Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Take this out on me! Be mad at me, but please, just don’t hurt Toothless!” Hiccup had said those words in the heat the moment, not thinking about anything but Toothless’s safety, not considering that his father might actually take out all the fury he’d ever felt at a dragon on him.

“Dad, no! For once in your life would you please just listen to me!”

Stoick spun around, throwing his son several feet back onto the hard wood floor of the empty Great Hall.“You’ve thrown your lot in with them. You’re not a Viking. You’re not my son.” Hiccup froze, utterly unable to process his father’s statement. He was in trouble, he knew, he had made a huge mistake. He had expected to be punished, maybe even exiled, he had expected to be even more of an outcast if he was allowed to stay, but his father actually disowning him? That hadn’t crossed his mind. Hiccup loved his father more than any other human, and he knew, well he thought he knew, no— no he was still sure, that his father loved him too. Everything he had ever done, the inventions, the experiments, had all been in hopes of creating something great, something that would help the village, so that his father would be proud of him. Before he met Toothless, he had lived for those rare occasions when his father would clap him on the back and tell him he had done a good job. He had hoped that Stoick would be proud of him when he saw how he had tamed and trained a Night Fury. Surely if the circumstances had been different, his father would have seen how brave a feat he had accomplished. He still would, Hiccup thought, he just needed time to cool down. Soon he would calm down and Hiccup would tell him everything and he would meet Toothless and see what an amazing thing his son had done and so would the whole village and they would all love him and his father would be proud and everything would be alright! Right?

All this went through Hiccup’s mind in an instant. The next instant he looked up to see his father holding a heavy leather strap, right before he bent down and yanked off Hiccup’s thick fur vest, leaving him with only his worn tunic to shield him from what came next. Hiccup saw the blow coming and instinctively raised him arms to shield his head. The strap came down with the full force of Stoick the Vast’s legendary strength and hit Hiccup square between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat on his stomach and taking the breath right out of his lungs. He didn’t have time to recover from the initial shock before the next blow came, then the next, and the next. Hiccup quickly lost count of how many times his father struck him as the burning pain intensified. What was wrong with his father, he wondered? He had beaten him before, but never this hard, never with this much raw fury behind it. Hiccup tried to push himself up onto his forearms several times but was struck down. Finally, taking several strokes to his shoulders and chest and one to the side of his head, he managed to sit up and grabbed his father’s hand as he was bringing the strap down again. Hiccup stared into his father’s eyes, which were filled with a pure, unadulterated rage he had never seen before, and he realized tears were welling up in his own eyes. Hiccup didn’t know what to say. He waited for his father’s glare to soften. It didn’t.

“Dad—it—it’s me. I’m your son. Dad? Dad, please! You’re hurting me.” Hiccup’s voice was barely more than a whisper. 

Stoick seemed to hesitate. He looked down at his son’s small hands clutching his massive wrist in a silent plea for mercy, and for a moment, Hiccup thought it was over, that his father was done and now they could get on with their reconciliation. Only for a moment though.

In one swift movement Stoick shook off his son like he was shaking water droplets off his hands and shoved him back onto the floor, resuming the beating with brutal efficiency. Hiccup curled into himself, tears nows flowing down his cheeks. Tears of pain, confusion, betrayal. The strap continued to come down, striking him on his back, his arms, his legs. It felt like he was on fire. His surroundings started to fade away, replaced by nothing but pain. He struggled to breathe, and at some point he became aware of something warm soaking through the fabric and dripping down his sides. Blood. The thought jolted him back into full consciousness. His father had never drawn blood before. Surely he didn’t mean to. It was dark in the Great Hall, after all. His dad probably just didn’t see it. He uncurled a little and lifted his head.

“Dad…” Hiccup barely recognized his own voice. It was high, weak, and terrified. He sounded like a frightened child. His father didn’t slow down or acknowledge him in any way. Hiccup laid his head back down on the rough floorboard. He was too tired to do anything else. His body stopped jerking with each blow. It would be over soon, he told himself. Any minute now…

Finally the blows stopped raining down. Hiccup heard the strap fall the floor with a dull thud, then only his father’s heavy, angry breathing and the distant bustle of the village outside. It was over. Thank the gods, Hiccup thought, it was over.

Before he could even think about getting up though, his father’s large, rough hand grabbed the front of his tunic and hauled him up till his feet were just barely brushing the floor. The sudden motion sent a shooting pain across his back and brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. His father stared at him for a moment, cold indifference in his eyes, and then shook his head.

“Can’t even take a little whipping without crying like a girl. Pathetic.”, he sneered, “How did I raise such a weak boy? No, you’re not my son. This has proved it.”

He threw Hiccup down. The boy’s head cracked against the floor from the sheer force of the throw, making him see stars, and Hiccup realized with a sinking horror that his ordeal was not over.

Stoick’s boot connected with the side of Hiccup’s head several times, causing it to snap painfully to the side, before he delivered a series of brutal kicks to his son’s ribs.

Hiccup felt something literally breaking apart inside him. The kicks continued, sometimes turning simply into heavy stomps on his chest. Finally, Stoick stopped. Hiccup didn’t let himself hope that it was really over until he heard his father stalk away and slam the Great Hall door shut behind him.

