Hiccup had always stayed up late, most nights, it was draw, to invent, or just to daydream. These days, he would be working in the forge or the tannery, making improvements to the tail that he had so kindly given Astrid. The tweaks and repairs were important, but they paled in comparison to his latest project. It had taken him a while to gather all the necessary material to make what he was planning. A full third of Berk's leather supplies had gone missing since he had started, as well as half the small supply of fine yew wood, and he was running out of room in his workshop to hide it all. Luckily, no one ever went directly into the chief's house, and the only person who ever went into the forge's storerooms was Gobber, who either didn't notice or didn't care. Hiccup had always been inventing and creating weird and wonderful failures, so what trouble was another one?

If his father had not been out searching for the nest, he would surely have been caught by now. His nightly disappearances would not have gone unnoticed, and the changes to the supplies would have been very suspicious, especially if there had been no dragon attack. Nothing happened on the island without his father knowing about it. As it happened, Spitelout didn't quite have the same eye for details, and blamed the disappearances without hesitation on the twins. Astonishingly enough, they admitted to taking it, despite having no recollection of ever having done so. He guessed that they had been smoking too much of that grass that Astrid liked.

It was just as well that Berk didn't have much need for leather, as everyone who was anyone used fur, wool, and pure Viking bloodlust to stay warm. Leather was seen as a needless accessory, only used for covering shields and wrapping round the handles of weapons.

But Hiccup wasn't working on a shield or a weapon. Every night when he crept out of his father's house, avoiding the night watchmen and drunken warriors staggering back to their home, he would travel to the forge. There, in the back room, he would continue to build what would eventually become a saddle. Sure, he had ridden on Astrid a few more time after their first flight, but the rope was just too imprecise, too primitive.

The saddle could be hooked up to the tailfin via a basic lever system, that he could adjust with a pedal on one of the stirrups. The pedal would control two spars that linked with the tailfin, controlling both its angle and the width of the fin during flight. If he was correct, it would allow him to control the tail perfectly whilst sitting facing forward on Astrid's back. He would just have to learn how to use it first.

Night after night he had worked in the forge, gluing strips of leather around a yew wood frame. Over time, it would dry, and each layer would bind to the next, until it gave him a hardened leather seat that was durable enough to withstand flight, but also light and flexible enough to be worn comfortably by a dragon.

It was by far the most complex invention he had ever seen through to the finish. Normally, he created powerful weapons that would use huge ropes, springs and counterweights to fire or fling a net at oncoming dragons. With the saddle, his world was getting ever smaller as he had to design and build a working gear system, complete with tiny metal 'teeth' that slotted into each other as the fin folded and unfolded. It was difficult, but it was much stronger and more reliable than any rope system.

The only time he normally worked on such a micro scale was when he was etching decorative patterns into metal weapons. He had thought about personalising and the saddle in some way, but forced himself not to. He could spend days decorating his work if he let himself get carried away, and he needed to finish the saddle as soon as possible. That said, it was almost complete, and the only thing he had left to do was hook up the tail to the stirrup mechanism. To do that however, he would need to take the saddle to the cove, and fit it directly onto Astrid.

He thought about her more and more these days, until it seemed like not a moment of his day wasn't spent looking forward to their meeting or reminiscing about the last one. For the first time in years, it felt like there was a reason to get up in the mornings, to go out and face the day. Despite all the training, smithing, bullying and generally being the worst Viking that Berk had ever seen, he knew that he would always find himself back in the cove, savouring every moment with his best and only friend. The fact that she was also one of the deadliest species of dragon ever to grace the Archipelago just made it even more amazing.

But, his late night sessions had come at a price. Working through the nights and the mornings was taking its toll on his natural rhythm. It had become the norm for him to stagger to the cove in the early afternoon, straight after training, exhausted. They would talk for hours on end, before he inevitably drifted off to sleep, Astrid wrapping him up like a giant, living bed, until the early hours of the morning, when he would head straight back to the forge. His real bed had hardly been used, as he had discovered that sleeping in the arms of an overly protective dragon was a lot warmer, and more comfortable.

