that narrowed when they caught sight of her. The approaching dragon’s maw dropped open, revealing that it was…toothless?

Astrid squinted against the shadows of the cave, trying to pick out the silhouette. “Hiccup?”

A happy warble answered her, and at last her eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out the distinct outline of a Night Fury. With a laugh of pure relief, she took off down the tunnel, throwing her arms around him. 

“Oh my gods, it’s so good to see you,” she whispered against his neck, before leaning back and punching his ear. “ That’s for creeping over here like that, you muttonhead! A little warning would have been nice. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He rolled his eyes, resting his chin on her shoulder for a moment and humming low. An apology.

“Yeah, yeah,” she shoved his head off her shoulder, unable to keep the fondness from her tone. “Just don’t do it again.”

Chapter Text

The last few sparks of the transformation’s fire had just faded away when a crooked grin split wide across Hiccup’s face. 

Astrid had come all this way for him.

“What– I mean, how are you here? How did you get here? When did you get here?” He asked, a slew of questions tumbling rapidly out of his mouth as he tried to wrap his mind around her sudden appearance. Though he was thrilled to see her, he couldn’t quite fathom how she had made it to the nest. “That is – it’s great that you are here, I just–”

“Hiccup,” she cut him off with an amused laugh, blue eyes crinkling. “Breathe.”

“Right…breathing. That is a thing… That I can do…” 

He didn’t flinch when she socked him in the shoulder, having expected her typical act of retaliation. If anything, the sting of it was a relief – physical confirmation that she was really standing before him and not simply a wishful vision conjured by his mind. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. 

“To answer your question…” Astrid nodded towards something behind her, “you remember Stormfly?”

“Stormfly?” Hiccup echoed in confusion, eyes finally breaking from Astrid. The name didn’t ring a bell. In truth, he hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t alone, having been too enraptured by her sudden presence in the tunnels. He was surprised to note that the blue Nadder from Berk stood a few paces away, watching their interaction with open curiosity. 

“I named her.”

“Oh. It, uh, suits her,” he replied somewhat distractedly, still trying to sort through everything. If the Nadder was here…and Astrid was here…did that mean… “Wait, are you saying…did you two fly here?”

Astrid nodded, eyes lighting up. “Crazy, right? You’re not the only one who’s had an adventure this week,” she joked, “I wanted to see what I could learn from her while you were gone, and it just sort of spiraled from there. For the record, flying was not my idea – but how could I pass up that chance when she let me?”

Hiccup could understand that. Flying was like nothing else in the world, and something he’d grown to wish that his loved ones could understand. Try as he might, he’d never been able to find the words to properly do it justice when they did ask. Now, maybe he didn’t have to – Astrid had done it. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that – she hadn’t been carried by her wings. Yet, she’d still had a chance to soar through the clouds and see the world from above. To taste the freedom of the open skies in a way most of Berk couldn't hope to imagine.

Once again, Astrid had impressed him with her daring spirit and her willingness to understand every part of his world, even if it was a daunting task . 

It meant everything. 

“That’s…incredible,” he said, reaching out and squeezing her forearm. Being this close to her again, he felt his heart begin to stutter in his chest. It had only been a few days, but he was taken aback by how much he had missed her in that short time.

“Yeah, well…how could I pass up being Berk’s first ever dragon rider?” She asked, a challenging glint in her eye. 

Right. She’d probably done it simply to prove that she could. Astrid Hofferson did not back down from anything, and he’d always loved that fire inside of her.

Loved. He shoved the thought down hard, not ready to wrestle with the implications of what he knew was too deeply rooted to ignore forever. 

“So, about that…you’re not going to believe it, but that title’s already been claimed,” he admitted with a wry smile. “You’re actually the second.”

For a moment, it was silent.

“What?” Astrid’s voice rose an octave, disbelief clear as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Gods – no, it’s not dragon ‘riding’ if you’re the dragon, Hiccup. That’s just called ‘being a dragon’.”

He laughed freely, shaking his head. “Well, yeah. Obviously!” He agreed. “Of course I didn’t mean me.”

Though he’d toyed with the idea of learning to fly on dragonback from Valka, he ultimately decided against it. He had his own wings...at least, half of the time...and that was enough. Being on a dragon’s back – it just wouldn’t be the same.

“Then who?”

“You remember that woman I told you about? The er, dragon expert who lives here?”

Astrid nodded, expression clearing as she put the pieces together. “Right, you said she was a dragon rider, but my point still stands. I’m still the first from Berk–”

Hiccup shook his head sharply, and Astrid cut herself off. 

“She’s from Berk!?”

Hiccup steeled himself, taking a deep breath. It was hard to admit the truth aloud, as he’d barely come to grips with it in his own mind. Still, he couldn’t keep things from her.

“Astrid…she’s my mother.”

Astrid was quiet as she followed Hiccup through the cave network. After the massive bombshell he’d just dropped, she didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. Hel, she didn’t know what to think .

Valka’s (assumed) death had been a cornerstone of her own fear of the dragon raids growing up. Knowing that someone as powerful and strong as the chieftess of the tribe could be so easily taken had instilled within her a determination never to meet the same fate. It had been a driving force in her resolve to train for years…and it hadn’t happened?

At least, not in the way that Berk had believed.

Poor Hiccup. 

She couldn’t imagine what the revelation must have been like for him. If her world was rocked by the truth, his had to be teetering on the edge of collapse. Even from the outside, most of Berk knew the Haddock family dynamic had been greatly shaped by the loss of Stoick’s wife. That it had wrought a certain level of darkness over their home that had persisted through the years.

She wished she knew what to say to him, but the words wouldn’t come. There was no easy comfort for this. He’d been through so much in his life already…she hated knowing that the rug had been ripped out from underneath him once more, especially when he was just now finding his footing. 

What could she possibly do to steady that?

Giving up on words that she knew would be inadequate, Astrid picked up her pace until they were walking shoulder to shoulder in the tunnel. She reached out, carefully threading their fingers together and squeezing his hand. It wasn’t much, but she hoped the contact offered some level of assurance that she was there for him.

Hiccup squeezed back gently, the tips of his claws brushing lightly against her skin. 

“You ready?” He asked, nodding towards something ahead – an area where the ice seemed to grow brighter, moonlight spilling in. 

Astrid glanced back over her shoulder, ensuring that Stormfly was still following them. The blue Nadder caught her eye, bobbing her head up and down a few times and shuffling forward. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning her attention back to the boy beside her. 

His green eyes were fixed on her with a surprising intensity, earnest emotion clear within their depths. Vulnerability. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him looking at her like that, nor the first time she wondered what it was that was going through his mind in those moments. 

“Hiccup?” A new voice interrupted, loud and echoing in from the center of the nest.

He startled, turning towards the sound. The moment was over…that strange emotion was gone once more.

Astrid pushed down her disappointment, instead taking a step forward and tugging him with her. “I think that’s your cue to introduce us?”

“Be right there!” Hiccup called, raising his voice. 

He led her the rest of the way through the tunnel, pausing when they reached the end. 

Astrid’s imagination had not done the nest justice. Despite Hiccup’s vivid description of the sanctuary, she’d still failed to grasp the true scale of the place. Craning her neck up, she gaped as she took in the towering structure of ice stretching above their heads. It seemed to go on as far as her eyes could see. 

“This is…” 

Insane? Amazing? Impossible?

“I know.”

Astrid squeezed his hand tighter, stepping out onto the lush grass of the hidden island. It was a marvel, having such a paradise tucked away from prying eyes. No wonder Hiccup had been so eager to return. It was breathtaking.

There weren’t too many dragons milling about, but it was night. She could still pick up the range of tracks left throughout – clear signs of the different species that called the place home. If the tracks were any indication, it had to be buzzing with activity during the day.

Atop the crest of a hill ahead, a lone figure stood with her back to them.

That must be Valka.

“Mom?” Hiccup called out. 

The woman turned towards his voice, her smile quickly evaporating as her eyes took in Astrid’s presence. A tension filled the woman’s posture, and the former chieftess squared her shoulders. She brandished her staff almost defensively as she made her way towards them, gaze never wavering. 

“She doesn’t look too happy that I’m here…”

“Too bad,” retorted Hiccup immediately, though she could hear the nerves in his voice. He glanced over at her before adding, “I’m happy that you’re here.”

Astrid knocked her shoulder into his, rolling her eyes at the cheesy comment. It felt good to hear him say it, and that rush of warmth made her entire impulsive journey all the more worth it. 

“Who are you,” asked Valka sharply and without preamble, coming to a stop a few paces away. She eyed Astrid with suspicion, gaze flickering down to their interlaced hands. 

“Mom,” said Hiccup in a warning tone, “this is Astrid Hofferson. Remember? I told you about her – the one who helped me, back in the ring? Astrid, this is my mother, Valka.”

There was a chattering noise behind them, and Hiccup added. “And that’s, um…sorry, what did you say her name was again?”

“Stormfly.”

“Right,” he said, “that’s Stormfly. She brought Astrid here.”

Valka’s attention flickered to the Nadder for a moment, suspicion replaced by a mix of surprise and confusion as she tried to put the pieces together. Whatever impression she’d had of Astrid, the dragon’s connection to her seemed to throw a wrench into it.

“They’re here to…” Hiccup trailed off, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow and an unspoken question. It occurred to Astrid that she’d never gotten around to explaining why she’d made the trip to the nest – and he hadn’t asked. They’d simply been content to be reunited. 

“To check on you,” filled in Astrid, with sincerity. 

Hiccup’s cheeks went light pink at the admission, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Worried about me, again?”

“You keep giving me reason to be,” she challenged, rolling her eyes. Before Hiccup, no other person in her life had given her cause to worry so often, or so deeply. It was like trouble was always chasing him, and he never fully outran it. 

Astrid wondered exactly what it was about the chief’s son that pulled those protective feelings to the surface.

Valka cleared her throat, reminding the two of her presence. “Be that as it may…I can assure you that Hiccup is quite safe in my care,” she stated primly. “Though your…dedication to my son is admirable, it is a danger to have outsiders in this haven. I must ask you to leave at once.”

Astrid rocked back on her heels, a bit of anger spiking in her gut. Before she could speak on it, Hiccup chimed in on her behalf. 

“No, you can’t do that! Astrid is not a danger to the nest,” he argued, anger lacing his words. His fingers squeezed tighter against hers, and she could tell he was distracted by the way his claws had begun to dig into her skin. She kept her face neutral to avoid calling attention to the small spike of pain, rubbing her thumb against his hand in soothing motions until his grip loosened.

“I won’t hurt any of the dragons,” assured Astrid, locking eyes with Valka. “You have my word. I’m not sure what all Hiccup’s told you, but we don’t do that anymore on Berk. We’re trying to learn about them, not to harm them.”

Valka shook her head. “The word of a stranger means nothing to me. I only asked as a courtesy, in light of your apparent friendship with my son, but now I must insist that you leave at once.” She pointed her staff towards the tunnel system with force, a clear dismissal of the young woman before her. Her tone turned more threatening as she continued, "you may either leave of your own free will, or I can drive you out myself. The fact remains, you must leave this place – and believe me when I say that it is in your best interest to keep its secrets to yourself." 

Indignation flared in Astrid’s gut, and her free hand curled into a fist.

How dare-

“If you can't take her word, take mine: you can trust her,” promised Hiccup, words coming slower and more serious than usual, like he was buying himself time as he reached some sort of decision. He straightened up, speaking with careful conviction as he recited a string of startlingly familiar words. “I promise. With the gods as my witness, I swear that I trust Astrid Hofferson with my life and all that I am. On my honor, let our lives be entwined and let our fates be shared.”

It was a solemn vow that every Berkian knew by heart, but very few ever dared to speak. The traditional words were taken very seriously by the tribe and could never be taken back once spoken. As such, they were only shared once a decade at most. 

Astrid’s gaze snapped back to him, eyebrows raised high at the declaration. While she was immensely flattered that he held her in such high esteem to trust her this way...she knew how much weight those words carried. It was a binding vow of sorts, permanently linking two lives together. 

What in the name of the gods is he doing?

The honor of the speaker hinged on the actions of the person mentioned, and it was no small decision. Astrid’s own cousin had been shamed into exile as a result of the betrayal of one such bond. It had forever damaged his reputation and his standing within the village, as his judgement had been proven to be faulty. He'd lost everything because he'd trusted the wrong person.

After that incident, Astrid’s mother had routinely cautioned her against such vows, adamant that she never take such a foolish risk herself. She’d never fathomed that she’d be on the receiving end of one.

Did Hiccup understand the gravity of what he’d just said? He’d been gone for so many years, perhaps he didn’t grasp the enormity of what he’d done.

Valka, however, seemed to know the weight of it. The former chieftess coughed, choking on whatever she’d been about to say. Her eyes were wide, expression taken aback. 

“Hiccup…” Astrid shook her head slowly, a bit dazed and unsure of how to respond. A lump of emotion had formed in the back of her throat, making it hard to get the words out.

It was a foolish choice, but undeniably sweet all the same.

Valka recovered faster, eyes returning to their entwined hands. “I...see,” she murmured, taking a slow step back. “Very well, I suppose you leave me no choice in the matter. Miss Hofferson, for now I will take you at your word and allow you to remain through the night. Do remember that if any harm comes to the dragons at your hand, I will show you no mercy. I know the cruelty that is Berk and I am not naive enough to believe that rot does not run deep. I find it hard to believe you'd be an exception, but I will not dishonor my son by giving you no chance to prove yourself. I will be watching you carefully – is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Astrid grit out, wondering how her friend could be related to such a charming woman.

“That one’s called a Rumblehorn,” explained Hiccup, gesturing excitedly towards the heavily armored dragon that was sleeping just a few paces ahead of them. “They’re part of the Tracker Class – Mom says they have one of the keenest senses of smell out of all dragons, can you imagine? They even use it as a way to keep track of where their enemies are in a fight!”

Astrid nodded, trying to commit the new knowledge to memory. Admittedly, the many dragons Hiccup had shown her were beginning to blur together a bit in her mind, as he’d been at it for hours. She was tiring, but seeing that unbridled passion on his face…she didn’t have the heart to stop him. 

“Oh!” He spun, nearly knocking into her as he did. “I almost forgot – you probably want to know about Nadders, right? Since you bonded with Stormfly? Right, I probably should’ve started with that one…”

And just like that, he’d taken off towards the Deadly Nadder, leaving Astrid to watch him go with amusement. He was still talking, but he’d gotten far enough away with his long strides that she couldn’t pick out the words anymore. 

She spared one last glance at the sleeping Rumblehorn. Tracker Class. Keen sense of smell. Maybe she ought to tell Fishlegs when she returned to Berk. For whatever reason, he’d been spending an awfully long time studying the Book of Dragons lately. Maybe the discoveries would interest him.

Nodding to herself, she set off after Hiccup. He was grinning at Stormfly, scratching lightly at the scales under her chin. The Nadder nuzzled against him, leaning into his touch with glee.

He looked so at ease – lighter than she’d seen him in a while. 

“She is a beauty,” a quiet voice commented from behind Astrid. “In a typical flock, she’d have a high ranking for that – Nadder’s are known for their vanity, after all. Tell me, how did you two bond?”

Astrid had a feeling the question was a test of sorts – that Valka was not asking out of mere curiosity. She weighed her words carefully before responding, hoping the truth would ease the woman’s worries.

“Hiccup told me about what you do here,” she said, waving her hand in a wide arc. “We’d both been curious about dragons for a while, and he was eager to try to copy your success. He tried it a few times and it did work for him, but when he wanted to show me…well, we felt that it would be better if I tried it because otherwise, we just weren’t sure if he’d really mastered what you do…or…”

“Or if the dragons recognized one of their own.” Valka finished steadily.

“I take it he’s told you everything?” Astrid asked, watching as Hiccup play-wrestled with Stormfly, making silly faces at the dragon. 

“I’ll admit I do not fully understand it all,” said the former chieftess, voice dropping lower to ensure her son would not overhear. “I have seen many cases of dragon magic throughout the years – minor healings, memory alterations and the like – but nothing to this degree. Night Furies have always been a mystery since they’re simply too rare to study, but this far exceeds even the wildest of rumors. He very well may be the first of his kind.”

Astrid hummed in agreement. If Hiccup weren’t the first to be transformed by a Night Fury’s curse, she was confident they would have heard about it. Hiccup’s secret remained a secret through sheer luck and special circumstances – saving the village from a centuries-old threat and being the son of the chief had offered him a unique level of protection. The ordinary man would not have so many ready to rally behind him under such a curse.

In those circumstances, Astrid didn’t even want to consider what would happen to that unfortunate soul. She doubted it would end well.

“Hiccup has always been one of a kind,” she said instead, remembering the boy he’d been in their youth. He’d never been a traditional viking – he simply thought and acted too differently from everyone around him to fit the expectations. It had been apparent to everyone in the village from the time he could walk, much to Stoick’s initial displeasure. “The curse may have made that true in new ways, but he was always going to break the mold.”

She had little doubt Hiccup would have found a way to change Berk at its core, even without ever taking that fateful shot. He was far too clever and far too passionate to be boxed in by convention for long.

Valka reached out, gently grasping her shoulder and directing her so they were face to face. Her earlier hostility and suspicion were gone, replaced by something more akin to understanding. “You care for him.”

“He’s my best friend,” she admitted with ease. “Of course I care.”

“Hmmm,” responded Valka, a strange look in her eye. “He cares for you deeply, that was clear to me when he made that vow.”

The vow.

“If I’d known he was going to do that, I would have stopped him. He really shouldn’t have–”

“He wanted to,” corrected Valka, reaching out somewhat hesitantly to rest a hand on Astrid’s forearm. “I'll admit, as I’ve been watching the two of you tonight...I fear that there is a chance I may have been a little unfair to you."

A little?  Wondered Astrid in debrief, still irritated by the woman's immediate attempt to drive her away. 

"You must understand my need for caution – there are many who rely on the safety of this nest. I cannot put their safety at risk or take chances lightly. Doing so could cost lives," continued Valka, gesturing widely around the expansive nest. "One mistake could cost everything."

Astrid could understand the fears of the former chieftess. After all, the woman had served as a guardian for the sanctuary for two decades. She'd made it her home.  It was only natural that she'd feel a degree of responsibility for its continued survival and wellbeing. 

"That being said, there is something to be said for a mother's intuition, is there not?" Valka asked, giving Astrid a meaningful look. "I'm not blind to the bond between you both – it would be obvious even without the vow. As a parent, I cannot express how grateful I am to know that he’s found someone who can accept all of him. I hadn’t thought it possible, especially from somewhere like Berk. Make no mistake, I am happy to see you prove me wrong. I am. I must thank you for being there for him, when I...wasn’t.”

Gods, what could she possibly say to that?

“Astrid!” Hiccup’s call interrupted them, unintentionally rescuing Astrid from the awkward conversation.

Shooting Valka a tight smile, she quickly excused herself. Her emotions were high, strained from the uncomfortable conversation and revelations of the day, and she poured that energy into her stride as she took off towards him. Her boots thumped against the earth, announcing her arrival before she'd fully reached Hiccup. 

“Having fun?” 

“Oh yeah,” laughed Hiccup, ducking low to avoid Stormfly’s curious nose. The Nadder had taken an interest in his hair, sniffing intently at the auburn locks. He contorted, avoiding the hot bursts of her breath. “How could I not? Your dragon is all over me…”

As the night stretched on, a sense of trepidation set in. Astrid couldn’t shake the thought that Hiccup seemed happier in the nest. He was so much more at ease in his skin here than he ever was in Berk.

Perhaps…perhaps this was where he belonged: surrounded by dragons and able to pursue his passions without the constant pressure of fitting in with the village. A life free of the reminders of the viking war with dragons.

It hurt to consider, because if that were the truth…was it really fair for her to ask him to return? If he were to stay, it would mean she’d have to accept a life without him. Sure, he’d be a day’s flight away and certain to visit his father on occasion…but for the rest of the time, he’d just be gone .

Astrid loathed that thought. A week without him had been chafing at her insides more than she liked. If that were to become a more permanent arrangement…it would likely fester into an open wound inside of her. 

When had it gotten to a point where Hiccup Haddock was the glue that held her happiness together? Despite that reality, she knew she couldn’t be selfish about this. His happiness mattered just as much, if not more to her – and Thor, she hated that. No one had ever gotten under her skin the same way.

“Hiccup?” She had pulled him away from his mother, leading him towards one of the many streams. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if she were unsure of her footing on the terrain. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she could say what she needed to say looking into his eyes.

“Something’s bothering you.”

He had always been too observant for his own good.

“I just…” She paused, taking a deep breath before settling down on the shore. She stuck a hand in the stream, watching the water ripple around her fingers. 

“Astrid, you can tell me anything,” he said earnestly, taking a seat beside her. “You know that, right?”

Gods, he was too kind. She had to do it.

“Being here seems…good for you,” she started, frantically trying to pull her thoughts together into something coherent. “You’re happier...more like yourself than ever. If this is where you want to stay…if you feel like you belong here, I just want you to know that I understand, and I'll tell Berk whatever story you need me to.”

It was quiet for a moment as Hiccup processed the meaning of her words. Then he scooted closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder. 

“I’m not going to lie, this has all been an incredible experience and I am happy here. I mean, it's incredible! This week has been something that I’ll never forget, and I’m grateful for the experience – truly.” he admitted, “but as great as it is, Berk is my home, and it always will be. I-I wouldn’t trade that for anything, Astrid. That’s where I belong…with my Dad. With you.”

Her breath hitched and she finally looked over, seeing the truth reflected in his green eyes. 

“Are you sure?” She didn't want him to give up this opportunity to appease her, or his father. He'd had so many choices in his life taken from him – she wanted this one to be his, and his alone. 

In answer, he reached out and cupped the side of her face. His eyes flickered down to her lips and back, steeling himself before pulling her into a deep kiss. It was a far cry from their kiss in the arena. It was filled with much more intensity, as if Hiccup were trying to prove something to her in that moment. For Astrid, whatever that was didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was the feeling of his lips on hers and his fingers drifting down her neck. She reached out her hands and gripped his tunic, curling her fingers tightly into the fabric as she drew his body closer. 

They'd kissed before, but never like this. 

She allowed herself to get fully lost in it, letting the outside world fade away completely. All her worries and anxieties were replaced with a bubbling, chaotic warmth that rose from the very depths of her heart. It threatened to consume her, burning her from within, but she latched onto the feeling with reckless abandon.

In that moment, Hiccup was her entire world. In that moment, she understood with perfect clarity. Somewhere along the way, she'd fallen in love with Hiccup Haddock.

She only returned to reality when he finally broke it off. She reluctantly relaxed her grip when he pulled back, eyes roaming his face as she took in the sight of his crooked smile. He looked adorably disheveled: tunic rumbled, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement. It was enough to make her heart skip a beat. 

Through his ragged attempts to catch his breath, he insisted, “I’m sure. You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

Astrid grinned back, leaning in and eagerly capturing his lips once more.

Hiccup stood at the edge of the tunnel, watching as Stormfly disappeared into a speck on the horizon. 

Memories of the kiss continued to cycle through his mind. There'd been something different about it – some sort of shift had occured between the two of them, unspoken but silently agreed upon. It filled him with both excitement and nerves, as he had a feeling it would change the very fabric of their relationship. It was a sign that they would become more to each other than they'd been, and he longed to ask her what it all meant...but he'd have to wait a little longer. 

He was sad to see Astrid go, but they both knew it was necessary for her to return home before she was missed. She hadn’t told anyone that she was leaving, and having the both of them unaccounted for would not sit well with Gobber.

Hiccup was not looking forward to the inevitable confrontation with his mentor. From the sounds of it, he’d already chewed out Astrid simply because she'd been covering for him. 

He was sure to get his own earful when he returned.

That time was coming up quickly, and he resolved to return the set course for Berk the following morning. It had been an eye-opening adventure, and had returned something to him he’d thought lost forever – but it was time to go home.

He just needed one more night to say his goodbyes.

Gobber didn’t like the look of the ship that had pulled into Berk’s harbor. It only took one glance to know that it was not a merchant ship, and had an alarming number of crewmen aboard. 

Having unusual visitors while the chief was away did not sit well with him.

He’d set a course for the docks as soon as he’d realized the ship was not merely passing by. On instinct, he’d switched out his hook for a battle axe, wanting to be battle-ready at a moment’s notice. That action hadn’t escaped the notice of his tribesmen, who’d similarly armed themselves and followed him down to the water, forming their ranks behind him.

“Oi!” Gobber yelled once the ship was in hearing range. “State yer business ‘ere.”

“Greetings,” a smooth voice rang out. The ship’s crew parted to allow a man with dark hair and a short beard to approach the rail. “We are simply here to seek shelter. Our outpost was destroyed, and we need some time to restock our provisions while we regroup.”

Gobber raised an eyebrow. There were no outposts near Berk that he could think of, save for the…

Poachers.

An icy feeling settled in Gobber’s gut. Stoick would not be happy to know that they’d disrespected his demands and approached Berk.

“We ‘ave no inn, I’m ‘fraid.” He informed, “Best try the next island.”

The man shrugged, taking the information in stride. “An inn is not necessary, I assure you. We are more than willing to set up camp in the woods, or on the beach if you prefer.”

“Tryin’ th’ next island wasn’t a suggestion. I kno’ exactly who you lot are, and you kno’ yer not welcome on Berk.”

“And why is that, I do wonder?” The man asked, voice remaining calm and smooth despite Gobber’s building agitation. He grasped his hands behind his back, arching an eyebrow. “Why does Stoick refuse to show us any hospitality? We are, of course, willing to pay handsomely for the trouble.”

