Echoed Songs

by Rift-Raft

The war is over, the nightmare faded. Yet moving on is not so simple when the monstrosities of the past bleed into the present. With war descending anew in the wake of a mysterious, unseen threat, the peace Hiccup and Toothless so desperately seek spirals further and further out of reach. SEQUEL TO I HEAR HIM SCREAM.

2. Chapter 2

Hello, everyone!

I want to take the time to thank every single person who favorited and followed last chapter. I'd especially like to thank Crysist, AngelOfGrace96, The Sentinel of Knowledge, Varghul, Firesgone, OseanSoldier, LevelNone, Psycho Kid, TiGGs96, FoxGlade, Brenne, Cyeithen, gaylord420, Max100, Lightwavers, MusingWordsmith, Zeeklyn, Ashora, Blocksmasher2, vampireharry 2, quaddles, DevoutRelic, LlamaQueen666, 99thProblem, Every1's Beta, NomexGlobe, Anonymous N00b the 2nd, TheFuriousNightFury, Aquawyrm, TheLastDino, and anonymous guests for all of your wonderful reviews! Seriously you guys, you're all the greatest! I appreciate all of your support so much!

I know most of you won't be too pent up that this is updating a week early, but don't expect this to be the norm. Normally I will update bi-weekly, but right now my schedule is forcing me to update early. Works out great for you guys, though!

I'd also like to thank my betas Crysist and GoldenGriffiness for all of your awesome work betaing and going over this with me!

Lastly, if you haven't seen the animatic that I made for IHHS and Echoed Songs, please feel free to check out my profile to get the link to it! The video is titled "Screams and Songs".

Phew, that was a long author's note. Without further ado, enjoy!

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Astrid

The Deadly Nadder crept closer, eyes narrowed and head lowered. A soft hiss came between bared teeth, poison-barbed tail lashing. With every small step closer the sound of claws scraping across the ground became more and more pronounced.

I froze, shooting a wide-eyed look at our surroundings. We were in the middle of the road, having been walking back to my house from the docks. Villagers were milling about on their daily routines. I couldn't see anything even remotely threatening, and the dragons lounging around didn't seem alarmed at all. What was wrong?

It took me a second to see the glint in the dragon's eyes. Realization dawned on me.

My mistake was to back away, when I should have stayed still and stared her down.

"Stormfly, no!"

With a scream, Stormfly charged. I stumbled backwards, holding my hands up, but it was pointless. She barreled right into me, knocking me backwards with a heavy impact. Just as I hit the ground, she curled her claws around my chest, pinning me, and snapped at my belt. I pushed her massive head away, knowing that it wouldn't do anything; she was far stronger than I was, especially when she wanted to be.

Stormfly ripped my axe right out of my belt and fluttered a little ways down the street. Surrounding dragons let out growls. I lied there, completely defenseless.

I groaned, putting a hand to my head. "Not again."

Stormfly chirped at me, tipping her head and take a few steps closer. I rolled over and sat up, and she scurried away.

"Stormfly, give it back," I said, trying to make my voice commanding. I had to be the "boss dragon" to her if I ever hoped of being able to control or discipline her. I had tried to go to Hiccup about it, but he and Toothless hardly hung around Berk enough for me to really get anything out of him. He'd shrugged in irritation, told me something along the lines of "dragons are people too", and had said that I should simply try to befriend her with mutual respect and go from there.

Still, this kind of disobedience was aggravating at best and very disruptive at worst, and most Vikings did not have a patient streak—myself included. The worst part was that it was way too hard to enforce anything on a giant flying reptile that could breathe fire at you if it got mad.

Or if it wanted to play the hundredth game of keep-away that week.

Stormfly continued to squawk at me, bouncing her head up and down and wiggling her rump like a cat. As hard as I tried, I couldn't hide a smile at the sight. It was still baffling to me that a dragon could be cute, of all things,and even playful. Hell, Stormfly was fearlessly playing with my axe, the same weapon that I had used against her countless times in the Ring.

The thought, as always, made me slump my shoulders and look down in shame. Not for the first time, I thought back to the past, to every single stupid mistake I had made that had only made things worse for everybody. Especially Hiccup.

My axe dropped in front of me with a clatter, and I nearly leaped out of my skin in shock. Stormfly trilled and gently nudged my hands with her nose.

"Oh, don't worry, Stormfly," I said, snapping myself out of my funk and giving her a quick scratch below the chin. "It's fine. Here, girl, catch!"

The axe skittered across the ground and came to a stop a short distance away. Stormfly flew up and pounced on it like it was a rabbit, hopping back over to me and wiggling in excitement.

Several dragons lounging in the street watched with interest, heads tilted and eyes focused. The people walking around were a lot more wary, jumping every time Stormfly got close.

We continued on our way, the sky bright and the air crisp. It was actually really relaxing to play a game of catch with Stormfly and not have to worry about anything else. Part of me was screaming to stop messing around and to get ready—that something horrible would happen soon, that I was letting my guard down. I tried to ignore it.

At one point some younger dragons—Nadders about half the size of Stormfly—fluttered down and tried to steal my axe from her. She let out a scream and began chasing them around to the point that they all fluttered to me and hid from her, sitting behind my legs and hissing. A few had to learn the hard way that they couldn't hide underneath someone smaller than them, and that said someone didn't appreciate dragons sticking their heads in-between her legs.

In all the commotion, doors had been slammed into, barrels knocked over, and people flung out of the way. None of the villagers really knew how to handle it, so they just gave each other that nervous 'what should we do?' look that had become more and more common by the day.

But…honestly, I wouldn't mind the constant interruptions and confusion if it meant living a life like this. I still couldn't believe it, but dragons were fun. And even dragons like Stormfly that couldn't understand people had proven to be far more empathetic and intelligent than we had ever thought possible.

Stormfly went to hand me back my axe and then jerked away when I tried to grab it. Clucking in that way that I just knew she was taunting me, she held it just above my reach as I jumped for it, her eyes glittering. I raised an eyebrow at her, hands on my hips.

