Chapter Text
Are you jack frost because you're so cold or are you cold bcus you're jack frost - said not jack frost
The barbaric archipelago is no stranger to the mercilessness of winter. Some islands have winter year long, some islands never see it at all. Some islands have short winters with such heavy snowfall that it may as well have lasted year round. Some islands have winter nine months a year, and some islands faced something more devastating.
Winter is more than just a shift of the weather. It is powerful and dangerous, something that had to be feared and respected. No matter the precautions taken, winter will always find a method to steal away another unfortunate soul. It was a forceful change in lifestyle of anyone who experienced it. Vikings and the like, forced to stay indoors, to carefully plan excursions around blizzards or heavy snow. Forced to ration daily food intake, to count every little head at night to make sure no one was lost wandering out in the storms.
The cold had no bias in who it claims. If one was within reach, it would sink its teeth deep and wait for either the cold or the isolation to kill. It was the unknowing that were the most vulnerable to its bite.
A child does not know the dangers of winter. A child does not know of the cold that seeps into weak flesh and turns small fingers blue.
The cold had no bias in who it claims.
Vikings all over, no matter how they grew up, knew that a child lost in the snow was very likely to become a child lost forever.
Jack Frost knew this intimately. What winter spirit didn't know about the reality of their own nature? Winter followed his trail as he in turn followed it back. Jack has seen the ugly and the tragic parts of his season, no matter how much he preferred the wonder and life that it may bring. He was not naive to what it could do, never.
He's seen enough children, curious of the wonderful world around them, wonder just too far from home. The short freedom, excitedly claimed by someone who was too young to know better. He's seen the frozen, too small bodies huddled under trees in useless attempts to seek shelter. He's stared at small hands holding each other tightly, as if that would take away how deep the frost had already traveled into their bodies.
Sometimes, it worked. They would survive the storm long enough for Jack to find them still living, and he would find a way to lead them back. But most of the time Jack would find them far too late, already taken. On those occasions, he would always make sure to cover them with a thin layer of snow and frost. A blanket of sorts, to shield them and keep them warm until winter's reign ended and families could find their children to hold one last time. It was a little comfort. And if it meant Jack wouldn't have to see new, confused, disembodied spirits wandering the land filled with rage they barely understood, he would cover every body he comes across in his travels.
And travel he did. As weightless as air, Jack found his years consisting of floating between islands alongside winter. A wave of his crooked staff could layer a chill on the land. Water would freeze under his touch, and patterns of frost emitted where he would tap his staff. He didn't bring winter, but he helped spread it gently.
It was an admittedly monotone life. Well, not life. Jack Frost was not alive in any sense. He was a being of wind and snow. Even his nature as a winter spirit was seen as a sign of death. People, real living people, left out offerings for spirits like him. Though not of the kindness of their hearts. Rather, offerings were often left out with the hope of appeasing some otherworldly being into calming the winter storms.
Jack has always felt uneasy seeing impoverished families leaving out bowls of scraps. Even if the offerings called for him, tempting him to claim, he could never bring himself to actually take anything. Perhaps the occasional little trinket, but never food. Not when the hands filling the bowl were already thin and bony.
That didn't stop him from continuing to chase away the other malicious winter spirits though. They were actual threats, borne of rage and cold with their only objective being to lay waste to as much as they could. But Jack has always found his ice was pulled from a much deeper and vast source than they could. It wasn't difficult to shoo them away when they were so much weaker than he was.
And year after year passed like this. Follow the snow clouds around the world, drifting between island and island. No goal in mind, just an endless loop of wandering.
Yet despite his nomadic existence, Jack Frost found himself always returning to the same island every few years. A few years that, for something that's been alive for over three centuries, felt like nothing. Years came and go, alongside islands and people, yet he'd always find himself floating back to here. To an isle that experienced winter for nine months of the year, and hail for the other three. And island that would persevere under devastating winter, that always managed to rebuild no matter how much damage they would sustain.
So, whenever Jack rode the winds of the barbaric archipelago, he always found himself touching down on Berk. Whether by his own decision, or from the wind guiding his path.
Berk wasn't home, though it was the closest he'd get to calling anyplace home. There was no home for something wild like himself.
But it was special. More than just an island to bring snow to. As far as Jack knew, it was his first island. He wasn't a patron of it or anything, no. Jack was way too much of a wandering spirit to ever feel comfortable settling down in any one place. But if Jack visited Berk specifically more often than he did other places, and he went through extra effort to chase bad storms away, then so be it.
