Chapter Text
Holding her child for the first time should have been the best moment of Valka’s life. She was exhausted and could still feel the birthing pains echoing through her body but it would all be worth it once she held that tiny baby in her arms. Unfortunately, when he was handed to her, Valka’s initial elation turned to horror.
He was too small.
Her hand blanketed his whole body and his limbs were thin as twigs. He wasn’t even crying properly, just making little breathy whines that Valka could barely feel against her partially bare chest.
She looked up at Stoick but his eyes were on their son, his expression stricken.
“Gothi,” he called, his voice carrying nothing of its normal strength. “What’s wrong with him?”
Without dirt or sand underfoot, the old healer resorted to writing her reply on a bit of scrap parchment.
I’m sorry. He came too soon. His breathing is shallow and his heart flutters like a bird’s.
“What does that mean?’ Valka demanded. She wanted to squeeze her child tighter but was afraid she’d break him.
Gothi wrote a bit more, her expression grim. He will not survive longer than a week at most.
Valka gasped and her eyes filled with tears. She looked down at her baby with his tiny nose and wrinkled face and already couldn’t imagine being without him. He had wanted to experience the world so badly that he'd come two months too early but he would never get to see it.
“Stoick, what do we do?” Valka asked desperately.
Valka had never seen him look so lost. This wasn’t a dispute between his men or a dragon fight, those Stoick could handle, but this was something no parent could ever be prepared for. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his large frame barely able to fit, and put an arm around his wife.
“Theres nothing we can do Val,” he replied solemnly. “His life is in the gods hands now.”
Over the next few days Valka barely put her baby boy down. When she did, she sat and watched him, terrified that he would be taken to Helheim if she looked away.
Stoick had named him Hiccup despite Valka’s protests. It was a very old, nearly forgotten tradition to name sickly babies Hiccup. Meeting an older Hiccup was supposed to be a sign of good luck since it meant the child survived infancy but Valka worried it would only result in ridicule.
Stoick didn’t share her concerns and Valka knew it was because he’d already given up. She could see it in his eyes when he actually brought himself to look at their child. He hadn’t held Hiccup at all and was staying out longer whenever he was called to the village for routine issues.
Valka couldn’t help feeling abandoned as she watched her son become so weak that just breathing exhausted him. Thankfully, regular visits from Gothi and Gobber kept her from going completely insane. The healer was trying to be encouraging, telling her that the longer Hiccup held on, the more likely it was he would make it, but she never hid the fact that her son wasn’t gaining weight. Gobber was just as heartbroken over Hiccup’s condition as his parents. He’d been so excited to be an honorary uncle that he’d filled a chest with toys, never imagining that his nephew would never play with them.
Six days after Hiccup’s birth, a storm started brewing out at sea. Stoick used it as an excuse to run off to the village again, leaving Valka and Hiccup home alone. She could hear the wind growing in ferocity and the crashing of the waves against the rocks. Hiccup whined in distress and Valka quickly shushed him, running a gentle finger over his soft cheek. He immediately calmed under her touch and Valka bore witness to the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Hiccup’s eyes opened for the first time.
It was just a sliver of deep green like the moss that clung to Burk’s daunting cliffs, softening the island’s edges. He looked at her and made a cooing noise that didn’t sound like pain. It sounded like love.
That was when Valka decided her son would live, no matter what it took.
While the storm was still a couple hours away, Valka wrapped herself in warm layers and tucked a swaddled Hiccup under her cloak. She shoved as much gold as she could find in her pockets and crept out the back door, hurrying to hide herself amongst the trees.
Rain had just begun falling when Valka found the cottage. It was the home of a seiðr who had been there long before anyone could remember. She rarely visited Burk except to barter for things she couldn’t make or harvest herself and many tall tales had been spun about what she did on dark nights when the world went silent.
As Valka approached the cottage she found the windows glowing with firelight and the old woman already waiting at the door. She wore a long grey dress that had been mended many times and a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders and head, partially covering her white hair.
