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“We’re supposed to be searching,” Astrid spells out furiously, “Every trap on Berk, not springing every trap on Berk! Could Stoick not have been clearer about that?”
“All I know is this is worse than the womb,” Tuffnut calls over his and his sister’s shoulder.
“Ugh!!” That’s Ruff, pinned to his back.
““Uh, guys?” Fishlegs squeaks. “Weren’t we looking for some kind of… masked figure?” He sounds scared, not like that’s a surprise. It’s Fishlegs – he gets jittery about everything.
“Yeah, that’s what the rumors say. And a Night Fury,” Astrid replies, “If there’s any truth to this.”
“Well…”
“What? Did you see something?”
“I think I see something right over there!” Astrid follows his finger to see a black figure streaking through the trees, disappearing into the brush. Black. Night Fury. Her grip tightens over her shield handle. This is it. “Alright, let’s go.”
“Uh, hello!” Tuff yells from behind.
“Hey!” Ruff yells, “We’re stuck here too, you know!”
Astrid ignores them.
“This is your fault!”
“This is your fault!”
“Keep your stinky hair to your side of the trap!”
“My stinky hair? What about your –”
She’s leaving them in that trap.
“Send the signal to the others,” Astrid tells him, “We’ve been hunting this thing for weeks. We know it’s path.”
Fishlegs fires the arrow in question. Another is fired back, and the arrows start firing upwards.
Astrid sees it now – the Night Fury. On it’s back is… a person. He’s wearing some sort of armor, not something she recognizes either color, markings, or material of, but he is definitely riding that thing.
It’s…
Disturbing.
People can’t ride dragons. They’re vicious, mindless, wild creatures. Astrid’s not expecting the beast’s rider to be any different. What this person is, that he’s crazy enough to try, the rumors are terrifying. Everyone has heard whispers about the dragon rider dressed in black dragon scales, impenetrable to fire, with a blazing sword. Astrid never believed it. Now, watching the black shadow soar, she questions its truth for the first time ever.
Their plan was simple. Have the others distract him, push them towards Astrid and the gang, and it’s working.
She kicks open the under-ground mechanism they built, wooden frame snapping upright and trap flying.
The Night Fury drops with a muffled cry. It was just a trap, and with the rider, it’ll be up soon, but the others break into a run towards the dropping figures.
“Are you sure we should be running towards that thing?” Fishlegs asks panickily.
“Just move!” Astrid snaps back, flinging herself over another log.
She saw them fall.
She’s not letting these two get away again – they’ve caused so much damage to Berk and everywhere.
“I got the dragon!” Snotlout yells from up ahead.
“I’m not a dragon, you muttonhead!” a muffled though audibly irritated voice yells. The voice is… strangely familiar, not that Astrid cares to try placing it.
She rolls through the underbrush into where a broken tree branch is lying, and next to it, the dragon’s rider. His armor is black with a few red markings to match the Fury, some sort of… protrusion from his suit on his back, now probably broken, along with another set beneath his arms going down his sides.
He’s struggling under the net Snotlout is trying to keep him under (and failing. It’s actually funny to watch), trying to reach something in his boot. Uh, yeah, no way. Astrid rolls forwards and slams her boot on his wrist. “Nu-uh,” she growls down at him, “Fight’s up for you.”
The snarl he drops is entirely unhuman, and it sends a violent shiver of confusion and terror down her spine. He looks human – sort of. But that sound was not.
He grunts, trying to yank his hand away, and she stomps harder.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” Snotlout asks, suddenly panicky. “Hiccup?”
“Hiccup’s dead,” Astrid snaps back, “Everybody knows that, why are you –”
The boy grunts, pulling his mask off to reveal… a face somewhat familiar, though grown over the years, not that Astrid ever really looked at him. His hair, messier than she remembers, a slightly darker brown, but falling across most of his face, a small braid standing out against it. “Good to see you, too, Snotlout.” He sounds annoyed.
Like he didn’t just leave, betray Berk and their people, his family, make everyone think he was dead? “You?!” Astrid snarls. Her rage flickers up, hot and fierce, fists clench. All this time – she had no idea she knew those dragon rider. Dragon conqueror, dragon master, dragon rider – whatever he was called, he never had a name.
But he’s legendary.
He’s a nightmare.
