Chapter Text
A long, long time ago, there was a relatively tall viking with a relatively short name walking through deep snow. This relatively tall viking’s name was Lance Charles McClain, and he usually didn’t mind water in any form, but on this night he was in a foul mood. His rival and fellow classmate (if you can call what Coran teaches as a “class”) had bested and embarrassed him in front of everyone...again.
“Welcome to Arus,” the viking muttered to himself, shivering, “It’s twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It’s located solidly,” he grunted and tried to shuffle a few steps forward, “on the Meridian of Misery.”
A large treebranch snapped overhead, dropping nearly a foot of snow right on Lance’s head.
“Oh, really?” the boy shouted up at the heavens, “Quiznak that’s cold!”
Lance shook his head, trying to get the snow out of his dark hair as a sound like thunder came from the skies. This effectively shut up the fuming boy and sent him sprinting towards his village, because he knew what that sound was, and it wasn’t thunder. You see, this village had a bit of a pest problem. Where most places have mice or mosquitoes, Arus has…
“Dragons!” Lance shouted as he came within earshot of the buildings.
In an instant the roads and pathways were full of vikings running and shouting, torches being lit and buckets being filled with water. Lance pushed through the crowd, looking for his friends as the first dragon of the night touched down, spitting fire everywhere. He barely got a look at the creature before he was forcibly pulled backwards by his coat and pinned against a building by strong hands.
“Lance! What’re you doing out here?” His best friend Hunk, hissed in his face.
Lance tried to break free of the monstrous grip on his shoulder, “Hunk, chill out! I was just on a walk, now let me go get a sword!”
Hunk stepped back from his friend but didn’t relinquish his hold, “How about no? Don’t you remember what just happened, like, two hours ago?”
Lance growled in frustration, “Dude! There’s a Crimson Nightmare out there! I gotta get out there and slay it before somebody else does!”
Then Hunk did let go of his friend, but only to facepalm in exasperation, “Lance, you’re my best friend and I love you, but we’ve been over this It isn’t safe for you out there, or for anyone else if you’re out there for that matter, so just stay and help fill up the water buckets here, okay?”
Lance was about to protest, but then a tiny mass of glasses and hair shot around the corner.
“Hunk!” the small viking screeched, “We need you out here, a Yellow Gronkle came out of nowhere and is threatening to smash down all the silos!”
“I’m coming, Pidge!” Hunk cried, hefting his axe over his shoulder and running to the street. With one last glance at his friend he entreated, “Lance. Stay...here…” he pointed a threatening finger and ran off with the small viking girl.
Lance didn’t get a chance to protest before they were both gone, off to repair weapons and bring down dragons, like they always did. While Lance was stuck with fire duty. He didn’t have time to pout, however, as out of nowhere the building to his right erupted in flame. Out of reflex her charged for the well in the center of the square, where there were already four or five kids drawing up and bringing back buckets of water to douse the flames. He ripped the wood out of the nearest child’s hands and sprinted over to the burning house, careful not to spill too much of the precious liquid. He threw the contents over the fire, hoping the bucket he and the few kids behind him would be enough to put it out before much more damage was done.
All around him there was shouting and yelling and screaming as the dragons arrived in groups and stole livestock and other valuables, causing destruction with every fiery breath and smash of their massive bodies. As Lance ran around throwing bucket after bucket on houses and recently empty sheep pens, he caught sight of the usual suspects fighting and flying. He caught sight of Hunk saving sheep and chasing after Yellow Gronkles; it was hard to miss either of the two, as dragon and hunter alike barrelled through things and people in their respective pursuits. He also saw Coran, the village blacksmith and somewhat kooky old guy, fighting a nadder as he yelled and screamed.
Closer to the center of all the action where the most fires were being started fought the village’s tireless Chief Shiro, his metal arm sharper and more deadly than any double-edged axe as he chased after a group of two-headed Zippleblacks, nearly half a dozen men behind him. And then, where the flames were the worst and only kept coming, was a Crimson Nightmare. That particular dragon has a nasty habit of setting itself on fire, and it gave Lance more arm and headaches than any other dragon. But even worse than the dragon was the one viking who was dumb enough to challenge it alone.
