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Chapter Text

"Let me finish my drink first.”

Hiccup grits his teeth, his hand clenching tighter on Inferno's hilt. He tilts his head down and to the right for a moment, catching a glimpse of Fishlegs’ hiding spot. The faux Toothless seems to have done it's trick but, at what cost to his friend?

“Oh, don't worry.” Grimmel the Grisly, as Hiccup is certain this can only be the infamous man himself, sets down the wooden cup now empty of honey mead as he stalks closer. He moves and looks the part of the hunter Eret warned of, now come to finish the hunt he had started.

The man casts a cold gaze towards the side of the room, “It's nothing he won't sleep off.”

Hiccup moves, stepping carefully between the hunter and Fishlegs. His lip almost curls back into a snarl, something more reminiscent of Toothless but, not altogether out of place.

He can feel the heat of Inferno, a comforting warmth on his fingers and down the back of his hand. Hiccup moves his left hand to raise the blade in front of him, watching as Grimmel's eyes reflect the light with keen interest.

“That's a very nice weapon.” Hiccup feels no gratification from the praise. Instead, something curls in the pit of his stomach. He feels like an animal on the auction block being observed for all its strength and weaknesses.

“What do you want?” He tries his best not to lace his voice with venom but, he ends up failing when Grimmel falls into his father's chair on the last word. Feet kicked up onto the table as he traces a finger on his crossbow, not even bothering to spare Hiccup a glance anymore.

“I'm here for your dragon.” He says it so matter of fact. The words carrying his unfamiliar accent along each syllable and driving home something Hiccup already knows, “I could take all of them quite easily but, I'll make a bargain. One Night Fury and the rest get to stay.”

He moves forward, as if making to lunge at Grimmel will do anything to frighten the man. He thinks of Toothless, safely hidden and his friends in the rafters. His mom among them with her loyal dragon taking up a sentry position on the roof. He thinks of every dragon from the small Hobgobbler to the massive Goregutter.

“You will never take our dragons.” And Hiccup means it. With every inch of his body and every ounce of conviction. He would lay down his life before he saw this man lay a hand on any dragon under the protection of Berk.

Grimmel laughs, “You know, your father was one of the greatest dragon hunters who ever lived.”

Hiccup lowers his sword slightly, caught off guard by the mention of his dad. “He changed his mind.”

“Well, Chief Hiccup,” Grimmel grins, steepling his fingers, “Or should I say Chief Hiccup?” In the middle of the word he mimics a hiccup.

Hiccup glares, unamused by the joke.

“What would he think now?” Grimmel stands, and Hiccup steps backwards on reflex bringing his sword up once more and crouching into a defensive stance.

The hunter side steps him, making a slow circle around the simmering fire pit. Hiccup mimics his movement, moving around the edge of the fire pit.

“Of course, he can't do much thinking now.” Another step, Hiccup mirrors him. The sound of the fire and the creak of wooden slats fill the silence. His eyes keep tracking a line from crossbow to Grimmel's gaze and back again.

He's so caught up in maintaining a distance from the man that he doesn't realize he's allowed the hunter to be the one standing between Fishlegs and himself now.

Grimmel reaches a hand towards the canvas covering the decoy.

“Don't touch him!” Hiccup thrusts Inferno in a downward arc, still close enough for the tip of the blade to come dangerously close to Grimmel's fingers. It's a dangerous move that leaves him exposed but, he can't have their ruse exposed too soon. He needs more time. He needs to keep Grimmel talking just a bit longer.

Grimmel steps back, hands raised towards the ceiling and crossbow joining them to aim at the ceiling.

For a sickening moment Hiccup thinks that he might fire a bolt into the rafters. His mind races recalling if at any point he gave away the position of those hiding up above. Thankfully, his fears are unfounded and the man lowers the weapon as he retreats.

“Quite the feisty one, aren't we?” The leer that Grimmel gives him makes his stomach churn. He's still standing far too close to Fishlegs. He's still too confident, eerily so, considering his crossbow isn't even reloaded and he's standing within cleaving distance of Inferno.

“I don't intend to take your dragon tonight.” Hiccup can't relax at those words. It solidifies the very notion that Grimmel will be back. That if they don't end it tonight, if the hunter gets away, Berk will be cast into constant fear of his return. They'd be forced to look over their shoulder. To never allow a single dragon to leave the island. Hel they would be forced to flee for the Hidden World.

“Then why are you here?” It's sharp steel that leaves Hiccup's mouth.

“Can't I pay my respects to dear old Stoick?” Grimmel scoffs. His tone suggesting that Hiccup is the one being incredibly rude and instead he's completely in the right to trespass.

“No.” He grounds out with clenched teeth, only his lips curling and his tongue moving to speak the word, “You have no right.”

Grimmel clicks his tongue with a tut-tut and shakes his head as if addressing a child who'd misbehaved. “You know, I was here the night you were born?”

Hiccup can't stop the open mouth gape he gives Grimmel. In the next instant he hardens his face into a scowl, unwilling to show any further signs of uncertainty.

“Ah, I see Stoick never mentioned me.” Grimmel almost seems to frown, looking at the ground for a moment. He nods his head, as if accepting the fact, “I, along with many others, was invited to the blót in your honor.” Grimmel studies Hiccup for a moment, “It was a grand feast, fit for Odin himself. Now, if I do recall correctly-” the hunter pauses, tapping a finger to his chin in an exaggerated gesture of thought, “a little girl was born to one Stoick and Valka.”

Grimmel flashes Hiccup a truly frightening smile, the curve of his lips pulled back far enough to make his eyes squint. He raises a hand to gesture at all of Hiccup, “Obviously, my memory is failing me.”

Hiccup can only guess that the man is referring to the stubble on his face and his obvious lack of certain feminine qualities. It doesn't stop him from freezing, every muscle locking up as if he's been dunked in the frigid ocean. He knows that Grimmel can see the panic in his eyes, Hiccup can't hide that reaction. He can practically see it, his pupils blown wide with fear as they reflect the dancing fire light.

Inferno crackles beside him and he grips the hilt with both hands. The sword now points directly at the hunter's chest.

“Well, you know, that's what happens to older folks.” Hiccup says the words with an easy confidence that comes from years of masking his insecurities.

He can only hope that everyone in the rafters doesn't notice his reaction. He can only convince himself that Grimmel didn't see it. He can only pray that his mom doesn't give away his closest kept secret.

Grimmel smirks, clearly pleased by the reaction he sees. However, instead of responding, he glances to the side, observing the sleeping ‘Night Fury’. Hiccup sees the moment his brow furrows and the corners of his mouth turn downward.

A shout escapes his mouth as he jumps forward, Inferno at the ready but, it's too late. Grimmel rips the sheet off of a barely conscious Fishlegs and he turns to easily block Hiccup's swing with his crossbow.

“Fishlegs run!” Hiccup pushes against Grimmel, Inferno still blazing strong and caught in the metal notch where the stave of the crossbow met the stirrup and connected to the bridle. Wrenching Inferno sharply to the left dislodges the weapon but, it leaves his right side open for just a moment.

Grimmel seizes the moment, reacting so quick that Hiccup is forced to use his right arm to parry and protect himself from a concussive blow. Inferno flies out of his weaker right hand, the fire dying as the cartridge is dislodged. The crossbow continues its downward arc despite the resistance and connects with his collar bone.

It would've been his head if he hadn't already been in motion. A sharp cry leaves his throat involuntarily, the bone isn't broken but it's certainly badly bruised. He's thankful his leather armor held up against the blow to the delicate bone.

He lands dangerously close to the fire pit and his exposed palms brush the hot coals. Smoke and ash is stirred up by his fall and it causes him to lose sight for a moment.

Against the burning in his eyes and the pain lancing down his right arm he crawls away, desperately trying to get back to his feet. He's fought bigger men than this. He's fought dragons the size of mountains. Yet, here he is scrabbling blindly because of one blow.

Anger and humiliation snap at his insides like a snake. They threaten to make him lose focus. He can hear Astrid's angry yell before he sees her, descending from the rafters. A Valkyrie dressed in dragon armor as she delivers a swift flying kick to Grimmel's jaw.

Hiccup manages to get to his feet, racing for the dim Inferno. He's already pulling a cartridge from a pocket of his flight suit when something slams into him. He struggles to eject the cartridge and replace it in one swift movement. Something incredibly heavy bowled him over and he can't make it out from where it's massive size blocks the fire.

He ignites inferno, already in a crouch from where he had rolled to his feet.

Orange dances across the face of a dragon he's never seen before. It clicks and hisses a threatening staccato, two tusks sliding out from it's bottom jaw like massive fangs. A tail raises above it's head, reminiscent of the Triple Stryke, as it encroaches. For just a moment or two, he glances beyond the dragon and sees that Astrid is still locked in battle with Grimmel.

His mom and and Eret are pinned down, the scorpion like dragon drooling in their faces as it holds them down with its pincers. It appears the rest are in a similar situation and panic sets in. A different flavor that rises when one sees the people they love in danger.

Ruffnut is shaking an unconscious Tuffnut but, Hiccup doesn't even have time to warn her before one of those insect-like dragons corners them both.

Snotlout is trying to drag Fishlegs out of danger with Gobber's help but, they don't get far when a glob of green acid lands on all sides of them, lighting the wooden floor ablaze. Snotlout continues forward, wearing fireproof armor and determined to get his friend out of danger. A moment later he's snatched up by a tail and brought close to a pair of deadly tusks.

Hiccup can hear his mom call for Cloudjumper but, the dragon doesn't come to the rescue. He can hear the others do the same. Something is wrong.

He locks eyes with Astrid just for a moment and he sees his own fears reflected. Grimmel takes the opportunity to fire at Astrid, having reloaded his weapon in the commotion. It misses, grazing her ear and Hiccup's stomach drops.

He turns back to the dragon blocking his path. A part of him is tempted to call Toothless but, he had hid him on the far side of the island. Even with his incredible hearing he would be too far. Perhaps he would see the fire and smoke but, there wasn't enough to be a visible beacon yet.

Hiccup side steps slowly, the dragon swinging it's head to follow and clicking in warning. He notices that it's gaze seems locked on Inferno as of distracted by the bright flames. He waves the sword in a wide arc and watches as the dragons pupils constrict and follow the blade. He knows this dragon is too aggressive to try and calm down. Judging by the strange purple vials it wore, Grimmel had done something to tame the beasts.

He needs to get Toothless' attention. He needs to get to Astrid. He needs to stop Grimmel.

So many possibilities race through his head. So many outcomes. He takes a moment to inhale, and he makes a move.

He throws Inferno, up into the rafters, lodging the blade into the beams and ensuring they would catch ablaze. Hiccup has a split second to move. He's already running as he throws the sword, just as the dragon's gaze follows the light upwards.

He can feel the snap of teeth and the brush of the tusks against his back as he sprints. He prays to every god in the Nine Realms that his prosthetic doesn't catch on the floor boards. He doesn't stop, running straight at Grimmel.

He tackles the hunter, forearm flung out to catch him in the chest as he uses his left hand to unsheathe the blade on his right arm guard. His movements are fluid, the blade unsheathing only to be moved to Grimmel's throat in the same instance. The two tumble to the floor, Hiccup pinning the larger man to the ground.

“Call them off.” He growls, right shoulder screaming with pain from his collar bone but, he ignores it in favor of pressing his whole weight into the hunter's chest. The dagger is lethally sharp, used to trim and cut leather. It digs into the side of Grimmel's throat cutting a thin line of red.

Grimmel laughs, his Adam's apple bobbing and uncaring that the action is digging the blade further into his skin. “Look at you, as ferocious as your pet Night Fury.”

Hiccup can feel the man move slightly beneath him but, he has him pinned in a position that any movement would risk his throat, “Call them off. That's an order.”

He repeats the words, leaning on the dagger a bit heavier. He's not ruthless. He's not a killer. He knows that he wouldn't plunge the dagger into the hunter's throat. No matter how much red clouded his vision and whispered into his ears to push just a little harder.

And Grimmel knows this. He sees the smug expression on the man's face. The victorious glint in his eyes and the subtle tilt of a smirk.

Hiccup realizes his mistake the second he hears the discharge of a crossbow.

Astrid gasps, a breathy exhale of air as if it is punched out of her. He turns, time seeming to slow.

A dart filled with purple liquid protrudes from her exposed neck. Her axe falls from her fingers and she stumbles trying to remain upright.

“Astrid!” Hiccup cries, his body moving on it's own as if to try and stop her from slamming to the floor. In doing so, the dagger leaves Grimmel's throat and he is almost standing when he's grabbed by the hair. An angry grip threatening to rip the fistful from his scalp. It burns and he drops the dagger as he tries to grab the hands holding him.

He's trying to fight, to scratch at the hands and push himself towards Astrid. He watches her collapse to the ground as his entire world goes sideways and his head is wrenched to the side so hard that he feels his scalp nearly tear.

Suddenly he's the one pinned on his back. His collar bone throbbing and his scalp on fire he glares up at Grimmel, squirming and kicking his foot and prosthetic against the ground. He tries to throw a punch at Grimmel only for the hunter to dig a thumb into his collar bone causing Hiccup to curl in on himself against his will.

The hunter continues to dig his thumb into the bone threatening to fracture it. Hiccup can't move his right arm but his left hits Grimmel in the chest. The punches connecting but doing so little. He calls for Cloudjumper, just as his mother did. He even calls for Toothless.

