Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite countless assurances that time would soften the pain, the pain of the anniversary still cut like a blade.

Stoick the Vast was no stranger to pain. As chief of an Isle plagued with dragon raids, he’d suffered his fair share of wounds, both physical and emotional. Yet none came close to the agony of losing his wife and newborn two decades ago.

The week leading up to the anniversary, he often found himself reliving that tragic night. He could still see the panic in Valka’s wide eyes. He could still hear Hiccup’s wailing cries as they were dragged into the night by that beast.

Twenty years. 

He’d sworn to avenge them, meticulously scouring every raid for the thief to make an appearance. He’d seen hundreds of dragons over the years, but never the one he sought. 

On good nights, he liked to believe Valka had slain the beast. Perhaps she and their son had escaped, but found themselves stranded and unable to return. Maybe one day, a ship would stumble upon them and reunite his family. 

Bad nights were more common. Stoick’s gut would twist and he considered the most likely outcome – the monster had killed and possibly even eaten his family. They’d suffered in pain and in fear before the dragon had taken their lives. He’d never be able to lay them to rest. 

It was the possibilities that hurt the most. The not knowing that haunted him all hours, day and night.

With a heavy heart, he watched the dawn break on the horizon, beginning yet another anniversary’s ache. While he longed to wallow in his home, he could not afford to abandon his duties as chief, and soon found himself trudging to the town hall.

Gobber was waiting by the door when he arrived, sympathy splashed across his face. 

“Don’t,” said Stoick, cutting off whatever the blacksmith had planned to say. “There’s nothing that can be said that hasn’t been said before.” 

Gobber gave a quick nod, slapping his friend on the shoulder. He opened his mouth as if to speak but thought better of it, snapping his jaw shut. Instead, he yanked open the door and led the way inside. 

Hiccup had always been fascinated with the viking villages. Dotted across islands of the archipelago, these settlements were loud and bright and bustling with activity. 

Like all forbidden things, they were enticing. 

He’d promised his mother he’d never go to the villages, and for a time, he’d tried to honor that promise. After all, it had been the last request she’d made before she passed. 

For years, he was content to just watch from the outskirts. He’d spent many nights, under the cover of darkness, peering down at the settlements from the back of his Night Fury, Toothless. The dragon’s black scales kept them near invisible against the night sky.

It wasn’t until he was eighteen that he couldn’t resist the pull anymore. Hiccup had begun to explore on foot, walking the streets only once he knew the vikings were all asleep. It was the perfect opportunity to enter shops, ships docked at ports and even grand halls. 

Each told a story, helping him learn more about how the humans lived. How he might have lived, had circumstances been different.

The forges were his favorite to explore. So many tools and ideas scattered about, ranging anywhere from weaponry to architecture. He’d taken to bringing parchment with him on these visits, spending most of his time meticulously copying down any information on the trade he could find in those forges. 

Hiccup had then grown bolder, taking tools whenever he saw a duplicate within a forge. He was careful never to take more than one per forge and hoped each blacksmith would assume they’d simply misplaced a tool. It took a while to build out his collection, but in time he was able to replicate his own forge back at the nest. 

It had become his own slice of village life, far removed from the dangers of the vikings. He was even able to adapt it to benefit the dragons, helping to build prosthetic limbs for those injured by hunters or trappers. They were far from perfect, as he had no teacher, but through trial and error they were effective enough to restore flight to many dragons.

He only wished his mother could have seen it. Though he was never alone in a nest of dragons, there was no one to share his discoveries with – no one to understand the rush his inventions brought. He missed her smile, her love and most of all, her voice.

He’d never been able to speak to another human – it simply wasn’t safe. With Valka gone, the lack of conversation brought a new emptiness to his life. The idea of that emptiness stretching on forever was depressing. 

HIccup glared down at his reflection in the pond below. His nocturnal habits had left his skin with a ghostly pallor, even more evident against the black of his riding gear. Messy, auburn hair stirred in the breeze, just long enough for his bangs to fall in his eyes.

His eyes. Large, brilliant green and the source of all his problems.

Slit pupils, identical to those of the dragons he’d been raised alongside, glared back at him.

Chapter Text

Gobber grimaced as he held the blade up to the light. His latest apprentice really lacked the eye for detail that was required of the craft. For every inch that had been sharpened to his satisfaction, another three were left dull or uneven.

It was the seventh time this week he’d had to redo a project that should not have been his responsibility. As much as it pained him to request a new apprentice once more, he wasn’t sure he could tolerate much more of this one’s negligence. 

A shadow appeared in the doorway. 

“Come back la’er,” the man said, not bothering to look over as he tilted the blade once more. “Not takin’ anythin’ else today.”

“Gobber.” said a young woman, not budging from her spot by the door.

“Oi, Astrid!” He dropped the blade back onto the anvil, grinning up at his visitor. “Wha’ brings you here?”

The blonde raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. “Did you fall asleep at the town meeting again? I’m taking inventory for what we need from the traders. I’ve got to get Johann a final list before he sails out this afternoon.”

Gobber had dozed off a bit during the meeting. They were dreadfully dull, after all. He wasn’t about to admit that to the young viking, however, so he rolled his eyes at her instead.

“Yes, yes,” he waved his hook in her direction. “I remember. We’re runnin’ low on iron, as usual. And I still can’ find me best chisel. I tell ye that ev’ry year but no one listens. For a village that goes through so many weapons, you’d think it’d be a priority.”

The chisel had simply disappeared one more morning, and no amount of combing the forge had made it turn up again. Perhaps the legends of trolls were true, though he’d always been taught they stole socks, not tools. 

More likely, one of his boneheaded apprentices had lost it. He’d had more than his fair share of useless trainees over the years. 

Astrid gave him an exasperated look, “You have plenty of chisels!”

“Not like that one!”

The woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Can you sketch it out for me? I’ll give Johann the drawing and he can look for it – if we can spare the gold for it. I’d ask Stoick, but…”

Gobber nodded as the smile dropped off his face. “He gets like this ev’ry year. Best to stay out o’ his way til the anniversary passes before ye go askin’ him for anything.”

Astrid’ voice was uncharacteristically small when she spoke. “No news?”

Gobber felt a swell of affection for the girl at those words. Despite never meeting the chief’s family, Astrid had been one of the few to share his hope that the duo had somehow survived. 

The girl’s mother had raised her on the stories of Valka’s valor, and a part of her had always idolized the chieftess. Gobber didn’t have the heart to tell her that like all stories, the legends of Valka’s feats had been exaggerated over time. While the woman had been brave and strong in battle, he’d never seen her kill a dragon like so many of those tales now claimed.

“Nothin’ to report,” he replied, turning his attention back to the blade so he wouldn’t have to see her disappointment. 

Astrid grunted her acknowledgement before ducking out of the forge. 

––––

Dragons had been his salvation and his doom.

Hiccup had heard the story countless times from his mother. There were only so many ways to fill quiet nights in the nest, especially in the winter months. Telling stories – and retelling stories – became a quick tradition.

He’d been born small, sickly. There wasn’t much expectation that he’d survive the first snowfall, especially when a fever gripped him a few months after birth.

At the height of that fever, his breaths had become labored and less frequent. Valka had feared he’d simply stop from one moment to the next. She’d been preparing for a difficult goodbye after Gothi confessed she had no remedy for the illness. 

It had been torture, waiting for her son to be stolen from her. She spent as much time as she could at home, holding his small form and whispering reassurances. 

Then came the raid. The memory, like so many before, was a mess of fear and fire. It all passed in a blur until Cloudjumper entered their home. Valka could recount in great detail how the dragon had watched them with curiosity instead of the malice she’d expected.

She often glossed over the part where they’d been carried away, simply stating that she’d been scared but she’d clung to him with all her strength.

Arriving at the nest had terrified her, but it had also brought a sense of wonder that she’d been missing in life. All around her were peaceful, magnificent dragons living in a greater harmony than any viking village she’d seen in her life. 

While she gradually grew to accept their safety in the nest, Hiccup’s health continued to wane. The dragons were curious about the tiny human and his ailment, watching him with what Valka could only describe as concern. 

“There was this mighty, ancient dragon,” Valka’s eyes would light up when she described the scene, stretching her arms out to illustrate its size. “Smaller than the great king, but no less magnificent. With scales black as night, she would all but disappear in the shadows. I only saw her once or twice before that night.”

The great dragon had approached her one night, when Hiccup’s breaths were at their weakest. 

“I was afraid,” she’d confess. “None of the dragons had hurt us, but there was something about this one that set me on edge. The wisdom in those eyes…it was like she was from another time.”

She’d brought one paw up to her mouth, as if she were to clean her claws and instead bit down on her own flesh. She’d lowered the bleeding paw over Hiccup’s small form, dripping blood into the infant's mouth – much to Valka’s horror. 

“I screamed, but she didn’t stop. I tried to push her away from you, but I wasn’t strong enough. She used one of her wings to keep me back.”

The ancient dragon then lowered her nose to Hiccup’s chest, sending a jolt of electricity through the baby. 

She’d turned back to Valka, giving her one last look before stretching her wings and taking off into the sky. Though his mother had never seen the great dragon again, upon meeting a young Toothless she was convinced it had been a sort of ancestor species to the Nightfury. 

“As soon as the dragon was gone, I raced over to you,” Valka would say. “Imagine my surprise when you were breathing stronger than ever before! What she did more than healed you, giving you new strength. It was nothing short of a miracle…and then you opened your eyes.”

The gift had come with a price: the eyes of a dragon. A permanent reminder of his unnatural rescue, forever embedded in his face.

Chapter Text

There was one village in the archipelago that Hiccup had been especially drawn to over the years. Located just outside the boundary of the Red Death’s territory, it saw more raids and carnage than any other isle he’d visited. It was also the most alive.

There was a quietness to most villages, that spoke of relative peace and prosperity. While a part of him longed to belong somewhere like that, he couldn’t deny the excitement of the last village. They always seemed to be building or rebuilding, training or even giving rousing speeches in the square. 

Berk was always a flurry of fascinating movement and emotion.

If only they weren’t dragon killers.

He’d witnessed a few of the raids, careful not to get too close. The dragons moved with calculated intent, no doubt on the orders of their queen. While his own bond with Toothless kept the Nightfury from falling under her control, he wasn’t keen on catching the attention of her subjects.

The warriors fought with a ferocity he’d grudgingly grown to respect. They defended their home with passion, much like the dragons he had been raised alongside would. Granted, they didn’t seem to be aware that their perceived enemy had no interest in the humans themselves. Left alone, Hiccup suspected the dragons would have simply claimed the livestock and left. 

Instead, the vikings slew dozens of dragons each year. They had a whole training system in place to turn their youth into ruthless warriors. 

The village was led by an enormous man, whose brute strength alone had taken down multiple opponents. Tall and bearded, the chief cut an imposing figure and was always in the middle of the action. 

Hiccup never dared get close enough to hear him speak, but watching the ways others reacted to the man made it clear the citizens respected his authority. It reminded him of how the alpha dragon protected their nest, in contrast to the Red Death’s fear-driven approach.  

Hiccup wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Berk, but he couldn’t seem to leave it alone. Dropping in on the village had become a monthly routine, to the degree that he’d set up a makeshift base in a cave tucked into a nearby cove. Stocked with the essentials, it was a home away from home for Hiccup and Toothless.

The Night Fury did not seem to share Hiccup’s interest in the village, but the cove was lush and featured a pond full of fish to hunt. On nights where his human companion would sneak off to the village, the dragon was content to rest within the secret cave.

Tonight was one such night. Darkness was just beginning to fall as they touched down in the familiar cove. Hiccup retrieved a cloak from his saddlebag, securing it over the flight suit. He tightened the ties around his neck securely before carefully arranging the hood to obscure his features. 

“What do you think, bud?”

 Toothless gave a low hum, nudging his rider with his nose.

“I’ll be careful!”  

The dragon didn’t look especially convinced, but padded away to inspect the pond. Hiccup briefly considered asking Toothless to save him a fish, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. 

He knew the way to the village by heart, following the twists of the forest with ease. Before getting too close to the settlement, he swerved off towards the water. There was an overlook point that provided a great view of the village without fear of running into any locals. They rarely ever ventured to the water at night. 

So why were they gathered there now?

He ducked, biting back a curse as he took in the crowd assembled below. They all stood on the docks, watching as a small wooden boat was being sent out to sea. At first, Hiccup assumed it was a funeral, but a closer look left him baffled. One of the few perks of his odd situation was enhanced vision, especially in the night. Even from a distance, he could see that the boat was completely empty. 

So what about it was so important to Berk?

Once it was a distance away, the chief lifted a bow and flaming arrow, sending a single shot into the ship. His expression was tight, eyes shining with emotion as he watched the small vessel go up in flames.

So was it a funeral after all?

He took a moment to bow his head, pleading with the gods to ease the journey of whoever had been lost, just as his mother had taught him. Body or no body, it would be poor form to intrude on a vigil without paying the proper respect.

He searched the eyes of the others gathered below for a clue, seeing some degree of sadness in a few faces but none that matched that of the raw grief their leader displayed. Curious.

One young woman caught his attention as his eyes passed over her face and he saw that she was not looking at the ship, but rather up at the outlook where he was crouched. There was no way she could see him, right?

The blonde squinted, eyes roaming the spaces near him, but never fully settling on him. He tensed, trying to shrink back into the shadows. 

Her attention was diverted by a shorter, stockier viking leaning in to speak to her. The suspicion in her expression quickly turned to irritation as the man placed a hand on her shoulder. She scowled, rolling her shoulder back to dislodge the unwanted hand before swinging her elbow down into his side with force. The viking folded in on himself, wincing from the impact. 

Hiccup bit back a laugh. 

The girl had fire, there was no mistaking that.

People were beginning to break off, heading back into town in small groups until only the leader, the woman and a man with a prosthetic hook stood side by side on the dock. They spoke to each other for a while, and Hiccup found himself longing to hear the conversation. Seeing their connection only reminded him of what he could never have, like a knife twisting in the wound.  

As the burning ship finally drifted out of view, the woman appeared to excuse herself, striding away from the docks. 

He watched the remaining duo for a few minutes before they, too, abandoned the site. 

From his vantage point, he could see the village beginning to go dark as torches were extinguished across the homes. Soon only two lights remained, one more troubling than the other. With someone staying awake late in the forge, he wouldn't dare enter tonight. Perhaps he should go back to the cove and try again tomorrow. 

Snap!

He was jerked out of his thoughts by the sudden noise, heart pounding. He told himself it was probably Toothless, that the dragon had grown restless waiting for him. 

When he spun around, however, it was not a Night Fury watching him.

The woman from the village was creeping up the path, narrowed blue eyes locked on his figure. She brandished an axe in one hand and a small torch in the other. So she had seen something after all.

Looking around for an escape route, he grimaced. Unless he was willing to risk jumping from the ledge, she had him cornered.

Judging by the smug look on her face, she knew it.

He ducked his head slightly, hoping the hood was low enough to obscure his face.

“So," she drawled, adjusting her grip on the axe. "You gonna tell me exactly who are you and why the Hel you're watching us?”

Chapter Text

Growing up under the constant threat of dragon raids had taught Astrid to always trust her instincts. More often than not, they meant the difference between life and death. 

The anniversary had passed much as it always did, with villagers skirting around each other and talking in hushed tones. A somber cloud of emotion hung over Berk, more oppressive than the wind’s biting chill. Pity followed wherever Stoick went and no one dared breathe the names of his lost family. 

As had become tradition, the day ended with a ceremonial viking funeral. With no bodies to bury, Stoick said that each year gave a new opportunity for his wife and son to return home. When they didn’t, he’d grieve their absence as if the loss was new. 

The chief never spoke of his family, but his actions each year conveyed how deeply the loss had cut. 

Other tribes thought he was mad to reenact the ceremony each year. Astrid had heard from friends in the Berserkers and Bog-Burglars that his actions had made their chiefs doubt his strength and his ability to lead. 

Astrid thought it was sweet, in a sad sort of way. Not that she’d ever admit it aloud. 

Stoick’s unwavering love for his lost family was moving. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be loved like that. To have someone care so much that not even death could sway their conviction, twenty years later. 

They’d scaled back the ceremony to a degree, no longer sacrificing full boats like they did for a traditional funeral. With the raids, they couldn’t afford to spare much wood for the boats, as it was always needed for repairs. Now, smaller vessels were built specifically for the occasion, usually by apprentices to the carpenters as a right of passage in their training. 

As she’d watched the flames begin to overtake the small ship, she’d felt a strange uneasiness settle in, almost as if she were being watched. Casting a glance around the villagers, she noted how many looked as if they longed to be elsewhere. The beauty of Stoick’s dedication was lost on them, and it was clear they were only present out of obligation rather than grief.

She repressed a scowl, turning her attention instead to the village behind them. A quick scan showed nothing out of place, but the feeling that something wasn’t quite right persisted.

Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to her, and she was finally losing it. She had been training more than usual in her attempt to earn the coveted spot as Berk’s Heir. 

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts, when a slight movement caught her eye. High on the clifftops, she could have sworn she saw the telltale glint of metal. Had someone dropped a tool or weapon up there, or was there an intruder in their midst? 

She tensed, squinting up at the dark ledge. The flash didn’t repeat, but she wasn’t sure how much that reassured her. 

“Looking for me, babe?” Snotlout’s whiny voice broke her out of her thoughts. “If you need a shoulder to cry on–”

Feeling his unwelcome hand settle on her shoulder, she swung her arm around, jabbing her elbow into his ribs. He groaned, reeling back a few steps. 

Perfect.

As annoying as Snotlout’s advances had become, it had never been hard to put him in his place.

Out of respect for the chief and her own interest in Valka’s legacy, Astrid stayed long after the rest of her tribe. She’d have stayed until the end, but Stoick’s voice had taken on a watery quality that she felt she wasn’t meant to witness.

She quietly excused herself, leaving him and Gobber behind to grieve. 

Before she made it back to the houses, the feeling returned. The hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she felt a chill in the air. It was as if something predatory had her in its gaze, and was poised to stalk her. 

Oh, Thor…

She’d have to check the cliffside, just to be sure of what she’d seen. It was probably nothing, but she knew she’d never be able to sleep without checking it out. Maybe seeing the empty ledge would be enough to silence these strange feelings.

Retrieving her trusty axe and a small torch, she began the trudge up the cliff. It was a well worn path, easy to navigate even with minimal torchlight. It was steep, though, and harder to keep her balance holding the bulky battle axe.

When she rounded the final curve, her breath hitched.

A hooded figure crouched low, peering down at the docks below. 

Her heart thudded in her chest. She was used to fighting off invading beasts, not strange men skulking around the shadows of Berk. 

From up here, he’d have had a perfect vantage point to target any of them below. Her stomach twisted at the thought, but if he was an assassin, surely he would have acted? She didn’t see a bow and arrow or any other long-range weapons, but she wasn’t foolish enough to assume he was unarmed.

She took another cautious step closer, freezing when a twig snapped beneath her foot.

Oh gods, did he hear that?

Sure enough, the figure jerked up, spinning to face her. Tall, thin and male, she quickly assessed, based on the light stubble dusted across his chin. The top half of his face was shrouded in shadow, hood hanging low over his eyes.

He glanced back over the ledge for a moment as if contemplating something before turning his full attention back to her. 

Surely he hadn’t been thinking of jumping? From this height and with the sharp rocks below…it would be guaranteed suicide. 

So," she forced her voice to remain calm, tightening her grip on the axe. "You gonna tell me exactly who are you and why the Hel you're watching us?”

The figure didn’t immediately respond, and those silent seconds felt more like minutes as they stretched on. 

“I, uh,” a male voice, younger and softer than she’d expected, finally spoke. “I was passing through and I saw the pyre. Wanted to pay my respects, but didn’t want to intrude. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He sounded so sincere. 

She blinked. 

Apparently uncomfortable with her lack of response, he kept talking. “I’m sure whoever it was is on their way to Valhalla now. They’d be, um…honored by the turnout. I mean, there were so many people! I’ve never seen so many people at a funeral. That’s really something…”

The boy was babbling worse than anyone she’d ever met, including Fishlegs! It was almost charming, like he wasn’t sure how to talk to her. She felt her grip loosen on the weapon as he continued rambling, confused by the turn the encounter had taken. There was no way he was the one who had made her uneasy?

She had her doubts that anyone this awkward was a serious threat to the tribe, but something she couldn’t pin down still set her teeth on edge. That instinctual feeling of being under a predator’s scrutiny persisted, and she wondered if she was missing something. 

Was there something else out here, with them? Perhaps the boy wasn’t the threat, but rather the intended prey of a dragon lurking nearby? She turned her attention from him for a minute, scanning all the other outcroppings she could see. Nothing moved or seemed amiss, but it did little to comfort her nerves.

I’m losing it.

“...but of course, you know that already. Sorry – uh, no, what I mean is…”

Oh gods, he’s still going.

“It wasn’t a real funeral,” she interrupted, having heard enough and wanting to put him out of his misery. “It’s symbolic. We’ve held this same ceremony every year for two decades.”

“Oh.” He replied, confusion clear in his voice. “Why?”

She sighed, slipping her axe back into the holster on her back. The boy had shown no signs of aggression yet, and she was confident she could draw it quickly at the first sign of danger. 

“Our chief,” she explained, “lost his family in a raid twenty years ago. They weren’t killed, they were taken. We don’t know what happened to them, but he doesn’t want to risk their chances of reaching Valhalla by neglecting their funeral rites. We do this every year so that if they have been alive, but are no longer, their souls can find peace.”

“Taken?”

“Dragons,” Astrid explained, venom leaking into her voice as she pointed to a series of claw marks gouged in the rock beside them. “They raid our village, steal our food and destroy our homes. It’s always the same, except for that night…when they took Stoick’s wife and his son.”

The tension that had finally leaked from the boy’s shoulders returned in full force. Astrid’s fingers twitched to draw her axe, but she held back.

“Stoick?” The boy’s voice sounded different, strained. Almost upset.

“Our chief.”

She heard the boy suck in a sharp breath.  “Oh. Of course. Sorry. That has to be difficult.”

The sincerity she’d heard in his voice before was now absent, replaced by a strange tone she couldn’t quite place.

She simply nodded her agreement, trying to puzzle out the mysterious boy in front of her.

“You know, you never answered my question,” she said after a moment, raising an expectant eyebrow at him.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t give me your name”

 He chucked. “Well, to be fair, you didn’t give me yours either.”

“Astrid.”

“Huh,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “I thought most vikings chose names a bit more…”

The boy trailed off, the smile fell from his face when he realized she was still listening. A flush worked up his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying–”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off, laughing. “It is a tradition here to give more eccentric names, but my parents have never been very superstitious. I’m named after my grandmother.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I should be going,” the stranger said, flashing another smile at her as he started to edge past her. “It was nice to meet you, Astrid.”

Hearing her name in the stranger’s voice brought a strange rush of heat to her face. She tried to shake it off, and in her moment of distraction, the mysterious boy slipped past her.

“Wait!” She called out, “You never told me your name!”

Later, back in the comfort of her home, she’d recall how the uneasy feeling had slipped away with the boy. Too tired to puzzle it out, she drifted off before she could give it much thought.

Chapter Text

Hiccup did not sleep well. 

His encounter with the girl –  Astrid , he reminded himself – had rattled him. Not because she was beautiful (though a traitorous part of his brain reminded her that she was), but because of the revelation that she had unknowingly sprung upon him. 

Stoick. 

The chief he'd watched from the shadows for years was the undeniably the fiercest, most bloodthirsty opponent against the dragons. His hatred for the creatures was unmatched across the village and even across the greater archipelago. 

He was also, apparently, Hiccup’s last tie to his mother.

Valka had been insistent that Hiccup know about his origins, despite not being able to return. While she refused to share the exact village name with him out of fear he’d disobey her orders to stay away, she didn’t hold back on much else. He suspected it was her way of desperately trying to give him whatever scraps of his heritage he could still salvage. 

She’d been his window to learning about his father. A man, who in her stories, was defined by his bravery, compassion and code of honor. A man Hiccup was having a very hard time reconciling with the angry viking from Berk.

Stoick the Vast. Growing up with Valka’s stories, Hiccup had built the man up in his mind as a heroic warrior, and now that image was crumbling.

He was the son of a dragon killer.

His heart clenched. 

There’d always been a sliver of hope in his mind that one day he’d find his father. He’d spent years fantasizing about a world where he would meet the man that he’d heard so much about. That Stoick’s code of honor would allow him to look past the draconic eyes and see only his son, returned to him at last. Since losing his mother, he’d found himself longing for that dream to become real more than ever.

Now he felt foolish. 

Stoick would see no son, only a monster to be killed. Hel, he’d probably celebrate the slaughter – put his head on a spike as some sort of grisly trophy. 

Toothless had been watching him since he’d woken up, concern clear in his green eyes. Hiccup scratched under the dragon’s chin, eternally grateful for their bond. At least he wasn’t entirely alone.

The Night Fury cooed, leaning into his touch. 

“Thanks, bud.”

Bright, midday sunlight was sparkling on the pond as the duo made their way into the cove. Toothless stretched out on a large expanse of rock, sunning himself in the heat of the day. The dragon hummed with content, curling his tail around his face like a cat.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip twisted up in a smile. 

He peered into the water, hoping to catch sight of a fish in the shallows. The surface was calm as glass, so a quick scan was all it took to disappoint. 

So much for breakfast. 

He took in his own reflection, noting that his fitful attempts at sleep had left him looking worse than ever. His auburn hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions. His clothes were rumpled and dirty from tossing and turning on the cave floor. Dark bags lined his eyes, the bright sunlight narrowing his pupils to slits so fine they nearly disappeared.

If my father met me like this…

He shook away the dark thought before he could spiral again. 

He stripped off his outer armor and shirt, casting them aside. After toeing off his boots, he was left standing in just a light pair of pants. 

Hiccup slipped into the pond, biting back a stream of curses over the frigid temperature. He made quick work of rinsing the dirt from his skin and washing his hair, eager to escape the water as soon as possible.

Once clean, he sat on the bank of the water, shivering. He’d found that one of the biggest drawbacks of being part cold-blooded reptile was how hard it was to stay warm. It had taken his mother years to puzzle out why he couldn’t seem to regulate his temperature like she did, and he knew it had bothered Valka more than any of his other draconic traits.

The dragons had an inner fire, used to spark their own flames and that eliminated the issue for them. He, however, was human enough that he lacked that necessary fire. Its absence posed a danger to his health whenever he got too cold. 

On the worst of winter nights, Valka used to hold him close, sharing her own body heat to help him survive. Now he relied on Toothless, who on such nights would wrap him tight in his wings, breathing smoky, warm air on him to keep him from freezing to death.

He focused his attention on the sun above, on the heat beating down on his shoulders. 

Astrid hadn’t told anyone about the drifter.

She’d been fully prepared to, but had woken up to a long list of assignments around the village. In order to assess which candidate was the best choice to become the Heir of Berk, Stoick had been testing how much responsibility each could handle without faltering. It had started as a few things here and there and gradually grown to a daily list of obligations.

As she worked to complete the list, thoughts of the stranger were pushed to the back of her mind.

The work consumed most of her day until she was finally wrapping up, polishing the training weapons in the arena. As she put them away, she could hear the soft squacks and muffled growls of the captured dragons in their cells. 

She clenched her teeth at the sound. Of course, she knew why they couldn’t kill these dragons. Having practical battle practice was essential for training each new generation of vikings. That didn’t make it feel any less wrong to have the dangerous beasts locked up so close to their homes. 

She’d never admit it aloud, but she sometimes caught herself wondering if it was somehow cruel to keep them alive in the pens. They were enemies of the village, but wouldn’t it be more humane to put them out of their misery?

Astrid never let herself dwell on it too much. Heading down that way of thinking felt dangerous. Dragons had wrought so much suffering to her people, perhaps a little suffering in return was fair. 

Still, a weak part of her couldn’t stop the treasonous shreds of pity that occasionally crept in when she heard their cries.

As she squashed the unwanted feeling, she knew she needed to clear her head. A walk in the forest and some target practice was sure to do just that.

She retrieved her axe from where it leaned against the side of the arena, slipping it onto her back. She clicked the gate closed behind her and took off towards the treeline. 

It was a sunny day, columns of light streaming through the trees around her and bathing the forest in a beautiful glow. She treasured moments like this, where the world was calm and quiet, like the eye of a storm. 

She wandered without a destination in mind, content to follow the gaps in the trees as they appeared naturally. The further off the path she strode, the less likely she was to run into Snotlout or the twins. She didn’t have the energy to deal with them today.

Just thinking about it irritated her, as she was so rarely able to get any peace in the town. Snotlout was relentless with his–very unwanted–attention, and the twins found ways to disrupt village life in ways Astrid couldn’t even begin to describe.

She needed to burn off some of the frustration, so she pulled her axe from her back. Her most recent training revolved around hitting targets while she was moving, so she aimed for a tree in the distance without slowing her pace. 

Thud!

It buried itself in the trunk of the tree with a satisfying sound. 

She grabbed it as she passed, winding up for her next throw. 

Thud!

Lower than she’d hoped it would hit, but still buried in the next target. 

It took a bit more force to dislodge the axe, but soon she was on her way again. 

She rolled her wrist, contemplating her next target, when she noticed the trees appeared to be thinning ahead. Curious, she went to investigate.

Astrid found herself poised above a sprawling cove. A large pond dominated the space, with stretches of grass lining one side. The drop into the ravine was surprisingly steep so she was careful not to get too close to the edge.

Perhaps there was another way down? She started to walk the perimeter, assessing her best point of entry. While she was confident she could get down , she needed confirmation there was also a way back up .  

As she made her way around the drop, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

There’s that feeling again.

She was glad her axe was already drawn. If something was hunting her in these woods, she would not be caught unaware.

She spun slowly, searching the woods for any sign she wasn’t alone. Dragon attacks rarely happened in the daylight, but there was always the possibility. Nothing immediately caught her eye so she resumed her task. 

She’d come upon a gap in the ravine when the slope leveled out more reasonably. It would still be a rough climb out, but one she was confident she’d be able to manage. 

This is crazy.

Astrid took a deep breath to steady herself, slipping her weapon back into place. She carefully lowered herself to the ground, preparing to slide down the rockface. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice called from somewhere close behind her.

With a yelp, she twisted to find the drifter standing a few paces away. Once again, his features were obscured by the shadow of his black cloak, but the sunlight gave her a better look at what she could see. 

He had a strong jawline marred by a thin white scar and wore clothing made of a dark, shiny material. His hair was short but messy, with a few stubborn strands escaping the hood. In the bright light, they seemed to glow copper. 

“You!” She tried to scramble to her feet, losing her balance on the rocky terrain. Her stomach plummeted as she began to tip backwards towards the cove below. 

A hand grabbed her, and she felt the firm grip pull her back from the ledge. 

“Careful, Astrid.” the man warned as he steadied her. 

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, sucking in air as she tried to will her heart rate back to normal. She was fine. It was okay. 

He had saved her.

But who was he?

They stood there in silence for a moment, until the man seemed to register that he still had a tight grip on her arm. “Oh, er..sorry,” he said, releasing her. 

“Don’t apologize,” she waved him off. “You saved my life.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Saved you a broken bone or two, maybe, but the fall wouldn’t kill you from this height.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

His lip quirked up in a crooked smile. “Your pride however…”

Did mystery boy just crack a joke? She wondered, pleasantly surprised. 

She felt a smile creep onto her face and quickly ducked down to brush the dirt off her leggings. Funny or not, she refused to give him the satisfaction.

“So as much as I appreciate the rescue,” she said, straightening up to face him. “What are you doing all the way out here anyways?”

He shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “My campsite isn’t far from here. I heard some noises – thought I’d investigate. Make sure it wasn’t a wild animal.”

Astrid nodded, recalling her own suspicions from earlier. “Berk’s got a serious dragon problem, you’d be smart to stay on your guard out here.”

He seemed oddly amused by her concern, but nodded his acknowledgement. “Thank you, Astrid. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you really want to thank me, introduce yourself,” she said bluntly. 

The smile faded from his face. 

“My name is Hiccup.”

Chapter Text

Hiccup watched the girl’s reaction carefully, wondering if she would make the connection between his name and that of her chief’s dead son. 

If Astrid recognized the name, she gave no sign. Instead, she smiled and extended her hand towards him, “Nice to officially meet you, Hiccup.”

He stared at her outstretched arm, unsure of what she expected from him in return. Was this some sort of viking greeting? 

Worried he was taking too long to act, he chose  to mirror her action, hastily sticking his hand out in front of his body. He froze when she grasped his hand, trying to keep his expression neutral as she shook it up and down a few times. He let her lead the motion, unsure. 

When she finally released his hand, he was ready, watching her movements closely as she dropped her hand to her side. He hoped the motion had looked natural when he copied it.

Humans customs are so weird , he found himself thinking. 

Hiccup nodded politely back at her, shifting his weight back onto his heels. “You too.”

Despite the unfamiliarity of it all, there was a little bit of a thrill to the interaction. Getting to experience any sort of mundane human custom was a novelty and he relished any opportunity to take part in that world, even if his efforts were clumsy at best. 

It was more than he’d ever expected, having been told from a young age that the outside world would never welcome him. Valka had been kind but firm when she’d explained that his place was far from the villages and from the vikings that called them home. He’d done his best to accept it. 

Yet here he was, face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, being treated like an equal. There was no fear or hostility in her bright blue gaze, only simple curiosity. It was like something out of a dream. 

It’s because she doesn’t know, he reminded himself.

For all the kindness she was showing him now, it would evaporate in an instant if she knew the truth. If she could see what he really was, he knew that she’d have been more likely to extend her axe than her arm.

She hates dragons. She’d hate you.

Hiccup could prove it to himself now, it wouldn’t be hard. All it would take was a quick tug on his hood and he could end this charade once and for all. 

His fingers twitched. Maybe he did need the reality check in order to keep himself from getting attached. Maybe he needed a reminder that these people would only see a monster, and that it was better for him to leave this island safely in his past.

If he saw that hatred firsthand, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to stay away.

Despite the temptation, his hand stilled. Fear twisted his gut. He didn’t want to see the horror and disgust – not from her. 

“So,” realizing that she was speaking again, he forced himself to concentrate on her words. “Are you on the run or something?”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“Huh?”

Astrid raised her eyebrows, “Lurking in the woods, sneaking around the village at night, hiding under that ridiculous cloak at all hours of the day and night? Not exactly normal behavior. So, what, is there some kind of bounty on your head?”

“Why? Hoping to collect?” He fired back. 

She snorted, “Maybe I am. Seriously though, what’s the deal with all that?”

Hiccup’s mind was racing. What could he possibly say? 

When he took too long to answer, Astrid continued her line of questioning. “All jokes aside, are you in some kind of trouble? If someone is after you…does you being here put Berk in danger?”

He shook his head, reassuring her, “No one’s looking for me, I can promise you that.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “The cloak, the campsite…it’s nothing dangerous to you or your village. I just can’t…my face…” He struggled to pull the words together to explain without giving too much away. “Let’s just say it’s better no one has to see.”

After a moment, Astrid’s face shifted to sympathy. “Scars?” She guessed, looking down at her boots. She kicked a stray pebble, sending it skidding into the treeline. “Seems like everyone’s got them these days. The raids have gotten so bad lately, I can’t even believe some of the injuries I’ve seen this year. This one fisherman was burned so badly last spring that they had to take his whole arm! Since the dragons also got the healing hut that raid, they had to amputate in the town square. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” 

She shuddered at the memory. “Your face – was it a dragon?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly. While it wasn’t a scar, a dragon was definitely responsible.

“Well I won’t judge,” she promised gently, shooting him a soft smile. “Whatever the dragon did, it can’t be any worse than the things I’ve seen here. I promise.”

Hiccup wished he could believe her. “Thanks,” he said instead. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Astrid was clearly disappointed in his answer, but didn’t push him. Instead, she peered up at where the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. “I should probably head back before they send someone out looking for me,” she said with an apologetic smile, turning towards Berk. 

She took a few steps before looking back over her shoulder. “See you around, Hiccup?”

He nodded numbly, staring after her until she disappeared into the trees.

Hiccup couldn’t help wondering if maybe, in another life, they could have been friends.

Night brought an unwelcome surprise as the Red Death’s subjects flocked to the island in droves.

Hiccup could see the dark shapes on the horizon long before they reached the village torchlight, and he knew it was bound to be a grisly showdown. He and Toothless watched from the air as the shapes grew larger and more defined. Monstrous Nightmares, Gronkles, Deadly Nadders and more Zipplebacks than Hiccup had ever seen in one place advanced on the island.

Toothless snarled, nerves on edge watching the masses approach.

Hiccup rubbed a comforting hand over the dragon’s neck, murmuring reassurances. Despite his words, he felt the same unease settling deep in his bones. 

Wind whipped through his hair, sharp and biting without the relief of the sun’s glow. A part of him regretted the decision to leave his warm cloak behind in their campsite, but after wearing it for so long he relished the feeling of not having to hide for the night. That freedom was worth a little discomfort. 

The vikings hadn’t spotted their invaders yet, milling about the streets with casual indifference. It was like watching a pack of wolves descend on an unsuspecting herd of sheep. 

It set Hiccup’s teeth on edge.

“Maybe we should go, bud,” said Hiccup. He didn’t want to see the carnage. It was hard enough to watch the vikings die, but he wasn’t sure if he could stomach watching the Berkians slaughter dragons. Especially when those dragons were being forced to raid against their own will. 

The Red Death’s call was near impossible for any dragon to resist – these invaders couldn’t be blamed for their actions. Not when defiance would just make them prey for the queen. 

Hiccup had never felt less human than when he’d felt her thrall himself. He remembered the way her demands had taken root within his mind like a parasite, and the way he’d nearly lost himself completely to her influence. His bond with Toothless had been the only thing that saved him that night, and the memories of feeling puppeteered still plagued his nightmares. 

They’d been careful never to cross into her territory since, using Berk as the furthest boundary for their travels. 

Toothless angled his head back so that he could eye his rider, giving him an unimpressed look.

“You’re right, you’re right,” agreed Hiccup, lifting his hands in surrender. “We can’t just abandon the dragons.”

Toothless warbled his agreement. 

Anticipation twisted Hiccup’s gut as he watched the villagers finally catch sight of the oncoming threat. Alarms rang out, sending startled birds scattering into the skies. Within a matter of minutes, weapons were distributed widely and vikings poured into the streets. The whole process was frighteningly efficient, born of far too many years of practice. 

The dragons arrived in a swirl of fire and smoke, screeching as they dove down on Berk. Soon, the clang of metal echoed through the streets. Warriors rushed at the invaders, yelling battle cries as they went. It was a symphony of chaos.

Hiccup surveyed the clash from above, where Toothless was best camouflaged against the sky. It didn’t take long for him to locate an especially grim matchup between a hulking viking and a young Nadder. He urged Toothless forward, directing the dragon to send a warning shot between the two.

The plasma shot landed squarely between them, forcing them apart before they could come to blows. The Nadder retreated with a furious screech, turning its attention elsewhere. Meanwhile, the man scrambled up from where he’d fallen, scanning the skies for the source of the attack. When he caught sight of them, his jaw dropped.

“Night Fury!” 

Hiccup smirked, staying low on the dragon’s back. From this height, his armor was sure to blend in with ease. Best not to let the vikings know there was a rider in their midst.

Another skirmish caught his eyes, and without much prodding Toothless took off across the sky. They continued their strategy, finding ways to mitigate damage and deescalate the worst fights. It wasn’t a perfect system, as both sides wounded the other, but so far there had been no fatalities. Hiccup considered that enough of a victory.

The true test came when he was forced to intervene in the chief's fight. Stoick the Vast led the viking charge, swinging a massive battle axe in one hand while hefting a shield half his height in the other. His attention was usually focused on organizing his people, but a Monstrous Nightmare had gotten too close. 

As the man wound his arm back to strike, a purple blast struck the weapon clear out of his hands. The Nightmare took to the skies, safely out of reach. Stoick yelled in rage, but Hiccup tried not to look too closely. The recent revelation troubled him deeply. 

As the fight dragged on, many dragons began to retreat with their stolen livestock. They’d gotten what they’d come for and had no further interest in the small island. A few huts nearest the coastline had caught fire, and thick plumes of smoke filled the air, making it harder to see as their dark shapes disappeared on the horizon. 

Hiccup caught himself scanning for familiar blonde hair amid the chaos, surprised when he didn’t immediately see her in the fray. She hadn’t struck him as the type to hide from a fight. His eyes swept over the periphery of the battle and it only took a few more moments to locate her.  

Astrid stood near the Meade Hall, fending off a large Zippleback that had made its way deep into the village. She swung her weapon with furious intensity, nearly landing a few of her attacks as the dragon lunged back. When she was unable to make contact, her anger escalated and her strikes grew sloppier.

While she was focused on attacking one head, the other swung around and knocked into her knees, the force sending her to the ground. Her weapon skidded out of her hands and across the dirt path, far out of reach The dragon advanced, both heads rearing back. A cloud of telltale green gas began to spill from one of its mouths.

“No!” 

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Hiccup directed Toothless towards the fight. Picking up on the source of his rider’s distress, the Night Fury reached out and grasped Astrid in his claws before shooting back up into the sky.

“By Thor, the beast’s takin’ Astrid!” 

Not good.

He couldn’t risk landing anywhere the vikings could follow, but Toothless couldn’t hold Astrid forever. That ruled out the town, the docks, and the nearby forest. So where could they go?

An arrow whizzed past them, too close for comfort. 

Really not good.

They needed to get out of range.

Hiccup steered the Night Fury out to sea, mind racing. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. He could hear Astrid screaming below him, letting out a string of unintelligible curses as she struggled to free herself. He tightened his grip on the saddle, trying to tune out her distress as he urged Toothless to rise higher.

Through the fog, he could just make out a series of sea stacks stretching into the sky. It wasn’t perfect, but at least no one from Berk would be able to reach them.

Toothless slowed as they reached the highest one, dropping the girl unceremoniously into the grass before landing a few yards away. He eyed the girl suspiciously, keeping his focus on her as Hiccup dismounted. A low growl started in his throat and he flared his wings out, trying to make himself look larger to the potential threat.

Astrid shakily pushed herself to her feet.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, voice hoarse from screaming, as she took in the sight of the angry dragon. She instinctively reached over her shoulder, hand stilling when she met only air.

Where is my…

Her stomach dropped when she remembered the sight of her axe spinning away in the fight with the Zippleback. She was unarmed and at the mercy of a dragon. And not just any dragon.

She’d never seen a dragon quite like it before, but there was little doubt in her mind of what she now faced. The Night Fury was unmistakable with its midnight black scales and large, batlike wings. It stood like a dark omen in the moonlight, razor sharp teeth bared in her direction.

A shadow seemed to break off from the beast’s back, gracefully maneuvering around one of its outstretched wings. A man, she realized, dressed in black armor that shone just like the dragon’s scales. 

A rider? She wondered.

The Night Fury ignored the man, unphased by his presence. 

Her eyes flickered between the two, not wanting to take her eyes off the threat of the dragon for long, but careful to keep her guard up as the figure approached. 

In those quick glimpses, she was able to piece together the fact that he stood roughly a head taller than her, with long, wiry limbs. He had short, thick auburn hair that was windblown from the flight, sticking up in every direction. Freckles dotted his otherwise pale skin, and he couldn’t have been much older than herself. She couldn’t get a good look at his eyes, as they fell in the shadow cast by his bangs. 

“Who are you?” She asked, “What do you want from me?”

He shifted as he approached, hands lifted in a show of peace. He opened his mouth as if to speak and as he did so, he shifted and the light hit him differently. Vivid green eyes, with reptilian slit pupils, gazed back at her. There was a faint silver sheen to them, as the moon reflected off, not unlike that of a wild animal.

Dragon eyes.

It was unmistakable. Horrified, she screamed, scrambling backwards as fast as her feet could take her. It wasn’t until her left leg hit open air that she remembered exactly where they were standing.

Astrid could feel her center of gravity failing as she teetered off the edge. She screwed her eyes shut, fear settling deep in her bones. 

She braced herself for the inevitable fall only to find herself being dragged roughly back the way she’d come, onto the safety of the grass. The pressure on her arm released immediately and she collapsed to her knees. Her heart pounded in her ears, fast and unsteady. 

How?

“Oh, for the love of Thor! Is nearly falling off cliffs just like, your thing?”

Astrid knew that voice. 

“Hiccup!?”

Chapter Text

“You know, that time, I did save your life.” 

Astrid dared a glance up, shifting her weight back so that she was sitting on her heels. 

Her eyes traced the shape of his jaw, locating the now familiar scar. She slowly let her gaze travel further up, taking in the round nose, high cheekbones and light dusting of freckles with ease. Dread pooled in her stomach as she forced herself to look higher still, meeting those unnerving eyes once more.

Eyes that were now looking pained as they stared back. 

Hiccup sighed, taking a hesitant step back. Once he’d retreated a few paces away from her, he dropped down to sit in the grass. His shoulders hunched in, as if trying to make himself smaller and less threatening. He stared intently down at the grass in front of him, tightly twisting some of it around his fingers. 

“Twice actually,” the boy continued when she didn’t speak, voice taking on a bitter tone. “If you count rescuing you from that Zippleback in the village.”

Under normal circumstances, Astrid would be furious at the implication. She wasn’t some helpless villager, she was a warrior – she didn’t need saving . The idea of needing rescuing not once, but twice in one evening was humiliating. 

Tonight, all she felt was fear. She was trapped, high above the sea and far out the reach of her village. Even if the people of Berk wanted to rescue her, they had no means of being able to reach such a height. Her chances of a rescue were nonexistent. 

She was also unarmed. Astrid was no fool – without a weapon, she was keenly aware that she was at the mercy of the Night Fury and his eerily dragon-like companion. Her basic hand-to-hand combat skills were passable, but ultimately would be useless against a dragon. 

As for the boy, Astrid could finally pin down the uneasy feeling that had persisted the last few days. She had been under a predatory gaze, just not one belonging to a dragon. 

She assessed him once more, taking in the tension of his body with surprise. He looked almost…nervous. Or perhaps, concerned?

Hiccup had closed his eyes, and was now running a hand through his hair, sending it further into disarray. Dark circles under his eyes spoke to exhaustion, and she was surprised by how ordinary his features seemed without the unnatural gaze. He was almost…handsome. 

Ancients.

She pushed that unwelcome observation down hard, mentally kicking herself for allowing the thought to surface at all. Handsome or not, he was wrong . She couldn’t just forget those inhuman features.

Catching sight of a shimmer of black scales beyond him, Astrid turned her attention to where the Night Fury was settling down in the grass. The dragon caught her looking, emitting a low hiss. She recoiled, once more wishing she had her weapon in hand.  

“It’s alright, bud.” Hiccup reassured, speaking to the beast in the sort of slow, soothing tone one might use for a pet. “Everything’s okay.”

The dragon whined in protest, but laid its head down on its paws. It continued to watch her warily, but seemed to be a degree calmer after the boy’s words. Its pupils had expanded out into rounded rectangles, softening its expression.

“This is insane,” Astrid whispered to herself as she watched the exchange. A dragon boy and his pet dragon. 

Hiccup finally opened his eyes again, but quickly turned his head so he was looking out at the sea and away from her. In the distance, faint lights shone from the Isle of Berk. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry about all this,” He said, gesturing vaguely around them. “Taking you with us wasn’t part of the plan, but I saw you go down and lose your axe…I didn’t want to leave you defenseless.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” he admitted. “I just reacted. I didn’t think about who else would see until it was too late. It wouldn’t have been safe for Toothless and I to land, not with the village watching, so I just needed to buy us some time. We’ll get you back to Berk as soon as it’s safe.”

Wind whistled through the sea stacks, sending a chill down her spine as she considered his words. He sounded sincere enough, and she could understand his thought process: grabbing her had put a larger target on the Night Fury’s back. He’d taken a risk in saving her life when he had no obligation to do so. 

That thought gave her pause. They’d been on friendly enough terms, but he’d been fully aware of the danger from the start. Why risk it all to save someone he’d just met?

She had so many questions bubbling up inside she felt like she might burst. They sat in silence for a few moments as she tried to make sense of it all. 

“What are you?” She finally asked.

Hiccup flinched as if she’d struck him, finally turning back to face her. His eyes were wide and full of hurt and disbelief.

Astrid felt a flash of guilt. She couldn’t take the words back, but they had come out harsher than she’d intended. For all his alienness, Hiccup hadn’t done anything to hurt or threaten her since they’d met. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to dispel the tension. “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before.”

“I know…believe me, I know. I am human…or at least I was born human. Now? I don’t know…” His voice was raw with emotion, and cut off with a hollow laugh. It took a minute for him to collect himself, but after taking a long, shuddering breath he said, “I was really sick when I was a baby. I should have died, really, but this dragon saved my life.”

She scoffed, unable to believe a dragon was capable of helping rather than hurting. 

Hiccup raised an eyebrow, otherwise ignoring her outburst. “There were some side effects, obviously.” He gestured to his face. He smiled ruefully, “Never was a problem back in the nest, but I guess my mother was right about how vikings would react.”

“Nest?” Astrid asked, trying to wrap her mind around his words.

“Think of it like a village, but for dragons.”

“And you’ve been to one?”

Hiccup laughed, this time genuine. “I grew up in one!”

“You spent your childhood surrounded by dragons!?” Astrid asked, incredulous. “Are you insane? How are you still alive?”

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. “Dragons aren’t dangerous unless they’re provoked, and they take care of their own. I was safer in the nest than I’ve ever been outside of it.”

As he relaxed, Astrid was fascinated to note that his pupils gradually dilated out, expanding to fill a third of his eyes. They took on a shape not unlike that of his Night Fury’s. She couldn’t help but wonder if they always responded to his emotions so expressively. 

They take care of their own.

Perhaps that was the answer, she mused. The dragons must have felt some sort of kinship with Hiccup, seeing themselves in his eyes. It would explain his bond with the Night Fury, too. If the dragons treated him as one of their own, it made sense that he’d never learned to fear them.

A part of her was jealous, wondering what it must be like to not look to the skies with apprehension. To not live under constant threat of attack.

The rest of her wanted to argue with him. She knew first hand how dangerous dragons could be, and Berk had never initiated a battle. For generations, her home had been consistently targeted by the creatures, resulting in a slew of casualties. 

She bit down her anger, not wanting to upset the tentative peace between them. If she was going to be trapped with Hiccup, she’d be better off not upsetting him. After all, he was her only way back to Berk.

Something he’d said earlier resurfaced in her mind.

“Your mother?”

“When I was taken to the nest, I wasn’t alone, they took my mother too. She raised me there, taught me all about life in the villages and what it means to be a viking,” said Hiccup, looking wistful. “I loved her stories. I always imagined what it would be like to live there one day.” 

“You did?”

He hummed his agreement. “I tried to run away once,” he admitted. “I was nine. I wasn’t an experienced enough rider to take a dragon, so I got it in my head that I could take a row boat across the sea to find a village. We had plenty of them washed up on the shore, it wasn’t hard to repair one.”