He had begun to pay more attention to her dragon speech, and although he would never be able to speak it himself, he was confident that he could learn to understand her meaning. He already recognised her most common phrases, and could more often than not guess at what she was saying anyway.

Often, he would draw. He brought his sketchbook with him everywhere, and it was the perfect way to vent all of his thoughts and frustrations. Astrid would watch him. He would sit leaning against her, with her head alongside his, or sometimes on his lap. He would draw everything, the cove, the trees, the birds. Most of the time, he would draw Astrid.

The walls of his room were covered with pictures of her, both before and after her transformation, although there were significantly more of her as a dragon than a human. There were innumerable different poses and expressions: wings out or in, mouth open or closed, teeth bared or sheathed. Happy, angry, sad, impressed, unimpressed, annoyed, sleepy and sleeping, the variety was astonishing. In flight, on the ground or curled up in a ball, each drawing in of itself was a joy to behold.

Dotted around, in between the images of the Night Fury, were drawings of the human Astrid, still hung on his wall since before she had changed. He rarely looked at her old pictures, they just didn't seem that interesting anymore. They were just pictures of some girl, with no substance to back them up. There was no real life figure to compare it to, with all the wonderful little intricacies and oddities that so crucially combined to make one's character. He might have been obsessed with her when he drew them, but that was before, when he was craving acceptance or social contact of any kind. To him, the pictures of that beautiful blond teen were pointless, empty.

The pictures of the dragon, on the other hand, would be forever associated with the happy memories he'd had drawing them. Each picture told a story, like the time she had caught a small fish in the lake all by herself, or had climbed a tree and fallen asleep hanging from her tail like a bat, or even the time she had inhaled instead of blown the seeds off a dandelion, and had descended into uncontrollable sneezing. Hiccup had studied Astrid meticulously, and could quickly create a near perfect likeness of her sleek, aerodynamic form with nothing but a pencil and his memory. They were more than just charcoal markings on scraps of old paper, they were the physical embodiment of the happiest times of his entire life.

Now, there was someone in his life who did listen to him, who valued his thoughts and feelings more than the size of his muscles. There was someone who he could finally relate to, alone in a world where everyone was out to get them. They could sit and stare up at the stars together, feeling like they were the only ones in the entire world, or at least the only ones that mattered.

There was nothing that they couldn't share with each other. Hiccup finally had somebody he could unload all of his feeling onto, having kept them bottled up for his entire life. She heard everything. All the times he was beat down and made to feel worthless by his peers, all the times he was publically shamed and humiliated by his father, and all the times he tried desperately to improve his life, be it through inventions or friendship, only for his hopes to be crushed for the hundredth time.

Astrid had a surprising amount of emotional baggage as well. Considering she had represented the ideal Viking for such a long time. Her endless pursuit to regain her family honour and avenge her uncle, years of being objectified by the boys in the worst possible way, her personality outright ignored, her tortuous memories of her father coming home drunk and attacking her mother when she tried to defend the children.

Maybe being a Viking wasn't all there was to life after all. Both had spent their entire lives striving to be accepted by the Village, to be honoured as real Viking warriors and dragon slayers. And yet, in just a few short weeks, they had found in each other, all the love and acceptance that they could ever need. Their huge physical differences were a just minor obstacle in their relationship, because ultimately their hearts were in the right place. Hiccup could see it. Whenever he was about to fall asleep in her wings, exhausted after a night of forging and a day of brutal training, their eyes would meet. There was more than just friendship in that look. There was love.

Astrid's tail was wagging in anticipation of his arrival. Hiccup had told her that he had no training today, and so he would be up extra early to finally fit her with the saddle. He had kept her updated every day with his progress. How well the glue was setting, how well the shape was forming, how well the pedals were working. The list of components just went on and on, but she had listened attentively, giving him feedback whenever she could.