“Yell all you want, I took care of every dragon on this island. They won't be waking up anytime soon.” Grimmel keeps Hiccup pinned as he searches with his free hand beneath his trench coat.

Everything has gone so horribly wrong. He can hear the angry yells from those still conscious. He can hear as they try to move towards him only to be held back by Grimmel's dragons.

He can hear his dad's voice. Echoing and booming in his ears like the pain that erupts from his collar bone. Washing over his whole body like waves from it's epicenter. He can hear his dad tell him to get up, to fight, to be strong. They tell him that a chief always protects his own.

“Now. I was willing to have you hand over the Night Fury, peacefully and painlessly.” Grimmel pulls out a strap of leather with a purple vial embedded in it. He seems to study it for a moment, never letting up on Hiccup's collarbone. If anything the pain seems to be increasing and the young chief tries to grind his shoulder through the floorboards in an attempt to get away.

“But, for all the trouble you've caused me-” Grimmel pauses. The pressure lets up and Hiccup breaths harshly, his lungs trying to make due for the the breath he held when trying not to scream. He can't move his right arm, the elbow down is functional but the pain from rotating his shoulder is too great.

The pain rattles in his brain, muddying his reactions. He's broken many bones in his life but, never his collar bone. Hiccup knew it was now fractured if not broken, making his arm lame and causing him to go stiff and still with the residual shocks that screamed across his chest and up his neck.

Something snakes around his neck and the unwanted touch sends a shiver down his spine and along his bruised scalp. “-I will make you destroy everything you love.”

Hiccup's left arm comes up to shove at Grimmel's hands. Grabbing at his own throat and digging nails into every inch of skin he can find that's not his own. His fingertips brush against leather and a metal buckle, he fumbles with the clasp like a lifeline, knowing that he needs to get whatever this is off. The hunter slams the offending appendage to the ground.

“None of that now.” Grimmel condescends, “Remember-” the hunter leans in closer to Hiccup, face brushing his as he whispers into his ear. Hiccup tries to yank his head away, hating how the man's face brushed against his own sending an unpleasant tingling down straight to the pit in his stomach. “Whatever happens next, all of this is your fault. All of this is because of a boy and his Night Fury.”

“No- you're wrong-” Hiccup protests, trying to free his left hand and desperately working against the searing that holds his right arm prisoner. “You will never lay a hand on Toothless.” He spits, putting all his energy into his words.

Grimmel ignores him, instead adjusting and tightening the thing around his neck. He realizes with sinking dread, it's a collar. A thrice damned collar. Humiliation creeps back in, dusting his cheeks and making him fight harder.

“What-what are you doing...” Hiccup stutters over the words, sounding more like he did when he was fifteen. His voice trails off. He's afraid.

Grimmel sits back, looking down at Hiccup with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. A predatory gaze, the smugness of a hunter who's captured their prey. Hiccup sees a hand hovers near his throat in his peripherals and he swallows. He can feel the leather collar as it constricts slightly at the movement. He can feel something sharp along the length of it, just barely breaking skin. A needle waiting to puncture skin, a threat and a promise of what's to come.

He glances past Grimmel, at the fire that spreads to the roof. Slow. It's too slow. No one knows they are trapped here. He had ordered most of the village to stay in the Great Hall. The rest were guarding the stables or on patrol. If anyone came to help they'd be over powered by Grimmel's dragons.

He is suddenly very aware of everything, his friends shouts, his mom's yells as she fights to dislodge the dragon pinning her, and that horrible awful hissing. That damned clicking.

He was too confident. Too sure. Too naive.

Grimmel's fingertips brush against his jaw and along his throat. They dance down the length of the leather until they seem to stop just where that slight pin prick digs into his neck. Playing with his food rather than just getting to the main event. It makes Hiccup glare up at him, eyes burning with defiance.

“You will never win.” A last ditch effort, a mask to hide every fear consuming him in that moment. He shakes his head, as if to dislodge the hand on the collar. He bucks his hips and thrashes his legs. He twists his arm in Grimmel's grip, the wrist now slick with sweat but, otherwise going nowhere. With a cry, he throws his right arm forward trying to land a punch. It doesn't get far. He's only able to move it far enough to have it land limply on Grimmel's knee where it rests against his rib cage.

Grimmel's forearm twists and something punctures his neck, “I already have."

The weight on his midsection is suddenly gone and his left arm is free. He rolls to his knees, frantic to get the collar off. He grabs for the clasp using his good arm, ripping at the leather trying to unbuckle it.

Something warm spreads through his veins, starting in his neck and he panics. Feeling the sensation as it creeps to fill the space behind his eyes and suddenly his mouth is too dry. Hiccup blinks rapidly, shaking his head to clear the cloudy feeling but, it persists. His hand won't cooperate, it feels wrong, the warmth spread to it and making him lose control.

His hand drops to his side. The pain in his collar bone is wiped away, carried away by a tsunami of numbing warmth. Hiccup is still on his knees but, he can't feel them. He tilts his head up, looking into Grimmel's face.

Hiccup's world is swept away.

Chapter Text

Awareness returns to Hiccup like frost creeping up his fingers. He feels as ice spreads up his arms and into his chest. It chases away a sickly warmth that still lingers and threatens to drag him into nothingness.

It's the familiar routine of waking from a dream. A peaceful one that tries to pull him back into its embrace, always so reluctant to let him go. Hiccup fights to open his eyes, a mounting heaviness gathering behind them that he blinks away.

He sees nothing. Wide green eyes open and moving frantically, he almost panics but, he can feel his fingertips. He moves them with ease and runs them against the rough texture of the wood grain below. It gives in some places, replaced with a crumbling sensation and a gritty sand that clings to his fingers.

The pain hits him the same moment smell does. Alarm bells ring loud in Hiccup's mind but, they're muffled by a haze so thick in his brain he has no will to think clearly.

Burning, Hiccup knows something is burning. It tickles his nose and burns his throat something fierce. It's as if he stood too close to the forge and swallowed the sparks the bellow kicked up.

He licks his chapped lips as he tries to stand up, bracing his arm against the ground, he falls back clutching his right shoulder. This only serves to drive the pain into a white hot frenzy and he bites back a scream. A whimper crawls up his raw throat in the most embarrassing way. Hiccup takes a moment to breath through clenched teeth, watching embers dance across his vision and settle on his flight suit.

He can see but, not well. The ash and smoke creates a haze so thick he can't make out anything except for the dim glow of the morning sunrise.

Hiccup leverages himself to a sitting position. Wooden beams and roof tiles litter the ground for as far as he can see. Charred furniture and stone fixtures lay scattered across the empty expanse like fallen soldiers. He recognizes the silhouette of his dad's chair, resting peacefully on it's side. There are no signs of scorching or damage on it as if it had only been knocked over in someone's haste.

He pulls his legs in, rolling forward onto his knees as he reaches a hand out to touch an almost unrecognizable lump of wood. Hiccup knows it's a roof tile, charred and burned white from where fire licked at it. He wonders something fleeting, tracing a hand against the crumbling wood. It flakes under his touch, as delicate as the grasp on his thoughts.

Something moves, a crunch from just behind him. A thick cloud shrouds his judgement and he does not reach for a weapon to defend himself.

Instead, he turns his torso, neck stretching to see the cause of the sound. Something tugs uncomfortably at his neck as he strains. The sensation makes him cough and scratch at his throat, his nails catching and tugging on something. It's a strip of leather with a little metal clasp in the front and he fumbles to unlatch it.

Hiccup knows it's a collar and for a moment his mind dips further into the fog. He stares blankly ahead, unaware that he has gone almost entirely limp, the collar forgotten, with his hands hanging limp at his sides.

He snaps back to reality when another sound reaches his ears. This time it comes from in front of him and Hiccup looks closer. The foundation of a decimated home stretches out before him through the smoke and suddenly the haze lifts a fraction.

Orange fires burn low and quietly crackle on what is left of the walls. He can see shapes and figures in the distance, shrouded and colorless through the smoke. He remembers fire. Something- no someone is supposed to be here. He hears whispers, talking, and the shuffle of boots against wood. For a second, his ears deceive him and the soft mournful cries of someone reaches him.

“Hello?” Hiccup's voice is hoarse. He swallows, trying to work his throat around the dryness and he's aware of the collar once more as it tightens for a moment. He reaches up to tug at it, feeling a sharp pricking as if something is being moved around just beneath the skin.

He feels along its length and yanks hard on the glass vial that his hand connects with. It eventually comes lose with a twist and he feels something slide out from his neck with a sting. He tosses the thing to the ground, and the vial rolls a few inches. A drop of purple liquid rests inside it and a wicked needle smeared with fresh blood connects to it.

Hiccup feels warmth trickle down his neck, it's soaking into the leather and he slaps a hand on its source. This roughly jostles his collar bone and he winces but, he keeps his right hand clamped to the wound through the pain. The leather collar stays, rubbing against his blood slick hands as if taunting him for his failure to remove it.

“Astrid? Mom?” He asks, quiet at first but gradually getting louder. He stands up and nearly falls over, stumbling when his prosthetic gives more than he anticipated. The whispering quiets and he can see the figures shift and move through the smoke.

Something happened and he tries to remember.

He flexes his left hand, clenching and unclenching the fist as he shuffles forward. His hand feels sticky, the fingers trying to stick together. Confused, he looks and sees a rusty orange coating the skin. He turns his palm to face him and the orange gives way to black soot.

The sun is cresting the horizon and he can see the golden disk as its light cuts a dim beam through the smoke.

“Anybody?” He raises the bloody hand to grip his elbow, helping to keep his right hand pressed against the puncture in his neck. Something important bites at the edges of his mind. It dances around and tries to sneak it's way in like a Terrible Terror looking to steal a quick meal.

He squints, seeing movement among a still standing portion of the house. Figures huddle against the far wall and use the beams for protection. A memory breaks through and he knows these people. He knows this house.

Hiccup's prosthetic knocks into something with a clatter. It's Inferno. The blade dull and darkened by something that coats it. Without thinking, he reaches down and takes up the sword. He moves closer to the figures, holding the weapon aloft between himself and the shadows.

“Stay back.” A figure steps forward, motioning behind him with a hand that looks more hammer than human. Another figure takes up a stance beside him, this one with an axe.

Hiccup can't make out their faces but, he knows the voice. He remembers it like how he remembers where to hit a sword in order to pound it into shape on the anvil.

“Gobber?” Hiccup breaths the name, relief washing over his features. He tries to shuffle closer, more words on the edge of his tongue, and he forgets that Inferno is still clutched in his hand.

The blacksmith seems to relax for a moment, confusion or perhaps relief slackening his smoke covered features. Eret lowers his axe in turn but, seems too hesitant to drop the weapon completely and leave himself unarmed.

“What…” Hiccup's voice catches, and he grips the side of his neck harder in frustration. Nails digging into the leather and curving to cut into the puncture wound. “What happened?”

“Laddie, are you yerself agai-” Gobber is cut off by a noise Hiccup's never heard before. A growl that reverberates in the air and slices straight to his core. It's draconic and rumbles through his chest. It's nothing like Toothless’ snarls. This is louder, deeper, bigger and angrier.

A Stormcutter stalks forward, back arched and eyes narrowed. Its shoulders are held up and tense it's wing claws gripping into the wood with each step. It's mouth is open, a glow emanating from the back of it's throat. An empty dart is lodged between the scales on its chest.

“Cloudjumper-” Hiccup raises his hands, in a gesture of peace, accidentally raising the sword with them.

Cloudjumper snarls and a roar rumbles in his chest. He looms over Hiccup now, his body blocking everything from view.

Inferno drops with a clatter and Hiccup lowers himself in a submissive stance. He remembers tusks and scorpion tails. A taunting smile and a thick accent. Hands on his neck and purple liquid.

“It's me, Cloudjumper-” Hiccup stumbles over his own foot. Falling backwards as the dragon continues to approach. His mind returns him to a moment when he faced down his best friend in a field of ice and snow.

Gobber and Eret shout from just beyond the bulk of the dragon, he can hear their footsteps as they try to run to get between him and the fire charging in Cloudjumper's throat with a hiss.

Hiccup makes himself as small as possible against the ground, shielding his face with his forearms and curling to face the other way. He waits for the tornadic fury of the Stormcutter's breath. His mom's dragon had always been so protective, so loyal. He remembers how fatherly Cloudjumper had become to Toothless. How much he respected Hiccup and the other dragons. He remembers how the dragon's gentle nature made it reluctant to even hurt a fly.

Something terrible has happened. He repeats it like a mantra in his head. Trying to dig up memories from a black void tinged with violent purple.

“Hiccup!” Arms wrap around his shoulders and suddenly there's another body between him and the angry dragon.

“Astrid?” His voice tightens and he opens his eyes. A curtain of golden hair falls across his face and tickles his nose. He's looking over Astrid's shoulder, his chin pressed against the pauldron, staring into the eyes of his would be death. His collar bone throbs from where it presses against her but, it's dulled by adrenaline.

Cloudjumper's eyes are wider now, his pupils more oblong and his head is tilted in confusion. Smoke curls up from his nostrils and spills from between clenched teeth. He seems to shift anxiously, tensing his wing claws while the fins on his head vibrate slightly.