“You didn’t.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Oh, but I did. Floated for about an hour before my mom found me. She was so mad ,” he mused. “That was the first time she told me. About my eyes being different, about the dangers of being seen. Believe it or not, I’d always thought she was the one with the weird eyes, since she was the only other person I’d seen.” 

“Where is she now?” Asked Astrid, scanning the skies above. She half expected another dragon and rider to descend from the clouds. 

“Dead.”

“Oh.” 

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Your father?”

Hiccup looked back over at the lights of Berk, pupils constricting as his expression hardened. “I’ve never met him.”

“So what? Are you looking for him? Is that why you’re sneaking around the villages?”

“No,” Hiccup sighed, sounding resigned. “I know exactly where he is.”

Astrid followed his gaze, furrowing her brow. “Are you saying…you can’t seriously be…are you from Berk!? ”

The boy dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples. “Apparently.”

“Huh,” said Astrid, stumped by the revelation. If circumstances had been different, this boy might have grown up beside her. They might have been neighbors, colleagues, maybe even friends. “Is that why you’re here?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t even know it was this village until yesterday.”

That piqued her interest. “How’d you find out?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Well, something you said,” he amended, “when you were telling me about the funeral.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to remember what she had said.  

“Or, I guess, my funeral. Gods, it’s kind of unsettling to find out you’re attending your own funeral,” rambled Hiccup. 

That was a weird statement, but one that didn’t take long for Astrid to puzzle out. “You can’t possibly mean…”

He looked up at her once more, grimacing. “The way my mother always talked about Stoick…he’s not really what I expected.”

Oh Thor.

She stood abruptly, pacing the edge of the sea stack as her mind churned over the revelation. Two sets of eyes followed her back and forth, as Hiccup and the Night Fury watched her patrol the small space.

“You’re Stoick’s son,” she breathed, astonished. “You’re the missing heir?”

It was monumental news. News that her village had spent two decades wishing to receive. Each year, it became harder to keep the hope alive, but after all this time it hadn’t been in vain. Stoick’s son was alive . 

Valka’s son, she realized with a pang of sadness. She’d spent so much of her childhood idolizing the woman, she’d never taken time to think about the son. 

“I’m not exactly missing,” Hiccup laughed, shaking his head, “and I’m no one’s heir. Those people,” he waved a hand at Berk. “would kill me on sight. It doesn’t matter whose son I am, Berk could never accept what I’ve become.”

“You don’t know that!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “I think your reaction is proof enough.”

Astrid felt her face flush, “I was surprised, okay?”

“You were horrified,” he corrected. “And scared.”

“I do NOT get–”

“Look, I understand,” he said wearily. “Really, I do. Just…don’t lie, okay? I should have expected it, but that doesn’t mean I want or need to go through that again anytime soon. Especially not in front of a whole village of armed vikings!”

As much as she hated to admit it, she could see his point. 

Astrid deflated, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Hiccup replied, sharing a sad smile. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, dusting the grass off his pants. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Astrid cast a glance out over the water, surprised to see that the lights in the village had nearly all gone out. Had it really been that long?

Hiccup made his way over to the Night Fury, scratching it under the chin in greeting. The dragon cooed in response, nuzzling its rider. It was almost…cute.

“Astrid, come meet Toothless.”

Toothless? She thought in disbelief. 

Hiccup was giving her an encouraging look, beckoning her forward with his hands. The dragon still looked docile, but it did little to soothe Astrid’s nerves.

“He won't hurt you!” Hiccup laughed, as if the very idea of it was ridiculous.

She forced herself towards the duo, dragging her feet in apprehension. At Hiccup’s instruction, she held out a hand, surprised when the dragon eagerly pressed his snout to it. The interaction was surprisingly endearing and she found herself relaxing a little.

“Hi there, Toothless,” she murmured. 

The Night Fury hummed in response. 

Hiccup swung a leg over the saddle, pulling himself up onto the dragon’s back. Toothless yawned, clambering slowly to his feet. 

When Hiccup extended his hand to her, she eyed it with skepticism. 

“It’s the only way back. I promise you’ll be safe with us,” he said. “You can trust me.”

Astrid was surprised to realize that she did. It hadn’t taken long, but his sincerity and vulnerability had earned her tentative trust. 

She accepted his outstretched hand, climbing up to sit behind him in the saddle. 

“You’ll want to hold on,” he warned, guiding her arms around his waist. 

Without another word, they launched up into the night.

Chapter Text

Will I see you again?

Her words haunted him, days after their encounter. Gods, he wanted to see her again, but just being in proximity to Berk was dangerous.  

Hiccup had been on his own for years, left to his own devices since Valka’s death. The idea of having someone to confide in, someone to spend time with…was unfathomable. Yet, Astrid had seemed genuine in her interest, making him feel that much less alone.

He’d meant to move on from the island, but found himself sticking close to the cove instead. He hadn’t promised Astrid anything, but still felt a strange obligation to stay.

Toothless was restless, often ditching his rider during the night to fly off and burn off steam. Staying cooped up in the cove was becoming tedious for the Night Fury, who’d grown used to their semi-nomadic life. 

Hiccup felt guilty keeping his best friend confined to the island, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He’d always had a soft spot for the village, but now with both Astrid’s presence and the knowledge of his own history, staying seemed all the more enticing. 

His entire perspective on Berk had changed. Now, when he watched the villagers, he often found himself imagining what it would have been like to be raised alongside them. To belong to such a village. He’d taken a special interest in the town blacksmith, wondering if the man could have been a mentor under different circumstances. 

Stoick still made him nervous. The large viking was always in the middle of the action in Berk, presiding over ceremonies and managing day-to-day responsibilities. He was a public figure, and one well respected in his community. He was a far cry from his son, who spent his time skulking about in the shadows. 

Hiccup had grown to appreciate the man’s boisterous laugh, as well as his leadership. In the days he’d been observing the viking, he’d noted how the man kept to a fair code of honor with all his subjects. It wasn’t the iron fist leadership style he’d imagined such a village would require. Instead, Stoick led by example, never asking more from his people than he gave. 

Would he extend that same respect to his son, if he knew the truth?

Hiccup wasn’t sure he was ready to find out. On the one hand, if Stoick could suspend his fears long enough to really see his son, it could mean a happy reunion for them both. It would mean a real home, something Hiccup had always longed to find. For as much as he’d loved the nest growing up, it had always been clear that he didn’t belong. At least, not in the same way Toothless and the others did.

A happy reunion wasn’t guaranteed, and Hiccup feared the opposite outcome was more likely. If the chief cast aside his son, Hiccup wasn’t sure he’d ever fully recover from the rejection. Being hated by strangers was one thing, being hated by family was something else entirely. Something personal. 

Ultimately unwilling to chance it, he stuck to the shadows, finding opportunities to infiltrate the village without being seen. Though his main focus was on his father, he kept a close eye on Astrid as well. 

The girl hadn’t given up on him, despite his attempts to disappear. Every night, he watched her sneak into the woods, heading to the spot by the arena where he’d left her that night. Hiccup had assumed that after a few days, she’d lose interest, give up and move on with her life. However, the famous viking stubborn streak seemed ingrained in the girl, as she continued to slip off into the night.

At first, he’d assumed it was a trap. Why else would a beautiful woman want to meet with someone like him? Yet, she never brought backup. He’d followed her one night, intent to find out what she was hiding, only to discover that she was truly alone at the arena. There were no traps, no tricks, no angry villagers with pitchforks. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

She was persistent, he would give her that. 

Tonight he found himself once more passing the arena, on his way back to the cove. Stoick had turned in early, and Hiccup had decided to call it a night as well. He wasn’t surprised to see Astrid leaning against the bars, staring contemplatively up at the stars. 

It would be so easy to evade her, but a weaker part of him couldn’t resist calling out. 

“If you lean much harder, you’ll fall.” He called. 

Astrid grinned, “guess you’d just have to catch me again.”

He stepped into the moonlight, offering a small smile of his own.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” she admitted. 

He shrugged, taking the last few steps to join her at the arena’s edge. “Me either,” he said honestly.

If she was upset or disappointed in his response, it didn’t show. Instead, she hummed, looking back up at the stars. 

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why were you waiting for me,” he asked, brows furrowed. “We barely know each other.”

Astrid nodded, flickering her gaze back over to his face. She studied him for a minute, expression neutral. “I guess that’s just it,” she said. “I want to know you.”

“Why?”

Astrid shrugged, “You should’ve been one of us. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been taken by the dragons. If you’d grown up here instead.”

 “You mean, if I was normal?” He asked, sounding defensive.

“No, Hiccup,” she sighed, deflating. “That’s not what I meant. Look, Berk is small and there aren’t a lot of people our age in the village. I’ve never been that close with any of them, and it’s made my life here a little lonely. When I spoke to you, it was different – like you understood , more than any of them ever have. It was just easier, somehow. I guess that sounds crazy…”

He frowned, taking a step closer to her. “No,” he admitted, “not crazy. Just…surprising.”

She met his eyes, blue locking on green without any hesitation. Hiccup watched her carefully, waiting for some sign of unease. She didn’t tense, frown or back away. Instead, she held his gaze steadily. 

A low screech caught his attention, and he eyed the doors of the arena with contempt. 

“What’s wrong?” Asked Astrid.

He gestured to the arena below, “Everything about this is wrong. Holding dragons like this is cruel. It’s barbaric.”

Astrid shifted her weight, casting a glance down into the shadowy space. “We have to,” she argued. “Our warriors need to know how to defend themselves.”

“Against dragons?” Hiccup argued. 

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “You saw for yourself the other night – they raid us relentlessly! If we don’t fight back, we’re doomed.”

He shook his head, “No, those dragons aren’t after the people of Berk. They just need your livestock. If you didn’t rush in, weapons swinging, no one would get hurt.”

Astrid gaped at him, brows furrowed in anger. “We have every right to defend ourselves and our livelihoods! They choose to attack us !”

He took a slow, deep breath, reminding himself that Berk was ignorant of the greater threat. That they only saw the symptoms of the war, but never the source. Within their frame of understanding, the raids seemed unprovoked.

Hiccup looked grim, “You don’t understand – it’s not a choice. If those dragons don’t bring back enough offerings to their queen, they’ll be eaten themselves. They raid Berk in order to survive. Vikings who get in the way are just collateral damage.” 

“Their queen?” Astrid asked. 

“Every nest has an alpha,” Hiccup explained. “One dragon who has absolute authority over the others. Kind of like your chief, but with a bit more influence and a lot less understanding. The nest where I was raised was under the care of a Bewilderbeast. He looked out for us, protected us from threats. That’s how nests are supposed to work.”

“The nest near Berk,” he shook his head, trying to keep the memories at bay. “There’s something wrong with their queen. She’s angry and hungry and uses this thrall she has over her subjects to get them to do whatever she wants.” He shivered. “She’s the reason for the raids – every dragon you’ve faced is just a unwilling pawn in her plans.” 

Astrid exhaled, “So you’re saying, without this queen, Berk would be safe?”

Hiccup nodded. “Most dragons are gentle enough, they just want to be left alone. The ones you’ve faced are scared and desperate, taking what they can to survive,” he explained. “They aren’t monsters.”

Astrid scoffed. 

“You saw for yourself with Toothless,” he argued. 

That gave the girl pause. He watched as a mix of emotions danced across her face. “You’ve trained him. That’s not–”

“I can show you,” he interrupted, nodding towards the arena below. “If you want.”

Astrid bit her lip, looking unsure.

“You don’t need to be afraid of them,” said Hiccup earnestly. 

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He watched her, taking in the tense line of her shoulders. “I’m serious. What are you so scared of?”

A Nadder’s cry split the air and Astrid jumped, looking away. 

“Everything, okay?” She said, breathless. “I’ve seen so many raids in my life…I’ve seen so many people die every year. Hel, I’ve almost died a few times. You need to understand – I still have nightmares about some of those close calls. I hate the way they stalk us like prey, the sound they make right before they breathe fire. I mean, gods, even the way that they look at you!”

Hiccup stiffened beside her. “I see.”

“Oh ancients,” she said when her mind caught up with her mouth. “No, Hiccup, that’s not what I meant!”

He turned away, adamantly looking anywhere but in her direction. The foundation they’d been building now felt fragile to him. She’d been kind, but in the end she was just like everyone else. Afraid.

He startled when he felt fingers brush his jaw, watching with wide eyes as Astrid tilted his head back towards her. She met his eyes openly, giving a shy smile. 

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly, tracing a finger lightly across his jaw. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He was stunned to find that he believed her.

Chapter Text

Hiccup and Astrid fell into a rhythm of sorts, meeting every few nights outside the arena. It was a delicate arrangement, with each trying to maintain the balance of their growing friendship. 

Most nights, they swapped stories. Astrid regaled him with tales of her youth in Berk, and those of her peers. He found the stories of Ruffnut and Tuffnut’s antics especially entertaining, surprised by the chaos that the twins seemed to inflict on their own home.

Hiccup, in turn, shared stories of his travels across and beyond the archipelago. He described in great detail the lands, villages and dragons he had encountered in his journeys. 

While he was in the middle of discussing his visit to a faraway peninsula, he noticed a wistful expression on Astrid’s face.

“What is it?” 

“It’s just…you’ve been to so many amazing places, and I’ve never even left Berk,” She sighed, taking a seat on a bench outside the arena. “I never spent too much time thinking about what’s out there, but now that I know how much is beyond our waters…it makes this all feel so small. There’s so much I’ve never seen.” 

Hiccup joined her, dropping down to sit beside her. “Would you want to?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It all sounds so incredible, but…”

“But you have roots here that would be hard to leave.” He said, “A home. A family.”

She nodded, kicking the dirt in front of her. “I know that sounds silly.”

“No, not to me.” They were things he’d always longed for and he doubted he’d be able to give them up easily if he were in her shoes.

They were quiet for a minute, each lost in thought.

“You know,” said Astrid. “ You have roots here too.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by her stern look.

“You do, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re Berk’s heir, for Thor’s sake! I know you have this…” She waved her hand around, searching for the right words. “... condition that you’re worried no one will accept, but if you don’t give them a chance, you’re making the choice for them.”

There was truth in her words, he supposed. Things would never change unless he loosened his control over the situation. The safety net of the secret would be gone, and things would change–whether that was for better or for worse. The very idea of it terrified him.

Rather than address her point, he raised an eyebrow, “Condition, huh? That makes it sound like I have the plague.

She flushed, shoving him in the shoulder. “What else do you want to call it, dragon boy?”

That made him chuckle. “Dragon boy, huh? Very original. How long did it take you to come up with that masterpiece? Been working on that since we met?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She’d been the one to tell him, after all. 

“Hiccup, all jokes aside, you shouldn’t have to be alone,” she said, setting her hand on his arm gently. “I know my first reaction could have been better, but I came around, didn’t I?”

He frowned but couldn’t argue.

"Your father loves you,” she continued, “He’s been mourning you for twenty years–”

“He’s been mourning an idea,” Hiccup corrected. “He loves an idea. Some fantasy version of me he’s built up in his head. He can’t love me or miss me – gods, he doesn’t know me.”

“You could change that, if you’d give him a chance.”

Hiccup hadn’t given up on teaching Astrid the truth about dragons. While she still vehemently refused to interact with the arena’s inhabitants, she was willing to listen to him describe their true nature without arguing.

She asked many questions, fascinated by this new perspective on the creatures. There were so many aspects of their lives she’d never considered, from social structures to migration habits. She was surprised to discover that there was a softer side to the animals that Berk often ignored in order to focus on battle skills and shot limits. 

She’d brought the Book of Dragons with her one night, sharing her village’s own point of view with Hiccup. The boy had been intrigued but disappointed by its content, especially when he saw the ‘kill on sight’ notation that lived on each page.

He had, however, gotten a kick out of the entry on Night Furies. “...the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself? Are they serious?” 

After meeting Toothless on a few occasions, Astrid grudgingly admitted that the description didn’t fit.

“What’s that?”

Hiccup glanced down, eyeing where the weapon sat in its holder. “A sword,” he answered. 

“You carry a sword without a blade?” Astrid asked in disbelief. “What idiot suckered you into buying that?”

Hiccup laughed, drawing the weapon and holding it up for her to see. “I didn’t buy it, I made it. And it has a blade – look,” with that, he clicked the level to release the blade, watching it extend smoothly out to its full length. 

Astrid gasped, “That’s amazing!”

He smirked, “Just wait.” With that, he clicked the ignition, allowing flames to race along the blade. 

Astrid stared at it in wonder, “that’s…impossible.”

“Not impossible,” he corrected, swinging the blade in a lazy arc. “Just unusual. Monstrous Nightmare gel has a surprising number of uses.”

She hummed, face still betraying her awe. “You said you made this?”

He nodded before extinguishing the flames and passing it over to her.

“That’s really impressive. Gobber–our blacksmith–would lose his mind if he saw this!” She said, examining the weapon. “How’d you learn, anyway?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly apprentice under a blacksmith,” he admitted, “so I had to teach myself. I’ve snuck into more forges than I can count, trying to learn what I can from each without being seen. You’d be surprised how many blacksmiths leave their schematics out in the open. I just copy down what I can and try not to make any mess that would cause suspicion.”

“You use their forges?” She handed the weapon back, and he collapsed it once more, returning it to its place on his suit. 

Hiccup shook his head, “No, I built my own, back at the nest. It’s not much, but it’s mine. I do use their tools though – those were harder to come by when I was starting out, so I took spares from forges that I visited across the islands.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes at his words, “So you’re the chisel thief?”

“I…what?” 

She punched him in the shoulder. “I’ve spent the last few years listening to Gobber whine on and on about his missing chisel! Do you know how irritating that gets?”

“I’m sorry?” He said, more as a question than an apology.

She shook her head, but her tone was light when she replied. “You owe me big, dragon boy.”

“Why don’t we just kill the queen,” asked Astrid one night.

Hiccup coughed, choking on the meal Astrid had brought. He wheezed, trying to clear his airway enough to speak. 

“She’s the source of the problem, you said so yourself!” Rationalized Astrid, “If we take her out, shouldn’t that fix everything?”

Hiccup had recovered enough to reply, “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand – you can’t just kill something like that.”

Astrid picked at the piece of bread in her hands, “Why not? We’ve got some of the best trained dragon fighters in the archipelago here on Berk! And you – you know more about dragons than anyone! If we get everyone to the nest, we can end this nightmare forever.”

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. “The queen…she’s not like any of the dragons you’ve faced before…to go up against her would be a guaranteed massacre. She’s almost the size of this island! One shot and she’d level your forces.”

Astrid rocked back, shocked by the revelation. A dragon that big…she couldn't wrap her head around the idea.

“And that’s ignoring her thrall,” Hiccup continued, squeezing his eyes shut. “She can make the dragons of the nest her warriors, whether they like it or not.”

“You’ve mentioned the thrall before…what is it?”

Hiccup looked pained, taking a deep breath before responding. “She takes over your mind, forcing her will on your consciousness. You…you can’t disobey without excruciating pain…”

Astrid was looking at him funny, a crease forming between her eyebrows. She set aside her meal and shifted closer to him. “Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?”

He clenched his jaw and looked away, feeling the old shame of that night rush up inside. “Because I am.”

“I thought only other dragons could be controlled by the queen?”

Hiccup glared down at his boots, refusing to meet her eyes. “Yeah, that’s usually the rule. Guess it says a lot about how human I am, huh? I wouldn’t be much help in that fight…if anything, I’d be a liability.”

Time seemed to stand still as he waited for her response, dread pooling in his gut. This, he believed, would be where her confidence in him finally wavered. He braced himself for the rejection he was sure was coming.

“It’s not just your eyes,” she realized, tone indecipherable.

“No,” he agreed, letting out a defeated breath. “When that dragon saved my life, she changed me in ways that I’m still figuring out.”

He startled when he felt a weight slowly press into his side, looking over to see Astrid leaning against him. Her expression was guarded, but there was no outright fear or rejection.

“Like what?” She asked.

The invitation broke a dam inside of him and he found the words spilling out of him without restraint. He told her about his vision at night, his enhanced senses. He explained his unique cold-blooded nature and inability to thermoregulate. 

It was freeing in a way, to finally have someone to tell. It also left him feeling raw and vulnerable, as if he stood unarmed before an army. 

As he spoke, he felt Astrid’s fingers thread through his own. She gave a reassuring squeeze, and the pressure in his chest began to lift. 

“And the thrall?” Astrid asked.

He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “I’m not…I can’t talk about that night. I want to tell you, I swear I do…but I can’t."

As much as he wanted to trust her, some wounds were still too fresh to share. 

Chapter Text

Astrid surveyed her latest to-do list with bleary eyes. She hadn’t gotten home until well after midnight and now felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. It was becoming more and more common as her nights by the arena became a fixture in her life, and the fatigue was beginning to settle deep into her bones as a constant companion.

A few weeks prior, she would have raced through the given task list with precision and excitement. Now, it took all her willpower just to scrape through the duties. 

Why am I doing this? She wondered, scanning the page with irritation. 

Competing for the position of heir felt foolish now. The true heir was not only alive, but also in Berk. 

It didn’t feel right to be usurping his birthright.

She could practically hear Hiccup’s bitter laughter in her mind at the thought. Though he swore he wanted nothing to do with the role, she’d seen the longing look in his eyes. He’d likely never admit it, but the idea of having a set place in their society clearly meant something to him. And that meant something to her.

The more she got to know the dragon-eyed boy, the more angry she became on his behalf. 

Why should someone so kind and thoughtful be forced to live on the fringe of society? Hiccup had proven himself to be more considerate and respectful than anyone she’d ever met. Admittedly, he could be a bit sarcastic and overly dramatic at times, but when she spoke he listened with a shocking intensity. He made her feel valued, as if her thoughts and opinions carried weight. 

He was also brilliant, with a creative mind that seemed to be bursting at the seams. The retractable, flaming sword had turned out to be just the tip of the iceberg. Since then, he’d shown her sketchbooks full of detailed schematics, each idea more impressive than the next. And the designs always had a purpose, an intention to improve day-to-day life. 

Kind. Respectful. Intelligent. Creative. Purpose-driven.

In short – he had all the qualities of a great chief.  

Astrid sighed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She knew dwelling on that injustice would get her nowhere, but it still grated on her mind. 

She skimmed the list once more, debating which task would be the quickest to knock out.

1. Check Gothi’s Herb Supply
2. Collect Trading Logs 
3. Check Progress on Cataloging Winter Rations
4. Check in with Gobber on Raid Repairs

She immediately ruled Gothi out as an option. The elder’s silence made supply checks a tedious process, as Astrid had to inspect each herb store personally. She’d need a clearer mind before starting that job. Instead, she settled on heading to the docks, hoping the salty sea air would help revitalize her. 

Ivan, the elderly harbormaster, was finishing up his morning notes when she approached. He gave her a toothy smile, holding one finger up to indicate that he was almost done.

She nodded her acknowledgment, turning her attention to survey the empty port. Trade hadn’t been great this year, especially after a few traders had lost stock during a raid and chosen not to return. Berk had managed to get by thanks to a few more stubborn sailors, but Astrid could remember years where there was always a boat at port. 

“‘ere,” said Ivan, clasping the weathered log book shut and dropping it into her outstretched arms. “And tell Stoick we’ll be needin’ a new log book soon. This ‘ne’s fallin’ apart.” 

Astrid just hummed in response before heading back up towards town. While the walk to the docks was pleasant, the uphill trek back was far less enjoyable. Today it felt twice as steep and twice as long as she trudged onwards.

Stoick’s house was nestled on the highest point of Berk, overlooking the entire village. It was grand and imposing, holding the record of longest standing structure on the Isle – mostly due to distance from the raid frontlines. Astrid had always found the space to be somewhat cold and unwelcoming, as Stoick’s busy schedule left the home empty most days. It lacked the lived-in feel of her own home.

When she approached the structure, she knocked loudly on the door, not pausing for an answer before leaning her weight into it. The heavy door swung open with a loud groan of protest as she slipped inside. 

As she had expected, the house was empty. Everything was neat and tidy, if not a little bare. The only exception was the chief’s desk, which sat wedged into one corner. Piles of paperwork were strewn about, and various ledgers cluttered the space. An inkwell had spilled, and black dye was dried in a drip formation down the side. 

Astrid approached the desk, dropping the log book on top with a loud bang. She grabbed a loose sheet of paper and placed it on top of the tome before picking up a stick of charcoal and hastily scrawling out Ivan’s request. 

Turning to leave, her eyes caught on a familiar portrait hanging across the room. She’d seen it dozens of times in her life, but today it gave her pause. It depicted the chief and his family, not long before they were taken. Stoick stood tall and proud in the back of the frame, grinning down at his wife. Valka shared a smile with him, cradling her infant son in her arms. 

Astrid’s attention had always been drawn to Valka in the past, but today she found herself zeroing in on the child. A tiny boy with a shock of auburn hair.

Hiccup.

Abandoning her place by the desk, she decided to get a closer look.  

It was hard to believe that the infant shown was her new friend, but the painter had done an excellent job capturing the family’s likeness. She couldn’t deny that the hair, the freckles, the slightly-too-big nose…they were all spot-on. However, what struck her most was that the painting showed him as she had never seen him before – with Valka’s eyes.

They were large and expressive, with dark lashes framing forest green irises. They were perfectly ordinary, yet seemed totally out of place to Astrid. The boy in the portrait somehow seemed so much…less than the Hiccup she now knew. It was unsettling.

In that moment, she realized how used to his unusual gaze she’d grown. It had taken time, but she no longer felt the prickle of unease when she met his eyes. Now, she found her fear replaced with a strange blend of curiosity and fascination. 

When exactly had that happened? She couldn’t pin down the moment things had shifted, only that they had.

Astrid found it intriguing, the way the vivid green flooded his eyes, leaving no white to be seen. She often wondered how his sight differed from her own. He had told her his night vision was better than the average person, but just how good was it? What did the world really look like through his eyes?

She most appreciated how expressive his eyes were, as the reptilian pupils would respond to his emotions. It was always easy to discern his feelings, and Astrid really valued that openness. There were so few people on Berk that she could read easily, fewer so that she could trust. Hiccup’s emotions were always laid out plainly for her to see, and it was refreshing. 

It was hard to reconcile the boy she knew and the boy in the painting. 

Gods, he looks so much like his mother, she thought, tracing a finger over the portrait. 

If Hiccup would just agree to meet with Stoick, Astrid had no doubt the chief would recognize his wife’s features in the young man. They were undeniable.

She huffed out a sigh of frustration. Despite her efforts to convince him, Hiccup refused to consider revealing himself to his father. While she understood the validity of his fears, she had also been there to witness Stoick’s grief over the years. She knew how much the chief longed for his family and how much it weighed on him. 

Surely a desperate man would be more willing to put aside his prejudices if it meant he could have what he wanted most in the world?

By the time Astrid made it to Gobber’s forge, the midday sun was beating down on her. Entering his shop was no reprieve, as the heat of the fires kept the space uncomfortably warm. 

She pulled at the collar of her shirt, waiting for the blacksmith to notice her. With the hot metal in his hand, she didn’t want to run the risk of startling him. 

When Gobber did look up, he grinned, “Lass!” 

She smiled back, wiping the sweat off her brow. “Hey, Gobber. Stoick sent me to check on the repair progress.”

The blacksmith set aside his work, ambling over to where his other projects sat near the shop window. “Aye, I figured as much,” he gestured to a small pile tucked in the corner, “No’ everythin’ was salvageable, I’m afraid. This lot is jus’ scrap metal at this point.”

Astrid nodded, appraising the warped and mismatched pile. They’d repurpose it – Berk couldn’t afford to throw away resources, but it was a shame to see their weapons and defenses reduced to this fate. 

“I’ll talk to Stoick,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a project we can put those towards.”

Gobber nodded, satisfied with the answer. He then pointed to a larger pile, just under the window. “Those should be good for the next raid. Got ‘bout two weapons per Viking, ready to go.”

That was good news. The loss of a weapon in combat with the dragons was common, having spares could save lives. It would also allow Gobber and his apprentice more time to help out during the fight, rather than focusing on making quick repairs during the struggle. 

“Wait, where’s Ivan?” she asked, scanning the forge but not seeing the young man anywhere.

Gobber snorted, shaking his head in disappointment. “Dismissed ‘im yesterday. Boy barely knew which end of the ‘ammer to use!”

“B-but that’s the third apprentice this year!”

“Oi! Ya think I don’ know that?” Gobber argued, irritation creeping into his voice. “I’ve ‘ad to train the lot of them, and not a single one’s been half decent.”

Astrid groaned. She knew Stoick would not be happy to hear that his friend had dismissed yet another apprentice. It was so hard to find anyone in the village interested in blacksmith work, and they had been scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to dig up replacements. 

“Gobber,” she said, exasperatedly. “Ivan was the last volunteer on our list. We might not be able to find another any time soon.”

The man scowled, “I didn’ do it lightly. I know ya’ might no’ find me another for a while, but at least I won’t ‘ave to spend half my time fixin’ that boy’s mistakes.”

“Gobber, it’s important for Berk to have an apprentice…what if…what if something happens to you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Th’ dragons ‘ave tried to take me – twice! Yet, ‘ere I stand. Gonna take a lot more than raids to take me out!”

A typical, stubborn viking response. She hadn’t expected anything less, but that didn’t make the whole ordeal less irritating. 

Gods, she needed to find a replacement fast, but who could possibly put up with Gobber’s attitude while also meeting his high expectations for smithing? It was an impossibly tall order, yet one name came to mind immediately.

This job was made for Hiccup. 

She’d found yet another hole in their society that the boy could fill. Another problem that his presence would solve. 

Sure, he was self taught and sure to be lacking in the technical aspects as a result, but there was no denying the effectiveness of his work. The flaming sword he’d shown her was a true feat of genius – how hard could it be for him to craft simpler, less flashy blades?

“I want to show you something.”

Hiccup blinked back at her, cutting off the story he’d been telling about a place called Melody Island.

“Sorry,” her cheeks warmed as she realized she’d interrupted him. “It’s just been on my mind all day. It’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “What is it?”

Astrid reached out and gripped his hand, twining her fingers through his. “Do you trust me?”

“I mean, yes, but–”

That was all the answer she needed to rise to her feet, pulling him up with her. She tugged him towards the treeline, grip tight on his hand.

“It’s in town,” she admitted. “And we’re going to have to be quiet, if we don’t want to be seen.”

“You don't say.”

She turned to glare at him, unimpressed by his innocent expression. 

“Can you please take this seriously? It’s important.”

He didn’t respond aloud, but squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. 

When they reached the edge of town, she led him up towards the tallest peak. She could feel his resistance as they approached the looming house of the chief. 

“Astrid–I’m not ready for this.”

She shook her head, pulling him forward. “We’re not here to see your father,” Under her breath she added, “Even though we really should be.” 

He gave her a look that made it clear he’d heard, but stopped fighting her as they approached the home. 

“There’s a wedding tonight,” said Astrid, “and the reception is happening now down in the village center. Stoick’s supposed to give a speech, so he should be down there for a while longer. We don’t have a lot of time, but the house should be empty for now.”

She pushed the door open, quickly confirming that she’d been right. 

“C’mon!”

Hiccup hesitated in the doorway, color draining from his face. “I don’t know, Astrid. It just doesn’t feel right for me–”

“Oh, get in here!” She tugged hard and he stumbled through the entry.

He glared at her, pulling his hand free. It only took a moment before his attention fell on the reason for their visit: the portrait. From the entryway, it was impossible to miss, taking up a large chunk of the opposite wall. 

“Is this…?” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” 

She watched as he scrutinized the painting, attention first drawn to his parents. Curiosity at Stoick’s portrayal turned to clear grief when he looked at Valka. For a moment, his hand shakily stretched out towards her image before dropping to his side. 

When he got to his own depiction, he was harder to read. He just continued to stare at it with a strange intensity, pupils narrowing to slits. 

“It doesn’t do you justice.” She said, after the silence stretched on too long for her liking.

Hiccup glanced back at her with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, the painter got your general features right,” she said, “but where’s the smirk? The insufferable sass?”

Hiccup gave a startled laugh, and the tension in the room cracked. He shot her a grateful smile before looking once more at the portrait, this time more relaxed. “I never knew I had her eyes. Well, you know, before–”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know there even was a portrait of me anywhere,” he admitted, “it’s kind of surreal to see.”

She nodded. “There actually aren’t a lot of portraits in Berk – this is one of the only ones that I’ve seen.”

“Really?”

“We don’t have a resident artist, so we have to rely on visitors – or in the chief’s case, commission one to come to the island,” explained Astrid. “The only others I’ve seen are in the Hall – there’s a wall commemorating all the new chiefs. It was clearly very important to your father to have this made.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to speak, cutting off when a shadow fell over them from behind.

Chapter Text

Stoick had been to more than his fair share of weddings in his day. As chief, he was expected to at least make an appearance at all major celebrations in Berk. Over time, they all started to blend together a bit, and he found himself longing to leave earlier and earlier. 

Tonight was no exception. The couple, a sweet older duo that had found love later in life, had been kind enough to request that he make a speech commemorating their union. He’d been honored, of course, to be invited to participate in the festivities. However, once the mead had begun flowing and the dancing started, he’d been ready to retreat back to the comfort and quiet of his own home.

Weddings, like most celebrations, were about family and loved ones. Stoick had lost his own long ago, a fact which now soured those experiences for him. 

The walk from town to his home was pleasant in the starlight, and he let the cool breeze comfort him as he walked. These quiet moments were a treasured source of inner peace in a place as unpredictable as Berk.

As he rounded the final curve in the path, he was startled to find the door to his house hanging open. Had he forgotten to close it in his haste to make it to the ceremony?

Stoick thought he could pick up the faint murmur of voices coming from within, and tensed. Who would enter this late, uninvited? 

He strode forward, peering inside. 

A familiar blonde braid caught his attention, and he raised an eyebrow. “Astrid?” He asked. “What are you doing here?”

“C-chief!” The young woman stuttered, spinning to face him. “I, um…well, I…”

He took in her flushed appearance with concern, taking a step into his home. “Are you okay, lass? You look alarmed. Did something happen?”

He’d seen Astrid’s parents at the wedding, but now that he thought about it – he hadn’t seen her there. Perhaps it was something to do with the Heir task list? She was one of the top contenders for the role, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she was taking initiative to better her chances. 

“Well, n-no sir, but you see, I…” She said, stalling for time.

Stoick lit one of the torches in the room, illuminating the space further. As he did so, he caught sight of another occupant of the room. The figure – a tall, slim male – stood with a rigid posture, back facing towards Stoick. 

The chief furrowed his brow, “And who’s this?”

Astrid shot a wide-eyed look at her companion, who still hadn’t moved. 

“Oh, umm…” 

He’d never known Astrid to be at a loss for words. She’d always been confident and clear in her delivery, never mumbling or stuttering like she was tonight. Alarm bells were going off in his head. If something had rattled one of his best young warriors this much, it was a matter of utmost importance to address. Perhaps she and this young man had been through an awful ordeal?

He took a step towards the boy, intending to put a comforting hand on the stranger’s shoulder. As if sensing his approach, the boy launched himself forward In a frenzy of motion. He took off across the room, crossing the space in a matter of seconds. 

Stoick blinked, taken aback by the hasty retreat. 

The boy wasted no time, throwing all of his body weight into the rear door. It swung open with force, rattling against the side of the house like thunder. He raced off towards the tree line, his figure quickly disappearing into the night. 

“HICCUP!” Astrid yelled, taking a few steps towards the open door. A moment later, the color drained from her face and she slapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh, Ancients…” she whispered to herself. 

Stoick felt his stomach drop, and a heavy blanket of tension settled over the home. 

That name…

“What did you just say?” His voice came out raspy and small. 

It wasn’t a common name, but it wasn’t unheard of either. Yet, the chances of another boy suddenly appearing on his Island with that same name seemed implausible.

Perhaps he’d heard wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time wishful thinking had churned up memories of his wife or son. 

Astrid turned back to face him, a storm of emotions raging in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry to bother you in your home so late,” she said, changing the subject back to his earlier question. “You’re right, there is something wrong. It–it’s about the Heir training. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I’m not sure that I–”

It was clear that she was trying to evade his question, so Stoick cleared his throat. 

“Astrid,” he said, cutting her off. “Who was that boy?”

The young woman bit her lip, unable to meet his eye. 

The evasion surprised him, as it showed a lack of respect for her chief and elder. Astrid had always been a loyal villager, raised to serve Berk like the best of its warriors. Her refusal to answer a direct question from her chief was shameful, and would reflect poorly on both her and her family by extension.

“Astrid, answer the question.”

“A friend,” was all she said. “Now sir, as I was saying–”

“ No .” Once again, Stoick cut her off, but this time his voice had an edge to it. He could feel his face heat with a flush of irritation. Now was not the time to play games.  “Astrid, I will not ask again. Who was that boy? ”

The young woman toyed with the bottom of her skirt, rubbing the worn leather between her fingers. He recognized the action as a nervous habit she’d picked up as a child, and one he’d seen rarely since she’d begun to excel in her training. To see that nervous tick return was unsettling. 

“He…His name is Hiccup,” she admitted with a sigh, hanging her head.

Stoick sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He leaned against a nearby chair to steady himself, suddenly feeling weak. 

“That…that was my son’s name.”

Astrid met his eyes, giving a sympathetic nod.

Most days, it hurt too much for him to speak of his lost loved ones, but of course she already knew. The whole village knew. 

“...and you took him here .” 

Stoick sat down heavily in the chair, his limbs suddenly feeling like lead.  It couldn’t be mere coincidence – bringing a boy with that name into this home. Could it?

He doubted it.

Taking a shaky breath, he leaned back in the chair to steady himself.

“My son…he’s alive?”

Asking aloud was dangerous, as it allowed him to hope once more for a miracle. A wound that he’d tried to heal for so many years was ripped wide once more. 

Astrid looked intently down at the floor, eyeing it as if she wished the surface would turn to quicksand and swallow her whole. At first, he feared she’d refuse to answer once more, but after a pause she spoke. 

“He’s alive.” She confirmed. 

Thor Almighty, he’s alive!

A bubble of surprise, wonder and excitement welled up inside Stoick, spilling out in a joyous laugh. His face stretched wide into an awed smile and he struggled to hastily push himself back onto his feet. 

“I’ve got to go find him!” He exclaimed, “I’ve got to–”

“No!” 

Astrid’s yell echoed through the room, loud and firm.

Stoick frowned, confused by her outburst, but he didn’t have time to waste dwelling on it – his son was alive! He shouldered past the young woman, saying “I can and I will. This is my son we’re talking about!”

To his surprise, Astrid quickly maneuvered around him, blocking the back doorway with her body. “Chief, didn’t you see how fast he bolted out of here?”

Stoick grunted. “Means he’s got a head start! Out of my way, Astrid.”

“He doesn’t want to see you!”

The man froze, momentarily at a loss. In all the scenarios where he’d dreamed of reuniting with his family, he’d never considered the idea that they might not want to reunite with him.

Astrid, seeing his hesitation, pressed on. “If you go after him now, you’ll just upset him more.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t fathom why his own son wouldn’t want to meet him. Surely he wanted a family just as badly as Stoick? Unless he was ashamed of his origins. Stoick grimaced as he considered the possibility. His reputation had been tarnished by his extended mourning period and inability to end the dragon raid onslaught. Maybe his son was disappointed in the man who’d fathered him?

Astrid held her ground in the doorway, with her feet planted firmly in the chief’s path. She stood tall, limbs extended to prevent giving him any sort of opening. It was a defensive position, and that did little to assuage Stoick’s fears. 

“He’s afraid.”

That…wasn’t what the chief had expected to hear. 

“Of me ?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

Stoick deflated, taking a step back and away from the door. He felt the fight drain from his shoulders and he slumped back down into his chair.

Gods. 

His son was afraid of him. What had he done to warrant that fear?

“Look,” Astrid said, toying with the end of her braid. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it’s nothing personal. He’s been through a lot more than you can imagine, and he really does have good reason to be afraid. I’ve been trying to ease him into the idea of giving Berk a chance, but if you push him too fast, I promise he’ll disappear.”

Stoick ran a hand over his face, “I’d never hurt him.”

He hoped his voice conveyed his conviction, as it was as much a statement of fact as a promise to himself. 

Astrid leaned against the doorframe, bracing herself against the wood. “I want to believe you,” she said, “but you don’t know the whole story – and it’s not mine to tell. What I can say is that Hiccup is…different. In a way you couldn’t begin to imagine.”

“I’m sure whatever it is doesn’t matter–”

“It does,” said Astrid, cutting him off. She kept her words firm, but not emotional. “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m sure we can work through it.”

“I hope so,” sighed Astrid. “I really do, but it’s not a risk we can take lightly. You need to understand – Hiccup has good reason to believe he’d be killed on sight.”

That revelation left Stoick stunned. “Is he…is he in some kind of trouble? If he’s got a bounty on his head, I’m sure we can–”

Astrid shook her head, “No, he hasn’t committed any sort of crime.”

“Then why?”

“As I said,” she reminded him, “it’s not my story to tell. But…I could ask him if he’d be willing to meet you and share it.”

Stoick nodded emphatically. 

“I can’t promise that he’ll agree.”

He frowned, but nodded his agreement. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Astrid bit her lip. “And if you want me to do this…if you want me to ask him to take this risk, I need you to promise me you’ll keep this a secret. No one else can know that he’s here in Berk. Or that he’s alive. Not unless he agrees.”

“Aye, I can do that.”

“I’m serious,” she stressed, letting an edge into her voice, “no one can know. Not even Gobber.”

Stoick narrowed his eyes, but agreed.

Astrid straightened, turning and taking a step out the door. “And chief?” She called over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“If he agrees to this, and you hurt him…you’ll answer to me. Chief or not – consequences be damned.”

With that, the young woman stepped out into the night, leaving Stoick’s mind swirling with questions.

Chapter Text

Astrid was breathless by the time she reached the arena. She paused to collect herself, leaning heavily on the bars of the stadium for support. 

“Hiccup!” She called out, searching frantically for her friend.

There was no response. 

She tried again and again, straining her voice as she shouted into the night. To her dismay, no one answered her call. 

Where did he go? She wondered. 

She knew he kept a campsite somewhere nearby, but she doubted she could navigate through the darkness of the dense trees well enough to find it. Getting lost in the woods would be a waste of time, and a risk she couldn’t afford to take – but how else could she find him?

An idea suddenly dawned on her, filling her with a deep apprehension. It was far from ideal, but she couldn’t deny that it had merit. As much as she didn’t like it, she suspected it was her best chance of locating her friend.

“Toothless!” She hissed out, hoping that the Night Fury would pick up on her distress. 

What had her life come to that she found herself trying to summon a dragon for help?

Scanning the treeline, she was relieved to see a set of reflective eyes shining back at her. They were too large to belong to Hiccup, which meant they had to belong to his companion.

“Toothless!” She called again, beckoning the dragon forward with a hand. 

The Night Fury slowly slunk out of the trees, his dark shape blending with the shadows. He eyed her with a mix of curiosity and wariness, but did not hesitate to approach. 

Astrid could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was the first time she’d been this close to the dragon without Hiccup. Toothless had never hurt her before, but a small part of her couldn’t shake the fear that her safety hinged on her friend’s presence. 

Toothless made a low humming noise, nudging her shoulder gently with his nose. He looked up at her with his wide, imploring eyes as if sensing her unease and trying to soothe it. 

A dragon was trying to comfort her. 

She forced a tight smile back, reaching out and lightly scratching the dragon’s chin scales like she’d seen Hiccup do many times before. Toothless immediately leaned into her touch, letting out a contented hum.

“Toothless,” she said, trying to keep her tone calm and unthreatening. The last thing she wanted to do was spook the creature. “I need you to take me to Hiccup. Can you do that for me?”

The Night Fury narrowed his eyes slightly, seeming to reassess her presence. Astrid had no doubt the dragon had picked up on his rider’s distress and would be even more protective than usual. As intelligent as Toothless was, he had no way of knowing exactly what had upset his friend so deeply. For all he knew, Astrid could be the cause. 

She only hoped she’d earned a sliver of the dragon’s trust over their weeks of coexistence. 

“Please, Toothless,” she murmured, “I–I know he’s hurting. I want to help him.”

The Night Fury tilted his head to the side, expression softening. After a moment he huffed, turning his body so that she stood before one of his front legs. He then tipped his head at her before turning to point it back over his shoulder. 

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his expectant look.

“What are you…”

The dragon repeated the motion, insistently pointing his nose at her before twisting his neck and pointing to his back. To the saddle.

Oh gods, no.

She’d only ridden on dragonback that first night, when Hiccup had returned her to Berk. It had been both a terrifying and exhilarating experience, and one she’d never expected to repeat. Especially not on her own.

“Toothless, I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Can’t we just walk there?”

The dragon snorted, expelling a smoke ring directly in her face. 

Astrid sputtered, waving the smoke out of her eyes. “Ok, I’ll take that as a no. Fine, we'll do it your way.”

With a pit forming in her stomach, she reached up to grab the front of the saddle. Once she was confident she had a good grip, she hauled herself up and into place. It was not unlike mounting a horse, but aspects of it were foreign all the same. Toothless had a wider back, and she could feel a steady heat rising from beneath the dragon’s scales where her leggings sat against his flank.

Astrid gripped the saddle tighter, knuckles turning white. This time, she wouldn’t be able to hang on to Hiccup for support, so she would need to rely on the leather gear to keep her tethered. The saddle was noticeably worn from many years of use and she hoped it would hold. 

“I think we should take this slow,” she said.

Toothless flicked an ear back at her, before dipping down into a low crouch. With a surprising amount of force, he sprung up into the night sky. 

She shrieked, taken aback by the rough launch. 

Air whipped around her, sending her hair flurrying around her face. It was far colder above the treeline, with nothing to break the wind. She shivered, hunching lower in the saddle.

How does Hiccup do this? She wondered. If it was cold for her, she couldn’t imagine what the chill did to his body. 

As Toothless glided above the clouds, she cast a look around, momentarily taken aback by how beautiful the island appeared from above. In the moonlight, the houses seemed to shine silver, almost as if they’d been crafted by starlight.

She extended her arm, letting it pass through a nearby cloud. It was ethereal…almost like something out of a dream. After all, how many other vikings had managed to touch the sky?

It’s amazing.

They flew for a while, slowly circling the Isle. For a moment, Astrid feared the Night Fury was just trying to keep her occupied, rather than leading her to Hiccup. Before she could voice her suspicions, the dragon began to descend towards an isolated beach.

From her vantage point, Astrid could pick out a small shape on the shore. As they grew closer and closer, the figure came into focus. 

Hiccup lay sprawled out in the sand, just a few feet above where the surf stopped. His right arm was stretched up above his head, while his left lay draped across his eyes. His armor and weapon lay discarded a few feet away in a messy heap.

Hiccup did not bother looking up as he heard the sound of wings approaching. He’d expected Toothless to make an reappearance sooner or later. He’d only hoped the dragon would give him a bit longer to stew in solitude.

“Hey, bud,” he greeted when he heard the dragon touch down, not moving from his position in the sand. 

Instead of the answering warble he’d been expecting, a second, smaller thud reached his ears.

Huh?

Hiccup drew his hand away from his eyes, pushing himself up into a seated position. He was surprised to see a familiar blonde viking beside his dragon, straightening up out of a crouch.

“Astrid?”

He was surprised by how disheveled the young woman looked. Her face was flushed and much of her hair had escaped her braid, loose strands catching in the breeze. Her posture was tense and her brow was furrowed with what looked like anxiety.

He glanced between her and Toothless, taking in the dragon’s smug expression.

“Wait…did you fly here!?” 

Despite the weight of the night’s events, he couldn’t contain the grin spreading across his face at that thought. Astrid had been pretty clear on her stance on dragons – she didn’t trust them. To willingly get on Toothless’s back, and without Hiccup there to mediate, spoke volumes of both her courage and her determination to find him.

She gave a shaky grin in return. “What, you didn’t think I could do it?”

“I never doubted you,” he answered earnestly.  

“Oh shut up, dragon boy,” she scoffed, but there was a pink tinge to her cheeks. She plopped down into the sand next to him, twisting her hands in her lap. 

Toothless sprawled out on the beach, stretching out dramatically like a cat before curling up into a ball. Though relaxed, the dragon had positioned himself in such a way that he could keep an eye on the duo’s interaction.

Overprotective reptile. Hiccup thought with affection.

“I needed to see you, to make sure that you were okay,” Astrid admitted after a moment, “and…well, to apologize. It’s my fault you were there tonight, and it’s my fault Stoick knows who you are now.”

Hiccup grimaced, digging his hands into the sand beside him. He’d heard her call his name during his exit, but he’d tried not to dwell on the implications of that moment for long. Doing so only opened a floodgate of questions he wasn’t ready to answer. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll never see me again.”

“But–”

“Astrid, I’ve been tempting fate staying here this long.” Hiccup said, pinching his eyes shut. “Gods, I should’ve left weeks ago, but getting to know you…spending time with you…I’ve never had something like this before and I didn’t want it to end.”

He’d always wanted a friend. Well, he’d always wanted a human friend. The dragons had always been there for him, but it wasn’t the same as having another person. His time with Astrid had filled a void deep within him, granting him a luxury he’d never expected to experience.

It had been foolish to stay. He knew that. He’d taken a gamble with his safety – and more importantly, Toothless’s safety – and now he had to face the consequences of that choice. Leaving was the most logical answer, and now that Stoick knew he was alive, returning might not be possible. 

“It doesn’t have to end. You don’t have to leave.”

He opened his eyes, turning to meet her gaze with exasperation. “You can’t possibly mean what I think you mean.”

Astrid put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Give him a chance, he might surprise you.”

“I doubt that. I’ve been watching him, remember? He’s pretty clear on his views on dragons.”

“You’ve been watching him for a few weeks,” corrected Astrid, voice firm. “I’ve been watching him for years and I’ve never seen him happier than the moment he realized you were alive.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, looking out at the waves. 

“I told him I’d ask you to meet him,” she continued, crossing her legs.

“Well, you asked, so mission accomplished.” He snarked back.

“ Hiccup.”

“Astrid.” 

She groaned. “Think about it, this is the perfect opportunity. This way, you can set the terms of how this happens. You can be in control.”

There was a certain appeal to that. Being caught off guard in his father’s home had made him feel helpless and trapped, almost like prey. He didn’t want to feel that way again. 

“I’ll help…well, if you want my help, of course,” She knocked a shoulder into his, “We can make a contingency plan, ensure you have an escape route. Hel, we can script out exactly how to best tell him everything.”

It was tempting. If there was an escape route in place, was there any harm in taking the risk? He had been planning to leave the island anyways. Maybe there’d be some sort of closure in having his father’s rejection out in the open, rather than just in his mind. At the very least, he could stop dreaming up worst case scenarios if he knew with certainty how the events would unfold.