Astrid can’t count how many times he raided Berk, took the dragons from the arena, tore through all their traps like paper, leaving a trial of chaos and flames in his wake. The one mad enough to side with the dragons. He must have gone mad. Or maybe he always was.
She pulls her arm back, half a second from slamming her fist into his face when a sharp, low and angry snarl sounds behind her. Astrid freezes at the growl of an angry dragon, slowly lifting her head to a pair of wide bur furious green eyes glowering at her through the shadows, a tall, pure inky black creature slowly creeping forwards.
The Night Fury.
“Everyone run!” Snotlout yells.
“No, stay on him,” Astrid snaps over her shoulder, lifting her shield and raising her axe with the other hand.
The boy makes a… sound. It’s a sort of deem growling in the back of his throat, an almost perfect imitation of the Night Fury’s sound, though somehow sounds desperate and afraid at once. Not half as legendary as people make him out to be. They act like he’s terrifying, and word of the Dragon Rider, Dragon Conqueror, Dragon Master make anyone’s hair stand on end, but this?
He's just a kid. A crazy kid, but still a kid, and very easy to kill.
“I hate to agree with Snotlout here,” Fishlegs calls panickily.
“Use your crossbow,” Astrid snaps, “Don’t just stand there!”
The dragon snarls again, jaws opening, glowing purple.
“Now!”
The nerve-wracking hooting sounds again, and the Night Fury whirls around, bolting into the trees and dodging the arrows Fishlegs fired. Astrid throws her axe. The Night Fury fires a purple blast at them as it runs and whirls, disappearing into the trees.
Moreso, is that they have the dragon rider.
Astrid, if she’s being honest, wasn’t even sure he was real, but here he is, lying at her feet. Really not so hard to take down. She doesn’t know where the legends came from. “We need to get him back to Berk,” Astrid mutters, turning back to the boy. He glares back at her, but says nothing. Snotlout, for his part, is still staring down at him, hands on his shoulders, eyes wide.
On the downside, the Night Fury has run off. Astrid doesn’t know if they’ll see from it again, but it got the jump on them already. Those things are deadly. They’re the most feared dragon for a reason, and if it comes back… Well, somebody’s gonna end up dead. This is part of a larger plan. It has to be.
“So?” she snaps back at the boy, “What’s your end goal?”
He makes another one of those sounds.
“I don’t speak dragon gibberish,” Astrid hisses at him.
Hiccup huffs. He reaches for his helmet with his good hand, trying to pull it back down. She kicks it away for good measure. “Oh, nothing, it seems pretty clear to me. You captured me, I’m your prisoner now.” Astrid’s jaw clenches as she glares down at him. “It’s fine, go on.” He waves his free hand. “Drag me back to Berk. It’s time I get a word with my dad again anyway.”
Astrid punches him. There’s an awful cracking and he grunts. Her fingers are wet with blood, but she wants to hit him again. Snotlout winces, which is weird of itself – he never shows sympathy in other people’s pain. He’ll usually laugh at it. “You left Stoick, and ran off with a dragon, attacking Berk and rampaging countless islands across the archipelago, and you’re still going to call him your dad? Traitor.”
His face does something… complicated, not that Astrid cares to look at it. She’s just angry. Stoick already lost his wife to dragons, and Hiccup runs off with them like they’re – they’re – traitor.
She shoves his shoulder into the ground again for good measure and stands up. Stoick’s been a wreck without him, grieving him, and here his kid is, causing all the world’s problems. Still. Just upgraded to a whole new level. Typical Hiccup. “Take him back to camp, and make sure he doesn’t escape. Watch him. I’m going after the Night Fury.”
“Hurt him, and I’ll kill you,” the boy adds fiercely, something he must’ve gotten on his time away from Berk. Astrid doesn’t remember him being anything other than sassy and irritating. One thing’s the same – he’s still her life’s greatest pain. And everyone’s. And even more a disgrace to his family than he ever was.
“And shut him up,” Astrid adds sharply.
***
The boys have got a fire going when she limps back, tired and worn from her stalk through the trees and fighting with at least three separate dragon species. Her kill count is also officially zero, but she still aches everywhere for show of it.
Through the trees, Ruffnut’s giggles reach her ears, making her already existing migraine double in effort to crack her skull in two. Vaguely, she remembers leaving them in the woods. Someone must’ve gone back for them.