Hiccup slams back into awareness, pulling out of Astrid's shielding grasp. Realizing that Cloudjumper has calmed down, that whatever was afflicting him or perhaps controlling him as worn off, perhaps been broken through by Astrid's appearance.

“What were you thinking?” He stands, gesturing to Cloudjumper who tenses up once more and his eyes narrow into slits, “Gods- you...You could've died! Cloudjumper's- he- he's not in his right mind and you just jump right into his line of fire!”

Hiccup is suddenly angry, as if everything is just catching up to him. As if his defeat at the hands of Grimmel is finally talking forefront in his mind. The loss of his home. The loss of his father's presence in said home. And who better to take it all out on then the person he loves come to save him? He remembers watching Astrid get hit with the dart and he had been helpless to do anything. The helplessness makes him frustrated and he turns that wrongfully against his betrothed.

Astrid moves away, one hand reaching back as if to grab the axe strapped there, “Excuse me, I was saving your life.”

Astrid's tone is colder than he's heard it in a long time. For a moment he's standing back in the arena, staring down a much younger and meaner Astrid.

“Well, then we both would've been-” He pauses a pain lancing down the back of his skull. He waves his hand in the air and the other one goes to his hair for a moment. He remembers a hand in his hair but, now he feels a bump, raised and warm on his scalp. He can feel blood, it's still warm but it seems to have congealed. He's forgetting something, something important.

Cloudjumper's warning growls continue to echo in the early morning air. He drops his hand and wonders if he's concussed. Something must have hit him hard enough to break skin and bruise his skull.

“Dead? Yeah, we almost were.” Astrid steps away crossing her arms, making sure to put a good distance between herself and Hiccup. She still stands between him and Cloudjumper, as if she's certain the dragon is under no malevolent influence.

“What are you-” Hiccup looks around for a moment. The house, the fires still burning, the solemn faces. The way Astrid won't meet his eyes but, is still determined to protect him with every breath. “What happened?”

“Grimmel and his dragons." She says the name with a snarl and it's as if the pieces fall into place. He feels the fingers ghost along his neck, the weight of the hunter straddling his chest, and the phantom prick of a needle. Hiccup brushes a hand against his neck, smearing the slow trickle of fresh blood and flaking away the dried stuff.

He's about to ask where Toothless is when a voice interrupts him.

“It's Valka. She's… not okay.” Snotlout steps forward, his armor looking ragged and torn. His helmet is gone and a long slash runs down the length of his arm. It cuts through the scales and blackens the skin beneath his bracers.

“Mom-” He runs forward, Toothless forgotten for a moment, as he tries to get past Cloudjumper. Trying to get to the huddle of people he can see just yards away. The dragon slams a wing down in front of him, no longer snarling, but his nose curls as if he smells something unpleasant.

“Hiccup wait-” Astrid tries to lay a hand on his shoulder and Snotlout moves towards him as well, a hand outstretched to offer comfort. He shrugs her hand off and shoves at Cloudjumper.

“Let me through I have to see her!” He tries ducking beneath the opening formed between Cloudjumper's wing and his chest but, the dragon bats him backwards. It's not a gentle shove and it sends him reeling, gripping at his collar bone as he's jostled.

For a moment he stares dazed and shocked by the dragon's reaction. He looks to Astrid, who shakes her head and tries to plead with him once more. Dread makes his heart drop into his stomach at her devastated appearance. Why won't they let him see his mom?

He returns with angry vigor and pushes his shoulder into the dragon's exposed chest, knowing it won't hurt and desperately wanting to get through. A part of him wants it to hurt the dragon, even just a tiny bit. Hiccup nearly recoils visibly at the thought, taking a step backwards. “Please, I need to-”

He cuts himself off not wanting his voice to crack. He rests his forehead against the warm scales, feeling the chest rise and fall. Astrid tries to offer console once more and he's tempted to lean into her, accept the embrace for just a moment. Something in her voice is broken and hesitant, it does not reflect her unbreakable demeanor. He remembers Astrid sounding the same when his dad lay dead.

Rage bubbles up and races alongside the despair that gathers at the base of his throat. He can't let her die. He can't let his mom die at the fault of his silly plan. They were horribly out matched against Grimmel. His stupidity, his arrogance, it could have cost him his mom. It could have cost him Astrid.

He knows revenge is an empty and ugly thing but, he can't bring himself to care in that moment. It's a hot brand pressing into his heart. It makes him long to return to that moment with his knife pressed into the hunter's throat. Now he thinks, he wouldn't have hesitated.

The instant he feels Cloudjumper start to relax, Hiccup rolls to the left ducking under and easily pushing the wing up and out of the way. He runs, collapsing at his mother's side. She looks peaceful, eyes closed and body curled slightly to the side as if she simply slept.

Everyone standing around her seems to step back, eyeing the young chief as he grabs desperately for limp hands and pulls them to his chest.

“Mom,” He moves to press his ear against her chest, doing what she had done for his father a year ago when he'd laid prone on the ice.

He stops. Head bowed over her ribcage and eyes wide, seeing the wounds for the first time. It was a stab, clean through the chest, in the lower ribcage. There was no blood oozing, no viscera laid bare. Hiccup hovers his hand over the wound. It is cauterized, with blackened and drying blood smeared around it. He thinks he should be ecstatic that she isn't bleeding out onto the ashes.

The hot brand of revenge turns icy against his heart, making it stutter and stop. Freezing the breath in his lungs and making his hand quake.

A shaky hand hovers just below the cracked armor. Dry blood smears around the exposed skin in a rusty orange halo. The same rusty orange stains his hand.

He knows the kind of wounds Inferno can inflict, the way it can cut and burn through armor and saw through bone like butter. His mother's chest no longer rises and falls. She is not sleeping, she's dead.

Hiccup's world is ending. He killed her.

“It wasn't your fault.” Astrid tries to grab his hand, sitting beside him and pulling him away towards her. Trying to hide Valka's body from his sight.

He meets her eyes and his mind plays a whisper of solemn words. It’s not his fault. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. They are spoken in the soft voice of his mother as he mourns his dead father. And Toothless walks away, head down and for all the world looking broken.

He backs away, standing up and looking at Astrid as she tries to explain what happened. He looks between her, his bloody hand, and the prone figure in front of him. Back and forth, each step taking him further and further from the scene.

Astrid moves to follow him and he notices a limp. She leans heavily on her right side because a dagger is lodged in the armor in her left thigh that she hasn't risked pulling out yet. She had run to save him even with the knife stabbing her and still she moves as if it's nothing life threatening.

It's his dagger. The one Grimmel had forced him to drop. The one he held against the hunter's neck.

As she moves closer, arms spread wide and unthreatening as if approaching a spooked dragon, he notices her face. She has a fist sized bruise across her cheek. He looks around at everyone else, they all bear similar wounds and burns.

“Hiccup, babe, this wasn't you.” He hears her but, he knows it was done by his hands. Even if he can't remember; he knows.

“I killed her.” It's a whisper that goes unheard. He wraps his hands around his stomach, feeling ill and he continues to shuffle away. No one tries to stop him except for Astrid. The rest are weary and hurt by his hand.

“Grimmel- he did something. Like the Bewilderbeast did to Toothless.” Astrid is so close now, close enough to grab his chin in her hands and forces him to look into her eyes. He swears he can feel her hesitation to be near him, like a bow drawn taught and slowly released. She stands resolute, confident and sure of herself. Hiccup tries not to crumble to pieces in front of her.

“Valka...she, ran for you the second she could.” Astrid traces an idle thumb across his cheek, wiping away a stray tear he didn't realize he'd shed. “But, you were already gone. Grimmel left, taking his dragons with him but, you…I…”

She hesitates, blue eyes cast down for a moment. He doesn't need to hear her say it. Her hesitation is enough. It explains the pain in the back of his skull, like someone slammed the pommel of an axe into it.

“I'm sorry.” Astrid whispers, leaning her forehead down to touch his, a sweet and tender gesture of apology. "I'm sorry."

Hiccup shoves her away because he doesn't deserve this. He did this. He hurt Astrid. An unforgivable grievance and she was the one apologizing to him? The least he deserved was an axe handle to the head.

“No…” He shakes his head and Astrid moves away, defensive, if not fearful, as if she expects him to strike out at her. It stabs another lance through his chest.

A chief protects his own. A chief never attacks his own village, kill his own people. I am no chief, he thinks.

He repeats the words over and over in his mind, taking stumbling steps backwards. Astrid doesn't reach for him. It solidifies what he knows he has to do.

Hiccup turns and runs, cutting through the smoke, and he doesn't falter even when several voices call his name.

He runs past dragons waking from their induced slumber and villagers who've come to see the aftermath, filtering out of the Great Hall with the first light of dawn. They reach for him, grab for his shoulders and he hears the worried croons and warbles of dragons follow him.

He doesn't stop until the voices fade and nothing dares to give chase.

Hiccup runs to the only being on Berk he hasn't betrayed.

Chapter Text

“Toothless!”

Rain conveniently starts falling the second he passes through the tree line into Berk Forest.

It plasters his hair to his head and beats against the bruises on his body. It gathers into the joints of his arm and trickles beneath the neckline of his armor. It's a cold rain, truly freezing and something unique to the summers in the Archipelago. He's fortunate it's not hail.

“Toothless! Bud!” The Night Fury should have heard him by now. He should be within hearing range now, skirting around the edge of the cove they first became friends in, and trying not to slip in the mud that threatens to send him falling below.

The sky is darkened by the heavy storm clouds rolling in but, he continues onwards the path familiar and known to him even with such reduced visibility.

His mind is as heavy as the rain beating on his back. Fat droplets that land and explode into thousands of tinier ones. The thoughts in his mind fracture and fall just as fast.

He thinks of finding Toothless and heading back to the village. He thinks of reconciling with Astrid, his friends and even facing the council. Perhaps, he can convince them all that he never meant for any of this to happen. Maybe he can be there for his mom's funeral and be the one to fire the first flaming arrow into the ship as she floats away. To be the one to give the final prayer to Freya, to send her safely to Vahalla.

He's stubborn though, even when he's set on an idea that's terrible in the long run. He can only think of running now, taking to the air and leaving Berk behind. Right now, it's a fantastic wonderful idea. The best option for him and he thinks very little of the future.

Hiccup no longer thinks of himself as chief. The title is scrubbed from his mind. A year of duty and devotion to his people is falling away with each foot fall. He is on a path of self-righteous exile. Even the voice of his father, the disappointed booming in the back of his skull, does not slow him.

Right now he's falling back into a dangerous pattern. If he leaves, if he disappears he believes that no one will care. He's suddenly five years younger and determined to leave the island rather than face down the disappointment from his father.

He's 21 now and the ex-chief of a village. He's removing himself from the equation with the twisted notion that he will only hurt everyone. That they can no longer trust him when they see the blood that coats Inferno and the marks that cover his friends.

He wouldn't be able to look anyone in the eye and tell them with confidence that Grimmel was at fault. He could only admit that his mother had died at his hand and at least eight people bared witness.

Hiccup couldn't bear to be the Chief who looks into Astrid's eyes every night and knows he made her fear him. That a scar on her thigh would be from him and not some foreign enemy. Not a dragon hunter, not a man crazed for power, or a conqueror on the path of conquest. It was his hand that drove the blade with enough force to cleave dragon scale and bury it up to the hilt into the body of someone he vowed to never hurt.

If he never saw Berk again, if he never saw Astrid again, it was worth it. Even if his heart broke and every breath threatened to turn into a sob, and his heart seized in his chest, and he looked over his shoulder hoping to see her one last time.

She would be fine. He had made it clear to the council that she would take up duties as the reigning Chief, if something were to happen to him. They will never be married now but, she would be respected and given the title of Chieftess regardless. She would always do what was right by the people of Berk. She would be the Chief he could never be.

Hiccup bows his head, stopping for a moment and breathing harshly. The rain slows and stops. The water soaking his hair drips down the strands and onto his hands. The blood washes away, pooling in his cupped hands. It swirls for a moment and the sun cuts through the cloud cover. It makes the water shimmer like fire for a moment and he lets it slip slowly the the gaps in his fingers.

It's the closest he will get to sending his mom to Valhalla. He whispers his prayers, wishing her spirit guidance to the hall of warriors.

“Having regrets?” A nightmare drawls from somewhere above him. It's not real. It's not real.

He moves again, trying to get away from the voice that instills fear in his core. He grabs instinctively at the collar and refuses to look up. Bracing a hand against a tree trunk and ducking under low hanging branches, he stumbles onto the beach.

“Toothless, where are you?” Hiccup manages to finally unlatch the collar, throwing the cursed thing as far as he can.

For a moment he panics. Maybe the voice he heard in the forest was real and Grimmel had already taken Toothless. The hunter was the kind of man that would do such a thing. He can't know if Grimmel will leave Berk alone but, he has to believe that him leaving will make the man give chase and leave his village alone. For the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and he would do anything to keep them safe.

He has no weapon to wield and his teeth chatter slightly from the chill of water soaked leather and cloth against skin. Hiccup picks up a broken branch from the wet sand and moves cautiously along the shore. His boots leave incredibly obvious prints but, he has no time to curse his bad luck.

“Toothless?” He hisses quietly, hoping to not draw attention to himself. It's much too late for that, he’d stomped through the forest in a blind sprint breaking the underbrush and being noisier than the storm itself.

