Chapter Text
“I think we should leave now,” Fishlegs suggests, his eyes unfocused on the dark quarters riddled with fidgety movements. “Hiccup, Ruff’s out looking for him.”
With his hair disheveled and his eyes burning red after ignoring enough sleep, Hiccup turns from his desk and sets down the Dragon Eye; its glowing map reflects on the floor. He’s been in search of answers, and this artifact is their only solution.
Tuffnut has gone mad in his somewhat believably erratic behavior, all due to their one-legged smithy leading them on about a supposed fable —one that instills shock at the thought of such a mythical creature possibly being true. Hiccup is skeptical of the idea, as his world of flying dragons and sometimes angry gods proves that many things are possible.
The Dragon Eye —a tool he puts great trust in— has already given the skeptic enough reason to believe that something more is out there, whether for better or for worse. In this situation, both ends of the latter weigh in; should the dragon-man be real, they’ll have a chance at saving Tuff from a transformation they don’t understand, but that also means that they have so much more to discover.
He is going out to follow the directions of the Dragon Eye to put an end to this, not to chase after a story. Still, in the back of his mind, Hiccup must consider the very unlikely possibility that the fabled dragon man —cursed with claws as sharp as a Nadder’s and a temperament worthy of a Monstrous Nightmare— is real. A leader must not blind themselves to any dangerous prospects just because it sounds stupid; many of his own plans could be considered stupid, and they’ve worked.
“Let’s go,” Hiccup announces, and Toothless strictly follows.
After grabbing a drawn-out map that will lead them to Lycanwing Island, Hiccup and Fishlegs leave on their dragons. The Dragon Eye is kept in Hiccup’s hut, away from their problems.
He does not notice Tuffnut eavesdropping, who now worries that his “silly” lie might in fact be true. In turn, Tuffnut thinks not of the risk he’s created by faking bogus symptoms that have persuaded his friends to search for a dangerous creature. He worries more about himself and what might become of him.
Hiccup is set on a mission that is in fact, mad, but not without reason to be so determined. Hiccup cannot let one of his own fall to such a state. While the idea of a Lycanwing existing opens unfounded futures, he cannot afford to allow his wonders to steer this mission. This flight to a foreign island is not to hope that a myth is real, but to show his superstitious peers that there is no reason to allow such a foolish fear to control them.
On that thought, Hiccup thinks back to Ruffnut; she is as loyal as they come, and while Hiccup is more than thankful of her dedication to her brother, he knows that her worries have given Tuffnut reason to pretend. If there is any motivation that the twin thrives on, this is right up his alley.
Odin could never have created such a creature: a mixture of man and dragon. There were never stories of such a man-dragon existing. Surely that cannot mean it does not exist. Simply because his own eyes have not seen it does not mean it is not living. The thought makes Hiccup guilty. He shudders, but it is impossible to ignore the exciting fire erupting in his stomach that is too impatient to find answers. He is still an explorer at heart.
A chilly breeze and howling wind provide enough noise to fill the silence between the Hiccup and Fishlegs, now aboard their respective dragons. Fishlegs and Meatlug trail behind Hiccup and Toothless, as it has been so for three years.
While with leadership comes the headaches from the mistakes of his gang, Hiccup can’t help but be the first to offer his life when it comes to risky situations. Should anyone else be hurt on his watch, there is little to do to stop him from finding a solution to his own mistake. While each person is their own thinker, Hiccup as a leader must work with those individual characteristics and keep everyone safe.
Amidst the unforgiving sky, a few concerned warbles from Toothless remind Hiccup to ease up every so often. Fishlegs’ eyes are open too wide in the vast sky in front of them. He looks entranced —no, lost in thought in the way a Chieftain would look while in the dead of night (Hiccup has caught his father too many times sitting by a dying fire).
“Hey,” Hiccup soothes while throwing a glance back at Fishlegs, “we’ll find the island.”
“Oh it’s finding it that’s worrying me,” Fishlegs answers, his face red from either the cold or his own paranoia. “There’s too much that could go wrong. What if — what if there’s a bunch of them and they overpower us? What if we end up like Tuff? What if there’s no way to even —“
“Woah, woah, woah,” Hiccup interjects quickly, “you’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s no way this could be real. There has to be a reason this legend was created. Think of this as a way to find out why.”