Astrid looked over at Toothless, biting her lip. “How about if you face your fears…I’ll face mine.”

Hiccup raised an eyebrow, “Huh?”

“If you agree to meet your father,” she clarified. “I’ll let you teach me about the arena dragons – your way.”

Chapter Text

“Well?”

Astrid had barely crossed the threshold into the hall the next morning when Stoick cornered her to talk. She jumped, startled by his close proximity. It took all her restraint to push back years of carefully honed battle instincts and keep her axe sheathed on her back.

“Chief!” She greeted, dipping her head in a quick nod of respect. She lowered her voice, casting an eye around at the bustling room. “This is not the place to have this conversation.”

Stoick narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased with her response. He grunted, but nodded. “Very well. Meet me at the docks in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

Astrid continued on with her morning routine, grabbing a quick bite to eat before settling into a table across from Fishlegs. 

“Woah, you look terrible,” the husky boy observed, then turned bright red as his mind caught up to what he’d said. His voice went up an octave as he continued, “Oh gods, Astrid, I am so sorry! Of course that’s not what I meant! You just look really tired is all, and–”

She silenced him with a look. “It’s fine, Fishlegs. I feel terrible. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

The blonde boy gave her a sympathetic look before turning his attention back to his meal. “The wedding reception did get pretty loud towards the end. And did you hear Tuff singing? Ugh . My ears are still ringing.”

Oh right, the wedding. The one she’d entirely blown off to meet Hiccup. 

“That does sound pretty terrible,” she admitted. “I’m glad I missed that part.”

Fishlegs groaned. “You’re so lucky. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to block out that memory.”

She could imagine. The Thorston twins were not known for carrying a tune. Their last Snoggletog duet still made her shudder. After a few tankards of mead, she could only imagine how that would devolve into something truly nightmare-worthy.

Mead…that’s it!

“I think it was just the drinking going to my head,” she said as an excuse, hoping that she was offering up an alibi the boy would believe. “Gave me a wicked headache I couldn’t shake – kept me up half the night.”

If Fishlegs doubted her words, he gave no sign. He just winced in sympathy, nodding his head. 

She felt a sliver of guilt lying to her well-mannered peer, but quickly squashed it. She had a good reason for her deception. And besides, if all went well with the chief, perhaps she wouldn’t have to lie much longer.

Stoick was already at the docks when she arrived. Astrid wondered if he’d been there since their last encounter. She wouldn’t put it past the man to wait her out.

He cut an imposing figure, standing tall and strong with his back to the village. Sunlight glinted off the horns of his helmet, and the furs of his cloak caught in the breeze. There was an unusual tension to his posture that unnerved her, but the drumming of his fingers against his side betrayed his own inner turmoil.

He’d had the foresight to dismiss the harbormaster, leaving the shore otherwise unoccupied. Good. This was a conversation she wanted to keep private. 

Astrid cleared her throat as she approached, making her presence known. She drew to a stop at his right hand side, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Well?”

She trained her eyes on the oncoming tide, focusing on the steady rhythm of the breaking waves. “I asked him.”

She could feel the weight of the chief’s gaze as he turned to focus on her. His eyes drilled into her, searching her face for answers. A small part of her wanted to make him stew in his anxiety, if only for the distress he’d caused Hiccup. The more rational side of her brain reminded her that it hadn’t been Stoick’s intention to upset his son and that no good would come of provoking the chief.

“He has conditions,” she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

When she heard a sharp intake of breath, Astrid glanced over at the chief. His eyes had gone wide with emotion, and she could see the clear relief in his expression. 

“He’s agreed.” Though it was stated as a fact, there was an underlying question in his tone, as if the man needed additional confirmation. 

“Yes,” said Astrid, “but like I said…he has conditions.”

“Anything.” The reply was instantaneous.

Astrid smiled, feeling her own nerves subside a little. She’d expected an argument and was pleasantly surprised with the easy acceptance. “Hiccup needs some time to process everything before he sees you,” she explained. “If you agree to his terms, he’ll meet with you in one week’s time. I’ll be the one to take you to him.”

Stoick frowned, clearly disappointed by the idea of a wait, but did not argue. “Aye, in one week then. And the other conditions?”

“First, he chooses the location,” she said. “You won’t know where you’re meeting until I bring you there that night. He wants to be sure you’ll be alone.”

Stoick nodded. “I can accept that.”

“Next, Hiccup is free to leave if he chooses,” she continued. “If he feels threatened or unsafe, you will not try to stop him from leaving.”

Stoick furrowed his brow, unhappy with the implication. “I’m not going to threaten my son.”

Astrid shifted her weight, looking back out at the water. She sighed. “You might feel differently once you know the full extent of his…situation. If you react badly and he chooses to leave, you need to stand down and let him go.”

In her peripheral vision, she could see the man run a hand down the length of his face in frustration. “Very well, lass. I give you my word that I won’t stop him.”

Thank Thor.

“If it helps, I made him promise not to take off unless he feels physically threatened,” she said. “He’s going to stick it out, even if the conversation gets hard. Just make sure you don’t give him a reason to run.”

It had been hard to arrange that compromise, but she’d felt it was necessary. Hiccup was skittish enough about the whole ordeal, she didn’t want him bolting the moment his father came into view. 

Stoick didn’t seem particularly comforted, “Are those the terms?”

“Almost. He doesn’t want anyone else to know, so if you tell anyone before the meeting, he won’t show.”

“I won’t speak of it.”

“Lastly, you need to keep an open mind,” said Astrid. “Some of the things he’s going to tell you are going to shock or upset you, and they’re going to challenge your beliefs. You need to promise that you will listen and try to see his perspective before casting judgment.”

“Aye, for my son.”

Astrid turned to face him, satisfied by the openness of the man’s expression. Stoick was a man of honor, he wouldn’t go back on the terms.

“I have one more request,” she said, feeling her chest tighten. “Not from Hiccup, but from me. If you refuse, you'll still see him, but it would mean a lot if you agree.”

Stoick raised an eyebrow, but gestured for her to continue.

“If it’s too much, and you can’t accept what you see or hear, let me break the news to him,” she pleaded. “Just tell him you need time to think, and let me be the one to tell him that you don’t want to see him again.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to send him away!” Stoick’s voice was steeped in indignation and frustration.

Astrid grit her teeth. “Do me a favor, and make sure that you remember those exact words next week. All I’m trying to say is that he’s putting a lot of trust in you, in a way that he never has for anyone else. If you react badly, I’m afraid he’ll never take this kind of risk trusting someone again.”

“Fine. I’ll agree to your request – on one condition of my own.”

“Depends on the condition.”

“I want you to tell me about my son.” He held up a hand to prevent her from interrupting. “I’m not asking you to share anything about this big secret of his, or to betray his trust. I want to know what you’ve learned from my boy these few weeks. Anything and everything you can share.”

“Well, he’s one Hel of a blacksmith…”

Chapter Text

7 Nights Remaining

For as many nights as Hiccup had spent beside Berk’s arena, he’d never once been inside it. Until now.

It felt wrong, just stepping into the space. The history of violence within the space was clearly written across the walls. Hiccup’s keen eyesight could pick out a variety of scorch marks that spoke to different dragon classes, as well as countless claw scratches and gouge marks.

On the far wall, a row of metal doors glittered in the moonlight, cold and imposing. 

Cages. 

Hiccup felt a shiver run down his spine, and not from the cold. This was a place of strife and suffering, and yet somehow a point of pride in the village. Did he really want people from such a place to accept him?

He’d spent enough time observing Berk to know what lay behind those doors: a Deadly Nadder, a Hideous Zippleback, a Monstrous Nightmare, a Gronkle and a Terrible Terror. Each dragon spent its days locked away in a cell, brought out only for target practice as young vikings developed their battle skills.

It was a cruel existence, split between loneliness and fear and his heart went out to the imprisoned dragons. If his meeting with Stoick went south, he hoped to free the lot of them before making his own escape.

In the meantime, he hoped his sessions with Astrid would offer some comfort to the creatures. Though they were unaccustomed to human kindness, most dragons wanted to trust. So long as their time on Berk hadn’t hardened them too much, Hiccup believed the dragons would be receptive to any positive encounters.

Hiccup knew he needed to start small. He’d have to focus on one dragon at a time, both to ensure they did not fight amongst themselves as well as to prevent Astrid from becoming overwhelmed. 

He’d gone back and forth for a bit on which dragon to start with – the Terrible Terror was the least intimidating, but also the least likely to form a meaningful bond. The Zippleback had been his next thought, knowing Astrid would love the challenge presented by a two-headed dragon. Yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of her being charged by one during the last raid. 

Of the three remaining dragons, he’d decided on the Nadder. Sleek and agile, the dragon had both grace and ferocity in spades. It reminded him of Astrid, and he hoped those similarities would help them to connect.

Coaxing the dragon out of its cell was a feat of its own. After years conditioned to fear human contact, the blue Nadder had been immediately alarmed by Hiccup’s presence. After the dragon caught sight of his eyes, blind terror gave way to curiosity.

He channeled his years of experience in the nest into being as non-threatening and dragon-like as possible. It took some patience, but eventually the Nadder’s interest won out and it joined him in the ring.

Hiccup was in the process of delivering some reassuring scratches to the dragon’s scales when he heard light footfalls approaching.

“I was worried you weren’t gonna show,” he confessed without turning to look.

He jerked when a fist collided with his shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt but with enough force to unbalance him. He stumbled a bit before collecting himself. The Nadder squawked, but didn’t drift far from his side. 

“Ouch! Why would you do that?”

“That,” Astrid replied, “was for doubting me.”

Was she serious?

He looked over, incredulous, to see a self-satisfied smirk on the Viking’s face. She did, in fact, appear to be serious.

“Noted,” he said, rubbing the tender spot on his shoulder. 

The longer he studied her, the most he suspected the cheerful demeanor was a facade. Her smirk was just a little too tight, her shoulders a little too tense. Small details, but easy to spot after spending so much time together. Was she really that nervous?

 Her flickered between his face and the dragon beside him.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, “She won’t hurt you.”

“Easy for you to say, dragon boy. I’ve fought this dragon, and I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

Hiccup blinked.

“In dragon training,” clarified Astrid.

“I knew what you meant.”

“Suuure you did. Totally explains why were you staring at me like I just told you I’d been to Valhalla and back this morning.”

He squinted at her, “Well excuse me but I’ve never seen the great warrior, Astrid Hofferson, afraid of anything. Gods help me if I was a little surprised.”

“I am NOT afraid.”

“Uh huh, yeah. Sure . Totally buying that.”

“Shut up, Hiccup.”

He felt his face split into an easy grin, patting the Nadder’s neck. Jerking his head at the dragon, he spoke. “Dragons are remarkably good judges of character. She’ll be able to pick up on your intentions. If she doesn’t feel threatened, she won’t threaten you.”

“I’ve hurt her before,” admitted Astrid, nervous eyes trained on the dragon.

Hiccup followed her gaze to a white scar near the Nadder’s nostril. A gash, not inconsistent with that of a battle axe. He grimaced. Not ideal, but he knew it was not as big of a hurdle as Astrid seemed to believe.

“You’d be surprised how forgiving a dragon can be,” he said. “They’re better about that than people. Come here.”

She took a hesitant step forward, stopping an arm’s length from the Nadder. Hiccup grasped one of her arms, guiding it into a position outstretched towards the dragon. He shifted her hand so that her palm was up and open. Then, he took a few steps away from the dragon, standing behind Astrid.

“Now look at me,” he instructed, “and just stay calm.”

She twisted her head back towards him, eyes wide. It was testament to the trust she had in him, he supposed, that she was willing to even give this a try. From what he had learned, Vikings never turned their back on a potential threat. 

The blue Nadder surveyed the girl with interest, bobbing up and down. After a few moments, the dragon seemed to come to a decision, bumping its snout into Astrid’s palm.

Astrid’s face lit up, first in disbelief and then in elation. He was taken aback by the way her smile seemed to brighten the rest of her features. There was something so pure about her excitement in that moment.

Gods, he thought. She’s beautiful.

It wasn’t news. He’d been struck by her beauty the day they’d met, but back then she’d been a stranger. He’d appreciated her looks, like one appreciates any beautiful view, but there’d been a level of detachment. 

Now, he felt himself flush, a strange bubble of emotion swelling in his chest. It grew and grew, an unfamiliar pressure building within him and threatening to burst. What was it about this girl that made him feel so much, all at once?

“I did it!” She’d turned away from him, oblivious to his internal struggle as she focused on rubbing her hands along the Nadder’s jaw. 

Hiccup shook his head, trying to force the thoughts from his mind. “Yeah, you did.”

6 Nights Remaining

The second night of Astrid’s dragon re-education did not go as Hiccup had planned. A brutal storm passed over Berk, forcing the duo to take shelter within the Nadder’s cage. Small, dark and oppressively confined – the space set Hiccup’s teeth on edge.

Berk clearly didn’t believe dragons needed much space in their pens, as there was barely enough space for Hiccup and Astrid to squeeze inside. They sat shoulder to shoulder, braced against one wall, with the dragon laying beside them. 

“She needs a name,” said Astrid.

“Hmm?”

Astrid gestured to the dragon, “Her. I can’t just keep calling her ‘the Nadder.’”

“What did you have in mind?”

A clap of thunder boomed overhead. Astrid jumped, her hand settling against Hiccup’s. His fingers twitched at the contact, but he didn’t shift away. 

The Nadder squawked, flaring her wings in the small space. Hiccup was forced to duck in order to dodge them, the action bringing him closer to the viking girl. He could feel her warm breath on his shoulder. To his surprise, she made no move to distance herself.

Instead, she gazed out the open doorway, watching the rain pool in puddles across the arena. It filled in the gouges in the floor, temporarily obscuring the signs of struggle. Hiccup wished it were so easy to cleanse the arena of its dark history.

“I know she’s trapped here,” said Astrid after a minute, “but if she could get out into that storm, do you think she’d fly away?”

Hiccup nodded. “Nadder’s are very resilient, and can fly through pretty rough conditions. I knew a few in the Nest growing up that seemed to thrive in the rain. She’d be able to navigate well, even in this weather.”

Astrid hummed, reaching out to brush the dragon’s side. Lightning illuminated the enclosure, reflecting off the vibrant blue scales.

“What if we call her Stormfly?”

5 Nights Remaining

“Do you want me to tell Stoick about your mom?”

Hiccup’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a topic he liked to think about, but he supposed there was no way of avoiding it. It was only natural to expect that the chief would want answers as to what had happened to his wife. 

Surely the viking had his suspicions? After all, his son had returned alone.

Hiccup could see her in his mind's eye, just as she had been that final day. She’d appeared both alien and familiar to him. Pale, thin and weak in body, but still a force to be reckoned with in mind. 

Gods, he missed her.

“Hiccup?” 

“No,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I think that story should come from me, but thanks.”

4 Nights Remaining

“Oh no,” challenged Astrid, leveling a glare at him. “I am not doing that again.”

Hiccup ignored her, continuing to fasten the buckles of the hastily constructed saddle that wrapped around Stormfly. It wasn’t his best work, cobbled together in the few hours before their nightly meetings, but it would hold. 

“I seem to recall you saying we could do this ‘my way,’” he reminded her. “That was the deal, but if you’re having second thoughts, we could always forget all of it…”

The blonde narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to weasel your way out of this, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking–ow!” 

Hiccup wondered how she always managed to hit the same spot on his arm with her swings. No matter how he twisted, ducked or lunged, inevitably she’d land a blow on the already bruising surface of his skin.

3 Nights Remaining

Astrid whooped as she urged Stormfly higher into the clouds. A wild grin stretched across her face as she caught up to where he and Toothless were gliding. 

“So this is what it’s like for you?” She yelled, voice barely audible against the wind. “You’ve been doing this your whole life?”

“That’s nothing – watch this!” He nudged Toothless, leaning down to speak in the dragon’s ear. “C’mon, bud, let’s show her what you’ve got!”

The Night Fury was happy to comply, shooting up at breakneck speed. He spun wildly, around and around and around again. A familiar whistle, famous amongst the vikings for identifying the dragon, filled the air.  

Toothless tucked in his wings, slowing the barrel rolls before dipping into a dive. They shot past Astrid in seconds, before leveling back out into a steady glide. 

Hiccup laughed aloud, giddy with adrenaline. No matter how many times he and Toothless took to the sky, the thrill of it never subsided. When he was in the sky, he was free.

2 Nights Remaining

 “What if we just pretended I was blind? I could tie some cloth around my eyes, maybe have you lead me around the arena?”

“Hiccup,” said Astid, exasperated, “don’t be ridiculous. Besides, that ship has sailed – he knows you aren’t blind. He saw the way you raced out of his home the other night.”

Right. He had dodged a few odd pieces of furniture in the space. 

“You’re going to tell him the truth.”

“But, what if we–”

“ Hiccup , I swear to Thor…” 

1 Night Remaining

Fire filled the sky as dozens of dragons descended on Berk. 

Another raid – their luck had run out.

Chapter Text

The morning after a raid was also plagued with stress and misfortune. 

The air still smelled strongly of burning wood, even though the last of the flames had been dispelled hours ago. Two homes had been completely unsalvageable, leaving only charred remnants of their original structures behind. Most still standing were not entirely spared, as scorches and ash served as visual reminders of the night’s attack.

Stoick’s home was one of the very few to completely escape damage, due only to its distance from the heart of the attack. The chief noted this as he trudged up the steps at dawn, feeling exhaustion settle deep in his body. 

It was his duty to maintain order through the aftermath of the attacks, and it had taken hours to get everything organized in the wake of the destruction. After much delegating, he was confident the villages were on their way to rebuilding what was lost. 

Thor Almighty.

He needed to rest – soon. A pressure had been building behind his eyes as it became harder and harder to keep them open. 

He scrawled out a hasty note, informing Astrid to wake him if he didn’t meet her at the designated time, before leaving it folded on the front steps. 

He shut the door with a heavy sigh, setting his heavy furs and armor by the door. Though the physical weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the emotional weight remained. His people continued to suffer at the hands of the dragons, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. For generations, these raids brought chaos and suffering to the people of Berk, and it never got any easier to witness.

To think this was the world he’d be introducing his son to…

His heart swelled just thinking about Hiccup. His boy, thought lost forever, would be face-to-face with him in a matter of hours. He refused to let the darkness of the night’s events taint that miracle.

Settling down onto his bed with a groan, Stoick closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

“Thanks for the help last night,” said Astrid as she pet the Terrible Terror in her lap. “I can’t imagine how bad it would have gotten if you and Toothless hadn’t kept the damage contained like that.”

“Of course,” Hiccup waved off the gratitude, continuing to pace the arena’s interior in measured strides. His voice came out higher and sharper than he’d intended, reflecting the anxiety that had been building since sun up. “We wouldn’t turn our back on the dragons – or Berk – if we could help it.”

Astrid leaned back against the arena wall, lifting her eyes to assess him. She arched an eyebrow. “Hey, you okay?”

He shot her a dark look, not slowing his stride.

“It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

Astrid hummed, scratching the Terror’s chin scales. It was an awkward motion, with the bandages on her hand limiting her motion. She’d sustained a few minor scratches in the raid and her mother had insisted on wrapping them, much to her displeasure. 

She continued to observe Hiccup, noting that he appeared unharmed from the chaos of the night. Perhaps being up in the sky with the dragons was the safest place to be in the fight. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like, seeing the struggle from dragonback. There had to be a certain thrill to it, and a satisfaction to be able to really make a difference in the fight. A part of her longed to experience it for herself.

“Next time, let me help,” the words tumbled out of her mouth without context. 

Hiccup was, understandably, confused by her outburst. “Help with what?”

“The raids,” she explained. “You and Toothless can’t be everywhere – let me help! Stormfly and I could help you break up the fights from the sky.”

He frowned, slowing his momentum. “It’s dangerous.”

“As if being on the ground isn’t?”

“Someone could see you,” he argued. “Stormfly doesn’t have the same camouflage as Toothless. It wouldn’t be hard to tell a Nadder had a rider.”

He had a point. 

She didn’t like it.

“So what?” She forced a smile. “If I stay high enough up in the air, they can’t hurt me!”

Even the strongest Vikings could only throw a bola so far. Astrid was confident she had observed enough training to know what that range looked like, and how to stay out of it.

Hiccup shook his head, looking grim. “That’s not the point. If they see someone on dragonback, in the middle of a raid, they’re going to assume the worst. You’d be putting a target on your back!”

“So let me borrow your cloak. No one has to know it’s me!”

“Again, not the point.” He said wearily. “Berk already hates dragons. If their first encounter with a dragon rider is one they assume is attacking the island, they’ll never be willing to trust another.”

They’ll never be able to trust me, went unspoken.

“The raids must be hard for you.” 

Hiccup paused midstep, twisting his head to look at her with surprise.

“I mean,” she explained. “With you being part of both worlds – seeing that fighting, it’s got to be especially difficult to watch.”

Hiccup let his foot fall, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position. He looked down, wringing his hands. “Well, I mean, yeah. It’s definitely a challenge. I don’t want to see either side get hurt, but I’m the only one worrying about that.”

“You were the only one,” she corrected, shifting her position. The Terror, unhappy with her sudden movement, growled lightly and clambered off her lap. After a quick stretch, it curled up in a nearby sunbeam.

Hiccup smiled softly, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “You have come a long way. Especially with Stormfly. It’s nice to see another bonded rider, especially here on Berk.”

“You're not alone anymore. And, if all goes as planned tonight, maybe I’m just the start,” she said, standing up and brushing the dirt from her skirt. 

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Or, if it doesn’t go as planned – like things rarely ever do for me, I might add – I could find a cozy new home on top of the archipelago’s most wanted list.”

“ Hiccup .”

“I’m just envisioning the fleets of vikings setting out on their latest quest,” he continued, pupils narrowing to slits. “Finding the Nest? So last generation. No, now the real prize is mounting the head of–ouch! Again, really?”

Astrid rubbed her knuckles, still tingling from the punch. “Stop spiraling,” she snapped. “We’ve been over this a hundred times – if things go south, you vanish. End of story. No angry mobs, no imprisonment – for Thor’s sake, no beheading… ”

Hiccup kicked at the dirt, lips pressed in a thin line. “I really wish I shared your confidence.”

“Just trust me.” Astrid looked to the horizon, squinting as she took in the position of the sun. “I should probably head back and get Stoick.”

“Or you could, you know, not.”

She ignored him, starting towards the gate. “We’ll be back in an hour. Make sure you’re in position.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. 

She paused, looking back over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. “You do remember the plan, right?”

“How could I not? We’ve only gone through it a thousand times…”

Stoick despised waiting. 

One of the perks of being chief was being able to set the schedule and ensure that things happened when he wanted them to happen. It was rare to have something be out of his control. Yet, that was precisely the situation he was now in as he waited for Astrid to take him to meet his son.

It was agony.

He was early, but he’d hoped the girl would be too. The sooner she led him to his son, the sooner she’d be free to return home. Surely after the events of the raid, she’d want to return home to her family as quickly as possible?

He tapped his foot impatiently, staring intently out at the walkway down to the village. 

Finally he saw a figure in the distance, and he set out to meet her halfway. 

“Chief,” greeted Astrid with a respectful nod.

“Astrid.”

“Ready to meet your son?”

Chapter Text

Hiccup heard his father’s approach long before he saw him. The loud, heavy footfalls echoed through the empty arena as the man approached, the only sound in the otherwise quiet dusk. 

His gut twisted as he waited for the chief to appear, and he desperately tried to ground himself in memories of his mother’s stories. In them, Stoick had been known to show kindness and compassion. He’d been a reasonable man.

Hiccup hoped Stoick was still that man. That time, grief and fear hadn’t twisted him into something else entirely.

He leaned against the cool metal of a cage door, taking small comfort in the sound of chattering coming from the Nadder housed within it. Even caged, Stormfly had mellowed out in the last week since bonding with Astrid. It was a small comfort in his otherwise tumultuous state of mind, knowing that their efforts had lessened the suffering of the arena’s dragons. 

“Where is he, lass?” 

Hiccup could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, eyes trained on the only entry and exit to the arena. This was it. No chance to back out now. 

He slunk deeper into the shadows, unable to shake the instinct to hide. It wasn’t dark enough out to conceal him, but he hoped it made his features a little less clear. 

He couldn’t hear Astrid’s reply – her voice didn’t carry quite as far as the booming tone of the viking chief – but the approaching footfalls were enough to know she’d pointed him to the ring.

Stoick entered the arena more timidly than Hiccup had ever seen the man move. The confidence he’d grown to associate with his father was missing, replaced instead by something more akin to nerves. The large man walked slowly, eyes carefully scanning his surroundings.

His gaze hadn’t quite landed on Hiccup when a grating metal noise filled the air. The reinforced gate slid down quickly and firmly, sealing the viking inside in seconds. 

Though it had been part of the plan, it still unnerved Hiccup to know he was essentially trapped.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Stoick called out, stalking over to the door. He gave it a few experimental tugs, but his efforts were in vain. The door remained firmly secured.

Hiccup had constructed a mechanism to lock the door in place, one that had to be removed from the outside. Until Astrid disabled the device, no amount of brute force was going to make the door budge.

While it was true that Hiccup could not leave – neither could Stoick. He’d have no opportunity to signal for backup or drag Hiccup back to Berk. 

From what he’d gathered listening to Astrid, stubbornness was a deeply ingrained trait within all the Haddock men. If Hiccup was to challenge his father’s beliefs, it was likely going to take some work to get through to him. He needed to ensure the man stuck around long enough to hear those reasons, rather than immediately dismissing him or taking off in a bout of frustration.

Hiccup took one last slow, deep breath to steady himself. He needed to shift the attention off Astrid. She’d already done so much more than she needed to for him. This wasn’t her battle, it was his. No amount of denial or delay was going to change that.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

Stoick’s posture tightened, hand instinctively reaching for his axe as he turned. His mind seemed to catch up to his actions, however, as his arm was back to his side before he spotted Hiccup.

Right, probably should have had a ‘no weapons’ rule…

“I, uh,” Hiccup suddenly found his throat feeling dry, “I heard you were looking for me.”

Internally he cringed. 

Why in Thor’s name did I say that?

“Hiccup?” Stoick was starting to move closer, steps slow and unsure. 

“Yeah.”

Hiccup’s heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest as he watched the distance close between them. In a matter of moments, the shadows wouldn’t be able to hide the truth any longer. He took a second to memorize the open, awed expression on his father’s face before squeezing his eyes shut and stepping into the fading light.

There was a sharp intake of breath as the chief got a first, good look at his son.

Hiccup gave the man time to study his face, praying his father would recognize both his own and Valka’s features reflected there. That recognition, and acceptance that he was who he claimed to be, was critical.

“Oh, son,” the viking’s voice broke, raw and full of emotion. A hand came down to rest on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.

Hiccup swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. 

He opened his eyes.

Stoick was looking down at him, watery eyes widening as he took in the sight. A myriad of emotions passed over his face – shock, dismay, disgust, confusion– before sealing off into an expressionless mask. 

The grip on Hiccup’s shoulder tightened into something more threatening than reassuring, and he was increasingly aware of just how much the viking towered over his small frame. 

Stoick shook his head, brows furrowing, and Hiccup took that as a sign to slip out of his grip. He took a few cautious steps backwards, stopping just out of the larger man’s reach. His fingers twitched towards where Inferno was strapped to his leg, but he didn’t draw the weapon.

Stoick muttered something unintelligible to himself, before making a gesture so as to ward off evil – as if he were faced with a demon or dark spirit rather than his long lost son.

“Eyes of the devils…” He whispered. 

Hiccup scowled. “Wow, Dad,” he drew out the word for emphasis, watching the man flinch at the reminder of their relationship. “That was great. Really flattering. Truly excellent parenting right there! You know, considering you practically begged Astrid to set this up, I thought you’d at least hear me out before you decided I was some sort of monster.”

“You…but…” Stoick found his voice. “You can’t be…”

Hiccup snorted, feeling a burst of indignant anger build up inside. He slipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a small object. He dangled it by its weathered cord, letting the metal disk catch the light. It was scratched and weathered, but unmistakable.

The arena was so quiet for a moment, it was as if time itself had stopped.

“That’s…”

“Mom’s betrothal gift,” confirmed Hiccup, finally looking away. “She wore it every day, you know. Never took it off until the day she died.”

Stoick’s composure cracked as he processed the news, grief washing over his features in seconds. Hiccup felt a stab of bitterness, seeing how much love the man had for his wife…but quick he was to dismiss it for his son. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to think like that. If anyone was worthy of unconditional love, it was Valka. They’d been dealt a difficult hand, but she’d never let that shake her. She’d sacrificed everything for his safety, and gone out of her way to give him the best life possible. She’d been his mother, his teacher and his dearest friend, and he couldn’t resent anyone for missing her. 

He often missed her so much it hurt to breathe. 

Sometimes, he wished she’d put herself first, just once. Perhaps if she’d rejoined the vikings, she might have lived. There was a level of guilt that always surfaced when he thought of her passing, knowing that the only reason for their isolation in her illness had been himself. If she’d been anywhere else, she might have access to a proper healer.

A part of him would always blame himself. 

Stoick reached out towards the necklace, the action shaking Hiccup from his thoughts. Instincts told him to retreat, but he forced himself to remain steady. 

She’d want him to have this. He reminded himself, dropping the necklace into his father’s hand. It was an act of trust, and he hoped was not misplaced.

The man looked up at him sharply, evidently surprised that he’d released it. Hiccup stared back defiantly, watching the older man squirm under his gaze.

There was a tension in the air as the Haddock men assessed one another, both unsure of how to proceed. 

Stoick worked his jaw up and down a few times before asking, “How did she pass?”

“Fever. When I was fourteen.” 

Stoick’s attention dropped down to the necklace in his hands. It looked small and surprisingly fragile in his large grip, but it was clear the man held it with reverent care. 

“Fourteen years,” the man whispered, turning the medallion over in his hands. “She never returned.”

It wasn’t a question. Not outright. 

Yet, Hiccup recognized the longing sound in his father’s voice. The desperate need to know more. It was something he could relate to at his core.

“She was afraid,” explained Hiccup, daring to take a step closer. “Of what you’d do…once you knew about me.”

That caught Stoick’s attention. He glanced back at his son, once more shuddering when he met the reptilian eyes. 

“And apparently she wasn’t wrong,” muttered Hiccup. He raised his voice a bit to address the chief. “Look, I get it. This,” he gestured broadly to himself, “is not the son you wanted. To be fair, you’re exactly not the father I was hoping you’d be either. Disappointment all around. Let’s just…pretend we never met. You can go on mourning the normal baby you remember – Hel, you can pretend he died in the raid! I’ll go back to the dragons.”

Stoick’s arm darted out, securing Hiccup’s arm in a vice-like grip. 

The sudden contact sent panic surging through him. Without pause, he grabbed Inferno, extending and igniting it with a click. He brought it up between them, preventing his father from getting any closer. 

The flaming sword startled Stoick enough that he let go of Hiccup’s arm, but he didn’t retreat. Nor did he draw his own weapon. 

“Hiccup,” the name sounded strangled, like Stoick had to force it from his lips. Like it no longer applied to the boy before him. “This isn’t…I don’t know…I don’t want…”

“You don’t want me,” Hiccup finished, rolling his eyes. He extinguished his blade, retracting it but keeping it in hand in case things escalated. “Yes, that was abundantly clear, we don’t need to rehash it. Now, I’ll just be going.” He raised his voice, “ASTRI–”

“No! Wait, that’s not what I meant.” The chief’s tone was firm. “I don’t want you to go. I’ll admit, this is…a lot but I–I want to understand.”

Hiccup’s eyebrows shot up. 

Is he serious?

“Despite the...circumstances, you’re the only family I have left,” Stoick said with a heavy sigh, suddenly sounding much older than his age. “I’m not ready to grieve you again. Please, give me a chance to understand.”

Hiccup faltered, torn between the desire to snark back at the man for his earlier rejection and the desperate hope bubbling in his chest that the chief might be sincere.

“Tell me where you’ve been all these years,” pleaded Stoick. “And how you…what happened to your…why you…”

Gods, he can’t even say it. 

“...why I have dragon eyes,” finished Hiccup, bile rising in his throat. 

Stoick looked just as disgusted as Hiccup felt, but nodded his agreement. “Aye.”

Chapter Text

Stoick’s son was alive .

After twenty years of ceremonial funerals and a nearly suffocating level of grief, the gods had given him a miracle.

His son was alive .

Stoick had often dreamed of such a gift, of having the opportunity to reclaim the loved ones he’d lost. He’d had countless conversations in his mind's eye, picturing what he’d say if given the chance to see his boy safe and sound one day. He’d imagined how he’d welcome the boy back to the village, introducing him to his heritage and birthright in Berk. 

He’d rehearsed how he’d comfort his son and welcome him back with open arms. 

It was amazing how those carefully practiced speeches all escaped his mind as he stared, dumbfounded, at his dream come true. Stoick could count the times he’d been struck speechless in life on one hand, and this occasion was the most powerful of all. 

Hiccup was alive .

Hiccup did not trust him.

That much was also clear, both from the boy’s defensive language and his rigid posture. He surveyed his father with wary, fearful eyes that struck Stoick like a punch to the gut.

Those eyes.

In all the scenarios he’d dreamed up of their reunion, he’d never accounted for his son to have become something different from the vikings of Berk. Yet, his one and only son bore the same eyes as the monsters who had terrorized his home for generations. The same beasts responsible for the continued loss of friends, family and homes throughout his life. 

Stoick had spent enough time with the dragons to recognize the razor thin pupils as a sign of fear or agitation. His son was either terrified or furious – or perhaps a mixture of the two. 

His mind flashed back to a conversation he’d had with Astrid, just a week prior. It felt like so much longer ago. She had warned him that Hiccup was afraid of him, but he’d tried to shake off the implications of that conversation, not wanting to accept it.

It wasn’t so easy to dismiss that claim now. 

Stoick knew his initial reaction hadn’t helped the situation. If anything, it likely confirmed the boy’s worst fears. He only wished his own fears hadn’t been so hard to control.

Strange eyes aside, it was clear that this boy was his son. His features bore a striking resemblance to Valka, and there were hints of Haddock red in the highlights of his auburn hair. The betrothal gift, now growing warm in his grip, sealed the matter for him.

He refused to lose his son again.

The story Hiccup spun was nothing short of extraordinary.

His boy had grown up inside a dragon’s nest (and boy was he relieved to learn it wasn't the nest) – inside what most vikings considered to be the most dangerous places in the entire archipelago. Yet, he’d never come to any harm from the beasts. He clearly loved the creatures dearly.

If his son was to be believed, a dragon had even saved his life. 

Stoick remembered how sickly his child had been. He’d been so much smaller than the other babies born that year, almost frail. Gothi had warned him that a child born so early may not live to see the summer and that fear had rooted itself deep into his heart.

The idea that a dragon saved him from that very fate was hard to swallow, but if the creature had truly been able to do what the healer could not, Stoick owed that dragon a blood debt for his son’s life. It would be dishonorable to the gods to ignore that debt.

As payment, he reasoned, he would accept these draconic qualities in his son in stride. He would learn to see them as a reminder of that debt, rather than a reminder of his own fearful encounters with dragons raiding Berk.

If those reptilian eyes were the price of a miracle, so be it. 

His son was alive.

A new wave of emotion welled up within him as he processed the reality of their situation. Though he’d been counting down the days to this reunion, being there in the moment was beyond what he’d anticipated. His boy was just an arm’s length away. 

This was real. 

His vision blurred and he quickly swiped at his eyes, trying to collect himself. 

Hiccup trailed off, eyes widening in surprise. His pupils widened marginally as a bit of vulnerability leaked into his expression.

Odin, he looks so young.

“I’m sorry, son,” apologized Stoick, lowering his voice to mask the tremor in his tone. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Hiccup’s face softened further for a moment, before his eyebrows drew together in confusion. He looked as lost as Stoick felt. 

“I’m just so happy you’re alive.” 

The words left Stoick’s lips before he even registered he’d spoken. Hearing them aloud, he wished he would have started with those words, rather than blurting them out now. It was the truest thing he’d said all night. 

Hiccup looked bewildered, grip slackening so much on his strange blade that he nearly dropped it. Whatever he’d been expecting his father to say, clearly that had not been in the realm of possibilities.

That knowledge made Stoick’s heart ache. Just what had Val taught their son to make his son doubt his love?

He knew, whatever her words, the intent would have been well-meaning. A mother putting the safety of her child above all else. He couldn’t fault her for fearing he’d come to harm in a viking village. Berk was not the only island that had suffered at the hands of dragons. 

However, Berk was the only village where Hiccup had family. And to Stoick, family came before all. He’d never cast out his own blood – or gods forbid, harm his son.

Had Stoick been the villain of Hiccup’s bedtime stories, the way dragons had always been the villains in his? Had Hiccup grown up believing that his own father would butcher him for something he couldn’t control?

The thought made him sick. 

He had to right this wrong. But how could he undo years of fear and rebuild that trust?

“Son,” he continued when it was clear Hiccup would remain silent. “I–I’m sorry. For everything.” He cleared his throat, “While I can’t say I share your…views…on dragons, I do care about you. If those…animals are responsible for taking care of you all these years, I am grateful.”

Hiccup nodded slowly, “the dragons are my family. They have been my entire life.”

Stoick grunted in response, ignoring the sting of the implication that the dragons had been to Hiccup what Stoick had always longed to be.

“I am happy you haven’t been alone all these years – that they have cared for you,” said the chief, choosing his words carefully. “I–I would like a chance to care for you now. I want us to be a family again. I want you to come home.”

Hiccup did drop his weapon then, color drained from his face. He shook his head slowly, backing away. “This is a trick,” he murmured, just loud enough for Stoick to hear. “This isn’t real.”

Stoick carefully removed his own weapon, dropping it to his side. He kicked it away from him, letting it slide across the arena floor and out of his reach.

Hiccup’s gaze followed it, emotions warring on his face.

“No trick,” Stoick assured, raising his own hands in a peace offering. “I’m not going to lie and say this will be easy, or that Berk won’t take some time to adjust to…” he waved a hand at his son, struggling to find the right words.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Hiccup’s voice was hoarse, but there was a lightness to it that Stoick hadn’t heard before. It sounded like hope. The young man had taken a tentative step forward, posture more relaxed.

“Aye,” he agreed, chucking softly. “That I did. What do you say, Hiccup? Will you give me a second chance to be a father to you?”

Stoick slowly extended a hand, mindful not to make any sudden movements. 

Hiccup considered it for a moment, biting his lip. His gaze flickered between the hand and Stoick’s face a few times before he shakily held out his own hand.

“I want to trust you,” admitted Hiccup, gripping his father’s much larger hand with surprising strength. “I just…”

“It’s okay, Hiccup – I understand. Trust is earned. I don’t expect you to just give yours now.”

Hiccup looked relieved, withdrawing his hand to rub the back of his neck. It was an anxious gesture that Stoick knew the boy had picked up from his mother. He felt a bloom of warmth in his heart seeing a bit of his wife live on in his boy’s mannerisms.

“I’ll think about it,” the young man promised, looking torn, “but you need to think about this more, too. The dragons and I…we’re a packaged deal. I can’t give up that part of me, or abandon Toothless. If you want me to come to Berk, he’s coming with me.”

“Toothless?”

Hiccup’s lip quirked up in a wry grin. “My Night Fury.”

Chapter Text

Gobber the Belch had known Stoick the Vast for as long as he could remember. Long before he became chief, Stoick was a friend and trusted confidant to the blacksmith. Gobber had seen the man at his best and his very worst throughout the years, witnessing a range of highs and lows of his life. 

They’d conquered dragon training together, taking the top slots of their year and becoming recognized as true warriors throughout the village. They’d learned to sail the massive viking ships together – though Gobber found the high seas experience made him a bit queasy and much preferred to stay on dry land.

Gobber had watched his friend fall in love with the fiery Valka and witnessed their happy union with tears in his own eyes. He’d been there to see the look of astonishment on Stoick’s face when he first found out he was to become a father. He’d had the honor of being the very first guest to visit the happy family in their home, seeing a new softness in his friend’s demeanor as he held his infant son. 

For as many happy days as they’d shared, they’d have just as many bad – and he’d been there for all of them. Gobber would never forget the haunted look in Stoick’s eyes when he came to him after that tragic raid, declaring that Valka and Hiccup had been taken by a Stormcutter. Despite his efforts to comfort the man, he’d been unable to prevent his friend’s grief stricken slide into despair over the years.

In all that time, he’d never seen his friend look as lost as he appeared now, walking towards the forge with a clear conflict swirling in his eyes.

Gods above.

This couldn’t be good.

Stoick was never one to seek counsel, even when Gobber truly believed he should. The chief’s borderline arrogant level of confidence was a trademark of his personality, and for better or for worse he always seemed firm in his convictions. If he was willing to set aside that pride and ask for help, the situation had to be dire.

The man approaching the small shop seemed entirely foreign, his mannerisms too unsteady to match up with Stoick’s strong presence. 

Gobber slowly set down the blade he’d been shining, wiping his sweaty hand and greasy hook off on his trousers. 

“Stoick!” He rasped out, before clearing his throat with a forceful cough. The forge’s fire often filled the tight space with smoke, and his throat was often irritated after some time inside.

The chief dipped his head in greeting, shouldering inside the small shop. 

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” 

That much was obvious, but Gobber knew his friend well enough to know he’d never admit to it without a bit of prodding. 

Stoick sagged against one of the work stations, the table wobbling slightly under his weight. He took a long ragged breath, “Aye.”

“Well? Out with it!” 

Stoick was not phased by the blunt request, merely bobbing his head. His eyes looked distant, as if his mind were somewhere else entirely. 

“Hiccup,” he said.

Gobber was momentarily taken aback. The chief had rarely spoken his lost son’s name aloud in recent years, as if the very sound of it would summon the ghosts of his past. To hear it now seemed odd, but he assumed the ceremonial funeral would bring memories to the surface. 

“I s’pose that’s fitting, what with the anniversary an’ all,” he offered in response, shrugging his shoulders as he collected himself. He squinted at his friend, who still appeared troubled. “But that’s no’ all, is it?”

Stoick sighed, running a hand down his face. “No,” he admitted. “He’s alive.”

Gobber blinked. There was no way he’d heard that right. 

“Ya wanna repeat that?”

Stoick’s voice was firmer this time. “Hiccup is alive.”

The very thought of it was preposterous. It had been twenty years after all, and the boy had been carried off by a massive dragon. Surely the beast had eaten him? And if not, wouldn’t the boy’s sickly status finish him off anyways? An infant couldn’t fend for himself, especially one so small and helpless.

“Stoick,” he said, voice gentle. “I wan’ tha’ to be true as much as you do, but…ya need to accept the boy’s gone.”

“Gobber, I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him.”

The air left Gobber’s lungs in a rush. Was such a thing even possible? 

Or…was some drifter taking advantage of the chief’s grief and pretending to be Berk’s lost heir? Stories of the tragedy had spread far through the archipelago, it wasn’t much of a stretch to consider someone might see an opportunity to ease into a life of prestige and power amongst the village. 

He was about to vocalize those fears when Stoick spoke again.

“He looks so much like Valka.”

Well…that couldn’t be faked, Gobber supposed. Still, he had a hard time believing the baby he’d met had survived all these years. He’d been surprised enough that the boy had survived mere months after his early birth. 

“Where is ‘e?” Gobber wanted to see the boy for himself. If it was an imposter, he wanted to discover that quickly and save his friend from any more hurt. 

A deep weariness fell over his friend’s features, “Hiccup has…changed much over the years.”

“As most men do,” interrupted Gobber, shrugging off the comment. The last time they’d seen the boy, he’d still been nursing. If he hadn’t changed in twenty years, the blacksmith would have been concerned. 

Stoick snorted. “Not like this,” he shook his head. “Gobber, he was raised inside a dragon’s nest. They did something to him…something he claims saved his life, but it was not without grave consequence.”

Gobber scuffed, doubting the mysterious man further. The idea of living amongst dragons was preposterous and he wasn’t sure why his friend was buying such an outlandish story. “Aye? And wha’ consequence is tha’ ta have ya so rattled? He got scales or somethin’?” He chuckled at his own joke, shaking his head at the thought.

Stoick did not look amused, but rather resigned.

Gobber blinked. “Ya can’t possibly mean…wait, does he?”

“Not scales ,” said Stoick, mouth tightening to a thin line. “It’s his eyes. He’s got the eyes of the beasts.”

Gobber rocked back on his heels, eyebrows raised. “Impossible.”

“I’ve seen them,” argued Stoick, looking indignant. “It’s certainly possible – unnerving, but possible. Some sort of dragon sorcery the beasts did on him as a babe.”

There was silence in the forge as Gobber considered his friend’s words. If Stoick had truly seen a boy with reptilian eyes – and it wasn’t some sort of grief-induced hallucination – was that strange young man really Hiccup? Or perhaps some sort of changeling, here to stir up mischief for Loki?

Stoick reached into his pocket, drawing out a small talisman. He held it out for Gobber to see, the sight immediately silencing the blacksmith’s doubts. No words were needed to confirm it, he knew the necklace better than anyone.

He’d helped forge the very medallion for Stoick all those years ago, when his friend was still a young, love-struck fool. It was one of the few projects from his apprenticeship that he was genuinely proud of creating. 

If this young man had Valka’s betrothal necklace, it was worth considering the possibility that what Stoick believed was true. The village’s heir could very well be alive.

And possibly part dragon. 

Suddenly Stoick’s internal conflict made sense. 

Gobber slumped down onto a bench, the weight of the knowledge suddenly heavy. “So wha’ are ya gonna do?”

Stoick dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. “It’s an impossible situation. I want him to come here,” he said, “to be part of the village, like he should have been all along. He’s my son, Gobber. I don’t want to lose him before I even get the chance to know him.”

Gobber nodded, “Aye. An’ wha’ about Hiccup? Wha’ does ‘e think?”

The chief heaved a sigh, straightening out to meet his friend’s gaze, looking miserable. “He’s afraid of me,” he admitted. He waved a hand vaguely in the air, “He’s afraid of Berk. Astrid made it very clear that he doesn’t feel safe amongst vikings, and that he expects to come to harm if he’s seen.”

“Tha’ village may no’ be kind to him,” agreed the blacksmith. 

Stoick twisted his hands in agitation. “He’s my son ,” he reaffirmed. “He is Berk’s rightful heir. He should have their respect.”

“Aye, but ‘e’s also a stranger to them,'' reminded Gobber. He turned his attention to his hook, where he spotted a bit of rust. Chipping at it idly with his nail, he continued on, “Dragon eyes or no’, they’d be suspicious of an outsider suddenly appearin’ an’ takin’ on such an important role.”

Stoick scowled. 

“But,” continued Gobber, before the chief could argue. “Tha’ doesn’ mean ya shouldn’t do it. Bring ‘im home, tha’ is.”

“If I do, they’ll prove him right.”

There was a level of fear in Stoick’s voice that Gobber found unsettling. It wasn’t unfounded, the village very well could shun Hiccup – or worse – but they’d never know if they didn’t take the risk. If the boy looked as much like his mother as the chief had said, most wouldn’t be able to deny his birthright. The gods would not look well on them for turning away the true heir.

“Or they could prove ‘im wrong.” Gobber said, scraping the last bit of rust from his hook. “Now ‘ow are ya gonna convince ‘im to give Berk a chance?”

The chief began to pace around the forge, looking troubled. He said nothing, jaw clenched.

“He’s already agreed?” The blacksmith guessed, surprised.

“Sort of,” grumbled Stoick. “He’s asked for something in return that I’m not sure I can give.”

Gobber snorted. “Swindling ya ou’ of gold already? Welcome to parentin’, my friend.”

Stoick stopped his strides, leveling a serious expression at his friend. “If only it were a matter of gold. The boy…he insists he’ll only give Berk a chance if I allow his Night Fury access to the village.”

Gobber’s jaw dropped. “I don’ think I heard ya right,” he said after moment. “I though’ ya said the boy ‘as a Night Fury . As in, the unholy’ offspring of lightnin’ an’ death?”

“Aye.”

Berk’s long lost heir had bonded with the most feared and dangerous dragon known to the village? The thought was completely ludacris, but it was just the sort of wild twist that reaffirmed the boy’s status as a Haddock. He’d lost count of all the reckless schemes Stoick had gotten involved in over the years. Why wouldn’t his son continue that legacy?

A chuckle bubbled up in his chest, laughter spilling out loudly in the forge. “Oh ‘e’s yer boy all right. No one else’d be crazy enough to try an’ tame a Night Fury.”

Stoick snorted, shaking his head. “He speaks of the dragon like it’s his family.”

Gobber’s laughter petered out, seeing the distress in his friend’s face. “Well, ya did say the boy was raised amongst dragons. Makes sense ‘e’d care for them.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Stoick, a bitterness in his tone, “but I don’t see how I can allow such a danger into the village, even for my son. I’d be putting everyone at risk.”

It was the chief’s duty to protect the village from threats – both internal and external. He’d taken oaths when he’d taken on the position, swearing to the gods that he would put the needs of the people first. Allowing a predator into their midst to satisfy his own selfish longing seemed like a violation of those promises.

“Can tha’ boy control it?”

“Huh?”

Gobber hauled himself to his feet, moving over to stoke the dying fire. He considered his words for a moment before elaborating, “If tha’ boy can control the beast, what’s the ‘arm? Besides, havin’ a Night Fury on our side durin’ the next raid might no’ be so bad.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Gobber grunted, satisfied the flames were growing once more. “‘Course I am,” he said. “If Hiccup can tame dragons, maybe we can use tha’ to our advantage.”

“It would cause an uproar in the village,” argued Stoick.

“An’ a boy with dragon eyes wouldn’?” Challenged Gobber, returning the poker to its hook on the wall. “They’re gonna be upset either way. Migh’ as well give ‘em somethin’ else to focus on, no’ just yer boy.”

A Night Fury in town would certainly cause chaos, but it was true that the distraction would take some of the heat off of the returning heir. Stoick seemed to agree as he began to nod slowly. 

“You may be right,” he said, reluctance clear in his voice. 

Gobber rolled his eyes. “Don’ sound so thrilled abou’ it, do ya? Need I remind ya tha’ yer son is alive!?”

The chief looked abashed, face flushing. “Yes, you’re right.” 

“Always am.”

Stoick snorted. 

Gobber’s mind circled back to an earlier suggestion, the idea taking deeper root in his mind as he considered the possibility. It was a stretch, but if it worked it could help prevent so much loss for the village. 

“Hiccup ‘as a way with th’ beasts, righ’?”

“So he says.”

“An’ ‘e’s been to the nest?”

“ A nest,” corrected Stoick, trying to follow his friend’s line of thought. “Not the nest.”

Gobber hummed, “Do ya think ‘e could find the nest?”

Stoick froze as he considered the implication. Vikings had been seeking out the destination for generations, never with any luck. In fact, there were no accounts of any nest ever being found throughout the archipelago. No viking had ever set eyes on such a place.

