Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The word ‘grafted’ held little emotion for most people. Maybe hope at most. Grafting a new tree branch onto a tree for more fruit. Or maybe grafting skin from one area of the body to another to help with a wound. Most people will never interact with something grafted in their whole lives.

Not Berk though. ‘Grafted’ meant something completely different and horrible on Berk. 

The strange creatures lurking in the woods were given the name ‘Grafted’ within the first year people started noticing them. Cobbled horrors from dead tissue that were reanimated by a source unknown. Something was playing with death and life.  

Death wasn’t restful on Berk, apparently. Some force, some wicked being, something beyond human comprehension was taking the dead, human and animal, and repurposing them. To what ends, no one knew. 

It started with a few strange sightings. Two headed animals in the woods seen by hunters. Then weird amalgamations like a lynx with puffin wings or a fox with a snake for a tail. 

Then, as Astrid heard the tale, the prized Olaffson’s cow died, and a creature with its head and the body of a wolf was seen drinking at the cove. 

It was then that the vikings figured out what was happening. 

The idea of abandoning the island was floated around quite often, but it was shut down a moment later. 

“We’re Vikings! We’re conquerors! And we were here first!” 

But Astrid worried how long it would take before they were outnumbered by the Grafted. 

After so long with them around, Berk had adapted. Game that was hunted and livestock that were killed for food had to be prepared quickly. Salt dried or smoked, the meat had to be processed the day it died. If it was left overnight, the fog would roll in, and the body would be gone by the next day. 

Humans that died on Berk, no matter how the death occurred, had to be burned right away. There were a few Grafted that were spotted that bore human hands or faces. After what was going on was finally figured out, Berk had taken up the ritual of burning. 

Being reborn as a Grafted couldn’t be a pleasant experience, though no one truly knew. It just wasn’t rest, and therefore horrible. 

It’s been 20 years since the reign of the Grafted started. Most days were fine, idyllic really. The winters were safe, as the cold sent the creatures into hibernation, but when spring came, the uncertainty of night meant everyone was on edge. 

Night was when the Grafted went on the prowl. Many had been spotted over the years. Only small ones had ever been seen in town. Terrible Terrors with chicken beaks, a skunk with ram horns, birds with human teeth, every once in a while, they were spotted. 

Stories of much bigger aberrations in the woods were shared as words of warning. Deer with bear snouts, wolves with walrus tusks…there was even a sighting of a polar bear with two heads,  moose antlers, and the raging fire of a Monstrous Nightmare. 

The worst of all of this was the unknown. No one knew the cause, the purpose, if they were dangerous, nothing. All that was known was that they lurked in the fog and they shouldn’t exist. 

—

Astrid was 14 when her best friend, Hiccup Haddock, grew sick. It wasn’t that uncommon. Hiccup was small and slight, and he always had some sort of cough or sneeze. 

But this time around, he was really sick. He was bedridden with chills and aches and a fever. It had been days, and there was no change. 

Astrid arrived at the chief’s house around dinner time. She knocked, transferring the basket she brought to the crook of her arm. 

Stoick the Vast answered. “Astrid? What are you doing here, lass?” 

“I brought some soup for Hiccup, if that’s alright?” 

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you. Come on in.” 

“Thank you.” 

He closed the door behind her. “You have everything you need? Any bowls?” 

“It’s all here,” she patted the basket. 

“Then you can head up. Just—just keep your voice down. His head’s been hurtin’.” 

She nodded in understanding and climbed the stairs. 

He looked worse. Her poor friend was pale and small in his bed, piled with blankets. He peered at her with cloudy eyes. 

“Astrid?” His voice was hoarse and rattled in his chest.

“Hey, brought you some soup and some company. Thought you might be lonely up here by yourself.” 

He wormed a frail arm out from under the furs. “I was. Thanks for coming.” 

She set the soup on the table and sat on the bed beside him, holding his hand. “How do you feel?” 

He shook his head. “Worse. I’m not shaking this one for some reason. Gothi says it…it doesn’t look good, but dad keeps saying I’ll pull through like always.” 

“You will,” Astrid assured. “It’s just…a little cold.” 

He smirked. “That’s what dad said too.” 

She sat with him for a few hours. She served him soup, which he didn’t eat much of. Even as she urged him on. They talked about all sorts of things, the town, their friends, his work at the forge, her training in the academy. She made sure to catch him up on everything that happened while he was in bed. 

Then as usual, his favorite topic came up. The Nightfury. Dragons were spotted on occasion, about as often as bears. But the Nightfury was a rarity, the only dragon of its kind spotted in the archipelago. It was a solitary creature apparently, never spotted with any other dragons. And Berk had taken it a little like a mascot. Other islands had purple Nightmares and Yellow Gronkles, but Berk had the Nightfury. 

Hiccup had a special interest in it. The dragon was almost docile and incredibly intelligent. It knew that the humans were a source of food, and if it hung around, he’d inevitably get the leftovers from hunting and fishing. The vikings were all too happy to share, preferring to share if it meant less risk of Grafted being formed. 

Even in the frigid winter months, the Nightfury could be found sleeping in the huge firepit in the Great Hall instead of migrating like the rest of the dragons. 

“I haven’t seen him around,” Astrid shrugged. “I was even keeping an eye out for him, just for you, but it’s been pretty quiet.” 

“Maybe he moved on, or maybe he got a girlfriend.” 

“Could be! That’d be kind of cool, having some baby Nightfurys around.” 

Hiccup smiled. “I’d love that. I’d babysit them.” 

“Make your own dragon army? I bet you would.” 

Then, the sun got low, and Stoick encouraged Astrid to leave. 

She got up reluctantly, still holding Hiccup’s hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I miss you.” 

“I missed you too. Hopefully, I’ll be better by then.” 

She wasn’t sure. He was pallid, his eyes were almost yellow, and his skin was waxy. Still, it didn’t stop her from pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

He looked at her with awe. 

“To help you feel better,” she explained. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” he breathed. 

She waved him off with just her finger tips and descended down the stairs. 

She’d really stayed too long. It was dark out, as the sunset was hidden behind dark clouds. But Astrid wasn’t fearful. She had trained to fight, and unlike most of the other superstitious Vikings, she recognized that while the Grafted were strange and unnatural, they were ultimately harmless. They took dead tissue. Never ever had they taken anyone alive, or killed anyone to add to their pile of creations. 

Yet. 

She dropped her basket off on the porch and continued down the hill towards the arena. She’d left her axe behind after training, eager to see Hiccup. 

A shadow slunk through the fog, halting her completely. It was big and long and black, moving almost silently towards her. 

Astrid stood her ground, preparing for the worst. 

The head came into view, and she slowly relaxed. It was a dragon, the Nightfury. The very same she’d been looking for the last few days.

Astrid smiled at it, though she kept a respectable distance. It was still a wild animal, afterall, no matter how gentle he appeared.  

“Better get home soon,” she told him. “Pretty foggy out.” 

The dragon continued towards her, his eyes flicking over in a quick glance as it passed. 