It was there that his memories even started. A moment he remembers clearly, something that always stays in his mind. Opening his eyes to the glow of the moon, surrounded by darkness. He had emerged from ice 300 years ago, pulled out of the water and pushing away blocks of the frozen surface.
The water hadn't been cold at all, ice water never is for Jack. But his clothes had hung heavily on his body as the weight of the water logged fabric encased him. His woolen cloak had been soaked, feeling like stone on his back when he had breached the ice. His crook had already been in his hand, like one last gift given to him as he entered the world. All under the light of the moon above a little lake deep in the woods of Berk.
…Perhaps that was why he was always drawn back, no matter how far out he drifted.
At the moment, he was floating around the southern islands of the archipelago, bringing winter and cold with a wave of his staff before floating down to the village. It was some isolated landmass deep in the middle of the seas. There weren't many people here, but they were slowly growing in numbers from the last time Jack dropped by decades ago.
A little girl was running around before him, so bundled up and furs and wool only her face peeked out. Before her was a roughly packed together block of snow, the shape seeming to be what looked like a misshapen dragon. Or maybe it was a sheep. Hopefully a sheep.
Jack didn't like dragons. They were too hot, both in the head and physically. Granted, he's never hung around a dragon long enough to know. But he's been close enough to some of the hotter dragons that the proximity made his skin feel like it was melting off. And he didn't even have skin! Dragons didn't seem to like him either. Jack has had more than enough experiences where a dragon would sense his presence and, upon pinpointing him, would begin to chase him. Fire and ice don't mix.
The little island had just gotten a small snow storm the night before, so there was a bit of snow scattered around the grass. Not enough for it to stick, but enough to play in. Her sad little snow shape was going to be very bereft of snow.
She couldn't see him, not like this. So Jack didn't hesitate to come closer to wave his staff on the ground, forming more snowy piles behind her. With another wave, he started strengthening the packed snow of the creature so that it didn't melt immediately.
It was in the middle of sneaking another pile right under he foot that he felt a push.
Jack resisted. Couldn't the wind see he was busy? The little mortal girl was just getting to the lump of the tail. At least, that's what he assumed the strange ball of torn grass and snow in her hands was for. Jack didn't want to miss this.
The wind pushed him again, his brown cloak rippling wildly in the air. Jack stumbled from the force but floating right back around.
"Wind. Stop it." He hissed quietly. Not that it mattered how loud he was. She already couldn't see him, and Jack wasn't wasting energy trying to take a corporeal form. Even if she could see him, what would happen? This was a child who's grown up with stories of the dangerous spirits that wander the world. If she saw the floating spirit, she'd just run to her parents to tell them. Jack would find himself facing a scared family trying to chase him away or appease him with food they can't afford to give up.
"Look, she's trying to make the fire now. Out of snow. It really is a dragon." Or a fire breathing sheep.
Similar to how Jack resisted the wind, it ignored him right back. Another gust lifted Jack's entire body and spun him in the air, his body weight equivalent to that of a snowflake. Unbothered, Jack floated upside down as he waved his staff again. More snow appeared on the ground, soft and fluffy and perfect for adding to a snow dragon.
The child didn't seem to find the piles of snow forming around her suspicious. Children rarely ever do. All they see is the potential of fun in the snow Jack makes for them, excitement rather than unease.
She began packing the new snow immediately, dragging it closer to herself and digging up frozen dirt and grass in the process. Jack smiled at her joy, then groaned as the wind gave him one last push.
"Fine. Fine!" He waved his empty hand in the air. If the wind wanted him to go so badly, he'll go. The girl looked about done with her creation anyways, and it wasn't like Jack had any urgent obligations to tend to. "We'll go then. Not that I was totally busy with something else, huh?"
It pushed at him again and he let it take him. Jack watched the image of the child fade into the distance as he was pulled towards the forest lines. His cloak billowed from the force of the Wind's push. The winter spirit weaved between frosting trees and grass as he flew to the edge of the island. Another burst of speed hit and he was flung straight off the edge of the cliff, the wind lifting him into the skies.
Jack already knew where it was taking him. If it had been truly urgent, he wouldn't have even been given a chance to resist. After all of these years, Jack would say he was familiar with the playful yet knowing nature of winter's breeze. And he knew the direction they were going, even after all of the years since his last visit.
