A/n: GAHHHH I UPDATED THE WRONG CHAPTER WOW. Excuse me while I die a little haha ugh. Sorry, sorry...

Also sorry for such long waits, but there's not a whole lot left. Gonna try and get the Red Death all in one chapter, then it'll just be the epilogue and bonus sexy times. ^^ So three long chapters left, yaaay! Enjoy~


Vast metal doors rattled against their firm bolt. Men's and women's voices rose together as one thick, brutish cry, ringing above the arena's chain ceiling. Treble descants of giggling children danced across the bass motif of stomping feet. A small, lone figure wandered past battle dome's stone threshold, onto the wide expanse of stone, into the center of the entire village's eye. All were there, grabbing at the black fencing surrounding the dome, awaiting their ceremonial blood bath. When they saw their little champion, the crowd's violent opus erupted into climactic polyphony, each voice breaking from the unified cheer into their own wild, individual melodies.

From the throne whereupon the village chief sat, a name was chanted, and the dispersing voices wove back together under that name.

"Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup!"

The boy in the arena hefted a shield over his quivering chest, and lifted his little hunter's knife in his white-knuckled grip. Against the sickly green surrounding his shrunken pupils, there lay the image of trembling metal doors, and in past the folds of his ears traveled a demonic roar, coming from behind that thudding metal.

Taking in a long, tight breath, Hiccup nodded. The man on the throne gave the order, and the bolt on the doors was lifted.

Flames gushed forth. From within the stone cell, a beast with narrow limbs and a long neck clambered out, thick claws clinging to the chain ceiling. Its strange body was engulfed in fire, jaw vast and filled with hideous teeth. When it spotted the boy, the dragon dropped from its perch, ignoring the shouting Vikings to approach this quiet little human.

Hiccup had never tamed a Monstrous Nightmare before. This was a dragon caught within the last few nights, kept under careful watch and locked tight. Only the bravest warriors dared face a Monstrous Nightmare, for the beasts were larger than the others, spines lined with spikes and vast wings ending at vicious claws, and their entire bodies could at any moment alight with deadly flame.

There was no choice. The boy had to trust that the Nightmare could accept an offering of peace, as his captive kin had.

It was that, or facing the monster's fire.

As the beast crept towards Hiccup, claws clacking against stone with every step, the boy spread his arms, and let his shield and knife fall.

The crowd's voices swelled with confused whispers. Keeping his eyes low, Hiccup slowly lifted his palm. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay..."

Red nostrils flared a few inches from the boy's hand. He could feel gusts of the beast's breath hitting his skin.

Concerned whispers turned to troubled cries. "Stop the fight," the chief ordered slowly.

"No," insisted the boy, raising his other hand to the crowd to quiet them. "Wait, watch... we don't have to fight them."

The creature edged forward, eyeing the boy's passive gesture with calm curiosity.

A hammer slammed down against the dome's metal fencing. "Stop the fight!" bellowed the chief once more.

The sudden noise of reverberating metal, irritating to any dragon's ears, frightened a snarl from the red beast, and its jaws parted over the boy's offered palm. Hiccup drew back with a gasp, just before that array of teeth could close around his hand. In the Nightmare's eyes there was only fear, and through fearful eyes it saw not a gentle boy, but only another of those murderous men who'd captured him and his kinsmen. The dragon gave chase after his little enemy, and the boy ran, stumbling away from the fiery breath with a terrified scream.

...

Even a human's inept little ears could pick up the distant shouts in the village, all the way from the valley where the Night Fury lay curled in rest. His hearing stretched farther than any man's, so every strange cry from the gathered villagers struck as though they stood just beyond the cliff. Toothless listened to what he knew must be the ritual his friend was to take part in today, squinting at the grassy earth as he tried to follow the event according to the crowd's tone.

His concentration began to slip as the same irritating noises kept sounding, cries for blood and cries for glory – all ugly shouts Toothless already knew too well from past battles between man and beast. Thoughts instead began to wander elsewhere, towards a monster lodged within a mountain, towards a manmade tail useless without a pilot, and towards a boy's breaking voice and fear-laden eyes beneath him...

Then something changed in the many voices from the village. No longer was there cheering, but hushed, fretful chattering, rising suddenly to desperate shouts. Toothless' yellow eyes turned from the grass blades to the grayish skies, brow creasing.

There was a sound amid the cries, cracked and sharp, yet familiar.

At once, the Night Fury rose, rigid and wide-eyed. He heard the sound again, a voice full of terror, struggling against short breath.

It was Hiccup.

...