He hears the tell tale warble of his best friend coming from just beyond a great boulder buried in the sand. Suddenly, happiness overcomes him in a euphoric wave washing away his worries for a moment.

“Bud you're alright!” Hiccup drops his makeshift weapon, scrambling over the salt slick rocks and cresting the edge.

He only catches a glimpse of black scales against light sand and that's enough for him to slide down the other side, shoulder knocking against the rock and the pain is nothing compared to the relief he feels.

He lands roughly in the sand and he rolls to his feet, not bothering to even brush the sand from his pants legs. “Gods I was so worried-”

Hiccup doesn't have a chance to lock eyes with Toothless when a whine fills the air. He ducks on instinct and a plasma blast skims over him exploding against the boulder behind him with a thunderous clap and a discharge of searing heat. “Woah, shit-” He curses, hands thrown out for balance and he eyes the aftermath of the blast as the dust clears.

The boulder has a huge chunk in it and residual flames lick at it's surface despite the rain that moistens the surface. He smells the familiar stink of charred hair and that is way too close for comfort.

He comes out of the crouch, wide eyed and stunned. He sees the source, standing just beside Toothless.

“Oh my gods, you're not the only one.”

It's a dragon as white as the clouds that hang above them. It's scales glimmer in the sun that filters through the trees. It looks for all the world like an albino Night Fury but, it's smoother, sleeker, an aerodynamic form with a fin that runs delicately down its back. Judging from the way Toothless seems to stand so close, he can only assume it's a female that's caught his friend's attention.

The dragon does not look at him with the wide, friendly eyes Toothless does. Her pupils are slits floating in blue irises and she arches her back, wings flared and tail lashing. She's protecting Toothless, already moving in front of him.

Another plasma blast whines in her throat and Hiccup isn't sure what to do. He's fascinated by her, trying to absorb every detail he can about her and run it against everything he knows about Night Furies as a species. A more sane part of him screams for him to run, to duck and find cover. It's no coincidence that the voice sounds a lot like Astrid's.

Before he can move, Toothless turns on her, throwing a wing up to block her view of him and a series of growls and snarls fill the air. She backs away, Toothless batting at her face with his paw like a cat toying with a mouse.

She seems affronted, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head as she moves away, slinking sideways before finally taking to the air. Hiccup watches as she fires a blast and flies through it, disappearing from sight.

Toothless’ gaze lingers on the sky. Hiccup knows he has the means to follow, albeit rather clumsily, with the tail locked into a gliding position and the split spines on his back. He only raises up to sit on his haunches as if that will bring him closer to the sky.

“Did she just disappear?” Toothless turns back to face him at the sound of his voice. The dragon gives a gummy smile, nodding playfully and bounds towards him already wiggling with excitement.

The Night Fury nuzzles into his chest and licks at his face. Hiccup laughs, scratching his best friend under the chin, “Hey, bud.” And suddenly his laughing morphs into something similar to dry sobs.

Toothless croons and rears his head back before tentatively pressing his snout into Hiccup's chest. He sniffs, seeming to search for a cause of the pain. Hiccup feels a rough tongue tug at his hair as Toothless tries to clean the blood from his scalp and soothe the wound.

Hiccup leans into the Night Fury's warm body, cheek pressed into the scales as he tries to wrap his good arm around the thick neck. Toothless tries to drag the dragon rider closer with his forepaw, trying to offer comfort in the most human way possible.

He curls his flat palm into a fist, but there's nothing to grab, only warm scales brush his knuckles.

“We have to disappear. We have to leave- I’m-” His voice breaks and he closes his eyes against the pressure of tears he can feel gather behind them. “I'm sorry, bud. I'm sorry.”

He's crying like he hasn't in years. Pushing his forehead against Toothless and trying to stop his heaving breaths. The dragon only croons a low note, trying to convey his sympathy, trying to let Hiccup know he's there.

“Leaving so soon?” The voice is real this time. Toothless moves swiftly, dropping to all fours and jumping in front of Hiccup. He sniffs the air for a moment and then a snarl rips from his throat, the spines on his back glowing a dangerous blue.

Hiccup realizes that he must have Grimmel's scent on him.

The hunter stands at the tree line and Hiccup can only imagine that his dragons linger in the shadows beyond. He almost thinks that he can hear their ominous clicking.

“I see my distraction worked quite nicely.” Grimmel steps forward, hands clasped behind his back as he gives the Night Fury a cursory glance. Despite the clearly pissed off dragon ready to bite his head off, Grimmel trains his gaze back on Hiccup. “It seems that even your loyal pet can't resist the allure of a Light Fury.”

The cold eyes make his heart jump and he reaches up to his throat on instinct. His fingers meet nothing but, he can feel something invisible clamped around his throat. Sitting heavy and pricking at his skin.

He doesn't want to be afraid. His body doesn't give him a choice.

Toothless roars and the whine of a charging blast rings in his ears. Grimmel doesn't seem surprised when Hiccup dives for the Night Fury hands reaching for his open jaws, “No! Don't-”

He doesn't want to spare this man's life. He doesn't want to stop Toothless but, he stands in front of him anyway gesturing for the dragon to stand down. It's as if something residual runs through his veins and begs him to pledge obedience to that cold, cruel gaze.

Toothless cuts the blast off with a huff, smoke rising from his nostrils. His eyes don't lose their feral constriction and his muzzle is furrowed. Hiccup's back is to Grimmel but, he tracks his movements by the crunch of sand and the way Toothless’ eyes move to follow.

He doesn't turn to face him. Instead he rests a hand on Toothless’ muzzle and he only looks at the man from the corner of his eyes.

“You know, I never thought Stoick would let his daughter galavant about under the delusion she's a man.” Grimmel continues to walk, making a wide circle around him and Toothless before he comes to a stop. His voice is cruel, cutting at Hiccup with a razor sharp tongue. “In the land I come from you would be burnt at the stake for such acts against God.”

“I'm his son.” Hiccup growls, looking into Grimmel's eyes. His voice does not waver.

Toothless moves to swing his head and face the man but, Hiccup brings up his other hand gripping under the dragon's chin and keeping him faced towards himself. He can see the Night Fury's pupils widen and he relents with a confused growl, ear plates raising in question. He reassures him quietly with a low whisper and he receives a soft chuff in return.

Toothless trusts his judgement and Hiccup removes his hand, letting the dragon move behind him. Toothless’ tail swings around to rest at his feet and he can feel a wing press comfortingly into his back. Toothless stands level with Hiccup now, head lowered and eyes narrowed but this time there is no blue glow, no threatening snarl or charging plasma blast.

He defers to Hiccup instead, allowing the dragon rider to stand in front of him and Hiccup knows that it pains Toothless to leave his rider so vulnerable.

It makes Hiccup feel much more confident to have a fire-breathing dragon at his back though.

“I jest, chief.” Grimmel raises his hands as if showing he means no offence, “I’m not a religious man nor do I care what’s in your pants.” He waves a hands, gesturing to Hiccup's lower half.

“Get to the point.” Hiccup deadpans, thoroughly unamused by the hunter's antics. He should already be halfway to the next island.

Grimmel pulls a vial from a pouch on his belt, he shakes it between thumb and forefinger seeming to relish in the flinch it elicits from Hiccup. “I really didn't think that Deathgripper poison would work. However, the results have far exceeded my expectations.”

Grimmel tosses the vial in the air, catching it and then tossing it once more. Hiccup's eyes track the purple liquid.

“Why?” He doesn't know why he asks. He can already guess the answer. Grimmel is a man who seems to relish in toying with his prey. A hunter through and through, getting a thrill from delving into the mind of his quarry.

“Why not?” Grimmel responds, catching the vial one last time before pocketing it. He levels him with a gaze that makes Hiccup feel like dirt on the bottom of a shoe. A nuisance, a mere annoyance to the man in front of him.

“You stood in my way-” Grimmel steps closer, an accusatory finger raised. “And you're not the only one with people to feed.”

Toothless growls, moving to meet the man and Hiccup throws an open palm out parallel to the ground. He waves it twice and forms a fist, the signal to hold his position and wait for his command.

Grimmel comes close enough that Hiccup could hit him if he lunged but, he stops short. “The world is much bigger than you know and dragons are quite the rare commodity in Rome.”

“They are so much more than that.” Hiccup looks at Toothless, intelligent green eyes turn to him for just a moment. He's heard of the Holy Roman Empire from traders and merchants. It is unkind to dragons, having no endemic species throughout most of its land and being a major importer of the draconic kind.

“And it's that childish belief that's gotten you here.” Grimmel frowns, his hands clenching by his sides for a moment, “How many livelihoods have you destroyed with your naivety?”

Confusion makes his brow furrow and he steps back, away from the accusing tone, back pressing closer to Toothless, “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve starved families, emptied villages and forced so many from their homes! Do you even realize the devastation you and your riders bring?” Grimmel guffaws, an unbelieving sound and realization dawns on Hiccup with a sickening lurch.

“Your village-”

He's cut off as Grimmel grabs him by the front of his armor, lifting him up by the buckles, uncaring of the Night Fury that roars beside him.

“My. Village.” Anger steeped in years of hardship laces the hunter's words and Hiccup grabs at the hand lifting him from the ground, pulling him close to icey eyes, much too close. He tries to crane his neck and turn his head away. “I watched my people waste away. I watched children starve and mothers beg the gods on their knees. The only reason they're not all dead is because of me.”

“I didn't-” Hiccup tries to get the words out but, he's throttled. Grimmel growls, shaking him violently and Hiccup recognizes the anger he sees in his face.

“You didn't think! And now you'll lose everything for your stupidity.” The hunter lets him down much more gentle than he expected. Letting his feet touch the sand and releasing the grip on his front, the hand hovering in the air for a moment.

Hiccup tenses up when the appendage moves to land on his left shoulder. It does not dig in cruelly, searching to bruise, instead it rests gently reminiscent of a father comforting his son.

“Uh…” He can only feel awkward in that moment, watching a villain suddenly become utterly human before his eyes. He can still feel those cruel hands on him, digging into his clavicle and ripping at his hair.

“You're a murderer.” The words are so soft and completely the opposite of anything he had come to understand about Grimmel. "You killed your own mother." Toothless has fallen quiet at his elbow, probably just as confused by the change in demeanor.

“It… it was the poison.”

“And will they believe that?” Grimmel smiles, a sad and genuine thing as if he suddenly cares about his well being. “Do you believe that?”

Hiccup looks down, eyes studying the leather work of Grimmel's overcoat. He's right. They wouldn't believe him. He remembers a time when he was smaller and every word he said was like snow thrown into a volcano. Inconsequential and non-existent.

They would never believe him, not when he can't even believe himself.

It's as if Grimmel can sense the acceptance in the sudden slump of his shoulders. His hand leaves Hiccup's shoulder, “Now, I'm letting you go.”

He steps back, sweeping a hand out to the ocean. It's an invitation and one Hiccup takes without hesitation. Suspicion creeps inside him, roiling his stomach but, not enough to stop him. He swings himself up onto Toothless’ saddle, and the Night Fury slinks past the hunter, wary gaze trained on him.

“Fly away and never return.” It is a threat and a promise. Hiccup looks over his shoulder at the man, “This is what his life has cost you.”

The parting words leave him numb, and he turns back to where the ocean stretches out in front of him and the sea stacks rise to kiss the sky. He grips the saddle beneath him, pushing his calves against the rib cage beneath them and Toothless takes to the air.

When Toothless tries to bank left, carrying him back to the colorful huts that rise in the distance he tugs at the saddle hard enough to make the dragon look back at him with a quizzical glance.

He only looks forward, trying to ignore the wetness on his cheeks, as Toothless steers away from Berk.

Chapter Text

Hiccups thinks of the last thing he said to his mother. It was nothing deep or profound. There was no exchange of well wishes or be safes. His last words were orders, addressed to everyone, to stay as quiet as possible and wait for his signal.

He regrets not saying more. He can not forgive her for leaving him for twenty years, even in death he still can't bring himself to do so. He regrets not letting her know that she was loved nonetheless. That in the painfully short time they were reunited, for that short year, he saw her as a mom. A role model, someone to look up to and aspire to be just, as he had looked up to his dad.

He hopes they've reunited in Valhalla. Locking arms once more, dancing around each other with smiles on their faces as they recite their vows to each other for the final time.

Hiccup looks up at the clouds, skimming just beneath them he can reach out and touch them. He wonders if they both look down on him now with disappointment.

He lays back, eyelids heavy and hands folded peacefully on his stomach. For a moment, he simply relishes the rise and fall of his own breathing and the slight jostle as Toothless beats his wings.

The cold air kisses his cheeks and the warmth of the body beneath him rivals the chill.

He is exhausted, bruised and bloody. Despite everything, he falls asleep.

He dreams. It's a mixture of imagery and sounds, smells and touches. He can't understand much of it beyond a purple haze that hangs over everything. Someone whispers something in his ear. An order.

A burning beam falls near him. Kicking up sparks in his face but he doesn't flinch. He reaches out, grabbing the hilt of a sword that sticks out from the wood. It's burning hot. He doesn't drop it.

Arms fall across his shoulders and fingers tug at his neck. He knows this voice. He knows her eyes. But she's purple now.

He ignites the sword and thrusts it into her ribcage. He doesn't blink. She is no longer purple.

Hiccup wakes with a shout nearly falling from the saddle, heart pounding and a dangerous numbness lingers in his fingertips. Toothless slows for a moment, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. He reassures him with a quick brush of his hand on his scaly forehead.