He never stopped though, just continued up the road at a lurching trot. 

Was he injured? 

As he passed, Astrid felt her stomach clench. At first, she hadn’t even noticed, but as he emerged from the fog, she could see instead of normal, black, reptilian wings, the dragon had three sets of feathered wings, looking to have once belonged to a large bird of prey like an eagle. As he trotted away, she saw the tip of his tail had the head of a snake. 

A Grafted. 

The biggest she’d ever seen, and it was made from the Nightfury. The mightiest living creature had fallen, and the force of evil in the woods took it into its clutches. 

Astrid shook violently out of her stupor and sprinted back to her house, abandoning her mission to retrieve her axe. 

She slammed the door shut behind her, bracing her body against it in fear. 

“Astrid! There you are! Cutting it close, lass!” Her mother, Phlegma, chastised. 

“I saw—I saw—!” She panted. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Her father, Axel, asked. 

“It got the Nightfury! It got the Nightfury!” 

“Nightfury? What did?” 

Astrid gulped in air, collecting her thoughts. “I saw a Grafted, in town. And it’s made up of the Nightfury! It died and that–it’s a Grafted! It’s a Grafted!!” 

Astrid’s mother was quick to wrap her up in a hug and pull her away from the door. “It’s okay. Lass, it’s going to be okay. It’s scary, but…that dragon was going to die one day, and if no one saw it and could treat it…this was bound to happen.” 

“It was in town! It was just walking down the street! What do we do?!” 

“Nothing tonight,” Axel answered. But he did open a window by the porch. He hung a lit lantern outside, and then closed the window and started to latch it. “I put the signal out that one was spotted. Hopefully the neighbors will see and hang theirs up too. In no time, the word will be out and everyone will stay in until dawn. Tomorrow, we’ll go tell Stoick.” 

“Make sure your window is closed,” Phlegma reminded. “Nothing else to do but to get to bed.” 

Astrid stayed in her mother’s embrace for a little while longer, but then retreated to her room. She lit her lantern and latched her window, just as her parents suggested. 

If that Nightfury Grafted wanted to get to her, a latched window would do nothing to stop it. It was just a precaution. 

Despite living with them for so long, no one really knew what the Grafted did. Did they eat? Sleep? Or were they above all that, being undead creatures? They were always spotted ambling around in a daze. 

But the dragon she’d seen had been focused. He was unsteady on his feet, but he was moving with direction. 

He was going up the hill. 

Astrid laid awake with the lantern on, sleep the last thing on her mind. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things that kept her on edge. 

And besides the Nightfury, she also worried about Hiccup. He didn’t look good at all. 

What if he didn’t make it?

No, no he definitely would. He got sick at this time of year every year, this was nothing new. He was fine. 

He was fine.

—

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because she was awakened by shouting from outside. 

“Hiccup!” Stoick bellowed from the streets. “Hiccup!” 

Astrid staggered to her feet and opened the window. It was dawn, but just as foggy out as it was the night before. 

The chief rushed around, looking down the alleys and shouting Hiccup’s name. 

“Chief?” She called from her window. 

“Astrid! Please tell me he’s with you!” He cried. “I won’t be upset, just tell me that he was lonely and wanted to be with you.” 

Astrid swallowed hard. “No, no I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He was so weak…” 

Stoick clenched his eyes shut. “No…no…” 

“Let me get my boots on, and I’ll help you look!” 

She dressed quickly, but dread was already pooling in her stomach. Hiccup had been in no state to move last night. There was no way he got up on his own. 

Stoick was pacing as she arrived, while the rest of the village that was awake had already begun the search. “Did he say anything to you?” Stoick asked. 

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t. But, chief—” 

She had his full attention, as he stared at her and waited eagerly for what she had to say. 

“I saw a Grafted last night, on my way home. It was the biggest I’ve ever seen. It–it was made up of the Nightfury.” 

Stoick’s eyes went wide. “The Nightfury? Are you sure it was Grafted?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it–it had feathered wings, six of them. And a snake at the end of its tail. Who knows if there was more.”

Stoick put a hand to his chin as he anxiously tapped his foot. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.” 

“What can I do?” 

His mouth pulled into a tight frown. “It’s a long shot, but we need to look everywhere for Hiccup. Please, you knew him best. Wherever he spent his time in the woods, wherever you two hung out, I need you to look.” 

She saluted. “I’m on it! I’ll find him, sir!” And off she went. 

The search party went on for days, despite most people thinking it was a lost cause. At first, they were optimistic. Maybe Hiccup had become delirious with his fever and wandered off in search of the dragon he loved so much. Then by day two, they were hoping to at least find his body.

By day three, they were looking for any sign of what happened to him. A scrap of clothing at most. 

Astrid and Stoick remained diligent, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. 

A month after his disappearance, Chief Stoick made the announcement that he was declaring his son, his only remaining family, dead. If he was alive, they surely would have found him by now, but there was no chance to recover a body. 

Some saw it as an omen. Hiccup’s disappearance was surely due to the Grafted, right? This was the beginning. They were starting to pick off the sick and old. 

Astrid wasn’t sure. Hiccup was deathly ill the last time she saw him. There was a chance that he was taken after he died. 

It was grim, but she could picture the Nightfury circling his house and waiting. Waiting to take her deceased friend back to wherever the Grafted came from. 

It wasn’t fair. Hiccup, while small and considered a nuisance by many, was good. He was funny and kind, and didn’t deserve this fate at all. 

More than once, Astrid cursed the gods, angry that they’d allow this, angry that they took him, angry he wasn’t allowed to rest. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

—-

Hiccup disappeared in the fall. It wasn’t long before winter set in and the Grafted vanished from the surface for the season. 

Stoick and Astrid were able to grieve in peace. 

If a creature with Hiccup’s face turned up soon, it would be a disaster. 

But as every winter, Berk settled into the snow. They kept inside, slept more with the dark hours, and subsisted off of the salted and smoked game collected from the year. 

Snoggletog was a quiet affair. To some, life went on as usual. But the chief was absent from all festivities, rather too solemn to even attempt a smile. 

In the spring, everything awakened. The crops, the animals, the villagers, the dragons, and the Grafted. It was time to survive once again, and Berk needed its chief. 

And the chief needed an heir. 

“So?” Snotlout asked, leaning on a stool in a way that flexed his arms. He was aiming for subtlety, but missed the mark quite a bit. 

“So what?” Astrid responded. 

“Who are you rooting for in the games? Who’s got your vote as the next chief of Berk? You can be honest, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

She glared at him. “The games? You mean the traditional ritualistic trials meant to pick a new heir in the wake of Hiccup’s tragic passing?” 

“Yeah, those.” 

She sneered. 

“Don’t be like that! It’s been half a year since he died! Lighten up!” 

She poked Snotlout in the chest. “Hiccup was my best friend. I know you thought very little of him, but he was a great person. I still miss him, and probably will the rest of my life.” 

