CHAPTER FOURTEEN, PART TWO - STORM ABOVE ICE ₊˚⊹☆

Ice and fire collide, and in the heart of it, truth flickers like lightning— fleeting, blinding, impossible to unsee. Some storms don’t just destroy; they remember.

A/N: hi so, got swamped with work... but here's the long awaited part two! sorry this chapter hurts a bit lol... dw! things will get worse from here!

“You should be proud,” he growled, tightening his grip. “You’re strong. You could’ve been something. But instead…” His fingers dug under the strap of my mask. “…you hide.”

I clawed at his arm, vision blurring, pulse pounding in my ears — until a voice broke through the haze, cutting clean through the storm.

“STOP! STOP!”

The grip around my throat loosened. I fell hard to the ground, coughing, as Drago turned — his attention drawn to the sound of boots crunching across the snow. Across the battlefield, Toothless landed with a heavy thud — snow and ash billowing around him. Hiccup slid off his back, his movements hurried, desperate, but deliberate. And then — he pulled off his helmet.

His face was bare, eyes wide, chest heaving.

For a split second, everything stopped.

I looked up — and even from where I was, I could see it in Hiccup’s eyes.

That fear. That fire.

I crumpled to my knees, air scraping painfully back into my lungs. My mask felt loose — the strap torn from Drago’s grip — but I didn’t dare touch it. My pulse roared in my ears.

Drago turned, slowly, his broad frame blocking the fractured light of the storm above. His expression flickered between amusement and annoyance as he spotted Hiccup standing a few paces away, snow whipping around him.

Defiant.

“This…” Drago chuckled darkly, spreading his arms wide as if welcoming him. “This is the great dragon master? The son of Stoick the Vast? What shame he must feel.”

I coughed, trying to find my footing, but my legs were trembling too hard. Toothless snarled from behind Hiccup, blue light swelling in his throat — but Hiccup raised a hand, steady and calm despite the fear I could feel radiating off him.

“All of this loss,” Hiccup said, voice steady but sharp, “and for what? To become unstoppable? To rule the world?”

His words echoed against the icy cliffs, lost in the rumble of the Bewilderbeast’s distant growls. Drago turned away, pacing with infuriating leisure, the bullhook dragging behind him again.

“Dragons are kind, amazing creatures,” Hiccup went on, “that can bring people together.”

Drago stopped mid-step. His shoulders rose and fell once, then he turned his head slightly — just enough for me to see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Or tear them apart,” he murmured, his voice venomous.

Then, to my horror, he reached for his false arm — unfastening it and letting it drop into the snow with a dull thud. Beneath, the jagged stump of his shoulder gleamed with frostbite scars. Hiccup’s eyes widened, the breath leaving him.

“You see,” Drago said, circling him, voice lowering to something almost intimate, “I know what it is to live in fear. To see my village burned. My family taken.”

He paused near me. I could see the rawness in his gaze — not sorrow, but obsession. “But even as a boy, left with nothing,” he continued, reattaching the prosthesis with a sharp click, “I vowed to rise above fear. To conquer it. To liberate the world from the monsters that enslaved it.”

“Then why a dragon army?” Hiccup demanded.

Drago’s grin was quick and cruel. “Well, you need dragons to conquer other dragons.”

“Or maybe,” Hiccup said, stepping forward— and I swear I could feel the storm respond, curling tighter around him— “you need dragons to conquer people. To control those who follow you… and to get rid of those who won’t.”

Drago tilted his head, impressed. “Clever boy.” His tone darkened.

He gripped the bullhook again, stepping closer. I pushed myself upright, trying to find balance, but every muscle screamed from where he’d slammed me down. Toothless moved in front of Hiccup, his growl deep and warning.

“The world wants peace,” Hiccup said, voice rising with conviction. “And we have the answer — back on Berk. Just let me show you.”

Drago’s lips curled. “No.” He raised his bullhook, eyes wild. “Let me show you.”

His shout ripped through the storm like thunder. The Bewilderbeast’s head turned at once — a low, dreadful rumble following. Ice cracked beneath our feet as its massive form stirred, responding to his call.

Toothless tensed, wings flaring, the spines along his back glowing brighter. Hiccup didn’t flinch. Somewhere distant, I heard Valka’s voice echo — distant and terrified — and Stoick’s bellowing her name.

My chest burned, my fingers twitching toward a weapon– any weapon, but I couldn’t look away from Hiccup. He wasn’t blinking, wasn’t breathing — his eyes fixed on Drago like the world itself hung on that moment.

But the Bewilderbeast was already rising.

Its breath misted in the freezing air, each exhale a promise of destruction.

And Hiccup — gods help him — stood his ground.

My heart seized. He stood there, facing Drago, wind tearing through his hair.

Drago slammed his bullhook into the ground with a force that sent a shudder through the ice beneath my boots. The Bewilderbeast stilled mid-breath, its massive eyes narrowing in submission.

“No dragon can resist the Alpha’s command,” Drago said, voice low and triumphant. He gripped the bullhook like a scepter. “So he who controls the Alpha… controls them all.”

His gaze slid toward Toothless.

“No–” I breathed, but it was too late.

Drago pointed.

The Bewilderbeast’s head lowered, its throat vibrating with an inhuman hum. The sound wasn’t loud— it was felt, crawling under the skin, seeping into every bone.

Toothless stiffened. His ears flattened, pupils dilating as the Bewilderbeast’s hiss deepened into a pulse that made the air vibrate. I could see it— the moment Toothless froze, his wings falling slack, his breathing slowing. And then, slowly— horribly— his pupils narrowed into lifeless slits. The wild spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something blank and hollow– the same hollowness that overcame Jynx just a few moments ago.

My blood ran cold. “Hiccup—” The name scraped from my throat, raw and cracked, barely more than a breath. Every word stung; the back of my tongue tasted of ash. I forced myself upright, one trembling hand pressing into the ground until I could shift my weight onto a single knee. My scars thrummed beneath my skin, each one alive, pulsing with a kind of dreadful recognition— like they knew what was about to come before I did .

With a sharp inhale, I reached for my mask, fingers fumbling across the rough scales and leather. Something was wrong— too much light, too much air. The strap. Loose. Torn. My stomach sank. Drago had ripped it free. I could feel the exposed strands of my hair, the braid that should’ve stayed hidden now tangled and bare in the open sun. The woven cord threaded through it— glimmered faintly in the dust and blood of the battlefield, laid bare for anyone to see.

“Toothless?” Hiccup’s voice cracked slightly, fear bleeding through his usual calm. “You okay, bud? What’s going on?”

The dragon shook his head violently, claws digging trenches into the snow. He whimpered—  a desperate, strangled sound I’d never heard from him before. The Alpha’s call grew stronger, wrapping around him like invisible chains.

Drago smirked. He raised his hand again and pointed directly at Hiccup.

“Witness true strength,” he said softly, his tone almost reverent. “The strength of will… over others. In the face of it—”

His grin sharpened into something feral.

“—you are nothing.”

The Bewilderbeast hissed again— its breath colder than death itself. Toothless slowly turned to face Hiccup. His movements were unnatural— mechanical. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, brittle and cold.

“Uh… what did he just tell you?”

Hiccup’s voice trembled, unsure, soft against the rising wind.

From where I stood, I could feel it. The hum in the air, low and crawling under my skin. The Bewilderbeast’s control was spreading like poison, reaching deep into Toothless’s mind. His body moved in rigid jerks, his pupils narrowing into sharp, glassy slits.

Up ahead, Stoick was bounding across the ice, axe in hand, his boots thundering against the frozen ground. He was pushing himself harder than he should— every second slower, every heartbeat too far away.

And Hiccup—

He stood there. Helplessly trying to understand what had taken over his scaled companion.

“Toothless, what’s the matter with you!? What’re you doing?”

His words fell into the howling wind, unheard.

Toothless advanced mindlessly, his claws scraping against the slick ice. Hiccup stumbled backward until he hit a wall of broken glacier, trapped, the jagged edges cutting off every escape. My breath hitched when the Night Fury’s mouth opened, gas seeping from his throat in a thin, blue mist. The light pulsed in his chest— soft at first, then brighter, hotter.

“Knock it off! Stop! Snap out of it!”

Panic seized my chest. The words echoed in my ears, but Toothless didn’t stop— he couldn’t. I couldn’t watch.

I started forward before my body even registered the motion, sprinting across the battlefield, slipping and catching myself on the frost. My voice caught in my throat, strangled by fear— fear that if I spoke, if he heard me, he’d know.

He’d know it was me.

But I couldn’t stay silent. Not when his life was about to end.

“Hiccup— !” My voice cracked as I shouted, loud enough to tear through the storm. I prayed the chaos would muffle it, prayed my mask would hide the tremor that betrayed me. “Move! You have to move!”

He didn’t.

He just kept calling to Toothless, voice desperate, pleading. He believed— still believed— that he could reach him. That Toothless would never hurt him.

I ran faster. The distance between us vanished. My hand shot out, grabbing his arm, spinning him toward me—

and for a heartbeat, everything stopped.

The world narrowed to just us— the sound of the wind, the faint whirring hum of Toothless charging behind us, and the look in Hiccup’s eyes when he saw me.

For the longest time, he could only stare. The chaos around them— the clang of chains, the cries of dragons, the whip of wind against the cliffs— fell away until there was only the sound of his own heartbeat.

He had spent hours, days, chasing the shadow of her. The masked rider. Valka’s apprentice. The one who flew with the Skrill and fought with a fury that felt almost… familiar. But it was always that— almost. Always just beyond reach, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Now, standing before her, the mask torn loose and the light catching her face, he saw what his mind had refused to see.

The cord braided through her hair caught his eye first— worn, frayed, still tied the same way it had been years ago. His breath hitched. The way she held herself, shoulders squared despite the tremor in her hands. The subtle tilt of her head, that cautious inhale before speaking—like she was still bracing for the world to take something from her.

And then her eyes met his.

Green, gold, something between. Wide, guarded, but still carrying that spark he had never forgotten— the one that could silence an entire room with a single look.

Hiccup’s chest constricted. For a moment, it was as if he was a stupid kid again, standing on that cliff above Berk, watching her walk away into the storm. He could feel every year between then and now— every unanswered question, every ache that had never really left him.

“It’s you,” he whispered, the words trembling as though afraid to break the fragile truth now hanging between them.

Her gaze flickered, guilt and disbelief warring beneath her mask of calm.

He took a step closer, slowly, as if she might vanish if he moved too fast. “It’s really you,” he said again, more certain this time— voice cracking on the last word. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to reach out, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet.

I saw it happen— the precise moment the pieces fell into place. His pupils dilated, breath stuttering, lips parting as if the very air had turned against him. Confusion flickered first, then disbelief, then something deeper— something like grief, like hope, like the echo of a name he had buried long ago.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. My throat burned. My hands trembled against my sides. All I could manage was a weak shake of my head, as if denial might somehow protect us both from the truth already standing between us.

“Hiccup…” I breathed at last, and it was all I could do not to break.

Toothless’s growl deepened, the blue glow in his throat brightening, a blinding light gathering in the cracks of his jaw.

I looked back— just in time to see it. The charge reached its peak. The blast was coming.

“MOVE!” I shouted again, pushing against his chest. He didn’t move— his body frozen in realization, in shock, in grief.

The hum crescendoed into a roar.

There was no time left.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed.

And before he could reach for me—

I shoved him. Hard.

The force sent him stumbling backward, away from the line of fire. I barely felt the cold as I turned back to face the oncoming light— bracing for it, for the heat, for the sound—

The world erupted in blue.

The blast tore through the air with a deafening roar.

Light— searing, all-consuming— swallowed everything.

When the sound finally broke, it was replaced by the slow hiss of melting ice. Steam rolled across the battlefield, curling through the wreckage. For a moment, there was nothing. No breath, no movement— only the faint whistle of wind through the frozen canyon.

Hiccup stirred first. His hands slipped against the ice as he tried to stand, every muscle shaking from the shock. His ears rang so violently that the world seemed distant, muffled, unreal. The smell of scorched air filled his lungs.

He blinked through the haze— saw a crater carved deep into the ice.

And there, near the edge of it, lay a figure.

The apprentice. No. It’s… It’s her. 

Her armor was cracked. The edges of her mask were half-melted, one strap hanging loose against her cheek. Steam rose from her body where the plasma blast had skimmed the ground beside her. She wasn’t moving.

Hiccup’s chest tightened. He stumbled forward, voice breaking.

“No…” His throat caught.

He dropped to his knees beside her, fingers trembling as he reached out. The edges of her braid had come undone— one familiar cord glinting faintly through the frost. His heart twisted violently, memory flashing like lightning. His eyes traced her form, before finally landing on her mask— no, not a mask. Her face.

Hiccup’s breath caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. The world around him blurred— the storm, the ice, the echo of dragons— it all faded into a hollow, ringing silence. 

All he could see was her.

[Y/N].

The name hit him like a hammer to the chest. It rang in his mind, burned in his throat. He hadn’t said it in years— hadn’t dared to. It had become sacred, untouchable. The one name he could never bring himself to speak aloud because every time he did, it felt like losing her all over again.

But now… now she was right there. And he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

He crawled closer, fingers shaking as they hovered over her shoulder. He didn’t want to touch her— didn’t want to feel how cold she might be. His pulse was pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

This whole time.

The theory that had haunted him for months— the glimpses, the voice, the impossible familiarity behind the mask. He had told himself he was imagining it. That she was gone, that he needed to move on.

But he knew. Somewhere deep down, he knew.

And now that he’d finally been proven right… fate had twisted the knife.

“It’s you,” he whispered, voice breaking as the words fell from his lips. “Gods— [Y/N], it’s really you…”

He brushed a hand over the cracked edge of her mask, wincing when part of it crumbled under his touch. Her braid lay in disarray beside her cheek, strands tangled around the cord he remembered— their cord. The very same one from the cliffside when they were kids, before dragons, before war, before death.

A choked breath escaped him, half laugh, half sob. “You— you were here. All this time, you were here.”

His vision blurred with tears. He blinked hard, but they kept coming, hot against the cold wind. “I looked for you. I never stopped. You have no idea how many nights I—” His voice broke entirely, crumbling into silence.

He wanted to shake her, to scream, to tell her she couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t just disappear, not now, not when he’d finally found her.

“Please,” he whispered, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me—” His voice cracked, his words dissolving into a desperate whisper. “Don’t make me lose you twice.”

His fingers curled against the ice beside her. He wanted her to move— to do something, anything. Even a breath, even a twitch. He didn’t care if she hated him, if she never spoke to him again. He just wanted her alive.

He could feel the sting in his chest tightening, squeezing until it hurt to breathe. He could grieve her again— he knew he could— but he didn’t think he’d survive it this time.

Not after this. Not after knowing she was alive all along. Not after realizing she’d been within reach, fighting by their side, and he hadn’t seen it soon enough.

He shut his eyes, his tears falling onto the frost between them. “[Y/N]… please wake up.” The sob that tore out of him was raw and broken, echoing through the frozen canyon.

Stoick pushed himself up with a groan, the impact having sent him sprawling but not destroyed him. His armor was scorched, shoulder bleeding from shrapnel, but he was alive. Barely. Valka ran to him instantly, hands flying over him in panic.

“Stoick—! Are you alright?”

He coughed, trying to catch his breath, dazed. “Aye… I’m— agh— fine… fine…” His eyes found Hiccup’s. “Where’s—?”

Hiccup’s fingers trembled so violently he could hardly undo the scorched plates of her armor. Around him, everyone stood frozen—watching the young heir to Berk claw helplessly at the fallen figure, desperate to free her, to grant her some scrap of comfort… if comfort could even reach her now. They watched in silence, their hearts splintering with his— witness to a grief too raw for words. People say there are fates worse than death; surely, this was one.

“No— no, no, no—”

Toothless blinked, the eerie blue haze fading from his eyes as the Bewilderbeast’s hold slipped away. Confusion flickered across his face— ears twitching, pupils widening as if waking from a nightmare he couldn’t remember. He took a cautious step forward, tail dragging weakly behind him, a soft, uncertain rumble rising in his throat.

Hiccup turned at the sound, and something inside him snapped. His entire body went rigid— eyes glassy with horror, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. For a heartbeat, Toothless’s gaze met his… and Hiccup saw nothing of his best friend there. Only the echo of the blast, the memory of that blinding light swallowing her whole.

His voice tore through the silence, raw and shaking. “No!”

He stumbled to his feet, fury and heartbreak tangled in every trembling movement. “Get away from her!” His shove came from pure instinct— grief turned violent, desperate. Tears streaked down his soot-stained face as his voice cracked again. “You— you did this!”

Toothless recoiled, eyes wide and ears pinned back, whining softly as if he understood and didn’t— his body low to the ice, confusion and guilt etched into every trembling breath.

But Hiccup couldn’t see it. All he saw was [Y/N]’s motionless form and the dragon who’d obeyed another’s command to take her away.

Toothless froze, whining softly. His ears pinned back as he crouched low to the ground, like a scolded child.

“Hiccup,” Valka called, limping toward them. “Son, it wasn’t him—”

“HE SHOT HER!” The words cracked, hollow and sharp. His throat hurt from shouting. 

“He— he killed her!”

He turned back toward [Y/N], his hands hovering uselessly over her mask— or whatever was left of it. Steam hissed from the seams. His heart thundered in his ears.

He reached, hesitated, then—

—peeled the mask away.

And the world stopped.

Her full face. 

Battered, bruised, streaked with soot— but hers. Beautiful.

Every memory came crashing down at once— merciless, unrelenting. The laughter that used to echo through the forge. The arguments that always ended in breathless laughter or stubborn silence. The glint in her eyes when she teased him, the way she’d roll those same eyes when he got too caught up in his inventions. The warmth of her voice. The smell of soot and sea salt in her hair.

He could see her there again, in flashes— standing beside him, sparks dancing off their workbench as they bickered over who’d ruined the blueprint this time. Her grin when she won. The quiet moments in between when neither spoke, but everything they didn’t say hung heavy in the air.

And then— the day she vanished. The empty forge. The cold silence that followed her absence, stretching into years of what-ifs and unanswered questions.

And now here she was again— lying on the ice, broken and still, as if fate had waited until he could finally find her… only to take her all over again. The weight of it crushed him. Every breath came jagged and shallow, as though his heart couldn’t bear the space she’d once filled.

The Bewilderbeast’s bellow rolled like thunder over the ice, a command that made the air itself vibrate. All around them, dragons turned midflight— Stormfly, Hookfang, Meatlug, even Barf and Belch— answering the Alpha’s call despite their riders’ desperate shouts.

“Good dragons under the control of bad people do bad things.” Valka’s voice was thick with heartbreak.

Across the battlefield, Drago’s figure emerged through the fog, his grin stretching wide as he spotted Toothless tumbling weakly down a snowbank. The Night Fury’s eyes slit once more, the trance reclaiming him. Drago pinned him down effortlessly, studying the saddle and the prosthetic tail with sick fascination.

Hiccup barely registered it. Valka, still kneeling beside her husband, helped him upright as her hands trembled. Stoick groaned, clutching his ribs, smoke curling faintly from the scorched fur on his shoulder. “Agh, I’ve had better landings,” he muttered, forcing a grim smile.

“Stoick, thank the gods,” Gobber rasped, stumbling over ice, face pale. “You’re still in one piece!”

“Barely,” Stoick grunted, eyes darting past him to where Hiccup knelt beside [Y/N]’s still body. “But he’s not.”

Everyone followed his gaze.

Hiccup was still on the ice, hands stained with soot and melted frost, hovering over [Y/N] as if afraid she’d vanish the moment he blinked. Her mask had fallen away completely now— revealing her face, pale, streaked with ash and blood. The others froze where they stood.

Astrid was the first to move. “Oh gods…” she whispered, stumbling forward. “That’s—”

“[Y/N],” Fishlegs finished hoarsely.

The realization hit like a shockwave. Snotlout’s mouth fell open. Ruffnut blinked furiously. Tuffnut actually took off his helmet, staring in disbelief.

“She’s the Skrill rider?” Astrid’s voice cracked. “All this time?”

Her breath trembled. For years, she’d grieved her best friend— buried her memory, forced herself to move on. And now, she was right there. Still. Unmoving.

Hiccup looked up at them, his eyes rimmed red, desperate. “We can’t just leave her,” he said, voice shaking. “We can’t— please, Mom— Dad— we can’t leave her here.”

Valka’s expression softened, torn between duty and the ache in her son’s voice. “Hiccup…”

“Drago’s heading for Berk!” Stoick barked, grimacing through pain. “If we don’t stop him—”

“Then he wins!” Hiccup snapped, standing abruptly. “He wins, and she dies for nothing!” His voice broke on the last word. “Please.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the hiss of wind across the frozen sea.

Finally, Valka knelt beside [Y/N]. She reached out with trembling fingers to check her pulse—

 A sudden crackle split the air.

“Ah—!” Valka recoiled, clutching her hand. A faint spark jumped between her fingertips and [Y/N]’s skin, the smell of ozone burning through the cold.

Everyone gasped.

“What in Thor’s name—” Gobber started, stepping forward, but Valka raised a hand to stop him, awe dawning on her face. “She’s… she’s charged.”

“Charged?” Astrid echoed, heart pounding.

Valka hesitated only a second before undoing the clasps of [Y/N]’s scorched armor. The chestplate fell away, clattering against the ice— and everyone saw it.

Scars. Dozens of them. Jagged lines branching over her collarbones and ribs, glowing faintly blue beneath her skin like veins of lightning.

Stoick took a step back, stunned. “By the gods…”

“She’s alive,” Valka breathed, hand hovering just above Y/N’s sternum. “Barely— but alive.”

The realization spread through them like the warmth of a fire. Hiccup exhaled shakily, the first flicker of hope cutting through the devastation.

Astrid pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, tears breaking free. “She’s fighting,” she whispered. “She’s still fighting.”

Valka’s brow furrowed. “Those scars— there’s residual energy. It’s defibrillating her heart, keeping it going just long enough… but it’s fading.” She looked to Hiccup urgently. “We need to get her back to her dragon. Now.”

“The Skrill,” Hiccup said at once, nodding. “He can help her.”

Stoick put a steadying hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then let’s move. Drago may think he’s won, but we’re not done yet.”

Hiccup looked down at [Y/N] one last time— at the faint rise and fall of her chest, at the flicker of light still pulsing in her scars— and swallowed hard.

“Hang on, [Y/N],” he whispered. “I’m not losing you again.”

Behind them, Drago’s roar echoed through the mountains. The Bewilderbeast bellowed in response, summoning the dragons into a storm-black sky. And beneath that chaos— Hiccup gathered what remained of his strength, cradled [Y/N] in his arms, and turned toward the battle still waiting to be fought.

The Sanctuary was quieter than it had ever been.

