Chapter Text
Dawn broke over the archipelago in shades of grey and gold, the sun struggling to pierce the morning mist. From the sea stacks dragons launched into flight, their wings beating in rhythm a that sent spray cascading from the waves below.
Toothless led the charge, his black scales gleaming like oil in the weak light. Hiccup leaned forward in the saddle, feeling the Night Fury's muscles bunch and release with each powerful stroke of his wings. Behind them, the other dragons fanned out in formation - Stormfly’s blue and gold, Hookfang's crimson bulk, the Zippleback's twin heads weaving through the air.
The Dragon Hunter fleet spread across the horizon like a disease, thirty ships or-so, their sails dark against the morning sky. They were close now, nets loaded into launches and harpoons loaded into the ballistas.
On Berk's cliffs, the defenders stood ready. Hiccup could see Stoick's massive form at the centre, Gobber beside him, warriors lined up with weapons drawn and catapults loaded. They'd done what they could. Now it was up to the dragon riders to keep the battle away from the shore, to prevent the hunters from ever reaching Berk's beaches.
“Remember the plan!” Hiccup shouted, his voice carrying on the wind, “Experienced riders take the lead ships! Newer riders, stay high and provide cover fire! Don't get close unless I give the signal!”
Toothless roared, and the sound was answered by the other dragons, a chorus of defiance that echoed across the water. The fleet was close enough now that Hiccup could see faces turning upward, could hear the shouts of alarm, the frantic ringing of bells.
He raised his hand, then dropped it in a cutting motion.
“Now!”
Toothless folded his wings and dove, and the battle began.
The first plasma blast hit like lightning, Toothless's shot striking the lead ship's mast and exploding in a shower of splinters and flame. The ship lurched, sailors scattering, and then Stormfly was there, Astrid guiding her into a tight spiral that sent spine shots raking across the deck. Men dove for cover, and one of the massive crossbows toppled over the side with a splash.
“Left flank!” Hiccup shouted, banking Toothless hard, “Heather, Eret, with me!”
The Razorwhip and the Rumblehorn peeled off, following Toothless toward a cluster of three ships that were trying to form a defensive line. Crossbow bolts filled the air, massive projectiles that whistled past close enough that Hiccup felt the wind of their passage. Toothless twisted and rolled, his agility making him nearly impossible to hit, and returned fire with precision shots that disabled weapons and set rigging ablaze.
Behind them, Dagur was laughing like a madman as Sheuther tore through a ship's sail, the dragon's tail slicing through canvas like paper, “This is what I'm talking about!” he bellowed, “This is a real fight!”
But the hunters weren't helpless. As Hiccup watched, one of the rear ships swung its bow around, revealing something that made his blood run cold, a massive catapult, larger than anything Berk had ever built, with a net bundled in its cradle. More than large enough to take down a dragon, maybe two if they were close enough together.
The design was unmistakable. Triple-reinforced frame. Counterweight system with the distinctive offset pivot. Weighted net edges with the specific knot work pattern he'd seen only once before.
Dragon's Edge, just over a year ago, when Viggo's forces had attacked while Hiccup was away helping an allied island rebuild after their food stores burned to ashes.
The memory hit him like a physical blow, returning to find their island outpost in ruins, a villager’s frantic explanation of the nets that had nearly caught his Gronkle, the systematic way the attackers had targeted their defences. They'd lost two dragons that day. Good dragons. Dragons Hiccup had failed to protect.
“Scatter!” Hiccup screamed, but it was too late.
The catapult fired with a sound like thunder, and the net exploded outward, weighted edges spreading wide. Toothless tried to dodge, but the net was too big and too fast. It caught his left wing, the weights wrapping around the membrane, and suddenly they were falling, spinning, the ocean rushing up to meet them.
Hiccup's stomach lurched. His hands moved on instinct, releasing the tail fin's lock, giving Toothless back some control. The Night Fury roared and twisted, clawing at the net with his teeth, and for a heart-stopping moment Hiccup thought they were going to hit the water.
Then Astrid was there, Stormfly diving past them so close that Hiccup could have reached out and touched her. The Nadder's tail whipped out, razor-sharp spines slicing through the net's ropes, and suddenly Toothless was free, his wings snapping open, pulling them out of the dive with barely ten feet to spare.