Snotlout rolled his eyes. “I mean yeah, I know you’ll miss him. I miss my favorite pet chicken. But…I felt better when I got a new pet chicken. I know you liked him, but I’m single, you know?” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“I’m just trying to give you a reality check.” 

She shook her head and decided to stop indulging him in this stupid conversation. “I’m not ready to move on. So drop it. And as far as the trials go, I’m entering as well. Stoick asked me to. So I’m rooting for myself.” 

“Oh. Uh…” he trailed off. 

Astrid stood from the bench and took her axe with her. Without saying goodbye, she breezed out of the arena. 

She decided to take a walk in the woods to cool down. She’d go to the Cove, a favorite place. 

Astrid felt like she was coping pretty well, at least better than the chief. While Hiccup and her had been close, Hiccup was the chief’s son. And the man had lost his wife when Hiccup was an infant. 

Astrid still had her parents. She even had both sets of grandparents. She hadn’t lost family. 

Stoick was all alone. 

She was keenly aware of this, and did her best to be there for him however he needed it. She’d go to his house and clean up a little while he was busy. She tried to fill the void that Hiccup had left. 

It wasn’t easy, and by the drained look on Stoick’s face, it wasn’t enough. 

The first season Hiccup was gone, Astrid couldn’t go anywhere near the Cove. It held too many memories, and it hurt too much to recall them. 

But now, it was a comfort. She heard Hiccup’s voice in the wind whistling through the rocks. She heard his laugh as she skipped rocks on the water of the pond. And the even smelled him in the air when she laid on the grass. 

She missed him immensely, but she was doing alright. 

But she feared the day she’d see a Grafted with his features. 

She hoped she never would. If a fox had his face, or a bird had his hands instead of legs, she’d have to kill it and burn it. That was the only humane thing she could think to do. Piece by piece, she’d send him to Valhalla. 

Astrid made her way to the Cove. The day was dreary and gray, and the woods were darker with the overcast sky. 

But everything was still. No wind, no birds, no bugs, just silence. 

It was eerie how still everything was. It should have been peaceful, but it wasn’t. 

Astrid wondered if all the life in the woods knew something she didn’t. 

She looked around as she wandered, her gaze flitting from tree to tree, just watching for anything—

There. 

A figure, just a little ways off. Something obscured behind a tree, but watching her with reflective green eyes. 

Her grip tightened on her axe and she headed towards it. 

It bolted, fleeing into the brush. 

“Oh no you don’t!” She called, running after. 

The figure was fast. It looked human, but she wasn’t sure if it was. It was small at least, and she was confident she could take it in a fight. 

In fact, she was gaining on it. 

The figure turned to look at her briefly, and she could see the brown hair and green body. No, green shirt. 

A green shirt she’d seen a hundred times before. 

“Hiccup?!” She cried. 

No, she reminded herself. Even if it looks like him, it’s not. It’s not him anymore. 

More determined to hunt the thing down, she doubled her pace. 

The creature let out a yelp and disappeared from view. 

Berk’s terrain wasn’t flat. Large boulders, gullys, and sudden drops interrupted the landscape, and you had to be diligent. 

Astrid caught up as the creature crashed into the gully below. He’d fallen about three feet and landed awkwardly, if his position was anything to go by. From up here, she could see him clearly. His hair was a mess, his skin was filthy, and his tunic was torn and stained. That was all secondary though, as the first thing she noticed was that from the waist down, he had the body of a fawn. Spots and all. It started where the fawn’s neck would be, making him a sort of deer-centaur. The top half of his body was normal. 

Astrid braced against a tree, staring and processing what she was seeing. 

He curled up and held one of his spindly legs, which from here she could tell was broken. 

He was trapped and vulnerable. If she was going to put him out of his misery, now was the time. But she hesitated. She was prepared for pieces of him. She was bracing for whatever she’d see. 

But for half of this creature to be Hiccup, just seeing him in person again, it was too much. 

She slid her axe back into the holster on her back and jumped down to him. 

When she landed, he flinched and whimpered. He looked up to her, the white of his eyes pitch black instead. But silent tears streamed down his face as he hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself as small as possible. 

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” the promise was out of her mouth before she even considered it. 

He relaxed ever so slightly, and stopped his whimpering. 

His leg was definitely broken, snapped in half like a twig. 

She clicked her tongue. What was she supposed to do? 

Maybe…maybe Stoick would know. Maybe this was a decision he should make anyway. 

She didn’t want to leave him here in the meantime either. Something else could get him and make a worse Grafted. 

Fine. She made a really dumb decision and elected to take him home to the chief’s house. She just couldn’t stand him being in pain and alone like this. It pulled at her heartstrings. 

“Hiccup?” She asked. 

He blinked at her slowly, still curled in on himself. 

“Do you know who I am?” 

It took him a second, but he nodded, ever so slightly. She watched as he turned his back on her, and tried to shield his lower half from her sight. 

He was trying to hide from her. 

She knelt and raised her hands to him slowly, showing she meant no harm.

He stayed very still, a trait seemingly taken on by the other half of his body. 

She slowly unsheathed her axe, but kept the blade away from him. Then with a violent twist, she removed the head from the shaft. 

It was a little heartbreaking, but her axe hadn’t been serviced since Hiccup disappeared. She knew it was loose but just didn’t want anyone else working on it. 

Hiccup sat up slightly as she did the deed, and even leaned closer to get a better look. 

“Yeah,” she said, brandishing the shaft at him. “Remember the things I do for you.” 

Old Hiccup would have stuttered and folded, and then turned around and replied with some sass. 

This Hiccup just stared at her, nose twitching. 

She wasn’t sure what to make of it. He seemed to understand, in some capacity, what she was saying. But he was so absent, she wondered if Hiccup was in there at all. 

Or if this was just a shell. 

She used the shaft of her axe as a splint. Using her arm wraps and another sturdy stick, she dressed his broken leg the best she could. 

It wasn’t perfect, she was no healer, but it was better than letting the thing dangle around. 

“There. That’s better, right?” 

Hiccup ran his fingers over the wrap, up and down, a little trilling noise coming from his throat. 

Then he attempted to stand. 

“Hey! Hey hey, let me help!” She stood quickly and offered her hands for support. He took hold and allowed her to pull him up. 

The broken front left leg lifted off the ground a little, but otherwise, he was standing. 

Astrid didn’t let go of his hands. “It’s not safe for you out here like this. You’re coming home.” 

His gaze flicked to the ground, then to the trees, then to his rear. 

His little tail fluttered. 

“I know, but with that broken leg, you’re prey for anything. I promise…it’ll be okay.” She changed her promise at the last second, opting to not say ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you’ because there was a real chance Stoick would choose to end him. 

But, it would be better for him than whatever else might find him. 

Hiccup took a step towards her, and then another. He had to hop a little, and he was slow, but he went with her. 

“Okay, right…” she held the blade of her axe with one hand, and took his in the other. His skin was cold, but not as cold as she expected. Wind chilled at most. 