“Stoick’s reason’s are ‘is own. The fact remains: you are no’ welcome ‘ere.” Gobber growled, raising his axe. “Now…are ya gonna keep trespassin’ or are ya gonna be smart and get ou’ of our harbor?”

Behind him, he could hear the clink of metal as his tribesmen brandished their own weapons. 

“Gentleman, please. There’s no need for such hostility,” said the stranger, raising his arms in a show of surrender. Despite his easy-going tone, his eyes were dark with anger. “We’ll be on our way.”

The rest of the crew scrambled to adjust the sails, following their apparent leader’s claim. All the while, the man watched Gobber with a dark gaze.

Even once the ship was long gone from the harbor, Gobber could swear he felt the heat of that gaze burning into him like a brand.

Chapter Text

“You know,” said Hiccup, wringing his hands together with nervous energy. “It’s really not too late to change your mind. You could always come back with me to Berk. We could be a family again.”

He’d only known his mother for around a week and already it hurt to know that he was about to leave her behind. The faceless hole that she’d left in his life felt all the more real and all the more raw now that he actually knew the person behind it. 

Before, a mother had been an almost abstract concept to him – just one other thing in a long list that set him apart from his peers. It was hard to miss something you’d never had…but things were different now. He finally understood the true depth of his loss. 

Hiccup’s thoughts drifted to his father, and how Stoick continued to needlessly grieve the very woman who now stood just a short ways away. It wasn’t right to let him go on like that. It wasn’t fair .

Shouldn’t they fix this?

Valka looked up from where she stood hunched over her makeshift desk, meeting his eyes. For the last hour, she’d been meticulously copying her notes on dragons onto several loose sheets of parchment, in an effort to give him the chance to learn all that she hadn’t been able to share in their short time together. Ink now stained her hands, and her writing had grown progressively looser and less legible with each new line, but still she persisted.

It was clear that sharing the knowledge was important to her…so why couldn’t she come along and teach him herself? There didn’t need to be any rush. There didn’t need to be any sort of expiration on their time together – why couldn’t she see that? 

Didn’t she want to stay together, now that they’d found one another?

“Hiccup,” she sighed heavily, shaking her head. “We’ve been over this already, dear. I-I can’t. Berk was lost to me long ago, and I’ve made my peace with it. This is where I belong, and this is where I will stay.”

He frowned, feeling a bit of anger churn within him, “But Berk’s changed,” he reminded her sharply. “You saw for yourself with Astrid – our warriors aren’t out for dragon blood anymore! The raids are over and there’s real peace. Mom, it’s been twenty years – Berk’s not even remotely the same place that you remember, you just have to come see it. Please. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, just…give us a chance.”

Valka returned her attention to her notes, scrawling off a final line before gathering all the parchment together in one organized stack. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, reaching for a roll of twine. She took care tying the twine around the stack, ensuring no pieces could get loose.. 

“Why–”

“Berk will always be a part of my history, Hiccup, but it is not meant to be my future,” She insisted with a frown, retrieving a small knife from her belt to cut the twine. “I do hope – at least for your sake – that the village has changed like you say. However, if I’m right and their hearts remain the same…just know you will always be able to find safety here.”

Huh? If he’d heard that right, she had doubts about his place in the village. 

Hiccup blinked, taken aback by the insinuation. Did she really believe the village would turn on him, after all this time? That they would suddenly decide he wasn’t quite human enough to be part of the tribe any longer?

It stung.

In fact, it grated on him in a way that he couldn't just ignore. 

She was wrong.

“The tribe has accepted me. Even with, you know, scales and all…I’m still one of them,” he said with as much force as he could muster.

As he spoke, he was surprised to find just how much that truth resonated within him. 

While he was still nervous around the villagers…since the revelation of his secret, they’d never given him any real reason to be. They’d taken his curse in stride, welcoming him back to the village without question. They’d never treated him as something lesser, despite the fears and anxieties he couldn’t seem to shake. 

He thought of Fishlegs, and how the boy had freely trusted Hiccup with the knowledge of his secret project. He’d been thrilled by the prospect of partnering with Hiccup to rewrite the Book of Dragons. There’d be a shared excitement in their camaraderie that night, even when Hiccup slipped up and alluded to the curse. 

He thought of Ingrid Hofferson. Though he’d not intended to introduce Astrid’s mother to his dragon side, the woman had remained remarkably calm about the entire encounter. She’d even gone so far as to apologize to a Night Fury for making him uncomfortable. Ingrid had spoken to him then with the same respect that she always did, even allowing him to intrude on her afternoon with her daughter. 

He thought of Gobber, who’d given him his old position back in the forge without hesitation. Who continued to mentor him as if nothing had changed, save for some well-meaning jests here and there.

He thought of Astrid. From the very beginning, she’d been his greatest ally – ready to spring him from the ring, even if she faced the consequences. She’d gone out of her way to defend and protect him throughout it all, never asking for anything in return. She’d connected with him in a way he couldn’t put into words –  she’d even kissed him, curse be damned! – offering him balance despite the whirlwind of his life. Astrid was willing to see all of him and still take the next step in their relationship, knowing how complicated his future could be.

He thought of his father, who’d set aside decades of hatred for dragons in a single night in favor of inviting one into his own home. The chief had been willing to challenge his own beliefs, and the beliefs of their ancestors simply to be there for his son. Even when Hiccup himself hadn’t been sure he had a place in Berk anymore…Stoick had.

Thinking it over, Hiccup was struck by just how much support he had in Berk. Even those he wasn’t close to had tried to make him feel welcome since his return. Most days, he couldn’t so much as walk through town or enter Meade Hall without at least one person offering him a friendly greeting or smile.

Had he been blind to that display of kindness all this time, letting his own thoughts and fears mask it? Suddenly, it seemed a bit pointless to have put so much effort into avoiding town during the day.

He was one of them, and it appeared that only he struggled to see it. 

“If they can accept me like this,” he continued, feeling buoyed by the realization, “what other proof do you need? I’m not saying it’s some sort of utopia or anything crazy like that. Believe me, it has its flaws…but it is a place full of people who are trying to be better. Isn’t that all that matters?” 

Valka hummed, no longer looking quite as confident as she’d been before. A storm of conflict raged in her eyes, but she kept whatever was on her mind to herself, silently crossing the room to offer the thick stack of parchment to him.  

Hiccup took it, appreciative of the effort that she’d gone through to aid his quest to learn about the dragons. His thumb fiddled idly with the rough corners of the sheets, attention still fixed on his mother as he waited for her to say something. Anything.

The quiet stretched on too long for his liking, and his prosthetic clicked as he shifted his weight to lean more heavily on his good leg. It sounded deafening in the eerie quiet of her quarters.

“Perhaps,” she finally allowed, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Still, Berk has always been a flawed place. You are young, you’ve not seen it for yourself…but the hatred of the past has an unfortunate tendency to linger. No matter what they tell you now, your safety cannot be guaranteed forever. But this? This is a utopia for all dragons. If you let it, it could be for you as well. This could be where you belong.”

Hiccup startled, tightening his grip on the notes. It was the second time that he’d been told he might be more at home within a dragon nest than amongst his own people. 

It didn’t sit well with him.

“Um, no…but, thanks,” he replied, reaching for his bag and tucking the parchment stack safely inside. More quietly he muttered to himself, “I guess.”

Valka furrowed her brow, reaching out to grip his forearm. “I have upset you?”

Hiccup shrugged her off, not wanting to have to explain it to her. If she didn’t understand why her words bothered him, he doubted it would be an easy conversation.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, dismissing it. “I guess it’s settled, then. I’ll leave at sunrise, and you’ll just stay here...alone."

He would have to return to Berk without her. He’d have to live with the knowledge of yet another massive secret hanging over his head. 

How in Thor’s name was he supposed to keep this from his father?

When the first rays of sunlight split over the horizon, Hiccup was waiting at the edge of the tunnel. After the burn of the shift, he rolled his neck and cast a glance back over his shoulder, taking one last look at the mother he was leaving behind.

Valka’s eyes were misty, and she inclined her chin in an unspoken goodbye. They’d said what they could while Hiccup was still human: she’d wished him a safe journey home and reminded him that he was welcome to drop in anytime.

Hiccup had promised he would return – but as a guest, not a resident. On that, he’d been insistent. For while it may be a dragon’s utopia, Hiccup was also a viking. His home would always be Berk, surrounded by his tribesmen…and perhaps with some luck, dragons as well one day.

He reached down to grab his bag in his jaws, carefully rolling the strap in his teeth until it was settled into place near the back of his mouth. Once satisfied it was secure, he retracted his teeth, not wanting to risk any damage to the strap while he was flying. 

Taking a deep breath, he launched himself up and into the morning sky, savoring the rush of the fresh ocean breeze against his wings. It felt good to fly – he’d spent so little time in the air whilst in the nest. 

He glanced down at the water below, seeing the dark blur of his reflection whizzing past. The sea waves glittered under the rising sun, almost blinding to look at for too long. He blinked away the spots in his vision, returning his focus to the world ahead. 

His mind continued to churn as he glided along. 

The last time he’d made this journey, he’d been jittery with excitement over the possibility of uncovering the mysteries of the ice fortress. He’d rushed home as fast as his wings could take him, eager to share his findings with Astrid.

This return journey was much different. He’d gotten his wish, but it had only left him feeling conflicted and confused. Though Valka hadn’t directly ordered him to keep her existence a secret, he got the impression that she expected his silence. He reasoned that was the best course anyways, as it would only hurt Stoick more to know his wife lived and chose not to return to him.

No, Hiccup wouldn’t break his father’s heart – he couldn’t.

Why couldn’t she just take a chance and trust me? He wondered, a low growl building in his throat. 

Berk had changed for the better, and with the newfound knowledge of dragons…Hiccup was confident that it could change again. If Valka had come with him, she could have led the charge in bridging the groups. She could have helped fashion the world of peace that she’d always wanted before she’d been taken.

She was too set in her ways – too convinced that people couldn’t change.

Hiccup’s entire life hinged on the idea that people could change. He’d changed in ways that shouldn’t be possible, becoming something wholly unique. His village had changed, abandoning centuries-old traditions of war with the dragons. His father had changed, taking real interest in his life and mending the broken bond between them.

Valka was wrong. Of that, Hiccup was certain.

He stewed on it all the way back to Berk, choosing to take the long way around the island to burn off a little more steam. The forests were lush and beautiful from above, a swatch of brilliant green spreading across the isle. 

He swooped low over the more desolate region that had been his home for five hard years. It was much more lively with the new Gronckle population, no longer as cold and empty as he remembered. Seeing that, something released in his chest. It was a relief, knowing that the place of his exile had been transformed into something new – wiping away the place he’d felt such loss and loneliness.

Getting too close to the treeline for comfort, Hiccup banked up again. He tilted off to the left, soaring back towards the village. 

Suddenly, something coiled around his leg. It quickly grew tight, pulled downwards with great force.

Hiccup jerked and cried out, the force of the motion sending his bag flying far off into the distance.

Great. Just great... Tracking that down in the foliage was going to be an unpleasant adventure. 

He pushed the thought to the side, craning his neck down to see what he’d caught on. His blood turned to ice when he took in the sight of a bola twined around his right hind leg. The weights on each end were heavy, throwing off his sense of balance.

He struggled, clawing at the rope with his forepaws and beating his wings with fierce determination to stay aloft.

Surely he had enough strength to resist one bola?

With his concentration focused on the task, he didn’t see as another bola swung up. This one wrapped tightly around his neck, digging deep into his scales. It soon put pressure on his airways, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. 

Hiccup choked, spots appearing in his vision. As struggled to get air into his lungs, he found his focus slipping, wingbeats becoming less and less frequent. He was losing altitude, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second. 

It proved enough of a distraction to give his unseen attacker the upper hand as he finally dropped out of the sky, wings flailing wildly as he careened towards the forest floor. 

Oh gods.

He slammed hard into the dirt, skidding a ways before stopping. Pain reverberated throughout his body, sending aftershocks through him with every movement. 

Dazed and sore from the harsh impact, he continued to claw desperately at the rope around his neck. His swipes were rough, grazing his own scales a few times before actually managing to snap the restraint. Once he was finally able to breathe freely again, he wheezed, lungs burning from the exertion.

Though he longed for a moment to rest and recover his wits, he knew there was no time. Whoever had shot him down couldn't be far – it was critical to get away while he still could. He struggled to get his legs underneath him, trying to push himself back to his feet. 

He'd started to rise on shaky feet when he met a sudden wave of resistance. A multitude of unseen hands slammed down on him, rendering him immobile against the forest floor. The feeling intensified as his attackers leaned their full weight upon him.

He could feel the roughness of fishing nets as they were wrapped around his wings and legs, pressure tightening as they were weighted down by something heavy.

Hiccup let a frantic plasma blast build in his threat, trying to lift his neck high enough to fire at one of the attackers. 

“Oh, there’ll be none of that,” said a smooth voice, before a heavy boot came down on his snout, forcing his mouth closed and his jaw into the dirt. Calloused fingers entered his line of vision, holding a thick strap of leather. With practiced ease, the man wrapped it around Hiccup’s jaw, sealing it shut tight. 

Once satisfied, the man lifted his foot off Hiccup’s nose and addressed the others. “Excellent work – all of you. Capturing a Night Fury is no small feat, and you should not take this success lightly. I am confident that we’ll be richly rewarded for our efforts.”

A chorus of cheers rang out. 

“Now,” the man’s voice sharpened. “Don't just stand there and gawk like a bunch of fools, hurry up and ready the cage for this beast! Tonight, we celebrate our catch!”

A chill ran down Hiccup’s spine as he listened to the roar of approval from the crowd, all taking delight in his capture. He tugged once more at his restraints, dismayed when he met a resistance that he could not break through. 

It was no use. He was trapped.

A sharp sting bit into his thigh and moments later, the world grew dull and hazy. Though he fought valiantly to keep his eyes open, the fog soon pulled him under.

Stoick had always loved the way Berk looked from the sea. It rose up in the distance with a formidable might, guarded by two towering statues. There was a presence to the place, one that he knew visitors found striking. It was tough, like its residents, but also undeniably beautiful.

Stoick was proud to call it his home.

He’d been watching the horizon expectantly, waiting for it to appear. When it finally did, something loosened in his chest. 

Stoick never resented the times his position forced him to travel – it was all part of being a strong leader for the people that he loved. Still, it was exhausting to spend so much time at sea. He couldn’t wait to sleep in his own bed, to eat the food of his people and to catch up with his friends. 

Most importantly, he couldn’t wait to see his son again. 

The late afternoon sun warmed his face, and he tipped his head back to soak it in. The winds cutting across the sea had been unpleasantly cold throughout his journey, and he was looking forward to having the sea stacks and village houses break the gusts once more.

Gobber was waiting for him at the docks, yelling out an exuberant greeting before the ship had weighed anchor. Stoick rolled his eyes, returning the greeting at a normal volume as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder.

“You’ve made good time,” observed the blacksmith, leading the way back towards the village. “I take it Oswald didn’t ‘ave much to say?”

“Oswald is dead.”

That had been a troublesome revelation. They’d been allies for years, and Stoick had grown to respect the man deeply. Finding out he’d passed had filled him with a deep sorrow, 

“Dead?” Gobber stopped in his tracks, reaching up to scratch his head. “But…how is tha’ possible? Surely a ghost didn’ summon ya ‘cross the sea!”

“It turns out that it was not Oswald who sent the letter,” explained Stoick, gesturing for his friend to continue up the hill. “It was only addressed with the official seal of the Berserker chief, so I’d assumed...”

“But tha’ means…a new chief?”

“Aye.”

“An’ who’s th’ heir o’ Berserker Island?” Gobber wondered aloud.

Stoick sighed, shaking his head. “Oswald’s son, Dagur. He summoned all the local chiefs to bear witness to his official appointment.”

“Dagur…hmmm…now, why does tha’ name sound so familiar?” Gobber muttered to himself. 

“He’s got a reputation,” informed Stoick, knowing exactly why the name rang a bell. “Most call him Dagur the Deranged.”

Gobber’s eyes lit up, connecting the dots. Then his expression fell. “Oh. That’s…no’ good.”

“No, it’s not.” Agreed Stoick. When he’d figured out the true purpose of his summons, he’d been hopeful that perhaps the boy had matured and turned over a new leaf. That he was ready to take on such leadership and to follow in the steps of a great man. 

What he’d found, however, was a more manic version of the boy he’d known. Dagur seemed to be on the brink of a meltdown at all times, making him dangerously unpredictable. 

Stoick had held his tongue throughout the ceremony, mindful of Berk’s allyship with the Berserkers. He would not let his disapproval risk damaging that connection, no matter how doubtful he was of their new leader's potential.

Still, he would not be putting his trust in the new chief anytime soon.

“Any issues here?” He asked, hoping for a change of subject. He’d had more than enough days to worry about Dagur and longed for a more positive topic.

To his surprise, Gobber did not launch into a mundane critique of Hiccup’s disorganized workspace or Spitelout’s horrible table manners. There was no joking spark in the man’s eyes as he admitted, “a group o’ poachers turned up abou’ a day ago, seekin’ asylum. They claimed their base ‘ad been destroyed.”

Stoick tensed, drawing to a halt just outside the village. “Poachers? Here?”

“I sent ‘em packin’ before they could even dock,” promised Gobber – though he, too, appeared rattled. “There was somethin’ real odd abou’ their leader. Hard ta describe, but ‘e seemed a bit too sharp to be yer average dragon hunter, if ya catch my drift.” 

Poachers were not known for any sort of complexity – it was a job that required brute strength and dubious morals, not often much strategy. To know that they were under the command of someone more ambitious was cause for concern.

“You did well, my friend.” He clasped a hand on Gobber’s shoulder, grateful that his friend had been able to chase the group off. “Thank you for keeping them off our shores while I was gone.”

Gobber waved him off, veering off towards the forge. “Of course.”

Stoick shifted his bag to the other shoulder, looking forward to dropping it in his home. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, nodding towards the forge. “I want to get cleaned up before dinner.”

Gobber raised his hook in farewell, shuffling into his workshop. There was a faint clink of metal as the blacksmith resumed his latest project, accompanied by an off-tune whistle.

Stoick snorted, resuming his trek home.

It was good to be back.

The house was empty.

Stoick wasn’t surprised but he was, admittedly, a little disappointed. After being away for so long, he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to wait any longer to see his son again. 

He didn’t allow himself to dwell on it, fully aware that Hiccup had no way of knowing when he’d return. Instead, he busied himself with putting away his belongings and drawing a bath. It was a luxury not afforded whilst sailing, and he savored the feeling of being clean once more.

Once sufficiently dried off, he took a quick inventory of his home, curious to see what state Hiccup had left it in after so much time unattended. His boy was no stranger to clutter, so Stoick was surprised by how neat the house had been kept. 

Either Hiccup had gone out of his way to keep it that way, or more likely, he’d spent very little time at home. Stoick couldn’t help but wonder if the emptiness of the house was off putting to his son after so many years of isolation. Perhaps he’d been eager to get out – to explore, to visit the forge, to spend time with Astrid Hofferson – to avoid the risk of reawakening those memories.

A part of him hoped that his absence had given Hiccup the gentle push he needed to spend more time in town, with his tribesmen. He doubted it – his son had remained cautious and wary of facing the villagers since his return – but nevertheless, he hoped.  

A glance out the window assured him that the sun was hanging low on the horizon. Whatever adventure Hiccup had gotten into for the day, he would likely have returned by now. 

Too eager to wait any longer, Stoick tugged his boots back on and headed out the door. Hiccup had a few frequent haunts – he was confident he’d be able to track the boy down in no time. 

He wasn’t surprised to find the forge empty. As much as Hiccup adored the place, it wasn’t much use to him in daylight. Still, Stoick had wanted to rule it out with certainty.

Next, he found himself striding off towards House Hofferson. A quick chat with Ingrid revealed that Hiccup was not there – he hadn’t stopped by their home all week. She informed him that Astrid was likely at the lookout point, likely waiting for Hiccup to return as she often did. Ingrid suggested he do the same.

Stoick thanked her, setting off towards the cliffside. He scanned the sky as he went, searching for the tell-tale black spot on the horizon. He hoped Hiccup wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to cut it this close, but he understood how easy it could be to lose track of time.

The skies were empty. 

It should have been a relief, but something deep in Stoick’s gut felt unsettled – like something was wrong. Try as he might, he couldn’t pin down the root of the apprehension or why it was continuing to grow within him.

There was no reason to panic – he didn’t always see his son before sunset. So why were his instincts screaming at him now?

Astrid was sitting atop the lookout point, as promised. Her back was to the chief, attention focused on the horizon as she finished tying off the end of her signature braid with practiced ease. 

“Hello, Astrid,” he called out, not wanting to startle her as he approached. 

She twisted her neck, catching sight of him with wide eyes. “Chief – you’re back!”

“Aye.” Stoick nodded, taking a seat beside her. “We returned just a few hours ago.”

“Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be home,” he replied, squinting off at the dimming sky. 

Astrid studied him, expression unreadable. “You must be tired from your journey – what brings you all the way out here this late? Did you need something from me?” 

Stoick shook his head, “I’m waiting for Hiccup, same as you.”

“Oh.” Astrid paused, straightening her posture. “He, uh, he and I didn’t actually plan to meet tonight. I-I think he said something about doing a favor for Gobber?”

Odd. Gobber hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort.

“I see…” He murmured, the pit in his stomach growing. Something wasn’t adding up. “I’ll pay him a visit, then. Goodnight, Astrid.”

“Sir.”

When Stoick tracked down the blacksmith, he received another vague and unsatisfying answer. If he didn’t know better, he could almost swear the man was lying to him. Still, Gobber had always been trustworthy. There was no reason for Stoick to doubt him now.

By the time the sun has set, Stoick has checked every corner of the village for his son and still come up empty. Frustrated, he’d returned home, half expecting the boy to be sketching by the fire – only to find it just as vacant as before.

Not wanting to be rash, he waited another hour for his son to appear. 

He did not.

Despite the reassurances of Astrid and Gobber, Stoick knew in his gut that something was wrong.

Either someone was lying to him…or Hiccup was missing. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Hiccup noticed as he regained a sense of awareness was the unpleasant sensation of a cold, hard surface beneath him. It was unnaturally smooth, and a sharp metallic scent greeted him when he breathed in.

Strange.

His thoughts were jumbled and his head pounded, making sorting through his current situation all the more painful.  

He’d been flying home…and then what?

Shifting slightly, a sharp shock of pain raced up his thigh. The jolt was enough to cut through the dense mental fog, key memories beginning to resurface. 

Bolas. 

A foot on his snout. 

A sharp, slicing feeling in his thigh followed by a crushing exhaustion…almost as if he’d been poisoned.

“...ready the cage for this beast…”

The metallic surface could no longer be ignored. Hiccup forced his eyes open, vision confirming his fears. Rows of criss-crossing, shining bars surrounded him, glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. The bars were secured tightly to a flat, metal base at both the top and bottom of the cage, creating a prison for the dragon within.

Hiccup swallowed hard, feeling his heart rate begin to pick up. He tried to rein in his panic in favor of finding a solution, gaze carefully tracing over every detail for a weakness he could exploit. He was a blacksmith’s apprentice – he knew metalwork! All he needed was a single design flaw, and he was certain that could free himself with the right amount of leverage.

Unfortunately, the creator of the cage had been meticulous. Were it not for his current predicament, Hiccup would be almost impressed by the craftsmanship. 

Once it became clear that his search was in vain and there were no visible weaknesses in the crafting of the cage, his fears could no longer be kept at bay.

Oh gods…

Hiccup tried to push to his feet, but his movements were slow and sluggish. The netting had been removed from his wings, but his own exhaustion now kept him bound. His muscles protested every action, and he barely managed to shift his position enough to survey the surrounding area with bleary eyes. 

He was in the midst of a bustling campsite. Rows of tents dotted the periphery while a fire pit had been dug in the center of the clearing. 

A few dozen men milled about the area, some moving with purpose and others lagging about. There were no flags or armor designs to mark their tribal allegiance. In fact, they were outfitted in a diverse range of styles that seemed to span half the archipelago.

Whoever these men were, they appeared to come from vastly different origins. That begged the question: what cause had united them in this way? 

He had a bad feeling he already knew the answer.

Hiccup scanned the crowd intently, searching each of the faces that he could see for the one he knew would confirm his suspicions. Some were turned away, or focused on other tasks, but the face he sought was clear as day.

The stranger was unmistakable – dark eyes narrowed at one of his men. Though his attention was fixed elsewhere, the man’s intensity was just as intimidating as it had been when it had been fixed on Hiccup from the decks of a ship. 

Poachers. Hiccup had been captured by poachers. 

He’d managed to end up in the very position his father had been so worried he’d fall into – with the added benefit of having agitated the group in advance. 

Just great…

If he’d thought the gods hated him before…now he was certain. 

The men paid him little mind. Other than a few self-satisfied gazes from those who passed by, they didn’t let their attention linger on him for long. He became increasingly aware of his position as a trophy to them – a mere ticket to financial reward, nothing more. Caged and sluggish, he was not even seen as a real threat.

It’s both disheartening and humiliating to consider.

As time stretched on, he was able to regain some strength in his left forepaw. To his displeasure, the rest of him remained pitifully weak and out of sorts. Whatever they’d dosed him appeared to be able to disrupt his healing factor, which troubled him greatly. 