"Take me back, Wind."
It responded with an abrupt updraft. A strong gust pushed from beneath, from the sea. Jack laughed freely as he was flung closer to the clouds, his cloak fluttering freely from the speed. It tugged at his hair and limbs, little little love taps. As if he wasn't flying through the sky at speeds that would knock a human out.
Below Jack, the open ocean rushed past. It was calm, not yet touched by the coming storms. Berk, situation further north from here, should still be a weak or two away from the end of their short summer.
"Taking me back so early?" Jack called out, flipping so that his back faced the sea and he faced the sky. Looking up, he raised his staff so that it split the clouds. "It's not time for winter yet, Wind. Don't think Berk will appreciate early snow."
The clouds split easily under his staff. He didn't infuse any ice into them, these were not the thick clouds that promised cold blizzards. These were soft and fluffy, like the snow Jack creates for the children. He flew on the breeze, comforted by the familiar feeling of cruising through the air. If he stayed on this current, he'll reach berk in half a day.
Jack didn't sleep, but he did drift. Normally he didn't like flying to high in the mornings, since the warm of the sun irritated his icy skin. But at these speeds, and with the cloud coverage, it was a comfortable trip.
He stared up at nothing, and thought of everything. Thoughts about the coming winter flit around in his mind. Another year was passing, another notch to add into the list of years that had already gone past.
By the time he came to Berk, the sun already setting and the sky glowing that orange hue. The wind sent him closer to the familiar rocky isle, calming down so that he could drift between the masses of rock jutting from the sea. Jack came towards the pier, moving slowly as his feet touched down. The crook of his staff tapped the wood first, slowing his landing.
Winds were strong here, empowered by the high altitudes and location of the isle. Especially in the winter where they became chilly. Each time he visited, Jack made sure to spend at least one night coasting by the cliffs, dozing off as the cold winds encompassed him. Even now while he was grounded, Jack could feel the gentle press of the winds around him. He walked up the pier towards the village.
There are a few vikings milling, all unfamiliar faces. Has he really been away so long that he no longer recognized them? Were his years just blurring together? Jack made sure his form was indiscernible. The last time he had allowed himself to be seen in Berk centuries ago, it had not gone well.
It was easier, this way. Being invisible was better than being chased away. At least like this, he could stick around. He would just have to ignore the feeling in his chest every time one of the vikings walked straight through him.
"Stoick's son has returned again."
"That boy is always out with those rider friends of his. How will it be when he becomes chief?"
Jack wandered around the talking vikings, more interested in how Berk has changed. At first glance, it was the same old. Wooden houses scattered around the uneven land, small yet effective in their shelter. But upon closer inspection Jack noticed differences. There were more buildings than he remembered, that was for sure. Many of the villages scattered around the barbaric archipelago faced a lot of difficulty building large settlements because of how destructive dragons were. The vikings here at Berk had gotten better at rebuilding from dragon attacks and raids then.
As he floated, Jack paused as he saw a large viking man walk by with an entire basket of fresh fish. They were stocked with food. At least, compared to other food stores Jack had seen on the other islands.
Jack paused, taking in the village properly. Berk looked good, really good. The buildings were in good shape, there was large stock of food, everyone he had seen so far looked cheery enough. Berk was in a good state. Which meant…
Tapping his staff on the ground, Jack pushed himself upward and let the wind lift him. Floating onto one of the building roofs, the winter sprite perched on a part of the wood that jutted out. In the light of the setting sun, he looked carefully around the village.
On nearly every visit to Berk, Jack rarely saw any children. And who could blame the Hooligan Tribe? The chances of survival were slim here, tragically so. Especially with the war on dragons and the harsh climate. A child could get snatched up by a hungry dragon if not watched, or even crushed under rubble caused by just one blast of fire. No matter how hard the parents may try to protect their children, there was only so much they could do when everything was against them.
Jack was a bit disappointed to not see any children from where he was. Not even the familiar giggle of a joyous soul. But he's only been here for a few minutes. Perhaps they weren't out this late. Yes, that'd probably be a good idea. Never safe to let children wander around at night. Maybe Berk had actually set safety precautions.
"With another winter upon us, he'd best get his act together—"
"Oh by Thor's beard, do you shut up?"
"Do you disagree?"
More chatter that he ignored. Berkians loved to gossip. All vikings did. Something about the sound of their own voices made them say their opinions loud and proud.
