Work Text:
The first raid came after many hours of waiting.
Hiccup sat against Toothless, arms folded in his lap and eyes glued to the sky. He took steady breaths, supressing the adrenaline before it could build too strong and lead him to act prematurely.
The sky above them was bright. Stars twinkled, glowing steady. The sky was familiar. He spent hours staring up at it when he was a boy. He never expected to see it again. If he tried, he could probably remember all the names and stories attached to those stars.
It was too early for any birds or wildlife to come to life, so they sat in isolated quiet. The ocean below their only company.
Toothless rumbled, head resting on his paws. ‘How long we wait?’ He complained. They had already gone through their prepacked snacks. Any longer and they would have to dip down to the sea and nab a few fish.
Hiccup sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not sure, bud. I’m certain they planned to attack tonight.”
“We just have to wait," He settled back once more. Toothless grumbled wordlessly but settled down.
After a long while, the first wave of the raid began.
The stars blackened, the sounds of flapping wings and roaring replaced the perpetual silence. Toothless perked up immediately and sniffed the air. His pupils constricted.
"Alrighty, It's go-time bud." Hiccup pushed himself up. Suffocating anticipation filled his chest as he mounted the dragon. Toothless took to the air. Hiccup adjusted his gear, letting his friend take control.
By the time they were properly in the sky and on the path to Berk, a second wave was tearing across the sky.
"Shit, might need to hurry it up." He cursed, fumbling to secure the straps of his helmet.
Toothless gave a burst of speed, a high whistling sound accompanying the change. Hiccup leaned down, clenching his fist as they circled the village to find a spot to land.
Berk had certainly seen better days. Probably, He wasn't too sure considering last he was here, they were still facing constant attacks. It would have been over a decade since the last attack. They weren't expecting it after so long since the last one.
The village looked different. There were more houses, worn slightly with age. Before, the houses never got the chance to wear with how often they were burnt down and rebuilt. The small shopping quarter even seemed to have been expanded.
They circled once more. Hiccup pointed out a yet to be destroyed building for them to land on.
Toothless folded his wings, diving with another terrifying whistle. They landed lightly. Hiccup stayed down, letting his dragon handle the attacking flock.
The nightfury glowered, raising himself up onto his hindlegs. He spread his wings, the thin membranes trembling slightly. It was then he roared louder than Hiccup had ever heard. Their nest didn't need such stern command and battles rarely needed him to command an entire flock. (Their flock listened to most anything Toothless said, only ignoring orders when it was clear there was no real order or to play a joke.)
He could had sworn the ground itself rumbled and stilled in obedience, just as the dragons and vikings did.
Hiccup sat back out of the way, surveying the now silent and still field. There were far too many dead, both dragon and men. He let out a shuddering sigh. They weren't quick enough.
It was then he spotted Astrid.
___
The raid came at the start of a new day.
Astrid was sleeping peacefully, cozy in her home. The dying embers of the fireplace leaking residual warmth into her room. The sound of nocturnal critters, bugs and birds were faint, but still loud enough to be comforting.
She hummed, briefly waking from her slumber. She blinked, breathing in and rolling over into her back. In the moment between Astrid reaching to grab her fur blanket and the next, a screeching shattered the comfortable silence. The war cry of a dragon.
Fear instantly shot into her, one she had not felt in quite some time. She sat upright, freezing before a deeply ingrained instinct kicked her into action.
In seconds, she was on her feet; shoving her boots on, yanking her armor on, grabbing her axe and shield, then shoving the door open.
The village was flickering to life around her. Fires illuminating the dark, the warriors stumbling out of their homes. She raced towards the town center, pushed by adrenaline and nearly a decades worth of practice. Dormant skills reignited in just a moment.
She spied the Chief lumbering from his home right as the first dragon blasted fire, straight into the closest coastal home. It took her a moment to recall the dragon she was facing. A large, pale orange Timberjack roosted atop the burning home and roared.
