It's been three days, and feeling sorry for myself only lasts so long before my default emotion, anger, sets in. I suppose it's just Viking nature. It's not like I can help it, because that's what I am. Hiccup is a Dragon, he does not belong in my world. I am a Viking, I do not belong in his. After all, that was the plan, right? I taught him to fly again in exchange for keeping me secret? That's what it was, and that's all there is. Thinking that he had become my friend was just deceiving myself. We could never be friends. It's not in our chemical makeup. I mean, we didn't kill each other, and maybe I did think that he had become my friend, but what else can you expect from a Dragon?

Speaking of Dragons, luckily Bonding and Turning back again hasn't brought any sudden changes, other than the scales turning blue and an interesting craving for chicken.

"Astrid, wake up-"

Gobber cuts himself off when I slam my door open, nearly hitting him square in the face.

"Well you're up bright and early," he comments, rubbing his jaw where it narrowly missed being hit.

I grunt in response and swing my axe over my shoulder. I'm not in the mood to talk, which I haven't been lately, but if he's noticed he hasn't said anything.

"Where you off to?" he hobbles behind me, but I walk faster.

"Training," I say curtly, grabbing a cup of mead from the table and downing it in one swig. I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm wrappings rather un-ladylike. "I'll be back in time for Training."

I'm out of the house, stumbling through the forge, and emerging in the brisk, cold Berk air before he gets the chance to speak.

Walking through the village, I keep my eyes down. It's not like I'm hiding anything, but when you've Bonded with a Dragon, it's kind of hard to act unsuspicious. Luckily, I normally march to my own beat, so nobody finds anything off.

Hiccup would... I think before I can vanish the contaminated thought from my mind.

Well that dreaded Night Fury isn't here, now, is he? I think back sourly. I also remind myself that I. Don't. Care.

"Stupid Dragons," I mutter, glaring at whatever happens to tick me off. (Perhaps the sky, simply because it isn't going to bring my not-friend back.)

After all these weeks of light training and a broken wrist, my throwing arm is a little weak. I'd been so busy that I hadn't had proper workouts in ages, and I intend to fix that in the span of this week, as nothing can be accomplished in one day.

The rest of the morning is spent between me, my axe, and a gaggle of some unfortunate trees.


"Astrid, you're up against the Gronkle today," Gobber announces.

I nod once, showing that I had heard. My time in the ring has been getting less and less. All the Dragons seem to want to come at me, and I'm plenty fast enough to knock them out before they even get the chance to strike or fire.

I'm first. Honestly, the Gronkle is easy. It's slow and not very quick-witted. They have a low shot limit, which makes things easier. All I have to survive is six shots before I'm golden, and even then I can get the job done in two.

The other teens file out of the arena, crowding the edges to watch my round. The twins are shuffling around, Fishlegs is scrawling something down on some paper that I think is supposed to be a drawing (don't tell him but I've seen him draw and the boy can't scribble a stick figure to save his life) and Eret stoically watches me while ignoring Snotlout boast about his latest "accomplishment." This is exactly why I prefer Hiccup- I mean, to be alone. Give me a break, it's only been three days!

Gobber wishes me good luck before flipping the switch. The Gronkle comes bursting out, her ugly yellow-but-really-golden eyes are slit with anger from being woken from her nap. She sways on her wings, her bulky figure crashing into the walls of the arena clumsily.

It soon focuses on me, and I raise my axe. The Gronkle uneasily tastes the air, its jaw unhinging to reveal a set of razor sharp fangs.

Suddenly, it charges.

All I see are its eyes.

Gold, gold, gold. Just like mine were, just like mine were, just like mine were...

Just like Hiccup's weren't.

I freeze for a moment too long, and my element of surprise is shoved out the window. I scream at it and run to it. The Gronkle's eyes hesitate when it catches the glimmer of my axe, and I can see that it knows that I will kill it. I'm not really going to, but you can't really blame the Dragon in this case.

Do it, Astrid. Come on. It's not like you're killing it. It's not like it's Hiccup.

But the thing is, it is kind of like Hiccup. I'm not saying that he's still my friend, but I am saying that I can't attack a defenseless Dragon, especially when it's done nothing wrong. Maybe it's just Hiccup out there who's different, who still has his mind, but this Dragon is scared right now, and I can see it in its eyes.