Only the low crackle of the hearth filled the vast, echoing cavern— its flames licking against the walls, casting long shadows that danced across stone and dragon alike. Outside, the storm still rumbled faintly, a distant echo of the chaos that had torn the battlefield apart.

[Y/N] lay beside the hearth, her body pale and still, her armor stripped away and replaced by bandages and a thin wool blanket. Every so often, her fingers twitched as if grasping at something unseen. Valka knelt beside her, wiping away frost and ash, murmuring softly as she pressed herbs against the burns that laced her arms. The faint glow of her lightning scars flickered weakly in the firelight— like dying embers struggling to hold on.

Stoick stood at a nearby table, a map unfurled beneath his heavy hands. Gobber leaned over beside him, pointing with a soot-stained finger.

“She’ll need time to recover, Stoick,” Gobber muttered. “But Drago won’t give us that luxury. Berk’s next on his list.”

Stoick’s brow furrowed. “We can’t fight him head-on, not with the Bewilderbeast under his command and no dragons by our side. But we can outsmart him. Hit fast, hit smart.”

From across the room, Hiccup sat apart from them, staring into the fire, jaw tight. The others— Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut— huddled nearby in uneasy silence, their faces drawn with disbelief.

Snotlout finally broke it. “So… those marks on her,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward [Y/N]. “They look like— uh— lightning.”

Fishlegs adjusted his glasses nervously. “That’s because they are. I’ve read about it. People who survive lightning strikes sometimes carry scars that branch like that— Lichtenberg figures. It’s like… the lightning leaves a map on their skin.”

Ruffnut let out a low whistle. “So she got struck by lightning?”

“Cool,” Tuffnut finished, eyes wide. “Do you think it like… made her supercharged or something? Like if you touch her, you’ll just zap— instantly dead?”

Astrid shot them both a glare. “Not helping.”

Hiccup didn’t laugh. Didn’t even look up. His gaze was fixed on the flicker of the fire reflecting off [Y/N]’s pale skin. His voice, when it came, was quiet. “It’s been years,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

No one spoke. The others exchanged uncertain glances.

He swallowed hard. “Years of thinking she was gone. Searching for days. Weeks. Years. We burned her things on an empty boat, said some prayers— and everyone said it was time to let go.” His fingers clenched tightly around his knee. “But I couldn’t. I kept thinking maybe… maybe she was out there somewhere. That it was impossible that she was taken— just like that. I looked for her in every storm. Every flight. Every island. Every shadow that passed over the water.”

He gave a broken laugh, shaking his head. “But you can’t live like that forever. Hope starts to hurt after a while. So I buried it. I buried her.”

Astrid’s face softened. “Hiccup…”

He looked up sharply. “And now she’s here. Alive. After all this time. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

“I—”

“She let us mourn her,” he said bitterly. “She let me mourn her. For years.” His voice cracked, years of restraint shattering at once. “And now what am I supposed to feel? Relieved? Angry? Both?”

Astrid stepped closer, trying to steady her voice. “She must have had her reasons. You don’t know what happened to her—”

“She could’ve told me!” His voice rose, raw and breaking. “She was my best friend, Astrid! My—” He stopped himself, chest heaving. “You don’t understand.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand. She was my best friend too!”

“Not like she was mine.”

Astrid froze.

Her hands balled into fists. “Right. Because you were inseparable— until you weren’t.” Her tone sharpened. “Until you got so caught up chasing fame and dragons and peace treaties that maybe you stopped seeing the people you were leaving behind!”

Hiccup flinched.

“Maybe,” she went on, voice trembling, “she ran away because it was the only choice she ever made for herself. Maybe she got tired of being the one who followed you into every mess you made.”

“Astrid—”

“Maybe it was a good thing she ran.”

Her words hung heavy between them, like smoke.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Gobber barked, slamming his prosthetic onto the table. “We’ve all lost enough for one day without tearing each other apart!”

Stoick shot him a grateful look, but the tension still crackled thick in the air.

Then—

“Quiet,” Valka said softly, looking down.

Everyone turned.

[Y/N]’s fingers twitched.

Her head shifted slightly on the folded blanket beneath her, a quiet breath escaping her lips. The lightning scars along her collarbone flickered faintly— one brief pulse of light.

“[Y/N]?” Hiccup was on his feet before anyone could stop him.

Astrid reached for his arm, hesitating. She could feel it— the unspoken weight between them, the ache of years that never healed. It wasn’t just grief anymore. It was something deeper, something older. And it hurt too much to name.

“Hiccup—”

But he was already kneeling beside [Y/N], his hands hovering over hers. Her lips parted, a faint sound slipping through— his name, maybe. Or a ghost of it.

Hiccup’s heart twisted violently.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You’re safe now.”

And Astrid turned away, blinking hard, pretending she didn’t see the look on his face— the one that made her realize just how much of him had always belonged to [Y/N].

INSTINCT : PART ONE

PROLOGUE ₊˚⊹☆

Born on a night of fire and loss, a child grows beneath the shadow of grief and blame. In a house without warmth, solace is found beside another outcast, a boy who never quite belongs. Marked by survival others call chance, she learns to seek worth in the places danger dwells.

CHAPTER ONE: RAID ₊˚⊹☆

Amid fire and chaos, Hiccup's desperate invention does the unthinkable, bringing down the very shadow that haunts the skies. But victory tastes uncertain when truth is dismissed and loyalty is tested. In the quiet after the raid, a discovery in the forest changes everything: the most feared dragon of all, bound and broken, stares back with fear instead of fury. One choice in that moment reshapes the path ahead, for him, and for the one who dares to follow.

CHAPTER TWO: FORBIDDEN FRIENDSHIP ₊˚⊹☆

Stoick's command forces the path of dragon training, where fear and fire test every step. In the chaos of the arena, a bond of loyalty is questioned, while doubt lingers heavier than steel. Yet beyond the village walls, a hidden truth awakens, where predator meets prey, and trust is dared between enemies who should never stand side by side.

CHAPTER THREE: THE FORGE ₊˚⊹☆

In the hush of firelight and secrecy, the first pieces of a new future are forged. Trust grows where it shouldn’t, even as the weight of home presses heavily. A dragon is tamed, a plan takes shape, and the next step lies waiting in the shadows of the Cove.

CHAPTER FOUR: TETHER ₊˚⊹☆

Amid cheers and dragons, Hiccup’s quiet cleverness wins the impossible, yet admiration feels hollow when bonds are stretched and promises go unspoken. In the hush of the cove, a small token left behind speaks louder than words, and the weight of absence forces him to face what he’s neglected—and who truly matters.

CHAPTER FIVE: FRAY ₊˚⊹☆

The arena roars. Fire and chaos tear through Berk. Amid it all, he stands— small, resolute, defying expectations. And [Y/N] is left, heart in her throat, caught between loyalty, love, and a choice she can’t yet name.

CHAPTER SIX: RED ₊˚⊹☆

The village is alive with color, dragons wheeling overhead, laughter spilling into every corner— but something is missing. Hiccup’s eyes scan the crowd, searching, hoping, and come up empty. The world is triumphant, chaotic, alive… and yet, a hollow ache lingers.

CHAPTER SEVEN: INSTINCT₊˚⊹☆

When the celebrations of Berk ring hollow, she makes the only choice she believes will set her free— leaving it all behind. But secrets don’t stay buried. A hidden bond with a storm-bound dragon drags her into the skies, and when instinct pushes her into the chaos of battle, lightning answers. In the aftermath, scars remain— etched not just into her skin, but into the truth she can never deny.

INSTINCT : PART TWO

CHAPTER EIGHT: STORMBOUND₊˚⊹☆

Survival teaches its own rhythm: hunger, hiding, the endless taste of salt. But one choice to leave the barren behind sets the storm in motion again. What begins as a search for green and freedom twists into fire, nets, and poison— until an encounter with a rider cloaked in mystery changes everything. In the shadow of a Bewilderbeast, truths long buried are unearthed, and the fragile bond between rider and dragon is tested against fate itself.

CHAPTER NINE: FIRELIGHT₊˚⊹☆

In the hollow glow of the sanctuary, wounds knit and truths unravel. Trust is tested— between dragon and rider, between past and present— as a mother’s secret is laid bare. Scars tell their story, love lingers like a wound, and the weight of what was left behind collides with what still might be.

CHAPTER TEN: FLIGHT₊˚⊹☆

When the storm finally stirs, it is not just a dragon that awakens, but a bond reforged. Recovery carves its scars into silence, until trust demands something greater: surrender. No saddle, no restraint— only instinct, only faith. In the crackle of lightning and the rush of open skies, what was once struggle becomes harmony. And beneath the watching eyes of one who knows loss, strength is no longer borrowed, but shared.

CHAPTER ELEVEN, PART ONE: FISSURE ₊˚⊹☆

CHAPTER ELEVEN, PART TWO: FISSURE ₊˚⊹☆

Tensions flare between father and son when Stoick reveals the truth about Drago Bludvist— a ruthless warlord who once slaughtered an entire hall of chiefs to prove his control over dragons. Determined to stop another war, Hiccup defies Stoick’s command to fortify Berk and sets out instead to find Drago and reason with him, believing peace is still possible. Haunted by thoughts of the one he lost, he flies into the unknown, unaware that his choice will draw him straight into Drago’s shadow— where capture, loss, and a frozen kingdom of dragons await.

CHAPTER TWELVE: REWOVEN ₊˚⊹☆

Years have passed, but some ties refuse to fade. When the past returns to the sanctuary, [Y/N] must navigate old memories, new challenges, and the dragons that watch over them all.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THREADBARE ₊˚⊹☆

Between ice and thunder, memories resurface— familiar eyes, an almost-name, and the ache of what’s been waiting to be found.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN, PART ONE: STORM ABOVE ICE ₊˚⊹☆

CHAPTER FOURTEEN, PART TWO: STORM ABOVE ICE ₊˚⊹☆

Ice and fire collide, and in the heart of it, truth flickers like lightning— fleeting, blinding, impossible to unsee. Some storms don’t just destroy; they remember.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HEART OF A CHIEF, SOUL OF A DRAGON ₊˚⊹☆

“We did it,” he breathed. Then his eyes flicked to me, softer. “I couldn’t have without you.” My chest tightened. “You could’ve. You just… didn’t want to.”

Chapter 3: The Forge, INSTINCT

EPILOGUE ₊˚⊹☆

EPILOGUE ₊˚⊹☆

Years later, Berk thrives under Hiccup’s steady leadership. Life moves forward— dragons soar, children grow, laughter returns— but not everything is healed by time. Some loves are not lost, only carried differently. Quietly. Permanently.

Hiccup didn’t move at first.

He stood where she’d left him, feet rooted to the churned grass, watching the dark shape of Jynx cut across the sky until the clouds swallowed them whole. The roar of celebration had thinned to a dull, distant hum— cheers bleeding into the wind, into the crackle of cooling fire— but it all felt unreal now, like sound heard underwater.

He told himself to look away.

He didn’t.

By the time he finally did, it was only because his eyes burned too badly to keep searching the horizon. His gaze dropped, unfocused, to the ground at his feet. His breath hitched— sharp and involuntary— like his body had remembered how to hurt before his mind had caught up.

There, tangled in the flattened grass, was the cord.

The woven braid lay dull against the green, weathered and faded, its fibers roughened by years of wear. He knew it instantly. He would have known it anywhere.

The same cord he’d pressed into her hands all those years ago, cheeks flushed, pretending it was nothing special. The same one she’d worn around her wrist until it was soft with use, until it felt like it belonged there. The same one braided into her hair the first time he’d found her in the sanctuary, sunlight catching in it like a promise. The same one that had been burned and frayed and still stubbornly intact when he’d held her broken body in his arms, smoke in his lungs, her blood on his hands— when Toothless, not himself, had done it. When he’d thought she was gone. When he’d screamed her name into the ice and gotten nothing back.

His chest tightened painfully.

He knelt before he realized he was moving, fingers hovering over the cord like touching it might shatter something. When he finally picked it up, he flinched— just a little— as if it might still be hot, as if the memory of it could burn him again.

It rested in his palm, small and unassuming. Worn. Dated. Mostly whole.

So much like them.

This had been the last thing that tied him to her. The last physical proof that she’d once chosen to stay, that he’d once been something she carried with her. Now it lay discarded between the footprints and scorch marks of a battle that had ended… while something else had finally, irrevocably, broken.

His fingers curled slowly around it.

This was it.

Everything they had left now lived only in memory— childhood summers, shared laughter, half-finished sentences, looks held too long. And even those, as precious as they were, weren’t immune to time. They faded. They softened. They hurt differently as the years passed.

His shoulders shook once.

Then again.

He pressed the cord to his chest, fist clenched tight, as if he could force it through bone and muscle and into his heart. As if he could carry what she’d given him there— what she’d carried for him all these years. The love she’d confessed so quietly, so completely. The love he’d been too late to name.

A sound tore out of him, broken and raw, and suddenly he was crying— really crying. Not the silent kind he’d mastered, not the private ache he’d learned to swallow— but full, shuddering sobs that bent him forward, breath stuttering, grief ripping through him with nowhere left to go.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel her love.

It was that he could feel it too much.

From a distance, Valka watched.

Her gaze followed the shrinking silhouette of Y/N and Jynx until they vanished into the sky, then drifted back to her son, kneeling alone in the grass, shoulders shaking around something small and sacred in his hands. Pain flickered across her face— recognition, regret, understanding too late.

She didn’t interrupt him.

She only stood there, bearing witness, as the storm truly ended— and the cost of survival finally, devastatingly, set in.

Time passed the way it always did in Berk— loud, relentless, and indifferent to the wounds it stepped over.

Years folded into one another, seasons turning the cliffs green and white and green again. The village grew. The dragons nested deeper into the rhythm of daily life. Children learned to walk with dragon shadows passing overhead, learned to laugh without fear, learned a world that had already survived its ending.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third grew, too.

He stood taller now— not just in height, but in presence. The awkward edges had smoothed with time, replaced by a steadier confidence, a voice that carried across the Great Hall without strain. He led with intelligence, with patience, with a wry humor that hadn’t dulled so much as sharpened. The sarcasm was still there, the dry deflection, the familiar tilt of his mouth when the world tested him.

But there was something else beneath it.

Something quieter.

Something careful.

The kind of man who had learned how to carry pain without letting it show, who had learned which questions to never ask himself out loud. The kind of man who healed slowly—not by forgetting, but by building a life sturdy enough to hold the memory without collapsing.

Stoick was proud of him, immensely. Valka too.

They watched from a distance, never crowding, never pressing. Valka’s guidance came in gentle suggestions, half-smiles, the knowing silence of someone who understood what it meant to lose and return changed. She saw the way Hiccup paused sometimes, hand drifting unconsciously to his right ring finger. She never asked. She didn’t need to.

Astrid stood beside him through it all.

She was a good chief’s wife. A fierce one. A mother who taught their children how to throw an axe before they learned how to read, who kissed scraped knees and raised warriors in equal measure. Together, they had two children— Zephyr first, bright-eyed and fearless, all wind and questions. Then Nuffink, quieter but no less stubborn, always watching, always learning.

Hiccup loved them. Fiercely. Completely.

And yet.

His friends noticed the change.

Snotlout joked louder to fill silences that lingered too long. Fishlegs watched Hiccup’s expressions more carefully than before. Ruffnut and Tuffnut— perceptive in their own chaotic way— stopped teasing him about the nights he disappeared into the rain.

No one spoke her name. Not in front of him.

It wasn’t an order. It didn’t have to be. Grief had a way of teaching people where the edges were. They all knew the wound had closed only because Hiccup had fought like hell to seal it— and that reopening it might break something essential.

The cord was gone.

Not lost. Transformed.

Hiccup had taken it apart himself, fibers unraveled by careful hands. He had fed its remnants into molten metal, watched it burn and glow and become something new. From it, he’d forged a ring— simple, unadorned, strong.

He wore it on his right hand.

The left held the matching band he shared with Astrid.

When asked, he shrugged it off. Symmetry. Fashion. A habit picked up somewhere along the way. People accepted it easily. They always did.

No one knew the truth.

On quiet evenings, when the work of being chief finally loosened its grip, villagers would see him sitting outside his hut, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the horizon. His thumb would trace the ring on his right hand absently, over and over, like a reflex he couldn’t unlearn.

On nights when storms rolled in— when thunder cracked the sky open and lightning painted the sea white— Hiccup didn’t hide.

He stood by the window. He listened.

The rain drummed against the glass. The thunder echoed through his bones. Lightning flashed, sharp and sudden, and for a moment— just a moment— something in his chest would tighten painfully, achingly familiar.

Astrid noticed. She always did.

She never asked why. She didn’t have to.

Because she knew that somewhere, far beyond Berk’s cliffs, there was a dragon who crackled with lightning and a woman who had once loved Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third enough to leave so he could become who the world needed him to be. And that love— unspoken, unreturned in time, unresolved— still lived quietly in the spaces between thunder and silence.

Even now. Even years later. Even as life went on.

PROLOGUE ₊˚⊹☆

Born on a night of fire and loss, a child grows beneath the shadow of grief and blame. In a house without warmth, solace is found beside another outcast, a boy who never quite belongs. Marked by survival others call chance, she learns to seek worth in the places danger dwells.

She was born on a night of fire.

Dragons tore across the skies, their wings blotting out the stars, and while Berk roared in chaos, a woman struggled to bring her child into the world. Her husband, tightly holding her hand in his— with glossed-over eyes, he begged. Begged the Gods to keep with her and their child.

By dawn, the fires were long extinguished, but so was she.

Her father held her only once. A tiny thing, squalling and fragile in the aftermath of loss. He looked at her, and he thought of the wife he would never see again.

“[Y/N],” he said.

From that moment on, she bore a weight she could not understand. She grew up in a house too quiet, with a father who provided but could not love without flinching. He blamed the dragons. He blamed fate. Sometimes, even if he never said it aloud, he blamed her.

She learned to slip away early, finding warmth not at home but in the house of Stoick the Vast. There, amid clumsy meals and the clang of Gobber’s forge, she found a boy who understood the sting of not being enough. Hiccup Haddock was strange, small, always in the way. And yet, together, they weren’t lonely. They were simply themselves.

Still, Berk never let [Y/N] forget. She lived where her mother did not. She carried on when no one expected her to. And in the whispers of the village, her survival was nothing more than cruel luck. So [Y/N] learned to chase danger, to throw herself where fear lived. If she came back alive, maybe she’d feel worthy of the life she’d been given.

CHAPTER ONE - RAID ₊˚⊹☆

Amid fire and chaos, Hiccup's desperate invention does the unthinkable, bringing down the very shadow that haunts the skies. But victory tastes uncertain when truth is dismissed and loyalty is tested. In the quiet after the raid, a discovery in the forest changes everything: the most feared dragon of all, bound and broken, stares back with fear instead of fury. One choice in that moment reshapes the path ahead, for him, and for the one who dares to follow.

‘Shit!’

A sharp breath sucked through gritted teeth brought me back from chaos. I hadn’t even realized how close this Nadder had gotten until it took my axe into its mouth and bit the handle in half. Quickly ducking under the sharp edge of its jaw, I scrambled to get up and run to the forge, heavy footsteps following closely behind me.

“ARGHHHHHHHHH—” Ack yelled menacingly as he tackled the Nadder, getting it off my trail. “Mornin’!” He greeted, suddenly cheerful despite his violent entrance. “Morning!” I replied back as I continued jogging towards the well-lit hut of weapons and armor. It wasn’t difficult to find, despite the fact that there were about eighty different dragons trying to kill and destroy the island.

Rushing inside, I push past Gobber, who’d been busy filling in orders for Hiccup, who was late— as usual. ‘Another axe, a sword, a spear— there should be an extra one here somewhere…’

“There ye’ are, lass! Say, have you seen that boy? I’m meant t’be out there helpin’, but I can’t seem ta’ finish these…” He scratches the side of his head with his hook-hand, eyes flicking back and forth between different orders. I shrug, humming in response as I continue looking underneath tables and inside drawers for an extra blade.

“Nope! He might show up real soon, though… Usually isn’t any later than—” As if on cue, the forge door swung open. Hiccup hurriedly picked up an apron and tied it around his waist.

“Ah! Nice of you to join the party! I thought you’d been carried off!” I smile knowingly and roll my eyes, quickly turning my attention back to looking for another weapon. Opening a box beneath Gobber’s desk, my eyes lock onto a silver axe. Chipped here and there, but still reliable. I picked it up and placed it on the stone wheel, preparing to sharpen it.

“What, who me? Nah, come on! I'm waaaay too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all...” Hiccup pauses, slightly cringing, before gesturing to himself.

“…this.”

I snorted, “Sure, well, they need toothpicks, don’t they?” Gobber let out a hearty laugh, waving me off with his hand before tending to another Viking in line. Hiccup rolls his eyes, a smile breaking onto his face.

“Glad to see you’re here too, [Y/N],” He picks up the sword and starts sharpening it. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with—”

“FIRE!”

“Alright, let’s go!” A voice calls out from amidst the chaos, and a group of Viking teens emerges, all carrying a bucket of water each. Glancing up from the axe, I see Hiccup gawking at the group. Squinting, I could barely see their faces from the explosion behind them.

Fishlegs, Snotlout, the Twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and of course, Astrid.

Letting out a short breath, I finish up my axe and weave past Gobber and Hiccup, who leans out of the smithing window to get a better look. When we were younger, we’d whisper about what it would be like to finally belong. To be part of the group. To matter. Hiccup always clung to that dream harder than anyone I knew. I used to tell him he was fine as he was, that his time would come if he only waited. But waiting was never in Hiccup’s nature. He was stubborn, relentless— chasing acceptance with every ounce of himself. For better or for worse.

I’d never been particularly favoured or “chosen”; rather, I took it upon myself to train and to begin fighting to prove myself, despite not having any proper trainer or training. Hiccup had tried too, but with the ever-present Stoick and his sometimes-overbearing nature towards his son, Hiccup never got too far without him knowing; Perks of having an emotionally distant and semi-absent father for me, I guess.

Before I knew it, Gobber had taken me under his wing, and occasionally, during raids, I was given the opportunity to help— as in: lure, distract, put out fires, or help older vikings in need. Never to kill, though, not yet at least.

From behind me, I hear Hiccup's soft whining and pleading to Gobber:

”Oh, come on. Let me out, please? I need to make my mark!”

“Oh, you've made plenty of marks. All in the wrong places!” Gobber states with a dry laugh.

I feel a small smile making its way up to my face as their voices fade behind the fighting.

“Hey, [Y/N]!”

Astrid jogs up to me, holding the empty bucket on her hip. We’d never been personally close, but instead shared a mutual understanding that we’d have each other’s backs when it came down to that. As far as anyone was concerned, we were the most reliable teens in town.

“Where were you? I heard a Nadder was chasing you?” She laughed lightly, brushing stray hairs out of her face. Tilting my head on one side, feigning embarrassment.