None, except Hiccup.

“I don’t know,” Stoick admitted slowly, turning the idea over in his head. “He’d probably have a better chance than we have, traveling on dragonback.”

Gobber nodded his agreement, trying not to dwell too long on the idea of a dragon rider. It was almost unfathomable to even consider it. Instead, he said, “Wha’ if he did? He could help end the fightin’ – once an’ for all!”

“He’d never hurt a dragon. He seems to feel a certain…kinship to them.”

That complicated things. Yet, Gobber wasn’t completely discouraged. “He could jus’ lead us there,” he argued. “No need for ‘im to do any fightin’.”

Stoick shook his head, “He’d choose the dragons over Berk. He…he doesn’t trust me. Well–us, really. He doesn’t trust vikings in general from what I can tell.”

“Then ya’ need to give ‘im a reason to, eh?” Gobber reasoned. “Look, I know ya’ wan’ to bring ‘im home either way. I’m jus’ sayin’ that if ya give ‘im a reason to care about this place, he may surprise ya. If ya make it ‘is home, he may want to protect it.”

Stoick heaved a sigh, “I’m not sure pushing him is a good idea, but I can’t deny that he may be the key to finding the nest. I’ll consider your plan, but understand that if we did try to convince him to help, we’d need to be careful how we go about it. I refuse to lose Hiccup over a mere hunch that he could find the nest.”

Gobber grunted his acknowledgement.

“So you think I should do it? Bring Hiccup to Berk, despite the danger?”

“Aye.”

Chapter Text

Astrid was surprised to find the arena empty when she arrived. Her nightly meetings with Hiccup had become so routine, it hadn’t occurred to her that they might not always stay that way. After all, they’d never formally agreed to keep meeting…it just sort of happened. 

She felt a surprising pang in her chest as she surveyed the dark stadium. It wasn’t the burning swell of anger that was so familiar to her, but rather a deeper cut of disappointment. She’d been looking forward to seeing him all day, and not having that opportunity hurt more than she felt it should. 

Get it together, she berated herself. 

Logically, she knew it wasn’t personal. Hiccup had been through a tremendous ordeal since arriving on Berk, part of which she was responsible for escalating. After all that chaos, she couldn’t fault him for needing time to think. She just worried how he’d spiral without someone to talk everything through.

One of the things she’d picked up on in her time with Hiccup was the clear impact his years of isolation had created. He didn’t like to ask for help, despite the numerous times she’d insisted she wanted to be there for him. After six years of total independence, maybe the idea of leaning on someone else was a hard concept for him to grasp. She couldn’t imagine what that might feel like.

Come to think of it, Hiccup generally seemed to expect the worst of people – something that she suspected he’d picked up from his mother’s warnings growing up. It wasn’t his fault, she knew, but it still grated on her to hear him speak with such pessimism about vikings he didn’t even know personally. 

She sometimes wondered if it was a defense mechanism, a way for him to justify his choice to avoid facing his fears. Astrid had caught glimpses of cracks in that facade, both in her own interactions with him as well as Stoick’s. Those small moments where she could see genuine surprise and budding hope in her friend’s demeanor, before he hid behind the snarky exterior once more.

Astrid had tried to put herself in his shoes – to understand why he acted so cold towards the village. She pictured a small, frightened boy, growing up on the outside of society. Someone told from birth that he could never participate in their world. That he alone was not allowed to be part of his own people.

She wondered if it was hurt, or even jealousy, that drove a resentment towards vikings.

Whatever the cause, she knew he had a tendency to spiral in his thoughts. She didn’t like the idea of him being alone now, with no one to pull him from the depths. He needed someone more rational to help alleviate his fears and talk through the possibilities. 

“Toothless?” She called on a whim, wondering if the dragon would once more lead her to his rider.

After a few minutes standing by the ring, it became clear the Night Fury was not coming. 

He hadn’t taken off, had he? The idea of Hiccup abandoning Berk…abandoning her–

Wait, what? She blanched at the unexpected thought, shaking her head to clear it. She had no claim on Hiccup, it was nonsensical for her to feel betrayed. They were friends, nothing more.

However, if their friendship meant as much to him as it did to her, she doubted he’d leave without a proper goodbye. 

Perhaps he hadn’t left – but where would he go?

She trudged off towards Raven’s Point, remembering his claims to be camping around that cove. Astrid had yet to find any evidence of anyone staying in the surrounding forest, but all that told her was that he was cautious and able to cover his tracks.

She took a slow lap around the perimeter, moving quietly in the hopes she’d hear him or Toothless. They weren’t likely to risk a fire, with smoke that could attract the villagers, but she might get lucky with a stray rustle from the campsite. 

With Hiccup’s enhanced senses, she knew he’d still hear her approach long before she picked up on his location. She hoped he’d put her out of her misery and come greet her himself, so she could spend less time stumbling through the moonlight. 

Yet, as she finished her loop of the site, she was no closer to an answer. 

Gods, Hiccup, where are you?

The only other places she could recall seeing him were that secluded beach, far on the opposite side of the island, and up on the overlook by the docks. One would require a dragon to reach, and the other was far more attainable. 

As much as she’d love to spring Stormfly for the night, it was far riskier to do so without Hiccup around for cover in the case that someone discovered her with the Nadder.

Astrid headed towards the overlook.

As she rounded the final curve, a familiar sight greeted her. Just like the first night they’d met, Hiccup crouched at the edge of the path, attention fixed on the village below.

This time, he didn’t seem surprised by her presence, eyes flickering over to her for a moment before returning to their task of surveying Berk. 

“I waited for you,” she said, dropping down to sit beside him. “Got worried when you didn’t show.”

That got his full attention, as he looked at her with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I lost track of time. We can go now, if you want.”

She took note of his rumpled appearance. His hair was far messier than usual – a feat which was impressive in itself – dark bags hung under his eyes, and his clothes were in disarray. He looked bone tired, eyes half-lidded as he regarded her.

“Forget it,” she said. “Have you slept at all?”

He shook his head, shifting into a more comfortable position on the ground. “Every time I close my eyes, I see that look on his face.”

Astrid sighed, “I know it wasn’t the reaction you’d hoped for, but he’s trying. He wants you to come to Berk. To be part of his family, like you should have been all this time. Hiccup, that’s still an incredible opportunity for you.”

Hiccup wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. “I know,” he admitted, voice full of frustration. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would he want me there?” Hiccup elaborated, voice raising in octave. “He’s a viking – a dragon killer. He knows I’m part dragon, and yet for some reason he wants me there? Living under his own roof, no less? Nothing about this makes any sense.”

“He’s your father.”

Hiccup made a noise of frustration, digging his fingers into his calves. “Gods, Astrid…I know. I just…” he groaned. “I’m just so confused.”

She reached out slowly, giving him ample time to draw away. When he didn’t, she rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently before pulling him towards her. She wrapped her arm around his side and rested her head against his shoulder.

“I know,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now – but isn’t this exactly what you’ve always wanted?”

“It’s a fantasy,” protested Hiccup. “Or some kind of trap. It has to be.”

“Hiccup, he’s agreed to give Toothless access to the village.”

Hiccup tensed, “I don’t believe that.”

“He has,” she reassured, lifting her head up to give him a reassuring smile. “He’s going to make the announcement tomorrow night, in front of the whole village.”

The boy beside her exhaled sharply, extracting himself from her grip. He pushed himself to his feet, attention returning to the village lights below. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, voice wavering.

Astrid rose, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “I know you can,” she challenged. 

“Vikings are dragon killers,” argued Hiccup, a defensive edge building in his voice. “They’re dangerous.”

“Dragons are dangerous too,” reminded Astrid, crossing her arms. 

“Dragons aren’t inherently violent.”

“Neither are vikings.”

Hiccup looked doubtful, and Astrid found her frustration mounting. He really had no concept of what life was like in Berk.

That realization hit her hard. Hiccup’s view of the raids was only that of what an outsider could see from the skies. He’d never witnessed the carnage up close nor seen the emotional toll that it took on the villagers generation after generation. He hadn’t grown up feeling the fear that a sky full of fire brought on the community. 

He’d never been part of a village, so the destruction of a food storehouse was just an abstract concept – not a tragedy that led to potential starvation. The ruined buildings were just that – buildings. He didn’t see each as a lost home the same way she did, knowing the residents.

He’d never seen the destructive, deadly side of the dragons. 

“C’mon,” she ordered, nodding at him to follow her. “I have something I need to show you.”

He followed her, his footsteps nearly silent as he moved with that strange, fluid grace. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to that.

She took him towards the familiar path to the arena, but when the path forked, she took the opposite route, leading him deeper into the forest.

The path wound around several bends, stopping at a large clearing. Trees had been cut away by force to enlarge the space, littering the terrain with a series of low stumps. Mixed throughout, large stones had been placed in neat lines, some with inscriptions and some without. On the far right side, smaller stones had been stacked in a pile, reaching a height over Astrid’s head. 

“What is this place?”

Astrid offered a customary prayer to the gods out of respect, before answering him. 

“This,” she waved a hand around the space. “Is a memorial to those Berk has lost to the dragons. Each stone represents a life lost – either in the raids, or in the search for the nest.”

The color drained from Hiccup’s face as he considered the staggering number of stones filling the clearing.

“Not everyone gets a ceremonial funeral,” explained Astrid. “Those are reserved for positions of honor, such as chiefs, their families and elders. This is where we pay tribute to the rest of our people.”

Hiccup took a slow step forward, reading a few of the inscriptions on the larger stones. 

“Those markers are for the ones we could bury,” she continued. She pointed at one of the cleaner stones. “Oskar was five years old. He strayed outside his home during a raid, right into the path of a Monstrous Nightmare. His family said that all the skin was burned off his bones.” 

She pointed to the one next to it. “Vera was the town cook when I was little. She used to slip me extra sweets when my parents weren’t looking,” she grimaced. “She took a Nadder spike to the throat when I was twelve. They could never fully get the blood stains off the Meade Hall steps.”

Astrid continued, voice shaking. “And that one,” she said, “was my Uncle Erik. He was watching me during the raid that night. I wanted to help – to be part of the fight so badly that I snuck out through the window when he wasn’t looking. He–”

Hiccup’s hand brushed against hers, fingers entwined with hers as he gave a tight squeeze. “Astrid, you don’t have to–”

“No,” She cut him off, using her other hand to wipe the growing tears from her eyes. “He came looking for me and was gutted by a Zippleback. I watched it happen from behind the forge. I hid, Hiccup – like a coward. While he bled out alone.”

Astrid tugged on Hiccup’s hand, leading him over to the towering stone structure. “These are the ones we couldn’t bury,” she whispered. “The ones lost at sea, or too badly destroyed by dragon fire. The ones we never found.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup’s voice betrayed his own distress. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She sniffed, trying to pull her emotions back into check. “That’s why I brought you here. I know you’ve seen the war from a dragon’s perspective, but it was clear you’ve never seen it from ours.”

“I–”

“It’s not your fault,” she cut him off. “I’m not blaming you, but I need you to see the reality now. This village, like so many across the archipelago, has good reason to fear dragons. The reason you get such a strong reaction when people see your eyes is that each of us has suffered personally at the hands of dragons. We’ve all grown up to associate such eyes with death.”

Hiccup frowned, seeming to mull her words over in his head. He turned his head away, hiding his eyes from her view.

“Hey,” she reached out to turn his face back towards her own, meeting his eyes with ease. “I promise I didn’t bring you out here to make you feel worse. And I don’t feel that way about your eyes. I just need you to understand that there are two sides to this story. You’ve opened my eyes to the side of the dragons, it’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

Hiccup nodded, squeezing her hand back for a moment before withdrawing his own. “Thank you, for trusting me with this.”

She nodded, casting her eyes around the burial space. “This is your legacy, whether you want to accept it or not. As a Haddock heir, this place belongs to you just as much as any villager living in Berk. These were your people too."

Hiccup contemplated her words, looking overwhelmed. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I’m not trying to belittle your own childhood fears,” said Astrid after a moment of silence. “I know Valka had good reason to worry about your safety, and she was probably terrified herself. But since you’ve been here, have any of those fears come true?”

She could practically see the gears turning in Hiccup’s mind as he considered the question. In his time on Berk, he’d met two vikings – both of whom were willing to look past his draconic traits to see the young man underneath. Neither had made any attempt to harm him.

He’d faced his own father, a warrior known for his battle prowess, and walked away completely unthreatened. The man had even offered him a home. 

He’d made a true friend, one who was willing to set aside her own fears to see his world. She’d reconsidered her entire worldview, taking on a respect and appreciation for dragons under his guidance. 

His dragon was being offered asylum in the village. A Night Fury, welcomed into a village simply because he had asked. 

His experiences in Berk defied everything he’d been taught.

Hiccup drew in a ragged breath before meeting Astrid’s eyes. He looked a bit dazed as he murmured in realization, “I think…everything I know about this place…might be wrong.”

Chapter Text

Hiccup had not inherited his stealth from his father.

That much was abundantly clear as he trailed the large man through the dim streets of Berk at dawn. The chief moved swiftly, but each footfall seemed to echo tenfold through the empty walkways. Hiccup grimaced at the sound, pulling the hood of his cloak down further over his face and clutching the small saddlebag of possessions he’d brought tighter to his chest. 

He supposed the man had never had any need for stealth. After all, what viking chief had any need to disappear into the shadows? If anything, they seemed to strive to make themselves larger and more formidable to their foes, much like a Monstrous Nightmare setting itself on fire to warn against attackers. 

Hiccup’s instincts fought to do the opposite. He’d spent so long trying to make himself smaller and undetectable, safe on rooftops or under the cover of night – watching Stoick plow through the walkways now set his teeth on edge. 

Luckily, it was early enough that the streets were deserted and they reached the forge unseen. 

Stoick did not knock, simply pushing the weathered door open and shuffling his son inside without a word. Hiccup tripped on the hem of his cloak crossing the threshold as he was jostled into the safety of the blacksmith’s shop. He reached out to steady himself on a nearby workbench, slowly getting his bearings.

He wasn’t entirely sure why they were there. Before she’d gone home for the night, Astrid had instructed him to meet Stoick at daybreak at the forest’s edge – without Toothless. Knowing the announcement of their arrival wasn’t set to occur til that night, he had grudgingly agreed. 

His father had already been at the designated meeting spot before he arrived, looking even less rested than Hiccup felt. Yet, upon seeing his son approach, perked up with new energy. They hadn’t exchanged many words, with the chief immediately instructing Hiccup to draw up his hood and follow.

A few short days ago, he would have doubted the man’s intentions. He certainly wouldn’t have followed him to a mystery destination. Now, he found himself feeling strangely buoyed by the knowledge that his father wanted him there.

Stoick secured the door behind them, bolting it shut. He then moved to the windows, where he shuttered and fastened them tightly. The faint light of the rising sun peeked through the remaining gaps, the only light aside from a small torch flickering on the wall. 

The flame caught Hiccup’s attention as he straightened up. Stoick hadn’t lit the fire, and he wasn’t foolish enough to leave it unattended – someone else had to be inside the forge.

Hiccup opened his mouth to ask, stopping only when a large, mustached man lumbered out of the back room, yawning. His gait was uneven, favoring one leg over the other, which ended in a wooden peg. 

The town blacksmith. Hiccup had observed enough of the village to recognize this new arrival. 

“Gobber,” greeted Stoick.

The man blinked sleepily at the chief for a moment. “Stoick, wha’ in Odin’s name are ya doin’ here at this hour?”

Stoick tipped his head towards Hiccup. Gobber’s gaze followed the motion, widening when he caught sight of the cloaked figure. 

“Oi! An’ who’s this?” The blacksmith asked, rubbing his eyes with his one hand. A moment later he froze. “Wait, Stoick…is this…”

“Aye. Hiccup, I’d like to introduce you to Gobber.”

Gobber grinned, ambling over to Hiccup with excitement. “Never though’ I’d see the day,” he said. “Nice ta finally have ya home, lad.”

“Uh…thanks,” replied Hiccup, at a loss with what to say. 

Gobber squinted at him, eyes roaming over the hood. “No need for tha’ in here, boy. Yer safe in my shop. ‘Sides, I already know what yer hidin’ under there.”

Hiccup turned his head towards his father, receiving a small nod of encouragement. 

Taking a deep breath, he reached up and pushed the hood back, running a nervous hand through his already messy hair. 

Gobber whistled slowly, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized the young man’s appearance. “Ain’t tha’ a sight.” He clapped Hiccup on the shoulder, hard enough that he stumbled. “Pretty damn spooky, that’s fer sure, but I reckin’ it could be worse. Least ya ain’t part troll, after all.”

Hiccup blinked, startled to silence by the man’s unusual response. 

Chancing another look at his father, he mouthed in disbelief, ‘ Trolls?’ 

The man shook his head in exasperation, “Trolls are a myth, Gobber.”

The blacksmith denied Stoick’s claim and the two bickered back and forth on the subject. Hiccup watched the conversation, barely hearing the exchange. Despite how…eccentric…this man appeared to be, his quick acceptance was mind boggling. There had been no flinch, no fear. Just quick and honest acknowledgement of his strange eyes. 

It was refreshing and for that, he decided he liked Gobber already. 

“...make the announcement at the gathering tonight.” 

Hiccup tuned back into the conversation, realizing it had shifted back to more relevant topics. 

“Anythin’ ya need from me?” Gobber asked.

Stoick nodded, “I need to begin making preparations for tonight and I was hoping you could look after Hiccup while I do. This was the best time to get him into Berk unseen, and I think it best to keep it that way until I can make the big announcement. I don’t want to give the rumor mill any time to take hold before we can explain his presence.”

Gobber nodded, frowning slightly. “Of course, Stoick. Just…I got a lot o’ weapon repairs from the raid I need ta finish today. People are gonna come askin’ ‘bout them if I don’ – and then what do I do if they see ‘im here?”

“Hiccup has an interest in smithing,” replied Stoick. 

“Is tha’ so?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s got quite a knack for it. I know you’re short an apprentice again – and we will need to talk about that, by the way – but for now, maybe he could help you with those repairs?”

Hiccup was pleasantly surprised by the suggestion. This was something he was familiar with – something he was good at. After weeks away from his own forge, it would feel good to return to some sense of normalcy and control. It might even take his mind off the anxiety he already felt brewing for the coming night.

Gobber gave him an appraising look, taking in his wiry stature with clear skepticism. “Knack for it, ya say?”

“Astrid Hofferson seems to think so,” replied Stoick. 

That gave Gobber pause. “Does she now? Hard to argue with Astrid’s judgment, considerin’ what a perfectionist she is with tha’ axe o’ hers.” His voice dipped as he muttered to himself. “Reckin’ I’ve sharpened tha’ thing more times than any other weapon in all o’ Berk…”

“Aye,” said Stoick, either not hearing or choosing not to acknowledge his friend’s complaint. “She seemed very impressed with his work.”

Hiccup felt his face flush, remembering the awed look on her face when he showed her his inventions. It had been a long time since someone had appreciated his work, and the first time that person hadn’t been family. 

“Oh?” Asked Gobber, wiggling his eyebrows, “And jus’ what else does Astrid ‘ave to say about him?”

“Gobber…” Stoick warned. 

“I’m jus’ sayin’,” laughed the blacksmith, raising his hand and hook in mock surrender. “First yer tellin’ me abou’ all their ‘alone time’ before yer meetin’ with the boy, and now she’s ravin’ about ‘is work? Seems ta me she migh’ fancy ‘im. Migh’ no’ be the most impartial opinion, if ya ask me.”

“Astrid’s been very protective of him, but–”

“Aha!” Gobber exclaimed in triumph,  “There ya have it. Never can resist the ole Haddock charm, eh?”

Both Hiccup and Stoick groaned in unison, shooting startled looks at one another when they realized they’d reacted in sync. 

Hiccup coughed, focusing his attention on removing his cloak. It had grown hot within the small confines of the forge, and the blacksmith’s brazen comments left him feeling deeply embarrassed. Desperate to change the subject, he retrieved Inferno from its holster and held it up to catch the two men’s attention.

“I’ve, uh, never had a mentor…for obvious reasons,” he started, “so I’m sure my technique is probably very wrong, but I do have some experience with building and maintaining weapons. I’m also pretty good with schematics, if you’d prefer I focus on something else while you make the repairs.” 

With that, he extended and ignited the sword. 

Gobber sputtered, looking at the blade with disbelief. “Wha’ is tha’?”

Hiccup spotted a water bucket in the corner, moving over to retrieve it. He carefully doused the weapon, extinguishing the flames so that the blade itself was more distinct. Biting his lip, he flipped the hilt in his hand, offering it to Gobber. 

“See for yourself,” he offered, before cringing. “Just, uh, don’t hit any of the buttons. They’re a little…explosive.”

Gobber eyes the blade with apprehension, but his curiosity was too strong to ignore. He accepted it with a cautious hand, taking a closer look at the detailed work. 

It was quiet for a moment as he assessed the sword, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tilted . Then, a laugh sprung forth from his throat, lighting up his face with glee. “Oh ‘e’ll do jus’ fine, Stoick. Finest smithin’ work I’ve seen in years.”

Stoick grinned with pride, slapping a hand on Hiccup’s arm. “Well, I’ll be off then. I’ll come collect you before the meeting tonight.” He paused in the doorway, locking eyes with Hiccup once more. “Welcome home, son.”

Talking to Gobber was shockingly easy. He was blunt and boisterous, but there was an underlying kindness that cut away the tension in the room. 

“So wha’s this about a Night Fury, then?”

Hiccup looked up from where he was sharpening the edge of a dagger. He’d nearly completed the repairs, the third of eight projects he’d been assigned by the blacksmith. It was easy work – there was just a high volume to be addressed. It was no wonder Gobber had immediately put him to work.

The blacksmith was tightening the handle of a large hammer with a swiftness that spoke to years of experience. He met Hiccup’s eyes easily, genuine curiosity clear on his face.

“His name is Toothless,” explained Hiccup. “We grew up together – my uh, father did tell you I grew up in a dragon’s nest?”

Gobber nodded.

“Right. So, I was probably five when we met,” continued Hiccup, “Mom ran into him on the way back from one of her supply runs to the nearby islands. He followed her all the way back to the nest and well, I guess he just took an interest in me. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

He carefully set aside the dagger, now finished. “This is the longest we’ve been apart.”

Going so long without his dearest friend made him feel empty – like a great chasm had opened up within his soul, or a vital organ was missing. Despite knowing it was temporary, there was an ache to this kind of loneliness that he could only compare to the loss of his mother.  

“Never seen a Night Fury m’self,” mused Gobber, finishing off the hammer with a satisfied look. “Gotta be one o’ the rarest dragons ou’ there.”

Hiccup retrieved his next project from the pile, a sword that had been bent out of alignment. Frowning at it, he made his way over to the fire to heat the blade to a more malleable temperature. 

“Night Furies are rare,” he agreed, a familiar swell of sadness taking root. “Sometimes I think Toothless might be the last one in the whole archipelago. We’ve tried to find more but…so far there hasn’t been any sign that he’s not alone.”

Gobber wiped the sweat off his brow, sending his charge a sympathetic look. “Well, ‘e’s got you, right? So ‘e’s not really alone, is he?”

Hiccup, not expecting comfort from the viking, had to swallow back the lump in his throat before responding. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Great work, lad!” Gobber praised, taking stock of the finished projects with approval. “Quick too. You’ve got the makin’s of a real smith.”

“Thanks.”

The blacksmith began stacking them into a small wooden cart, setting each weapon down with care. “I’m gonna deliver ‘em before people come knockin’. Think ya can handle yerself here until I get back?”

“Of course.”

Gobber narrowed his eyes. “Lad?”

Hiccup snorted. “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” he said, defensively. He gestured to the latched windows and door, “and no one’s coming in here. What trouble could I possibly get into?”

“Ya made a sword tha’s ‘a lil’ explosive,’ didn’ ya?”

Hiccup laughed, patting Inferno with one hand. “Well, yeah. I guess that’s fair.”

Gobber began pushing the cart to the door, stopping just after he passed Hiccup’s workstation. He turned back, a more serious expression on his face. “If I don’ see ya before Stoick comes to grab ya for the meetin’...welcome back, Hiccup.”

He surprised Hiccup, pulling the young man into a brief but tight hug before unlatching the door and pushing the cart outside. 

Hiccup stared after him, momentarily dumbfounded by the exchange.

Maybe Berk wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When Gobber returned from making his rounds, he wasn’t surprised to find the forge empty. It had taken longer than expected to make his deliveries and he’d seen the crowd begin to form by the hall. There’d been no noticeable commotion yet, so he assumed Stoick had managed to sneak Hiccup over without issue.

As he hurried to freshen up and put away his work tools, a glint of silver caught his eyes.

Sitting atop Hiccup’s workstation was a very familiar chisel, resting atop a simple, hastily scrawled note. 

‘Thank you.’

Chapter Text

Astrid had been one of the first to arrive at the hall, staking out a position in the front of the audience. This was one meeting where she wanted to ensure a great vantage point of the dais where the chief would be speaking.

Unfortunately, that meant a lot of waiting. She’d taken a seat on the ground, back braced against the closed doors. There, she watched the slow trickle of townsfolk to the square. Some looked curious about the gathering, but most looked apathetic as they approached. 

Astrid couldn’t blame them – over the years she’d been subjected to more than a few dull town meetings, and she often found herself dreading them. She’d never be able to scrub the memory of the gathering where they debated switching the type of timber used for creating livestock pens. These gatherings were often tedious affairs. 

The general disinterest was a relief this time, because it meant that Stoick had succeeded in giving Hiccup a day under the radar in Berk. If he’d been seen, she had no doubt there’d be whispers. Hel, she’d been half expecting Mildew to be up in arms about their new resident on arrival. Somehow the grouchy man always knew what was happening in Berk, long before the rest of the town. 

Fishlegs was the first of her peers to arrive, politely navigating his way through the crowd to join her. He didn’t sit, leaning his weight against the door instead. 

“Any idea what this is all about?” He asked, peering down at her. 

There was rigidity in his shoulders that spoke to the boy’s natural tendency towards nerves. Fishlegs did not do well with the unknown, thriving in situations where he could first study and prepare himself. A meeting without a clear agenda likely had him spiraling.

She hummed in response, keeping her tone noncommittal. She didn’t want to lie outright to her friend, but it was not her place to share the news. 

Fishlegs squinted at her, picking up on the fact that she knew more than she was saying. “Is this about the heir?” 

Astrid stiffened, forcing her face to remain impassive. What did Fishlegs know?

“Huh?”

“You and the others have been competing for months now,” clarified Fishlegs, not picking up on her worry. “The chief’s gotta have some idea who he’s going to choose. Is that it? Is he announcing the choice for successor tonight?”  

Astrid felt some of the tension bleed from her body as she processed the question. Hiccup’s presence was still a secret, and they still had control over how that would be revealed. 

Truthfully, the heir trials had become a distant thought in the previous weeks. She spun through the daily tasks like any other list of chores, no longer trying to make any sort of impression. The idea that it was all for something bigger, that she was still theoretically in the running to succeed Stoick, had been nearly forgotten. 

“Oh,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know. That’s a good guess, though. Maybe he will talk about the heir.”

The real heir. She thought to herself.

That gave her pause. Would she be excused from these duties once the truth was revealed? Hiccup had made it clear to her that he didn’t want to be the heir, but it was still his birthright. Surely once he had an opportunity to get to know the village, he’d reconsider? A Haddock had always served as chief of Berk, and it seemed wrong for that legacy to change now. Especially with a living descendant moving into town. 

Astrid no longer wanted the position.

She’s never really wanted the position. However, she’d recognized what an honor it had been to be one of the few candidates selected for the trials. If she’d have refused the opportunity, she’d have brought shame upon House Hofferson. So despite her misgivings, she’d thrown herself into the process with all the fervor her parents expected of her.

Astrid had always wanted to be a warrior, not a leader. She was far more confident settling an argument with a battle axe than diplomacy. 

Hiccup’s return could be the perfect storm to excuse her from the trials without consequence. She’d maintain the respect she’d worked so hard to build in the village, without fear of being saddled with a position she didn’t want.

Hiccup doesn’t want it either. She reminded herself. 

But Hiccup didn’t know what it was like to be a part of Berk. He had so much to offer the village with his skill, sharp wit and capacity for kindness. He was exactly the sort of leader Berk deserved. Perhaps some time amongst the vikings would change his mind.

A loud thud, followed by an indignant yell signaled the arrival of the twins. Ruffnut strode through the crowd with a satisfied smirk on her face, while a frowning Tuffnut followed a few paces behind, wiping dirt off his tunic. 

The crowd parted around them, giving space more out of caution than anything else. Getting too close to the Thorstons never ended well. 

The duo greeted Astrid and Fishlegs, claiming their own spots against the door. Tuffnut rubbed at a sore spot on his arm, muttering something to himself. Astrid couldn’t hear what was said, but it was clear by Ruffnut’s face that she had and wasn’t happy. The two dissolved into a familiar pattern of bickering back and forth.

Astrid scanned the audience, noting that almost the entire village had gathered. Snotlout stood in the back beside his father, Bucket was laughing at something Mulch said, and Gobber was slowly hobbling up the path to join the crowd. Off in the distance, she could see the small shape of Gothi descending from her home’s high ground, leaning heavily on her walking stick. 

The door behind her shifted, and she pushed herself to her feet. Turning around, she met Stoick’s eyes as he opened the hall. His face was impassive as he gestured for the crowd to step inside.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why this gathering has been called,” said Stoick, steady voice echoing through the hall. “We Berkians have faced a multitude of challenges over the years, and we’ve each experienced great loss. It has become more common in recent years to hear bad news than to hear the good, and yet we are a strong people and we have endured each new hurdle in our paths.”

Faint mutterings broke out across the hall as the villagers acknowledged the statement. Endurance had become a point of pride for Berk, as their fortitude showed valor in the eyes of other viking tribes. No other island had suffered as many raids or lost nearly as many lives. Despite those tragedies, the tribe had not given up on their home, choosing instead to defend it more passionately. 

“Today, I am overjoyed to be able to share good news with you all,” continued Stoick, silencing the crowd once more. “Though this news does not come without its own challenges.”

Astrid glanced towards the corner of the dais, barely making out the outline of a figure tucked in the shadows. Feeling the weight of Hiccup’s gaze fall on her, she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“As you all know, many years ago my family was taken from me by the dragons. I lost my wife and my son in a raid, and I have since pleaded with the gods each year for their safe return,” said Stoick. “I have spent many a night wondering what happened to them, after they were taken and today I can share that I finally have answers.”

A few shouts of approval rang out, and there was a smattering of applause from throughout the room. It was not often that Berk was able to get closure on missing loved ones.

“My dear Valka passed away six years ago, due to fever. She was unable to safely return to Berk, but she lived fourteen years with the honor and strength fitting of a chieftess. She has most certainly made it to Valhalla,” he said. “While my heart is heavy to know she is gone from our world, I am glad to know she is at peace.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement. Valka had been a respected member of the tribe, and her loss had been felt by many. 

“While that news is comforting, I did promise you good news. I am also greatly heartened to know that she did not die alone.”

The crowd fell silent. 

“My son, Hiccup, survived.”

Chatter broke out across the hall at the news. Those who had seen the baby before he’d been taken were stunned to hear such a sickly child had lived. Gothi gestured wildly with her staff, as she had examined the infant herself and had been certain he’d not last the winter. 

“How is that even possible?” Spitelout asked, brow furrowed. 

Stoick held up his hands to silence the crowd. “I can assure you that it is very possible,” he insisted, emotion creeping into his voice. “My son did not die of sickness, nor was he killed by dragons as we often speculated. He is alive and well.”

Gobber yelled his approval from the back of the room, startling the villagers closest to him. He gave them a sheepish look, taking a seat as the attention returned to the dais. 

“If that’s all true…do we know where he is now?” Asked Spitelout. “Shall we put together a crew and go find him?” 

“That won’t be necessary,” said Stoick with a small smile. “Hiccup has already found his way back to us.”

 “What–”

“–where is he?”

“–still say it’s impossible!”

“–probably just seeing things in his grief–”

“Enough!” Stoick roared, grabbing the crowd’s attention once more. “He is here, but there is more I must share before he shows himself. It is no secret that Hiccup was born too soon, and that he was very weak from birth. As the elders suspected, his condition continued to worsen with time, especially after he was removed from the village and our healer’s treatments.”

Astrid cast her gaze around the room, noting the solemn looks around her. A sickly heir was a cause for alarm, and likely had been the source of gossip around town for weeks after his birth. 

“He was saved by the most unlikely source,” the chief continued, expression grim. “When Hiccup and Valka were taken, they were brought to a dragon’s nest. There, it seems a dragon saw fit to save my son.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Why would one of those beasts help one of us!?”

“What could a dragon possibly do for a child?”

Astrid’s gaze swept back towards Hiccup’s hiding place and she found herself wondering what was going through his mind. This was the third time he’d had to share his story, and doubt and disbelief continued to follow him at each turn. He must have a remarkable amount of willpower, she thought, to stay silent as he was discussed. If she were in his place, she’d have been quick to shut down anyone who dared challenge her.

“The dragon’s gift had consequences that are impossible to ignore,” said Stoick. “Its involvement cannot be dismissed.”

“Oh?” Asked Spitelout, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s true,” confirmed Gobber. “I’ve seen ‘im myself and it’s proof enough to know tha’ it was a dragon was saved ‘im. Lad’s got ‘imself the eyes of a dragon, after all!”

Astrid grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut as the hall descended into a chorus of frantic whispers. So much for Stoick sharing the news gently. 

The chief glared at his friend, who seemed to just realize what he’d given away and was now looking deeply apologetic as he sunk deeper into his chair.

Stoick ran a hand down the side of his face, fighting to remain calm as he addressed his people once more. “What Gobber says is true,” he admitted. “Hiccup does have dragon eyes, but he is still my son – Berk’s heir – and I expect him to be treated as such. Now, if you would, son?”

At that cue, Hiccup cautiously stepped into the light. His discomfort was clear in the rigidity of his stance, but he stared unflinchingly out into the audience.

Gasps rang out throughout the hall as the vikings got their first look at their long lost heir and his draconic features. The reaction was quieter than Astrid had expected, but the near suffocating tension in the air made her wonder if simple yelling would have been preferable. At least then they’d have an idea of what the villagers were thinking.

“Sweet!” Ruffnut’s gleeful voice broke through the quiet murmurs of disbelief. 

A second later, Tuffnut echoed her enthusiasm. “Totally awesome! But are they really dragon eyes? Or perhaps just lizard eyes? Who’s to say, really?”

Hiccup’s surprised gaze met Astrid’s, and he seemed to relax a bit seeing her. She gave him a soft smile, feeling a strange fluttering in her chest when he returned it. 

“This is a bad omen!” Yelled Mildew, leering up at the dais. “That creature is clearly the spawn of Loki and you dare invite him into Berk?”

A few vikings echoed their agreement, staring at the young man with suspicion. 

Stoick stepped closer to Hiccup, resting a hand gently on his son’s shoulder as he glared down at Mildew. “That is a grave insult to level against my family, Mildew. Tread carefully…unless you wish to start a blood feud with House Haddock.”

The man looked startled by the threat, snapping his jaw shut. 

“I thought not. Now,” continued Stoick, shifting his attention to the rest of the room. “Hiccup is my son, and therefore a member of this tribe and entitled to all that status that entails. Does anyone else seek to challenge me on this?”

It was Astrid’s mother who spoke next, much to her surprise. “Chief. I will not fight you if this…boy…is to join us. I knew Valka well, and cannot deny the likeness. I must ask, though – what does his presence mean for the line of succession?”

“If he is willing to accept the responsibility, I will reinstate his birthright.” Stoick said without pause, squeezing Hiccup’s shoulder. 

“With all due respect,” argued Ingrid Hofferson. “My daughter has more than proven her worth in the trials you set out for her. She is more qualified for the position than…your son.”

“Aye!” Agreed Spitelout, raising his voice. “My son as well!”

Hiccup’s eyes were blown wide with panic, pupils shrunken down into tiny slits. It was clear he was uncomfortable being the source of the argument. 

Astrid took a shaky breath, words tumbling out of her mouth. “I surrender my spot in the succession to Hiccup Haddock, the rightful heir of Berk.”

Stoick sent her a grateful look, dipping his head in acknowledgement as the crowd's attention turned to her.

Ingrid opened her mouth to voice her discontent, but Astrid was faster. 

“I’ve gotten to know Hiccup well over these last few weeks,” she continued, projecting her voice. It was strange to address such a large audience, but she refused to be intimidated by her own village. “and I can vouch for his qualifications. He has proven himself to be compassionate, intelligent and one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. Just look at him now! He knew Berk would doubt him, but he took the risk anyways!”

She took a step up onto the dais, threading her fingers through Hiccup’s own. “Yes, he was raised amongst dragons, but he was also raised by Valka. All my life, I’ve heard stories of her valor and how much you all respected her. Would you really dare suggest that she raised a son unworthy of the title?”

Astrid then focused her attention on Snotlout, staring him down until his discomfort was clear. She arched an eyebrow at him, waiting impatiently for him to get the hint. 

“Oh,” he said, catching on. “I, uh, also surrender my spot to Hiccup.”

Spitelout roared at his son, drowning out the chatter of the crowd.

Chapter Text

“There is one more matter to discuss,” said Stoick, once he’d regained control of the crowd. His expression turned grave as he surveyed his people. “My son has been…understandably wary of joining us here. His condition may be hard for many of you to accept at first, I will not deny that. Berk has a history with the dragons that cannot be overlooked and I know his appearance may trigger some memories for all of us.”

Though Hiccup knew the vikings had good reason to fear dragons – and himself, by extension – it still stung to be reminded of what he represented to them. He thought back to the memorial site that Astrid had shared with him, trying to ground himself in that somber experience.  

He could feel the weight of the crowd’s attention as eyes continued to rake over him with unease and suspicion. He felt oddly vulnerable in that moment, as if he could be crushed to pieces by their scrutiny alone.

“I must ask each of you to remember that my son is not responsible for those memories, and should not be treated as such. He has had no hand in your suffering and as such, I will not tolerate any misplaced retaliation taken against him. This adjustment will be hard for all of us – including Hiccup,” continued Stoick, voice stern and leaving no room for argument. “Please understand that where we’ve grown up fearing the dragons, he has been raised to fear us instead.”

Hiccup frowned, wishing his father hadn’t shared that particular point with the villagers. He didn’t like the idea of his own fears being shared so easily, and wondered how it would color the Berkian’s perception of him. The last thing he needed was for the village to think him a coward.

As a wave of whispers spread throughout the crowd, Hiccup forced himself to tune it out, knowing it would do more harm than good to hear. He focused instead on the reassuring feeling of Astrid’s fingers wrapped tightly around his own and the sight of his father standing strong before the crowd. 

“In order to bring him home, I have agreed to a compromise. A show of trust,” said Stoick. “I have given my word as chief that both he and his dragon companion will be safe within our borders.” 

For a moment, the room was silent. 

“Wait,” a young, blonde man – who Hiccup assumed must be Fishlegs based on Astrid’s description – spoke first. “...did you just say his dragon ?”

“Don’t be daft,” rebuked an older viking. “Stoick clearly misspoke.”

The chief grimaced, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “It was no mistake, Spitelout. I have promised his Night Fury safe access to Berk, for as long as Hiccup remains with us.”

“Night Fury!?”

“...trying to kill us all!”

“You can’t possibly think we’ll accept a beast into our home!”

“...what about our children’s safety?”

Astrid gently nudged him in the side before whispering, “Say something!”

He’d really rather not, but he knew that no one else could or would defend Toothless in front of this audience. 

Clearing his throat loudly, he drew the attention of the crowd to him once more. “Uh…hi. Astrid showed me your book on dragons…and I know how you feel about Night Furies. I also know that you don’t have much information about them to go off of,” he said, recalling the near-empty entry in the book. “They’re not…well, they’re not what you think. I’ve known Toothless most of my life, and I can promise you all that he will not be a threat to anyone unless he is threatened first.”

“Stoick, this is madness!” Called Spitelout, pushing himself to his feet. “You can’t possibly have agreed to that!”

“The boy told me ‘e tamed it!” Gobber retorted, banging his hook on the table. “I say let ‘im bring the beast ‘ere. Could be a good ally to ‘ave in the next raid!”

There were a few murmurs of surprise and interest towards that statement as the villagers contemplated the idea of a dragon fighting for them, rather than against them. 

Hiccup didn’t like the implication that he’d tamed Toothless. The dragon was free, not some sort of domesticated pet. They stuck together because they were bonded like family, not because Hiccup had any sort of authority over him. It was friendship, not ownership. He wanted to speak up, to correct the vikings, but fell silent when he saw Astrid’s warning glance. 

Right. Now was not the time to clash with the villagers. 

“I have already given my word,” stated Stoick. “As chief, I cannot and will not break the terms of that agreement without dishonoring myself and this village. Any actions against these terms will be considered treason, so I ask you all to head this warning: Hiccup and the Night Fury are not to be harmed.”

“If the beast is aggressive, I will not stand idly by and risk my family’s safety,” countered Ingrid, “I will not sacrifice my daughter or husband’s life just to abide by your rules.”

“Toothless won’t hurt me,” argued Astrid, reclaiming her mother’s attention. “I trust him – and more importantly, I trust Hiccup. He’ll keep Toothless in check.”

Ingrid narrowed her eyes, once more looking down at their entwined hands. Hiccup softened his grip, preparing to pull his hand away. Astrid only gripped harder, refusing to unlink their fingers, as if maintaining the contact was proving something to her mother. 

“Thank you, Astrid,” said Stoick. “As of dawn tomorrow, the Night Fury will be welcome in Berk. If there are any…incidents, we will discuss them at our next gathering. Dismissed.”

Stoick was quiet as he led Hiccup up the path towards his home. Almost as soon as he’d dismissed the crowd at the hall, the man’s tough, authoritative exterior had melted away. He’d quickly ushered Hiccup away, barely giving the boy time to say goodbye to Astrid on the way out.

The chief carried Hiccup’s saddlebag over one shoulder, making the boy’s meager possessions seem even smaller against his large frame. Hiccup trailed him by a few steps, still not ready to put his back to the man he barely knew.

It was strange to enter Stoick’s home as an invited guest, after sneaking in before. He felt no more confident crossing the threshold now than he had when Astrid had dragged inside. 

His eyes immediately found the portrait. 

“I had that commissioned when you were six months old,” mused Stoick, a faraway sound in his voice. “We had the hardest time getting you to stay still for the painter – you kept trying to reach for the brush! Val – your mother thought it was a sign you’d be an artist yourself. She was already talking about finding an island where you could apprentice when you were old enough.”

She’d never told him that. 

Hiccup hummed, wondering if that would have been the path his life had taken. “I do some sketching,” he admitted. “Mostly schematics for forge work, but sometimes I like to draw the dragons that I come across.”

“I’d like…” Stoick trailed off, looking unsure.

“What?”

“I’d like to see them sometime,” the man said, holding out the saddlebag to his son.

Hiccup nodded as he grabbed hold of his belongings. “Uh…sure.”

There was an awkward pause as the two Haddock men stood in the doorway, eyes darting around but never quite meeting.

Eventually, Stoick cleared his throat. “Right. Well, your room is upstairs,” he gestured to a narrow staircase. “It hasn’t been used since you were…last here, so it’s not much. I set up a bed in there for now but we can work on fixing it up this week.”

“Thanks,” replied Hiccup, making his way towards the steps. When he reached the base, he looked back over his shoulder.

His father was watching him, wringing his hands together nervously. It was almost comforting to see his father was just as shaken by the new arrangement as he was. Perhaps they had more in common than he’d originally thought.

“Dad?” It still felt surreal for him to say it. 

“Yes, Hiccup?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but they still felt out of reach. 

Stoick seemed to understand, crossing the room in a few large steps. 

“...thank you.” Hiccup managed to choke out, embarrassed by the shakiness of his own voice. “I never expected…I didn’t think you’d…”

The chief’s expression was strained as he inferred what Hiccup was trying to say. “Oh son,” he whispered, carefully pulling Hiccup into a hug. Releasing him, the man stepped back, dabbing roughly at his eyes. “I’m sorry that I gave you reason to doubt – that I kept you away all these years.”

“You didn’t do anyth–”

“I could have,” admitted Stoick. He gestured to Hiccup’s eyes, looking uneasy. “Those will…take some getting used to, but I promise you son – I will try. I cannot speak for the rest of the village, though. I think it best you remember your mother’s warnings, at least for now. Do not give your trust too easily. There are some that may not be willing to accept you as you are.”

Hiccup nodded, not surprised. He’d gotten the impression at the town meeting that many wished he’d stayed away. Mildew, in particular, had given him reason to approach these new people with caution.

“I will,” he agreed before wishing his father a good night and starting up the stairs.

The lofted room was small and empty except for a bed shoved in one corner. It was quite dusty, no doubt the result of being abandoned for decades. 

Hiccup dropped his bag on the floor, contemplating the space. There was enough room for Toothless to curl up beside the bed, and perhaps even space for a small desk. It could be cozy, he decided, if he arranged it just right.

“Well,” he said to himself. “Guess this is home.”

Tensions were high in House Hofferson.

Astrid could almost feel her mother’s emotions boiling over as they made their way home. Her father, Agnar, remained expressionless, but she suspected that was a choice made for the sake of appearances. Her parents were never ones to risk the embarrassment of an emotional outburst within the view of the other villagers. 

Astrid too kept her head high, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred that night. She nodded a goodbye to the twins before their paths diverged, but otherwise kept her focus on keeping up with her parents.

Once within the walls of their home, the dam burst.

Ingrid unclasped her cloak, throwing it over a hook but the door with a loud huff. She turned to Astrid, blocking the girl from moving further into their home. 

“We need to talk,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

Astrid glanced over at her father, but Agnar was nodding his agreement. He gestured towards their small sitting area, before toeing out of his boots and taking a seat. 

The young woman swallowed hard, making her way over to an open chair. Her parents were rarely this serious with her within the confines of their home. It was unsettling to witness, and her stomach churned with anticipation as she sat down.

“What do you want to discuss?” She asked, trying to keep her voice light. 

Agnar did not look impressed. “Where to start? You threw away your claim to the succession, after all the work you’ve put into securing your place. We all know Snotlout was not going to claim the title – you were just a formal announcement short of being heir of Berk!”

Astrid sighed, nodding her head. She had known that position was as good as hers, but she hadn’t realized it was so evident to others in the village. “I did,” she agreed, “and honestly? I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“I never wanted to be the heir,” she admitted, staring down at her lap. “It took me some time to realize it, but I did.”

“Why not?” Asked Ingrid, anger momentarily replaced by confusion.

“Mom, dad…I’m a warrior,” she looked up at them, eyes pleading. “I was top of my class for dragon training, and I’ve won nearly every sparring match I’ve been assigned. I want to protect our people with action, not with words and diplomacy. I’ve gotten to see all that Chief Stoick has to manage each day, and it’s just not me.”

“I could be you,” argued Agnar. “Berk has never had an idle chief. Stoick is always at the center of the battle during the raids. He does far more than keep the peace.”

“Yes,” agreed Ingrid. “And we do not have to fight every day. You have a duty to contribute to this village outside of battle. We all have to do our part and take on some responsibility in the community.”

Astrid sighed, dropping her head in her hands. Why couldn’t they understand? “I know,” she agreed. “That’s why I think I should take over weapons training instead. Orik is getting old and slow – he won’t be able to train effectively for much longer.”

Agnar hummed as he considered the suggestion. “Perhaps,” he relented. “There is honor in that position. If Orik is willing to take you on immediately as an apprentice, it would show your continued commitment to the village, especially after giving up your claim to the succession.”

“Yes,” agreed Ingrid. “If she could become a master, she would still hold a high rank in the tribe.”

Astrid looked up, surprised by the acceptance of her plan. She’d been expecting more of a fight, especially after publicly stepping away from her previous role.

“There is, of course, another matter to address,” her mother continued, voice taking on a sharper edge. “Stoick’s boy…you admitted to knowing him. You vouched for him in front of everyone, risking your own honor for him. How is it that you are so familiar with that strange boy.”

Astrid felt her face flush. “Hiccup and I met weeks ago,” she admitted. “I caught him watching the funeral – the ceremonial one we held for him and Valka, oddly enough – but I thought he was just another drifter passing through the islands. I really didn’t think too much about it.”

“You didn’t question those eyes?” Her mother asked, incredulous. 

“I didn’t see his face,” she explained, shaking her head. “He kept his hood drawn up…I thought he was just badly scarred. We talked a bit, but I had no idea who he really was…and honestly? It didn’t seem all that important at the time. Then he saved me during a raid. I’d lost my axe, and this Zippleback had me cornered – I probably would have died, but he swooped in to rescue me. I’m sure you remember when I was taken by that dragon?”

“Of course – how could we forget?” 

“I told you that I fought the dragon until it let me go near Raven’s Point, but that’s not true. That dragon was Hiccup’s Night Fury, Toothless. He carried me out to one of the tallest sea stacks and dropped me there,” she explained. “That’s when I saw…well, everything, and we talked more openly.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“What?” Astrid laughed. “No, of course not! Hiccup’s not dangerous – he’d never hurt me.”

“You seem pretty sure of that,” observed her father.

“Once you get to know him, you’ll understand why,” replied Astrid. “Hiccup is a lot of things, but he’s no threat to us. I’m honestly more worried about someone here hurting him.”

“You care about this boy?” Ingrid asked, looking troubled.

“I do,” she agreed. “He’s become a friend – probably the closest friend I’ve had, if I’m being honest. I know his eyes can be unsettling, but there’s so much more to him than that! Besides, he was always meant to be one of us – he’s part of the tribe by blood. Please, just give him a chance to prove himself.”

 “I don’t know if I can trust a boy raised by dragons,” said Agnar, though there was no unkindness in his words. “Much less a boy who’s part dragon.”

“Then trust me ,” pleaded Astrid, reaching out to clasp her father’s hands. “I knew the risks when I vouched for him tonight, and I stand by them. If you can’t trust him just yet, trust that I know him and I believe he belongs here.”

Ingrid did not look pleased, but she considered her daughter’s words. After exchanging a look with her husband she exhaled deeply and said, “Very well.”

Chapter Text

It had been some time since Hiccup had last slept in a real bed.

He’d had one in the nest, tucked into a little cave alcove that he’d claimed as his own. It had been the one spot in the nest that felt private, as the dragons seemed to recognize his claim on the space. 

He hadn’t been back in years. After Valka’s death, being in the nest felt…off. As if the very air of the dwelling had changed, leaving the space near suffocating if he stayed too long.

Hiccup knew that thought was nonsensical, but he couldn’t shake the wrongness he felt each time he returned. He’d gradually started to return less and less until eventually he began avoiding his old home entirely. Adventuring with Toothless, he’d taken to sleeping in caves and clearings throughout the archipelago.  

Being back in a soft, blanketed bed felt strangely confining. He tossed and turned, struggling to get comfortable in the unfamiliar space. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t seem to relax enough to drift off to sleep.