“Astrid’s back,” Snotlout yells to the others, poking at the fire with a stick. He turns to wave to her, and she glares back instinctively. “Hi, Astrid!”
“Hey, you left us hanging in a tree!” Tuffnut accuses, glowering.
“You sprung the trap after I told you how to avoid them and Gobber taught you to open them. It’s not my fault you weren’t listening.”
“You’re right, I like Toothless more than her,” Tuffnut complains, plopping down in front of… Hiccup? Astrid has no idea who Toothless is. Probably another stupid pet of the twins, not that she cares for the insult. Astrid ignores them all, sitting down cross-legged by the fire.
“Any hunting success?” Fishlegs asks.
Astrid scoffs quietly. “The Fury’s a good hider; I’ll give it that much. But not for long. We’ll find it.”
“Or,” Hiccup says evenly, “You can take me back to Berk.”
“And leave the Night Fury out there?” Astrid looks up, glaring. His hands are tied. In front of him at that, like whoever bound him didn’t have the heart to do it properly, like they’re not talking about the one man crazy enough to take the side of the dragons.
The twins are sitting on either side of him, almost knee-to-knee with him, watching and talking like this is the most natural thing in the world. Astrid wants to throttle them both.
“How’d you get on a Night Fury?” Tuff asks excitedly, ignoring everyone else entirely.
“Yeah! How didn’t he eat you?” Ruff.
“Are you in its head or something?” Tuff asks. Ruff throws a disgusted look at him. “Well, there’s gotta be something there! Not like I know. We’re talking about dragon riders, sister.” He evaluates every word with a poke. Ruff slaps his hands away.
Hiccup laughs. He’s being held captive, face swollen from her punch, traces of blood still dripping from his nose, but he’s enjoying this. She hates him. Though… she will say that’s a good way of pulling information. Feigning friendship. (It is feigned, right? Not even the twins could be so stupid, could they?) “Remember five years ago? I shot him down in the woods. I met him there.”
“So, you really shot him down?” Tuffnut asks, awed.
“I wasn’t lying.”
“Yeah, sure,” Snotlout scoffs.
Hiccup ignores him. “I found him that day in the woods and freed him. You can ride a dragon, too. Anyone can. And I can show you how.”
“You aren’t showing any of us anything,” Astrid snaps abruptly, pulling to her feet again and stalking towards them, circling the campfire, “Except where your base is, and where you’re hiding your dragon.”
Hiccup laughs again. It’s an awkward, scared and half feigned sound, his real amusement fading. “How could I be hiding him? You saw him run off. I have no idea where he is. He’s probably flown off.”
“Yeah?” Astrid snaps, leaning over him. “Well, it’s too late.” She’s bluffing. He probably knows that, but it won’t stop her. “I already got your dragon. It won’t take long to find the rest. No one is coming to find you.”
Emerald eyes narrow at her, burning with vicious fire, and he makes a faint, snarling sound. Non-human. The kid’s more dragon than he is human, and even if he’s hiccup, she still feels like she’s being watched by a vicious, wild dragon. It’s unsettling.
Satisfied – somewhat – she rocks back and goes to sit across form Snotlout again. All of them are looking at Hiccup. She can’t tell if they’re afraid he’ll spontaneously explode, or if they… They don’t really look angry.
“You didn’t actually see it, did you?” Fishlegs whispers.
Astrid huffs. “No. But that should give him something to think about.”
“He’s Hiccup,” Snotlout grumbles, “He thinks a lot.”
“Way more than me,” Tuffnut calls.
“I like Toothless,” Ruff complains.
“Who is Toothless?” Astrid demands, irritated.
“The Night Fury,” comes everyone’s chorus.
She blinks, then blinks again. “Are you insane?!” she yells, voice pitching into a panicked, semi-hysterical shriek. How does that guy do this to people? Or is it just everyone?
“No, we’re Nuts!” Ruff chirps, and they both cackle, high-fiving each other.
Ugh.
“Toothless let us down when you just left us hanging there,” Tuff snaps, crossing his arms and scowling.
Are they – okay, they are definitely insane.
“They’re telling the truth,” Fishlegs offers, “The Fury blasted down the trap and let them out.”
Astrid whirls her gaze on Hiccup. “Whatever game you’re playing won’t work,” she snaps.