“Thanks!” Hiccup gasped, his heart hammering. But his mind was racing.
Astrid didn't answer, already wheeling Stormfly around for another pass. But Hiccup saw her grin, fierce and wild, and felt something warm bloom in his chest despite the chaos, despite the cold certainty settling in his gut.
“Ruff, Tuff, ‘Lout, ‘Legs!” he shouted into the wind, forcing himself to focus on the immediate threat, “That catapult! Keep it busy!”
For a moment, he thought they wouldn't do it. Thought Snotlout and the twins would freeze, would realise how insane this was and pull back. But then Hookfang roared, and the Nightmare was diving, Snotlout whooping as they strafed the catapult ship with fire. The Zippleback followed, Ruffnut and Tuffnut bickering even as they coordinated a gas-and-spark attack that sent a fireball rolling across the deck.
“That's it!” Fishlegs called out, Meatlug lumbering into position above the ship, “Keep them distracted! I'm going for the catapult!”
The Gronckle dropped like a stone, her massive bulk slamming into the catapult's arm with enough force to snap the wood like kindling. The entire mechanism collapsed and the hunters scattered, some diving overboard to escape the falling debris.
Hiccup felt a surge of pride even as dread coiled tighter in his chest. They were going straight into the line of fire, no fear evident on their expressions as they barrelled towards the ships firing at them.
“Heather, Eret, Dagur, on me!” he called, pushing the fear down. Deal with the immediate threat first. Process the implications later, “Let's finish this!”
What followed was chaos, beautiful and terrible chaos. Heather and Windshear sliced through rigging and sails, leaving ships dead in the water. Eret and Skullcrusher smashed through hulls, the dragon's armoured head acting like a battering ram. Dagur and Sleuther attacked the decks directly, removing them of any remaining weaponry and throwing the men that were firing them overboard and into the cold sea.
And through it all, Toothless and Stormfly danced through the air like they were born to fly together, Hiccup and Astrid moving in perfect synchronisation. When Toothless fired, Stormfly was already diving to cover his blind spot. When Stormfly pulled up, Toothless was there to drive back any hunters trying to target her.
But Hiccup's mind kept returning to that catapult, and to the implications of it.
This whole time, he had thought the sole purpose of their attack on The Edge was a sneak attack, to weaken them whilst their main fighters were off-isle. This whole time, it had been a reconnaissance mission in disguise.
After all, Viggo Grimborn didn't do coincidence.
The hunters' coordination began to break as ships tried to retreat, only to find their sails burning or their rudders smashed. Some tried to fight back, but the dragon riders were too fast and too skilled. One by one, the ships fell, disabled, burning, or simply surrendering as their crews realised they were outmatched.
Hiccup pulled Toothless into a hover above the carnage, breathing hard, his prosthetic aching where it connected to his stump. Below, the ocean was littered with debris and struggling sailors. Of the thirty ships that had attacked, maybe five were still seaworthy, and those were fleeing, their crews rowing frantically to escape.
“Let them go,” Hiccup called out, his voice hoarse, “Focus on survivors. Get them out of the water before they drown.”
It wasn't mercy, exactly. It was practicality. Dead men couldn't answer questions, and Hiccup had a lot of questions to ask.
The dragon riders descended, plucking hunters from the water and depositing them on Berk's beaches under heavy guard. Some fought, but most were too exhausted and too shocked by their defeat to resist. By the time the sun had fully risen, over a hundred prisoners sat on the sand, watched by grim-faced Berkian warriors.
Hiccup watched the last of the fleeing ships disappear over the horizon, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made a terrible mistake. The words hollow victory jumped around in his head before settling heavily in his chest.
After a few short minutes, Hiccup landed Toothless on the cliff above the beach, his legs shaking as he dismounted. Around him, the other riders were landing, their dragons exhausted, some bearing minor wounds. Snotlout was grinning like an idiot, the twins were arguing about who'd gotten more hits, and Fishlegs looked like he might throw up.
But they were alive. All of them.
“We did it!” Snotlout crowed, pumping his fist in the air, “Did you see that? Did you see how I…”
“Hiccup,” Heather's voice cut through the celebration, sharp and urgent, “Look.”
She was pointing down at the beach, where the prisoners were being organised into groups. Hiccup followed her gaze, squinting against the morning sun, and felt his stomach drop. One of the ship captains being marched past, a tall man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw, was familiar.