Jack hopped onto another one of the buildings, peering down at the village. He would have floated onto one of the tall light pillars, but Jack did not want to go near the massive flames at the top. How long has it been? Five years? Maybe ten? Twenty? Time was irrelevant to something like him. But it clearly was not irrelevant to the Berkians.
"Why'd you bring me here so early, Wind?" Jack mumbled, watching the people wander around. In response, the wind pressed gently at him. It really was so pushy when he came to Berk.
Not that he minded. It was an excuse to float around the village and look at how it had grown. Berk was just another, Jack would say, but he secretly thought of the Berkians as… his, in a way. He'd been watching and visiting it for so long, since the very start, that his felt a rather strong attachment to it. The only place he purposely visited and looked forward to visiting.
Jack didn't resist the wind time, letting it float him down further into the village. There was no rush now that he was already here, so it was a leisurely thing. At least Berk wasn't too hot now, but being near the torches wasn't something he wanted to do for long. It was oddly hot around here considering how close winter was.
Houses and people he didn't recognizes drifted by. He saw a small pen of sheep and yak in the distance, surprised at how many there were. Dragons usually snatched those up first. Jack floated closer, ignoring the wind for a second to peer at the grazing animals.
They didn't bat an eye as he approached. Not that they could see him anyways. In this state, it was impossible to see Jack unless one became aware that he was existing in that moment, in that spot. Dragons, with their keen senses, detected him the easiest. Alongside tracking animals like wolves or cats. These sheep? There was no chance. Jack tapped at the thick wool on one, making it bleep and lazily wander away. A bit of frost clung to it now.
Wind pushed at him once more and Jack glided along it. There were a lot of strange buildings now. From afar he had assumed it was just more homes for a growing population, but closer inspection revealed peculiar structure to them all. Wooden beams poked out from the top of some buildings, seeming serving no purpose.
Such strange decisions his Berkians made. Was it for hanging food in the sun? That was the only possibility Jack could think off as he swayed between different houses, letting the wind guide him.
In the approaching distance was the Great Hall. A long winding line of stone steps led up the mountain, coming to an end at a set of massive doors guarded by two carved statues of viking men with a dragon's open maw as the torch. It was the heart of Berk, Jack knew.
Not only was it the safest structure on the entire isle, but a crucial part of being a Berkian. Whenever Jack decided to brave the warmth of the Hall, he always found himself in awe of how lively it would be. A sense of pride, even, at the partying villagers gathered together, sharing meal and company.
The torches were lit now, a beacon in the dark as the sun set. Jack used a pinch of his own magic to glide faster, almost excited to be back. Had the Great Hall changed too? Unlikely. It's been the same for the past 300 years and never once have those doors fallen or failed.
A smile built on his face as Jack passed another small building. Then he paused.
Because right in front of him, perched just around the corner, sat a Deadly Nadder.
Jack stilled midair, hand clutching tighter around the wood of his staff. The nose horn of the Nadder was right in front of him, easily within reach. It made an almost quiet sound, a strange trill. Jack found himself unable to move, hoping it wouldn't notice him as turned its head, then turned it the other way. Black nostrils puffed and the burst of hot air made Jack jolt with a gasp. He pulled his staff up against his chest.
It turned its head again so that he could stare as a black pupil wiggled around yellow eyes. Sniffing and huffing blew more air at the winter spirit, terribly hot on his cold skin. There was movement behind it, but Jack was focused on staring at the dragon.
He drifted backwards slowly, an unfamiliar dread building in his stomach. A dragon in Berk. A Deadly Nadder, a dragon who's fire blast had once melted one of Jack's feet straight off his body. Sitting right here in Berk
Why was there a dragon in Berk? Why is there a dragon in Berk? Is there an attack happening? Have the dragons learned how to sneak around now? Dragons don't just come to Berk and sit around like this.
The Deadly Nadder was turning its head more, nose puffing as it sniffed at the air. Sniffing him out. Black eyes flicked around the general direction Jack hovered before it suddenly landed right on Jack. It paused for a second, and Jack watched up close as those black pupils expanded.
He didn't waste time calling the Wind. Jack used his own magic, summoning his own wind to give him the burst of speed as he shot backwards.
The Nadder jumped up, a screeching sound coming from it as it flared its wings. He heard voices. Were there vikings coming? Would they come to slay it? The Nadder lurched forward and Jack was off.