“Greetings Chieftess,” the old woman said. “I am Helga.”
“Greetings Helga,” Valka replied. “I'm here to ask for your aid.”
“Did you bring the babe?”
Valka frowned. “How did you know I brought my son?” Hiccup was securely hidden, she couldn't have seen him.
“The Norns whisper,” Helga replied, re-entering her house but leaving the door open for Valka to follow.
Inside was a cozy space containing a small kitchen, a cluttered dining room that doubled as a workspace and a cot covered with a quilt over in the corner. Herbs hung from the rafters and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. Valka spotted something odd in the flames. It looked like a large stone but Helga spoke before she could take a closer look.
“I know why you have come,” the seiðr said. “Your journey has not been in vain.”
“Then you can help him?” Valka confirmed hopefully. “I can pay.”
She reached into her pockets for the gold but Helga waved her off.
“I require no payment,” she replied. “There is a ritual that can preserve the child’s life but you must be certain this is the path you want to take. He will be changed in the process.”
“Will he still be my son?”
“He will, but he will also be more.”
“Please, do whatever you can,” Valka begged.
The old woman turned toward the hearth and picked up the iron tongs, using them to retrieve something from the flames. When she set it on the table, Valka realized the large stone she’d seen before was actually a black egg. There was a mesmerizing rainbow sheen on its surface and a long crack running up its length.
“A week ago some merchants became stranded on the other side of the island,” Helga explained. “They sold me some cloth and I overheard them talking about a dragon egg they’d stolen, complaining that it was damaged and wouldn't be worth much. I would have just gone on my way but something told me to purchase the egg. That night, the Norns entered my dreams. They told me that the hatchling was not yet dead and urged me to put the egg in the fire until it was needed. I believe this is that time.”
Producing a stick of charcoal, she began drawing on the table. First was the image of two snake-like dragons devouring each other's tails in a figure eight. That was then surrounded by a circle of runes with symbols representing the branches, fruit, trunk and roots of Yggdrasil at the cardinal points. Finally, the rune Gebo was drawn in the left loop and Eihwaz in the right. The egg was placed on the Gebo rune.
“Lay the babe on Eihwaz,” Helga ordered.
Valka removed Hiccup from under her cloak and kissed him on the forehead before placing him on the table beside the egg.
Helga started to chant words Valka didn't understand and the runes began to light up one by one. The air became heavy and the storm outside grew in ferocity, thunder rumbling directly overhead. Hiccup whined and Valka wanted to comfort him but Helga held up her hand to stop her.
Once all the runes and the dragons were glowing, lightning started to zip between them. It got brighter and faster until everything was surrounded by a ring of crackling white energy. Helga’s chant reached a crescendo and the lightning struck. Hiccup wailed as the bolts raced across his body before jumping to the egg and coming back over and over and over again. It was the strongest he'd ever cried and Valka tried to tell herself that was a good thing while gripping the back of a chair to keep from snatching him away.
With a loud crack, the egg broke. Clear, viscous liquid spread across the table and the shell fell away to reveal a partially formed dragon chick. It barely had any scales, just soft skin stretched over its dainty skeleton, and its wings were crumpled like paper. As the lightning lessened and the brightness dimmed, Valka watched the chick's body flake away until only the empty shell remained.
Everything went still and silent and Valka couldn't hold herself back any more. She hurried to check on Hiccup and was amazed to find him asleep, his expression peaceful and his breathing steady. He had color in his cheeks and seemed to have gained a little weight.
“Thank the gods,” Valka cried, holding her son against her chest. “And thank you, Helga. I shall hold your name in the highest honor till Ragnarok come.”
“The honor was mine,” Helga replied. “The Aesir favor your son, but be warned. The favor of the gods is not born lightly and the Norns must have something planned, for good or ill.”
“I'll keep him safe,” Valka vowed. “He will be ready for whatever challenge awaits him.”