"Do you want me to throw it or not?" I asked. Stormfly feinted giving it to me again, taking easy advantage over how much taller than me she was. "Alright, suit yourself—wait, what's wrong?"

Stormfly had stiffened, spines raised, tail barbs clicking, and eyes wide. She was staring intently down the street, which dropped down a steep hill out of sight.

She turned to me, shoved my axe in my arms, and nosed me in the direction she'd been looking. Before I could do anything, she'd opened her wings and flown off.

"Woah, where are you going?" I shouted, launching into a sprint. The moment I hit the crest of the hill, I skidded to a halt and had to pinwheel my arms to prevent nearly toppling all the way down.

There was a huge crowd right in front of the smithy. While not necessarily uncommon, it was still pretty weird. Every dragon in the vicinity was alert, staring motionlessly down at something in the crowd with raised wings and twitching tails. Several were already leaning forward in the slow preparations of takeoff, and the sight of bared teeth made my heart drop. The dragons were being aggressive, but why? Hiccup had said that…

A glint of sunlight reflecting off metal caught my eye. Just next to it, two figures were huddled up against the smithy.

It was enough to snap me back to reality. With a hammering heart, I launched into a sprint, my mind whirling with hundreds of possibilities: of blood spilling, of flames rekindled, of massacres. I didn't know what was wrong, but I had a fairly good idea of what might happen if someone didn't intervene.

Dragons were snarling. People were shouting and the sharp stinging sound of metal on metal filled the air as swords and daggers were yanked from their holsters. Toothless' roar echoed off the buildings. I reached the crowd, shoving my way through it.

I had a second to see a burly man advancing on Toothless and Hiccup and thrust his sword at the Night Fury. On reckless impulse, I kept up my momentum and leapt right into the middle of it all.

"Wait!" I cried.

I was too late; the man had been mid-swing. Time slowed around me as I saw the sunlight glaring off the metal and I met my reflection's eyes. Even though it was useless, I tried to flinch away, knowing that I had stupidly placed myself in front of a strike and that I would just have to deal with the consequences.

Stormfly threw herself in front of me, used her wing to glance the blow, and whipped her tail around fast enough to send a SNAP! crackling through the air. The villager took the hit right in his midsection and was sent flying several meters away into the crowd. Chaos erupted as everyone raised their weapons and dragons leapt into the street, gathering by Stormfly's side in a growling barricade.

I turned around just in time to see Hiccup, face as pale as death and eyes sightless. He was cringing away and gasping frantic, shallow breaths, his small frame wracked with shudders. Gobber was crouched in front of him, jaw set and eyes hard. Before I could begin to ask him what the hell was going on, he snatched Hiccup off the ground and threw him onto Toothless' back.

"GO!" He commanded.

The Night Fury was gone in seconds, living up to his reputation. Dragons lifted up to follow him, only to suddenly stop and descend once again on some unheard command.

I stood there, panting and shaking from the sudden workout. My brain struggled to catch up.

It took me a second to turn to Stormfly, who was crouched besides me with lifted wings.

"Thanks, girl," I breathed, looping an arm under her head. She stopped snarling at the crowd and squawked, closing her eyes and pressing close. Despite her bravery, she was tense and shivering. I smiled, filled with pride that it had been my dragon that had leapt forward to protect both Hiccup and myself.

"What in the name of Thor are ya doin'?" Gobber exploded from behind, stomping forward and red up to his ears. "Do ya want to start a war again? I ought to give ya an express trip to Helheim fer pullin' a stunt like that!"

The man—a battle-hardened warrior named Dogsbreath—scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. "That thing and his dragon were sittin' around by the forge like it was nothing," he ground out. "If you don't remember, those two used to be well-known for destroying weapons supplies and leavings islands defenseless right before they strike again. And here they were, taking a little nap right under your nose, just waitin' for a chance to get in!"

"Hiccup would neverdo that!" I said, my grip on Stormfly tightening. My dragon narrowed her eyes and bared gnarly teeth, and the surrounding dragons did the same.

The hairs on the end of my neck stood on end as the air erupted with deep, furious growls. It sounded like the world itself was about to be shredded apart by teeth and talons. I finally took a moment to take in what exactly the dragons around us were doing. Monstrous Nightmares, Deadly Nadders, Zipplebacks, Gronckles, even Terrors were all hyperfocused on Dogsbreath and the uncertain crowd behind him.

"Look, you need to put that away," I said, pointing at his sword, "unless you want all of these dragons to murder you for trying to kill their leaders."

Dogsbreath narrowed his amber eyes at me. "You don't have any say in this. I've not forgotten how you and your friends betrayed our village."

I stiffened and glowered, clenching my fists, but refused to take the bait. My brief time as the village screwup had taught me a quick and firm lesson: the moment you engage in that kind of argument is the moment you lose.

"That has nothin' ta do with this!" Gobber said. He closed the gap between himself and Dogsbreath in one long stride and ripped the sword out of the burly warrior's hand. "All the lot of you, put yer weapons away! Ya won't see me rebuildin' all yer houses when they get burnt down!"

The rush of the moment dissipated. Vikings began hesitantly sheathing their weapons as they somehow just realized that they were surrounded by a bunch of seriously-pissed off dragons. This seemed to satisfy the malevolent crowd looming above; the dragons began to turn away and fly off with very few remaining to keep watch. Stormfly loosened out of her battle posture and fluttered her wings, clucking and snapping her jaw.

"You're a fool, Gobber," Dogsbreath seethed, all but shaking with rage and hands on the hilts of the numerous weapons he carried on him. "These dragons are only here because he's here. They would turn on us in a heartbeat if those two gave the command."

Gobber leaned in and met his eyes. In a low, even voice, he said, "Then don't give 'em a reason to."

He paused to let that sink in and then straightened up. "Now all of you, get outta here! I got work to do, and all of ya are keepin' me from it! Unless you want me to stop workin' on our weapons?" He said this with a pointed look at Dogsbreath.