“Well, what can I say? I guess I’m hot on the market.” She hummed, amused. “Where ya’ off to now? That’s a pretty big axe.”

I smirk and heft the axe onto my shoulder. “What, this old thing? Thought I’d give the Nadder a fair fight next time.”

Astrid huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Careful. Keep talking like that and people will start thinking you’re competing with me.”

“Competing?” I raise a brow, feigning shock. “Astrid Hofferson, I’d never dream of it.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the faintest tug of a grin before she turns to walk back toward the town center. Reliable, sharp, unshakable Astrid. The kind of Viking everyone expects to be. I shift the weight of the axe in my hands, my smile slipping as she disappears into the crowd. A whistle tears through the air, sharp enough to make my teeth ache. My head snaps up just as the sky lights up with fire.

“NIGHT FURY!” someone bellows.

The ground shakes beneath my boots. An explosion rips apart the nearest catapult, throwing splinters across the battlefield. I throw my arms over my head, the blast rattling my bones.

“JUMP!” Stoick’s roar cuts through the chaos. Vikings scatter.

I’m still coughing out ash when I spot him— Hiccup, darting toward the edge of the fort, dragging something behind him.

“Hiccup!” I sprint after him, prior duty to help the others flying out, boots slipping on the churned mud. “Where are you going?!”

Other Vikings shout the same, but he barely turns his head, only calling back:

“Yeah, I know! Be right back!”

I nearly trip over my own feet when I see what he’s pushing. The ridiculous contraption he’s been working on in secret, wheels squealing under the weight of it. My gut drops.

'No. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.'

By the time I catch up, he’s already on the ridge, fumbling with his levers and pulleys. My heart is pounding in my ears as I crouch beside him.

“Hiccup, this is insane. You’ll get yourself killed.”

He doesn’t even look at me. His eyes are locked on the dark sky. “Come on. Gimme something to shoot at…”

And then I see it. A patch of stars that shouldn’t be missing. A shadow blotting them out, enormous and gliding. The explosion illuminates it for just a heartbeat— and I feel my chest seize. The Night Fury. Before I can move, before I can even breathe, Hiccup pulls the release. The contraption fires. The impact sends Hiccup back, stumbling into me and sending both of us to the ground.

A scream rips through the night. The shadow plummets.

Hiccup stares after it, then whoops so loudly my ears ring. “Oh, I hit it! YES! I HIT IT! Did anybody see that?!”

‘No way. No fucking way!’ My hands are shaking. I can’t answer. Because I know what just happened. I saw it. The impossible.

Before I can stop him from celebrating, the ground shakes again— a Monstrous Nightmare lands, crushing the catapult like it’s nothing. Hiccup swallows, mutters, “Except for you,” and bolts. I run with him, legs pumping, lungs on fire. He darts behind a torch pole, and I press myself against it too, the heat of the flames licking dangerously close. Fire blasts around us, curling up the wood. Hiccup stares at me with wide eyes. I try to swing my axe towards the monster, but before either of us can move, Stoick is there— charging, fists slamming into the dragon with raw force.

The fight is over as quickly as it began. The Nightmare flees, yowling, and Stoick stands there, chest heaving. And then, everything collapses. Literally. The pole crashes down, torch rolling, scattering fire and destruction. Dragons break loose. Food is stolen. Chaos floods the village.

And in the middle of it all, Hiccup.

Every head turns. Every eye finds him.

He tries a sheepish smile. “Okay, but I hit a Night Fury.”

My pulse pounds in my ears. Before Stoick can drag him away, the words rip out of me. “He’s not lying!”

The whole crowd shifts, muttering. Stoick freezes, staring at me.

“I saw it!” My voice wavers, but I force it louder, dropping my axe onto the ground. “Up on the ridge— he fired, and it fell. The Night Fury went down. Off Raven Point.” I explained, arms waving, trying to illustrate the scene.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Hiccup whips his head toward me, eyes wide in shock. For once, he’s not alone. But Stoick’s expression darkens, colder than the sea in winter. “[Y/N]. Don’t encourage him. We both know you didn’t see clearly in the middle of a raid.”

“I did,” I insist, taking a step forward. My fists are clenched so hard they ache. “I saw the shadow. I heard it scream.”

Stoick’s voice cuts through the air like an axe. “Enough. This village doesn’t have time for stories.”

The other Vikings murmur, some chuckling, some shaking their heads. Already, my words are dissolving into smoke, dismissed as a child’s fancy.

Hiccup glares at the ground, lips pressed tight, but when his eyes flick to mine, there’s a spark there. Gratitude. Relief. It lasts only a moment before Stoick yanks him forward again, snarling orders to Gobber. And I’m left standing in the ruins of the village, heart hammering. “Quite the performance.” Tuffnut remarks, smugly crossing his arms and eyes locked on Hiccup as Stoick pulls him away from the crowd. “I’ve never seen anyone mess up that badly!” Snotlout follows, snickering.

“Thank you, thank you. I was trying, so…” His eyes search the ground, looking for something to distract him from the overwhelming feeling of disappointment and embarrassment.

Gobber, with a hand on his hip, walks with the Haddocks.

“I really did hit one. [Y/N] saw it! She was there—” Hiccup pleads to Gobber, eyes searching the blonde Viking’s for any sign of belief.

“Sure, Hiccup.” Gobber sighs, finally.

I watch from afar as they walk away, blurring into small figures in the early morning haze.

“So?”

I glance to my right. Astrid looks off into the distance. “Did he really do it?” I blink a couple of times, trying to recall the events that happened. On top of the immense doubt pressed by the village, I could only muster up a hum in response. Unsure, but a response nonetheless.

“Yeah… I think? I don’t know anymore— it happened all too fast. There was a shadow, cloaking the stars, and then his— Hiccup’s machine thing, catapult, or whatever? It launched and hit it! Whatever it was.” Bending forward, and picking up the axe that was discarded on the ground.

“You're not just covering for him, bodyguard?” She snickers. I could only sigh in response.

My reputation in Berk had never been short of “Hiccup’s shadow” or “Hiccup’s Bodyguard”, or— my least favourite, “The Loner”. Luckily, Astrid doesn’t pay much attention to or regard for any town rumours.

“Listen, you know you don’t have to look out for him all the time, right? With all the dumb things he gets himself into, you’ll find yourself in a hole you can’t get out of, [Y/N].” I walk alongside her, down the ridge as the crowd dissipates.

“I know that. I just— I can’t help it. He’s my best friend, Astrid. I’ve known him for years. I made a promise to Stoick that I’d be there if anything happens— We made a promise that we’d be there if anything happens, that we’d have each other’s backs.” I confess to her.

Hiccup and I had grown up together, a friendship forged in loyalty and understanding. When I saw that he didn’t have the strength to fight, I made it a personal goal to become strong— strong enough to protect both of us.

“Well. No offense, but your best friend seems kind of like a loser,” She sighs, before pursing her lips and pausing. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. But seriously. You know what I mean, right? You can’t let him hold you back. The village needs us, [Y/N]. You can’t spend your time coddling him when you could be training to be stronger for all of us.”

She walks a few steps ahead, before turning to face me. The sun had begun to rise, softly illuminating Astrid’s features.

Sleek blonde hair and crystal blue eyes shone in the stray sun rays obscured by the huts.

“Dragon training is just around the corner. I doubt Stoick would let him join… especially after tonight. Please. Do not throw this opportunity away.” I wasn’t sure if it was her words or the cold air of an early morning, but I felt a sudden chill run through my body. I almost forgot about training.

I had always wondered what proper training would be like, but if Hiccup wasn’t there… I was a bit hesitant about joining, not wanting him to feel left out— or falling behind. Gods know how well we both know that feeling. I’d have to give it some thought— a lot of thought.

Scanning through the village, I see vikings helping clean the aftermath of the raid. Some pick up fallen poles, some sweep ash and burnt lumber, and some exit through the back of their hut and run into the forest.

‘Some exiting through the back of their hut and running into the forest?’

I squint my eyes at the tiny figure taking long strides toward the greenery behind the village. My feet move before I can think, carrying me after the person, careful to stay far enough back that he won’t notice. I slowed when I recognized the gait— thin shoulders hunched, hair catching the early sun.

It’s Hiccup.

“Oh, the gods hate me,” he mutters to himself as he pushes through the brush, voice sharp with self-loathing. “Some people lose their knife or their mug. No, not me. I manage to lose an ENTIRE DRAGON?!”

I blink, nearly tripping over a root. Is this about the Night Fury? He’s still on about that? My chest tightens, curiosity prying me closer until my presence gives me away.

“Hiccup?” I whisper.

He whirls around, eyes wide. “[Y/N]?! What are you— ? No, no, no, you can’t be here.”

“Why not?” I whisper, crossing my arms, though my heart is racing. “Are you still looking for that Fury? Hiccup— ”

But then both of us freeze. Ahead, in a tangle of ropes and broken earth, lies a massive black shape. My breath snags in my throat as I recognize it: a Night Fury.

Hiccup’s eyes widen, his voice trembling but determined. “Oh, wow. I did it. Oh, I did it! This fixes everything! Yes! I have brought down this mighty beast!”

I can’t even move. I watch as he creeps closer, knife in hand, stepping onto the dragon’s snout. In a blur, the Fury jerks, shoving him aside. He crashes to the ground with a startled cry, but he pushes himself up quickly, knife raised again, shouting more to himself than anyone:

“I’m going to kill you, dragon. I’m gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father. I’m a Viking. I am a VIKING!”

But the dragon doesn’t lunge. Doesn’t breathe fire. Its wide eyes stare back at him, trembling, afraid. I hear my own voice slip out, barely audible.

“It’s… scared.”

Hiccup falters, chest heaving. His grip loosens on the knife. Slowly, painfully, the words fall from him:

“I did this.”

And then he crouches, sawing through the ropes that pin the dragon down. I jump to stop him.

“H-Hiccup! Think about this! Wait! What if that thing kills us— ?!”

The Fury’s eyes snap open. With a violent surge, it rolls him over, pinning him in the dirt. I gasp and stumble back as it roars in his face, the sound rattling my bones. But then— it doesn’t kill him. Instead, it lurches away, wings thrashing. Its flight is uneven, broken, but it disappears into the trees.

Hiccup lies frozen in the grass for a heartbeat before his body goes slack. A whimper escapes him, and he faints. I can’t move, can’t speak. I just stand there, staring at him, and at the path where the Night Fury vanished. I jump to his side and prop him up on my chest, gently slapping his cheek repeatedly.

“Hiccup, Hiccup— ! Wake up! Oh my gods…”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - HEART OF A CHIEF, SOUL OF A DRAGON ₊˚⊹☆

“We did it,” he breathed. Then his eyes flicked to me, softer. “I couldn’t have without you.” My chest tightened. “You could’ve. You just… didn’t want to.”

Chapter 3: The Forge, INSTINCT

The sanctuary was calm in the way only places built by storms could be— quiet, but humming faintly with a tension beneath the stone, as if the air itself remembered the chaos of the battle. The hearth crackled softly. Every breath of flame seemed to beat in time with the slow, uneven rise and fall of [Y/N]’s chest. The moment [Y/N]’s fingers twitched, Hiccup moved. Not walked— moved, as if some invisible thread yanked him straight to her side.

Her breath hitched weakly, a sound so thin it barely disturbed the air… but to him it was a thunderclap. He dropped to his knees beside the cot, hands hovering above her like he was afraid she’d dissolve if he got too close.

“...[Y/N]?” he whispered.

Valka lifted a hand but didn’t stop him; she simply shifted aside to give him space. Her expression was soft, understanding.

The others watched—frozen, wide-eyed, as if the air had turned to stone.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. Snotlout’s mouth hung open. Fishlegs clutched his notebook to his chest like it might protect him from this impossible moment.

Ruffnut elbowed Tuffnut.  “I told you she looked too cool to die.”

“Lightning scars,” Tuffnut whispered reverently. “Lightning never loses.”

But all of that was distant noise compared to the roaring in Hiccup’s chest.

He leaned close, voice barely audible. “I’m here. You’re safe. I—”, His voice broke. He swallowed hard, trying again. “I thought I lost you forever.”

A shudder went through him— quiet, invisible to the room, but sharp enough that Valka’s heart twisted at the sight. Hiccup reached out, brushing a strand of soot-dusted hair from [Y/N]’s forehead.

Her skin was cold. Too cold. But alive.

Alive. Gods, what was he supposed to do with that?

He felt relief slam into him so hard he almost fell forward with it. At the same time a low burn smoldered beneath it— anger, betrayal, years of unanswered questions. Conflicting tides tearing in opposite directions.

“You left,” he breathed, so quietly only Valka heard. “You left and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know anything. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His fingers trembled against the blanket. “I’m not even sure if I should be angry or just…” He exhaled shakily. “...just grateful you’re here at all.” Behind him, Astrid looked away. She couldn’t watch the tenderness in his voice. Couldn’t bear the soft way his hands hovered over [Y/N] like they remembered every shape of her. Couldn’t stand how deeply it hurt even if she had no right to be hurt.

This was [Y/N]. Her best friend. Her missing shadow. The girl she’d mourned too.

And yet—

And yet, as she watched Hiccup kneel there, something awful and fragile cracked open inside her. She had always known [Y/N] meant something to him. She had not known [Y/N] meant this much. [Y/N] stirred again, a small sound catching in her throat. Hiccup leaned over her instantly.

“Hey. Hey, I’m right here,” he murmured. He didn’t even notice Astrid’s pained expression. Valka did. She watched the scene quietly, hands still placed above [Y/N]’s ribcage, channeling warmth. Then she spoke softly— just for Hiccup.

“She ran because she thought she had to,” Valka said. “Not because she wanted to leave you.” His breath froze. He looked at her sharply. “You know something.”

“I know enough,” she said gently. “Enough to know she was fighting a battle bigger than all of us. One she feared would swallow her whole if she stayed.” Hiccup’s jaw clenched. “What battle?”

Valka only shook her head, a knowing look on her solemn face. Astrid lingered in the archway, arms crossed— but the gesture failed to mask the ache in her eyes. She looked at [Y/N], then at Hiccup, and her breath hitched. She heard Tuffnut whisper to Ruffnut, “Whoa… I’ve never seen Hiccup look at someone that tenderly.”

Ruffnut hummed. “Yeah, if he looked at me like that, I would instantly propose.” Astrid’s jaw tightened. Gobber coughed loudly. “Children, shut it.” Hiccup didn’t notice. His whole world had narrowed to the girl breathing softly on the blankets before him. Stoick’s heavy steps approached, his expression caught somewhere between awe and sorrow. He looked down at [Y/N]— the girl who had grown up in his house as often as in her own, who had eaten at his table, trained in his forge, fought beside his son— and his chest tightened.

“She’s tough,” he said quietly. “Always has been.”

Hiccup nodded mutely. Stoick exhaled. “But the world won’t wait for her to wake. We need a plan, son.” Hiccup’s hand tightened protectively around Y/N’s. “I’m not leaving her.”

Valka stepped forward, gently touching her son’s arm. “We won’t. But we must move. Quickly.” Stoick nodded solemnly. “We take her with us.” Astrid inhaled sharply— as if startled by the sudden solidity of that decision. Fishlegs stammered, “Th-that’s actually smart. Her bond with the Skrill— if she wakes up— she could turn the tide—”

Snotlout elbowed him. “Yeah, she’s probably got a few tricks.”

Tuffnut snorted. “If she wakes up shooting lightning from her fingers, we’re renaming her Thor.” Ruffnut gasped. “Or Thora.”

Hiccup ignored them all. Astrid stepped forward, voice soft. “Hiccup… we need you.”

For a moment he didn’t respond. Then slowly— agonizingly— he stood. For a moment, Hiccup didn’t look up. “I know.” He looked only at his father. Then at the burning remains of the ship outside, ash drifting through broken beams of light.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered. The room stilled. “I’m not the chief that you wanted me to be. And I’m not the peacekeeper I thought I was. I don’t know…” His voice cracked. Valka stepped forward, placing a hand on his cheek, another grief layered thickly beneath it.

“You came early into this world,” she murmured. “You were such a wee thing. So frail, so fragile. I feared you wouldn’t make it.” Hiccup swallowed, eyes dropping. She lifted his chin with surprising strength.

“But your father… he never doubted. He always said you’d become the strongest of them all.” A breath. “And he was right.” Hiccup’s chest tightened.

“You have the heart of a chief and the soul of a dragon,” Valka whispered. “Only you can bring our worlds together. That is who you are, son.”

He stared at her— really stared— feeling the words sink deep into a place even grief had never reached. He turned back to [Y/N]. Her scars pulsed faintly. Her chest rose shallowly beneath the blanket.

His voice steadied. “I was so afraid of becoming my dad,” he said quietly. “Mostly because I thought I never could. How do you become someone that great? That brave? That selfless?” He inhaled sharply.

“I guess you can only try.” He turned to the others, fire catching in his eyes. “A chief protects his own. We’re going back.”

Tuffnut threw up his hands. “Uh, with what?” Ruffnut added, “He took all the dragons.”

“Not all of them,” Hiccup said. At that precise moment, the Sanctuary rumbled— and a swarm of juvenile dragons shot past like chaotic, screaming arrows.

Chaos.

Pure, unfiltered, unhinged chaos. Baby dragons zipped between the ice shelves, each one shrieking like a gremlin on its first sugar high.

Hiccup clung to the back of a darting adolescent Stormcutter, one arm wrapped firmly around [Y/N]’s unconscious body against his chest. Her head rested beneath his chin, her breath ghosting shallowly against his skin. She felt far too light—like a memory barely anchored to the world. Her head fell against his shoulder.

He exhaled shakily.

Valka stared for a moment— almost startled by the tenderness in her son’s touch. Stoick’s expression softened too, as if finally seeing a piece of Hiccup that had been hidden from him before. He held her like he was afraid she’d slip away again. Astrid rode beside him, eyes flickering constantly between Hiccup and the girl in his arms. Her jaw clenched every time she looked.

“Fly straight!” Ruffnut screeched from somewhere above. “I don’t want to die!” Fishlegs wailed.

“We can’t fly these things!” Tuffnut yelled.

“No kidding!” Fishlegs snapped back as he careened sideways into a snowbank. Chunks of ice blasted into Eret’s face as he flew past upside-down. Astrid narrowed her eyes at the ice whipping past. “But won’t that Bewilderbeast just take control of these guys too?!”

“They’re babies!” Hiccup shouted back. “They don’t listen to anyone!”

“Just like us!” Tuffnut whooped. Gobber soared past, flailing. “This… is… very dangerous!”

“Some might suggest this is poorly conceived!” he added as he barely dodged a jagged spike of ice. Hiccup gritted his teeth. “Well, it’s a good thing I never listen!”

A ridge split the channel in two. Hiccup swerved left. Gobber crashed right.

“So what IS your plan?!” Gobber shouted through the ice.

“Get Toothless back and kick Drago’s—” A wall of ice abruptly cut him off. “HEADS UP!” Gobber roared. They burst out the other side— only to face yet another jutting spike of death-shaped ice.

“And that thing,” Hiccup muttered as Gobber slammed into it. Under [Y/N]’s tunic, her scars flickered like faint, fading lightning. Valka had warned them quietly before they left:

“Her heart… is struggling. The blast from the Alpha’s control nearly stopped it. She needs her dragon— her Skrill. Their bond is not ordinary. It could restore her.”

“You mean… restart her?” Fishlegs whispered. Valka nodded.

“Like defibrillation,” he added helpfully. “But, uh… dragon-style.”

The Skrill was somewhere within Drago’s control— wild, untamed, and yet– deep down— violently loyal to [Y/N] and impossible to control. Hiccup held her closer now, feeling how cold she’d become. “We’ll get you back to him,” he whispered into her hair, the wind stealing the words. “I won’t lose you again. I won’t.”

Astrid heard him. And her heart cracked quietly, where no one could see.

The juveniles shrieked and spiraled through the narrowing ice tunnels. Hiccup ducked just as a slab of ice sheared off overhead. The cold wind whipped [Y/N]’s hair against his face, her weight slumped against his chest. He tightened his grip instinctively, as if his body feared she might vanish if he blinked.

“Hang on,” he whispered to her, though she couldn’t hear. “Just hang on.” Behind him, Astrid’s dragon wobbled as she fought to keep her focus. She watched the way Hiccup held [Y/N]. Watched the fear in his eyes. The tenderness in his touch. And she finally understood, with a devastating, quiet clarity, why her stomach had twisted since the moment Y/N stirred. Part of Hiccup had never stopped belonging to someone else.

To her. To the girl now unconscious in his arms.

She swallowed, blinking hard. “Don’t you dare die on us, [Y/N],” she whispered into the wind. “Not after all this.”

The storm over Berk writhed like a living thing, clawing at the sky with bolts of lightning that split the clouds open from within. Wind howled through the village, tearing banners and rattling shutters. Snow and rain fell sideways, whipped into spirals by the force of the Bewilderbeast’s presence. Ice spread like a plague across rooftops, crawling up walls, swallowing entire houses in glittering blue cages.

And above it all— like the eye of the storm itself— A Skrill.

Jynx carved through the blackened skies like a blade, every wingbeat sharp enough to crack thunder open. Lightning flickered across his scales, wreathing his in electricity that pulsed in rhythm with the Alpha’s command. His pupils were slits, unblinking, fixed on the village below as he dove and twisted, calling storms into being with every guttural screech.

He was magnificent. He was terrifying. He was entirely under Drago’s control. Below, the villagers screamed and ran for shelter as dragons tore themselves free of their bonds, abandoning hearths and homes to join the growing army circling the Bewilderbeast. Even Gothi’s Terrible Terrors were dragged into the sky, eyes slitted, wings beating in mechanical obedience. Everywhere, Vikings stared upward in horror as the living heart of Berk— its dragons— were ripped away.

“Hiccup!” Ruffnut shouted from behind him as their baby dragons shuddered mid-flight, nearly bucking the riders off. “This is, like, ten times worse than last time!”

“Try a hundred!” Tuffnut added. “Maybe a thousand! Fishlegs, do the math! Actually— don’t! Just scream!” 

Fishlegs screamed. But Hiccup didn’t hear them. Not really. He was clutching [Y/N] to his chest, her limp body cradled against the thin leather of his armor. Her head rested against his shoulder, hair tangled with frost, her lightning scars faintly glowing beneath the wrappings Valka had tied. She hadn’t stirred since they’d left the Sanctuary. She hadn’t made a sound.

And Hiccup had never felt more terrified in his life.

Toothless wasn’t with him. He could feel that absence like a missing limb, like a phantom ache beneath his ribs— but right now, the emptiness was nothing compared to the weight of the girl in his arms. The girl he had mourned. Buried. Lost.

The girl who had been his everything, once.

Her skin was cold. Unnaturally still beneath his fingers, like the storm had carved her into stone. Every so often he felt the faintest tremor through her— some twitch of nerve or lingering charge of electricity— but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t life.