“It may be closer than you think,” Helga said ominously. “For now, return home. See to his health.”
“I will. Thank you again, Helga. Blessings be upon you.”
“You as well, Chieftess.”
Valka secured Hiccup under her cloak again and made to exit the cottage when her eyes landed on the broken egg.
“May I take that with me?” she asked. “I wish to bury it properly.”
Helga wrapped the shell pieces in a cloth and Valka carried her precious cargo home. The storm appeared to be resting for now but she could still feel it in the air. The house was silent when they arrived, Stoick still dallying in the village, so Valka took the opportunity to kneel in the garden. She dug a shallow hole and buried the egg, silently promising to plant something sacred to honor the baby dragon’s sacrifice.
She then went inside and shed her cloak before sitting on her chair by the fire. Valka still couldn't bear to be apart from her son, but not because she feared he'd slip away. She needed a reminder that this wasn't a dream, that Hiccup was hale and happy in her arms.
Worry over Helga’s warning could wait until morning.
Stoick returned a little after dawn to find Valka still in front of the fire. He stopped short at the sight of her soft smile but crept forward when she gestured to him. Once he was standing beside her, Valka pulled back the blankets to reveal their son latched to her breast and drinking heartily.
“What—what trickery is this?” he asked in disbelief.
“I thought it was a trick too,” Valka confessed. “I thought my grief was giving me hope where there was none but he has been growing stronger the past few days.”
Part of her resented how easy it was to lie. Stoick had no idea if Hiccup really had been gaining weight and color since he hadn't been around enough to notice.
“It's a miracle,” Stoick said. “We need to call for Gothi.”
He moved to leave but Valka grabbed his arm. “Stay. He'll be done in a moment.”
Sure enough, Hiccup soon finished his breakfast and cried to be burped. Stoick cringed as she patted him firmly on the back until he relaxed.
“He's alright,” Valka soothed. “Our boy is stronger than he looks.” She stood and tried to hand Hiccup to Stoick but he backed away.
“I–I can't. He's still so small. I'll hurt him.”
“You're his father. You’d never hurt him.”
With great reluctance, Stoick allowed Valka to place Hiccup in his arms. Their son looked truly tiny against his broad chest but snuggled into the fur of his cloak contentedly.
“See. He knows he's safe with you,” Valka soothed, moving toward the rear of the house.
“Where are you going?” Stoick cried.
“I haven't bathed properly since the birth. I'll only be an hour at most.”
Stoick still seemed unsure but let her go. She'd put the pot on to boil earlier and was able to heat the cold water in the tub to something less bracing. It felt nice to fully submerge herself rather than just run a cloth over her skin while Hiccup napped in a nearby basket. When she was finished, she wrapped herself in a robe and went back to the main room. [🎵]
“No scorching sun, nor freezing rain will stop me on my journey.” Valka paused to listen. “If you will promise me your heart and love me for eternity.”
Stoick was pacing in front of the fire, lightly bouncing Hiccup as he hummed the next part. The part that had belonged to Valka on their wedding day.
“But I would bring you rings of gold. I'd even sing you poetry! And I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me!”
“I have no use for rings of gold,” Valka sang, stepping closer so Stoick could wrap his free arm around her. “I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold. I only want you near me.”
“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold!” they sang together, gazing down at their sleeping son. “For the dancing and the dreaming! Through all life's sorrows and delights. I’ll keep your laugh inside me!”
Valka had never felt so happy. They’d been through sorrow and now they could find delight in being a family.
“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning! And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me!”
Stoick bent down to kiss her as she brushed her thumb over her son's warm cheek, the fire of new life kindled within him.
—
Over the next couple weeks, Gothi visited daily. She was astonished by Hiccup's improvement but confirmed he was doing well. Unfortunately, she predicted he would likely remain the smallest of his generation even into adulthood. Stoick tried to hide his disappointment but Valka knew he'd dreamed of a large, strong son to take over as chief. He started pulling away again. Not to the extent he had before, but noticeable enough that it concerned Valka.