There was a tense moment. With a final, disgusted snort, Dogsbreath yanked his sword out of Gobber's hand, threw it back in its sheath, and stormed away. The source of conflict gone, the crowd easily dispersed just as the dragons above had.

I took a moment for myself, holding Stormfly closer. She lowered her head and rumbled. She wouldn't turn on us—on me. Not at the drop of a hat. She wouldn't.

...but could the same really be said for the other dragons?

o.O.o

Toothless

That was it.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't take this anymore. I was a Shadow-Blender, one of the most capable dragons in the north. Hiccup and I had together taken down the Queen with the aid of the Dragon of the Sun and Dragoness of the Moon Themselves. If any human or dragon could find a solution, then it was me.

Even if that wasn't the case, then I was going to try anyways until it became reality.

"Hiccup?" I asked, shaking the reformed dragon in question. He was curled up against my side and hadn't moved or spoken for quite some time. I lifted my wing to expose him and poked his shaggy fur with my nose. This time when I spoke, I drew the word out and over-exaggerated each syllable, "Hiccup?"

"Hm?" He mumbled, eyelids twitching.

Craning my neck, I peered up through the canopy to gauge how late in the day it was. The forest was still bright and crisp around us, birdsong filling in an otherwise empty space. We had been here for some time, and I just knew that someone was going to come looking for us when it was least needed. I scented the air for humans, but only found traces of the last rainfall and the earthy, rich undertones of the foliage and wildlife.

"You know I hate sleeping in," I laughed uneasily. Hiccup didn't say anything, and I prodded him again. "Come on, Hiccup, I've got an idea." I paused, and trying to speak clearly again, "Please?"

Hiccup cracked his eyelids open. He met my eyes.

I strained for the link to come forward, pushing at my magic so fiercely that my head pounded. Now, more than ever, did I loathe its absence.

It did not come.

Hiccup sat up and leaned against my shoulder while I withheld a sigh. He stretched like a hatchling, throwing his paws out in front of him and arching his back. "What time is it?" He asked, blinking up at the hidden sky. "How long was I…asleep?"

I shrugged. "I didn't bother to keep track. Two hours or so?"

He gave me a long, frustrated look, and said nothing.

I had to fight not to become upset myself. Not at Hiccup—never at Hiccup! Yet here I was, failing my brother even though we were right besides each other, wanting for all the world to give him the precise help he needed.

Hiccup was beyond exceptional at, as he called it, 'getting the gist' of what I said. He could easily distinguish tone and emotion where humans apparently only heard grunts and growls. Additionally, he was much better than the humans at interpreting facial expressions. This did wonders for us, even with the one-sided communication we were forced to endure. Still, charades and yes-and-no questions only got so far.

Instead of speaking, I closed my eyes and nosed him on the forehead. Opening my magic reserves, I tried to observe the nature and structure of what remained of his own magic. It was a spell that I had done before when the both of us were under the Queen's control. Yet my magic reacted as I expected, pushing against Hiccup and unable to "cross over" to his body. There was just the slightest pull from him, an empty shell where there should have been magic, but it was not enough for me to see if his magic could be restored.

I was forced to draw back the spell, or waste my magic fruitlessly searching. Again.

Such a searching spell had already been attempted multiple times. The idea was to find the magic that had once maintained his Shadow-Blender form and strengthen it, guiding it to its full strength and allowing it to consume his body. His old magic had sustained his dragon form without causing him harm, and therefore did not carry the threat that new magic did, as it was only a matter of breathing life into it again.

Yet the elders had told us weeks ago that with only the barest traces of magic within him, it could not be used to change him back—if it existed at all. New magic from an outside source would be required to power a reversion to his Shadow-Blender body.

Such a feat was simply too dangerous. It had been a miracle that Hiccup had not perished after his initial transformation, and with the trauma his body and mind had sustained after facing the Queen, it was too risky. Transformation-magic needed to be extremely precise, and using brute force to transform him again could easily become a death sentence.

Despite everything, I'd rather spend the rest of my life like this than a life without Hiccup in it.

I lifted my head and rested my chin on the top of his, ears and side-frills wilting. "I'm so sorry, Hiccup," I murmured, not for the first time.

Hiccup pushed his head up against mine in a friendly manner, giving a little purr. "I'm really glad you're here, Toothless."

At least he was cheered up a little bit. I allowed the moment to last, letting the two of us drift back into silence. When it seemed appropriate enough, I pushed my legs underneath me, folded my wings, and stood up.

"Let's try something," I said in response to his concerned expression, throwing my head in our universal "let's go" gesture and trying not to look too serious.

Hiccup looked down at his paws, shoulders hunched. "Yeah, I guess we have to go back, don't we?" He let out a long breath and began to stand up. I held out a paw for him to hold onto.

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant, but good point," I said, sending a quick glance over my shoulder for humans. "Anyways, that's for later. Now, ah…"

I lifted my ears and did a quick spin to take in our environment. There was really nothing around but normal forest foliage.

Maybe the idea was easier to think of than to do, I grumbled to myself. Oh, who cares! I'm trying it anyways!

I faced a very confused and very sleep-deprived Hiccup, pointed at him the human way with my paw, and instructed, "Hiccup!"

He stiffened, looked down at himself, and began to frantically paw at the dead furs he used to keep warm. "What?! Where is it?"

"Where is what?" I asked, tipping my head. I blinked. "Oh! No, there's nothing on you, besides those disgusting furs. Why do you use them, anyways?"

Hiccup was already twisting around in desperate search of the "thing" that I had "warned" him of. "Oh, gods, where'd it go? What was it? A bug? A microdragon?"

I couldn't stifle a laugh at that last comment. Everyone knew microdragons didn't exist. "No! It's fine!" I shook my head, grabbed him with a paw, and purred at him. "It-is-fine," I emphasized, once again slowing my speech and making each individual sound clear and succinct. For convenience, I tried to layer my voice with an easygoing, comforting tone.