“Come on,” he whispered into her hair, voice raw. “Stay with me. Just… just hold on. Please.” He couldn’t look down at Berk yet. He couldn’t let himself see what Drago had done. Because if he did— if he faced the truth— everything would crack open. The grief, the guilt, the rage, the helplessness, the terror… And the love he had buried for years.  Although unspoken, the word tasted like bittersweet wine. A forbidden vintage aged in silence— corked, stored, forgotten on purpose. He had spent years pretending he didn’t crave it.

He had been too busy sculpting himself into who the village needed: the quiet, steady figure of a chief. A man who made the right choices, who didn’t risk the fragile balance of peace for the chaos of feeling too deeply. He had chased that version of himself with religious devotion— armor forged from expectations, from duty, from the brittle hope that if he shaped himself hard enough, he’d finally fit.

Astrid had always been the logical answer. Strong. Dependable. Someone who never wavered. She fit beside him the way a shield fit an arm— practical, protective, clean in its simplicity.

But [Y/N]… [Y/N] was everything he could never safely touch. Reckless, alive in every direction, emotional in ways that could topple him with a single look. She didn’t fit into the tidy lines of the future he’d drafted for himself— she tore through them, painted over them, set them on fire. She was a constant he buried precisely because she was dangerous. Because loving her meant surrendering that rigid image of the chief he thought he had to be. Because loving her felt like choosing himself for once— and he wasn’t allowed that luxury.

So he locked that truth away. Stuffed it into the dark and braced his back against the door. But now— now, with Berk burning below and the world trembling around him— the lock had cracked. The door buckled. And in the hollow quiet of his ribs, he could hear it: the old longing, still alive, still calling, still unmistakable. And it was a problem. A monumental, inescapable problem. One he’d have to deal with later.

He didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not with her in his arms. Not with the storm above him, and the end of his village below.

A blast of frigid wind forced him to tighten his grip on [Y/N]. His baby dragon wobbled violently in the air as another shockwave rippled outward from the Bewilderbeast; the little creature shrieked, wings scrambling to stay steady. “We’re almost there,” Hiccup murmured— not to the dragon, but to the girl he held. “I’m going to fix this. I swear. I’m going to bring everyone home. I’m going to get Toothless back. And you— I’m going to save you. I’m not losing you again.”

His voice broke. Lightning flashed overhead, so bright it bleached the world white for a heartbeat. And then he saw Berk.

Covered in ice. Dragons circling like ghosts in the storm. The Bewilderbeast rising from the sea like a mountain come alive. Drago astride Toothless— his Toothless— commanding destruction with the ease of a tyrant flicking his wrist. “No…” Hiccup breathed. The sound barely left his throat.

Fishlegs gasped beside him. “He took all the dragons!” He barely heard it. His vision tunneled around Toothless, pupils razor-thin, the Night Fury snarling as the Alpha tightened the grip of domination. Hiccup felt sick. Actually sick. Like something inside him had ruptured.

The storm exploded around them. He didn’t hesitate. “Distract the Alpha!” he shouted over the wind. “Try to keep his focus off Toothless!”

“Uh… how?” Tuffnut called back. Eret smirked. “Have you forgotten who you’re riding with?”

The baby dragon immediately ignored him and dove in the opposite direction. Eret howled.

“Amateur,” Snotlout muttered.

But Hiccup didn’t watch the chaos unfold. Didn’t look at the sheep launcher, or the twins causing disaster, or Fishlegs nearly getting himself frozen, or the Bewilderbeast thrashing in irritation. He didn’t even look at Drago. He looked at Jynx. The Skrill hovered high above them all, electricity crackling across his body, trapped inside the Alpha’s network of control. His wings beat in violent, rigid movements— mechanical, unnatural. He wasn’t conscious of his own flight. He was a weapon. A storm trapped inside a cage of ice.

And [Y/N] needed him.

Hiccup swallowed hard. This was insane. This was impossible. And it was the only chance he had. He tightened his grip on [Y/N], nudged the baby dragon upward, and shot toward the raging monster in the sky.

“Come on,” he murmured to her. “Wake up. Please. I need you.” Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her scars flickered faintly. But she didn’t wake. The closer he got to Jynx, the stronger the static became. His skin prickled. The hair on his arms stood straight up. [Y/N]’s scars flared brighter, reacting instinctively to the proximity of her dragon. And Jynx—

Jynx paused. Not much. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But Hiccup saw it. A stutter in the wingbeat. A hitch in the breath. A shift in the pupils.

The Alpha snarled in his mind, jerking him sharply to regain control. Jynx roared, electricity tearing across the clouds, splitting thunder apart— but his gaze drifted downward again. To the girl in Hiccup’s arms. To the faint, dying pulse of lightning beneath her skin.

Hiccup raised [Y/N] slightly, bracing her head with a trembling hand. “Hey!” he shouted above the storm. “I know you can hear me! I know you know her! Look— look at her! She needs you!” The Skrill shrieked, a deafening sound that vibrated his bones. Lightning shot toward him— wild, uncontrolled— but veered off at the last second, ripping through the sky just inches from his face. The Alpha roared again, wrenching the Skrill back into obedience.

And Hiccup felt the exact moment Jynx broke. It was a sound— low, keening, desperate— like something inside him had cracked open. His pupils expanded, dilation fighting against the unnatural slit shape the Alpha forced on him. His chest heaved. And his gaze locked on [Y/N]. Hiccup held her out just a little.

“Come on,” he whispered. “She’s right here. She’s alive. Come back to her.” The storm stilled. Only for a second. Only for them. Jynx screamed— and the sky exploded. Lightning tore itself free of his wings, arcing outward in massive branches that dazzled the entire village below. The Alpha bellowed in fury, slamming him with another mental strike—but Jynx twisted, thrashing violently in the air.

And he broke free. The electric shockwave blasted Hiccup backward. His baby dragon shrieked, spiraling in panic as he clutched [Y/N] tight to keep her from slipping from his arms. And then Jynx was there. He hit him like a bolt from the heavens— swift, decisive, impossibly gentle for something so powerful. His claws wrapped around [Y/N] with perfect precision, plucking her from Hiccup’s arms without leaving a mark.

It happened so fast Hiccup couldn’t breathe. Jynx didn’t look at him. He didn’t roar. He didn’t hesitate. He vanished into the storm, his wings carving a clean arc through the chaos as he carried [Y/N] toward shelter— toward some hidden alcove in the ruined village. Hiccup choked on a breath that felt like fire. Relief slammed through him so hard he nearly collapsed forward over the saddle.

“Go,” he whispered to the storm. “Please… go save her.”

Then he turned toward Drago. The Bewilderbeast’s roar split the sky. Toothless’s howl followed. Hiccup’s heart cracked clean in half.

He flew downward, angling toward the center of the battlefield without fear, without hesitation— because the terror that had gripped him moments before was gone. [Y/N] was in Jynx’s claws. She had a chance. Now it was Toothless’s turn. He reached Drago just as the tyrant smirked.

“You certainly are hard to get rid of,” Drago snarled. “I’ll say that.” Hiccup didn’t reply.

He only looked at Toothless— his pupils razor-thin, body trembling with the force of the Alpha’s control. The Night Fury growled, the sound choked and unnatural, like every instinct in him was fighting itself. “Toothless,” Hiccup whispered. “It’s me, bud. It’s me. I’m right here. Come back to me.” To Toothless, Hiccup was a red blur. But that blur was familiar. The Alpha’s hold tightened. Hiccup reached toward him, voice trembling. “It wasn’t your fault, bud. They made you do it.”

Drago’s grin faltered. Toothless shuddered. “You’d never hurt her,” Hiccup said, tears burning his eyes. “You’d never hurt me.” Toothless fought. Visibly. His pupils flickered, widening and narrowing in frantic rhythm. Drago hissed, “How are you doing that?!”

“Please,” Hiccup breathed. “You are my best friend, bud.” The Alpha thundered a command. Hiccup whispered, “My best friend.” Toothless’s pupils blew wide— recognition flooding through him like a wave. His coo was heart-shattering. Hiccup sobbed in relief. “Thatta boy! That’s it! I’m here!”

Drago yelled, raising his bull hook— Toothless roared, grabbed the hook in his jaws, and ripped it from Drago’s hands. The tyrant toppled into the icy sea below. Hiccup cheered— Then Toothless began to fall. “No— no, no, no!” Hiccup leapt from his baby dragon, diving through the air. “Hang on!”

He tucked his arms in, fingers slicing through the wind as he closed the distance. Almost there. Almost—

He missed. By an inch.

The ocean roared upward.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice cut through the storm. Then, lightning tore downward. A flash brighter than the sun engulfed him— hot, electric, weightless— and suddenly he wasn’t falling anymore. He was on Toothless’s back.

She was there. [Y/N]— alive, awake, scars blazing with reborn electricity, in her hair, the same woven thread she’d worn on her wrist the last day he’d seen her. Jynx beneath her, wings crackling with violet light. Steady. Sure. Her expression unreadable.

Darkness wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t quiet, or gentle, or peaceful the way people liked to pretend death was. It was heavy. A weight pressing down on my ribs, thick and buzzing, as if the universe itself were holding its breath. For a moment, I thought I was still falling.

Then—

A violent crack split through the black. My body arched upward as a bolt of raw lightning punched straight into my chest. Air slammed into my lungs like a fist.

I gasped— sharp, ragged— my eyes flying open as the world snapped into existence all at once. A low, distant rumble vibrated through the stone beneath me, shaking grit loose from the ceiling of the alcove. My lungs burned as though someone had poured winter down my throat; every breath was shallow, ragged, scraped raw. My fingers twitched before my eyelids did, and only then did I realize I was lying on cold stone

Jynx. Where—?

Another tremor answered me — this one closer, sharper. A bellow so deep it felt more like a pressure wave than a sound rolled across the sky. The Bewilderbeast. It had to be. Nothing else could make the earth groan like that.

The alcove was narrow— hidden enough to be safe, but angled just enough that the open sky was visible through a jagged slit between houses. Snow drifted past the opening, shaken loose from each tremor. A pulse of blue-white light flashed across the clouds, followed by the unmistakable roar of a Night Fury.

Jynx wasn’t beside me.

For a heartbeat, panic stabbed through my ribs sharper than any wound. But then I spotted him — pressed tightly against the mouth of the alcove, body coiled, wings tucked, every muscle drawn into a trembling bow. His scales — the lightning-laced ones along his neck and shoulders, the ones that always glowed faintly when he used too much power — were lit like molten fire. Brighter than I had ever seen.

He knew I was awake. He just couldn’t look away from what was happening outside.

“Jynx,” I croaked, voice barely a scratch of air.

His ears twitched. His head swung toward me in a snap — desperate, frantic relief flooding his eyes. He chittered low and pressed his snout against my chest, the same spot he had struck with all his strength to bring my heart back. The memory hit me as he touched me — lightning, pain, cold darkness, then the violent drag back into the world.

I inhaled sharply. Still alive. Somehow.

His breath gusted warm across my cheek, but his body remained rigid, ready to spring back out. Something was happening. Something he refused to tear his eyes from for more than a second. I pushed myself up — slowly, painfully, every muscle stiff and foreign. My head swam. For a moment, the alcove tilted sideways. Jynx braced me with his forehead, steadying me before I pitched backward.

“I’m okay,” I murmured. A lie. A clumsy, paper-thin lie. But he let me sit, watching me with that fierce, protective stare that made him seem older than any dragon his size had a right to look.

Outside, a blast shook the air — not stone this time, but ice. A sound like a glacier being cracked in half. I dragged myself toward the opening. Jynx hesitated, then slid aside just enough for me to lean against his shoulder and peer through the jagged gap. The world was chaos.

Dragons wheeling and breaking free overhead. Fire arcing across the sky. Ice erupting from the sea. The Bewilderbeast — a mountain with a heartbeat — towering through the storm, its tusks glowing as it charged another blast. Stone. Ice. Mist. The smell of salt and cold and something scorched filled my nostrils. Then, I made the mistake of looking up. And my stomach dropped through the floor. Smoke curled toward the sky. Ice glimmered in impossible shapes. Thunder cracked in the distance.

And rising against the fog— Berk. The island I had fled. The home I had buried. The graveyard of everyone’s hope, including mine. For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. I had imagined this moment a thousand different ways— accidental sighting, distant silhouette, a return I’d chosen. Not this. Not dragged unconscious into a war I had tried so hard to stay away from. Lightning hummed under my skin, restless. And then I heard it. A scream.

Not human. A dragon’s scream. Followed by the unmistakable pitch of two voices— one of terror, one of fury— plummeting through the sky.

I knew that sound. I knew it too well. Years ago, I had heard it once before— fire and smoke and the Red Death yawning wide beneath them. I had watched them fall. I had run to the edge of the cliff until my lungs tore, helpless, until the world went white with the explosion.

And now— No. Not again. Jynx jerked his head as if he felt the memory surge through me, electricity snapping off his wings. He crouched, offering himself without needing instruction.

I was on his back before I consciously decided to move. “Jynx— go!”

We shot forward— an explosion of lightning and muscle, wind howling off the cavern walls as we dove into open sky. And there they were.

Hiccup and Toothless. Falling.

The Bewilderbeast’s blast still rippled the air like the aftershock of a nightmare. Toothless’ wings faltered. Hiccup’s arm was outstretched, desperately grabbing at air in an effort to reach his dragon. The world tunneled. Everything sharpened. This time, I wasn’t helpless.

“Faster!” I yelled, electricity already singing through my veins. Jynx tucked his wings, then unleashed a burst of lightning so bright the world vanished in a flash. We materialized directly beneath them, the air trembling around us.

I leaned forward, stretching— reaching— And my hands closed around his arm. Hiccup’s weight slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. Toothless crashed into Jynx’s flank, and he caught him with his claws, stabilizing with a crackling surge of his wings.

For a moment— one fragile, suspended heartbeat— time froze. Hiccup’s eyes met mine. Recognition hit like a blade. Shock. Fear. Relief. Disbelief. All tangled in a second of eye contact that felt like years. I didn’t have time to process it— not when the Bewilderbeast roared and the sky split with ice blasts. I pushed him toward Toothless.

“Go!” I shouted. “I’ll cover you!” His lips parted, like he wanted to speak— like a thousand unsaid words were clawing at his throat.

But battle doesn’t wait for old ghosts. He vaulted onto Toothless. My chest squeezed. He was still looking at me when he rammed his heel into Toothless’ stirrup and shot into the storm.

And I followed.

The world became movement— wind, roars, crackling electricity— until I nearly crashed into the sound of Astrid’s voice below.

“Take them down, babe!” She stood with the others, watching Hiccup and Toothless peel around a mountain in a tight arc.

“Holy— She’s up!” Snotlout sputtered when he caught sight of me descending beside them. “So, you’re— uh— alive? And, uh… you look good. Really good. A— wow— in an electric–death–warrior kind of way.”

“Hi,” I said, breathless, because honestly, what else do you say in the middle of a war after returning from the dead? “So. Lightning scars?” he added, leaning closer. “I was gonna touch one when you were passed out, but that was kinda weird. So can I touch one, now? For luck?”

“No,” Astrid snapped before I could answer.

Tuffnut gasped. “So did you or did you not get struck by lightning? That is amazing. I mean, horrible. But also amazing.”

“Textbook Lichtenberg figures,” Fishlegs babbled. “Branching scars from a direct strike. I read about them— survivors sometimes develop increased electrical conductivity—”

“Tuff, imagine if she zapped us on purpose,” Ruffnut whispered, starry-eyed. “Not now!” Astrid hissed. But when I met her eyes, her expression flickered— relief, pain, something deeper that made my throat tighten. I didn’t get to reply.

Because overhead— Hiccup streaked across the sky, Toothless banking hard. I could only catch pieces of their movement— the black of his flight suit, the snap of a torn flag flapping in his hand, the shadow of Toothless’s silhouette carving tight circles around the mountain. But from the ground, we couldn’t hear a thing.

“What’s he doing?” Astrid shouted, shielding her eyes.

A flash of movement— Hiccup tying the cloth over Toothless’s eyes. Oh gods.

“He’s blindfolded him,” I breathed.

“Why would he—” Astrid didn’t get to finish. Because the Bewilderbeast bellowed, a roar so deep it sent shockwaves rippling across the frozen battlefield. Several dragons under its control shrieked and veered violently toward the village.

“MOVE!” Gobber roared. “Get everyone inside!”

The world snapped back into motion. Lightning crackled across my shoulders as Jynx growled in warning, eyes darting from dragon to dragon. I slid a hand across his neck as he readied to fly, wings spread and claws digging grooves in the ice.

“Go,” I commanded. “Keep the controlled dragons off the village!”

He snarled and leapt skyward again, electricity streaking off his wings like white-blue comet trails. I turned just in time to see Astrid sprinting toward a cluster of terrified villagers trapped between two houses. A mind-controlled Monstrous Nightmare barreled toward them, flame drooling from its jaws.

“Astrid— RIGHT!” I yelled. She dove, grabbing a child under one arm and yanking a man by the collar with the other, dragging them clear just as the Nightmare slammed into the snow where they’d been. I skidded across the ice beside her. “You good?”

“Ask me in ten seconds!” The Nightmare whipped its head toward us, pupils shrunk to pinpoints under the Bewilderbeast’s control. It inhaled sharply— fire swelling in its throat.

“Astrid— DOWN!” We vaulted opposite directions as the dragon let out a column of flame, scorching a path straight through the snow.

“Aim for the glands!” I shouted. “Stun, don’t injure!”

Astrid already had her axe up. “On it!” We circled it— one clockwise, one counterclockwise. The Nightmare roared, confused, thrashing between us. I darted underneath its neck, slid on one knee, and slammed my palm into the soft patch beneath its jaw. The Nightmare staggered. Astrid seized the moment. She swung the blunt end of her axe into its flank— not enough to harm, just enough to disorient— and the dragon collapsed onto its side, dazed. Its breathing slowed. The fire in its chest flickered out.

“We’re clear!” Astrid shouted to the huddled villagers. “Get inside— NOW!” They sprinted toward the nearest shelter.

Astrid exhaled sharply, chest heaving. “Nice hit.”

“You too.” But when we met each other’s eyes, something deeper passed between us— recognition, tension, old pain stirred by my sudden reappearance. She looked away first. No time to unpack it. A shadow passed over us. We both looked up.

Across the sky— Hiccup and Toothless hurtled past in a blur, Toothless still blindfolded.

Hiccup leaned close to him, saying something we couldn’t hear, touch steady on the Night Fury’s ear plates. “What is he doing?” Astrid whispered, voice tight with worry. A second later, they curved around the mountain— perfectly synchronized, moving as one.

And then—

Drago’s roar split the air. “STOP THEM!”

A barrage of ice exploded toward them from the Bewilderbeast’s tusks. I didn’t think— I grabbed Astrid by the arm and yanked her back as a shard as tall as a house speared the ground in front of us, frost exploding like shrapnel.

The sound was a hurricane— ice, fire, screams, Toothless roaring somewhere above through the din. We couldn’t hear Hiccup’s words. But we saw everything. The blindfold. The wild dive.

The two of them disappearing into the fog and reappearing in the Bewilderbeast’s blind spot.

The blast of plasma that shook the mountain. Astrid’s breath hitched, eyes glued to the sky. “Come on, Hiccup… come on…” I swallowed hard, heart pounding in my throat. We couldn’t help him up there. Not yet. Not when Berk needed us down here.

The village was chaos.

Not the kind we were used to— the kind with shouting and scrambling and half-baked plans shouted over dragonfire. This was something worse. Something heavier. Dragons streaked overhead like living weapons, their eyes wrong, movements sharp and unthinking, answering a call none of us could hear but all of us could feel. Drago’s control.

“Move! Keep moving!” Astrid shouted beside me, her voice raw but steady as she shoved a terrified villager toward the sanctuary tunnel. “Don’t stop— go, go!”

I grabbed a child as a rogue Gronckle swooped low, its shadow swallowing the street. The heat of its fire scorched the air behind us as I ducked, hauling the kid against my chest and rolling behind a collapsed cart. The ground shook when the blast hit, splintering wood and stone.

My heart was trying to tear its way out of my ribs.

“Fishlegs!” I yelled. “Get them inside— now!”

“I— I’ve got them!” he called back, voice trembling but determined, shepherding a group of elders toward cover.

Another roar split the sky. Snotlout skidded to a stop near us, spear clenched white-knuckled in his hands. “Okay! So! Just to be clear— we’re still doing the not dying plan, right?”

“Preferably,” Astrid snapped, yanking him backward as a dragon slammed into the street where he’d been standing a second earlier. Tuffnut stared up at it, awe momentarily overriding sense. “Wow.” Ruffnut nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That one’s definitely angry.”

“FOCUS!” Astrid and I shouted in unison.

We moved like we always had— without thinking. Instinct. Muscle memory. Years of standing back-to-back when things went wrong. When a dragon lunged too low, Astrid drove her axe into the ice beside its head— not to kill, just enough to redirect. I followed with a crackling burst of lightning that snapped against its flank, not full power, just enough to break the trance. The dragon recoiled, confused, and fled skyward with a startled cry.

It felt wrong. Every hit pulled at something inside me. Dragons weren’t supposed to be like this— weren’t supposed to feel empty. None of us were supposed to feel this helpless.

Another explosion rocked the village. I looked up— and my breath caught.

Across the battlefield, cutting through the smoke and ice like a blade— Hiccup.

Flying. Straight toward Drago.

“No—” The word tore out of me before I could stop it. Astrid saw it too. I felt it in the way she went still beside me, the way her grip tightened on her axe. “What’s he doing—?” she whispered. We couldn’t hear what he was saying from this distance, but I could see the way his shoulders squared. The way Toothless moved with him, protective, lethal, utterly devoted.

Drago staggered. Slipped.

And then— He hit the ground hard, skidding across the ice like something finally felled. My chest locked up. The world seemed to narrow, every sound dulling except the thunder of my own pulse. Toothless landed just ahead of him, wings flared, every step deliberate as he drove Drago backward.

And Hiccup— Hiccup ran straight toward them. I stopped breathing.

Everything in me screamed to move, to run, to do something— but my legs wouldn’t obey. It was like watching a thread pulled too tight, knowing exactly when it would snap and being powerless to stop it. Astrid whispered his name.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because I already knew— deep in my bones— that whatever happened next would change everything.

Drago hit the ground hard.

The sound of it echoed— bone on ice, armor scraping, a body finally meeting resistance after a lifetime of conquest. He skidded backward like something already dead, momentum carrying him farther than dignity ever would. Snow sprayed. Ice cracked.

Toothless landed between him and the rest of the world.

Not gently. Not cautiously.

He came down like a verdict— wings flared wide, claws biting into the ice, every inch of him screaming mine. Each step he took forward was slow, deliberate, calculated, driving Drago back with nothing but presence alone. And then Hiccup ran. Straight past the chaos. Straight past the danger. Straight toward Drago. My chest seized.

