A/N: This is an idea that's been bonking around in my head for quite a while and I'm always too lazy to write it down so here. This is set, say…. Six or seven years after HtTYD2.

Flecks of light only barely illuminated their path as they stormed down the steep passage.

"Snotlout, I want you to gather every able-bodied viking and tell them to get their weapons sharp and their dragons saddled."

"I'll have them in the village center," the man said, disappearing down another tunnel that led back to the surface.

"'Legs, help Astrid get everyone else and all the livestock inside the Mead hall. Lock down the hatchery."

"Yes sir," Fishlegs replied, and scuttled off down the hall.

"Ruff, round up all the dragons without riders and divvy them up to the border posts."

"Got it," she disappeared.

They reached the stable floors. The chief emerged, eyebrows a storm. He raised his hand to his mouth and let out a ear-piercing whistle. Every head, human and dragon alike, whipped in his direction.

"Skullcrusher!" He snapped, and the rumblehorn snorted to attention. "Take every tracking dragon here and sweep the area. If there is a Roman on my island, I want to know about it." The dragon growled an soldier's agreement and waited only long enough for Eret to hop on board before taking off.

Only one other viking remained. "Uhhh, chief?" Tuffnut asked, dreadlocks swinging, "what do I do?"

The chief swung off his fur mantle and turned. "You," He said with a tiny glint in his eye, "Are on lookout duty." Tuffnut would have groaned, but the chief was digging inside of his pockets for something. Glancing around mischeviously, he pulled out a small round package and pressed it into Tuffnut's chest. "Protocol six," He said, and Tuffnut looked at the thing. A wicked, cheshire smile spread over his face.

"You got it, chief," Tuff saluted smugly and turned away.

Hiccup let out a sigh and went around to his stall of the stable. A shadow appeared over him, and a dragon grunted.

"It's showtime. Ready, bud?" He turned as he pulled the leather armor on. Toothless snorted, frills knocking against each other as he shook his head.

"You bet," Hiccup replied, and swung himself up in the saddle in a well-practiced move, locking his leg into place at the same time as Toothless surged forward beneath him. In three massive bounds, they were across the stables and soaring into the air. And then, Berk. Readying for war.

It was afternoon, but the village was busier than market day, Vikings spreading out along the boarders, others shutting up homes and locking down dragon roosts. A flood of children, the elderly, and animals flocked to the doors of the Mead Hall. Fishlegs counted off on a checklist as the crowd filed past. Across the doorway helping him,

"Astrid," Hiccup landed and slid off Toothless toward his wife. "How's it looking?"

"Everyone so far. We'll need to move in the food next - if you could send me some nadders or gronkles to haul in the grain and wood stores, we'll put them in the east wing."

"I'll let Snotlout know on my way back. Anything else?"

She shrugged. "Just more time. You've got scouts out?"

"Just sent Eret out sniffing. Tuff's on lookout. Have you seen my mother?"

"Watching the sky. Nothing yet," She pointed upwards, where Hiccup could see Cloudjumper's pointed wingtips shuffling off the balcony of his mother's porch. He hummed and looked back down at Astrid. His face softened from chief into husband. "And how are you?" he asked more quietly, nudging her hand. Astrid heaved a long breath, putting a hand over her very round stomach. "I'll be fine, Hiccup. We will be," she patted the baby under her belt. "You stay in one piece, and I'll be just fine." She clenched her jaw bitterly. It was her first time sitting out of a fight. She knew her limits, and it was her own judgment that had made the decision to stay with the children and non-combatants. But she hated it all the same. Hiccup nodded.

"I brought you this," he said, and took her axe off of Toothless' saddle. She hadn't used it of late, and looked skeptically up at him when she took it. Despite herself, she smiled gratefully.

"Worst comes to worst, I'm still counting on you."

She looked up at him. "Don't let it come to that."

"I always try," he said, and kissed her, hand heavy on their child between them. "Good luck. Send for me if you need anything."

