Chapter Text
It all starts with a simple scouting mission. The hunters have been quiet, practically non-existent, ever since Ryker was defeated and Viggo fell into the Edge’s volcano. Toothless prefers the quiet. It means no one is trying to hurt or kill his rider.
They’re flying low over the more distant parts of the Edge when Toothless hears it: a quiet, yet eerily familiar, chirping.
He dips towards it, and Hiccup startles only slightly before he shifts his weight and the tailfin to allow Toothless to dive to the ground. “Hey, what is it, bud?” he asks. “You sense something?”
Toothless growls an affirmative, ear flaps perked up as he touches down on the ground. He hears it again but louder, a melodic chirp which sounds nothing like the adult Death Song they met – or even Garf. But it is clearly a Death Song. Hiccup’s breath catches, and he stills, a telltale sign that he heard it, too.
“Oh,” he breathes, gesturing for the other riders to be quiet as they land on the ground around them.
“What?” Astrid asks. “What’s–?” She stops when they hear the chirping again.
Toothless pads forward. The Death Song sounds young. A hatchling. Somehow. It doesn’t make sense, and Toothless will be wary until he can confirm that there’s no threat to his rider. The hatchling goes quiet, but Toothless picks up the scent, tracking it to a thicket of bushes. He sits back, turning his head toward Hiccup.
The rest of the riders are whispering loudly amongst themselves, wondering if that’s really a baby Death Song, how is that even possible, maybe Loki sent it as a prank, and no Ruff it was more likely the hunters, maybe he ran away from them –
“Hey there,” Hiccup says softly, crouching down by the brush and peering under. Something in him relaxes when he catches sight of the hatchling, and Toothless sticks his muzzle down there, too. The baby looks a lot like Garf, though some of his colorations are a bit different. He has a vivid stripe of red across his body and wings. Golden eyes peer at them warily, and Toothless shuffles closer with a friendly coo of greeting.
He nearly recoils when he picks up the scent. It’s oddly familiar and wrongwrongwrong. It’s a scent that makes his muscles tense, and a snarl rise in the back of his throat. It’s – it’s the dragon hunter chief. The one the humans called Viggo Grimborn, but it’s also muted and different. The dragon smells like a Death Song, the sharp-edged scent of amber layered over with something else. Something of death and blood and metal.
Toothless shifts uncertainly. He doesn’t understand. What is this?
The human died. He fell into the volcano weeks ago. Toothless saw it. They all – they talked about it. Hiccup talked about it sometimes on the nights when he couldn’t sleep.
“How did you get here, little guy?” Hiccup asks, voice still gentle and soft. It’s one of the things that Toothless loves about him. Hiccup cares about the dragons so very much, and he’s as ferally protective of hatchlings as the dragons themselves. He holds out a hand.
The hatchling chirps again, melodic notes filling the air, yet for whatever reason, the song isn’t affecting Toothless the way it normally does. Death Songs, even baby ones, have hypnotizing melodies. Even Garf was able to do it a couple of times before they sent him away.
Hiccup reaches out a hand. “C’mere,” he coaxes.
Toothless watches as the hatchling’s golden eyes shift between them. He doesn’t seem scared, and there’s something in his eyes, an intelligence that is too great for such a tiny form. Unease prickles through him – but this is a baby. A hatchling. A hatchling without a family, and no matter how weird he smells, no matter that he might not even be fully dragon, he needs protectors. He’ll never survive out here alone.
The Death Song patters forward on unsteady feet, wary and skittish but still determined. He goes straight toward Hiccup’s outstretched hand, and Toothless giggles at the indignant look on his face when Hiccup starts petting and cooing at him. He scoops the hatchling into his arms, cradling him close.
Abruptly, he freezes.
“Is– is that–?” Fishlegs begins faintly.
Toothless moves closer. In the light, he can see a scar across the left side of the hatchling’s head. The dragon snaps at him when he tries to lick it, but that doesn’t deter him in the least.
