A Place To Call Home

Before starting this story, there are some things I need to make clear.

First of all, this story takes place in Paris, France, in 1889, long after the Vikings perished, but the dragons exist alongside humans as pets, companions and beasts. However, all the HTTYD cast will appear in this story, just that their appearance and roles will be different in order to fit the date.

Second, this will be a combination of both the Phantom of the Opera and A Monster in Paris, with HTTYD characters and dragons, but there will be no dragonxhuman shipping (for obvious reasons) but there will eventually be a love triangle between Astrid, Hiccup and Dagur.

And Third, in this story, dragons are actually capable of speech, but all dragons, like animals, have a very strict law that forbids them from speaking with humans, instead doing their trademark growls, croons and noises. The main dragons in this story will eventually speak to the main characters, however.

Toothless and the other dragons will appear occasionally (Toothless, obviously, is gong to appear the most because he is Hiccup's dragon and best friend) but the main dragons are my recently created OCs in deviantart. The Poisonous Whiptail species belongs to Clairctures, another deviantart artist, to whom I asked for permission to use the Poisonous Whiptail in this story.

Well, now, on with the story.

Overture

Paris, France, 1885.

Ronaldi Carnival just outside the outskirts of the city.

The lights of the carnival illuminated the night sky, adorning the surroundings with colors of yellow, pink and blue, with fireworks concluding the light spectacle with explosions of bright and vivid colors in shapes of stars, circus balls and animals. Children ran around the carnival, buying cotton candy, popcorn and sodas, as well as urging their parents to take them to see the gypsies performing amazing or near-impossible stunts, like contortionists or fire-eaters. The adults themselves didn't really enjoy themselves as much as their sons and daughters did; they considered themselves to be much more mature, and too old to be playing around silly fair games. The only reason they were there in the first place was to please their children, who had either gotten good grades in school and were being rewarded for all their effort, or were simply passing time with their families.

But the carnival, like everything, had dark secrets and a sinister side.

In a part of the carnival where only the music was heard, and the lights didn't give it's colorful display. That part was mainly filled with large, animal cages, but it was not occupied by lions or tigers, but by larger, much more sentient being.

Dragons.

But these dragons were not normal. These dragons, composed mainly of Deadly Nadders, Thunderdrums, a few Monstrous Nightmares, and some Hideous Zipplebacks, among others, were considered by mankind and the rest of the dragon race a like as phenomena. Some lacked a member of their body, others were so disfigured that it was hard to differ its species, others had legs replaced by thick wooden boards.

Dragon Freaks, they were called.

They were looking up to the sky, yearning for freedom, for kindness, but no one would give them that. Their 'owners' made sure of that. Every now and then, a group of teens and adults was taken to a tour through the cages, and flinched and made faces of disgust as soon as their eyes met the dragons' deformities, no matter how small it was. Some of them even threw stones at them in order to make them angry, but if any of the dragons attempted to defend themselves the gypsies would beat them into submission both as punishment and to remind them of 'their place'.

Escaping attempts were common, but they commonly failed, and the dragons responsible of the escape attempt were 'put down', or sold for their trouble. Eventually, the attempts diminished when the dragons started concluding they were destined to sit in their cages to be humiliated and scorned by humans. The youngest ones broke into tears every time rocks were thrown at them, and the oldest ones silently lamented to have come to the carnival in their youth in search for haven. If only they had known that place was worse than Hell itself they would have rather starved to death.

That particular night, when one of the gypsies was patrolling the cages to make sure the dragons were all inside, a low growl that would have given a Red Death shivers escaped the throat from one of the captives…

A middle-aged gypsy counted the gold coins upon his desk, accommodating them into piles, which already occupied most of the desk. He was a large, muscular man with a long black, puffy beard and greasy hair. He wore a thick dark brown leather coat over a white shirt, and had a belt-like long piece of cloth around his waist. His navy blue pants trailed along the floor slightly, so it was long-dirtied with mud, but its owner didn't seem to care. He was in a pretty good mood. He had earned lots of money from the visits of these brats, especially from the dragon abominations. His collection was known to be one of the largest, most impressive and most grotesque. Everytime he added a new 'freak' to his collection, he always made a large profit, exposing it as a 'New freak', usually gaining much more money. His current star attraction was an albino Night fury, still a hatchling, but when it grew up he would have loads and loads of gold raining upon him to no end, and he and his clan would live on the lap of luxury-

"Alvin!"