Thankfully, she found an ally in Gobber. He'd rushed over the moment Stoick announced his son's miraculous recovery and could hardly be convinced to leave. He declared that if Hiccup couldn't be the strongest Viking in the archipelago, then he'd have to be the smartest. The blacksmith already had plans to take his nephew under his wing when he was older.
It wasn't until Hiccup was a little over a month old that the consequences of the ritual began to appear. His eyes were brighter than they should be. Both Valka and Stoick had green eyes like moss or leaves but Hiccup’s were the luminous green of the lights that sometimes danced across the northern sky.
Another month after that, Valka noticed strange bruises across his back and shoulders. She got an ointment from Gothi but a few weeks later they had spread across his chest, arms and down his spine where they curled around his hips to his thighs. She was bathing him one day when she felt something hard against her fingertips and realized there were scales breaking out from under his skin. Valka quickly dressed him and vowed to make sure Stoick never saw Hiccup unclothed.
From there it seemed like every month brought a new change. She started trimming his nails daily when they began growing into points and breast feeding became painful when his teeth emerged sharp. All the dark marks had turned to black scales now, leaving his shoulders and most of his back completely covered before tapering off down his arms, legs and chest.
It was becoming harder to keep it hidden from Stoick and Valka feared what would happen when he did find out. Vikings hated dragons with a passion that sometimes terrified her. They slaughtered any that crossed their path, even the little Terrible Terrors that were more pests than a genuine threat.
Valka had tried convincing them to do things differently. Since dragons rarely attacked humans without provocation she proposed better hiding their flocks so they weren't tempted by food or even populating a nearby island with wild goats for the dragons to feed on instead. No one listened. Burk would not accept a peaceful solution, they would rather fight, kill and die with glory rather than put in some extra work to find a better way.
She tried to tell herself that Stoick would listen. Once she explained how close to death Hiccup was and how quickly he came to life after the ritual, he would understand.
“Stoick will be reasonable,” she thought to herself while making doubly sure none of Hiccup’s scales were visible.
He had to be.
When Hiccup was six months old there was another raid. It wasn’t the first since he’d been born but it was strangely soon after the last. Winter had dug its claws into Burk, the wind bitingly cold and the entire island covered in ice and frost. Perhaps that's why the dragons hadn't stuck around as long, why Stoick returned home much sooner than expected and caught Valka changing Hiccup into his sleep clothes.
She froze at the sight of him, her surprise and panic making her too slow to cover Hiccup with a blanket before Stoick had seen everything. Only when he took a step toward them did she snatch Hiccup from the table.
“Valka. Put it down,” Stoick ordered gently, like she was a frightened animal.
“No. Please. Let me explain,” she begged.
Stoick looked pained. “There’s nothing to explain. I understand.”
“You do?”
“I do,” he assured her. “But you need to let it go, my love. Give it to me and I'll take it back to the fair-folk where it belongs.”
“The fair-folk? You think he’s a changeling?!”
“What else could it be?” Stoick asked.
Valka held Hiccup tighter. If someone found a changeling it was customary to abandon them in the woods for the fey to take back. When people returned to find the children gone, they told themselves that it had returned to where it belonged but Valka didn't believe that. It was more likely that a hungry fox or dragon had eaten it.
“He's not a changeling!" Valka exclaimed. “Hiccup never left my sight the first week of his life. The fairies would have no opportunity to swap him and do you really believe I would give up my own son for an illusion?”
“If he passed into Helheim, I think you would do anything to have him back,” Stoick replied.
“But he didn't! Hiccup is alive. I took him to the old seiðr in the forest and she performed a ritual to save his life.”
Stoick blinked at her. “You did what!?” he bellowed. “That old hag is senile! She's probably to blame for whatever that strange rash is.”
“It's not a rash!” Valka snapped. “They're scales!”
