The chief was a busy man and even in his spare time, was found doing something for the betterment of his village.

When Hiccup had come home that evening, it had been the promised meeting with Professor Doyle, Heather's father. The stocky man was on his way out the door just as the boy came in, his daughter following quickly behind him.

She'd thanked him quietly on the way out, but slipped away after a few seconds towards her father's car. She always was a strange girl.

Stoick had retreated up to the attic, and by the time Hiccup had found him, he'd torn half the boxes apart looking for one in particular.

He settled on a cardboard one labeled "Val's." It was his writing, not hers, awkwardly penned with something far too small for his hands. As a kid, Hiccup would often sneak up and go through that particular box himself, which had mostly been filled with old drawings, notebooks, old texts she'd found and little treasures she'd kept over the years. What wasn't there was locked in the basement safe, anything of value, or anything his father wanted to keep out of the boy's curious little hands.

What had made him go through it now?

His father hadn't heard him climb the ladder, and paid no mind until he sat down cross-legged next to him.

"She was an odd one, your mother." His voice was quiet, so unfamiliar, not quite sad, but not happy either. Reminiscent might describe it best, but it still wasn't quite the word. At least for once he was calm. Valka's old things had that affect. "She used to sit outside the enclosures and watch the beast, tried to learn 'bout them, we were all surprised when she didn't try and be a biologist. Kept these notebooks with 'er all the time. Had all these notes about them, she and Doyle's wife used to talk about it all the time. They had this crazy idea ye could make peace with 'em. Surprised she never tried to climb in one of the cages, wouldna put it past her."

"Is that what Heather's dad wanted? To see her notes?"

"If I can find them. Haven't been up here in years."

That he couldn't doubt, the old books where covered in dust so thick he couldn't just blow it away. Once cleared, he could make out her delicate writing, the pencil lines smudged over the years. Each page of this particular one was filled with sketches, presumably from the late 80's, and the later ones going into the 90's. Many of them were of dragons, Nadders, Gronkles, Nightmares, whatever she could observe from her perch in the sanctuary. Facts were scribbles in near many of these, wingspan, size, speed, temperament, in some even which fish they prefered.

Eel seemed to be a common dislike for all of them.

When she wasn't watching the dragons, the other pages were filled with her peers, her family and her friends. He recognized his father in a lot of them, before he'd grown out his beard. He was only about half the size he was now, his girlfriend at the time, the tall auburn haired girl who'd someday become his wife reached just to his shoulders.

Sketches of whom he had assumed had been her friends filled the other pages. Gerda Hofferson wielding the same axe her daughter would swing one day, Ilsa Ingerman with Brynn Thornson, the later throwing an arm aggressively over the former, but smiles plastered both their faces.

Gobber before his amputations was perhaps the most striking of them all, until he turned the final page. Folded and tucked away in the book's bindings was a smaller, rougher sketch than her others. His eyes widened.

She'd drawn a girl with a dragon, not fighting, not fearing one other, but as friends.

Hiccup tucked the drawing into his pocket before his father ever even looked up.

"No one knew how to kept those beast under control like she did. They'd call her to the lab almost every day when she was young, some unruly beast sneaking out of it's enclosure. I don't know what she did, skinny thing she was, but a dragon never got passed her."

"Is that why he wants her old notes?"

The chief shook his head. "He says that they want to train them, crazy ba—"

"You can do that?"

"What? Train a dragon?" The chief scowled. "Ye can't train a mindless beast son, not like they want. They're dragons, not dogs or horses. ye can keep them captive, keep them scared, but they'll never obey you. It'd be suicide to try."

"Did she try?"

"Go run this to them."

"But—"

"Now Hiccup."


The female Professor Doyle was a bit more helpful in answering his questions. She joyfully flipped through the pages of the old notebook, nostalgic stories of her former university peer accompanying many of the segments. Upon their graduation from the mainland, the Professor, Emily, had followed her Berkian friends back to the island, seeking out the lab that as she claims, "had changed her life forever."

"If anyone could have talked some sense into those dragons Mr. Hiccup, it would have been your mother. Bright thing she was, she had a way with them. They'd watch her when she came up, almost studying her. Just like she studied them." The professor paused for a moment, a giggle escaping her lips as a thought came to mind. "It's almost like they have a sixth sense, really. Musta known there was something special about her. That's why we need her old book, she might give us some insight so we can learn to do it ourselves."

Had she been with dragons like he had been last night? The night fury had watched him just like the professor described. Curious, if anything.

"Did she do that a lot?"

"Almost every day, your father used to worry that she'd do something crazy and fly on a dragon or something, he loved her more than anyone I've ever seen, doesn't mean he wasn't scared to lose her, you know. That girl suffered from wanderlust, flying woulda been her best route if she could ever figure it out."

"Could someone do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fly on a dragon? Like, is that physically possible?"

The professor leaned against the fence that separated them from the smaller dragons. She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Curious."

She shrugged. "That's what she would say too, I bet. And you could, by the way, should you ever be able to get close enough to a dragon to try. That being said, they purposely keep their distance from humans. Something about not nuzzling the hand carrying a battle axe."

In the enclosure held a smaller nadder, young, with a misshaped and torn wing held tightly to it's body.

"Poor thing, got caught in one of the traps, and struggled a bit too much. The wing would heal if they'd let us touch it. It's better for us that's its contained and docile, but it's cruel for it to suffer like that." She sighed. "Nothing worse than seeing a dragon with a damaged wing or tail, they can't fly, they can't escape. It's easiest for us to study them, but not humanely. Poor dear… If only we could rebuild the destroyed—"

The conversation was cut short the same many so many just like it where, by the screeching sound of sirens that flooded the building. Professor Winslet and his minions ran past him on his way out towards their private bunker.

Hiccup, for once in his life, as directed ran towards the opposite exit, back towards the village, where he would for once in his life, do what he was supposed to do and sharpen weapons until his hands fell off. (Remarkably, he noted, that they didn't.)

Of course, with any change, someone on Berk was bound to notice. Unfortunately, this time it was Gobber.

As the raid came to an end, the dragons that were captured locked away in crowded cells, Hiccup confined himself to his tony section of the shop, a little kn

"What are ye doin'?" the smith asked as he shoved back the curtain, "yer never here this late."

Hiccup quickly moved his current papers underneath him and pulled out his decoy math homework. "Oh you know, homework, work stuff, um,—"

"Aye, sure ye are, and did ya—"

"It's all done." the boy jumped up quickly and gathered his notes. "I'd better get home before Dad starts to worry and you know, ugh—" he zipped his booked bag shut, and quickly scanned for anything he might be forgetting, "G'night Gobber!"

Hiccup's flew down the stairs, taking all his belongings except for one. A ripped print off form the internet.

"What does that boy eve' need ta know 'bout lizard tales fer?

I'm sooo sorry this is so late, a lot has been going on and I just haven't been able to write. There was a mass shooting and the murderer was on the loose just outside my city for days, and once they finally caught him, it took a while for life to get back to normal. I'm hoping to update again on Saturday and get back on schedule, I'm super sorry this is late.