“Do you think the hunters did that?” Astrid asks, voice tight. She’s gripping her axe handle.
“I– I don’t know,” Hiccup admits, shifting the hatchling in his arms. “We should probably take him back to the club house.”
“Ohhh look what we found!!” exclaims Tuffnut and pops out of the brush in which the hatchling was hiding. He’s waving the Dragon Eye.
Everyone freezes, and Toothless turns toward the hatching with renewed suspicion. The scent makes sense if –
Because the human fell into the volcano when trying to get the Dragon Eye.
“Is that the Dragon Eye?” Snotlout asks, the first to find his voice. “Didn’t that go into the volcano when Viggo did?”
Toothless watches the hatchling carefully, noting the twitch at the name. He warbles at it, nosing it gently; former human or not, it’s still a baby. It blinks wide, intelligent, golden eyes at him and then opens its mouth. Instead of screaming like Garf used to, it starts… singing. An off-key song, not one that’ll be very effective at drawing in the dragons – the notes aren’t quite right – but it’s clearly trying to say something.
The riders keep talking, but Toothless is distracted. He licks the hatching, trying to scent it properly so it smells right, like family, like flock, like home. It wails, a disgruntled note as it shakes itself, clambering up to Hiccup’s shoulder and growling when Toothless comes closer.
But its grip is so unsteady. It can’t sing. It hasn’t tried spitting amber either; does he even know that he can? When was the last time that the hatchling ate?
Toothless tilts his head, and the Death Song’s eyes narrow.
“Ow,” Hiccup says, wincing as he reaches up to remove the hatchling from his shoulder. “Mind your claws,” he teases, scratching its neck. The hatchling goes limp, purring for the first time as it squirms and tries to get closer.
Toothless takes matters into his own hands by regurgitating a piece of fish that he ate earlier in front of Hiccup and pushing it toward the baby.
Hiccup looks up at him. “He’s hungry?” he asks, and Toothless nods his head in agreement.
Ruffnut snickers. “Looks like Toothless adopted this baby, Astrid! Oh hey, do you think he and Garf would get along? We need a name for him.”
“Little Tooth,” Snotlout deadpans. “Because he’s Toothless’ baby, but he does have teeth.” He and the twins crack up at the joke. Astrid rolls her eyes with a sigh.
“Oh, oh! I’ve got it!” Tuffnut exclaims, delighted. “What about… Grim Death? Because he’s a Death Song, so he kills, and… you know.” He lowers his voice into a loud whisper. “Eats dragons.”
“Maybe not,” Hiccup points out. “He’s nothing like Garf. He’s so much calmer, and his singing doesn’t seem to be affecting the dragons.”
The baby seems to be scowling about the name, and Toothless giggles again. If – if he really was once a human, and that human in particular, that makes the name even more fitting. Grim Death. He snickers again. It’s funny, even if the hatchling is pouting.
He begins to make noises, musical notes filling the air. From his body language, Toothless is fairly certain that most of that is a vehement protest against the name. Possibly even a long lecture about how they should choose something more suitable. But to the rest of them? It mostly just sounds like he’s singing.
“Everyone back off a little,” Hiccup requests. “We don’t want to overwhelm him.” He picks up the regurgitated fish and holds it up to Grim Death. “You hungry? I’m sure this isn’t your preferred type of food, but you need to eat, okay? You gotta keep up your strength.”
The hatchling squirms, jaw firmly shut as he stares at the fish with narrowed eyes.
“Maybe he’ll eat chicken,” Astrid says thoughtfully. “Garf did.”
“No!” Tuffnut screams, and he sounds like he’s about to burst into tears. “No one touches Chicken!”
“Don’t be mean!” Ruffnut adds with equal vehemence and starts hugging her twin.
Fishlegs sits down next to Hiccup and reaches out to stroke the hatchling’s head. “He looks quite different from Garf, but he is still a Death Song.” His fingers pause near the scars on the baby’s head. “Maybe a… living diet is what he needs.”