"Hiccup!" Astrid screamed through the crisscrossed metal of the arena gate. She drove her axe under the door hinges, wedging it in until the door lifted, just enough for her to scramble past it.

The dragon was gaining on the skinny boy, and there was nowhere to run except round and round.

With a battle cry, the maiden flung her axe at the creature's head. It hit – on the blunt side. The Nightmare's ferocious face twisted in her direction, and barreled after the warrior. Unarmed, the Viking girl doubled back to the gate, where the burly chief darted to and heaved the door wide open.

She passed back into the stone threshold, turning to see that Hiccup was also coming. He bolted for the entrance, but flame suddenly shot against it, forcing him back, and the Nightmare knocked the boy into the stone flooring with its massive tail.

...

Toothless clambered up the cliff walls, sliding as his claws sought for a grip. One frantic thought drove his limbs, one voice screaming in his ears, one name thudding in his heart. Wings outstretched, the half-dragon launched himself up as high as he could, until claws finally, finally hooked over the cliff's edge.

...

Hiccup's sight skewed and clouded. He dizzily pushed himself partway up from the ground, holding his head to right it – then claws suddenly forced him down again, encasing him in a dark, dagger-sharp hold. One of the Nightmare's claws pricked his shoulder, another his lower arm, another his hip. Blood spilled from the slashes.

The boy's voice lifted in pain, eyes shut and streaming. He pushed desperately against the confines of the Nightmare's grasp, but the beast could not be stirred. It loomed over its catch, menacing jaws parting.

...

The Night Fury traveled the forest path almost as quickly as if he were flying. He followed the shouts, leaping over logs and branches, dashing madly for the village – not caring that only death awaited those of dragon blood, because what also lay with that peril was something worth a thousand deaths.

...

Red scales pressed down over Hiccup's torso. The boy fought to breathe. His voice choked over his dripping wounds.

Here death had finally come, bearing down over the slender, breaking body with beady eyes and a gaping, fanged mouth. Death, that passage most feared by man, most shrouded in mystery, was the only route left to the squirming boy.

And in his last moments, as an end to a young life drew near, the boy thought of doting yellow eyes, and dark arms enfolding him in a field of billowing tall grass.

But death never struck.

A familiar screech bellowed over the mayhem, and an explosion crumbled along the chain-linked dome. Past the swinging metal ropes swept a black shape, into the cloud of rubble dust.

The red dragon released Hiccup, drawing back into the gray. As the haze began to part, the Nightmare could be seen thrashing wildly at a creature latched to its neck, clawing and scraping and snapping teeth over scales. The Nightmare tossed its head, and the Night Fury was thrown from its perch, landing by the boy's side.

Black scales and lightning-white teeth filled Hiccup's vision as Toothless crouched over him. The dragon man hissed at the Nightmare, wild eyes and sharp mouth screaming danger. Hiccup had never seen the Night Fury wear such untamed malice.

As the red dragon charged, the half-dragon leapt to face the other beast. It stared him in the eye, smoking hisses driveling from between its fangs. But as the Night Fury rounded on the bigger creature, the Nightmare began to back away. Its nostrils took in the scent of dragon, but mixed into it was something ancient and formidable.

No dragon could mistake the otherworldly scent of those strange, manlike creatures that sometimes descended from the heavens and commanded all things, and all things obeyed – their blood told of unparalleled might, unquestioned threat to even the most powerful dragons.

Slowly, the Monstrous Nightmare yielded. It retreated into its cell, growling lowly all the way.

Hiccup climbed to his feet, swaying as he scrambled to Toothless. The half-dragon turned, catching the boy as he reached out to him.

"Go," the boy rasped, pushing urgently against the arms holding him fast. "Toothless, hurry!"

The villagers poured into the battle arena, encircling the unknown monster and the boy in his clutches. Their eyes burned and their weapons hovered.

Black arms gripped tighter around the wounded youth. Toothless met the approaching Vikings with a narrow glare, and a vicious snarl. They did this. These were the creatures that let Hiccup fall to a Nightmare's claws, trapped in a cage, on display for all the village to see. As they surrounded him, all he saw was a threat closing in on his beloved human.

They charged. Finally releasing Hiccup, the Night Fury knocked men aside like they were twigs, their weapons scattering along the stone ground. Hiccup shouted and tried to intervene between the violent collision of his secret and his home, but there were blades and claws and he couldn't get close to his scaly friend.

His father rushed the Night Fury. Toothless drove the man down with an easy lash of fists, looming over the chieftain with a blazing stare.

"Toothless stop!"