The gypsy whose name was Alvin was brought back from his daydreaming by a shout coming from one of his men. Tightening his fist and punching the desk 'gingerly'- which meant almost parting it in half, making some of the piles of coins plummet to the ground- Alvin got up from his seat and shot a death glare to the man who had just run into his tent.

"This better be good, Savage!" hissed Alvin. "You know I don't like being interrupted when counting my money!"

Savage gulped. He knew very well that the greedy, large gypsy in front of him disliked being interrupted, but this was important. "We had a… problem in the cages."

"That's all? You come and interrupt me just for another escape attempt?! You know what to do! Just kill the dragon who started it!"

"Well, that's the problem, sire." Savage gulped one more time. "He kind of… got away."

"WHAT?!" the roar Alvin gave made all the piles of gold in his desk to fall to the ground, but he didn't mind right then. "You fool! How did you let it get away!"

"That's not all. He…" This time, Savage covered his face with his arms in expectation of what would happen next. "Released all the others."

Five seconds didn't last before Savage was knocked to the ground by a powerful punch from the mighty gypsy. Alvin furiously ran towards the cages, wanting to see with his own eyes if what he had been told was true. When he got to the cage area of the place, a multitude of the clan's members were already there, watching in horror the atrocity that lay before their eyes. The head of the clan made his way through the clan, harshly pushing them out of his way, reminding them who was in charge.

What he saw no only made him even angrier than before, but almost made him sick.

The cages, every last of them were, indeed, empty. His precious collection, the one which had taken him, years, no, decades to obtain, was gone. But that was not that impacted him. In front of one of the cages, there were the signs that a fight had taken place. There were claw marks on the ground, and footsteps, but the most grotesque thing on the place was a giant pool of blood drying upon the ground and the, with shreds of bone, skin and flesh splattering the nearby cages, and the head of the former guard lay in the middle of the bloody display, a look of horror upon his face, as if the Devil itself had been the one responsible for this.

"Who were the bastards responsible for this?!" Alvin screamed, making everyone around him tremble and cower in fear. "ANSWER ME OR I WILL HAVE YOUR HEADS FOR YOUR INCOMPETENCE!"

"The Poisonous Whiptail!" replied an obese man with a traditional gypsy outfit.

Alvin nearly spat. "The… Poisonous Whiptail… Nighthawk?"

"Yes! I saw everything!" another, much more older gypsy said. "Hover had gone into the cage to punish him, but the bastard dragon attacked and shredded him to pieces! Then he shot the other cages open and released the rest of the dragons!"

"I understand there were other dragons sharing the cage with him, right?" Alvin hissed, calmly this time.

"Yes, sire! He shared the cage with a Monstrous Nightmare, a Skrill, a Changewing, a Terrible Terror and…" the old gypsy hesitated, but finally spoke. "… The Albino Night fury."

"Then what are you waiting for, you incompetent imbeciles! Fetch the bolas and nets, capture whatever escaped dragons you can, but do NOT let them get away or you'll feel my wrath!" Alvin screamed his orders, sending every gypsy present away to do their task.

He hated losing money, and to think a few minutes ago he was enjoying the thought of becoming rich with the White Fury.

The streets of Paris were always near-empty at night, when superstitious citizens returned to their homes in fear of encountering the 'gargoyles' when they flew out every night to look for their meal. There were still a few carriages taking passengers to their mansions, the rich Parisians returning home from a party, or members of the Parisian Police Force riding their dragons- Monstrous Nightmares, Snaptrappers or Whispering Deaths- in patrol, or returning to the station.