She started to pull him along when he made a little noise, like a curious huff. 

“What?” She turned to him. 

He was staring at their hands. 

“Yeah? That’s my hand.” 

He brought his other hand up and tried to lay his hand directly over hers, but it was backwards, so he twisted his wrist awkwardly. 

“Here,” she held out her other hand, palm out. 

He met her, thumb to thumb, finger to finger. Then he tilted his hand and let his fingers fall between hers. 

Then he stepped forward, standing toe to…hoof with her. 

He frowned. 

“Yep.” She popped her lips. “Almost the same.” She gently patted his chest. “Same where it matters, okay?” 

He didn’t respond, but his frown relaxed into something neutral. Almost a smile, but not quite. 

The rest of the walk was quiet. She held his hand and guided him along. Occasionally, he’d whimper as he moved his leg wrong, but he’d silence it a moment later. 

Astrid didn’t rush him. She was lucky that he was walking on his own and she didn’t need to carry him. 

A memory surfaced, as they had been since his disappearance, of a similar situation a few years ago. His voice was still high then, and they chased each other in a game of tag in the woods. 

He tripped on a tree root and sprained his ankle. He cried like a baby, not that she could blame him, the ankle was swollen and blue. She carried him all the way back, piggy-back style. 

When she arrived at the square, Stoick took him from her and smiled in gratitude. “What would he do without you?”

It wasn’t the first time either. How many times had she saved his hide from injury? Or dragged him to Gothi’s after one? It felt like she was always protecting him or taking care of him. 

Adults called him reckless. She called it ‘selectively brave’. And he called it curiosity. Hiccup had the tendency to fall into these dangerous situations, especially when dragons were involved. And more often than not, Astrid was the one to bail him out. 

It wasn’t a thankless job though. He brought joy and color to her life in a way she couldn’t explain. He was nicer than most folks, being forthcoming with compliments, be it blunt or sarcastic. He was funny, he was smart, and wise, and he was just pleasant to be around. 

She always knew it, but it wasn’t until he disappeared that she really felt it. A gray loneliness draped on her like a wet blanket. The village lost its life, the island lost its thrill, and Astrid was stuck trying to figure out what life meant. 

They arrived at the tree line and Astrid looked out about the town. Late afternoon, early evening, the crowd was beginning the wrap up of the work day and starting preparations for dinner at the Great Hall. 

“I think we have to go the long way,” she said, ruefully. She pointed down the footpath to the right, which snaked around the backside of Gothi’s mountain. “It’s just too dangerous. I don’t want you to be seen. Not yet. How’s the leg?” 

He looked down at it and stretched it forward slightly. Then he shrugged. 

‘Like it can get any more broken?’ Hiccup sassed in her mind. 

She smiled ever so slightly, imagining his voice so clearly. 

But the fragmented version of her friend just stared at her, waiting for her to lead. 

“This way,” she tugged him along. 

The path was narrow, but she didn’t drop his hand, just walked in front of him. 

Eventually they reached his house. She opened the back door while she kept an eye out. So far, so good, as it seemed no one was watching. 

The house was silent, as Stoick was likely still busy. But the main room smelled divinely, as someone had made soup and left it for him on the low fire. 

Hiccup made a beeline for the hearth. He approached, wide eyed, and sat, his legs curled up under him, save for the bad one. 

He reached his hands out and sighed as he felt the heat. 

“Good? You seem to remember fire.” 

He shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. 

Astrid watched him for a moment, then decided since she’d gone this far, might as well double down. 

“Stay here,” she demanded. 

She half expected an eye roll, but got no response. 

Undeterred, she retrieved a bucket of water and a rag. Then she went upstairs to his loft. 

The room was unchanged, save for the bedsheets. They had to be changed due to the nature of Hiccup’s last time in them. 

But the rest of the room remained untouched. She’d know, as she was the only one that came up here. Stoick admitted he’d tried once, but it hurt too much and he had to leave. He had a hard enough time just being in his house. 

Astrid, however, often came to visit. She liked looking through his sketchbooks and journals. She learned a lot about him after the fact.

She thought she knew everything about him before, but she was mistaken. 

Astrid grabbed a clean tunic and his comb and went back downstairs. 

It was like he hadn’t even slightly moved. 

“Okay,” she sat beside him. She wetted the rag and added a little soap, then got to work scrubbing his hands. He didn’t fight her or question her, just allowed her to work. 

She scrubbed the wrinkles of his palms which were all black with dirt. Then she scrubbed at his nails. 

She half expected claws, but he had very normal, very human hands. 

Once done with his hands, she rinsed the cloth and got to work on his face. 

He scrunched his eyes and nose as she scrubbed hard at the persistent crust. His cheeks flushed from the aggravation, but she could see the freckles through the dust. 

Since all that went well, she tugged on the old tunic he wore and pulled it off for him. 

He was covered in scratches and bruises, most new. Maybe even from the tumble that broke his leg. 

But bruises meant blood, and blood meant life…right? 

From the way people talked around town and from what Stoick and Gothi assumed, the Grafted were made of dead tissue and imbued with magic to move like puppets. They weren’t actually ‘alive’ despite all the bravado men put into killing them. 

But now Astrid wasn’t so sure. For curiosity’s sake, she leaned towards him and placed her ear on his chest, right over his heart. 

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump. 

A strong heartbeat, and he sighed at her touch, his lungs moving and working. 

He was alive. No doubt about it. 

His hand came up and cradled her head, gentle fingers petting her hair. 

“Sorry,” she pulled away. “I was just curious…about your heartbeat.” 

He moved towards her haltingly, turning his head to the side and leaning in. 

“It’s okay,” she sat up once she realized what he wanted. 

He placed his head in her chest, mimicking what she had done. 

“Hear my heart? It sounds just like yours.” 

He hummed and relaxed against her, but only for a minute before he sat up again. 

Astrid didn’t know what to do. Bringing him home was the right move, but now she wondered if she should have brought him to her house, or the storehouse, or the pens in the arena, anywhere where he would be safe. There was no telling what Stoick would do. 

She wetted the rag again and got to work cleaning his torso. 

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this either. The last time he’d gotten sick, the time before…well. He’d had a fever and nausea, but had tried to fake that he was fine to his father. He just needed a little rest, was what he said. Astrid doubted him, and checked in on him in the middle of the day. The poor boy had gotten sick on himself and the sheets and he was so delirious with fever, he had no idea what to do. 

Astrid had cleaned him up with no complaints. 

When the fever broke and he was lucid again, he begged her to forget about it. 

She promised she never would and would lord it over him for days to come. 

This was a lot less disgusting, but she wanted to be thorough. Mud and dirt smeared across his skin, some even staining his skin. She picked off burrs and bugs and dabbed the scratches clean. 

“There we are; good and clean, just the way you’ve always been.” 

Hiccup whined quietly and gestured his head towards the pot on the fire. 

“Hungry?” She guessed. 

He rested his hand on his stomach. 

“Thought so. Let me get you a bowl.” 