What toxin could negate a dragon’s magic? And how could it have such enduring effects on a dragon? He’d never heard of a sedative that could keep one down for this long. Had it been common knowledge, he was certain his father would have heavily invested in it to fight off the raids. 

It’s the not knowing that really ties his stomach in knots. If the poison can suppress his healing…what else can it do? Was it meant to have other effects? Could the effects be permanent?

He used his limited strength to adjust his position once more, claws scratching uselessly as they tried and failed to gain traction against the metal surface. He was determined to keep an eye on the leader’s movements, trying to assess what they have planned for him.

The majority of the men spend their time setting up for some sort of festivities, rolling several large barrels of mead to the center of camp. They smell of salt and sea air, and Hiccup suspects they’re making trips to and from their ship. The men all appear to be in good spirits, grinning and joking with one another throughout it all. 

Celebrating his capture.

Hiccup’s traitorous mind drags him back to his last prison, back within the walls of the arena. Once more, he’s found himself locked away in confined quarters like a dangerous animal, and he silently seethes as he comes to that realization. 

He’s come too far to be back at this point – and this time, he doesn’t have the added benefit of familiarity with his captors. The unpredictability of his new situation offers a new level of danger, as he has no way of knowing what they’ll do to him next.

The arena had at least been familiar. He’d known how dragons were treated within those walls. It hadn’t been all that comforting at the time, but looking back it had at least offered him some solace. He’d known that he’d be fed daily, he’d known they were in no rush to kill him and he’d known his days would be filled with fighting trainees. 

He knew nothing of what these poachers had in store for him – only that he’d likely be handed over to the highest bidder, for Thor knows what purpose.

Worse still…just what would these men do at sundown, when their prized Night Fury vanished before their eyes? His heart stuttered as he considered it, wondering just how the revelation would influence his fate. Would it make things better for him, or would it make things worse?

Haddock luck seemed to favor the latter.

Perhaps, if they were a superstitious lot, they’d strike him down then and there. Seeing such a transformation was likely to bring on suspicions of Loki’s involvement, and he knew that many vikings would want to be rid of such an omen. If they chose to…eliminate him…he’d have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He’d be a sitting duck behind the metal bars of his prison when they struck.

If they let him live…

Hiccup ground his teeth together, feeling nauseous as he considered the range of possibilities that opened up. What need would they have for someone like him? What buyer would want a cursed viking – and why?

The options weren’t great.

He’d heard numerous tales of oddities carted around in sideshows, put on display for paying audiences to gawk and jeer at. Stoick had never allowed such troupes onto their shores, finding the practice unsavory, but they were quite popular on neighboring islands. A few other heirs that he’d met in his youth had even been fond of the shows – spending hours going on and on about the events like they were the pinnacle of entertainment. 

Would he be doomed to meet that fate, caged forever and forced to let strangers witness his involuntary transition from dragon to man like some sort of novelty act?

Or perhaps…would he be kept in a less public setting, treated like an exotic pet by an eccentric buyer? Possessing a Night Fury was sure to improve a viking’s reputation, and the draw of that could appeal to a certain sort. Would he spend the rest of his days as a puppet or trophy, paraded around as a symbol of someone else’s might? Would his humanity even be taken into consideration?

Hiccup’s mind continued to reel, stirring up bad situation after bad situation. He could be used in a ritual sacrifice to the gods. He could be skinned for his rare dragon pelt – though he shuddered to consider if his skin would continue to change with the sun once separated from his body.  

It would probably be best if they just killed him, he decided. He didn’t want to endure the pain or the shame that the other scenarios conjured in his imagination.

“It looks like my tip was a resounding success,” a familiar voice cut through the crowd, breaking Hiccup from his inner spiral. 

No, it can’t be…

“Yes, Johann, your words have proven most valuable, indeed,” came the smooth voice of the leader, confirming Hiccup’s fears. “It would seem you were right in your suspicions: the Night Fury does reside on Berk.”

The merchant made his way deeper into the camp, and Hiccup’s eyes narrowed as he watched the trader approach. The man eyed him for a moment, whistling his appreciation. 

“Well done, Master Viggo.” said Johann, “I wasn’t sure it could be done.”

The man – Viggo – grunted, fishing around in his pockets before drawing out a large bag of coins. He reached out, pressing them into the trader’s awaiting hands. “Your payment, as promised. As for your doubts…let me assure you that anything can be done. One only needs the proper planning and motivation to see it through.”

“And what, may I ask, motivates you?” Johann ventured, pocketing the money. 

“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” assured Viggo, voice calm but firm. “Now, I believe our business is concluded?”

“It is,” agreed Johann, turning to go. He took a step and paused, glancing back. “Though, if you’d humor me…”

“That entirely depends on the question.”

“Consider it a simple merchant’s curiosity, but I must ask – what are you planning to do with the beast?”

Hiccup stilled, trying to tune out the thrumming of his heart in his ears as he waited for the man’s response. 

“Surely I don’t have to tell you how valuable a Night Fury is,” said Viggo, eliciting a nod from Johann. “Only a great fool would waste this opportunity by acting in any sort of haste. We must be strategic with this creature’s fate, at least until we can find the right buyer. With a rarity like this…it’s best to keep it alive, at least until we’ve received payment in full. I expect any interested parties will want to see living proof, to ensure there is no trickery…”

Johann hummed. “Aye, there is a lot of that. I have seen several – err, lesser – merchants dye scales black, fetching a higher price for what they claim to be genuine ‘Night Fury’ skin. It can be surprisingly lucrative...or so I’m told, of course.”

“Of course.” Viggo echoed flatly, before he nodded towards the cage, “but I am no charlatan. With this creature in my possession, I will be the first to offer irrefutable proof of a living, breathing Night Fury in captivity. As such, the name Grimborn will soon be one of legend.”

Johann nodded, dipping his head in acknowledgment. “Then I wish you luck in your endeavors, Master Viggo. I do hope, considering the, ah, roaring success of our partnership, that you’d be open to future business arrangements?”

“So long as you continue to prove yourself to be of value to me, I see no reason to refuse.”

Johann grinned with almost feral glee, nodding feverishly. “Of course, sir.”

“And Johann – I do expect complete discretion in all my dealings. Not a word of what has happened here leaves this campsite. If I were to hear that anyone had been tipped off…”

“Understood.”

Hiccup watched the trader take his leave, disappearing off into the trees. The same merchant his father had always held in high regard…was working with the poachers? It felt like a betrayal, though he knew the man neither owed them allegiance nor had any idea who had been captured. 

He snarled, throat burning as he let out his frustration, sounds of his fury and frustration continuing to grow. Though the netting had been removed, the strap around his jaws remained tightly secured. 

He lifted a shaky paw to his snout, trying to hook a claw through the leather. Perhaps if he could fire a plasma blast…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hiccup flinched, arm dropping back to his floor at the loud noise.

“Now, now…there’ll be none of that,” chastised Viggo, slamming the hilt of his sword against the bars of the cage once more. 

Bang!

Hiccup whined as the sound echoed through his prison, deafening to his sensitive hearing. He shrank back, away from the wall of the cage. 

“Oi, Grimborn! Can’t you shut that demon up?”

Viggo regarded Hiccup for another moment, face indifferent. Then, he turned to address his men, raising his voice. “Of course,” he assured, holding his hands up in a placating measure. “This creature, like so many others, can be soothed under the right conditions. Fetch me that tarp I requested, and I’ll show you how to silence a dragon.”

Hiccup stared at the wall of fabric that now covered the cage in disbelief.

This was Viggo’s grand plan to subdue a dragon? He’d given a grand speech to his men, claiming that like a caged bird, a caged dragon would interpret the sudden darkness as night.

Did he really think dragons were so simple minded? While Hiccup knew he was a special case, he had a very hard time believing the rudimentary trick worked on natural dragons, considering the depth and intelligence he’d observed from them.

It was a stark reminder of how little humans knew about dragons. How little they cared to learn.

Still, he was grateful for the blessing of solitude when he made note of the rapidly dimming light, glimpsed through tiny gaps near the base of the cage where the fabric didn’t quite meet the ground. He was happy to keep quiet and play the part if it meant no one was around to witness the transformation.

He was lying on his stomach, watching the final rays of sunlight disappear when he shifted. To his relief, the makeshift muzzle – much like his prosthetic – remained tied to a single form, disappearing in the purple blaze. Working his jaw up and down, he savored the freedom of the movement. 

The cold of the cage floor was much worse on his human body, biting sharply through the fabric of his clothing. He shivered, pushing himself up and into a seated position before drawing his legs close to his chest to conserve his body heat, mindful not to let metal of his prosthetic clink against the surface. 

He eyed the bars once more, trying to calculate the spacing between them. Though he was slim and agile, he doubted he’d be able to pass through them fully – though he’d still give it his best try once he was confident the poachers were asleep. He didn’t want to risk drawing any attention to the cage now if the tarp shifted with his movements.

The buzz of the campsite continued to swell, tongues loosening and laughter spilling as the men took advantage of the available drink. 

It was a stark contrast to the silence of the cage, where Hiccup’s own mood continued to dim like a fire dying out. 

After a fitful – and mostly unsuccessful – attempt to sleep, Stoick greeted the new dawn both cranky and sore. 

A quick visit to Hiccup’s bedroom revealed that nothing had been disturbed in the night. His son had not returned. He’d assumed so, since he hadn’t heard any sound of the boy’s arrival, but with Hiccup’s eerie, draconic stealth…sometimes the boy moved like a ghost, save for the occasional click of his prosthetic. 

Stoick had needed to check to be sure, disappointed to be proven right.

For the second time in his life, his son had disappeared without a trace. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, being dealt such a devastating repetition.

Knowing all that Hiccup had been through the first time, he wasn’t about to sit by and wait. He’d tear the entire island apart, stone by stone if that was what it took, just to verify that Hiccup was not on Berk.

Dressing quickly, Stoick strode off into town, pulling together a plan for the search. He’d have Gobber set off towards Raven’s Point, he’d handle the far reaches of the island, Spitelout could walk the shoreline, and perhaps the Hoffersons could take the eastern forests.

Gobber was easy to track down, looking oddly uneasy at Stoick’s request but agreeing nonetheless. Stoick didn’t allow himself time to dwell on it, content that his friend would honor his wishes.

Spitelout proved more challenging to find, having gone to have his armor repaired by the local tanner. The shop was tucked away on a quiet side street, easily overlooked. Stoick passed it twice before remembering to venture down the walkway. 

The man was in the midst of being fitted for a new set of vambraces, arguing with the tanner about some uneven staining on the leather. Stoick knew how volatile the elder Jorgenson could be, so he held his tongue and waited impatiently for the conversation to wrap up. If he wanted Spitelout’s help, he would have to play his cards right.The tanner, a man named Arne, was the first to notice his arrival. 

“Chief!” He greeted, an easy smile spread across his face. “Are you here about Hiccup’s armor? I’ve finished the last of those updates you requested for that shoulder pad, but I haven’t had a chance to give it a thorough cleaning yet. I’m a little backed up with appointments this morning but if you don’t mind the wait, I can have it ready for you by the end of the day.” 

Between the Berserker summons and his son’s disappearance, Stoick had nearly forgotten the set of armor he was having modified. It had taken longer than expected, with the customizations that Stoick had insisted upon, and had fallen off his radar. 

“Thank you, Arne,” he said, dipping his head in gratitude. “Take your time – I’m not here for the armor just yet. I’m afraid I’m here to borrow Spitelout.”

“You are?” Spitelout asked in surprise, sliding off the vambraces and handing them to the tanner. 

“I need your help,” admitted Stoick, “if you’re finished here, I can fill you in on the way. I’m afraid we have no time to waste.”

Spitelout glanced at Arne, who waved him off. “Go, I got the measurements I need. I’ll have everything ready for you in about a week’s time.”

Satisfied, Spitelout followed the chief back to the street. 

“Hiccup is missing,” stated Stoick, not wasting a beat. 

Spitelout’s trademark smirk disappeared, arrogance replaced by a rare display of concern. For all his faults, the man was always there for Stoick when it counted. “Stoick…are you sure he’s not just out…exploring, or whatever it is he does all day?”

“Something’s wrong,” insisted Stoick, running a hand raggedly across his beard. “I can’t describe it, but I can feel it in my bones. I don’t want to stir up panic in the village just yet, not at least until we can confirm he’s off-island. For that, I’ll need your help to do a thorough sweep – and quickly. Can I count on you?”

“Where do you want me to look?”

Stoick’s search proved fruitless. 

After taking a boat to the far side of the island in haste, he’d spent an hour poking around the various caves and crevices hidden in the rock, thankful that he’d paid attention to his son’s descriptions of the area. 

He’d hesitated in one of the roomier caves, catching sight of the unique markings on the wall. The rock was covered in sketches, etched into the stone by a sharp set of claws. Some were clearer and likely fresher than others, but the layers and sheer volume of the drawings made it clear that they’d been added over an extended period of time.

There was a progression to the artwork. What started as simple, ragged doodles evolved into more complex and smooth linework – no doubt, the result of countless hours worth of practice. The simpler sketches were nothing special, ranging from suns and moons to what Stoick assumed was meant to be a sheep. 

It was the fresher, more complex ones that gave him pause.

In one corner, the artist had depicted a scene of a father and son, engaged in some sort of conversation. The elder man looked down upon his son with a raised chin, brows furrowed in deep disappointment. The boy’s head was ducked low in shame, unruly hair obscuring his eyes. Shaky runes cut through the image with a simple ‘I’m sorry’.

Stoick reached out, fingers grazing the drawing with trembling fingers. Hiccup had done a remarkable job capturing their likenesses, and it pierced his heart to see how his son had remembered him during his exile. This was the version of himself that had haunted his boy, watching over him for years. A disapproving authority, casting judgement. 

It was fair – he couldn’t argue that. When Hiccup had disappeared, they hadn’t been on the greatest of terms. His son had been at the root of many – unintentional, Stoick now knew – messes throughout Berk. Stoick hadn’t seen the boy’s desperation to prove himself, only focusing on the fallout that he’d had to clean up. 

The etching was a stark reminder of his failures to support Hiccup before the curse. Of all the time he’d wasted before they were parted.

Wrenching his gaze away, he let his eyes drift further, taking stock of the rest of the drawings. 

A boy on fire, standing underneath a blazing sun. 

The transformation. 

A dragon’s claws, embedded in a young man’s chest. 

The attack. 

A girl walking with her battle axe resting on one shoulder. 

Astrid, perhaps? The figure was depicted from the back so he couldn’t be sure, though it seemed likely. 

A Night Fury with a spear impaled through its side, surrounded by a group of cheering vikings. 

Seeing that one, Stoick had to step back, feeling sick. 

He was well aware of his son’s fears, but seeing them depicted like that was another matter entirely. The worst part? It could have easily become reality, had his secret not been discovered precisely how it had been. One wrong move, one lucky shot…Stoick himself might have even dealt the blow, eager to take down a rare dragon.

Once more, he was reminded of how lucky he was to have gotten Hiccup back at all. 

The chief cleared his throat, dabbing roughly at his eyes before forcing himself to walk away. Though he yearned to study the rest of the sketches, to learn more about his son’s time in hiding…he dragged his feet towards the exit.

It would do Hiccup no good for him to waste time dwelling on the past – right now, he needed to think about the present.

He needed to find his son.

“The eastern woods are clear,” informed Ingrid Hofferson before Stoick had finished docking the boat. “I didn’t find any sign he’d been there.”

Stoick stepped out onto the dock, nodding solemnly. “I found no trace of him either. What about Astrid? Did she notice anything unusual?”

“No,” Ingrid shook her head, “She wasn't with me. It’s a small enough patch that I didn’t need the help. Besides, she took off – said she had somewhere else she needed to check. Come to think of it, she hasn’t returned yet… Perhaps that’s a good sign?”

He nodded stiffly, acknowledging the possibility. Berk was only so large. If Astrid was taking this long to complete her search, perhaps it meant she’d found him.

“Stoick!” 

The chief looked up, catching sight of Gobber and Spitelout as they hurried towards him. Their expressions were grim, and a familiar satchel hung off of Gobber’s hook. 

Stoick brushed past Ingrid, closing the gap between himself and the duo in a few quick strides. He eyed the bag, almost afraid to ask. “Is that–”

“Aye,” said Gobber, “It’s Hiccup’s.”

“Where–”

“Stoick,” interrupted Spitelout, shaking his head. “Wait. That’s not all we found – and believe me, this bit’s important. I was nearly halfway ‘round the island, when I noticed a pair of ships tucked into one of the inlets. It was the strangest thing, ‘cause I knew I recognized one of ‘em, but I couldn’t place why. Then it came to me – it was the same ship that tried to dock here a few days ago!”

Stoick’s blood turned to ice. There was only one unfamiliar ship Gobber had mentioned coming through in his absence – the one belonging to the poachers.

No.

“I boarded ‘em both, you know – ready to give ‘em a good Jorgenson integration and all – but they were empty. Not a single soul aboard either ship…just a lot of dragon trophi–oi!”

Gobber dislodged his elbow from the man’s side, shaking his head in disapproval. “Why would ya tell ‘im tha’ now?” He asked irately, turning his grave eyes on his friend as he held out the leather satchel. “Judging by this…you’re right. Hiccup is missin’. An’ ta make matters worse…those scum are on th’ isle , Stoick.” 

Chapter Text

Astrid wasted no time steering Stormfly towards the icy fortress. 

She wasn’t sure why Hiccup had lingered longer than he’d planned in the nest, but she needed to let him know that things had changed. They were out of time. With Stoick back home on the island, sure to be raising alarm across the village – it was critical that Hiccup make an appearance soon to set his father’s mind at ease. 

In order to make that happen, her own timing was everything. After all, if Hiccup were to make the trip back with her – or better yet, take advantage of his Night Fury speed and return even faster – she needed to give him as much daylight as possible to make the journey. 

As soon as Stormfly touched down in one of the outer tunnels, Astrid slipped off the Nadder’s back with a dull thud. Straightening up, she sped off through the labyrinth as quickly as she dared. Though she skidded and slid across the icy terrain, she didn’t fall, instead using the added momentum to help herself move faster and faster. Her boots slid across the surface, propelling her along. 

Turning proved to be the trickiest part, as she was unable to pivot easily at the forks in the road. Instead, she was forced to skate straight into the ice, using her hands to brace herself and then shove off the wall to correct her course.

Her hands stung from a combination of the cold and the sharp edges against her palms, but she persisted.

The sounds of the resident dragons were much more obvious during the day, and Astrid was momentarily struck by just how thunderous the echoes were growing – there had to be dozens and dozens of them. She tried to use that observation to brace herself before reaching the edge of the tunnels, unsure of just how crowded the sanctuary truly would be.

What she saw took her breath away. 

With the raids happening after sundown throughout her life, she’d almost only seen dragons cloaked in the darkness of night. The rare exceptions were the few that were trapped in the arena or those that were slain on Berk’s shores, though she’d really paid the latter no mind. She’d had other tasks to worry about in the aftermath of a battle.

As such, she hadn’t realized just how bright, colorful and varied the different species could be, and seeing the full spectrum scattered across the nest before her was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was a glittering feast for the eyes, painting the landscape in vivid hues as scales glinted in the sun.

Dragons were undoubtedly wild and mysterious creatures, but in that moment she couldn’t deny that there was also something beautiful about the different species. 

Still, she wasn’t here for any of them and didn’t allow her gaze to linger, no matter how tempting it was. The only dragon she sought was as dark as night itself. Bracing a hand above her eyes to shield against the sun, she surveyed the bustling movement of the nest. 

Hiccup would likely be observing it all, she assumed. He’d want to know how they lived and what made each species tick, driven by his insatiable curiosity. To do that, he’d have to have a good vantage point that would allow him to see without interfering.

The overlooks were the obvious choice for keeping an eye on things, so Astrid paid special mind in looking for dark shadows against the rocky outcroppings. When she found no such dragon, she was surprised.

 If he wasn’t watching the dragons…what was he doing? Why had he stayed?

“Hiccup?” She hissed, hoping his overly sensitive hearing would pick up on her voice amongst the chatter. 

Stormfly shadowed her as she took her first tentative steps into the active nest. She was grateful for the Nadder’s comforting presence, as it seemed to put the wild dragons they passed at ease. Some eyed her with brief curiosity, but each warning squawk from Stormfly kept them at bay.

“Hiccup?” She raised her voice louder, a bit more insistent this time. They didn’t have time for her to comb every corner of the sanctuary.

Nothing.

Where is he?

“Hiccup!” She finally yelled, throwing caution to the wind. Though she’d hoped to avoid attracting the attention of the other dragons, it was far better to take the risk than to linger longer than necessary.

Aside from a small green Terror giving her an impressively dark look as it scuttled away, her shout elicited little reaction from the local dragons.

Still no sign of him.

Astrid continued to wander deeper into the nest, eyes tracking over every surface she passed. She scoured the shadows for darker spots, hoping to see a familiar set of green eyes. 

At the bottom of a dropoff, she caught sight of a figure. Granted, it wasn’t the person she’d hoped to track down, but she was confident it would still help move things along.

“Valka!”

The woman startled, turning towards her voice and drawing her staff against her chest. A giant Stormcutter loomed behind the former chieftess – based on what Hiccup had told her, it was the very dragon that had taken the woman during that fateful raid in their youth – blinking owlishly at the unexpected visitor.

“Astrid,” she greeted, puzzlement clear in her expression. She lowered her staff slowly as she asked, “what are you doing here?”

Astrid closed the distance with quick, purposeful strides. “Look,” she said bluntly, “I know you only gave me permission to stay here for one night, but we can argue about that later. This is an emergency. I need to speak to Hiccup – right now.”

“Speak with…Hiccup?” Asked Valka, brows knitting together in confusion. She shook her head. “I’m afraid you can’t.”

“It can’t wait,” insisted Astrid with more force. 

Why was the former chieftess standing in her way? An unwelcome thought crossed her mind and she found herself scowling at the elder woman.

“You can’t possibly think… Is this about it being day?” Astrid asked, voice darkening with disbelief. How had his mother spent a week with him and missed something this big? “It’s not ideal, but he doesn’t have to be able to speak for us to have a conversation. His mind doesn’t change! He can understand me perfectly well, Night Fury or human–”

“Astrid,” interrupted Valka, now looking a bit put out herself. “That’s not it. I assure you – I’m well aware of my son’s intelligence. I don’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s…well, it’s not day that’s the problem. You can’t speak to Hiccup simply because, well, he’s not here.” 

That couldn't be right. 

Where else could he be? Where else would he even dream of going when he left, save for back home to Berk?

“Not here?” She echoed, feeling numb.

Valka left Cloudjumper’s side to put a comforting hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “Yes. He left the nest at daybreak yesterday. I’m afraid that you’ve come all this way for nothing.”

Astrid rolled her shoulder, shaking off the unwanted contact. Hiccup’s mother or not…the two were barely more than strangers, and she didn’t like to let just anyone into her space. 

“So you’re saying that Hiccup left at dawn yesterday,” she said slowly, taking a step back, “and somehow he never made it home.”

It was far too much time left unaccounted for, and the more she thought about it the less she liked it. 

While Hiccup had a love for exploration and a tendency to get distracted by his findings…he wasn’t irresponsible. If he’d taken a detour on his way home, he’d still have kept an eye on the setting sun. He’d have given himself plenty of time to make it to Berk’s shores before sundown. 

He’d promised he’d return to her. 

He’d promised.

Astrid felt alarm bells tolling in her mind. Hiccup had proven to be a man of his word, and for him to break such a commitment to her was a clear cause for concern. Especially after the moment they’d shared–

Would he really…no. It just didn’t fit.

“Something must have happened,” she murmured to herself, chewing the inside of her lip with worry.

While there hadn’t been any harsh weather on Berk, it was still possible that he’d encountered some patches of rough air over the sea on his way home. Could he be injured, lying helpless on some sea stack while he waited for his healing factor to reverse the damage? 

What if someone were to come upon a downed Night Fury? Her worry escalated as she considered the possibility – most vikings wouldn’t think twice if they found such a prize. For Hiccup, it couldn’t end well.

“Hiccup is missing,” she turned her attention to Valka, trying to work out a plan. Planning was his thing, not hers, and she felt out of her depth being thrust into the role. “Which means he’s probably in some sort of trouble – I’m going to need your help.”

Two riders on dragonback could cover a lot more ground, she reasoned. If they each searched a territory near Berk, they stood a better chance of finding him.

Valka cocked her head, seeming far less troubled. If anything, she looked almost pitying. “Missing? Dear…don’t you think that’s a bit of a leap? It’s only been a day, after all.” 

“A lot can happen in a day.”

Hiccup had been cursed in a day. Hiccup had been captured in a day. Hiccup had ended the war in a day.

Valka’s next words were a little more pointed. “Have you considered that perhaps he might just need some time to himself? After all, he hasn’t had to hide his true nature from anyone this last week. I’d imagine it will be hard to give that up for Berk, just to live amongst dragon killers once more.”

A flare of indignant anger shot through Astrid. Regardless of her relation to Hiccup, Valka had only known him for a single week! How dare she make such presumptions about his feelings.

“Excuse me?” Astrid snarled, feeling tension begin to crackle in the air like electricity. She jabbed a finger against Valka’s chest, pushing the woman back a few steps with the force of it. “Your son is missing and you have the nerve to make this about your issues with Berk?”

“He’s probably just clearing his mind,” insisted Valka defensively, bringing her staff up to keep Astrid at bay, “and enjoying his freedom. Dragons often fly to–”

“This isn’t about dragons!” Astrid cut her off, shaking her head in anger, “this is about your son. The one you abandoned once already, in case you’ve forgotten. You’ve failed him before, are you really going to risk failing him again?”