Hiccup finally stopped, holding his paws to his heart. Realization lit up in his eyes. "Wait, did you just say…'it's fine'?"

I froze where I stood. Hey, that wasn't even that hard!

"YES!" I shouted, jumping up and prancing around him. "Hah! Take that, doubters! I know you're out there!"

To make things even better, Hiccup actually smiled for the first time in ages! He snickered, easing into a hunting-crouch and batting at me on each go-around. "Jeez, Toothless, what's gotten into you?"

I stopped in front of him with a dignified snort. "Alright…Hiccup!" I articulated, pointing at him the human way again.

"Uh, yeah?" He asked, looking at me like I'd gone and grown fur. Then his eyebrows raised and his eyes brightened. "Wait…"

I pointed at myself. "Toothless."

"…Toothless?" Hiccup repeated.

I beamed, nodding multiple times. Hiccup bounced in place with excitement. I glanced around, turned to the nearest object, and threw a paw towards it. "Stone!"

"Rock?"

"Eh, close enough. Tree!"

"Pine?"

"That's for later, Hiccup. We need to take hatchling-steps, just like with flying. Now—"

"Okay, I gotta try again? How about 'tree'?"

"There you go! Okay, bird!"

"Branches?"

"No, b-i-r-d!"

"Wait! What's this?"

"That would be your…paw!"

"And these?"

"Eyes!"

"Oh! How do you say 'this'?"

"This!"

"Hold on, can you repeat that?"

"Of course! This. And this here is…"

o.O.o

By the time we'd finished up basic anatomical and environmental terminology, the sky was orange and the forest was cast in indigo shadows and a light fog. Fireflies hovered in groups around us, making it appear as though the Dragoness of the Moon had idly traced a path on the earth with Her paw.

Hiccup insisted on me repeating words in randomized groups. He would lean in with an intense stare as I spoke, sucking in as much information as possible. His capacity to memorize was honestly impressive. Still, I had my own secret doubts that he would not remember everything once they were not fresh in his mind. How could he possibly learn everything on the first try?

But if Hiccup was anything, he was a fast learner—and one that paid excruciatingly careful attention to detail at that. He had always had a natural knack at absorbing information, even as a dragon. All things considered, he'd learned to fly at a very rapid pace. Hell, he'd even learned how to use his magic in one evening while chained up and injured.

I truly believed that we were going to succeed. It made everything that had happened—even today—seem to have much less of a sting.

Hiccup more than agreed with me, babbling enthusiastically as we pushed our way through the undergrowth. "This is so great, Toothless! How could we have not thought of this before? I mean, I'll be honest, you sound really weird when you translate for me, but this could totally change everything! I wish I could write a cheat sheet—that would mean I'd never have to ask you to clear things up again. And—woah!"

Hiccup's metal paw snagged on something and he fell. I jolted forward and grabbed his dead furs like a scruff, lifting him off the ground for a second and placing him at my side.

"Time for a new term. Up," I said, crouching down and nodding towards myself.

Hiccup frowned. "But…you used a different word for 'back' earlier."

I shook my head, grabbed at his paw with sheathed teeth, and pulled him towards me. "No, up!"

"Oh!" Hiccup said. He scrabbled onto my back. "So, 'get on'?"

"Hm…yes," I said with a grin. Same difference.

"Awesome," Hiccup breathed. He leaned forward so that I could see him and gave a brilliant smile. "Toothless, I have to say…you're a genius."

"Finally, you acknowledge it!" I preened, squaring my paws, raising my tail and wings, and puffing my chest up.

Hiccup held on easily even as I straightened my back until it was almost vertical. He laughed and pulled at my ear. "Don't you let it get to your head. We've still got a lot of work to do. Can you quiz me on some words again?"

I sent him a grin over my shoulder as I began to walk back towards his father's wood-cave, making sure to keep a wide perimeter between us and the rest of the human nest. As energetic as we were now, both Hiccup and myself were exhausted after the day's events. We needed somewhere to hide out. The last thing we needed was an angry group of humans yelling at us for no reason.

Additionally, our nestmates were probably more than a little concerned. The last they'd seen their Kings, we had been under attack by a human. I would have to speak to them at some point; even though I had explicitly told them not to attack humans for fear of retaliation against Hiccup and myself, a firm reminder was in order. The Two-Walker named Stormfly had come dangerously close to killing that damned human that had attacked us. I honestly couldn't care less if he died…but Hiccup and the humans of Berk certainly did.

I shook my head. All of that was for later. It seemed that we needed to take hatchling-steps in more areas than one.

"Let's see…Up."

"Get on."

"Tailfin."

"Tail. Wait! Tailfin."

"Good! Sun and moon?"

"Moon, sun."

"No, sun and moon."

"Uh…wait, what? I'm pretty sure I had those."

I rolled my eyes. "And I'm pretty sure you don't." I stopped and deliberately pointed a paw up at the dimming sky. "No sun."

Hiccup shifted around, humming in confusion. "No…moon? Oh—no sun!"

"Yes!" I chirped. "Now, sun and moon."

"Moon, sun," he teased. I put a bounce in my step with a sly grin, and Hiccup nearly lost his grip before he made sure to bat at my ear. "Alright, alright—I know the difference now. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I do."

"I almost don't doubt you," I purred.

The trees ahead began to thin. The fireflies buzzed away. I stepped out into the open and onto the carved pathway of the humans.

I had trekked around so as to pop out right in front of the wood-cave. It came into view once we left the safety of the forest—as well as someone else. I stopped dead in my tracks, crouched low, and began to backpedal back into the undergrowth.

"Toothless!"

I groaned even as Hiccup stiffened. Now, of all times? Today had been hectic enough as it was—was it too much to ask for some rest?

Even so, this conversation would happen eventually.

Ugh, might as well get it done and over with, I decided.

As I slunk back out into the open, I once again reminded myself: we are Kings, too.