Growing frustrated, he sat up, bracing his back against the headboard. The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight shining through a small window. It was more than enough light for his eyes, giving a clear view of his sparse surroundings. Outside the window, he could see the faint specks of stars blanketing the sky.

The house was quiet, save for some soft snores coming from downstairs. After years sleeping in the wilderness, it was almost too quiet in the village.

Hiccup brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that Toothless was beside him.

Tomorrow, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t be the only outsider for much longer.

Clink!

A small sound broke through his thoughts, catching his attention. He looked around, but nothing had been disturbed. 

Clink!

There it was again – almost like the sound of a small impact. It had sounded close, coming from the direction of the window. 

Hiccup cautiously cast away his blanket, silently getting to his feet. He crept closer to the window, peering out at the night. As he looked out, he just barely had time to dodge a small stone headed towards his face.

“Gods!” He yelped, slapping a hand over his mouth at the loud outburst. 

“Sorry!” A whisper answered him. 

Hiccup blinked, looking down to see a familiar blonde standing below.

“Astrid!?” He hissed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. 

“Shhhh!” She put a finger to her lips before motioning for him to join her. 

Hiccup stilled, hoping he hadn’t woken his father. Yet, the steady snores continued undisturbed.

He swung a leg out over the windowsill, eyeing the side of the house for anything he could use as hand holds. It wasn’t looking too promising, but there was a bit of greenery that looked like it could possibly support his weight. He reached out towards it.

“What are you doing?” Astrid whispered, voice frantic. “Just go out the front!”

Oh . He hadn’t even considered that possibility.

He nodded, glad the darkness would mask his embarrassed flush.

Sneaking out of his father’s home was remarkably easy. Stoick’s bedroom was wide open, but he didn’t stir as Hiccup crept down the staircase and unlatched the front door. Once outside, Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief, head resting against the closed door for a moment.

He circled the house swiftly, greeting Astrid with a small wave as he approached.

She swiftly punched him in the shoulder, shaking her head. “You… muttonhead! What were you thinking, going out the window like that?” 

“I’m sorry?” It sounded more like a question than an apology to his ears, but the young woman seemed to accept it.

Astrid wrapped a hand around his wrist, pulling him towards the path to town. 

“Uh, not that I’m complaining,” he said quietly, “but what exactly are we doing?”

Astrid stopped suddenly. Hiccup, not expecting it, ran right into her back, shoulder slamming against the flat side of her axe.

“Ouch!” He grit his teeth, stepping back to rub the sore spot. 

“Sorry,” said Astrid, turning back to look at him with a sheepish smile. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep either, with everything that happened today.”

Hiccup released his shoulder, still feeling the aftershocks of the collision on his skin. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “So what, you just thought you’d drag me into the center of town instead?”

She laughed, “Would you rather sit in your room and stare at a wall until dawn?”

“Well, no, but–”

“C’mon dragon boy,” she tugged on his arm again, this time veering off towards the woods. “We’ve spent nearly every night at the arena – why stop now?”

He didn’t fight her, picking up his pace now that he knew the destination.

Toothless was waiting outside the arena, curled up against the bars. Seeing Hiccup and Astrid approaching, he pushed to his feet, mouth stretching wide in a gummy smile.

“Hey bud,” greeted Hiccup, hurrying over to his dragon. He pressed his forehead to the side of the Night Fury’s face, taking comfort in the feel of the familiar, soft scales against his skin. “I missed you.”

Toothless whined, nuzzling his rider back. It was clear that the day’s separation had been hard on both ends. 

Astrid watched the exchange with a soft smile, relieved to see Hiccup looking more like himself than he had in the town meeting. This version of her friend was more confident and more relaxed, in his element beside the dragon. 

She strolled over to stand beside them, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal of the bars. The arena itself was cast in shadow, quiet as the dragons below slumbered in their cages. Leaning forward, she could just make out Stormfly’s door, the sheen of the metal just barely visible in the moonlight.

“I wouldn’t suggest leaning any further.”

Astrid rolled her eyes, straightening up. “I’m not going to fall.”

“You sure? You seem to make a habit of it.”

He sounded a little too smug for Astrid’s liking, but she was just glad to hear the humor in his voice once more so she let it slide. 

“Doesn’t count as a fall if you catch me first,” she argued, but her tone had no bite. She raised an eyebrow at him, silently challenging him to argue. 

Hiccup snorted, scratching the Night Fury’s chin. “Maybe I won’t catch you next time.”

“Uh huh, sure you won’t...”

He glared at her, momentarily letting go of Toothless. The dragon chirped to regain his attention, worming his head under his rider’s arm. Hiccup patted him idly, attention still fixed on Astrid and her suspicious smirk. 

The viking girl leaned back against the rails, tipping her body through them further than before. She released one hand, allowing gravity to begin to pull her downwards. 

“What the Hel are you doing!?” Hiccup asked, not quite believing his eyes.

Astrid laughed, slowly releasing each finger on her remaining hand. She began to wobble slightly, no longer able to fully support herself. There was a scraping sound as her axe grinded against the support beam.

Hiccup couldn’t watch any longer. He found his legs moving towards her on instinct, reaching out to steady her and drag her back to the safety of the ground beneath him.

“Are you crazy!?” He asked, voice going up an octave. “A fall from that height and you’d be lucky if you didn’t break a few bones!”

“Just proving a point,” she replied, flexing her fingers. 

“That you’re insane?” 

“That you care,” she corrected. “It’s funny – there aren’t many people in the tribe that would do what you just did. We vikings have a tendency to let people make their own mistakes, consequences be damned. Snotlout, Tuffnut…they would have let me fall. Gods, Fishlegs would be too busy overthinking it to actually do anything! But you…you always seem to step in to help, even when you think I’m being mad. You’ve got a good heart, Hiccup.”

He stared at her, unsure how to respond. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she continued, “because I kept thinking about that meeting tonight. The people in this town need to see this side of you – the side that just wants to help. That’s how we’re going to win them over.”

“We?”

“Yes,” she said, firmly. 

Hiccup was surprised, but touched by her determination to help him become part of the village. He’d known she valued their friendship, but he’d expected the brunt of his integration into tribe life to lie squarely on his own shoulders. It had been a daunting thought, filling his insides with dread.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, “for everything. I don’t think I could have faced them, or even faced my father without you.”

She socked him in the shoulder once more, a red tint to her cheeks. “Shut up,” she shrugged off his praise. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Hiccup shook his head, “Astrid, I’m serious – thank you . No one’s ever defended me like you have this last week. I really thought they were going to cast me out tonight, especially once that whole heir debate started. It…well, it meant a lot more than you know.”

The young woman looked taken aback by the admission, but didn’t comment. She dipped her head in a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning away from him and towards Toothless, running a hand down the dragon’s neck. “Don’t mention it,” she replied after a moment, voice tight. 

“Astrid–”

“We should probably get you back,” she interrupted, voice taking on a more formal tone. “This wasn’t a good idea – tomorrow’s going to be so busy for you, I don’t know what I was thinking! I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“You are?”

He reached out slowly, grasping her wrist and tugging her into arm’s reach. Hesitantly, he pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder as he spoke. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this…having friends, you know? I just…I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Astrid stiffened for a moment at his words, before relaxing more fully into the hug. She slowly wrapped her arms around his back. “I’m glad you’re here too, Hiccup.”

“Oi! Look wha’ we ‘ave here!” 

Hiccup awoke to the sound of Gobber’s voice, startled by the sudden sound. He looked around, momentarily confused by his surroundings. He was on the ground, just outside Berk’s dragon arena, and there was something warm pressed up against his side.

Toothless, his mind supplied out of habit. However, the groan that escaped his companion was decidedly not a Night Fury noise.

“For the love of Thor…” Astrid trailed off, shooting up into a seated position. “Gobber? What are you doing here?”

The blacksmith shook the large pail in his hand, the contents audibly sloshing around. “I’m ‘ere to feed the dragons, o’ course. The real question is, wha’ are you two doin’ out ‘ere, hmmm?”

Hiccup blanched, realizing they’d never made it home. They’d ended up talking for hours, as had become their habit, and must have fallen asleep at some point. The ache in his back suggested he’d fallen asleep where he sat, slumping against the metal bars. 

“We were just–”

Gobber waved them off with a laugh, “I don’ actually need ta know. “Though you are both lookin’ a lil red, so maybe I do wan’ the full story?” He frowned, contemplating something. “On second thought, no, keep it to yerself. The less I kno’ the better.”

Hiccup shook his head at the blacksmith, sensing there was no use arguing with the man. He didn’t want to risk digging them in deeper, or to confirm whatever Gobber was implying.

Astrid, on the other hand, stood with a growl. “We were just talking,” she informed him. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Sure, lass, wha’ever ya say.”

Hiccup stood up, stretching his arms above his head to relieve some of the muscle tightness. His elbow cracked at the motion, releasing some pressure in his joints. “She’s telling the truth,” he assured Gobber, “I couldn’t sleep. We came out here so we wouldn’t wake anyone else up, but we must have lost track of time.”

The blacksmith gave him a long look before nodding his head, seemingly accepting the answer. “Well, ya nee’ to find it now – both of ya! Astrid, if yer parents wake up and find you’ve snuck ou’, Odin help ya.”

She nodded, retrieving her axe from where she’d set it beside her. Dusting off the dirt from the handle, she swiftly slung it back into place over her shoulder. “You’re right, I should go. Bye Gobber, Hiccup.”

As she disappeared down the path towards Berk, Gobber elbowed Hiccup in the side. “An’ you, lad – Stoick’ll panic if ‘e wakes up and finds ya gone!”

The feeling of guilt that crashed him was unfamiliar. Hiccup was not used to being responsible for checking in with anyone, or keeping to any particular schedule. The idea that his whereabouts could cause any sort of unease was strange to consider. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, or if it made him feel constrained.

“Sorry?” It didn’t sound very apologetic, even to his own ears. 

Gobber shook his head, fond exasperation clear in his eyes. “Yer a Haddock, all righ’ – chargin’ off withou’ a second thought to the consequences. Jus’ let me feed the beasts, ‘nd I’ll walk ya back.”

Hiccup didn’t argue, watching from above as the blacksmith tended to each of the caged dragons below. The routine was quick and emotionless, with each door only open long enough for the man to lob in a few fish. 

As Gobber finished up, Hiccup felt a hot breath on the back of his neck. A moment later, a scaled head knocked into his shoulder, warbling in greeting.

“Hey, Toothless,” he greeted without turning around. “Catch some good breakfast?”

The Night Fury crooned in response, nuzzling his arm.

Gobber exited the arena, freezing when he caught sight of the pair. “Thor’s hammer!” He exclaimed, dropping the bucket at his feet. “Is tha’ the Night Fury?”

Hiccup smiled, beckoning for the blacksmith to come closer. “Toothless, meet Gobber. Gobber? Toothless.”

The older man stared for a minute, seeming to have some sort of internal conflict. Then, shrugging, he took a few uneven steps closer. “Bit smaller than I though’ ‘e’d be,” he admitted, eyeing the dragon critically. “But I s’pose tha’s wha’ makes ‘em so fast?”

Hiccup nodded, patting the Night Fury. “Yeah, it helps with maneuverability too. He’s a lot more agile in the sky than the bigger dragons.”

Gobber hummed, taking another step forward as he examined the dragon. 

Toothless leaned forward, blowing a ring of smoke towards the blacksmith. At Gobber’s stunned expression, he let out a rumbling laugh.

“Is tha’ dragon…laughin’ at me?”

“...yes.”

Gobber grinned, a hearty laugh of his own letting loose. He clutched his belly, remarking, “oh, I think I like this one.”

Hiccup exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Once again, the blacksmith had proven himself to be able to accept things in stride, much quicker than anyone he’d ever met. It really was amazing how nothing seemed to phase the man.

Toothless, happy with the praise, stepped forward to sniff Gobber. He moved cautiously, but when the large man remained still, continued investigating him more eagerly. 

“I think he likes you, too,” said Hiccup.  

Toothless turned his attention to the man’s hook, licking the remaining traces of fish from the prosthetic with glee. 

“Alrigh’, tha’s enough,” said Gobber, waving the Night Fury off. “Had enough dragons chewin’ on my limbs to las’ a lifetime! C’mon, Hiccup. It’s dawn – let’s get ya both back to town.”

The walk back to town was peaceful. Berk was beautiful in the early morning light, now that Hiccup could appreciate it without needing to hide from any prying eyes. Birds nested on the larger homes, chirping softly in the growing sunlight. The homes were all a bit patchwork, with mismatched wood speaking to years of repairs, but it gave them character. 

Hiccup walked beside Gobber, slowing his stride to match the older man’s. Behind them, Toothless padded along, head darting around curiously as he observed the streets of the village for the first time. 

“Ya did great work in tha’ forge,” said Gobber, when they were halfway through town.

“Thanks.”

“Did ya like it?”

“Hmm?”

“Workin’ in the forge,” elaborated Gobber, shooting him a sideways look. “Do ya like doin’ tha’ kinda work?”

“Yeah,” he replied honestly. “I’ve always liked building things, and fixing things. It was nice to have a project again.”

Gobber grunted. “Aye, I can understan’ tha’. Now, is it somethin’ you’d like ta do again?”

 Hiccup raised an eyebrow, following the blacksmith around the bend towards the chief’s house. “Yes?”

Gobber nodded, contemplating something. 

“Why?”

The blacksmith didn’t have a chance to answer, as Stoick threw open the door to his home. His eyes were wide and frantic, landing on Gobber. “He’s gone!”

“No, ‘e’s righ’ here,” corrected Gobber, nodding to Hiccup. 

Stoick’s gaze darted over to his son, relief replacing worry in an instant. Then, his gaze traveled further and he startled. Clearing his throat, he spoke more roughly, “Toothless, I presume?”

“Aye,” answered Gobber. “We met this mornin’. Hiccup and I went ta fetch ‘im.”

Hiccup blinked, eyeing the blacksmith in surprise. He hadn’t expected the man to cover for his absence, but he was grateful it saved him from having to explain.

Stoick seemed satisfied by the answer, but his eyes didn’t wander from the Night Fury. His fingers twitched, close to where the hilt of his hammer sat, but he did not draw the weapon.

“Now Stoick,” continued Gobber, tone growing more serious. “Tha’ boy, Ivan – ’is parents showed up a’ my door after the meetin’, practically demandin’ I make ‘im my apprentice again. I need ya to say somethin’ to them – they don’ seem to understand tha’ no means no.”

Stoick finally shifted his gaze away from the dragon to glare at his friend. “You can’t afford to refuse them! You need an apprentice–”

“I ‘ave an apprentice.”

“Oh?” Stoick’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe that. “Who?”

“Hiccup.”

The boy in question was stunned, but not unhappy with the declaration. He’d learned what he could through books and observation, but he’d never been able to be formally trained. This could be his opportunity to become a real master of the craft.

“Gobber, he’s only been back a day,” reminded Stoick, shaking his head. “He can’t. It’s too early to throw him into a trade.”

Gobber snorted, “No, it isn’! Yer boy’s been workin’ at this trade for years, based on wha’ I saw yesterday – and ‘e’s damn good at it! He’s the only one on th’ island who's cut ou’ for the job. I’ll not take another one of those ruddy volunteers who doesn’ know which end o’ the ‘ammer to use!”

Stoick groaned, “You’re supposed to teach them, Gobber.”

“Some can’ be taught. It’s a craft, requires a certain skill that no’ ev’ry viking has!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Hiccup,” the blacksmith turned his attention on the boy who’d been watching the exchange. “Wha’ do you say?”

“Uh,” he replied, gaze darting between the two large vikings before him. “Yeah, I’d like that. I–I’d like to be your apprentice.”

Chapter Text

The people of Berk were a mixed bag. Some seemed quite eager to get a glimpse of the strange draconic boy in their midst, while others avoided him like he had a very contagious bout of plague. Every new person he encountered seemed to have a different reaction – showing varying degrees of wonder, horror, confusion, intrigue and downright animosity. 

He felt like a sideshow act, some oddity for people to stare at for a moment before passing judgment. It made him want to retreat into himself, or perhaps back into the woods where no one could see him. 

Toothless’s presence kept him grounded, helping him resist his instinct to flee. 

Where the vikings didn’t seem to know what to make of Hiccup, they had no such problem with the Night Fury in their midst. No one dared get within a few feet of the dragon, which in turn meant that no one got too close to Hiccup either. Toothless served as a sort of unwitting guard, happily trailing his rider while helping create a bubble of personal space for them both. 

Hiccup wandered a bit aimlessly through town, mentally cataloging the layout of the village as he walked. A part of him wished he had paper and ink so he could map it out officially, but he worried such an act would only attract more suspicion. 

After Gobber’s declaration that morning, Stoick had only had a few minutes to converse with Hiccup before he had to leave for his chiefly duties. He’d apologetically left his son to his own devices, promising that they would have time to catch up in the evening.

Hiccup had assumed that meant he’d be going to the forge for the day, but Gobber had waved him off, insisting that he take a day or two to settle in first. He wondered if the blacksmith was adding that stipulation purely to appease his father. It seemed likely, considering Stoick’s disapproval of the surprise apprenticeship.

Regardless of the reason, he now found himself trailing the streets of Berk. He’d taken note of a few small shops – a carpenter, seamstress and farmer’s stall. Each had a few customers standing outside, waiting for the owners to open up for the day.

Hiccup took note of their not-so-subtle scrutiny, trying to force a friendly smile as he passed. It felt wooden and he doubted it did much to endear him to them, but he wasn’t sure how else to break the ice.

Repairs from the most recent raid were still underway, and Hiccup observed a few bulkier vikings hammering timber patches onto some of the rougher looking homes. A few younger villagers assisted them, running back and forth with nails as needed. The process seemed remarkably streamlined, as there was no spoken communication between the team – it was a skill clearly born of routine experience.

Eventually, he found himself outside the steps of the grand meeting hall. It was just as imposing in the daylight as he’d found it the night before, towering over the rest of Berk like a monolith. 

He could hear laughter coming from inside, along with the clinking of cutlery against dishes. Breakfast appeared to be a lively affair, bringing together a crowd of vikings.

He hesitated for a moment, before turning to Toothless. “I don’t think they’ll want you inside here, bud, and I don’t want to push my luck. At least, not yet.” He said, giving the dragon a wry smile. “Wanna go stretch your wings for a bit?”

The Night Fury tipped his head to one side, considering his rider’s words. Then, without fanfare, unfurled his wings and launched into the sky. There was a chorus of gasps as vikings on the streets witnessed the dragon’s impressive speed in the light of day. 

Hiccup was glad to see his companion fully in his element and for once, not forced to hide. He supposed it was his turn to do the same.

He’d expected the stares. He just hadn’t expected the hush that fell over the villagers whenever he got close. The tempered volume did little to hide what they said from his sensitive ears, but somehow it made their mutterings feel that much more personal.

Making his way through the hall, a bowl of steaming porridge now clutched in his hands, Hiccup navigated towards one of the empty tables in the corner. It didn’t feel like he’d be welcome to join any of the occupied spaces.

He took a seat at the furthest table, choosing a seat where his back was to the wall. This way, he could keep an eye on all of the townsfolk, and relax knowing no one could approach from behind. 

As he stirred his spoon idly, conversation began to slowly return to normal volume. It didn’t stop the looks, but at least he no longer found himself the sole topic of discussion.

Hiccup was considering what to do with his day when he noticed a shadow fall over his table. Forcing down a quick spike of panic, he glanced up to see a stocky blonde boy standing beside his table. 

“Can…I mean, do you mind if I sit?” The boy asked, looking uncertain. 

Hiccup gestured for him to take a seat, stunned by the request. 

The blonde set his food down with care before slipping into the seat across from him. 

“My name is Fishlegs,” he introduced.

“Hiccup.”

“Right,” said Fishlegs, eyes darting between the surface of the table and Hiccup. He seemed nervous, but oddly determined. “You’re really Chief Stoick’s lost son?”

Hiccup nodded, trying to keep his voice light. “Not lost,” he corrected, unhappy with the insinuation his home growing up was some sort of mistake. “But yes, he is my father.”

“Cool,” said Fishlegs, seeming genuinely impressed by the knowledge. Seeing Hiccup’s confused look, he elaborated with enthusiasm, “You’re kind of a legend around here. Or at least, you were. We’ve all wondered what happened to you over the years. It was all speculation, really, but we had a lot of different theories. Snotlout was so sure you’d just integrated into another tribe, which is ridiculous because I know the chances that a dragon of that class would just drop its prey are slim to none!”

Hiccup blinked, “Huh,” he said, absorbing the news. “Well you’re not wrong. Stormcutters have a remarkably strong grip, and a human wouldn’t be able to break it with traditional weapons.”

Fishlegs grinned, eyes lighting up. “I knew it!” 

Hiccup poked at his breakfast. It had likely gone cold, the smell no longer inviting. He hadn’t had much of an appetite to begin with, so he wasn’t too disappointed to push it aside.

“None of us guessed right,” continued Fishlegs. “I mean, growing up inside a dragon’s nest? That…completely insane!”

Hiccup arched an eyebrow, meeting the blonde’s eyes. 

The other boy went red. “Sorry,” he said, looking bashful. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” answered Hiccup. It was true, the viking’s words hadn’t rattled him. If anything, they were strangely endearing. As if Hiccup had managed some incredible feat, rather than simply spending his childhood surrounded by friendly giants.

They sat quietly for a few moments as Fishlegs tore into his own breakfast. Hiccup eyed his own bowl once more before determining that it had lost all appeal.

“Can you see better than us?”

The question startled him – both in its bluntness, and in its sudden delivery. There was an eager, excited quality to the other boy’s voice. It was clearly a question born of curiosity, not fear.

Fishlegs was staring intently at his eyes, studying them with interest, but there was no apparent judgment in his gaze.

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how big the difference is,” said Hiccup, waving a hand vaguely as he spoke. “Since I can’t see through your eyes…but from what I understand, yes. I see the same way the dragons do, so it’s a bit heightened from what you see.”

“Incredible,” said Fishlegs, retrieving a small leather book from his pocket. He flipped a few pages in, before twisting it and offering it to Hiccup. “I’ve been tracking the accuracy of the dragons in the arena, and based on their shots I’ve calculated that their eyesight is at least five times better than the average viking. Isn't that fascinating?”

“Uh, sure?” Truthfully, Hiccup hadn’t given it much thought. 

“They also have excellent night vision,” continued Fishlegs, impassioned. “During the last raid, it was nearly pitch black out but they still managed to hit one of our watch towers on the first strike. We didn’t even see the dragon who did it!”

Hiccup hummed, scanning the pages. They were covered in a tight, clinical script that detailed various observations of the dragons of Berk. He was impressed by how accurate the notes were – he’d expected vikings to present the information from a more skewed perspective, based on their attitude towards dragons. Yet, Fishlegs had simply stated his findings without embellishment.

“How well can you see in the dark?”

The question brought Hiccup’s attention back to the boy across from him. “Oh. Pretty well, I guess? Colors are pretty muted, of course, but I can see pretty fine otherwise as long as there’s at least some light from the stars.”

“Fascinating.”

Was it? He’d never considered it odd before.

Fishlegs squinted at him, opening his mouth and then closing it in rapid succession. It appeared as if the viking was holding himself back, just barely from whatever thought was on his mind.

Hiccup sighed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever it is – just ask.”

Fishlegs bit his lip, looking conflicted. “It’s just…I would have thought…no, sorry, nevermind…”

“Now I have to know,” he said. 

“It’s just,” answered Fishlegs, hesitant. “I would have thought, growing up away from people would have more of an impact.”

“The lizard eyes aren’t enough for you?” Asked Hiccup, snarkily throwing in the term the twin had used the previous night.

Fishlegs shook his head, “I meant more…mentally. From what I’ve read, children abandoned in the wilderness tend to grow up to exhibit a sort of feral behavior. They usually never learn to speak Norse and sometimes they even act more animal than human. And you…well, you don’t.”

Hiccup snorted, sliding the book back across the table. “Thanks…I think.”

“I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine.” Hiccup assured, “It’s a fair question, but I wasn’t abandoned, remember? I had my mom with me out there. She was pretty insistent on my learning, not just Norse but all the subjects that I would have learned here. Outside of bonding with the dragons, there really wasn’t much else for me to do in the nest when I was little.”

It was true. Valka had taught him everything she could, determined to grant him any aspect of normal life that she could control from the safety of the nest. She’d return from visits to nearby islands with books she had collected, and those had quickly become his window into the outside world. At least, until he was old enough to go observe it himself.

“It’s just hard to picture,” said Fishlegs, looking contemplative. He drummed his fingers on the cover of his book as he thought about it.

“I’d guess it didn’t look much different from any other teaching,” offered Hiccup, cracking a smile. “A lot of reading and lectures, just…with the added bonus of a Night Fury slobbering all over my notes.”

That drew a laugh from the blonde boy as he tried to wrap his mind around the mental image. “Sounds like that could be a challenge?”

“You have no idea – it never washes out.”

Mildew was an ominous presence. 

Hiccup had expected that much, based on his experience in the town hall, but it still made him uncomfortable. The older man seemed determined to make his disdain apparent, crossing paths with Hiccup on more than one occasion throughout the day.

The first time, Hiccup had thought it was merely bad luck. But the third time he’d seen the scowling viking, he’d become suspicious. The fifth occurrence was simply irritating.

Each time, he grit his teeth and forced a neutral expression. There was no use in trying to appease a man like that, but he also couldn’t risk giving Mildew any more fuel in his quest to discredit the boy. Despite his defensive instincts screaming at him to glare back, he tried to disassociate from it all until the unpleasant man was gone.

Mildew had a sort of entourage, made up of a few older vikings that Hiccup had not been introduced to properly. They were all senior members of the tribe, but not quite old enough to qualify as elders. Each appeared to share their peer’s mistrust for Hiccup, eying him as if he were seconds away from setting the village aflame.

It was ridiculous. 

Toothless was unimpressed by the bitter crowd, snarling whenever they got too close to his rider. Hiccup wished he wouldn't, but he’d admit that there was a level of satisfaction in seeing the men put in their place.

Hiccup dreaded the day he’d inevitably cross paths with Mildew without Toothless by his side, as the dragon seemed to keep the nasty man at bay.

Chapter Text

Stoick’s heart sang with the knowledge that his son was officially home in Berk, at long last. He felt buoyed by the surprise turn of events, as if the heaviness that had hung over him for twenty years had finally dissipated. 

As he went about his duties for the day, he found that not even the most vexing of conflicts could take away from his joy. It was like a shield, sheltering him from his own temper. 

It was clear the tribe was more wary of their new arrival, and even more so of his dragon companion. Though he shared some of that unease, he’d yet to hear any reports of the Night Fury causing trouble. Distress? Yes. Trouble? Not so much.

Perhaps his son really could keep the beast in line. He hadn’t thought such a thing was possible, but the recent events had him reconsidering such things. Hiccup’s very existence defied his expectations – knowing that, who was he to say what could or could not be?

Stoick wished he could spend the day with the boy, but his duty was to his people. He had a lot on his plate, preparing for the town’s upcoming anniversary celebration. It was hard to believe they were just weeks away from commemorating 400 years of vikings on Berk.

Seven generations of Haddocks had lived on the Isle, now that he could count Hiccup once more. It was a legacy that he was proud to be a part of, as their tribe had remained strong for longer than many others on nearby islands.

He stopped by the docks, greeting the trader at port. After some quick negotiations, he left with his arms full of supplies. He’d gotten a good enough bargain, and was pleased with the selection that had been brought. Fewer visitors to the island often meant inferior offerings, but every now and then a more adventurous sailor would surprise him.

Stoick had just handed off the supplies when he noticed a figure approaching.

“Spitelout,” he greeted with a polite nod. 

The man returned the gesture, stopping a few feet away. “Stoick. We need to talk about this heir business.”

The chief squared his shoulders, “Do we now?”

“Aye,” said Spitelout, brow furrowed. “You’ve had my son playing errand boy for too long to just cast him aside now! Suddenly, that…that boy comes along–”

“That boy ,” interrupted Stoick, “Is your nephew. You know his name – I suggest you use it.”

Spitelout narrowed his eyes at the reminder of the family connection. “Blood or not, he’s not one of us. He doesn’t know our ways, he hasn’t contributed anything of value to the tribe and he has no real connections here.”

“I would argue that last point,” said Stoick, “but I do understand your concerns. Hiccup has much to learn before he takes up the mantle. Which is fine, considering I have no plans to step down any time soon.”

Spitelout’s lips twisted down, face sour. “Plans don’t spare a man from the wrath of the dragons,” he reminded. “If something happens to you in battle and we’re left with him as heir, the village is doomed.”

Stoick crossed his arms, glaring at his brother-in-law. “I will teach him all he needs to know – and if the dragons take me before my time, I expect you to do your duty and advise him.”

“And what of my son? He’s wasted so long on your trials that he’s missed the opportunity to apprentice elsewhere. You’ve as good as robbed him of his role in the tribe!”

“Snotlout is a fine warrior. I have no doubt he’ll be an asset to the village.”

Spitelout snarled, taking a step closer to the chief. “We’re all warriors – we’re vikings for Odin’s sake! That’s no answer.”

Stoick sighed, running a hand through his beard. “And what would you have me do? I will not surrender Hiccup’s birthright – that is off the table.”

“Let Snotlout lead dragon training,” suggested Spitelout, after a moment’s pause. “Gobber has his hands full with the forge. There’s no reason for him to also lead training.”

Dread pooled in Stoick’s gut. A week ago, he would have easily agreed, but now? He feared his nephew’s brash approach towards dragons would drive Hiccup away.

“Actually,” he began, “I have decided to suspend dragon training this year.”

Spitelout sputtered, face turning red with anger. “You can’t do that!”

“I can. Gustav is the only child of age this season,” reminded Stoick. “It is a waste of time and resources to lead a class for just one. We will wait until others are eligible to join him. If Snotlout is still interested, when that time comes…I will honor your request.”

Spitelout seemed somewhat mollified by the answer, stepping back. “I will hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Stoick paused, an idea coming to mind. “Perhaps…he could start with taking on some of the responsibility for the arena dragons. As you said, Gobber has other duties.”

“You expect Snotlout to babysit six dragons?”

“He seemed capable of such a challenge, back in his training days,” reminded Stoick, appealing to the other man’s pride. “Taking second in his class, if I recall correctly.”

Spitelout nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes at the reminder. “Aye, he was very impressive.” 

“I think he and the rest of his class could all benefit from learning to mind the beasts,” said Stoick, “After all, their generation will need to do so once we’ve passed.”

Spitelout agreed, but his mouth turned down into a frown. “Aye, I can’t argue that…but my boy should lead the duties, if he’s to take on the dragon training role. I don’t want any of the others getting any ideas to challenge him for the role when the time comes. I’ll not have you waste any more of his time.”

“Agreed,” conceded Stoick, hoping his nephew was up for the task. He was confident the boy could handle the role better than the Thorston twins, but that was not a great feat. 

Astrid was elated to have secured her spot as Orik’s apprentice. Weapons training had always been her strongest class and she was flattered to know that the village master had taken note of her excellence. It hadn’t taken much effort to convince him to accept her as his successor. 

This was a future she could really see herself enjoying. It would keep her skills sharp, while also pushing her to help younger vikings learn to defend their home. She could control what fighting techniques were passed onto the next generation, and strategize the best way to keep Berk safe.

Astrid couldn’t wait to share the news with her parents. Though they’d grudgingly accepted her plans, she knew until she confirmed they were secure, they would have their doubts.

“Hey babe,” a familiar, arrogant voice disrupted her thoughts.

Ugh, Snotlout. 

Astrid groaned internally, whirling to face him. “What do you want?”

Snotlout had been slowly gaining confidence over the years, getting a little too comfortable approaching her uninvited. Her patience had been worn thin in recent months, and she found even the sound of his voice now grated on her nerves.

His eyes widened as he took in her face, but he didn’t retreat. He was no stranger to her wrath. “I thought, since we’re both done with all that dumb heir stuff, we could spend some time together.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Snotlout asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “We’re both free now.”

Astrid sighed, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Look, Snotlout. That had nothing to do with you,” she explained. “It was the right thing to do – that role, it was always meant to be Hiccup’s spot in the tribe. Not ours.”

Snotlout’s face pinched, “Why are you so interested in that freak?”

Astrid felt a swell of anger at the boy’s words, “He’s your cousin ,” she reminded him, enraged by his blatant lack of loyalty to his family.

That knowledge seemed to surprise Snotlout, as if he hadn’t considered their ties. He blinked, processing the revelation, before his expression cleared. “Whatever. He’s not a Jorgenson .”

“Thank the gods for that,” muttered Astrid, under her breath.

“What was that?” Asked Snotlout, his curious tone making it clear he hadn’t heard.

“Nothing,” she assured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She looked down, picking some dirt out from underneath her nails so that she wouldn’t have to stare at his clueless expression any longer. “I would have thought you’d be first in line to show him around,” she said, forcing a wistfulness into her tone.

“Huh?”

“I mean,” she continued, meeting his eyes, “it’s not very honorable to neglect family, is it? I thought the Jorgenson’s took pride in blood ties, but I guess I was wrong.”

Snotlout gaped and she could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “We do,” he agreed, “but this is different! Didn’t you see him!?”

“I thought I made it pretty clear last night that I know him well,” she retorted, “so obviously, yes. I’ve seen him. I haven’t exactly been hanging out with a blindfold on.”

“But he–”

“Is your future chief,” reminded Astrid, growing tired of the conversation. “Don’t you want him to like you?”

Snotlout didn’t seem to have an answer to that, mouth snapping shut. 

“Unless…you’re too scared to give him a chance?” Astrid ventured, raising an eyebrow.

Color flooded from Snotlout’s face at the insulation that he was afraid. “Of course not!” He cried, shaking his head fervently. “Did you see how scrawny he is? Practically a fishbone!”

“Prove it,” challenged Astrid, “Get to know your cousin, or I’ll know you’re a coward.”

With those parting words, Astrid pushed past Snotlout, continuing on towards her family’s home. She hadn’t meant to force a confrontation between him and Hiccup, but she suspected it was one of the only ways to break the ice between the two. 

If Hiccup could win over the youngest Jorgenson, it would go a long way in winning over the rest of the tribe. Snotlout fit the mold of the typical viking, and as such had gained respect from many of the elders. If they saw him embrace the new arrival, chances were much higher that the rest of the villagers would follow suit. 

Chapter Text

There was a certain inherent coziness to the forge. It was odd, considering the small workshop was filled to the brim with an assortment of deadly weapons. Yet, Hiccup felt more at ease in those walls then anywhere else in the village – even his new home.

He was surprised by how much trust Gobber afforded him so soon. Within his first day of his apprenticeship, the man had let him work with minimal supervision. Aside from a few times he’d pulled Hiccup aside to demonstrate a tip or trick, the blacksmith had allowed him to be remarkably hands-on with his learning. 

What Hiccup found he liked best though, was the way Gobber treated him. There was awkwardness. Where his father seemed to gravitate towards pretending there was nothing different about his son, the blacksmith had no qualms making a friendly joke about his appearance. In fact, he seemed to say exactly what he was thinking at all times, never shying away from any topic.

It made Hiccup feel like he’d been truly accepted into the forge, put on equal footing to any other apprentice who’d passed through its doors. Gobber took active interest in his skill level, using it to assess what projects he’d be assigned. They were varied, some challenging enough to show that the older man did not underestimate his abilities.

In fact, there were times when he worried the older man had too much faith in his abilities. He endeavored to meet those expectations, throwing himself into the assignments with determination.

On the third day in the forge, he was left to his own devices. Gobber had to install some new pieces to the town’s defenses, so he’d left Hiccup to man the workshop.

Things started out quiet, with just the crackle of the fire breaking the morning quiet. Toothless had taken up residence under his feet, wedging himself underneath a work bench as he napped the day away. Hiccup was hard at work crafting the links for a long chain and sealing them tightly together, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

Thud!

Something heavy hit the ledge of the shop window.

Hiccup startled, barely keeping his grip on the hammer in his hand. He twisted in his seat, taking in the sight of a young man outside the forge.

The brunette was leaning on the ledge, arms crossed as they braced his weight. He was watching Hiccup, nose scrunched up like he’d encountered something that he found distasteful. 

Hiccup was sure this was going to be a great conversation.

“Can I help you?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Can you?” Echoed the boy, eyebrows raised.

Hiccup was at a loss. Had he missed something? He was positive he’d never interacted with this viking, though his memory did supply that he’d seen the brunette alongside Fishlegs at times around town.

“Uh, I’m Hiccup,” he said, figuring an introduction was a good place to start. “And you are?”

The boy scoffed, “Good one. I’m your cousin, idiot.”

What?

“Come again?”

It was the other boy’s turn to be surprised. He tipped his head to the side, chewing his lip. “Do you really not know?”

Obviously, thought Hiccup, but he held his tongue. Instead, he set aside his tools and cautiously made his way stand by the window, opposite of the visitor. “It might surprise you to hear this,” he said, “but in the three days I’ve been in Berk, my dad hasn’t gotten around to sharing the family tree.”

At first he thought he’d gone too far and that his tone would offend his alleged cousin, but the boy didn’t seem to pick up on the snark. Instead, he gave Hiccup a thoughtful look. 

“I’m Snotlout,” the boy said, puffing out his chest. “Finest warrior in all of Berk.”

Hiccup sincerely doubted that was the case, but he wasn’t in a position to argue. His knowledge of the tribe’s warriors started and ended with a certain blonde woman.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, uncertain how to continue the conversation. His thoughts flashed back to another introduction, and he wondered if the same action was expected in this case as well. Wiping the grease off his hand, he held it outright in front of him.

Snotlout eyed it, unmoving.

Was Hiccup doing it wrong? When he’d met Astrid she’d acted like it was a standard greeting, but back then he wasn’t the one initiating the contact. He’d simply had to follow her lead. 

Just as he was about to drop his hand, Snotlout grasped it. His grip was light as he pumped their joined hands up once and back down, releasing in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, whatever,” said the boy, pulling his hand away quickly.

An awkward pause followed.

Hiccup leaned against a support beam, crossing his arms against his chest. He grasped blindly for something to say, eventually settling on asking, “So, we’re related?”

Snotlout seemed relieved to have something to latch onto, “Yeah. Valka was my aunt,” he explained. “She and my mother were sisters.”

“She never mentioned a sister,” said Hiccup, wondering why the topic had never come up in the nest. His mother hadn’t necessarily loved discussing Berk, but he’d never gotten the impression she was actively hiding anything from him. 

The other boy shrugged, eyes fixing on the corner of the shop, where a pile of scrap metal lay. “She died about a month before you and your mom were taken. Childbirth, apparently. Maybe your mom didn’t want to think about it.”

Hiccup grimaced, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you too I guess.” Said Snotlout. Though the boy’s tone was indifferent, Hiccup got the impression that the boy was being sincere in his sentiment.

He’s very odd, thought Hiccup, recognizing the irony of his assessment. 

“Thanks,” he said, shifting to rest one of his heels against the beam. 

Snotlout continued to regard him strangely. He bit his lip, then blurted out, “So, what’s with you and Astrid?”

Hiccup blinked, taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation. Where had that come from? “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” said the viking, straightening up. He seemed to be trying to make himself appear bigger, a trait Hiccup recognized seeing from dragons trying to intimidate rivals. It might have been far more effective, had he not been more than a head shorter than Hiccup. 

“I really don’t know what you’re getting at,” admitted Hiccup, relaxing his own posture in the hopes that would cause the other boy to do the same. “We’re friends – is that what you want to know?”

“Are you into her?”

Well that was…blunt. 

“Into?” He repeated.

“I know you know what I mean!” Snotlout exclaimed, waving his hands in frustration. “Fishlegs says you’re smart or whatever, so stop with the whole ‘I don’t understand vikings cause I lived with dragons’ act.”

Hiccup was baffled, “Snotlout, I did live with dragons. It’s not an act.”

He hadn’t thought something like that would even be questioned. Wasn’t it blatantly obvious that part of his story was true? Where else would he have been safe growing up?

His cousin groaned, gripping at his hair, “No! I get that part!”

“Then what are you saying–”

“For the love of Thor – this is almost worse than talking to the twins! Stop trying to confuse me!” Snotlout said, sounding very frustrated. “Are you trying to make a move on Astrid?”

At once, what the other boy was implying clicked in Hiccup’s mind. Him and Astrid – together as more than friends. The possibility hadn’t crossed his mind. Since they’d met, his life had been one turbulent event followed by another – there just hadn’t been time to consider such things. 

He opened his mouth to deny the claim, but the words wouldn’t come. He snapped his jaw shut, considering the accusation more carefully. His short time on Berk was defined by a series of memories centered around the viking girl. She’d become his first ally, his first friend. She’d been there for him through some of the most challenging experiences he’d ever faced, and through it all she’d never asked for anything in return.

Memories of nights under the stars sprang to mind, as well as the warmth of her fingers locked in his. Being with her felt safe in a way that he couldn’t quite define.

Beyond that, he was no stranger to her beauty. It had been strikingly apparent from their first encounter. He thought of her laugh, wild and contagious. He thought of her smile, soft and genuine. He thought of her eyes, open and trusting.

Gods above, just the thought of her sent his heart racing.

He felt like a veil had been yanked back from in front of his eyes, exposing a truth that had been just out of view. At some point, true affection for the blonde girl had snuck up on him. He’d developed feelings for his friend without even realizing it.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that new information.

Snotlout, apparently deciding Hiccup had taken too long to answer, continued. “She’s not gonna go for you. I’m doing you a favor telling you now, since you’re family and all. She’s a warrior and belongs with a more viking-like man.”

Hiccup blinked, processing the words. On the one hand, he wasn’t sure Snotlout was wrong. He didn’t fit any of the criteria of the typical Berkian, and it was definitely possible that Astrid would want someone who did. He had no clue what expectations the women of the tribe had for men.

On the other hand, he couldn’t help wondering what reason his cousin had sought him out to deliver this news. The boy’s pinched expression made it clear he wasn’t thrilled to be speaking to Hiccup at all. Why then would he want to share advice with him?

Unless…

Was Snotlout jealous?

He couldn’t know for certain, but it wasn’t much of a leap to assume the other boy would be interested in Astrid too. Though, he could remember Astrid venting to him how annoying she found Snotlout to be at times, so he wasn’t convinced such feelings would be reciprocated. 

“I’m pretty sure Astrid doesn’t belong to anyone,” he said in response, trying to find a way to avoid expressing his own feelings aloud. “I don’t think she’d like you trying to make decisions about her future like that.”

It was true – forcing Astrid to do something she didn’t want would be like trying to cage fire, impossible to achieve without snuffing out its spark.

Snotlout huffed, “Whatever, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ve got no chance, fishbone.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” agreed Hiccup with a frown. 

Satisfied that his cousin hadn’t fought him on the declaration, Snotlout’s demeanor shifted. He considered the other boy for a moment before asking, “So, do you actually know how to sharpen an axe or are you just here for Gobber to babysit?”

Hiccup said nothing, simply holding out his hand expectantly. 

Snotlout passed his axe over without another word, entrusting his cousin with his prized weapon.

Dinner in the Haddock house was a nice break from the loud, crowded nature of village life. Stoick had insisted on it being routine for the time being, confessing that he wanted the opportunity to get to know his son better one on one. 

Hiccup didn’t mind. It was a relief to retreat from the bustle of village life.

Conversation was usually stilted at first, as the two men were figuring out how to connect with one another. After a bit of small talk, it would slowly become a bit more natural. His father would regale him with stories of the day, explaining different facets of the tribe’s day-to-day routine. Hiccup would in turn discuss his day at the forge, though he suspected Stoick had little interest in the details of smithing.

He briefly wondered if he should mention Snotlout’s visit. Learning that they were related had been a surprise, and he wondered what his father would say about that relationship. Though, he was concerned that broaching the topic would lead to the man asking what else he’d discussed with his cousin, and that was something he was not ready to share with Stoick.

It was something he wasn’t sure he was ready to share with anyone.

“...celebration.” 

Stoick was looking at him expectantly, and he realized that he'd missed something important.

“Sorry, dad,” he said, “could you repeat that?”

“I was saying that Berk’s anniversary is coming up quickly,” reminded the chief, “and that I’d like you to participate in the celebration.”

“Participate?” What did that entail?

Stoick nodded, setting down his fork and leveling Hiccup with a serious look. “It is traditional for all the founding families to take part in it. We celebrate the past, present and future with three events. The elders honor our history by presenting stories of our past to the tribe, then there’s a revel for dancing and celebrating the unity of current tribe members, and finally there’s a fishing expedition to stock up on food for our future.”

“And you want me to…?”

“Take part!” Exclaimed Stoick, grinning widely. “Mingle with the tribe. This is a perfect opportunity for you to get to know everyone and learn what it means to be a true Berkian.”

“I’m really not much of a fisherman,” said Hiccup. He nodded towards Toothless, who was lying curled up by the fire. “He does most of the catching, not me.”

“All the more reason to learn,” replied Stoick, tone jovial. 

“I’ll probably just embarrass you.” 

The chief shook his head, “it is a team effort, son. We help each other, and you will not be the only one learning. Gustav will also be joining for the first time.”

Hiccup reluctantly agreed, before frowning as he realized he had another point of concern. “I don't know how to dance either.”

Valka had offered to teach him once, but he’d been quick to refuse. There’d be no reason to learn, after all, living in the nest. Who would be his dance partner? A Gronckle?

It had seemed absurd to even consider at the time.

Stoick hummed, face thoughtful. “I’m sure we can arrange for you to learn. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on a chance to impress a pretty lass.”

There was only one girl he’d want to impress in all of Berk. At the thought of her, Hiccup felt his face grow hot, lips twitching up into a small smile.

Chapter Text

Astrid had grown too fond of Stormfly to resist visiting her when given the opportunity. She knew Gobber’s schedule well enough to time when the arena was most likely to be unsupervised. Seizing those moments, she’d slip into the ring and spend time with the friendly blue Nadder.

The bond they shared was still strange to her, but she couldn’t deny it existed. She’d connected with the dragon in a way she never thought possible. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them, a clear level of trust.

Astrid had taken to bringing leftover scraps of fish from the hall along with her, finding herself worried that Berk wasn’t feeding the dragons enough. The first time she’d done it, she’d felt foolish. After all, dragons had terrorized her village for centuries. Why was she going out of her way to help one?

She supposed she had Hiccup to blame. Between his earnest words and undeniable connection with Toothless, he’d demonstrated that peace was possible with a dragon. Observing such a phenomenon had been one thing, but experiencing it personally? She could hardly believe it.

“Hey girl,” she said softly as she opened the Nadder’s door. 

Stormfly returned her greeting with a series of squawks, brushing the side of her head against Astrid’s arm.

The young woman smiled, running a hand over the dragon’s neck. “I missed you too,” she confessed. “Things have been a little crazy here lately – I haven’t had many chances to get away.”

Stormfly shook out her wings, eyeing the blonde expectantly.

“Sorry, girl,” said Astrid, feeling a swell of disappointment, “it’s too risky during the day. I’ll talk to Hiccup, maybe we can come back tonight for a flight.”

The dragon drooped, excitement draining away. 

Astrid felt guilty, but she knew the dangers were too great. If they were spotted, Berk was going to attack without a second thought. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she were the reason the dragon was hurt or killed.

The thought gave her pause. She was protective of the Nadder, to a personal degree. When had she started thinking of Stormfly as hers?

Astrid dug a few scraps out of her pocket, unwrapping the cloth around them. She tossed the food in front of Stormfly, watching the dragon snap them up with glee.

“Astrid?”

She jolted, spinning to find the source of the voice. 

Snotlout stood at the arena entrance, looking puzzled. A large bucket of fish was slung over one arm and he seemed to be sagging slightly under the weight of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking a few steps further into the ring. “Why’s the Nadder cage open?”

She adjusted her position slightly, blocking the opening to the cell. With Stormfly’s own protective streak, Astrid was worried how she’d react to Snotlout’s presence. After all, he’d never held back against any of the dragons in the ring and could easily be perceived as a threat.

“I–What are you doing here?”

Snotlout smirked, “Didn’t you hear? The chief is putting me in charge of the arena dragons, since I am going to be taking over training.”

“Since when?”

He set the bucket of fish on the ground beside him, crossing his arms against his chest. “Since you decided to take us out of the heir trials, obviously. I must have proved my skill, clearly Uncle Stoick still wants my help. My dad said he asked for me personally.”

Wait. 

Was he implying that the chief valued his contributions more than her own? She rolled her wrist, hearing the joint crack. If he kept this up, he’d be meeting the sharp end of her axe. 

“But don’t worry babe,” he continued with a smirk, oblivious to her building anger. “I could always use an assistant. It would give us plenty of time alone together.”

Gods above.

She withdrew her weapon in seconds, whipping it in his direction without a second thought.

Snotlout dropped to the floor with a surprised grunt, narrowingly avoiding the oncoming projectile. 

“The only alone time you and I will be having,” she countered, venom in her voice, “will be me using you for target practice.”

Stormfly snarled from behind her, picking up on her rider’s distress.

Snotlout pushed to his feet at the sound, eyes widening in alarm. He seemed to register that the door was still cracked open, and that Astrid’s back was to the dragon.

“What are you doing?” He hissed.

So much for avoiding that line of conversation. Luckily, she’d planned for such an occasion, worried that Gobber might stumble upon her one day. 

“Gathering scales,” she replied, pulling a few she’d pocketed for such an occasion out and into view. “I want to reinforce my shield and these should make it truly fireproof.”

Snotlout eyed the blue scales, looking skeptical. “We don’t use dragon scales for protection.”

“Hiccup does,” she argued, picturing his armor in her mind’s eye. If someone who spent most of his life surrounded by dragons had chosen to protect himself that way, surely there had to be some benefit to it. 

She closed Stormfly’s door firmly, securing the bolt into place with a clang. Without waiting for the boy’s response, she stalked over to retrieve her axe from where it had landed on the dirty arena floor. She gave it a quick once over, satisfied there were no new scrapes. 

“I talked to him, just like you wanted,” said Snotlout, surprising her.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, had him sharpen my axe. Apparently he actually does know what he’s doing in the forge – can you believe it?” He shook his head in disbelief before continuing, sounding hesitant. “He didn’t even know we were cousins, though. Apparently Aunt Valka never bothered to mention us.”

Astrid turned back to face him, securing her weapon back into place. “A few weeks ago, Hiccup didn’t even know he’d come from this island,” she revealed, “I get the feeling Valka played a lot of it close to the vest. She told Hiccup about his father, and about viking customs…but I think she kept a lot from him, too.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t think she ever intended for him to find Berk,” admitted Astrid, “I don’t think she wanted him to come back here. She taught him to fear viking tribes, and I think that her leaving out details about Berk was a sort of failsafe, in case his curiosity ever overpowered that fear. That way, he wouldn’t be able to easily figure out where he’d come from.”