“Are we finding out why people fear the Lycanwing,” Fishlegs questions, “or why people consider this island dangerous? Because either way, Hiccup, we’re risking a lot.”
“You are really not an optimist, are you?”
“I consider myself a realist. Tuffnut owes us big time.”
“I can agree with you there. But it’s not logical that a dragon man exists. Let alone more than one.”
Fishlegs pauses. “But we do consider any and all possibilities,” he expresses, “right? We’d be stupid not to. The Dragon Eye has that information in it for a reason. We’d be dumb to go in dragons-blazing just because we didn’t think the warnings were real.”
Hiccup can’t argue there and nods before rolling his eyes back to the sky in front of him. Holding the map out in front of himself, he studies the markings by trailing his fingers over charcoal lines and empty paper. They should be heading in the right direction.
The rider stares out below his dragon, hoping to see the island, or any indication that they’re closing in. With the skies being this misty, his nose twitches and his fingers grow colder. Usually, Hiccup doesn’t mind it, let alone notice the chill that nips away at the dragon rider’s warm passion for flight. But tonight pairs the freezing, almost unbreathable air with dread.
Hiccup has never worried this much about finding a new species of dragon.
“Maybe because we’re not really lookin’ for one,” Hiccup mutters aloud to himself, finishing the thought. Toothless warbles back to him, but continues in flight.
The first sign of an island comes from crashing waves into rocks and a few bundles of formations. After identifying their surroundings together, Hiccup and Fishlegs decide to sweep lower below and properly examine the land to confirm their suspicions. They land on the shore with a high tide that almost supersedes the tall rocks near the entrance to a cave; their shoes are already soaking in seawater. The ocean roars. The island seems to be nothing more than a rest stop for dragons that might fly by.
Each shadow blends and ultimately forms a dark void of cautious wonders in front of them.
“Okay,” Hiccup wonders aloud as he and Fishlegs lead their dragons forward, thus slowly making their way towards a cavern, “a few rock formations there…. And a cave should be —ha! Right there, Fishlegs! We made it!”
He points to an opening big enough for two large Monstrous Nightmares to fly in together with wings extended. The path up ahead is dark with only a streak of moonlight guiding their passage into the unknown. There is a flutter in Hiccup’s chest; although, he can’t tell if it’s because of a bit of excitement or the impending feeling of doom. Nonetheless, Hiccup invites the spark that fans the flames to his curiosity; he thrives off of it.
The dragon rider glances downward, his eyes keen on the footprints etched in the rocky dirt up ahead. Eyes narrowed and vision clear, Hiccup notes the unorthodox shape of the prints —its size is too small yet pointed at each tip. The edges are jagged and evident of talons or claws, yet there is an undeniable lurk of human features.
Odin, Hiccup thinks vigilantly, that doesn’t look good.
There is a look of uncertainty exchanged between him and his friend, and still they pursue. Despite this island being seemingly untouched by any life, just near the opening are markings that steal Hiccup’s attention right away.
“Would you take a look at these?” Hiccup tells Fishlegs, who positions himself beside him. “Dragon markings. Not faded enough to be old. Keep your guard up.” He runs a few fingers over, carefully examining any dust to come off it. Fishlegs stands back, his hands clamped over chattering teeth.
“Oh my guard is certainly up, Hiccup,” Fishlegs agrees irritatedly, and he follows Hiccup who has moved on.
They do not notice the bones clustered around a makeshift grave just out of sight near the entrance…
Usually the riders and their dragons are bonded so closely that one might think they are connected in magics, so much so that the mere twitch of the jaw can trigger an attack on the dragon’s behalf.
Hiccup has learned that dragons are incredibly observant and that skill alludes to their language of body movement. Despite that, however, dragons are far more aware of their surroundings than any Viking. Without any warrant to do so (in perspective of the dragon riders) Toothless and Meatlug tug on the back of their riders' respective clothing, thus dragging the Vikings to the floor.
Hiccup pauses, understanding that the judgment of a dragon’s is much more trusting than that of people’s. Thus, he observes his surroundings. His vision is blurred by his eyes focusing too hard on a vast darkness before him. The moonlight isn’t too much help for them. Hiccup’s ears have begun ringing from the eerie secrecy of whatever lurks in the cave. They’re at a severe disadvantage here, and it would be foolish to enter blind. Fortunately, Toothless is a powerful dragon with abilities that equip them with tools to thwart such disadvantages.