Four figures were soaring low through the city, one of the shades carrying a fifth, and another carrying an even smaller form in its claws. They avoided the police dragons, not wanting to cause an uproar which would sent the whole city after them with torches and rakes. They advanced through the shadows, avoided the moonlight and hid wherever a police officer would pass near of above them. The needed somewhere to hide, where they could escape from the cruelty of mankind. The other dragons would not accept them, that were for sure. After what felt an eternity of flying, the group descended into the darkness of an alley and landed to recover their breath. Little moonlight reached that alley, so they were safe from being discovered… for the time being.

When the moonlight finally found these shapes, the mere sight would have sent the Chief of the police force go home screaming like a baby.

A Poisonous Whiptail with violetish gray scales and white underbelly and jaw, along with moderate amaranth mane of spine-like hair and two long antennae, thick scales on the tip of his tail to serve as a defense mechanism and a pair of bull-like dark brown horns protunding from his head. His right front leg and left hind leg were replaced by thick wooden pecks, joined at his bone by iron rings, also meant to keep the pegs in place. Thick eyebrows of three long, hair-like scales were just above his toxic, emerald green eyes, with a dark tone of blackish purple underneath his visual orbs and a little white above his eyes and beneath his eyebrow.

A Monstrous Nightmare. His scales were moderate scarlet, his underbelly and jaw were a light, cakish yellow, and his back and the tip of his wings blended into a moderate crimson. Like the Poisonous Whiptail, one of his hind legs was missing. Unlike the Poisonous Whiptail, however, it seemed as if the peg was protunding directly from his bone, giving it a grotesque look. Covering his left eye was a long, greenish dark blue handkerchief to hide his missing eye, the gash left was not a pretty sight. A row of sharp teeth were visible from out of his mouth, pointing upwards from his lower jaw. His golden eye, his good eye at least, could pierce anyone into submission.

A Changewing. The most noticeable trait in him was that he lacked his left wing. Completely. But not by birth. It had been cut off, but he preferred not to remember it. In place of a wing there were signs that the wound had been sewn with needle and thread. One of his trademark long antennae, the left one as well. His eyes were a soft violet. Moderate amber scales made most of his hide, with light amberish gray underbelly and jaws, and dark amber rings running down his neck and body. His tail was colored orange, sewn into his rear.

A Terrible Terror, the smallest of the group, but rather big for a standard Terror. His scales were moderate chartreuse green, like a lemon, with a paler, light grayish shade on his underbelly and jaw. His back and spine were a moderate orange, and his short wings a dark wooden brown. His left eye was red, and his right eye was a watery blue, giving him a curious, and sometimes funny, look.

A Skrill. His scales were a moderate violet, a very pale violet underbelly and jaw, and horns as black as ebony, as black as coal; spines of the very same dark color were running down his back, His pale, light grayish Persian blue wings blended into moderate Persian blue and finally into dark Persian blue towards the tips. He had a great burn-like mark on the right side of his face, in the area around his eye and a little running up his head, and a little down into his lower lip. A few, sharp fangs stuck out of his moth downwards from his upper gums. His eyes were a brilliant tangelo.

The last member of the group was just a Night Fury hatchling, and the only female. She had pale white scales, contrasting with her brilliant amaranth eyes. She was the same size as the Terrible Terror, only slightly smaller.

All the dragons, minus the Night Fury, had deep scars across their backs and wings, a reminder of the time they spent under the Master's whip.

"Well, what now?" said the Monstrous Nightmare. "We escaped from that place, but where do we go?"

"We could go to the police." The Terrible Terror suggested, earning a snort in return.

"Oh, yeah? They'll put us in cages and send us to jail!"

"Why! We have done nothing wrong!"

"Look at us!" the Monstrous Nightmare hissed, stretching his wings, inviting the small dragon to look at his body. "What do you think they will do when monsters like us go into their police station and talk to them asking for sanctuary?!"