“No game,” Hiccup shrugs a little, leaning against a tree. He can’t actually move without them seeing, but she’s still at the edge of her patience. “But there’s something I need you all to see.”
“We’re not listening to you,” she snaps, “Shut up before I make you. I’m not ‘above’ hurting you, traitor.” She is so, so angry.
The mood drops instantly. The few words that fly around are fleeting and brief, and she curls up on her side, arms tucked under her head. The fire’s warm. She’s going to have a hard time sleeping tonight. The twins are muttonheads, and Snotlout is no better. They have to watch the dragons, and the prisoner.
Stoick probably won’t be happy if his kid gets dragged home injured, even if that sentiment is clearly unfounded.
***
“– hold out your hand and look away,” a voice is saying, drifting vaguely into her mind, “You know you’ve formed a bond when he comes to you, and bows his head, and lets you on his back.”
“That’s – that’s fascinating,” Fishlegs gushes as Astrid cracks her eyes open, about ready for kill. “I would say you’re crazy, but I saw you riding it.”
“Him,” Hiccup corrects immediately, like that’s somehow important. “Once you earn a dragon’s loyalty, there’s nothing he won’t do for you. But the trick is to earn it. Even more to keep it.” There’s a brief pause. A soft grunt that sounds more Fury than human, then huff. “What’s Berk like now?”
“There… have actually been less dragon attacks.”
Really? Okay, maybe a few.
“Of course.” Hiccup’s nodding like that makes sense. “Yeah, my – w – uh. Well, the dragon queen is dead, and she was demanding the pack feed her to stay alive. They didn’t have a choice.”
“Just like us,” Fishlegs muses in awe.
“Yep. We’re not that different. Things have changed, and… I wish I’d been able to show you all years ago. But now, maybe, I can show my Dad when we get back to Berk.”
“As though he would listen to you,” Astrid snaps, picking herself up. “Fishlegs, I think you should get some rest. I’ll take over babysitting duty.” She glares fiercely at the boy in question.
“Astrid,” he protests, “You have to admit, we are making amazing breakthroughs about dragons!”
“Breakthroughs?” she repeats disbelievingly, “With his help?” She sharply gestures at Hiccup. “Please. He’s messing with your head.” She never gave Hiccup enough credit. She should have – expected this maybe? If he’s a dragon conqueror, he must have a way with minds. No one can control those beasts. “And Hiccup, shut up.” She throws her hair from her eyes and stands, scowling.
“But he rides dragons, Astrid,” Fishlegs protests, “The twins saw the Night Fury. He left when he was told to. He listened to Hiccup. Dragons don’t do that.”
“Maybe they do if there’s someone as crazy as they are. He already threw his fate in with theirs. He’s a traitor.”
“But – but there’s so much about dragons we don’t know yet,” Fishlegs argues. Is he serious? They’re really fighting about whether dragons are – are –
“Are you hearing this?”
“Yes! I – I’m just saying maybe there’s something about them we don’t realize. Astrid, if there was a way to bring peace –”
“Peace is impossible!”
“But if there was, wouldn’t we be willing to take it? I mean, if we didn’t have to fight for our lives anymore? To keep the dragons from attacking us so no one else had to die or get eaten or…” Fishlegs trails off.
“Just go to bed,” Astrid orders sharply, turning away. She’s not thinking about this. Hiccup’s got a way of getting in people’s heads, clearly. She’s gotta warn Berk about that.
***
They pack up camp the next morning, shove the annoying kid in a boat, and set sail back to Berk. After weeks of being away, hunting this kid, she’s glad to be home, but she’s the crankiest she’s been in years, and on the verge of homicide. Not like it’d be the first time – Alvin the Treacherous did come to Berk one time, scouring the entire village for Hiccup, who he claimed was a Dragon Conqueror.
Stoick nearly killed him then and there.
He thought Hiccup was dead. They all thought he was dead, and here he is, worse even. Yeah, she’s mad. She can’t figure out if a few punches would do the world wonders or make Stoick angry at her, so she just…
Doesn’t.
And there is no sign of the Fury. Must’ve fled without its rider, the coward. So much for loyalty.
Hiccup, though, is smirking. The audacity. He’s so smug. And it makes her so angry. He’s killed people. How many people on Berk itself were killed because of him? People that she knows?