Hiccup's cry went unheeded. The half-dragon parted his fanged jaws over his enemy, over the danger to his dearest friend. Nothing but rage was left in him.

"No," gasped the boy, struggling to reach the fray of father and friend. The Viking chief may have been a callous, small-minded and unlistening sire to his only son. But he was his only father.

The Night Fury gathered his flame. The chieftain's eyes grew wide.

Then a desperate scream traveled the arena.

At the very sound that brought him here, Toothless closed his mouth and looked back to the boy. Hiccup looked so frightened – and the fright was aimed at him.

A confused growl rumbled in the Night Fury's throat as he released the Viking from under him. "Hiccup...?"

These people tried to hurt him. How could the boy forgive that?

But just as the half-dragon stepped away from the chief, a pair of hands wielding a rope swung over the black head, yanking on his neck. The creature fell back, gripping at the bind over his throat. Before he could rip it out of the Viking's hands, the surrounding Vikings all leapt at once, ramming their shields into the dark devil. He was down in a matter of moments, breath wheezing in thinly from within the throng of warriors upon him.

Blood smattered the weapons.

"Don't hurt him!" was Hiccup's raspy plea, running in and dragging at a warrior's elbow. But he was knocked back. "No, don't! Please..."

The Vikings didn't kill their new catch. Instead, the rising chieftain ordered it be imprisoned with the others.

Then his hard, hard eyes turned to Hiccup. He'd never looked more furious in the boy's life. Grabbing his son by the ear, the man dragged him from the arena, leading them wordlessly to the village hall.

He left the torches unlit, the only light from the tall doorway left open behind them. As Stoick threw his son forward, it cast Hiccup in a sharp glare amid the dark.

"All this time..." the man gruffly murmured. "Everything in the ring... a trick? A lie?"

"I— father, I can explain—"

"I should have known," cut in the chieftain, pacing angrily in the thinning strip of light. "You were never a slayer."

The boy gulped down the rising throb in his throat. "I – I made a mistake... father I know I did but please," he stepped boldly closer to his fuming sire. "Take this out on me, be angry with me... just don't hurt Windwalker."

Stoick whipped his fiery gaze around. "That – that devil?" he seethed. "Your fears are for him? Not all the people he would have killed!"

"He was protecting me!" insisted Hiccup, arms flinging out helplessly. "He's no danger to you, none of them are!"

"No danger?" A wild tone strung over the man's voice as he towered threateningly over his son. "They've killed hundreds of us!"

"And we've killed thousands of them!" Hiccup shouted back, meek nature utterly snapping under the day's countless strains. His boyish features were contorted with anger now, years of frustration and unheard misery erupting from the confines of patience. In a smaller voice, still trembling with furious fervor, the boy tried to explain.

"They, they only defend themselves... they raid us because they're forced to. If they don't bring enough back to eat, they'll be eaten themselves... there's, there's something else on their island, father, something beyond anything—"

But his father interrupted, eyes aglow with new interest. "Their island," he repeated huskily. "So you've been to the nest..."

Hiccup's own eyes gaped. Oh no...

"N-no, I—"

"How did you find it?" Stoick demanded.

Squirming away from his gigantic father's imposing shadow, the boy just shook his head. "I didn't," he answered desperately. "Only a dragon can find it."

Stoick's face took on a dark conviction, eyes raising to look out past the doorway, on to the ships at bay.

The boy read his father's face with a horrified stare. "No – father, no, there's a dragon – it's like nothing you've ever seen!" But the man ignored him, moving away to the entrance with the step of a conqueror. "I promise you, you can't win this!" Hiccup called after him, scrambling to meet his father's stride. "Father – for once in your life, please listen!"

He grabbed his father's sleeve. The man's elbow lashed back, slamming the boy down to the floor. His closing cuts stung from the sharp impact.

The man turned, a dark silhouette in the daylight. "You've thrown your lot in with them," he said spitefully. "You're not a Viking."

Hiccup just panted from under the figure's vast shadow.

"You're not my son."

And the chieftain turned, slamming the door behind him. It bounced off the hinges, slipping open again ajar. A slim streak of day was all that lit Hiccup's aghast eyes.

The boy didn't rise. He only sat there, shallow chest hauling thick breaths into him.

What had he done...

Everything once his was taken from him in one fell swoop. His people, his father, and his one, truest friend – gone was their newfound faith, their pride, their love.

And the life of the one he'd only so recently come to... to harbor this deepest care for... that life was now forfeit.

All their lives were forfeit if his father led them to that island.

And there was nothing Hiccup could do to stop it.