Too late, the look changes and the Dragon's eyes change. They are once again thin slits, and its hands begin to glow an orange-red. I realize my mistake and quickly swing my axe, but before I can, the Gronkle charges me head on, knocking me to the ground and pinning me there, growling in my face with its rancid breath.

"Never trust a Dragon," I hiss at it, angry. The Dragon growls, but something catches its attention before it fires, and it quickly begins to sniff around me.

"Astrid!" I hear the others call, but they're too far away and won't be in time. I'm hoping I can figure something out so I don't get killed by the time they get to me.

I try to wiggle my arms free, and I'm so close, but the Dragon's hold is too tight. I grunt with the effort and it strains my limbs, but I can't give up. The Gronkle paws at my waist, and I freeze. I mean, seriously, it's a little (a very, very lot) uncomfortable and Dragon or not, it shouldn't be anywhere near my waist.

Go away, get away, don't kill me, please, don't kill me, I can't die like this, just get away, get away, get away! I plead/scream in my mind, still frantically wiggling.

Suddenly, the Dragon goes stiff. Its eyes widen in a dazed, glazed over expression, then it goes limp.

Oh sweet baby Thor in a thunderstorm, this Dragon is going to faint!

I struggle even harder, and with the loss of strength, I quickly wriggle out from underneath the Dragon, right in time for it to crash to the ground.

The Gronkle's still awake as far as I can tell, but it's like it's...asleep? Really, really, really content? I have no idea what just happened. Something drops and clangs against the ground, echoing through the whole arena. Breathing hard, I look over, and the teens and Gobber are just staring at me like I've sprouted wings...okay, not the best crack at a joke I've ever made.

I think it was Fishlegs who dropped his pencil.

"What. Are you guys. Staring at?" I growl in between breaths.

"I've never seen a Gronkle do that," Fishlegs states, both thoughtful and bewildered. "How did you do that?"

I don't have an answer to the question they all want to know, so instead of coming up with an excuse on the fly, I turn my head away, grab my axe, and stalk out of the arena.

Once I'm gone from sight, I break into a run. I don't know what caused the Gronkle to just faint like that. I wanted it to get away, to no kill me, and then that happened... Gods, Astrid, think of the facts.

Okay, so, it attacked me, then didn't blast me for some reason... it seemed distracted with smelling something. On me. Smelling. Hmm.

I decide that now might be a good time for a bath. It's not like a whole other Valkyries and shield maidens use the washhouse daily. I may be a Viking but I sincerely believe that good hygiene is of upmost importance. That and I can't get sick from hyperthermia or germs at all because I can't and I won't take a sick day.

My axe goes with me as I head to the washhouse, keeping an eye out for Vikings searching for me. The ones that pass don't meet my eye anyway. I guess there are some perks to having such a sob story of a background and a cursed family name.

My face burns with shame when I realize that the Deadly Nadder has only increased the misfortune its brought to my family. Good, I think. I should be feeling bloody awful.

I dress down and change into a night dress, the one I rarely use, and dump my clothes on a bench. I have to spend a few minutes heating up the water but it's totally worth it when I get in and the warm, soothing water washes over me and I feel like I can relax. I keep my arms out of the water with my wrappings still on, just in case someone does show up.

It's a nice relaxing place, just being in the warm water. It's not like I have any other place to relax.

After some time later, I dry myself off with a large cloth and slip into my nightdress once again. My clothes are dirty, so I'll have to wash my shirt and leggings with the remainder of the warm water and scrub off my leather skirt with some oils.

My shirt and leggings don't take long, and before I know it, I have them hanging on the racks to dry. My skirt is another story, as the thing is caked with mud and dirt from the arena and could use a good conditioning. I take a scrub brush to it for a few minutes, breaking into a sweat by the time I'm done. Before I wash it out with water, I go through the pockets attached to my belt, making sure nothing gets damaged.

That's when the grass flutters out.

It's dry and crinkled, nearly colorless. I pick it up. I remember this. I allow myself to think back to when Hiccup and I had found this. It was like catnip for Dragons...Dragon nip, I called it. That must have been what the Gronkle responded to, and why all the other Dragons have been deliberately singling me out! I always knocked them out before they got too close, so I never remembered until now, I guess. Dragon nip. Who knew?

I suppose it's technically cheating. Having it makes me more of a target, giving me more chances for them to attack, as well as if I don't manage to knock them out, a failsafe way to make it out alive. I don't want an unfair advantage, I want to win my right fair and square.