In the center of a ring of flames stood Keith Takashi Kogane, adoptive brother of Chief Shiro and Lance’s arch rival. As far as Lance knew, the black-haired boy had never actually killed a dragon before, but everyone said he was sure to someday soon, whether it be on the field or in the ring. Because that’s all that mattered on Arus. Dragon slaying and hunting was what these people lived and breathed. If you didn’t hunt dragons, or at least have the guts to attack them, you were no one. And if you did try and failed because you got scared, you were less than no one. Or if you were Lance, a bit of both.
The brunette stood for a moment, watching the showdown between the Nightmare and Keith. Every time Keith would move in to strike with his sword, the dragon would blast hot magma at his face, and he’d have to retreat, then charge again. Soon enough, though, the dragon was too slow, and right as Keith was about to go in for the finishing strike, a sound like a screaming arrow penetrated the night’s clamor.
“Blue Fury!” a voice shouted.
“Get down!” another commanded.
Lance didn’t have time to think as the buildings all around him exploded, sending him flying through the air and crashing into an empty sheep trough. He saw the Crimson Nightmare make its escape and scanned the skies desperately for a glimpse of the other dragon.
A Blue Fury. The creature said to be the unholy offspring of lightning and death. This dragon never shows itself, never takes anything, and never ever misses. The only way the Arusian vikings even knew it existed was because of the blue ashes that remained of whatever it burned, thus its name.
Lance shot up from the feed trough and sprinted to the forge, where he knew Pidge would be. He earned indignant shouts and exclamations from several people he pushed past, catching another glance of Keith charging beside his brother, and careened through the forge’s back door.
“Lance!” Pidge, Coran’s apprentice and Lance’s good friend, “What’re you doing here? You should be helping put out the flames; there’s a Blue Fury out there!” she threw a newly repaired weighted net out the shop window, where vikings clamored and shouted for their weapons to be fixed pronto.
“I know!” Lance replied, running to the workbench where Pidge kept her gadgets and unfinished projects, “That’s why I’m going to catch it with this!”
The small girl stopped a moment to see what Lance was taking from her shop, “Lance, no! That one hasn’t been tested yet! The suspension and rigging aren’t secure, and—”
“I’ll figure it out!” he yelled back, carting the enormous invention out the door, “Don’t worry!”
He ran out into the night, avoiding several near-death experiences with vikings and dragons alike as he tracked what he hoped were the Blue Fury’s movements. Finally he came to a spot overlooking the expansive lance and dense forests of Arus and unloaded his cargo. Pidge had been designing this invention especially for him to take down dragons, and from what he’d gleaned when she showed him the plans, it worked like a crossbow, only with a weighted net instead of an arrow, and with about 100 more pounds of force. Lance had given the mechanic the idea when he said he wished crossbow could be as effective at grounding dragons as nets, and just as fast as them, too.
“C’mon, gimme something to shoot at, gimme something to shoot at,” Lance muttered to himself as he searched the night sky.
The half moon shone brightly above him, casting a blue glow across the snow-covered land. Any other time he would’ve taken a moment to appreciate the beauty that was his home, but just then he saw it. A large, leathery mass as dark as the night sky circling to strike.
Lance put his eye to the scope of his weapon and located the creature in it. He watched the way it was flying, adjusted the trajectory of his strike to anticipate its next movement, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.
Ropes tightened and released, gears turned, and the entire invention pushed against Lance with the backlash of ejecting the net into the air. He was knocked to the ground from the sheer force, but jumped right back up to watch the dark form of the dragon seize and fall through the air, the net having met its mark perfectly.
Lance’s jaw hung open in shock and amazement as he heard the Blue Fury’s cry fade into the night through the trees. He had done it. Lance, the clumsy, water-brained viking that started more fires than he put out, had shot down a Blue Fury, something no one had ever done before.
He jumped in the air and squealed like a kid, “I did it! Oh gods, I did it! I just took down a Blue Fury” he hopped around and turned back towards where the rest of the village was still fighting, “Did anyone see that?”
There was a growl from behind Lance, and he spun around to see a Crimson Nightmare crawl up the ledge beside him, yellow eyes trained right on the boy.