“Why haven’t your dragons showed up?” Snotlout asks, poking Hiccup’s shoulder. He, strangely, doesn’t even seem bothered by the prodding. Even weirder that it’s not aggressive. This is Snotlout. Why isn’t he being aggressive?
Why is Astrid the only person who takes this seriously?!
“Oooookay, this must sound crazy to you, but fighting isn’t dragon’s first nature.”
Astrid spins around, grabbing the front of his shirt and ramming him into the side of the ship. “What’s your game?” she snarls, “What are you going for? Destroying Berk? It won’t work. I know people you’ve gotten killed because of you and your stupid flock of dragons. People I know! Friends, family –”
“And you’ve never thought,” Hiccup asks right back to her face, “About another way to bring peace? If people listened to me, if anyone listened to me, every island I’ve been to, do you know how many lives we could have saved?”
“Ohhhhh,” one of the twins whispers. Astrid’s brain has been double-linking their words into each other, and throws them a mutual, irritated look in warning to back off. If they don’t shut up, she’s going on a murder spree, and she’s starting with them after she’s done with…
This. Dragon rider, trainer, conqueror – he is all of those things. And foremost, a traitor to Berk.
“Shut. Up,” Astrid growls lowly. “Do you have any idea what you did to your father? You probably don’t even care – you were the only person he has, and you ditched him. For your pet dragon?”
It’s the first real time she’s seen his face shudder with something close to remorse. He says nothing. When she thinks about it, Hiccup rarely talked when they were angry at him. Usually her, but she’s seen it with the others, too. He’ll just shut up and cower like the weakling she always thought he was.
Now, though, even if he’s quiet, face torn with a sudden grief, his eyes are still narrowed with fierce, vicious anger. He says nothing, but this isn’t the same kid she remembers from when she was a teenager. No, this is… is something else.
Something terrifying.
He has his sword, and Fishlegs had brought it, taken the weapon still in its sheath off of him in transport. They’re all too afraid to pull it out. If it flames, Astrid doesn’t want to know. She really just wants to throw him overboard into the ocean.
***
“We found the Dragon Master,” Astrid says, shoving the boy forwards.
Stoick, along with the many, many Berkian warriors are waiting on the docks. They’ve been searching for this guy for forever. It’s been five years of him haunting their skies, those of everyone in the Archipelago, and now Astrid has to wonder if it has some involvement with the increasing derangement of the Berserkers, not that it matters.
But finally, finally Astrid can return triumphant with something no one else managed to do.
Stoick’s eyes narrow on the boy, then widen in a moment of frozen shock. His helmet’s off, and Astrid has no doubt many of them recognize him on sight.
“We lost the dragon, Chief,” Astrid continues. “But we got it’s rider.”
“And look who it is,” Fishlegs gushes cheerfully. It’s ridiculous how okay he is with this. Astrid’s a few minutes out from throwing them all into the ocean.
“Hi, Dad,” Hiccup utters, the first words he’s spoken in hours. Most of the sounds he makes aren’t even human – they’re… whatever dragon speak he thinks he’s doing. Astrid actually doesn’t know or care what.
Stoick’s eyes go wide. Astrid thinks a moment, maybe, they should’ve broken the news a bit more… carefully? Maybe. “Hiccup?” he breathes. “Son?” He must feel like he’s seeing a ghost. Astrid sure does – but she doesn’t know how this person could even be the ghost of the Hiccup she knew.
Except he’s just as irritating.
Astrid’s not really sure if that makes him more or less annoying, but neither matters very much right now. It doesn’t change how he left Berk for years, and Stoick’s going to have to deal with how his son went completely insane.
Stoick’s always been pretty collected, but after Hiccup left, in a way, Astrid thinks he lost a part of himself. He’s been so dark and volatile ever since. She’d belying to say he wasn’t hard to deal with – another thing that Hiccup did. Traitor.
“Yeah, it’s – it’s me, dad.”
There’s a shocked, awed, confused and angry ripple that runs through the assembled – everyone’s been waiting for this. The capture of the Dragon Master. And public execution, obviously, though Astrid’s a bit skeptical Stoick would order that for his own son, no matter how much he deserves it.
“I’m not exactly the kid you remember.”
Well, no one’s denying that.
“You’re alive.” Stoick’s mind-numbed surprise is fading into fury. “You survived and you didn’t come back to Berk?”