“Bud,” Hiccup says, looking forward and standing up while sliding his hand over Toothless’ scaly head, “search.”
The command is followed, and soon the cave is lit up with strange rings of purple light. Hiccup looks to Toothless, who growls at the mistrust of the cavern being empty.
“Mind giving us some more light Meatlug?” Hiccup suggests.
“Spew, girl,” Fishlegs courtly instructs and he points forward.
The powerful blast of lava is launched some ways in front of them, hitting a few rocks but not withering just yet in light. The few seconds given to them by her bright blast allows them a quick glance inside that releases a flock of Night Terrors. Everyone flinches at the loud flaps of wings and shrieks, yet it is satisfying to release some tension. Hiccup and Fishlegs turn to each other with a small chuckle. The abrupt surprise seems to have loosened the situation, as both dragons allow their riders to continue inside.
Unfortunately, a few scuffles in the near distance halt the newcomers.
“Hold,” Hiccup instructs, looking to the floor where the slight movements were made. He sees nothing, however. “Toothless, fire.”
Toothless ushers a powerful purple blast ahead of them, and it hits an unassumed target. The cave seems to be bigger than they’d initially thought, although not entirely deep.
Instead of a response from Fishlegs, a few rocks fall from inside, startling the dragons and they leap forward, protecting their counterparts behind them. The echoes of more rocks scratch the ground, albeit slowly. Still, it is enough for Toothless to protectively shield the rest of his party while Meatlug readies herself with a glowing mouth.
“What is it, bud?” Hiccup asks, stepping to Toothless’ side. The dragon sharply hisses back at him while pushing his rider back with his wing, demanding he heed his warning.
Toothless sniffs the air, insinuating a jeopardy that Hiccup has to decide if it’s is worth their troubles.
Hiccup, being the young, dragon rider and explorer he is, has encountered hundreds of dragons, yet the legend of a consequential bite from a fabled creature is concerning. Still, this isn’t unlike other dragons who’ve spit toxic venoms or paralyzing poison.
Just don’t get bit, Hiccup (un)jokingly thinks.
The rider decides that it is best to venture forward, the risk of failure being the reason why he will continue pursuing danger.
“Come on, bud,” Hiccup pleads softly, unaware of any movement above him, and he pulls Toothless forward. “It’s oka—“
Without hesitation, Toothless springs forward and opens fire at the ceiling cave, knocking clumps of rocks down just footsteps in front of them. Meatlug pounces forward to support Toothless as her own lumpy portions of fire provide enough light to gaze further into the unknown. Snarls erupt from both parties —the dragons and the faceless threat— pointing to the realization that they are indeed, not alone. Hiccup swallows a clump of fear back, attempting to replace his shaky hands with fists of bravery and determination.
A small figure casts its own shadow down onto the dragon riders before the glow from Meatlug’s burst of lava fades away.
Suddenly, another fiery glow erupts from this strange attacker. The flames are winded and wide, like that of a Monstrous Nightmare’s, yet it is still small and more contained. Great, this dragon is more than agitated if it’s already attacking with its own fire.
Hiccup squints because of the chaotic, bright bursts of light; hiis eyes focus on the crooked, reflective edges of muted, orange wings, mirroring the orange glow from the eyes. This dragon expert has seen the dislocation in wings before, and it is evident that they’re broken—
“Stop firing!” Hiccup demands, thrusting his hand forward and he runs to Toothless who, in his mission to push back the unknown figure, has leapt forward immensely. “He’s not our enemy! He never bit Tuff!”
Hiccup knows Toothless understands the words “not the enemy”, but it does nothing to halt the successful attempt of firing a powerful blast that pounds the figure into the wall.
After Fishlegs yells and jerks his hand upward to lead the way, Hiccup follows the shadow and blinks. The dark shadow has disappeared into the deeper end of the cave and after a few slivers of noise, there is silence. Hiccup widens his eyes, taking a brief moment to analyze any movement. There is none.