Its eyes flickered across the ground, pupils slitted, before its gaze landed on Astrid. Another shriek, as the dragon blasted its fire straight towards her. Her shield was raised before she could properly register the danger she faced.
She tightened her grip on her axe, jaw tensing as she let out her own war cry to mirror the dragons, and charged.
She felled the dragon not long after, axe finding a new home in the dragon's head. She pulled it out, blood soaking into her boots.
There were more dragons than she had ever seen before in her life, ones she had only ever seen in books. Threadtails, Raincutters, Hotburples, Snafflefangs, Hideous Zipplebacks, Monstrous Nightmares and more.
She took a breath, smoke polluting the fresh morning air.
She lost count of how many dragons she defeated. Bodies, both Viking and dragon, were pushed to the side in desperate attempts to keep the field clear. The youth fire brigade were darting around wildly, fumbling with the water system and slipping over themselves in fear.
She thought back to how her generation handled that job. She wanted to say they were experts, but that was far from the truth. Her team was competent, but unprepared and never organized. She was left to pick up the slack during most raids.
As Astrid raised her axe to drive it into the throat of a pale purple Deadly Nadder, a chilling whistle sounded, echoing over the violence and chaos.
“Night fury!” The cry came from Gobber, who had only heard the sound few times in his life but recalled it clear as day. Shouts of panic rose from the warriors as they clamored for shelter to protect themselves from any incoming blast.
Astrid dove to the side, ducking to cover her head.
There was a thud nearby, and Astrid looked up to see the beast landing atop a home in the square. It was barely visible, illuminated by orange fire light and pale moonlight.
She froze, the beasts piercing green eyes met hers for but a moment.
A shape rippled across its back, as its wings spread outward, a distinctly human figure sat atop the deadly monster.
The Night Fury sucked in a large breath, rising onto its hind legs and letting out a roar so loud it silenced all. Both man and dragon stared at the creature, who rumbled and snarled in the new quiet.
Then the strangest thing happened. The Deadly Nadder Astrid intended to kill whimpered and lowered its head, eyes dialating rapidly. Amazingly, the other attacking dragons pacified, stopping their attack to lower their heads with pathetic whines. The earth itself seemed to obey, the fires quieting and the ocean below stilling.
The Night Fury watched with narrowed eyes, before barking. In the second after, wings fluttered as the attacking dragon hoard scurried into the air.
The purple Nadder shot into the air, flight uneven in its haste to escape.
The quiet was only broken by heavy breaths and the cracking of fire. The sound of wings quickly fading into the distance. The Night Fury slinked to the ground, low and steady. It was then the figure Astrid had barely spotted dismounted. The clinking of metal accompanying as they touched the ground.
There was a moment of silence before the figure spoke. “We mean no harm.” They spoke in a low, masculine, and gentle voice, distant and diplomatic.
Astrid scrambled to her feet, brandishing her axe at the man. The night fury snarled, curling around the man, poised to strike.
“Toothless.” The man said lightly, scolding the dragon of so many nightmares, placing a hand on the beast's spine. At his command, the beast calmed, great maw still open in threat but now silent. It's green eyes narrowed
She distantly thought, 'That thing has so many teeth, surely that's not its name?'
She dismissed the though and moved, putting herself between the unarmed and the beasts. The man cocked his head, shifting to watch her. She was aware of the chief moving to join her at the front of the crowd, his strongest men behind him.
Before Stoick could speak, The man sighed. Heavy, annoyed.
“As I just said, we mean no harm. In fact, we are here to assist you.” He said, barely keeping the irritation from his voice.
“Who in the blasted hell are you?” Stoick nearly snarled, stepping forward. His axe gleaming in the light.
Behind Astrid, she heard Fishlegs gasp in recognition and excitement. “Astrid! Astrid, it's The Dragon Master!” He whispered, shaking her shoulder roughly, loud enough that she was sure the man heard it.