Snotlout looked mildly disturbed by the revelation, brows furrowing in thought. “If that’s true…how’d he end up back here?”

“He knew one name – Stoick.” she said, remembering their first conversation on the cliffside. “I let it slip when we met."

Snotlout looked no less confused. “He’s our chief. Wouldn’t the name be easy to track down?”

“How? By talking to other vikings?” 

“Well, yes. Most tribes would recognize–”

“Snotlout,” she cut him off, exasperated. “Think about it. He’d have to approach them to talk to them. They’d see his eyes.”

“Oh.”

“He’d never take the risk, and Valka knew it.”

Snotlout scratched his chin, “He did with you.”

Astrid snorted. “He didn’t have a choice, I snuck up on him. Cornered him on the side of the bluff. His only way to avoid that conversation would have been to jump, and he may be a little reckless but he’s not suicidal.”

The boy shifted his weight, contemplating her words. 

“Does it bother you,” asked Astrid, intrigued by the troubled look on his face. It was not an expression she was used to seeing from the boy. “That he didn’t know about you?”

Snotlout shrugged, eyeing the bucket of fish at his feet. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s so weird having him here. All my life, everyone’s been talking about my tragic cousin and how sorry they are we lost him. Thor – every time he was mentioned, I got pity looks like someone killed my yak! Now, he’s somehow alive? He’s back but he’s some sort of freaky dragon person and he doesn’t even know who we are? What am I supposed to do with that information?” 

Astrid was taken aback by the admission. She’d known the Haddocks and Jorgenson’s had been at the center of the tragedy, but she’d never really factored in Snotlout’s part in it all. 

“Whatever, I guess.” he said, grabbing the handle of the bucket once more and starting towards the Terrible Terror’s door. 

Astrid watched warily, ready to intervene if he got too aggressive with the dragons. Instead, she found herself growing annoyed by how little attention the boy paid them. He cracked doors open just wide enough to throw in a few fish, before slamming them shut and relatching each. She was confident he hadn’t even seen any of the dragons.

“So you’re doing this every day?” She asked.

Snotlout shrugged, “I’m in charge of it, but apparently the chief wants everyone from our old class involved. Haven’t figured out how to split it up yet.”

“Well,” said Astrid, gesturing to the cages. “We’ve got five dragons, and five vikings. Everyone could just take charge of one?”

Snotlout looked surprised by the suggestion, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded, “That would make it easier, I guess. Plus then, I’ll know who to rat out if they don’t do their job.”

“That’s not–” Astrid paused, shaking her head. “Nevermind. I’ll take the Nadder.”

“Sure,” agreed Snotlout, contemplating the remaining cages. “I better take something tough. You know, to protect you all with my superior strength.”

Astrid bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the boy’s vanity.

“What about the Monstrous Nightmare?” She suggested, knowing it was the largest dragon in the arena. 

Snotlout hummed, squinting at the corresponding door. “I probably should. No way Fishface is brave enough to handle that one.” 

Astrid couldn’t argue that. Fishlegs was a bit more timid than the rest of their peers, and he’d always seemed particularly put off by the Nightmare in training.

After some discussion, they’d figured out how to assign the remaining dragons. The twins would take the Zippleback and the Terrible Terror while Fishlegs would be responsible for the milder Gronckle. 

“So,” said Snotlout, smirking at her as they headed out of the arena. “The revel’s coming up.”

“It is.” She agreed, wondering if there was a point to stating something so obvious.

“You should go with me.”

Astrid stopped mid-step, staring incredulously at the stocky boy. He was looking at her with expectant eyes, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “Excuse me?”

“As my date,” clarified Snotlout. 

She rolled her eyes. Trust this boy to miss the point completely. She’d known what he was implying, she just couldn’t believe he’d think she’d accept.

“No,” she said, voice firm. She continued towards the village, irritation making her movements sharper.

Snotlout continued to trail her, having to run to catch up with her pace. “Why not?”

Astrid didn’t bother answering. She’d made it clear many times over the course of their lives that she had no romantic interest in the boy. Somehow, he seemed unable to process that fact, and continued to pursue her with a blind sense of confidence.

If he hadn’t taken the hint by now, it wasn’t worth her breath.

“I don’t get it,” he continued, sounding winded as he tried to match her stride. “Aren’t you going?”

“Everyone in Berk is going.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to go with you. ”

Snotlout swerved in front of her, causing her to stumble to a stop. She swore, barely keeping her balance.

“Who do you want to go with? Fishlegs?” Snotlout’s face twisted in disbelief at the suggestion. 

Astrid exhaled sharply, clenching her fingers into fists. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not going to go with Fishlegs.”

She took a step to her right, intending to walk around him. Instead, the boy moved directly into her path once more. Now he looked almost angry, “Tuffnut? No, you’d never go with him. You can’t possibly mean…are you going with Hiccup!?”

Astrid felt her heartbeat stutter a bit at the thought. “He hasn’t asked me.” She said, wondering if that would be enough to get the boy to back off. It was the truth, she’d barely seen Hiccup in the last few days.

Snotlout crossed his arms, “but you want him to.”

 “Get out of my way,” she snarled, elbowing past him. 

“You really do?” Yelled Snotlout, stomping along behind her, “but he’s a total fishbone!” 

“Now turn to your left!”

Hiccup stumbled, trying to keep up with rapid instructions. Learning to dance was perhaps the most mortifying experience of his life, he’d decided. Not only did it require more grace than he possessed, but the complexity of the steps left his head spinning.

Why in Thor’s name do people choose to do this?

It would be a miracle if he could remember just one combination in time for the revel.

“Keep your weight on your toes!”

Hiccup grunted, rolling up onto the balls of his feet. Was this truly how the vikings danced? He couldn’t imagine his father, or any of the other warriors, subjecting themselves to this willingly. 

“Good! Now turn to the right and hold out your hand for your partner.”

Hiccup threw his weight into the rotation, quickly realizing he’d miscalculated. He’d thrown in too much force, and found himself crashing towards the floor. He tried to throw an arm out to steady himself, grimacing as his wrist twisted on impact, taking the brunt of his weight. 

He groaned, feeling tremors of pain race through his arm. He’d managed to prevent the collision of his face with the floor, but he’d still managed to injure himself. 

“Son!” 

Stoick helped him off the floor, eyes drawn to where Hiccup was cradling his wrist to his chest. He frowned, dismissing the woman who’d been instructing the dance lesson. “Let’s get you to Gothi,” he advised, wrapping an arm securely around his son’s back. 

“I’m fine,” protested Hiccup.

His father just gave him a long look, “We’d best let Gothi be the judge of that.”

The elder was in her hut, organizing her herb supplies into neat rows of jars. They lined the walls of the hut, stacked on a series of wooden shelves that seemed to sag under the weight. 

Hiccup’s eyes roamed over them curiously, seeing names of treatments he’d never heard of in his travels. He couldn’t help but wonder what purpose each had, and just how often they were used across Berk.

Gothi greeted them with a polite nod, gesturing for him to hold out his arm. 

Hiccup complied, wincing as the woman probed his wrist with her bony fingers. She was very thorough, inspecting every muscle in his forearm with critical eyes.

“He fell,” explained Stoick, giving the elder some background on the injury. “During a dance lesson.”

Hiccup hated the way that sounded. His first visit to the village healer…because of clumsiness dancing?

Gothi pushed him towards a chair in the corner, gently easing him into it. Once she was satisfied he’d stay put, she went to collect a series of herbs from the shelves. Bottles clinked loudly together as she selected the ingredients she wanted. Varying degrees of each were then placed into a large, wooden bowl which she proceeded to grind together into a thick paste.

The elder shuffled back to him, tucking the bowl into the crook of her elbow. She stared at him for a moment, seemingly waiting for something.

Hiccup eyed her for a moment, extending his wrist once more.

It appeared to be the right choice, as Gothi began methodically coating his wrist in the paste. Once a thin layer had been applied, she set the bowl on the ground, digging a roll of bandages out of her pocket. She wound the strip of fabric firmly around his wrist, leaving his movement a little bit limited.

Gothi grabbed her staff, etching a few runes into the dirt. They were drawn upside down from where Hiccup sat, so he wasn’t able to make out the meaning.

“You’re to leave that binding on for three days,” translated Stoick, “and then she’d like to examine it again. She doesn’t think it's a true sprain, but there is some swelling that she wants to keep an eye on.”

“Alright,” agreed Hiccup. The wrap was a little annoying, but he could live with it.

Gothi approached him once more, staring intently at his eyes. There was a strange weight to her gaze, as if she were seeing into his soul. 

Hiccup shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, forcing himself not to break eye contact. He was getting more used to the staring in Berk, but it was still far from a pleasant experience. He found the silent elder a bit off putting.

“Gothi?” Stoick asked, picking up on the tension.

The elder tipped her head in acknowledgement, but her attention didn’t waver. She drew her eyebrows together, lips pursing as she studied him. 

“What’s wrong?” Hiccup asked, unsure if he’d offended the healer in some way.

She kicked at the dirt, clearing her previous message. Then, she took her staff to it once more, drawing out another tight line of runes. This message was longer, runes drawn smaller to fit it all.

Stoick read it silently, his own expression creasing. He turned to Gothi and asked, “Are you certain?”

The elder nodded. 

“What?” Hiccup asked, unhappy to be left out of the conversation.

Stoick turned back to him, expression apologetic. “Sorry, Hiccup. Gothi believes that in order for you to have those,” he gestured to Hiccup’s eyes. “You must have other…dragon-like traits. She wants to do a more thorough examination, so she has a baseline to treat you in the future.”

Hiccup’s attention shifted to the elder, surprised that she’d been able to make such a deduction. She’d barely examined him, after all. 

“Sure,” he agreed, understanding the value of her request. If he was to stay in Berk, it wouldn’t hurt to ensure the only healer could properly address any injuries he may sustain. Dragon riding was not without risk.

“Is it true?” Stoick asked, sounding troubled. “Is it more than your eyes?”

Hiccup nodded, not meeting his father’s eyes. “My eyes are just the only visible part,” he admitted. “My senses are closer to those of a dragon – I can see, hear and smell much better. At least, from what mom and I could determine."

“...I see.”

“We didn’t really try to find out,” he admitted defensively, “there could be more, but I don’t know.”

Hiccup had purposely left out his problems with heat regulation as well as the queen’s influence. Anything that had spooked his mother, a woman who lived comfortably amongst the dragons, would surely scare his father who was known to fear and hate the creatures. He was confident that as skilled as the elder may be, those two issues would be beyond her ability to diagnose.

Perhaps the elder would be able to help him understand his condition better. Maybe she'd find something that he'd never discovered himself. 

Stoick sighed, “Alright. Gothi, why don’t you take a closer look at him.”

Chapter Text

Berk’s anniversary was greeted with warm sun, as if the gods themselves were smiling upon the village celebrations. The villagers took advantage of the favorable weather, bustling about the streets in a flurry of activity.

Hiccup watched it all with fascination, noting how the very air seemed to buzz with excitement. It was contagious, leaving him feeling a surprising swell of anticipation for the start of the festivities.

Was this what it was like to be part of the tribe?  

He shifted his weight, leaning against the doorway of his father’s house as he observed the movement below.  A small part of him wanted to join them, to experience this new liveliness himself. Yet, his instincts kept his feet cautiously rooted where he stood.

There was no telling if he’d be welcome to join. 

 “Quite a sight, eh?” His father’s voice came from behind him. 

Hiccup peered over his shoulder, taking note of Stoick’s broad grin before shifting his attention back to the village below. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said honestly. 

A large hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Just wait til the celebration starts tonight!”

Hiccup nodded, eyeing the stage that was being assembled in the town center. He knew tonight would focus on storytelling, but he hadn’t expected that to require more than a trip to the town’s hall. Seeing the effort going into the preparations now, he wondered just what he was in for that night.

“The opening ceremony will officially begin after supper,” reminded Stoick, dropping his hand and moving to stand beside his son, “but if you want to guarantee a good spot, I recommend eating early and finding a seat a bit earlier.”

Hiccup hummed, mentally filing the suggestion away. A thought occurred to him, “won’t we be sitting together?”

Stoick shook his head, “I have to lead the opening ceremony,” he explained. “I’ll be seated on the platform with the speakers.”

The revelation brought a wave of uneasiness. He’d been counting on using his father as a buffer against the unfamiliar townsfolk, but it appeared that was not going to be an option. Perhaps he could convince Gobber to let him tag along for the night? 

Or Astrid?

No.

His mind shut down the thought, heat rushing to his face. Ever since Snotlout had made him recognize his feelings for the blonde, he found himself strangely nervous about seeing her. What if she took one look at him and somehow knew? Would she resent him for it? Would she dismiss the possibility of them being together as quickly as his cousin had?

He wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.

Hiccup knew that Astrid cared for him as a friend – she’d made that more than clear through her actions since they’d met. She’d proven herself someone he could rely on, someone he could trust. However, she hadn’t given any indication that her feelings extended beyond that friendship. If he did something to jeopardize the relationship they did have? He wasn’t sure he could handle that loss.

“I’ll see you tonight,” said Stoick, shooting him a quick smile before heading down towards town.

His father had come a long way in their time together, Hiccup observed. He no longer flinched when they made eye contact, though there was still an uneasiness there. That unease had seemed to grow after the meeting with Gothi, but to his credit Stoick hadn’t pressed the matter any further. The chief was trying to surpass his own fears, and that was what really mattered to Hiccup. 

“I’ll be there,” assured Hiccup before dropping his voice to a mutter, “probably.”

He watched as his father’s large figure joined the crowd below, seamlessly integrating into the activity. Once more, he felt like an outsider observing the tribe. It wasn’t all that different from what he’d done for years, spying on villages across the archipelago.

He still wasn’t one of them.

As if sensing his growing distress, Toothless sided up to him. The dragon warbled a greeting, nudging his rider expectantly with the side of his head. 

“Hey there, bud,” said Hiccup as he scratched the Night Fury’s chin. The dragon’s presence did wonders for quelling his inner doubts, replacing his fears with a fondness born of years of friendship.  

Meeting the dragon’s gaze, so similar to his own, was a comforting reminder that he was not completely alone. Toothless was his emotional anchor, steadying him in all the craziness of the past few weeks. After all, his home was wherever the Night Fury was.

For a moment, he was tempted to clamber onto the dragon’s back and leave Berk far behind. Things had been simpler when it was just him and Toothless against the world. Now, his life had become a tangled mess that he wasn’t even sure how to begin unraveling. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to do so.

There were reasons to stay, of course. 

His father. Astrid. Gobber. 

Yet, there were also reasons to leave. 

Mildew. Snotlout. Spitelout.

Hiccup leaned his weight against Toothless, soaking in the soothing warmth of the dragon’s scales. He exhaled sharply, “I don’t know what to do.”

Toothless twitched an ear at him, letting out a soft hum. 

Hiccup slowly forced down the urge to run. As much as leaving his problems behind appealed to him now, he’d also given his word that he would stay. If he left, he suspected he’d regret the decision for years to come.

After all, it would mean leaving things unresolved with his father – and with Astrid. 

“I need to clear my head,” he said, needing a distraction. He climbed onto Toothless’s back in a fluid motion, wincing as his wrapped wrist bumped against the dragon’s neck. “How about we go flying for a bit?”

Toothless perked up with excitement, extending his wings. They hadn’t had as many opportunities to fly together recently as Hiccup would have liked, and it appeared the Night Fury felt the same way. 

Hiccup felt refreshed after the long flight he’d taken with Toothless. Once again, being up in the air had granted him a new sense of perspective.

He may not feel he belonged on Berk yet, but he did always feel that he belonged in the skies.

Taking his father’s words to heart, he scoped out a seat for the ceremony early. A few vikings had already claimed their own spots, but he was early enough to have many seats left to choose from around the stage.

He decided on a spot not too far from the stage, but tucked off to the side. There, he was confident he’d be able to take in the events fully without feeling trapped amidst the sea of people.

Hiccup only vaguely recognized the other early arrivals. The youngest man had visited the forge that week while he’d been working – he’d been a little gruff, but otherwise hadn’t treated Hiccup differently than Gobber. The rest he just assumed he’d seen during meals in the hall, though he couldn’t pinpoint any specific time he’d seen them.

They made no effort to greet him as he took his seat, nor did he try to initiate anything himself. There was something comfortably neutral about it all.

Vikings slowly trickled in over the next hour, filling the area. The seats closest to Hiccup remained empty for a while, as most still seemed hesitant to approach him. He’d almost resigned himself to being on his own when a thin boy dropped into the chair beside him.

“Hey, Hic!” The blonde greeted, jittery with enthusiasm. 

Hic? Thought Hiccup, eyebrows knitting together. 

The viking leaned back in his chair, kicking his legs up onto the back of the seat ahead of him. He tucked his arms behind his head, folding them as he did. 

“Hello…?” Hiccup trailed off, blanking on the boy’s name. He looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure they’d been properly introduced.

“Oh, right,” the boy dropped his hands, snorting. “Name’s Tuffnut. Rhymes with Ruffnut, but my parasitic twin isn’t here yet. Don’t worry though – everyone knows  I’m the fun one.”

Oh. The twins. He remembered them vividly from Astrid’s stories and shifted further away in his seat. Hearing their track record for chaos in the village made him wonder if having the boy’s attention on him was part of some sort of scheme.

“Hiccup,” he said in reply, to be polite.

“Doesn’t rhyme with much does it?”

What?

“I guess not?”

Tuffnut nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer. “No wonder you don’t have a twin.”

Hiccup blinked, staring at the blonde in bafflement. He opened his mouth to explain that he didn’t think that was how it worked, but closed it when he thought better of it. Arguing with Tuffnut didn’t seem like it would be a very useful endeavor.

He heard someone slip behind them, taking a seat in the next row. A second later, Tuffnut rocked forward with a yelp, losing his balance as his chair wobbled.

Hiccup turned around, catching sight of a blonde woman with a striking resemblance to the other boy. She was smirking at the fallen viking, arms crossed against her chest.

“Ruffnut, I presume?” He asked.

“The one and only,” she returned, eyes latching onto him. They widened as she realized who she was looking at. “Hey, it’s you!”

Tuffnut pulled himself back into his chair, muttering to himself as he got comfortable once again. He shot Hiccup a sideways glance before saying, “told you I’m the fun one.”

Ruffnut laughed loudly, the sound booming over the chatter of the gathered vikings. “Good one, Tuff! Funnier looking, maybe.”

“We’re twins, Ruffnut.”

“Oh yeah, well…”

Hiccup wasn’t quite sure what to make of the twins. While there was something almost charming about their boisterous, over-the-top enthusiasm…it also seemed a bit intense. If Astrid’s stories were to be believed, the duo had a hair-trigger approach to mischief and the slightest inspiration could lead them down a rabbit hole of mayhem.

He knew he needed to proceed with caution if he didn’t want to get wrapped up in anything. Still, they’d been the ones to join him, despite the wide berth most of Berk was giving him.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” he said, interrupting their bickering. 

“He’s so formal,” complained Ruffnut, throwing her hands up in the air. 

Tuffnut nodded, leaning closer to Hiccup. “Maybe it’s a dragon thing. Are dragons formal?”

What? In what world would dragons be a formal species?

“Um…no?”

Tuffnut scratched his head, “Huh. Then I got nothing.”

Hiccup was spared having to reply by the sight of his father and several other vikings ascending the stage. The chatter around them died as the speakers got settled into place, the crowd’s attention focusing on the guests of honor.

“People of Berk,” boomed the voice of Stoick the Vast, “It  is my great honor as chief to welcome you to the start of our 400th anniversary celebration.”

A roar of approval rang through the crowd. 

“When our ancestors first arrived here, the island wasn’t planned to be a permanent settlement,” continued Stoick. “They sought to regroup from their voyage before carrying on in their search for a home. There were doubts that this island could sustain a village for long – but we stand here today as proof that we can do more than sustain, we can thrive!”

“Aye!” A voice called from the crowd, receiving another chorus of cheers.

“Why’d they stay?” Hiccup whispered to Tuffnut.

“Not a clue,” the boy replied with a shrug. “We’ve got a pretty good chicken population?

Right. He’d asked Tuffnut. 

Stoick gestured for the crowd to quiet down. “We have had our fair share of struggle,” he said with deep sincerity. “From that fateful storm that stranded our ancestors here through the first winter, to the dragon raids we now face so often. Our founders live on in us and our children.”

At those words, the chief’s gaze scanned the crowd before settling on Hiccup. He gave a short nod before resuming his speech.

“Tonight we pay tribute to those who have come before us,” he said. “Their stories live on through our memories. I invite you all to listen carefully to the words of our speakers as they share the stories of Berk’s rich history. One day, we too, will live on through this tradition. Give these stories the same respect you wish future generations to pay for yours.” 

With those final words, Stoick took his seat. 

An elderly woman spoke next, launching into a tale of the settlers first winter on Berk. Her voice was soft and soothing, and the way she spoke was incredibly vivid. This was a kind of storytelling Hiccup had never encountered outside of books. 

He found himself enraptured by the tale, following along with each trial and triumph described with rapt attention. He was almost disappointed when her words trailed off and she took her seat. Until the next speaker stood and began sharing another glimpse into life in Berk’s history.

Was this the legacy of his people?

He’d spent so long dismissing the tribe as a land of dragon killers, he’d rarely stopped to think about the complexity of the village and its history. Even prior to the dragon raids, they’d overcome many struggles in the tough landscape of the island. 

They’d fought for their survival – and they’d never wavered in that passion. There was something almost dragon like in that sentiment, which Hiccup couldn’t help but respect.

He cast his gaze around the assembled crowd, wondering who might be descended from the men and women of the stories that were being told. He knew many vikings traced their lineage on Berk back several generations, but he was also aware that others had come to join the flourishing tribe over the centuries. 

As he looked around the crowd, he met a pair of bright blue eyes on the other end of the gathering. Astrid waved when she caught his eye, an easy smile on her face. 

His palms felt sticky as he raised his own arm to wave back. 

Chapter Text

Ingrid had insisted that Astrid wear a gown to the revel. It was unusual, putting on something so delicate and leaving her armor in her room. 

The pale blue dress was beautiful, rimmed with a very intricate embroidered pattern that must have taken Ingrid weeks to complete. The needlework was done in white, leaving the sleeves and hem of the gown appearing to be frosted. 

Astrid surveyed her reflection, taking in the seamless way the fabric flowed over her body. It made her look older, she realized, and more noble. Her mother had crafted something fit for someone of much higher rank than the Hofferson family. 

She twisted, trying to catch sight of the corset back. The laces were also white, tying into the snow-capped effect of the gown.

Her hair had been braided into an intricate updo, circled with a series of braids. Astrid had tugged a few strands of hair loose here and there, not liking the rigid look of the original style. Those loose, wispy strands framed her face and softened her appearance.

She barely recognized herself. 

“You look lovely,” said Ingrid, peering over her shoulder. 

“Thanks.”

Astrid turned to face her mother directly, taking in the sight of the woman’s deep red gown. She’d rarely ever seen the woman outside of her furs, so the sight of her mother’s bare shoulders was strange. Ingrid looked elegant, wearing a set of jewelry that Astrid had never seen before. 

Noticing her gaze, Ingrid’s hand went to rest upon her pearl necklace. “This was a wedding gift from my mother,” she explained, “I only wear it on special occasions.”

“It’s beautiful,” expressed Astrid, whose own neck now felt bare in comparison. She’d never really been one for jewelry, but seeing how the necklace glimmered made her wonder if she’d been two quick to dismiss it.

Ingrid smiled. “One day, if you choose to marry, maybe I’ll gift it to you.”

“I’d like that.”

Ingrid reached out, brushing the loose hair out of Astrid’s eyes. “You really are a vision in that dress,” she said, “it’s just too bad you don’t have an escort.”

Astrid rolled her eyes, unsurprised by her mother’s focus on her decision to attend the revel alone. The woman hadn’t taken the news that she’d rejected Snotlout’s offer well, expressing her disappointment that her daughter wasn’t considering her options.

Astrid had considered. It had taken all of two seconds to recognize that there was no chance in Hel she’d allow a match with the Jorgenson boy. Attending such a public event with him would send the wrong message to both him and the tribe at large.

“Didn’t get the right offer,” she retorted sharply under her breath, moving to step around her mother. 

“Oh?” Ingrid’s sharp ears had picked up on her words, and there was clear interest in what she’d overheard. “Is there someone you would have accepted?”

Astrid shrugged, keeping her expression passive. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter now. He didn’t ask.”

Ingrid sidestepped to block the doorway, preventing her daughter from slipping away. “It does matter. My dear, if there’s someone you have your eye on, it may not be too late.”

“Did you forget that the revel begins in an hour?”

“I’m not suggesting that he’d ask now,” her mother said, “I simply mean that when you see this boy at the dance, he is sure to be taken with you. He’d be a fool otherwise. Trust me, he’ll see what he’s missed out on and it shouldn’t be difficult to secure a dance. How do you think I got your father’s attention?”

Astrid felt her face flush, desperately wishing she could escape the awkward conversation. “Why does this matter so much to you all of a sudden?”

“Astrid, you’ve never seemed this interested in someone before now. If there’s a chance of securing a good match for you, I don’t want you to miss that opportunity simply because he was too shy to ask you to the dance,” explained Ingrid. “I know you want to be a warrior above all else, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be room for love in your life.”

“Mom, it’s not like that.”

“Not yet, maybe,” corrected Ingrid with a knowing look. “You forget I was once twenty, too. Perhaps it’s not love…but perhaps it is the start. Don’t throw away that chance.”

Astrid pinched her nose, shaking her head in disbelief. “ I don’t understand. You don’t even like him, why are you telling me all this?”

Ingrid’s expression faltered. “I assumed…you spend so much time with the Ingerman boy…”

Astrid snorted, realizing her mother had gotten the wrong idea. “No, I’m not interested in Fishlegs like that – why does everyone keep implying that I am? We’re just friends, and I’m also pretty sure he’s into Ruffnut.”

“So it’s the Haddock boy, then?”

Astrid ignored the disapproval in her mother’s voice, straightening her posture. “It doesn’t matter,” she insisted with more confidence than she felt. “He didn’t ask, so I doubt he’s interested in me.”

Ingrid sighed, suddenly looking much older than her years. “You truly care for him that much?”

“So what if I do?”

“Astrid, there’s no need to be defensive,” chastised her mother. “It’s just a question. He is the chief’s son of course, so it would be an advantageous match in that sense…but he’s not entirely human. I cannot simply overlook that fact.”

Astrid frowned, crossing her arms against her chest. “I’m not asking you to overlook him being part dragon, but I am asking you to remember that’s not all he is. You said it yourself – he’s the chief’s son. He’s a Haddock, a Berkian!” 

“That may be so, but he wasn’t raised like us. His loyalties lie with the dragons – our enemies.”

“You know nothing about his loyalties,” corrected Astrid in a low voice. “You’ve never even spoken to him! I guess you’ve forgotten, but you did promise me that you’d give him a fair chance. How can that happen when you treat him like a pariah?”

Ingrid looked taken aback, reflecting on Astrid’s words. She finally stepped out of the doorway, leaving Astrid’s path clear once more. “You may be right,” admitted her mother. “Perhaps I haven’t been fair to him, or to you. He is Stoick’s boy.”

“And Valka’s,” added Astrid, reminding her mother of all the stories she’d shared of the viking chieftess. 

“He does look so much like her. Astrid, I hope you know that I don’t mean to be harsh,” said Ingrid with a heavy sigh, “but I am your mother and I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Astrid rested a hand on her mother’s elbow as she passed by, giving her a soft smile. “I know you are,” she said, “but I can look out for myself. Hiccup wouldn’t have my trust if he hadn’t earned it.”

“I see…”

“Besides, I don’t need your permission,” reminded Astrid, raising a brow in challenge. “If Hiccup had asked to escort me, I would have said yes, regardless of how you felt about it. I am of age, and my decisions are my own. Who I spend my time with is my choice.”

Who I love is my choice.

Though unsaid, the sentiment seemed to reach Ingrid. The older woman’s eyes widened, filling with surprise as she realized the depth of her daughter’s feelings. 

“I can't say that I understand your choice, but I will not stand in your way,” assured Ingrid after a moment’s pause, “If you really do care for him that much, what I said earlier still stands. Find…Hiccup at the revel. Give him a chance to see what he missed.”

It was the first time she’d heard her mother utter Hiccup’s name. He’d always been ‘the Haddock boy,’ ‘the chief’s son,’ or even simply ‘that boy.’ Hearing Ingrid address him properly gave her a strange sense of hope that perhaps her mother could eventually grow to accept her friend.

The revel was already in full swing when Astrid arrived. Half of it was housed inside the main hall, doors propped open wide to give guests easy access to and from the space. Outside, the area had been cleared for extra seating with room for dancing under the stars.

Berkians were decked out in their best finery, a sea of bright colors so different from the usual grey glint of viking armor. It was a feast for the eyes and Astrid found her attention torn in a multitude of directions.

She could hear the musicians even before she stepped into the hall. Once inside, their song echoed through the space loud enough that she could feel the vibrations in her bones. There wouldn’t be much conversation happening here, she decided. Perhaps that was a good thing. No one could chide her for going solo and she wouldn’t be forced into any small talk.

Chief Stoick was in the middle of the space, surrounded by a group of the elder warriors. Each man had a drink in hand, cheeks already rosy from the mead. 

Astrid passed him, giving a polite nod as he caught her eye. She made her way over to the drink station, fetching her own goblet. It was a party, after all.

She was pleased to see that Fishlegs had managed to work up the nerve to ask Ruffnut to dance. It wasn’t very graceful, with Ruffnut appearing to drag Fishlegs through the motions, but the wild grin on the boy’s face made up for it in spades.

The duo were moving in a bit of a frenzy, with other pairs stepping out of their paths when they got too near. Astrid couldn’t blame them – with the way Ruffnut was swinging her elbows, she was likely to take an eye out at any turn.

Tuffnut, on the other hand, seemed most interested in the banquet portion of the event. He was loading up a plate of food so high it seemed dangerously close to tipping off and onto the floor. 

Astrid swept her eyes around the room again, this time catching sight of Snotlout. The stocky boy was dressed in a fine green tunic, made of a shiny material that spoke to the Jorgenson wealth. No doubt Spitelout had paid the traders a hefty sum to ensure he and his son would impress for the celebration. 

The boy was currently fending off Gustav, who was following him like a lost puppy. Every time he turned, the teen would hurry back into his line of sight, waving his arms around as he spoke. 

Astrid quickly shifted her attention, not wanting to risk being Gustav’s next target. Though she harbored no ill will for him, dealing with the boy was usually an exhausting ordeal.

At last she caught sight of the slim figure she’d been looking for. If she’d thought Snotlout’s tunic was impressive, it was nothing compared to the black silk that Hiccup wore. The tunic was fitted, drawing attention to his lean muscles. When he turned, she could see a hint of gold embroidery on the sleeves and around the neckline. 

Overtop, he wore a textured black vest. Based on the shine of it, Astrid was certain it was made of Night Fury scales, much like his armor. 

His hair was still an untamed mess, windblown as if he’d just leapt from Toothless’s back. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had . 

His eyes met hers, pupils blown wide as he caught sight of her. 

Perhaps her mother had been right.

She smiled, gesturing for him to join her. Hiccup was quick to comply, crossing the crowded room as swiftly as he could manage. He had a few close calls with dancers, but managed to evade being hit as he crossed the crowded room.

Astrid offered him a fresh goblet as he approached, leaning in close to make sure he heard her over the music. “Drink?”

“Sure,” he agreed, accepting it with an easy smile. His eyes swept over her once more. “You look beautiful, Astrid.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest at the praise. “You clean up pretty well, yourself.”

Hiccup’s face went red, the blush quickly hidden behind his goblet as he took a large swig of the mead. “Uh, thanks.”

Up close, she could see that the stitching in his tunic was even more complex than her own. Whoever had done the needlework was nothing short of a master. It was fitting for the son of chief, and the heir of Berk – almost princely. She suspected Stoick had commissioned it to ensure that very message was clear to the tribe.

The drums boomed as the band switched to a more lively song. It had gotten loud enough that her ears were beginning to bother her. Looking at the pinched look on Hiccup’s face, she suspected it was even worse for his enhanced senses.

“Let’s go outside,” she suggested, hooking her elbow through his and leading him towards the doors.

The outer portion of the party was much more welcoming. The music dulled to a more reasonable level, giving Astrid room to think. 

Hiccup sighed with relief, clearly grateful for the change.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” admitted Astrid, making no effort to release his arm. 

Hiccup blinked, twisting to look at her in surprise. “I honestly didn’t think I had a choice. Doesn’t everyone come to this?”

She nodded, voice nonchalant as she said, “usually yes, but I noticed that you haven’t been around much this week…I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about being here. That you’d use the opportunity to slip away while everyone was distracted.”

His face closed off, pupils narrowing slightly. “It hasn’t been easy,” he confessed. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about leaving, but I wouldn’t just…disappear without saying anything.”

Wouldn’t he?

“I haven’t spoken to you in days,” she pointed out, “I thought you might be avoiding me, to make it easier for you to leave without a proper goodbye.”

He’d been hard to pin down since moving into Berk. On the few occasions she’d seen him, he always seemed to be in a hurry – especially whenever she tried to call out to him. 

Hiccup frowned, extracting his arm from hers so he could face her fully. He looked conflicted, biting his lip as if deliberating his next words. “I wouldn’t leave without a goodbye,” he promised, voice firm. 

What he hadn’t said spoke volumes.

“So you were avoiding me?”

He exhaled sharply, looking guilty. “Okay, yes. I might have been avoiding you…just a little! Not because I was leaving or anything, but something that Snotlout said got to me and I guess I just–”

Astrid held up a hand to silence him, irritation building. “What would something Snotlout had to say have to do with avoiding me ?”

Hiccup glanced around, as if making sure they didn’t have an audience. Luckily, the other villagers were lost in their own conversations and paid the duo no mind. His face was deep red, expression almost fearful. “He, uh…he made me realize some things.”

“Like?”

“I…” He closed his eyes, “he might have made me realize some things about how I feel about…certain people.”

“That’s vague. You wanna be more specific?”

Hiccup coughed, avoiding her eyes. “Ok, uh…by ‘certain people’ I may have meant you.”

Astrid blanched, mind racing. He was avoiding her because of how he felt about her? It was a very odd confession. What could he have realized that would cause such a change in their dynamic? And if something had changed between them, why wasn’t he avoiding her now?

“You look beautiful, Astrid.” The words resurfaced in her mind.

A theory clicked into place. 

“Hiccup,” she breathed, voice coming out a little shaky. “To be clear…are you trying to say that you have feelings for me?”

He nodded, eyes trained on his boots as if afraid to see her reaction. 

She grinned, happiness bubbling up in her chest at the unexpected confession. She punched him in the shoulder, “You muttonhead!”

“Ow!” He complained, eyes snapping up to meet her own. His expression was resigned, as if he were disappointed in her reaction. “Look, I know you don’t feel the same–”

She hit him again. “That’s for making assumptions about my feelings,” she declared, before grasping his tunic tightly and pulling him in for a quick kiss. “That’s for everything else.”

Hiccup blinked back at her, frozen in an expression of shock. 

“So, are you going to ask me to dance?” She asked, nodding towards the area where other couples were swaying to the music.

Hiccup’s face split into a crooked grin, the expression lighting up his entire face. “Really?”

“Don’t make me hit you again.”

He laughed, holding out his hand. “Astrid Hofferson, may I have this dance?”

She snorted, grabbing onto his forearm and pulling him towards the dancers. “About time, dragon boy.”

Chapter Text

Traveling by sea, Hiccup quickly found, was far less pleasant than traveling by air. The ship beneath him rocked in the waves, never steady for more than a few moments at a time. 

A few vikings aboard looked a bit green in the face, keeping themselves braced against the rails of the ship. Just looking at them made his own stomach turn, and he resolved to keep his attention elsewhere as they bobbed along.

Tradition dictated a full circle of the island throughout the day, with the ships making hourly stops to fish in the blue waters surrounding Berk. So far, his ship had gathered a fairly decent haul.

Hiccup found that, as promised, he was not the only viking lacking fishing experience. A young man named Gustav shared his lack of experience with the task. The boy turned out to be even less adept at the job as Hiccup, somehow managing to make him look a bit better in comparison. 

He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or feel sorry for the boy.

So far, Hiccup had managed to catch a few fish. It wasn’t that impressive when compared to the success rate of the other, more seasoned vikings aboard the ship, but it did make him feel less like dead weight to know he’d contributed something.

Gustav had managed to run a fish hook through his own hand early on in the day and was ushered below deck for treatment. He had yet to return and Hiccup suspected the boy was taking advantage of his opportunity to get out of the work.

Berk had divided its forces into six large ships for the day, with most villagers opting to participate in the tradition. A few, including Gothi and many of the other elders, remained on land instead. They were tasked with preparing the stores for the incoming catch, and would be responsible for properly organizing the haul later.

Hiccup was stationed aboard his father’s ship. It appeared to be the designated space for both the less experienced and the less mobile villagers. Apart from Gustav, the elders that had elected to participate were the only tribesmen that worked alongside him. 

He’d caught sight of the ship his peers were on a few times, though it seemed to lag behind a bit. The ship was much more lively, with loud yells and frequent raising of the nets. It looked a lot more fun than where he’d been placed, but he was aware that he wouldn’t be able to pull his own weight there.

It was probably best he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Astrid and the others.

Astrid.

He still couldn’t believe the way his night had gone. He’d hoped to see her – maybe even secure a dance with her, but he’d never expected to confess his feelings. When he’d found she returned those feelings? He’d been elated. 

His mother had made it seem like he’d never have a chance to find someone. That he’d always have to stay safely on the outside…but it appeared that she was wrong. He had been able to find someone who saw past his eyes. 

It had almost felt like a dream – too good to be true. If not for a few good-natured snarks from Gobber when he passed by, he might have feared it had been a dream. 

Looking back, there were hours that he could have sworn they were the only two people at the revel. From the moment they had shared that first dance, he’d let himself completely tune out the rest of the world around them.

He’d let his guard down in a way that he never had risked before. It was strange to admit, but he’d set aside years of carefully honed vigilance and allowed himself to be vulnerable around her. The realization was both troubling and exhilarating. 

“Oi, Hiccup!” 

He startled as he realized he’d been lost in thought, staring out at the waves. A dripping net was thrust into his hands as Gobber sided up to him. 

“We’re abou’ to anchor again,” the blacksmith announced, “Stoick wants ya to try again off the port side this time. Gonna be a group effort this time – this spot’s known for good fishin’.”

Hiccup nodded, striding over to take his place at the rail. Sten, Mildew and Harald joined him moments later, each taking hold of a portion of the net.

“Heave!” 

On Gobber’s command, the group sent the net down into the depths below. Hiccup kept a tight grip on the corner he held, bracing for the command to bring it back to the surface. He was starting to get a sense for the rhythm of the process, better able to anticipate the next ask before it came.

“Now!” 

With a few grunts from the men, they were able to drag the fishing net up and onto the deck. As Gobber had suggested, this time the haul was much more substantial. Dozens of fish flopped around on the deck while vikings rushed to grab them and move them into a series of barrels near the mast.

“Good work!” Stoick boomed from his place at the helm. He caught Hiccup’s eye, giving a nod of approval. 

Hiccup returned the gesture, fighting back a shiver. Handling the wet nets had left his clothes in a damp state, and the cutting wind off the sea brought an alarming chill to his bones.

The men around him seemed largely unbothered by the temperature, and Hiccup suspected his body’s unique weaknesses were betraying him now. Not wanting to call attention to the oddity, he simply grit his teeth and continued to help round up the fish on deck.

He wished Toothless could have joined, but his father had insisted that it would cause too much unease amongst the villagers in such a confined space. Hiccup had wanted to argue that, but the look in his father’s eye had left little room for discussion. His dragon may be welcome in the village, but there was still work to be done before the residents were comfortable with his presence.

Hiccup’s arms were beginning to tire and he was relieved that the dock was finally in sight again. There was one more scheduled stop before the end of the expedition, and he couldn’t wait to be back on solid ground once more. 

He still couldn’t believe vikings chose to travel this way.

As they anchored at the final location, Gobber gave the orders for their positions. Hiccup took his spot quickly, eager to finish the final task. 

“Heave!”

As he watched the net fall down into the water, Hiccup felt something shove against his back. It was quick but forceful, and he didn’t have time to brace himself before he found himself plummeting towards the waves below.

“Hiccup!”

Hiccup felt his body seize as he hit the icy cold waves. It was a struggle to kick his way up to the surface and he barely avoided getting tangled up in the fishing net. When he reached the surface, he gasped for air. His throat and sinuses burned from the seawater that had gone up his nose in his fall. 

“Man overboard!”

“Hold on, son!”

A rope fell into his view, splashing against the surface. He grasped it like a lifeline, shakily wrapping it around his wrist to secure his hold. Though it only took minutes for the crew to pull him back onto the ship, each felt like an eternity to him. 

He was so cold. 

Hiccup felt hands on his face as his father’s face swam into view. The large viking pushed his hair back from his eyes, murmuring reassurances as he checked his son for injuries.

Feeling the weight of other gazes on him, Hiccup scanned the assembled crew. Most looked concerned for their heir’s plunge, but Mildew leered at him with a self-satisfied grin.

Of course.

Hiccup’s legs were still shaking when he finally stepped onto shore. To the casual onlooker, he was sure he appeared weak in the knees from the stress of his fall. In reality, the bone-deep chill that had permeated his body made it impossible to fight the tremors that now shook his body.

He excused himself immediately, and though his father watched him go with thinly veiled concern, no one stopped him.

Astrid’s ship was the last to dock, anchoring just as the sun was beginning to set. It took the entire crew to carry the massive barrels containing their catch up to the village. They’d surpassed expectations for their catch and it showed in the overflow of fish in each container.   

She was proud of the results, knowing how much the preserved fish would mean to the village in less plentiful months. She didn’t often take part in fishing trips, but she did enjoy a challenge – in this case, she’d challenged herself to surpass the haul of the ship that held her parents.

It appeared she’d been successful. 

After surrendering her barrel to the waiting tribesmen, she found herself scanning the onlookers. She wanted to celebrate her victory, and there was only one person she wanted to celebrate with…so where was he?

“Chief,” she called out, intercepting Stoick as he passed. “Where’s Hiccup?”

“I saw that Night Fury of his fly overhead not that long ago,” he said. “I’d bet Hiccup was on its back.”

“Which way did they go?”

Stoick pointed, “towards Raven’s Point, but I didn’t see them land.” 

She nodded, absorbing the information. Had he returned to his old campsite? Or perhaps, that isolated beach he’d retreated to after Stoick had first caught them in his house?

“Thanks,” she said, excusing herself. 

“Hey, Astrid, did you see my catch?” Snotlout called, leaning against a barrel of fish. The pressure proved to be too much, tipping the barrel and sending fish spilling out across the dirt. 

“Kinda hard to miss,” she acknowledged, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full there…want me to take care of the dragons tonight?”

She was careful to keep her voice casual, knowing he’d be suspicious if she seemed too eager to take on the chore. The last thing she wanted was to risk him following her out to the ring. 

“Yeah, I’m too busy here any–ow!”

Gothi raised her staff again, looking pointedly towards the spilled catch. 

“Alright, I’ll get them!” Snotlout complained, stooping over to retrieve the fish. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

Smack!

Astrid snorted, heading towards the storehouse to collect dinner for the dragons. As she passed Ruffnut, Tuffnut and Fishlegs, she informed them that she’d be handling their duties for the night. Each took the news in stride, the strain of the day’s events evident on their haggard faces.

The walk to the arena gave Astrid time to shake off her own fatigue. The more she thought about seeing Stormfly, the more energized she felt. It had been too long since she’d been able to take the Nadder for a flight. 

Stormfly turned out to be just as eager to see her, nuzzling her arm as soon as the door swung open. Astrid scratched her face for a moment, reveling in the comforting warmth of the dragon’s scales. 

It took her a few minutes to retrieve the saddle from its hiding place, but securing it was a quick process. Hiccup had made her practice enough times that it had become second nature, tightening the straps with ease and precision.

“Ready to go, girl?” She asked, pushing the cage door closed behind them.

The Nadder squawked in approval.

Grinning, Astrid swung up onto the saddle, settling into place. Already she could feel the rush of adrenaline that came with dragon riding, and her fingers drummed excitedly on the saddle. 

“Let’s go!”

Stormfly took off, spinning as she took to the sky. She ascended higher and higher until the arena was nothing more than a small shape below. 

Astrid’s grip tightened on the saddle as she leaned over to get a glimpse of Berk from above. She’d never seen it from this vantage point during daylight before, and it was fascinating to see the small figures of Berkians moving about the streets below.

“C’mon,” she urged after a moment, not wanting to risk being seen. “Let's find Hiccup and Toothless.”

The Nadder tilted to the right, banking into a short dive as she skimmed the top of the treeline. As they flew, Astrid scanned the forest below, looking for the elusive camp. 

Nothing.

She frowned, guiding Stormfly higher into the sky. If they weren’t hiding out in the forest, perhaps they had gone to that private beach. She vaguely remembered where it was, though the memory was mixed with her own initial fear of flying. The destination hadn’t been her focus that night.

Astrid opted to lead Stormfly to edge of the island, resolving to just follow the coastline until she could find the right location. 

Why had he taken off? She’d thought he was enjoying the anniversary celebration, despite his reservations. To disappear before the closing ceremony seemed a bit rash, unless something had happened.

Was he ashamed of his own haul? He’d confessed his lack of fishing experience that morning, but she’d been quick to reassure him that no one would hold it against him. They’d all been beginners once. It was only shameful not to try. 

As she turned the thought over in her mind, she caught sight of a dark shape below. 

Toothless!

“Stormfly, down!” 

They landed with a loud thud, sending sand flying about. Astrid patted the Nadder’s neck in thanks before slipping out of the saddle.

Toothless was warbling loudly, rushing over to get her attention. 

“Hi Toothless!” she greeted, smiling at the dragon. 

Toothless did not return her greeting, instead whining loudly and nudging her towards the water.

“What are you–oh my gods, Hiccup!”

She’d been so focused on the larger, more recognizable shape of the Night Fury, she hadn’t noticed him. The young man was lying with his back in the sand, eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Each draw of the tide brought another wave lapping at his feet. 

He didn’t answer her call, but a violent shiver passed through him. 

“Hiccup!” She hurried over, grasping his shoulders and shaking him.

That seemed to do the trick, as he opened his eyes. They were hazy and unfocused, as if he were looking through her instead of at her. After a moment, they drifted shut once more.

Another wave rolled in, splashing icy water on Astrid’s leggings. She bit back a curse.

Gods, that’s freezing.

Oh.

She looked more closely at her friend, noting that he was even paler than usual. His lips almost looked blue in the light. 

Her eyes widened. She hooked one of her arms around his, hauling him to his feet. She pulled his weight onto her, staggering as she made her way higher up the beach.

“Toothless – a little help?” She grit out.

The Night Fury bounded over, grabbing Hiccup by the back of his tunic. 

Astrid sighed with relief, rolling her shoulders. “C’mon,” she directed with urgency in her voice. “We’ve got to get him warm. Fast.”

Hypothermia wasn’t too common in the archipelago these days, but the elders of most tribes remembered the days that it had been with vivid clarity. As such, each generation was taught the basics of helping the afflicted from a young age.

Astrid was glad she’d paid attention in those meetings, rather than dozing off like the twins or sneaking out like Snotlout.

“Ok, we need a fire,” she stated, eyeing the dragon. Hiccup always insisted the dragon was far more intelligent than most…but by just how much? “Toothless, I need you to collect firewood.”

The dragon tilted its head at her. 

“Ugh!” She swept her eyes around frantically, spotting some driftwood on the beach. She pointed at it. “Get more!”

The dragon blinked, but took off without further prompting. She only hoped he’d understood the request.

“You too,” she called to Stormfly, motioning for the Nadder to follow the other dragon.

Astrid returned her attention to the boy. “Ok,” she murmured, heart racing. She couldn’t afford to wait for the dragons to return, so she began stripping off her outer layers until she was left in her wrappings and her leggings. “Please let this work.”

She tugged off his wet tunic and paused for a moment, eyeing his soaked trousers with hesitation. Blushing, she forced herself to continue until he was left in just his underclothes. Awkwardness be damned, his life was at stake.

She pulled him flush against her side, gritting her teeth at the chill of his skin. She rubbed a hand up and down his arm, hoping the friction would help warm him faster.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, but there was no venom in her tone, only worry. 

A pile of sticks fell beside her, startling her. She yelped, flinching back. 

Toothless landed beside them, eyes darting between her eyes and the wood pile as if looking for approval. 

She smiled, “Great job, Toothless. Now can you get it a light?”

The dragon preened for a moment before shooting a single plasma blast at the stack. In seconds, a fire blazed away.

Astrid dragged Hiccup as close as she dared, hoping the heat would be enough to restore him.

Stormfly landed minutes later, dropping another pile of wood on Astrid’s other side. Toothless was quick to ignite it, this time without being asked. Soon, Astrid found herself cradling her friend between two roaring fires.

Toothless whined again, pawing at the ground.

Dragons were known for their warmth. “Come here, Toothless!” 

When the Night Fury approached, Astrid directed him to lie down. She shifted Hiccup’s weight so that he rested against the dragon’s side. Then, she guided one of his wings down to cocoon the rider. 

“Keep him warm,” she instructed, pushing to her feet. Now shivering herself, she dressed quickly by the fire. 

His clothes were soaked, so she laid them out as close to the fires as she dared. It wouldn’t do him any good to don the waterlogged clothing again. If anything, once night fell, they’d only serve to cause a relapse in his symptoms. 

Calling Stormfly over, she braced herself against the dragon’s side. She positioned herself so that she was facing Toothless, wanting to keep a close eye on the dragon in case Hiccup awoke. 

Worry gnawed at her gut and she just hoped she hadn’t been too late to find him.

Chapter Text

The boy was ghostly pale. Propped up on pillows and swaddled in blankets, he looked both small and fragile nestled in the healer’s bed.

Stoick watched him intently, having barely budged from his seat since entering the hut. When Astrid had come to his door, he’d expected to find his son at her side. They’d both been absent for the closing ceremony, and he’d suspected they’d been off somewhere alone together. 

They’d seemed pretty cozy at the revel. 

Instead, he’d found her standing on his doorstep alone. Her expression had been grave as she rushed to explain that Hiccup was with Gothi, receiving treatment. 

He hadn’t pushed for details in his rush to pull on his boots, nor had she leapt to provide them. Instead she’d urged him to hurry, stressing that she wanted to return to his side as soon as possible. Stoick had been quick to agree, setting a fast face along the streets that lead to the elder’s home.

Berk was quiet, as the days of festivities had thoroughly worn out the village. Aside from a few stragglers leaving the main hall, it appeared everyone had retired to their homes for the night.

The light from Gothi’s hut shone like a beacon, beckoning them closer with every stride. 