I pick up the grass, preparing to toss it into the drain pipe. I pause, just before sprinkling it in. I don't know why, but I can't get rid of it. It's so annoying. But, how bad can it be? If it gives me just a little advantage, I might as well take it, right? There's nothing wrong or suspicious about having a few blades of dead grass around in your pocket.

The scent has dulled largely when I bring it to my nose to smell, but it is still strangely pleasurable. I wonder if it's just to Dragons. They have sharper senses of smell, so it makes sense that the Gronkle would sniff it out when I could no longer.

I sigh heavily, placing the grass back in the pouch. Cleaning can wait. I want to go test it out.

Luckily, it's quite warm in the washhouse so I don't have to wait long for my clothes to dry. I quickly change and grab my axe, rushing back out to the village. It's nearing dusk, so I won't have much time. I'm normally out late so it won't come as a surprise to Gobber when he has to leave my dinner outside my bedroom door, but I still don't have any time to waste.

I shuffle over, wishing that all my metal and shoulder pads didn't make so much noise.

The arena is quiet, and nobody's there. I still give everything a double check before I deem it all clear and enter the arena. My footsteps echo around the circular dome, the metal chains seem to rattle with every step and my metal seems even more noisy. Everything is just so loud.

I check to see that all the doors are closed. It's dark now, I'm wasting precious time.

I look at my axe, remembering the reflection that brought me back to my senses when I had Bonded. I wonder...

This is a bad idea. I mean a really, really, really bad idea, and it goes against everything I've ever told myself. Still, I can't help but want to know. I can handle it this time, I know I can.

I lay my axe down and slowly unwrap my scales. I feel like I'm doing something out of code. Oh wait, I am. But there's nothing saying that if I haven't Bonded I have to be killed. Nobody's ever taken this long to Bond.

I suck in a breath and tilt forward on my tiptoes, then rock back.

"Alright, Astrid. Remember who you are. You are a Viking, and you are not a Dragon. You can do this," I blow out through a small hole in my mouth, trying to focus on Draconic thoughts. It's a little harder than one might imagine, as all my brain's ever been trained to do is not think about Dragons.

"Okay. Ready?" I ask to no one in particular. I try to breathe evenly, making sure no one's watching one final time.

"Bond," I command myself, stretching out my arms and squeezing my eyes shut.

My scales tingle at the alien exposure to the crisp, cold air, but nothing more. Nothing happens.

I pull my arms back in, checking for anything. Nothing.

I try once more, trying as hard as I can. Again, nothing. And again, and again, and again.

"Maybe it's for the best," I say out loud. And it should be. I should be overjoyed that I can't Bond when I actually try wholeheartedly to. But for some reason, I'm not washed over with relief like I know I should be. I rewrap my arms, my blue scales disappearing to the world. I am once again Astrid Hofferson, the tough Viking who lost her family to the Dragons. I am no longer Astrid, the scared girl who is turning into a Dragon. For one scary moment, I'm not quite sure who I would miss more if I got stuck as one or the other. But scary moments only last for so long, because I am a Viking. It's all I've ever wanted to be. My future is bright, I'm not jeopardizing it for anything.

I breathe out once again, watching the air turn it into fog. In the trick of the light (er, I mean, dark), it looks like the flicker of a flame before it disperses.

Now for what I really came here for.

I take out the blades of Dragon nip, taking a whiff myself just to make sure the scent is still there. It is, though faint, I'm sure it will be plenty strong for a Dragon. I had been doing some research about the five most common Dragons we have in Berk, and the- gulp- Deadly Nadder seems to be the one with the best sense of smell. I'm not going to admit a petty fear to anyone- least of all myself, so the Deadly Nadder it will be.

"Stick to its blind spot," I remind myself, heaving up the wood. At the very last minute, I think, this is a really, really bad idea.

Well a little late for that one, now, don't you think?

The Nadder bursts out, crying out as loud as it can. I immediately press my hands to my ears.

"Shut up, they'll hear!" I cry. The purple Nadder flies about, frantically rattling the chains as it tries desperately to escape.

People are sure to hear, how can they not? With that Dragon's shrieking...

"Ugh, enough!" I shout, allowing whatever it is inside me out and shooting my hands out towards the Nadder squawking above the ground. A white hot fire tinged with orange comes firing out and towards the Dragon, effectively shutting it up by knocking it to the ground.