The human King ran and met us halfway, stopping just at my side. Fear-scent wafted off of him. I tried to push it from my mind.

"Hiccup—thank Thor," he said. He paused with reaching paws, caught between grabbing Hiccup off of me and letting him stay where he was. "Gobber told me about what happened this morning."

Hiccup didn't meet his father's eyes, staring down at his paws and leaning just away. "Uh, yeah…about that. I can explain—"

"No," he said, holding up a paw.

I whipped around to glare at the King, teeth bared.

He looked exhausted and worn out, like he'd had just as bad a morning as we had. "You didn't do anything wrong, Hiccup," he murmured in that infuriating "gentle voice" he used on Hiccup, like he was comforting a fallen dragon suffering from a lethal wound.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Obviously."

He spared me a glance before continuing, "Dogsbreath was punished. Don't worry about him—he won't go near you again."

For a second I was completely confused. Then, realizing that "Dog's-Breath" was a name, I reared my head back and twisted around to share a look with an equally-surprised Hiccup.

I suppose that…made the King a little better. It was good to see he ruled with at least some sense of justness, even though it was horribly delayed.

"You…punished him?" Hiccup asked in disbelief. "Should I just leave it there or…?"

"Hard labor duties all day for the next three months—without pay," his father said with an official, exact voice, as if reporting findings to the Queen.

Apparently this was very unfortunate, because Hiccup gaped like he'd been given the same verdict. "I, uh, I really appreciate you standing up for me, Dad. But…" He shifted nervously in place and met the King's stare. "I just, I don't want to cause any trouble. There's already enough as it is, and all we did was sit outside."

The King's expression hardened. "I've already made my decision. He would have been given the same treatment if it had been Snotlout or Astrid that he drew that sword on." He reached a paw out to Hiccup, paused for an awkward moment, and then withdrew it. "Hiccup…" he shifted uncomfortably. "Has this happened before?"

Well, yes. Many humans disliked us and had no reason to hide their distrust. Several had offered subtle and not-so-subtle threats, with or without weapons. But it had never been like this morning.

Hiccup had never just crumbled like that, disappearing into his own mind, plummeting into a panic attack that left him too exhausted to even stay conscious.

That, or…

I tried not to make it obvious how carefully I looked over him, searching for the slightest twitch that would indicate what he was thinking. As much as I tried to discourage it, Hiccup had always been good at burying his own problems for the "greater good", or to not "be a burden". Even…even from me.

Right on cue, Hiccup shrugged and turned his head away from the both of us. "It's not that big a deal—both of us are fine now."

The King turned searching eyes towards mine, pleading for my help. I held his gaze and wracked through my head for what to do.

"And I know I'm in no place to ask you of this, but…if there is any way to help…to show me how to help him…would you?"

"Thank you…Toothless."

That private conversation had led to many of these "help me" looks from the King. I hated how he treated Hiccup as fragile as an egg, how he was always so forward and awkward and focused on pushing the past behind us. Yet all of that made everything worse, and Hiccup was usually the one to pay the penalty.

That agreement…almost felt like I had lied to Hiccup. I had not spoken of it to him, mortified of even the thought of telling him that I'd managed to find a way to talk about him behind his back. Even if it was to help him, I still felt a sense of wrong.

But the King clearly was too incompetent to figure out how to fix things on his own.

I shook my head at him. Leave us alone.

"Anyways, it's starting to get late," Hiccup said. "I guess I should go to bed—unless I don't have to go to work tomorrow?" This last bit was said hopefully.

"You're still going," the King sighed. He motioned, and we began to walk towards the wood-cave. "But you are right. Go get some rest—we'll be heading down at first light tomorrow."

Both Hiccup and I groaned. As much as the both of us hated it, refusing to go as we had been for the past few days would only cause more tension between us and the King. Even I knew that we would have to get over it eventually unless we wanted to live in constant conflict, which was the last thing we needed.

"Well, I guess we can look at the bright side," Hiccup grumbled. "I seriously doubt there can be a worse first day than today."

The King hesitated, sending a conflicted look at his son. Then, matter-of-factly, "That's right."

Dragon of the Sun, I hoped that was true.

o.O.o

Hiccup

Step One: Try to actually go to sleep for once, or face another day full of lethargy.

Step Two: Try to eat food that makes you nauseous, or face the constant aches of an underfed stomach.

Step Three: Try not to slip away in the morning, or face Dad's worried anger.

Step Four: Try not to take up Toothless' tempting offers to run away anyways. See above.

Step Five: Try not to have another episode while surrounded by dozens of weapons that were used by your village-mates as they tried to kill you. See above.

…seems simple enough.

We arrived at the smithy when the sun had barely risen, the village still dark and cold. I could barely keep my eyes open. My eyes ached and my ears felt clogged.

Dad said something to me, but I didn't quite catch it. I blinked and he was gone, having walked inside. It took me several seconds of tired mental gymnastics to realize that he was probably talking to Gobber about yesterday.

I pressed up against Toothless and closed my eyes. He draped a wing around me, shielding me from the frigid air. It was like pulling a warm blanket over oneself after a long day. I purred, and a thought crossed my mind: can dragons fall asleep standing up?

"Hiccup," Toothless whispered, poking me with his nose.

Instantly I was drawn out of my daze. I quieted and pushed away, pawing at my eyes. "Hm? Oh—wow, hey there!"

I grinned down at the one-winged Little-Biter just at our feet. He averted his eyes and set down an impressively-sized cod in front of us. A heartbeat later, he dropped into the deepest of bows and murmured something that I was sure meant, "My Kings".

Toothless and I ducked our heads in return. Toothless said something that I couldn't catch while I tried to purr in a grateful manner.

As the Little-Biter straightened out, I dropped down to four paws and prodded the fish with my hand. "This is a nice catch!" I said. "Great job!"

The Little-Biter tipped his head to the side, his eyes huge and searching.