“Shut up!” She hissed back, barely glancing over her shoulder to glare at him.
The man, the alleged dragon master, sighed and lamented. “Such a dramatic name, not very accurate either. Dragon Rider or friend is much more suitable.”
“Dragon Master? Ain’t that just a myth some nanny made up to scare children into behaving?” Gobber mumbled skeptically.
They had been hearing rumors of a man who rode on the backs of dragons for nearly 10 years. The general gist of the stories claimed he was cloaked in shadows, riding on the back of a night fury. He targeted dragon trappers, and tamed the beasts he freed. She never believed it, dragons were wild and could never be tamed, let alone the offspring of death and lightning.
The rumors were mostly spread by traders, who claimed or have seen the man first hand committing acts of terror. Burning down settlements of dragon hunting tribes, killing the ones who were too stubborn to give up their trade. Even prolific hunters ceased their operations out of fear for the Dragon Master and his beast attacking them next.
“For what purpose are you here?” Astrid called, stepping to stand at the chief's side. She was Heir, this was her conversation as much as it was Stoicks.
The dragon master soothed a hand over the creature's snout. “You are under-attack by a mutual enemy. I come to offer the aid of myself and mine.” He said calmly.
Stoick breathed in sharply. Astrid looked at him in worry.
They had received a threatening letter not a month ago, signed by a man named Drago Bludvist. She recalled how the chief stilled at the name, immediately ordering the village to fortify their defenses. Gobber spent the following days making weapon after weapon, the brand new apprentice fumbling over his feet awkwardly as he sharpened the weapons.
(Astrid ignored the influx of thoughts that he wasn't as good as Hiccup. No where near his skill, in fact. Hiccup could get an axe so sharp that it sliced through parchment with ease and wood like it was butter. His designs were beyond what Gobber could make, this new kid had no imagination. Her axe was his design, and even eleven years after his death, it held up and cut like a dream.)
He had not allowed her to read the letter, but she understood the general message. Submit and join his army, or face annihilation. They had not even reached out to their allies, so that raised the question as to how this man knew. Astrid had prayed that the threat held no real merit, but judging by the dying flames and the man before them, her prayers went ignored and unanswered.
“Berk has not requested any aid, let alone aid from a devil escaped from Hel and his brother.” Stoick responded, the leather handle on his axe creaking as he flexed his grip. “This war is no concern to you.”
“Oh but it is.” the man chuckled, voice turning dangerous. Anger colored his tone as his hand stilled over the dragon and curled into a fist. “Drago Bludvist has been my enemy for a decade. He attacks mine and torments them under his command. He is a godless cunt and a coward. The only way he will meet his end is at my hand, or paw.”
A chill ran down Astrid’s spine at the venom in his voice. She glanced warily at the chief. Shadows obscured his face, but she felt the weight of his glower.
“He has escaped his demise for much too long. And what better way to finally drag him to meet death than to wait for him to come to me?” the dragon master spoke, the grin audible in his voice despite the shadows hiding him.
“We have no need for help from the likes of you!” Spitelout snapped, shoving his way to the front. “How are we to trust the beasts that killed hundreds of us for generations and their master?!”
The Dragon Master regarded the viking silently. “First– who are you? I was under the assumption I was having a discussion with the chief and his daughter. Secondly, you are doomed without aid from me and my ‘beasts’, as you call them”
Spitelout sputtered, growing as red as the dying fires around them. He drew his weapon, making a charge on the man.
The Night Fury growled, bristling and shooting a small blast just in front of the man, stopping him in his tracks. The dragon master shook his head, tutting disapprovingly. “Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk, might I request a meeting? One without the audience?”
Astrid worried for a moment that her Chief would reject the idea, but he breathed out slowly. “Spitelout, Snotlout, find the injured and take them to the medics. Astrid, Gobber, With me.”
Spitelout gasped in outrage. “Stoick!-”
“Now!” the chief snapped, “That is an order.”