“No!” Hiccup screams, and he shoves past Toothless who gives a confused yelp before chasing after him. “Give me some light again!”
Fishlegs directs Meatlug for another longer-lasting blast and he digs his fingers into his hair before gaping. Despite Fishlegs having proven himself of a brave explorer, there are some moments in which his fear leaves him frozen to the touch.
As he nears, Hiccup slips on what he assumes to be rocks, but upon lifting his chin from the ground and grunting to hoist himself back up he realizes that the items rolling aside are too long to be rocks. They are instead, worn-out bones.
The inside of his chest pounds.
Toothless licks Hiccup’s bleeding chin, which is now throbbing. He groans and lifts his chest off the ground. As his eyes adjust to the fading light, Hiccup focuses his attention to a glow that flickers beneath him. Just an arm’s length away from the rider is an opening in the ground. From the depths of the hole shine orange, narrowed eyes that Hiccup is assuming to be the Lycanwing.
Narrowed in slits, the creature’s eyes do not move even a hair. Hiccup is entranced at the sight, unbelieving that such draconic eyes belong to a person.
The two stare back at each other, but Toothless is still entranced with his companion’s wound, shoving his head in between the two staring individuals. When Hiccup pushes himself towards the opening, the glowing orange eyes disappear into the dead of darkness, causing Hiccup to give a disgruntled “no” before resting onto his knees and peering inside the hole.
Were his father here, Hiccup would be scolded for such a foolish act, but since there is no one present to bring the young adult to his senses (and remind him of the imminent danger they are in), Hiccup thinks more about the fact that this fable is actually real than he does about the attack they just underwent.
“What is it?” Fishlegs asks, stepping closer to help his friend up by the extension of his hand.
Hiccup takes it, hoisting himself to his feet. “I think there’s more down there,” he says and points down. “It’s an opening.”
“But… what did you see?” Fishlegs asks, stepping closer to help his friend up by the shoulder. “Who did you see?”
“A man with dragon wings.”
Fishlegs gapes. The silence is deafening.
“A-are you sure?” Fishlegs questions, while standing behind Hiccup and Toothless, and he stretches his neck to peer past Hiccup’s shoulders. “Then Tuff really was—“
“The wings looked to be healed wrong,” Hiccup answers, standing back in the effortless action to readjust himself. “There’s no way he can fly.”
Fishlegs helps dust his friend off while Toothless continues to inspect his companion.
“I wonder,” Hiccup begins to say, stepping forward with his right leg to the hole, “if I can slide—“
He’s interrupted by shearing pain in his right calf. A firm grasp takes hold of his leg, and with the strength of Odin, Hiccup is thrown to the ground with a thud so powerful it knocks the wind out of him.
A headache cannot be so bad that it blinds the vision.
It was only one winter in his childhood that the cold nipped at his nose so fiercely, and he prayed for slumber to end the pounding in his temples. Yet, what brought darkness to his vision then, was merely shutting his eyes. Now, Hiccup surely knows his eyes are bright-eyed and open, but the doggy mist blinds him to any real light shining through. All he sees are shapes and muted colors.
He knows his eyes are open, but he still can’t see.
Where is he?
Hiccup is on his side, his arms heavy and his leg overtaking his focus. He has barely any instinct to sit up, let alone think. His wound is throbbing so horribly. A headache accompanies it. He feels a brush of air nipping at the side of his head, as though a fan were fingertips away from touching him.
Accompanying the already harrowing pounding in his temples is a searing jolt of pain that shoots upward that stems from his calf; Hiccup is prompted to examine his good leg —by touch— and he sighs in relief at the feeling of his foot still connected to his ankle. He cringes at the wet, sticky blood smearing on his fingers. His leg is in pain, and a loud ringing pounds near his forehead.
Someone is shouting. Shrills are erupting overhead.
”…cup! We’re… there… wait!”
The voice is familiar, almost real. Another familiar shriek and roar confuse the rider.
When has a leg wound ever kept him down like this? Come to think of it, when has Hiccup ever been hurt so badly? Even amongst the hundreds of battles he’s participated in, he’s never been injured so badly that he can’t fathom sitting upright.