It was criminal that he had been so thoroughly ignored by everyone all these years, herself included. His ability to think, invent and create had given her a new lease on life, and hope that she would one day escape the cove. Throughout their lives, Hiccup had always been reprimanded for his inventions. Inventing had never been seen as 'true' Viking pursuit, and as such his creations were deemed to be utterly useless, and that rubbed off on Hiccup a lot. He put his heart and soul into everything he built, and she wondered if he hadn't died a little on the inside every time they went horribly wrong, or his father destroyed them in front of everyone 'for the good of the village'. It was such a shame, for he truly was the most intelligent, caring and gentle Viking that Berk had ever seen. She only had to turn into a dragon to find out.

It never ceased to amaze her, not only how much raw talent he possessed, but how willing he was to use that talent to help her escape. No Viking in history had done what he had done, and she had a feeling that they were going to set another record today when they tried out the saddle for the first time.

She had completely conquered her dragon instincts when it came to him riding her. Whenever he climbed on top of her back, her feelings of fear and anxiety had been replaced with comfort and safety. The boy weighed practically nothing, and he had been so tired recently. Letting him ride on her back just seemed like the decent thing to do, and besides, he could always scratch her back in the places she never could reach. It was the little things like that which made his visits so pleasant and memorable. She could probably recall each and every stomach run that he had given her, if she tried.

Being a dragon wasn't easy, especially when she had grown up her entire life using her hands. Losing the ability to swing an axe, comb her hair, or even just eat without thrusting her head into a basket of fish were some of the most difficult things to come to terms with. For all her new found strength and power, losing her opposable thumbs had been painful, perhaps more than losing her ability to speak.

Hiccup made the whole ordeal bearable. He was her hands, doing all of the tricky, intricate jobs that required five dexterous digits and fine motor skills, back rubs not excluded. He completed her, and made her life worth living once again. Alone, she was just an overgrown, flightless lizard, living in a hole in the forest. With his help, she became a warrior, a dragon, a friend.

She heard the distinctive rustling as Hiccup approached. She barked with happiness and trotted over to the gap in the cliffs where he normally emerged. She considered jumping out and ambushing him, but thought better of it. She wouldn't want to damage the saddle that he had crafted lovingly over so many cold nights. Still, she wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Her ears swivelled back around. She could hear something a lot larger than just Hiccup pushing through the forest. The rustling became louder. She perked up and listened harder, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Something was approaching rapidly, or more accurately, somebody. Judging from the faint voices that she could make out above the sound of movement in the undergrowth, she was being approached by Vikings. There was more than one person coming towards the cove, and that could only mean one thing. It wasn't Hiccup.

She darted back away from the cliffs. They were downwind, which meant that she couldn't smell them, and they were probably a lot closer than they sounded. She scanned the cove, desperately searching for somewhere a jet black dragon could hide in broad daylight.

The trees, on the far side of the lake. They were her best and only option. She sprinted round the water, faster than she had ever moved before. Her usual walking style was gone, replaced with a frantic series of leaps and jumps. Rather than move each of her paws individually, she powered forward with both her hind legs at the same time. She practically flew across the cove.

Her heart was in her mouth, adrenalin pumping through her veins and it wasn't just from the running. These were her people, her village, but they were also her enemies. If they found her they would not show mercy, not after years of brutal raids. She was willing to bet that whoever was coming had lost somebody they loved to the dragon menace, and she was the perfect target for their revenge. They would all see her as an animal, a beast, a prize.

The voices were on top of her now, in a few seconds, they would find the cove and find her. She had seen first-hand how captured dragons were treated. She could only imagine what they would do to a trapped Night Fury, judging from how brutally they normally killed the less dangerous species. If she did not find a place to hide, then it would be a fate worse than death.

She ran to the back of the trees, hoping that it would be enough to conceal her from the tops of the cliffs. It wasn't, the leaves on these trees had grown high up to catch the sun, and the only things between her and a painful death at the hands of her Village were a few naked trunks.

There was only one thing she could do. Baring her claws, she dug into the tough bark and began to climb the tree. Fuelled by panic and determination, she was able to claw her way up to the boughs in record time, not slipping once. She gripped the trunk tightly, all four of her paws firmly embedded in the wood. The tree bent slightly under the weight, but it was old and strong. It wouldn't break. Just as she reached the foliage, several figures emerged at the edge of the cove.