"Stormfly! What—"
He dove into the woods, hearing the crashing of branches behind him. It was chasing him. Chasing him! He was on Berk and being chased by a dragon! Jack hadn't encountered any dragons on Berk since— since— whenever the Zippleback incident had been. But that had to be over 100 years ago at least.
Berk does not just have dragons sitting around. They killed dragons and dragons killed Berkians. A Deadly Nadder being here meant that a full on dragon had slipped through Berk's eye.
He had to kill it. Jack had seen the newly built homes around Berk. It looked good, so good. A dragon attack would destroy all of that in moments and force them to rebuild. But just the sound of crashing branches behind him set off a flight or fight instinct in the winter spirit. And he did not want to turn to fight just to get blasted.
Jack flew between the trees, flitting between branches and leaves and greenery. Winter hasn't hit, clearly, if all of these plants were still alive. Oh, was that fruit? He doesn't see that often.
Really not the time to think about that, Jack!
The Deadly Nadder was fast, but it was also bulky and unable to fly easily in this foliage. So he stayed low near the ground, despite also losing speed himself dodging tree trunks. It was just running after him, and each time Jack glanced behind he could see a flash of yellow eyes locked on him. Oh it definitely sees him now.
He really had to go. Now. He can return after Berk dealt with the dragon. Jack was not hanging around here to get eaten.
"Stormfly! What are you doing?" The voice from earlier called from above, and Jack glanced up to see a black mass flying above the trees. Wings too dark to see clearly now that the sun had set. Jack sucked in a breath. Another dragon right above him. Was it speaking? What was a storm fly?
"Come on Wind, come on come on—" Jack urged, sensing the Wind join in accelerating him forward.
The edge of the island had to be coming up soon. Once Jack got into open air, he could properly get away. Deadly Nadders weren't fast enough to catch up with his winds once he came near the ocean.
And the black talking dragon above— he was ignoring it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Get away first, then think about whatever is happening here.
Of course, ignoring anything was never a good idea. A lesson Jack should have learned centuries ago after dealing with the Wind every day. Flying at his speed, Jack was barely able to force himself to a stop as the black mass swooped down right in front of him, faster than he could even see.
"Ah—!"
Black wings, scales that almost glittered in the moonlight, piercing black eyes surrounded by green staring straight at him. Jack didn't even recognize this species.
But what stood out the most were the— people. The people that were, somehow, sat right on its back. A young man and a woman behind him, both just sitting on the dragon's back like it was completely normal. The woman jumped off the dragon, running right past Jack towards the Deadly Nadder. No weapons on her body, just her hands held out.
It was going to kill her.
"What are you doing?!" Jack shouted uselessly as his eyes followed the blond woman. A viking, judging by her attire. But even the dumbest vikings knew better than to wrestle a dragon head on without anything to fight with. He moved to float towards her and raised his staff, not wanting to watch a Berkian get eviscerated right before his eyes. These were his vikings, damn it!
A rumbling growl came from behind him and Jack snapped his head back at the black dragon, raising his staff towards it instead. The young man on it's back was— petting it? Running a hand down the side of its face? Jack felt almost overstimulated with how much was going on right now.
But the dark dragon was staring straight at him and it did not look friendly. No dragon did. But after Jack saw how fast this one dived, he thought it looked especially unfriendly.
"Was she chasing something? I couldn't see anything from above." The man asked, tone completely normal as if he wasn't sitting on a massive dark grumbling dangerous—
"Me neither but she's agitated. What's with you, Stormfly?"
Stormfly. Stormfly? That word again. Was that a name?
"A Changewing, maybe? But… here? In Berk?"
Jack didn't dare turn his back away from the black dragon, but the lack of fighting sounds behind him made the spirit feel goosebumps. Well, if his body was even capable of feeling goosebumps, he would have felt it right then.
He could still hear the loud huffing and puffing of the Deadly Nadder behind him, but not the crashing of branches from it running. It was standing still, then?
The black dragon made a trill, similar to the sound the Nadder had made earlier. It was staring at Jack still, head turning slowly. Threateningly? It looked threatening. Those black pupils were wide and locked on the winter sprite.
Jack raised his staff higher so that the crook was pointed at the beast. He felt ice gather.
"Toothless? What's wrong?"
An inky black claw stepped forward. Jack shot.
The first thing he heard was a shout from the brown haired man on its back. The dragon was completely silent in its movement, and if Jack hadn't been so hyper focused he wouldn't have noticed it shift at all.