On instinct, she’d drawn her axe, taking comfort in the familiar weight of it in her hands. Tensions were high and she was itching to take out some of her frustration.

At the sight of the weapon, Cloudjumper whined, trying to nudge Valka under the safety of one of his wings. The former chieftess ignored her companion, standing her ground. 

“My history with my family is none of your concern,” argued Valka, eyes narrowed as she assessed the young woman before her. “You have no right to judge what you do not understand.”

“Just like you’ve judged all of Berk?” Astrid asked with a scoff. 

It was laughable to be lectured on such things from a woman so quick to write off a village she hadn’t seen in decades. Valka was nothing more than a hypocrite in Astrid’s eyes. 

The former chieftess flushed, words seeming to strike a nerve. 

“For the record,” Astrid continued, steel in her voice, “what happens to Hiccup is my concern – even more than yours, I’d bet.”

“Because you care for him?” Valka challenged almost mockingly, raising an eyebrow. She turned her back on Astrid, raising her voice as she moved back to Cloudjumper’s side. “So do I. I fail to see how that sets us apart. The big difference is, he and I are blood.”

Blood. As if that fact made up for the choices she’d made. 

In Astrid’s eyes, it didn’t.

“Yeah, well, blood isn’t family. It isn't love,” she argued, steeling herself as she admitted, “and I…I love him.”

Valka froze mid-step, seemingly taken aback by the blunt declaration. 

Astrid slid her axe back into the holster, clenching and unclenching her fists to dispel the anxious energy. As much as she needed an outlet and wanted to take her anger out…she knew better than to pick a fight in the sanctuary. This was a place of peace, and she knew Hiccup would want her to show restraint – even if she still believed Valka needed to be set straight.

“It took me a while to realize it, but I do. I love him, and I’m starting to think that he might love me,” she said, boring her eyes into the back of the woman’s armor. Though the words were true, Astrid couldn’t fight the small bit of resentment that came from speaking them now. 

The words were precious. They were more open and vulnerable than she ever let herself be, and she hated that it was Valka who was there to hear them the first time she spoke them aloud. There was only one person who deserved to witness that confession, and he was nowhere to be found. 

Her only consolation was the knowledge that she’d admitted the truth for his sake. She hoped it would be worth it – that Valka’s claims to care for her child were true and she’d recognize the significance of what Astrid had just admitted for both herself and for Hiccup.

“I’m not just going to sit back when he could be in real danger,” She continued. “Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of entertaining that kind of fantasy. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but we look out for each other in the tribe. We protect our own.”

Even if her feelings weren’t returned to the depth that she hoped they were, she’d be just as motivated to help him. Aside from being her dearest friend, he was also tribe. He was one of them. 

“Look, I know Hiccup – which honestly, is something you can’t really say,” she continued, unable to stop the words even if she knew they were a bit cruel. “If he hasn’t come home, something’s definitely gone wrong.”

Astrid turned to Stormfly, who bent low to offer her back to her rider. Once securely settled atop the Nadder’s back, Astrid dared another glance at the former chieftess.

Valka was watching her, lips pursed and eyes shining. Her staff was tucked into the crook of her arm, and her posture was stiff and defensive.

“I can’t tell you how to live your life. Honestly, I’m not going to waste my breath. But if you want any sort of future with him,” warned Astrid, “what you do in this moment matters. He gave you a second chance. If you waste it, that’s on you.”

“I can’t just…leave…” 

It was a feeble excuse, but there was a certain broken quality to it. As if the former chieftess understood on some level that Astrid was right, but something was still holding her back.

The ground beneath them began to shake, and Stormfly cried out in alarm. Astrid yelped in alarm, throwing her arms around her dragon’s neck to steady herself. 

There was a deep rumbling as something enormous rose above them, casting its massive shadow over them all. 

“What the Hel is that!?” 

The women were quiet as they took off towards Berk, each lost in their own thoughts. 

Astrid was still processing the immensity and sheer presence of the Bewilderbeast, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that something like that could even exist. It was larger – and in some ways, more intimidating – than even the Red Death, herself. As Hiccup had told her, there was a weightiness to its gaze that felt ancient, like the creature had been around since the time of the gods. 

It had shaken Astrid to the core, making her feel smaller than she’d ever felt in her life. It also brought to mind a chilling question. 

If such a creature existed…what else lurked beyond Berk’s shores?

Valka had acted with deep respect towards the Bewilderbeast, bowing low as if it were some sort of king. She’d greeted it with reverence, keeping her head low as the massive dragon rumbled back in a deafening timbre.

In a slow, sweeping motion, the giant had nodded its head to Valka. Then, it twisted its neck, pointing towards the holes in the ceiling above. 

Astrid hadn’t understood what the Bewilderbeast was trying to say, but Valka had. The woman had sputtered, making excuses for why she needed to stay at the nest. When the creature repeated its motions, more insistently this time, she’d wilted. 

With another bow of respect, she’d infomed Astrid that she would join her on her quest.

They’d now been flying for a little over an hour, and neither had spoken a word to the other since taking flight. An awkwardness hung in the air, almost stifling in its presence.

They did surveys of the shores of every sea stack and small isle as they went, ruling out possibilities as they did. Astrid wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or worried that they hadn’t found him, for the possibility that someone else had was far worse than him being stranded. 

Eventually, they could see Berk off in the distance.

“...I’m afraid…”

Astrid almost missed the words, having been so caught in her own thoughts. Still, the admission was impossible to ignore.

“Of what?” She asked, though she had her suspicions.

“I…I was a different person, when I was taken…” Valka’s breath hitched, “I-I shouldn’t be here…I-I can’t face him.”

“Stoick?”

“Aye. Hiccup was right…I chose to stay away. Stoick won’t understand, he couldn’t possibly understand. This is a mistake.”

“I don’t know how many times you need to hear it before you believe it, but Berk has changed,” said Astrid with exasperation, keeping her eyes on the approaching island. “Stoick’s a lot more open-minded than you’re giving him credit for – he’s been willing to learn and he’s been willing to change.”

“The man I knew–”

“It’s been twenty years , for Thor’s sake!” Astrid snapped, “everyone has changed – including you. Stoick’s really stepped up, and you owe him a chance to prove it. I get it. I get that you’re afraid. I get that you have reservations. But you said it yourself – you made a choice to abandon your family and your tribe. Those consequences are yours to bear.”

Hiccup glared at the bars of his cage, glinting almost tauntingly in the morning sun. 

They’d proven to be just a few too many inches close together, making it impossible for him to slip through in the night. He’d really tried – telling himself that even if he dislocated a joint in the process, it was worth the temporary pain to get away. Yet, no matter how much force he applied or how he contorted his body, he wasn’t able to shove his way through.

He’d had to bite back a string of curses throughout the process, stemming from both pain and frustration. He’d been hyper aware of the surrounding campsite, full of slumbering poachers. Any loud or unexpected sound could be enough to wake them. 

Hiccup had persisted, trying again and again to twist and turn in such a way that he could make the escape work. It was maddening, as there were moments he’d felt a false sense of hope. Then reality would set it when his hips or shoulders would slam against the unyielding metal. 

By the time the sun had begun to rise, he was both exhausted and dispirited. That hadn’t stopped him from attempting to claw off the muzzle, only to find himself blinded as the tarp was ripped away. 

Once more, Viggo’s sword had slammed against the bars, letting loose an agonizing thunder that made his brain feel like it was rattling in his skull. It made it hard to focus, like a spike through his mind.

Using loud noises to disorient a dragon was nothing new. It was one of the first things a viking learned in dragon training, as it was a defense mechanism that even the most unskilled could employ with success. Hiccup had once thought it was laughable – that a little bit of noise could have such a big impact on something as intimidating as a dragon.

It wasn’t funny now. 

Thankfully, his body had fought off the last remnants of the toxin at sundown, so he had his full range of motion and awareness back. He used that freedom to force his ears down, filtering out some of the after-echoes.

He made no move to touch the muzzle again.

As he lay in the cage, Hiccup felt utterly defenseless. Confined within its walls and muzzled, he had no way to defend himself. 

Even in the night, he was unarmed. 

If I make it through this in one piece, he promised himself, I’m finding a way to work some sort of weapon into the new leg design. Or at least a lockpick. 

Focusing on the potential schematic was a way to offer his mind relief from his otherwise churning thoughts. Whenever they creeped in and threatened to consume him, he forced himself to mentally adjust a screw here or a hinge there, mapping out the design in his mind.

A collapsable sword could have its uses. 

The hunters milled about the camp, cleaning up the spoils from their celebration. He noticed that they were often out of sync, small arguments breaking out often as personalities and plans clashed. There did not appear to be any sort of camaraderie throughout their ranks, with real respect only being shown towards their unshakable leader.

Hiccup gave in to his exhaustion, napping for small stretches. After an hour or two of fitful sleep, he’d jerk awake, often startled by the harsh reminder of his situation. 

After one such nap, Hiccup awoke to the uncanny feeling of being watched.

He lifted his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the sensation. When he spotted a man standing just outside the bars of the cage, he flinched back, startled by the proximity. 

A low growl sprang from his throat – the result of some deeper compulsion, rather than his own conscious intent. At that realization, Hiccup cut the sound off abruptly. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught those primal, base-level Night Fury instincts creeping into his actions, but it still took him off guard when it happened. 

Carefully, and without breaking eye-contact with the man before him, Hiccup rose to his feet. He felt his muscles tense up, trying to take on a more defensive position.

Viggo chucked, amused by his reaction. “So this is the great Night Fury? The so-called ‘unholy offspring of lightning and death,’ feared throughout the archipelago? I’ll be honest, I’d rather expected more…”

Hiccup snorted. Failing to meet the expectations of others was nothing unfamiliar to him – he’d even come to expect it growing up. There was a reason he’d garnered a reputation for being, well…useless. 

It just had always been a sentiment applied towards his human self – he’d never before been considered a disappointment as a dragon. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised. 

He wasn’t the ideal viking. He wasn’t the ideal dragon.

He was just…Hiccup. 

In the midst of his contemplations, he allowed his attention to drift from the poacher. Viggo, however, appeared to have been watching him intently.

“Curious…” He murmured to himself, narrowing his eyes at the Night Fury before him. “I’d almost wager that you understood me, just then. Perhaps…perhaps there’s a bit more to you that we’re not seeing…some secret we’ve yet to unlock…”

Viggo’s plan had yet to hit a snag. 

He’d been confident in his strategy, of course, but there was always a margin for error – there was always room for the unexpected. He firmly believed that one must always be prepared for a surprise – otherwise he was asking to find himself at a disadvantage later. Seeing things run smoothly was always an immensely satisfying moment. 

He’d done what so many considered impossible: he’d caged lightning. At least, in a sense.

A Night Fury was a legendary catch, and one that would serve to boost his status and reputation throughout the archipelago. The success would open doors for him to bigger and better ventures, giving him a chance to craft an even greater future if he played his cards right.

Like all ambitious plans, one needed to consider all the moving pieces as it progressed. New information could not be dismissed – allowing oneself to get too confident could lead to one’s downfall.

Viggo prided himself in keeping track of each piece of the puzzle, ensuring that no variable was left unexplored. 

At the moment, that variable was the Night Fury itself. 

The creature had overcome a massive dose of dragonroot in a shockingly short span of time. The dosage had been meant to keep the beast docile and out of sorts for days, and somehow the dragon had slept it off in a single night. It shouldn’t be possible.

Then there were its eyes. 

Viggo had been face to face with more than his fair share of dragons over the years, and while some showed signs of elevated intelligence…none compared to what he’d seen in the Night Fury’s eyes. There was a depth to the creature’s gaze, strangely akin to that of a human being. When he spoke, he could see the flicker of understanding in those eyes. 

It should be impossible, but something in his gut told him it was true. He’d learned never to dismiss such feelings.

His suspicions grew when the dragon started making a racket about an hour before sundown. It began thrashing in the cage, snarling as loudly as it could through the muzzle and banging against the bars of the cage like it had gone mad.

The men were unsettled, crying out for Viggo to silence the beast.

As he ordered the cage to be covered once more, he could have sworn the dragon relaxed. Almost like it had achieved the outcome it sought.

Odd.

He kept his thoughts to himself, focusing on delegating tasks across the camp. The men were turning in for the night – tired and hungover from the previous night – but Viggo wanted to ensure they’d start the next day off productively. He had no tolerance for laziness in his ranks.

They couldn’t risk staying on Berk forever, but there was no sense in sailing pointlessly with no destination. Now that their base had been destroyed, he needed to figure out the best way forward to keep their operation running efficiently. 

After assessing a few options on the map, he found his mind circling back to the Night Fury. His feet took him across the darkened campsite, bringing him to the edge of the cage. 

Unable to shake the compulsion to check on the beast, he crouched low and gripped a corner of the tarp. He didn’t want to agitate the dragon – having it cause a racket when his men were trying to sleep would not help to inspire loyalty – but he was too intrigued to leave it alone.

Viggo kept himself close to the ground, lifting the corner as far as he dared. 

The dragon was facing away from him, curled up on itself. Its wings stretched out towards him, sleek and batlike in appearance. If he only reached out, he’d be able to graze his fingers over the onyx scales.

His fingers twitched, but he kept his curiosity in check.

A sudden purple blaze erupted from the creature. 

For a moment, Viggo feared it had slipped its muzzle and was releasing a plasma blast, but then the fire consumed the dragon. Only Monstrous Nightmares were known to ignite like that – only they had the capability for such a feat. 

This was something different. Something far stranger.

There were very few times in Viggo’s life that he could remember feeling truly without words. Seeing the Night Fury somehow swallowed in purple fire ranked high amongst them. 

Seeing the pale, thin frame of a young man when those flames receded ranked even higher.

Sorcery.

Chapter Text

Nearly all of Berk was gathered within the walls of Meade Hall – an audience hanging intently on every word from their chief. The man’s deep set tension was contagious, and that agitation was echoed throughout the tense shoulders of the tribe.

Stoick was trying his hardest to push his personal emotions to the side, striving to think logically and clearly as he relayed his plans to the assembled vikings. Each minute that he spent not seeking out his son pained him greatly, but charging in blindly could put others at risk.

In his mind, a familiar mantra repeated: a chief protects his own. Stoick was aware that he had a solemn responsibility to his people to make sure they went in with a real plan – one that avoided, or at the very least minimized, the bloodshed of his tribe.

He needed to be chief first, father second.

He hated it.

“...while Spitelout found two boats in the inlet, but there may be more in our waters lying in wait,” he cautioned. 

“Keep an eye ou’ for traps, too!” Gobber chimed in, shaking his head. “Trappers are known for hidin’ ‘em all over different islands, and ya don’ want ta get stuck in one! Trust me, at tha’ last gatherin’ I went to, I thought all th’ blood was gonna rush straigh’ to my head, I was hangin’ upside down so long–”

“Thank you, Gobber,” cut in Stoick, taking back control of the room. “Aye, poachers do use a nasty range of traps wherever they go so I’d advise you to stay aware of your surroundings at all times. We have an idea of where the camp is, thanks to some tracks Spitelout found, so the surrounding woods are the greatest risk for traps.”

With those words he thrust his dagger into the map, right into the location where they believed the invaders had settled. There was a solid thunk as the force of the motion drove the blade into the table beneath. 

Stoick wished the wood of the table was the heart of the man foolish enough to take his son.

“We must approach this with utmost caution,” he stressed, trying to keep the fear from his voice. He needed to be the confident leader his people expected. “If these men feel threatened, they may lash out – either at us, or…”

Or at Hiccup.

Gods, he feared for his son’s safety. Even if by some miracle they hadn’t yet realized the full extent of what he was, no dragon was safe in the hands of poacher operation – and Hiccup was sure to know that. 

He must be so scared. 

Stoick’s heart clenched at the thought, throat going tight with emotion.

“Stoick’s right,” chimed in Spitelout, saving him from having to speak, “and besides – we don’t want ta give ‘em a chance to flee. They trespassed on our island, and we don’ want to drive ‘em off without makin’ ‘em pay first, am I right?”

That elicited a rumble of approval from the crowd. While the village did want to protect their home and rescue the heir, they were also motivated by the sheer outrage of having unwelcome squatters on their island. 

It was a matter of honor – of principle . No viking would tolerate such blatant disrespect.

As Spitelout egged the crowd on, Stoick’s attention drifted upwards, seeking a break from the weight of all the eyes upon him. 

His eyes landed upon a familiar sculpture. The skewered dragon had been there all his life, but in that moment it was as if he’d never seen it before. His eyes traced over the agonized face, caught in a brutal scream as it lashed out in the violent throes of death. 

In the days of the dragon raids, it had been a symbol of triumph and survival. Of Berk’s endurance despite the threat they faced. Now, it was a celebration of death – of suffering.

It was a bit…grotesque, now that he considered the statue more deeply. It was also not unique – much like in the case of the original design of the armor he was having reworked for Hiccup, the motif was found in countless spaces throughout the village. 

Hiccup sees this every day, he realized with dread. 

No wonder his son had been so hesitant to share his full self with the tribe. Though the dragon in the depictions was no Night Fury, the implications of the motif throughout the village were no less grim. Dragons were not welcome in Berk.

Gods, how had it taken him so long to notice? 

If we get him back…

Stoick closed his eyes, taking a long and shuddering breath.

When we get him back, things will have to change.

Throughout the day, Hiccup’s hunger pangs had continued to worsen. The poachers had yet to remove the muzzle, and save for a bucket of water they’d given him that he’d been able to slurp up through clenched jaws, he’d been starved of all nourishment.

Things only worsened when he shifted back to human, his smaller frame more desperate for food. He heard his stomach cry out, and he curled his body around it reflexively. He lay there for a few minutes, breathing deeply as he tried to push the pain from his mind. 

Hadn’t they wanted to keep him alive? Surely they’d have to feed him at some point. 

Hiccup suspected the strategy was much like breaking a difficult hound – they wanted him desperate and willing to cooperate. If he was weak and starving, he was more likely to do what they wanted for a food reward. With many hounds, that dynamic could gradually build up a sense of loyalty as the dog felt a sense of debt to its food source.

He hoped he would not be so easy to break, but the more the pain gnawed at him the more he doubted it.

Exhaling heavily, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the metal roof of his prison. He could see his reflection in it, his own despondent green eyes glaring back at him in the dim light.

The light seemed a bit brighter to his right, drawing his eyes to that side. There, in the reflection on the ceiling, he spotted another figure.

Hiccup jolted at that realization, scrambling to sit upright. Swallowing hard, he twisted to face the figure. 

Viggo stared back, dark eyes narrowed as he regarded his captive. 

Neither man spoke. 

Hiccup’s heart hammered away in his chest and he resisted the urge to back further away. There was no point – it wasn’t as if there were anywhere he could go. Being in the center of the cage offered the most safety.

Viggo leaned closer to the bars, stroking his chin, “well, you’re just full of surprises. Do tell me, how exactly does a beast become a boy?”

Hiccup’s throat went dry, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Or,” continued Viggo with a raised eyebrow, “perhaps it’s the other way around, hmm? At the root of this dark sorcery, are you boy or beast?”

Hiccup opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come. 

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose,” said Viggo dismissively, tapping his fingers against the bars of the cage in an uneven rhythm. “If you can become both, I’d wager there’s always a bit of both within you, bleeding across the divide.”

It was…a shocking perceptive assessment for one who knew so little about him. After years of living with the duality, his two forms had become like two sides of the same coin. While his humanity would always be the cornerstone of who he was, his dragon side was not some foreign entity – over time it had become a real part of him. Even if things were different and the curse could somehow be broken...he doubted that part of him would subside completely. He'd been forever changed by his experiences, and living as a dragon would always linger within him.

“Let–let me go,” rasped Hiccup, hating how weak his voice sounded. He needed water, his throat was parched.

“Ah, so he does speak. Good, good,” praised Viggo, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose that answers my other question, though it does raise a few more.”

Hiccup closed his eyes, hating that he was about to resort to begging. “Please,” he forced out, trying to appeal to the stranger’s humanity. Surely recognized the cruelty of keeping another human in a cage? “You have to let me go.”

“I don’t have to do anything, actually,” corrected Viggo with a humorless laugh, knocking his knuckles against the cage, “and you are in no position to make demands.”

At that moment, Hiccup’s stomach growled again, puncturing the strangled tension in the air.

For a moment, Viggo looked surprised by the sound, but the expression quickly smoothed over. “I have no intention of letting you go,” he stated calmly, “but I’ll make you a deal. Tell me who you are, and I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, the poacher lowered the tarp back into place and stepped away. Hiccup stared at the fabric as it settled back into place, watching the gradually slowing swings with dread. Did he dare refuse the man’s offer, knowing that he had no real power here? 

When Viggo returned a few minutes later, he carried with him a plate of bread and cheese as well as what appeared to be a waterskin. He sat at the edge of the cage, balancing the meal on one knee. 

“Well?”

Hiccup clenched his teeth, trying not to let the smell of the food sway him.

He would stay strong. He would not break.

“While I do admire your resolve, it is rather pointless,” said Viggo, breaking off a chunk of the bread and eating it. “You see, what most people fail to realize is that the world around us is essentially just one big game of Maces and Talons. You are familiar with the game, I presume? He who holds the pieces of power controls the game. At this moment, I hold all the pieces where you are concerned. Your resistance offers you neither freedom nor advantage, it only serves to weaken you further – so why not play the game? It’s the only way to alleviate some of your suffering."

The rational side of Hiccup's brain was losing the fight, overwhelmed by the burning pain of his hunger. His eyes kept drifting to the plate, knowing how much relief it could provide.

Plus...he could admit that Viggo had a point. Weakening himself further would do him no favors. If anything, it would only make it more difficult to escape or fight back if needed. 

“I’ll even grant you the same courtesy,” the man continued. “My name is Viggo Grimborn.”

Hiccup’s eyes tracked over the plate once more, feeling another sharp stab of pain.

“Hiccup,” he admitted, shamed by his own desperation. “My name is Hiccup. Hiccup Haddock.”

“I believe I know that name…the only son of Stoick the Vast, is it? Funny, I’d heard the heir of Berk was dead, but it seems those rumors have been grossly exaggerated. Perhaps just trying to cover all...this up, I'd wager," said Viggo, grabbing a chunk of bread and holding it through the bars. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Hiccup eyed the outstretched hand warily for a moment. Carefully, he reached out his own to grab the bread, eyes flickering back to his captor as he did. Viggo remained relaxed, watching Hiccup steadily as he wrapped his fingers around the offering.

Hiccup exhaled in relief.

With shocking speed, Viggo’s other hand shot out, grasping Hiccup’s wrist in an iron grip. 

“Fascinating.”  

Viggo yanked on Hiccup’s arm, forcing him against the bars. The man’s dark gaze traced over the dark scales, twisting Hiccup’s wrist back and forth as he assessed the curse mark in more detail. 

Hiccup grunted, trying to pull back. His stiff muscles protested, and he was unable to free himself. 

“Exactly what manner of sorcery is this?” Viggo questioned, sounding intrigued. “I’ve never seen anything like it… What are you?”

Hiccup continued to struggle, wrenching his hand back to his chest when Viggo’s grip finally relaxed. He scooted himself backwards in the cage, putting some distance between the two of them before his aching stomach had him tearing into the bread with fervor. 

It wasn’t much, but it took some of the edge off. 

Viggo eyed him knowingly, gesturing towards the remaining food on the plate “All this can be yours if you cooperate.”

At what cost?

Still, what choice did he have? His very survival rested with the man making demands.

“I’m…well, I was…I was born human,” he rambled, not fully sure how to answer the question. “Now…”

“Now you’ve turned to sorcery?” Viggo guessed, looking intrigued. “You’ve found a way to use magic to become something…more?”

Hiccup scoffed, shaking his head. “I didn’t do this,” he asserted. It was comical to picture his younger self delving into witchcraft and dark magic, when that boy had simply wanted to wield a standard axe with tipping over. “It’s a curse.”

Viggo set the plate of cheese down in the cage, sliding it towards Hiccup. “Go on.”

“I pissed off a Night Fury,” he summed up dryly. He was getting really sick of recounting that night. “It’s a whole messy story, but the gist of it is some sort of transformation magic. I’m myself at night, but during the day…well, you saw. If you’re looking for the same results, I can’t say I recommend it.”

Viggo laughed, seemingly surprised by the snark in Hiccup’s tone. “No, I can assure you that I have no desire to share your fate.” 

“So, is that all? Ready to let me go now?”

“Not a chance. You see, Hiccup – it was Hiccup, wasn’t it? You’ve presented me with quite the conundrum. While I’ve assured these men that our captured Night Fury is their ticket to fame and riches…now I see that you may be of better use to me elsewhere.” 

That didn’t sound good. Hiccup brought his knees to his chest, turning his attention away from the man. He focused on finishing the food, trying not to rise to the bait. He’d gotten what he needed from Viggo – why should he keep entertaining such questions?

“You see,” continued Viggo, tossing the waterskin into the cage. “Capturing a Night Fury is one thing, but if I can show that I’ve tamed one, the possibilities are endless…”

Tamed?

Hiccup snarled, glaring at the man. “I’m not an animal,” he reminded, lips curling back and anger rising in his voice. “You can’t control me like one.”

“No, I suppose not…”

Hiccup retrieved the waterskin, nearly choking in his rush to quench his thirst. Some of the liquid went down the wrong pipe, and he had to cough to clear it from his airway.

Viggo was silent, reflecting on what he had learned. Several minutes passed before he spoke again.