“I'm okay, bud.”

It’s nightfall now and he's slept for hours.
He can tell Toothless is tired and reluctant to continue by the way he tries to glide more and pump his wings less.

Thankfully, an island ten times the size of Berk rises from the sea.

It is perfect, large enough to accommodate every dragon and person on Berk. It is defensible and seems to be a lush paradise with plenty of resources.

He shakes his head, as if to psychically dislodge the idea. He can't think like that anymore. Starting now, he tries to close that part of his life off, making an effort to separate himself from the past in every way possible.

He's not a chief. Only a dragon rider. He will only ever be a dragon rider.

They land in a glade near a cliff, a river cuts through it and runs off the edge. A perfect little place to rest. He removes the tail fin and saddle from Toothless allowing the dragon to curl up comfortably in the grass.

He tosses what dried fish he finds in the saddle pockets to Toothless, saving the yak jerky he has in a small pouch for himself.

The moon is bright and full providing enough light to cast the whole world in silver hues and washes of gray. He sits on a flat stone next to the river, unbuckling the armor on his upper half, removing the pauldrons, and finally stripping down to his undershirt.

He scrubs the leather tunic with his hands in the rivers cold water, removing the stench of smoke, removing the stains of blood and soot.

The leather shines in the moonlight, slick with water and definitely cleaner than it was. He sets it on the grass beside him unable to know if it's back to its original brown or marred with permanent burns.

He picks up the shoulder armor next, holding both pieces in his hands, the belt that attaches them hanging limply between them. He stares at the tribal crest on his right pauldron for a moment and then tosses the whole thing into the shallow water. The buckle gleams silver beneath the ripples but, he can see nothing else.

The last thing he needs to do is clean his neck. The wound doesn't hurt as much anymore, and the pain in his skull and collarbone seem dulled as well. He thinks it may have something to do with Toothless licking the open wound on his head and thus getting saliva into his bloodstream.

Dipping his hand into the water, he gently scrubs at the side of his neck. It's too dark to tell if blood comes away but, he doesn't feel the wound reopen. He dips his hand in the water one final time, cleansing himself before standing up.

He gathers up the rest of the leather armor, moving to lay it closer to where he will sleep.

He walks away feeling lighter and settles down to sleep with his head resting against Toothless’ side. He does not dream.

Toothless wakes him, almost bowling him over in his haste to get somewhere.

Hiccup scrambles, putting his armor back on with such haste that he nearly snaps some of the fasteners and buckles.

“Hey bud, wait up!”

He gives chase, knowing that Toothless’ tail fin isn't on, so that leaves the Night Fury trapped on the ground. Still, running after a dragon is no small thing.

He tries his best not to trip on roots or crash into trees but, the moon is lower in the horizon, and his night vision is nothing compared to a dragon's.

The sound of breaking branches and excited barking chuffs guide him in the dark. He only prays that he doesn't end up throwing himself off a cliff.

He chases Toothless all the way to a patch of ferns seeming to grow on every surface of the forest floor. A familiar white dragon stands in the middle of them.

He's out of breath, bent with hands on his knees but, he still manages to get the words out without pause.

“Well look who it is.”

The Light Fury doesn't move, only staring him down with thin pupils. She's not growling or outright snarling. So, he decides to try and approach with much more caution getting lower to the ground, “Ah, hey there. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Hiccup puts a hand out, trying to see if he can gain the Light Fury's trust as he had done for countless other dragons. Instead, she moves lightning fast, rushing at him and before he can understand what's happened, he's being lifted into the air.

He grips onto her foreleg, hands clinging to the scaly lifeline as they climb further and further into the air.

“We, uh, weren't properly introduced-” Hiccup looks up at her with a fearful smile and tries not to think about how small everything looks below him.

She drops him.

The air rushes out of him as he yells. Twisting and falling in the air, he's out of luck. His flight suit has no leather wings for gliding to safety and Toothless is grounded.

A roar rents the air, a sharp high pitched thing that turns his blood to ice as if the plummeting to his death scenario didn't already solidify his veins

The screech of a Night Fury diving fills his ears alongside the rushing wind and suddenly he stops falling with a jaw rattling halt. His teeth clack together from the rough jolt and it tugs harshly at his arm sockets.

He pants and gulps, breathlessly he clings to his savior, “Oh gods I'm gonna be sick.” He blinks, eyes having teared up from the wind, and looks up into the face of the very dragon who just tried to kill him.

He flashes a small smile and a frightened laugh escapes him. She looks down her snout at him with almost a disgusted huff.

She tosses him unceremoniously at Toothless’ paws. As he gets to his feet, or foot, Hiccup has the distinct feeling she thinks of him in the same way a human looks at a small yappy dog

Toothless runs forward, licking at his face and hair. “Oh, thanks for nothing you useless reptile.” He's laughing euphoric from the near death experience as he bats at the dragon's face with his hand, trying to push him and his slobber away.

Toothless bats back at him with his own paw and pretends to scold Hiccup trying to imitate a human tone that dissolves into a laugh, sounding like a cross between a cough and a chuff from his chest, a gummy smile stretched on his lips. “Yeah yeah, you're always saving my ass.”

He scratches under Toothless’ jaw, the dragon closing his eyes in bliss, and Hiccup coos heaps of praise onto the Night Fury.

The Light Fury rumbles and clicks drawing Toothless’ attention, she tosses her head over her shoulder, raising a paw and stamping it before prancing in a small circle.

“I think she wants us to follow.” Hiccup moves to swing up on to Toothless' back but, the Light Fury trains her gaze back on him and growls a warning “Or, ya know, just you.” Hiccup puts his hands behind his back and whistles innocently, stepping away from Toothless.

She turns away, seeming satisfied and takes to the air. For a moment, Hiccup expects Toothless to to run after her without him. Instead he turns to him gesturing to his back with a nod.

Toothless races back to their makeshift campsite, the Light Fury circling back to follow them from above. They reach the little glade and Hiccup makes quick work of securing the saddle and the tail fin. Giving one quick test of the pedal before opening the fin as wide as it can go for take off.

Toothless and Hiccup take to the air finally, climbing up over the treetops to join the white dragon where she waits. She eyes Hiccup and tosses her head, grumbling to herself. If she knew how to roll her eyes she would have.

“The feelings mutual.” Hiccup mutters, using the ability to roll his eyes to the fullest advantage.

Toothless smacks him with an ear plate and he sputters. “What? She's your girlfriend!”

In protest of that statement, Toothless goes into a series of rapid barrel rolls nearly throwing Hiccup off.

“Real mature you big baby.”

Toothless just laughs in response.

They fly for hours and as the sun rises and moves across the horizon they continue to head West chasing the blazing ball as it falls across the sky.

There is no land in sight and Hiccup begins to worry they will have no place to land. His stomach rumbles, having eaten so little in the past day and a half and he can only imagine Toothless is the same.

They fly on still, until a great Wall of Mists rises before them seeming to come from the sea itself. It reminds him of the mists that shrouded the Dragon's Nest but, there are no ominous sea stacks or wrecked ships here.

The Light Fury continues straight, gliding into the mist without hesitation, punching a hole in the dense fog that dissipates without a trace a heartbeat later.

They follow, the sound of a waterfall, louder than he's heard before, becomes a deafening din. He still can't see and Toothless seems to hesitate as well hovering in place and spinning to catch a glimpse of white scales.

She materializes from the mist, diving straight for them, grabbing Toothless claws in her own and dragging them down, both dragon and rider cry out as they fall.

They’re in the Hidden World.

Hiccup is silent, taking everything in with a breathless curiosity. It's everything his dad had ever told him about and so much more. It's real.

They swoop over great cracks in the earth, glowing orange and billowing steam as waterfalls converge and cascade into eternity.

They pass two Light Furies, seeming to stand sentinel on two rock pillars that lead out over a pool where Seashockers swim and jump below.

Hiccup presses himself closer to the saddle, suddenly feeling as if he was never meant to see this place.

The world around them glows and the Light Fury ahead begins to illuminate, stripes of pink and blue forming a swirling, unique pattern across her scales.

No glow comes from Toothless or Hiccup.

Great pillars with strange glowing plants surround them and as the Light Fury passes small orange circles begin to glow. He realizes they are eggs and quite unlike any he's seen before.

They pass over a great field of crystals, boulders, and gems. Dragons of all species below bellow a greeting, some species he's never seen among them, all looking so small in the massive cavern.

They circle around a crystal as big as Berk itself, spiraling up it's length. It radiates an unnatural warmth and light, giving life to the underground world.

They continue upwards passing between stalagtites that have firewyrms clinging to their surface, illuminating them like strange upside down torches.

There is a hole up ahead in the ceiling with another massive crystal embedded near it, hanging down and reaching to touch the one beneath. Hiccup can see foliage cling to the glowing surface and strange mushrooms sprout up from patches of moss.

They fly through the hole and level out on an alien world.

Dragons fly past them heading the opposite direction. Everything is illuminated by a light that comes from a crack in the earth above, clusters of white quartz growing to fill the crevice and hang down like chandeliers.

Ancient trees loom high above them, twisting and becoming one with the rock face. They weave and duck through the roots passing a few dragons who track them with curious eyes.

The roots thicken to a point that Hiccup fears they won't be able to fit and he presses as close to the saddle as he can. He feels the whoosh of a bough as it passes close to his back and suddenly they are in a clearing.

The massive roots give way to mossy ground scattered with boulders and a large area of water that pools like stepping stones. It seems to fall into the cavern below but, the hole is too small for most dragons to fit through. There's a waterfall coming from high above them that constantly feeds the entire thing.

They circle it, wingtips dipping into the stream, the spray dampens Hiccup's face before they land on the spongy floor. He stays low as Light Furies seem to materialize around them, stalking forward slowly to see the strange newcomer.

There aren't many of them, if he had to guess there were only about five surrounding them; including the Light Fury who'd led them here.

Toothless tenses, back arching slightly and wings flared. He's startled and unsure. He seems to be raising his wings up to try and block Hiccup from view.

The Light Fury, and Hiccup decides they need a new name for her, moves to greet the others of her species. She rubs her chin against their shoulders, chirping a greeting as they do the same in return.

Hiccup sees a very small dragon bound closer to Toothless, one that he didn't notice before. It's a dull grey, lacking the luminescent scales and sparkling hide the others seem to have but it's eyes are that same deep blue as the rest of its species.

It's a very cute baby, tilting its head curiously and squawking as it bounds forward on little paws, nearly tripping and falling flat on its snout. A bigger dragon scoops it up in her jaws, moving the curious hatchling away from the strangers and casting Toothless a withering glare with narrowed icey eyes.

A dragon sniffs at Hiccup’s foot, nudging where it sits in the stirrup, startling both parties.
Toothless jumps beneath him and he sits up straight with the sudden movement.

He winces, realizing his mistake and he turns with a sheepish smile to face a growling Light Fury in front of them. “Uh.. hi?”

It tackles him right off of Toothless’ back, sending him hard into the dirt as two paws push him into the ground. It roars right in his face and he can't help but notice it's eyes are purple and it's ear nubs are even shorter than the others. It's smaller as well but, no less deadly with sharp teeth bared and claws cutting through his armor.

He has to assume this is a male.

His weight presses dangerously into his rib cage and pushes all air from Hiccup's chest. He struggles to breath, gasping and squirming and the purple is the same shade as the Deathgripper poison. Suddenly, the weight on him is human and the hot breath against his exposed neck is a hand.

The Light Fury shoves the purple-eyed dragon off of him and he can breathe, once more. He rolls over, crouching on all fours except for a hand rubbing at his throat. He brushes the healing puncture wound feeling the nasty scab that forms there. There is no collar. Grimmel is a world away.

He gets up slowly, Toothless sniffing at him and allowing Hiccup to use him as a makeshift crutch to get to his feet.

Yowls, growls and snarls fill the air and he sees the two Light Furies locked in a ferocious argument. The remaining three seem to consider flying off, there wings spread in anticipation and pupils narrowed to slits. The little grey hatchling yelps unhappily where it's mother clutches it in her jaws. It's eyes are wide and friendly, looking directly at Hiccup as it paws the air trying to get closer.

He would find it endearing if it weren't for the death glare that it's mother gives him, and of course the two dragons fighting just beside him.

A commanding roar fills the air, very similar to the one Toothless’ uses when demanding the attention of a whole flock of dragons.

A hush falls over everything and they all turn to look at one of the archways that the roots form, a Light Fury, larger than the others but, not much larger than Toothless, walks out. Her eyes are blue and they're cloudy, no pupil can be seen. It's unnerving because Hiccup can still feel her gaze on him, regardless.

Her scales are duller but, still a brilliant white and she carries herself with the air of something ancient, something as old as the place around them.

She walks towards Hiccup, the other dragons bowing and turning their wings towards her, all except for Toothless who moves to stand beside him.

Hiccup feels as if he is in the presence of the Bewilderbeast once more, so he kneels, bowing his head and exposing the back of his neck to the Alpha dragon.

Nothing happens for a moment and he can see Toothless shift his paws nervously from the corner of his eye.

Something warm and dry brushes against the back of his neck. A warm breath huffs across his nape and he suppresses a shiver down his spine.

He closes his eyes then, not sure what to expect from this alpha. He is a trespasser on her land and for a moment he thinks she will condemn him.