The Changewing with one wing joined the topic. "They'll put us in cages, do their nasty medical examinations, take us to a zoo and expose us in circuses so that everyone may laugh and look at us."

The Monstrous Nightmare shot him a glare with his only eye. "Thanks, Sherlock, pride of the federation!"

"He's actually right." Said the Skrill calmly. "Humans are not yet ready to accept the idea that a being distinct from them can understand them or even make itself understood."

"And even if we actually decided to speak to humans, who the heck would we talk to?" The Changewing added. "We don't precisely know the citizens of this place or if they can be trusted!"

The Skrill sighed to look at the Poisonous Whiptail. "What do you think, Nighthawk?"

Darkly, Nighthawk turned to look at them with a cold, serious expression. "Hey, I got us out of there." His voice was a chill as winter, his tone sharp and brittle as frosted glass. "You cannot always expect me to find a solution for everything." He gazed at the Skrill. "Any ideas, Voltaire?"

Voltaire shook his head. "Not really, Nighthawk. All I suggest is flying away as much as we can and pray Alvin doesn't find us again."

The Monstrous Nightmare snapped. "That's your solution for everything!"

The Skrill angrily turned to him. "Well, at least I'm suggesting something, One-Eye. Or do you have any better ideas?"

"Find someplace to hide and stay there! That's what we should do!"

"And you call me a chicken?" The Terrible Terror snickered. "Hiding from your problems doesn't solve everything, you know."

"ENOUGH!" Nighthawk roared, not loud enough to be heard by the patrols, but loud enough to send the group into silence.

The Night Fury hatchling started wailing, startled by the Poisonous Whiptail's outburst. Voltaire gently covered her with his wing and spoke softly, soothingly at her. "There, there, it's alright…" he said. "Don't worry, I'm here."

"Why did you have to tag that brat along with us?" One-Eye hissed. "She'll get us caught!"

"Well, if Nighthawk hadn't yelled in the first place, he wouldn't have startled her."

Nighthawk ignored Voltaire and addressed at the Changewing. "Silk, what about you?"

"Going to the authorities or asking humans for help is out of the question. But I agree with One-Eye, we should hide for now."

One-Eye gave the Terrible Terror a victorious grin. "Ha."

"But where?" the Terrible Terror snapped. "It's not like there are many places to hide in this damn city!"

"Shack, would you mind lowering your tone?" Voltaire hissed softly., having accomplished his task of calming the Night fury down. "You'll startle Snowdrop."

"We could go to Notre Dame." One-Eye said. "The bell tower is very spacious and we could live there."

"We won't be safe there! Do you think the bells ring by them? The bell ringer or the friars go up there to ring the bells in the morning and evening!"

"Speaking of the hunchback of Notre dame…" Silk chuckled, but received a smack in his leg. "OUCH!" He glared at Poisonous Whiptail. "What was that for, Nighthawk?!"

"This is no time for jokes!" Nighthawk replied, baring his teeth. "If they find us, they'll kill us!"

"Kill us?" One-Eye repeated incredulously. "Alvin won't be that merciful."

"Now that I recall…" Voltaire narrowed his eyes, trying to remember what he had heard. "I once heard the humans that passed through our cages say that the… Paris Opera House, I think, was built above a subterranean lake and had secret passages and catacombs."

"Catacombs?" Shack hissed. "Dragons living underground? Have you lost your mind? In a few years we will have lost our wings!"

"For your information, it takes centuries of breeding , conditions and adapting for a creature to lose certain traits." Silk added up, making the Terrible Terror roll his eyes. Unlike the others, Silk could actually read human words; how he learned to do so, they did not know, the Changewing had never wanted to touch that topic. Sometimes, one of the gypsies, a young girl, would secretly take him books upon realizing that he could read. No matter what kind of book it was, Silk just loved to read, and he absorbed whatever information was on that book. "The least we could get is dull scales."

"Well, Mr. know-it-all, why don't you give us a whole lecture about adaptation?"