Toothless translated for me. The Little-Biter stared up at him intently, jolted in place with wide eyes, and rushed into another bow. He stammered something and it didn't take a genius to know that he was being modest.

"It's fine," I laughed. I turned to Toothless. "How do you say 'thank you'?"

Toothless perked up from his somewhat-bored posture. He began to translate.

Firstly, he raised his voice so that the quieter undertones were easier to hear. I had learned quickly that dragons were capable of producing more than one sound at once. Usually, the "secondary" sounds, or undertones, were used to modify the "words" in some way, such as indicating how the dragon was feeling. A dragon could say a greeting with an "excited" undertone or an "annoyed" undertone depending on the context. I could hear them every now and then with other dragons, but with Toothless it usually only took a little concentration to distinguish them.

With his new way of speaking, Toothless somehow figured out how to make the undertone just as loud as the word. This made each word sound crisp and succinct, rather than muddled up by subtler notes underneath.

Secondly, he pronounced each word just a few milliseconds longer than normal. It wasn't like he was slowing down his speech, but instead dragging the individual sounds out so that I could hear how they were different from the ones before and after.

With these two combined, Toothless ended up speaking with regularity. While usually his words and undertones rolled together into one long, indistinguishable sound, I could now pinpoint subtle differences.

He had essentially standardized his form of dragon speech. For such a condensed language, this was huge.

"Thank you" turned out to be a purring sound that rose up and down in pitch twice. The beginning of the phrase had more vibrato than the rest, making it sound as though he was rushing the first part. It was a complicated sound, but not nearly as bad as "sun" and "moon" were.

I nodded, humming. It seemed pretty doable. "Alright, now let me—"

The Little-Biter was looking at Toothless like he'd launched into a song about his feelings. His head was reared back, head tipped completely to the side, and eyes wider than I'd ever seen.

I burst out laughing. Toothless chuckled alongside me, although I could tell his pride was hurt just a little bit.

"Yeah, that's kinda how I felt when I first heard him do that," I told the Little-Biter. He turned his perplexed look on me. With a snicker, I leaned down and butted foreheads with him. He got the message easily enough this time; with a happy chirp, he nudged the fish towards me.

I picked up the cod and sniffed it. It was still wet and smelled of sea salt, bringing with it a torrent of memories of all the many other times I'd encountered this scent. The Little-Biter must've just gone fishing and then walked all the way back up to Berk with his best catch, and all for us.

I felt a little guilty taking it from him. However, it was customary to share food with your King or Queen. To reject it would show that all that hard work had gone to waste and that I didn't think his efforts were worthwhile.

I showed it to Toothless first, reluctant to be the first one to take the offering. He sniffed it himself before taking a delicate bite out of it, leaving half of it behind for me.

"Thank you," he said to the Little-Biter. The one-winged dragon paused, confused, and took a second to figure it out. Then he gave a huge smile.

I grinned and brought the fish up to my mouth—

"Hiccup! What are you—put that down!"

I jumped, dropping the half-eaten cod. The Little-Biter spun, arched his back, and scampered off in a little green blur. Toothless groaned.

Dad marched out of the smithy and grabbed me by my arm, hauling me to my feet. I jerked away from him.

He didn't notice, too busy looking down at the cod and scrunching his face up with disgust. "Were you about to…eat that?" He asked, giving me another one of his "fatherly concern" looks.

I made myself meet his eye. I couldn't avoid this topic forever, not with how often it happened. "Yes. Remember what I told you about awhile ago, after the Flame—after the Nightmare incident?"

For a second he gaped at me in disbelief. "It's raw, Hiccup," Dad pointed out the obvious. "And you ate this morning."

Yup, I'd noticed. My stomach was already roiling and cramping from the porridge and salted game we'd had for breakfast. Even Toothless had turned his nose up to it. Honestly, the fish was the most appetizing thing I'd seen all day.

"Yeah, but…"

"It's going to make you sick," Dad pressed. I tried not to scoff. "And it's…half-eaten."

Toothless stooped down and grabbed the fish. He stared my father right in the eyes and handed it to me, narrowing his eyes and raising a lip to show teeth.

Welp, now it was worse. I wasn't about to eatit right in front of Dad—not when he'd made it loud and clear how repulsive he thought it was. My shoulders slumped, and I spared just a second to give it a final, longing look.

"I'm…actually not hungry. You can have it," I said, resigned, and held it out to Toothless. When he shook his head, I pushed it towards him, trying to beg with my eyes for him to just take it.

Toothless lowered his ears and frills, crooning out an apology. He grabbed the rest of what was my breakfast, swallowing it in one gulp. As he did so, he made extra-sure to give my father a nasty look.

In the dim sunrise, it was hard to see anything. Usually it would have made Dad hard to read, true to his namesake. Instead he looked wracked with guilt; his brows heavy over his eyes, jaw clenched, lips pressed together.

I turned away. I guess I'd done a shoddy job at hiding my disappointment. Which meant that I'd just sent Dad yet another firm reminder that things were not the same anymore, even if we pretended that they were. I could almost feel the gap between us crack open more.

"Um, anyways," I said, "I got a lot of catching-up to do at work."

In a second Dad's momentary weakness was gone. "I...see. I'll bring you more food for lunch," he said. "No need to take some from a dragon, alright?" He said the last bit almost as a joke, trying to smile.

"It's pretty tasty—you should try it," I said. I was actually serious, although I wasn't sure if Dad caught on.

Dad grimaced and shuddered. "I'll pass on that." He stepped to the side and motioned me forward. "Alright, off to work. I've got to organize some trade, but I'll be sure to stay in the area."

The same mixed feelings from yesterday came upon me. It was almost comforting to hear that Dad was making sure to stay nearby in light of yesterday's…incident. Yet at the same time, all I wanted to do was jump on Toothless' back and take off, away from everyone and everything.

I met my father's eyes again. He was struggling to look "normal", so much that even I noticed. His face was cast in stone, but his eyes were swimming with guilt and confusion and, as much as I hated it, fear. I wondered how I looked to him—did I look just as conflicted as I felt?