There is silence for a moment, and I can't believe that nobody has come running. I guess I got lucky. I'll have to do better, luck can only get a Viking so far.

The Dragon groans, reminding me that its humanity is male.

"Oh, sorry," I tell it in a whisper-yell. I'm still slightly frazzled because, hello? I just shot freaking magnesium flames from my hands!

Not that I haven't done it before, but still. It's a little freaky.

He groans again and picks himself up, shaking out hiss wings and dragging hiss spine tail across the ground. At first, he starts to preen- vain Dragon- then remembers that there's someone else with him.

The Nadder slowly turns its golden gaze to me, laying his wings flat and sizing me up. He knows me from Dragon Training, so I don't know why he's so bold. I must have beaten him at least a dozen times. He takes a timid step towards me, his spines raised and poised to strike.

"Hey, easy," I take a step back, showing it my hands. Hopefully it will tell the Dragon that I didn't really mean to blast him out of the sky and don't intend to again. "Please be quiet, they'll hear you...and they'll put you back in the cage."

Somehow, the Nadder seems to understand this, as he perks up and looks around, taking extra precaution to be quiet.

"There you go, easy," I tell it.

Oh dear gods, if my parents and Uncle Finn could see me now. Not only being in the same arena without attacking a Dragon- a Deadly Nadder, no less!- but actually talking to it. Oh my, what shame am I.

Well, I'm already tied to this mast, might as well make it to the end of the world.

I reach up with my left hand, the Nadder's eyes narrowed and watching my every move. I slowly take my axe out. He leans low to the ground, like he's preparing to attack.

Very, very slowly, I set the axe down on the ground.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I tell the Nadder. He seems to recognize it, and drops his caution. He goes back to preening his wings, and I let out a breath.

Also painstakingly slowly, I make my way around to the Nadder's side. Completely away from its blind spot, the very same advice I gave to myself not two minutes ago.

The Nadder pauses, but doesn't look up. I pause as well, and after a moment, he proceeds, paying me no mind.

I keep inching forward, reaching in my belt for the Dragon nip. As soon as I open my pouch, the Dragon's head snaps up.

"What's this, huh?" I ask, smiling just slightly. I have his full attention now, and he looks like he wants to take a step towards me. I know he can smell it.

He cackles, his eyes widening with each passing second.

Suddenly, he charges at me. It takes all my willpower not to run to my axe and defend myself. But he's not a threat. That's what I keep reminding myself as a wild borne, trapped for decades Nadder comes running at me with his wings spread and his fanged mouth opened.

But it stops just before it gets to me, and again, I have to restrain myself from moving when it tilts its head to the side to look at me.

"Here," I offer the Dragon nip to it. The Dragon inhales the air, leaning forward. I bend down to scatter it on the ground, then take a few scurried steps back. The Nadder gets down on its hands and knees, smelling the ground a little before cackling in delight and rolling around.

I have to stifle a laugh, it's not like the Dragon doesn't look ridiculous. Even with the wings, he still kind of looks like a Viking, and seeing a fully grown Viking rolling around on the ground is not exactly a common sight.

But I've learned what I wanted to know, now for the time to go.

Great. I didn't exactly get to this in the entire ordeal...

How to get it back? Come on, think, think. The perfect memory comes to mind.

"See? All gone."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were afraid of eels."

"Most Dragons are..."

"I've got just the thing," I say, quickly running and sneaking out under the iron door. It takes a little longer than I would have liked, but eventually, I find it.

I go rushing back into the arena, where the Nadder is still rolling around in glee.

"Alright," I say as loudly as I dare. The Dragon sends me an unhappy look but otherwise doesn't pay attention.

"I have to ask you to go back into your cage," I tell it. He seems to understand that. He growls protectively, warning me by raising the spines on his tail. "You asked for it."

I bring the eel out from behind my back, and the Dragon growls, reluctant to show fear.

"Go on," I take a step towards it and the Nadder backs up. I herd it into its cage, where eventually I throw the eel in so I can close the door. Right before I close the door, I happen to catch sight of the Dragon.

It is really the most pitiful thing I have ever seen.