Stricken green hid away behind his eyelids, and from within their quivering asylum walls, hot droplets escaped. But not a sound filled the empty hall, save deep, shattered breaths.

...

Onto the mighty ships, the Vikings loaded the Night Fury on a plank, a muzzle fitted over his face, and layers upon layers of metal roped around his limbs. The creature thrashed about, rattling his confines, but so many there were, he could not break them.

All the soldiers so soon after their homecoming piled back into the sea vessels, waving their new certainty of finding their enemy's base like a flag o'er their proud heads. Children and elders bade another farewell, obediently letting go of what only just wandered back to their waiting arms.

From the cliff tops above the port, Hiccup watched them cast off the isle with his closest friend in chains. His dappled cheeks were dry, eyes red and glistening but dammed firmly against tears. He only looked on, standing stilly under the crushing weight of helplessness.

Footsteps approached, and at his side appeared Astrid's stern complexion. She kept her grave eyes on the parting ships over the wide, restless sea.

Neither spoke for a time.

"Why didn't you kill him?" the young woman's voice cut over the speechless sounds of sea winds and distant gulls. "When you first met the... your friend," Astrid shifted her weight in a show of discomfort. "You said you caught him in your sling. So why didn't you kill him when the chance was given?"

She seemed to be genuinely curious. What compelled a boy whose honor depended on the slaying of a dragon to spare its life?

"I don't know..." the boy murmured back. The sound was tired, and thin. "Maybe I should have."

If he could take back that moment in the woods, and change his choice... Hiccup would have had his first kill, his father would have paraded his dragon slayer of a son, and Toothless would have known no pain.

Never would any of them have imagined a world beyond this simple, Viking against dragon existence.

And maybe not knowing was better than knowing when you were powerless.

"You brought him down," the warrior maiden began quietly. "You caught a Night Fury. And you just let him go."

The boy shrugged slightly, tiring of her pressing. "I couldn't kill him."

"Why?"

A frustrated sigh prefaced his reply. "What does it matter now?"

"Did he flee?"

"No—"

"Did he fight back?"

"No, he was tied, why are you—"

"You took down a Night Fury Hiccup!" Astrid reiterated sharply, following the boy as he tried to turn away from her. "Yet you chose to set him free."

Hiccup didn't understand why she kept jabbing this point at him. It was all said and done now. What difference did any of this make?

"You're no coward, Hiccup," the girl answered his unspoken question in her clear, steady voice. "And you're not a helpless runt. Any of us would kill a dragon at the first chance, yet you – you spoke to one. You flew with one. And here you mope as though you can do nothing!"

Agog, the boy just blinked at the girl's fiercely spoken words. "Nothing... nothing can be done..." he said slowly, shaking his head. The scrawny boy couldn't outdo anyone in a match, let alone his father – let alone the Red Death.

Astrid straightened, leveling her glaring blue eyes on him. "So said the first man to ride a dragon."

Withered hope began to rekindle in Hiccup's steadying heart.

The ferocious warrior girl reminded him that blind, brute force was the way of the Vikings – but it was not his way. And his was the way that caught the uncatchable Night Fury in a clever snare, that restored the flight stolen from a downed creature of the sky, that tamed the fiercest beings with a gentle pat of his hand – that made possible the impossible.

Maybe... there was a way.

"Now," said the girl expectantly, crossing her arms and staring as though not at a boy, but a chieftain's heir. "What will we do?"

Hiccup pursed his brow in thought. There were no vessels left in the harbor, no way to follow after the ships – except...

"...Something crazy."

...

Snout once more just beneath his palm, the soothed Monstrous Nightmare stepped closer to Hiccup in the calm, almost empty arena. Every captive dragon was unleashed, happily accepting slimy offerings of fish and scratches behind the ears. Behind Hiccup, a small group of young Vikings watched their idolized peer in amazement.

He was unafraid of the dragons. He walked among them like one of their own kind, and they welcomed his gentle touch with such harmless enthusiasm.

Their elders hadn't seen this wonder, wouldn't have tarried to witness it if asked to. But the adolescents followed the blue-eyed Viking girl and the green-eyed dragon boy, the two most formidable of their peers in their different ways.

One by one, the boy led each of the Vikings to a dragon, slowly talking them through a peace offering from man to beast. The dragons, already used to Hiccup's kindness, purringly acknowledged the new humans. With slow, steady coaxing of both parties, Hiccup made pairs of riders and steeds, sealing partnerships between the two enemies in this last chance to stop his father, and to rescue his friend.


A/n: Yeahhh bearing down, we're gonna get there I know it!

Thanks for reading! Have a good day~