I was already exhausted— arms shaking, legs heavy, breath coming in sharp, painful pulls— but the moment I saw him sprint across the battlefield, something inside me fractured completely. He should’ve stayed behind us. He should’ve let someone else do it.  But that was never who Hiccup was. Never had been. Never would be.

He reached the bullhook first. Drago lunged for it at the same time—a desperate, animal movement, fingers stretching, teeth bared. And for a terrifying heartbeat, I thought he might get there.

Then—

Hiccup’s dragon blade snapped open. Metal screamed as it extended, fire igniting along its edges in a sudden, violent flare. Hiccup didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. His arm drew back, throwing it. The blade buried itself into the ice between Drago’s hand and the bullhook with brutal precision. Heat scorched the frozen ground. Drago’s fingers recoiled too late, skin sizzling as the blade burned him.

“Agghh!” His roar cut through the battlefield, raw and furious. Hiccup planted himself in front of him anyway. Chest heaving. Shoulders squared. Refusing to move.

“Hold him there, Toothless!”

Toothless answered with a snarl that vibrated through my bones— low, feral, unmistakably lethal. He shifted, coiling around Hiccup, wings angling just enough to shield him, plasma already glowing faintly in his throat. Hiccup’s voice dropped, strained and shaking with exhaustion.

“It’s all over now.”

For one impossibly fragile second—

I believed him. I believed that somehow, against every impossible odd, this was it. That we had survived. That the noise would stop. That the ground would finally stop shaking beneath our feet. Then the dust behind them moved. Not settled. Not drifted. Moved. It rolled away in slow, terrible waves, and something vast rose up through it— ice cracking, tusks groaning, a shadow stretching longer than it should’ve been able to. The Bewilderbeast was standing again. My blood turned to ice.

“No…” I breathed, the word tearing out of me without sound. Across the battlefield, Drago smiled. Not wide. Not manic. Just knowing. “Or is it?”

Hiccup spun around, alarm crashing over his face in real time. “NO!” The Bewilderbeast’s throat churned. Water rushed upward inside it, a roaring, thunderous sound that drowned out everything else— wind, screams, the world itself. His name tore from my throat, strained and broken. “HICCUP!”

But Toothless was already moving. He didn’t look back. Didn’t calculate. Didn’t hesitate. He leapt. Straight into the blast.

Wings wrapped around Hiccup as the freezing explosion hit— white light, shrieking force, absolute annihilation. Ice swallowed them both whole, sealing them inside a solid, impossible tomb. Silence slammed down. The battlefield froze with them. My legs gave out. “No,” I gasped, stumbling forward, then running— slipping, sliding, falling, catching myself again. My lungs burned. My vision blurred. My heart was tearing itself apart inside my chest.

“No— no— no—”

Images slammed into me, unbidden and cruel, not memories so much as moments, ripped out of time and forced back into my hands. Hiccup at ten— too thin, hair always in his eyes— standing in the snow with a contraption that had very clearly exploded in his face. One sleeve was smoking, his glove half-burned through, soot smeared across his cheek like war paint. Everyone else had been shouting. I remembered the sound of Gobber swearing. But Hiccup had just looked up at me, eyes bright, breath puffing white in the cold, and grinned like the world hadn’t nearly killed him again. “Okay, but hear me out,” he’d said, holding up the twisted metal like proof of concept instead of failure.

Hiccup crouched in the dirt behind the forge, fingers moving too fast, sketching lines that barely made sense until he started talking. His words tripped over each other— ideas colliding, interrupting themselves— voice rising and falling as if he were racing his own thoughts. I could still hear the scrape of charcoal on stone, see the way he stopped only to look up at me, eyes searching my face, desperate to know if I was following. If I believed him. If someone did. Hiccup laughing— really laughing— head thrown back, shoulders shaking, the sound breaking loose from him before he could stop it. It had been my fault. I’d said something stupid, something not nearly as clever as he’d pretended it was, but he’d looked at me like I’d just unlocked the universe. Like I was brilliant. Like I mattered. I remembered the warmth of that look more clearly than the joke itself.

And then Hiccup trusting me— quietly, completely. The way he handed me something delicate without a second thought. The way he stood at my side in battle, never once checking if I was still there, because of course I was. The way his voice softened when he said my name, like the world was less sharp when I was in it.

Always trusting me.

The memories hit harder than any blow, because they didn’t feel like the past. They felt unfinished. And I couldn’t breathe around the thought that they might have just ended— frozen under the ice with him. Valka reached the ice first.

“No! No…” she sobbed, pounding at it with her staff, hands shaking, movements frantic and broken. She didn’t sound like a warrior or a leader or a mother of dragons. She sounded like someone losing her child. I dropped beside her, scraping my hands raw against the ice, nails splitting, skin tearing. I didn’t feel any of it.

“Please,” I whispered, forehead pressed to the frozen surface. “Please— just— please—”

Astrid’s scream cut through the air from behind us. “Hiccup?!” Gobber and Stoick stood frozen at the edge of the crater, horror carved deep into their faces.

Then—

A glow. Soft. Blue. Alive. It pulsed from deep within the ice, faint at first, then brighter— stronger— burning through the frost like a heartbeat restarting. Valka froze, her eyes widening. She staggered back. The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment. Then— 

The ice shattered.

A blast thundered outward, shards exploding into the air, steam rolling across the battlefield in hot, roaring waves. Something massive surged up from the crater— Toothless. He rose from the wreckage like a god unleashed. Steam poured from his body. His black scales glowed electric blue, dorsal plates split and blazing, nostrils flared with raw alpha fire. Rage radiated off him in waves so strong I could feel it.

And beneath his wings— Hiccup.

Curled safely against his chest. Breathing. Alive. My knees hit the ice. A sound tore out of me— half sob, half laugh, completely unhinged.

Alive.

Toothless turned his head back, nudging Hiccup gently, urgently, as if he needed to be sure. Hiccup’s hand lifted, shaky but real, pressing to Toothless’s snout. The Bewilderbeast roared— furious, commanding, demanding submission. Toothless answered by stepping forward— Up onto a jagged ice spire. Silhouetted against the torn sky. And he roared back.

Defiance made sound. Protection had teeth. Plasma fire erupted from him in relentless salvos, blasting the Bewilderbeast’s face again and again, refusing to bow. “H–He’s challenging the alpha!” Hiccup shouted.

Valka’s voice trembled beside me. “To protect you.”

My hand pressed over my heart, trying to steady it, trying to remind myself I was still here. Because for one horrifying moment, I had seen a world without Hiccup in it. And I knew— deep, terrifying, unshakable— I would never survive that world. Not ever.

The Bewilderbeast’s roar tore across the battlefield like a living force, rolling through Berk with the weight of something ancient and furious. The ice beneath my boots vibrated in response, fine cracks racing outward as the colossal creature reared back, its massive frame silhouetted against a sky still choked with smoke and drifting frost. Toothless answered it without hesitation. His plasma fire burned blue-white against the gray, striking again and again with a precision that made it clear this was no longer a wild exchange of power. This was control. This was defiance sharpened into intent.

The alpha thrashed its tusks through the ice, trying to crush him, each swing powerful enough to flatten a longhouse. Toothless sprang away at the last second—leaping from spire to spire, wings flaring, claws barely touching down before he launched again.

I ran. Not toward Hiccup— he was where he needed to be— but along the battlefield’s edge, shouting, signaling, dragging villagers clear of collapsing ice. Something invisible but undeniable rolled outward from Toothless, a pressure in the air that made dragons hesitate mid-flight, their eyes clearing as though waking from a long, suffocating dream. A Monstrous Nightmare careened overhead, eyes clearing mid-flight as Toothless’s dominance rippled outward like a shockwave.

One by one, the dragons broke free.

The horde that had once moved as Drago’s extension faltered, then stilled, then turned. Heads lifted. Wings folded. Massive forms redirected themselves, not toward the fleeing villagers or the crumbling village, but toward the black dragon standing his ground beside Hiccup and Valka. Toothless landed with deliberate weight, wings flared protectively around them, his stance unmistakable in its authority. He did not roar loudly. He did not need to. His call carried in a way sound never could, and the dragons answered by gathering behind him, scales and wings and fire forming a living wall.

A sound tore from my throat— half-laugh, half-sob. He landed protectively beside Hiccup and Valka, wings flared wide, stance commanding. His call wasn’t loud— but it was absolute. The dragons followed. They amassed behind him in a living wall of scales and flame and breath.

Drago saw it then, and for the first time, fear cracked through his fury. He screamed, scrambling toward the Bewilderbeast, his voice breaking into something unhinged as he shouted for it to fight, to obey, to reassert his control. He clawed his way up the creature’s tusk, screaming at dragons who no longer acknowledged him, his commands falling uselessly into the frozen air. Around him, the Berkians surged forward— not in reckless charge, but in solidarity— standing together as witnesses to something ancient reasserting itself.

“No, no, no, no!” he screamed, scrambling across the ice toward the Bewilderbeast. “Fight back! Fight! FIGHT!”

I watched him clamber up the beast’s tusk, unhinged, raving— screaming at dragons who no longer heard him. “What’s the matter with you!?”

I found myself beside Astrid again without remembering how I got there. Her breath was ragged. Her eyes never left Hiccup as he and Toothless flew together up onto an ice spire. I felt it then. The end of something. The beginning of something else.

High above, Hiccup and Toothless rose together onto an ice spire, framed by the sky and the watching world. Hiccup’s voice carried clearly, steady despite exhaustion, as he spoke of loyalty earned rather than taken, of an ending that did not need to be written in blood. Drago answered with a refusal that was almost desperate, spurring the Bewilderbeast into motion once more, driving it forward with raw insistence.

“Now do you get it? This is what it is to earn a dragon’s loyalty.”

A beat. “Let this end now.”

Drago snarled, feral. “Never! Come on!” He hammered the Bewilderbeast, spurring it into a charge.

The response was immediate. Toothless fired mid-charge, staggering the beast, and then the sky erupted as dragons joined in— Skullcrusher first, then another, then another— until the air itself seemed to burn with rebellion. Fire rained down not on Berk, but on the tyrant who had tried to bend dragons into weapons. 

I stared, stunned, as the sky lit up—not with chaos, but rebellion. Dragons turning their fire not on Berk, not on us— But on Drago. Hiccup looked around, awe written across his face, as the barrage forced Drago to retreat, taking cover among the towering spines of the Bewilderbeast’s crown.

“FIGHT! BLAST THEM!” Drago screamed.

Drago screamed for them to fight back even as one of his own armored beasts turned on him, blasting his prosthetic arm clean away. Still the Bewilderbeast reared, drawing breath to drown everything in ice, but Toothless struck first, his shot slamming into its head with enough force to knock it back.

The shot slammed into the beast’s head, knocking it backward.

As the smoke cleared, one of the alpha’s massive tusks sheared off and crashed to the ground, the sound echoing like a final verdict. Toothless roared then— not in rage, but in command— and Hiccup’s voice followed, calm and certain, naming what had always been true: the alpha protects them all. 

Drago glared at Toothless. Toothless roared back. Not in rage. In command. In answer.

Hiccup’s voice rang out, steady and sure: “The alpha protects them all.”

Overwhelmed and outmatched, the Bewilderbeast yielded, retreating into the sea with a thunderous splash that left only churned water and silence behind. The sea exploded as it vanished beneath the waves, leaving nothing behind but churned water and silence. No sign of Drago. No sign of the beast.

Just— Victory.

The cheers rose slowly at first, then all at once, a wave of sound that crashed over Berk as the tension finally broke. Dragons landed everywhere, reuniting with their riders in moments that were messy and loud and full of tears. Astrid called for Stormfly and was nearly knocked over by the force of the reunion.

I didn’t join them. Jynx landed beside me, a silent sentinel. He only glanced at me briefly, sensing the uneasiness seeping from my body. I stood there, frozen, as Toothless hopped down from the spire, steam rising from his scales, people laughing and crying and running to their dragons.

All of them. Everywhere. Reunions bloomed around me like flowers I no longer belonged among.

“Stormfly!” Astrid cried— and Stormfly barreled into her, nearly knocking her over. Gobber laughed as Grump flattened him. Fishlegs sobbed into Meatlug’s neck. Snotlout clung to Hookfang like he might disappear again.

I stayed where I was. Life resumed around me with startling speed, as though the village had simply exhaled and found itself whole again. The dragons gathered around Toothless, bowing in acknowledgment— Cloudjumper first, then the rest— until Toothless himself seemed startled by the weight of what he had become. His roar rolled across the sky, joined by dozens more, a chorus that shook the air.

I watched Hiccup approach Toothless through the settling haze, his movements loose with relief, his voice warm and reverent as he rested a hand against the familiar curve of black scales. “You never cease to amaze me, bud. Thank you.”

Toothless answered with a pleased gurgle and promptly smeared his tongue across Hiccup’s face, earning a startled laugh that rippled outward. The crowd laughed with him— easy, breathless laughter, the kind that comes after surviving something you hadn’t expected to walk away from. For a fleeting second, I almost smiled too. Almost. The moment hovered there, fragile and bright, before reality surged back in.

Astrid stepped forward without hesitation, as naturally as if the space beside Hiccup had always been hers— because it had been, for years now. She smiled up at him, all confidence and familiarity, and said lightly, “See? I told you it was in here.” Her hand pressed flat against his chest, fingers splaying over leather and armor, and with a practiced flick she popped the dorsal fin button. Hiccup groaned theatrically, rolling his eyes.

“Ha, ha. Still doing that one? That’s hilarious. Come here, you.” He pulled her in and kissed her, the motion instinctive, unthinking— adrenaline and habit braided together into something easy and earned. The sound of it was soft, real, intimate in a way that cut far deeper than the chaos that had come before. It landed in my chest with a dull, crushing weight, heavier than ice, heavier than fire. Before anyone could see the truth written across my face, I turned away.

Jynx shifted beside me, his presence a steady hum at my shoulder, lightning faintly crackling beneath his scales as if he sensed the fracture running through me. Together, we stood apart, watching a story continue that I had stepped out of a lifetime ago. The village was alive around us— dragons reuniting with their riders, voices overlapping, laughter breaking free like it had been trapped for years— but none of it reached me. It was as though I stood behind glass, witnessing a version of Berk that no longer had a place carved out in its heart for me.

Valka’s gaze found me then. Her expression was unreadable, sharp and soft all at once, as she crossed the space between us with measured steps. “You always did have a habit of dramatic returns,” she said quietly, eyes flicking to Jynx. “Most people don’t get brought back by lightning twice in one lifetime.” I managed a smile in response— brief, reflexive, gone almost as soon as it formed. Valka noticed. Of course she did. She followed my line of sight back to Hiccup and Astrid, to the villagers celebrating, to the life unfolding as though it had never paused for my absence.

“It takes time,” she said gently, more to herself than to me. “Finding where you fit again.” We stood there together, two women who had left Berk behind in very different ways, watching the place we had once called home pulse with life. Valka belonged here again. Stoick had always been waiting for her. Hiccup had been waiting too, even if neither of them had known it at the time. Their reunion was a circle closed.

Mine felt like a question still unanswered. The storm had passed. Berk was standing. And I was alive— truly alive— for the first time in years. But as I watched Hiccup laugh, watched Astrid lean into him with the ease of someone who had earned that closeness, I couldn’t shake the hollow certainty settling deep in my chest: Some spaces, once mourned, stayed buried. And I didn’t yet know if there was room for me among the living again.

Gothi’s staff tapped softly against the stone behind Hiccup, the sound almost lost beneath the lingering crackle of cooling ice and distant dragon calls. He turned at once, instinctive as breath. The elder reached into the ash— still warm, still smelling of smoke and ruin—and pressed her fingers to his forehead. She traced the symbol there slowly, deliberately, every line weighted with history and expectation.

I watched from the edge of the clearing as she finished and bowed.

Gobber’s voice rang out, cutting through the moment with a force that carried across the village, across the sea, across years of loss and rebuilding. Stoick's eyes shone with undiluted pride as he stood beside Gobber.

“The chief has come home!”

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupted, raw and unrestrained, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Dragons answered with roars of celebration, fire lighting the sky in brilliant arcs of color— reds and blues and golds bursting overhead like the world itself was rejoicing. Berk breathed again, alive and unbroken.

And I stood just outside the circle of it all. Alive. Unburied. Unclaimed. The noise washed over me, but it felt distant, like I was underwater, watching shapes move without sound. This was the ending they had all fought for. The victory they had earned. The future they had rebuilt without me. The storm was over. And now there was nothing left to hide behind.

As the cheers slowly softened, as Hiccup lifted his head to take it all in, his gaze shifted— drifting, unfocused— until it found me.

Just for a second. That was all it took.

My breath hitched painfully, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs. There was too much in his eyes: relief still burning there, pride, exhaustion— and something else, raw and unguarded, that made my chest ache. It felt like standing too close to a flame. Dangerous. Exposing. I turned away before it could burn me.

My hand found Jynx’s neck, fingers sinking into the warm, crackling scales beneath his jaw. He rumbled softly, grounding, familiar. I pressed my forehead briefly to his and exhaled.

Okay, I told myself. Quiet. Now.

I shifted my weight, already angling us toward the shadows between buildings, toward the open sky beyond the village. No plan. No destination. Just movement. Just distance. Leaving. Again. Valka saw it immediately. Her head snapped up, eyes widening, brows knitting together with something dangerously close to pain. She took a step toward me, mouth parting as if to call my name.

I never heard her. Because Hiccup moved faster.

The crowd parted around him as he shoved past— past Gobber, past Valka, past Astrid, who turned in sharp surprise. I barely had time to register the sudden motion before his hand closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding.

“What—” His voice broke into the open air, sharp with disbelief and rising fury. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave. Not again.”

I spun back toward him, lightning flashing low beneath my skin, exhaustion and adrenaline colliding into something volatile. The village had gone quiet. Every eye was on us now.

“I mourned you! You don’t just— You don’t just get to leave!” Hiccup barked, the words tearing out of him. His eyes were glassy, heavy with anger and hurt and something that had festered too long to stay contained. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

“I didn’t ask you to!” I shot back, voice cracking despite myself. My chest burned. My throat tightened. “I didn’t ask you to grieve me, or build monuments to someone I wasn’t anymore!”

His grip tightened. “You disappeared!”

“And you kept going,” I snapped, not angry— tired. So deeply, bone-achingly tired. “You built a life here. You became everything Berk needed you to be.” My voice faltered as my eyes flicked, traitorous, toward Astrid— still standing frozen a few paces away— before I looked back at Jynx. “You belong here. As chief. As the Dragon Master. With your family. With—”

Her. I couldn’t finish it. The word lodged in my throat like a blade.

Hiccup’s voice dropped, raw and desperate. “And you?” The question hit harder than any shout ever could. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My fingers curled against Jynx’s scales as if it were the only thing holding me upright. “Anywhere else,” I said quietly. Truthful. Final.

I pulled my arm free and turned, already lifting my foot to climb onto Jynx’s back. Hiccup yanked me down again, stubborn, furious, refusing to let go.

“No— no!” he said, shaking his head, panic breaking through the anger. “You belong here. In Berk. With us. With—” His voice faltered, the word caught painfully behind his teeth. Me.

We stood there, locked together in the center of the village, years of unspoken history unraveling in full view of everyone we had ever known.

Gobber was the first to move.

He clapped his hands once— sharp, commanding— and his voice cut through the lingering cheers with the authority of someone who had held Berk together with nails, fire, and stubborn love. “Alright, alright! That’s enough gawkin’ for one day. Back to your homes, all of you. Chief’s got… business.”

The crowd hesitated, reluctant, curiosity buzzing like live wire— but Gobber herded them gently, firmly, steering bodies and attention away from the center of the square. Laughter faded. Murmurs thinned. The spectacle dissolved into dispersing footsteps and the crackle of dying fires.

Valka lingered. She stood a few paces away, hands clasped too tightly at her waist, eyes flicking between Hiccup and you as if memorizing the way you both looked in this moment— alive, fractured, standing at opposite ends of a truth neither of you could outrun. There was something like grief in her gaze. Something like recognition. At last, she inhaled, steadying herself, and turned to help Gobber usher the remaining villagers away— but not before her eyes met yours, pleading and helpless all at once.

Astrid was the last to go. She didn’t look at you. Not once. Her jaw was locked so tightly you thought it might crack, hands curled into fists at her sides as if she were holding herself together by sheer will. She paused just long enough for Hiccup to feel it— her presence, her restraint, her decision— then turned stiffly and followed the others without a word.

And then there was silence. Not peace. Not calm. Just the absence of witnesses.

Hiccup rounded on you fully now, chest heaving, voice already breaking before the words even left him. “You don’t get to do this,” he said, sharp and shaking. “You don’t get to just show up— alive— and then walk away like nothing— like I didn’t—”

His hands flew through the air, grasping for language, for something solid to hold onto. “We grieved you,” he shouted. “I lost you. I buried you”

“And you kept living.” The words tore out of you, raw and hoarse, echoing off stone and scorched wood. You stepped back, just out of reach, one hand pressed instinctively to Jynx’s neck as if anchoring yourself. “I didn’t ask you to carry that. I never asked you to carry anything.”

Hiccup stared at you, eyes glassy with fury and something far worse. “Then why?” he demanded. His voice dropped— not softer, but heavier. “Why did you leave?”

The question hung between you like a blade.

You laughed once, breathless and bitter, and dragged a hand through your hair as if the answer hurt too much to hold still. “Because you already had,” you said. He flinched.

“You didn’t even notice when it happened,” you continued, words spilling now, unstoppable. “You were changing— growing into everything Berk needed you to be. The strategist. The leader. The Dragon Master. And I watched it happen, Hiccup. I watched the world open for you while I was still standing in the same place, waiting for you to turn around and see me.”

You swallowed, hard. “And one day, I realized you didn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not—” he started.

“It is,” you snapped, eyes burning. “You stopped looking for me in a room. Stopped asking what I thought before you decided things. You didn’t lean on me anymore. And I understood. Gods, I understood.” Your voice cracked. “You were becoming something bigger than us.”

You gestured weakly around the village. “And I loved you too much to be the thing that held you back.”

Hiccup shook his head violently. “I kept waiting for the right moment. Then you were gone.” he said. “I didn’t choose you because I thought I had time.”

The confession broke something open inside you, and suddenly everything you’d buried came rushing out. “I’ve loved you my entire life,” you said, voice trembling but steadying with truth. “I loved you when you were the scrawny kid no one believed in. I loved you when you doubted yourself. I loved you when you learned to fly. I loved you like you hung the moon, Hiccup— like if you asked, I would have burned the world down just to light your way.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t look away. “And that kind of love?” You shook your head. “It would have swallowed me whole if I stayed. It still would.”