All Hiccup could feel was pain. He could barely think for the pain. Even breathing sent shockwaves of pain through his body. He just laid there, trembling. That was all he could do.

He tried to open his eyes. Somehow even that hurt. He couldn’t see for the blood in his eyes anyway.

Hiccup lost all sense of time. Apparently he had started to slip into unconsciousness, because he woke up choking, the taste of metal shavings filling his mouth. What was going on, why was he in so much pain, why was he all wet? Then he remembered. Tears began to flow again, stinging the cuts on his face. His father had done this to him. His dad, the one who had raised him alone after the death of his mother, the one who had taken him fishing, the one who had helped him heal that baby bird. Hiccup sobbed. It hurt but he couldn’t stop it.

Cold.

He was so cold.

Hiccup was hit with the sudden realization that he was going to die here. It was like he just knew, like someone had told him. At the exact same time he also realized that he didn’t want to die! Not that he did before now, it was just something he had never seriously thought about. He may have never had a good life, he may have always been the runt, the disappointment, but he wanted to live, to at least try to be more, to fly again!

Hiccup heard the bustle of the village, maybe only thirty, forty feet away. It sounded so normal. He wondered if they knew he was here, in agonizing pain, dying, alone.

Alone. He was going to die alone. This brought fresh tears to his eyes again. He didn’t want to die alone! It was strange, he thought, he had always lived alone. With his father, yes, in a busy community, but always alone. So why did he have such an aversion to dying alone? He didn’t know, he just knew he wanted someone, anyone. He didn’t care who. If one of the stray dogs that wandered the village, or one of those annoying chickens, came in right now, he would be happy.

Breathing became even harder. Every breath felt like he was being stabbed. Why, why, was this taking so long? Were the gods enjoying his suffering?

He became aware of someone there. At first he felt a spark of hope, then a wave of terror. Was it his father, coming back to hurt him more? That thought devastated him. He didn’t want to be afraid of his father. His father still loved him, right? He had just made a mistake.

It wasn’t his father, though. Hiccup felt strong but gentle arms around him, felt himself being pulled into a lap. The movement sent jolts of pain through him, but he didn’t care. He pressed himself into the side of whoever was holding him. A female voice called his name, but it sounded muffled and distant. A damp cloth tenderly wiped his face. It hurt, but somehow was also comforting. Whoever it was cleaned the blood from his eyes so he could see. The first thing he saw was Astrid. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Hiccup…” Her voice trailed off.

Hiccup tried to answer her, to tell her what happened, to ask about Toothless, but he couldn’t seem to make the words come out right.

“It’s okay. Don’t try to talk. I’m here.” Astrid’s voice was thick and shaky, but her words seemed to impart a little strength and he grabbed onto her with the one arm that still worked and held on like it would keep him tethered to the mortal realm.

“I—I d-don’t want to—to die—”

“Shh… everything’s going to be okay. Just—focus on breathing.” She started to gently stroke his head, rocking him back and forth ever so slightly. Hiccup’s whole body was already racked with so much pain the motion didn’t even bother him, or at least it soothed him more than it hurt.

Hiccup’s eyelids began to feel heavy. He tried to keep them open, but found it impossible. He closed his eyes and heard Astrid begin to sing softly. He recognized the song as a lullaby he had heard mothers sing to their babes and little children often, but never remembered being sung to him. The words were about a mother protecting her little one from a hungry wolf. He had never heard Astrid sing before, and had never guessed she would have such a beautiful, soothing voice.

With great effort Hiccup opened his eyes again. He wanted to thank Astrid for being here. He looked up at her and saw that the tears were freely running down her face now. So strange. Astrid was the toughest young person in all of Berk. Why was she crying? Before he could try to speak, something in the corner caught his eye. He looked and saw a woman whom he had never seen around the village before. She had light blond hair that flowed well past her waist and perhaps the loveliest face Hiccup had ever seen. She was wearing a pure white dress that just brushed the floor, a deep blue cloak with fine fur lining, secured with two polished silver brooches, and she had two huge, silver feathered wings. Around her head was a crown of beautiful flowers Hiccup didn’t recognize as native to Berk, and he became aware that the Hall was filled with a sweet, floral scent, replacing the acrid, metallic smell of blood. The woman was beautiful, so beautiful, and seemed to have a warm light emanating from her. She smiled at Hiccup, and the bitter chill that had been clinging to him melted away.

The woman reached out to him, beckoning him to come closer. She exuded a maternal energy that made him want to run and throw himself into her arms. He slowly stood and walked toward her, vaguely realizing that the pain seemed to have disappeared and he could once again breathe properly. Hiccup heard Astrid scream, but it sounded faint and distant and he determined he would check it out in a moment.

When he reached the woman, she pulled him into a loving, motherly embrace, the likes of which he had never experienced before. The soft fur of her cloak fell over him as she closed her shimmering wings around him. When they fell away a moment later, he was no longer in the Great Hall. No, far from it. Hiccup and the shining lady were now standing in a stunning meadow. Thick, verdant grass covered the rolling hills, which were dotted with great oak trees and patches of colorful wildflowers.

And there were dragons.