Hiccup had last seen that face so many time over the years, coupled with stories of the trader who had been attacked by pirates welding machetes the only time he had dared to venture into the smog of Breakneck Bog as he had sold his wares to the folks of Dragon’s Edge.
“No,” Hiccup breathed, “No, no, no…”
“Hiccup?” Astrid moved closer, her hand on his arm, “What is it? What's wrong?”
But Hiccup was already moving, stumbling down the path toward the beach, Toothless padding anxiously behind him. His prosthetic caught on a rock and he nearly fell, but he didn't slow down.
“Hiccup, wait!” Astrid called, but he was already pushing through the crowd of warriors, ignoring their startled exclamations, his eyes locked on the scarred captain.
The man looked up as Hiccup approached, and recognition flashed across his face. Then, impossibly, he grinned widely.
“Dragon Master,” the captain said, his voice mocking, “Afraid I don’t have anything to sell you today,” He shrugged, “After all, Viggo always finds what he's looking for.”
Hiccup felt like he'd been punched in the gut, “How long have you been watching us? Reporting back to him?”
“Long enough,” the captain said, “Long enough to learn your movements and report back,” His smile widened. "You really are rather predictable, Dragon Master.”
Before Hiccup could respond, Astrid grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, “Hiccup, look!”
She was pointing out to sea, where the last of the burning ships was listing heavily, its deck nearly underwater. But there, on the tilting deck, two figures stood watching. One was massive, built like a bear, with armour that gleamed even at this distance. The other was smaller, leaner, dressed in tactical gear that spoke of wealth and careful planning.
Even from here, even across the water and smoke, Hiccup recognised them.
Viggo Grimborn stood with a writing tablet in his hands, making notes like he was observing a training exercise rather than a defeat. Beside him, his brother Ryker watched through a spyglass, his posture relaxed, almost casual.
As Hiccup stared, frozen, Ryker lowered the spyglass. Their eyes met across the burning deck, across the water.
Ryker smiled. It was the smile of a predator that had just found its prey. Then he raised one hand in a mocking salute, and both brothers turned away, disappearing into the smoke as their ship, rearing out of the water as the dragon hooked beneath it began its retreat.
Hiccup's legs gave out. He sat down hard on the sand, his prosthetic twisted awkwardly beneath him, and stared at the horizon where the ship had vanished.
“Hiccup?” Astrid knelt beside him, her voice worried, “Hiccup, what's going on? Who were those men?”
But Hiccup couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. Because he understood now. Understood with perfect, terrible clarity.
This wasn't a raid. This wasn't even a battle. This was just reconnaissance. They hadn’t won anything.
And they'd just shown Viggo Grimborn everything he needed to know.
✿
Night fell over Berk like a shroud, but no one slept. The prisoners had been secured in the dragon Arena, the small prison cells that Berk had were nowhere near large enough to accommodate all of the prisoners of war.
It was ironic really, Hiccup thought distantly, housing dragon hunters in buildings meant for dragons, guards posted at every entrance. The dragon riders had gathered in the Great Hall, along with Stoick, Gobber, and the senior warriors.
The mood was grim, so say the very least.
Hiccup stood by the fire, staring into the flames, his mind racing. Around him, the others were talking, arguing, trying to make sense of what had happened. But Hiccup barely heard them. He was back at Dragon's Edge, watching the smoke rise from the burning buildings, listening to his people explain how the attackers had known exactly where to strike, exactly which defences to target first. He'd thought they'd gotten lucky. Thought the attack had been opportunistic, a raid that happened to catch them at a vulnerable moment.
He'd been so wrong.
“Hiccup,” Stoick's voice cut through his thoughts, “Son. We need to know what we're facing.”
Hiccup turned slowly, meeting his father's eyes. The Great Hall had gone quiet, everyone watching him. It made his skin crawl.
“Viggo Grimborn,” Hiccup said, and his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears, “And his brother, Ryker. They're dragon hunters.”
“We gathered that much,” Spitelout said impatiently, “But who are they? Where did they come from? What do they want?”
“They want dragons,” Hiccup said. “All of them. They capture them, break them, sell them to the highest bidder. They've been operating for years, building an empire on the backs of enslaved dragons,” He paused, his hands clenching into fists, “We've fought them directly before. A year ago, they attacked Dragon's Edge while Heather, Eret and I were away on an aid mission.”