Hiccup stepped closer, desperation bleeding through every line of him. “I only realized what I lost when you were gone,” he said, voice breaking openly now. “Every victory felt wrong without you there. Every plan, every flight— I kept turning, expecting you to be beside me. I searched for you. For years.”

“And in that time,” you said quietly, eyes flicking— just once— toward where Astrid had disappeared, “you built a life without me.”

“You were… everything. I’m— I couldn’t have without you. Any of this. All of it. I couldn’t have done it without you.” he breathed. Then his eyes flicked to you, softer. “Who would I— Who am I without you?”

Your chest tightened. “Yourself.” Silence crashed down again. Hiccup’s mouth opened. Closed. His hands curled at his sides, helpless. “Where—” he asked, barely audible. “Where are you… going to go?”

Your breath hitched. You turned toward Jynx, eyes stinging— needing distance, needing escape. “I don’t know.” And for a heartbeat, you looked at him— really looked— at the boy you loved, the man he’d become, the life that had kept going without you. And you wondered, painfully, whether loving him had ever been something you could survive.

You pulled free.

Not violently— just decisively, like someone closing a door they’d already said goodbye to. Your fingers slipped from Hiccup’s grasp, and this time you didn’t look back as you walked toward Jynx. Each step felt deliberate, measured, final. The dragon lifted his head at once, sensing it, his body shifting to give you space, to be ready.

Behind you, Hiccup didn’t move. You could feel it— the pause. The war inside him. Duty pressing in from every side like iron bands: the crown still warm on his brow, the eyes of a village he was meant to lead, the woman he’d promised a future to. Responsibility weighed heavier than any armor he’d ever worn.

For a moment, you thought he would let you go. Then his boots scraped against stone.

He closed the distance in three strides, voice raw, breaking as it spilled out of him. “I love you,” he said, the words tumbling over each other like they’d been clawing at his ribs for years. “Right now. I love you. I was stupid— I didn’t realize sooner, I didn’t see it until you were gone and everything felt wrong without you. I love you, [Y/N]. Please.”

You stopped. Your shoulders tightened, breath catching as if the air itself had turned sharp. You closed your eyes for a heartbeat, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. When you turned back to him, there was no triumph in your expression. No relief.

Only pain. “And Astrid?” you asked quietly.

The name sat between you like a blade laid gently on skin.

Hiccup frowned, confusion flickering across his face, as if the question itself didn’t belong in this moment. “What about her?”

Something in you broke— not loudly, not dramatically— but completely. You laughed once, short and hollow, and shook your head. “That,” you said, voice trembling despite yourself, “that right there is why I can’t stay.”

You gestured between the two of you, then outward— toward the village, toward the life waiting behind him. “You don’t even hear it. She’s not a what, Hiccup. She’s a person. She’s the woman you chose when I was gone. The woman you built a future with. The woman you stood beside just minutes ago while the world cheered.”

Your gaze softened, painfully so. “She loves you. And you love her— even if it’s not the way we— this—.” Hiccup opened his mouth to argue, but you pressed on, needing him to understand. “This— what you’re feeling? It’s grief colliding with relief. It’s years of guilt and longing and ‘what if’ finally having a face again. And I get it. Gods, I get it.” Your voice cracked. “But I won’t be the thing that tears your life in half.”

You stepped back again, closer to Jynx, one hand resting against his warm scales. “I loved you enough to leave once,” you said softly. “I love you enough not to ruin you now.”

Hiccup looked shattered, torn open by the truth, hands trembling at his sides. “So that’s it?” he whispered. “You just… go? After everything?” You met his eyes one last time— really met them— and there was still love there. Endless, aching, unextinguished.

“Yes,” you said. “Because if I stay, I’ll hope. And if I hope, I’ll break.” Jynx rumbled low in his chest, wings shifting, ready.

And this time, when you turned away, you didn’t slow— because staying would have been the crueler thing for both of you.

Hiccup watched you go, his hands slackening at his sides as if whatever had been holding him upright had finally let go. In the quiet that followed, stripped of cheers and fire and ceremony, he looked younger— achingly so. Not the chief. Not the Dragon Master. Just the boy you had known, standing barefoot at the edge of something he didn’t understand how to cross. Helpless. Confused. Left behind by a world that had kept moving without asking him first.

“You belong here,” he said at last. There was no strength in it. No command. Just defeat softened into something almost tender, as though saying it gently enough might make it true.

You paused, Jynx steady in front of you, solid and warm and real. The dragon’s wings rustled once, low and patient, but he did not move. His gaze stayed on Hiccup— quiet, unhostile, knowing. As if he understood that this was not a battle to be won, only an ending to be respected.

“No,” you answered, voice steady despite the way your chest ached. “You do.”

You swung up onto Jynx’s back, the motion practiced, automatic— muscle memory filling in where resolve threatened to falter. From here, Berk looked different. Smaller. Finished. A place with no room left for the ghost you had been. Hiccup took a step forward without realizing it, his hand lifting— fingers reaching for the place you used to be. The way he always had. Then he stopped, the motion breaking halfway through, as if his body had finally caught up to what his heart already knew. He let his arm fall, and the sound of it felt louder than any cheer.

It hit him then— sharp and undeniable. This was the second time he was watching you walk away. The first time, he hadn’t understood. This time, he did. Too well. Too much. You looked down at him once more, really looked— at the familiar lines of his face, the weight of the crown he hadn’t asked for, the life he was already standing inside. Your expression softened, not with hope, but with something far more final.

“I don’t blame you. That’s the worst part.” she said quietly, the words carried between them like a last breath. “Goodbye… Hiccup.”

Jynx lifted his wings. 

The air shifted. 

And then you were gone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THREADBARE ₊˚⊹☆

Between ice and thunder, memories resurface— familiar eyes, an almost-name, and the ache of what’s been waiting to be found.

A/N: Consecutive chapter upload???? Hello???? Who am I rn yo...

The storm came by evening — thick and wild, the kind that howled through the ravines and made even the dragons huddle closer to the fire pits.

I sat in the far corner of the sanctuary, tools spread across the flat stone before me. My armor gleamed faintly in the firelight — the polished scales, the faint crackle of static still whispering through its seams.

I’d worn it for years without the mask. I didn’t really like the mask.

It felt stuffy. Like breathing through a potato sack. I only ever wore it during winter flight.

But tonight… I turned the helmet over in my hands, tracing the lightning-shaped etching carved across its crest. The faceplate catching the flicker of the fire.

Valka had gone to tend the smaller dragons. I was alone — or at least, as alone as one could be in a cavern full of sleeping giants.

Jynx lay nearby, his eyes half-lidded but awake, a faint pulse of light glowing under his skin with each slow breath. He’d been restless since Hiccup.

Even thinking his name made something seize in my chest. It shouldn’t have been possible — not after all these years. I’d imagined seeing him again a thousand different ways, but never like this. Never with him staring at me like a ghost he couldn’t place.

I lifted the mask again, weighing it in my hands. The scales were cool, heavier than I remembered.

Maybe it was foolish to keep showing my face. Valka said he wouldn’t push, that he’d give space — but he’d already come too close once.

And if he found me before I was ready…

If he saw me like this — scarred, hollow, a shell of what I used to be — I wasn’t sure what would break first. His heart or mine.

The air hummed faintly with Jynx’s quiet growl. His head lifted, watching me.

“I know,” I whispered. “It’s dumb to even go to these lengths...”

He blinked, slow and steady, like he understood — like he disagreed but wouldn’t stop me. I reached for the clasps, my hands trembling despite the cold. The leather straps were stiff from disuse. It took effort to buckle them, to pull the helmet down until it sealed.

The moment it clicked into place, the world changed.

The mask’s narrow eye slits turned the firelight into slivers of gold, sharpening everything. The weight settled over my shoulders like a second skin. My breathing echoed inside the shell, too loud, too close.

It wasn’t just protection. It was distance.

The girl Hiccup had known — she didn’t wear masks. She had laughed without thinking, flown without fear, trusted without question.

That girl was gone.

Now, there was only this.

I ran a gloved hand down the edge of my armor, feeling the faint crackle of static pulse against my palm. It almost sounded like thunder.

“Safer this way,” I murmured to myself, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.

The storm outside rumbled in answer, shaking the walls.

Jynx shifted, stretching his wings, arcs of lightning dancing between his spines. His gaze traced my figure, up and down. The Skrill chirped, amused as if to say: ‘Ha, you look like me!’

I shook my head, laughing lightly before reaching for the rest of my gear and stood, the mask casting my reflection in the wall of ice beside me — faceless, silent, strange.

If he found me again… he wouldn’t recognize me this time.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I stepped into the wind.

The air outside was sharp enough to bite. I welcomed it.

Snow still drifted in thin spirals from the earlier storm, glinting like embers in the night. Jynx crouched low as I approached, his scales flickering faintly with pulses of violet light. When my hand brushed his neck, static leapt between us — a small, living spark.

“Just for a while,” I murmured. “We both need it.”

He rumbled in agreement, muscles coiling beneath me as I climbed onto his back. I just wanted to feel the wind, the movement, the risk.

For a heartbeat, I hesitated — the mask still clinging to my skin, every breath echoing too loud. Then, with a whisper of wings and a crack of lightning, Jynx launched into the air. The ground fell away. The sanctuary, the walls, the weight of everything — gone in an instant.

The sky met us like an old friend.

Wind tore past my cloak, cold enough to burn, but I didn’t care. I leaned forward, pressing a gloved hand to Jynx’s scales, feeling his energy pulse through my fingertips. The rhythm of his flight was different without the saddle — raw, alive. Every shift of his wings tugged at my balance, forcing me to move with him, to trust the current and the beat of his heart.

“Higher,” I whispered.

He obeyed.

We climbed through the clouds, the world shrinking beneath us — ice fields, mountain ridges, the faint blue glow of the Bewilderbeast’s domain. Each breath seared my lungs, but I couldn’t stop smiling behind the mask.

This was the only place where I could breathe.

“Again,” I called, standing slightly, testing my weight against his movement. Jynx rolled, smooth and sharp, lightning trailing in his wake. My boots slid against his scales, my body tilting instinctively into the turn.

It wasn’t perfect. I nearly slipped once — my armor scraping against his ridge — but Jynx corrected himself, wings snapping out in a burst of thunder. My laugh came unbidden, startled and wild.

For a few precious moments, I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t the girl with scars or secrets. I wasn’t the ghost of someone Hiccup once knew.

I was just… flying.

We darted through the updrafts, weaving between ice pillars and clouds so thick they glittered silver in the moonlight. Jynx twisted, rolled, dove — and I followed every motion like we shared a single pulse.

When we broke through the last veil of clouds— above the rain, the lightning, and the storm— the sky opened in full — vast and empty, painted with ribbons of aurora. I reached up without thinking, as if I could touch the lights.

The mask muffled my breath, but the tears still came — sharp and hot behind the visor.

Hiccup’s face had been burned into my mind since the moment I saw him. The way he looked at me — confused, searching — like he almost knew. Like the past was whispering in his ear and he didn’t dare believe it.

And the way he’d spoken about the girl who vanished… the one he’d lost.

If only he knew she wasn’t gone. That she’d never really left — just broken in ways that couldn’t be mended.

Jynx slowed, coasting in gentle circles through the clouds. I wiped my eyes with the back of my glove, exhaling hard through the mask.

“Enough for tonight,” I whispered.

He crooned softly, understanding more than I could ever say.

As we descended, I looked down toward the distant glow of the sanctuary. Somewhere in there, Hiccup was probably still awake — sketching, planning, wondering.

And maybe, for just a moment, he was thinking of me too.

The storm outside had quieted to a whisper. Snow still drifted through the cracks in the ice ceiling — soft, lazy flakes that caught in the light of the glowing crystals. The air in the sanctuary felt different that night: heavy, still, like the breath before something breaks.

I’d kept to the far end of the cavern, hidden between the ribs of a long-dead dragon fossil. Jynx lay beside me, half asleep but watchful, tail twitching in restless rhythm.

Across the chamber, I could hear their voices — low, threaded with warmth and something deeper.

Valka’s voice came first. “You’ve been quiet all evening, Hiccup.”

A pause. Then the soft sound of metal shifting as he adjusted his prosthetic. “Just… thinking.”

She hummed, the sound echoing faintly in the ice. “Your apprentice… with the Skrill,”

My breath caught.

He hesitated. “I mean — I just can’t stop thinking about her.”

The scrape of his boots against the ice sounded closer now, like he was pacing. I closed my eyes, pressing my back against the cold wall, as if the frost could cool the rush of panic burning in my chest.

Valka’s tone was light, but careful. “And why’s that, my son?”

Hiccup’s sigh echoed softly, weary but tender. “Because… There's something about her. The way she moved, her posture, her entire…  energy? I don’t know– It reminded me of someone I used to know.”

He paused. “Someone I lost.”

Valka didn’t speak. The silence stretched long, filled with the faint crackle of torches and the distant rumble of sleeping dragons.

When he finally continued, his voice had changed — softer, threaded with grief.

“Her name was [Y/N].”

My name left his lips like an old prayer. My throat tightened, and Jynx stirred beside me, sensing the tremor in my breathing.

“She was—” He let out a quiet laugh. “Gods, she was impossible. Brave. Stubborn. Loud when she shouldn’t be. Always had to have the last word.”

Valka’s faint chuckle was a low hum, understanding.

“She and I… we grew up together,” he went on. “We found Toothless together, actually. I was half convinced he was going to kill us both when he lunged, but she just stood there, beside me, staring him down like he was another villager who owed her an apology. She never left me. She could’ve but she didn’t.”

I bit my lip hard, trying to stay quiet. I could still remember that moment — the breathless stillness of the forest clearing, Toothless’s eyes narrowing, mine darting to Hiccup’s trembling hands. How small we’d felt in that world, and how alive.

Hiccup’s voice softened, heavy with something that ached. “After that, we were inseparable. Every flight, every sketch, every idea — she was there. She helped build this saddle… his tail… When everyone thought I was crazy for believing dragons weren’t our enemies, she never doubted me. Not once.”

He drew a slow breath. “Then, one night, when the village found out about Toothless– the nest... I stepped out of the hall for a few minutes— to see how far the ships were, too see how much time we had to save the nest– to save dad— I had a plan ready, but when I came back she was just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I swore– I thought maybe she was just one step ahead of me, already rallying up everyone to help—”

Valka murmured gently, “She disappeared.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “After the war, we searched for days. My dad, Gobber, Astrid — everyone. But we never found her. Just… pieces of her, things she owned in an empty house… Dad said she was taken by a dragon– or at least that’s what her dad said before he took off. Didn’t even help to search for her. Didn’t even try to.”

Hiccup frowned deeply, kicking a stray rock. Frustrated at the memory. How could her own father give up on her so easily, when he’d spend his whole life convincing himself she was out there. Somewhere.

My hand trembled, picking at the scales of my armour to stop it.

He laughed quietly, bitter and fond all at once. “The village held a funeral. Lit lanterns. The whole boat thing— Said their goodbyes. But I—” His words faltered. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe it. She was too strong. Too smart to just… vanish.”

The sound of movement — Valka stepping closer, her tone soft and maternal. “You never stopped looking, did you?”

“No.” He sighed, voice trembling with something like exhaustion. “Every new island, every horizon… I told myself maybe she’d be there. Maybe she’d found another tribe. Maybe she was out there building her own world.”

“And now?” Valka asked gently.

He hesitated, and for a long moment, there was only the sound of dripping water. Then — 

“Now, I don’t know. That Skrill rider — there’s no reason to think it’s her. But…”

His breath hitched faintly, and I could almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck, eyes distant.

“She had this braid in her hair. A cord. It looked just like the one I made for [Y/N] years ago. Same pattern, same knots. I thought I was seeing things, but… the way she moved, the way she looked back at me before she flew off…”

He let the thought trail off.

Valka’s reply came after a long pause — calm, deliberate. “Sometimes, Hiccup, the past has ways of finding us when we least expect it. But you must let it come in its own time.”

He sighed. “I know. I just—”

He laughed, self-conscious. “I just can’t stop thinking that maybe I was right not to give up.”

Something inside me broke quietly then. The sound of his hope — raw, fragile, alive — cut through me sharper than any blade.

“I just–” Hiccup’s voice broke for a moment, before he regained his composure. “I just want to know why. I wanna ask her why she left– If I had done something—? What I could do to make her stay— Gods, I don’t know!” His voice was loud, laced with anger and desperation. The lack of an answer to a question forcefully shut down by his tribe long ago. She was dead. End of story.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, forcing the tears back. I wanted to run to him, to tell him it was me, that I’d never meant to disappear, not really.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Morning came slow, heavy with fog that curled around the spires of ice like breath from sleeping dragons. The air was cold enough to sting, carrying that sharp, metallic scent of snow that always came before a storm.

Hiccup hadn’t slept much — that much was obvious from the way he moved. Toothless padded silently behind him, matching his quiet pace through the tunnels of the sanctuary.

Valka had gone ahead to feed the hatchlings, leaving him to wander — or maybe, she knew he needed space.

His thoughts spun circles in his head, faster than the drafts that tugged at his cloak. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Skrill rider. About the way her dragon had shielded her — not with fury, but with instinct. The way she’d looked back before she fled, as if torn between running and… staying.

And the braid.

That cursed braid.

He knew that knot pattern like he knew the feel of Toothless’s scales.

It was his. His design.

And yet—

“Bud,” Hiccup murmured, glancing back at Toothless, “you saw her too, didn’t you? Didn’t she look…”

Toothless blinked up at him, head tilting.

“…familiar?” Hiccup finished weakly, running a gloved hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s stupid. She’s gone, right? She’s—”

A faint sound cut him off.

Not the flap of wings — subtler. Like the brush of leather against ice.

Hiccup froze. Toothless’s ears twitched, eyes narrowing toward the far ledge of the cavern, where light filtered through thin walls of frost.

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then, through the mist, a silhouette appeared — small, cloaked, standing near the edge where the ice opened into the sky.

The Skrill stood beside her, scales catching blue light like lightning trapped beneath its skin.

Hiccup’s pulse stumbled.

She didn’t see him yet — or maybe she did. Maybe she was pretending not to. Her hand rested against the dragon’s neck, slow and deliberate, the way someone does when they’re grounding themselves.

He took one step forward. Then another.

“Hey— wait!”

Her head turned, just slightly.

The Skrill shifted, wings unfurling in warning. She tensed, murmuring something to it too quiet to hear.

Hiccup’s voice faltered. “I just— I just want to talk!”

She hesitated. He could see it — the smallest twitch in her shoulders. For a second, he thought maybe she’d turn around. Maybe she’d pull down her mask, say his name.

Instead, she whispered something to her dragon — a command.

Lightning rippled across Jynx’s body, sparking blue against the frost. The air hissed. Toothless crouched low, growling, but not attacking — confusion flickering behind his eyes. He remembered that dragon. Not from here, but from the battle with the Red Death. A familiar storm.

The Skrill leapt into the air. The force of its wings sent shards of ice scattering. Hiccup shielded his face as the rush of air whipped through his hair.

When he looked up again, she was gone.

Only the faint smell of ozone lingered, sharp and electric.

He stood there for a long while, staring at the place she’d been, his breath clouding in the cold.

Hiccup didn’t see her again for days. He tried to tell himself he was fine with that. Tried to convince himself it didn’t matter — that there were bigger things to worry about. Drago. Berk. The peace he’d fought so hard to build.

Every time he asked Valka about her, she deflected gently. “She’s still learning to trust,” she would say. “Give her time.”

And maybe that was it. Maybe she simply didn’t want to be found.

But why, then, did it hurt this much? Why did every silence feel like a wound that wouldn’t heal?

He told himself it was foolish to care. That it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

And yet, when he closed his eyes, he could still see the way the lightning danced over her armor, could still hear the faint, trembling whisper of his own voice — “I just want to talk.”

At first, he’d told himself it didn’t matter. She was just one of the riders protecting this place, nothing more. He’d been chasing ghosts for years. Maybe it was time to stop. But his thoughts refused to let her go.

Her movements, her voice — muffled though it was — the way her dragon’s lightning had sparked like it was breathing for her. It all pressed at the back of his mind, whispering: what if?

He’d never been one for superstition, but sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he caught himself looking up at the stars and wondering if ghosts could take on flesh again.

He had no proof it was her. Just a cord. A stupid little braid that looked exactly like the one he’d made for [Y/N] when they were kids — when they’d first built Toothless’s saddle together. He remembered the day he tied it around her wrist, too embarrassed to say what it meant.

That she was his anchor.

And now…

Now he wasn’t sure if the thought of being right terrified him more than being wrong. If that rider was [Y/N] — what had happened to her? The scars, the armor, the fear in her every movement.

And if it wasn’t her… how had she gotten that braid?

He clenched his fists, pressing them to his eyes.

Maybe Valka was right — maybe he was chasing ghosts. Maybe she was gone, and this was just his heart trying to make sense of losing her.

Toothless gave a low rumble beside him, as if scolding him for giving up.

“I know, bud,” he muttered, rubbing the dragon’s snout. “But I can’t keep doing this. She clearly doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she just… doesn’t like me.”

Toothless blinked at him.

“What? It’s possible!” Hiccup groaned, pacing along the ledge overlooking the frozen sanctuary. “Mom said she wasn’t used to newcomers. Maybe I’m too much like—”

He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. “—too much like everything she’s trying to forget.”

His voice softened.

“I just thought— If it was her, if there was even a chance, I’d finally get to ask why. Why she left. Why she didn’t say goodbye. Why she let me think she was…”

He swallowed hard, the word dead catching on his tongue.

“I don’t even know what I’d say if it was her. I’m angry. I’m confused. I’m—” He laughed quietly, bitter. “—I’m relieved, maybe. I don’t even know anymore.”

He exhaled sharply, squaring his shoulders. “You know what? Forget it.”

The Night Fury crooned softly, head tilting, eyes full of quiet understanding.

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, straightening. “Drago first. The rest can wait.”

He tightened the straps of his armor, the decision firming in his chest. The sky outside had cleared — pale and cold, with sunlight breaking through the last tattered clouds.

Hiccup looked out over the vastness of the sanctuary — dragons nestled together like ripples of color and breath, life humming all around him. Somewhere within those icy caverns, Valka’s mysterious apprentice might still be watching. But for now, he had to let her go.

Whatever truth she carried — whether it was hers or [Y/N]’s — would come when it was ready.

He turned toward the ledge, adjusting the straps of his flight suit with renewed focus. Toothless bounded after him, eager, wings twitching with anticipation. The air hummed with the pulse of wind and purpose.

And with that, the world of memory and ghosts gave way to the next chapter.

Toothless tilted his head, curious.

Hiccup straightened, tugging on the straps of his flight suit. His exhaustion hardened into focus. “Come on, bud. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

The sound came out of nowhere — a hand clamping down over Hiccup’s mouth before he could even shout. He muffled a startled noise, thrashing for a second until the grip loosened. 