Great, magnificent Monstrous Nightmares with fiery scales flew overhead. Nadders perched in trees, preening and squawking at each other as Gronkles lazed in the shadows below. Packs of Terrible Terrors frolicked on the hillside. Many strange, beautiful dragons Hiccup didn’t recognize played with each other as well. They all seemed to be getting along. In fact, this whole place exuded a sense of peace and harmony.

But one dragon specifically caught his eye, a sleek, black one sitting under a particularly majestic oak tree, watching him.

A Night Fury. Hiccup had never seen one other than Toothless, but this was obviously a Night Fury. He glanced back at the shining lady. She smiled and nodded at him.

“Go, child.” It was the only time she spoke, but her voice was as lovely as one would expect from her appearance.

Hiccup walked toward the Night Fury. It watched him with an intelligence in its green eyes that rivaled Toothless’s. As he drew closer, he reached his hand up and rested it lightly on the stranger’s snout.

“Who are you?”, he asked under his breath, not expecting a response, of course.

“I am the mother of the one you call Toothless.” The dragon spoke in its own language, the growls and warbles Hiccup had heard so often but never understood. He jumped back.

“You can speak?”

“Of course, little one!” Her voice was soft and melodic. “All dragons can. But here you can understand us.”

“You’re really Toothless’s mom?”

“I am.” There was a sad look in her eyes.

“I’m—I’m so sorry! Please, please forgive me!”

“Whatever for, little one?”

“I—I let him down.” His mind was suddenly filled with the fear for his best friend that had made him beg his father to take his anger out on him in the first place. “He was trying to protect me and I couldn’t protect him and now Dad has him and he might…”

“Your father will not harm him. I know it. Unlike you…”

“Dad was just angry! He didn’t mean to—he just—he loves me!” Hiccup stopped and looked around again, the initial euphoria of this beautiful realm wearing off. “Where am I? Am I—d-did he—is… this…?” The dragon nodded sadly, confirming what he was realizing. Hiccup stared blankly for a moment as a thousand emotions converged on his mind before he was hit with a wave of exhaustion. He swayed, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“Come here, little one.” The dragon’s voice was soothing, and Hiccup stumbled toward her and collapsed against her warm, scaly side. She curled her tale around him and covered him with her wings. “You have had a tiring time, aye, little one, you have had a tiring life. Sleep for a while, and when you wake we shall explore this land and I shall introduce you to the other dragons.”

Hiccup was too tired and overwhelmed to protest. He merely curled up in the dragon’s wings as she purred him to sleep as though he were one of her own hatchlings. What was this feeling, Hiccup wondered? It was like he was noticed, safe, and truly loved, all at the same time. Strange, he thought, he had never felt all those feelings at once. He could get used to it, though. That was his last thought before he slipped into a deep, blissful sleep.

Astrid stood on the cliff with the other trainees, watching Berk’s fleet of longships sail off on the most promising search for the dragon nest yet. Her heart ached for poor Toothless. He must be so frightened.

Fishlegs was the first to bring up what was on all of their minds. “I wonder what’ll happen to Hiccup when the chief gets back.”

“He’ll probably be exiled from the tribe. Serves him right, thinking he could show me up in training.” Snotlout scoffed. It didn’t escape anyone that if something happened to Hiccup, he would be the new heir.

Astrid gave him a shove before turning and trudging down the hill back to the village, ignoring Snotlout’s grumbles and the twins’ laughs. She had to check on Hiccup. He must be sick with worry for Toothless. First she checked the chief’s longhouse. No one was there. She checked the forge. Nothing. She decided to check the Great Hall. If he wasn’t there, she would head to his secret cove.

The Hall was deserted. All the men of Berk had gone with Stoick, leaving only the women, children, and elderly behind in the village. Astrid opened one of the heavy wooden doors just enough to be able to slip through. At first she didn’t see anything.

“Hiccup?” she called out as her eyes adjusted to the dark. No response. She was about to leave when she caught a faint whiff of something metallic. A shiver went down her spine. “Hello? Is anyone here?” She turned back and caught a glimpse of something on the floor, mostly hidden behind the center hearth. Clutching her axe so tightly her knuckles turned white, she approached.

The sight that greeted Astrid’s eyes made her stomach drop.  

Hiccup lay flat on his back on the floor, his head lolling to the side, apparently unconscious. Blood trickled from cuts and gashes covering his small body, soaking his clothes and pooling on the floor around him. His left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. He looked dead except for the labored rise and fall of his chest.

Glancing around, Astrid’s eyes fell on a bucket of water and a cleaning rag sitting on a nearby table. She grabbed them and knelt by Hiccup. He looked so small, so broken. Up close the injuries were even worse. The ribs on his left side were visibly shattered and his right collarbone was broken, with one jagged shard poking slightly through the skin. He had a large gash on his forehead, right at the hairline, and more cuts on his pain-filled face. He was barely recognizable for all the blood.

What really broke her heart though, were the lines traced in the blood on his cheeks. Tear tracks. He must have lay here conscious and cried for at least a little while.

Astrid carefully lifted him onto her lap so that the rough timbers of the floor wouldn’t dig into his back. “Hiccup?” she whispered. His face twitched but otherwise he didn’t respond. She soaked the rag and started to clean the blood off of his face with painstaking gentleness. He groaned.