The Dragon has his arms folded around his knees as he cowers in the corner, with his wings wrapped around. His tail curls up, the spines completely harmless while sheathed. But the saddest part is his face. His golden eyes are sorrowful, as if he really knew that this would happen. It only adds to the fear, and he looks just...scared. Like Hiccup had been. Like I had been.

I tear my gaze away, furrowing my brow. It's not like I could do anything for the Dragon.

But that's when I hear it.

One, small, sniffle in the dark, in the hushed quiet. The impossible has already happened, I'm beyond impossible. But this is just... I don't even have the words to describe it. I can't help but feel pity down to my very core as I realize that the Dragon is crying. Who knows how many nights it happens? Who knows if all the Dragons cry to themselves, for their lost freedom, for their lost families, for their lost everything, at night? Because, what we Vikings keep forgetting is that they're only half Dragon. That means that they're half Viking as well, and therefore half human. We all have our fears, even Dragons. But combine it with the animalistic instincts and the heart wrenching emotions of humanity and I can't imagine having to cope.

What is wrong with me? I'm not usually so emotional. I'm rock hard, a brick, a wall, a castle made of stone. Why am I feeling pity for a Dragon?

Because while it's a Dragon, it's still a human being.

Yes, I've been over this.

And as the Nadder softly weeps in its cage, I finally realize that Dragons, they're not really so bad. In the end, they're not so different from us.

I may be the stone warrior, but I'm still a human being, too. Which is why I fling open the doors, stalking over to the iron gates and wrenching them open. I march back over and snatch the eel away, stepping to the side.

The Nadder looks up from sobbing to give me a confused look.

"Go," I say.

It blinks.

"Get out of here!" I shout at it.

It begins to dawn on the Nadder that he's just been given a free ticket to, well, freedom, and he stands, gazing longingly at the open night sky.

"Go," I repeat. "I'll take care of your cage."

I summon all the fury and emotion and plain out frustration that I've been feeling for the past three days, and hurl it at the cage doors. They blast in one brilliant explosion, making it look like a decent and successful jailbreak.

I turn to find the Nadder pitifully stumbling its way to the gates, a determined look in its eyes.

There goes the Dragon to freedom, never to look back on its prison again. I find it shocking how much I envy that Dragon.

Shouts ring around the village. Sure, they all woke to that but not the shrieking cries of a Dragon as it flew around the arena, because that wouldn't make sense at all.

"Hurry!" I tell it, following it out at a reasonable distance. When it leaves, I can't be here when they come to see that one of their Dragons has escaped, nor do I want to be.

But even more to my surprise, right before it leaves, the Nadder stops and turns around.

It looks into my eyes, and I could swear that for an eighth of a half of a second, its eyes flicker blue.

"Th-th-tha-ank yo-ou, A-A-A-Ast-tri-tr-id." he speaks. Speaks.

Then the Nadder throws himself into the skies and doesn't look back, leaving me as bewildered as I've ever been.

He said my name.

The shouts become louder, and I grab my axe before darting out of the arena. Like the Nadder, I don't look back as I run the long way home through the forest.

He said my name.

Of course he must have heard it during Training, but he had bothered to try and learn it. Stoick and Gobber always told that the Dragons they had were wild borne only. But the Dragon not only knew my name, but how to say 'thank you.' Perhaps...perhaps, was there hope for the future of Dragons, after all?

I can't think too much on it. Right now, I have more important issues to deal with. Maybe some other unfortunate Viking can deal with the Dragons, but it's not going to be me. I can't, and I won't.

But that doesn't change the fact that he still said my name.


Can I just skip the apologies and fly away on my Ancestral Flightmare before you all come hunting me down with pitchforks and fire? I am really sorry that I left you all hanging for two weeks, and then plopped a filler chapter on you, but hopefully it was a good filler chapter, huh?

Lots of you are going to be like, why didn't Astrid free all the other Dragons? Well, she didn't, so please don't flame up on me. There are reasons, everybody! So, this is going to be my update for the week, I have a huge English paper I have to worry about, but hopefully after this week, keep your fingers crossed that I can begin on an actual update-ever-Wednesday-schedule.

Oh, and to Rumbling Night Cutter, I promised a detailed description of Hiccup's prosthetic because it's a little unclear, but, as you can read, Hiccup's not in this chapter so it's a little hard. When Hiccup comes back I'll give you one, does that work for everyone?

Anyway, thanks for sticking with my excruciating lack of updates and hope you all are enjoying the story so far!