To his surprise, a rough tongue runs over the injection site on his neck and his head snaps up to see the Alpha look down at him for a moment. He can see his reflection in her eyes. He can feel her gaze on his soul and it's as if he's burned clean, a phoenix rising from the ashes anew.

She turns away after a moment standing in front of Toothless. She seems to study him for a moment before licking him on the top of his forehead. It is nothing like how dragon mate's will greet each other. It is a mother's greeting to her hatchling.

It seems to surprise Toothless as well because he blinks in confusion and he wrinkles his nose, swiping the back of his paw across his face.

Hiccup is surprised to see an honest to gods’ smirk on the Alpha's face. She turns, as proud as ever, and makes her way gracefully back to the archway she emerged from.

On the way, she passes the small male dragon and gives a huff followed by a quick growl. He looks down at his paws, curling in on himself with ear plates pressed flat. He opens his mouth, giving a low chirrup in protest but, she tosses her head and cuts him off.

The Light Fury eyes the scolded dragon with a victorious posture, chin held high and chest puffed out. The Alpha turns to her next and needs no verbal sound to thoroughly reprimand her. The Light Fury deflates giving an apologetic click of her tongue. She turns away and Hiccup thinks she looks like an indignant child, puffing her cheeks out slightly and glaring at the ground.

Then just as soon as the Alpha arrived she disappears from sight and it's as if the whole world gives a collective sigh.

Chapter Text

Hiccup walks through the Markets of Tórshvan, he keeps his head down and hood up, a cloak wrapped around him that sweeps the floor somewhat concealing his leg. No one should recognize him here but, he can't be too careful.

He thinks of Toothless, hiding down near the harbor, it's dusk and he will be almost impossible to spot in the shadows. He will be safe.

Merchants give him nods and the occasional one tries to peddle their wares, their lanterns lit and ready for the night faring crowd.

He thinks absentmindedly as he moves through the crowd, avoiding the stumbling path of someone with too much to drink. He thinks of his new home.

He remembers how some of the Rumblehorns would charge him more often than not. It's a good thing he has experience dodging angry dragons but, most stop a few feet short of him, huffing warm breath in his face before seeming to give a nod and lumber away. Thankfully, Toothless had only had to use his influence as an alpha on a few of the more determined ones. He always seemed to have his back.

Although, sometimes he wakes up and the charred ground beside him is cold. He knows in those moments Toothless is off somewhere nearby, chasing firewyrms or mingling with the other dragons he's adopted into his flock and quite literally taken under his wing. Of course most of the time he's trying to warm up to a particular Light Fury.

The dragons in the Hidden World always seem to just tolerate Hiccup, though. Usually sniffing him for a moment and then leaving him be.

Only a certain yellow Hobblegrunt is eager to stay by his side, especially in the mornings, thus earning him the name Earlyburn; well that and his tendency for his scales to shift from yellow, to orange, to red in a fiery display of colors.

Hiccup finds him pleasant company to have around, especially when Toothless isn't, and Earlyburn is always ready to light a fire or burn something in exchange for a few scritches and some dried fish.

It was easy to forget down there that he had people back in the world up here. There is no one to remind him, no one to say 'mornin’ Chief’ or 'hello Hiccup’. No hands to reach and grab his shoulders and clap a hand on his back.

There's only the scar on his neck and the one on his heart to remind him. But, they will fade as all things do.

Only dragons as far as he could see and even when they reminded him of Berk he couldn't stay sad for long, Earlyburn or Toothless always nudging his side as if to bring him back to the present. He would never forget Berk, not completely, and he's accepted that. Drawing familiar faces and dragons on the ground of his new home or filling his sketchbook with fond memories. Sometimes he catches Toothless looking at them, tracing a claw along the delicate lines of charcoal.

Seeing all these people, these Vikings going about their day and enjoying the end of the day with a tankard of mead brings a homesick smile to his face.

He stops for a moment, hearing the familiar clicks and chirps of a Nadder. It sounds distressed. Looking around for a moment he heads towards it, the noise growing louder as he travels past booth after booth.

A familiar dragon proof cage glints in the setting sun, just resting on the ground unmanned. There's others around it and he wonders where the hunters are.

He walks up to the smallest one, seeing a baby Nadder race up to him, trying to cram it's head through the bars to get a good look at him. It's blue and yellow, with curious eyes and so painfully like Stormfly.

“Hey little guy.” He rubs a cautious hand on the dragon's nose and it seems to lean into it, closing its eyes and giving a small purr.

He's close enough for the little hatchling to grab his cloak in it's curious teeth, gnawing and kneading at the scaly texture as if trying to figure out why Hiccup's wearing the skin of a dragon.

It doesn't seem afraid, somehow discerning that the skin was not skinned from a dragon but, rather shed.

Hiccup gives a low chuckle, “Never smelt a Light Fury before, huh?”

He lets the little one continue to chew on it, just glad to see the hatchling focused on something other than its current demise.

He remembers when he got the idea for the cloak. He'd been surveying his current supplies and the raw materials available to him underground.

He'd come up short on a few important things that would be hard to craft without the proper tools. Paper, leather, and iron just to name a few things. The most important was Loki Root, and no matter how far and low he looked it wasn't among the strange flora of the hidden world.

Hiccup had then looked to his map, trying to find a market that he'd rarely been to but, would definitely be close by. He'd settled on Tórshvan. The riders and him had only ever been there once and he knew they would have everything he needed. He had the means to get there, a decent sized pouch of gold coins and a plan to get in and get out. It was perfect but, he still needed some way to change his appearance or at least mask it.

He'd used a quartz dagger, fashioned from the shards of crystal that were often broken off by the odd dragon fight, to carefully cut the sides of his hair short. He had stared at his reflection in a highly reflective gemstone for almost an hour before doing it. Debating with himself if it was necessary. He would have to cut the braids from his hair, the very ones Astrid had put there.

He had set down the dagger for a moment, carefully undoing the leather strips that held the braids and then he raised the razor sharp edge to them.

He moved mechanically, not thinking about each strand of hair as it fell away until he looked at his reflection and couldn't recognize himself.

His clothing and armor was still something that would set him apart, especially his prosthetic. Not many green eyed, skinny boys with one leg and brown hair existed around the Archipelago.

The Markets of Tórshvan were not overly friendly to dragon riders and hunters often used the port for trade.

So with a plan in mind he'd searched for the shed skin of a dragon. Knowing that not only did they scratch off the occasional scale but, they also could shed off whole sections of the hide revealing new scales and skin beneath.

It seemed only the most elusive dragons shed their skin carelessly. He'd fashioned a cloak with the first one he'd found and the Light Furies nearby ignored him as he cut and tied leather strips in the white, thin material.

The only one who'd come to sniff at him was Siv, Toothless’ friend and the first (and only) Light Fury to begrudgingly accept his presence.

She'd earned her name when Toothless had followed her out into a thunderstorm, with Hiccup on his back. Lightning nearly struck them and she seemed fascinated by the whole thing, flying confident loops and almost dancing with the lightning strikes. Her obsession with the thunder and lightning led to her being named after Thor's wife, Siv; although Nubless was an affectionate name he used for her quite often only because she would pretend to be angry about it.

She didn't seem opposed to the name and it was better than calling her 'The Light Fury’.

She still won't let Hiccup touch her, let alone trust him enough even when he raises a palm to her and turns away. The only reason Siv tolerates him as well as she does is because he's almost always with Toothless.

Hiccup smiles, thinking of the progress he had made with her. She no longer outright huffed or growled at him. Instead she'd roll her eyes, something she picked up from him faster than even Toothless had.

“Hey, what're ya’ doin’ with that dragon?”

A gruff voice shouts and a large hand pulls him up by the scruff. It's rather gentle, all things considered but, he can't stand the feeling. Hiccup wrenches himself out of the grip by aiming a backwards kick at his assailant, hitting something judging by the yelp of pain.

He scrambles away a hand protectively wrapped around his throat. His skin crawls and his neck burns.

“Ow, th’ fuck was tha’ for?” In the lantern light he sees a rather large man with blond hair and a scruffy mustache clutching at his stomach. He's dressed in furs with a hood hanging down at his shoulders and a dagger tucked into his belt.

Blue tattoos on his chin mark him as a dragon hunter from the northern tribes. His instinct to knock the man unconscious and free the dragons at his back war with Grimmel's words. This is just a man in front of him, not a monster. He can't help but, think that only a monster could lock up a baby.

“Ah, sorry,” Hiccup rubs a hand on the back of his head, grinding his teeth and trying to shift into a friendlier demeanor. He'd rather not start something, even if adrenaline still screams through his veins. “Don't like being manhandled.”

The man nods and then pauses for a moment, looking closer with bushy blonde eyebrows pulled down low over his eyes. “Well, I'll be damned. Is tha’ Light Fury?”

A curious hand reaches for his cloak and Hiccup bats the hand away, “Yes”, Hiccup looks back at the Nadder, he can't stand to be near it without being able to free it, “Now I'm gonna go unless you'd like to throttle me some more?”

He decides he will come back, when the township is quiet and free the hatchling. Grimmel's words be damned, a baby had no place in this.

Hiccup brushes past the hunter, making to return to the main market, purchase what he needs, free that hatchling and leave.

A voice, much like Fishlegs when he became curiously excited, calls after him and footsteps follow, “Wait up! Where'd ya come by it? I 'eard they been spotted down south.”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Hiccup grumbles, the last thing he wants to do is have friendly conversation with a dragon hunter. It doesn't help that the hunter seems to already have an idea about the Hidden World's location, even if it would be nigh impossible for anyone to find it on ship.

“O’ come on, an great 'unter like yerself can share a few secrets wit me.” Hiccup stops, turning to the hunter with wide eyes feeling for all the world like he's been gravely insulted. The man doesn't seem to notice. “Man ta man, ‘unter ta 'unter. Ah mean, just one a’ thems dragons could set a man fer life.”

Hiccup takes a moment to breath in deep, “What makes you think I'm a hunter?”

The man laughs, a hearty bellow and claps a hand on his back knocking the wind out of Hiccup, “Yer may be a fishbone but, I knows a 'unter when I see one.”

Suddenly, a hand is shaking his own, “Name's Briger, it's a real honor ta meet ya’, sir.”

Briger smiles at him, and the man is not unkind perhaps just a bit over eager and unable to understand basic social cues but, kind nonetheless.

“Er, Halvar”, Hiccup tries to think of a title befitting a hunter of the status Briger seems to think he is, “Halvar the uh, Horrid?”

Hiccup cringes at the name, it's terrible and he's never been one for lying especially on the spot. He hopes that it didn't sound as much like a question as he thinks it does.

Briger seems to accept it readily, “Ah, a name beffittin’ of a Fury killer.”

Hiccup laughs, a small and nervous thing and he wonders if it's just his luck or punishment that he's become a dragon hunter's biggest hero.

“So, what brings someone like yerself to 'umble lil’ Tórshvan?”

Oh, gods. Hiccup hadn't prepared for any of this. He figures he can stick as close to the truth as possible, make it sound more believable.

“Just here for some supplies, I'm heading out as soon as I get them.”

“On wha’ ship? Yer crew mustve all bedded down at the inn.” Briger gives him the first sign that he's suspicious.

Shit. They've made it back to the main part of town now, standing near a booth that sells fish and dried jerkies. He needs to think of something quick.

“I- I have a very loyal, hard working crew. They'll be on the ship er, ready to go. We really didn't plan on staying, important business in the ah, east.” Hiccup smiles standing taller, trying to maintain the presence of an authority figure, someone who always has a plan. Even with the few stumbles it seems that Briger buys it.

“A loyal crew indeed!” Another meaty hand lands a slap on his back and Hiccup smothers a cough, moving towards the leather workers booth he spots in the distance.

The man is thin, old but, not frail. He has a critical gaze and seems to look over Hiccup before addressing him.

“How can I help you, lad?”

Hiccup lists off the leather he needs, yak hide and some boar leather. Nothing stiffened, he can manage that back in the Hidden World. He does purchase some bog iron rivets, a leather bone needle and other tools.

For a moment he thinks he's lost Briger, the man finally realizing he's very clearly occupied and wandering off to entertain himself. Unfortunately, he hovers standing by him and occasionally comments on his purchases. Maybe the hunter is foolishly hoping Hiccup will tell him where to find Light Furies. Whatever it is, it's aggravating and putting him on edge.

“Ah, those coins look mighteh familiar.” Hiccup tenses up for a moment, passing the blacksmith the desired coinage for his purchase. He'd already bought parchment and a sketchbook from a trader, and some textiles from a weaver. He just needed some raw iron and a few metal working tools, he could manage a way to make molds and an anvil.

He only has one more stop, the seiðrkorun's booth he spotted walking into the markets. He tries to ignore Briger's comment and walks swiftly to the booth manned by an older lady, similar to Gothi but, lacking the staff and shortness. She smiles at him, as if recognizing him and she hands him the Loki Root before he even inquires about it.

He eyes the dragon parts he sees displayed and takes the black, gnarled roots from her with a raised eyebrow but, no question. It's a large bundle and should be enough to last him a few years. He pockets it safely, his other purchases are bundled up in the leather and rope he just bought. He had the hindsight to use both to make a makeshift satchel of sorts, it's incredibly crude but it leaves his hands free.

She tells him the price in a kind voice and he drops a coin in her open palm, the open mouthed dragon facing up.