Hiccup’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Astrid. A wave of sadness washed over her. His vivid green eyes, usually so bright and full of curiosity, were unfocused and glazed over with pain. Astrid looked close and saw that one pupil was much smaller than the other. That couldn’t be good, she thought.

“Hiccup…” Astrid felt like she should say something, but didn’t know what.

“A—Ast…” He coughed, a wet, gurgling sound, and a bit of red foam appeared at his lips. She wiped it away.

“It’s okay. Don’t try to talk. I’m here.” She felt a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. To her surprise, Hiccup seemed to have an unexpected surge of strength. He pressed himself into her waist, his hand finding her tunic and clutching it in his fist, like a child clinging to their mother. It was heartrending.

“I—I d-don’t want to—to die—” He sounded terrified.

“Shh… everything’s going to be okay.” Astrid had never told a more blatant and obvious lie in her life. “Just—focus on breathing.” A lullaby her mother used to sing to her and her siblings came to mind. Unable to think of anything else to do, she started to sing it, realizing after a moment that she had begun to rock him. Hiccup’s eyes fluttered again and closed, but the raspy wheezing and occasional violent tremors that ran through him assured her he was still alive.

Astrid didn’t know how long she held him there. At some point her tears began to fall freely. She found herself stroking his sweat-soaked auburn hair, her fingers idly untangling the bloody mats, staring at his face. Hiccup didn’t look like the other boys in the village, but he had a certain… beauty, that they didn’t. Though she would have never admitted it, there had been times when she would have loved to hold him and stare into his face. Just not like this.

Stoick had done this. The thought hit Astrid like a boulder and she felt a surge of fury rise up inside her. Calm down, she ordered herself, that time would come. Oh, that time would come. But right now Hiccup needed her here with him, not out getting revenge.

His eyes opened. They seemed a bit more focused now. He blinked slowly up at her for a moment, then turned his head a little toward the dark corner. Astrid followed his gaze but didn’t see anything, though she did register the faint scent of wildflowers. When she looked back down at Hiccup’s face, it was slightly more relaxed than it had been.

Then he exhaled a long, shuddering breath, and went limp in her arms.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. “Hiccup? Hiccup!” She shook him, but she knew deep down it wouldn’t wake him up.

Astrid let out a devastated wail that reverberated through the Hall and startled a few birds playing on the stone steps outside. Deep, anguished sobs shook her as she bent over Hiccup’s still body, pressing kisses to his damp forehead as though it would bring him back.

Blinding rage suddenly overcame her. She set him down on the floor, grabbed her axe, and ran outside. The bright midday sun hurt her eyes, but she barely noticed. The first thing she saw was a small sapling growing at the edge of the woods. With a primal roar she rushed at it and hacked it to splinters, then stopped and stared, her chest heaving, before turning and rushing to her family’s longhouse.

Her mother was kneading bread when Astrid burst in. Helga Hofferson gasped at the sight of her eldest daughter, out of breath, her face tear streaked, with blood coating her clothes and hands.

“Astrid! Are you hurt?”

“No.”All the young warrior’s usual confidence was gone and she sounded unsure. Her mother waited for her to say something else, but Astrid just stood there, tears streaming down her face.

“Then what is it, child?.” Helga had never seen her daughter so distraught.

Astrid shook her head, unable to put it into words. “Hiccup…he…”

Helga’s eyes narrowed. “Hiccup!? What did that traitor do?” She spat the words.

This only seemed to upset Astrid more. She pressed her hand over her mouth and sobbed, her shoulders shaking. Helga was confused. Her voice softened and she placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s arm.

“Astrid, my dear—whatever it is, tell me!”

“Just—come.” The girl turned and ran out the door, motioning for her mother to follow. Helga quickly wiped her hands on a towel and followed her. If Hiccup had hurt her daughter in any way, she swore…

Astrid led her mother to the Great Hall. Helga entered and stopped cold. On the floor just beyond the hearth was Hiccup. She took a deep breath and approached. He was still, lying in puddle of blood. She watched his chest for moment for any sign of breathing. Nothing. A thick leather belt splattered with blood lay a few feet away. Helga recognized it as Stoick’s. She tasted bile in her throat. She had known her chief since they were children. She knew his temper, his wrath, his violence. Hiccup may have been annoying, a traitor, but he was still just a young boy.

Helga knelt beside the broken form. Hiccup was lying slightly on his side. His homespun tunic was ripped almost completely off and she could see that his back was a mess of purple and crimson. His ribcage was crushed, though the thing Helga found almost more disturbing was how thin he was.

Helga looked up and saw Astrid sitting on one of the nearby benches, her knees pulled up to her chest, still crying. She stood and sat beside her daughter, pulling her into a maternal embrace. To her surprise, Astrid leaned into her. Helga couldn’t help but wonder why exactly her daughter was so distressed. It was sad, of course, but hadn’t Hiccup and Astrid been rivals for the honor that he had so foolishly thrown away? She didn’t dare ask, though. After a moment Astrid spoke on her own accord.

“I—I never told him—I—loved him!”, the girl said in between sniffles. Helga’s eyebrows shot up. She continued to rub her daughter’s back as she waited for her to say something else. “I just kissed him for the first time last night! I—came to check on him—and I found him—and there was so much blood and he was scared and crying and he said he didn’t want to die and all I could do was hold him and then he just stopped breathing and I couldn’t do anything!” Oh. So that was why she was so distraught, Helga thought as Astrid started sobbing again.