Stoick barely remembered to knock, his own nerves screaming at him to just push through the door and find his son. Luckily, Gothi did not make them wait long, swinging the door open and standing aside to allow them past her. 

He’d been shocked to find the boy unconscious. Stoick had been expecting an open wound or perhaps a burn from the Night Fury. Instead, he’d been informed that there was no outward injury. Instead, Hiccup’s internal system was to blame.

“What do you mean, he can’t regulate his temperature?” He asked, having never heard of such a thing in all his years.

Astrid frowned, eyes remaining locked on Hiccup. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you,” she admitted, sounding frustrated. “He’s such an idiot sometimes…”

“Astrid.”

“Sorry,” she said, face flushing, “I’ll tell you what I know, but it might not be everything. After all, if he kept things from you…it wouldn’t be a big stretch if he did for me too.”

“I understand.”

“It’s all part of Hiccup’s…side effects, from that dragon saving him as a baby,” she explained, “Dragons are reptiles, right? They’re cold-blooded, but they have that inner flame that lets them breathe fire. Without that, they’d freeze to death in our climate. From what I understand, Hiccup doesn’t have that inner flame.”

Stoick blinked, taken aback by the revelation. “You mean to say that he’s cold-blooded like some sort of reptile?”

“Like a dragon, yes."

A scratching sound drew attention to Gothi, who had scrawled out a comment with her staff.

Based on his condition and vitals, I believe this to be true.

Stoick inhaled sharply, processing the healer’s confirmation. It seemed his boy was more dragon than he’d been led to believe. Every time he thought he knew the extent of his son’s condition, another surprise rocked his understanding. 

“Will he be okay, Gothi?” Astrid asked anxiously, gaze still fixed on the elder. “I did everything we were taught for hypothermia prevention, but since he’s not really like everyone else…”

Gothi reached out a hand, squeezing the girl’s arm in reassurance. She bobbed her head in a quick nod before writing out a quick message.

He will take time to fully recover, but he will survive. You did well.

“You saved my son,” realized Stoick. He’d been so focused on his son’s current condition, he’d nearly forgotten what could have happened. “Thank you, Astrid. I am in your debt.”

Astrid waved him off, looking uncomfortable. “There’s no debt,” she insisted. “I care about him too, I couldn’t let anything happen to him.”

Stoick arched an eyebrow, suspicions confirmed that there was something brewing between the warrior and his son.

Astrid cleared her throat, voice taking on a more guarded tone “besides, if anything, Hiccup and I are even now – he saved me during a raid, back when we barely knew each other. It’s about time I pay him back for that.”

If not for a slight waver in her voice, Stoick would have accepted the words. Instead, he felt another swell of gratitude for the girl. He was happy that Hiccup had found someone who cared so deeply about him. 

He’d always been impressed by Astrid. She’d proven herself as a warrior many times over, and her dependability in her heir trials had been top notch. Yet, in all the time he’d known her, he’d never seen this more vulnerable, modest side of her before.

“...ugh…”

Stoick pushed himself to his feet quickly, rushing to his son’s side. “Hiccup?”

The young man groaned, slowly drawing his eyes open. Stoick had never been so happy to see those unusual eyes.

Hiccup blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings with clear confusion. “Huh…what happened? Wait, how did I get here?”

“You almost froze to death,” said Astrid from her place beside Stoick. “I found you passed out on the beach.”

Hiccup sat up slowly, lips turning down into a frown. “I passed out? Gods, that’s embarrassing.”

“Try terrifying ,” corrected Astrid, irritation creeping into her voice. “Or better yet, stupid. What possessed you to just take off like that if you were clearly having a problem? If I hadn’t gone looking for you when I did, you could have died.”

“I didn’t want–” Hiccup’s eyes briefly flickered over to meet Stoick’s, voice cutting off.

“You didn’t want me to know?” Guessed Stoick, troubled by the revelation. Had he given his son reason to believe he couldn’t be trusted with the information?

Hiccup shifted, looking uncomfortable. 

It was as good as any verbal confirmation.

Stoick felt his heart sink, fixing his gaze to the floor. He supposed he hadn’t earned that level of trust just yet – they’d only just begun to connect, after all. Blood ties didn’t change the fact that they’d been little more than strangers not long ago.

“What happened?” Astrid cut in, voice still sharp. “With how often you fly, the wind couldn’t have been enough to set you off like that.”

“It was the water. I…fell.” 

Hiccup’s voice wavered on the last word, sounding more like a question than an explanation. Stoick’s eyes snapped up to search his face, seeing the tension in his son’s features.

“You fell overboard?” Astrid asked, voice incredulous. 

Hiccup just grunted in response, focusing on untangling himself from the mound of blankets. His jaw was clenched, but otherwise his expression seemed neutral. Too neutral, considering the circumstances. 

There was something Hiccup wasn’t saying.

More secrets, thought Stoick with dread. As much as he wanted to coax the answer out of his son, he worried that pushing him now would not end well. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” he said instead, moving to help Hiccup to his feet. “Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

As Stoick steered his son towards the door, he met Astrid’s eyes. A silent agreement passed between them. This matter was not yet settled.

Hiccup’s room at the Haddock house was slowly beginning to feel like home. Though it lacked the familiarity of the Bewilderbeast’s nest, he had grown to see it as his own place. He could let his guard down within those walls, knowing that he would not be bothered by the outside world.

After helping him with the stairs, Stoick had given him space to recover. It was a relief to no longer have to see the worry and fear in his father’s eyes. 

Just how much of that fear was rooted in the revelation that Hiccup was cold-blooded? The rational side of him knew Stoick had been rattled by his brush with death, but there was another part of him that couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow disappointed the man. That knowing his changes went so deep would be the revelation that had the chief reconsidering his decision to welcome Hiccup to Berk. 

This was it. The event that could determine if Hiccup was human enough to have a place amongst the tribe.

Toothless, curled beside the bed, picked up on his unease. With a whine, the dragon lifted his head and rested it on Hiccup’s legs. His big green eyes were wide as he surveyed his rider with concern.

Hiccup wanted to comfort his companion, but he found his chest was too tight to get the words out. The last of the tremors had stopped, but his entire body felt like it had been wrung out. He was exhausted, sore and filled with uncertainty.

Still, he laid a hand on the Night Fury’s head, taking whatever reassurance he could get from the familiar feeling of the scales beneath his palm.

In a single act of aggression, Mildew had undone the tenuous progress Hiccup had made in feeling safe in the village. 

Hiccup hadn’t told anyone about the man’s actions, fearing that in doing so he’d only bring more attention his way. If Stoick made a big deal about the events of the day, Hiccup could be inviting a larger target onto his back. Mildew had friends, and he’d been part of the village longer than Hiccup had even been alive. Speaking against him didn’t seem wise.

He leaned back against the stack of pillows, trying to relax the tension from his muscles. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the steady sound of his dragon’s breath. 

Boom!

Just as he’d started to drift off, a loud blast pierced the night. 

Hiccup flinched, jerking himself upright. His heart was racing as he looked around, trying to make sense of the loud noise.  

There were shouts coming from the village below. Hiccup pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself before heading to the window that faced town. 

Berk was a flurry of movement, a crowd of warriors racing through the streets. Each moved with grim, practiced determination. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

A bell sounded off in the distance, and many warriors changed direction. Hiccup could see a line forming at the forge as warriors collected their weapons from Gobber’s care. He knew from his time working there that many hadn’t even been serviced yet, so he wondered why they would gather them now.

There was a creak from below as his father shouldered out the front door, entering the fray. 

“Light the towers!” The chief commanded, “Take your stations!”

A trio of towers caught fire as they were raised up into the sky. Soon, Berk was bathed in their warm glow. Above them, Hiccup could pick up dark shapes in the sky. His mouth dropped open in surprise when he recognized them for what they were.

Dragons. Berk was preparing for the arrival of many, many dragons. 

Berk was full of dragon killers .

Hiccup swallowed hard, forcing his aching legs towards his bedroom door. He knew Berk had suffered greatly at the hands of dragons, but he couldn’t sit idly by and watch them be slaughtered. He understood dragons in a way that the tribe did not…perhaps he could stop the fighting somehow.

Toothless warbled at him in alarm, moving to block the doorway. The Night Fury’s protective streak had always been endearing, but now it filled Hiccup with exasperation. 

“Bud, c’mon you’ve got to move.” He urged, trying to shoo his dragon to the side. “I’m fine! I need to try to stop this!”

Toothless growled, raising his wings in defiance.

A scream came from below, drawing Hiccup’s attention back to the window. One of the huts across the way had caught fire, and a large Monstrous Nightmare was crawling over the blazing roof. It sagged under the dragon’s weight, shaking dangerously with each step. 

His keen eyes could just pick up the shape of a woman in the window, no doubt the source of the terrified scream. 

There was a terrible snapping sound. 

Hiccup’s heart caught in his chest as he realized what was about to happen. He watched in horror as the roof suddenly collapsed inward, the burning timber falling and burying the woman inside. Her screams cut off.

“Gods…”

“Each of us has suffered personally at the hands of dragons. We’ve all grown up to associate such eyes with death.” 

Astrid’s words resurfaced in his mind. This was what a raid meant to the people of Berk. This was their experience with dragons.

More and more dragons descended on the village, setting fire to homes and prowling the streets like predators. Many were held back by the tribe, but some slipped through their ranks and made their way deeper into the village.

Hiccup knew they were after livestock. He knew that their actions were driven by a deep fear of their bloodthirsty queen. Yet, that knowledge did very little to ease the pain of watching them blindly ransack the village that he’d gotten to know.

It was almost…scary. 

He’d never thought of dragons that way before. They’d been friends, even family to him for as long as he could remember. Dragons were a comfort, not a fear.

Even after Astrid had taken him to Berk’s memorial site, he’d not fully grasped the reality of their situation. It was one thing to hear about tragedy. It was something else entirely to witness it. To see firsthand how the village had come to view dragons the way that they did.

A pit formed in his stomach as he watched the battle below. There was really nothing he could do to stop something of this magnitude, even if he had time to plan. 

He’d never felt so helpless.

Chapter Text

In the aftermath of the raid, Berk was quiet. 

All fires had long since been put out, and the bodies of the fallen had been retrieved. Grief reigned over the village as the residents carefully took stock of what had been lost. 

The damage was extensive. It would take weeks to rebuild what had been lost in only a matter of hours. Four homes had been entirely reduced to rubble and ash, while many others sustained smaller burns.

Debris littered the streets, making it difficult to navigate through the town. Pieces of housing and broken weapons were strewn about everywhere, creating hazards where they had fallen. 

A few dragons had been slain, and their bodies had yet to be moved from where they’d perished. Berkians skirted around them, giving the carcuses a wide berth as if they half expected the creatures to jerk back to life at any moment.

Gobber nodded solemnly at the villagers he passed on the way to his stall. This was nothing new for Berk, but the familiarity never did not take away from the pain of it all. No matter how many times they endured a raid, that sharp sting of grief never dulled. 

His stall had remained mostly intact throughout the fight. The roof was singed and the door was dented inward, but it had held through the fight. He was grateful, as there had been moments where he’d feared that it would go up in flames. If the forge was lost, it would very likely cripple the village. Without properly maintained weaponry, they had few ways to defend themselves against the constant threat they faced.

He’d only managed to get a few hours of sleep after the dragons had finally left, but he suspected that was more than most of the tribe. He’d seen more than a few haunted expressions over the course of his walk. 

A pile of weapons was already stacked against the side of the stall. It was routine at this point for villagers to collect and deposit any that they found at his doorway. They would be properly claimed and distributed later, when the dust from the raid had truly settled. 

Gobber eyed it with resignation. It would likely take him all week to run through the tasks ahead of him, and that didn’t include any of the more urgent needs that may pop up in that town. He’d be needed for pieces of the home repair work as well, and there was no telling what other issues could crop up as the damage was fully assessed.

He wished he could go up to Stoick’s place and enlist his new apprentice to help, but he’d heard that the boy had been rushed to Gothi’s hut sometime before the raid. It appeared Hiccup was dealing with his own set of troubles, and a sick apprentice could hinder more than help.

He brought his hand up to his face, trying in vain to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. It was time to get to work.

What Hiccup had seen from the window hadn’t prepared him for the sight of the damage up close. As he ventured down the path to town, he was horrified by the sheer amount of ash that clung to every surface. It had fallen over the streets and buildings like a heavy blanket, suffocating everything beneath.

It was as if the entire village had been scorched.

When he spotted the first dead dragon, his stomach lurched. The Nadder’s glazed over eye seemed to stare directly into his soul, its mouth stretch wide into one final scream. The dirt beneath it was stained red, dried blood appearing to have leaked from the large gash across its side.

Hiccup staggered to the side of the street, bracing himself on a fencepost as he spilled the contents of his stomach. 

This was a horror unlike anything he’d ever seen before. 

“Of course he sympathizes with the dragon.”

The voice wasn’t nearby, but Hiccup heard it as loud and clear as if the speaker stood beside him. There was no question it was directed at him. 

He tried to tune it out, focusing on gathering his bearings once more. He wiped the sleeve of his tunic across his mouth, wishing he had a cup of water to rinse out his mouth.

“...cares more about them than the tribe, I’d wager.”

“What did you expect? He was raised by them.” 

“...Hel, he’s practically one of them himself!”

One of them.

For the first time in his life, Hiccup wasn’t sure he wanted to be seen as one of the dragons. They’d wrought so much destruction and violence on the village, it contradicted everything he’d believed about the dragons growing up. Yet, the butchered Nadder before him reinforced his belief that he was no viking. He could not condone the carnage on either side. He straddled the line between the two, but now found that neither group was truly his. He was an oddity, an exception. 

He did not belong.

Hiccup closed his eyes, sucking in a short breath. He needed to get it together quickly, or he’d be giving the villagers more fuel to use against him. 

“Hey,” this voice was closer and much more familiar. A hand settled gently on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Hiccup exhaled sharply, twisting to face Astrid. He hoped that he at least looked more collected than he felt when he replied. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Not for a minute.”

He snorted, unsurprised by her blunt response. Careful not to look at it again, he gestured to the fallen dragon. “This…this is a lot.”

Astrid hummed, squeezing his shoulder once before letting go. “No one ever warns you that sometimes the aftermath is worse than the fight itself.”

It was true. He’d known the raids were rough – he’d seen a few from the air. However, he’d always been long gone before they ended. He’d never had to witness the cleanup…to see the real loss that was left behind.

“How bad was it?” He asked, mind flashing back to the woman he’d seen in the collapsing home. He hoped there hadn’t been any other losses.

“Bad,” admitted Astrid, expression grave. “Six dead and another dozen injured. Gothi’s got her hands full treating some major burns today.”

“...is that…normal? For a raid?”

“This one was worse than usual,” she said, “there’s usually a lot of building damage and some minor wounds. This time, they attacked us a lot harder. It was like they were somehow angrier or something.”

“She’s getting hungrier,” realized Hiccup with dread. “More desperate.”

“The queen?”

Hiccup nodded, “She’s got to be pushing them harder, forcing them to escalate the attacks.”

Astrid frowned, eyebrows drawn together in worry. “Does that mean they’ll attack again, sooner than usual? I’m not sure the tribe can take another hit right now.”

He wished that he could reassure her, that he could promise this had been a one-off event. He also knew it would feel like a lie. If the dragons were increasing the intensity of the raids, it was likely to continue to get worse…not better.

His lack of answer was enough for Astrid, whose shoulders slumped in defeat. “We’ve got to warn the chief.”

Gobber hadn’t been expecting visitors.

He’d expected to receive more requests for repairs, of course, but not for anyone to stop by to speak with him. When he noticed a shadow fall over him, he hadn’t bothered turning around. Instead, he pointed to the pile of projects to be addressed and directed the tribesman to add whatever they’d brought to it.

The shadow hadn’t wavered.

“Gobber.”

Hearing the chief’s voice, the blacksmith raised an eyebrow. He set aside his tools carefully, turning to face the man with surprise. “Don’ ya ‘ave better things to do than visit my stall?”

In times like these, leadership was valued above all. Seeing Stoick active in the community, facilitating repairs did wonders for the village morale. All that considered, stopping into the forge to chat felt like a strange misuse of time.

“This is no social call.”

“Oh?”

“Hiccup…has shared some concerns that last night’s attack may be the start of a bigger problem. He believes they are about to get worse.”

Worse than that night?

Gobber felt his stomach turn, the hot air in the forge suddenly becoming more oppressive. He leaned back against his workbench, steadying himself against it. 

“He suspects that the queen of the nest is growing more demanding,” explained Stoick, wringing his hands together. “If that’s the case, there will be more raids…and they will take more from us by any force necessary.”

“There’s barely anythin’ left to take,” said Gobber, remembering the sorry state of the livestock pens. “A few more raids like last nigh’ and there’ll be no sheep left on th’ island!”

“If they can no longer take livestock…”

Oh.

Gobber grimaced. “I get the idea. Without th’ sheep, it’s gonna be Viking on th’ queen’s menu.”

“I don’t want to alarm the tribe, but we have to plan for the possibility,” said Stoick with resignation. He nodded towards the pile of broken weaponry. “We’ll need to be prepared to fight again soon, but I fear it won’t be enough.”

Gobber nodded, his own anxiety spiking. The raid had taken a lot out of everyone, both physically and emotionally. The thought that it could somehow get worse did not fill him with a lot of confidence. The people of Berk would fight bravely for their home and their families, but even they had a limit to how much they could withstand.

 He was reminded of an earlier conversation he’d had with his friend. 

“Stoick,” he said, broaching the subject with hesitation. “It may be time to ask Hiccup to lead us to th’ nest. If we can eliminate this queen, we may stand a chance o’ stopping th’ problem before it gets any worse.”

“He’d never agree to it.

“Ask. If there’s one thing I’ve learned abou’ that boy, it’s tha’ ‘e has a way of surprisin’ ya.”

“We’ve discussed this!”

Gobber shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. “Ya didn’ want to push him when ya first brought him here,” he corrected. “It’s been weeks. The boy cares abou’ Berk. ‘e doesn’ want us blown off th’ map any more than we do.”

“If it means turning against dragons–”

“I’d reckin’ it saves dragons,” Gobber argued, narrowing his eyes at the chief. “If they don’ attack, we don’ fight back. No more dead dragons in Berk. Tha’s somethin’ he’s sure to get behind.”

“I don’t know.”

There was a moment of silence, fractured by the clearing of a throat. Standing at the stall’s open window was Hiccup. Narrowed pupils betrayed his internal distress, but his voice was calm when he spoke. 

“I’ll do it. I’ll lead you to the nest.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Hiccup appreciated Astrid’s concern, but he didn’t allow himself to linger for long on the question. If he allowed himself any more time to question his choice, he wasn’t sure that he’d have the resolve to go through with it.

Instead, he focused on shoving his meager belongings into the old saddlebag, unsure what exactly would be needed in the days ahead. Better to be overprepared than to be taken off guard later.

“Hiccup.”  

“I have to,” he replied, fastening the straps of the bag into place with a final tug. Satisfied that they were tight enough, he threw the bag over his shoulder. The familiar weight of it took him back to simpler times. Times when staying out of sight was his only concern and he’d felt no sense of obligation towards any village or viking.

Things had changed so drastically since those times.

“That’s not true and you know it.” Astrid was leaning against his bedroom wall, arms crossed against her chest. “You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to face this queen.”

“I still don’t want to,” he answered truthfully, taking a few steps closer to her. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have to do it. Things are only going to get worse, and if I do nothing Berk doesn’t stand a chance! If I keep the queen’s location secret, whatever happens next is at least partly my fault.”

He didn’t want to be responsible for the loss of this village. He didn’t want the blood of his friends and family on his hands because he refused to give them a fighting chance.

Astrid softened, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “Hey…none of this is your fault,” she reminded him gently. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of the queen.”

“But what if–”

“No.” Astrid didn’t let him finish, tightening her grip and pulling him in for a kiss. 

His brain flatlined for a moment, unable to process anything but Astrid at that time. When she pulled away, he found himself feeling breathless. The fears that he’d been about to express were by no means forgotten, but they had been pushed down further into his mind.  

“You can’t blame yourself for things you can’t control,” she reminded him, keeping hold of his arm. “You do know that, right?”

Hiccup hummed noncommittally, eyes drawn back down to her lips. 

Lips that slowly twisted into a grin when she noticed the source of his attention. With a chuckle, she released his arm and reached out to tip his face upwards so that his eyes met hers once more. 

“I’m serious, Hiccup,” she insisted, “I understand that you feel like you need to do this. I do. But, whatever happens with the queen – whether you lead Berk to the nest or not – is not your fault. You can’t put the weight of the archipelago on your shoulders like that, okay? You’re only human, after all.”

He snorted, raising his eyebrows. 

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe that was a poor choice of words,” she corrected. “You’re mostly human, after all.”

“I mean, we don’t really know the exact percentage–”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he challenged with a smirk, closing the gap between them once more.

Astrid gave him a considering look before her own face split into a grin. Without warning, she punched him in the shoulder, “Don’t push your luck, dragon boy.” She warned, stepping around him and towards the door.

A low warble of concern drew Hiccup’s attention to the corner, where Toothless watched him with wide eyes. The Night Fury’s eyes flickered between the doorway Astrid had disappeared through and back to his rider.

“What are you looking at?” He asked the dragon, embarrassed that he’d somehow forgotten they had an audience.

Toothless huffed, resting his head on his paws once more. The dragon closed his eyes, wrapping his dark tailfins in front of his face.

“No more napping. It’s time to get up, you useless reptile,” teased Hiccup and he walked over to prod the Night Fury with his foot. He nodded towards the doorway. “We’ve got a queen to find.”

Toothless grumbled, not moving an inch from his makeshift bed.

Stubborn as always, thought Hiccup with fondness.

A year ago, if someone had told Stoick that he’d allow an unrestrained dragon onboard one of his ships, he’d have thought it was a joke. A mad joke, but a joke all the same.

Somehow the arrival of such a day had come, and it was no laughing matter. A Night Fury had boarded his ship, welcomed as a guest rather than a prisoner. 

A part of Stoick was still uneasy with the development, despite weeks of allowing that very dragon to live within his own home. Though he’d never seen Toothless threaten anyone or anything within his village, years of battle experience made it impossible to dismiss the possibility that it could happen.

In his home, the dragon mostly kept to Hiccup’s loft when he was there – largely out of the sight of the chief. Otherwise, the Night Fury seemed intent on following his son wherever he may be at the time, acting like an extra shadow for the young man. Whenever their paths crossed throughout the day, Toothless was never more than a few strides away.

It was only his son’s clear love of the beast that kept Stoick calm in those encounters. There was a bond there that was undeniable and it seemed that the dragon did genuinely care for his boy. As long as the two were together, the Night Fury appeared calm and collected.

Stoick only feared how the dragon would act if separated from Hiccup. There was no guarantee that their plans would go perfectly. It was not far outside the realm of possibilities that the dragon could end up on its own at some point…and how it would react to such circumstances was simply an unknown.

A mission like the one they were about to undertake could not afford to have unknowns. Yet, they were taking a gamble that Toothless could be trusted in battle. 

“Hey.”

Stoick dragged his attention away from the dragon, meeting a different set of reptilian eyes. These he was much more comfortable with, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly get used to the sight.

Hiccup nodded towards his dragon, “We need a dragon to find the nest.” 

Stoick knew that, but it didn’t make the reality easier to accept. In fact, it sounded outright ridiculous no matter how many times he heard it. “So you’ve said. Many times.”

“Believe me, Toothless is not the dragon that you need to worry about. Save it for the queen.”

Stoick nodded, lips pressing together in a thin line. If his son, a man who loved most dragons like family, saw this queen as a monster…she had to be something beyond what they’d ever faced on Berk. Something more than the beasts that had plagued his home for generations.

It wasn’t a comforting thought. 

Hiccup seemed unusually tense too, almost more so than when he had been introduced to the village. This new quest somehow terrified the young man more than facing an entire tribe of vikings, and Stoick couldn’t help but wonder why. His boy was twitchy, strung out like a bow that was about to snap at the slightest pressure.

This was not a case of typical pre-battle nerves. This level of fear almost seemed personal. 

“Hiccup,” he found himself asking with a sinking feeling, “have you faced this queen before?”

“Define ‘faced.’”

“Hiccup.”

His son grimaced, grasping the side of the ship and staring out at the ocean. “We’ve…met. I don’t like to think about it.”

“Why not?”

Hiccup shook his head, “you need to leave this one alone, okay?”

Stoick wanted to grant his son’s request, but something told him that this piece of the puzzle was important. He pressed on, determined for answers. “What you’re not saying could mean the difference between loss and victory, son. It could save lives. I need to know what happened.”

“No,” Hiccup’s voice was firm, resolute. “What happened to me then isn’t a threat to you. Keeping this from you doesn’t put any vikings in harm’s way.”

Stoick’s curiosity continued to grow. What had occurred that had his son so determined to keep the memory buried from everyone?

“But–”

“No.”

Hiccup was gone before Stoick could insist any further.

Astrid couldn’t sleep. The tossing of the waves made it impossible to find a comfortable position aboard the ship, and her mind churned with too many thoughts to allow her any real rest.

Giving up, she made her way above deck. Perhaps some fresh air and time below the stars would help clear her mind and allow her to relax. It would at the very least give her a break from the symphony of snores.

She was only somewhat surprised to find the deck was already occupied. Hiccup and Toothless were silhouetted at the front of the ship, faces turned towards the oncoming waves. The dragon appeared to be asleep, with Hiccup leaning his weight against the Night Fury’s side. 

Though she’d tried to be quiet on the ladder, Hiccup must have heard her approaching footsteps on deck. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He asked without turning.

She dropped down beside him, pulling her legs to her chest. “A bit. You?”

He hummed in response, gaze fixed on the horizon. The moonlight reflecting off of his eyes reminded her of similar meetings held beneath the stars, back when the knowledge that Berk’s heir lived had been her secret to keep. 

“You once said the queen could level our forces in a single shot,” recalled Astrid, biting her lip. “Every time I close my eyes and try to sleep, I picture it happening. Seeing everyone we know and love wiped out in seconds.”

That got Hiccup’s full attention. He shifted to face her, placing a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry I told you that,” he said, looking guilty. “I wish I could say that I was exaggerating…”

“...but you’re not.”

“Yeah.”

Astrid sighed, feeling weighed down by the confirmation. “I guess it’s better to know,” she admitted. “Going in blind to face something like that would be so much worse. I wouldn’t want to underestimate her.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” agreed Hiccup, eyes growing distant as he reflected on a memory. “It won't be easy…but we’ve got a good plan. I’ve got to believe that means we have a chance.”

Astrid felt a traitorous spike of doubt in the pit of her stomach. The plan was good in theory, but it wasn’t foolproof. There were so many things that could go wrong facing this new type of enemy. A small mistake could cost dozens of lives.

“Yeah,” she agreed without confidence. “A stupid plan.”

“I wouldn’t say stupid.”

“Fine,” she agreed, arching an eyebrow. “A crazy plan.”

Hiccup laughed, losing some of the tension in his face as he did. He looked worn, she noticed, like the very thought of what was to come had drained the life from him. “At this point, crazy’s all I’ve got,” he said, voice nearly a whisper, “I just hope it’s enough.”

Astrid shuffled over to him, leaning against his side. 

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

Generations of Berkians had wasted days, ships and warriors in the seemingly endless quest to find the elusive nest. It was a sore subject that every member of the tribe knew well, garnering a reputation as a sort of legendary location. 

Like all legends, it had begun to take on a life of its own over time. Since no one had ever actually seen the island, there was no way to know for certain what could be found on its shores. That being said, storytellers had crafted a certain image over the centuries that continued to be embellished with each retelling. 

Some spoke of wide rivers of lava while others insisted there was a thick forest of thorns surrounding it. Most renditions agreed that the beaches were made up of finely ground bones rather than sand. They said that any stain found upon them was a hint of the blood of those taken by dragons.

Stoick used to wonder if Valka’s blood could be found scattered across those shores. It had been a relief to learn that the Stormcutter had taken her to another nest, one that Hiccup claimed to be a peaceful settlement. If such a thing were even possible.

Those legends were top of mind for Stoick as he caught sight of the unfamiliar island looming ahead. As promised, Toothless had safely steered his crews through the dangerous waters of Helheim’s Gate. Now, the people of Berk would be able to do what the ancestors never could. 

They’d be able to bring the fight to the nest.

On first glance, the island itself was…a bit underwhelming. The cliffside was large and imposing enough, but on first glance it appeared utterly lifeless. No plants seem to grow anywhere in sight, making the whole thing appear desolate – more like the husk of an island than a proper one.

It was ominous in a way, but more in the sense of something that had been long abandoned. The feeling was emphasized by the eerie silence that seemed to hang over the place as they approached land. Where were the sounds of the inhabitants? 

It didn’t take much observation to figure out that the giant lava streams and imposing thorny barriers were nothing more than myths. Most importantly, there wasn’t a single dragon in sight.

Stoick frowned, squinting at the rock wall more closely. Surely there had to be something on this island? 

“Hiccup,” he eventually called out when he was unable to find a trace of life. “Are you sure this is the place.”

“I’m sure,” responded his son, voice clipped. 

As they’d gotten closer to the nest, most of the crew had grown more anxious about the projected battle ahead. Yet, none of them held a candle to the agitation that had been building up in his son. It had started with slow pacing and evolved into near hyperventilation when they’d turned the final corner.

Astrid had intervened at that point, dragging him over to stand beside him along the rail of the ship. Her presence seemed to take some of the edge off, as it no longer seemed like Hiccup was teetering on the edge of a panic attack, but the distress was still clear in his expression. Stoick suspected this was related to whatever his son refused to divulge about his experience with the queen.

“Maybe they moved?” Suggested Gobber, scratching his chin. 

“No, she’s here.” 

“You seem awfully sure about that,” noted Stoick, wondering where the conviction was coming from.

Hiccup nodded, voice grim as he explained, “She’s gotten far too big to leave the inside of the volcano on her own. At least, not without knocking a big hole in it. Believe me, we’d know.”

Stoick raised an eyebrow, surveying the giant peak that loomed above them with skepticism. A structure that large was bound to have a large opening at the top, wide enough to allow multiple Monstrous Nightmares to fly through at once. 

Could any single dragon truly be big enough to not clear such a gap?

As if sensing his disbelief, Hiccup spoke up again. “She’s like nothing you’ve ever seen or faced before,” he insisted. “You can’t even imagine – the thing inside that volcano is a monster.”

Gobber scoffed, shaking his head. “I kno’ ya aren’t big on hearin’ abou’ our dragon killin’ ways," he said. “But ya need to understand – we’ve faced all sorts o’ beasts over the years. We kno’ wha’ we’re doin’.”

“Aye,” agreed Stoick, trying to give his son a reassuring smile. The tension in the air made it hard to achieve, leaving his expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace. “Gobber’s right. Berk’s warriors are the most well-trained, seasoned experts at fighting dragons. We can handle this queen.”

“...just doesn’t listen, does he?” Though the words were whispered, most likely intended only for Astrid’s ears, Stoick heard them loud and clear. 

“My ears are just fine,” he remarked, crossing his arms. 

Ingrid Hofferson had carefully avoided any quests for the nest throughout her life. The ships rarely returned, and those taking on such a pilgrimage often met the same fate. As a teen, she’d had little interest in the glory it promised. As an adult, she’d felt an obligation to stay on Berk and protect her family rather than seek out an impossible place. 

She’d sworn never to take part…and yet she now stood aboard a ship bound for that exact destination. 

She and Agnar had quickly agreed that if Astrid was to take part in the journey, they would follow suit. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been room on the chief’s ship for them to sail beside her. Instead, they’d been relegated to one of the secondary ships, only seeing their daughter from afar.

Ingrid watched her now, taking in the sight of the blonde leaning against their tribe’s heir. He wasn’t the type of suitor she would have chosen for her daughter, but she wasn’t blind enough to deny that something was developing there. 

Even the most stubborn viking knew that fighting fate was unwise.

The Haddock boy looked troubled, posture drawn in and muscles tight. He was bracing himself against the side of the ship, one hand covered by Astrid’s own. 

Her daughter appeared more confident, standing tall beside the young man. She’d always been brave in the face of danger, Ingrid noted with pride. Though perhaps she was just hiding her nerves better. After all, the girl had apparently forgotten her arm wrappings, leaving her skin bare against the wind’s chill. A sloppy mistake like that could speak to her own inner turmoil.

Stoick and Gobber stood across from the pair. The four were deep in conversation, and where Hiccup seemed anxious, the chief seemed irritated.

Ingrid would have loved to know what they were discussing. 

She was forced to tear her eyes away from the scene when the call came to bring the ship onto shore. Every viking was needed to accomplish such a feat, and she’d need to take her station quickly to ensure a smooth process.

The ship was steered off to the right, putting distance between itself and the rest. It had been Stoick’s son who made the suggestion that they fan out and create multiple targets, rather than just one. It was a strange plan in Ingrid’s eyes, as she’d always been taught to believe that strength lay in numbers above all.

The worst part was that she could see why he’d made the recommendation – in fact, she was even a little impressed . This was a very clever strategy to exploit, one that she’d never have expected from a child of the wilderness.

Perhaps she had underestimated the young man.

“Ugh – you know what the only thing worse than a wet sock is?” Ruffnut asked with a groan, just moments after dropping down into the surf.

“Do tell us, sister.”

“A wet shoe with no wet sock.”

Tuffnut snorted, “forgetting to pack your socks on a quest? That’s such a newbie move, Ruff. Luckily. I’m prepared – see!”

Gobber hummed, listening to the conversation with rapt attention. “Ya see, I knew we had a troll problem! But, does anyone ever listen?” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Oi, lass – is it the left sock missin’?”

“How’d you know?”

“Gobber,” Tuffnut’s voice had dropped to an awed whisper. “Are you psychic?”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, trying his best to tune out the exchange. Trust the twins to be more preoccupied with a missing sock than the dangers ahead. He only hoped they’d be able to concentrate on the real problem when the time came. 

His father appeared to share his thoughts, leaning over the rail to address the duo. “This is not the time for such foolishness,” he scolded, “you need to take this more seriously or you’ll have to remain aboard the ship.”

Gobber looked properly chastised by the criticism, stepping away from the rail and excusing himself to assist with efforts to unload the catapults. 

The twins waited just long enough for Stock to retreat to start bickering once more.

Toothless warbled from Hiccup’s side, watching the interaction with wide eyes. He nudged persistently against his rider’s side until the young man finally reached over to scratch at his scales. 

“It’s okay bud,” comforted Hiccup. “They’re just playing.”

Splash!

He couldn’t hold back the laugh as a waterlogged Tuffnut scrambled back to his feet. 

“...now you have two wet socks!”

“At least I have socks!”

Toothless grunted, drawing Hiccup’s attention. The Night Fury looked exasperated, shooting a glance down at the surf and then back up at his rider.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he said, though he was becoming less convinced the more he witnessed.

He needed to believe that Ruffnut and Tuffnut could do their part. There were so many variables to consider, and he was placing a lot of trust in the twins to be able to act when the time came. If they fell short, it could blow a hole in the plan that wouldn’t be easy to patch.

The ship had begun to thin out and Hiccup figured it was time for him to join the others on the beach. The location had haunted his nightmares for years and just the thought of the sand beneath his feet made his stomach turn.

He’d vowed never to return to this cursed place.

Hiccup swallowed hard, trying to force the lump out of his throat. There were times one had to make a sacrifice to do what was right, he supposed. Even if it meant going up against the very creature that had traumatized him years ago.

It was for the good of dragons. For the good of Berk.

He had to do it.

“Let’s get this over with,” he murmured to Toothless, leading the Night Fury towards the gangway. With every step, his legs felt heavier, as if his boots were lined with metal.

The tribe had set up an array of defenses, running the length of the beach. A dozen catapults lined the shore, the space between each filled with groups of vikings poised for battle. 

Crunch. 

Hiccup stepped onto the beach, leaving behind the comfort of the ship. Unlike the shores of Berk, the sand beneath his feet was dark and rough. It sounded like gravel moving beneath his feet.

Toothless growled as he, too, came ashore. The dragon shared Hiccup’s hatred for the island and felt no qualms about expressing that anger in front of the vikings. This was an evil place, and the memories it drew up were unpleasant to relive.

“On my signal!” 

He’s eager, observed Hiccup when he heard his father’s call. While he also sought to get through the battle as quickly as possible, he would have taken a bit longer to ensure all the warriors were prepped and confident in their roles. 

A lack of preparation could be deadly.

Hiccup took up his spot beside Astrid, exchanging a quick nod as he did. 

“Now!”

Boom!

The impact left a crater in the side of the volcano, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. The warriors closest to the hole were left coughing, trying to clear away the debris. 

Something big shifted, sending vibrations through the earth. There was a loud cracking sound, echoing through the mountain as if the ground itself had split in half. 

“Oh my gods,” whispered Astrid, hand flying up to her face.

Hiccup turned to comfort her, opening his mouth–

A dark weight settled over his mind, casting a thick and oppressive cloud over his thoughts. His body went rigid, locking him in place as if he were made of stone. 

No. No, this can’t be happening, she–

His mind went blank.

Chapter Text

The ground was shifting.

Astrid hadn’t thought it possible for the earth to shake as roughly as the ocean, but as she fought to keep her balance on the dark sand of the beach she believed that the tremors running through it could put the seas to shame.

The idea that those tremors could be traced back to one single creature was unfathomable. She’d managed to piece together a vague picture in her mind of what the queen could look like over time, but it seemed she’d miscalculated. For all Hiccup’s insistence that this beast was in a category of its own, her own experience had made her severely underestimate the scale of such a monster.

The rest of her tribe seemed to share that sentiment, shifting uneasily around her. Even though the queen had yet to show herself, there was a certain electricity from the growing fear and anticipation in the air. 

This was going to be worse than she’d originally thought. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hiccup stiffen. She knew how much he’d wanted to avoid this exact confrontation…it couldn’t be easy to see it come to fruition. She opened her mouth, turning to offer him some reassurance. 

Her mouth snapped shut once she got a good look at him. 

Hiccup stood frozen in place, as if time itself had stopped for him. He wasn’t even blinking, pupils narrowed down to the thinnest of slits. Though looking in her direction, it was clear he wasn’t seeing her at all. 

One arm was half outstretched, fingers splayed in an almost clawlike position. The other rested a few inches away from Inferno, as if he’d been just about to draw the weapon. Only the faintest rise and fall of his chest gave any sign of life. 

“Hiccup?” 

He didn’t move. He didn’t respond. Even the quaking of the earth did nothing to disrupt him.

Astrid glanced around frantically, wondering if whatever was happening to him was impacting others. It didn’t take long to determine that it was an isolated case. 

She approached him cautiously, nearly slipping in the churning sand. “Hiccup,” she repeated more insistently, reaching out to grasp his outstretched hand. 

Nothing.

“You’re scaring me,” she admitted, trying in vain to shake him out of the trance. 

It was almost like he was under some sort of thrall…oh, gods. 

A memory was pulled loose, dragging her mind back to one of their first meetings.

“I thought only other dragons could be controlled by the queen?”

“...that’s usually the rule. Guess it says a lot about how human I am, huh? I wouldn’t be much help in that fight…if anything, I’d be a liability.”

It appeared that once more, Hiccup had fallen under the queen’s spell. Astrid cursed, panic spiking in her chest. What was she supposed to do?

Hiccup had always been cagey about his time under the queen’s influence. He’d made it very clear that he did not want to discuss the events…and she’d never pushed him. 

Why hadn’t she ever pushed him?

Questions kept bubbling up. How had he broken free before? How could he break free now? Had he even considered that this could happen again?

“Hiccup!” She raised her voice, nearly shouting in his ear. “What do I do?”

Toothless whined, drawing her attention away. Unlike his rider, the Night Fury did not seem to be under the thrall. Instead, the dragon appeared deeply anxious, skirting widely around Hiccup as if he were a new danger to be assessed. 

Astrid had never seen such behavior from Toothless, especially directed towards his rider. If one of the most dangerous dragons around was wary of Hiccup now, what did that mean for the rest of them?

Craaaaaaack.

Another chunk of the mountain gave way, widening the hole that had been growing between Berk’s forces and the queen. 

Hiccup’s head snapped towards the sound, the movement unnaturally quick. His body twisted next, each motion sharp and disjointed from the rest, almost like a puppet on a string. His eyes remained glassy and unfocused, like there was no thought behind them.

As if Hiccup himself was no longer present.

Astrid released her hand, taking a cautious step back. “...um, Hiccup?”

Craaaaaack.

This tremor was louder than the rest, rocking the entire beach with a violent intensity. Astrid finally lost her balance, tumbling backwards into the sand. It scratched against her bare skin, leaving a bitter sting behind.

Toothless was at her side in moments, nudging her worriedly with his snout. She used his leg to steady herself as she forced herself back to her feet, leaning heavily on the dragon for support. 

“Thanks,” she shot the dragon a quick smile, grateful for the rescue. 

Toothless gave a quick warble of acknowledgement back before his attention shifted back to his rider. His ears flattened towards his skull, lips drawing back into the beginnings of a snarl. Despite his clear discomfort, the Night Fury did not retreat any further. It appeared his fear did not outweigh his love of his rider.

CRACK!

A new sound, more intense than the others, echoed across the beach. For a moment, the tremors ceased and silence descended on the island.

The spell was broken as a dragon’s roar rang out, a sound louder than anything Astrid had ever heard before. The timbre was deep and as it boomed, Astrid swore she could feel it rattle in her bones.

Stoick gaped as the queen broke through the mountain side. Towering over the warriors, her sheer size made him feel like an ant under a viking’s foot. He didn’t dare imagine what level of fire such a creature could unleash upon them now.

This was the monster that had laid siege to the archipelago for generations. This goliath was the source of all Berk’s suffering since the initial settlement. 

He was filled with a sudden grudging understanding, finding he was unable to fault the smaller dragons for caving to her will. This was not a beast to be challenged lightly. 

He gripped his battle axe tighter, a pit forming in his stomach. In taking on this fight, he’d most certainly led some of his people to their deaths. 

“Odin, help us…” He murmured, offering one last prayer to the gods.

The queen roared once more, staggering fully out of her nest. 

Warriors screamed, scattering as they tried to avoid her massive footfalls. Panic was thick in the air as the tribe processed the reality that this was to be a battle unlike any they’d seen. The confidence they’d sported on arrival had evaporated in seconds, replaced only with terror and regret.

“...Hiccup, please!”

Astrid’s voice carried through the air, sounding strained. It didn’t take long to locate the blonde where she stood, back pressed almost defensively against Toothless. 

Across from her, his son was drawing his sword. The act itself wasn’t unexpected, but the sharpness of his movements made Stoick pause. The motions almost seemed…broken…like he was snapping from one position to the next.

It looked…unnatural.

What was going on…

“Oi, Stoick!” Gobber’s voice drew his attention as the blacksmith raced to his side. “Wha’ do we do abou’ tha’ thing!?”

The chief clenched his jaw, thoughts racing. They might never get another chance to take down this monster. Now that it was free of its nest, it could migrate. It could come to Berk.

They could not waste this chance to destroy the queen.

“I–”

His gaze went once more to his son, who was moving away from Astrid with almost mechanical steps. The boy’s face was surprisingly blank, all traces of his earlier fear missing.

Odd.

It was almost as if he were being controlled himself.

“Gobber,” he said with urgency. “I need you to lead the men to the far side of the island to regroup. Have a group assigned to distract the beast – focus on launching catapults, don’t let anyone get too close to it.”

“Aye. And wha’ abou’ you?”

“Something’s wrong with Hiccup,” he said gravely. “I need to–”

“I understand.” Gobber cut him off with a nod, “We can buy ya some time, but I don’ know how long th’ queen will fall for our tricks.”

“Hiccup was planning something,” said Stoick with conviction. “If I can just get through to him, he may have the answer.”

Gobber grasped his shoulder, squeezing once. “Best of luck, old friend.”

Stoick could hear a commotion behind him as he strode along the beach towards his son. There was a sort of back and forth rhythm to it – crashes followed by roars. He didn’t dare look back, intent on reaching Hiccup as quickly as he could.

“Hiccup!”

The young man kept marching forward, his flaming sword drawn threateningly in front of him. As Stoick neared, he could feel the waves of heat coming off of the weapon.

“Chief, be careful – he’s under her thrall!” 

Stoick had almost forgotten Astrid’s presence, catching sight of her and Toothless a few strides behind his son. 

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Astrid yelled back, “but I do know that it’s happened before! He broke her hold then – there’s got to be something we can do to break it now!”

Hiccup continued to advance, drawing back his blade as he got into range of his father.

Stoick raised his own weapon warily, “I’m open to suggestions, lass!”

CLANK!

Hiccup’s blade collided with Stoick’s axe. The hit was forceful, much stronger than the chief had anticipated looking at his son’s smaller stature. 

Stoick grunted, throwing more of his weight into a counter strike. If he could disarm the boy, perhaps he could remove him from the fight long enough to break the queen’s hold. 

BANG!

Hiccup swung again, more violently this time. The blade hit dangerously close to Stoick’s hand, the heat of it transferring to his weapon. He could feel his palms beginning to burn as the metal warmed. 

“Hiccup,” grunted Stoick, locking eyes with the young man. The usually expressive eyes were hollow and unresponsive, giving no sign that he’d heard. “Son, you’ve got to fight this.”

Hiccup drew back his blade, arching it high for another blow. Before he could swing, a plasma blast struck inches from his feet. It left a line of fire between the two Haddocks, forcing both to step back and preventing either from approaching the other.

Toothless had defended him, Stoick realized in disbelief. The dragon had defended him.

Toothless was approaching from his left, with Astrid astride his back. “Hiccup has a plan for the queen,” she said, casting a nervous glance at the enthralled boy. “We didn’t plan for this, but if we can hold him off long enough – help should be coming. There isn’t time to explain, but if you’ll trust me–”

“I do,” said Stoick without hesitation. The young woman had proven herself on more than one occasion, giving her his trust was easy. “Do what you must – I’ll hold him off.”

The flames keeping Hiccup at bay were dwindling, and he continued to draw closer to them as they did. Much to Stoick’s relief, it appeared the sword was also dimming. An ordinary sword would be much easier to deflect.

There was a rush of air, followed by the tell-tale shriek of a Night Fury in flight.

Stoick faced his son, alone.

“We’re running out of firepower!” 

“...we’ve lost another catapult!”

“Does anyone have any burn salve…”

Gobber tried to drown out the wails of his tribesmen, keeping his focus on the task at hand. Thus far, they’d managed to keep the beast interested…and in doing so, had kept her contained to a corner of the beach. He only hoped it had been enough time for his friend to help his son.

The shriek of a Night Fury split the air and Gobber flinched, ducking low. Decades of training had instilled the defensive maneuver in him. It was only when memory reminded him that Berk had brought a Night Fury to the attack that he relaxed. 

This was good. 

Perhaps Hiccup was taking the fight to the queen.

To his surprise, Toothless instead landed beside their battalion. It wasn’t Hiccup in the saddle. Instead, Astrid leapt from the dragon’s back. 

“Gobber!” Her wide eyes were locked with his as she rushed to his side. “Quickly – I need Fishlegs, Snotlout and the twins – where are they?”

His reply was interrupted by the roar of the queen. Instead of answering Astrid, he yelled over his shoulder. “Take another shot! And make lots ‘o noise, let’s see if we can disorient it!”

There was a chorus of clanking noises as the vikings of Berk began to beat their weapons against their shields in unison.

“Gobber!”

“I heard ya, lass!” He sighed, jerking his hook roughly towards the back of the group. “They’re at th’ flank, no’ enough experience to put ‘em on the front lines. Fishlegs didn’ even bring a bloody helmet and don’ even get me started on Snotlout leavin’ ‘is weapon back on Berk!”

Astrid wasted no time with a reply, brushing past him with a sense of urgency. The dragon followed her, sticking to her like a shadow.

Gobber rubbed his head, deciding to ignore the strange encounter. He had bigger things to worry about.

“Ya call tha’ noise? I can barely hear ya!”

The clanking intensified, causing the queen’s steps to falter. 

Thank the gods…

Chapter Text

As promised, Astrid found her peers tucked into the back of the Berkian ranks.

“I need to talk to you.” She informed them bluntly, grabbing Fishlegs roughly by the arm and pulling him further from the group. While she was confident the others would follow her, the blonde boy looked dangerously close to passing out. 

“Now!?” Snotlout asked incredulously, gesturing towards the hulking figure of the queen. “Is this really the best time? Not that I don’t want to talk to you, of course I do but–”

“Save it,” she retorted, steering the group towards the base of the mountain. There, tucked into an alcove in the rock, they’d at least have a little bit of cover while they spoke. 

Fishlegs twisted in her grip, squirming as they made their way over. “Not to agree with Snotlout, but I think we should probably focus on the queen right now. Her firepower is far beyond any class I’ve seen in the Book of Dragons!”

“Well, I for one want to hear what she has to say!” Ruffnut yelled, getting uncomfortably close to the boy’s face.  

Fishlegs squeaked, edging into a spot behind Astrid’s shoulder as if she were a human shield. 

“Shut up, all of you!” She snapped, releasing her grip on his arm. “This is serious – today, our parents war becomes ours . Hiccup and I have a plan to take this thing down, but I’ll need all of you to help.”

“Aww, you need me?” 

Astrid shoved Snotlout hard, forcing him to stumble against the rock face. Before he could protest the action, he caught sight of the look on her face and decided to stay silent.

Wise.

“Astrid, what could we possibly do that the tribe can’t?” Fishlegs asked, sounding doubtful. “If there’s a plan, shouldn’t you be bringing Gobber or the chief in instead?”

“Not for this,” she insisted before taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders. “By now, I’m sure that each of you has noticed that you’re missing something – whether that’s a sock, a helmet, arm wrappings…” She grazed a hand over her bare arm as she spoke, purposefully drawing attention to the missing accessory.

“How did you–”

“We took them from you, back on Berk,” Astrid explained, stealing herself for the conversation ahead. “We needed something personal that they could track.”

“You hired trackers?” Tuffnut asked, looking perplexed. “Why would you do that, you’re here with us?”

“Reinforcements.” 

Ruffnut snorted, crossing her arms. “Not very smart – we took all the ships with us. What are they gonna do, swim?”

“They won’t be coming by sea.”

Fishlegs stepped back into her line of vision, frowning as he studied her face. She had a feeling he’d worked out a theory ahead of the rest. 

“How else could they come?” Asked Snotlout. 

“By air,” revealed Astrid shortly, forcing herself to continue before more questions could be asked. “If the plan works like it should, the dragons from the arena should be here very soon.”

“Are you nuts ? We’ve got more than enough dragons to fight right now,” said Snotlout, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. 

“We’re not going to fight them,” said Astrid, leveling a glare at him. “We’re going to use them to fight the queen. Whether you like it or not, you’ve each formed the beginnings of a bond with one of the dragons of the arena. You’ve cared for them, fed them and been their only source of companionship…it meant a lot to them, even if it didn’t feel like much to you. They’ll track your scents to the island, and if you’re willing to trust Hiccup and I, we’re confident that they’ll fight with you.”