Astrid trailed behind the chief as they approached the man. His beast watched them with narrowed eyes, though the Dragon Master stood calmly, shoulders loose. He stopped to the left of the man, “We meet in the Great Hall. Come.”
The Dragon Master waited until they were a few paces ahead, before falling into step with his beast.
___
Hiccup ignored the way his heart threatened to beat out of his chest and the way his hands wanted to shake uncontrollably. Toothless glanced at him, eyes wide in careful consideration. He stroked his friend's head, silently soothing himself from his worries.
Eleven years. It has been eleven years since he had disappeared, turned tail and ran away. (like the coward they believed him to be, running from his responsibilities. Gods, how disappointed his ancestors must be.)
He had done well for himself, and established his own nest. He had friends and a new family that accepted everything about him. He created and invented to his heart's content. He was strong now, forged in the heat of a dragon's breath and the bitterness of scorn.
He had traveled far and wide, beyond the peninsula and what they believed the world contained. He was smart. Hiccup knew who he was, and he was no longer Berkian.
He straightened, channeling that confidence he built up and the half ignored lessons on diplomacy he received in his youth. Toothless warbled softly at the change, tail swishing through the dirt in encouragement.
Astrid glanced back at them warily. Being fair to them, they had every right to be afraid. He knew how terrifying a dragon could be.
Hiccup was grateful that the mask obscured his face, helped along by the darkness. The goal of this mission was to take Drago off the playing field for good, then go back to his comfortable life where he could travel the world with his best friend. If luck favored him, as she did so many times before, he would leave this war with his identity still a mystery.
The walk to the Great Hall was nostalgic, in both a sickening and comforting way. He had made this walk alone countless times, it took a significant amount of effort to make sure he trailed a healthy distance behind his father, Astrid and Gobber. Instead of forging ahead and brushing past them at their torturously slow pace.
As they approached the stairs to the hall, Hiccup braced a hand on Toothless to support his bad leg. While he had made improvements to the leg, it was mostly meant for the rough and uneven wilderness.
As he neared the top of the stairs, Stoick stopped and turned to glare at him. “That… thing stays outside.”
Toothless recoiled in insult, snapping his jaw and growling slightly at the Viking. A mild correction, hardly even anything that counts as a real threat. Hatchlings received a snap and growl as their first correction. Hell, Hiccup had received it countless times when he first began living with his flock. Gobber eyed Toothless in concern, his gaze flicking to Stoick.
Hiccup narrowed his eyes, cocking his head in the way his dragons so often do. “Toothless goes where I go. You have your second and advisor. It’s only fair I have mine.”
(Truthfully, Toothless never helped with negotiations. He was terrible at it. He only acted as a bodyguard or as a comfort during important discussions.)
There was a silent stand off for a moment, and hiccup worried it would escalate to an altercation. He was prepared for such a thing, left hand twitching in anticipation. Luckily for both of them, Astrid stepped in to play peacekeeper. A role he had never assumed she would willingly take.
“Chief, if he says he’s here to help, I seriously doubt he will sick his pet on us.” She whispered to his father, not quiet enough for Hiccup to miss it.
Toothless bristled, ‘Pet? Call Toothless pet? Insult! Insult to whole lineage!’
Hiccup grinned beneath his mask at the dragon's outrage, amusement quickly dwindling upon remembering where they were.
Stoick seethed silently before relenting and letting Toothless slink into the Great Hall at Hiccups' side.
It was just as he remembered, the elevated table for the chief and elders towards the back of the hall. The tables were all in the same spots and the fire braisers were lit, casting a warm light over the room.
Hiccup moved first, claiming a chair across from the chief's seat. He leaned back, allowing his friend to settle around him and curl his tail around the leg of the chair.
Stoick didn't sit, making no such much effort to hide the hostility in his face. “Speak.” He ordered gruffly, bracing his arms on the table to lean down and menace Hiccup.