“Oh, my darling!” Helga’s mind was racing. How long had this been going on? She supposed it made a bit of sense. Astrid had always despised Snotlout, and Tuffnut and Fishlegs weren’t interested in girls yet. Hiccup, for all he wasn’t, was the chief’s son and had a sense of sarcasm Astrid could probably appreciate. Still, it would have become a problem later. Helga didn’t care about that right now, though. She just cared about the brokenhearted girl in her arms. “I’m so sorry, Astrid.” She genuinely didn’t know what else to say.

Without warning Astrid jumped up and scowled at her mother, her eyes red and swollen. “No, you’re not! You called him a traitor!”

“Astr—”

“You’re probably glad, aren’t you!?” Before Helga could say anything Astrid grabbed her axe and bolted out the door, leaving her mother sitting on the bench. Helga wasn’t even angry at the girl. From the extremely limited information she knew, she couldn’t imagine how traumatizing the last hour must have been for her.

Helga sighed and looked down at the boy on the floor. She shook her head. What would the village think? What would Stoick say when he got back? Surely it hadn’t been intentional. What about Gobber? Hiccup had been like a son to him.

Something partially shoved under the bench caught her eye. Hiccup’s fur vest. Helga bent down and picked it up. A small leather-bound journal fell out. She hesitated for a moment, then opened it. The front portion was mostly sketches of ideas for new contraptions, interspersed with short notes. Helga couldn’t make heads or tales of that. Then she began to see drawing of dragons. One dragon especially, the Night Fury that has saved him in the arena. The pictures were detailed, like the artist had spent a lot of time up close to the subject. There were designs for a saddle and what looked like… half a tail? She wasn’t sure.

She began to wonder: had Hiccup actually tamed, trained, ridden, a dragon? A bloody Night Fury? If anyone could do it, it would be Stoick and Valka’s child. She thought hard about what had happened in the arena. The dragon had been wearing some sort of gear, it could well have been the saddle in the diagram. Everything it had done could be interpreted as an attempt to protect Hiccup, and it had stopped when he told it to. Had this boy done something that brave, that amazing, something that could have changed their world, and been brutally killed for it?

She turned the page. This time she found not designs, not pictures of dragons, but several drawings of her daughter. Not the crude sketches that some men made of women, but detailed, idealized drawings that depicted Astrid as flawless, radiant, almost goddess-like. Helga flipped to the last page. There was no drawing on this one, just a note at the top of the page. “She kissed me tonight!!!!!! It was—oh I cant explain it, but it was wonderful!!! Will tell more later after the test.”

Helga closed the journal and just sat there for a moment, not knowing quite what to think. She remembered how when Hiccup was a small child, when she and the other mothers in the village would call their own children in from playing for the evening meal, he would often come too, trying to blend in and hoping no-one would notice the little chestnut head in the sea of Viking blond. They would always just laugh, ruffle his hair, and shoo him back out the door, ignoring the look of hurt and disappointment on his small face or how his lower lip would quiver. One night after she had sent him away, Helga had gone out to fetch a bucket of water from the well and seen him, still playing, alone now. It was late, her children had already been put to bed, and she knew the chief was probably still at the Great Hall handling village business, so she had briefly considered calling Hiccup in. Ultimately, though she had decided against it. She was busy, after all, and Stoick’s lack of parenting skills weren’t her problem. Helga felt a pang off regret. Was this partly her fault? Was it because Hiccup had never had a mother or anyone at all really caring for him that he was so small and sickly, which caused most of the other children to eventually turn on him, which may have pushed him into the wings of that dragon?

Helga pushed herself up and trudged out the door. She found Skadi Thorston and Bodil Ingerman and told them what had happened. They were as horrified and saddened as she was. That night they and several other women somberly washed the small body and laid it to rest on a hill at the edge of the forest. It was a quiet affair. Nobody really knew what to say. They all felt a bit of guilt. When Hiccup was young, he was always trying to to endear himself to the women of the village, bringing them flowers, helping them whenever he noticed they needed it, small things. They had always thanked him and went on about their business, or sometimes just brushed him off. Eventually he had given up and stopped trying, or their own children had gotten older and started running him off. Only now did they think back and realized how much he had wanted a mother figure, how hard he had tried to be part of a family. It was too late now. One by one they returned to their homes. Helga was the last to leave. Just before she did, she leaned down and whispered into the recently disturbed ground, “I pray Frigg welcomes you with open arms and shows you more care than we did.”

Meanwhile, Astrid had been running through the woods hacking left and right with her axe when she thought about that last exchange she had had with Hiccup, right before he had entered the arena. She had promised to help keep Toothless hidden if anything happened to him. Of course, when she had imagined what might happen to him, she hadn’t imagined what ended up happening. What would happen to Toothless after he led the warriors to the nest, she wondered?

A thought came into her mind. She changed course and headed for the arena. It was deserted now. She looked through a gap in the first dragon stall. The poor Monstrous Nightmare from earlier lay sulking in the corner. Probably still too agitated for what she needed. The Gronkle? Too slow and clumsy. The Zippleback? Too hard to control both heads. Then she arrived at the cell with the Deadly Nadder. Astrid looked at the blue and yellow scaled dragon. It was almost…beautiful. No, it was beautiful. Astrid had never thought of a dragon as beautiful before. But this one was.