“I could always reward you for your allegiance. You have the potential to be a valuable asset, and that’s not something I take lightly.” Viggo argued steadily. He steepled his fingers together. “If you’re willing to play your cards right, perhaps you could even become a...partner, of sorts.”

“What?”

“I believe that I could have use for a man of your unique talents. You alone possess the might of a dragon with the mind of a human. There is power in that, if one only takes a moment to consider the possibilities," he said.  "Imagine what we could accomplish together!”

Hiccup frowned, finding himself at a loss. “I don’t see what–”

“No army would dare stand against mine with a Night Fury at the helm,” continued Viggo, a dangerous spark in his eye. “Especially one that can understand and execute orders. With your help, I have little doubt that we could bend the entire archipelago to our will in time. We could be kings!”

What?

“Are you actually insane?” Hiccup asked, dumbstruck by the suggestion.

“What kind of life could you possibly be living now?” Challenged Viggo, leaning close against the bars and sneering at him. “The world believes that Hiccup Haddock is dead and gone – you, who were once meant to inherit a chiefdom, now have been cast aside from your birthright! Dishonored. You’ve lost everything – do you really plan to spend the rest of your days skulking in the shadows? By my side, you could have the power and respect that was taken from you, and then some. I can help you regain what was stolen from you.”

You’ve lost everything.

At one point, he’d have believed that. In his years of exile, he’d fully expected to die alone and largely forgotten. He’d missed everything about home – even the tedious boring lessons on leading the tribe one day. 

A year ago, the man’s offer would have been almost impossible to refuse. Back then, he'd been desperate for anyone to accept him. 

Now? Hiccup wasn’t alone anymore. He’d gained so much back.

Yet, there was still a truth to his captor’s words. He’d had to make sacrifices. Despite having a place in the tribe once more, it wasn’t the same. The chiefdom was no longer his to inherit, and those beyond Berk’s shores could never know the truth of who he was, let alone what he was.

Outside of Berk, he was as good as a ghost.

“Of course, the choice is yours,” said Viggo. He fiddled with a leather cord that was tied around his belt, briefly flashing a silver key towards Hiccup. “Accept my offer, and we can make other, more suitable living arrangements for you. Though, should you choose to refuse, I am happy to stick with the original plan and you can remain my prisoner. There are more than a few buyers I can think of who will be interested in acquiring such a rare prize…”

“Go to Hel.”

“Such a temper,” tutted Viggo, though he looked unsurprised by the response. “I’d imagine you need some time to consider my offer. Think on it.”

With that, Hiccup was alone again.

Stoick was growing increasingly weary of all the back and forth within the hall. For every proposed plan, someone had a hole or two to poke in it, rendering it useless. That realization would set off a new chain of questions, which would then lead to a revised plan. 

And then it would repeat. Again and again.

There was no time for this. Hiccup was counting on them – on him .

“...no, Gobber, we can’t start a forest fire,” he said. “Even if it does flush them out, it could spread and reach the village.”

“We jus’ need ta find a way to contain it! It’s perfect,” argued the blacksmith, shaking his hook in the air. “Hiccup’s fireproof durin’ th’ day – ’e’d be safe, and th’ poachers would be runnin’ scared!”

“It’s too risky,” he said firmly and with finality. 

Thud!

A heavy sound filtered through the doors of the hall, coming from the town square. It was followed by a strange fluttering sound that Stoick instantly recognized. It was not unlike the sound Hiccup’s wings made when he shook them out after a flight. 

“What was that?” Spitelout drew his blade, edging towards the door. 

Stoick, grateful for the change in subject, elbowed his way past the assembled vikings to reach the door. When he pulled them open, he was struck by the sight in front of him.

Astrid Hofferson sat atop a blue Nadder’s back, looking perfectly confident and at home in the position. The dragon offered no resistance to the young woman’s presence, making no effort to shake the viking from its back. 

Another dragon loomed behind the duo, but Stoick’s eyes were locked on Astrid in disbelief. She was…riding…a dragon?

It was preposterous.

“What…?” 

What was she doing? He couldn’t wrap his mind around the strangeness of the sight. His worry over her safety warred with his dislike for the unknown as he found himself torn between shouting for her to get down and demanding an explanation.

The inner turmoil was enough to render him temporarily speechless.

“Wait! Please, there’s no danger!” Astrid called out, holding up her hands placatingly. “Lower your weapons – they’re not going to attack!”

Stoick hadn’t seen a dragon land in the town square since the last raid they’d faced, and it was hard to separate those memories from the sight of the two creatures standing before him. Though the dragons were showing no signs of aggression, years of bad experiences were hard to suppress.

“Isn’t that Astrid Hofferson?”

“...like the Nadder from the training arena?”

“...clearly gone mad…”

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one struggling. Still, he raised a hand and motioned for his tribe to lower their weapons, willing to hear Astrid out. She was level-headed – surely she had a good explanation for what they were seeing.

As he waited for her to speak, his wide eyes drifted towards the larger dragon, registering that it was a Stormcutter. This one tugged at something in his memory, resurfacing a decades-old grief as it peered down at him. He swallowed hard, a familiar wetness pricking in his eyes.

He’d hated Stormcutters for decades – after all, the last one he’d seen this close had stolen his wife from him, ripping a hole in his family. Though he knew it was unlikely to be the same dragon, he couldn’t shake the raw rush of emotion its appearance summoned within him.

Astrid slid to the ground, hurrying up the steps of the hall until they were face-to-face. 

“Did you find him?” She demanded, her blue eyes searching his with a desperate intensity.

Stoick sighed, “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“We think we know where he is,” explained Stoick, “but we haven’t been able to see with certainty.”

“I don’t understand–”

“There are poachers on the island, Astrid. Spitelout found their ships empty in an inlet.” Stoick’s voice came out harsher than anticipated, his own frustration too difficult to contain. “Hiccup’s bag was found in the woods.”

A look of dawning horror crept over the blonde’s face, and she shook her head in denial. “No, no. They can’t…but he…it’s not–”

Stoick sighed, nodding solemnly. One of the hardest parts of being chief was delivering bad news, and he hated watching the heartbreak in her eyes as he relayed their findings. It echoed the pain in his own heart. “Aye, it doesn’t look good. We’re putting together a plan now, why don’t you join us?”

SQUACK!

The Nadder’s loud cry drew Stoick’s attention once more, and his eyes flickered between the dragon and Astrid. “Do I even want to ask?”

Astrid shook her head. “It’s a long story, but Stormfly – the Nadder – she’s not a threat to anyone here. At last, as long as no one threatens her first. I promise I’ll tell you all about it once Hiccup’s safe.”

“Aye…and the Stormcutter?”

Astrid glanced over at the dragon, looking torn. “Um. I brought some help.”

“Oh?”

Stoick squinted at the dragon, surprised to spot an armored figure crouched against its neck. The stranger appeared to be watching him, head cocked to the side beneath a strange mask. 

“Who is that?”

“Um,” Astrid bit her lip. “Well, she’s an ally. I’m not sure how much she wants me to share…”

The masked figure dropped to the ground, landing in an almost animalistic crouch. Stoick squinted as the stranger proceeded to approach them, moving with a strange grace. It wasn’t quite the same fluidity that Hiccup possessed, but elements of it reminded him of his son’s movements – almost as if the woman were trying to move like a dragon.

Curious.

The men behind him muttered to one another, unsettled by the odd display. He could feel Spitelout bristling beside him, preparing for any sign of a threat.

Once the stranger stood a few short paces away, she reached up and grasped the sides of the helmet. After a pause and an audible sigh, the mask was removed.

The breath was stolen from his lungs as he regarded the woman who stood before him. Time had streaked her hair with gray and the laugh lines by her eyes were more pronounced than he remembered, but her beauty was unmistakable. 

It was like seeing a ghost, and he feared if he blinked she’d vanish before his eyes. She couldn’t possibly be real…could she? 

“Val?”

His voice sounded so far away, small and broken even to his own ears. A wave of whispers broke out around him, the dull roar filling the air. 

Waiting for confirmation was agony, each breath a struggle as he regarded her. Each second seemed to stretch on for hours as his hope warred with his doubt.

He’d already had one miracle in his lifetime when he’d gotten Hiccup back. Getting two seemed too good to be true. Had his panic and his grief over Hiccup’s fate warped his perception of reality? Was he now seeing his lost love in a stranger’s eyes?

“Hello, Stoick.”

The familiar voice cracked the dam in his heart, reaffirming the idea that she’d actually returned to him. That she’d lived.

He reached out, needing to feel the truth with his own hand. Before he could make contact, Valka stepped back, evading his touch. She turned her face away, eyes downcast. 

“Valka?”

“I…” She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I know you’ll have questions. I-I know I have no right to come here – not after staying away so long. I left you to raise Hiccup alone…and I know what you’re going to say…but…”

Stayed away…  

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, tabling the knowledge for later. There was a lot to unpack in her words, but now was not the time to address such things, even if his mind was churning with questions.

Stoick took a tentative step forward, trying not to spook her as he moved closer. He swept his helmet from his head, bending his knees to bring himself down to eye level with his wife. 

He reached out a hand, tilting her chin back to face him and locking eyes with her. With every ounce of his being he assured her, “There will be time for that later. Just know that no matter what has happened, or what has kept us apart…I have loved you, and I will always love you, until the end of my days.”

Stoick brushed his thumb across her lips, eyes searching hers for permission. When he met no resistance, he pulled her in for a gentle kiss. 

It took him back to simpler, happier days – days when he’d been young and foolish and lovesick over a spirited warrior. Her touch reminded him of comfort, of home and of some of the happiest days of his life. 

When he pulled back, he could see a similar spark in her eyes, though the regret and fear remained. It was clear they had a lot to work through, but for now he allowed himself to simply be overjoyed in knowing that she was alive.

Twice now, a loved one had returned from the (presumed) grave. Stoick would not take that for granted.

Astrid cleared her throat, face red as she reminded them of her presence. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but…”

“Hiccup needs us,” agreed Stoick, straightening up. He returned his helm to his head and nodded towards the hall. “The time for talking is over – we must take action.”

Astrid nodded, looking relieved. 

Valka stepped off to the side, moving back towards the massive Stormcutter. She looked unsettled by the gathered crowd, jumping when others called out to her. In a way, it reminded her of his son’s wariness in crowds after his years of isolation.

Stoick watched the skittish behavior, wondering if his wife had lived a similar life of solitude. 

“Astrid,” he asked, a worrisome thought occurred to him. “Does she know about Hiccup?”

Pushing aside his gratitude that she’d been found and that she was here…after two decades away, she was now an unknown. 

While Valka had always been more open-minded about dragons – a truth that hadn’t seemed to change, judging by her apparent bond with the Stormcutter – he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about the curse. It was one thing to respect dragons as intelligent beings…it was another thing entirely to accept that one’s son was a dragon half the time.

He was willing to forgive Valka for nearly anything – but not if she rejected their son. 

“Yes.” Astrid confirmed quietly. 

“Everything?” 

A nod.

Chapter Text

Astrid could feel the heavy weight of the eyes upon her as she stood before the tribe, arguing her case. It was daunting to be addressing them all at once like this – knowing that every suggestion was being weighed and measured by everyone she knew. She didn’t know how Stoick managed it so calmly.

“...if we fly out there, we’re sure to see the camp from above,” she insisted, “we’ll be able to see what defenses they have set up and where they’re keeping Hiccup.”

“On dragons?” Spitelout asked incredulously, staring at her like she’d gone mad. She’d seen the same look reflected on most of her tribe’s faces since she’d arrived – a consequence of her grand entrance on dragonback – including her parents. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. “You want to ride out there on one of those beasts?”

Astrid could feel Valka tense beside her at the man’s words. Hoping to avoid the argument she suspected was brewing, she was quick to throw out an answer. 

“Yes. Just think about it – it’s the last thing they’d expect from us! If they have any sense, they’ll have guards posted around the perimeter of the camp. They’ll be watching the woods and maybe even the sea, trying to stay out of our sight…but they can’t guard the sky.”

“Lass…they’re dragon poachers ,” reminded Stoick, scratching his head in thought. “Aren’t they trained to look for flying targets? To ground them? Doesn’t that put you both more at risk?”

To Astrid’s surprise, it was Valka who chimed in, “Normally, I’d agree with you, but considering they’ve got a Night Fury in their hands...I’d expect that right now, a dragon as common as a Deadly Nadder wouldn’t be a very tempting prize in comparison. I doubt they’d want to risk discovery over bringing one in, especially if they think that you all might try to take the Fury for yourselves.”

Stoick regarded his wife with critical eyes. From the bit Astrid had filled him in on, Valka was a dragon expert, if such a thing existed. One thing he’d learned from his many years of chiefdom was that a good leader should always seek and evaluate the counsel of experts, rather than assume he knows better. Plus…after two decades without her input, he wouldn’t take it for granted now.

“Fine. Astrid goes on ahead with the Nadder to scout it out,” confirmed Stoick, nodding towards the door. “The rest of us will start into the woods on foot, but no one goes past Raven’s Point until I give the order. Is that understood?”

There was a chorus of tense agreement.

“Astrid, we’ll be waiting for your report, but we can’t wait forever. If you’re still gone past sundown, we’ll assume you’ve been compromised and we’ll move in blind if we have to.”

Thank the gods – he’d agreed. 

Astrid dipped her head in quick acknowledgement of his words, beginning to weave her way through the dense crowd. She hoped Stormfly hadn’t wandered far, though she doubted it. The Nadder seemed to have grown oddly attached to her, becoming less willing to part ways the more time they spent together.

“Wait!” 

Astrid froze with her hand on the door, turning to regard Valka with wide eyes. Why would the woman stop her now? Didn’t she understand the importance of acting fast?

“I’m coming with you,” the former chieftess insisted, threading her way through the group. 

“You can’t!” Astrid nearly shouted, frustrated by the prolonged delay. “They know you. They’ll recognize Cloudjumper!” 

It was too risky. If the poachers felt threatened by the familiar Stormcutter’s approach, it could make things so much worse. They could choose to cut their losses, killing Hiccup so the vigilante had no dragon left to save. 

Valka inhaled sharply as she, too, registered the gravity of that possibility. Reluctantly, she nodded to show that she understood. 

“Very well,” she agreed, “but don’t ask me to wait with the others, because I won’t. I’ll follow on foot and give you cover from the ground if needed.”

“Then I’ll join you,” said Stoick, tone leaving no room for argument. “Change of plans: Spitelout, you’ll give the order for the others to move in, but be cautious. We don’t want them knowing we’re there until reinforcements are needed. I expect you to hold until the opportune moment.”

The man nodded. “Aye.”

“Gobber, fetch me an axe – quickly,” he commanded. 

“Aye, Chief!”

Stoick turned to Astrid, eyes stormy with emotions. “Go,” he urged.

“We’re going to find him,” she promised, already moving. “We’re going to get him back.”

“Mind their arrows!” Valka called as Astrid pushed open the door. “They’re tipped in poison!”

The camp was all too easy to find from the sky. 

High above the treeline, Astrid was quick to spot a wispy plume of smoke stretching towards the clouds. 

Of course, it could have just been dragon fire – that is always a possibility on Berk – but she doubted it. The smoke was too close to the area where they'd guessed the camp might be. 

She didn’t believe it was a coincidence. Nothing in their lives ever seemed to be these days.

Stormfly cut a wide arc around the area, staying on the fringe of the clearing below. It was strategic, as any shot taken at her would have to be fired from either an extended distance or through the thick cover of the trees. 

Astrid had a shield prepped in tense hands, ready to block any arrows that may be fired from below. She was confident she could protect herself with it, but she worried about Stormfly. The dragon was just too big for Astrid to shield. She hoped the dragon’s thick, armored scales would be enough to protect her, but she’d seen dragons felled by viking weaponry too often to discount the possibility.

Astrid peered down, trying to keep her body pressed tightly against the Nadder. If the men looked up, she didn’t want them to know the dragon had a rider. That knowledge would surely tip them off that their location had been compromised.

Upon first glance at the camp, she couldn't help but grimace. There were so many tents below – why did there have to be so many tents? She hadn’t known how many men to expect, but she hadn’t guessed the operation was this big. It was more than a little discouraging to see what they were up against. 

Astrid’s eyes tracked over the rest of the campsite, taking note of a few dozen men milling about the area. Most appeared occupied with menial tasks, though a few simply stood around talking. There didn’t appear to be any sort of urgency to anything they were doing. If anything, they seemed relaxed – far too at home in Berk’s woods for Astrd’s liking.

At each corner of the hideout, a trio was stationed in guard. 

At the far end of the campsite, something shiny and metallic caught her eye. It was big and ugly, made of row after row of criss-crossing grey bars. 

A cage.

She silently urged Stormfly to circle back again, focusing her attention more closely on the cage as they drifted over the area once more. Her heart sank deep in her chest when she spotted a familiar, dark shape huddled against the back bars. 

Oh gods. 

Silently she pleaded for him to look up – to see that she was there. At least that way, he’d have the comfort of knowing that help was on the way. At least that way, he’d know that he wasn’t alone. 

To her frustration he didn’t move, and soon they’d passed the camp entirely, once more leaving Hiccup behind. 

“C’mon, girl,” she whispered to Stormfly, “we’ve got to tell the others.”

Stoick and Valka were still a ways away when Astrid tracked them down. Moving on foot was much slower than soaring above the treeline and she couldn’t help but be disappointed by their lack of progress. 

Hiccup was in a cage. He’d been trapped in inhumane conditions for days, locked away like some sort of animal. 

Leaving him there had made Astrid feel utterly useless. 

Landing beside the chief and his wife, she wasted no time dismounting from Stormfly. “The camp is where we thought, but chief…there have got to be three to four dozen men in the campsite,” she surmised, launching right into it, all the while continuing to lead them along the path. “It looks like they have sentries posted at every corner…” she swallowed hard, shaking her head as she got the worst bit, “...and, well, they’ve got Hiccup locked in some sort of cage at the far end. It doesn’t look good."

Rage flitted across Stoick’s face, his face growing bright red with emotion. His voice was like gravel when he grit out his response, “A cage? Odin, I’ll have their heads mounted to pikes for this! Why, I’ll grind their very bones to–”

“I’m sure you’ll get your chance for vengeance, but for now our priority has to be getting Hiccup out of there in one piece,” interjected Valka, picking up her own pace with renewed urgency. “To do that, I’d guess we’re going to need a distraction of sorts.”

Astrid grunted her agreement, swinging her axe to clear branches from the path ahead of them as they moved. “There’s just so many of them…it’ll need to be something that concerns them all, so no one’s left to guard him.” Her eyes roamed over to Stoick, widening a fraction. “Chief, I’d bet they won’t ignore you, not when they’re trespassing on your island. If you go in there and cause a scene, it just might be enough…”

Stoick the Vast had earned a reputation throughout the archipelago for his strength and valor in battle. He was well loved by his tribe and feared by his enemies, making him the sort of person who could not be dismissed lightly. His arrival in the camp was sure to cause a frenzy, especially if he called them out for their trespassing.

“It would be my pleasure,” replied Stoick, cracking his knuckles and shouldering past her. 

Valka hummed in agreement. “I’ll provide cover from the woods if you need it. If not, I’ll be ready to direct Spitelout and the others when they arrive.”

“And I’ll sneak around the back,” finished Astrid, already reaching for the rope around Stormfly’s neck. “I know where the cage is, and I’ve seen the layout of their camp – I think I can get to him unseen. I’ll find a way to get Hiccup out, just make sure you keep them distracted.”

It was a flimsy plan, but it was the best they could do on short notice. 

Astrid hoped it was enough.

Hiccup hadn’t been able to sleep since his conversation with Viggo. 

He’d tried, but every time he closed his eyes he saw those intense, dark eyes watching him like a hawk – picking apart and assessing him like he was a puzzle of sorts. His thoughts whirled, bringing the man’s sinister suggestions to mind over and over again. 

In all the scenarios he’d considered since his capture, he never accounted for something like that. Every idea he’d entertained ended with him being powerless, yet Viggo’s plan offered the opposite. It offered him power and authority in exchange for weaponizing his curse. 

It was baffling.

Hiccup had no intention of agreeing, but he loathed to admit there was a small part of him that felt some temptation. It cried out for the security such a position could offer, and the freedom of never having to hide his condition again. 

There was something oddly refreshing about having it seen as an asset rather than an obstacle to work around. The closest he’d come to such a view was with his mother and her ally, Mala…but he suspected their enthusiasm stemmed more from the women’s deep love of dragons than their acknowledgement of him as a whole.

Still, Hiccup wasn’t blind to the strings attached to such an offer. He had no desire to drum up fear across the archipelago, nor did he want to rule outside his birthright. Most importantly, he didn’t want to be used. There was a distinct difference between useful to a cause and being a tool, manipulated by another. Viggo sought to use him as the latter, no matter how nicely he tried to dress it up with pretty words.

Hiccup wanted freedom – no strings attached. Unfortunately, such a thing was impossible to come by behind bars. 

He lay against the back of the cage, glaring despondently out at the poachers as they went about their day. Judging by their lack of interest in him, Viggo had kept the secret of Hiccup’s true identity to himself. In a way, it was a small mercy, as being gawked at on top of everything would have been infinitely worse.

It was probably part of the man’s attempts to swap Hiccup’s choice, he reasoned. Why else would such kindness be granted to a prisoner?

The approach was clever – Hiccup couldn’t deny that. Most vikings would use intimidation or some show of force to try to get what they wanted, but Viggo appeared to scheming to influence Hiccup more subtly. More emotionally.

He was almost impressed.

Growling at that unwanted thought, Hiccup shifted and stretched his wings as far as he could in the cramped quarters. He’d had enough confinement to last a lifetime – enough that he’d even developed techniques for stretching as fully as possible in tight spaces. It was a level of expertise he wished he hadn’t mastered.

The chattering of nearby Nadder caught his attention, and he felt his heart sink further. He hoped it wouldn’t be foolish enough to enter a camp full of poachers – he really didn’t want to see it struck down in front of him.

His ears twitched towards the sound, listening as the brush in the woods behind him shifted. It was more subtle than he’d have expected for a Nadder’s size, leaving him wondering if it was a baby dragon navigating the woods, unaware of the lurking danger.

The sound grew closer and closer, and Hiccup felt his dread build. It was approaching the camp. 

“Hiccup,” a familiar voice whispered urgently, a hand lightly brushing against his wing. 

Astrid?

The pieces clicked in his mind in a matter of seconds. He’d heard Stormfly chattering in the woods and it had been Astrid approaching the cage.

She’d come for him. 

Hiccup glanced up at the campsite again, making sure no one was watching him. Satisfied that he wasn’t currently under any scrutiny, he shifted his position so that he was facing the opposite direction, locking onto familiar blue eyes.

It was a relief to look upon her, and he drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. 

“Oh gods, Hiccup,” she murmured, pressing herself against the bars. Her roamed over him – likely looking for signs of injuries – before settling on the muzzle with a look of fury. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, eyes shining with emotion.

He sighed heavily, doing his best to offer the semblance of a shrug. Physically, he was fine. Emotionally? He’d had better days. 

Astrid reached out, gripping the side of the muzzle. She tugged at it, pulling his face closer as she worked on freeing his jaw. When the leather finally came loose, she pulled it back through the bars, throwing it on the ground and digging her boot into it.  

“Better?” 

He nodded, opening and closing his jaw a few times to work out the stiffness. He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his snout against the bars as he tried to convey his thanks.

Astrid gave him a tight smile. Her muscles were tensed, body poised for a fight. 

“We’ve got a plan,” she assured him quietly, “and pretty much all of Berk is about to close in on this place. I just want to get you out before all Hel breaks loose, okay?”

He nodded in agreement, then tipped his head to the side. How exactly did she expect to accomplish that?

“Your father’s about to bust in here any moment,” she explained, picking up on his confusion. “He’s going to draw everyone’s attention, you know – keep them all distracted while I get this cage open. I don’t know how long we’ll have before they notice something’s up, so I’ll need to move quickly. Any chance you know where the key to this thing is?’

Hiccup felt his shoulders sag as he nodded. He knew where it was, but no distraction his father could drum up was going to be enough to keep Viggo from noticing Astrid ripping the key off his belt. 

Astrid frowned, “that bad, huh? Just tell me.”

Hiccup twisted his neck, seeking out Viggo from amongst the crowd. The leader was sitting by the fire, attention focused on a journal in his lap. 

Hiccup nodded his head towards the man, directing Astrid’s gaze. 

She squinted at him, biting her lip. “This would be a lot easier if you could scratch out some runes,” she lamented. “Guess we’ll have to narrow this down with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions, huh? So it’s somewhere near the fire?”

He nodded.

“In one of the nearby tents?”

No.

“On one of the men?”

Yes.

“Hmm…” Astrid scrutinized the men closest to the fire. “The tall one?”

No.

“The one-eyed one?”

No.

“The one with the book?”

Yes.

Astrid nodded to herself. “One sword, no other visible weapons…”

Stoick had nearly reached the campsite when he felt a hand latch onto his elbow. He twisted, barely overcoming his instincts to defend himself as he came face to face with his wife’s concerned gaze.

“Before you go out there…whatever happens here,” she began, voice small but determined. “I just want you to know that I-I’m sorry…for everything.”

“Val–”

“Please, let me say this,” she cut in, toying with her braid. It was a nervous habit he recognized, one that she often adopted when she was on edge. “From what I’ve heard from Hiccup, and then from Astrid – I was foolish to stay away all these years. Seeing the lengths you’ll go to for our boy, even knowing what he is…I should have trusted in you more. I should have given you a chance to change. You’ve always had a good heart, I knew that when I married you! I’m sorry for doubting you.”