“Tha’s from Berk!” Briger exclaims it and suddenly the whole market is looking at them.

The rather civil Briger suddenly morphs into something much darker, drawing the dagger from his belt with a venomous look, “Yer no 'unter.”

Hiccup laughs trying to think up some excuse for him to have the currency of a dragon loving island. “Ah, you know how these things are-”

“Liar, get 'im!” Briger slashes the dagger at him and reaches for him on the next swing.

Hiccup ducks, holding desperately onto the bundle of supplies and making for the harbor. He keeps one hand on the makeshift satchel and the other goes to the crystal knife at his belt.

He slashes at anyone who tries to grab at him and doesn't stop running. Voices shout and he bowls over two drunkards who wander into his path. He shouts a quick apology but, can't afford to slow down.

He dashes down the slope that leads to the harbor, hoping beyond hope that his prosthetic does not slip in the loose dirt. He just needs to make it to the cliffs that overlook the harbor.

Whistling two short times, he calls to Toothless letting him know that he's on his way back.

A crossbow bolt flies past him with a thwang and he doesn't have time to move out of the way when a lantern it hits shatters just above him, raining down hot burning oil and flame.

It doesn't burn him, he knows it won't but it's still unsettling to feel the heat on his back.

He's at the docks that spiral down to the water and he makes to veer left towards the cliffs that Toothless hides just below. His prosthetic catches on the space between the slats of wood, twisting and sending him falling face first with a shout.

Before he can scramble to his feet, angry hunters thunder past him. Briger among them, he doesn't dare move, only able to see from the small opening between the hood of his cloak and the ground.

He holds his breath, keeping his face pressed into the ground, the blonde man moving so close to him that his nose almost touches the heel of Briger's boots. They don't see him and they move on, racing down the docks. Thankfully, managing to not step on any part of him.

He doesn't move until he's sure that they've all gone. Sitting up, he looks down at himself and nearly yells in surprise. He's invisible, or at least part of him. Everywhere the cloak covers him, he can see straight through and it's the most disconcerting thing he's witnessed in a long time.

It's starting to fade though, he can see white scales shimmer back into existence as the cloak cools down.

Someone shouts and he's been spotted. He doesn't have time to ponder the possibilities.

He races for the cliff edge, whistling only once as he leaps straight off. Toothless jumps from the ledge below him a moment later and he falls into the saddle with practiced ease. He closes the tail fin and suddenly they're climbing upwards, out of the range of crossbows and arrows.

Hiccup opens the tail fin and they level out above the clouds.

“Thanks, bud.”

He pats a hand on Toothless’ neck and he's suddenly reminded of the baby Nadder.

“Wait,” he tugs on the saddle, pulling it back the way they had just fled, “we have to go back. They have a baby dragon down there.”

Toothless eyes him for a moment but, it seems his instincts to protect his own kind win out and he banks back towards the town.

“There!” He points to the cluster of cages near the edge of some buildings. There are still no hunters around but, it's only a matter of time before they spot a Night Fury and the white cloaked boy on its back.

He jumps off before Toothless even lands, being sure to lock the tail into glide, and races towards the small cage.

The hatchling coos at him and stamps it's little feet shaking its head in excitement at his presence, “Hey, little guy I'm glad to see you, too.”

He undoes the latch and swings the gate open, the Nadder scampering out to nuzzle into Hiccup's leg. He scoops up the little dragon and it gives a squawk, “Sorry, I know. I don't like being picked up either.”

The hatchling settles down, and Hiccup gets back into the saddle, leaving as quickly as possible. He should've saved all of them.

On the way back, the Nadder sleeps in his arms, the tiny little crown of spines on its head digging into him but, too dull to hurt.

He decides to name it Stormcry.

They return to the Crystal Fields, bobbing and weaving through pillars of crystal until the Great Crystal rises up to meet them. All parties are unharmed but, feeling rather tired from the trip and subsequent escape.

Hiccup moves off to the little alcove he calls home. He's put soft moss on the ground as a bed in the little cave formed by two dark towers of stone and he sets the supplies down in a niche. They will be safe there from any nosy dragons.

Toothless follows him inside, stamping in a tight circle before blasting the ground into a desirable temperature. He curls up before Hiccup even has a chance to remove the saddle and fin.

He lets him be, setting the sleeping Stormcry down on the mossy ground beside him before opening his sketchbook. He can still draw by the dim light of the Great Crystal, it always dims considerably like clockwork mirroring the rise and fall of the sun but, it never looses it's light entirely.

His body is tired but, his mind is racing. He has an idea to make armor with the Light Fury scales, as he had already done with the Night Fury armor he had left back home. Coated in a fireproof mixture of dragon saliva and crushed up scale for pigment, the same as before but, now able to turn invisible using exposure to heat.

He could move unseen, provided he ran through fire first. He thinks of how he could leap through the heat of a plasma blast and glide completely unseen onto a ship. He'd practically be a ghost, a spectre, truly a demon come to reign down upon them.

He draws up something similar to the suit he wore not too long ago, in the fight against Drago. It will have to be rather crude. He doesn't have the proper tools to make anything overly complicated. He only has what he's currently wearing plus everything he’d bought.

Hiccup thinks, for just a moment, a split second that he can do something. Even with Grimmel's foreboding words ringing in his ears he knows it doesn't have to be this way. Maybe he can't free all dragons, maybe he can never return but, he can protect their ancestral home, protect his people, protect their dragons. Protect the young and the vulnerable, he scratches gently at Stormcry's back, give the next generation of dragons a chance. Bring them here to safety in the Hidden World if he can.

He can protect Berk. If he can't free every dragon without risking innocents than he can damn well insure that no war general, power hungry hunter or crazed conqueror ever thinks of sailing into his waters. Because they are still his waters, even if he is no longer chief. He will guard them as a dragon guards its nest.

If he can't belong among people then he will make himself a dragon.

He falls asleep to dreams of gliding through the air and chasing off ships with fiery breath that is not his own. For once, he does not dream of the color purple.

Chapter Text

Hiccup wakes up in the cove. The very cove he first met Toothless in. The same one where six of the best years of his life began.

“What?” He whispers, getting to his feet- wait his feet? He looks down seeing two brown boots and he takes a moment to bounce on the balls of his feet in disbelief. He can feel his toes and wiggle them and he remembers this sensation like a distant friend. It's not just a phantom sensation, it's very real he just hasn't felt it in so long.

There is no pain, no discomfort, no numbness, and he can move without a limp, he can balance and run and jump all without accommodating for his prosthetic.
He laughs, a noise bubbling up from within him and he spins in place, relishing the feeling.

Breathless he stops short of falling into the lake and he looks at his reflection. A toothy grin smiles back at him.

He moves his hands, touching his own face and watching the reflection do the same. It's his face but, not the one he knows.

A boy looks back at him, rounder face, longer brown hair, and an obvious dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

He grabs at the fur vest and runs a hand down the green sleeves of his tunic before placing his hands on his cheeks. He spins in place once more, this time looking, searching and hoping for a reason to be back here.

“Toothless!” He calls for his best friend, a vicious nausea spilling into his insides.

Gods, what if the last six years of his life were some kind of twisted dream.

It couldn't be true. The memories were so real. His love, his laughter, his smiles, his pain and his tears, his entire life; Was it just some cruel joke?

He curls in on himself, sitting with his back pressed against a rock and his knees pulled to his chest. For all the world, he feels like the fourteen year old boy he saw in the lake. Lost and desperate for an answer, a solution.

A twig snaps and his head shoots up, a Night Fury stalks out from the shadows. Hiccup's breath hitches and he scrambles to stand up, running at the newcomer.

“Toothless, bud-” He cries, flinging his arms around the Night Fury's head, having to really reach considering how short he now is. In this moment, he doesn't care where, or rather when, he is.

He presses his cheek into the scaly warmth, feeling tears fill his eyes and he tries to shut them tight against it.

He does not receive a warble or croon in return, no nuzzle or acknowledgment of his presence, instead there's silence and Hiccup let's go out of concern. He steps back, wiping the back of his hand across his face as he sniffles, “Toothless?”

A Night Fury stares down at him but, It is not Toothless. It looks so much like him, with wide green eyes and curious expression but, he knows this is not his friend.

'It's been a long time.’

A voice fills his mind, resonating from a place that he can't understand. He jumps, looking around for a moment trying to figure out where it came from. There are no other creatures in sight and he turns back to the Night Fury. He narrows his eyes with a mounting sense that something much larger than himself is taking place.

“Did you just-”

‘Talk.’ It's a feminine voice that washes over his own thoughts, demanding to be heard but, soft like a blanket of snow settling quietly after the first snowfall of the year. 'In a way, yes.’

The Night Fury sits, forelegs drawn up beneath her and tail swinging to curl around her, looking more like a cat than the dragon she is. Through his disbelief he notices that both of her tail fins are intact. This is not his friend.

“B-but how?” He sputters for a moment, running a hand through his hair and pacing. He's trying to figure out what in the Hel is going on and each time he comes to a conclusion it falls away into the realm of impossible.

She watches him for a moment, blinking slowly, 'I forgot how difficult it was to talk to Odin's creatures.’

She does not open her mouth but, Hiccup knows that she has spoken by the way she shakes her head and grimaces; if dragons could indeed grimace. He thinks that he prefers to never see a dragon open its mouth and talk like a human, glad to be spared that haunting image, at least. He launches into a series of enthusiastic questions then, ranging from 'how can you talk?’ to ‘who are you?’ to 'why am I here?'.

She sighs for a moment, chest expanding for a moment and she exhales heavily with a huff. The Night Fury settles her head on her paws, waiting out the onslaught of questions Hiccup unleashes on her.

“Why am I here? Who are you?” He thumps a hand against his own chest. “Why am I like this?”

“Why are you-” He waves a hand at her, “like that?”

‘So many questions, little Chief.’ She closes her eyes appearing for all the world to drift off to sleep. She looks so much like Toothless in that moment that Hiccup reaches out to run a hand along her snout.

He pulls his hand back. Somehow, he knows that she would be insulted by a gesture. Her presence doesn't feel draconic. It doesn't even feel human or real. It's ethereal and when he squints looking closer he can almost tell that there's a glimmer of artificiality to the black scales. That the cove itself seems incomplete. It's like looking at an impression of the place he knows rather than being in it.

'Have a seat now. I won't have you here for long.' Hiccup sits, legs crossed and trying to stop his fidgeting, nervous twitches that he hasn't had since he'd been this young. He sits back straight and grabs up a stick, tracing it in the dirt and drawing mindless loops and circles that form the outline of a Night Fury. He says nothing, waiting for her to have the first word. Knowing that she deserves it, that it is within her right, as if he's done this before.

'I know you have many questions, Hiccup.’ She levels her gaze on him, raising her head once more and Hiccup has to crane his neck to look up at her now. 'Unfortunately I can not answer them all. You will not remember this meeting- not entirely.’

“I don't understand… So, I'm dreaming? And we've met before?” Hiccup can't help the questions that spill out of his mouth. He knows her, like a memory of the first time he broke a bone or fell and scraped his knees. Unable to recall exactly how it felt but, remembering the overwhelming pain, never quite holding onto the details of it all.

‘The first time we met, was the night you shot down Toothless.’ Her voice, or at least her thoughts in his mind seem amused by the name for the Night Fury. Hiccup thinks back to all those years ago, he can't recall ever having a dream quite like this.

‘Your fates became intertwined that night. In sparing his life the next day, you made it clear that you had not only the heart of a chief but, the soul of a dragon. That's why I appear to you in this form because this was your beginning.’

“But, I’m not that person… Not anymore.” Hiccup hangs his head with a small, sad smile and waves a hand towards himself, “And as you can see, I'm not a dragon.”

He thinks of when his mom had said similar words to him, 'you have the heart of a chief and the soul of a dragon', just after they had fired flaming arrows onto his father's funeral pyre. She had spoken them as truth, as if she'd always known despite being a world away for all of his life.

'Run from it, little Chief, hide if you must.’ She stands, looming over him now and he falls back, hands thrown out behind him as he scrambles backwards until his back hits stone. He doesn't turn away, remembering a time when a Night Fury stared him down just the same. ‘You can only lengthen or stretch the strings of fate but, they all begin and end the same. You cannot run forever.’

She pushes a claw into his chest, not an accusatory thing but, emphasis that she is indeed very real in this moment. An implication that she holds power in this situation and Hiccup should heed her words.

‘It is my duty to witness this winding path for all time, to protect my charges, and to have the power to intervene if I must.’

And he knows now who, or rather what she is.

“You're a dísir…”

He'd heard so many stories about them, from his father and the elders of Berk. All his life he had only thought of them as some fairytale, told to kids to scare them into behaving themselves or else the dísir would twist their fate into something terrible, or bring them incredible fortune if they were good.

The dís leans back, removing her paw from his chest. 'I am the keeper of your fate Hiccup Haddock. As I am the keeper of every dragon in the branches of Yggdrasil.’

Suddenly, images and ideas flash across his vision so fast he can only stare slack mouthed at the air in front of him. He is older than the Nine Realms, looking onto an recognizable world, between the roots of the great tree. He watches as Ymir is slain by Odin and his brothers, as his blood floods the world and they hang his body in the sky to form the cosmos. He watches as the dragon Nidhogg chomps at the roots of the great tree beside him and from his shed scales sprout the first dragons, flying to fill the Nine Realms. And he follows them. He feels as his own life is linked to theirs for all eternity and he sees their fates spread out before him in a million little threads.