Hiccup arched a brow, though they could not see his facial expressions. For a moment, he considered removing his mask and going for a comedic reveal. ‘Surprise!’ he could crow. Then he immediately discarded the idea, that would be stupid. And unappreciated, that was a sure-fire way to get his teeth knocked in.
“I told you what my motivation was.” He said lightly, crossing his ankle over his leg. “Aid Berk in the war with Drago, kill him when he shows his slimy yak-assed face, free his dragons and be on my merry way.”
“Why come to Berk now? We have nothing to offer. Nor did we even request any help.” His father said. Hiccup knew the gears in his brain were turning to try and rationalize kindness without any transaction.
The brashness and stubbornness of a viking made the idea that someone would extend an offer of help without any sort of return gain seem impossible. But Hiccup was no longer a Viking, so their strange rules about honor and equal exchange didn't matter to him. He had never been a viking.
“Despite what the rumors tell of me, I am not some human hating devil. I value all life, draconic and human. My presence–and the presence of any of my allies– here is to minimize loss on both fronts.” He answered honestly.
His allies claimed he was too nice; letting people live when it would be better to kill them, dedicating hours of his time to monitoring injured dragons and bringing them back the brink of death. To Hiccup, it was owed to them. Life was the greatest gift the gods had given the mortal world. How foolish it would be to give it up without a proper fight.
”I have no heavy demands from you. Simply that you allow myself and mine to take camp in the forest or any unused spaces while the war plays out, that I have access to the forge and that you place your trust in me to lead and command during the war. You need not worry about feeding me or mine if they are called upon.” He continued, watching their faces carefully. Toothless warbled in agreement, tail swishing an approval.
‘Good! Good direction!’ His friend said, eyeing him and blinking slowly in satisfaction. Hiccup smiled.
“The forge?” Gobber cut in nervously, “What d’ye need from the forge?”
Hiccup softened at his former master's question. “I have equipment that needs up-keep. I will also help with weapon making and maintenance, if you need it.” He said vaguely, They did not need a whole explanation about his and Toothless’ prosthetics.
Stoick breathed heavily, and for the first time that night, Hiccup could see how much he had aged. Silver hairs within the red caught the fire light, shining like small crystals. His skin was wrinkled, sagging lower on his face. His eyes, a darker green so different from Hiccup's own, were dim. The weight of time and years of responsibilities extinguished his fight. He looked less like the mighty Chief and beast of a man Hiccup had grown up knowing, and more like the elder he was becoming. He wasn't even sure he knew how old his father was now.
A pang of guilt struck him, the air leaving his lungs silently. He gripped the arm of his chair, the other hand moving to drift onto his brother's back. Toothless ducked closer, tail moving to rest on his prosthetic. He had made his choice long ago, and no matter how the world he left behind changed, he couldn't go back.
Stoick closed his eyes, leaning onto his hands. “Alright.” He said softly.
Hiccups’ heart jumped into his throat. He asked hopefully, “Alright?”
“Alright!?” Astrid demanded, nearly jumping to her feet. A single look from the chief silenced her.
“We agree to receive your aid and to your terms, Dragon Master.” Stoick continued, “But in return you need to swear one thing.”
Hiccup nodded, relief filling him. Plans began whirling in his head; He needed to send word to Eret to mobilize their tactical unit (or the closest thing they had to one), then go out on reconnaissance missions to gauge how strong of an army Drago had, he needed to condition his flock to not attack the vikings and vice versa, He needed to write out the plans for war, the list continued on in order of priority. He was a pacifist, but he know how to organize for a fight.
“You need to swear to me that your dragons will not harm a soul on Berk and swear, that after this is all over, that you never return to the Isle of Berk.” His father said, voice turning ice cold.
Hiccup's relief froze over, turning to lead-heavy grief in a single moment. Still, he swallowed his pain and nodded. He stood slowly, reaching a gloved hand across the table towards the man that used to be his father.
“We have terms, Stoick the Vast.”