Her sorrow was clear in her voice, and hearing it made a tightness form in Stoick’s own throat. He let her words sink in, letting the full meaning wash over him.

“We all have regrets,” he replied, gripping her hands tightly in his own. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and there were times over the years when I’m sure I deserved your doubts. I...well, I wasn't always the father Hiccup needed but I'm trying to do better. I have questions, Val, but I don’t blame you. I don’t resent you – I never could.” He pulled her hands close to his heart. “I love you today just as much as the day I lost you.”

At those words, Valka’s composure slipped. Her eyes watered and she leaned back, pulling her hands free to swipe at them. 

“...I don’t deserve that.”

“Love isn’t about what one deserves, is it?” Stoick challenged, feeling the truth of it in every word. He smiled lightly at her, hoping to reassure her. “I'd say it’s more about...the mark you leave on another’s life and the weight that carries. Valka, there’s no denying that you’ve changed my life. I...I wouldn’t give up our years together for anything.”

He’d been consumed with grief after losing her, but that pain had not eclipsed the joy she’d brought him in his youth. It hadn’t erased their happy years of memories, or the legacy of their love that lived on in his beloved son.

“Tell you what – when this is all over, you can still give me that second chance,” He promised, straightening up. “But for now, I’ve got some poachers to deal with and a son to save.”

Valka nodded, expression growing fiercer. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Stoick kept a careful eye out for traps as he navigated towards the campsite. 

He’d had to cut a few of his men out of such binds over the years, and he knew how well they could be camouflaged within the brush. As he crept through the trees he did take note of a few twisting through the environment, taking care to sidestep each of the hidden ropes.

Inside, his emotions burned like a wildfire. Had he been a dragon, he’d have incinerated the pathway ahead of him with his angered breaths, untempered rage driving his every movement. 

These men had dared to come to his island and abduct his son. Secret or no secret, they’d caged his boy like an animal and Stoick would never forgive that while there was life in his body. 

He’d have his pound of flesh before the day was out.

…just as soon as Hiccup was safe.

He could see where the trees grew thinner up ahead, light from the clearing breaking through. A flash of movement here and there confirmed it to be what he suspected, and he ground his teeth together as he marched forward.

Behind him, Valka’s movements were much quieter and slower as she trailed him. She’d slipped out of sight, ready to offer cover if they ran up against a stray poacher, but the occasional rustle of leaves reminded him of her presence. There was a familiar comfort in simply knowing that she was near, one he hadn't felt in years. 

One he’d never thought he’d feel again.

When he reached the edge of the clearing, Stoick took a deep breath through the nose to steady himself. He drew up his shoulders, masking his fears and donning the visage of a fearless chief. His grip was tight on his axe, but he held it loosely at his side. No matter how he felt, he refused to show these men any weakness.

Satisfied that no traps barred his path, Stoick strode into the clearing with purpose. 

“Oi!” He yelled, voice booming through the air. 

The chatter of the campsite petered off as the poachers took sight of him. Hands flew to weapons as they quickly drew together, forming ranks like a small army.

“I believe I have made it clear that you are not welcome on my island,” he continued, meeting each new set of eyes with a steely glare. He forced himself to focus on the men, not allowing his gaze to seek out his son. As much as he was dying to seek out Hiccup, he couldn’t risk drawing unwanted attention to Astrid’s efforts to free him – especially with so little time before sunset. “Yet you defy me like this? Who speaks for you?”

“That would be me.”

There was a snapping sound, much like a book closing with force. 

Moments later, the sea of men parted to allow their leader to pass through. He walked calmly and confidently, arms clasped behind his back as he regarded Stoick with his dark gaze.

“Ah, Stoick the Vast, I presume?”

“Aye,” he said.

The man nodded, looking largely unbothered by the chief’s sudden appearance in their camp. “We do not wish to intrude on your territory,” he said smoothly, “but circumstances have forced our hand. You see, our base was recently targeted by a dangerous vigilante and completely destroyed. We simply needed a place to regroup before trying to rebuild what was taken from us. I can see that we’ve outstayed our welcome here, but I assure you that we can be off your island by tomorrow’s first light–”

“No,” said Stoick, adjusting his grip on his weapon. “I think you’ll be leaving sooner than that.”

At that, the leader’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His voice was low when he responded, devoid of its previous carefree inflection, “Is that so?”

“Aye, you are not welcome on these shores,” spat Stoick, anger boiling inside, “and I don’t take kindly to intruders.”

The man hummed, scratching his chin in thought. “I see…”

“Viggo,” cut in one of his men, “what do you want us to do?”

Viggo. Stoick mentally filed away the name, planning to look into the man later.

“The chief is our honored guest,” replied Viggo, shrugging blandly. “Why don’t you show him some of our best hospitality.”

There was a shift in the air as the last word left his lips, poachers taking on defensive positions. One eager man stepped forward, brandishing a broadsword as he rushed at the chief.

Stoick immediately twisted his arm, slamming the hilt of his axe hard against the attacker’s chest and forcing the wind from the man’s lungs. With his free hand, he gripped the man’s arm, twisting until the poacher was forced to drop the sword. 

Thoughts of Hiccup in a cage resurfaced and Stoick twisted even harder, hearing the satisfying snapping of bone beneath his fingers. Stoick finally released his grip, letting the poacher drop to the ground. The man wailed in agony, cradling his broken arm to his chest as he crawled away.

Stoick felt no sympathy. As far as he was concerned, these men had earned what was coming for them. He’d break a thousand bones if need be.

“Anyone else?” 

The poachers muttered amongst themselves, deterred by what they’d just witnessed. They kept their weapons draw, but did not advance.

It was Viggo who stepped closer, closing the distance until he stood just a few paces away.

“I can’t help but notice you seem to be taking our presence here almost personally,” observed Viggo, voice quiet enough that only Stoick could hear. Dark eyes narrowed as he reminded the chief, “we haven’t disturbed your land, nor have we disturbed your village. This reaction of yours does seem a bit…dramatic, don’t you think?”

Stoick clenched his fist, “you have disrespected me, and–”

“No,” said Viggo, a look of new understanding sweeping over his face. “That’s not it at all. This is about our little catch.”

Stoick fought to keep his face blank, feigning ignorance. He would not be baited by a poacher’s calculated words.

“It is, isn’t it?” Viggo observed, nodding to himself. He raised his voice, addressing his men. “Gentlemen – he’s not here about land. He’s come to take our prize from us. Now, are you going to stand back and let him rob you of your hard-earned reward?”

The poachers bristled, a dull roar of anger building amidst them. No mercenary worth his salt would allow a reward to slip through his fingers. 

Viggo narrowed his eyes, dropping his voice once more. “It’s well known that Berk has never dealt in the dragon trade. I do wonder, why would you suddenly go to such lengths to possess…no, that’s not it…to defend one now?”

Stoick didn’t like the knowing glint he could see in the man’s eye. It was both too calculated and too self-assured – as if he had some sort of leverage.

He knows, Stoick realized with dread.

The chief raised his axe, preparing for the onslaught of attackers. 

Hiccup watched his father square off against Viggo and the assembled poachers with wide eyes. 

Ever since he’d entered the campsite, Stoick had commanded attention. He’d stood tall, strong and intimidating – cutting an imposing figure, even as just one man against a small army. Hiccup had always known that his father had a certain might to him, but it was startling to see that presence in action.

He’d listened to their conversation with rapt attention, stomach taking a somersault when Viggo let on that he knew the truth of the curse. Keeping his secret was so important to Stoick…as ridiculous as it was, Hiccup felt like he’d somehow let down his father in letting it spread. Like he was fifteen all over again and he’d done something to disappoint the man once more. 

Old feelings of failure welled up inside him, and he did his best to stamp them down. He knew logically that he was not entirely responsible for this mess. He’d been shot down for Thor’s sake! Still, his role in taking down their base had put him directly on the poachers’ radar. Had he stayed on Berk, as his father expected, they’d never have been looking for a Night Fury.

Hiccup’s emotions raged within him. He firmly believed the trip to the fortress had been justifiable – he’d found his mother, learned so much about the dragons and gotten a taste of freedom he’d lacked for years. The question was: was it all still worth it when he considered how things had landed?

Astrid slipped away, oblivious to his thoughts. She navigated around the cage, heading deeper and deeper into the campsite in her mission to find the key. 

Hiccup tried to keep an eye on her, but his attention was torn between her progress and his father’s standoff with the poachers. Both caused him great worry.

Astrid stuck closely to the tents as she crept forward, ducking against or behind the fabric whenever she got too close to anyone. She evaded sight, if only just barely.

It frayed Hiccup’s nerves to watch her slow progress, but he needed to know that she was okay. He’d positioned himself up against the bars, prepared to fire a plasma blast through the openings if anyone threatened her. There wasn’t much he could do in his current predicament, but at least with his jaws free he could provide some sort of cover for her. 

As the poachers rushed towards his father with weapons raised, Viggo calmly retreated behind his men. He stood watch, eyeing the fight with a neutral expression – as if the whole thing bored him. 

Astrid continued to advance, now only a few short paces away from her target. She had paused, likely assessing Viggo as she planned her next move, determining where on his person he was most likely to keep the key stashed.

Hiccup pressed further against the bars, heart thrumming away in his chest as he watched Astrid step forward.

“You!”

A shout rang out, and Hiccup flinched. To his surprise, the man who’d shouted was pointing not at Astrid, but at the treeline. A slim, masked figure had emerged, weapons drawn as she joined the fray. 

Was that…

Hiccup stared dumbfounded at the scene, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother and his father were fighting side by side – as a team. 

They didn’t move in perfect balance with one another, but there was a certain push and pull to their movements that complimented each other well. Where Stoick’s swings were strong and forceful, Valka’s grace and speed allowed her to get a second strike in before the men could recover.

Hiccup’s thoughts were spiraling, questions growing like a building pressure in his mind. How was she here? Why was she here? She’d made it pretty clear she had no intent to ever return to Berk.

Did his father even know who he now fought beside?

As Hiccup watched, a poacher grabbed hold of Valka’s wrist. The man sneered, pulling her closer and raising his hammer high to strike.

“Argh!”

Stoick didn’t hesitate, striking his axe down upon the man’s wrist so hard it cut the man’s hand clean off. Blood splattered, and the now disembodied hand fell limp from Valka’s wrist. 

“You will not touch her!” He commanded, advancing on the injured man. 

Hiccup looked away, not wanting to see what came next. Instead, he refocused his attention on Astrid, who now stood just behind Viggo. The man appeared to be fixated on the ongoing fight and the sudden appearance of the vigilante who had destroyed his base. 

Good, thought Hiccup. At least he’s distracted.

Astrid appeared to have deduced the belt was the most likely hiding place, and was reaching out towards it. Her hands were steady, despite the danger of her current task. Hiccup was certain he’d be shaking in her place, but she’d always been made of steel. 

If anyone could take on such a daunting task, he reasoned, it would be Astrid.

Still, he wished she didn’t have to do this. He wished he hadn’t gotten himself into this mess – that he hadn’t put himself in a position where his loved ones were all now in danger. If he’d gone straight home…Hel, if he’d gone back with Astrid instead of extending his time at the nest…maybe things would be different.

Astrid drew her hand out of Viggo’s belt, and Hiccup could see the glint of silver.

She got it, he thought with wonder. She never ceased to amaze him.

Then Viggo looked down, catching sight of the blonde crouched beside him. Astrid stood quickly, reeling back and she tried to put space between them.  

“Foolish girl,” he said, advancing on her with quick strides. 

Hiccup let a plasma blast build low in his throat, watching for an opening where he could help. As it stood, Astrid was positioned between him and Viggo. If he took the shot now, he risked hitting her – and he’d never take that chance.

Viggo lunged, grabbing Astrid by the braid and pulling her back towards him. “Did you really think you could–oof!”

Astrid had swung her elbow up in an arc, nailing Viggo in the face. A trickle of blood ran nose, which had taken the brunt of the force. 

He did not release her, continuing to struggle to regain the keys that were clasped in her hand. Astrid fought, squirming and throwing her elbows out defensively. She twisted in his grip, spitting at him in a desperate attempt to throw him off.

Viggo snarled, lunging once more for the keys. They tugged back and forth, each determined to be the victor, before ultimately sending the keys flying. 

Hiccup blinked, staring at where the keys had landed just a few feet from his cell. They’d gotten mixed up in some loose leaves, but the glint of the metal was unmistakable. Perhaps if he angled his tail just right…

Astrid suddenly screamed, the sound instantly reclaiming his focus. 

In a single sharp movement, Viggo threw her to the ground, sending her head colliding hard with the stony earth. 

She did not get back up

Hiccup stared in horror at Astrid’s unmoving form.

He slammed his body against the bars repeatedly, willing the weight of his Night Fury form to bend the metal. Unsurprisingly, it did not give – whatever metal the poachers had commissioned was too strong from him to break. Based on what he’d observed from Viggo, it wasn’t a shock to know the man had done his research. 

Frustrated, he refocused his attention on Viggo, letting the plasma blast in his throat fly. 

The man yelled, dropping to the ground and just dodging the fire. A few strands of his hair were not so lucky, smoking and smoldering as they were set alight. Viggo swore, using his vambraces to stamp out the fire. 

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, letting another blast build. 

Viggo drew his sword, pointing it towards Astrid’s body. “I wouldn’t do that,” he cautioned, angling the blade over her exposed throat. “One more shot and she never wakes.”

Hiccup let the blast fizzle out, a whine escaping him. 

“Wise choice,” said Viggo with a nod, but he did not withdraw his sword. He seemed content to use Astrid as a human shield for his own safety. 

The light in the campsite was dying as the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon. With just one active campfire, the ongoing struggle was painted in the dimmest of light.

Hiccup’s shift back to human filled him with a strange, deep dread. He’d always welcomed the comfort of returning to his own skin, but today the change meant that he was rendered utterly defenseless in the middle of a fight.

And worse yet, he was exposed. There was no hiding what he was within the bars of his prison. 

As the purple fire receded, shouts filled the air. In firing his earlier plasma blast, he’d commanded the attention of several of the men. They’d been watching him when the sun set, and had seen the strange blaze. They’d witnessed his change – reacting in such a way that others turned to see what had happened, catching sight of where he now leaned against the bars. 

Those locked in battle with Stoick and Valka held their ground out of self preservation, but the rest stared openly at Hiccup.

“It’s a demon!” One man assessed, setting off a roar of shouts amidst the men. There was nothing quite like superstition to stir up a group of vikings. 

“...sort of test from Loki?”

“Look at his hand, he’s got the bloody claws of a beast!”

“....forget the reward, we’d best kill it now to be safe–”

“Aye, capturing a devil’s bound to doom us all!” 

“...the sooner we’re rid of him, the better!”

Hiccup flinched, drawing back from the bars. His heart pounded away in his chest, breathing erratic as he listened to the poachers pass judgement.

This…this was what he’d always feared. Since the day he’d been cursed, he’d expected to be met with fear and hatred for being what he was. He’d been lucky to have been proven wrong by his tribe, but it appeared that grace did not extend beyond his home island.

To these men, he was a monster. 

“Anyone who harms the boy will answer to me,” said Viggo sharply, raising his voice above the crowd and speaking with authority. “Yes, it is true that our Night Fury is full of surprises, but do not let your fears get the better of you. I assure you this is no demon – just the cursed heir of Berk. Isn’t that right, Chief?”

Hiccup’s eyes flickered back towards his father, stomach dropping when he realized that Stoick and Valka had been disarmed, now cornered against a large rock. There was a shallow gash running the length of his father’s forehead, blood dripping down towards his tired eyes.

For all his strength, even the great chief of Berk was only a man – taking on nearly four dozen men was an impossible feat, even with his wife’s help.

Stoick’s expression twisted, voice dangerously low when he commanded, “You will release my son, now.”

“I don’t believe I will,” said Viggo evenly. He nodded back towards the cage, “he’s far too valuable to give up – and frankly, his potential is being wasted on this island. I'm doing him a favor.”

Judging by the look on his father’s face, the statement had taken him aback.

“Hiccup Haddock is a ghost upon this island,” he said bluntly, “despite the incredible power that he wields. You’re a fool to hide from it, when you could have harnessed it for Berk’s benefit. I will not make that same mistake. You see…I’ve offered your dear Hiccup so much more – a place in my ranks where he can use his talents more appropriately. Once he accepts my offer…”

Hiccup tried to tune the man out as he continued to speak, instead kneeling and focusing on shoving his arm through the bars. He strained his muscles, reaching out towards the glint of the key. If he could just get his hands on it, perhaps he could free himself. 

His arms weren’t quite long enough, falling just short of reach. Undeterred, he readjusted so that he was sitting, kicking his left leg through the opening in the hopes his prosthetic could reach. If he could use the curve in it to scoop the key along, it just might be the tool he needed.

To his dismay, when his metal foot did brush up against the key, it only served to knock the item further out of his range. 

His eyes swept back to Astrid’s prone form, the lump in this throat growing. 

Perhaps…perhaps he should just give Viggo what he wanted. If he promised to cooperate…if he agreed to the man’s insane plan, maybe his loved ones could be spared. He’d be sacrificing a degree of his freedom and taking on a role that he didn’t want, but if the price was safety for his father…for Astrid …the choice was simple.

Chapter Text

Hiccup took a deep breath, trying to lock away his emotions tightly in the back of his mind. 

If he was really going to do this…if he was going to make this devil’s bargain, he knew had to think logically. He needed to table all of his feelings for the moment, making sure that whatever he agreed to would be the best possible outcome for both his loved ones and himself. Not just today, but from here on out. 

He needed to be strategic, to make a decision with his head and not his heart.

If he was going to become part of Viggo’s forces, he didn’t want to be just a weapon that was locked away when not in use. He wanted whatever bits of freedom he could bargain for, and whatever semblance of a real life that he could still claim for himself. 

More than that, he wanted to ensure that he wasn’t binding himself in a way that prevented him from looking out for his loved ones in the future…especially if Viggo ever went back on his word. 

Guess this is it.

Hiccup reluctantly approached the bars of his cage, grasping them tightly in his hands. The cold of the metal bit into the palm of his right hand, grounding him in the moment. He couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he was only trading physical bars for metaphorical ones.

Before he could speak, a strange cry broke through the clearing. He tracked the sound back to his mother, who was screeching out a sort of garbled, incoherent war cry. It made his head hurt.

What in Thor’s name was she doing?

A deep thrumming sound filled the air as Cloudjumper swooped up and over the treeline. The Stormcutter’s four wings buffeted the poachers below with forceful bouts of air, causing them to break formation and scatter. 

The dragon hovered in the air for a few more moments before dropping down heavily between Valka, Stoick and the poachers they faced. Cloudjumper roared loudly, one set of wings lifting up and making the dragon look bigger and more threatening than ever. 

She’d called her dragon, Hiccup realized. The understanding between rider and dragon was strong enough that she’d been able to summon the Stormcutter with a war call in their hour of need. It was incredible to consider, making him wonder once more just how many ways a dragon could be trained.

A small burst of hope ignited in Hiccup’s gut. Perhaps their situation wasn’t quite as dire as he’d assumed. Having a dragon on their side would be a big help.

Wait. 

Hiccup quickly retreated to the back of his cage, peering out into the woods. “Stormfly?” He hissed, hoping the Nadder hadn’t gone far from the camp and would recognize his voice from their previous encounters. 

There was a faint rustling sound followed by a series of muted thuds. In a matter of seconds, the blue dragon emerged from the woods, fixing a curious gaze upon him. 

“Hey girl,” he greeted, keeping his voice soft and welcoming as he tried to coax her forward. He stretched his arm through the bars, beckoning her closer.

Stormfly had bonded with Astrid – that much had been abundantly clear when they’d shown up at the nest. He hoped that if he could show the Nadder that the viking girl was in danger, then perhaps the dragon would get her out of the line of fire.

The Nadder approached him slowly, sniffing at his scaled fingers with clear interest. 

“That’s right,” he said, reaching up to scratch her chin. “We’re not so different, are we?” 

Stormfly cooed in response, leaning into his touch. He took advantage of the contact to steer the dragon’s head, maneuvering it so that she was looking out at the campsite. Remembering what he’d learned about Nadder blindspots from his mother, he angled Stormfly’s face so that an eye was focused on were Astrid lay.

“Think you can save her?” He asked hopefully, trying to stay confident in his assumption that Stormfly would be able to infer what he wanted.

Stormfly huffed, head tilting a bit as she considered the scene. Then, without warning, she darted off into the camp. 

Hiccup watched with wide eyes, startled by the sudden movement. He’d hoped the dragon would help, but he hadn’t expected her to go charging in with such zeal. 

“Well alright, then…”

Stormfly’s abrupt arrival drew the attention of several men, who turned their weapons on her in alarm. The Nadder wasted no time when she spotted the blades, throwing a round of spine shots at them in a sweeping arc. The spines whipped through the air like organic daggers, striking a few men through the shins and startling the rest to a stop. 

She screeched, barrelling through the disoriented men as she made her way to Astrid.

“Get that blasted Nadder!” Viggo’s voice cut through the commotion, no longer sounding calm or collected. His carefully polished demeanor was cracking, real frustration and anger bleeding through.

With that realization, the hope in Hiccup’s chest bloomed just a little bit bigger. If they were making a dent in Viggo’s iron composure, it had to mean something. Clearly he had not been expecting dragons to come to Hiccup's aid.

The the poachers themselves were recovering quickly – adapting their strategies with practiced ease. Fighting dragons was in their wheelhouse, much to Hiccup's dismay.

"...find the dragon root, quickly."

Cloudjumper roared loudly, drawing the brunt of the attention as as he set fire to a row of tents. 

Hiccup tried to track the man in the crowd, but he couldn’t find the leader amidst the sea of poachers. 

Where the Hel did he go?

A squawk brought his gaze back to Astrid, who was now being roused by a persistent Stormfly. The dragon was nudging her companion rather insistently with her snout, making a chattering racket as she did so. 

Seeing Astrid rise to her feet on her own accord lifted a heavy weight off Hiccup’s chest. She was okay, he realized with relief. 

Thank the gods.

“Stormfly?” The blonde asked in confusion, rubbing the impact point on her head. A bruise was already blooming on her temple, spreading into her hairline.  She groaned, leaning one hand against the dragon’s flank. “What’s going on…oh gods, the key!”

Astrid’s blue eyes quickly sought him out, and he noted that they were a little unfocused as they attempted to latch onto him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was concussed after the blow she’d taken – she’d need to see Gothi as soon as possible. 

“They’re over here!” He called, gesturing for her to come to him. He pointed to the spot in the grass where he could still see the glint of metal. “I can’t reach them!”

Astrid took off with a series of unsteady steps, bracing herself against Nadder as she moved. Her face was pinched in clear pain, but her eyes burned with determination as she made her way towards him. 

Seeing her struggle, Hiccup wished his plasma blast had done more than singe some hair. Viggo deserved to nurse a few burns for the pain he’d inflicted.

“Argh!”

The clearing behind them exploded with sound, startling Hiccup and sending his heart skyrocketing. His jaw dropped as he watched Spitelout and Gobber lead what appeared to be the majority of Berk out of the treeline and towards the assembled poachers in one large mass. 

They’d all really come for him?

Astrid had said they would…but it was one thing to hear it – another thing entirely to see it with his own eyes. 

I’m one of them. The words he’d once spoken to his mother resurfaced, ringing truer than ever in that moment. 

With the arrival of Berk’s forces, it soon appeared that the tide had shifted. There were now more Berkians than poachers, and the already crowded campsite became a sea of dueling bodies. Hiccup couldn’t keep track of what was happening, eyes flitting from blade to shield to fist as the men raged against one another.

Smoke filled the air from Cloudjumper’s blasts, adding a hazy layer to the already dim setting.

Astrid reached him at last, wincing as she bent down to search for the key.

“A little to your left,” he called, trying to narrow down her search.

“Got it,” she said triumphantly, wobbling as she stood. She hastened towards the cage, making quick work of the lock and swinging the door open.

Hiccup wasted no time escaping his prison, savoring the feeling of the leaves crunching beneath his boot. 

At last, he was free. She’d done it – she’d saved him.

On impulse, he reached out and grasped Astrid’s waist, pulling her close to him and kissing her with all that he had. It took a minute for his mind to catch up to his actions, and he broke the kiss with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry – probably not the best time for that, huh?” He said, feeling his face flush. He could hear the clang of metal just feet away, a stark reminder of their dangerous situation. He wasn’t sure what had come over him and he felt compelled to explain. “I just wanted to thank–”

Astrid grabbed him by the tunic, pulling him back against her and kissing him with equal force. For a second, Hiccup wondered if perhaps he was the one who was concussed, swearing he could now see starry spots in his eyes. 

Her face was a deep pink when she broke the kiss, but she had a self-satisfied grin stretched across her face. “You’re welcome,” she whispered breathily against his lips before releasing her grip, “but, Hiccup…promise me something?”

“Anything.” He’d go to the ends of the earth for her.

“This is the second cage we’ve had to break you out of this year,” she pointed out bluntly, a challenging spark in her eye. “Just promise me there will be no third.”

Hiccup laughed, agreeing easily. “Deal.”

“Looks like we’re a little late ta th’ party,” remarked Gobber, taking up a position by Stoick’s side. 

“Just glad you made it,” admitted Stoick gruffly, allowing the blacksmith to fend off the latest attacker. He took advantage of the cover to locate his fallen weapon, wiping blood from the handle and securing it in his grip once more. 

