[ a/n; Here goes set two! This time from Toothless' point of view, sometimes first person and sometimes third. Writing Toothless is interesting because I think too many people forget he's still a dragon, an animal- an intelligent, powerful creature, who just happens to have given his heart to a human, but that doesn't change what he is. Hopefully I've done okay! c: Reviews are always a blessing, and suggestions are always welcome! ]

Set Number: 2
Pairing/POV: Toothless/Hiccup [ Toothless' POV ]

Pet: And this was where my human was different from the others. To him, I wasn't a pet. To him, I was an equal. I was a friend- my first true friend. Being compared to a human suddenly wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought.

Mercy: Any of my kind would have called me a traitor, a coward, for not killing the boy when I first had the chance. But showing mercy was no weakness, I had learned. Mercy was in an emerald-eyed brunette's hands as he soothed frightened, frenzied dragons in seconds. It was in his smile, directed at the same clansmen that had so viciously rejected him all his life until now. It was in the feet that adjusted the mechanism controlling my fake tailfin, allowing me to once again reign over the skies. His mercy was a blessing, and mine had been the best choice I had ever made.

Legend: Generations after that of Hiccup the Just, Cheftain of Berk and the first Tamer and Rider, he had become the stuff of fairytales and bedtime stories. After time, the villagers all slowly began to forget.

His dragon perched as a sentinel on the top of his old house, gazing upon the village with ancient and unimaginably sad eyes, ever protecting his human's clan after his passing in accordance to his final wishes. Never moving, never leaving. He had nowhere else to go- nowhere important, at least. He would never forget, for the rest of his long life. To him, Hiccup would always be a legend.

Color: Most dragons do not consider such a trivial thing as a "favourite color." But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that my favourite was that precise shade of soft, leafy, emerald green.

Fear: He was a dragon, a Night Fury, a master among all beasts. He was the fastest, strongest with the sharpest claws and the hottest fire. What did he have to fear? What could possibly scare him?

And nothing ever had, until that day, hearing his human scream from his nest- "village," the boy called it?- while he was napping in their cove. Abruptly, as he took off in the direction of that dreadful sound, never having so dreadfully wished for the return of his powers of flight and hot determination coursing through his veins- suddenly, he knew fear.