She served him up a dish of mutton and potato stew, and handed it to him. Hiccup ignored the spoon and opted to pick the pieces out with his index finger and thumb. After the first bite of beef, he hummed in pleasure and savored it. 

“Good, huh?” 

He went for a potato next. 

It brought back another memory, of when she was first learning how to cook. While she never really mastered it, she’d at least improved. But when she started out, she’d try to be helpful and deliver a dish to him at lunch. 

“Well? What do you think?” 

His face crinkled and his eyes watered. “Mmm! Yummy!” He obviously lied. 

She sighed. “You don’t have to lie. You can admit it’s bad.” 

He begrudgingly swallowed and shivered. “It’s not—it’s not that bad.” 

“Your face says otherwise.” 

“It’s just…strong. Really salty. And you might have cooked it too long. The meat is really tough.” 

“I thought it got softer as it cooked?” 

“If you’re slow roasting it, yes, but in stew, it gets tougher.” 

“Oh.” 

“And you added fish sauce?” 

“No? Just mead.” 

“Maybe you should check. Hogar bottles his fish sauce in mead bottles.” 

“Ohhhh!” She smacked her forehead. “That’s why it was thick!” 

“Still, I appreciate you bringing me lunch. I’ll eat it.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I’m going to!” 

Astrid smiled fondly, the memory dissolving as Hiccup awkwardly chewed on a carrot. She didn’t make this meal, but she was still interested in his reaction. Was his sense of taste the same? 

It seemed to be as he ate hastily and messily. Broth dripped down his chin, as he filled his cheeks like a chipmunk. 

“Not so much!” She reprimanded. “You have to chew and swallow, or you’ll choke!” 

He stopped stuffing his face and heeded her advice, chewing and swallowing. 

Astrid then wondered when the last time he ate was. He was certainly hungry, and just as stick thin as always. 

With the rather feral state he was in, she guessed he probably wasn’t cooking any meals. 

While he merrily ate his meal, she pulled the chair closer and sat behind him. Then she started combing his hair. 

It was just as well, too, as in trying to untangle the painful mess his hair had become, she found him inflicted with parasites and nits. Each was removed and flicked into the fire, freeing him. 

But bloodsuckers needed blood, right? So this was even more proof that he was alive, right? 

Hiccup quite contentedly sat on the floor and ate while she worked. He might wince a bit when she pulled on especially egregious snares, but for the most part, it seemed he was perfectly happy having food and a warm fire. 

Once she finished with his head, she glanced down to the deer half of his body. This was not Hiccup. This part of him didn’t hold any fond memories or even any feelings whatsoever. 

But regardless, she knelt beside him and combed through his fur. Less bugs and less snarls, since this part was made for the outdoors. The fur was soft as she smoothed her hand over it. 

His little tail fluttered again. 

As she finished, her eyes drifted to the area where his torso met the deer fur. A large white scar traced the very edge of his skin, making a clean line between boy and beast. 

Hiccup said nothing still, but settled in his seat and held the empty bowl in his lap. 

“Done?” 

He glanced at her, then slowly gave her the bowl. 

“Was it good?” She tried to make conversation, but it was obvious his ability to talk was taken or forgotten. 

He just slowly, haltingly nodded and returned his gaze to the fire. 

She sat on his other side, away from the deer-half of his body. For a while, it was just companionable silence. He stared at the flames, the light reflecting in his eerie eyes. Then he slowly turned his head to look around the room. He stared at the weapons on the walls, the decorative tapestries, all the things that’d been in his home his whole life. 

“This is your house, you know. You were born and raised here. Well…before…” she trailed off. 

He whined, crossing his arms over his stomach. 

“Sorry, sore subject?” 

He rubbed his arms briefly, and Astrid could see goosebumps on his skin. Even his fur fluffed up a little. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed. She shook out the new tunic and handed it to him. “Do you remember how to put this on?” 

He took it from her and turned it over and around, first examining it. Then he stuck his head in. 

After that, he got stuck. He whined as his arms were trapped in the fabric. 

“So it’s been a while!” She chuckled. She tugged the fabric up so he could get his arms through, and then pulled it down. 

It messed up his hair, but she kind of liked it that way. She just tossed his bangs to the side as he stared at her. 

His gaze was different. Alien. Wrong. But it held a warmth that the old Hiccup had. He wasn’t right, but there was still something there. 

“I missed you,” she confessed, softly. 

“..mm…muh…mmm..” he murmured. 

Astrid’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Mmm..muh…sss…ssstt…” and then he made a hard exhale that she swore sounded like ‘you’. 

She hugged him then. She didn’t care if this was just a shell or not, there was a hint of Hiccup, and that was enough. 

He returned the embrace, however slightly. 

When she reluctantly let go, he had a very faint smile on his face. 

Then he yawned. 

“Tired?” She glanced up the stairs. Even if she could get him up there, she wasn’t sure Stoick would take kindly to a Grafted sleeping in Hiccup’s bed, even if the Grafted was Hiccup. 

It didn’t seem to matter, as he shifted on the bearskin rug and laid down. His fawn half curled up, bad leg extended out, while his human half laid on his side, face toward the fire…

And head laid on her leg. 

“Oh…” she breathed. 

He exhaled a long breath and relaxed, or tried to, anyway. His brow creased slightly as he moved his bad leg, trying to get comfortable. 

Astrid grabbed a blanket from nearby and threw it over him. It was a blanket made for Stoick the Vast, so it covered Hiccup completely. She just folded the top back to reveal his face. 

He slowly drifted off to sleep, if his quiet snores were any indication. She ran her fingers through his hair, just drinking in his face. Like this, eyes closed and fawn half covered, he looked just like he did before he…

Before he…

Astrid blinked several times, pushing back the thought and the tears. 

It wasn’t much longer before she heard Stoick arriving. His voice carried through the wooden walls as he bid someone goodnight. 

The door opened. 

“—you too, Hamish!” Stoick hollered, before closing the door. 

Then he looked at her. 

“Astrid? What are you doing down—…” 

She could tell the second he spotted Hiccup, as a strangled gasp burst from his lips and he took a step back. 

Astrid held a finger over her lips, asking him to be quiet. 

“How?” He whispered. “How? Where—? Is that—? It can’t be…” 

“Stoick,” she said, very softly, gently, “you need to stay calm.” 

He frowned hard, his eyebrows dipping down as his beard moved. 

Astrid peeled back the blanket and revealed the awful truth. 

Stoick sobbed and took another step back. “Odin, have mercy,” he wept. “Not like this…not like this…” 

“Chief?” 

“Why?” He croaked. “Why’d you bring him home?” 

Astrid struggled to articulate the answer. “He…he was hurt—“ 

“Those things don’t get hurt. They don’t feel pain!” 

“He did,” she petted Hiccup’s hair. “He felt pain, hunger, cold, and tired.” 

Stoick stood frozen, staring at his boy. 

Astrid recounted all that happened, all she had seen, all her observations, all of it. 

Stoick absorbed it all without a word. 