He comes back to himself, shaking off the disturbing out of body sensation. He feels infinitesimally small and cold, and he hopes he never experiences it ever again. It leaves him more breathless than anything he's ever experienced, as if he's sucking in air to fill a chasm in his chest. She has shown him her life, thousands upon thousands of eons older than his own.

“In-” He pants and coughs for a moment, a hand over his pounding heart, “In case you forgot; I'm not a dragon.”

'But you cannot deny your longing to be one.’ The dís knows him, just as he knows himself. He thinks of his first flight and how he felt as if something taken from him had been returned. The sky is his home just as the ground is, and for fourteen years he was denied that without even realizing it. That up there, all his responsibility is gone, just him and the open air for miles.

'I cannot grant you that.’ The dís lowers her head, pressing her forehead to his own and he closes his eyes. Something begins to thrum in his ears and pulse behind his eyes, filling his lungs and running like fire through his veins. It ends just as quickly as it begins.

He opens his eyes and the cove is gone. There is only him, returned to his current age, standing alone at the base of the Great Crystal. Craning his neck, he looks up and up. There at the top he sees two dragons; one as black as night and one white as snow. A proud king and queen, and he is their guest. Bowing low, he hears the dís speak to him once more.

‘I have given you the gift of understanding. For your mind is too weak for the true power of All-Speak.’

Hiccup snorts, the scene disappearing before him to be replaced with the murky depths of true slumber, “Wow, that's not insulting at all.”

It is the last thing he says before he's dragged down into his own subconscious, the world turning pitch black and his body dissipating into a thousand shards of thought.

Drifting to him like the last leaf of autumn is a final message he knows he won't remember.

'You are stronger than you know.’

He wakes with a jolt, like cold water crashing over his head. He's breathless and for a moment he doesn't recognize his surrounding. It's dark and his eyes are adjusting rather slowly. He paws around for a moment at the ground and he brushes against something warm and solid.

He can just make out the silhouette of a little dragon curled beside him and as his hand brushes the scales, his thoughts twist and form into something new. He thinks of running, the exhilaration of a chase and his quarry is something small and fluttery. He's excited, overtly so about the very possibility he can trap this little thing under his claws.

He removes his hand, grabbing and holding the appendage to his chest. The thoughts cease, his mind quiets.

“What…” He mouths and reaches out once more. This time, his fingers don't even meet blue and yellow before the thoughts flood his conscious. It's like an invisible wire stretching from him to Stormcry, a confusing, twisting thing with no clear end or beginning. He's starting to understand.

It's like someone whispering ideas in his ears and flashing images across his eyes. They are not loud or obvious, but, subtle, moving and shifting in constant motion. He focuses, and the noise settles. Like dipping his hand into a running river, he gathers it up and forces it to slow.

Running. Chasing. Flying. Stormcry is dreaming.

He realizes that dragon speech is nothing like humans. It's ideas, ranging from the concrete to the abstract; it is intent, pure and unadulterated- wild. Spinning webs of detail that are communicated in such subtle body movements and sounds he should never be able to understand. But, he does.

He scrunches his brows, trying to think of how he knows. He shifts his hands to his lap, rubbing the palm and staring at the soft light that plays across his skin.

The light gains strength as the minutes pass, spreading a dazzling pattern of shapes across the ground. He looks to the marks on the stone, charcoal lines marking the days as they pass. There are six lines side by side and he adds a hatchmark through all of them, the seventh day. One week has passed with no sign of anyone from Berk near the Hidden World.

He thinks perhaps, he should check on them, be sure that they are safe and happy. No, he knows he can't do that. He'd only put them in danger.

Rummaging through the pockets at his waist, he pulls out the bundle of Loki Root. Breaking off a piece of the potent black root he carefully tucks the rest away in the satchel he made to store his sketchbooks and mapping supplies.

With a soft grunt he stands, ducking out from under the low hanging roof of the little cave, and stretches with a yawn. A hand goes to his stiff back for a moment, and he regrets sleeping slumped against hard crystal.

He limps out, his leg sore where it meets the prosthetic, into the little clearing he's made for himself. He picks up a crude wooden bowl he crafted for himself and sets it next to a fire pit.

“Hey Earlyburn, you up?” Hiccup calls to the Hobblegrunt who snoozes nearby. The yellow dragon wakes with a snort. Upon recognizing Hiccup, his scales shift to an orange and he shakes the crest on his head with a trill.

Hiccup grabs the iron pot hanging over the pit, one he found in the wreckage of a ship at the bottom of the Great Waterfall, and moves to a wooden aqueduct to fill it with water.

It's a rather simple contraption, allowing water from an uphill stream to be brought right to his home. It's convenient for all the times he needs water for something but, doesn't want to make a trek that involves scaling various, slippery rock faces.

Earlyburn sniffs curiously at his hands as he drops the root into the water. “Hey, back off will ya?”

Hiccup chuckles, giving the dragon a scratch on his nose. Thoughts flood his mind. Protection, affection, the idea that he's something small and squishy; a weak scaleless hatchling that needs looking after.

He lifts his hand away, and Earlyburn's thoughts linger for a moment, twisting and churning in his mind before being swept away by his own. “Oh, so you only hang out with me 'cause I'm useless?”

Hiccup mockingly scolds the dragon, trying to give him a glare but it quickly morphs into a smile when he sees the Hobblegrunt wiggle, bowing low and nodding his head with a grunting laugh. It's a playful, joking affirmation.

Hiccup hangs the iron pot over the unlit fire. “Just for that, mister-” He crosses his arms over his chest turning to face Earlyburn, “You’ll get no more chin scratches from me.”

Earlyburn whines, moving closer to him and nudging his elbow with wide, pleading eyes. Hiccup looks away, chin tilted up, knowing he will cave if he looks at those eyes for a second longer.

“Nuh-uh, nope.” Earlyburn snuffles, nosing at him, “That's not going to work on me.”

The Hobblegrunt licks him, a stripe up the side of his face and Hiccup raises his hands with a cry, “Ugh!”

He swipes a hand across his face, trying to remove the sticky saliva, “You win, you cheater.”

He scratches Earlyburn at the junction where his neck meets his chin and the Hobblegrunt purrs, turning his head and eyes narrowing. His tail wags against the stone with a rasp and his scales shift through an array of colors. He can feel the bliss from Earlyburn radiate up his arm. He can now understand why animals love to be pet so much. It's a wonderful tactile sensation.

“Now, if you would be so kind?” He gestures to the pile of charred wood beside him. Eagerness replaces any other feeling coming from Earlyburn. A small shot of fire ignites the kindling a heartbeat later.

He gives the Hobblegrunt one last thankful scratch and tosses him a square of dried fish. Earlyburn shakes his head, frill bouncing and scales flashing red as he accepts the treat and Hiccup's praise.

Hiccup sits, watching steam rise from the pot as the water begins to boil. He remembers when Gothi first taught him how to make the concoction. A tea using the Loki Root, to be drank on the sunrise of the seventh day. It aided the transformation of one's body, as the god Loki who could take many forms, so could the root in his name bring one closer to their desired form. He'd been drinking the tea since he was five years old and it had worked it's miracles, as Gothi had promised.

He watches carefully as the water shifts from clear to a murky brown, removing the pot when a pleasant smell rises up with the steam. He pours it into the wooden bowl, letting the brew steep and cool.

Cupping the wooden bowl in his hands, he holds it close to his chest and closes his eyes, his head bowed. A quick, silent prayer to Loki lasts for but a moment before he drinks every drop. It's a familiar bitter on his tongue.

A little yawn interrupts his musings and he turns to see Stormcry pad out of the cave, stopping to stretch with one wing and leg extended out to the side. The little hatchling shakes it's head and blinks owlishly at the world. Hiccup smiles, glad that he rescued the Nadder, if only to see it curious and alive.

He sets to work then, moving to grab his sketchbook from the cave and study the diagrams he drew up. Stormcry chirps up at him, a question and a greeting.

Hiccup chirps back in response, really it's just a click of his tongue followed by a short whistle, and he doesn't even realize he's done it. He's so absorbed in thought that the response is automatic. Stormcry seems to understand whatever he's said and runs off to pounce on Earlyburn.

He sets the book down, grabbing up the bundle of supplies and dragging them out next to the fire. Little playful growls and yowls reach his ears and he turns to see Earlyburn on his back, Stromcry jumping on his stomach with excited chirps of triumph. Hiccup shakes his head fondly at the antics of the two.

He sets out the leather, marking it with a charcoal pencil. Setting the water back to boil, his actions are confident and he goes through the motions to stiffen the leather with nary a thought. It's second nature.

He gathers white scales, muttering to himself as he ducks and clambers over rock ledges. Moving past dragons, a few of them Light Furies, as he fills the wooden mortar in his hands to the brim. Hiccup returns to his clearing, cutting the leather before immersing it in the boiling water. He fishes it out with a branch, shaping the pliable leather against various hard surfaces, piles of rocks, crystals, and even wood; anything that will mold it into the desired shape.

He's so absorbed in his task he doesn't notice Toothless return until a familiar croon sounds from his elbow and a blunt snout presses against the back of his hand. The thoughts that filter from the Night Fury are easy to understand, smoothly sliding against his own with little confusion. An apology, a greeting, an impression of curiosity.

“It's okay, bud.” Hiccup doesn't blame Toothless, he is his own dragon and he can explore and do what he wants. He will always return, eventually. “I'm actually working on something new.”

Excitement flits across his mind and Hiccup smiles at Toothless’ enthusiasm. “You'll have to wait and see.”

A grumble is his only answer. Toothless follows, watching over his shoulder as he crushes up the Light Fury scales in the mortar. He turns them into a fine powder, Toothless’ saliva mixed in to turn it into a sticky paste.

He reuses and salvages what he can from the armor he's already wearing. Using the belts and buckles already on him to craft what he needs.

The Great Crystal is starting to dim when he finally sets down the bone needle, fingers aching from sewing through the leather. All the plates of armor are set out on the ground, every last one, down to the metal, is coated in a thin layer of fireproof scale and saliva mixture. He even painted some on his prosthetic, protecting the wood and metal there.

It's a strange mixture of his flight suit from a year ago and the thicker dragon armor he left on Berk. He puts it all on, each piece buckled and secured onto his person with relative ease. It's thin and flexible, the sections moving across each other easily allowing him to twist and turn.

He puts his arms out to the side. Wings for gliding stretch out, attached to the length of his vambraces, loops and buckles on his chest and tapering thin to where they are secured to his upper calves, just below his knees. They are made from the cloak of shed Light Fury skin. The material is incredibly lightweight, but durable, fireproof and able to catch the air with ease.

He bends and reaches, catching a glimpse of the little collapsible dorsal fin on his back and the symbol on his right pauldron. It's not a tribal crest or a Night Fury's silhouette. It's a rune painted in black, Inguz, like two sideways V's that overlap to form a diamond between them.

The wings do not restrict his movements. He deliberately does not make them detachable from the armor like he has before. They are his wings now.

The only slight restriction to his movement is the thick leather that protects his neck, covering the injection scars. It's too thick to be easily punctured through and is a comforting presecence rather than a vice. It does not pinch him or puncture his skin. It does not seek to harm him. To turn him against the ones he loves. It is safety.

He has made a helmet too, using the remaining rivets. It is made with thicker scales of stiff leather. It resembles his old helmet, but with two fins on the side framing the trail of spikes down the middle.

He would've replicated his Night Fury armor if not for the memories associated with it. It felt wrong to try and replicate something from a life that wasn't his.

Hiccup turns to Toothless with everything on; “So what do you think?”

Toothless circles him, eyes narrowing as if giving him a critical once over. The Night Fury completes a full circle before stopping in front of him, tilting his head. A question, a why, a truly unaccusatory thing, is all he receives from Toothless.

“Just trying something new.” Toothless understands the intention behind the words and Hiccup feels reassurance and acceptance swim though his mind, a cool breeze that eases his anxieties. Safety and an idea of protection, something similar to Earlyburn's thoughts but fundamentally different in nature. Mutual and not one-sided, it's a promise that exists between them, an equal and powerful thing that can only exist between two best friends. Toothless presses his snout into Hiccup's middle and Hiccup crouches pressing his forehead to a scaly one.

A foreign feeling of approval slants against his thoughts. It carries a masculine presence but, he knows it's not from Toothless because it's jagged, unfamiliar and distant. He opens his eyes, standing and tracking the sensation. Following the invisible wire until he sees its owner.

The purple-eyed Light Fury watches him.

“Hey, it's nice to finally meet you.” He introduces himself, approaching with a raised hand the dragon jumps back for a moment eyes narrowed. Fear, distrust and aggression cascade like hail, pounding loudly at his own consciousness. For a moment, the fear becomes his own and he steps back.

Hiccup turns away, palm out and the storm quiets. He hears the click of claws on stone. A snout pushes into his palm and a name slowly forms, entirely unrecognizable. It's the sound of gravel shifting on a riverbank, the small sandy shoal, the sensation of standing on a piece of land that disappears into the sea. It unravels into something understandable, translated into his own tongue.

Eyrr.

Hiccup opens his eyes looking into friendly purple ones and smiles. Eyrr's lips slowly twitch into a toothy copy.