SCREECH!

Stoick flinched, raising his weapon instinctively at the Stormcutter’s cry. It took a moment to remember the dragon was on their side, and he refocused his efforts on the real threat. 

“Taste Jorgenson steel,” shouted Spitelout, slamming a hammer into a poacher's teeth. Without turning, he yelled back to Stoick. “Did ya find the boy?”

Stoick rubbed his wrist across his eyes, clearing the bleariness from his vision as he surveyed the scene. It was easy to spot the cage, and to his relief – it appeared to be empty. If all had gone as planned, that could only mean one thing. “Astrid’s got him,” he determined, impressed by the lone warrior’s success. 

Spitelout grunted in approval, moving deeper into the fray. They were making progress, forcing the enemy into the center of their campsite. If they could just get the group surrounded, they could force a surrender and this could all end quickly. 

“Fall back!” A sharp voice commanded. 

What? Stoick’s blow faltered, taken aback by the order. It wasn’t the viking way to flee a fight so early, and he hadn’t expected the poachers to take such a cowardly route.

“Retreat!” 

All at once, the enemy men abandoned their positions in the fight. In a wave of movement, they took off towards the far end of the campsite with startling efficiency – heading towards the path that led to the sea. The whole thing was too smooth, likely planned and practiced. 

They hadn’t been on the island long…had Viggo really made such a thorough contingency plan? Who was this man?

Before following his men, Viggo turned back towards Hiccup. Stoick couldn’t make out the words that were spoken, but whatever he’d said had clearly been unwelcome. Hiccup frowned deeply, taking a large step back to put distance between them. At the same time, Astrid moved in front of him, taking on a defensive position.

Viggo merely inclined his head, then raced into the trees. 

“They’re escapin’!” Gobber yelled, charging after the poachers with his weapon raised.

Stoick’s feet felt nailed to the ground, trepidation taking root as he watched the men disappear into the trees. The sea wasn’t far…and neither were the enemy ships. 

No…

Normally, a retreat would be a welcome surrender...a sign of victory, even…but these men now knew about Hiccup. If the secret left the island, it wouldn’t be long before there was no secret left to keep. If they escaped Berk, they’d be stealing away the only semblance of safety he’d been able to offer his son. 

Hiccup’s life would never be the same.

Stoick took off with a new sense of purpose, ignoring the burn of his muscles as he forced himself to run as fast he could manage through the trees and towards the sea. 

“...not the end – in fact, I’d wager our story has only just begun. In time, you’ll come to see why you must accept my offer. You’ll even want to…but until then, I’ll be waiting.”

As Hiccup watched the crowd disperse into the forest, he couldn’t shake the echo of Viggo’s parting words from his mind. He’d seemed so sure of himself, as if he knew something Hiccup didn’t. As if joining forces one day was inevitable.

It was likely another mind game, intended to unsettle him further – and if so, it was working. The man’s unflinching confidence had shaken his own.

“No!” Valka’s sharp scream drew his attention.

His mother was crouched low beside Cloudjumper, pulling an arrow from where it punctured one of the great dragon’s wings. She’d lost her helmet at some point in the shuffle, and he could see lines of anxiety on her face as she examined the discolored point of the arrow.

Poison, his mind supplied as he remembered Valka’s last encounter with the group’s arrows.

Recalling her pallor and weakness fighting the poison, he knew how important it was to act quickly. His mother had experience with it, but from what he’d gathered, she’d always been the ill one – the one needing a healer’s attention. Who knew how differently a dragon would react to such a poison?

Well…there was someone who likely would know, he realized. 

“I need to borrow Stormfly,” he told Astrid with new urgency, nodding towards the Nadder at her side. “Cloudjumper’s been poisoned.”

Astrid blanched, nodding her head. “Stormfly,” she called out, summoning the dragon to her side with ease. With some additional prompting from Hiccup, she was able to corral the dragon towards where Valka crouched.

His mother looked up at their approach, eyes stormy.

Hiccup nodded towards the Nadder without preamble, “Take her – quickly. Go find Mala, we’ll stay with him.”

He’d offer to go himself, but he’d never actually learned the location of the queen’s island. It had to be Valka.

His mother needed no further encouragement. She took a short moment to press her forehead against Cloudjumper’s face, murmuring a few short words of comfort, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Then, she strode over to Stormfly, greeting the dragon in a brisk but respectful manner. The Nadder looked to Astrid, as if seeking her permission. 

The blonde nodded in encouragement before pleading, “please, Stormfly.”

The Nadder huffed and then lowered a wing, allowing Valka access to climb aboard. With a few strong pumps of her wings, the dragon took off into the air, soon disappearing up into the clouds. 

Hiccup looked around the now quiet campsite, taking in the eerieness of its emptiness after all that had happened. There were a few bodies scattered on the ground – those who had not survived the clash. He tried not to look too closely at any one of them, but he found his eyes were constantly drawn back to the morbid sight. 

To the deep red that stained the earth.

They were enemy men, but it could have easily gone differently. Had Spitelout taken any longer to bring the reinforcements in…it could’ve been his father lying in the dirt.

Hiccup was suddenly overcome with the need to know that Stoick was okay – that he’d survived. He couldn’t shake the memory of the exhaustion he’d seen on the chief’s face, and knew such weakness could be detrimental in battle.

“Astrid…I need to find my dad,” he said slowly, eyes darting to the injured Stormcutter. He couldn’t just leave his mother’s dragon in this state, but what if his father needed him? His father had been there for him in his hour of need, he couldn’t bear to think he’d fail to return the favor.

“Go,” offered Astrid with no hesitation, nodding towards the woods. “I’ll watch over Cloudjumper until Valka returns.”

“You’re hurt–”

“Occupational hazard,” she waved it off, drawing her axe. “I can handle myself. Go.”

Stoick watched the enemy ships head out into open water with deep sorrow in his heart.

They hadn’t been fast enough to catch the men in their escape from the isle. Even with Berk’s best sailors…they wouldn’t stand a chance of catching up now. They’d have to waste precious time getting back to their own docks, and by the time they got out on the water, the poacher ships would be long gone.

They’d saved Hiccup…but, they’d still failed.

Despite his best efforts to keep Hiccup’s secret confined to the safety of the island, it appeared that fate had other plans for the youngest Haddock. The poachers had gone, and they’d taken the knowledge of Hiccup’s curse with them. 

The secret was no longer a secret. It would soon spread through the archipelago like a wildfire cutting through dry brush – bringing with it a series of consequences that Stoick didn’t want to consider.

His boy would face a future where everyone knew exactly what he was – that could no longer be avoided. Even if some came to accept his cursed state, many others would not. He’d heard the words of the poachers, painting Hiccup as some sort of demon or devil. With such men telling the narrative, it was likely the truth would put a target on his son’s back…one he’d be stuck with until the end of his days.

It was a burden that Stoick had hoped to protect him from.

“Dad?” 

At the sound of the familiar voice, Stoick turned over his shoulder.

Hiccup emerged slowly from the treeline, his thin frame bathed in moonlight. With that eerie grace of his, he moved to stand beside his father’s side in a few smooth strides. 

The Haddock men regarded each other in silence for a moment before Hiccup threw his lanky arms loosely around the larger man.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. 

Stoick’s heart constricted at those heartfelt words. It was a reminder of what really mattered in that moment. Losing the secret was a small price to pay in order to have Hiccup back, safe and sound. 

“You too,” he murmured, pulling the boy into a tight hug. 

Things were about to change for Hiccup – Stoick didn’t have the power to stop that, but he was determined to ensure one thing never did: he would give his son a safe home, one where he always knew he was loved – whether he was dragon, boy, or something in between.

Hiccup knocked lightly on the Hofferson door, stepping back as he waited for an answer. It was late – far too late for him to be making a house call, but he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d been too busy worrying about Astrid.

His mother and Mala had made great time on the back of the Nadder, returning in just a few short hours. They’d dismissed Astrid on arrival, taking charge of treating Cloudjumper and shooing away anyone who got too close.

Hiccup had wanted to speak with Astrid before she left, but his father had been adamant in steering him back home. They’d spent some time at the ocean’s edge, recovering from the stress of the day, and Hiccup had taken note of the dark bags under Stoick’s eyes. He didn’t have the heart to fight his father on the issue, knowing how much his capture had weighed upon the man.

Then he’d laid frustrated in his nest of furs for an hour, mind unable to be quieted despite the silence of the night.

He needed to see her. 

The door swung open, exposing a bleary eyed Ingrid Hofferson.

“Hiccup?”

“Oh,” he blinked, startled by the woman’s appearance. He hadn’t considered that her parents might open the door, but now he felt foolish for not taking that into account. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hofferson–”

To his surprise, Ingrid stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Hiccup,” she assured, “I understand why you’re here.”

“You do?”

Ingrid nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ve been through an ordeal,” she reminded him. “It’s normal to feel shaken by a battle like that – we all do. After what happened, I’m certain there will be very little sleep to be had in Berk tonight. We’re all reliving it, trying to make peace with the bloodshed.” 

She dropped her hand back to her side, shaking her head. “It’s hard, and I wish I could say it gets easier with time…but it doesn’t. I’ve found that sometimes what you really need after a night like this is a little reassurance to quiet your fears. I assume you’ve come to check on Astrid?”

 “...um, yeah. If that’s…if that’s alright.”

Ingrid nodded, stepping back and holding open the door. “She couldn’t sleep either – won’t stop asking about you, actually.”

Huh?

Hiccup’s incredulity must have shown on his face, because Ingrid laughed. It was a familiar sound, showing where Astrid had inherited her own. “Does it really surprise you that she’s as taken with you as you are with her? She addressed the whole tribe for you, Hiccup. You should have seen it! The way she was talking…she would have attempted to take on that whole operation herself if she had to. I know my daughter...she wouldn’t do that for anyone else.”

Oh. While flattering, he wasn’t sure he deserved that.

“Not to mention,” continued Ingrid, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You’ve got her riding dragons , of all things! We’ll need to discuss that, when things have settled more – I need to know what prompted all that. But for now…just know, you’ve certainly made an impact on her.”

Hiccup tried to wrap his mind around that revelation as Ingrid escorted him to a room in the back of their home. Inside, Astrid sat hunched over a small table, hands clasped tightly around a cup of water. 

“Hiccup?” She asked, quickly pushing to her feet when she saw him standing in the doorway.

“I’ll be in the next room if you need me,” said Ingrid, stepping away to give them some privacy. 

Hiccup stepped forward, eyes drawn to Astrid’s injury. The bruise was darkening, turning a mottled mix of colors. “How’s your head?”

“Honestly? Feels like I was kicked by a Gronckle,” she remarked dryly, pressing a few fingers against the tender spot. 

“Sorry,” Hiccup winced in sympathy, closing the gap between them. He tilted her face, examining the damaged skin more closely. To his relief, there were no scrapes or cuts, just the bruise itself. “Did you get a chance to see Gothi?”

“Did you?”

Fair enough. “I’m not concussed,” he argued.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t shot out of the sky and locked in a cage for days.”

Hiccup had no good answer for that retort, only humming in response. “At least I heal fast,” he reminded her, knowing that her own injury would take far longer to disappear. The bruises he’d sustained had already faded to faint outlines and would be gone by morning’s light. 

Astrid reached out, grasping his mismatched hands. Her voice was unsteady as she told him, “yeah, but…you really had me worried. I really thought…I mean, they’re dragon poachers… I wasn’t sure what we were going to find... ” 

Hiccup squeezed her fingers, “I’m okay,” he assured gently. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Hiccup, I always worry about you.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted by that,” he snarked back, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not entirely helpless, you know.”

Astrid released his hands, reaching up and punching him lightly in the shoulder, “Shut up,” she said, voice growing serious. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I worry because…because I don’t know what I’d do without you. I worry because…well, because I love you, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s heart stuttered to a stop.

“I love you,” she repeated, more adamantly this time. 

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

When Hiccup awoke, the sky was bathed in color.

The sunset painted it in a sea of richness, each saturated shade bleeding seamlessly into the next vibrant tone. Hiccup rose slowly from his cozy nest of furs, arching his back until it cracked and giving his wings a lazy half-stretch.

He’d slept the whole day away, it seemed. With how tired he’d been after leaving the Hofferson house, it wasn’t entirely surprising. He’d only beat the dawn to his doorstep by a matter of minutes, making it to his room just before the curse kicked in. 

Somehow despite the hours he’d gotten, he still didn’t feel fully rested.

Hiccup gazed out his window, blood tingling as he watched the last threads of sunlight disappear on the horizon. The shift overcame him, familiar purple fire embracing him once more. Once the magic had completed its task, he rolled his neck, trying in vain to get the stiffness out of his muscles.

As he stretched, his eye caught on something unfamiliar that was sitting on the floor, just inside his open doorway. As tired as he’d been coming home, he was certain that he’d have noticed it there – his father must have left it for him at some point during the day.

Curiosity sufficiently peaked, he wandered over to it, taking in the sight of a neatly folded pile of leather. He crouched down beside it, sifting through the different pieces until it finally clicked – this was the same set of armor that his father had wanted to gift him, back before things had gotten so messy. 

He’d completely forgotten about it, but it seemed his father hadn’t. 

Hiccup picked it up, turning the smooth leather over in his hands. The last time he’d seen it, it had been dusty from years of disuse – now it was clean, polished and looking brand new. It had clearly been handled with care as it was restored for him.

Remembering the reason that his father had taken it back in the first place, Hiccup twisted the armor to look at the shoulder pad. Gone was the impaled dragon motif, replaced instead by the stylized silhouette of a Night Fury. 

Hiccup stared at it for a moment, stunned by the choice. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected his father to commission – perhaps the Haddock family crest, a viking ship or another general reference to Berk – but it hadn’t been this. 

He traced a claw over the custom illustration in wonder, taking note of the fine craftsmanship of the work. It was sewn into the leather, rather than painted. This hadn’t been a rushed decision, as this sort of quality would have taken weeks of labor to complete – this had been a very deliberate choice, one that had to have come before his secret had been revealed. His father had wanted to represent Hiccup fully, and he’d clearly spared no expense in achieving it.

Hiccup had seen dragons incorporated into armor before, but they’d always been portrayed as the victim – either suffering or dying at a vikings hand. This was the first time he’d seen a design break away from that pattern, instead showing the Night Fury coiled and poised to strike. The dragon looked both strong and formidable, unchallenged by any opponent.

Almost heroic.

Hiccup set the armor down with great care, getting to work stripping off the more casual set he’d been using since his return to Berk. He got to work fastening the gift into place – a feat that took longer than he’d anticipated as he struggled to made sense of the complex series of shiny buckles and straps. This was no common set of armor, and it showed.

Once firmly secured, he was taken aback by a discovery: while there were pads and straps that lined the length of his right arm, there was no matching set included to cover his left. Had a piece somehow come disconnected? He hated to think that he’d lost part of the gift already.

Hiccup looked down at the floor, wondering if he’d dropped the missing pieces in the messy mound of blankets and furs. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost something in the tangled heap. 

A quick search revealed that he hadn’t misplaced any of the armor. He had, however, missed a new green tunic that had been mixed in with all the leather, and so he got to work removing the set and switching out his tunics. 

One more he was perplexed: there was no left sleeve. 

Hiccup blinked, trying to make sense of it as he buckled the armor back into place. This had to be intentional, he realized now, but why?

His curse mark was on full display, ink black scales glimmering in the moonlight. 

“Oh good, it fits,” came a voice from the doorway. 

Stoick strode into the room, reaching out to adjust the placement of a buckle on Hiccup’s chest. Once satisfied, he stepped back, nodding to himself. “I’d say it’s much more suitable for you, but what do you think?”

“Oh,” Hiccup said, looking down at the gift. He nodded, hoping to convey his genuine gratitude. “Yeah. It’s amazing – thank you. I really do love it…I, um, just can’t help but wonder why…”

“Why…?”

Hiccup raised his left arm to his shoulder, claws brushing lightly against the spot where the tunic and armor ended abruptly. He wasn’t sure how to phrase the question, but he hoped the gesture was enough that his father would pick up on what he meant.

“Ah,” said Stoick, nodding easily in comprehension. “A last minute change, actually. When I went to collect everything this morning, I asked Arne to remove that bit. The time for secrecy is over so I thought…well, I thought it was high time you didn’t have to hide any part of you.”

It suddenly dawned on Hiccup – the Night Fury insignia, the missing sleeve…they were his father’s way of showing his public support for his son and all that he may be. He’d done it in a way that integrated the message into traditional viking armor, visibly cementing for all to see that Hiccup still had a place in the tribe, exactly as he was.

At that realization, Hiccup felt a thickness building in this throat. “Thanks,” he said.

Stoick reached out, resting his hand gently on Hiccup’s forearm. “Besides, you’ve got natural armor,” he reminded, tapping a finger against the exposed scales. “No shame in that.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the lopsided grin that stretched across his face. 

He was happy. 

Stoick found her by the cliffside, lying in the grass. 

Valka had always loved to watch the sky, once claiming that she’d never felt more at peace than when she was watching the stars. The memory was hazy, blurred by the passing of time, but he’d never forgotten her passion when she’d made the claim. It seemed, at least, that much hadn’t changed. 

Just like he’d done back when they were still courting, Stoick lowered himself to the ground and stretched out beside her. He folded his hands behind his head, bracing himself against the chilled ground. 

After she’d been taken by the Stormcutter, he’d tried adopting her favorite hobby in the hopes it would bring him some sense of comfort. That it would draw her spirit to him. In that time, he’d quickly learned that the sky did not provide the same sense of peace to him, abandoning the habit just as quickly as he’d started. 

What brought Stoick peace was the comfort of having his loved ones near. With Valka lying beside him, he could already breathe easier. 

“I met Queen Mala this afternoon,” he informed her, recalling his brief interaction with the foreign monarch. She’d been both poised and commanding, moving about Berk with a confidence he’d never seen from an outsider before. “...an interesting woman.”

Valka hummed in agreement.

“She told me why you brought her here. Is the…I mean, will your dragon be alright?” It felt strange to ask after the wellbeing of a dragon, especially the one who had separated them so long ago, but he wasn’t blind to the bond between his wife and the creature. Nor could he ignore the effort the dragon had put into aiding their cause.

Valka had been off kilter ever since the battle’s end, wrapped up in thoughts of the injured Stormcutter. Seeing her frantic reaction to the injury, it had been clear that she and the dragon were now a packaged deal – if Stoick wanted to reconnect with his wife, he’d have to be ready to welcome the dragon into his life.

“Cloudjumper’s a fighter,” remarked Valka, a hint of pride in her voice. “He’ll pull through just fine, but that arrow wound will take time to heal. Any scarring won’t affect his flight long-term, but Mala believes he should stay grounded until the wound closes, just to prevent any complications.”

The dragon being landlocked wasn’t the worst news Stoick had heard. He doubted Valka would leave without her dragon, which silenced the fear she’d disappear with the dawn. 

Though…he supposed he barely knew her anymore. Perhaps she’d just take off and return for the Stormcutter when it healed. She’d flown off with the Nadder when she needed to, who was to say she wouldn’t ride off on another dragon’s back now?

He didn’t want her to disappear again.

“Val…” Stoick wasn’t sure how to ask the question. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the truth of her answer. “Were you serious before, about giving me another chance? Would you really stay? Could we try to be a family?”

It was a lot to ask of her, and he knew it. Twenty years apart was no small thing, and whatever life she’d built for herself in that time may not be easy to leave behind. 

Valka was quiet for a while, contemplating the question. “I won’t promise to stay forever,” she said finally, twisting her head so that she was looking at him. “I can’t. I just…I don’t know if I can really come back to this life. I’ve changed far too much to know if it’s even possible for me to find a home here again. I don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t…”

Stoick could see the doubt raging in her eyes, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with her line of thinking. Of course she’d be hesitant to return to a place that had been long since buried in her heart. 

She’d likely grieved it, much like he’d grieved her. Reconnecting with Berk would be like resurrecting the dead.

“Aye, you’ve changed,” he conceded, “and I’ve already mourned the woman that I lost, all those years ago. Maybe she’s not you, not anymore…but I’d like to get to know this you. That is, if you’d let me?”

Maybe they could never return to what they’d once been, but why should that mean they couldn’t move forward? Start anew?

“You’ve changed too,” she observed after a moment, biting her lip. “I can see that now. I…I do want to at least try – for you, and for Hiccup. I just don’t know how long I can…”

“I understand,” he said, brushing his hand against her own. She didn’t join their hands, but she didn’t draw away either. It was a start. “I’ll cherish whatever time that we do have, but I won’t stop you if you choose to leave. For now, let’s just see how things go.”

“Alright.”

It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone when Stoick ordered a celebratory feast. His son was safe, his wife was home and the tribe had all come together to protect their own in an inspiring display of strength that would make any leader proud. 

No one wanted to wait long, and therefore everyone was happy to chip in on the preparations – pulling together an extravagant feast in just one week’s time. The village even dipped into their winter provisions to supplement their efforts, resolving to buy replacements when the next trade ship sailed through. 

The air was abuzz with energy, and Berk felt truly alive. 

Astrid arrived early to the hall, hungry and sore from a busy day of sparring sessions. Aside from a quick stop home to get washed up, she’d headed straight to the gathering space with purpose. She was quick to stake out the table that she and her peers preferred, laying claim to it before the room became too crowded. Two mugs of mead sat in front of her, untouched for the moment. 

The late afternoon sun streamed through the open doorway, bringing a sense of warmth and coziness to the space, despite the wind’s occasional gusts. 

Astrid kicked her feet up on the bench, stretching out to fully occupy one side. Now, all that was left to do was wait. 

Fishlegs was the first to appear, so focused on the thick book in his hands that he nearly collided with the side of the table. His elbow brushed against one of the mugs, and she had to quickly reach out and steady it before it could spill.

“Careful,” she cautioned, throwing up an arm defensively to make sure he didn’t run into her next.  

“Oh, sorry Astrid!” Fishlegs looked up, smiling sheepishly. He shut the book, tucking it under his elbow as he navigated around to the other side of the table. Once seated across from her, he set the tome down on the table with a thud.

“What’s that?”

Fishlegs tilted it so she could see the cover. In neat, even script it read: The Revised Berkian Guidebook to Understanding and Training Dragons: Volume I. 

A bit wordy for Astrid’s taste, but she got the gist of it. “New Book of Dragons?” 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Hiccup’s been helping me put this together. We’ve been going through each classification and delving deep into what makes every species–”

“Save the nerding out for someone who cares,” interrupted Snotlout with a groan, coming to stand beside Astrid. He eyed her outstretched legs, raising an eyebrow. “Saving me a seat? Astrid, I didn’t know you cared.”

“It’s not for you,” she corrected with a scoff, taking a large swig of her mead. 

Snotlout continued to stare at her, “are you seriously going to block the whole bench?”

Astrid set down her mug and crossed her arms, unwavering. “That is the plan.”

“Plan?” Tuffnut dropped down beside Fishlegs, leaning his elbows on the table. “I like plans. Who are we pranking and how soon do we start?”

His twin slid in beside him, shooting them a conspiratorial grin. “I am so in! I’ve got some expired yak milk we can use – extra curdled and everything. Been saving it for a special occasion, but I’m feeling generous. I’m thinking we replace the–”

“We are not pranking anyone,” interrupted Fishlegs, shaking his head in disapproval. He turned his attention to where Snotlout still hovered, nodding towards the empty seat at the head of the table. “Just sit there – she’s not going to move.”

Astrid hummed in agreement, surveying her nails as Snotlout huffed in annoyance. He could pout all he wanted, she didn’t care. She was saving the seat for someone else. 

So long as he showed. He’d insisted that he would, but she’d seen the reluctance in his eyes. If his fears were too great to quiet, who knew if he’d still take the leap?

The hall continued to fill, volume growing as vikings began to strike up conversation. 

Stoick and Valka had taken their seats of honor up on the dais, locked in deep conversation with one another. The former chieftess was drawing stares – many had questioned her sudden reappearance and where she’d been so long, but no one dared interrupt the couple. One look from Stoick and they know that their curiosity would have to wait. 

A large shadow filled the doorway, blocking much of the sunlight from passing into the room. Astrid glanced over, heart instantly warming when she caught sight of the Night Fury in the entry.

Hiccup walked into the hall, movements slow and timid as he tread into the space. His head was tipped down, shoulders hunched inward as he walked. A hush fell over the crowd as many Berkians got their first close-up look at the heir’s other form, grappling with the knowledge that he and the dragon before them were one and the same.

She could see the strain on certain faces – especially those who were not as skilled at masking their emotions. It reminded her that even those with perfect poker faces may not be totally at ease. Though it saddened her to see their internal struggle, she understood why they were struggling.

Growing up with a fear of dragons ingrained within oneself was not something that could be shaken off easily. They’d have to learn to separate history from the present, and to accept the truth of Hiccup’s condition – it would take time and experience seeing him like this for things to change.

In coming to the feast before sunset, Hiccup had taken the first step in healing that rift.

A quick glance at the dais revealed a beaming smile stretching across Stoick’s face. He tipped his drink towards his son and inclined his head in greeting.

“Oh my gods,” whispered Fishlegs, sounding near giddy with excitement. He leaned over the table, eager eyes sweeping over the dragon in their midst. He looked like he'd been told Snoggletog had come early, but Astrid supposed that wasn't the worst reaction.

“Hiccup!” She called, raising her voice to carry across the hall. Her greeting served two purposes: drawing his attention and reminding everyone present that it wasn’t a matter of what they were looking at…but rather who. “Over here!”