Toothless turned with a snarl, pupils narrowing to slits, ready to blast whoever had dared touch his rider.

But then the dragon froze. He knew that scent. That presence.

“Easy now,” came a gravelly voice, low and commanding.

Hiccup blinked up — and his panic dissolved into disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” he sputtered, prying the hand away. “How’d you get in here!?”

Stoick towered over him, helmeted and calm as if this wasn’t a sanctuary full of dragons. 

“The same way we’re getting you out.”

“We?” Hiccup echoed.

Right on cue, Gobber appeared from the tunnel arch, grinning.

“All clear!” he announced.

Stoick didn’t waste time. “Toothless. Come.”

They started back down the corridor, Stoick’s armor scraping faintly against the icy walls. 

The blue glow of dragonfire reflected off frozen arches that shimmered like cathedral glass.

“Dad! There’s something you need to know!” Hiccup called, hurrying after him.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me on the way.”

“This isn’t an on-the-way kind of update, actually...”

Stoick kept moving, broad shoulders blocking the light. “I’ve heard ENOUGH, Hiccup.”

Hiccup groaned. “...more of the earth-shattering development variety.”

“Yeah, just add it to the pile.”

“Dad, unlike most surprises I spring on you, this is one you’ll like. I promise! You just have to handle it delicately, so—”

They rounded a bend — and stopped.

Gobber stood still, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. His face had gone pale.

“Uh, you might want to take this one,” he muttered, shuffling aside. “Oh, boy.”

Stoick drew his sword with a slow rasp. He stepped ahead, cautious. Hiccup followed at a distance, Toothless padding quietly beside him.

“Dad, can you put the sword away... please?”

Then Stoick gasped — a sharp, unguarded sound that Hiccup had never heard from him before. The sword fell from his hand and clattered onto the ice.

She stood there.

Valka.

The woman in dragon bone armor. The mysterious figure who’d stolen dragons from hunters, who moved like the wind itself — and now, beneath the carved mask, was a face so achingly familiar that even Stoick’s breath caught in his throat.

She stared at him, trembling. “I know what you’re going to say, Stoick. How could I have done this? Stayed away all of these years. And why didn’t I come back to you? To our son.”

Dragons rose behind her, their eyes gleaming, a wall of wary guardians.

Stoick couldn’t answer. He simply stepped closer, awe and sorrow breaking across his face.

Valka’s voice wavered. “Well, what sign did I have that you could change, Stoick? That anyone on Berk could?”

She shook her head, bitter tears gathering. “I pleaded so many times to stop the fighting, to find another answer, but did any of you listen?”

Gobber shifted awkwardly. “This is why I never married.” He hesitated, then added under his breath, “This and one other reason.”

Stoick took another step forward, the sound of his boots echoing softly.

Valka backed into the wall of ice, breath shaking, cornered between fury and heartbreak. “I know that I left you to raise Hiccup alone... but I thought he’d be better off without me. And I was wrong, I see that now, but—”

He reached out — slow, gentle, as though she were a mirage that might vanish if he moved too fast.

“Oh stop being so stoic, Stoick,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Go on... SHOUT, SCREAM, SAY SOMETHING!”

He looked at her with the softest expression Hiccup had ever seen on his father’s face.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

The world seemed to stop. The words hit the air like a spell. Her face crumpled — surprise, heartbreak, love, all colliding at once.

Her defiance melted away; tears glistened in her lashes. She didn’t resist when his hand cupped her cheek. The years of anger and grief between them seemed to fall away, leaving only two souls who’d spent half a lifetime missing each other.

And then Stoick pulled his wife into him.

The ice walls seemed to sigh.

At first, she stiffened — startled, overwhelmed. Then she yielded, hands trembling as they found his shoulders. The dragons that had been ready to strike lowered their heads, rumbling softly, as if the air itself exhaled.

Hiccup stood frozen in the archway, Gobber beside him, Toothless quiet at his feet.

He couldn’t look away.

All his life he’d imagined what his mother might have been like — brave, kind, impossibly strong. He’d built her from fragments of stories, from half-remembered lullabies, from the ache his father never talked about. And now she was real. Right there.

And for the first time, Hiccup saw his father — not the Chief, not the warrior — but the man who’d been missing half his heart.

He didn’t say a word. Hiccup just stood there with Toothless beside me, the glow of dragonfire flickering against the ice, and watched his parents fall into a world that had been waiting for what felt like lifetimes to exist again.

And for a brief, perfect moment, even surrounded by dragons and ghosts — He felt home.

Hiccup lingered in the echoing chamber just long enough to feel the weight of what he’d just witnessed settle deep in his chest. His father’s booming laugh, Valka’s soft gasp, the way the dragons had lowered their heads as if even they knew to give the two humans space — it was all too much.

Too raw. Too miraculous.

His mother.

His father.

Together again after what felt like a lifetime.

Gobber mumbled something about “needing a drink or six,” but Hiccup barely heard him. The sight of his parents holding each other, both crying and smiling like the world had given them back what it stole, was more than he could take.

He turned away quietly, running a hand through his hair, trying to breathe through the jumble of emotion that filled his lungs until it hurt to stand still.

Toothless padded up beside him, nudging his hand.

“Yeah,” Hiccup whispered. “I know, bud. I just… I think they need a minute. And I—” He stopped, exhaling. “—I think I do too.”

The tunnels of the sanctuary were alive with the faint hum of dragons — distant growls and chirrs echoing through the ice, punctuated by the soft crackle of frost shifting along the walls. Hiccup wandered aimlessly, fingers grazing the frozen ridges, letting the stillness sink in.

He should have felt only joy. But instead, his thoughts twisted.

Because as wonderful as this was, the world outside hadn’t stopped turning. Drago was still out there, his army growing. Berk was vulnerable. And somewhere within this very sanctuary, there was a masked rider Valka called her apprentice — a stranger who flew with such confidence it made his chest ache with something eerily familiar.

Her dragon — the Skrill — impossible, wild creatures that commanded lightning itself. But this one was different. Loyal, calm… give or take, like a reflection of its rider.

And that rider…

He couldn’t shake her from his mind. The way she’d stood near the hearth that first night. The way she’d fled at the first hint of recognition. The way she moved — precise, fluid, like someone who knew dragons, who understood their language instinctively.

He’d almost convinced himself she was just a mystery, nothing more — until he saw that braided cord in her hair. The same pattern he’d made once, years ago, for someone he thought he’d lost forever.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Above, hidden within the jagged crown of the sanctuary, [Y/N] watched from a ledge of ice that overlooked the chamber. Her gloved fingers rested on the cold surface, her breath shallow beneath the mask.

Below, the soft glow of dragonfire illuminated Valka and Stoick. Two lives reunited, two halves made whole again.

She should’ve felt joy. For Valka. For Hiccup. For all of them.

But instead, something heavy unfurled in her chest — a quiet ache she’d learned too well.

If Valka went back to Berk — if Hiccup did — what would that mean for the sanctuary? For her? Would she follow? Could she even face him?

She thought of his face when he looked at Valka. That unguarded awe. That peace.

He didn’t need her anymore. Not the way he once did.

The dragonbone frame of her mask pressed cold against her skin, the world narrowing to the steady rhythm of her breath and the faint hum of electricity from Jynx beside her.

Jynx rumbled lowly, nudging her shoulder, his metallic scales sparking faintly under the glow.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, voice muffled behind the mask. “Really.”

He tilted his head, unconvinced.

Hiccup found himself wandering upward through a narrow tunnel that opened onto a wide cavern balcony overlooking the sanctuary lake. The air was colder here, sharper. He stopped when he saw a figure already there.

At first, he thought it was just another statue of ice — tall, still, perfectly carved. But then the figure shifted, the faint shimmer of dragon scale armor catching the blue light. The mask turned toward him.

The apprentice.

And beside her, the Skrill lifted its head, its eyes sparking faintly with static.

Hiccup froze mid-step.

She didn’t move.

The silence between them stretched, taut as a bowstring. The only sound was the slow ripple of the lake below and the faint hum of electricity in the air.

Her hand twitched near her dragon’s reins. The smallest motion — instinct, he realized. The urge to flee.

He raised his hands slightly, palms out. “Sorry,” he said softly, his breath misting in the cold. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was just... roaming. I’ll go.”

The Skrill crooned — a deep, vibrating sound that rolled through the cavern.

Hiccup paused, glancing at it, a smile tugging faintly at his lips. “Your Skrill... he’s pretty cool. I mean, I’ve never seen one this big before.”

No reply. Just a steady gaze from behind the mask. The Skrill huffed, tail flicking, wings twitching irritably.

“Okay, okay,” Hiccup said quickly, raising his hands again. “Didn’t mean to offend him– I didn’t mean fat, okay?. He just... he looks strong. Like, really strong. And fast. Lightning and all that…”

He tilted his head, studying her — the way she stood close to the dragon, the way her hand unconsciously rested against its jaw. The trust between them was almost visible.

“Does he have a name?” Hiccup asked after a pause. “I mean — Mom names her dragons. Not the most creative names, but still… y’know, names regardless...”

A soft exhale came from behind the mask. Not quite a laugh — but close.

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” he said, a little grin forming. A beat passes again, the only sound coming from Jynx’s miscellaneous noises.

“You don’t use a saddle, huh?”

That got a reaction — her posture shifted, just slightly.

“She does that too,” Hiccup went on, meaning Valka. “Rides without one. Says it makes her feel free. Like there’s nothing between her and the sky.”

A pause. Then, almost reluctantly, the masked rider gave a short nod.

Hiccup smiled, soft and genuine. “...Cool. That’s really... cool.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time. It was fragile — cautious, but curious.

“You’re... not much of a talker, are you?” he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s okay. Toothless didn’t like me much at first either. Bit off half my notes, actually.” 

‘Wow, Hiccup. Just wow. Just because she’s wearing dragon scale armor means you can compare her to a literally dragon— would that even be an insult? Would it be a compliment? She likes dragons right? I mean, Toothless is pretty cool– Arghh– Just shut up! Don’t mess this up.’ Hiccup pursed his lips, blinking back his racing thoughts.

Still no reply. But she tilted her head, ever so slightly, as if listening closer.

Hiccup’s voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

That made her freeze.

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t press. He just looked at her — quietly, searchingly.

“Anyway,” he said after a long moment, forcing a small smile. “I’ll stop bothering you. Sorry again for... intruding.”

He turned to leave, but before he could, the Skrill gave another low croon — softer this time, almost approving.

Hiccup looked back. “You’ve got a good dragon,” he said gently. “He trusts you.”

For the briefest second, [Y/N]’s gloved hand twitched — like she almost reached for him.

But then she stayed still. Watching. Listening. Silent.

And Hiccup left, the sound of his footsteps fading into the tunnel — but the image of her, standing bathed in blue light beside that great dragon, burned behind his eyes long after she was gone.

Hiccup’s footsteps faded into the tunnels, swallowed by the hum of dragons and the low hiss of shifting frost.

[Y/N] stood motionless on the ledge long after he was gone. The blue light from the ice shimmered faintly across her armor, reflecting against the faint pulse of Jynx’s lightning. Her breath trembled behind the mask.

He hadn’t recognized her.

Or maybe he had— and just couldn’t believe it.

She pressed a gloved hand to her chest, feeling the wild beat of her heart beneath the armor. Everything inside her screamed to run— to fly far from this place and never look back— but her feet wouldn’t move. Despite this, a part of her refused to run. Not again.

Down below, she could hear faint laughter echoing from Valka’s quarters, carried up through the tunnels like warmth from a long-forgotten hearth.

Family.

That word struck deeper than any blade could.

Jynx nudged her gently, a low croon vibrating in his throat.

“I know,” she whispered, voice cracking. “They’re happy. That’s… how it should be.”

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what came next. If Valka returned to Berk, what would happen to the sanctuary? What would happen to her? There was no place for ghosts in the daylight— and she had become one.

Her eyes burned. She turned away from the glow of the caverns, disappearing into the deeper shadows of the mountain, leaving only the faint echo of her footsteps and the soft hum of static fading behind her.

The air inside the sanctuary was soft with the hum of dragons settling for the evening. Beyond the icy walls, the faint orange light of the sinking sun shimmered through thin crystal layers, refracting over scales and frost alike.

Hiccup lingered in the tunnel long after the masked rider was gone. The echo of her silence still clung to him— he could feel it, heavy as frost in his chest. There’d been something strange in the way she looked at him, something that made his stomach twist with familiarity…

He ran a hand down Toothless’s neck, grounding himself in the dragon’s warmth. The Night Fury’s pupils widened, curious, patient— always patient.

“I’m not crazy, right?” Hiccup murmured. “That… that was something. I don’t know what, but— it was.”

Toothless blinked, tilting his head. His low hum vibrated through the air like quiet agreement.

Hiccup huffed a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. “You think I’m imagining things. Mom said the same thing once. But I know that look, bud. I know those eyes. The way she hesitated, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t…”

He stopped, glancing toward the far end of the cavern where the ice wall shimmered faintly with dragonfire.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

The question vanished into the cold, unanswered— but something inside him clicked.

A decision.

If there was truth hiding beneath that mask— if there was even a chance that it was her— he needed to know. Not because of ghosts or memories, but because he couldn’t keep living with the “what ifs.”

He squared his shoulders, exhaling a cloud of white breath. “Alright, bud. We’ll give her space. But not forever.”

Toothless crooned softly, wings flexing in quiet anticipation.

Hiccup gave the faintest grin, small but sure. “When she’s ready, we’ll be here. And when that time comes…”

He trailed off, the words catching somewhere between his chest and throat. What would he even do, really? What could he possibly say?

It had been years. Years of mourning. Of confusion. Of searching. The girl who used to stand beside him through every mad idea, every reckless flight, every stupid dragon-related disaster— she was gone. The village had held a funeral. His father had said it was time to let go. Even Gobber, who never cried, had wept into his beard that day.

And Hiccup… Hiccup had stood at the edge of the sea, clutching his fist, and whispered a goodbye he never believed.

Because deep down, he couldn’t. Not really.

He had searched for signs in the clouds, in the ocean, in the flicker of dragonfire at night—  anything to convince himself that she might still be out there. But hope, when stretched too long, starts to hurt. So he buried it.

He learned to stop talking about her. He learned to let her ghost fade into the corners of his mind, where it couldn’t hurt so much.

And yet, seeing that rider— that cord—

It had ripped all of it wide open again.

If it was her, if by some impossible twist of fate she was standing in front of him all this time… what then?

Would she even want to see him again? She ran away for a reason. What reason— Would she remember the boy he used to be— small, nervous, desperate to prove himself? Or would she see the man he’d become and wish he’d stayed buried in the past too?

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to ground himself, but the ache didn’t leave.

All those years of grief and guilt, of wondering what if, and now he couldn’t even bring himself to hope properly.

“Yeah,” he muttered softly, voice breaking a little. “When she’s ready… If it’s her… I’ll figure it out.”

He looked down at Toothless, who blinked up at him with quiet, knowing eyes.

“Because honestly, bud… I have no idea what I’d say.”

The dragon crooned low, a sound that rumbled through Hiccup’s bones. Toothless leaned into his side, and Hiccup let the warmth steady him.

The wind stirred, curling through the tunnel like a whisper of thunder. Far above, the faint crackle of lightning rippled through the ice— and for just a moment, Hiccup swore he heard her voice, distant and fragile, carried in the storm. Thunder rumbled softly against the ice, like a heartbeat refusing to be forgotten.

Then it was gone.

For the first time in years, Hiccup didn’t feel like he was chasing the past.

He felt like he was walking toward it.

By the time he found his way back toward the main cavern, the sound of laughter drifted through the ice. Warm, human laughter— something rare in this place of dragons and ghosts. He followed it, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

The sight of them together— real, tangible, alive— was almost too much to hold. Whatever strange encounter he’d had with the mysterious rider, whatever thoughts still tangled in his chest, they slipped to the background. For now, it didn’t matter.

Toothless and Cloudjumper hovered close to the hearth, squabbling quietly over the scraps of fish that lay on the table. The smell of salt and smoke hung in the air. Stoick stood near Valka, helping her prepare skewers of fish over the fire.

For a heartbeat, Hiccup just stood there, frozen, taking it in. 

Valka’s hands trembled faintly as she worked. Every motion— threading fish, turning skewers— was mechanical, distant. Her thoughts were a thousand miles away, and she tried, poorly, to cover it up with faint smiles.

“Mom, you'd never recognize it–” Hiccup said, voice bright with pride. He gestured animatedly as Toothless craned his head, curious. “Where we used to make weapons, we now build saddles, wing slings — we even fix dragon teeth! You wouldn't believe how much everything's changed!”

Valka smiled, small and nervous, and handed him a plate. “Our son's changed Berk for the better. I think we did well with this one, Val,” Stoick said warmly, watching his son with pride.

“Thanks, Dad,” Hiccup replied, cheeks flushing slightly.

Stoick rested his massive hands on Valka’s shoulders— a gesture that once might have been second nature, but now made her stiffen. She flinched, the plate slipping from her hands and clattering to the floor.

Cloudjumper dove in immediately, snatching the fallen fish before Toothless could reach it. The Night Fury gave a soft, wounded sound of protest. A moment later, Cloudjumper, in an uncharacteristic gesture of goodwill, regurgitated the fish, letting Toothless have it instead.

Valka tried to laugh, voice thin. “I'm... a little out of practice.”

Stoick’s chuckle was gentle, teasing. “Well, y'know... I didn't marry you for your cooking.”

Gobber barked a laugh from across the room. “I hope not. Her meatballs could kill more beasts than a battle axe. I've still got a few knocking around in here. Ha ha!”

He stuffed one of Valka’s old recipes into his mouth, gagged immediately, and tipped the rest into Grump’s waiting jaws as though disposing of a dangerous weapon.

Hiccup grinned, half amused, half hopeful. “And once you move back in, with all of your dragons, Drago won't even stand a chance. Everything will be okay!”

Stoick looked over his son’s excitement, his face softening with understanding. He laid a steadying hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Slow down, son. It's a lot to take in.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

Valka turned away to the back of the room, filling a flask at a small basin carved into the wall. Her shoulders were taut beneath her cloak. Stoick watched her with quiet sympathy, then— perhaps guided by some instinct deeper than thought— he whistled.

A familiar tune.

Valka froze. The water overflowed from the flask, spilling over her fingers, forgotten.

“Oh, I love this one!” Gobber said brightly, already tapping his foot.

Stoick approached her carefully, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Remember our song, Val?”

Hiccup looked between them, curiosity blooming in his chest as Stoick began to sing, voice low and roughened with age.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne'er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.”

Valka turned her face slightly away, her eyes glassy with too many unspoken things.

Stoick pressed on, voice steadier. “No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will —”

“— will stop me on my journey!” Gobber chimed in, only to catch himself mid-verse. “Sorry.”

Stoick shot him a look before returning to Valka, the corner of his mouth twitching with both fondness and frustration.

“If you will promise me your heart...” he sang quietly.

He stopped there, waiting— hope suspended in the air like breath in winter.

“And love...” he prompted softly.

She closed her eyes. For a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t answer. The silence stretched— then, so gently it almost wasn’t sound, came her reply.

“And love me for eternity.”

Stoick’s face lit up like dawn breaking. Valka stepped forward into the open space of the chamber, holding out her forearm in silent invitation. Stoick crossed his against hers, their movements halting, reverent.

“My dearest one, my darling dear, you mighty words astound me. But I've no need of mighty deeds, when I feel your arms around me.”

The melody filled the air, soft and earnest, echoing faintly through the cavern’s glassy walls. Hiccup could only watch, eyes wide, as his parents began to dance— a little clumsy, a little shy, but so full of love it made his chest ache.

“But I would bring you rings of gold. I'd even sing you poetry. And I would keep you from all harm, if you'd stay here beside me.”

Valka’s laugh trembled through the verse, bright and familiar. “I have no use for rings of gold. I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold. I only want you near me.”

Gobber, unable to resist, grabbed Hiccup by the arm. “C'mon, Hiccup!”

Soon, the chamber was filled with the sound of laughter and clumsy footsteps as the three of them— Stoick, Valka, and Gobber— sang together:

“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold. For the dancing and the dreaming. Through all life's sorrows and delights, I'll keep your love inside me.”

Hiccup watched his parents— his parents— spinning in each other’s arms, laughing like no time had passed at all. His heart felt impossibly full.

“I'll swim and sail through savage seas, with ne'er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me!”

Gobber held the last note, far too long. “I'm still going…!”

“Gobber!” Hiccup interrupted.

“I'm done.”

The laughter came again, filling the room like sunlight.

Stoick wiped at his eyes, voice warm and unsteady. “Ah... I thought I'd have to die before we'd have that dance again.”

Valka smiled through her tears. “No need for drastic measures.”

“For you, my dear... anything.”

And then, before anyone could speak, Stoick dropped to one knee. The motion was almost reverent. His voice softened, breaking slightly.

“Will you come home, Val? Will you be my wife once again?”

Toothless nudged Valka toward him playfully. She laughed, tears streaking down her face, and Hiccup moved closer, his own grin breaking free. Stoick pulled him into an embrace, his arm heavy and strong around his son’s shoulders.

“We can be a family! What do you say?”

Valka turned toward Hiccup, laughing through her tears. “Yes!”

“Great! I'll do the cooking!” Gobber chimed from behind them.

That set them all off laughing again.

“Thank Odin you didn't listen to me, son,” Stoick said, smiling down at Hiccup. “We never would have found each other.”

But the laughter died as Toothless suddenly lifted his head, his pupils narrowing.

Cloudjumper went rigid beside him, wings flaring.

“Toothless?” Hiccup asked softly.

The dragons bolted, rushing past the chamber toward some unseen disturbance deep in the mountain. The air trembled.

“What's happening?”

And then came the first boom— deep, distant, shaking the floor beneath their feet.

Another followed.

And another.

CHAPTER ELEVEN, PART TWO - FISSURE ₊˚⊹☆

Tensions flare between father and son when Stoick reveals the truth about Drago Bludvist— a ruthless warlord who once slaughtered an entire hall of chiefs to prove his control over dragons. Determined to stop another war, Hiccup defies Stoick’s command to fortify Berk and sets out instead to find Drago and reason with him, believing peace is still possible. Haunted by thoughts of the one he lost, he flies into the unknown, unaware that his choice will draw him straight into Drago’s shadow— where capture, loss, and a frozen kingdom of dragons await.

A/N: had to split it because tumblr is being dramatic

Sunset bled across Berk like molten amber.

The familiar clang of metal and the low rumble of dragon growls filled the upper plaza as the air cooled. Smoke drifted lazily from Gobber’s forge, curling through the shouts of Vikings queued up outside the blacksmith stall. Laughter, banter, the hum of life— it all carried on as if the world hadn’t lost someone.

Hiccup’s absence, and hers.

Up by Gothi’s hut, a riot of wings scattered her terrors as the gang whooped past on their dragons. The old woman shook a fist at them, sending a puff of dust spiraling through the air.