Astrid eased the door open, her heart pounding in her chest, remembering what Hiccup had told her yesterday about how he had befriended dragons.

“Hey, there, girl.” Astrid approached the Nadder slowly. It stepped back and growled, the spines on its tail raising. Astrid looked down and realized she had been instinctively clutching her axe. She took a deep breath and tossed it several feet away. It clattered just outside the cell. The dragon lowered its tail, watching with curious, though still wary, intelligent eyes.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I… well, something bad happened to my friend. He had a friend who’s a dragon, and now something bad might happen to him, too. I think I can save him, but I need your help. Will you help me? You can go free afterward.” She spoke softly as she continued to creep closer to the dragon, partly to sooth the creature and partly to calm her own nerves. Finally she found herself right below the dragon’s head. Astrid hesitated for a moment, then reached her hand up, slowly. The dragon rested its warm, scaly snout against her palm. Their eyes met, and some sort of silent communication passed between them.

Astrid moved like a whirlwind. She snatched up a rope from a supply cart, secured it around the Nadder’s neck, hoisted herself up onto its back, and held on as it launched into the sky. She had flown with Hiccup, and that had been a wild flight, but this, flying on her own, was different. It was terrifying, thrilling, wonderful. After only a moment they were above the clouds. The wind whipped her hair back and stung her eyes as all the horror and sadness and fury of the past few hours turned into pure exhilaration. She whooped and laughed as the dragon dipped and spun and dodged birds, evidently having as much fun as Astrid was. It had been a long time since she had been able to stretch her wings. She had begun to think she never would again, and now she forgave the human on her back for ever hurting her and swore that she would never leave her side.

Astrid’s euphoria was short lived when she remembered why she was doing this. She imagined Hiccup, in the sky beside her on Toothless, giving her one of his awkward grins and cheering her on. She had loved him for so long! Why, why had she never made a move before last night? Why had she never stood up for him? Because she had been a coward, she thought. She had been scared of what the other kids and even the adults would think. And now it was too late.

She had learned her lesson, though. Astrid Hofferson would never be a coward again, about anything!

“Alright, girl, take us to that nest.”

The dragon locked in and flew at what Astrid guessed was top speed for a while. As they made their way northwest dark clouds began to gather and soon rain began to fall. Lightening cracked around them, but the dragon seemed to sense it before it came and dodged it.

Before they knew it they could see the top of the nest poking out of the clouds and heard a commotion below. Dipping down, they saw Berk’s fleet. All but a few of the ships were either aflame or sinking. The rain, heavy as it had become, did nothing against the raging fires. Most of the warriors were on the beach, screaming and running away from the monster, which had broken out of the side of the nest and now appeared to be chasing Stoick and Gobber on the shore.

Astrid flew low over the flaming ships, scanning for Toothless. Finally she found him, thrashing against the chains that bound him on the deck of a ship engulfed in flames. She signaled for the blue dragon to land and leapt down. Toothless’s eyes grew wide when he saw her.

“Hey, there! Remember me?”

He warbled an affirmation, the looked around, seemingly searching for something. Or someone, Astrid realized with a sinking feeling. She hadn’t even thought about how she would tell him about Hiccup.

“He’s… not here. Right now we need to handle that big thing.” Slicing through the chains with her axe, she hopped into Toothless’s saddle. Hiccup had showed her how the tail worked. The blue Nadder chirped and cocked her head, sniffing at the mechanism. She seemed to understand what was going on.

They shot back into the sky and headed for the Queen, circling around and approaching from the back. The dragons fired at it to get its attention, then turned and retreated, trying to lure it into the sky and away from Berk’s army. It worked, and the hideous many-eyed monster took off into the clouds after them. Only when it was in the air could Astrid truly begin to grasp how massive it was.

It inhaled, and Toothless would have been pulled into its mouth had the Nadder not shot a tail spike into one of its eyes. The Night Fury took advantage of its momentary distraction and fired a series of plasma blasts at the monster’s wing. It swung its massive head back toward them and opened its mouth, revealing rows of teeth the size of trees. Astrid could see a glow begin to form at the back of its throat and her heart seized. If it started to spew as much fire as a she thought it could, they wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

To her surprise, Toothless flipped around and fired the rest of his shot limit into the monster’s mouth. It seemed stunned for a moment, then started to choke. At the same time, the hole in its wing where Toothless had shot a moment ago started to rip open and the deposed queen began to plummet to the ground. It hit the water with an explosion.

The Vikings, who had been watching from the shore in confusion, turned and ran from the wave caused by the creature’s fall into the sea.

Toothless and the Nadder landed on one of the few sea stacks that hadn’t been knocked over by the monster in its pursuit of them. The rain had let up. Astrid slid off Toothless’s back and hugged him, then hugged the Nadder. If the Astrid from a week ago could have seen herself now, hugging the very creatures she once longed to slay!

She looked out over the ocean. The surviving warriors were cramming themselves into the few intact ships, preparing to head back to Berk.

Berk.