Everything went dead silent with only the crackling of the fire to fill the space. Stoick’s expression hardened. His hand drifted toward the axe he kept at his hip but paused when Valka turned her body to better protect their son. His eyes briefly flashed with hurt before turning wary again.
“Explain,” he demanded.
“She used the life of a dying dragon egg to strengthen Hiccup’s soul. The ritual made him part dragon. He has scales, his teeth and nails are sharp and his eyes are changing to be more dragon-like but he’s healthy. He is still our son.”
“You cursed him!” Stoick roared. “I would rather he died than become this unholy abomination!”
Tears pricked Valka’s eyes but she refused to let them fall. She pushed aside the grief of a wife betrayed by her husband and bared her teeth like a mother protecting her baby.
“You're a cruel man Haddock,” Valka said, ignoring the way Stoick flinched when she used his family name. “Hiccup is a blessing, even if you can't see it.”
She turned to leave but paused when Stoick spoke. “You are forbidden from leaving the house until we figure out how to fix this. No one can know what you've done.”
“You can't keep us prisoner!” Valka cried.
“Think of it as protection,” Stoick replied. “The village would never allow his existence to continue.”
Valka’s blood turned to ice. He was right. Even if she ran, she had no way off the island and stealing a boat was impossible with all the guards keeping watch for dragons. They would be caught and Hiccup exposed.
She shot Stoick an angry glare and marched into Hiccup’s nursery, slamming the door behind her.
The next several weeks were horrible.
Stoick told the village that Hiccup’s illness had returned and asked that they leave Valka alone to grieve. He even turned Gobber away and refused to let Gothi visit, explaining that they'd decided to leave Hiccup’s fate in the gods’ hands.
Every evening, Stoick insisted on inspecting Hiccup. Valka watched his scowl deepen each day as small scales appeared on his face, his nails began to turn black and he started refusing milk in favor of raw fish. Even his eyes were a source of disdain. They glowed like a nocturnal beast and his pupils were starting to become slitted.
Valka never let Stoick touch him and rarely left Hiccup alone except to sleep. The Viking chief insisted on locking Hiccup in at night, paranoid that the little boy would suddenly develop a taste for human flesh. In his eyes, their son wasn’t even human any more.
One day, as Valka was changing Hiccup while keeping Stoick in her peripherals, she noticed small lumps on his shoulder blades and at the base of his spine. She didn't point them out at first but eventually they developed into a pair of tiny wings and the start of a tail. When Stoick saw them, his face twisted into something nightmarish and Valka rushed to escape the room as he threw a chair against the wall and stalked out of the house.
Hiccup’s new limbs grew fast. Soon his wings extended past his shoulders when spread and his tail fell to the back of his knees, fins beginning to develop on the end. She was so proud when he took his first steps even if she noticed Stoick glaring every time his wings fluttered or his tail flicked to help him keep balance.
She should have known the tension would snap eventually.
Valka woke to Hiccup crying but it wasn't the typical cry of hunger or restlessness, it was a scream of terror and pain.
She jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to the nursery. Stoick was standing over Hiccup’s crib. In the light of a single candle, she saw the shape of a knife but it didn't glint as it should.
It was covered in blood.
Valka picked up one of the heavy storybooks Gothi had gifted her and hurled it at Stoick’s head. He grunted and stumbled back as she rushed to check on her son. He was laying on his stomach, the back of his shirt cut open and blood smeared across his skin. His little wings lay on the furs, severed from his body.
“What have you done!?” Valka shrieked. She pressed a blanket onto Hiccup’s wounds and he screamed even louder, his tail thrashing, but she had to stop the bleeding.
“I’m fixing him!” Stoick shouted. “Without the wings and tail he’ll look like a normal child as long as he wears gloves and a mask over his mouth.”
“What about his eyes?” Valka challenged. “Were you just going to gouge those out?”