But he was, so he got to watch it swiftly leap right out of the way of his shot, and he also got to watch as the magic fired from his staff landed right in a patch of grass, forming a mess of sharp icicles.
Missed.
Okay. Time to go.
Jack called for the winds again and flitted right around the dragon and the man, aiming for the edge of the isle once more. He was not dealing with a viking sitting on an impossibly fast dragon nor with any storm flies.
There were shouts behind him and that same crashing sound. He was still getting chased. Why did the vikings not get rid of these dragons?! Instead they were riding them around? Was that allowed? Normal?
On Berk? No. It was impossible.
He glanced back, expecting to only see that same Deadly Nadder hot on his heels. But to his utter horror Jack saw the black dragon shooting after him only a few feet away.
He did not shriek. Jack Frost will vehemently deny ever shrieking here. But whatever sound came from Jack when he saw how close the dark dragon had gotten was something only the Wind got to know about.
"What is wrong with you— stop it! There's nothing there! Tooth—" The man was saying as he was tossed around from where he was sitting. It was the perfect vantage point to slay the dragon, easily within reach of the creature's neck. So why was the viking not killing it? And why was it going after Jack?!
He did not like getting chased. It was one of the few things that instilled genuine fear into the winter spirit. The feeling of something big and dangerous tracking him down, hunting him—
"Stormfly! Come back! What is with you?"
"What is going on? Toothless, what are you doing!"
It was too close. It was way too close!
In a moment of panic, Jack shot out an arm and willed the winds to blow straight at the dragon. It was a technique he used sometimes when getting chased by the beasts, since the unexpected changes in the air often threw them off.
Yet the dragon did not falter. Black wings curved so they were angled with the current, the dragon airborne for a moment to tuck its arms against its stomach and almost ride the wind. It was getting faster. It had really just adjusted itself so that it could get its own speed boost.
Jack could have pulled his hair out at the sight.
"Get away from me!" Jack shouted. He raised his staff again, aiming straight for the dragon. It was difficult to see his target clearly because of how dark the beast was. What could he do faced against what might as well be a void of pitch black?!
Another shot, missed once more in his panic. The ice flew off into the trees and vanished into the leaves above.
The dragon was undeterred by it, but the viking on its back was not. The viking turned his head and Jack saw small green eyes widen as they follow the shot.
Blindly, Jack snapped his staff forward right at the beast on his heel and sent more ice towards it. He didn't want to accidently hurt the viking but there really weren't a lot of choices left right now.
So Jack tried to aim lower, sending a volley of ice and magic towards the dragon, careful to not shoot anything above at risk of hurting a Berkian.
Said Berkian was shouting now, head ducked and wide eyes flickering around at the ice. Was he scared? Probably. Jack assumed it must be terrifying to ride on a fire blasting beast in the middle of the woods at night.
The dragon dove side to side, dodging the shots. It was so fast. Jack has almost never seen a dragon with such aerial mobility before. The black wings would angle and twist midair, perfect in its flight.
Almost perfect.
There was a sharp sound, the sound of ice forming rapidly as Jack's magic struck. But it was not the distance as another one of his missed shots. No, the tinkling came from the dragon. He hadn't missed.
Jack has no idea what happened next at all. In all honesty, he was just panic firing, more focused on trying to gain more distance by distracting his pursuer. An attempt to keep the beast at bay so he could safely take to the skies.
One moment Jack was flying backwards, letting the Wind guide his path so he could defend himself against any nips. And in the next he was bursting out of the tree line and cliff, hovering over the ocean again.
Directly behind him was the dragon, wings flared open to catch the wind as it jumped off the cliff and—
fell.
It had been airborne for only a second, wings flapping as it headed towards Jack before just tipping over and falling.
"Toothless!" The man shouted as both dragon and him straight up plummeted off the cliffside. Jack came to a hard stop to watch as black wings beat frantically. Yet all of the precision and skill he had seen just seconds ago were gone as it just… didn't fly.
With a roar, it fell with the viking still on its back.
With the…
"Oh my Thor!" Jack yelled, staring as the viking on its back joined the plunge. Was the dragon dragging the viking down with it? Or was he holding on desperately in fear?!
But that didn't matter at all right now. One of Jack's Berkians were falling right off a cliff into the sea. With a dragon.
Jack turned, boosted forward with a burst of his wind. The winter sprite carefully darted around large flailing wings to reached out for the viking, grabbing at his arm. The crashing waves below were quickly getting closer.