”Odin, Odin, Odin. Is the Lycanwing even still alive? Hiccup? We’re still here! Are you okay? Are you there? Toothless can’t you blast—WAIT,” Fishlegs interrupts himself, his hands in a frenzy before the Night Fury— an attempt to override the command of blasting wide the small opening.
The dragon is quick to obey, or hadn’t even intended to do so at all. Toothless paces back and forth, his narrowed eyes evident of a processing mind Fishlegs does not understand. Meatlug stares at her rider, unsure of how to continue. Fishlegs himself paces opposite to Toothless, his hands buried deep in his hair. His helmet has since flown off after having tried to unsuccessfully grab hold of his friend that went collapsing into the ground.
Fishlegs drops to his knees, and contemplates. He mutters a few prayers before coming to the realization that he’s going to have to blast the ground somewhere near. But he must ensure the Lycanwing is secured. And that means he needs to draw the Lycanwing away, or kill him.
Since he was young, Fishlegs has not remembered a time where his hands didn’t shake and his legs didn’t quiver at the brief glance of danger. However, if dragons have taught him anything —and they have— it’s that one must power through the what-ifs in life and look straight ahead at the challenge. And Fishlegs might not have ever figured that out without Hiccup’s help. If there was ever a need more than ever to bawl his fear into fists and stand his ground, it is now.
”Toothless,” Fishlegs growls, his eyes racing from the ground to the sides of the cave, hopeful an idea shines through, “where is the enemy?”
“Enemy” is a word Toothless knows well. The Night Fury hisses fiercely, his anger manifesting in a green color simmering from the depths of his mouth, waiting to fire a blast at any sudden move. His nostrils flare wide and then narrow, his ear flaps concentrating to spot any movement. Toothless knows his rider well, as the sudden groan from below does not cause a violent reaction from the dragon, despite Fishlegs’ eagerness to attack.
There is no use in waiting for the Lycanwing to show himself, Fishlegs decides what must be done.
”Over here,” Fishlegs screams, racing to the opposite direction from the ground opening. He is stomping as hard as he can every step of the way, deducing that the underground cave is large enough for them to blast through without any debris hitting Hiccup. He points to the ground in front of him.
”Toothless, fire!” He yells.
The cave quakes for a moment.
”Fire again!”
The dragons repeat themselves a third time without prompt. Purple blast mix with heavy blasts of lava.
Fishlegs is stupid. So, so stupid. They fall into the cave beneath them, dragons and all. And when the rubble and dust begin to clear and Fishlegs no longer has to shield his mouth from inhaling the dirt, his eyes focus on a forming outline of a person with his back on the floor and head resting up.
There is a thick substance around the individual, scales scattered underneath. Fishlegs approaches with the intent to help his friend up, assuming Hiccup is the one before him. Yet as his feet stop trembling from the shock of falling, Fishlegs’ eyes widen as he realizes who it is.
The Lycanwing lies with a gaping wound in his chest where the Night Fury’s blast caught him. Blood is smeared along his face. He pants heavily as fingers —talons— claws?— do nothing when he pats himself down in attempts to stop the bleeding. Fishlegs doesn't need to see the ribs poking out of the mess to know the Lycanwing will die. The Lycanwing looks so… inhuman. Fishlegs wants to smack himself on the head and go “duh”, but considering this “species” is a mix of both dragon and man, this creature looks like a small, four legged dragon —not at all human. His long hair threatens to be completely stained red, and the braids have moved past matted. Fishlegs can’t tell what kind of a life the Lycanwing had because of the broken bones and squirting blood all over his shoulders.
Fishlegs can hardly understand the sight before him, especially in the dark. As he is entranced with the dying creature, observing orange scales that mix into dark skin, he forgets all about his friend. Toothless and Meatlug, however, rush by and find Hiccup on his side. Toothless suppresses a loud shriek, but it scares Fishlegs enough to move.
The Ingerman hurries over to his friend, pleading he respond. Fishlegs expects Hiccup’s reaction to be one that brings a sigh of relief, yet as Hiccup tries to blink himself awake, Fishlegs holds his breath.
It's an abnormal sight to see the green spill out from his friend’s irises as it dyes the white surrounding color into a deep green. Fishlegs swears that with every blink, black pupils are expanding upward, thus changing the entire structure of the eye.
Odin’s ghost; this is not going to be easy to fix —if they even can fix it.