“Of course not!” Stoick replied but Valka’s stomach rolled. He'd hesitated.
“Níðingr!” she spat. “May Frigg curse you! Not only have you harmed your son but Hiccup shares the soul of a dragon and you just took his wings from him!”
“No son of mine will have anything in common with those infernal beasts!” Stoick shot back.
“Then you don't have a son! Hiccup is mine and you will never touch him again! Get out!”
Stoick growled before stomping from the room. Valka checked Hiccup's back and was horrified to discover two delicate little bones sheared off just under his skin.
“I'm so sorry,” Valka whispered, reaching for a cloth and the basin of water she kept for diaper changes.
She gently wiped away the blood, feeling like a monster as Hiccup screamed in agony. Valka doubted Gothi would be allowed to treat him so she used some leftover ointment and a clean sheet to bind the wounds, praying it was enough to stave off infection.
“Hush sweetheart. We're all done. I promise.” Hiccup’s sobs had petered off into little exhausted whimpers and Valka cried with him.
No matter how angry Stoick got, she had never expected him to actually hurt his son. Her hands shook as she picked up the discarded wings. They were a smooth, shiny black like waxed leather and her heart broke even further when she realized she would never again witness the adorable little flutter they did when Hiccup was happy. Valka wrapped the wings in a cloth and tucked them in the dresser before dragging the entire thing in front of the door.
The home she'd built with her husband didn't feel safe any more and she no longer recognized the man she'd married.
There was a raid a few days later.
Valka had been sleeping on the nursery floor, only coming out if she knew Stoick was gone or if she could keep him in her sight. He tried to speak a few times but her cold expression rendered him silent until she was safely back upstairs.
The dragons sounded louder than normal and Valka hurried to collect more food as Hiccup slept upstairs. She was glad he could sleep. His wounds were healing well but they still stung when he moved and were beginning to itch.
There was a deafening roar and firelight flashed through the window. Dragons rarely came to the edge of the village since there was no food but they were occasionally pushed this way.
Valka turned to rush back to the nursery only to be thrown to the floor as the entire house shook. She could hear walls collapsing and roof beams snapping, dust and various objects falling all around her. She pulled herself to her feet and scrambled up the stairs, finding the hallway half caved in but thankfully, the nursery was still accessible.
She burst through the door and skidded to a halt.
Half the room was missing and there was a massive dragon looming over Hiccup’s crib. Its body was an earthy brown but the antler-like crest and horns above its head were red. Two sets of wings took up most of the space and Valka’s heart raced as one reached toward Hiccup.
She looked around for something to use as a weapon and spotted the leg of a broken chair. She picked it up, ready to protect her son, when she heard giggling. The dragon was using the claw on its wing joint to gently stroke the scales scattered across Hiccup’s cheeks. His tail curled and his legs kicked happily before his fingers wrapped around the claw. The dragon made a sound Valka could only describe as a loud, rumbling purr.
She lowered the chair leg. This was unbelievable! It wasn't attacking, it wasn't even accidentally hurting him, it was actually playing. She had been right. Dragons weren't just bloodthirsty beasts. They could be gentle and kind when they weren't fighting for their lives.
Without realizing it, Valka took a step forward. The dragon turned its head. Its round yellow eyes and the diamond shaped ridge on its snout reminded her of an owl. They stared at each other before the dragon glanced at Hippup then back at her, tilting its head curiously.
“That's my son,” Valka said but the dragon just tilted its head the other way. “My hatchling,” she tried, pointing between Hiccup and herself.
The dragon rumbled and Valka found herself being pulled closer by its tail. Soon she was enveloped in its wings, being silently encouraged to join it in making Hiccup laugh.
It was strange. Valka felt much safer now than she had in weeks. The dragon had taken the time to comfort Hiccup and seemed to understand her on some level. Maybe it could help them.
“Can you take us with you?” Valka asked. “On your back?” She gestured to herself and Hiccup before flapping her arms as if they were wings and pointing toward the distant sky.