There was some contraption on the dragon's back that the viking had been clutching at, but Jack tugged at the arm anyways and forced the grip away.
"I got you— I got you—"
As soon as Jack got a hold of the arm he pulled, grunting as the weight hit. The wind was pushing him upward but not enough to lift all three of them. Despite his efforts, he couldn't fly back up like this.
And as he feared, the viking was somehow connected to the dragon. A quick glance down revealed the ball of ice right at the man's foot, small icicles wrapping up his leg. Jack could faintly see metal and string coming from the ice too, connected to more contraptions on the dragon. What was all of this these two were entangled in?
Whatever it was, Jack had accidently linked dragon and viking physically with his ice.
There was a grumble and Jack turned to see the dragon staring right at him, sending a metaphorical chill down the winter spirit's back. He stared back at the dragon, not looking away from the threat.
A shout came from above that Jack recognized as the other viking woman. "Hiccup! Hold on, I'm coming down!" Alongside a cry of a Deadly Nadder.
Great. The other one is up there too.
He didn't want to imagine how she would get down here. Was she going to jump down as well? Jack couldn't allow that to happen. No, he would not let two Berkians fall to their deaths weeks before winter like this.
The man was still shouting something about teeth, but Jack ignored it. Instead, he concentrated on calling more magic to him. There was no chance he could lift both viking and dragon alone. Especially not with the dragon flapping it's wings like that and throwing his balance off.
His priority now was getting the viking to safety. Jack waved his staff. "Take us up, Wind!"
Cloak rippling, a current burst from below upward. All three immediately ascended straight up with the help of the Wind. He saw black wings open and catch on the current, like the sails of a ship on a windy breeze. It gave them more uplift so the dragon rose first, pulling spirit and viking along as well.
Jack tugged on the arm, hauling them back towards the cliff where the woman and the… the Deadly Nadder were standing. He was surprised to see she was sitting on top of the Deadly Nadder's back, similar to how the viking he was holding the arm. What was this? Dragon riding? She was staring straight at them, a strange expression on her face.
With the Wind holding them afloat, it wasn't difficult to pull the viking and dragon back to the cliffside. Jack made sure to head a bit further away from where the Nadder was.
He felt the intense heat of the black dragon hovering behind him, knowing it was growling and staring at him still. Such close proximity to any dragon always made his skin crawl. Jack turned his head to glare back at it.
And found his glare meeting startled green eyes.
At this proximity, Jack could see the viking's face clearly. Brown fluffy hair waving in the wind, two small braids tied at the back. And…
He has freckles. Jack thought intelligently as he stared back. With the wind blowing at them, the brown hair was almost like mane around the man's head. Thin lips opened.
"…What are you?"
Jack started at the question, having not expected it. He wasn't expecting to be addressed at all, actually. Never did. People don't just talk to things like Jack.
But the intensity of that gaze told Jack that the question really was directed at him. He was being seen. And the man's face hadn't yet twisted into the fear Jack had come to anticipate when he becomes visible. Nor was it changing into anger.
"I'm..." What can he say? What does he say? When was the last time he's talked to anyone. Oh, Thor. "Uh."
Another rumble made Jack look back at the hovering dark dragon
. With another pull, Jack tugged them both towards the cliff and the Wind gently let them down. The dragon landed gracefully besides the viking, Jack releasing his arm and drifting backwards. Away from them.
They were both staring at him even after being back on land, two pairs of green eyes gazing at the winter sprite. If Jack could sweat, his nape would probably be drenched. He did not like being stared at so intensely. He wasn't used to being stared at all. Jack clutched his staff closely to his chest.
A heavy thumping came from behind, the rattling of a Nadder's scaled skin and spikes.
"Hiccup! Did you see that—"
"Astrid."
"That…oh."
The voice teetered off and Jack tensed as the other viking came over riding the dragon. There clearly was no immediate danger here to the Berkians, despite the two glaringly massive dragons. Even if he did not trust them to be safe at all, Jack has seen enough to know that the vikings were familiar with the dragons. There wasn't a threat.
Which meant he did not need to be here. Ignoring the burning gaze of four pairs of eyes, Jack pushed himself back with the end of his staff and let the Wind tug him away out of sight. Away from whatever he had seen today.
Dragons living on Berk, vikings riding dragons, vikings naming dragons— this was not the Berk Jack knew.