Astrid felt a mix of emotions thinking about the village, the home of her childhood and of her family. But one thing was certain: she did not want to live in a place where she would be ruled by a man who hated dragons so much he would kill the only child of his deceased love for being open to the fact that they might not be evil.
Astrid took the rope she had used to hold on off the Nadder.

“Thank you.” Astrid stroked the shimmering blue scales almost reverently. “You… you can go now.” She gestured out into the sunset. The sky was clear now. “Find your family.” The Nadder snorted and took a step closer to Astrid.

“No, really. You’re free to do whatever you want, girl.” The Nadder nudged Astrid’s still damp hair. Astrid realized she was trying to tell her she didn’t want to leave.

“Oh… well, then. I guess you need a name.” She thought about how the dragon had flown unwaveringly through the rain and lightening on the way to the nest. “Stormfly. What do you think of that?” Stormfly chirped, a happy little sound, and pressed her snout to Astrid’s chest. Toothless, who had been watching from a few feet away, warbled his approval.

The three of them, Astrid on Toothless and Stormfly following along, took off again and headed back for Berk. They didn’t go to the village, though, but Hiccup and Toothless’s hidden cove. When they landed, Stormfly jumped into the lake, clumsily but effectively fishing. Toothless began to frantically look around.

Astrid, struggling to maintain her composure, approached the Night Fury.

“Toothless.” The dragon ignored her, checking behind a large boulder.

“You’re— you’re not going to find him.” He paused and looked at her with a questioning expression. “Stoick… his father… got very angry.” Astrid’s voice cracked.
“He… hurt him. Really badly. He… died.” The dragon’s face was blank and Astrid wondered if he understood her. “I was holding him when… well, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The dragon let out a stricken wail and collapsed onto the ground. The sound echoed through the mountains and forest.

Astrid turned and ran, ducking out of the cove and into the forest. It was dark now. She didn’t care. Hot tears stung her cheeks. She didn’t stop running until she burst into a clearing and realized it was the village graveyard. A recently disturbed mound across the clearing caught her eye. It wasn’t marked, none of the graves here were. This was where babies and children, people who had died of illness or in cowardly ways were buried without show. Warriors, women who died in childbirth, respected members of the community who died at an old age, were all sent out to the sea with a glorious ceremony.

As Astrid approached the fresh grave, though, she noticed something laying on top of it. A brown furry vest.

She picked it up and clutched it to her heart. A wave of sorrow forced her to her knees. The raindrops still clinging to the grass soaked through her leggings. She didn’t know how long she was there before she felt a rush of wind behind her. Astrid glanced back and saw two large dark forms.

Toothless crept closer, sniffing the ground, before letting out a mournful sound that further broke Astrid’s heart and lying down on the ground, curling his body and tail around the mound. Something scaly brushed Astrid’s arm, and she looked up to see Stormfly’s wings over her like a tent. The dragon leaned down and began to gently play in Astrid’s hair with her beak. She was trying to comfort her new friend the best way she knew how.

They stayed there like that for hours, just being together in the stillness of the night, thinking, remembering, grieving, silently supporting each other. Finally Astrid stood up and made her way back to the cove, Stormfly following, Toothless trailing behind a while later.

Berk awoke a few hours later to the return of their chief and the surviving warriors, who were joyously welcomed by their families. News spread like wildfire of the defeat of the nest, of the creature the size of a mountain that had emerged from the volcano, of the two dragons that had turned on their ruler. Many of the men swore that one of them was a Night Fury, and that it had a rider on its back. It couldn’t be the one that had led them there, though. That one had gone down with the lost ships.

Helga Hofferson quickly searched out her husband Harald and threw herself into his arms, relieved beyond words that he was alive.

“I wasn’t sure there for bit, but then them dragons started shootin’ at the beast, and drove it away. I suppose it all worked out in the end. We shouldn’t have anymore problems with the blasted creatures now.” He laughed, then noticed his wife wasn’t sharing his jubilation. “What’s the matter, dear? Are the children well?”

“Stoick, just before he left, he killed Hiccup. Very cruelly so. It was bad, Harald. So much blood.”

“Stoick?! You’re sure?” His wife nodded, and Harald was quiet for a moment, processing the information. “He seemed a bit tense on the voyage but we all assumed he was planning the battle. Didn’t seem like a man who just killed his only son.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” She paused for a moment. “I found his notes. The lad tamed a dragon. Trained it to protect him and let him ride it. Could have… could have changed everything.”

“I wondered about that. Seemed to me that what the boy was doin’ with the Nightmare in the arena was quite brave. Seemed to be workin’ to. I just figured the chief knew what he was doin’.”

“Harald—” she stopped, thinking about how to put it.

“Somethin’ else, dear?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“Our Astrid… and Hiccup… were apparently closer than we thought. I don’t know how long or how deep it went, but she was the one who found him. She was a mess. Crying, sobbing like a little baby, if you can imagine Astrid like that. She said that the night before the test she had kissed him for the first time, and when I looked in his things he had wrote about it, and it broke my heart, Harald.”

“Where is she now?”

“She ran off into the woods and hasn’t been back since.”

“Alright.” He shook his head, thinking about his little girl, grieving alone in the forest. “I’ll go look for her if she’s not back by tonight.”