Toothless coos, almost demanding, licking the baby’s side and nudging him toward the fish that Hiccup is still trying to tempt him with. Grim Death refuses to eat. Fine. Toothless turns and bounds away toward the river. If he won’t eat Toothless’ fish, then Toothless can give him his own fish.
He can hear the singing all the way down by the riverbank. It takes him a good ten minutes to successfully catch a small fish, and he runs back to where the riders are waiting with the fish still flopping around as it dangles from his jaws. He drops it on the ground and sits back on his haunches with a pleased growl.
Grim Death stares at him suspiciously. Toothless stares back and then pointedly looks down at the fish. After a moment, the hatchling jumps off Hiccup’s lap and patters toward the fish. He sniffs it, licks it, and then finally settles down to tear into it. Once Toothless is satisfied that the hatchling has been taken care of, he goes to shove his muzzle into Hiccup’s side. Hiccup laughs, scratching his neck.
“You did good, bud,” he promises, and Toothless licks his face happily. Most of the riders have already dispersed, which might be for the best. The hatchling seems a lot less tense now that there are fewer eyes on him.
“Smells wrong,” Stormfly decides, tail flicking with aggravation. “Smells death and blood. Kin-slayer.”
If the hatchling can understand them, he makes no indication of it.
“We watch him,” Toothless replies, keeping his suspicions to himself.
Grim Death makes a deeply disgruntled sound, a half-song slipping free as Astrid comes to pet him. He bares his teeth and scuttles away. Toothless wonders how the humans haven’t noticed the odd behavior. The hatchling isn’t hostile exactly, but he’s far from trusting. … They probably are chalking it up to his past bad experiences with humans, and Hiccup has always been good with dragons. Grim Death being okay with Hiccup petting him and no one else is… probably not going to tip them off.
Toothless leans forward to gleefully lick the hatchling again, just to hear that musical shriek of annoyance. What? He’s allowed to playfully torment the human-turned-dragon who hunted and hurt his rider.
Hiccup laughs at them both. “Let’s head back,” he suggests again, scooping up Grim Death and getting to his feet. He settles in the saddle, and Toothless is happy to carry them back to the clubhouse, wings flapping as they soar through the air. It’s nice to fly, but it became nicer still to do it with Hiccup.
“Let me guess?” Snotlout asks when they arrive. “We’re keeping the thing?”
“For now,” Hiccup confirms. “I don’t know if Garf or the adult would want him around, and he’s not shrieking or luring in dragons to eat them or anything. He’s… rather well-behaved.” A perplexed look flashes across his face.
So maybe he also has noticed the odd behavior. Good. Toothless half-expected he would, though he’s probably the only one.
“Hiccup, the Dragon Eye still works!” Fishlegs exclaims excitedly, and Hiccup leaves Grim Death with Toothless and goes to join Fishlegs.
Everyone else scatters, and Toothless curls in the corner, keeping an eye on the hatchling as he wanders around the room. Former human or not, Grim Death is young, and Toothless can’t deny the protective instincts that have reared their head. Garf was Stormfly’s turn. This is his, and he will fight tooth and nail to keep this baby as his own.
Grim Death somehow manages to climb up onto the table, sniffing at the Dragon Eye, and Toothless gets up, grabbing the hatchling by the back of his neck and carrying him across the room. He wail-sings his frustration and protests, but Toothless ignores him.
“Sleep time,” he decides, dropping the hatchling onto the floor and curling around him.
The baby glares, and Toothless giggles. It would have been intimidating if he was a person, but now, it’s just cute. After trying to escape two more times, Grim Death gives up, visibly sulking. Toothless licks his head, half to scent and claim him, half to reassure him. But finally, he settles down to sleep… and so does Toothless. Hiccup and Fishlegs will be busy for a while.
And later, much later, Toothless will decide how he intends to let Hiccup know that Grim Death is none other than Viggo Grimborn himself. The humans’ gods have a very funny sense of humor. Toothless likes them.