All this talking woke Hiccup up and he slowly sat up from where he laid. He seemed confused at first, and then noticed Stoick and sat up straight with a little trill in his throat. 

“It’s okay,” Astrid comforted. “You know him.” 

Hiccup visibly swallowed, before scrambling to grab the blanket and cover up the fawn half of his body. 

The action didn’t go unnoticed. 

Stoick stood, and came closer. “Do you—do you know who I am?” 

Hiccup nodded. 

“Do you really?” 

Another nod. 

“Who am I? What’s my name?” 

“He can’t talk,” Astrid provided. 

“I have to know for sure. If there’s any part of him left in there—“ he clenched his eyes shut. “But if this is one of those puppets, just a sick joke being played on us, I have to know! I’ll have to—“ he sharply turned his gaze to the axe at the door, waiting for such emergencies. “I can’t—it’ll break me, lass! This is the last thing I want, but I have to know. Is he really Hiccup?”

“…I…am…” a gutteral, croaking voice answered. It didn’t even sound like a voice, more like a poor imitation of an animal trying to speak. It was raw and wet and ill. 

Astrid and Stoick sat silently, both digesting the fact that he spoke, no matter how terribly. 

“Prove it,” Stoick demanded. “I need proof.” 

“Isn’t this enough for you?” Astrid asked. “He’s different now, yes, but he is Hiccup!” 

Stoick glared at her. “I want to believe. I want to take this at face value but if I want to bring my son back into the village like this, I need proof! I can’t just invite him in on a hunch!” 

Astrid backed off, knowing he was right. 

Hiccup looked between them both, his expression unreadable. 

Then he reached towards Stoick, beckoning him closer with his fingertips. 

Stoick leaned away, and kept his steely gaze on the creature. 

Hiccup let out a little whimper, frustrated, as his hands curled into fists. 

“Hiccup?” Astrid asked. 

He turned to her and made the same gesture, silently asking her to come forward. 

“Don’t—“ Stoick warned, but she didn’t listen. Hiccup had already been close to her, listening to her heart. This was nothing. 

He gently took her face with his hands and angled it down as he shuffled up on one knee. He gently kissed her forehead. 

“…L…ove…” and he made that noise that sounded like he breathed ‘you’ again. 

Astrid stared at him, tears pooling in her eyes. That was one of the last things she said to him. It was one of the only comforts she had after he left, that she told him he was loved. Maybe she didn’t say it as powerfully as she meant it, but at least he knew she loved him somehow. 

Her gaze flicked to Stoick as he sniffed heavily. 

The man was holding back a deluge of tears, as just a trickle escaped the corner of his eye. 

“Chief?” Astrid whispered, wondering what had made him emotional. 

“That night…” he began, his voice warbling, “I sat with him, and told him I was proud of him. I kissed his head and told him I loved him. That was the last thing I said.” 

She nodded. “Me too, when I said goodbye…” 

Stoick sniffed again and blotted his eye with a handkerchief. “Come here, son.” 

Hiccup lit up brightly and struggled to stand. His tail flickered in joy and he reached for Stoick. 

Stoick just took his hand and pulled him to sit in his lap. 

Hiccup threw his arms around his father, his fingers digging into his tunic. 

Stoick embraced him, pressing melancholy kisses to his head and rubbing his back, down from his shoulders, all the way to his tail. 

Astrid sat beside them and leaned her forehead on Hiccup’s arm. He was Hiccup, though changed massively. It was still him. No doubt about it.

“I don’t know what will come,” Stoick lamented. “It won’t be right away, but we’ll get everyone to accept you.” He pulled away slightly, to look Hiccup in the eye. “You…you would want that, right? To come home? To live here again?” 

Hiccup didn’t meet his eyes and he didn’t respond, not initially. His brows creased in thought, and then he cleared his throat. He made the sound a few times, and Astrid got up to get him water. 

He took the mug from her gratefully and drank slowly, like he was savoring the coolness and freshness. He cleared his throat again, and this time when he spoke, it sounded human. 

It didn’t sound like old him, more like someone who’d be very sick for a very long time. 

“…high…ding…” he croaked. 

“What? High ding? Oh, hiding!” 

Stoick frowned. “You’re hiding now? From what?”

As if on cue, a faint scratching came from the back door, where they had entered earlier. Astrid had barred it behind her, and patted her past self on the back as the scratching got louder. 

She got to her feet. 

Stoick snipped at her, telling her not to go. 

She nodded, but went and barred the front door and grabbed the axe beside it. 

The scratching grew louder still, shaking the door in its frame. 

Bang bang bang bang! 

Stoick held Hiccup tightly to his chest, his gaze riveted on the door. The only light in the house came from the fire, casting the back entrance into pure darkness. 

The scratching intensified, accompanied by the crackling of claws breaking through wood. 

The door wouldn’t hold much longer, not if the thing on the other side was persistent. 

Hiccup sat up, pushing away from his father, then he let out a truly haunting noise, like the call of a loon. 

The scratching stopped, and an echoing sound of an elk bleating came from outside. 

Hiccup smiled and nodded eagerly to Astrid and Stoick, and then waved at Astrid to open the door. 

She slowly crept her way across the house. 

“Lass…” 

“He seems to think it’s fine. I don’t think it’s going to stop.” Without waiting for permission, she opened the door a crack.

Green eyes the size of dinner plates stared back at her, and she barely stifled a gasp. 

A black snout wedged in the crack of the door and forced it open. The Nightfury Grafted nudged Astrid out of the way and made a beeline towards Hiccup. 

Stoick stiffened as the dragon approached, but didn’t push it away. 

The Nightfury greeted Hiccup with a friendly lick to the face, and Hiccup cooed in response. Then he rested his head on top of the dragon’s and loud purring filled the house. 

“I don’t believe it…” Stoick breathed. “He loved that dragon when he was normal—” 

Astrid barred the door again and crept closer. She knelt by the dragon’s side and watched as its hide shifted with breaths. 

It was also alive. 

Hiccup waved at her, beckoning her forward. 

She obeyed, scooting forward on her knees.

He took her hand and laid it on the snout of the dragon, then trilled happily. 

“You finally befriended him,” she smiled. “You wanted him to like you so much…and now he came looking for you.” 

Hiccup nodded and scratched the dragon under his chin. 

Stoick rubbed his son’s shoulder as he observed all of this, then he asked, “is there anything you can tell us about the Grafted? I know your speech isn’t so good. But maybe with time…?” 

“Oh yeah! Can you write?” 

Hiccup considered it for a moment, then nodded. 

Astrid hurried up to his room and grabbed his sketchbook and a scribblestick. “Here,” she presented it to him. “Take your time.” 

He squeaked in delight at the sight of the book. He settled into Stoick’s lap as the Nightfury rested his snout in Hiccup’s lap. Hiccup opened the book and used the dragon as a table. 

“Looks like you’re stuck, chief.” Astrid smiled. 

“Aye, but I’m not too upset about it. Feels a bit like when I was teaching him to write as a child.” 