They were all men and women of Berk, axes and bows strung around their person. It was a hunting party, and a big one at that. She could hear them all, laughing and joking as they returned from a successful trip. She could smell the sour blood that covered some of their hands. From her awkward position, clinging to the other side of a tree, partially concealed by the twigs, leaves, branches and the other treetops, she could see most of them. They were clearly enjoying themselves, standing around laughing, looking into the cove, and throwing rocks into the lake.

They had probably been in the forest for several days, and were only now returning with their kill. Judging from the fresh scent of ale on their collective breath, they had begun the celebrations early. That was good, as it might distract them just enough not to seeing her. That said, if even one of them was paying any kind of attention to the treeline than she was doomed

She pressed herself harder against the tree trunk, trying to make herself as small as possible. It was a ridiculous camouflage. Her dark scales were meant to blend in with the night sky on a moonless night, not the dull greens and browns of early autumn. The only things that did fit the surroundings were her forest green eyes and Hiccup's new tailfin. Luckily, her side of the lake was still immersed in shadow, as the early morning sunlight had yet to reach all of the cove. It wasn't much, but she hoped that it was enough for the Vikings to overlook her. Human eyes were not as good as dragons' after all.

She stayed that way, quiet and unmoving for several minutes, although it felt like hours. Each agonising second that ground by increased the chances that she would be spotted. From up in the tree, she could see further over the top of the cliff than she could before. There were no fires or tents being set up, which meant they were not building a base camp. She breathed a long and steady sigh of relief. That meant that they were just stopping for a rest, and would likely move on shortly. They had strung up several deer on wooden shafts, carried on their shoulders, but there were also a mass of rabbits, hares, birds and other small game tied up in bundles and hanging from their belts.

Things must have been going well in the village for the hunting party to have been this big - there must have been at least a dozen. Fish was the primary source of food on Berk, and generally fishing was a much more efficient and reliable method of gathering food. Hunting might have been more enjoyable, and the meat of higher quality, but it could never support the entire population. Still, their haul was unusually large, especially for this part of the forest. They had reason to celebrate tonight.

Astrid found that she could focus her ears on specific individuals to hear what they were saying. She recognised some of it, but a lot of it was lost over the laughter and general chatter.

"Completely empty…. from one of the sailors myself…. not even close."
"….not a single dragon? Maybe…. left us for good."

"You heard Stoick… fewer and fewer raids…. disappeared along with the Night Fury…"

"…hope so, finally…. Winter holiday in peace…"

"You can never be too careful…. until we find the nest."

Stoick must have arrived back from his hunt for the nest, but from the sounds of it, it had been unsuccessful. At the same time, it seemed that the dragon attacks were becoming rarer, and the Night Fury that had changed her was missing. She felt slightly sick as a mix of emotions washed over her. She was happy that the raids were not as bad as they once were, it was still her Village after all. At the same time, the Night Fury was nowhere to be found, and she needed to find him if she was ever going to walk as a human ever again. She felt a pang of homesickness, and once more thought about all she had lost. She screwed up her eyes and squeezed the tree even harder.

"This looks like a nice place to make a camp, for next time" boomed a familiar voice.

She immediately opened her eyes, and almost lost her grip when she saw who it was. There was no mistaking his clear, deliberate tone. The tone that she had grown used to almost every day of her life. There, standing upright on the top of the cliff, was her father, Angarr Hofferson. He was covered in deer's blood, but unlike the others, was not carrying any carcasses. He stood right at the edge, unafraid, peering into the cove with his quick, keen eyes. Despite being one of the smallest in the group, they all deferred to him as their leader, stepping out of his way and allowing him to pass freely around the edge of the cliff.