Down below, Stoick the Vast maneuvered through the crowd like a great bear among bees, booming greetings to every Viking he passed. Gobber worked as he always did— one good hand and one clanging prosthetic— grinding a dragon tooth into some new shape. Beside him, a Zippleback waited, one head open like a car hood while the other watched with pity.

“Any sign of him?” Stoick asked, leaning against the stall.

Gobber flipped up his welding guard, revealing a patch of clean skin that stood out against soot and grime.

“Ah, he’s probably flown off the edge of the world by now,” Gobber said. “You sure you want that kid running the village? You can still delay your retirement.”

Stoick gave a rumbling laugh. “Oh, he’s ready. You’ll see.”

The sudden rush of wings and the crowd’s cheer pulled Stoick’s attention skyward. Hiccup and Astrid descended on Toothless and Stormfly, wind tugging at their hair as they landed.

Stoick’s chest swelled. “Ha ha! There he is!” He elbowed Gobber, pride glinting in his eyes. “The pride of Berk!”

For a moment, Hiccup’s heart clenched. That pride— it hurt to see it. To feel it. To know that when Stoick looked at him, he didn’t see the same empty ache that Hiccup carried every day since [Y/N] was gone. He’d watched the funeral pyre drift into the horizon, the flames licking at the gray sky, and still couldn’t bring himself to believe she was truly gone. Sometimes, at sunset, he swore he could hear her laughter echoing off the cliffs.

But Stoick didn’t talk about her anymore. None of them did. Berk had mourned. Moved on. Only Hiccup hadn’t.

He pulled off his helmet and walked toward his father, shoulders taut with urgency.

“Sorry. Got held up,” he said, lowering his voice. “Hey, Dad, could I have a word?”

Stoick chuckled. “Something you’re itching to tell me?”

“Not quite the itch you’re thinking of, but yes.”

Stoick handed him an apron, steering him toward the front desk. “Good man! Now, lesson one. A chief’s first duty is to his people. So...” He flipped the rune placard. “Forty-one? Forty—”

“Could we just talk in private for—”

“That’s me! That’s me! I’m next!” Starkard bellowed, elbowing through the crowd. “I was ahead of you! Excuse me, I’ve been here all day!”

Hiccup sighed as the man reached the counter.

“Okay, I want one of those high seaters, with lots of spikes and a big stowage compartment.”

“Absolutely! You got it, sir!” Stoick said heartily, spinning Hiccup around and ushering him into the shop.

“Dad, this is actually a little more important than building saddles,” Hiccup protested, ducking sparks as Gobber hammered.

“Ah-ah! Lesson two,” Stoick countered. “No task is too small when it comes to serving your people. Excuse us, Grump.”

The dragon grumbled, half-asleep. Gobber squawked, “Grump! You let the forge die down again!”

A glob of molten lava splattered across the floor. Steam hissed. Hiccup sidestepped it with practiced ease, the smell of burning metal mixing with dragon breath. He’d spent years in this stall— first as an apprentice, now as something else.

Stoick filled a toolbox with tools from Hiccup’s bench.

“One of these. And this...”

“Dad—”

“There you go! Go on. Have away.”

“But, seriously, I really need to tell you about this new land we came across.”

Gobber perked up. “Another one?!”

Moments later, the rest of the riders piled in— Fishlegs, the Twins, and Snotlout.

“Any new dragons?” Fishlegs asked, already scribbling mental notes.

Hiccup grabbed a pencil, exhaling sharply. “We didn’t stick around to find out. These folks weren’t particularly friendly.”

“Oh really?” Gobber said, swapping out his prosthetic. “Your Night Fury and Deadly Nadder didn’t bring them cheering to the rooftops?”

“No, this was different. Not the standard run-for-the-hills hoo-ha I’ve come to enjoy. These guys were trappers. Dragon trappers.”

The forge seemed to quiet. Even the crackling flame sounded distant.

Astrid crossed her arms. “You should’ve seen their fort. All blown apart and stuck in giant spikes of ice. It was weird.”

Hiccup nodded grimly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And worst of all—they thought we did it.”

Stoick’s movements slowed. His massive hand stilled on the saw lever.

Gobber brushed his moustache with a wire brush. “Y’know, you two are gonna get yourselves in serious trouble one of these days. Not everyone appreciates this way of life.”

Stoick murmured, “Gobber’s right, son. Best we keep to our own. Besides, you’ll have more important uses for your time—”

The saw whirred to life.

“Once we make the big announcement,” he muttered under his breath.

Hiccup killed the power with a snap. “They are building a dragon army. Their leader— Drago Bloody Fist or something—”

The words hung heavy in the smoky air.

When he said them, he thought of [Y/N] again. Of how she’d laughed once about his “peacekeeping dreams.” Of how she would’ve stood right beside him, insisting they go see this Drago themselves. The ache in his chest flared like a reopened wound.

Stoick’s eyes widened. “Bludvist? Drago Bludvist?”

“Uh, yeah. Wait. You know him?”

That look— raw fear— was one Hiccup had never seen on his father’s face.

What followed was chaos.

Orders shouted. Doors slammed. The sound of chains and hinges echoed through the caverns as Stoick’s booming voice commanded, “GROUND ALL DRAGONS!”

Hiccup stumbled after him, confusion rising. “What? Why?!”

Stoick didn’t answer. “SEAL THE GATES! LOWER THE STORM DOORS!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa— what is happening?”

“You heard the man! Lock it down!” Gobber barked.

The massive storm doors groaned as they lowered. The dragons rumbled nervously, sensing tension.

“No dragon or Viking sets foot off this island until I give the word!”

“Because some guy you knew is stirring up trouble in some faraway land?”

Stoick turned, face dark as thunderclouds. “Because Drago Bludvist is a madman. Without conscience or mercy. And if he’s built a dragon army… gods help us all.”

The words struck something cold and primal in Hiccup’s chest. For a fleeting heartbeat, he thought of [Y/N] again— her belongings in flames, her boat lost to sea— and wondered if this, too, would be another funeral pyre before long.

“Then let’s ride back out there,” he said fiercely. “We’ll follow those trappers to Drago and talk some sense into him.”

“No. We fortify the island.”

“It’s our duty to keep the peace!”

“Peace is over, Hiccup. I must prepare you for war.”

The word war felt foreign on his tongue. It didn’t belong here— not in Berk, not in this fragile peace he’d fought to build.

“Dad, if Drago’s coming for our dragons, we can’t wait around for him to get here. Let’s go find him and change his mind.”

“Some minds won’t be changed, Hiccup. Berk is what you need to worry about.” Stoick’s voice softened just slightly. “A chief protects his own.”

And that was the difference, wasn’t it? Stoick protected his people. Hiccup couldn’t stop wondering about the ones they’d lost. As Stoick marched away shouting orders, Hiccup watched Toothless pacing beside him, eyes darting toward the closing doors.

Astrid came up quietly, her expression torn. “Hiccup, don’t.”

“I have to.”

He kissed her cheek— a soft, fleeting thing— and mounted Toothless just as Stoick roared, “THIS WAY! QUICKLY!”

Toothless blasted past, shooting through the shrinking gap in the storm door.

“Hiccup!” Stoick shouted, but it was too late.

Astrid followed, slipping through just before the doors sealed shut behind her.

The sea opened before them, the sky streaked in dying sunlight. As the wind bit against his cheeks, Hiccup’s thoughts drifted again, unbidden, to [Y/N].

He wondered if she’d still be out here somewhere—alive, lost, waiting.

And if she was... what would she say about all this? About him chasing ghosts, chasing peace, chasing something that always seemed to burn away the closer he got. And if she was out there, why didn’t she come back? Why did she leave in the first place? Why did she leave him?

He tightened his grip on Toothless’ saddle.

If she was out there, he’d find her.

And if not— he’d at least make the world one she could’ve lived in.

The waves roared beneath them as they flew toward the unknown.

Waves rolled lazily beneath the fading sun, and the wind whipped through Hiccup’s hair as he leaned forward over Toothless’ neck. The rush of flight should’ve been freeing— should’ve filled him with that same weightless wonder it always had. But tonight it only carried his thoughts farther away, scattered them like sparks over an ocean that seemed endless.

Astrid flew behind him, Stormfly’s wings slicing through the air with rhythmic precision. Hiccup didn’t look back, though he felt her eyes on him— steady, grounding. She didn’t ask what was wrong. She already knew, even if it hurt to admit.

The quiet was oppressing. Hiccup could almost hear her— her teasing voice drifting on the wind: “You call that flying, Haddock? I’ve seen baby Nadders glide better.”

He smiled faintly. It was habit now, these ghosts of memory he carried.

As the night deepened, the stars blinked awake— cold and clear. Somewhere far ahead, a dark silhouette cut across the water. A ship.

The ship was large, brutish, its black sails bearing scars from countless hunts. Tar and smoke and the stench of dragon blood hung in the air.

Eret, son of Eret, stood on the bowsprit like a king surveying his oceanic kingdom. The salt wind tugged his hair back, and his keen eyes skimmed the waves for movement.

“Keep your eyes peeled, lads!” he barked. “With this wind, we'll reach Drago by daybreak, so best we fill this ship up with dragons and quick! It’s no time to be picky. Not if we want to keep our—”

“Uh... Eret?” came a nervous voice.

Eret turned sharply. Ug was pointing toward the horizon.

Two dark shapes crested the sunlight, wingbeats flashing silver against the waves.

“HEADS! OFF THE PORT QUARTER!” Eret bellowed.

Chaos ignited. The deck erupted in shouts as the crew swung their net cannons toward the sky, the wooden frames creaking under sudden strain. The glint of metal and rope caught the dying light.

“Net ’em, lads! Take ’em down!” Eret loaded a cannon himself, eyes narrowing as the dragons drew closer— one black as a shadow, the other shimmering gold and blue. He recognized them instantly.

“You’re not getting away this time.”

The cannons fired. Nets sliced through the air— but Toothless and Stormfly dove as one, weaving between the projectiles with practiced grace. The air filled with the snap of ropes, the smell of singed tar, the roar of dragons as they dove straight for the deck.

They landed hard, the ship’s planks trembling beneath Toothless’ claws.

“And here I was worried we might turn up empty-handed,” Eret said, smirking.

Astrid lifted her axe. Hiccup raised his hands before she could swing.

“Nope. It’s your lucky day. We give up.”

The crew stared, bewildered. Astrid too, lowering her weapon only slightly.

“That’s one Night Fury, one Deadly Nadder, and...” Hiccup dismounted, grabbed a net, and with mock ceremony tossed it over Astrid.

“...two of the finest dragon riders west of Luk Tuk. That oughtta make the boss happy, right?”

Astrid shot him a glare sharp enough to cut rope. He ignored it, taking her axe and handing it— hilt first— to Eret.

“Excuse us.”

He ushered her toward the live well, trying not to think about how familiar her glare was.

Astrid’s voice was tight. “What are you doing?”

“Toothless, stay,” Hiccup ordered, lowering the grate.

“The dragons don’t really care for cramped spaces, so they'll just hang out with you. They won’t be any trouble.”

Eret’s men raised spears. Toothless growled, pupils narrowing.

“Unless you do that,” Hiccup added quickly. “Wooden boat, big ocean. How’s your swimming?”

“Not good,” one admitted.

A sudden whoosh— a burst of flame from the well— made everyone jump. Hiccup flicked out his Dragon Blade, its edge glinting green.

“Oops. Almost forgot. Can’t have armed prisoners!”

Astrid hissed, “How is this a plan?”

He ignored her, twirling the blade. “Just what every dragon trapper needs. One end coats the blade in Monstrous Nightmare saliva, the other sprays Hideous Zippleback gas. All it takes is a spark and...”

A curious trapper clicked the lighter. The explosion rippled across the deck, bright and brief.

Hiccup grinned. “Oh yeah, there you go!”

Toothless pawed at the smoke, gurgling happily.

“Once they see you as one of their own, even the testiest dragons can be trained, right bud?”

Toothless chirped— and promptly fell over.

Eret scowled. “Give me that!” He snatched the blade and hurled it overboard.

Stormfly dove after it with a screech of protest, disappearing into the spray.

“What game are you playing?”

“No game. We just want to meet Drago.”

Stormfly burst back from the waves, the blade clamped proudly in her beak, and dropped it at Eret’s feet.

He blinked. She wagged her tail, waiting.

“Why?” Eret demanded.

“Because I’m going to change his mind about dragons.”

Eret laughed. His men joined in, rough and loud, until Astrid’s voice cut through:

“He can be really persuasive.”

Hiccup reached down to scratch Toothless’ head, a soft smile flickering across his lips. “Once you’ve earned his loyalty, there’s nothing a dragon won’t do for you.”

“Puh! You won’t be changing any minds around here.”

“I can change yours. Right here. Right now.”

He reached for Toothless’ tailfin— locked it open in the flight position. “May I?”

Before Eret could answer, the sky split open with a shriek.

Dragons. A whole formation of them.

They dove in a blur of color and scales, wings slashing the air, tails slicing through rigging. The ship rocked violently, sails tearing like parchment.

“Dragon riders!” Eret shouted.

Hiccup ducked instinctively as Toothless roared. A Monstrous Nightmare swooped down and snatched him clean off the deck.

“Put me down! Snotlout! What are you doing?!” Hiccup shouted, dangling upside down in Hookfang’s talons.

Snotlout twisted, flexing proudly. “See how well I protect and provide?”

Ruffnut rolled her eyes. “Hey, watch it! That was close!”

Her attention snagged on Eret below, manning the net cannon. The muscles in his arms flexed as he aimed. Time seemed to slow— the sun gilding his biceps, the salt glinting off his jaw.

Ruffnut’s voice came out dreamily. “Oh... my. Me likey. Take me.”

Hiccup groaned inwardly. Great. Just what we need right now.

The nets fired again, cutting through the chaos. He released his wingsuit, flipping out of Hookfang’s grasp, gliding toward the ship— only to slam into the sail and slide gracelessly down to the deck. Toothless landed behind him, huffing indignantly.

“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING HERE?!”

“We’re here to RESCUE you!” Gobber bellowed, dismounting with a clang.

“I DON’T NEED to be rescued!”

“ENOUGH!”

The world seemed to tilt as Stoick’s voice boomed across the deck. Skullcrusher’s claws clattered against the planks as the chief landed, his presence heavy as thunder.

Eret stepped forward, cocky. “Well, didn’t you just pick the wrong ship, eh? I am Eret, son of—”

Stoick didn’t let him finish. He shoved the man aside, sending him crashing into Grump. Gobber followed through with a swift knock to the head, and Eret went down in a heap.

“Get... this... thing... off... me!” Eret sputtered under Grump’s bulk.

“Anyone else?” Gobber asked the stunned crew with a grin.

No one moved.

“That’s what I figured.”

Stoick’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “You. Saddle up. We’re going home.”

Hiccup’s jaw set. “No.”

“Of all the irresponsible—”

“I’m trying to protect our dragons and stop a war! How is that irresponsible?!”

“BECAUSE WAR IS WHAT HE WANTS, SON!”

The words struck like thunder.

Stoick’s face softened for a heartbeat, the fury giving way to something heavier. “Because Drago Bludvist is a madman. Without conscience or mercy. And if he’s built a dragon army... gods help us all.”

The sea roared in the silence that followed Hiccup’s glare hung thick in the air. Stoick met it with a heavy sigh, his shoulders lowering under a weight that felt older than the years he’d carried it.

“Years ago,” he began quietly, “there was a great gathering of chieftains to discuss the dragon scourge we all faced.”

Hiccup frowned, the words pulling him in despite himself.

Firelight flickered across the faces of gathered chiefs. Tankards clinked, beards glistened with mead. Laughter rolled through the smoky air — until the great doors creaked open.

A hulking, cloaked figure stepped through the threshold, his shadow slicing through the firelight like a blade. He was scarred, his body wrapped in what looked like dragon skin. He carried no weapon — but the weight of him was enough to hush the room.

Into the stunned silence, he spoke softly, voice deep and sure.

He called himself Drago Bludvist.

A man of the people, he said. A savior who could free mankind from the tyranny of dragons.

At the head of the table sat a younger Stoick the Vast — his beard shorter, his eyes brighter but still carved with suspicion. He leaned back in his chair, studying the stranger who dared speak such words in a hall of Vikings.

“He claimed that he alone could control the dragons,” Stoick’s voice echoed through the memory, “and that he alone could keep us safe, if we chose to bow down and follow him.”

The chiefs roared with laughter. The stranger didn’t flinch.

“We laughed too,” Stoick’s voice murmured, “until he wrapped himself in his cloak and cried out, ‘Then see how well you do without me!’”

Drago turned and threw the dragon skin cloak over his shoulders.

A heartbeat later, the roof exploded.

Flames rained from above as armored dragons tore through the ceiling. Screams filled the air. Chieftains scrambled for their weapons — too slow, too stunned. The hall collapsed in a storm of fire and smoke.

“The rooftop suddenly burst into flames,” Stoick’s voice carried, filled with memory and regret, “and from it, armored dragons descended, burning the hall to the ground.”

Only one man escaped.

The memory broke, leaving behind a tense, stunned silence.

The twins exchanged nervous glances. Snotlout fidgeted. Fishlegs’ eyes darted to the ground.

Ruffnut broke it first with a scoff. “Stupid.”

Tuffnut grinned. “Good one.”

Stoick looked up sharply. “Aye. We laughed too...”

The humor died in their throats.

He turned to Hiccup, the guilt still burning behind his eyes. “I... was the only one to escape.”

That landed hard.

Even Hiccup’s usual retort faltered, caught between disbelief and the weight of his father’s tone.

“Men who kill without reason cannot be reasoned with,” Stoick said quietly.

Hiccup’s jaw tightened. His father’s words hung like chains, but Hiccup had never been good at staying bound.

“Maybe,” he muttered. Then, more firmly: “I’m still going to try.”

Hiccup’s thoughts twisted— flashes of [Y/N]’s face, her voice, her laugh. If she’d been here, she’d have sided with him. She’d have fought for peace. She’d have believed, the way she always did, that people could change.

But she wasn’t here. And he was starting to wonder if maybe Stoick was right— maybe some losses never healed. Maybe some minds couldn’t be changed.

Still, he couldn’t stop trying. He wouldn’t.

He turned and strode toward Toothless, the determination in his step like steel.

“Hiccup—”

“This is what I’m good at,” Hiccup said, climbing onto Toothless’ saddle. “And if I could change your mind… I can change his too. [Y/N] would have wanted us to do the right thing. Come on.”

Toothless leapt skyward, wings slicing the air. The others watched as they disappeared into the fading light. A tense atmosphere engulfing the rest of the riders. Astrid shifts uncomfortably.

Stoick’s jaw set tight.

Astrid started forward, despite being off-put by her fiance’s comment. “Let’s go.”

“No!” Stoick’s voice cracked like thunder. “Lead the others back to Berk. I’ve had enough mutiny for one day.”

Astrid hesitated, torn between loyalty and instinct, but Stoick was already stomping toward Skullcrusher.

Behind him, Ruffnut still leaned over Eret, who was pinned under Grump’s massive belly.

“Ooh, I like that,” she murmured, admiring the trapped man’s arms.

“Ruffnut!” Stoick barked.

She groaned. “Ugh! Okay!”

Wind howled through the open sky as Toothless glided over a sea of clouds, glowing faintly under the low Arctic sun.

Hiccup’s breath puffed in bursts of white. Frustration clawed at his chest until he threw his head back and yelled into the endless expanse. His voice was swallowed by the wind.

He slumped forward, the weight of everything pressing into his shoulders.

Toothless glanced back, his ear plates twitching — the dragon always felt his rider’s moods before Hiccup ever spoke them.

“Don’t worry, bud,” Hiccup murmured, his voice softer now. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise.”

A low rumble of reassurance answered him.

Then — movement.

Toothless stiffened, his pupils narrowing as something disturbed the surface of the clouds below. A shadow, dark and fast.

Hiccup sat up. “What is it?”

Before he could react, a figure rose from the fog — tall, masked, standing effortlessly atop something unseen. The cloak whipped around their body in the high-altitude wind. The mask glinted pale against the sky.

Hiccup blinked, caught between disbelief and exasperation.

“Aw, come on, Dad! Really?!”

He twisted around, expecting to see Stoick — but froze.

The figure wasn’t his father. The mask tilted, the silent gaze unsettling. And then, without a sound, the figure sank back beneath the clouds and disappeared.

Hiccup blinked rapidly. “Okay.” He swallowed. “No sudden moves,” he whispered to Toothless.

The air went still.

Then — the sky erupted.

The masked warrior shot upward through the clouds, riding a massive dragon cloaked in ice-blue scales and four massive wings. It circled Hiccup and Toothless with silent precision, forcing them to pull back, wings flaring as they tread air.

The warrior raised a staff, leveling it at Hiccup. The air seemed to hum with some strange energy.

“Hold on, hold on!” Hiccup called, holding up his hands. Toothless growled, a low, warning rumble.

Before either could react, something struck from behind.

Claws closed around Hiccup’s body, yanking him violently off the saddle.

“Toothless!”

He barely caught a glimpse of the dragon that carried him — massive wings, unfamiliar shape — before he was dragged upward into the cold night. Below, Toothless spun out of control.

Without Hiccup’s guidance, his tail fin locked uselessly. He plummeted, screeching, through the clouds and shattered the ice below.

Hiccup’s heart wrenched as he twisted in the dragon’s grip, desperate to see him. But Toothless was gone — swallowed by the black waters.

He screamed until the wind stole his voice.

Far below, the water churned. Spiny fins broke through the surface — Seashockers, their twin heads gliding under the ice. They moved like silent predators, their luminous eyes flickering just before they struck.

They wrapped around Toothless’ body, dragging him down into the dark.

His last roar echoed up through the ice, distant and distorted, until the only thing left was Hiccup’s helmet, floating on the frozen surface.

The cold gnawed at him, cutting through every layer of fur and metal. Hiccup shivered violently in the dragon’s claws as it carried him higher, surrounded by others — dragons of shapes and sizes he’d never seen before. Their eyes glowed faintly in the polar night, silent sentinels escorting him deeper into nowhere.

He craned his neck, searching the horizon. No sign of Toothless. Only endless fog and the faint shimmer of the midnight sun.

“HEY! YOU LEFT MY DRAGON BACK THERE! HE CAN’T FLY ON HIS OWN! HE’LL DROWN!”

No response. The warrior flying ahead didn’t even look back.

They passed into a region where the fog thickened, the air growing sharper, heavier. The sound of wings echoed off distant cliffs. And then — out of the mist — rose an enormous formation of ice.

It towered like a mountain carved by giants, spiked and jagged, glistening with cold fire.

The dragons dove toward it, slipping through narrow crevices into the frozen labyrinth.

Hiccup braced himself, heart pounding as they entered the glowing depths.