The dragon didn't move for a moment and Valka thought it hadn't understood. Then it lowered itself to the ground, presenting its back to her.
“Thank you,” Valka whispered, briefly pressing her forehead to the dragon’s shoulder before rushing around to collect supplies. She shoved clothing, diapers and the last of their food into a bag. They'd also need to stay warm so she grabbed all the furs and blankets, including a soft wool one she'd never shown anyone.
Before Stoick insisted on naming their son Hiccup, Valka had wanted to call him Hymir. It meant twilight, a beautiful but brief moment between day and night. Valka thought that if he survived, Hymir could be her dawn but if he died, she would be facing the darkness after dusk. She'd embroidered the name on a blanket during her sleepless vigils, silently praying that Hiccup would see the dawn.
Valka secured the bag across her chest and used the embroidered blanket to construct a carrier that the dragon could hold in its mouth. She had to hurry. The air was starting to fill with smoke and the heat of the floorboards told her the lower level was on fire.
Once her baby was safely secured in the carrier, Valka offered it to the dragon. “Hymir,” she said, lifting him higher. “Please keep him safe.”
The dragon carefully took the carrier and Valka was just about to climb onto its back when she heard thumping in the hall. She looked over her shoulder and fear gripped her at the sight of Stoick standing in the doorway.
He took one second to assess the situation before bellowing in rage and charging with his sword raised. The dragon growled, raising its head to keep Hymir out of reach and opening its unprotected belly to attack.
“No!” Valka cried, tackling Stoick just as his blade was coming down. They hit the floor hard and the boards, weakened by the fire below, collapsed.
Valka heard Stoick scream her name as she fell. Unbearable heat surrounded her and the last thing she saw was flapping wings against the smoke and stars before pain tore through her body and everything went black.
—
Cloudjumper only just made it out of the ground-walker’s den before it collapsed. The roof caved in, sending a burst of fire and sparks into the sky. It would burn through the night until all that was left was a pile of scorched wood and ash.
The last of the dragons were leaving, taking whatever they'd managed to grab back to the Tyrant Queen. Cloudjumper could still feel her pull, that terrifying call that crept into her mind and promised death if she didn't deliver food to the greedy alpha, but she resisted.
She had a hatchling to protect. A strange ground-walker hatchling with dragon skin that smelled of lightning.
Cloudjumper flew all night and into the next day. Before she'd been ensnared by the Tyrant Queen, she'd belonged to a large nest far away. It had been several moons since she saw it last but she knew it was the safest place for her new hatchling.
By the time they reached the shell of ice that protected the nest, the hatchling was crying from hunger but Cloudjumper hadn't dared stop for food. She’d feed them when they arrived and she didn't have to worry about getting them back in the strange pouch again.
As Cloudjumper navigated the icy tunnels, she felt her alpha reaching out to welcome her home. Other dragons appeared beside her, asking where she'd been and what she'd brought back. When she finally landed on a grassy outcropping beside the alpha's pool she had most of the flock with her.
“Cloudjumper. We are happy to see you return. I feared you'd been caught by hunters,” Alpha rumbled.
The Great Bewilderbeast was several times bigger than any other dragon in the flock. He was covered in white thorns with black tips and his face was framed by two massive tusks
“Not hunters,” Cloudjumper replied. “A rival alpha with a strong call. It took me some time to escape.”
“I see. And what do you carry? It has a strange smell.”
Cloudjumper knew what Alpha meant. Past the scent of lightning, the hatchling still smelled faintly of hunters. She placed the pouch on the ground and it fell open, revealing the small hatchling with his black scales and finned tail. Several nearby dragons growled or chirped depending on their reactions to the hunter-shaped chick.
“While under the rival alpha’s command I visited a hunter nest where I discovered a ground-walker mother and her hatchling. Her den smelled of fear and I offered to take her to a better nest but before I could, we were attacked. The mother died defending me so I've taken her hatchling as my own.”