I already knew the answer, of course.

I nodded, realizing that I hadn't said anything. As an afterthought, "Thanks, Dad."

We stood there for a moment, basking in the disconnect. Toothless immediately grew tired of it and nudged me.

"I'll, uh, see you later," I said.

"Alright. Work hard." I turned away, only to squeak when Dad shot a hand out and grabbed me. He looked deep into me and begged, "And please, Hiccup, if anything goes wrong, come and tell me." He squeezed my arms. "I promise you, I'll help you."

I swallowed and nodded, and Dad finally released me. I turned and scurried into the forge with Toothless hot on my heels. Gobber made a sarcastic comment to me about being late, but I was too caught up looking back outside to listen.

Dad stood alone in the darkened street, his head hanging and face cast in shadow. For several moments he looked broken, defeated. Then he seemed to shake it off, and with a final glance towards the smithy, he turned his back and walked away.

He thought that I hated him.

It was so obvious, and it stung in a deep way that made it hard to breathe or think. It wasn't news to me at all. I would often lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling or stars and mulling it over. I didn't hate him; he was my father. I had to love him. I wanted to, and I knew that he felt the same about me.

It was just…really hard to. It was clear that Dad was doing his best to fix things, but the Viking Way of resolving conflict wouldn't work; it was what started this whole mess in the first place. So he just tried with every bit of strength in him to bring everything back to the norm, no matter how impossible it really was. No matter how much worse it made the both of us feel.

I watched him go, the distance between us ever-increasing. Eventually Toothless made his way over to me, wrapping a wing around me and guarding me from the sight.

o.O.o

The sun rose, and with the light it brought came work.

Everything that had happened yesterday weighed like a mountain on my mind. I felt distant, like I wasn't actually there, like any moment now something would happen. More than once, I was shaken out of a daze by either Gobber or Toothless.

Gobber himself was acting funny, being overly-nice to me. I had a feeling it had something to do with Dad talking to him earlier this morning. Still, he was the same mentor I'd always had, with no tolerance for slacking off.

"Here, smooth this one out for me—it's got a nasty nick in it," Gobber said to me about an hour after our arrival. He thrust a sword right into my arms.

Chills raced down my spine. My stomach twisted. I wrenched away from the weapon, clutching at my abdomen and sucking in faint breaths to fight off the nausea. Toothless was at my side in an instant, a deep growl rising in his throat.

Gobber watched the entire thing play out with a knowing look in his eyes. Without saying a word, he took the sword off the ground. "Well, actually," he drawled, "I think I need yer help with some molds instead. This hunk 'a junk isn't worth the effort."

He didn't ask me to work on weapons again.

I tried to fill the void by helping Gobber like I had been yesterday, handing him tools and helping out where I could. Whenever there was truly nothing else I could do, I retreated to my old workroom and distracted myself by scribbling with a charcoal pencil and paper, pausing periodically to stretch my hands when they cramped up. Writing runes was still impossible—so taking notes on Toothless' and my new dragon language was out the window.

Instead I drew. I couldn't hold the pencil normally, forced to clasp it in a fist. The feeling of loss, of wanting something I used to have, opened a pit in my stomach. I trudged on anyways in an effort to forget it.

Spheres and rectangles were first, since they were nice, simple shapes. Then trees and mountains, which could look somewhat recognizable even with my shaking hand. Toothless hovered behind me the entire time, eyes huge and inquisitive. At one point, I offered the charcoal pencil to him, and he gleefully smashed it right into the paper, snapping it in half and flattening the point.

Needless to say, Toothless wasn't allowed to draw using pencils anymore.

While my drawing time was short, I found myself relaxing more and more as I moved the pencil across the paper and heard the familiar scritching sound that had once filled many sleepless nights. I certainly wasn't making masterpieces, and they weren't even close to being up to par with what I used to be able to do. Despite this, it was almost therapeutic, taking my mind off of all of the problems the outside world threw at me and giving me just a few minutes of reprieve.

My hands ached, and sharp stings of pain shot through them. There was still a sense of wrong, of unnaturalness, of oddity to it all. But my life was full of that now, and this was at least a good thing. It was hard to push it aside, to draw my mind into focus, but I kept doing it anyways.

Lunchtime rolled around, and instead of eating, I sat in the back and doodled away. Gobber was all kinds of unhappy with this, complaining about how Dad would get annoyed at him for not giving me a break, but I brushed him off. It's not like he would know.

For some time, it was blissfully quiet. I'd managed to make a somewhat-decent scribble that kind of looked like a Shadow-Blender if you looked at it from the right angle and used your imagination. I picked it up and felt the inner artist inside me die a little bit at the blatant errors caused by my unsteady hand. Still, I turned to Toothless with a big smile.

"Look!" I said, brandishing the picture. "It's us! W-well, you, anyways."

Toothless drew closer with a raised eyebrow. "Toothless, Hiccup?" He asked.

"What, isn't it obvious?" I said. "Can't you see it's highly stylized?" I waved at the image dramatically, like I was showing off some expensive, intricately-decorated ship.

"This?" Toothless chuckled. He made a huge show of leaning back and forth and looking at the paper like there was food hidden in it. "This, yes?"

"Oh, come on, at least I didn't squish the pencil to pieces like a certain somebody."

He gave a dignified little snort as if the pencil had been asking for it. Then he perked up and pointed at the paper like a human would. His voice raised, and he made a distinct thrumming sound that trailed off at the end along with a click.

I tipped my head aside. "Um, paper?"

"No..."

"Drawing, then," I said, grinning when Toothless nodded several times.

"Toothless drawing!" He chirped, now pointing at himself. I scrunched my face up in confusion, and he repeated, "Toothless…drawing." He then stomped a foot on the ground.

"Okay, you lost me there," I said. "Are you saying it's a drawing of you?"

"No," Toothless said. He hummed, thinking.