"That's enough, all of you!" Nighthawk snarled once more, making Snowdrop whimper and hide behind her 'father's' wing. Letting out a sigh of frustration in order to calm his nerves, Nighthawk set his eyes on the disfigured Skrill. "You say there are catacombs? And an underground lake?"

Voltaire nodded. "That's what they said, but I believe it was nothing more than a rumor. I think humans do not visit those tunnels because they are unexplored and dangerous. But I suppose there must be a way in, we just need to find it."

"We would have water and someplace to live away from Alvin and his carnival. " Silk pointed out. "Besides, if we manage to explore all of those secret passages, we might snatch up a little food. And sincerely, I've always wanted to see an opera with my own eyes."

"You actually want to hear that melodic screaming and yelling?" One-eye sighed in dismay. "I thought you were nuts, now I'm pretty sure you've lost your mind from all that reading."

"Well, it's someplace to start." Nighthawk said, calmly. "We should find our way there and see if these tunnels actually exist."

"Since we're on it, why don't we ask some Whispering Deaths to lend us some lanterns?" Shack rolled his eyes, commenting sarcastically, but a strong stepping on his tail on the Monstrous Nightmare's told him to remain silent.

Nighthawk gave One-Eye a thankful look before turning to Voltaire once more. "Do you know which way to go?"

There it stood, the beautiful and majestic opera house, a treasure in its own right, just as Voltaire had heard the humans say. They gazed at the architectural masterpiece, their breath escaping their throats as grotesque stone humans and dragons alike stared back at them. Silk was lost in its wonder, but also felt a strange shiver run down his spine. Was it possible for buildings to have eyes? He knew it was a foolish notion, but still… it seemed almost as if it were staring back at him, searching his very soul.

"Where do we get in?" Shack inquired as he stared at the grand doors leading into the Grand Hall, closed shut. "I suppose knocking the door is not an option."

"We could get in by the stables." Voltaire proposed. "It's big enough to hold various horses and a few dragons at the same time. At least we'd have somewhere to spend the night while we figure out about the secret tunnels."

"Except that when the stable humans go in there and find deformed dragons sleeping in there they'll call the police." One-Eye grumbled. "Besides, I don't want to be hearing that screaming daily!"

"For the tenth time, it's not screaming on its own right!" Silk hissed, angry with the Monstrous Nightmare for being such an uncultured dragon. "It's just that most opera singers must use a high pitch in some productions because the opera itself demands it!"

"Do you want me to smack you again?" Nighthawk hissed lowly. "I agree with Voltaire, at least we should get to the stable and then we'll decide what to do there."

Despite One-Eye and Shack's protest, the group silently hovered their way to the great but humble wooden doors that led into the stables., Voltaire carrying Snowdrop gingerly in his right talon. As they landed, Nighthawk softly and slowly pushed the doors open, trying to make the least sound possible. The least thing they needed was the animals inside to notice their presence.

When the doors opened, the dragons walked inside. Voltaire gently nudged Snowdrop forward, motioning her to walk inside, that he would be still behind her like a mother cat did to tell her kittens it was safe to go to a certain place. As soon as they were all inside, One-Eye silently closed the door behind with his tail. The horses inside were asleep, so they didn't mind the newly arrived visitors. There were not dragons there, not yet at least.

"Aw, straw!" Shack almost immediately rushed to the nearest pile of straw and lied on top of it. "And it's clean! And comfy!"

Nighthawk simply shook his head as he turned to the others. "Well, we should spend the night here, or at least find one of those trapdoors as you call it. If a human finds us here, we're dead."

"Don't look at me, I said it was a bad idea!" One-Eye growled.

A sound behind them made the group freeze. Silk spotted an unwanted witness a few steps from them. A Deadly Nadder, judging by her size she seemed to be in the first years of her life, she barely reached Nighthawk's shoulders. Her scales where a bright blue toned down by a little gray, with sprinkles of hazel and purple at her wings. Her horns were still short, and blunt at the edges. Yellow eyes stared curiously at the group.

"Uh… hi?"