In a brief moment of panic you lunged at him, knocking him to the ground and keeping him there as you pressed the end of your staff to his throat. Your dragon seemed to share the sentiment as they stood behind you menacingly. 

You could see his mouth moving, probably blubbering and pleading. His breathing was heavy, matching yours, along with the pounding in your chest. Blood was rushing in your ears, and you could hear Valka’s voice faintly coming from behind you.

The moment her hand landed on your shoulder it all came crashing down. You could hear and see everything more clearly now. The soothing sound of water and the critteering of the baby dragons grounding you. 

“It’s alright,” she soothed you.

With a bit of hesitation you removed your staff from his neck and took a step back.

“Uh, t-thanks…” Hiccup said as he stood up with the help of his dragon - a Night Fury. Your breath hitched. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Valka said, her voice full of glee. You took a break from examining your intruder to see what exactly she was talking about. You couldn’t help but feel a flush spread in your cheeks.

You saw her slowly approaching the Night Fury. She outstretched her hand but quickly retracted it. “Oh. Can I?” 

Hiccup, who had been occupied with examining you, nodded, gesturing toward his dragon vaguely. 

That was all it took for her to swoon all over the dragon. Her hand slowly caressing his head, as slight praises escaped her lips. 

“He might very well be the last of his kind!” she noted as the Night Fury wrapped itself around her as if he was a feline. “And look!” she exclaimed. “He’s your age! No wonder you get along so well.”

“I found him in the woods,” Hiccup said after a while. “He was…shot down and wounded.”

You could see Valka’s shoulders tensing. You both had been witnesses to the apathy of humans towards dragons. A wound that tied you together. 

She stood up and slowly moved to a Snapple Fang, explaining to him how he had lost one of its legs to one of Drago Bludvist’s iron traps. Then to a Rain Cutter who’s wing had been sliced, and next to a HobbleGrunt who was blinded by a tree snare.

You could see Hiccup was getting progressively more nervous. You crossed your arms, trying to guard yourself from him. 

“And what of this?” Valka asked as she carefully held on to the Night Fury’s artificial tail. “Did Drago or his trappers do this too?”

Hiccup laughed nervously. “Yeah…! Well, funny story. It was…it was me who actually shot him down,” as if sensing his discomfort the dragon stood by his side and caressed his hand. “But it’s okay. Right bud? You couldn’t save all of me. You just had to make it even. So…peg leg!” 

They both seemed to laugh at this. You, on the other hand, didn’t find it half as funny. 

Valka seemed skeptical at this revelation. “What did your father think of your Night Fury friend?”

“Ah, he didn’t take it all that well. But then… he changed. Everyone at home did. Pretty soon everyone back home had dragons of their own.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. He must surely be lying. Not in Berk.

“Impossible,” you spoke up for the first time. 

Hiccup glanced back at you, his features showed brief recognition. It didn’t last long though. “No, really-”

“People are not capable of change. Not like that,” you interrupted him. 

“You’re Berkian?” he asked tilting his head, as if he would be capable of seeing through your mask.

“I was once. But I haven’t been in a long time,” you said in reply.

He tried to move on past it, but you could see the conflict in his face. How his features scrunched up, in confusion. “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?”

You stayed silent. Valka, nodded at you from behind, vaguely gesturing towards her son. 

“I’m Hiccup-”

“I know who you are.”

His face was a mixture of confusion and sorrow. In it you could see reflected your inner turmoil as well. You could see his struggle, as if his brain was at war with itself. Trying to convince itself that what he already knew was not true. You saw the moment he recognized your voice. How anger at the uncertainty of it all settled within him. 

“Do we know each other,” he repeated. Angrier this time. More as a command than as a question. 

“We used to.” Your voice came out more brittle than you intended, like ice cracking under too much weight.

He took a step toward you, and instinctively you took a step back. Your eyes flickered to Valka. Trying to find an escape out of this situation. She gave you nothing but a knowing look. No escape this time.