"There's fresh water, and look, I think I see a way in…"

She began to shake as he picked his way in between the rocks that served as the makeshift entrance. He burst through the gap in the cliffs and into the open, circling round to inspect the surroundings. Astrid loved and admired her father. The only surviving brother of Fearless Finn Hofferson, he was one of the greatest fighters of his generation. He didn't have the size or strength of a bear like Stoick, but his speed was unmatched. He had taught her how to fight with her uncle's axe. He had taught her to focus on agility and skill, allowing the enemy to make the first mistake before she delivered the final blow. When she had struggled, crying after being taunted by Snotlout and his cronies, he had held her small hands, and told her that being a girl did not make her any less of a fighter than he was.

She looked down at her paws, on the verge of tears. She wanted to run to him, for him to wrap his arms around her in his firm embrace, to tell her that he would always love her, no matter what. But none of that would ever happen again. He would never hold her hands, or teach her to fight, or even just talk to her ever again. She was a demon, a monster, and there was no place for her in the Hofferson household. She clamped her dragon jaw around a branch to keep from sobbing. A small part of her had been in constant denial, ever since she had changed. The crushing reality of her new life had finally caught up to her, there, pitifully wrapped around a tree in the middle of the forest.

Angarr walked up to the lake, staring into the water, inspecting its quality. He frowned, and kneeled down on the shore, thrusting his hand into the water. The water was cold, and seeped through his clothes and into his skin. The water had not been warmed by the sun at the bottom of this sinkhole. He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling his hand out again. There, clenched in his fist, was a small dagger, the fine steel still carrying a hint of the shine that it once had. Engraved along the length of the blade were two long thin serpents, wrapped around each other. He could make out the individual scales, carefully etched into each dragon's hide.

He stared at the beautifully crafted weapon, wondering whose it was and why it was left underwater in the middle of the forest. It was worn, but it was nothing that an hour of solid polishing couldn't fix. He slipped it into his belt, smiling for the first time in weeks. It was a sign. Maybe things were getting better for him after all.

He turned to leave, but an odd looking stone caught his eye. It was out of place, laying out in the open and not part of a larger boulder. It was not the placement that made curious, however. The stone was perfectly flat and round, and smooth to the touch, hard but not heavy. It was a deep black that seemed to absorb all of the light around it. He stared at it, unable to look away. His mind was working, trying to explain this oddly familiar texture and shape. He could have sworn that he had seen something like it before…

"Angarr."

He was snapped out of the trance by the voices of his comrades, ready to move on and back to Berk. He turned to leave, but thought better of it. He was missing something. He couldn't help the feeling that he was being watched. He pocketed the stone, but before he left, he took one last look around the cove, and wondered if there wasn't something hiding in the shadows…

Hiccup arrived slightly later than he had intended to. He had to avoid his idiotic peers and a group of hunters on their way back from another bloody success. It paid to be careful. Had anyone found him with the saddle and the basket of fish, it would have led to questions, and Hiccup always had been a terrible liar.

He crept into the cove with the saddle, as quietly as he could. He had no doubt that Astrid had already seen, heard or smelled him coming, but it amused him nonetheless. Anyway, Astrid had developed a habit of ambushing him whenever he arrived, jumping out on top of him and covering him with licks. He didn't really mind, it was more affectionate than the treatment his father had given him.

His father had arrived the night before, after an uneventful search for the nest. Normally, they would get attacked by a flock of dragons, before or after they hit the fogbank of Helheim's Gate. When that happened, they would fight for as long as they could before inevitably being forced back home, typically with a couple of ships fewer than they started with. This time, however, they had entered the fog and found nothing. No dragons, no nest, no glory. The only thing they found was Gobber's old ship that had been lost amongst the sea stacks many months ago. It had been hanging upside down from one of said stacks. It was strange that no one had even seen a dragon on this hunt, but then again, all the dragons seemed to be behaving differently these days, and nobody could explain why.

Stoick had been happy to see him alive at least. The dragon training had been going reasonably well. He was by no means the best, but he was managing to survive. With Astrid teaching him one or two sensitive spots for dragons, and with her no longer competing herself, he was actually doing better than anyone expected. That said, the expectations had been astronomically low to begin with.