He perked up at the sound of her voice, swiveling his head to find her in the crowd. He made quick work of maneuvering around the tables, coming to a stop beside her. 

She leaned over, lowering her voice as she informed him. “I know it’s got to be hard, but I’m really proud of you for going through with this.”

He hummed in response, eyes darting around the crowded room in a clear show of nerves. Still, he sat himself firmly on the floor beside their table, hovering near Astrid’s side. No matter how he felt about taking the leap, he was going to stick with it.

There was a loud clanking noise followed by a sharp ringing as Stoick tried to get the crowd’s attention, repeatedly slamming his spoon against his metal goblet. 

Hiccup flinched beside her, ears flattening against his head in discomfort. 

“Er…sorry, Hiccup,” his father apologized sheepishly when he noticed what had happened, setting the spoon back down on the table. He turned his attention to the rest of the tribe, who were now watching him steadily.

Stoick cleared his throat, expression sobering. “Berk is more than a place,” he began, taking care to lock eyes with each member of the tribe as he spoke, addressing them all from the heart. “It is, at its core, its people. Our people.”

There were a few sharp whistles of agreement, and Stoick waited for the noise to die down before continuing. 

“I have never been more proud, nor more grateful for our people than I am in this very moment,” he declared, resting a hand over his heart. “I thank you – all of you – for stepping up and protecting our own. You’ve defended our island with valor, stood firm against those who would do us harm…and you helped save my son.”

Heads turned towards their table and Hiccup ducked his head, clearly not liking the added attention. 

“No chief could ever ask for more,” said Stoick, “and it is my greatest honor to serve you all. But, enough of that – Odin knows you’re not here to hear me speak! Enjoy the feast!”

There was a round of applause throughout the space, punctuated by a few stray whoops of approval. Then, the food was served and attentions quickly shifted, conversations building to a dull roar.

Purple fire burned in Astrid’s periphery. She turned her head, watching it fizzle out and leave behind the lanky form of the young man she loved.

Things quieted in the hall once more, the sight of the transformation leaving many speechless. Those who had witnessed it on the beach of the Red Death’s island had been too overwhelmed by the battle to fully process the sight of it – now, they were able to witness in perfect clarity.

Good, she thought. The more they saw the reality of it, the sooner they’d understand.

Astrid swung her feet off the bench, clearing a space for Hiccup at the table and pushing the second mug of mead over. She nodded to it, all but ushering him to the spot. 

As he moved, she took note of his new ensemble. From the Night Fury detail on his shoulder to the missing sleeve, it wasn’t lost on her how the armor was designed not only to reflect Hiccup’s duality, but to emphasize it. 

She approved whole-heartedly. 

“Hey, why does Hiccup get fancy new armor?”

“Shut up, Snotlout.”

“It looks great,” she told him truthfully, admiring the way the armor hugged his lean form. Decked out in the finery, he looked every bit the son of a chief that he was. 

Hiccup settled in beside her, sitting close enough that their arms brushed, skin against scale. He shot her a grateful smile, saying a quick thanks before turning to face their peers. 

“Oh,” his eyes lit up, seeing the book in front of Fishlegs. “Did you finish it?”

Fishlegs appeared a bit dazed, still visibly rattled by the sight of the shift. “Oh…” He shook himself, clearing his thoughts. “Almost! I’ve been adding in your mom’s notes – they’re amazing, by the way! I can’t believe how much she knows about the different nesting habits, and that section on dentistry was really fascinating–”

“I’m glad,” Hiccup cut in, tension easing a bit from his posture. 

Fishlegs pushed the book across the table, “I marked a few pages for you to add in drawings,” he explained. “Then, I think we’ll be ready to present it.”

Hiccup thumbed through it, nodding to himself as he made note of each section. “I can work on these tonight,” he assured. “I’ll aim and get it back to you tomorrow at sundown, but I’ll let you know if I need more time. Also, I had some thoughts about the cover. Do you think we should…”

Astrid tuned them out as they discussed cover designs, taking a deep breath and letting herself savor the moment. For now, they were all together and they were all  safe. She slowly swept her gaze over the room, taking in the joy reflected in her tribe’s faces. 

This was a moment of peace that she wanted to preserve in her mind forever.

As she was trying to commit it all to memory, she noticed that something had changed. The massive sculpture that had hung high over the center of the hall her entire life was now gone. In its place hung a grand chandelier, edged in the same bright gold that had once been used to depict a dying dragon. 

It wasn’t perfectly smooth – there were runes carved into the gold, she quickly realized. Squinting at the distant lettering, she recognized a few surnames. Haddock. Jorgenson. Thorston. Hofferson.

The list went on and on, and if Astrid were to hazard a guess she’d wager that every Berkian surname was represented on the new fixture. A new symbol of unity to replace the centuries-old one of war. 

“What are you looking at?” Hiccup leaned over and asked, having caught sight of her startled expression.

“Look up,” she instructed, pointing at the new addition. “Seems like your dad’s done some redecorating.”

Hiccup did as she asked, inhaling sharply when he caught sight of the replacement. His green eyes scanned the names, quickly coming to the same conclusion she had. “But…why would he…”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, reaching for his hand and squeezing lightly. “he did it for you.”

Chapter Text

Prior to the curse, Hiccup hadn’t had a favorite phase of the moon. 

Hel, he’d have thought anyone who did was crazy to have put so much thought into it. The moon was the moon, no matter how it waxed or waned – he’d never been particularly attached to it.

It was just, sort of…there. Like air. 

Things had changed. The moon had taken on new meaning, becoming a core pillar of his life. He knew each phase of its cycle by heart, having grown to appreciate the complexity of its changes – the way it seemed to shapeshift on a schedule, not unlike himself. 

Most of all he’d grown to love the full moon. Its vivid light was the closest he could now come to seeing his world bathed in sunlight through human eyes, and he did not take that for granted. He’d gained a deep appreciation for it over the years, drawing comfort from the cool glow.

He cherished those nights. 

It was because of the full moon that he kept getting distracted, neglecting his current project in favor of gazing out of the forge. It was a quiet night in Berk, and the light rainfall that had come at dusk made the buildings now appear to glitter in the starlight.

It was as if there was some sort of wild magic in the air.

Hiccup reluctantly tore his gaze away from the shimmering village, returning to the task at hand. He only had a few more bolts to tighten, and then it would be complete. 

He hummed to himself as he worked, precise in each of his final adjustments. Once the last piece had been secured into place, he surveyed the finished project with critical eyes. He’d had to flex his original design, improvising in order to achieve the results he wanted. Though it no longer matched the schematics he’d sketched out, he would say that it had turned out fairly well.

He’d been testing it throughout the construction, ensuring all the tricks that he’d worked into it functioned with ease – but there was one last test he needed to take into account.

Hiccup took a seat on the bench, running his fingers over his new prosthetic. Its revised design had been his last creation, and he was glad that he’d prioritized it. Gobber’s initial work had served him well, but it felt so much more him to have his own creation in place. It might not be an organic limb, but it had come from his mind and he found that made it feel more authentically his own.

Finding the latch that he’d installed, Hiccup flipped it down and heard the click of the metal rotating. A compartment had opened up in the side, and he carefully lined up his new invention with the opening. To his relief, it slid in with ease, slotting snuggly into the provided space. 

He flipped the switch again, effectively closing off the compartment and securing his invention in place. He rose, taking a few careful test steps to get a feel for the weight distribution. 

“Not bad…” He muttered to himself, pleased with the results. 

The sound of approaching footfalls drew his attention, and he peered out of the stall. Astrid smiled as she neared, leaning her elbows on the ledge of the stall and pecking him on the cheek. 

“Hey,” she greeted warmly. “I thought you were off tonight? Or are you still working on that mystery project of yours?”

“I just finished it,” he corrected, gesturing for her to enter the forge. “And it’s not really a mystery – I just didn’t want to say anything too early in case it didn’t work. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Astrid needed no further invitation, quickly slipping inside the stall and joining him behind the counter. She put her hands on her hips, eyes darting over the messy surfaces of the forge as if looking for clues. “Well, where is it?”

Hiccup leaned down, quickly unlocking the compartment in his prosthetic and withdrawing the object in question. He held it up, giving her a clear view of his creation.

Astrid’s gaze slid between the item in his hands and the gap in his prosthetic, taking a minute to process the clever hiding place. Then, she squinted at the invention in confusion, “Is that a hilt?”

Hiccup nodded, adjusting his grip so she could see the details he’d carved into it. “My dad was right,” he explained. “I can’t always rely on lucky timing to keep me safe, I need to be able to defend myself after dark.”

“With a hilt?” Astrid asked skeptically. He could tell she was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt but failing to see his vision. “What? Are you planning to bludgeon your enemies to death?”

Hiccup laughed, shaking his head. “No, of course not,” he assured before pointing the hilt away from his side and triggering the switch that extended the blade. 

He’d taken what she and Gobber had said about his combat skills to heart, focusing on creating a lightweight weapon that he could wield more easily than a typical sword. He’d built out the outline of a standard sword, edges sharpened to a razor’s edge, but the middle portion was hollow. It served the dual purpose of helping collapse the weapon into a small space and keeping it from growing too heavy in his hands – or when tucked into his prosthetic.

“I don’t ever want to feel defenseless again,” he explained, raising the blade and taking a few half-hearted practice swings. “Gobber’s going to start my combat training up again soon, and I wanted to be prepared with a weapon that I can actually swing.”

Astrid snorted, remembering their last training session. “You weren’t that bad, Hiccup.”

It was true. While he favored lighter, more precise weapons…he’d done fairly well for his lack of experience. With some practice, and a weapon suited to his strengths, there was no reason to believe that he couldn’t become a skilled warrior in time.

Hiccup waved her off, a lopsided grin splitting his face. “Want to see the best part?”

“Sure.”

Hiccup took a step back, putting some space between them. Then, with a flourish, he triggered one of the surprises that he’d built into the blade. At once, the blade caught fire, igniting the well of Monstrous Nightmare gel that Valka had helped him harvest the night before.

Astrid jumped back, startled by the display. “That’s…”

“Pretty amazing, right?”

Astrid nodded, peering at the flaming sword with interest. 

He gave her a brief overview of the Nightmare gel’s properties, explaining how he’d incorporated it into the blade. “It burns for about an hour on its own,” he said, triggering the lever that would extinguish the flames, “but I can stop it whenever I want. And see this little canister? When it runs out of gel, I just have to remove it and click a new one into place. I’m, uh, still working on building up more stores of it though. Bit of a work in progress for now.”

He’d have to make a point of tracking down a few more Nightmares, now that he knew how to harvest the gel. It would be a tedious process on his own, and he wondered if there was anyone he could recruit to help. He was hesitant to keep dragging his mother away from his father when they were working so hard to make sense of their relationship.

Collapsing the blade down with ease, he slid it back into his prosthetic. “If I run out of the gel, I can still use it just fine. It should be effective enough without the fire, but adding it just felt right, you know?”

Astrid nodded. “A dragon fire blade,” she murmured, looking thoughtful. “That’s got to be the first of its kind.”

Hiccup shrugged, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, yeah…I think that’s probably true.” The blade was sure to turn a few heads, but he felt confident that he could wield it to defend himself.

“It suits you.”

Astrid’s words warmed him. After all, he’d thought the same thing. His life was unconventional, and it always would be – why then should his weapon be bound by convention? 

He was a dragon, and dragons fought with fire.

“I spoke to one of the traders at port today,” said Astrid, almost hesitantly. Like she was afraid to share whatever she’d learned from the visitor.

Very few things scared Astrid – and even less did so enough that she didn’t hide it. If something had her unnerved enough to let that vulnerability leak through, it didn’t bode well. He braced himself mentally, trying to prepare for whatever news she had to deliver.

Warily, he asked, “what did they say?”

Astrid avoided his eyes, drumming her fingers atop one of the wooden workstations. In a quiet voice she informed him, “they knew…about you. It’s starting to spread.”

Of course. 

It had only been a matter of time before they started to see the consequences of Viggo’s escape. While Hiccup had enjoyed the last month of relative quiet, he’d known it would end soon enough. He wasn’t foolish enough to hope that the poachers would keep what they’d seen to themselves.

Still, her revelation had surprised him in one way.

“They knew, and they still stopped here?” Was it really possible that the truth of his curse hadn’t been enough to completely alienate their allies and trade partners? While it was an encouraging thought, he couldn’t risk hoping that one trader ship would signal a larger trend.

Astrid glanced back at him, her look of surprise implying that she hadn’t really considered that angle. There was a new spark in her eyes as she nodded, “I guess so,” she said slowly, looking a bit more at ease as she assessed the meaning. “They did imply they’d be back.”

“That’s great news.”

Berk depended on traders – just like any other island village. The relationships they built with those trade partners went a long way in securing necessary supplies and maintaining contact with other ports in the archipelago. 

It was a relief to know that his curse hadn’t cost his tribe those key relationships. 

There were at least some, it seemed, that would not dismiss the entire isle over his presence. That knowledge took some of the weight off his shoulders, as he’d feared they’d all cut ties as soon as they knew. If they had…well, he wasn’t sure how he’d have handled the guilt.

“It is,” she agreed, but there was still tension present in her posture, “but, Hiccup…it’s going to keep spreading. Everyone is going to know about you – probably very soon.”

Hiccup had assumed as much. Many traders were notorious gossips – any information that they couldn’t sell was typically shared with anyone who would listen. If they’d been clued in on something as mind-boggling as his cursed state…well, he was sure that every port they visited was about to hear the tale.

“We knew it was coming,” he reminded her with a shrug. 

Astrid did not look mollified, crossing her arms as she regarded him. 

“What are you going to do?” She asked, “Viggo’s still out there. Everyone’s about to know about you and all eyes are going to be on Berk.”

“About that…” Hiccup trailed off, turning away from her and biting his lip. He focused his attention on his workstation while he considered his next words. It had become a bit of a disaster, clutter piling up all over it as he'd lost himself in crafting the sword.

“My dad and I have been talking about that a lot since Viggo escaped,” he said. It was something they spoke of nearly every night, trying to make sense of what Hiccup’s future would now look like. He’d held back from sharing those discussions with Astrid, wanting to be sure before he shared his decision. 

“Since there’s clearly no use in pretending I’m dead anymore…he’s going to uh, fully reinstate me,” informed Hiccup, hands stilling as he clarified, “as the official heir of Berk.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she put the pieces together, “you’re going to be the next chief?”

Hiccup nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the task at hand. He sorted a few unused bolts back into their bucket, tossing the outdated schematics in the trash. “Why not?” He asked, though the very thought of it still put his nerves on edge. “It was always supposed to be me, and now that I’m not hiding anymore…there’s no real reason it can’t be again. Of course, I’ll need to delegate certain tasks during the day…but every leader does. I’ve decided to embrace it.”

All of it. He thought, done apologizing for who or what he may be. 

“Though,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “The next gathering of chiefs and heirs is definitely going to be awkward. Or violent. Maybe both...”

A hand fell on his shoulder, spinning him back to face her. “Hiccup, I’m serious,” she pressed, blue eyes reflecting the truth of her words. “Are you really okay…with all of this? Your whole life is going to change.”

“My life is change,” he offered easily. It was true both in the physical sense of the daily transformation and in how fluid his world had become since he’d taken that fateful shot. Steadiness was not a luxury he expected to attain any time soon.

In the month that had passed since Hiccup had been abducted, he’d had plenty of time to think about the latest change coming his way. At first he’d been terrified, wondering if it would be safer for both himself and Berk if he simply disappeared into the wind. There had to be islands that were remote enough for him to stay off the radar of anyone who wished him harm, though he loathed the thought of returning to isolation.

Stoick hadn’t taken the suggestion well, immediately vetoing it as an option. He’d been gentle but firm in his denial, making it clear that such a plan was not the answer. It had taken a few thorough and heated discussions for Hiccup to agree, but he’d come around. 

After all…If he ran now, he’d likely be running for the rest of his life. Instead, it was important that he now stood his ground and that Berk stood behind him. It would show that he a had a place in viking society, and a people who supported and would rally behind him. 

Once he’d worked through his initial fears, he’d come to a surprising conclusion.

“To be honest,” he admitted quietly to her, “I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“Yeah. There’s no more sneaking around, no more looking over my shoulder in fear someone’s gonna see something they shouldn’t or figure it out. I can just be me – for better or for worse,” he said, wringing his hands together. “I don’t have to be Berk’s big, dark secret anymore.”

“Hiccup…” Astrid’s voice broke on his name, but she couldn’t deny the truth of his words. He’d been relegated to the sidelines, keeping himself hidden from everyone outside the island’s borders. It wasn’t sustainable long-term, at least not in any sort of fulfilling way for him. 

As Viggo had said, he’d been nothing more than a ghost. And Hiccup was much too alive to accept that fate.

Astrid reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist and drawing him near. 

“I know that not everyone’s going to like it,” he continued with a grimace, knowing full well that he’d make enemies just for his existence, “but from here on on out, at least it’s out of my hands, you know? The world’s just going to have to take me or leave me, as-is.”

Taking back his birthright as heir would force him to see those reactions face-to-face, but he hoped that would help his situation. That in interacting with Berk’s allies directly, it would demystify the curse for them, showing them that underneath the scales and claws he was still the same boy they’d always known.

Perhaps it was too idealistic a thought, but after the acceptance that he’d found in his village…he couldn’t help but hope. 

Astrid’s grip tightened before she released him, stepping back. “Well, I can’t speak for the world,” she replied, a thoughtful look taking hold, “but I’d say Berk is more than happy to take you as you are – someone asked again today.”

“Another one?”

It was getting ridiculous.

Ever since Gobber had suggested that Hiccup lead a new version of dragon training – one focused on understanding and bonding with the creatures, rather than fighting – the idea had swept across the village like some sort of plague. Hiccup hadn’t even agreed to anything, yet villagers kept seeking him out and volunteering to be part of his theoretical class.

Between Stormfly and Cloudjumper, the tribe had gotten a good look at what harmony could look like with a dragon companion. After an uneasy first week of having dragons in town, much of Berk had begun to warm up to their presence. The two dragons had been playful and curious, but they hadn’t shown even the slightest hint of aggression.

It had been enough to captivate the curiosity of several vikings, who’d never seen such a friendly side to dragons. 

Fishlegs had been the first to ask if it could be replicated, eager for his chance to get up close to one of the dragons he’d been studying with such passion. Considering the genuine interest the boy had in understanding dragons, Hiccup had agreed easily. 

Afterwards…well, Gobber had gone and made his crazy suggestion. Loudly, in the middle of the town square for all to hear. Subtly had never been his strong suit.

As much as Hiccup kept insisting that Valka was the best suited for the task, having spent so much more time bonding with dragons over the years, it seemed his words fell on deaf ears. He’d been cornered by the twins, by Snotlout – Hel, even by Gobber himself!

It seemed like all of Berk wanted him to be the bridge between species. 

“Gustav,” confirmed Astrid, rolling her eyes. “Probably just trying to suck up to Snotlout since he’s already volunteered, but the kid’s eager enough. I’m not sure he really has the patience for training just yet, but maybe he could at least watch?"

“I haven’t actually agreed to anything.”

“You haven’t refused, either,” she pointed out. “Knowing you, there’s got to be a reason for that.”

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, knowing she was right. It was a lot of pressure to take on, especially when he was already taking back the mantle of heir…but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his destiny to be that bridge.

That he needed to do it – both for his village, and for himself.

“I guess I could give it a try,” he finally relented, leaning his weight against the worktable, “it would probably be good to have a few more dragon riders in Berk…but I’d want to start small. Maybe just Fishlegs, Snotlout and the twins for now as sort of a trial run, you know? I think I could manage that, just…so long as you’re there with me, by my side.”

“Always.”

“I don’t know about this,” said Hiccup, hearing the unease in his own voice. His nerves were wound tightly, muscles locking with tension.

Astrid looked down from her spot atop Stormfly’s back, expression incredulous and hand still extended down. “You can’t be serious,” she said with a disbelieving laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying?”

Hiccup felt his face grow hot, ducking his head in embarrassment. It was ridiculous, but the idea of getting onto a dragon’s back was somehow so much more intimidating than carrying himself on his own wings. 

When he told her as much, she only shook her head in fond amusement.

“Oh, come on,” she insisted, leaning further out of the saddle as she did. “You know you’ll love it.”

Hiccup’s gaze flitted over the saddle that he’d made for her, noting with satisfaction that it was holding up well under the strain of her daily flights. He’d never imagined a day would come when he’d be crafting saddles for dragons, but with the sudden influx of potential dragon riders, it had become a very real part of his work in the forge. 

He’d been hard at work sketching out plans for how to apply his design to different dragon species, customizing for their unique needs. It was a nice way to combine his two worlds, marrying his love of dragons with his love for inventing. 

“Alright,” Hiccup allowed, reaching out and grasping her hand. He allowed himself to be pulled up behind her, settling into place on the Nadder’s back.

As Stormfly launched herself into the air, Hiccup wrapped his arms firmly around Astrid’s waist. There were no stirrups for a second rider to brace himself – he had no other way of steadying himself outside of hanging on tight. He wasn’t complaining about it, happy to have any opportunity to be closer to her.

They rose steadily up into the air, soaring high over Berk until the buildings below looked like specks in the distance. 

Stormfly swooped wide, bringing them into a slow lap around the island. As they flew, the salty sea air rushed through Hiccup’s hair and bit at his skin, swirling all around him. They passed through a stray cloud that lay in their path, leaving a faint dusting of water droplets over their clothes when they emerged.

Hiccup was surprised by just how different the world looked from above through human eyes. Though he saw it all with less clarity than his Night Fury counterpart, it didn’t take anything away from the experience. If anything, it added a new feeling. His stomach dropped, but not in an unpleasant way – more like a spike of adrenaline. Everything seemed so much smaller, and by extension, as if they were even higher up. 

Despite the differences, he found that the sense of wonder and freedom that he’d grown to associate with flight was untouched. It remained just as awe-inspiring as ever, drumming up familiar feelings of comfort and elation.

With that realization, all his nerves evaporated.

A loose peal of laughter left his lips, grip loosening a bit as he let himself enjoy the feeling more fully. This was what it meant to be a dragon rider, he supposed. No wonder Valka and Astrid had grown so attached to it. 

It was a rush. 

They continued to circle Berk, taking small detours to twist and wind through the maze of sea stacks nearby. There was no urgency as they swept across the sea, lazily taking in the sights of their home in the pre-dawn glow. The torches that lined the streets had long burned out for the night, but fading moonlight kept the houses aglow. 

Hiccup was all too aware of the sky, keeping careful track of the time. When he knew he was almost out, he drew one hand from Astrid’s waist and tapped her on the shoulder.

She twisted to look at him, making a soft sound of surprise when instead of speaking, he leaned forward and kissed her. 

Astrid smiled against his lips before returning the gesture with intensity, leaning her weight backwards against him. Her warm hands rose up, brushing first against his face and then twisting and tangling in his hair. He felt them catch on the small braids she’d woven behind his ears, a reminder of whispered promises they’d made to one another in the night. 

Hiccup caressed her waist, taking comfort in the familiar warmth of her body. He could feel her hot breath against his lips, and the rush of his own rapidly beating heart.

Gods, he loved her.

A familiar buzzing began in his veins and he forced himself to draw back, feeling great reluctance as he did. For a moment he simply gazed upon her, letting himself swim deep in her ocean blue eyes. He could see the understanding in them – the way way that she knew without him having to speak, as if their very souls were connected.

“Milady,” he said with an exaggerated wink, letting go of her waist and relaxing his posture. His fingers twitched, wishing he could prolong the moment and grab hold of her once more. 

Astrid released her own grip, eyes crinkled in amusement. “Babe,” she returned with a raised eyebrow, knowing the pet name still got a rise out of him.

Hiccup ignored the heat that rushed to his face, concentrating instead on the sensation of the buzzing that was growing stronger in his veins. Time was just about up.

He shook his head at her in mock disapproval, giving a snarky salute before leaning his weight heavily to his left side. He let gravity do the rest of the work, quickly pulling him from Stormfly’s back and sending him plummeting headfirst towards the sea below. 

It was exhilarating. 

As the sun broke the horizon, purple fire erupted around him. He welcomed it, embracing the feeling of his shifting bones as they gifted him with flight.

He flared out his dark wings, swooping upwards just before he would hit the waves. With a few powerful pumps, he brought himself level with where Stormfly still hovered in the air. The Nadder’s blue scales shone like gems in the growing morning light, but they didn’t hold a candle to the blinding smile Astrid shot him.

Then her eyes suddenly narrowed, expression growing mischievous as she yelled out, “Race ya?”

Hiccup roared his approval, wasting no time in shooting off into the distance. The tell-tale shriek of a Night Fury in flight filled the air, a now familiar sound to all those called the isle of Berk home.

“Hey!”

He let out a warbling laugh as he heard her indignant shout from behind him. He looped back, twisting around the Nadder playfully before reclaiming his lead.

In that moment, the chill of the wind no longer phased him, and his worries of the future were far behind. All that mattered was savoring this quiet moment with the girl that he loved. 

Hiccup had made one vow to her already, and he was poised to make one more. It was a big step – more serious than the previous vow and far more binding, but he believed in it with all his heart. 

He believed in them. 

He wanted to spend forever with her…but for now he’d allow the dust to settle. There was no reason to rush things, but that didn’t stop him from eagerly daydreaming of what their future could be. Before the year was out, he hoped they’d be betrothed. 

For now, he was content to appreciate every sunrise and sunset together. 

Hiccup was home, and he was free.