You sighed and slowly, with trembling fingers, took off the mask that had been protecting you from facing your past. You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just let him see. Let him try to put it together.

His face crumbled. You saw how emotions passed through his eyes. Anger, sadness, betrayal, relief. 

“I thought you were dead.” His voice was small, hoarse. “We all did. We searched for weeks—months even—”

“I couldn’t stay anymore,” you offered in answer after a moment of silence. “You knew that.”

He wanted to reply, but he swallowed his words, biting his fist in frustration. “So what? You just allowed us to believe you were dead?”

“You would have come looking for me otherwise.”

“Of course I would have!” he yelled out in anger. 

Tears were forming in your eyes, but your expression remained unchanging. Unfazed.

“I mourned you. You were my best friend,” he whispered, poison laced his voice. 

The words hit harder than any blade. But you didn’t let it show. You couldn’t. If you did, you’d crumble.

“I didn’t ask you to mourn me,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t give me a choice!” Hiccup’s voice cracked as he shouted. “You disappeared. You vanished without a trace! I was fifteen, I didn’t know how to lose someone like that. None of us did. Gobber, Astrid, Fishlegs, even Snotlout... They all took turns watching the cliffs at night, thinking you’d come flying home. Like it was just a bad dream. Like you'd walk back through the village gates any moment and act like nothing happened.”

Your throat was dry, but you said nothing. Your silence only seemed to provoke him further.

“Gothi still leaves a candle in her window,” he snapped, his jaw clenched. “Every night. Says it’s for your spirit, or your shadow, or whatever shred of you might find its way back. And I let her do it. I let her believe it. I let myself believe it! Because even when everyone else gave up, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.”

You had to look away then, the sting behind your eyes growing unbearable. But he wasn’t done.

“You say people can’t change?” he barked. “Well maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re still the same girl who runs from everything that gets too real. But the rest of us? We did. Berk did. Because we had to. Because we didn’t have you.”

Your dragon growled lowly beside you, sensing the sharp edge of his words. But you reached out and touched its scaled shoulder, calming it.

“I didn’t know how to go back,” you finally admitted. “After everything I learned… everything I saw… I couldn’t walk into Berk and pretend I still belonged.”

He scoffed. “So you just let us rot in not knowing? You let us grieve something that wasn’t even true?”

“I didn’t belong there anymore, Hiccup,” you said, voice strained. “I belonged here. With Valka. With the dragons. The life I had back in Berk... it ended the moment that dragon took me.”

“That’s a lie,” he spat. “You chose to let it end. You chose to leave us behind.”

“I chose to survive!” you snapped.

That stunned silence again.

The water in the cavern trickled somewhere behind you. Baby dragons chirped from the shadows, oblivious to the weight of what lingered in the air.

You took a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself back together. “You think I haven’t looked at the stars every night and wondered if you were out there? If I’d made the wrong choice? But the truth is, I found something here that made me feel like I mattered. Like I had a purpose.”

“You mattered there,” he whispered. “To me.”

Your heart stilled. He wasn’t shouting anymore. And somehow, that was worse.

But it was too late now.

“I’m not the same person you knew,” you said, quieter now, more controlled. “And you’re not the boy I left behind.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’m not. But I never stopped being the one who would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to bring you home.”

You didn’t answer.

And maybe you didn’t need to.

Because even as the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the past hung there—raw and unforgiving.

You had only tried to help.

You were currently hidden away in your room, shaking with sobs on your bed. With knees tightly hugged to your chest, tears streamed down your face. A creak came from your door, and you knew who had opened it without even looking up.

"Y/N?"

A familiar British voice spoke softly. Your dad, Viggo. You didn't move from your position, but let out a whiny mumble.

"What..."

"I was informed of what happened this morning."

His voice was devoid of the stern tone it usually possessed, and was oddly gentle.

"Are you alright?"

You felt yourself hug your knees closer to your chest at his words, not wanting to be reminded of what had happened. The more you thought of what had happened that day the more guilty you felt.