I leaned in, focusing all of my concentration on him.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Wah!" I yelped, leaping to my feet and spinning around. My prosthetic caught on something and I stumbled to the ground. At the same time, Toothless jumped so high he hit his head on the roof. He ducked and pawed at it with an aggravated hiss. The end result was both of us sitting on the floor, moaning over little things.

To her credit, Astrid didn't laugh. She actually looked flustered, rushing forward to help. "O-oh, I'm sorry, lemme help you—!"

I flinched away from her hand, curling up and pressing my head against the ground. Astrid's eyes widened and she took a step backwards.

Toothless stood upright and helped me up. He gave Astrid one hell of a side-eye, rumbling in a suspicious tone. Honestly, I felt kind of the same.

I hadn't spoken to Astrid in some time. She had approached me shortly after I'd…recovered…and had apologized profusely for everything she'd done. It had been the first and only time I had ever seen Astrid Hofferson close to tears.

Like most people on Berk, I still hadn't a clue how to act around her. There was always that lurking anxiety that the moment I turned my back, I would be struck.

I knew Astrid would never do that. I knew she was sincere. I knew she felt terrible about how she had treated me in the past.

I knew that she had once tried to kill me, too.

Astrid cleared her throat. I started, realizing that I'd spaced out again and that she'd been waiting for me to say something.

"Um, what are you doing here, Astrid?" I finally asked. I tried to look out into the forge for Gobber, but he was still on lunch break and nowhere to be found.

"I was actually looking for you," Astrid said, brightening. "I saw Gobber leave for lunch and thought I'd sneak in." She shifted uncomfortably and then steeled herself, straightening with determination. "I came here to talk about yesterday."

I looked at Toothless, who shifted closer and wrapped his tail around me. He glared at her for a second before…giving up?

"Thank you," Toothless sighed. He ducked his head for just a second, even if it was done with quite a bit of reluctance.

My jaw hit the floor. Toothless, thanking Astrid? For what?

"What is it?" Astrid asked, looking between the two of us with increasing alarm. She cringed guiltily. "I-I'm sorry, Hiccup, I should've known that it's a sensitive topic. Gods, I'm an idiot."

"N-no, it's fine," I said, pawing at the air and then flinching at the stinging pain associated with the movement. "Toothless is actually…glad?" I gave him a confused look. He rolled his eyes and huffed.

"He's probably just glad about Stormfly. She did all the work," Astrid said, relieved. She looked up and met my eyes evenly. "That's also why I'm here, though."

She took an eager step forward. I frowned, moving backwards and closer to Toothless. Every inch of me was prickling with nervous energy. My little drawing area, which had been warm and inviting minutes ago, was now trapping me here. I was suddenly aware of how small the room was, how dark it was, the choking scent of smoke, the way I could barely make out any fine details like I'd been blinded. I wanted out, but Astrid was blocking the way and I wasn't big enough to rush past her anymore.

"And…what would that be…?" I asked, eyes darting back and forth.

"Well, I noticed that Stormfly was really protective of me yesterday—she taught Dogsbreath a lesson for sure." A proud grin slid across her face before she grew serious again. "A lot of people are scared that the dragons here are only nice because you two are here, Hiccup. But Stormfly didn't have to save me like that, even if you were in the line of fire."

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. That didn't stop a sinking feeling from settling in my gut, sending adrenaline shooting through my body. That incident had happened right outside, and here we were, trapped…

Toothless wrapped a wing around me and threw his head with a grunt. Get to the point, he was saying.

Astrid took notice and bit her lip, her confidence waning. "I was wondering if we could somehow…show people that dragons are tame now. That way people would be less scared, and things like what happened yesterday wouldn't happen." She held up a hand and her voice hardened. "Don't get me wrong—Dogsbreath is a total jerk and deserves every day of punishment he got, but when you think about it, he did all that because he doesn't feel safe around the dragons. I think that we should—"

Dogsbreath didn't feel safe? That was the point?

My snarl echoed off the walls. Astrid froze where she stood and held a hand to her mouth, face pale and eyes huge. Even Toothless, usually well-prepared for anything, let out a surprised yelp.

I realized far, far too late what I'd done. Time almost stopped around me as I took it all in, suddenly aware of my painfully-hammering heart, the ringing in my ears, the gasping way I was breathing as if I'd been running for a long time. The quiet that I had enjoyed earlier was now deafening, suffocating.

Astrid and I stared into each other's eyes, neither of us having the slightest clue what to do.

"I…I'm sorry, Hiccup," she whispered, almost like she was afraid of breaking the silence.

My face burned. I turned away from her as Toothless held me close, wanting nothing more than to hide somewhere dark and alone and never come out again. Shame blasted through me as I cursed my own recklessness and stupidity. It was exactly this kind of thing that would land Toothless and me in huge trouble. It was dumb luck that it had been Astrid at the end of it and not someone like Dogsbreath.

"Dragons aren't tame, Astrid." I swallowed, making sure to keep her in my peripheral vision. "They're not pets. W—they're just as scared as the villagers, too."

Astrid regained her confidence so fast I was a little jealous. She nodded and stated, "Then we need to work on fixing that. Both ways."

She was right, but this was the last thing I wanted to talk about. "I'll think of something later," I muttered.

"A…alright." Astrid shifted in place. I felt her gaze driving into me, waiting. She shuffled and then bent over. I almost thought she was bowing until she straightened up and held something out to me. "Here—you dropped this."

I twisted back towards her, taking in the confused yet pitied look she was giving me. It just made everything worse. To avoid it, I grabbed the poorly-drawn picture of the Shadow-Blender from her with a short, "Thanks."

The picture was bent and dirty. I traced my hand over the lines, if they could even be called that. It really was nearly impossible to see that it was a Shadow-Blender. The drawing was just too clumsy, even for a normal Viking. It was something in-between; barely a dragon, barely the work of a human.

I crumpled up the paper and threw it aside. Toothless whined in concern.

"Hiccup…?"

"It was a bad drawing anyways."