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup says, like that might change something. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have hope for Berk. For anything.”
“Hope?” Stoick repeats. “For what?”
“For peace.”
He is –
“Peace? You’ve been attacking our village, hurting people all throughout the archipelago –”
“Dad, let me explain,” Hiccup tries.
“Take him to the dungeons,” Stoick orders, trembling with rage.
Astrid wastes no time in shoving the boy forwards, though he seems to be moving of his own accord. Which is almost childishly irritating.
***
It’s nice to be back on Berk, away from the chaos and danger for a little while. Away from the fight, the chaos and death – it’s a nice feeling, though risk of the Night Fury or other dragons showing up is pretty high. She still gets in a full night of sleep for the first time in days, probably stupidly unconcerned about the prisoner, and the trial is to be held the next day.
She honestly just feels bad for Stoick – having to decide his only son’s fate must be really, really hard. It’s pretty obvious what everyone will want – as long as he lives, he’ll keep hurting everyone.
She wonders if Stoick’s ever talked to him since – probably not. She doubts anyone has. Why would they? It’s all pretty clear and simple.
Hiccup’s leaning against the table near the Chief’s chair, quiet, but alert. Astrid hates that she has to keep looking at him, expecting a threat.
She has no idea how the tiny, scrawny, irritating thorn in her side grew into… this. Fully grown now, taller than her where she thought he’d never reach that, fierce, a bit feral, and way more dragon than human.
The main noises he makes are dragon ones. It’s sort of unsettling. Astrid tries really hard not to think about it.
Everything is in chaos. Many people are demanding murder, and Fishlegs is just slouched against the wall, a little miserable. The twins are chatting, mostly blabbering in Boar Latin at Snotlout, who’s back to standing in misery between them, face screwed up like it’s causing him physical pain.
Astrid gets a migraine every time the twins talk, so it could be.
“What’s with you?” she asks finally, nudging Fishlegs.
“I just think there’s some truth to what he was saying,” her friend confesses.
“Seriously?”
“Maybe he’s crazy and scary, but he still rode a dragon. I didn’t even know it was possible. But he did! Which means maybe we could too if we knew how to.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Astrid groans. Migraine alert.
“No, I’m serious! If there’s a way to end this war –”
“Peace is impossible. What we need is to destroy these things once and for all.”
Fishlegs goes quiet.
Astrid tries to withhold her annoyance – it figures the other’s worship of Hiccup formed five entire years ago has somehow remained despite the passage of time.
People all around are yelling. Personally, Astrid hardly knows what there is to discuss – this boy turned on them and is fighting for their enemies. He’s a traitor. That’s about as simple as it gets – but Stoick is still chief, and there’s nothing she can do about that yet.
The boy, for his part, looks altogether too undisturbed about the goings on, though definitely a little bit flustered, but otherwise unbothered. Astrid still catches the dark, wild look in his eyes and looks on warily – that’s the look of a caged dragon. She’s seen it. He doesn’t look bothered, but he’s… planning. It’s unsettling.
Very.
“I know what you’re thinking,” the boy starts when someone finally gives him a chance to talk. “I’m the enemy, you think you should just off me, and maybe you should, but hear me out. There is a way to end this war between dragons and humans. I’ve found it, seen it, lived in it. And either we can fight through our last standing man, or we can accept peace and change. That’s up to you.”
“I don’t really think you and us have the same definitely of peace,” Gobber replies dryly from somewhere.
“Don’t we? No dragon attacks, no death, no flaming buildings and fear? I think it’s pretty much the same. Or at least it could be.”
The room is quiet for a heartbeat before everyone starts yelling again.
“Yeah!!!” Tuffnut shouts in glee. “Everyone shake your fists! Now look to the skyyyyy!!”
“Really not helping,” Hiccup’s voice grumbles from somewhere.
“Enough!” Stoick yells, and the room instantly shuts up. “I’ll give you a chance to show us this peace you speak of.”
“Take me to the arena.”
“Where you can unleash the dragons again?”
“No. That wouldn’t prove in. Send in someone else. I’ll show you. Send Fishlegs. Or – or Astrid. Look, what could it hurt? You’ll still have me under guard.”
“You think we would make a mistake that absurd?” Stoick is angry, and he’s showing it nice and clear. “Until a sentence can be handed down, return him to his cell.”