They both watched as Hiccup slowly and awkwardly scratched out some runes onto a page. He readjusted the scribblestick in his hand a few times, testing the hold.  

Astrid served up some dinner for Stoick, and then sat in a chair a little ways away and waited. 

The Nightfury lazily swung his tail back and forth. The snake head on the end passed by her foot a few times, and a little tongue flicked out towards her. 

The dragon’s wings were tucked against his body, three sets of feathered wings that grew from its shoulderblade, all relatively close together. It couldn’t be comfortable to have them stacked like that. The feathers looked dirty and unkempt, but it was unsurprising, given that they were attached to a dragon that couldn’t preen like a bird. 

She wasn’t sure how to help, or if he would even let her. 

They sat in silence, listening to the light scratching of charcoal on paper, and firewood crackling in the hearth. 

Finally, Hiccup triumphantly held up the sketchbook and gave it to his father to read. 

Astrid looked over his shoulder, reading for herself. 

The handwriting started off very rough, like a child, but progressively got cleaner as it went on and he remembered how to write. 

Evil magic woods

Toothless take me dying

Viggo kill me stomach

Change

Proud 2 success

Steal magic

Escape

Winter no sleep — survive

Spring

Astrid save take me home

Astrid frowned as she read over his runes a few times. 

“Can you make sense of this, lass?” 

“Um…a little. Evil magic in the woods, obviously. ‘Take me dying’ I get. He wasn’t dead when he disappeared. But I don’t get the significance of ‘Toothless’. He wrote it out…like you were taken gently?” 

Hiccup shook his head and patted the dragon. “...Tooooth…” 

“You named the dragon Toothless?” Astrid guessed, somewhat amused. 

He grinned. 

“You would, too. Why didn’t I think of that?” She shook her head. “Okay, so…Toothless took you that night to the evil in the woods. Is the evil named Viggo?”

Hiccup nodded again, much more subdued. 

“And he…killed you?” 

He nodded again and pointed to the scar on his stomach, where the fawn skin began. 

She glanced back to the notes. “So then he turned you into a Grafted…and I’m going to assume you mean that you and Toothless are alive and he was proud of that.” 

Hiccup clapped triumphantly and nodded enthusiastically. 

“Okay, so you stole his magic?”

A nod. 

“Then you escaped and spent the winter surviving until spring came, and then I found you.” 

He grinned. 

“Short, sweet, and to the point.” Stoick shrugged. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you stole his magic? How does that work? Can you make Grafted?” 

Hiccup gave a little shrug, and didn’t respond any further than that.

“But you’re hiding from this Viggo character? What is he, some sort of wizard?” 

Hiccup tilted his head side to side, as if to say ‘more or less’. 

“Good,” Stoick scooped Hiccup up and set him on the ground. “If it’s a man, that means he can be killed. Then we can stop this perversion of life and death. Oh, no offense, son.” 

Hiccup just looked down at the other half of his body and silently shrugged. 

“Well lass, that was quite the revelation. It’s getting late. I think you ought to get going home for now.” 

“But—”

“He’s not going anywhere. I’ll keep him and the dragon safe. Tomorrow, we’ll tell Gothi and Gobber…and then work from there. I’ll start thinking of a plan to deal with this evil magician.” 

Astrid was about to argue that this wouldn’t be so simple. The wizard had twenty years to perfect his eldritch creatures. He could have an army by now. But she was rather exhausted. It had been a tiring day, and that was even besides her reunion with Hiccup. 

“Okay,” she relented, getting to her feet. 

Hiccup whined, holding his hand out to her. 

“I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye!” She promised. She knelt in front of him, careful of his leg, and held his face. “You’ve changed. You’re different. But I’m just happy that you’re here and alive. I missed you, a lot.” She kissed him briefly before enveloping him in a hug. “And I still love you.” 

He immediately returned the hug, holding on tightly. 

“I wish you had just sought me out, right away when you escaped. I would have given you shelter in the winter.” 

“...watched…waited…” he whispered in her ear. 

A chill went down her spine at the notion. He’d been watching her since his escape? And she hadn’t noticed until today? 

She reluctantly let go. She cupped his cheek fondly, and then stood. She gave Toothless a fond pat and waved goodbye to Stoick. 

This was the second time she was leaving the Haddock house so late at night that the sky was dark. The fog was thick, just like that fateful night. 

The difference was, this time, there were lanterns in every window. 

A Grafted was spotted in town. 

She almost turned around and went back inside, but she decided against it. She’d already worried her parents enough, and the Grafted may have just been Toothless. Who knew how long he’d been looking for them before he found the right house? 

She made the trek back to her house, keeping her steps quick and electing not to linger. 

A skittering sound came from the East side of the village, where the woods were. A large form darted between buildings, a blur of colors. 

It wasn’t like the lurching gait of the other Grafted, the ones that moved only by magic. This one was quick, and moved like a predator. 

Astrid peered into the alley she’d seen the movement, but it was gone and all was quiet. She turned around to continue her trek home. 

But it was right there. 

Inches from her face as she turned, the monster stood staring her down. 

She bit back a scream. 

It was the head of a Deadly Nadder, eyes a fiery yellow with pupils like arrowheads. The head was attached to the shaggy body of a reindeer, which was stacked on another. It connected to the tail of another dragon, though she didn’t recognize the kind. It had a dozen limbs, all glued in an array to its underside. 

It was jarring. 

Astrid swallowed thickly and stood stock still as the creature sniffed her. It took several deep inhales, its nose twitching with each motion. 

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it darted away, a dozen footfalls patting in its wake. 

Astrid wasted no time getting home. 

—-

She got to bed even later. Her parents were in a panic and she had to fill them in on everything. They kept asking questions, most of which she couldn’t answer, but she tried to assure them that she was fine, and that the Grafted she saw was Hiccup, without a doubt. 

She laid in bed, and every time she closed her eyes, Hiccup’s inhuman gaze looked back at her. 

“Gods, it’s going to be a long night,” she muttered. 

Because while she was elated to have Hiccup back in any capacity, his return didn’t come without a laundry list of problems. 

Mostly in the form of this unknown ‘Viggo’ character. 

She didn’t think she’d relax until the man was dealt with. 

—

She awoke to screaming. A horrible cracking of wood, fire igniting, and screams. 

She was up like a shot, unbolting and throwing open her window to survey the carnage. 

The village was on fire, and an unholy beast was trudging through the chaos. It stood taller than the buildings, as it was cobbled together from mammal, dragon, and what even looked like part of an orca. Torsos strung together and stacked, six sets of hind legs to hold up its girth, and two entire bears for forepaws, which crunched with each step. It had three heads, a Zippleback on each side, and one in the center, made up of two Monstrous Nightmares’ joined together.   

On its back stood a man in a black robe. 

While the village was under attack, these were Vikings, and they weren’t sitting idly or cowering. Arrows flew through the air, while the bravest and most foolhardy charged in with blades in hand. 