Speaking of Astrid, she was nowhere to be found. He put his equipment down and scanned around, trying to spot that mischievous lizard. He checked all of her usual hiding spots, behind boulders, in small caves, even under the water of the lake. Hiccup looked around, trying to work out where she had gone. As far as he knew, she wasn't able to get out of the cove without his help, and nobody else knew that she was here. Unless…

"Astrid?" Hiccup called, his tone rising with a sense of panic.

"Astrid? ASTRID?"

There was silence. All he could hear was his voice echoing off the cliffs and fading away into the sky. He was perfectly still, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists in fear.

Suddenly, a tree shook violently and groaned. Looking closer, he saw that it wasn't a tree, but a sleek black and very distressed looking dragon. She slid down the tree trunk and landed hard at the bottom, rolling onto her back. She scrambled to get upright, and slowly padded over to Hiccup, moaning as she did so.

Hiccup still couldn't communicate perfectly with Astrid, but he had learned what a lot of her calls and noises meant. In this case however, even to bystander, it was obvious that she was expressing sadness. Sadness and pain. Hiccup immediately took her head in his arms. He could feel heavy jolts as she began to sob.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, I'm here. I'm here for you. Don't worry, I won't let go."

She pulled her head away from him slightly, and wrote shakily on the ground.

I'M A DRAGON

Her legs gave way and she collapsed on the ground, moaning and sobbing even harder. Hiccup knew what had happened. She had finally come to accept that she was a dragon, and most likely would stay one. A winged, four legged lizard of the night. A fire breathing, blood drinking, inhuman beast who had been their tribe's enemies for generations. He had a feeling that this was coming. She had been far too relaxed about her transformation, especially considering how much she seemed to hate dragons before. This entire time, she had been bottling up all of her deepest fears, and that bottle was now full.

She had been hit hard with the crushing truth, so Hiccup did the best he could to be a friend, and give her a shoulder to cry on. He sat down with her, and wrapped his arm around her huge neck, letting her cry out as much of the sadness he could. She was babbling something, and he tried his best to understand, but all he could pick up was the emotion behind her roars, grunts and cries. Pain, hate, anger, hate, sadness, pain, sadness, pain. Hiccup, who had never in his life been relied on to comfort someone, and who had never cared about anyone so much before, was heartbroken.

He wished there was something he could do, a way that he could help share her burden so that she didn't have to suffer alone. He laid a gentle hand on her head, and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to comfort her in her time of greatest unhappiness. He took a deep breath, and spoke softly and deliberately.

"Astrid, I know this is hard for you. You feel like you have lost everything, your home, your family, your life…"

Astrid groaned slightly louder when he said that, but he wrapped his arm tighter around her neck and continued.

"The Village might not see it, but over these past weeks, I have found the most wonderful amazing person that I have ever met. You might not see it, you're the strongest of us all, Astrid. You have suffered more than any Viking in history, and yet here you are, determined to make it through and keep your humanity where others would fall into madness."

She had calmed down slightly. He shifted round in front of her and kneeled down, leaning right up to her slumped head. He took her paws in his hands, and looked deep into her eyes.

"Astrid, it doesn't matter that the others don't recognise you for who you really are. I do, and I am here for you. You are the greatest friend that I have ever had, and it doesn't matter, it had never mattered what you look like. Who cares what you are? It's who you are that matters. Things seem bad now, but they will get better, I promise you it will all turn out okay."

He took a deep breath and held her head in his trembling hands.

"As long as I have you and you have me, it will always be okay. Look, no matter what happens, whatever we do from now on, I will support you."

Her sobbing had almost stopped, and she had the strength to meet his eyes.

"Astrid, no matter what happens, I love you, and I will always be there for you."

She still looked unbearably sad, but upon hearing those three words, she lifted up her head, and her mouth formed a wide toothless grin. She gave Hiccup the biggest lick she had ever given him, and warbled at him before leaning into his embrace. Hiccup didn't need to be a dragon to understand her. Love was a universal emotion, and she had just given him hers.