The hall erupted in questions, but Hiccup raised his hand for silence.
“We were helping them rebuild after their food stores burned," he continued, “It was supposed to be a quick trip, three days, maybe four. But while we were gone, Viggo's forces hit the Edge. They knew exactly when to strike, exactly where our defences were weakest. The catapults they were firing today? The design was stolen right from my desk on the Edge, same with their attack strategy,” His voice cracked slightly, “We lost two dragons that day. Good dragons. And the outpost was nearly destroyed.”
“But you rebuilt,” Astrid said quietly, “And now you’re stronger than ever.”
“We did,” Hiccup agreed, “But Viggo doesn't give up... he doesn't forget, and he doesn't stop until he's won.”
“So what was today?” Gobber asked, “If they're as good as you say, why did they lose so easily?”
“Because they weren't trying to win,” Hiccup said, and the words tasted bitter in his mouth, “They were testing us, learning our numbers and our capabilities. That's how Viggo operates, he gathers intelligence, he adapts, and then he strikes when he knows he can't lose.”
“You're saying this was deliberate?” Stoick asked slowly, “They let us win?”
“Not let us,” Hiccup corrected, “We beat them fairly. But they weren't sending their best forces. Those were conscripts, barely trained fighters with outdated equipment, I will be surprised if any of the prisoners we are holding are over the age of eighteen. Viggo was watching from that ship, taking his notes, and he saw everything, how we coordinate, that we were fighting with the newer riders, what our dragons can do,” He met his father's eyes, “He saw our strengths. And more importantly, he saw our weaknesses.”
“Then we're doomed,” Spitelout said flatly, “If he's that smart, that prepared…”
“We're not doomed,” Hiccup interrupted, but his voice lacked conviction, “We've beaten them before and we can beat them again.”
“Can we?” Another council member asked. He'd been quiet until now, but his expression was troubled, “If they come after us again…”
“Then we fight,” Dagur said, slamming his fist on the table, “We fight until we win or we die trying.”
“That's not a strategy, boy,” Spitelout said sharply, “That's suicide.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Dagur shot back, “We run? We hide?”
“Enough,” Stoick said, his voice cutting through the argument. He looked at Hiccup, “Tell us everything. Every detail you know about these men, their operations, their tactics. If we're going to fight them, we need to understand what we're up against.”
Hiccup took a deep breath, organising his thoughts, “Viggo is a strategist. He thinks ten moves ahead, always has contingencies, never commits to a fight unless he's certain he'll win. His brother Ryker is the opposite, brutal, direct, loves combat. Together, they're nearly unstoppable. Viggo plans the operations, Ryker executes them.”
“What kind of operations?” Stoick asked.
“Dragon hunting, primarily. But also slavery, extortion, piracy, anything that turns a profit. They have bases scattered across the archipelago, each one hidden and heavily fortified. They have ships, weapons, men,” Hiccup paused, "And they manufacture their own dragon root.”
Several people gasped. Dragon root was a plant that was toxic to dragons, that could paralyse them, make them helpless. In the wrong hands, it was devastating.
“How much?” Stoick demanded.
“Enough… too much,” Hiccup said quietly, “When we raided one of their supply ships last year, we found barrels of it. Refined, concentrated and ready for use. They've been cultivating it for years. It's their insurance policy, their guarantee that no matter how many dragons we have, they can neutralise them all.”
The hall had gone silent again, the weight of this revelation settling over everyone like a physical thing.
“So what do we do?” Fishlegs asked, his voice small, “If they have dragon root, if they're that prepared and that organised, what chance do we have?”
Hiccup looked around at the assembled group, his riders, his father, the warriors of Berk. They were exhausted, scared, and outmatched. They'd won one battle and then learned it meant nothing. The real enemy was still out there watching and planning his next move.
“We do what we've always done,” Hiccup said finally, “We adapt. We learn, we find their weaknesses and exploit them. Viggo may be smart, but he's not infallible. He’s made mistakes. We just have to be ready to capitalise on them when he does it again.”
“And if he doesn't make mistakes?” Spitelout asked.
Hiccup met his eyes, “Then we make him make them. We force him to react instead of plan. We hit him where he's not expecting it, when he's not expecting it. We turn his own tactics against him.”