She didn’t come back. Harald went to their special tree, the one still scarred with deep gouges from where he had taught her to throw an axe when she was small. On it was carved a short message. “Couldn’t stay here. Please understand.”

He did understand.

That evening several villagers saw Gobber storm out of the chief’s house, slamming the door behind him and marching up the hill to the graveyard, a tear trailing down his weathered cheek. After that he and Stoick avoided each other as much as possible, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

After spending a few days in the cove, Astrid, realizing that though Toothless liked her, he didn’t want to be dependent on anybody who wasn’t Hiccup, went to work on his tail. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she managed to lock the artificial fin in such a way that Toothless could fly on his own.

He licked her face in thanks and took off into the sky. After flying for several days, he came to a new nest, this one ruled by a kind, ice breathing Bewilderbeast king. Toothless was quickly accepted and became very popular among his new friends. There was a human who lived there, too. She was a bit—well— she might be best described as a crazy, feral, vigilante, dragon lady, but at least she was anything but boring. She somehow reminded Toothless of both his mother and his rider, the two whom he had loved most in his life so far, both of whom had been cruelly ripped away from him by those who despised his kind. As for the woman, she saw in Toothless’s curious, vibrant green eyes someone she had been forced to leave behind long ago, someone she still thought of often and wondered about.

The years passed, and as they did rumours began to spring up of a Valkyrie, clad in armor of blue dragon scales, who rode on the back of a Deadly Nadder. This warrior, the tales said, would swoop into dragon hunter outposts, cutting through chains with her mighty axe, setting ships aflame, and free the dragons. At first some scoffed, saying it was but a myth, a tale told by frightened dragon hunters to their bosses as an excuse for losing their goods. But soon it proved to be true. In fact, so thorough was the warrior that soon the entire dragon trapping and hunting operation in the Northern lands came crumbling down.

People wondered who she was. There were many theories, but only a few knew the truth. The Hoffersons were some of those few, and they were proud.

One day, in a market in a city far from Berk, a baker was sharing gossip with a few of her regulars. The conversation turned to the stories of the blue clad Valkyrie.

Soon two other women wandered over to the stall. They were foreign, this was clear by their accents and their clothes; they wore the simple underdress and smokkr ensembles standard among Norse women. One had a long blond braid, the other a jet black, both were tall and fit. The blond one wore a belt of worn brown fur embroidered with bright emerald green thread. The baker and her customers guessed from the quality of their clothing and number of beads strung between their brooches that they were probably merchant’s wives.

As they looked over the baker’s wares they couldn’t help but overhear the discussion.

“I heard she’s powerful witch!”

“Oh? Well, I heard doesn’t just ride the dragon, she is a dragon! A magical one that can take the form of a human. My brother’s daughter met a sailor who said he saw her transform midair!”

“Yes, we all know how well acquainted with sailors your brother’s daughter is, Zvenislava.”

Zvenislava sputtered in indignation and the two Northwomen took the opportunity to join the conversation.

“Are you discussing the warrior who brought down the dragon hunters business?” the dark haired woman asked with a ghost of an enigmatic smile.

The baker nodded. “What do you think? It’s said she’s Norse.”

“Yes,” the blond one answered, a faraway look in her piercing ice blue eyes. “They speak of her often in the Northern lands.”

“What do they say?” Zvenislava suddenly forgot the baker’s jab at her family.

“Many things, just like here.” Her voice was deliberate, measured.

“What do you believe?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that she was born and raised on a small island in the Barbaric Archipelago, one that had for generations been involved in a bitter war against dragons. There she fell in love with a boy, the son of the chief. He wasn’t like the other young Viking men, he was sweet and kind and clever. But he was also a hiccup, he was small and sickly. Because of that he was persecuted by the other children, and so she kept her love for him a secret.

One day the boy found an injured dragon. He tamed it and trained it to allow him to ride it. Then the girl found out about his friendship with this creature. She was furious at first, thinking he had betrayed the tribe. But then he took her flying, and she fell in love with the sky, and even deeper in love with the boy.

The next day, though, the boy was forced to participate in a test. To prove his worthiness, he had to slay a dragon before his father and the entire village. Instead of killing it, he spoke to it, soothed it, tried to tame it. He thought it would show his people that some dragons were good. Instead, his father was furious, and beat him. The girl found him a while after, and he died in her arms.

The girl was heartbroken. She regretted that she had never expressed her care for him before the previous night. She swore to never be afraid of anything again, and to do all she could for the creatures he so loved. To this day, she has never loved another man, and everything she does is to honour him.”

The women had leaned in, listening intently.

“What a tale! And you believe this?”

“We both do.” the dark haired woman spoke with certainty. She had rested her hand on her friend’s arm in support as she told the story.

“Well, if that’s true, I hope she can find happiness.”

The Norse women picked out their bread and payed, exchanging a bit more small talk with the others, then started to walk away.

“Wait!” the baker called, “The docks are that way, and the inns are straight ahead. The way you are going just leads out to the mountains.”

“Oh, thank you!” the blond woman smiled graciously, and went toward the inns. As soon as they were out of sight, though they circled around and headed out into the forest, where two dragons waited for them, a blue and yellow one, and a silver.

A bit later several people saw two specks, high up in the sky, headed to the north.