Her peers were quiet for a few moments, dumbstruck by the insinuation. They’d cared for the dragons as a chore, never reading into the implications any more than that. It was a lot to consider, as the very idea of it broke away from everything they’d been taught.

C’mon, she mentally pleaded with them.

“I’m with her! Who else?” 

It was Tuffnut who finally made a decision, practically bouncing on his feet. She hadn’t been expecting the excitement, but she’d take it. Any help was better than none.

“Thanks, Tuff.”

The others appeared less convinced, exchanging looks of worry and doubt. She’d known they were likely to be hesitant, but the reality of seeing that hesitation in the wake of the queen’s rage made her furious. There was no time to waste on indecision. 

“I don’t know…”

“...there’s no way that would work…”

Hiccup could have explained it all better. She was confident that he could have won them over with the right words…but it wasn’t worth dwelling on that possibility. He was out of commission, and as such the weight of the responsibility fell to her.

“Even if that somehow did work…how would they even get out of the arena?” Fishlegs asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he regarded her. “Did you release all of those dragons before we left?”

“No,” she said simply, shaking her head. It was the truth. “If I had, they’d have just circled the ships while we sailed. Dragons fly much faster than our ships sail and we couldn’t take the risk that the archers might strike them down. We needed to put space between us and them to be safe.”

 “So…?”

“We recruited a little help, back on Berk. I promise, if we survive this, I’ll tell you all about it.” She hoped her stern tone was enough to shut down any argument on the matter.

Tuffnut grinned at her, still reverberating with excitement. His twin regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before her own face split into a broad smile. 

“Well, if Tuff’s in, so am I.”

Astrid nodded at them, pleased to have the Thorston’s on her side. They were reckless, but that energy could serve them well against such a unique opponent. They’d have to take risks if they were to stand any sort of chance. 

Looking over at Snotlout, she raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Afraid?”

“What?” His face went red at the accusation, pride visibly wounded by her words. “No – don’t be ridiculous, Jorgenson’s don’t fear anything! If these losers can handle it, I definitely can!”

“Hey!”

Smack!

He had it coming , thought Astrid with a smirk as she surveyed the red print Ruffnut’s slap had left on the boy’s face. No one in the tribe would let such an insult go unpunished.

That just left…

“Fishlegs?”

The blonde shook his head, stepping away from their circle. “What do you want me to say? This is madness…Dragons and vikings working together? It’s never been done before!” He grew quieter as he admitted, “I really don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“We need you,” pressed Astrid, “You’ve studied dragons far more than the rest of us…well, minus Hiccup of course,” she conceded. “Your knowledge could really help us turn the tide in this battle. Fish, you could be a hero.”

Fishlegs bit his lip, eyes darting nervously around the group of his peers. 

While she waited for him to decide, she addressed the others. “We’ll need to move to the far side of the beach – over by where Stoick and Hiccup are now,” she pointed off into the distance. “The dragons will never land with this many vikings waving their weapons around."

“Um…have you forgotten the GIANT DRAGON standing between us and them!?”

“Snot, it’ll be fine. Just stick to the shoreline and move quickly and quietly. She’s focused on the troops for now, just don’t give her a reason to change that. Oh, and just in case…be prepared to dive under if she fires. Toothless and I will meet you over there.”

“Yeah…that’s real comforting…”

“Fish? What’s it gonna be: are you coming with us, or staying behind?”

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll come – but I still say this is a bad idea!”

Astrid’s heart caught in her chest when she caught sight of the Haddock men. 

Stoick was currently on his knees, his axe thrown up in front of his face to block Hiccup’s sword. The chief looked worn, both physically and emotionally. There were shallow cuts littering his arms, suggesting that Hiccup had gotten some lucky strikes in.

Hiccup stood over his father, fighting with single-minded determination. Inferno must have burned through all the Monstrous Nightmare gel, as the blade appeared to have gone out. Knowing that the boy always kept refills stocked in his armor, that detail served to highlight his lack of control.

Perhaps that meant that the queen could puppet his body, but not his mind. 

Gods, his mind.

Was Hiccup…aware of what he was doing, forced to watch as his own limbs sought to cut down his father? She certainly hoped not.

Hiccup surged forward, forcing his father’s shaking weapon back. One side of the axe grazed Stoick’s cheek, sending a crimson bead dripping down his face. The weapon was slowly dipping lower, angling closer to the chief’s throat.

She needed to do something to break up the fight – fast. Considering how weary Stoick appeared, there was real danger that he’d lose his life in this fight if it continued on much longer.

Hiccup hadn’t responded to their voices, that much had been clear. Both her attempts and Stoick’s had fallen on deaf ears. Trying to appeal to him through words was not a solution.

If words failed, action was needed. But what to do?

The thrall was a sort of trance, she supposed, almost like sleepwalking. In Astrid’s own experience, the only way a sleepwalker broke through that trance was…pain. A twisted ankle had pulled her from the depths as a child and she knew her father had walked into the side of a blade in her youth. Both experiences had forced them awake, quickly.

Pain was often overpowering, breaking through all else.

Could that reasoning hold true for this type of trance? The dragons who raided Berk often retreated once wounded, but not always. There was no guarantee, but it was all she had.

Astrid could feel the weight of her axe, heavy upon her shoulders as she directed Toothless to descend towards the Haddock men. If her suspicions were correct, she’d need to cause Hiccup enough pain to jolt his mind back into control. 

She just wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

“Toothless,” she murmured to the dragon, sliding off his back. “Whatever happens, I need you to trust me. I’m trying to save Hiccup.”

How much would it take, she wondered. A slice to the arm? A dagger to the side?

CLANK! 

Hiccup’s sword had been forced back, giving Stoick a chance to stand and regroup. He had mere seconds to recover before the next blow came.

Up close, she could see the ferocity of the attacks in greater clarity. Stoick’s hands were red, both from the strain of the fight and what she suspected were the beginnings of burns. It spoke volumes of the chief’s resilience that he held strong despite those wounds.

It was surprising that someone of Hiccup’s smaller stature could put up such a fight against Stoick the Vast. Even with the queen’s influence, his body should still have the same limits it always had. Had this strength and resilience been buried within him all along? Hiccup’s unique limits continued to surprise her.

Hiccup’s unique limits.

That’s it.

Astrid crept towards the duo, steeling herself for what knew she had to do. Once she was sure she had a clear shot, she barreled into Hiccup with all her strength, momentum pushing them both into the surf. She didn’t allow herself to stop, grasping his tunic tightly in her hands as she dragged him deeper and deeper into the water. 

The queen hadn’t anticipated the move, and it took a few moments for Hiccup’s body to react. When he did, he thrashed, attempting to turn his blade on her. She’d been expecting it, dodging to the right and using his own momentum against him to force him completely under the waves.

Please work. 

Already she could feel the deep chill of the sea water permeating her body. It was unpleasant for her…and hopefully painful for him.

After a few moments, Astrid pulled him back above the waves. 

Hiccup coughed, choking out seawater that had been forced down his throat. He shivered and his eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating ever so slightly when he caught sight of her.

“Astrid?”

Every muscle in Hiccup’s body felt like it was on fire. He felt as though he’d been grabbed by the limbs and stretched until each and every fiber of his body burned. His fingers felt like they’d been raw as he loosened his grip upon Inferno, which he’d found to be clenched tightly in his hand.

In sharp contrast, the icy temperature of the water bit at his skin like Razorwhip scales. It was a different kind of hurt, a cold so intense that it too, burned. Waterlogged clothes clung to his skin, heavy beneath the waves. 

His head pounded. There was a familiarity to this particular ache that filled him with increasing dread. He’d only experienced it once before, years prior, and knew there was only one explanation for its return. 

Hiccup forced his eyes open, straining against the light. Above him, a familiar face came into focus. Blue eyes gazed down, filled with apprehension. 

“Astrid?”

Her entire demeanor shifted, relief spreading across her face as her shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank the gods!”

Hiccup shifted, finding his footing on the sand below. A wave crashed into his back, sending another deep chill racing through him, the cold cementing deeper into his bones. He shivered, drawing his arms closer to his body. 

“I’m sorry,” said Astrid, looking guilty as she began to hastily lead him towards the shore. “It was the only thing I could think of to snap you out of it.” 

“I’m glad you did.” He admitted, eyes scanning the scene around him as he made his way out the water. 

How much time had he lost?

The queen faced away from them, preoccupied by some commotion on the far end of the beach. The Berkians, he suspected, if the faint clanging in his ears was anything to go off of. A temporary solution at best, but better than nothing.

Halfway up the beach, he noted that a small group of his peers were heading towards them. Had Astrid already looped them in on the plan?

“What happened?” He finally dared to ask, holstering his weapon. He gripped his tunic, twisting it to wring out the water. He had to grit his teeth as his raw hands squeezed the fabric.

Astrid was nearly barrelled over as Toothless made his approach, nuzzling up to his rider with a croon of excitement. The warmth of the dragon’s scales was a relief on his skin, and Hiccup pressed himself closely against them, hoping it would be enough to ward off any lasting consequences of the plunge.

“Happy to see you too, bud.”

“Son?”

Stoick made his approach, axe still readied in his hands. At Hiccup’s nod, he let it slide from his fingers, falling into the sand with a muted clunk. He stumbled the last few paces over, pulling him into a tight hug.

Hiccup gave the man a moment before slowly extracting himself from the grip. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father’s blistering hands and bleeding face.

“Gods, what happened to you?"

Stoick frowned but did not reply. The silence was answer enough.

“Did I do that?” He asked in horror. 

Stoick grunted, clasping his hands behind his back to hide them from view. “It’s not your fault, son.” 

Hiccup swore, guilt growing stronger with each passing moment. “Like Hel, it’s not!” His grimace only deepened as he cataloged the rest of the wounds on his father’s arms. Thankfully, none appeared too deep to do lasting damage, but each served as a reminder that he’d threatened his father’s life. 

If Stoick had been a lesser warrior…the outcome could have been much graver.

“Dad, I’m sorry. For everything–”

“Hiccup,” asserted Stoick, voice leaving no room for argument. “I do not fault you for this. Your actions were not your own.”

“Worry about fault later,” said Astrid, eyes fixing on a set of dark shapes in the sky. “They’re almost here Hiccup, we’ve got to move. Chief, I think Gobber could really use your help.”

“So in the time that we’ve been facing that thing, you two had time to go swimming!?”

Astrid was only mildly surprised by the accusation. If anyone were to make an absurd, barbed comment in such a tense time – it would be Snotlout. 

“Not by choice,” said Hiccup, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice as he addressed his cousin. He was still soaked to the bone, auburn hair plastered to his forehead.

Astrid saw the slight tremor run through his body, once more hating what she had done. She couldn’t help remembering when she had saved him from a similar situation – now she was the cause of it.

A familiar squawk caught her attention as a brilliant blue Nadder landed on the beach a few yards away, sending sand flying in all directions. 

“Stormfly!”

It was a relief to see her dragon once more. She scrambled towards the Nadder, greeting her with a hug. There was a bag tied around the dragon’s neck with a knotted length of rope – a bit too tightly for Astrid’s liking – which opened to reveal a folded up saddle.

Not wasting any time, she got to work strapping it into place. Her hands were unsteady, slipping on the buckles as she rushed to secure it. 

“Since when does that Nadder have a saddle?” Ruffnut asked, voice pitching up in confusion.

“Perhaps she has always had a saddle, dear sister,” said Tuffnut in return, “and you’ve simply never noticed.”

Astrid could feel the weight of her peers gawking at her, but she kept her focus on the sight of the other dragons coming in to land. The Zippleback was first, landing mere feet from where Stormfly stood. Its two necks twisted and turned, attention torn between the obvious threat on the other end of the beach and the group of vikings clustered nearby.

The Gronkle was next, giving everyone a bit of a wider berth. It seemed more on edge than the other two dragons, keeping its head low as it regarded them.

Finally, the Monstrous Nightmare came crashing down beside them. It hardly spared them a glance, shaking out its wings and rolling its neck as it recovered from the long flight.

“The kid actually did it,” remarked Hiccup quietly, something akin to wonder in his voice.

Astrid turned to face him, delighted by the newfound joy in his expression. “Did you think he wouldn’t?”

“In my experience,” he said with a shrug, “people aren’t willing to give dragons a chance. I had hoped he’d come through on this…but honestly? I had my doubts.”

She couldn’t fault him for that. Even after weeks in the village, most of the tribe made it clear that they still did not trust Toothless. Considering he was far less aggressive towards the villagers than the arena dragons were, it didn’t instill a lot of confidence that progress would ever be made on that trust.

“As touching as this all is,” drawled Snotlout sarcastically, moving in between Hiccup and Astrid. “Aren’t we going to do anything about the giant, firebreathing lizard terrorizing all of Berk!?”

Hiccup nodded, looking chastised. “Right,” he agreed. “I’m not sure what Astrid’s already told you, but the plan is an aerial attack. To even have a shot at this, I need all of you in the air, on dragonback.”

He pushed off from his dragon’s side, wincing as he moved away from the heat source. “Snotlout,” he pointed at his cousin, “Astrid tells me you’re very brave.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow, meeting his eyes in silent question. She knew she’d never said anything remotely along those lines, but she’d humor him for the moment. 

Snotlout puffed out his chest, welcoming the praise. “The bravest .”

“Right,” said Hiccup, tone flat. “So you’ll go first.”

His cousin’s earlier confidence started to dwindle as he regarded the dragons before them. “Maybe I should watch, in case Fishlegs needs a rescue…”

“You’ll be fine,” assured Hiccup. “Just follow my lead, ok?”

The young man set his jaw, moving to join Hiccup as the two slowly approached the Monstrous Nightmare. 

Hiccup held up his hand, palm flat and extended away from his body. Snotlout copied the pose, eyes darting between his hand and Hiccup’s to ensure it was right. Then, at Hiccup’s instruction, he turned his face away from the dragon.

“Easy there, Hookfang…” He murmured, cutting off abruptly when the Nightmare pressed its snout into his palm. 

Hiccup stumbled a step, taken off guard. “You named him?”

Chapter Text

There were vikings on dragonback.

For a fleeting moment, Hiccup wondered if he was still under the queen’s thrall. The sight in front of him seemed like something that could only be conjured from the inner depths of his imagination, not something that could ever become a reality.

He pinched his wrist, latching onto the smart burst of pain that confirmed he was indeed awake and coherent. Despite their initial apprehension on approaching the dragons outside the safety of the arena, it hadn’t taken too much prodding to get his peers to put aside those feelings. They’d listened to his instructions and even treated the dragons with a surprising level of respect.

They’d trusted him.

In that moment, he hadn’t felt like a stranger intruding on a tight knit community. The way they’d followed him…he’d felt like a member of the tribe. One of them.

He was surprised by how much the thought warmed him.

It had been much less surprising to see the ease in which the dragons accepted their new riders. Considering the amount of time each viking had spent with his or her respective dragon, Hiccup would have been shocked if a bond hadn’t begun to form. 

The dragons had simply been waiting for their vikings to make the next move.

Once that initial step was out of the way, the dragons allowed their bonded riders to approach. With a little encouragement on Hiccup’s part, the four vikings found themselves settling on dragon back. 

Hiccup hadn’t had time to craft saddles for the new riders, but he knew all too well how hard it was to ride bare back. The knotted rope that had secured Stormfly’s saddle to her neck was swiftly untied and the pieces were distributed amongst the riders. It was a flimsy security measure, but it was better than nothing.

If nothing else, it gave the Vikings a confidence boost as they took to the skies for the first time. Seeing how Fishlegs clutched the rope with white knuckles, Hiccup hoped it provided some feeling of safety. 

The new riders appeared to be adjusting quickly to the feeling of flight, ascending higher and higher. Snotlout’s Nightmare – or Hookfang , as he’d apparently been named – was showing off a bit for his rider, swooping in tight circles and sudden dives.

His cousin’s screams of distress would have caused him a bit of concern if not for the bursts of laughter that always seemed to follow. It appeared that his very “viking-like” relative might actually enjoy being a dragon rider.

Who would have thought?

While the others continued to rise, Astrid and Stormfly remained firmly grounded. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him once they were alone, blue eyes regarding him with concern.

Hiccup shrugged, not sure of the answer himself. 

On the one hand – he was sore and exhausted from his time under the thrall, chilled from the plunge into the sea and generally upset with himself for the pain that he’d caused his father. 

On the other – he was thrilled to see real progress in the cooperation between vikings and dragons, relieved that he hadn’t killed anyone under the thrall and grateful that anyone even cared to ask about his wellbeing.

How could he ever hope to express that mess of emotions to Astrid?

“I will be,” he settled on, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Perhaps it didn’t have to be. Unless he was struck down in battle, he was determined to make it the truth by any means needed.

Astrid studied him, biting her lip. She didn’t look all that convinced by his words. “Hiccup…”

He hummed in response, fidgeting with the damp sleeves of his tunic. The fabric stuck to his skin unpleasantly, bunching up around his wrists. He briefly considered stripping off the layer, but decided that would only leave him more vulnerable to the wind.

“In case something bad happens here today,” she said, taking a few steps towards him and recapturing his attention. “I just…I want you to know how glad I am that you came into our lives this year. Meeting you, getting to know you and your world…it’s been an adventure that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

Oh.

He’d been expecting her to simply wish him luck or to ask about the fight ahead…not to share such a heartfelt confession. He wanted to thank her, to express his own feelings…but the right words felt just out of reach. 

As he scrambled to figure out how to respond, she took his silence as an opportunity to continue.

“I mean, you really opened my eyes – you taught me the true nature of dragons!” Astrid gestured animatedly towards Stormfly, who preened at the attention. “To think that I might have lived my whole life, never knowing how amazing they can be…gods, I would've never gotten to fly!”

He smiled at that, remembering her contagious glee as she’d become a more confident rider. 

“All my life, I’ve felt this sort of…gap, I guess. I tried filling it with training. I thought if I could just become the model warrior everyone wanted me to be then everything would be perfect,” she shook her head, “When that didn’t work, I accepted a position in the heir trials. Taking on that role, that responsibility…I thought surely that would be the solution I was looking for, but even when it was almost mine…I still felt nothing .”

She exhaled heavily, collecting herself for a moment. “Then I met you. I’m not sure how it happened, or why it happened…but spending time with you made that gap disappear.” She looked down at her boots, digging one deeper into the sand. “Do you remember back in those first days, when I told you that I’d never been close with the others? I don’t think I ever realized how lonely that truly was until you took that away. Hiccup…I think you’re the first person in my life to really see me.”

Hiccup remembered that meeting, outside the arena on those nights ago. How could he not? When she’d confessed to feeling like an outsider amongst her peers, he’d seen himself reflected in those words. She’d taken him off guard then, just as she was doing now. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, blinking back watery eyes. Even in the wake of impossible odds, Astrid Hofferson was strong as steel. “That was a lot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Astrid,” he said carefully, resting his hands on her shoulders and giving a small squeeze. “Having you in my life means the world.”

He could feel her shoulders shake as she let out a shuddering breath.

“ You,” he emphasized, “were the first person to ever give me a chance. Even once you knew about my eyes, you didn’t give up on me. You didn’t treat me differently. You defied everything that I was ever taught about vikings! Hel, you brought me home. ”

Home. If not for the blonde, he might never have found a place to really belong. He and Toothless would have continued their nomadic life, letting fear keep them caged in the shadows for the rest of their lives. He’d have never known his history, never gotten to meet his family. 

He’d never have given vikings a chance.

She’d healed far more than just his own loneliness. She’d healed his faith in humanity.

“Hiccup, I love your eyes.”

He froze, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. Surely she couldn’t mean something like that. His eyes were the source of all his troubles, a plague upon his life. The idea of anyone seeing them as anything admirable was beyond reason.

“Sure, you do…” He replied, tone laced with doubt.

“I’m serious,” she insisted, reaching up to rest her hands on top of his. “They’re you.”

She said it so simply, as if that simple fact was enough to justify the declaration. He still found it hard to believe. No one had ever had anything positive to say about his eyes, not even his own mother. 

Yet, looking at her earnest expression, he knew that she was speaking from the heart. A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to swallow down his emotions. There were no words that he could say to properly communicate how much her confession meant to him.

Those who cared for him had always done so in spite of his eyes. He’d assumed that was as good as it could get. 

Instead of fumbling for words that he knew couldn’t do justice to his feelings, he closed the remaining space between them, leaning in for a kiss. Unlike the sweet kisses they’d exchanged back on Berk, this was something much hungrier and far more passionate. There was an almost desperate need to the way his hands moved to her back, drawing her tighter against his body. 

Astrid was quick to return his advances, eagerly leaning into the kiss. Her hands slipped up his neck, running roughly through the back of his hair until her fingers were tangled up in it. 

The steady warmth of her embrace was intoxicating, warming Hiccup in spirit and body. It was a much-needed relief from the dangerous cold chill that was seeping into his bones. Astrid was like the sun, her touch like fire as her fingers brushed against his skin, saving him from himself. 

Distantly, Hiccup thought he could hear a whistle or a yell, but he paid it no mind. The queen herself could not steal this moment from him.

They lost themselves in one another, not breaking away until the need for air became too difficult to ignore.

Dazed, Hiccup stepped back, trying in vain to catch his breath. He lifted a finger to his lips, swollen from the force of the kiss. His thoughts were spiraling, his emotions crackling like lightning.  

“I love you.” The words slipped through his lips with ease, impulsive but honest to a fault.

Immediately, he felt his stomach flip as he registered the gravity of his own words. It was not something to say lightly, but he found he meant it with every fiber of his being. That warmth that bubbled up inside when she was around could only be love.

It wasn’t the grandest of declarations, nor the most romantic of settings…but it would have to do. Fate had never dealt him cards that allowed for such luxuries. Much like the rest of his life, he’d have to forge his own way. 

Astrid’s face and neck had gone bright pink and she was studiously avoiding his gaze. 

Oh, Thor…

Perhaps it had been too soon for such weighted words. Hiccup had assumed, between the kiss and her earlier confession, that Astrid felt as he did. Now he wondered if he’d simply miscalculated, as her silence did little to reassure him.

Astrid cleared her throat, taking a few shaking steps backwards to rejoin Stormfly. Her expression was unreadable, bangs having fallen and obscuring her eyes. 

Had he ruined things?

“Astrid, I…” 

There was nothing left to say. He couldn’t take the words back, and he wasn’t sure he’d want to if such a thing were possible. If the battle did not go as they hoped, at least he wouldn’t die with regrets.

Swinging gracefully into Stormfly’s saddle, Astrid took a moment to brush her bangs away and straighten her armor. She leaned down to murmur something low to the dragon, scratching the bright blue scales of the Nadder’s neck as she did. 

Finally, Astrid turned back to regard him with an uncharacteristically shy smile. “I think I love you too, dragon boy.”

With those parting words, Stormfly and her rider shot up to join the rest of the group.

“Alright,” called Hiccup as he and Toothless circled the group of new riders. “If we’re going to do this right, we’ll need to split up.”

“I could use a break from Ruffnut,” agreed Tuffnut, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“We’re on a two-headed dragon,” she retorted, reaching across to shove him. “No getting rid of me.”

“Ugh, don’t I know it.”

“Concentrate,” ordered Astrid, releasing a hand from Stormfly’s saddle to draw her axe. She waved it at the far end of the beach, scowling. “If you hadn’t noticed – the warriors are down to their last catapult, we’re out of time!”

“Astrid’s right,” said Hiccup,  “We’ve got to get moving. Fishlegs? You’re on observation: stay out of range but look for any weaknesses. See if anything aligns with your research that could help us out.”

“Got it,” the boy agreed, digging his notebook out of his vest. 

“Astrid? You and the twins are on the offensive,” he explained. “We need to turn her attention away from the tribe – your best bet is to make her mad. Look for gaps in the scales, or anything softer and more vulnerable.”

“Oh!” Fishlegs exclaimed, looking up from his book. “A dragon like that wouldn’t have gaps in the scales. Judging by the shape of its head, I can tell it’s descended from a northern species. It’s really interesting, actually, they grow a second layer of–”

“Ugh!” 

The boy quieted, looking put out by the interruption. 

“That’s helpful,” said Hiccup, hoping to appease the boy as he glared at his cousin. “Not worth wasting any shots. Do those dragon classes typically have any soft spots we can target instead?”

“Well, there’s always the eyes.” He replied, looking sheepish. “Dragon eyes are very sensitive.”

Hiccup snorted. “Right. Okay – Astrid, Ruff, Tuff? See if you can get a clear shot at the queen’s eyes. If we can blind her, this will be an easier fight – but watch each other’s backs.”

“On it,” assured Astrid, leading the twins away. 

Fishlegs took a deep breath to steady himself before slowly steering his Gronkle after them.

“What about me?” Snotlout asked, gripping the rope tighter in his hands.

“You’re on defense,” replied Hiccup. “Someone needs to protect the tribe. I want you to give them cover from the air.”

Snotlout nodded, looking pleased with the responsibility. Then his expression shifted to one of confusion, tipping his head to the side. “And what are you going to do?”

Hiccup smirked, directing Toothless to turn away. As the dragon spun, he took one last look over his shoulder and stated, “I’m gonna take her down, once and for all.”

Chapter Text

Astrid was not one to easily balk in the face of danger, but as she steered Stormfly closer to the hulking form of the queen, she felt a sense of trepidation settle deep into her being. She never could have even fathomed that a creature of that size could exist, much less that she would one day find herself face to face with it. 

Stormfly’s muscles were tense beneath her, the only indication that the dragon shared Astrid’s fraying nerves. Despite the shared sense of unease, the Nadder did not hesitate to follow her rider’s directions. 

Astrid was momentarily struck by the realization that Stormfly now trusted her with her life. Somewhere along the way, she’d proven herself worthy of that level of trust. With that realization, she felt a burst of affection for the Nadder. 

“I’ll take her right eye,” she yelled to the twins, hoping her voice wouldn’t get lost in the wind. “You two take the left!”

“Eyes – plural!” Fishlegs corrected from behind her, pointing towards the queen’s massive head.

It was true, Astrid realized with dread. The queen had three eyes on either side, effectively ensuring there was no blind spot they could hide in as they approached. 

“Same plan,” she insisted, angling down towards the queen, “just make sure you get them all!”

Clank! Bang!

The sounds of the Berkian battalion were getting louder as they neared the queen. Stormfly grunted, shaking her head to clear away the noise. 

Astrid leaned sideways in the saddle, extending her arm as the eyes came closer to range. A moment before making contact, the queen reared back and out of reach. 

“Son of a half-troll!” Astrid swore, fighting to regain her balance in the saddle. She steered Stormfly around, heading back for a second approach.

Once more, the queen veered just out of range. It was becoming clear to Astrid that the dragon’s lack of a blindspot would not allow for a direct hit. 

She’d have to improvise.

On the third approach, Astrid pulled herself up into a crouch. Her legs shook as she fought to stay upright, one hand white-knuckled on the saddle. With a scream, she launched herself off Stormfly’s back…

…and landed squarely on the queen’s head. 

Astrid gripped one the spikes on the dragon’s head to steady herself, twisting to see if the twins had been any luckier. 

Clang! Bang! 

The Zippleback was in clear distress, borderline seizing in the air. Ruffnut and Tuffnut clung to its necks, yelling as they fought to hang on. It seemed that their dragon’s proximity to the villagers and their loud distraction was proving too much for it to handle.

Astrid grimaced, heart pounding in her chest. It didn’t appear that the twins would be offering much help at the moment.

She turned back to the set of eyes beneath her, determined to do as much damage as she could. She slammed her axe into the closest one, slicing it clean in half. 

The queen roared in pain, shaking her head violently in an attempt to dislodge her attacker.

Astrid clung tighter to the spike, blindly swinging her axe at the remaining eyes. Her arm was burning with the effort, but she was not willing to give up now. 

Once the queen had shrieked twice more, she knew she’d struck true. A desperate laugh bubbled up, shock and relief mingling at the knowledge that she’d succeeded.

Now for the other side.

Astrid waited for the queen’s movements to slow a bit before attempting to cross the span of the dragon’s massive head. She had to drop to her knees, crawling on all fours as she made her way through the labyrinth of spikes.

Clang! Bang!

The queen threw her head back violently. Astrid fumbled to grab for a spike, but it was too late – she was flung up into the air. The ground was rushing towards her, and she was picking up speed as she fell.

“No!” She shouted, flailing her limbs in horror as she plummeted.

A sudden force yanked on her ankle, snatching her out of the air. She was forced upwards, missing impact with the ground by a matter of seconds.

Astrid snarled, curling her body up to catch sight of her attacker. Then she caught sight of shiny black scales and a toothless grin and the fight drained out of her.

Thank the gods.

She grinned back at the Night Fury, eyes traveling higher to see an extended hand. Gripping it, she felt herself pulled up and onto the saddle, taking her place behind Hiccup. 

“Falling again?” He snarked, steering Toothless in a wide arc as they picked up speed. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

She slugged him on the shoulder, shaking her head. Then, feeling herself slipping, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist for added security.

“Thanks for the save,” she said after a minute, feeling her heart rate begin to settle.

She felt his hands fall to her arms, squeezing once in acknowledgement. 

Once they were a safe distance away, Toothless dropped to the shore. Hiccup released his grip on her wrist, allowing her to slide down onto the sand.

Satisfied that Astrid was out of harm’s way, Hiccup nudged Toothless to return to the fight. 

The queen had her attention set on Snotlout and Hookfang, who hovered just over the remaining Berkians. It appeared they’d been forced further back against the rock face, effectively closed in and trapped.

Shields were no longer being used to distract the creature, now forced to be used as a line of personal defense. 

“Toothless – plasma blast!”

BAM!

Though the Night Fury’s attack failed to burn the queen, it hit with enough force to recapture her attention. Enraged, the beast charged towards the dragon and rider, lips curled back in a snarl.

“Higher!”

Toothless shot upwards, the whistle of his flight filling the air. 

The queen reared up on her back legs, teeth snapping just inches from the Night Fury’s tail. 

Toothless growled, picking up more speed to put distance between himself and the larger dragon. Hiccup’s grip tightened as he leaned lower in the saddle. Experience had taught him that the closer he kept to the dragon’s back, the more streamlined their flight became – as if they were one being.

“Again!”

Toothless banked hard to the right, sending another plasma blast at the monstrous creature below. The shot hit true, landing squarely between the wings.

This hit drew more ire from the queen, but the roar had a different tone – pain.

“Her wings aren’t impervious,” he realized, fumbling for a way to explain this newfound weakness. “We’ve got to get her in the air!”

Toothless barked out his agreement, angling down towards the queen’s back. He charged up a blast, the sound building and building until they feet away. Upon release, the force shook the wings from their position, sending tremors across the creature’s back.

As Hiccup directed his dragon to put distance between them, he realized the wings had not stopped moving. Instead, they were slowly unfurling to their full span.

The wings had seen better days. Littered with holes and tears, Hiccup wondered if such damaged wings could even support a dragon of that magnitude. 

“Bud?”

BAM!

Having successfully punched another hole in the queen’s wing, Toothless roared in triumph.

Hiccup watched warily as the queen began to beat her wings, slowly rising into the sky. It appeared that the weakened limbs were still powerful enough to lift her. He’d have to hope they at least weakened her maneuverability in the sky.

“C’mon,” he urged his dragon, steering towards the darker cloudbank. “We need to disappear.”

The queen wasted no time following, the beating of her wings so intense it sent currents of wind swirling about. The limited cloud cover kept shifting in the wake of those swells, forcing Hiccup and Toothless to follow their movement.

A column of fire broke through the air, inches away from grazing both rider and dragon. Hiccup yelped in surprise, instinctively leaning away from the blaze. 

The sound was enough to reorient the queen, who turned her attack towards them. 

Toothless dived away from the fire, shooting his own blast back at her. It hit her gums, charring the skin around one of her massive teeth.

It appeared the inside of the dragon could burn.

Hiccup’s lips pressed into a grim smile, an idea forming in his mind. It was crazy, but it could be enough to cripple the queen. With any luck, it could at least damage her ability to breathe fire. 

He urged Toothless to ascend, higher than the cloudbank. The air above was thin, his chest going tight with the pressure. After a moment’s hesitation, he pressed a hand to his dragon’s neck. “Hold until I say.”

Toothless warbled in agreement, a blast beginning to form behind his teeth. After a small nudge, he rocketed downwards towards their attacker. 

The queen’s face was twisted to the side, good eyes fixed on their approach. She shrieked once before drawing in a breath in preparation to fire. 

“Hold!”

Gas began to spill from the side of the queen’s mouth as she built up her attack’s strength. 

“Now!”

Toothless shot his blast deep into the queen’s throat, swiftly rolling in the air afterwards to avoid her teeth. With an agility known only to Night Furies, he managed to completely change direction and pick up incredible speed within a few seconds. 

Hiccup dared a glance over his shoulder, hoping the attack had worked. To his surprise, it appeared the shot had done more than wound the queen. Fire had begun to consume her from the inside, eating away at her skin and splitting her open in places. 

With a sickening crunching noise, she burst, letting loose a dangerous inferno.

The explosion sent waves of hot air in all directions, knocking into Hiccup and Toothless with unrelenting power. 

The Night Fury faltered, thrown off balance by the strength of the wind. He began to fall, unable to properly beat his wings and maintain flight. 

Hiccup’s stomach dropped as he lost his own grip on the saddle, sliding off his dragon’s back. The air around him with stifling as he plunged towards the blaze below.

Chapter Text

Hiccup awoke with a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation of his body’s many aches. His thoughts were jumbled and he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

It was oppressively hot. His clothes clung to his body with sweat, and the loud crackle of a nearby fire was likely to blame. 

He was lying down, and his limbs felt as if they each were weighed down by boulders. Even his chest felt heavy as he struggled to breathe in and out. 

The last thing he remembered, he’d been…falling into the flames.

A burst of panic shot through him at the memory, and Hiccup’s eyes snapped open. He was surprised and a little confused, to find that it was not the sky above him. Instead, his gaze locked onto the wooden beaming of a ceiling.

Where was he?

Hiccup was certain he’d killed the queen – and the sight of her body ripping apart would haunt his nightmares for years to come. With her out of the picture, it made sense that the Berkians had headed back to their island. 

So did that mean that he was aboard the ship?

He dismissed the idea quickly, as there was no rocking motion to the room. Unless they’d somehow found the smoothest seas in the history of the archipelago, he was pretty sure they were firmly on dry land. 

Hiccup reached out his hands, running his fingers along the structure beneath him. It felt like a bed, with a thick layer of furs mounted atop it. He grasped the edges, using the leverage to pull himself up and into a seated position.

His muscles screamed in protest, shaking with each movement. He grit his teeth, persisting until his back was propped against the headboard. He leaned his head back for a moment, closing his eyes as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

There was a strange numbness in his legs. The right one was abuzz with the sensation of pins and needles, as if he’d been sitting on it strangely for some time. The left…burned around the knee joint, but otherwise he could not feel. He suspected his limbs were still asleep, as the rest of his body seemed to be begging him to slip back under. 

Sighing heavily, he straightened his neck and forced his eyes to open once more. From this angle, the room was instantly recognizable as Stoick’s home. He supposed that shouldn’t surprise him too much – where else would he be taken, after all.

The room was empty, and new worry began to gnaw at his gut. Where were Toothless and his father? Had they both survived the aftermath of the queen’s death?

Had his plan gotten his family killed?

“No…” he murmured to himself, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. If he’d lost either of them, he’d never forgive himself.

He had to look for them, he decided. He needed to know.

With shaking hands, he grasped a hold of the fur blanket covering him and wrenched it off. For a moment, he was just relieved to lose the layer, as it was a nice reprieve from the heat of the fire. 

Then his mind caught up to the sight before him.

His left leg ended just below the knee. The foot was simply gone, and what remained was wrapped tightly in a thick layer of bandages. 

His heart skipped a beat, eyes widening in disbelief. “Gods…”

Hiccup felt dizzy, sinking back against the headboard. The longer he stared at the missing limb, the more it sank in that he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were not playing tricks on him – it was really gone. 

He wheezed, screwing his eyes shut. 

No, no, no.

Hiccup was no stranger to grief, but he’d never grieved a part of himself before. He’d felt loss in his life, but somehow this was different in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. 

He was barely aware of the tears that began to slip down his face.

Stoick hated having to leave his son’s side, but the duties of a chief could not be ignored for long. He had an obligation to his people and knew that they depended on his leadership in the aftermath of the battle. 

Still, settling disputes between families and overseeing the repair of the damaged ships felt meaningless as his mind wandered back to thoughts of his injured son.

Hiccup had looked so small and frail, lying by the fire. Though Gothi had assured him that the risk of serious infection had passed, Stoick still worried about the boy’s pallor and lack of consciousness. He’d kept the fire blazing at all times out of fear Hiccup’s heat regulation was contributing to the coma.

It had been over a week since the amputation, and still he saw it every time he closed his eyes. To not wake in the midst of such a painful event only increased Stoick's fears that his boy may not survive the ordeal. 

Toothless warbled, drawing the chief’s attention. The Night Fury had been trailing him for days, never more than a few feet away. Stoick couldn’t find himself to be upset or uneasy at the dragon’s presence, not after seeing the lengths Toothless had gone to in order to save his son.

Stoick could not deny that he’d gained a grudging level of respect for the dragon. The Night Fury’s wings had mostly shielded Hiccup from the inferno, at the expense of the dragon’s own pain. The truth was evident just looking at Toothless, who had many rows of stitches littered across his wings, helping to repair the damage wrought by the fall.

Once more, Stoick found himself owing a life debt to a dragon. Surprisingly, he’d felt no bitterness with that revelation. Instead, he’d felt something more akin to warmth for the Night Fury, almost as if he were part of the family. It was strange to consider.

“What is it?” 

Toothless snorted, ears lifting as he craned his head up towards the chief’s home. He stomped his feet as if impatient, looking insistantly between Stoick and the house above. The dragon’s ear swiveled slightly, angling towards the structure as if listening to something in the distance.

Stoick stood quickly, setting aside the plans for the ship remodels. “He’s awake?”

Toothless didn’t bother answering, instead herding the man towards the path to his home. It was all the confirmation the man needed, picking up his pace until he was running up the hill. 

He had to dodge a few dragons along the way, still unused to the sight of them milling about peacefully. From what he’d seen, unless directly provoked, they did not threaten any of his tribe. They seemed to coexist with the village, proving to be naturally curious creatures more than anything.

“Hiccup!” He called as he threw open the front door, buoyed by the hope that his son was finally awake. 

Toothless was quick to follow, swerving around the chief and towards the bed. For a moment, the dragon blocked his view, but the cooing noise was enough to ease some of the tension in the room. If the Night Fury was happy, Hiccup had to be okay.

“Hey there, bud,” the voice was weak, but unmistakable. “It’s good to see you.”

Stoick ducked under the dragon’s wing, shuffling into a spot beside his son’s bed. 

Hiccup sat up against the back of the bed, blankets and furs shoved into a heap on the floor beside him. His auburn hair was disheveled, sticking up in a hundred different directions. His right leg was drawn up, knee pulled to his chest with his arms gripped tightly around it. 

His chin rested on his knee, turned towards his dragon. His eyes were puffy, the usual bright green looking muddled in the corners. His pupils were narrowed to thin slits – a clear sign of distress.

Stoick’s heart clenched at the sight of his son’s pain.

“Oh, Hiccup…” He leaned forward, slowly and carefully, wrapping his arms around the boy’s thin frame. “I’m so sorry, son.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. It wasn’t hard to guess the source of the grief, and he didn’t want to upset the boy any more by calling attention to the loss. 

Hiccup was strong. He’d continued to prove that over and over since his return. Stoick knew that his son could learn to adapt to this change, but he also knew it wouldn’t be an easy road. He’d been there for Gobber when he’d gone through similar losses and he knew there would be struggles ahead. He vowed to be at his son’s side throughout those challenges. 

Wiry arms wrapped around him as Hiccup returned the embrace.

A week had passed, and Hiccup still found himself processing everything that had happened. He’d had little else to do, confined to his bed on Gothi’s orders. 

The quiet of the house made his thoughts that much louder.

At first, he hadn’t been allowed visitors. While he respected the need to heal from his injuries, it was maddening to be trapped in the house alone while his father fulfilled chiefly duties.

A week into the routine, Hiccup had threatened to climb onto Toothless’s back if he had to endure another silent day. He’d meant it too, reasoning that once atop the Night Fury, it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t walk. He’d be safe with his dragon.

Stoick had recognized that resolve, and grudgingly agreed that visitors could be allowed…so long as they didn’t overstay their welcome or cause Hiccup to aggravate his wounds.

Astrid had been the first to arrive, but before she'd even been able to speak, her peers had descended on the house like a swarm of bees.  

The room felt so much smaller with a Night Fury and six vikings crammed inside. Hiccup had felt a little on edge, overwhelmed by the figures looming around him while he was trapped in bed.

The feeling had quickly morphed to surprise as they spoke. It seemed, in his efforts to save the tribe, he’d won over his peers. They gushed about his bravery and his victory, acting as if he was some sort of hero.

It was…strange, but not unwelcome.

The strangeness continued as he learned that they’d embraced their budding bonds with the arena dragons. Following in Snotlout’s footsteps, they’d all named their dragon companions –  Barf and Belch, really? –  and were actively working on their flying skills whenever they could get away.

His plan to take down the queen appeared to have unintentionally created a whole generation of dragon riders. There was no denying the swell of pride at that thought, knowing that the long-standing chasm between Berk and dragons was mending.

“So how did you get the dragons to the island?” Fishlegs asked after a bit. “You promised you’d tell us.”

Hiccup turned to look at Astrid, eyebrow raised. He figured she would have already shared the details while he was out of commission. It had been two weeks since the battle, after all…surely she hadn’t left them in suspense?

She held up her hands, snorting. “Oh no, that one’s all you. I told them they’d have to wait til you woke up.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, “How generous,” he said. “Well, we had a little help.”

“Yeah, you said that before,” interrupted Tuffnut, scratching his head beneath the helmet. “Still not making a lot of sense.”

“Dragon training was canceled this year,” explained Hiccup, “and considering what that consists of…I’m glad, but not everyone felt that way.”

“Tell me about,” said Snotlout, scuffing his boot on the ground. “My dad wouldn’t shut up about it when Stoick made the announcement."

“Did he tell you why it was canceled?”

“Something about it being a waste of resources, I don’t know,” replied Snotlout with a shrug. “Gustav was the only one old enough.”

Hiccup nodded, “That’s right. He wasn’t too happy to lose his chance to learn about dragons. He was pretty vocal about it, but he said no one was listening.”

"I had to listen for half of the revel!” Snotlout argued, crossing his arms. “The kid never stops talking.”

“I always tune him out,” said Ruffnut, “Makes for some decent white noise when you’re trying to nap.”

“You said it, sister.”

“I listened,” continued Hiccup, “He came by the forge – tried to convince Gobber to rethink it all. Obviously he said no. Once Gobber left on a delivery run, I told Gustav that I’d be happy to teach him about dragons, if he’d let me do it my way. It wasn’t a hard sell…no one else was giving him a chance.”

“Well, duh!” 

“Have you met him?”

“Sometimes, all you need is a chance,” he continued, ignoring their outbursts as his eyes locked on Astrid. She’d been the one to take a chance on him, after all. “Once he bonded with the Terror, he was eager to help.”

“We knew the dragons would need something to track,” added Astrid, “which is why we took something from each of you. It wasn’t even hard – you guys really need to pay more attention to your things.”

“Gustav wasn’t old enough to go on the quest,” reminded Hiccup, shifting against the headboard in an attempt to sit up straighter. “He had no training and we knew he’d be left behind. Before we boarded the ships, we slipped each of your things into the dragon pens. All Gustav had to do was wait and open the doors at the right time.”

“And no one noticed him letting the dragons escape!?”

“No one was looking for him,” Hiccup challenged, meeting the gaze of each of his peers one by one. To his surprise, none of them reacted. “Do you know how good that kid is at lying? After I saw him pull that injury stunt on the fishing trip, I knew he could do it again. He started playing sick while we were packing the ship – by the time we were at sea, everyone assumed he was at home in bed.”

Astrid nodded. “Making it all too easy for him to slip out to the arena,” she finished.

“That’s actually kind of awesome,” admitted Ruffnut, sounding almost disappointed. 

“More like risky,” said Fishlegs, shaking his head. “How’d you know he’d really do it?”

“I didn’t – but I believed in him.”

When the other finally trickled out, Astrid lingered behind. Her eyes darted between his face and his missing leg, biting her lip. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he broke the silence, “we don’t have to address it, really.”

“Hiccup–”

“I’m serious!” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent so much time talking about it with my dad and with Gothi – I think I’ve said all that can be said.”

He didn’t want to keep lingering on the loss. Doing so made it felt more real, and he preferred to distract himself with other thoughts. Let that reality drift into the background a bit, allowing it to numb. 

“Fine,” relented Astrid after studying his face for a moment. “We don’t have to talk about it today, but we will talk about it. When you’re ready.”

He snorted.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, a smile playing at the side of her lip as she took a seat at the end of his bed. “Sass and all.”

“I missed you too.”

She reached out and gripped his hand, squeezing gently. “You gave us all a scare. Gothi wasn’t sure you’d even wake up – but I knew you were a fighter.”

“Oh yeah,” He snarked, letting some bite into his tone. “Just like a model viking–”

“No,” she shook her head, smirking at him. “Like a dragon.”

Chapter Text

Hiccup hurried to put away his tools as quickly as possible, a task that had become second-nature. His shift at the forge was just about up for the day, and he had a lot that he hoped to accomplish before he was expected to appear in the town hall for dinner.

In the year following the defeat of the queen, life on Berk had fallen into a steady rhythm of sorts. Between blacksmith work and leading the dragon riders of his village, he had his hands full most days. On top of it all, he was still trying to learn everything expected of him as heir to the tribe – something his father was more than happy to help guide. 

It had been a tall order, and a responsibility that he wasn’t initially sure he wanted. Yet, as he learned more about the legacy of Haddock leadership in Berk, it became less of a matter of whether he wanted the position and more of a question of if he could measure up. Stoick certainly thought so, and Hiccup hoped that with time he’d share the sentiment.

The mix of it all at once was exhausting, but incredibly fulfilling. He’d never been one to sit idly, and having such a wide breadth of roles kept him in a near constant state of motion. In a way, he felt as though the flurry of activity was his way of making up for two decades away. 

Hiccup had once felt as if there was no true direction in his life – that he was bound to just explore the archipelago forever with no real rhyme or reason.

Now, he had roots. Berk was his home.

That was not to say he’d lost his sense of adventure. Hiccup’s curiosity continued to drive him, and he and Toothless were known to slip away whenever they could in search of new islands or dragons.There was so much still to discover.

The difference was that now there were reasons to return.

Berk. His Father. Astrid.

At the thought of the blonde, Hiccup’s hand fell to his pocket. He could feel the curve of the metal disk within, a reassuring weight against his skin. Once more, the symbolic necklace was his to carry….but it wasn’t his to keep. With any luck, it would have a new owner before the week was out. 

So long as she said yes. 

Hiccup tapped his fingers against the pocket in anticipation. He just needed the perfect moment – she deserved the perfect moment. 

Toothless, having decided that he’d waited long enough for his rider to wrap up in the forge, chose that moment to force his way into the room. It wasn’t a big space, but the Night Fury was determined to see what was taking so long. 

His wings brushed against the walls, knocking a series of instruments off the mounted shelves. They clattered to the floor with a series of clanging sounds, drawing a small wince of surprise from the dragon. 

Hiccup laughed, shaking his head at his companion’s antics. “I’m coming!” He assured, pushing himself to his feet. 

It was much easier to get around these days, as he’d taken the liberty of fine-tuning his prosthetic leg. Gobber’s initial design had served him well at first, but it hadn’t taken long for Hiccup to make note of its less-obvious weaknesses.

It was great for walking about, but left him unbalanced and at risk when he flew. It was too hard to brace himself against the dragon’s back without risk of losing the leg completely. He’d had to create a new rigging system for Toothless’s saddle, complete with a set stirrups and a metal bar so that his prosthetic could lock into place. 

Once he’d gotten started on that project…well, he just hadn’t been able to help himself. He crafted an entirely new prosthetic, this one able to rotate between a walking aid and something more aerodynamic that clipped directly into the rigging. 

Gobber had been both impressed and entertained by the process, teasing him to no end. The blacksmith had been particularly fond of insinuating that Hiccup may find a way to make this new creative a ‘tad explosive’ with all his tinkering, often laughing at his own joke. Hiccup would simply roll his eyes in response, amused by his mentor’s antics.

Hiccup bent down to retrieve the items that Toothless had scattered, taking great care to return them to their respective shelves. The last thing he needed was another lecture on keeping the shop organized. 

“Let’s go,” he urged, gently pushing his dragon back out into the street. “Don’t want to keep the others waiting, do we bud?”

Toothless warbled his agreement, stretching his wings as Hiccup pulled himself up into the saddle. After a reassuring click from his leg in the stirrup, he directed the Night Fury up into the familiar haven of the sky.

As they climbed higher into the air, he took a moment to survey the movements of the village below. Even now, he got a bit of a thrill out of the sight that greeted him: dragons and vikings living together in harmony.  

Proof that peace was possible. 

It wasn’t perfect, by any means. Centuries of fear and anger on both sides could not be swept away as easily as footsteps in sand. No, it would take time for Berk to heal from the aftermath of it all…but they were willing to try. 

The bloodshed had ended. The arena was empty. Each week, more and more vikings took the plunge and granted a dragon their trust. 

Hiccup could remember a time not too long ago where he’d looked down on this very village, feeling like a ghost as he observed the ways of the vikings from the outside. He’d felt a mix of longing and curiosity, sometimes even a little bit of resentment.  

Now, he felt a sense of pride and loyalty towards the village. He was no longer on the outside looking in – these were his friends, his family, his village.

At last, he felt at peace.

It had been over two decades since a portrait had been commissioned for the Isle of Berk. Once more, it was the Haddock family who sought to preserve a moment in time, bringing in an artist from a neighboring island. 

The task remained the same: capture the essence of their small family. Though time and illness had taken one of their own, it had also allowed a true bond to form between father and son. The new depiction would immortalize that bond, hanging in the town hall for all to see.

Stoick the Vast occupied one half of the artwork, standing tall and strong as ever. He beamed at the viewer, bright eyes crinkled in the corners as his smile stretched wide across his face. His armor shone in the sunlight, neatly polished and free of the grime of war. 

The other figure depicted was slim and somewhat unassuming at first glance. His posture was more relaxed than his father, his crooked smile a bit more subtle but no less genuine. Yet it was his eyes that would captivate the viewer, full of both mischief and mirth. Eyes just as extraordinary and unforgettable as the boy that they belonged to – a true window into his soul. 

Dragon eyes.