Astrid dressed quickly and rushed into the fray, just trying to figure out what she was supposed to do. 

A hand grabbed her shoulder. “You think that’s Viggo?” Stoick asked. 

“It’d be crazy to assume it wasn’t.” 

He nodded once and stormed into the chaos. 

The abomination never slowed its destruction, just bulldozed buildings and chewed up those that tried to get near. 

“Enough!” Stoick bellowed, gaining the man’s attention. 

With a snap of his fingers, the abomination came to heel, like a trained dog. 

Viggo simply looked down at Stoick from his perch and waited to hear what he had to say. 

Stoick pointed an axe up at him. “Does all this destruction have a purpose, or do you just enjoy human suffering?”

Viggo laughed. “Oh Chief Stoick, if only you knew!” 

Stoick glared up at him, and the handle of his axe cracked as he held it tighter. 

“I’m looking for something, something that has made its way to this village. Two somethings, actually.” 

“Let me guess, you’re the man responsible for all these crimes against nature?” 

“Crimes against nature? You mean my creations? They aren’t crimes, Stoick. Not when I’m rewriting nature as I please!” He grinned manically as he raised his arms. 

The abomination shuttered as he did so, and Astrid could see pieces coming apart. It might be a mighty creature for now, but it wasn’t alive and stable like Hiccup and Toothless. 

“You’re tempting the gods,” Stoick warned. “And you’re trying my patience! What is your purpose here!?” 

“My Fawn, Stoick. My Fawn and my Nightfury, they’re here in this village. My Tracker smelled them.” 

Stoick, true to his name, didn’t let the information phase him. “A fawn? We haven’t hunted a fawn at all this year. We try not to. As for the Nightfury, we used to see him all the time, but he’s been gone since the fall. You mean to say that you’ve taken him?” 

“I saved the poor creature,” Viggo clarified. “So you don’t know what I’m talking about. Or you’re playing ignorant. That’s fine. Hope you won’t mind if I take a look for myself!” He waved his hand, and the abomination swept its huge tail around and leveled the storage barn in a single sweep. Barrels and crates shattered and debris went flying in all directions. 

Astrid ran and ducked behind the well for protection. 

“I’m not a fool, Viking chief!” Viggo hollered. “I want my Fawn and my Nightfury! Now!” 

A hush fell over the crowd as tiny hooves clacked against the stone. Hiccup emerged, limping a little as he staggered down the stone steps from the chief’s house. Toothless was right at his side. 

“Son…” 

“Ah!” Viggo laughed. “There you are, pet! Don’t you know I’ve been looking everywhere for you?” 

Hiccup stopped beside his father and glared up at Viggo. 

Astrid bolted from her hiding space and ran to him, grabbing his wrist. He held hers back. “Don’t you dare give yourself up! I just got you back!” 

“Silence, wench!” Viggo snarled. “Boy, you belong to me! You should know now that you can’t survive in this world without me. So come home!” 

“...am…home…” He muttered. 

“What?” Viggo had the abomination lower him from its back, and he came closer. “You…you spoke! This is fantastic! This is better than I imagined! What did you say?” 

“...am…home…”   

The delight Viggo had was lost in an instant. He sneered. “Now, you listen to me, boy! This isn’t your home, not anymore! I saved you! I made you! You belong to me!” 

Hiccup shook his head. He pointed at Astrid. “Saved me.” He pointed at Stoick. “Made me.” Then he pointed at Viggo. “Ruined me.” 

“Ruined…? No, no I made you perfect! A weak, sickly child, reborn with untold strength! You owe me, Fawn!” 

Hiccup swallowed hard. “My name…is Hiccup.” 

“What?!” He grabbed Hiccup’s collar in anger, and in turn, Hiccup clamped down on his wrist. With his other hand, he kept a firm hold on Astrid. “Fawn! I won’t allow this! I won’t! I’ve worked too hard!” 

Hiccup clenched his eyes shut, and when he opened them, they were glowing green. “…not hard enough.” 

Viggo grimaced as a green haze rose from his body and flowed toward Hiccup. Astrid felt a weird tingling sensation radiating down her arm and into her chest. 

“N-no…” Viggo wheezed, trying to pull away, but Hiccup stood steadfast. “What are you doing?! I–I created you!” 

“I think we’ve been over this,” Hiccup sassed, his voice as strong as it used to be. “I’m my father’s son.” 

“No! No!” 

Astrid clasped her other hand over Hiccup’s, anchoring his hold. She watched as the green wisps peeled off of Viggo and into Hiccup. Viggo aged in seconds, his hair turning grey and wrinkles forming on his skin. 

Finally, when the fog dissipated, Hiccup shoved him away. 

“No…no,” Viggo stared at his hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! You can’t do this! You weren’t supposed to keep your memories!” 

“Guess I wasn’t so perfect, huh?” 

In a last ditch effort, Viggo lunged at Hiccup, but Toothless blocked him with a growl. 

Viggo panted, his plans and hard work going up in smoke. He pivoted and ran towards his abomination, aiming to make his escape. 

But Hiccup just waved his hand and the creature fell apart. Chunks of flesh slid off and hit the ground in wet slaps. 

“No!!” Viggo cried in desperation. 

Hiccup called in a strong and mighty voice, “Berk! This is the man that’s been terrorizing us for twenty years! He’s powerless now, and he can bleed!” 

“Bleed, you say?” Someone called out. 

“Fawn, please!” Viggo called as he was grabbed and dragged away. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

Hiccup stood stalwartly and silent as Viggo was dragged away, screaming and fighting all the way. Once he was out of sight, Hiccup collapsed on the stone step.

“Hiccup!” Astrid yelled, her grasp being the only thing keeping him upright. 

“I’m okay, just…just winded.” 

“What happened?!” Stoick demanded, kneeling at his side. 

Hiccup breathed as he leaned back against Toothless. “I told you earlier…I stole Viggo’s magic. It’s intense and too much to carry on my own, so I passed it onto Toothless. I had to have someone else to help me take the rest.” 

Astrid looked at her hands. She didn’t feel any different. 

“Just a little. I might ask to borrow it sometime.” 

“It’s yours,” she said, a bit dazed. “You sound better. You can speak fully now.” 

“I was able to take back what Viggo took from me, my humanity…or at least, he tried to take it. I held onto enough scraps.” 

“The important parts,” Astrid agreed. 

They looked at the remains of the abomination which were slowly crumbling into dust. 

“What happens now? Will you…ever be normal?” Astrid asked. 

“What? You don’t like my new rear end?” He wiggled his tail. 

She smirked slightly. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah. Well, there’s a Grafted out there with my lower half. If we capture it, I think I can fix myself…but if it’s like the other surgeries I saw Viggo perform, it’ll be pretty grim.” 

Stoick rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’re with you all the way. Just let us know what you need.” 

Hiccup looked down to Toothless, who was curled up at his side. He sighed and gave the dragon a fond scritch. “I think right now, I just want to be home.”

Chapter Text

I went to art school for this.