Everyone Astrid realizes, is calling for his head.
Except Fishlegs and Snotlout, who share a quiet, worried and unreadable look, and quickly pretend they did nothing at all.
***
Unease is gnawing at her, a strange little feeling of foreboding. The Night Fury, maybe – it’s probably going to come and find them. Either way, Astrid is a bit wary of when he’ll call his dragons in again. Because he will – it’s just a matter of time, and Berk is going to descend into all-out chaos when he does.
They take Hiccup back to his cell.
Or at least they’re taking him back to his cell when Hiccup just makes this sound.
Astrid starts at it, as do the rest of the group, and in a gust of wind, a massive, four-winged dragon lands nearby. A strange, masked figure with a staff stands atop it.
Astrid gasps, readjusting her grip on her axe.
Allies.
Of course, they’re being followed.
She shoves Hiccup into the cell and locks the door, spinning around. Fishlegs is backing away with a panicky sound. The strange, masked figure says nothing, does nothing, just stands there, until finally making a strange, deep and non-human sound.
Just like the ones Hiccup had been doing for a while. A dragon snarl. Speaking in dragon growls instead of any human language. It’s terrifying.
“Sound the alarm!” Astrid yells, readjusting the grip on her axe and lunging.
The dragons swoops back and sends a blast of fire for her that sends Astrid effectively diving for cover. The twins bolt for the door, and another strange, masked figure swings down from atop the building, kicking them both to the ground. The twins drop with mutual grunts.
Snotlout dives for the figure – it’s a girl, though Astrid can’t see her face – she’s both hooded and masked.
She draws her axe and braces to throw it at her, only for something to wrap around the handle and rips it right from her hands.
She whirls with a yelp to see the masked figure, staff in hand.
Something about the to her figure looks vaguely familiar. It’s not her, it’s… the symbol.
Oh.
She has the Berserker symbol on her clothes – yeah, right. Because Hiccup somehow got that entire people to follow him.
Astrid makes to dive for her axe, but the Berserker girl tackles her, and they drop with a roll.
The other masked figure rips open the prison door, making another quiet dragon sound that Hiccup returns. The strange figure touches his shoulder – Astrid’s starting to think it might be another woman, which is almost unsettling – and the two whirl back to face the room.
Snotlout raises his hands in surrender.
Astrid doesn’t.
The twins are slowly peeling themselves up, and then everything explodes into chaos.
Dragon fire is flying, people are yelling, and there are other supporters coming in.
A hole burns all the way through the wall, and the Berserker girl flips onto the back of a shimmering silver dragon – Razorwhip, Astrid thinks the name was, and the masked woman gets back onto the large, four-winged dragon. It’s not something Astrid remembers seeing around berk before, though she thinks Fishlegs recognized the species on sight.
Not that she cares.
The boy gets on behind her, but then a feral, snarling Deadly Nadder dives through the smoking rooftop right at Astrid. She backs up, winded from the ceiling coming in and being thrown so far, and mostly, weaponless.
No shield or anything, just a feral, snarking dragon stalking towards her, mouth glowing as it fills with fire.
“Astrid!” That, of all people, is Hiccup. “Close your eyes.”
Huh?
Okay, like she can look at that, anyway – the light is way too brilliant.
“Look away,” Hiccup calls urgently. “Hold – hold out your hand. And try to relax.”
Yeah, like that’s possible when certain death is staring her in the face. Astrid can’t say why she does, but she… does. She waits, bracing for the heat to take her to Valhalla, but it doesn’t come. Everything around is still chaos, but when she carefully cracks an eye open, it’s to see a pair of brilliant, golden eyes blinking down at her, the Nadder carefully sniffing at her palm.
And then it’s flying away, and they’re all flying away, Hiccup climbing onto the back of the same Night Fury from before – though they leave with a strange streak of red.
He says nothing as he flies away, dragon growls echoing through the night as they vanish from sight, dodging flying arrows and whatever else is being thrown their way. The Fury offers cover fire, but it’s all a blur to Astrid.
Dragons always go for the kill.
That’s the number one rule about them. Mindless, vicious creatures – but that dragon…
Didn’t.
It didn’t kill her.
Maybe, Astrid dares to traitorously think as she lies on the floor, heart still pounding, Hiccup isn’t entirely wrong.