“That's easier said than done, Chief.” Eret pointed out.
“I know,” Hiccup admitted, “But it's all we have, because the alternative is surrender, and that's not an option.”
Stoick studied his son for a long moment, then nodded slowly, “Aye. That it's not,” He looked around the hall, “We'll need scouts to source information. We need to know where Viggo's bases are, where his ships operate, what his next move might be.”
“I can help with that.” a voice said from the doorway.
Everyone turned. One of the prisoners stood there, flanked by guards, his hands bound in shackles. It was one of the men from the sunken ships, his clothes still dripping with water.
“Why would you help us?” Stoick demanded.
“Because I'm tired,” the man said simply, “Tired of fighting for men who see me as expendable. Tired of watching good men die for Viggo's profit,” He looked at Hiccup, “You spared us today. Pulled us from the water when you could have let us drown. That's not something Viggo would do and that's certainly not something Ryker would do.”
“What's your name?” Hiccup asked.
“Argent,” the man said, “And I know things. Things about Viggo's operations, his bases, his plans. Things that could help you.”
“Why should we trust you?” Gobber asked, his hand on his hammer.
“You shouldn’t," Argent said bluntly, “But you don't really have a choice. Without me, you're fighting blind. With me, you at least have a chance,” He paused, “And I'll tell you something for free, something you need to understand: Viggo Grimborn doesn't stop until everyone who opposed him is either enslaved or dead.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
“He's been planning this for over a year,” Savage continued, “Ever since you hit that supply ship, ever since you cost him a fortune in lost dragons and equipment. He's been watching you, learning about you, waiting for the right moment to strike. Today was just the opening move. The real attack is still coming.”
“When?” Stoick asked.
“Soon,” Savage said, “Viggo doesn't waste time once he's committed to a course of action. He'll analyse what he learned today, adjust his tactics, and come back stronger. Weeks, maybe. A month at most,” He looked at Hiccup, “And when he does, he won't be testing you anymore. He'll be coming to win.”
Hiccup felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders like a physical weight. They hadn't won today. They'd just announced themselves to a patient, calculating enemy who would not rest until they were destroyed.
"Then we have weeks to prepare,” Hiccup said, forcing strength into his voice, “Weeks to train, to fortify, to gather allies. Viggo may be smart, but we have something he doesn’t.”
“An’ what's that?” Gobber asked.
Hiccup looked at him, then at the other riders, at his father, at the warriors of Berk, “We have dragons. Real partnerships that we have forged over the years. Dragons who fight with us because they choose to, not because they're forced to. That's our advantage. That's what Viggo can't replicate, no matter how smart he is.”
“Is it enough?” Stoick asked quietly.
Hiccup didn't answer immediately. Because he didn't know.
He knew that love and loyalty could stand against cold calculation and overwhelming force, but the magnitude of the assault that was coming was larger than anything they’d ever seen.
But he knew they had to try.
“It has to be,” he said finally, “Because it's all we have.”
The meeting continued late into the night, plans being made and discarded, strategies debated and resources tallied. Argent provided his information, locations of supply routes and patterns in his operations. Some of it seemed useful, but that was still to be seen.
By the time the meeting ended, the last light of day was creeping below the horizon. Hiccup stood on the cliff's edge, Toothless beside him, watching the sun set over the ocean. The water was calm now, the burning ships reduced to smouldering wrecks, the prisoners secured. It looked peaceful now.
“We're going to need help.” Astrid said, appearing beside him. She looked as exhausted as he felt, but her eyes were clear and determined.
“I know,” Hiccup said, “But to ask them to do this, I…”
“Everyone has as much to lose as we do, especially those who are allies to Dragon’s Edge,” Astrid said, “Everyone is tired of living in fear, something has to be done and this looks like the time to do it.”
Hiccup looked at her then. She'd been a sacrifice, a bride offered to secure his favour. She could have resented him, could have hated him for what she represented. Instead, she'd chosen to stand with him, to fight beside him.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, “For everything.”
Astrid smiled, tired but genuine, “Thank me when we win.”
“When we win.” Hiccup agreed.
But as he watched the sun set lower, the sky darkening with it, he couldn't shake the feeling that winning was going to cost more than any of them were prepared to pay.
The war for the archipelago had begun, and only the Gods knew how it would end.