"Go on," she said, patting his side. Silently, she sent up a prayer for him. He did the same for her as Toothless took to the skies.

They flew on rounds for several hours before all of the right supplies were in place, all the vikings at their posts, all the livestock and children and elderly and Astrid locked safely away. Berk was quiet, and the quiet made his gut churn. Nerves racing, he flew up to his mother's porch. She sat like a statue on the end of the porch, legs dangling. She did not look back as he came up to sit beside her. Toothless acknowledged Cloudjumper's bow and sat next to him, tail wrapped around his front like a cat, body motionless and eyes trained to the horizon. Hiccup chewed his lip, scanning the distant waves for broad brown sails.

"And now we wait?" His mother asked serenely. Hiccup ticked his head.

"And now we wait."

His mother smacked him awake. "There," was all she said, and Hiccup was instantly awake. He shook off sleep, and saw it immediately: the softly glowing wake, the eerie-faced prow, the sail reflecting dull moonlight. They were putting out oars for the final approach.

"Stay safe," Valka whispered in a way that only mothers can, and he nodded as they stood together.

"You too," he whispered back, kissing her on the cheek. Toothless dropped him silently to the island and loped across the ground. Hiccup knocked quietly on doors as they passed. Like cats in the night, vikings slunk out of their hiding places and beds, locking doors behind them, and scuttled to their positions. Toothless was one of the only dragons in motion, using his black hide to the best effect. They appeared on the watchtower next to Tuffnut, who was about as solemn as he could be.

"They on the beach yet?" Hiccup asked.

"Nope. But oooooohhh, I am ready," Tuffnut patted the package at his hip, the thing Hiccup had given him earlier that day. Hiccup chuckled.

"I bet you are." He patted him on the back and walked off. He made rounds on all of the outposts, making sure each warrior had his weapon, using pithy jokes to ease the tension. Eventually, a small terror landed on his shoulder and chittered out a message.

Eret says there's another ship coming in from east. Firehook," he called.

"Aye, chief?"

"Your wife Lyethorn is on the east beach, yes?"

"Aye, chief."

"Join her and tell her and the rest to be ready. I'll send a fleet of dragons your way when we get this party started.

"You got it, sir." Firehook jogged off.

"Alright, bud," Hiccup whispered to Toothless as he mounted up, "Here we go. Time to kick some Roman a-"

BOOM!

Protocol six. Fire erupted on the beach, and Hiccup could feel the heat from here. The new lighting let the chief watch as Tuffnut chucked another bomb from his tower, now yelling alarm. Distant, Latin shouts echoed from the beach.

"That's us!" Hiccup told Toothless, and urged him on. He called back one last word of encouragement to his men and bent over Toothless' neck as the dragon leaped down the slope of the island. He could feel the fury splitting the spines on his back, and slowly, that electric blue glow swelled until Hiccup could see the outline of his hands against Toothless' head.

Cloudjumper's four wings beat a flurried silhouette against the stars, Valka's head turning owl-like as she watched the Imperial fleet from above.

Toothless did not stop his full-tilt run until he came to the rocky cliffs above the shore and stopped to send rocks clattering down. He let out an alpha's roar, and Hiccup sparked inferno to life. The orange flame reflected light off of the Romans' dark eyes, their expressions fearful of the demon staring them down from the wild, wild north. The ones closest gasped in sudden fear.

In his own way, Hiccup would always be an outsider to the other vikings around him. But now, face to face with presumptuous foreigners who were after his land and his people's lives, he was not only a viking, he was every bit the stubborn, boar-headed, raging-fisted, hammer-pounding protective viking warrior-chief that he thought he'd never be able to become.

Oh, and one other thing.

"Sic," He hissed in the Latin accent he'd been perfecting for years under horrible teasing. Their expressions would so be worth it. He dared a mad smile. "Habemus dracones."

A/N:

Translations:

"Sic, habemus dracones" - "Yes (that's right), we have dragons."