Alpha rose from the pool, water rolling off his back as he leaned in for a closer look. The hatchling was still crying for food and didn't seem to notice the dragons all around them. Cloudjumper would have to teach them to be quiet and more observant.
“Azure!” A blur of blue shot out of the crowd and landed on one of Alpha’s tusks. “Bring the hatchling some food.”
“Yes Alpha,” the Terror replied, zipping away. He returned with a small fish which he placed on the hatchling's chest. Cloudjumper wasn't sure if he could eat it. She'd watched hundreds of ground-walkers over the years and they all scorched the fish before they ate it but she needn't have worried. He tore into it like a proper dragon.
“What is the hatchling's name?” Alpha asked.
“His mother called him Hymir.”
The Bewilderbeast leaned in and sniffed. The spines around his face flexed as he made a curious rumbling sound.
“Strange. He smells of Nightfury.”
“Nightfury?!” Cloudjumper exclaimed. “No one has seen a Nightfury in ages!”
“Yet one appeared in this nest some moons ago,” Alpha replied. “She was severely injured. Hunters had found her den and made off with one of her eggs but she'd saved the other at great cost to herself. She survived just long enough to see her chick safe before succumbing.”
“Then there is a Nightfury hatchling here, in this nest,” Cloudjumper concluded.
“Indeed. Stormclaw, would you please bring your charge to me?”
A vibrant blue and purple Nadder bowed and took off toward where the hatchlings were kept. She returned with two chicks. One was a Nadder the same blue as Stormclaw but with orange accents and the other was a sleek black, like shadows on a moonless night. Both flew a little clumsily and stumbled when they landed.
The Nightfury hatchling tumbled across the ground, coming to a stop near Cloudjumper’s feet. He sneezed and looked up at her, his green eyes appearing too big for his face and his scent already eerily familiar.
“They're clutch mates!” Cloudjumper gasped. “How is this possible?”
“We may never know,” Alpha said. “But no matter how it happened, the pair are undoubtedly brothers.”
Their discussion was interrupted by a loud coo from Hymir. He'd turned onto his belly, his tail flicking as he took in all the dragons watching them. When his gaze fell on Cloudjumper, she was struck at how similar his eyes were to the Nightfury chick.
“Mama?”
Cloudjumper huffed in surprise at hearing his voice in her head. “Can you understand me, little hatchling?”
“Mama!”
“No, precious. I am your guardian. Your mother is not here.”
“Where?”
“Beyond the sky. She cannot come back.”
“Want mama! Mama!”
Hymir began to wail, the sound not dissimilar to the cries of a distressed hatchling. Cloudjumper moved to comfort him but was beaten by the Nightfury. They scurried to Hymir, curling around him and nuzzling the water droplets from his face. Hymir nuzzled them back, their tails twining together.
“It appears they have accepted each other,” Alpha said. “The Serpent blesses you my friend. You have two hatchlings now.”
“The Serpent is kind. I will raise them well,” Cloudjumper promised. “What is the chick's name?”
“His mother did not have a chance to name him.” A sad warble rippled across the nest. A hatchling without a name was a terrible thing. It meant they were alone and had been their whole lives. “But the nest mothers have taken to calling him Toothless,” Alpha shared.
Their attention returned to the two hatchlings. Now that Hymir was calm, they had started play fighting. They rolled about, nipping and swatting at each other harmlessly. Eventually, Toothless got his jaws around Hymir’s arm, his teeth retracted so he was only gumming at the smaller chick. Hymir used his more nimble claws to tug at the frills on the side of his brother’s head and Toothless let go to scramble away.
He bound toward Cloudjumper, using her legs to hide as Hymir followed more slowly. He was using the joint of his rear legs to crawl rather than his back claws. She would have to teach him the proper way.
“Toothless and Hymir,” Cloudjumper said fondly, watching them chase each other at her feet. “My precious hatchlings.”