Lance’s voice was small, “Oh great, just you.”
He barely had time to run before the dragon blasted boiling magma at him, incinerating Pidge’s invention.
‘She’s gonna kill me later.’ Lance thought as he ran from the nightmare and tried to avoid getting barbequed. He thought, belatedly, that it would’ve been a good idea to grab a sword before running out this far, where no other humans were around. Or possibly an axe. Or a knife. Or anything. But instead all Lance could do was run, scream, and hope for rescue, which he did.
The young viking sprinted through pathways up the mountainous terrain, trying to lose the monstrous creature, but to no avail. He ran around a corner and hid behind one of the large lampost-like fixtures the village constructed to light up the dark nights. Lance hoped that it would be enough to hide his scrawny figure from the dragon, but of course the creature just spat fire at the post, trying to burn through to the boy on the other side. The heat was almost unbearable, and Lance tried to make himself as small as possible to not get torcehd. Suddenly, the onslaught of flames stopped, and after a moment Lance peered around the side of the mostly burnt post and saw nothing.
“Huh,” he laughed in relief and took a step backwards straight into something warm and scaly. He flinched and turned around slowly, once again coming face-to-face with the Nightmare, and as it opened its mouth Lanec had the fleeting thought of, ‘Well, at least they won’t have to burn my body’ before something black and white slammed into the creature, sending it tumbling away.
Lance stood frozen as he watched Shiro battle the dragon. He had never seen the Chief fight up close before as the man had always been obscured by other vikings or Lance had been rushing to put out fires, and it was a sight to see. Lance recalled one of the stories that said Shiro had broken a rock with his bare hands when he was only a baby, and watching him now, the young viking believed it.
Shiro charged and punched the dragon right on the nose, stunning the creature before it gathered enough wits to summon flames. Only, the Nightmare had seemed to reach its limit torching the lampost and Lance, because all it was able to spit out was a lump of red-hot coals.
“You’re all that?” Shiro muttered as he decked the creature again with an uppercut, and was about to slash it to ribbons with his sword arm when the lampost shuddered and broke, sending the top of the flaming structure rolling between them and down the pathway towards the village. The noise and commotion distracted Shiro for a moment, and that’s all the dragon needed for it to spread its wings and take flight.
Once the dragon was gone Lance turned and watched as the lampost’s flaming top careened down the mountain, people shouting and screaming to get out of its way before crashing into the group of Zippleblacks they had managed to capture. The two vikings could only watch as they all got away.
Lance turned warily to his Chief, who looked even more tried than usual as he stared at the sky. He sighed and then caught sight of Lance, who flinched under his gaze.
“Lance McClain.” Shiro sighed like everyone did when they said his name, “Care to explain what happened this time?”
“Well―” Lance stuttered, “It’s a funny story―”
Shiro halted his blabbering mouth with a look, one Lance got from everyone all the time. The look that said, I suffer your excuses only because I have to.
“Okay but I caught a Blue Fury.”
Shiro closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Lance, I know you’re trying, and really I appreciate your dedication, but―”
“No, it’s true!” Lance interrupted, “It went down just over the western wood! If we could send a team out there I’m almost positive they’d find it!”
Shiro sighed and noticed they had an audience as the villagers started to gather around the origin of the recent chaos. He straightened and looked at Lance with a firm gaze, “Lance, enough. As I’m sure you’re aware, winter is coming, and fast, and we have to prepare accordingly. We can’t spare extra time and resources to go and look for something that might be there.”
“I’m telling you the truth! I saw the Blue Fury go down!”
The Chief’s eyes hardened, an expression Lance had never seen directed at another member of the village before, “Then where exactly did it land, McClain? Tell me that, and I’ll send out a group to find it. Until then, I think you should return home before you burn down any more of this village.”
Lance could feel the weight of every person’s gaze there, compiled with his shame and anger. He turned around and headed towards his home alone, the crowd for once parting to let him pass without impediments. He was ashamed of the mess and scene he’d caused, but more than anything he was determined. Being called clumsy and stupid was one thing, but Lance was no liar.
And he’d prove it by bringing back the heart of the Blue Fury.