Doing things for other people was something you always did, to the point where others would turn to you for things. People would tell you how nice you were, but youjust felt as if was your duty. But today, things didn't go as you had wanted.

Since your father led an entire tribe of Dragon Hunters, you were usually roped into the dragon business as well. A shipment of Changewings had came in that day, that would have definitely caught a hefty price. A well ranked Hunter, Lars, had asked you to help out by locking a cage full of seemingly tame Changewings, while the others dealt with the wild ones.

But apparently Thor hated you. A large crate had fell in the distance, the 'tame dragons' immediately going wild escaping the cage before you could lock it. Lars had no sympathy for you, screaming how you were useless, and good for nothing.

Just thinking about it made you shake with another sob. In your eyes, the Hunter was right.

"Yea..."

You answered, sniffling.

"I'm sorry..."

You murmured, your face still buried in your knees.

"Hey, now... none of that. It wasn't your fault."

His boots made soft thuds against the floor as he stepped towards you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You whimpered, feeling as if you didn't deserve the comfort.

"It was though... I was supposed to lock the cage, and now we lost a lot of money and..."

The bed dipped slightly as Viggo moved to sit next to you. His arm gently wrapped around your form, pulling you against his side as he gently shushed you.

"It was only 6 dragons, darling. Not nearly a full crate. Won't merely make a dent in our sales, nothing to worry about. I was more concerned for your safety."

He gently reassured you. Slight relief came to you at the information, but Lars' insults still lingered in your mind. The words stung, especially since you always thought you didn't do enough.

"... Lars was right."

You sniffled, your voice an involuntary whine. A pause. Without even looking up at him you could tell your dads eyebrow had raised at your words.

"And remind me what exactly Lars was right about?"

While he was attempting to keep his comforting demeanor steady, a hint of protectiveness slipped out and his arm tightened around you ever so slightly. The Hunters that worked for him were short tempered men, and Viggo was aware.

"About me being useless... and how I couldn't do a damn thing right."

Another sob left your throat as you answered him, all your previous feelings of guilt building up in your mind. Viggo was quick to hold you, allowing you to wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest as his other hand came up to gently rub circles on your back.

"Shh... You're not useless, darling. You're anything but."

He whispered reassuringly. The way your chest heaved with every cry practically split his heart in two right then and there.

"But... but I can't even do something as simple as lock a cage..."

You reasoned, your chin resting against your father's shoulder, which lacked their usual spiky shoulder-pads.

"What happened was not your fault. It could have happened to anyone. Lars was entirely out of place to call you such names...

He consoled, continuing his hands soothing motions on your back. Each sob and shake that came out of your shaking form spurred his growing anger. Not at you of course, but at the man who had caused this spiral. Viggo mentally promised you that Lars would be sleeping in the belly of a Whispering Death tonight.

"What if he's right, Dad?.. I-I never feel like I'm enough for anyone..."

You whimpered, hot tears welling in your eyes as you voiced your main insecurity. Viggo pulled back so he could look at you better, his hand gently cupping the side of your face. He shook his head at the mere thought of your words, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

"Oh, darling no. Don't ever think of yourself like that. What Lars told you was just him reacting to the heat of the moment. You are such a kind, hardworking child."

He reassures you, taking in your teary eyed expression. His voice drops into a whisper.

"...Who, let's be honest, puts more effort into work than half of my men."

He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. A small smile crosses your face at the soft praise, his words making you feel a little better. He then gently pulls you back into his chest, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he held you against him.

"My child, you are enough. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He mutters against your hair, his voice soft and sincere. Tears still stained your cheeks, but the guilty conscience beating you up inside was gone. A pause.

"...thanks Dad."

You sniffled against his shoulder. Viggo smiled softly, his hand gently combing through your hair now.

"Anytime, darling."

Once he was sure your tears had stopped, he pulled away from you with an arm still lazily wrapped around your lower back.

"So... you're not mad about the dragon thing?"

"Not one bit. However, I am quite impartial to the mud you tracked inside..."

~